#ebenezer scrooge fluff

[oothepinksquidoo]

Gingerbread men .★. scrooge x reader oneshot

Hey there! So this is a one shot for my book, his past our future, but I thought it could be just fine on it's own!

Infomation: You own a bakery, Bob's kids, Tim and Katherine help out in the bakery. This is after the movie so Scrooge is all happy and stuff Pretty much all you need LMFAO (though if you want context check my past post for the link the book *hint hint*)

It had been a week since Bob had officially joined Ebenezer as business partners and life was almost perfect, extremely busy most definitely, but I wouldn't want it any other way. 

Today, I was at the bakery, it was a slow day with little to no customers coming in, this usually happened at least once a week, usually in the middle as everyone was busy. Usually, when this would happen I would usually hop in the back and bake on my own until a customer comes in, yet today was… well slightly different.

“Y/n, is it always this quiet here?” Tim asked, who was practising walking without his crutch, he still needed it most definitely, but there was a slight improvement to him since he started to take his medicine!

“Not always, kid. The bakery won't always be busy and that's okay, it just means we have to find our own entertainment.” I said with a grin.

“Like what?” Katherine asked, “And before you ask I ain't singing again.”

I laughed slightly, “Don't worry about that, Kathy.” I have some spare ingredients in the kitchen… How about we make some gingerbread men?” The children's eyes lit up when I said that, “Why, we could make your whole family!” The kids cheered, running to the back.

I hastily followed them into the back, what could possibly be more fun than spending time with these kids? And let's be honest, anything beats standing at the counter waiting for no one to come in.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

Ebenezer was working at his desk with a slight grin on his face as he talked to Bob, he looked up at the time, “Ah, I must be off, why don't you take a break, Bob? Go get some lunch with Ethel or whatever you please?” He said as he grabbed his coat.

“That sounds great, Ebenezer.” Bob said, still unsure about calling him by his first name, “I’m sure Ethel wouldn't mind me popping home for half an hour or so.” 

“As long as you like,” Ebenezer assured as he left the shop and hopped down the stairs, hastily walking across the road to the alleyway. Ebenezer, as he had done for the past few weeks, waved and said hello to everyone he possibly could, getting greeted back. He had to admit he loved this new feeling, yet he still felt like he was a lost cause… He knew it was stupid to think this way, and he knew I would scold him for thinking this way, but he did such a thing anyway. 

He shook off the thought as he looked at my bakery, feeling much calmer at the sight of it and he slipped in. He noticed no one was at the front, he cleared his throat, “Uh, Y/n, my dear?” Ebenezer noticed the bell and pressed it, hoping to catch anyone’s attention.

“Ebenezer!” I greeted as I walked to the front, covered in flour. “I wasn't expecting you here so soon..” I laughed awkwardly.

“What on earth happened to you?” He asked with a slight laugh in his voice. He walked behind the counter and began patting the flour out of my hair, chuckling away to himself.

“Ah, well, you see I'm letting the kids make gingerbread men for their family. I think more flour got on us than in the bowls.” I laughed too, patting the flour off my clothes.

Ebenezer’s smile rose even higher, “The children are here? How's Tim now? Is he making a recovery?”

I intertwined my finger’s with Ebenezers, “How about you see for yourself?” Before he could say another word I pulled him into the Kitchen. Ebenezer yelped slightly as he was pulled unexpectedly, but soon laughed as we walked.

We entered the kitchen, and to say his jaw dropped to the floor was an understatement. “Oh my!” He smirked, remarking that the kids were more heavily floured than I was.

“It was Tim’s fault,” Katherine said, rolling her eyes. 

“As long as you two are having fun.” Ebenezer said ruffling Tim’s hair, “Believe me, there is nothing worse than living a life with no fun.”

“Exactly,” I agreed, “Which is the reason why you shall be joining us!”

Ebenezer’s smile fell, “I beg your pardon?” 

“You. will. Be. Joining. Us.” I repeated slower.

“Absolutely not.” Ebenezer refused, “I’m not wearing the right clothes! And I have to go back to the office. Imagine the looks I'd get covered in flour?”

I put a finger on his lips, “Hush now. I’m sure the kids would love it, love.” With pleading eyes, the children gazed upward at Ebenezer.

Ebenezer sighed, “Oh, very well.” The kids cheered as they ran back to the counter for the next steps.

I turned to face Ebenezer, who was in a small huff. “Good boy.” I kissed his cheek and walked over to the kids to help them out.

Ebenezer watched me walk away as his face flushed red. He cleared his throat, “I uh, uhm. What- how-”

I laughed at him, “Well, first of all, we need the flour to actually go in the bowl this time, got it, Timmy?” He nodded, giggling slightly. 

I explained all the steps on how to make the dough. I then gave Ebenezer a bowl as I demonstrated on my own so they could follow. Katherine picked up on the steps extremely quickly and Tim wasn't too bad either! Ebenezer on the other hand? Well, the spirit was there at least.

I walked around the group, inspecting their gingerbread men, “So who are you making Kathy?” I asked.

“Well, There’s me, Martha, Belinda, Anastasia, and Peter! I’m also going to make mother.” She explained as she rolled out her dough for the last gingerbread.

“And I'm going to make me, Brea, Lucy, and Matthew!” Tim added, “And of course father too.”

“Wonderful,” I grinned at them, I peaked over Ebenezer’s shoulder, “So what are you making, dear?”

“That's something you’ll have to wait and see,” He said, concentrating as hard as he could. “I do have to admit, you make this business appear easier than it is.” 

“Well, I've had a lot of experience,” I replied, returning to my own dough to continue my own gingerbread men. 

After ten or so minutes, everyone had completed their gingerbread men and were now being baked over the fire. The kids looked around the room, “Now what?” Tim asked.

“Now we just have to wait, I'm afraid,” I replied to him which he sighed too. 

“Why don't you children go outside and play for a while? When they're prepared, we'll give you a call.” Ebenezer suggested, which they both nodded to, running out of the kitchen to go play in the snow. Ebenezer smiled warmly once they left, “What wonderful children they are.”

“They sure are.” I replied, leaning on Ebenezer, I looked up at him, “So why did you visit today?”

Ebenezer rubbed the back of his neck, “ah… Such a foolish reason, I’m afraid. I just wanted to see you, since you've begun running the bakery again I've missed your company at the shop. I know I have Bob, but well. He’s not you.”

Heat rushed to my face, “Oh Ebenezer, you are such an adorable man.” I laughed slightly, “In all honesty, I've missed you too.” His face lit up at that, “But, we both have our businesses to run, we have plenty of time to see one another after closing hours, correct?”

“Quite so.” Ebenezer agreed, “Though that doesn't stop me from being here right now, I told Bob he could take an hour or so off. I’m all yours for now, dear.” 

I looked at him to see the flour that covered his cheek, “I think the flour has claimed you instead,” I joke, wiping it away.

After so long I checked the gingerbread and saw they were perfectly cooked, “Ah, perfect, would you be a sweetheart and go get the kids?” I asked, Ebenezer straight away got to it, walking to the front to collect the kids.

Meanwhile, I grabbed the gingerbread from the fire oven, the kid’s gingerbread looked beautiful! They were perfect! Ebenezers? Well, it was perfect in his own way. I had to tilt my head slightly to see the shape of men though…

I placed all the gingerbread onto cooling trays before the kids re-entered with Ebenezer. They all gasped seeing their gingerbread.

“They look marvellous! Well done children!” Ebenezer praised, he looked over to his and laughed awkwardly, “Well, mine is… something!”

“It’s beautiful in its own way.” I kissed his cheek, returning to my own baked treats, “Now, it's time for the fun part, Decorating!” I announced, the kids squealed with excitement. 

“I suppose I can try.” Ebenezer looked nervously at his gingerbread, he only made two yet he was struggling to keep up, whereas the kid made loads and they looked beautiful! 

Twenty minutes later, everyone had fully finished decorating. The kid smiled looking at their gingerbread, they both did a wonderful job, they were truly talented in the business of bakery. 

“Well done, my loves! They look so beautiful!” I praised them as I helped them pack their gingerbread into baskets. “You both are so talented!”

I walked over to Ebenezer’s, his were definitely… interesting, “Well, they look like people!” I said with a grin. “Can I ask who they are now?”

“Well,” Ebenezer began, “They're supposed to be us.” He squinted slightly, “They don't look a lot like us, huh.” 

I wrapped my arms around him, “I think they're wonderful.”

“Y/n? Can we take these home now?” Tim asked, quite giddily.

“I don't see why not?” I replied, “Why don't Ebenezer and I follow you there, it’d be nice to see your mother, I haven't seen her very much since Christmas.” Ebenezer and the children agreed as we followed them out of the bakery.

Ebenezer looked around quite confused at the darkness of London, “Did I leave Bob at the shop all afternoon?” He asked, “I’ll make it up to him tomorrow,” He said as he locked the door for me to the bakery. I linked arms with Ebenezer, as we walked; he became slightly anxious as the kids sprinted ahead. “Don't go too far ahead, children! Stay where we can see you.” 

“You know, You’d be an excellent father, my love.” I told him, and he smiled at that.

“I must admit, I have always dreamed of being a father one day. And after Isabel left me I deemed that desire as impossible.” He spoke softly.

“Well, now you have me. Maybe that dream will come true one day.” I replied, squeezing his arm slightly. As we walked I saw the Cratchit home get closer and closer in view. “Ah, there it is, the Cratchit home.” The kids ran ahead to the door, opening it in excitement to present their family with what they had made.

Soon enough we got to the door too, seeing in front of us the whole family crowding around the table, “We made the whole Cratchit family!” Tim announced, “Y/n showed us how to make them!”

Bob looked at the baskets and smiled, “Wonderful! Just wonderful! You two are the finest bakers in the whole of London!” 

One of the older kids, Martha, laughed as she noticed me at the doorway with Ebenezer, “Y/n don't take offence to that statement.” 

Bob turned around, he laughed in surprise, “Y/n, Ebenezer! So glad to see both of you, sorry I wasn't expecting visitors.” 

“It’s quite alright Bob, we were just making sure the children got back here safely, we couldn't possibly let them go through London at this hour.” Ebenezer assured, taking off his top hat and placing it on Tim, making the other children laugh.

“Well, we have extra soup and bread rolls if you would like to stay for dinner.” Ethel said as she placed some bowls on the table, “I’m sure the kids would love to have you here and so would I of course.”

“I don't see why not,” I looked at Ebenezer as I placed the basket that had Ebenezer’s and my gingerbread men in on the floor, “What do you say, love?”

“If that's okay with you, we’d love to.” Ebenezer replied, taking off his jacket and placing them with the other coats.

The Cratchit children cheered once they heard the news of us staying over for dinner, and I was delighted too. This family was the most incredible family I could possibly imagine! In fact, I couldn't imagine a life without them, they made me feel included with their family when I had no one else to turn to. In a way, they were my family. 

[quill-pen]

Meet the Scrooges ~pt. 1~ A Sims 4 Scroogeverse fic

Set in the Sims 4 au by @rom-e-o. The first half of the little fic I've been working on bit by bit. Was originally supposed to be one thing, but it felt right to have one half mainly focused on meeting Starla and the other focusing mainly on Bess meeting and befriending Constance.

Rated T for some language and innuendo.

No warnings, just heaps and gobs and mounds of fluff.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Bess groaned as they approached the tall brick house. Her stomach continuously rolled up into her throat and down again to her toes at a sickening pace as the building loomed closer and closer. It was a beautiful looking house, Victorian era, remodeled and refurbished tastefully to allow for modern functionality while keeping the beautiful, classic, and timeless charm. It was just Bess' style. She would have adored it and been so excited to enter if it weren't for the reason they were entering it: To meet Ebenezar's family.

It was insane how she had never met them before, after having been in her Wolf's life for several years now, and especially since Wolf and his twin brother were so close, being the only real family they'd had for decades. But it was one of those freak things where situation and inconvenience had popped up after situation and inconvenience after situation and inconvenience until you hadn't met people for four to five years. Shit was chaotic. But now, approaching their second anniversary, Wolf was finally taking Bess to meet her in-laws.

They'd been invited to stay the weekend, which Bess thought was incredibly generous and maybe a bit crazy considering Ebenezer and Constance had just had twins not long ago. Not to mention they had a nearly-three-year-old daughter in the house. (This was why they'd opted to leave Bess' siblings with Granny FeFe for the weekend. After all, they'd only be a few minutes drive away should they be needed.) All in all, this would either be a blast or a disaster--no inbetween.

Wolf chuckled warmly from the driver's seat. "You're going to be fine, Dearest," he soothed her. "Take deep breaths. Slowly."

Bess tried, but the breathing seemed to settle nothing. "This was a bad idea," she lamented. "This was such a bad idea--staying the weekend. We should've just kept the kids with us and gone to the beach with everyone else. Why the hell did we think this was a good idea?!" Bess hid her face in her hands as she shook it.

"Because it is a good idea," Wolf assured her, voice soft but firm. "I haven't seen my brother or Connie for years or even met my first niece. It's high time we spend some family time--it's past due."

He glanced Bess' way, eyes softening with sympathy as he watched her rock nervously back and forth in an attempt to soothe herself. The silver-haired man reached over and gently grabbed one of her hands, pulling it away from her face and weaving their fingers together to squeeze comfortingly. "Hey," he murmured quietly. "It's going to be all right, Bess. I promise. Sammy and Connie have been dying to meet you since I first mentioned you. In fact, I'd say it's safe to say they already love you just from what I've told them about you."

Bess looked pitifully at him. "You'd be biased in whatever you said though," she meekly pointed out with a tremor in her voice. "They only know your version of me, Wolfy, not me me--the real, uncensored, un-rosy-colored version. Wh-what if... what if they don't like that version?" She clutched his hand more tightly in her anxiousness.

Wolf brought their hands to his mouth and sweetly kissed her knuckles even as he kept driving. "Sweetest Moondust," he purred into her skin, "beautiful wife and magnificent She-Wolf, my version of you is the real, uncensored version, no matter how you're unable to see it yet. But even if it weren't exactly, why would they not like you?"

"Maybe because I'm almost thirty years younger than you?"

"Your age--and consequently our age gap--has never once been anything more than a bullet point of fact for anyone, Bess, I assure you. All the jokes the others have made over the years have been good natured and affectionate: My brother and Connie will be no different. You're a grown, intelligent, mature woman perfectly capable of making your own informed decisions--no one has ever questioned that for a moment."

"Okay, then if not that, how 'bout the fact I stole you away from your family and business and kept you tied up in the shit with my demonic whack-job of a mother for years so you couldn't come back home? You missed the births of your nieces and nephew because of me. You should have been here, Wolf, not halfway across the world being a shield for me against my incubator from hell."

They were pulling up to the manor now, pulling into the driveway and parking.

Wolf finally looked fully at her. "You never stole me away, Darling," he assured her softly, drawing her worried gaze with his gentle one. "I went with you willingly; practically forced myself into the situation, remember? The past two-and-a-half years I've been exactly where I needed and was meant to be--right by your side. You needed me, and I wouldn't have changed that for anything, nor do I have any regrets for it. Sammy and Constance are in complete agreement with me as to it all and have been since I told them I was leaving with you. They begrudge you nothing, I promise you--I would have set them straight otherwise."

