#eb is SO whipped for bess

[quill-pen]

Ebenezer: *grumbles* Can you please stop doing that for five minutes so that I might finish my work? You're distracting me.

Bess: *completely confused* Stop doing what?

Ebenezer: *blushes and melts* Being so wonderful.

Bob:

[quill-pen]

In Your Corner

I did it again.🤗. Enjoy some sweet, devoted couple fluff!

Warnings: Attempted dietary control and implied comments about a woman's figure, implied depression, people just being jerks.

Summary: Bess has had a less than stellar morning, and Ebenezer comforts her.

Bess stormed up the steps of Scrooge Manor, threw the door open, and slammed it shut with such a bang the whole hall seemed to shake. Safe within the confines of her own home, the woman took a deep breath and released it in a feral scream, trying to channel all the rage she'd been suppressing all morning into it. It only worked minimally well.

Not feeling much better, Bess huffed and began to undo her cloak. She was hanging it on a hook beside the door when the door on the right side of the hall opened and through it came a rather alarmed looking steely-haired banker.

Ebenezer looked from her around the hall and back. "Bloody hell!" he exclaimed, moving toward her. "Was that you, Bess?"

In her already ticked off mood, that only made Bess even more irked. "Who the hell else could it possibly be?" she snapped, glowering at him. "Do you see anyone else in here?"

Her husband stopped, looking even more alarmed as well as a bit miffed. "Now, that's uncalled for!" he countered, brows furrowing even more severely than hers. "And unlike you." He looked the American over carefully, not withering under her dagger-throwing glare, which was actually quite impressive.

Bess let out a harsh, barking laugh. "Oh-ho! So you think you know me better than I know myself, too! Wonderful!" She turned away and stomped towards the stairs and up, not really having an idea of where to go as she simply followed her feet. "It's such a relief to know I never have to make a decision myself or even think of a single original thought ever again--that everyone else is perfectly capable of doing it for me!"

Eb watched after her, no less confused, but much more concerned than cross now. If Bess was lashing out like this, and especially at him, it was because she'd been pushed to her limits. "What is that supposed to mean?" he called up to her, crossing his long arms over his broad chest.

At the top of the veranda, Bess paused and then whipped around to glare at the man again. "I am so sick of otha people trying to run my life for me!" she shouted, voice slipping into the posh accent she usually gained when angry as it trembled with emotion. "Telling me what to do, how to live, what to wear, how to act, and even how to think! For 26 years of my life, that's all it was--otha people bossing me around! Now I'm a married woman with my own house, and I should be able to do and think and live and wear and act and say things how I want, when I want, without Mrs. Byrd or anyone else trying to step in and change every decision I make!" The dark-haired woman sucked in a shuddering breath, her freckled face red with veins popping from her forehead and neck. Angry, frustrated tears pricked at her eyes and she trembled with the same anger and frustration that spawned them.

Ebenezer's eyes softened, his heart filling with sympathy for his wife. Bess had had to fight and struggle so hard her entire life to get to where she was today; it was understandable that even a small step backward in her independence would cause her to be upset. And this didn't seem to be a small step.

The man moved towards the stairs and began to ascend them as well. "Brightness, what's wrong?" he crooned as he came up the steps, eyes never leaving hers. He noticed now, after her little tirade, Bess was looking more defeated than angry, but still just as frustrated. It broke his heart. That had never been a shadow he enjoyed seeing in his love's eyes, especially after seeing it so much during the first two years of their relationship. "What did Mrs. Byrd do now?" Their housekeeper was always giving Bess trouble and grief; it was as though the old bat lived specifically for just that. Usually, Bess could throw back whatever Mrs. Byrd dished out, but sometimes, the housekeeper managed to hit the exact right button to throw Bess off her game.

"You mean apart from taking it upon herself to try and change my dietary needs?" Bess grumbled. She looked away from her husband as she crossed her arms on the railing and rested her chin on them, glowering at the large fresco depicting Hades and Persephone directly opposite the landing.

"What?" Ebenezer snorted incredulously. Reaching the landing, he stepped towards her and placed a gentle hand on her back, rubbing in soothing circles. He smiled slightly as he felt Bess' tense muscles unwind just a bit.

"Oh, yes," Bess laughed bitterly. "Instead of the lovely breakfast of Mrs. Philpotts' scrumptious, loaded omelets and bacon, Mrs. Byrd took it into her own hands to tell Mrs. Philpotts that I'd decided to have half a godawful grapefruit and a sad piece of lightly buttered toast for breakfast. Not even a soft-boiled egg to dunk my toast in!"

Ebenezer was undeniably stumped. Mrs. Byrd had made... several attempts in the past to try and change Bess'--and consequently his--lifestyle. First trying to push Bess out of the master bedroom and back to the one she'd stayed in during the first six months of their marriage because "people of their station always slept apart" (that idea was quickly dismissed); then trying to undermine and seize power from Bess in running the household as she was "foreign and didn't grasp how an English household should be run" (a threat of instant termination without a reference shut that down). But trying to take control of the food in Bess' diet--that was new and rather unexpected. "Why on earth would she-"

"Because, apparently, I need to trim down," Bess cut him off, huffing peevishly.

"Trim down?!" Ebenezer could help neither the disbelief for the offense in his voice in reaction to the statement. Of things Bess might have needed, "trimming down" was not one of them. She was a big girl; not plump (though she did have a little "fluff" in her tummy area), but naturally stout, big-boned, and muscular. Her Nordic ancestors would have rejoiced at her appearance, and Ebenezer certainly did.

Bess curtly nodded. "'An ideal, well bred lady must be slight of figure and small of appetite, m'Lady'." She did her best impersonation of Mrs. Byrd's pious accent. "My fat ass isn't as nice as the little petite ones Lottie and her Brat Pack have, you see."

Ebenezer was about to make comment on how he much preferred Bess' ass to most he'd seen when she launched into another rant.

"I threw breakfast in her face and went to the kitchen to talk to Mrs. Philpotts so she knows to watch out for that situation in the future. By then I was already behind schedule and gonna be late to meet my new client, so all I could do was slap together a pitiful little cheese sandwich and grab the last of the buttermilk and run.

"I managed to be only ten minutes late to the Whippers', but clearly that was akin to erecting a golden calf in the middle of God's house, and I received a thirty-minute lecture on how promptness is the highest virtue and how even being a minute late would bring about my eternal damnation."

"Mrs. Whipper dressed you down like that?" Ebenezer asked in bemusement. He knew the woman--her husband was one of his many clients and he'd met her a number of times. (He was why they'd considered meeting with Bess for potential midwife services.) The woman was younger than Bess--hardly out of her teens--petite, and sweet as cherry pie; as angelic as her name implied, she was without a single ounce of ill will in her tiny frame for even the rats. The banker could hardly believe such an angelic personality could speak so harshly.

"No. At least not that Mrs. Whipper," Bess muttered, rising up on her elbows to look at him again. "Angelica never even got to speak to me. She was being crowded out by her mother, grandmothers, mother-in-law, and grandmothers-in-law."

Eb, slipped his arm around her shoulders and smirked a little at that. "Ah, so you walked right into a firing squad."

Bess rolled her eyes and looked away. "A firing squad has mercy, Wolf: I walked right into Daniel's lions' den, only God didn't close the mouths of these beasts. Scotland Yard has nothing on that group of women; they could make the Devil himself confess and repent of his treachery."

Ebenezer brushed back some of her fringe from her eyes. "Should I even ask if you have the job?"

"Of course, I didn't get it! Afta all, only women who have birthed and raised their own children can make decent midwives--don't you know anything, Ebeneza? Neva mind how I've been helping with births since I was ten years old or all the references I brought from all my past clients--clearly I have no idea what I'm doing!" The tone in Bess' voice was mocking and biting in the harshest of ways and she'd slipped back into her accent again. "One of the grandmothers--not sure which one, they were all as wrinkly and stooped and gray-haired as the other--quite literally told me to take down my advertisements and go get pregnant and have a baby before I offered further midwife services. Then they slammed the door in my face."

Ebenezer couldn't help but smile sympathetically. "Oh, Moonflower," he cooed softly as he draped both arms around her shoulders and pulled her up. He wrapped her up in a warm hug, smiling when she layered her arms over his. "Darling, I'm so sorry. Had I known anything about the rest of the family, I wouldn't have sent you there." He tenderly kissed her temple. "I'm sorry."

Bess wasn't really listening. "After that, I went to the boutique to pick up my dress." Now that was an activity that should have lifted Bess' spirits, but considering her voice was even more glum than before, that didn't seem to be the case.

"Isn't that a good thing?" Ebenezer just dared to ask.

"It would be, if the dress were anything like what I ordered. Not the style I asked for, or the cuts, or even the color! I thought I'd gotten the wrong order! When I asked them to see the seamstress I'd originally met with, the owner said she'd moved on from the establishment but that she, herself, had taken it upon herself to make my dress and "improve it to better suit my figure"."

The figure comments again? What was the matter with people? "What does that mean exactly?"

"Essentially that when I put it on, I looked like I was wearing a deflated hot air balloon, and, actually, I think even that would look more flattering. How can a dress suit your figure when it doesn't even show your figure in the first place?" A tearful snort left the woman and she trembled within her lover's warm embrace. She hung her head as she reached up to hide her face in her hands.