Bess couldn't help but smile a little. "I know you would have," she cooed, kissing his bicep and leaning her forehead against his shoulder. "But, in my experience, even when people are set straight... it doesn't seem to take." She couldn't help the glumness in her tone as she remembered the hell of her youth and growing up. She wanted nothing more than to never go back into any such situations ever again.

The silver-haired man bowed his head and kissed her coal-black curls. "Well, it's a good thing we don't have to worry about it then, hm?"

Bess lifted her head to come nose-to-nose with him and meet his eyes again. She didn't look or feel anymore reassured. "If you say so."

Wolf smirked and hummed, eyes flicking down to her mouth and back. Then, without warning, he surged in and captured her soft, perfectly painted lips with his. Let her try to be anxious with that!

Bess squeaked in surprise but then quickly melted into the contact, letting her eyes drift closed as she shifted closer to him, untangling her hand from his to hold his cheek while the other reached out and gripped his vest to pull them closer. Every thought and emotion she felt that didn't involve him and her love for him washed out of her soul like it had been taken out with the tide. What she wouldn't have given to just stay with him like this; his smooth, warm lips caressing hers, his teeth sinking into her pillowy bottom lip ever so gently now and again, his tongue hot and skilled as it slipped alongside her own, tasting like the peppermint he'd sucked on during the drive, his fresh cedar apple cologne and cinnamon citrus aftershave filling her nostrils and tickling her olfactory senses so delightfully. The fact that this glorious god of a man was hers--and willingly--still boggled her mind.

After a moment, and after Wolf had slipped a hand up her panty-hoed thigh beneath her powder blue skirt to grope her hip, they pulled apart, panting a bit for air. "For the record," Wolf husked as he gazed cross-eyed into her starry eyes, "you're always rosy-colored. And it's gorgeous."

Bess' insides tickled with butterfly flutters. She pulled her lip between her teeth and ducked her face from view into her husband's shoulder, tittering giddily like a crushing thirteen-year-old. A blush reddened her cheeks.

Wolf chuckled affectionately, squeezing her thigh and nuzzling her closer. "Properly married for over a year, and still so bashful whenever I compliment and kiss you," he gently taunted. He peppered her crown with more kisses.

Bess, shyly peeked up from behind her thick curtain of hair. "You make... everything feel new," she murmured. "Like a first. Every time. Whenever I think I can't love you any deeper or harder, you go and look at me like I'm the center of the world or hold my hand or... kiss me like you just did... and I somehow fall even more in love with you." She chuckled and bumped her brow to his, closing her eyes as she nuzzled into his warmth. "How do you manage to do that?"

The man leaned into her touch and nuzzled back. "Perhaps because I love you so bloody damn much, every time I look at you, I think I can't possibly love you more than in that moment, but then the next time I look at you comes... and then I can't possibly love you more than in that moment. Or the next, or the next." Wolf kissed his wife's brow, then tipped her head back to meet her starry eyes again. "I have a sneaking suspicion my entire life is just going to be a perpetual free fall into a deeper and deeper love for you, Mrs. Scrooge."

Bess' heart skipped beats as the butterflies in her belly tickled a grin onto her face and tears into her eyes. "Oh, Wolfy." Without thinking she dove back in for another slow, simmering kiss which she was most eagerly obliged with. "I love you so, so much," she whispered against his soft lips.

"And I love you," her man returned. "And so will your brother- and sister-in-law. Now come on." He pecked a barely-there kiss to her lips again and pulled back to switch the engine of the Royce off. He winked at her. "Let's go meet your family, yeah?"

Luggage retrieved from the trunk of the car and in hand, the couple trekked toward the front door. Each step caused Bess' anxiety to mount higher and higher, and when she finally laid eyes on the door, it took everything in her to not drop her bags, turn tail, and gallop away. Again her mind was screaming about what a bad idea this was. A voice that sounded just like her mother was echoing in her head: They'll hate you. Nobody likes you anyway, but they'll hate you for what you've done and keeping Ebenezar away. They'll think you're manipulative and controlling and only want him for the money. If they care about him at all, they'll try to take Ebenezar away from you--you don't deserve him. You're not good enough for him--you're not good enough for this life--and they know it. They'll see right through you and see just how unremarkable, common, and disappointing you really are.

A gentle, warm pressure wrapped around her shoulder, pulling her focus away from the voice in her head. Bess looked down to see her shoulder encased in her hubby's large hand, then looked up into his face again. She realized she must have stopped walking when he'd kept going because he was turned towards her, like he'd realized she was no longer following him and had come back to collect her.

Wolf smiled in gentle reassurance as he held her gaze. "You all right?" he crooned. His large, strong fingers tenderly squeezed.

"H-How should I act?" The question seemed to come out of nowhere; not even Bess understood why she'd asked it. That hadn't been any of the thoughts running through her mind.

Her man lightly cocked an eyebrow in confusion before sighing with an adoring smile as he shook his head. Letting her shoulder go, he brought his hand to her face, tucking hair behind an ear before cupping her cheek. "Like you," came the sincere answer. "You should only ever act like you, Moonflower." He leaned back down to give her another soft kiss to once again help settle her nerves. (It truly was a remedy he never tired of dispensing.) With that, Wolf curled his arm around her back and gently led her on.

They'd only just reached the bottom of the steps when the large, dark wood door with the impressive knocker suddenly opened and an older, short little woman dressed in a maid's uniform with glasses and a broom stepped out to bar their way. Stamping the broom down on the top step and leaning against it, she perched a hand on her hip. "Well, well, what have we here?" she drawled, sounding vaguely Eastern European. A sly smile quirked up her lips and her eyes sparkled in good natured mischief. "Do my aging eyes deceive me, or has the prodigal finally returned?"

Wolf laughed warmly. "I can promise you it's not your eyes, Magda," he declared. He let go of Bess and opened his arm out to the woman. "I'm home."

Magda's smirk blossomed into a beaming grin and she leaned the broom against the brick and came down the steps to embrace the man. "Oh, Ben," she chuckled warmly. "My Benny Boy."

Bess couldn't help but smirk at that. "Benny Boy"? Wolf hated when people called him 'Benny' and 'Benny Boy'--she surmised--would have been no less different and probably worse. Magda must have been someone quite special: She seemed about Wolf's age, maybe a little older--sixties at the oldest. Perhaps a doting, older sister-figure? The idea warmed the Yank's racing heart.

Magda embraced Wolf for a long moment, patting and rubbing his back affectionately and even rocking him a bit. "Oh, we all missed you, Love," she told the man. "Everyone. Of course, we all knew why you had to stay away so long, and we managed, but it wasn't the same."

Wolf chuckled and rubbed Magda's back comfortingly in turn. "I missed all of you, too," he assured the woman. "But I'm back now. And I don't plan on leaving again for a good long while."

"Good. We need you here." The woman passed her hands over Wolf's sides and then paused, pressing her palms against his ribs. "My!" she exclaimed, pulling back from the Englishman with wide eyes. She felt along his sides, flanks, shoulders and chest, and finally his middle. "I see you didn't suffer from hunger while you were away," she claimed, smiling in amusement. "You've put on as much weight as Ebenezer has! Wonderful! You walking skeletons certainly needed some extra pounds."

Wolf rolled his slate-blue eyes. "Don't exaggerate, Magda," he groaned playfully.

"Me? Exaggerate? Never!"

Wolf snorted out a laugh.

"I hope you didn't become addicted to all that ghastly, American fast-food while you were there," Magda only half-joked.

"Honestly, rarely touched the stuff." Wolf looked away from Magda over to Bess with a soft smile. "Bess saw to that. She fed me well--took spectacular care of me."

Bess blushed and couldn't help but return his smile. "Well, you took wonderful care of me first," she insisted. "How could I not return the favor?"

"Aaahhhh," Magda cut in again. She was turned to completely direct her attention upon the American, a little smile on her lips. "So this is the famous Bess." She looked the young woman over, smiling warmer and larger with every sweep of her eyes.

Bess shrunk back a bit, painfully aware the spotlight was now upon her. "U-Um... yeah, th-that'd be me. I-I-I don't know about "famous" though."

Magda shook her head as her smile continued to widen. "You're famous in this household, Dove," she informed the Yank. "And, one could argue, famous throughout the live music scene of London and on YouTube as well, Ms. Moonrock, sought after lounge performer and 65.5K subs strong--whatever that means, but according to the children it's quite good. I must say famous for good reason as well--you are pretty as a rose and cute as the dickens!"

Bess flushed red hot all the way down beneath her collar at that, her freckles popping from beneath her minimal makeup with the blush. She shifted on her purple peep-toe shoes a bit, fluctuating between feeling both morbidly embarrassed and genuinely chuffed over such compliments. She wasn't sure she'd ever get used to hearing such words so frequently directed her way that weren't in the form of YouTube comments or from drunken galloots at a hotel bar. Smiling the tiniest bit, the woman turned and ducked her head to shyly hide her face a bit behind her dark hair. "Thank-Thank you."

Chuckling warmly, Wolf began introductions: "Darling, I'd like you to meet our maid--well, Sammy and Connie's maid anyway--Magda Vandergeissan." The man clasped the little woman's sturdy shoulder and smiled impishly down at her. "She runs this house with an iron fist."

Magda playfully scowled at him and smacked his hand away. "Oh, you--hush! Not an iron fist. ... A fist of hard-packed earth. Wrapped in velvet."

Wolf laughed. Then he turned to Bess again and stepped toward her, brushing her hair back and taking up her hand to bring to his lips again. "Magda, this is Bess Scrooge." He smiled at the dark-haired woman, eyes soft as a lamb's, and held her hand over his heart. "My wonderful, beautiful, remarkable wife--the woman who has made me the happiest and luckiest man on Earth." His voice was tender, dripping with adoration and devotion.

Bess couldn't help but smile back as that familiar warmth flooded through her. She always felt like the most amazing woman in the world when he looked at her like that. She wasn't, of course, but she could easily believe it for a minute or two when in the lovelight of those gorgeous eyes. "Oh, stop it," she giggled in the way girls who are deeply in love do.

"All right, all right," Magda said, stepping in between the pair. "You lovebirds can make goo-goo eyes at each other later. Right now, I'd like to get to know the lovely lady. You can only learn so much from YouTube videos and hotel Yelp reviews." Without even looking, the maid took Bess' bag from Bess' hand and pushed the handle into Wolf's. Then she took Bess' make-up travel kit and stuck it under his arm. "You can handle the luggage, can't you, Ben?" It was an order phrased as a question. Before Magda could get an answer, she wrapped an arm around Bess' and turned all of her attention to the young woman. She smiled in a motherly fashion. "Come along, Dovey, let's go inside and you can tell me all about yourself." She began to lead Bess inside. "Would you like some tea? I've made fresh biscuits to go with it."

"U-uh, yes. That-that would be just fine, Mrs. Vand-"

"Oh, please, Sweetheart, call me 'Magda'--I insist. After all, we're practically family. Might I say, that is an absolutely lovely sweater. Lavender is an excellent color for you. And don't you look darling in that skirt? Constance isn't the only one in the family with style anymore. She'll be happy for that."

"Oh, um... thank you, Magda." Bess craned her head back to give her husband a nervous look but he just grinned and winked as he followed with the bags.

"I'm afraid you just missed the family by about five minutes," Magda informed them. "They took the little ones on a walk for some sunshine. They should be back in a half hour or so. Ben, why don't you take the bags up to your room? I've turned down the bed and have everything ready for the pair of you to stay in your old room this weekend."

Wolf nodded, then sent a careful gaze his wife's way. "Are you going to be all right for a moment or two?" he asked. His voice was full of sincerity and understanding, not a bit patronizing. Bess' anxiety was never something to be taken lightly for him, especially not since it had begun to flare drastically again during the whole debacle with her mother. They were working on getting it under control again, and the medication and coping exercises were definitely helping--even just being back home with family and friends seemed to be helping a great deal; it would be a good while, though, before Bess was back to the stability she'd had before her mother had reared her ugly head again.

Bess offered a small smile in turn as she managed a nod. "I think so," she answered quietly. "If not, I'll call and-"

"I'll come running," her husband finished for her with an assuring nod. He stepped forward and bowed down to give her a yet another short but still languid kiss. After which, he took the time to touch his brow to hers and hold her gaze. "I'll be back in just a minute." With that, he went up one of the split staircases and disappeared into the floors above.

Bess watched after him, a dopey smile that never seemed to fail to come out whenever he kissed her--no matter how chastely--lingering on her face. "Love you," she dreamily called after him. She would never grow tired of saying that.

Magda watched on with a sly, knowing smirk, hands perched on her hips. If that wasn't the look of a woman smitten to the very core of her soul for her man, she didn't know what was. "Well, well, well," the maid drawled, drawing the raven-haired woman's attention. "I've been in the presence of the two of you for less than five minutes, but I think it's safe to say you're as thick as thieves."

Bess couldn't help the bashful, girlish giggle that escaped her as she hid her blushing face in her hands.

Magda chuckled. "I'll take that as a sign he's treating you as he should."

Bess smiled in a completely lovesick way at the maid, hands on her blushing cheeks, her chest feeling as though it were about to explode with happiness. A year and a half as an established couple, and she still felt as though she were in the beginning stages of fresh love. Would it always be like this? She couldn't imagine that it wouldn't be, not with her marvelous Wolf. "Like a queen," she practically swooned. "I want for nothing with him. He's the most amazing and marvelous man!"

Magda knew that well. And the fact that Bess could see it too, caused Magda to be overcome with the urge to hug the young woman and join in her happiness. She did just that. The fact Bess readily returned the affection only after a moment's hesitation made the maid even more happy. Ebenezar had most definitely picked a good one. Of course, Magda had known that too from the first time the man had ever spoken of the Yank.

"I can tell just from the way he looks at you, that you treat him just as well," Magda murmured. The maid pulled back a bit to meet Bess' shining eyes and, for the first time, truly noticed the freckles sprinkling Bess' face. Ah, another freckled, blue-eyed beauty. I'm starting to see a pattern here.

"I'm so happy you're here with us now, Bess," Magda murmured, squeezing the girl's arms as she smiled sincerely into her face. "I'm so happy you and Ben have finally found each other. I've hoped and prayed for a long time for both of the boys to find their special someones--people who will love and cherish them as they deserve to be, partners who will help them bear the burden of the world instead of letting them become crushed by it. Ebenezer has found that special someone in Constance, and, though I've only just met you, from everything I've heard from Ben over the years and just from what I've seen already in the last few minutes, I can tell he's found that special someone in you. And I couldn't be more grateful or happier."

"I just want to make him feel as happy and loved as I can," Bess stated, gushing a bit as she gripped the maid back. "I want to build a life with him, from the ground up. I want to face every challenge and hardship with him and celebrate every triumph and good time with him. I want to give him a home and everything else he's ever needed and wanted. I want to help him see the man that I see when I look at him--a good man, kind and strong and brave and generous and chivalrous. Oh, I just want to love him, Magda! I do love him with all my heart and soul, and thank the heavens for him every day. I just want to love him for all eternity in any and every way that I can."

Tears shone in Magda's eyes by the end of that diatribe, her chin trembling ever so slightly. "If you knew how long I've waited for someone to say those things about my Benny Boy..." she trailed off into a quiet sob, a happy tear descending her cheek. Once again, she embraced the American, hugging her tight and close as she patted her back. She thought her heart would burst when Bess hugged her back just as tightly. "Welcome to the family, Bess. We've waited much too long for you to come home."