"Bess?" Ebenezer purred with gentle concern into her ear. He hugged her more tightly, trying to hold her as close to his heart as possible. "Moonlight?"

Bess shook her head. "Sorry," she croaked out. "It's just..." she sighed deeply. "Everything today just kinda brought back everything from growing up. I was actually starting to fear turning around and finding Mama there waiting to rip into me or-"

"Shhhhh," her husband hushed her, tucking her tight into his chest. "Shhhhh, Brightness, it's all right. I understand." Automatically the Englishman began to gently, slowly sway back and forth on his feet, showering tender kisses over the back of his wife's neck, shoulders, and ears. "I understand."

Bess held onto him again, melting into his affection. "I just..." she sighed, "... I want people to shut up and stop trying to control my life. For once. I want people to have a little faith and realize maybe I can actually handle my own affairs. Or at least keep their noses out of my business!"

Ebenezer kissed the scar on her neck. "I know," he whispered, giving her a squeeze. He held her silence for a moment, face snuggled into her neck. "Bess, you do know," he whispered after an interlude, "that I have faith in you, yes? And that I support your independence every step of the way?

Bess couldn't help but smile and she craned her neck to look up at him. "Yes," she rasped out. "I know."

Ebenezer beamed. "I'll help you fight for it if need be, my Queen. We'll make them all see together."

Bess felt the slight sting of happy tears. "Thank you, my King," she practically squeaked. She pressed a lingering kiss to his sculpted cheek. "That means so much more than you know. I haven't had much support on that front for... well, my whole life, really."

The gentleman smiled at her. "Well, now you have a big, bad wolf who will fight for his she-wolf," he growled playfully into her ear, making her flinch and giggle at the ticklish sensations. "And wolves are certainly tough enough to take on Byrds, biddies, and butchers of dresses." He trailed some more kisses along her shoulders and nape, before he raised a finger to tip Bess' chin up and planted a devoted kiss on her coral colored lips.

Bess quietly moaned and leaned into Ebenezer's lips. The last of her frustration easily dissipated as loving warmth and calm flooded through her soul. When they parted, Bess nuzzled into the man's neck with a contented sigh. "Hmm, that sounds lovely, Wolfy," she replied. "But can this she-wolf get something decent to eat first? She hasn't had anything all day but a sad cheese sandwich and buttermilk."

Ebenezer chuckled as he smoothed a hand over her hair and headscarf. He smooched her cheek. "Mwah. I think that's a fantastic idea, my darling. Get some food in your belly and this morning will fade into nothing but a bad memory. No one can have a good day on an empty stomach."

"Especially not when you're dealing with manipulative, holier-than-thou bitches."

Ebenezer chuckled as he began to lead his wife back down the stairs and make for the kitchens. "No," he agreed. "I wouldn't think so."

Silence fell over the pair for a moment as they walked. And then Bess was speaking again, gazing adoringly and gratefully up at the man as she did so: "Thank you, my moon song. Thank you for always being in my corner. It's a relief to not fight alone."

Ebenezer smiled down at her. "Always, my beloved one," he murmured. He stopped and turned to face her fully, taking her face between his large hands. "Always," he repeated, gazing deep into her midnight blue eyes. He touched soft lips to her brow.

Taglist: @luvreadingfics @amazingassash @beascrooge @themostanonymousscribbler @b4bynikii @sparklesphobia @christmasgaybusinessmen @tenodai @girlbosseveyhammond @witchypandamonium @purgratoriat @neonshoe @orangewierdo @mirthadra @the-enchanted-rose @simp2537 @pandora-native-ayatei @youngsongnerd @skyvstheworldsince1996 @crimson-phantom-designs @cila-17 @ry-ichi1 @artist-anon08 @alittlebitbethany @crowwritesthings @hyerizz @crowbones13 @rom-e-o @softmullet @cheesethegodfather @the-house-of-auditore-frye @thephantomofzaun @littlethief78 @oldmanlusting

Imagine your F/O noticing that you’re upset.

They drape their arms around you from behind, and kiss all over your ears and the back of your neck.

They hold you tight and promise you whatever is wrong they want to be there for you, and make it alright.

[quill-pen]

Modern AU Scroogeverse: Starbucks orders

@rom-e-o and I joked around about it a little this morning, so I thought it might be fun to do.

Disclaimer: I, personally, am not a coffee drinker at all. I hate everything about coffee--the smell, the taste, the noise the coffee maker makes as it brews. And I never have dealings with Starbucks because I think they're a little overhyped and expensive.

Note: Americanized Bess has absolutely influenced these people's taste on things like iced and cold beverages. As she should. Cold drinks are lifeblood.

Ebenezer: First off, nobody makes coffee like his beloved Bess (she does it the old-fashioned way on the stove and adds just the right amount of heavy cream and cinnamon) so that's usually where Eb gets his coffee (she'll pour it in a thermos and send it out the door with him). But on the occasions Bess' coffee is unavailable for various reasons, Starbucks is an easy stop on the way to work. His drink of choice: the dark roast, tall, cinnamon powder, heavy cream, and two pumps of cinnamon syrup (if it's the holidays, he'll add a pump of the peppermint) to make up for the lack of Bess' TLC. It's good, but still not as good as Bess'; every sip of her coffee is like her love in liquid form and you bloody hell can't beat that. If he's had several late nights at the office, Ebenezer will also add a few shots of the signature espresso. If he has to attend a morning business meeting he's been dreading, the man has also been known to fill a flask with a little "feel-good" juice and spike his drink just enough to get through the meeting. He doesn't get anything else from Starbucks. He might try something Bess gets, but, as stated before, Starbucks is merely a handy substitute: He's not about to take time to explore their menu. Note: They never get his name right. Ebenezer is now simply known as 'Ed' at the local Starbucks.

Bess: For warm weather: a grande iced dark chocolate mocha with heavy cream and light ice. The number of espresso shots depends on how busy work has been. For cold weather: a tall caffè mocha, with warm heavy cream, light foam, and six mocha pumps. Again the number of espresso shots depends on work. If she's in the mood for something particularly sweet, Bess will usually go for one of their chocolate chocolatey frappucinos. She doesn't have a particular favorite--she likes them all--but always gets them in grande. Note: You think they'd be able to get Bess, easy enough, but no; she's been called "Bed", "Bless", "Beth", "Bet", "Bast", and "Bath". These people aren't even trying, are they?

Bob: Doesn't go to Starbucks--it's not on his way to work and it's too expensive (he's got lots of kids to take care of, even if now being partners with Mr. Scrooge makes life so much easier and comfy). He stops in at a local mom-and-pop place called 'The Grinds' and gets a large, cowboy coffee with a little milk and sugar. (He's also sweet-talked the barista into adding some espresso shots. The man has like a dozen kids, okay?! He needs it to get through the day!)

Ethel: Unlike Bob, will occasionally patronize Starbucks--mostly when she is out with the other girls. Because this is only an occasional thing, Ethel likes to treat herself (she deserves it!): a venti strawberry crème frappuccino with vanilla sweet cream, extra whipped cream, five syrup pumps, two espresso shots, toasted vanilla syrup, cookie crumble topping, mocha sauce, and extra strawberry puree. Leave her alone--she's affording herself a rare treat--it's fine. Note: Don't always get her name right either, but they get it right more often than with Bess.

Harry: Does not have a favorite. Man gets something different every time he goes and has liked everything equally. He does have a particular fondness for their frozen fruit beverages though, but only in summer. When the weather gets cold, he'll go for their hot apple drinks. The only customization he insists upon is extra cinnamon or peppermint during the holiday season. After all, he loves Christmas--it's his favorite time of year! He always gets the largest option. Note: Yes, his name always gets spelled right, usually accompanied by little Harry Potter flourishes. He finds them so charming and tries to keep them all. Hela eventually throws them out when he's clearly forgotten about them--usually after a week.

Hela: Usually goes for their teas. It's a toss-up between a short honey citrus mint with light lemonade and an extra pump of honey or a short, regular matcha tea latte. Note: Only gets her name spelled right if she's served by a fan of Marvel.

Tom: He is a very simple man. In the cold, he beelines for their hot chocolate: grande, steamed whole milk, doubled mocha pumps with extra whipped cream, and extra caramel drizzle with caramel sauce lining the cup. In the heat, it's a regular mango dragonfruit lemonade with extra ice. Note: Once got named "Dom" at Starbucks. The barista winked at him as she passed him his drink. Addie was with him and did not appreciate it; she absolutely took a cue from her cousin and groped his ass on the way out. The ride home was very long after that, but the events that played out at home were a blast.

Addie: In the cold, she loves the white hot chocolate. She'll usually get a tall with oat milk, extra foam brown sugar syrup with a mocha cause lining, and chocolate mint cookie sprinkles with light whipped cream. In the heat, her go-to is a grande iced brown sugar oat milk shaken espresso with salted caramel foam, mocha drizzle, whipped cream, and caramel crunch topping. Note: Often gets called "Abbie", but one time, somehow, she got called "Baddie". She rode that high for a week.