"Took me a long time to find it," Bess croaked back. "But now that I'm here, I'm not ever leaving--I promise."

When Wolf came back, from the third floor, he was drawn by the sound of laughter into the sitting room where he was greeted by the sight of Magda and Bess seated at the tea table. Both women held cups of tea as a tray of chocolate chip biscuits sat between them, and neither of them seemed to notice his entrance as they were both laughing much too hard. The man couldn't help but chuckle as well, thrilled that his wife and mother-figure were getting on so well already. "Well, now," he called out as he crossed the room, "this is a sight." He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Bess' crown, stroking a warm hand down her back. "And you were afraid she'd slam the door in your face," he teased at a whisper into her ear.

Bess giggled sheepishly and blushed. Yes, she'd been overthinking and worrying needlessly. Again. Perhaps one day she'd learn to not do that.

"Now," Wolf sighed, leaning down to chomp a bite out of the half-eaten biscuit in his love's hand before standing up and looking between both women, "what are we laughing at?" He pulled out a chair and shifted it a bit closer to Bess before sitting down and slipping an arm around her shoulders.

Bess smirked at him as she arched an eyebrow in mischief. "You and your folded skivvies and ironed socks." She snickered when her man shot her a slightly unamused glare as his cheeks pinked up just a bit.

Magda chuckled. "Oh, Ben, dear, in many ways you've changed, but in so many others you've stayed the same," she crooned, reaching over to fondly pat the businessman's knee. "Thank the Lord you found this lovely little Yankee who's willing to put up with and cater to your... idiosyncrasies. Many women wouldn't without being paid."

Wolf became a bit defensive at that insinuation, however playful it was. "Bess doesn't have to...! I-I don't force her to...! If she didn't want...!" he tried to explain himself, but he was much too flustered.

Bess and Magda broke into giggles again and Bess leaned in closer to his side and wrapped her arms around his waist. "She's just teasing, babe," she cooed. "Feminists everywhere would scream and froth at the mouth but let them: I like folding your boxer briefs and ironing your socks. Besides, it's not like you don't handle my laundry in return." She kissed his flushed cheek.

Magda's eyes widened behind her glasses. "Whhhaaaaat?" she drawled in disbelief. "Ebenezar Charles Scrooge doing laundry?"

Wolf glowered at the maid. "Don't sound so surprised," he grumbled. "I know how to use a washer and dryer. It doesn't take a genius."

"He was a little rusty at first," Bess admitted with a giggle. "I had to remind him about separating things. And I don't think he'd ever heard of fabric softener before." She ignored the groan from her hubby and continued on: "But after that, he caught on quick--within the first few laundry days. And he was always excellent at handwashing--I wouldn't trust my delicates to anyone but him."

"Huuussssshhhhhh!" Wolf hissed, blushing red clear up to the tips of his ears. The last thing he needed Magda to hear about was how he liked to wash Bess' pretty little knickers in the sink to unwind after rough days.

Bess smirked up at him and winked. "And he positively loves folding things now that I got him a folding board," she went on. "You should see him when he uses it--making sure every piece of clothing is laid out perfectly on the board and carefully folding them into perfect little rectangles and squares. He does this little smile and nod at the end of every one as he stacks them into their specific piles. Ugh! It's so cute I could die!"

Magda broke into laughter again at the thought. Knowing the perfectionist her beloved Benny Boy was, the Hungarian could picture that scenario exactly!

"Oh, and can you believe, Magda," Bess went on as she patted her man's chest, "that this darling of a gentleman went out of his way to buy special, scented products to use on my clothes specifically?" The freckled woman smiled in complete adoration up at the silver-haired man.

Though he blushed red hot and avoided eye-contact, Wolf's lips curved into a bashful smile. He didn't believe he'd ever get tired of hearing her call him "darling".

"Oh, did he now?" Magda chortled as she smirked at the blushing fellow. As if it weren't already plain as day Ebenezar Scrooge was a man smitten beyond reason. "And, correct me if I'm wrong, Bess Dear, but I seem to recall some Instagram posts of a certain silver-haired gentleman cooking and baking?"

Bess grinned a mile wide. "You did!"

"Ho, now--wait a second," Wolf quickly injected. "I only mastered the grill--I'm still complete rubbish in the kitchen." He nudged his wife with a significant smirk. "At least, without someone there to guide me. I'm a much better assistant cook."

Bess smiled and nudged him back. "You are an excellent grill-master," she acknowledged. "And you're the best assistant cook. Especially since you volunteer to do all the dishes." She leaned in to peck a chaste kiss on the lips he offered up in a pucker. "Mmmmwah!"

Magda chuckled as she shook her head at the couple. "Laundry, house-cleaning, cooking, baking, washing dishes--I can hardly believe it, but you've actually domesticated him. Well done, Bess. Brava." The maid actually clapped which earned her a small glare from the man in question. She only snickered.

"Oh, I wouldn't go that far," Bess countered with a sly side-eye to the older woman. "I'd say he's still plenty wild and rough in many ways." She turned back to and winked at her love. "Can't sand those rough edges away completely. What would I have to hold on to?"

The trio continued their tea time with warm, lively chatter, discussing everything from America to Hungary and everything in between. Magda filled in blanks about what had happened the last few years while the Wolves (Magda explained that's what everyone had taken to calling the pair collectively--Wolf groaned at the information while Bess laughed) had been away. It was as comfortable and cozy as three long-lost friends reuniting; Bess felt silly for ever having worried in the first place. But, of course, this was just Magda. She had yet to meet her in-laws.

Speaking of the devils--it wasn't long until there was a voice that sounded much like Wolf's but couldn't be his ringing through the house: "We're back!"

A familiar, resounding bark echoed right after it, and just a moment or two later, a big, furry, golden brown blur came barrelling through the door of the sitting room. Very nearly crashing into the couple, the blur quickly changed into a whining flurry of tail wags and slobbery kisses complete with a cold, wet, inspecting nose. Wolf and Bess laughed and endured the onslaught of wet affection joyously, wrapping their arms around the beast. "Prudence!" they both cheered. They slipped from their chairs to kneel on the floor to more sufficiently love up the excited mastiff, taking turns hugging her and getting showered with drool and giving the dog back and butt-scratches as she frantically spun around between them to give them ample and equal amounts of affection. Clearly the couple had been missed and she had too.

"Oh, Prudence!" Wolf laughed as he scratched the dog down her back and up her sides. "Good old Prudence!"

Bess held the dog's face between her hands, smushing and ruffling her floppy jowls as she smooched the animal all over her giant head. "Ugh, you big, sweet, wonderful ol' meatball-head!" she giggled, touching her brow to Prudence's. "Oh, we missed you, old girl."

Grinning a mile wide with lolling tongue, Prudence promptly flipped onto her back to offer her belly up for tummy-rubs. She was quickly obliged. The dog started whining in happiness again, her tail drumming the floor and one of her back legs pedaling as just the right spots were found.

"The children are going to be upset they didn't get to see you," Wolf crooned.

"She looks great!" Bess exclaimed, noting the mastiff's healthy body weight and solid musculature. As far as her breed went, Prudence was most definitely a senior dog, as she'd already been 9 years old when Bess had first met Wolf. But you could hardly tell from the way she acted or looked: Apart from a few white hairs around her muzzle and in her brows, Prudence could have easily been mistaken for a dog a quarter her age! It was just further proof for Bess' quiet theory that this dog wasn't really a dog, but a guardian angel in canine disguise.

"Hardly looks a day older than when Marley left her with us," a warm, smooth voice chuckled. The voice was familiar to Bess' ears--almost like her Wolf's--but different enough it could easily be deciphered for someone different. By someone close to him anyway.

The couple turned their attention from the dog to the tall man dressed in comfortable slacks and a casual blue vest over a white button-down and tie. This was Ebenezer Samuel Scrooge, one-half of London's famous (and in some corners, yet, infamous), philanthropic, billionaire-bankers-and-businessmen-brothers team. Also, Bess' brother-in-law.

Wolf's mouth split into a laughing grin as he sprung to his feet and quickly closed the distance between himself and the other grinning man. "Sammy!" he boomed. He clasped his brother's extended arm as the other fellow did the same and the two pulled each other into a great hug, slapping each other on the backs.

Bess couldn't help but stare. She'd known since before she met him that her Wolf was an identical twin--complete with a set of identical names because their father had been that sort of dick--and this wasn't the first time she'd seen Ebenezer--or rather "Adonis" as she had taken to calling him since seeing pictures online. But it was still uncanny to see a man who had her husband's face but who wasn't her husband embracing her husband. The same two-toned, steel and silver hair--though Wolf's was much longer as he'd finally managed to grow it to the "rebellious" length he'd always wanted; the same large, handsome, owlish nose; the same diamond shaped face with the chiseled cheekbones and sharp jaw that could cut glass; the same, wide, intelligent brow; the same slender lips; the same bushy brows; the same endearingly large ears; even the same carefully groomed muttonchops that jackasses liked to make fun of Wolf for ("Hey, Wolverine!" "It's not the Victorian age anymore, buddy!" "Yo, where's the time-machine, pal?"). So far the only real difference Bess could see (apart from the obvious hair) was that Adonis looked a tad taller and lankier while her Wolf was a bit bigger and bulkier in the muscle, body-fat, and framing department. Not a surprise, considering Wolf had just spent the last two years living with her on her old family farm, doing farm and renovation work and eating a mixture of her and her friend Debbie's cooking (finger-licking-good, stick-to-your-ribs, homemade American faire). Identical as they were, this fact made Bess officially decide that she had the more attractive of the twins. (However, she was plenty biased.)

Still laughing, the brothers finally pulled apart, but still held each other by the arm, hands now layered warmly over hands gripping forearms.

"Criminey, it's good to see you, old boy!" Wolf sighed.

"It's good to see you, too," Adonis echoed. "Bloody hell, look at you! You look like those damn rugby players we grew up idolizing! What do the Yanks feed you over there in the States?"

"Big portions and hard work."

"I'll say. Shite, Charlie, if Dad were around to see your hair now." He reached up with both hands and ruffled his twin's hair in an obnoxious and brotherly way.

"Hey!" Wolf barked the laugh as he shoved his brother away. He drew up his fists and got into a mock fighting stance and Adonis did the same. For a second or two, the men pretended to spar, ducking and bobbing around playful punches and then, laughing, they embraced fully again.

Bess couldn't help but smile, her heart swelling with happiness that her beloved was once again back with his best and closest friend. Happy whining and thumping sounds beside her told the woman Prudence was happy with the scenario as well. Bess reached down to scratch the dog's head and ears.

"Where's your better half?" Wolf asked as they parted again.

"Taking Starry to the loo," Adonis answered. "We're finally making progress with potty-training. Oh, that reminds me. Magda?" The man looked in the maid's direction. "Would you mind going to help Connie with the twins? I believe they both are in need of changing."

Always happy to interact with the little ones in any aspect, Magda smiled and nodded. "Of course, Mr. Scrooge." She gave Bess' shoulder a gentle squeeze and a reassuring smile as she left the room.

Bess smiled after her, even as her nerves started to rise a bit. Evidently she'd quickly attached to friendly, warm, motherly Magda as something of a security blanket in this strange household, and her departure left the American feeling a bit insecure again. She shifted a bit closer to Prudence, thankful that the dog also shifted towards her in turn, probably sensing her nerves. Good, old, wonderful Prudie!

"Well, Charlie," Adonis sighed as Magda, left. He let go of his brother and moved around him in Bess' direction, his icy blue eyes (ah--another slight difference) friendly and warm despite their otherwise frigid hue. "It's been about a minute since I came in--are you going to introduce me to this lovely lady, or should I do it myself?"

Wolf chuckled and moved back to stand by Bess, slipping an arm about her waist and tugging her comfortingly into his side. His thumb traced circles on her back to help soothe the anxiousness he had seen come back to her eyes. "Sammy, this is Bess." The man smiled down at his lover as she hooked an arm around his waist for extra reassurance. "The absolute love of my life."

Bess looked up at her husband, meeting his gentle gaze (yes, she definitely preferred that cool, liquid slate-blue), wanting nothing more than to kiss the very breath from him for those beautiful, beautiful words. She loved that phrase in context to her. After years of fearing she'd never find someone who liked her let alone loved her, to be referred to as the quintessential love of someone who was her own quintessential love filled her with so many good vibes she could have exploded. The woman knew she'd never tire of hearing them.

"Well, that's quite the statement," Adonis declared smiling between the smitten pair. "You must be something very special, Lady Ness; my hard-headed, self-sabotaging twin has never said that about any woman ever."

Wolf shot him a glare. "Hard-headed? Self-sabotaging? Pot, meet Kettle."

Prudence softly ruffed in agreement.

Adonis snickered with an impish smirk. Then he stretched out his hand to Bess and clasped her hand warmly when she took it. With a gentlemanly bow, he smiled sincerely up at her. "It's good to finally meet you, Bess," he stated fondly.

"You too, Bess responded, returning the man's smile. She squeezed his hand, happy to feel it was work roughened as well, though not quite to the glorious extent her hubby's were. With her beloved Wolf by her side and the palpable friendliness and openness of her brother-in-law, Bess felt her nerves settling again. "Wolf's told me so much about you."

Adonis sent a look his brother's way. "All good things, I assume," he said, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

"Oh, of course, Brother," Wolf assured him more than a little sardonically. "Only ever good things."

Bess did her best to keep from smiling and laughing as all the funny and embarrassing stories about her brother-in-law her husband had told her came rushing to the forefront. She succeeded only minimally well. It was hard not to laugh at the mental image of a man as imposing as Ebenezer losing it over a creepy-crawly. Deep down she really hoped a spider or beetle would sneak into the house while they were there for the weekend; she wanted to see if Adonis really screamed as loud as Wolf claimed he would.

Adonis gave his brother a hard look. "Uh-huh." After a moment he looked to Bess again and said conversationally: "You know, he pissed the bed until he was thirteen."

Bess laughed incredulously. "What?!"

Prudence too looked up at Wolf with wide, surprised eyes and perked ears as she tilted her head in question.

A beet-red Wolf immediately jumped in. "No I didn't!" he spat angrily, giving his laughing twin a rough shove. "That's a complete exaggeration and taken out of context, and you know it!" The man then desperately turned to his wife with her goofy, amused grin and frantically tried to explain. "The only reason I wet the bed was because I'd snuck out past curfew with a group of older schoolmates and had much more alcohol than was good for me and passed out. They dumped me back in my bed and I never woke up when I needed to and..." he trailed off, painfully embarrassed by the memory.

Bess smiled sympathetically and reached up to hold his angular face in her hands. "Oh, honey," she crooned with a chuckle. "It's okay--it can happen to anybody." She smooched his nose then smirked mischievously at him. "But if you ever do that in our bed, you're on the floor with the dog."

Prudence woofed rather indignantly.

Wolf smirked back just as deviously. "For all of two minutes before you begged me back into it," he rumbled more than a little salaciously as he cocked a smug eyebrow.

Bess flushed hot and gently popped his chin in admonishment. "Ebenezar Charles!" she hissed. "We're among company!" She tried to give her man a stern look but failed as her lips frustratingly twitched into little smirks.

A shudder went through Adonis at the mental images that statement conjured up and he cringed. Imagining his brother having... relations.... "Eeeesh!" he exclaimed. "There's something I never wanted to picture."

As if in agreement, Prudence shook herself and trotted out of the room with a snort. Clearly she had better places to be if the humans were going to start discussing such things. There was a stash of bones somewhere calling her name anyway.