Ernie: Isn't really a coffee man, so he mostly sticks to the teas. He goes for the classic Earl Grey with a little lemonade, honey, and a pinch of cinnamon. If he's looking for something cooler, he just goes for the lemonade. Nothing very complicated. Note: Absolutely gets "Bert" added in with his name like 80% of the time. The joke is getting old now, folks.

Ella: Honestly, she doesn't do Starbucks. She had one drink once--a huge chocolate java mint frap, loaded up with all the best goodies. It was so good. But the stomach flu was going through the Cratchit household at the time and she got hit with it right after she had that heavenly delight and... yeah. Ruined the entire chain for her. Just the mention of Starbucks makes her stomach roll. Ernie doesn't drink Starbucks around her and does his best to shield the very logo from her view.

Granny: Simple and surprising--a doppio of espresso macchiato. regular except for eight shots of espresso instead of the standard two. She's in her 80s and surrounded by young folks, okay? How else do you expect her to keep up with them all?

Josie: Doesn't do Starbucks either. She thinks it's overrated and too trendy, and will go out of her way to find small, independent establishments to patronize. She enjoys hazelnut lattes with a little touch of cinnamon and mocha sauce. Will always ask the barista to make the most unique design they can with the cream and asks if she can watch.

Mickey: Just like his love, he doesn't do Starbucks. For one he could never afford it; for two, he tried some once and he didn't find it all that great. Certainly wasn't worth the hype everyone seemed to have about it. He chooses to support the independent coffee houses as well, often taking Josie out on dates to them. He likes the cowboy coffee with only a little milk; he enjoys the rusticness and simplicity of it. Josie isn't a fan of the flavor but she loves the smell of it on Mickey's breath afterward and she doesn't mind the taste coming off his tongue and lips when he kisses her either.

Jules: He can't drink coffee as it makes him sick, but he enjoys the iced teas. His favorite is a blended grande black tea lemonade with some apple juice and strawberries. And definitely extra ice. Always extra ice. In the winter, he gets a regular caramel apple spice. Note: Often gets his name spelled as "Jewels". Once he had an older barista that was a big fan of Jules Verne though, and he got that written on his cup--that was fun.

Martha: The chocolate java mint frap, tall, with coconut milk, double-blended with frap chips, hazelnut syrup, two extra pumps of the mint sauce, mocha sauce lining, toasted cookie crumble, light cinnamon powder, and whipped cream--that's this girl's game. She only needs to have one once in a while, as it's so very rich. Note: Once got called "Martyr". So... that was different.

Kathy: Girl is a fiend for the espresso shots! That's what happens when you're studying to be an L&D nurse, I suppose. She gets a quad of the blonde roast loads it up on six shots and hammers it. But after she's had a couple of those, she'll get a short, dark chocolate mocha with heavy cream and honey to sip on. Note: Has been called "Catty" more than once. She does not appreciate it.

Millie: VENTI. PUMPKIN. SPICE. LATTES. With extra cream and cinnamon and caramel sauce lining. She lives for this stuff and literally has an emotional breakdown whenever it goes out of season. After that, she falls back on the vanilla bean crème frap, venti size, with almond milk, extra whipped cream, frap chips, macadamia syrup, caramel lining, white chocolate mint sauce, honey blend, cinnamon, mocha drizzle, and caramel crunch topping. And, ya know what? It's still nowhere near as good as the pumpkin spice. Why don't they just sell it all year?! It would be their number-one seller! They could just start a whole other Starbucks offshoot just for the pumpkin spice and rake in the money! Note: Absolutely tells the barista how to spell her name and double-checks to make sure they got it right.

Gil: Decaf roast, tall, black--plain, simple, easy. He likes the bitterness; reminds him of the earth and nature. If he's craving a little sweetness, he might add some honey. Note: Usually gets called "Dill". Does not complain--he gets his coffee either way. And he kinda like the name "Dill" actually.

Tim: He's not allowed to drink coffee, as he gets way too hyper. But he does like their frozen fruit drinks. The pineapple passion fruit is his favorite; he always gets extra pineapple in it. He gets the largest size and sticks it in the freezer whenever he's had enough to snack on for a few days. The stuff tastes even better when it's frozen enough to eat like ice cream! Note: Tim is so cute, most of the time the baristas don't even hear him say his name because they're so focused on his cherubic smile or sparkling blue eyes, so they just write "Angel boy" on the cup. Tim just blushes and beams.