Wolf side-eyed his twin as he pulled his wife flush into him. He always loved the way Bess fit so perfectly against him, her curvaceous, womanly figure melding perfectly into his body; the way his hands so easily found and fit into the small of her back and other dips in her body. There was no doubt in his mind anymore that they had been made for each other--molded to fit one other specifically. "No kidding," he responded drily, shooting a pointed look at the other man. "Say, did you ever get around to finding some sort of cushioning for your headboard? I imagine the wall behind it is looking a bit rough otherwise."

Bess couldn't help but snort at that. She covered her mouth with a hand to try and stop her laughter. Her efforts weren't particularly successful.

Adonis blushed a bit and glowered at his brother. Then he smirked deviously. "No, we didn't," he replied. "As a matter of fact, Constance and I just use your bed now."

Wolf felt the color drain from his face at that statement. Whether it was true or not was a complete crapshoot, because he and his twin were masters of screwing with each other. Even so, just the mere idea that he could possibly be sleeping in a bed his brother might have shagged in, perhaps making love to his own wife in that same bed, was enough to make his skin crawl. "You're a bastard," he rasped out.

Adonis' devilish smirk turned into a somewhat maniacal grin. "Remember, we're twins, Benny Boy."

Bess looked between the brothers in utter amusement. Having four siblings, Bess was used to the ever-fluctuating nature of such relationships, and the contolled, chaotic energy between her husband and brother-in-law was immaculate. This was going to be a hell of a weekend!

"Papa?" a tiny little voice suddenly chirped in to interrupt the conversation. "Papa, Papa, Papa!"

The three adults turned to see a tiny redheaded girl in a yellow shirt, little blue capris, and teeny white shoes come toddling into the sitting room. Arms outstretched for balance, the tot had a big, gap-toothed grin on her cherubic little face, her sparkling blue eyes trained on her father. The toddler sped up into a waddle and, panting as she squeaked excitedly, darted for the tall gentleman. "Papa!"

Adonis' face softened and his grin turned warm with love as he crouched down to meet the toddler. "There's my little sundrop!" he cooed adoringly as he scooped the girl up. He smooched noisy kisses to her chubby cheeks as the little one giggled and squealed while she hugged his neck.

"Papa! That tickleth!"

Bess couldn't help but smile at the sheer adorable, wholesomeness of the situation. There was something about a big man being gentle and sweet with a small child that never failed to make her go mushy inside. And make her useless womb quiver and ache.

The American looked up at her husband again to see him staring at his brother and niece attentively. A slight smile curled his mouth. The light in his eyes was warm and soft and... maybe just a tad longing. It was hardly a secret the man had a desire to be a father, to hear a little voice call him "Papa" and catch a little child as they came running to give him hugs and kisses, too. While he was the adoptive father of Bess' siblings now and loved being their father-figure and adored being called "Uncle Ebby", it just wasn't quite enough. There was a void deep inside him that it just didn't quite fill, as much as he wished it would. He wanted to be a father to a child, from beginning to end. He wanted to experience the good, bad, and everything in between. He was honored his adopted children had hyphenated his name in after that of their own father, but even so, the man wanted a child to carry his name first and alone.

Bess reached up and cupped his sculpted cheek to draw his face back to hers. She smiled reassuringly at him, knowing what was going through his very soul at the moment because it was going through hers too. "Someday," she reminded him softly. "We'll be there someday." She stroked a tender thumb along his cheekbone and pressed her other hand to his heart. "I promise."

Wolf responded with the softest of smitten smiles he'd given her since their first morning waking up naked in each other's arms. He bowed to touch his brow to her, his stubbornly-stray lock of hair tickling both their cheeks. "How is it you always seem to know exactly what I'm thinking?" he purred, gazing into her eyes.

Bess smirked as she curled both arms back around his neck and pulled him closer. "I could ask you the same thing," she giggled.

Wolf rumbled a soft chuckle and angled his head to bring their mouths together once more. He kissed her chastely but soundly, reveling in the belovedly familiar scent of her blueberry perfume. He would forever associate blueberries with this glorious woman for the rest of his days.

"New fwiendth?" the little girl chirruped again.

The couple parted lips and turned their attention back to the father and daughter, both of whom were now gazing at them, the father much more wryly than the little girl. She gawked at them in wide-eyed excitement and fascination.

"Yes, Sweetheart," her papa answered gently. "New and very good friends." He returned his gaze to his child and smiled at her absolute enchantment with the two new adults. The man gently bounced her in his arms. "Do you remember them?" he cooed. "Hmm? You've seen their pictures and watched them on YouTube. Mama and I have talked to you about them."

The babe gasped and squealed with delighted laughter as she clapped her little hands. "Annie Bweth!" she giggled. "Unky Woofy!"

Bess couldn't help the laughter that escaped her. "Unky Woofy," she snickered to her husband. "That's definitely becoming a new pet name."

Wolf gave her the side-eye. "Don't you dare," he warned her but he smirked as he said it.

Bess only winked. She made no guarantees.

Chuckling, Adonis knelt down and placed his little girl on the floor again. The girl's feet were already peddling before she touched ground; when she finally did, she took off at a run. Or as much of a run as a waddle could reach. "Go make friends," he urged, though the child was already speeding to do just that. He smiled in adoring pride as he stood again. "Charlie, Bess, allow me to introduce you to your niece, Starla."

Unable to help herself, Bess pulled out of her hubby's arms and quickly moved towards the oncoming child, arms outstretched and hands itching to pick up the tot and snuggle her close. She loved children in general, and this stage was positively adorable (if not insanely chaotic), when they really started to come into their own as little people with little personalities and attitudes. "Oh my goodness!" the America cooed as she swooped Starla up into her arms. "Hi, Sweetheart."

Starla's gap-toothed grin beamed wide and radiant as the sun. She giggled excitedly as she reached out towards Bess, stubby little fingers wiggling and grasping for something to touch and hold on to. "Annie Bweth!" she squeaked. When Bess leaned in and pulled her a bit closer, the tot grabbed a chunk of coal-black waves and tangled it between her fingers. Her cornflower eyes widened in awe. "Ooohhh, tho pwetty," Starla quietly marveled. Then she beamed even brighter up at her auntie again. "You pwetty, Annie Bweth!"

Chuckling, Bess settled her niece on her hip and snuggled her. "Not as pretty as you, Little Sunbeam," she crooned. The woman stroked a finger down the owlish bridge of the little ginger's nose and playfully booped the tip, her heart melting at the peals of laughter that followed. Starla may have been her mother's spitting image overall, but she certainly had her father's nose. "My gosh, look at you! If you aren't the cutest little angel I ever did see. And you've gotten so big! Golly, it seems like just yesterday Wolf and I were looking at pictures of you all red and squishy."

"She's certainly turned into quite a little armful," Wolf remarked turning to his brother with a genuine smile.

"And much too fast," Adonis agreed with bittersweet sorrow. "I swear just last week she was falling asleep during tummy-time--now it takes everything Connie and I have to keep up with her.

"I remember watching your first steps," Bess told the little girl. "I do." She poked Starla's tummy and was rewarded with more happy, ticklish squeals. Could this little tyke possibly get any cuter?!

"I remember it, too," Wolf remarked moving behind his wife and putting his hands on her shoulders as he fawned over her smittenness with their niece. ("They're niece"--that sounded so wonderful!) He remembered how happy and excited he'd been for his twin that day, finally starting a family (a deep-seated desire they'd both had and forgotten until recent years) and being able to raise and watch it grow. He also remembered walking in on Bess that evening, drinking wine, watching the video, and sobbing about how she'd taken him away from his family and was a horrible person for it. He'd fallen asleep beside her that night, holding her close as he comforted and reassured her. It was the first time they'd slept together--in the literal sense of the phrase--and, while it wasn't exactly the most positive of memories in context, it was one the Englishman would cherish forever.

Starla's eyes suddenly snapped from Bess' face over to the tall gentleman gazing down at her from over her Auntie's shoulder. Her grin grew even brighter and she reached towards him. "Unky Woofy!"

Chuckling, Wolf moved around Bess and held out his hands to take the little girl from his wife. "Hello, Starla," he crooned as he settled her against his chest. "My goodness, you are quite the big girl!" He pretended to stumble and struggle to hold his niece, causing the tot to squeal and shriek with giggles. The man chuckled warmly and patted the girl's back.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Sweetheart," he said as he smiled at his niece.

Starla beamed back at him. "Nithe to meet you too, Unky Woofy!" she chirped. Then she reached up and took her uncle's chin between her pudgy hands and began to look him over carefully. After a moment, she turned to her father and waved him over. "Papa." When her father came over she reached out and placed a hand on his cheek as she kept one on her uncle's face. The little girl spent several long moments looking back and forth between the two men, her little fingers gently playing with the tickly hairs of their muttonchops. Her grin grew bigger and bigger as fascination and wonder sparkled through her baby blues.

Bess couldn't help but grin at the sweet moment. She also marveled at her niece's comprehensive observation skills for no older than she was. Of course, that shouldn't have been a surprise, considering who her parents were.

"Papa!" Starla gasped after a while. "Unky Woofy wookth duth wike you with wong, pwetty haew!" She clapped her hands in delight.

Both men chuckled. "That's right, baby girl," Adonis praised her. "Do you know why Uncle Wolfy and I look alike?"

Starla shook her head.

"We're identical twins," Wolf stated, watching his niece's adorable little face scrunch up a bit as she tried to process that.

"'Winth? Wike Thewwy an' Wobbie?"

"Sort of," Adonis answered. "Sherry and Robbie aren't identical, but Uncle Wolfy and I are identical. Identical means that we look alike and sound alike and we're both boys."

Starla looked between the men again for a minute. "Doth that mean you my papa too, Unky Woofy?" she asked as innocently as can be.

Wolf chuckled fondly and shook his head. "No, only your papa is your papa," he assured the girl. "I'm just your uncle." He smiled gently at her, a doting look in his slate eyes as he added. "But I still love you very, very much," he purred. "And you're very, very special to me."

Starla smiled sweetly and leaned forward in her uncle's arms to wrap her own stumpy ones around his neck. "Wuv you too, Unky Woofy," she said as she gazed into his face. "Mwah!" She puckered her little lips and pecked them to the pointed tip of the man's large nose in an adorable kiss.

Chuckling again, Wolf cradled the back of Starla's little, red head in his large palm and pulled her in close to hug. He softly kissed her cheek as the babe nuzzled into his neck. Blinking back the watery sting in his eyes, the former miserly recluse let out a shaky sigh as an ache deep inside his heart evaporated away. He'd needed this. He hadn't known just how much he'd needed this.

Her phone already out as she'd been snapping pictures throughout the encounter, Bess quickly collected a few more of the exchange, struggling to not melt into mush on the spot at the fluffiness of it all. Her chest was so full of warmth, she felt like exploding into butterflies and rainbows. This was just about the sweetest, cutest thing she'd ever seen! Finally, her beloved was back where he belonged--with his family. The Silver Wolf had found his pack again.

When she heard the telltale, trembling sigh, Bess slipped her phone away and moved to her husband. Pulling out a hankie she'd taken to carrying around ever since meeting her Wolf (undoubtedly a habit she'd picked up from him), she reached up and gently dabbed a stray tear off his nose. When the man opened his eyes to look at her, she smiled in gentle reassurance and understanding. The next thing she knew, her man was reaching out and curving an arm around her to pull her into the cuddle as well. Bess didn't object and melted into him, wrapping one arm around his waist and reaching up with the other to pat Starla's back.

Starla pulled away from Wolf's neck and looked Bess' way, grinning like the sun when she saw who was there "Annie Bweth!" She practically threw herself at the woman even as her uncle kept a hold on her, and hugged her auntie's face, snuffling into her soft, sweet-smelling curls. "I wuv you too, Annie Bweth!"

Bess laughed, her voice breaking a bit as her own eyes welled up with tears. She did her best to hug the child back in their awkward, somewhat tangled position. "Aw, I love you too, Sweetpea!" She looked up at her husband through a cage of toddler arms, joy and hope sparkling in her watery eyes to replace the anxiety that had once dwelt there. Her brother-in-law liked her! Her niece loved her!

His own eyes still shimmering with tears, Wolf smiled back at his wife and nodded. He hugged her closer and bowed his head to hers. He planted a kiss in her hair. "Welcome to the family, Auntie Bess," he purred into her ear. "I told you they'd love you."

@rom-e-o @ray-painter @crimson-phantom-designs @m0nsterwife @christmasgaybusinessmen @thedivinelights @purgratoriat @themostanonymousscribbler @oldmanlusting @the-house-of-auditore-frye

[elianas-cozycorner]

𝓞𝓷 𝓟𝓲𝓷𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓝𝓮𝓮𝓭𝓵𝓮𝓼 | 𝓢𝓬𝓻𝓸𝓸𝓰𝓮 (2022)

𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘛𝘸𝘰 | 𝘕𝘰 𝘛𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘓𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘜𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥

Summary: Our dear Ms. Blackwood finds herself in the office. She has a favor to ask of the old miser, Ebenezer Scrooge: have Christmas luncheon with her and her daughter.

Author's Note: Hi all,

Whew, two updates in a week! Since my semester has started off quite slow, I have been able to indulge my creative side a little more than usual. I couldn't help but write for this storyline and, as a result, have a 3000+ word chapter for you all!

I am also very grateful to announce that two of my very lovely, very academically proficient friends have offered to beta read the chapters for me. As a result, some minor changes have been made to Chp 1 (already published at this time). They do not alter any major plot points but are there to enhance the flow and immersion.

Word Count: 3288

Ao3 - Mature Rating

WARNINGS: THE FOLLOWING CHAPTER CONTAINS PERIOD-TYPICAL SEXISM AND RIDICULE OF SINGLE-MOTHERHOOD.

The word whore is used once or twice to describe reader and her current situation.

Please let me know if you would like to be included in a tag list!

“I’ll say, Ms. Blackwood, this is certainly no way to run an establishment!” 

From some room in the very back, Scrooge hears a clattering sound and the rushing of footsteps. The creaking of the door is accompanied by a small murmur of pain. Well worn hands brace themselves against the doorframe and gentle eyes meet stern ones. In her eyes there is a hint of fear and he knows then that she will ask for another extension. 

‘Will I give it?’ He wonders.  

-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷

You brace yourself against the doorframe, heaving deeply from how quickly Mr. Scrooge’s voice had sent you scrambling and knocking over several miscellaneous items. One moment you were in the stock room arranging the fabric racks and tar-coal dyes, the next you were waking to the impatient call from your lender. Now he stands there across the room, in his fine pants and vest, more handsome in the firelight than frightful. It’s almost enough to knock the wind from you. Almost. His cruel, icy gaze squashes the feeling as quickly as it comes. 

You smooth out your dress to distract yourself, suddenly ashamed not to be wearing a crinoline or gloves. Gently raising a hand, you adjust any hair that may have come undone from pin and braid. “Sir, my sincerest apologies! I must not have heard the bell chime whilst arranging my stock.”

“Yes, well,” The miser began, walking further into the room and stopping at the till counter. His eyes scan your form, a look of distaste briefly crossing his features. “I am sure you have your excuses well thought out. Now, if I suspect correctly, you know why I have come to call on you.”

The cold hand of dread grasps your heart and it feels as though a rock has lodged itself in your throat. One hand rises to fiddle with the buttons of your opposing sleeve, tracing the thread that loops delicately through them. Yes, you had been expecting him to come. He was here to collect, as he always was. Mr. Scrooge never made social calls, being only about business and business alone. 

“W-why yes, sir.” You slowly stepped up to the counter, standing as close to the man as you dared. “I am 15 pounds overdue.”

“No, madam.” He grins cruelly, greed settling into his face. “You are overdue 15 pounds and we must add onto that this month's payments. The final payments. You understand then, that I am owed 23 pounds. ”

“But sir—“ 

He cuts you off by tapping his ledger against the wood. “Ah, I presume you are without the means to pay once more?” 

There is a dark twinkle in his eyes now. It’s not greed, but something else, something darker. He enjoys this. 

“I only have 10 pounds, sir. I— I am happy to pay it, but the rest I cannot provide you.” You swallow harshly, trying your best to keep eye contact. A dark flush of embarrassment has worked its way up your neck, to your cheeks, and your ears.

“What excuse have you this time, Ms. Blackwood? Hmm? Mother fell ill, did she ?” The miser keeps his voice even, but the words are cold and mocking.

“No, Mr. Scrooge,” You start, trying to keep your voice from wavering. Eventually, you can no longer uphold eye contact and instead find great interest in the till counter. 

“No?” He leans forward on his cane, eyebrows furrowing as he tries to catch your gaze. There is a moment of silence as you attempt to dignify him with a response. It clearly wears on his patience. 

“No, I suppose not.” He speaks harshly then, adding as much bite to his tone as appropriate.

Something within you cracks at being so boldly disrespected in public address; it did not matter that he was the only other person there, it would have been a shameful moment in the company of others. At the same time, however, it also strengthens a resolve in you. ‘ Mother fell ill’ , the words echo in your head. No, your mother had abandoned you long ago. That wouldn’t stop you from being a good mother, from protecting the welfare of your child this time around. Just as the man before you scoffs and attempts to open his ledger, you catch his gaze.

Ebenezer Scrooge is allowed only a moment of surprise, agog at the fire in your eyes, before you begin speaking. “No indeed, sir. As you well know, I am unwed, sir. I am left now with debts that are not my own, which I must repay, and a trade-skill that the textiles are rendering mute! No indeed, sir!”

“Why I—“ He begins, but you do not allow him to finish. 

“I am a seamstress, Mr. Scrooge! I work tirelessly for meager sums, laughable sums. These garments are all I have , sir. This is my only method of income. How, then, would you suggest I manage? I must pay for my health, for my meals, for the fabrics, and yet I am expected to give it all to you? You!? ” You take a deep breath, now red from your rising anger. “And what of my daughter, Mr. Scrooge, what of her? What should I do with her, hmm? Shall I leave her in a workhouse? Shall I turn her to the streets with the pauper boys, so that she may sell papers for all her days? So that she may make her own sums? She has just made her eighth year here, Mr. Scrooge!” 

For once, Ebenezer is stunned into silence. All malice has been wiped from his features and instead has been replaced with utter shock. His eyebrows, so arched and eyes so wide, would have been funny if the situation were not so dire. You had openly admitted to your lender that you had borne a child out of wedlock, thus divulging your family’s greatest scandal, and placing yourself in the path of ridicule. 

You swallow harshly, watching his expression turn from surprise to confusion, to horror. When you next speak the words are so quiet that the crackle of the fire almost swallows them, “I thought I would have already lost her, sir. To her early— early winters or… or consumption.”

Ebenezer snaps his ledger shut and stares at you like you’ve just grown another head. He revels in silent horror for a moment, like a perfectly stupefied statue. He opens his mouth and closes it several times over; a true fish out of water. You stare at one another for a long while. The man’s face grows redder by the second.

Eventually, he finds his words. They are soft, stuttering, and without any of its previous authority, “Y-yes. V-very well, Ms. Blackwood.”

“Pardon?” Surprise colors the word.

A soft clearing of his throat, “I said very well. You have until Boxing Day. Two extra days. ”

“Y—“ You clear your throat in return. “Boxing Day, sir?”

“That is what I said, is it not?” He opens his ledger again, places it on the counter facing you, and allows you to retrieve your own pen. 

You dip the tip into your inkwell and lift it back up to sign the page but his large, gloved hand catches your wrist. The touch is surprisingly gentle. Tired eyes meet cunning ones, and suddenly his old demeanor rears its head. The angry furrow of his brow, the deep seated frown, and his rigid posture return. He looks down at the page, at the name above the blank space under the pen, and sighs deeply. 50 pound — Jenkins. 

“There is a condition,” He adds. “I cannot afford the responsibilities of your personal welfare, nor may I show any form of favoritism among my clientele. As you may be aware, there is much burden in this life. Much of this burden falls upon me, as a contractor and lender, you see. So, I will do something for you; I will give you two extra days but you must come up with a new sum. Let us say… double? No, for a third extension let’s say— triple? Discount the ten pounds you are able to pay…”

You balk, stunned by his lack of compassion. Never had Ebenezer Scrooge seemed so unredeemable, so unfeeling, as he did now. You cry out, despair mingling with outrage. “59 pounds! Why, Mr. Scrooge, that is cruel!”

“You are right,” He nods once and pretends to contemplate the thought. “I should ask you for a round number. Much nicer, neater, don’t you agree?”

He lets go of your wrist and rests his hands on the ebony cane. He leans back slightly, puffs up, and watches you expectantly. “60 pounds. Yes, that’s a good round number. I should have asked it of Jenkins, really, but this will do.”

The pen trembles all the way from the inkwell to the page. You almost let it slip from your fingers, shaking violently and trying to suppress tears. The water behind your eyelids gathers quickly, blurs your view of the page, and makes it hard to sign for the transaction. Once the pen is tucked away again and the ink begins to dry, he holds out his palm. You reach for the till, unlock it, and grasp at the mishmash of gold sovereigns and shillings you’d earned the past weeks. You attempt to find a bag for it, still holding back tears, but he turns his palm to face you. 

“On the counter, please, Ms. Blackwood. I would like to count and authenticate it here.” He checks his pocket watch while you sort the coins into piles. 

“There, sir.” You step back, allowing the miser to lose himself in his monetary endeavor. Before you know it, your body decides that a quick lap about the room would do some good for your constitution. You begin to make your rounds for closing hour, decidedly done with people for the evening. The night would only get chillier and your daughter was like to be out with the urchins, busking the evening away. Not even the chime of the bell above the door distracts you when Ebenezer finishes his catalog and removes himself from the premise without so much as an evening farewell. You only notice the silence and rampant tears against your skin when your nightly tasks are complete. 

-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷

“But I’m owed fifteen,” Bob Cratchit glances down at his hand and thumbs the small pile of shillings. 

“Consider the other five your payment to me .” Scrooge sighs and sits back in his chair to look at his employee.

“For what, sir?”

“The ink you so carelessly spilled this evening, of course,” Another sigh. “And the day off you insist on taking tomorrow.” 

“Well,” Cratchit swallows, unsure of himself. “It is Christmas, sir.”

“Yes,” Ebenezer looks away and glares at the door to his office from which his nephew had disappeared. “As everyone is so fond of telling me.”

Bob fiddles with his top hat, scrunching the edge. “Sir, this isn’t enough.”

The graying gentleman turns his glare from the door to his employee. He makes a noncommittal hum at the back of his throat and waits as the redhead continues, “My family, you see, my children– My boy, in fact– my boy needs medicine.”

Now standing behind his desk, the miser looks at the man before him as though seeing him for the first time. One hand slowly puts away his daily ledger as he begins to speak, “You have children? Yes… Of course you do.”

One well-pressed jacket arm winds across the redhead’s shoulder as employer meets employee. “Cratchit,” The tone is pure velvet and malice. “Times are hard. And my financial burdens are considerable.”

He guides the man around, turns him toward the door, and gives his best smile. “Now, should I add to them by paying for the upkeep of your entire family? Does that sound fair to you?”

Neither man notice the crackling whisper, nor the tendrils of ice that crawl across one Jacob Marley’s portrait. ‘ Scrooge….’

“No, sir.” Cratchit’s voice comes out pitifully muted. 

“No, sir, indeed,” A small smile. “You’re the second person who’s pleaded such a case today. Must be the season. Now, let’s get you on your way, shall we?”

The two men step from the office into the main workroom of Marley & Scrooge, Private Bankers and Moneylenders. The aforementioned owner is about to herd the man closer to the door, to his jacket on the rack, when it swings open. A hefty basket swings through the opening first, followed by gloved hands, and a very familiar shawl. The shopkeeper of Louwermon’s bustles through Ebenezer’s door.

“Oh, Ms. Blackwood!” Bob Cratchit chirps happily from beside his employer, moving forward to take the basket from her.   Scrooge, on the other hand, cannot suppress the surprise that overtakes his face, nor the subsequent look of annoyance.

“Bob Cratchit!” You smile widely, genuinely. Ebenezer notes its beauty instantly; the way the edges of your mouth curl up, the way your lips pull back to reveal stunning teeth. It sets his cheeks aflame for a brief, shuddering moment. 

You break his reverence, “Just the man– men , I had hoped to catch!”

“Oh?” The moneylender cuts in. “To what do we owe this… pleasure?”

You ignore the snark in his words, instead greeting him properly with a delicate bow before turning back to your friend. “In here,” placing your hand on the basket, “are new clothes for your children. The winter months can be so cruel, so cruel. I have fashioned for Tim a new  coat, so that he may be unaffected while busking.”

Cratchit’s smile is contagious for soon their lady guest is returning it in full. Scrooge watches the exchange with great interest. ‘ Free clothing? For Cratchit’s children?’ The thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth. ‘ Such a despicable loss of profits.’

“Thank you!” Bob evokes your given name as he shakes your hand. In fact, he repeats it several times over, along with thanks, as you giggle.

The sound is, to Scrooge, like pure joy. It reminds him of his dearest sister, of her laughter and her warmth. And the sound of your name, previously unknown to him, sends an unusual chill up his spine. Their mirth goes uninterrupted, until at last he is forced to interject. Like her, he has had enough of people for one night. With one hand, he guides Cratchit to the door. 

“Good night, Mr. Cratchit, go home. ” 

The redhead complies nearly immediately, having spotted his children across the way. Scrooge watches as Bob takes the stairs two at a time, far more animated than a father his age should be. He doesn’t even bother with the door, assuming his remaining company would follow suit. Several seconds tick by before he realizes you will not be joining his employee. With a deep sigh, he closes the door and turns to face you.

“Very well, Ms. Blackwood. Follow me.” He turns on his heel and beckons you into his office. He sits once more in his chair and crosses his arms authoritatively.

“Mr. Scrooge,” You take a deep breath as if bracing herself. It piques his interest greatly. “Kitty– That is, my daughter, and I would love it if you could join us for Christmas lunch tomorrow. I understand that it is an uncouth ask, perhaps one borne of a selfish desire to reconcile today’s events with you. But she would very much like to meet you.”

Scrooge feels himself recoil before he can even comprehend all that you have said. His lips part into a nervous smile. “What?”

“Christmas luncheon. Oh, do say you’ll come, Mr. Scrooge!” You smile again, that pretty, pretty smile. 

‘If only she knew.’ His hatred for the wretched season ran deeper than the pits to hell. All the joy borne of a time that only showed him great sorrow. 

Not only that, but you were asking him to risk his reputation; as a gentleman, a lender, a banker. To discredit himself now, to be seen with a working woman without escort, with an illegitimate child, would throw away all his years of hard work. “No.”

“No?” you don’t seem shocked, just slightly disappointed. “Oh please sir, it would mean the world to us! I have oft been told that my Christmas lunches are the–”

“I said no, Ms. Blackwood. Does such a word count for nothing in today’s society? Nothing at all?” He feels growled words build up in his throat, feels them leave him, but he doesn’t care. 

“It’s just that my child, sir, has never had a Christmas with others.” 

“I fail to see how that is my problem, madam.” Scrooge stands from his seat. He watches as you take a step back. It pleases him to know he has the ability to elicit such a reaction. 

“It is very hard to keep a child from the world on Christmas, Mr. Scrooge! As you well know, today’s gentry would shun me for keeping her, for having her. I would never do such a thing as leave her, you see, but minding her alone is–”

“And that was product of your own incompetence!” The miser’s voice drips with discontent, even as it raises in volume. He watches you recoil at his loud vocalization but continues. He has had enough.

“How, pray tell, could a woman so fine allow herself to be so defiled? You are young, beautiful! Had you not been so foolish as to conceive, had you waited as any good woman should, as any good wife should, perhaps you would not be in such a position!”

“Sir, do n–” You try to interject, but he glares you into submission.

“No, you have done far too much talking as it is, Ms. Blackwood! So much damage you have inflicted upon my evening that I find it within my right to speak now. It is my turn and I am not quite finished with you.” He rounds the desk, looming over you:

“It is by your doing that you are here. That is, working while a child waits on you. Have you a servant? A governess? No? I thought not! Barely able to stay afloat, barely able to provide, and raising what shall no doubt be an uneducated woman. You are paying debts that need not be yours. Had you not squandered your life like a whore you would not have shamed your family. They would not have thrown you to the dogs, would not have stripped you of heritage or allowance.”

Tears begin to stream down your face. You try to hold them back with a hand to your mouth. He barely registers the broken sobs and is completely oblivious to the sudden chill that has overtaken the room. Something crackles around you both and the wind howls wretchedly outside, but the dam has burst, he will say his piece. Prudence, previously tucked in her bed, has come to your side. She is snarling at him, seemingly following the conversation, but no vocalizations escape her throat and she goes unnoticed. 

“Catherine– That is, Kitty, deserves far better than you will ever be able to offer her. She deserves a governess, a proper mother, and a father to provide her with comfort before her hand is exchanged. At this rate, she will be lucky to have any prospects! And you , Ms. Blackwood , have none. No decent man, no self preserving gentleman, will want to wed you. You will die a spinster. That is your truth.” The man stands there, chest heaving from such an impassioned speech, and has the gall to look self satisfied.

“So no , madam, I will not be joining you, nor anyone else, in any celebration of this wretched season.”

[quill-pen]

SOOOOOO... YEEEAAAHHH....

I couldn't help myself from using this as a prompt--it fits Ebenezer and Bess so well! Plus, I'm definitely more than just a tad bit COMPLETELY OBSESSED with these two. Which is... very different for me. I have fic ships that I think are cute and sometimes swoon over but this one... WHOA, NELLIE.🥵 I've never been down so bad for a pairing before; THEY MAKE ME SO FRICKIN' SOFT AND FLUFFY AND MUSHY I WANNA DIE!!!🥰🤭 They are just so cute and sweet and soft and hot and sexy and completely, die-hard in love with each other! UGH!!! Writing these little "filler" ficlets are sustaining me as I work my way through their actual story. Because they haven't even met yet in it (close though)! And even when they do, the juicy stuff doesn't happen for a while. Slow-burns, man, slow-burns. (That reminds me--gotta come up with a ship-name for them. Hmm...🤔)

As I suspect will become a bad habit with these two, this got way more sexual than I originally intended. For some reason, this crooning, dashing, debonair English gentleman of a reformed cranky old miser just makes me throw inhibition to the wind. Ebenezer's got me wrapped up so bad for him, it ain't even funny!😭

So, that said: MINORS, DNI. 18+ ONLY

Warnings: Innuendo, sexually charged acts but no actual sex, mentions of varying sex acts though, mention of genitals, groping and heavy petting, idiots in love who can't keep their hands and lips off each other (Bess starts it--the little vixen), shirtless Ebenezer (would be more of a warning if I could actually draw art to do with this), sort of subby!Scrooge into more dominant!Scrooge at the end, Scrooge-whimpers--a lot of 'em.