Beryl: She doesn't like coffee, but she is also a serious businesswoman, and serious businesswomen drink coffee. Beryl gets the espresso con panna in the smallest size with extra whipped cream and three espresso shots. The whipped cream is the only way she can stand the taste of the stuff. Sometimes she needs a little mocha drizzle to get it down too, even while she's holding her nose and trying to swallow it down without letting it touch her tongue. Ebenezer has pointed out to her time and again that it's okay if she doesn't like coffee--she can drink something else if she wants to--but Beryl refuses. "Businesswomen drink coffee! It's a staple!" And no one is going to convince her otherwise. Note: Never gets her name spelled right, so she has taken to telling them at her name is "Bear". That always gets spelled right and she gets comments on how "cool her name is". Beryl might be considering changing her name to "Bear".

[quill-pen]

Custard, Strawberries, and April Fools'

I did it again. I had to--this idea was too cute! And it was so Ebeness (yeah, I guess that's the ship name now--best I got). I am whipped for them--absolutely whipped! UGH!!!

I guess this is how I celebrated April Fools' then.

Surprisingly, this one didn't get as sexual, but there's definitely a touch of it there, as per us. Eb and Bess just can't ever keep their appendages off each other, they're so besotted with each other. It's so cute it hurts. Like a lot.

Setting-wise, this is probably highly inaccurate. I have no idea what spring weather in London England is like except that it seems to be much nicer than what we get here in the Midwest U.S. So could trees already be leafed and blossomed out there? IDK and IDC. It was a cute setting for a cute ficlet and I went for it. Sue me! (But, no, really don't sue me--I have nothing of value.)

Um... yeah. I'mma say it's okay for minors here. MINORS, YOU'RE A-OKAY FOR THIS ONE.

Warnings: Gentle April Fools' pranks, some innuendo and implied sexual themes, fools in love, Ebenezer burps (yes--I went there), light groping, a little self-consciousness, a semi-wet willie, some slobber, and love, love, love, love, love!

Apart from the reblogged scenario, inspired by:

This pic:

And this pic:

Also, you should go check out their art--it's amazing. And completely inspirational.

Music:

"Uuuuuuggggggghhhhhhhhhhhh...."

"Well, that's certainly an undignified noise for an English gentleman to make."

Ebenezer Scrooge snorted in amusement at the statement. Opening his eyes, he slightly craned his neck to look up and see the upside-down face of Bess. The woman was gazing at him fondly as he lay stretched out with his head in her lap: An impish glint was in her midnight blue eyes and a cheeky smile curled her lips. The Englishman returned her smirk.

"On the contrary, my sweet," he retorted playfully, rubbing his large hands up and down his middle. "I believe it was a perfectly acceptable compliment on your fine culinary skills. That custard of yours was worth the trip home for lunch itself; I've never felt so full or satisfied."

Bess quirked an eyebrow at that. "Oh, you've never felt so satisfied, have you?" she prodded knowingly, her smile turning the slightest bit devilish. She crossed her arms over her chest and pretended to huff, sticking her nose in the air. "Well, perhaps you'd rather take my custard to bed with you than me then."

Playing along with her, Ebenezer pretended to perk up at the suggestion. "Say, that's not a bad idea!" Rising up on an elbow, the man looked around to let his gaze fall on the almost empty bowl of custard sitting at the center of the picnic blanket. "What do you say, custard my love? Will you make me the happiest of men and bed with me? I don't mind a little mess if you don't."

"Oh, you silly--hush!" Bess giggled, playfully swatting her love's shoulder.

Laughing, Ebenezer sank back down to once again rest his head on the woman's lap. His eyes drifted shut as her fingers came to thread through his steely hair, gently scratching and massaging his scalp. He sighed deeply through his nostrils, humming softly. His lips arched with a soft smile. Peace and quiet fell over the garden, with nothing but the gentle breeze and the calls of birds to break it.

Then, without warning, Ebenezer released a generous belch, startling them both. Apparently, he hadn't intended on doing that, as his cheeks suddenly flushed a hint of pink and he pressed a hand to his mouth, his eyes widened in surprise. Where on earth-? He must certainly have been full!

Bess burst into laughter, making Ebenezer feel as warm and pleasant as the balmy spring day that surrounded them. Letting her head fall back against the trunk of the apple tree, a hand pressed to her stomach, the sunlight dappled Bess' laughing face through the leaves and blossoms, making her look even more angelic than ever. (At least Ebenezer thought so.) "Further compliment, I presume?" the woman teased, nudging him with her knee.

Her husband smiled again, though he was still blushing. "But of course."

Bess snorted and shook her head with a roll of her eyes. "You're a cheeky old rascal." She lifted a hand and tapped the tip of his nose in affection.