And this gif always makes me snicker. EHHehehehehehehehe! Bess is gonna boop his schnozz so much, and I can't frickin' wait!

Well... I've added music to every other little ficlet, so why stop now?

Bess was in one of her most preferred places: cuddled up with Ebenezer. The couple was stretched out together on the library lounge, tucked in beside each other so perfectly they could have been puzzle pieces. They always fit together so well, in almost every aspect, though you'd probably never guess it by looking at them; she, a fiery and brash young American yank, and he, a reserved and thoughtful aged English gentleman. But beneath it all, they slotted together almost perfectly.

Eyes closed and head snuggled into the crook of her husband's neck, his scent enveloping her as much as the blanket that was draped over them to ward off the chill of the spring night, Bess could have purred with satisfaction. She'd never been so comfortable. As far as she was concerned, this was the best place to be; her body pressed flush to Ebenezer's as she laid half-atop him, their legs gently twined together, her arms wrapped around his torso, one of his curled around her waist, his large hand strumming gently and lazily against her side. His head was angled slightly against hers so that his lips ghosted against her brow as he read to her from his beloved Robinson Crusoe, the well-worn and battered copy being held in the hand that wasn't stroking her. His voice was quiet but still so full of emotion and wonderment for one of his favorite stories. It was quickly becoming one of Bess' too, if only because it led to such snuggly situations as this, and she would now forever associate the novel with her beloved husband's smell, voice, and touch.

Nuzzling deeper into Ebenezer's solid warmth, Bess cracked her eyes open and tilted her head the slightest bit in order to gaze up at the man she positively adored. She watched how his beautiful slate-blue eyes ticked steadily back and forth as they scanned the pages of the book; how his thin, smooth, pale-pink lips formed every word, phrase, and syllable; how his mouth curled up into a subtle smile, causing little creases to appear over his face; how his nostrils twitched and flared ever so slightly as he breathed. The man was downright mesmerizing! He was so remarkable in fact, that Bess honestly sometimes wondered if he truly existed. Maybe she'd hit her head and was lying unconscious somewhere, Ebenezer and this beautiful life they'd built together nothing more than some heavenly, comatose dream. If it was, she hoped to never wake.

Lifting a hand up, Bess brought it to cup the far side of Ebenezer's neck, gently caressing his smooth, warm skin with her palm's own. She lightly pressed her thumb to his jugular and felt his pulse throb against it: Steady, strong, slow--matching the sound of the heartbeat against her ear. A perfect heart that beat only for her, just as hers beat only for him. Bess's eyes slipped from her husband's face down to the expanse of his chest stretched out before her. There was only the thin material of his undershirt separating her from his flesh, his waistcoat long since ditched and splayed across the back of the lounge and his suspenders hanging loose about his waist. That was the one thing that kept this experience from being perfect; they were still clothed. But it was still much too early in the night to risk nudity, especially when the library had no door. If there were merely servants to consider, that would be one thing, but there were children and animals in the house as well, and they were the real hazard.

Bess' gaze came to hold on the neck of Ebenezer's shirt. With his cravat discarded and his top two buttons undone, the woman was blessed with a small triangular window of chest to view. It was hardly an inch of bare sternum, but it was more than enough to make Bess' heart flutter. And the little curls of hair protruding through the window to shine in the fire and candlelight made her fingers itch to run through the forest they were part of hidden beneath the fabric. Without hesitation, the woman slipped her hand down her husband's chest and brought her fingers to the buttons, setting about unfastening them.

With deft, practiced precision, Bess undid one button then flitted her eyes up to her husband again, to see if he'd noticed. He hadn't: He was far too engrossed in his book. The woman smirked. She slid her hand to the next button and undid it: Still, Ebenezer took no notice. So she undid the next and the next. In seconds, the triangle had not only become bigger, but it had opened up entirely, the length of the man's torso bared to the world: A truly tantalizing sight. Without a second to spare, Bess slipped her greedy hand into the opening, her palm skimming against the expanse of Ebenezer's warm skin. She sighed contentedly, the heart of his bare skin against hers making everything seem right with the world. Absolutely perfect. Crooking her fingers, Bess gently scruffed them through the patch of chest hair she'd so been longing to touch. Her nails scratched lightly at Ebenezer's chest.

The broad ribcage beneath her expanded suddenly with a sharp intake of breath. Her smirk broadened, and Bess once again looked up at her husband who, unsurprisingly, was no longer reading. Nor was he looking at the page; his eyes were focused solely on her. She couldn't help but bite her lip as she recognized that beautifully dark glimmer flashing in Ebenezer's gaze. Flattening her hand, she smoothed it down the man's chest and abdomen. She bit back a giggle when she felt his muscles twitch under her touch and heard him try and stifle a squeak: Adorable, ticklish man. The American reached down until her fingertips brushed against the waistline of his trousers, drawing forth more ticklish reactions as she did so, then stroked him all the way back up to his neck again. She tickled her nails over the tender spot under his jaw.

Ebenezer shuddered, a whimper escaping him. He gulped, screwing his eyes shut and breathing slow and deep to calm himself. His hand that had been caressing her ribs had stilled and now gripped firmly at her waist. He tried to ignore the heat blooming not just over his face, but also in his lower belly. The little vixen! She always knew just how to rile him up, and his blasted willpower failed him every bloody time!

"You're distracting me," he muttered after a moment. He tried his best to sound controlled when he felt anything but. Cracking his eyes open, the Englishman just dared to look down and meet his young wife's gaze with a playfully accusatory sneer.

Bess snickered mischievously back at him. "Am I now?" she taunted, caressing his chest again. Reaching across his torso, she began gently scraping the nail of her middle finger against his far nipple, causing it to stiffen. Ebenezer squirmed against her, his mouth contorting as he fought to keep calm. "I'm merely petting you, my love. Just as you pet me from time to time." She had the audacity to wink at him as she pressed the warm pad of her thumb down upon his erect nipple and massaged it.

Ebenezer couldn't help how his head rolled back, a quiet moan escaping him. Criminy, that felt good! "Sweetness, please," he rasped, hoping it didn't sound too much like a plead. He didn't know what he would be pleading for anyway: For her to continue? For her to stop? For her to do more? Do less? Do something different? To satisfy him? To torture him until he couldn't take it anymore? He didn't know. He just knew how good her touch felt and how it was far too quickly dragging him down into pleasure.

Bess chuckled darkly, watching how his adam's apple bobbed with his groans and harsh swallows. "You enjoy that, Wolf?" she murmured in the sultry tone she knew he liked. She rolled his peaked bud between her thumb and index finger, pinching gently.

A shuddering sigh left the man. "More so than you enjoy the book apparently," he said, trying to sound irritated. He knew he didn't. It was difficult to sound anything but pleased when the woman you loved was playing with your body in the most delightful ways possible. Ebenezer yet possessed enough thinking power to dog-ear a page and snap Crusoe closed before stretching out his arm and depositing the book on the ottoman. Clearly, there would be no more reading tonight. Not in the book sense anyway.

Ceasing her onslaught on his nipple, Bess went back to smoothing her hand up and down her man's bared torso. She pressed a series of kisses along his sternum, nuzzling into his chest hair and breathing deeply his scent. She felt euphoria begin to set in as his distinctive musk filled her lungs. "I assure you I enjoy the book, Ebenezer," she stated pulling out of his hold and shifting so that she came to straddle the man's lap, both hands coming to roam his chest now, as his hands came to grip her thighs. She slipped her hands beneath his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders, Ebenezer shrugging out of it to help her along. Their combined efforts quickly left the man bare-chested, his marvelous upper body--slender but finely muscled and generously covered in well-groomed, salt-and-pepper hair--exposed to the world. Well, exposed to the world that was the Scrooge household anyway.

Bess couldn't help but leer appreciatively at her distinguished English gentleman husband, admiring him for a long moment. She didn't feel she would ever tire of ogling him--he made her drool every time. (And not just from the mouth.) Her eyes flashed up to catch his briefly as she added in a sensual tone, "I just enjoy drowning you in love and affection even more."

Tossing the shirt over her shoulder as if it offended her, Bess let her gaze fall back to Ebenezer's body. Her hands returned to the pleasant pastime of feeling him up. "I just can't help myself with you, Darling; can't keep my hands off you." She leaned in close, pressing her breast flush against the man's, and growled shamelessly in his ear, "My big bad wolf is just so sinfully handsome, he makes his she-wolf want to be bad, too." The woman ran her tongue along the shell of his ear and gently nibbled at the cartilage. Her chest swelled with pride as she both heard and felt the sharp breath the man took as well as the shiver that quivered through him.

Ebenerzer's eyes slammed shut against the erotic sensation of her mouth and the tension it was further helping to build down south. His strong fingers tightened around her legs, digging into her trousered thighs. His heart was thundering in his chest, his mind spinning but not really thinking about anything as he was simply awash in the intoxicating sea of bliss. If he could focus on anything, it was his beautiful wife with her exhilarating touch and soul-caressing words. She was nothing short of a marvel--a perfectly wondrous marvel! "Bess... Sweetness... I... I don't... I-I'm not...." He had no idea what he was trying to say.

Whatever it was, Bess seemed to understand. "Hushhh," she quieted him, pressing delicate kisses to the tender skin beneath his ear. "Yes, you do, my darling, and yes, you are. You are an absolute work of art, Ebenezer, and you deserve to be admired." As if to accentuate her point, the woman gently trailed her hands up and down her husband's quivering sides, never lifting them from his heated skin. "Let me--please?" She waited for some sort of reply; it came in a shuddering, resigned sigh and the barely imperceptible nod of Ebenezer's head that she felt more than she saw. Smiling, the woman pressed a lingering kiss at the very corner of the man's temple, right beside his ear. An unruly wisp of his steely hair tickled her nose as she snuffled at his sideburn. She breathed in another deep lungful of him, her mind growing hazier. Lord what she would have given to have his smell in her nose all day every day! "Thank you, Beloved," she spoke directly into his ear's cavern, her lips hardly brushing against him. "I promise you won't regret it." She pecked one last kiss against his ear.

Massaging slow, intricate patterns along his ribs, belly, chest, and shoulders, Bess sat back to once again admire her husband. Slowly dragging her lusty, dark blue gaze over her man's mouth-watering physique, she eventually brought her eyes back to his face. He was blushing red hot all the way up his ears, his eyes dark and trained on her, nostrils flaring and lips parted with anticipatory breaths. The raven-haired beauty suddenly felt a bit shy, as she always seemed to whenever he centered her in that heated gaze of his. Her own cheeks flushed a brilliant pink. Biting her lip, she fought the urge to pull away and hide her face, though she did let her eyes slip away to stare at his chest again for a moment as she collected herself. She giggled as butterflies tickled through her insides. God help her, the power this wonderful man had over her without even trying: He left her a flustered mess almost every day! And, pathetic as it may have been, she loved him all the more for it.

Bess trailed her hands up Ebenezer's neck and cupped his face between them, his 'chops tickling her palms. Slowly she lifted her gaze to meet his, then she was leaning in close enough to nudge his prodigious nose with her own. For a moment midnight blue held slate-blue. Then they were veiled from each other as lips finally met in a soft, slow, but no less passionate caress.

Ebenezer instantly melted. Moaning into the kiss he brought his arms up around his young wife, one clutching at her back to pull her closer, the other snaking up so that he could weave his long fingers into her mass of flowing hair, bunching it up out of the way of her lovely face. He sank off the armrest down flat into the cushions of the couch, hauling the woman down with him until they were flush against each other. His grip tightened on her as if he were trying to assimilate her form into his. From the way she was gripping at his head and beginning to kiss him with such force she was pushing him down into the cushions, it appeared Bess wanted to do the same.

When he felt her tongue prod his top lip, Ebenezer eagerly obliged her silent request and opened his lips, allowing her to plunder the warm, wet cavern of his mouth. He sucked at her tongue as it came to play with his own. His hand on her waist slipped lower and came to grope her clothed ass: He gave a cheek a squeeze. A thrill of pride and desire jolted through him as she whined appreciatively at his actions.

Finally the pair had to part for breath. They lay there, chests heaving against each other, mouths centimeters apart and panting hot and heavy into one another, foreheads pressed together as they held half-lidded gazes again, noses slid in close beside each other. "I love you," Ebenezer breathed after a moment, the words coming of their own accord. Not that he had any desire to stop them. He twined his hand deeper into her hair, never wanting to let her go, never wanting to leave this moment. He tried to burn it into his memory; her drunk-in-love appearance; the way she looked at him like he was the center of the world; how her coal black tresses felt tangled around his hand; how her eyes were so deep and dark a blue they could have been windows into the very depths of the ocean; how her hands gripped onto him like she was afraid he'd disappear if she let go; how her rump fit so perfectly in his hand; how all of her fit so perfectly against him; how she weighed him down into the lounge, and how marvelous it felt to be trapped under her warmth. He didn't even have her a bit naked yet, and he was already so enraptured by her! Witchcraft--he must have been bewitched! He hoped to never break out of it.

Ebenezer's reverent eyes shone with just the slightest hint of moisture as they usually did whenever he and Bess found themselves in a slow, passionate act of love. Try as he might, the man could never help it: He loved this gorgeous-in-every-possible-way woman from the very depths of his soul. After a lifetime of living in secret fear that he would never be able to feel that way about anyone ever again--never mind the idea that someone else could ever feel the same for him--the fact that such miracles had happened touched something uncontrollable deep within him. And though they weren't always shed, the tears always came. "I love you, Elizabeth Felicity Scrooge." There was the slightest of quivers in his voice.

Bess smiled softly, nuzzling against his nose and cheek. As always when he said those three little words to her, her heart swelled and felt as though it would burst from her chest to fly away. The fact that someone could love her as endlessly and unreservedly as he did... it healed every ache and pain in her soul she'd ever experienced (and there had been a fair number). It made her feel flawless--scarless--both physically and in her soul. The young woman stroked her love's cheeks with soothing thumbs, the faint sting of tears in her own eyes. "I know, Ebenezer," she whispered. "I know." She tenderly kissed his upper lip, gazing deep into his eyes as she did so.

With that Bess pulled back a bit and stretched up to plant more soft kisses along the gentleman's hairline. When she'd trailed her lips across and back, she moved lower, pressing three more lingering kisses across his forehead. Then she kissed his temples. Then his eyebrows and eyelids. Moved down and peppered his cheeks, rubbing the smooches in with her thumbs as she did; sucked tender, nibbling kisses to his chin, making the man squirm and whimper again. (A pleasant shiver ran through her at that.) Then Bess moved back up and paused, smirking down at Ebenezer's nose. "Hello, my lovely Norbert," she purred, pecking a barely-there kiss to the pointed tip of the appendage. She pressed another, firmer smooch further up his bridge, then another even further up between her man's eyes before slowly sliding her lips back down to press another loving kiss to the tip. She tilted her head slightly and kissed a nostril. Then further up the side. Then the other side. Then the other nostril. She came back to almost suck at the tip before softly pecking her way back up the bridge again.

Ebenezer had held it in as best he could the whole time she'd kissed his nose, but now that Bess was apparently planning to repeat the process all over again, the man couldn't hold back the laughter any longer. Chuckling deeply, he brought both hands to cup his wife's lovely face and gently pull her off, holding her head so that he could meet her eyes again. His heart just about broke seeing the boundless, unadulterated love shining down at him. Lord, if he could just swim in those deep blue pools of hers forever, he would die the happiest of men. "I will never understand your fascination with my nose," he chortled at her.

Bess gave him a comically serious look. "Norbert," she said insistently. "He has a name, Ebenezer." The faintest hint of a smile twitched at the corner of her mouth, betraying her grave facade.

Ebenezer rolled his eyes and snorted in amusement. Bess could be so strange when she wanted to be--but that's what made her his Bess, and he loved her all the more for her middle-class American unconventionality. "Oh, I do apologize--Norbert." He chuckled and shook his head at the brilliant grin of victory that beamed across his Yankee wife's face. Silly girl, he thought. But my silly girl. My silly, beautiful, wonderful, perfect girl. The man gently pulled the woman's face down to his again, tilting his head forward so that he could reciprocate the kisses she'd left across his brow. He lazily trailed his lips across her skin, his heart melting with each little contented sigh she breathed at his touch. When he'd finished, he loosened his grip on her and let her pull back so they could lock eyes again.

Ebenezer watched the color deepen across Bess' cheeks once more as he gazed unwaveringly at her, her own gaze flickering away from and back to his intermittently as she found herself unable to hold it. He quietly wondered if she had any idea just how pretty she looked when she was all flustered and blushy like that. An angel couldn't have been more captivating. His right thumb began stroking her freckled cheek almost of its own volition, the warmth of her flush akin to smoldering embers beneath his touch. He watched her eyes slowly drift closed as she reveled in his affection. His other thumb trailed down to trace her perfect, silky, full, rosy lips.

After a moment the man felt more heat as well as moisture as the woman's tongue peeked out of her mouth just enough to grace against his callused pad. A new wave of heat flooded through him. He swallowed hard, his pants becoming even more uncomfy. (Bess had to be feeling him against her thigh now--there was no possibility that she couldn't!) He was sorely tempted to plunge his finger right into her mouth and order her to suck: She clearly wouldn't object, as she was already willfully parting her lips further to more easily lap at his digit. He felt the flat, hard surface and edges of teeth as the tip of his thumb came to be held between pursed lips, that hot, velvety, dexterous muscle of hers rolling against his pad in a near sinfully skillful way. (Good God, it reminded him of how she liked to slurp at his cock!) When she gently nipped him, Ebenezer couldn't stifle his groan. God above--she had to know what she did to him, didn't she? The mischievous glint flashing through her eyes as they snapped open again and the way the corners of her mouth turned up in a puckish smirk certainly seemed to indicate that she did. "Bloody hell, She-Wolf...!"

Bess closed her lips around the thumb in her mouth and sucked a slow, wet kiss to it, drawing forth yet another whimper from the man trapped beneath her. She closed her eyes again in silent triumph. "What's so hard to understand about it, Wolf?" she addressed his prior statement as she released his finger. She angled her head a bit to press a kiss further down the digit. "I'm completely fascinated with everything about you." Another kiss on the meaty heel of his palm. "Why would I not be fascinated with your nose?" She nuzzled his palm and nipped at his flesh. "It's a very prominent part of you, after all. Such an alluring asset to your face with its lovely and-" she grinned lasciviously, "-satisfying shape. Why any man with half a decent brain would be envious of it! I can't tell you how many times I've seen women stare at you when we walk by them in the street, even those hanging off the arms of other men."

"Well, I do still have something of a conflicting reputation yet, Sweetness."

Pulling from Ebenezer's grip (admittedly a bit reluctantly) and sitting up again, Bess looked down at the gentleman and shook her head. "That's not why they stare, Wolf, trust me: I'm a woman--I know. I see the way they look at you, how long they'll gaze at your nose before they realize I'm watching them and look away. I can see the fascination in their eyes--the wonder--all the silent questions we women dare not speak aloud except in the most private of settings with our closest acquaintances." The woman's mouth curled into a deviant sneer that Ebenezer couldn't help but think was as much Yankee in nature as it was Bess in nature. (It certainly seemed bold and brazen enough to be characteristic of the Americans in general.) Bess' dark blue eyes flashed even darker. "When they look to me after you, I know what they want to ask me," she remarked factually.

Sitting up on his elbows, Ebenezer smirked back at her. "And what might that be, my love?" he pressed, raising an eyebrow.

With a deep chuckle rumbling from her chest, Bess, leaned back down to be face-to-face with her husband again, her arms braced on either side of him. She touched the tip of her nose to his nose. "They want to ask me if that handsome beak of yours really belongs to me," she stated, tone bordering the line of innocent and devilish. She slid her nose in alongside his, pressing another brief kiss to it. Slightly tilting her head, her eyes gazing salaciously into his. "And..." she breathed slowly, voice hardly above a whisper, lips ghosting over his"... they want to know if your nose feels as good as it looks... when it's buried against my cunt." She pulled back to witness the gentleman's reaction in full.

Ebenezer felt like he was trapped in a pot of boiling water he was so hot: He knew his complexion had to be that of a beet! The southward tension pulled tighter and he felt an unmistakable twitch inside his pants, along with distinct moisture. One second his mouth was dry and then the next it was overflowing with saliva at the thought of Bess' pretty, pink, fluttering, satiny little snatch and the memory of how it tasted. Lord above, he was a mess for her! What would Jacob ever say if he knew his old employee and business partner's thoughts about his daughter, wedded or not? What would he say if he saw and heard them?! Ebenezer really hoped his old boss, in his endless ghostly traversing of the globe, hadn't decided to take a stroll through their library just now. (Because Ebenezer could swear Marley did stop by for visits on occasion; it was almost like he could sense the old boy's presence sometimes.)

"And... does it?" the Englishman croaked after swallowing hard. He prayed he didn't resemble Prudence with drool pouring out the corners of his mouth if only so he could retain some scrap of dignity. Perceived scrap anyway; the honest truth was, this remarkable little vixen had stolen it all from him ages ago when she'd fallen in love with and chosen to become his. He was completely at her mercy.

Bess's blush deepened; she was almost as red as her husband now, her pretty freckles becoming even more prominent. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth in a way she knew drove Ebenezer crazy. "Well... I did describe Norbert's shape as-" she lifted a hand and skimmed a teasing finger down her husband's nose before flirtatiously booping the tip, "-satisfying" did I not, Dear Husband?" She quirked up a dark eyebrow as she leered down her nose at him.

That expression stirring up his playfulness, the man moved to sit up, wrapping his arms around his young wife's waist and pulling her closer to him. "Ah, come to think of it, you did," he played along, returning her mischievous look. "But you know me, Darling--I like things to be precise. So I'd be very interested in knowing precisely just how satisfying the shape of my nose is."

"Norbert."

"Ah, yes, Norbert. Again, my deepest and most sincere apologies."

Giggling, Bess slipped her arms up to drape them around Ebenezer's neck. Just a few years ago, she never could have guessed she would ever be this happy or this in love: Now she was so awash in both that she hardly knew what to do with herself! "Well," she sighed with playful dramatics after a moment, "I suppose I could describe it to you." She ducked her head and gazed up at the Englishman in her arms through thick, dark lashes, midnight blue orbs glittering. "But maybe... a demonstration would be better."

Ebenezer's slate-blue eyes blew completely black at that, his nostrils flaring, his mouth running like a waterfall. The uncomfortable tent in his pants was all but forgotten as the idea of having his head clamped tight between his lover's thighs, devouring her, making her scream into the night until she pleaded for mercy invaded every single thought. A pleased growl rumbled from deep within the man's chest. His arms tightened possessively around Bess as he tugged her flush against him, his forehead pressed to hers as he glowered into her eyes, his now-untidy coif tickling both their faces. He let one of his hands teasingly slip lower, down over the woman's posterior and further down and under, between her parted thighs. He crooked his fingers and tickled the apex of Bess' thighs through her trousers, making her gasp and wiggle against his touch. He watched in fascination as her eyes drifted shut, brows slightly pinching together, mouth dropping open as she arched into him, instinctively trying to give him better access to where she wanted him. The man could feel she was molten hot for him already, even through the thick, woolen textile; doubtless, he'd find a sloppy, wet mess waiting for him when he finally stripped her down. He sneered at the thought: Needy, insatiable woman!

Ebenezer rubbed her clothed sex more firmly, and Bess keened at the pressure, her head falling back. "A demonstration you say, Dear Wife? Hmm...." The man smiled wickedly. "I think I rather like that idea." He nuzzled his nose under her jaw and down her graceful throat, leaving behind little pecks and licks that made her gasp and giggle. Still stroking her, he brought his other hand around and up to the buttons of her fetching lavender-gray blouse, carefully undoing them. (There would be no ripping away at this frock--she looked much too pretty in it.) He trailed his nose down her chest into her heaving cleavage that just peeked over her shift and corset, breathing her scent deep into his lungs. He growled again: God above, she always smelled so heavenly! Lifting his face from his love's breasts, Ebenezer's lips parted in that big bad wolf grin Bess always found so exciting. "And I'd say Norbert likes it as well."

They. Are. SO FILTHY AND CUTE! UGH!!! Okay, okay. Now I need to focus more on the actual fic.

Taglist: @rom-e-o @themostanonymousscribbler @the-house-of-auditore-frye @oldmanlusting

Romeo, Scribbs, I think Genie, and Connie, and Bess should get together and compare notes about their respective Ebenezers. Wouldn't that be an interesting pastime?

Imagine giving your f/o little kisses all over their face. Maybe there’s a part of their face they are self conscious about, or they had a rough day and need cheering up. They laugh as your lips tickle their face with your affection, happy to have you to help pick them up when they’re down.

[iwritefandomimagines]

CHRISTMAS SPIRIT — JESS MARIANO

masterlist

pairing: jess mariano x reader

description: decorating luke’s for christmas reminds you how far from festive jess is. but it might also lead to confessions that put him much more in the christmas spirit.

warnings: little swearing. fluff !!!

author’s note: shoutout to i’ll be home for christmas in this imagine is because it’s my all time fave xmas film and i had a HUGE crush on jonathan taylor thomas as a child because of it. it’s also not super long but i made sure it’s not too short… anyway ENJOY! <3

“Y’know, I don’t see why you have to be such a Grinch,” you pulled the candy cane from between your lips as Jess scoffed, “All Luke asked was for us to put up a few decorations. Even he has more fucking Christmas spirit than you!”

Jess rolled his eyes, “Oh sure, because I’m usually so enthusiastic about stuff like this. How out of character of me,” he paused to touch his forehead with the back of his hand, “I must be getting ill.”

You tutted, placing the last of your candy cane back into your mouth with a crunch! and folding your arms across your chest.

He quirked his brow, waiting for a snarky response that never came.

Instead, you turned on your heels and headed over to the stereo, flicking the switch and resuming the Christmas CD you’d been listening to before he’d grumpily trundled down the stairs into the diner.

“Oh God,” Jess groaned, “Do you seriously enjoy torturing me?”

You scoffed, “Do you want the honest answer?”

It was at that moment Luke briefly poked his head round the corner, “What are you two bickering about now?”

You crossed your arms over your chest as Jess did the exact same thing, except with a huge wad of tinsel now attached to his sweater.

He waved his arm around frantically as you burst out laughing at his desperate attempt to rid himself of the sparkly red decoration, “For fu—,”

“Ask Ebenezer Scrooge over here,” you teased, freeing Jess of the tinsel by yanking it away as Luke rolled his eyes, “Just help her out, Jess.”

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Being a moron.”

“Fork found in kitchen,” you mumbled, earning a glare from Jess, “We’re nearly done, c’mon.”

Jess fought back a smirk, folding his arms again and shaking his head, “You’re a pain in the ass, Y/N.”

“At least I’m a festive pain in the ass,” you sing-songed, twirling tinsel around the cash register as he laughed at you, “Hey, I can see a smile there! He can smile! What a heartthrob. I could almost mistake you for Jonathan Taylor Thomas in I’ll Be Home for Christmas.”

“I look like who from what?” Jess contorted his face in confusion, unsure whether what you were saying was a compliment.

Kirk appeared out of nowhere beside you both, an inquisitive expression on his face, “Jonathan Taylor Thomas from the 1998 Christmas movie I’ll Be Home for Christmas. I have to say I think you’re wrong though, Y/N. He doesn’t have nearly as much of his boyish charm.”

You burst out laughing again, clasping your hand to your mouth as you watched Jess blush just a little as he stood slack-jawed.

“Boyish charm? I’ve got plenty of boyish charm,” Jess scoffed, puffing out his chest, “Why do I look like him anyway?”

“Oh, you don’t,” Kirk shrugged, “Y/N just has a crush on him and a crush on you.”

“Ok that’s quite enough from you Kirk,” It was your turn to blush crimson now as you gestured towards the tables, “We’re not even open yet. You—uh— just go sit down.”

“A crush on me, huh?” Jess was smirking now, and you couldn’t tell if the bubbling in your stomach was sheer embarrassment or excitement at the way he was looking at you.

Obviously, it was both.

You shook your head, “Oh, ‘cause you should totally trust Kirk.”

Jess quirked his eyebrow, “When it comes to town gossip, I’d say I do.”

You looked down at your feet, cheeks still incredibly warm and your heart palpitating so hard you were sure it’d burst out of your chest at any moment.

“You know, you’ve gone bright red. So red in fact that I think it’s put me in a festive mood,” Jess quipped smugly, elbow on the counter as he leaned a little closer to you.

You scoffed, “It took me being embarrassed to feel festive?”

Jess shook his head, and said nothing for a moment.

You wondered whether he was about to embarrass you even further, but his expression softened so much that it confused you.

“No, it took being told that you do like me,” he shrugged, but he was clearly not as nonchalant about it as he was trying to appear, “To save me the embarrassment of a not so festive rejection under the many, many Christmas lights— seriously why do we need so fuckin’ many?”

Your heart swelled at his initial words, but you rolled your eyes yet again at his grumbling about the Christmas lights, “It’s Christmas, Jess. And so pretty.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Jess was quieter as he spoke now, his eyes twinkling as he moved even closer to you, “So pretty.”

Now you were certain that every drop of blood had rushed to your cheeks, the intensity of his stare making you bite your lip and look away again.

His hand lifted up to touch your cheek, drawing your eyes back to meet his.

Your mouth had gone dry, and you couldn’t help but notice how carefully he watched your lips as your tongue swiped over them.

“You—I—We need to finish decorating and open up, Jess,” you stammered, but Jess wasn’t letting you get out of this conversation now.

“If it wasn’t for Kirk, I’d really like to kiss you right now,” he looked briefly away and saw that Kirk had seemingly entirely disappeared, “Oh, it might be my lucky day. Now I’m really feeling festive.”

You giggled, “Then what—what’re you waiting for?”

He didn’t waste a moment after that, immediately capturing your lips with his as you leaned into his chest.

The kiss was short lived, but you almost didn’t mind because your mind was racing at the fact that it was actually even happening at all.

Jess beamed across at you as you pulled back, your eyes locked on each other for a fair few moments of silence.