Ebenezer reached and snapped up her hand before she could pull it away. Pulling it down to his mouth, he lovingly kissed her fingers, gazing up into her eyes as he did so. His heart melted as he watched a pink hue spread across his wife's freckled cheeks, the mischievousness fading from her gaze and only leaving behind a wholly adoring and infatuated warmth. The man's insides tickled with delight. That he could be lucky enough to possess both this woman and her unadulterated love after all the bad he had done in his past--it was a miracle he didn't think he'd ever be able to wrap his head around. But maybe that was the point: Maybe some things in the Lord's plans just weren't meant for humans to understand. As long as he had Bess, Ebenezer decided it didn't really matter if he understood or not. He would just accept the blessing she was, and do his best to cherish her as much as he could every day of their lives.

Wrapping her small hand in his large one, the gentleman gave it a warm squeeze and rested their entwined hands against her thigh. He smiled up at her again. "Your cheeky old rascal, Love," he rumbled with a wink. That delighted tickle inside him grew as Bess' blush deepened with that declaration.

"Yes," Bess agreed quietly. "My cheeky old rascal, Love." She bowed down and pressed her lips to the ridge of her husband's impressive nose, kissing him lingeringly there and smiling as the man hummed in approval. She planted another kiss between his eyes and one more on his brow before sitting back up and leaning back against the tree trunk. Carding the fingers of her free hand through Ebenezer's soft locks again, the woman let her dark head fall back against the trunk again and closed her eyes. She breathed deeply the sweet air.

For a long moment, she stayed that way, and the garden became quiet again. Then Bess felt as though she was being watched. Opening her eyes once again, the American looked down to see slate-blue eyes gazing up at her. Her heart felt as if it would flutter out of her chest and away. Why his gaze always had such an effect on her, the woman didn't believe she'd ever know, but with as wonderful as it made her feel she didn't really care either. "You know, it's impolite to stare," she stated, puckishly smirking at the man.

"I can't help it," her husband said with a smile.

Bess felt herself blushing all over again the longer he looked at her. "Oh, Ebenezer, stop," she muttered, pulling her gaze from his and looking shyly away.

"No, Darling, I truly can't help it," the man insisted. He pointed to her face. "You have something on your cheek there."

Bess gave him a quizzical look. "I have?"

"Yes. Right there." He stretched his arm up to more clearly point out the spot.

Bess lifted a hand and swiped at her cheek.

"N-No, right there."

Bess rubbed.

"No, you're not--lean down here, and I'll get it for you."

Bess did as suggested, angling her apparently marked cheek towards the man for easy access.

Ebenezer couldn't have asked for better. Rising up on an elbow, he reached up, gripped his wife's face, and gently but firmly pulled her down so that her cheek met his lips. He blew a sloppy, raspberry kiss right beside her ear.

"Ah! Wolf!" Bess shrieked and jerked away out of his reach. Grimacing, she lifted her arm and wiped her spittle-slicked cheek on her sleeve. "You're as bad as Millie--I swear!"

Ebenezer laughed joyously. "April Fools', Sweetness!"

"Ha-ha--a riot," Bess deadpanned. She tried to glare at the man, but she loved him too dearly, and the joke had been innocent and funny enough that she couldn't quite achieve it. However, the look of disgust was authentic as she suddenly felt moisture in her ear. "Blech! You spat in my ear," the woman grumbled. She reached into her bosom and pulled out her hankie to start cleaning up.

Still chuckling, Ebenezer sat up, reaching over to his discarded waistcoat and pulling out his own handkerchief as he did so. "I'm sorry, my darling," he chortled sincerely. "Here, allow me." Shifting and leaning in closer to the raven-haired Yank, the Englishman brought his handkerchief up and tenderly began mopping up her cheek and ear.

Bess watched him intently, his face so close to hers but not as close as she would have liked it. A shiver ran through her as his fingertips--deliberately or not, she could never tell--tickled against the side of her neck. Her bottom lip hooked itself between her teeth of its own accord. Her heart hammered in her ears so that she wondered if Ebenezer could hear it too, and the thought that maybe he could, made her flush pink again. You're married to the man! a small voice in her head chastised her as it always did. You've been to bed with him--seen and touched him in unspeakable ways and let him do the same to you! Why are you still like this? The answer was simple: he was Ebenezer Scrooge--the absolute love of her life; and he made her feel newly in love and romanced every second of every day.

"There," Ebenezer murmured after a moment, lowering his handkerchief from her face. Bracing his arm over his wife, the gentleman leaned in and planted a lingering kiss of his own right beside the woman's ear. "All cleaned up," he whispered, his lips ghosting against the lobe of her ear. He smiled as she gasped and shivered at the sensation. Then he nuzzled into the loose curls of soft hair near her temple and kissed her cheek again, shifting even closer and bracing his other hand against the trunk, effectively trapping the woman against the tree. "My beautiful She-Wolf," he hummed, tracing the curve of her cheekbone with his lips.

Bess felt herself blush red hot. Making a quiet squealing noise, the woman ducked her head away from her husband's affections and buried her face in her hands. She felt like she could burst from love and die of embarrassment at the same time! "Stoooop!" she meekly whined, her voice muffled. "You're making me blush!"

Chuckling, Ebenezer backed off a bit and smiled down at her. "Excellent, as that was the intention."

Bess growled and just dared to peek through her fingers at him. "You fiendish man, why do you insist on doing this to me?"

Ebenezer shifted back in again, making his wife snap her fingers shut and squeak. "Because I like making you blush," he chuckled, lifting a hand up to trace a teasing finger over her ring finger and down her arm, sending another delightful shiver through the woman. "You look so pretty when you blush, Bess."

"I do not," Bess insisted with a shake of her head, face still firmly in her hands. "I look like a strawberry with all these freckles."

The former miser hummed thoughtfully at that. "I adore your freckles," he stated, tracing his finger back up the path it had descended down her arm. He ran it off her finger and over and around the shell of Bess' ear and down the nape of her neck, making her squirm. "And as it happens-" he brought his hand back around to gently grip her left wrist and pull it away from her face so he could meet her gaze again, "-I'm also very fond of strawberries." He leaned in so close his forehead was almost touching Bess', smiling flirtasciously. "Especially if they're as adorable as you."

Bess rolled her blue eyes but couldn't help the slight smile that pulled at her lips.

Ebenezer chuckled and slipped his index finger beneath her chin, gently tilting her head up. Bess' hand fell away from her face as a result. "There," he crooned lovingly, his slate-blue eyes brimming full of gentle and complete adoration. He unfurled his hand and took his wife's jaw in his soft grip, gazing deeply into her eyes. "Now that's the most beautiful strawberry I ever did see."

Bess felt she could burn away, and she was sure her heart was about to break free of her ribcage any second. Then her love leaned in and brushed his lips against hers, and the heat of her blush and the pounding of her heart faded away: There was just him and his touch, so full of love and devotion. Framed by long, dark lashes, Ebenezer's eyes met hers for a moment, silently asking for permission. She granted it by leaning in closer and parting her lips, her gaze becoming veiled as the man molded his soft, smooth lips to hers. A moaning sigh escaped her and she brought her hands up his chest, first clinging to his shirt to pull him closer; then, following her instincts, she pushed against Ebenezer's shoulders until he was tilting back to lay on the ground, moving slowly enough that their lips never parted.

For a moment Bess was atop the prone gentleman, straddling him, then she was being shifted--rolled over so that she found herself beneath him in the grass. One of Ebenezer's arms circled around her neck and shoulders to cradle them: The other slithered down her side to grip at her thigh bunching up her skirts. He lifted her leg up around his waist, and Bess shivered as the breeze graced her bare thigh. The American broke the kiss and smirked up at the Englishman who held her in an all-possessing gaze. She bit her lip and blushed, as per usual, but lifted a finger to trace his jaw. "You naughty old man," she snickered. "You'll expose me to anyone who happens to look out here if you're not careful."

Ebenezer's eyes widened in obvious excitement at that statement: It drove him absolutely wild when Bess went without underthings! Without wasting a second, the man quickly slipped his hand beneath the ample skirts of his wife and felt his way up her leg, growing more and more excited as she gasped and whined at the pleasant intrusion. For a long way up her thigh, he felt soft, supple, bare skin, but as he closed in on his destination he felt the unmistakable texture of drawers graze against his fingertips and knuckles. When the giggle reached his ears, he knew he'd been had. Trying to look unamused and failing miserably as his lips twitched into a smirk, he playfully glowered at the woman beneath him. It was hard to keep it up, as a smiling, impish Bess looked simply divine haloed by soft green grass and fallen apple blossoms. If this was the last vision he ever had of her, Ebenezer Scrooge would die a happy man.

Bess grinned deviously back up at her husband, her fingers playing with his cravat. "April Fools', Wolf." With a laugh, she tugged on his tie and brought him back down for another sound kiss that Ebenezer eagerly obliged her with. And, as Bess discovered, he tasted delightfully of custard.

GODDAMN, THEY ARE SO ADORABLE.

Taglist: @rom-e-o @oldmanlusting @themostanonymousscribbler @the-house-of-auditore-frye (if anybody else would like to join the list, let me know in the replies)

Imagine you and your f/o are chilling together, doing whatever you usually do until you notice they are looking at you.

"You have something on your face, let me get it"

They move closer to you and suddenly... they kiss you on your cheek .///.

"April Fools!"

pr//oshi//ppers plz DNI