“I’m finally in the Christmas spirit, Y/N,” he sing-songed as he finally broke the silence, still staring intently at you as you shivered under his gaze, “So much so that I think I’d like to go watch the town Christmas lights being switched on tonight. If you’re up for it. If not, like, whatever. Just a suggestion. Since you love Christmas and—,”

You laughed, placing a hand on his bicep to interrupt his rambling, “I’d really like that, Jess. Even if you are going to drive me nuts complaining about the lights, it’d be nice to go. Like, together.”

Jess seemed pleased with that answer, a broad smile overtaking his face as he leaned in even closer, “It’s a date, then. And now we can get back to decorating.”

You bit your lip, “A date. Woah, Jess Mariano is taking me on a date to see the Christmas lights getting switched on. If I didn’t know any better I’d think I was still tucked up in bed dreaming.”

“I’m in your dreams a lot then, huh?” he teased, the smirk back gracing his features as you gently nudged his arm, “My nightmares, maybe.”

“Hm, guess you dream about that John Tyler guy more then,” he feigned offence, and despite mistaking the name you found his pout incredibly adorable.

You laughed, “Jonathan Taylor Thomas?”

“Mhm.”

“Don’t be jealous, Mariano,” you hummed, leaning into his side as you teased him.

“I’m not jealous,” he grunted, “What does he even look like anyway?”

You giggled, and he didn’t seem impressed by the way you went straight into your head thinking about the actor, “You’ll find out later when I force you to come back to mine and watch it with me after the lights are on.”

“No fuckin’ way!” he shook his head, and you forced a pout until he sighed, “Fine. Only because I like you. And I’m choosing our takeout if I’m going to be third-wheeling you and the TV on our first date.”

You grinned, “Fine by me. It’s a date!”

“A date? Finally, kid,” Luke reemerged for a moment again, poking his head around the corner of the kitchen.

“He’s taking me to see the Christmas lights being switched on,” you grinned, watching Luke’s brief shocked expression being quickly replaced by a small smile.

“The lights?” he repeated, and you nodded.

“I knew he liked you, I mean the whole town did. But it looks like he must really like you, huh?”

“Yeah,” you basically whispered, looking over at Jess for a moment and seeing him smiling softly at you despite his irritation at his uncle poking his nose in, “I guess he does.”

———

happy festive season guys!

this has been in the drafts for a couple weeks near finished but i’ve finally got it done now <3 might write some more festive imagines so if there are any characters you’d like to see that for then please let me know.

as usual — thanks for reading, here’s my masterlist if you’d like to read more of my stuff!

[oothepinksquidoo]

Great uncle Ebenezer .★. Scrooge x reader one-shot

Dayum, I'm on a roll with these chapters Huh? Go me ig LMFAO again with is a oneshot for my book (check it out if you like, it's on Ao3 or wattpad, whatever you prefer!)

Summary: You get an unexpected letter from a special friend, the news of a child being born comes as a thrill to you! Greater panic for Ebenezer

I guess a little angsty warning? Ngl it's mainly fluff

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

It was a new day in London, the snow was slowly decreasing very slowly, yet any time it did more would come the very next day. I couldn't complain though, the wintery weather always gave London a special feeling to it, something I couldn't explain even if I tried. 

It was early in the morning, I was in the Bakery with Ebenezer. He decided to tag along for the opening while also helping me make space for the new tables and chairs that Ebenezer had bought for the shop. He really was a sweetheart, anything I could possibly imagine he tried his best to get that very thing to me. 

Some mail fell through the letterbox, I walked over and grabbed it, expecting the usual work things and a few orders. I was sorting the letters into piles when one caught my attention, “Huh?”

Ebenezer looked over after he finished moving a table into place, “What is it, darling?”

“It’s a letter from Harry.” I replied opening it, “He usually comes in to order, he never places an order by mail.” I gasped once I read the letter, “Oh my days!”

Dear Y/n,

I hope you are well, I apologise I haven't visited in a while, I do miss you even if it's only week a week or so. But I do have a good reason! 

Hela and I have finally had the little extension to our family, our original two has finally become three. The baby came a little earlier than we expected but she is doing extremely well! I hope you come by to see our daughter, 

P.s, if you do come by, could you bring some of your delicious crumble you make? I’ll pay for it of course haha!

Your dearest Friend, Harry

I read the letter outloud for Ebenezer to hear, he stood there in complete shock. He frowned slightly, “Hela was pregnant?”

“Uh, yes? She has been for the last… eight and a half months?” I joked, “To be fair, she was incredible at hiding it. But isn't it wonderful? You're a great uncle now!”

Ebenezer looked at me blankly, “Yes, quite. I uh… Is Hela alright? She has no… health problems?”

My face dropped when I finally caught onto why Ebenezer was not as excited as me, “Ebenezer, I assure you Hela is perfectly healthy.” I cupped Ebenezer’s face, “Look at me, dear.” I spoke softly, it took a second but eventually he did listen, “I understand your fear, believe me I do. Hela is in safe hands, and if anything were to go wrong, we can get the best healthcare in London.”

“Yes.” Ebenezer replied, “You're quite right, as usual. I just can't help but fear the worst. Not only did I lose a sister that day, that very boy lost his mother. I couldn't imagine the agony of losing the love of his life too.”

I gave him a comforting hug, “You know, I have a feeling Harry may feel the same way too.”

“He most likely is…” Ebenezer sighed, “I must go see him. Are you coming too?”

I nodded, “I would never give up an opportunity to go see my bestest friends! I think I have some spare crumble in the back…” I hummed in thought.

Ebenezer looked down at the letters that sat on the table as I rushed to the kitchen, “Are you not going to open any of the rest?” he shouted so I could hear him.

“I’ll open them later, we have more important stuff to tend to!” I replied, walking back to the front with a tin of crumble.

“Why on earth do you just have a tin of crumble in the back already?” Ebenezer asked as he grabbed a basket for me to place the tin in.

“Harry practically always orders it every week, apple crumble is his go to.” I explained as I linked arms with Ebenezer.

We both walked out of the shop, talking Eagerly about the news of the new baby. It was most thrilling to think about! Though I still could see that Ebenzer was worried, with every step closer to Harry’s house I could feel his grip on my arm getting tighter. I comfortingly rubbed his arm as we got to his house.

“It’ll be okay, Ebenezer.” I comfortingly spoke, Ebenezer nodded, hesitantly knocking on the door.

Not long after, the door opened, it was Harry. He grinned widely, pulling me into a hug before evening speaking. “Y/n, I’m so glad you could come.”

“I wouldn't miss seeing the little one for the world.” I replied, giving him a little squeeze before pulling away, I looked up at Ebnezer who was extremely quiet. “I think your Uncle is a little anxious, is Hela alright, Harry?” 

“She’s doing just fine, perfectly actually! There were no complications at all.” Harry replied, he put out his hand for Ebenezer to shake, “I’m so glad you're here uncle, I was going to come round to the shop to tell you the news first, but I thought I should be here with Hela.” 

 Unexpectedly, Ebenezer pulled him into a hug, sighing deeply when he heard the news. “I’m so proud of you and Hela, my boy.” Ebenezer admitted, “I promise I’ll always be here if you need me, I won't be the fool I have been the previous years.”

The biggest smile I had ever seen on Harry shone brightly on Harry’s face. I could see a few tears in his eyes as he welcomed us into his house, “Please, do make yourself at home, I think I hear Hela in the living room.”

We both walked in and straight to the living room. It was lit warmly by the fireplace. Hela looked up at us, and there was the new baby, in her arms asleep soundly. She cautiously walked over to us, “I’m so glad you two could come.” 

“May I introduce you to, Elizabeth Jen Huffam.” Harry said with a proud smile on his face.

Hela handed the baby over to me, I smiled warmly, gently rocking the infant, “She’s beautiful Hela, she looks just like you two.” I looked up at Ebenezer, “Doesn't she just?”

Ebenezer looked down at the baby with tears in his eyes, “She does, and she looks like your mother, when she was a baby.” He wiped the tear that fell down his face.

“Would you like to have a hold, my love?” I asked, I could see he was slightly nervous at doing such a thing, “Why don't you sit on the Sofa, I’ll hand her over to you.”

Ebenezer nodded, sitting on the Sofa so he could hold his little niece. “She is truly wonderful.” He seemed paralyzed by his happiness, gazing at the infant with such care. Elizabeth opened her eyes, Ebenezer smiled even more when he realised that they too were the same colour of his little sister’s and his in fact.

“Why don't we go make some tea.” Hela said to me as she walked over the room, leaving Ebenzer and Harry with Elizabeth,

I followed Hela with a smile, “That child is going to be spoiled rotten you know.”

“I can tell already,” She laughed, “I can see it in his eyes.” She placed some cups on the counter while I got the water to boil. “And Harry too had the same look when he first saw her.”

“So, how has Harry been?” I asked, “I assume he was also worried about you, with his mother and all.”

“I've never seen him so scared before, the past week and a half he’s hardly let me do anything that meant I had to move out of either the bedroom or living room,” She chuckled, thinking about her husband, “He is an incredible man.” She spoke as she placed some tea bags in cups. 

“I know.” I replied as I poured the water into the cups, “And He will be an incredible father.”

“Have you thought about children yet with Ebenezer?” Hela asked as she finished making the tea.

“We have actually, well sort of. I mentioned a bit ago, he is incredible with the Cratchit children.” I replied, “Though, I think that will come with time. He may be a changed man, but I don't think he’s quite ready.” 

“I quite agree.” Hela nodded, carrying some of the cups, I carried the rest as we walked back to the sitting room, “But I know, when you two are ready, you’ll make great parents.” 

We walked in the room, placing the cups down. Ebenezer was still holding little Elizabeth, well, it appeared as though Elizabeth was holding him. Her hand was tightly gripping his finger, smiling happily.

“I think Elizabeth quite likes her Uncle,” Harry laughed, taking a drink of the tea. “My, this is gorgeous thank you, dears.” 

My eyes were still on Ebenezer, who was totally focused on Elizabeth. The more I looked at her, the more I could see Jen, and I believe that is precisely why Ebenezer was so fixated on her. 

After a while, we all walked out of the sitting room. Harry wanted to show off his designing skills with the baby room, Meanwhile Ebenezer stayed back, still with Elizabeth, her beautiful blue eyes gazing up at her uncle.

Ebenezer stood up, walking over to the portrait, “My dear Jen, I may not have been there for your own son as he grew up, but I promise I will never make that same, selfish mistake twice. And... I’ll do everything possible to have her grow up without the constant battle of illness.” He looked down at the child in his arms, “I’ll do everything I possibly can to make sure you are happy.”

Ebenezer didn't know this, But I stood at the doorway the whole time, my eyes were filled with tears as I watched him. I already knew he was going to be the best dad he possibly could be, but this moment just confirmed it. I knew we weren't at all ready for that stage in life, but when that day does arrive, I’ll be the happiest woman to walk the streets of London. 

[quill-pen]

A Good Man

Just a little drabble I wrote, more so wanted to get out ideas about Ebenezer's past that have been circling around my head for a little while. Of course, it turned sappy. And then got just a touch spicy at the end.

Nothing graphic--rated 'T' I'd say. Minors, you're safe.

Synopsis: Ebenezer Scrooge is a good man. If only he could see and accept that.

Pairings: Ebenezer Scrooge X Bess (OC)

Warnings: Angst, mentions of past neglect and maybe child abuse, self-loathing, semi-self-harm, crying and emotional Ebenezer (my heart!), sappiness, declarations of love (probably all super cringy), groping and just a hint of implied spice at the end because Ebeness--DUH!

Theme:

It had been 25 years to the day. Nine thousand one hundred and thirty-one days since the death of his father. And, as he always felt irrationally compelled to do, Ebenezer Scrooge had pulled out the beaten-up old lockbox from the deep dark corner of the chest it remained buried in until this day every year and would be returned to when he'd finished. The box contained a handful of letters written to him decades ago, all by his father. They were all short, to the point, and lacking any sort of warmth or fondness.

October 13th, 1805 Son, I have received your complaints about your school and teachers, and acknowledge your desire to come home. Change is frightening as can being so far away from home and family. My advice to you is to toughen up and stay the course. The world is a harsh place, Ebenezer: Think of this as a lesson in that. Your Father, Abner J. Scrooge P.S. I suggest you not write asking to be brought home again as it will only prove to be a waste of good ink and paper and an embarrassment to us both.

January 7, 1806 Son, Your mother, sister and I went away for Christmas and have only just returned home. Needless to say, I'm afraid I've only just now received your letter and request to return home for the holidays. Your mother and sister missed you dearly and your grandparents wondered where you were, but I know it was better for you that you stayed at school. You'll be that much farther ahead in your studies, won't you? Christmas is always the same anyway--you didn't miss out. Seasons Greetings, Abner J. Scrooge

May 3, 1806 Ebenezer, I'm writing to let you know I have secured a summer job for you. Rather than return home for the summer holidays, you will be going to work for friends of the Headmaster's: a Mr. and Mrs. Dilby. They have a farm there in Cumbria. They've agreed to waive fees for your room and board so long as you pull your weight. And I know you will, won't you, Son? Write to your mother and sister--they are missing you. Tell them your summer plans but do not make mention of me. Tell them you've decided this. Regards, Abner J. Scrooge

Abner Josiah Scrooge had not been... an easy man to deal with. He hadn't really been a harsh man--at least, at first. The sixth child and fourth son of a lowly Baron, Abner could hardly have hoped to inherit his father's title, or much money or property, so he'd gone out and become a lawyer--a rather successful one, too. With that success had naturally come money, and with that money had, unfortunately, come the vices: drink, gambling, occasionally women. Sometimes the man would spend money on his family, but typically the majority of it fed his habits. And the more money Abner got, the harder he played; the coin flew out of his hands faster than he could get it in them.

That was how debtor's prison had come about. That was how Ebenezer and his weakly-constituted mother and sister had moved into a rundown, drafty, cramped, two-room apartment hardly fit for rats to live in that did nothing for any of their health. That was how Ebenezer had had to become the breadwinner of the family at nine years old, working at least two jobs, sometimes three, and little odd side jobs to meagerly feed his family. That was how Ebenezer's already tenuous childhood had been lost to him. And that was how the rapid decline of his relationship with his father had begun

That fall after Ebenezer's twelfth birthday and after Abner had gotten out of debtor's prison, his father had sent him far away to boarding school. He said it was to give Ebenezer a chance at a decent education; Ebenezer knew it was because of the row they'd had all that summer. He was angry with his father for everything that he'd put the family through, and Abner had no desire to deal with the drama: A school in the far hills of Cumbria was a good way to avoid it. Abner had done his best to keep his son away after that, hardly allowing him home for visits for any reason; Ebenezer could count once on each hand how many times he'd come home in those years. Holidays were spent at the school where he was often the only boy staying. Summers were almost entirely spent working up north, sometimes on farms, sometimes in shops, sometimes in banks or workshops or factories, really anything Ebenezer had been able to find--he'd tried his hand at it all.

It hadn't all been bad, admittedly. He'd made some solid mates back then, some of which he'd gotten back into regular contact with since he'd changed; and he'd made some good memories (a few of them rather lurid--like Mr. Corshack's spitfire of a niece). And he'd learned and experienced so much he wouldn't have otherwise--his work ethic to this day could testify to that. But it had never been Ebenezer's choice--always his father's. Ebenezer had just... simply stopped fighting it after a while; it seemed better than fighting to come home only to end up bellowing and brawling with the man and upsetting Jen and Ma.

November 18, 1809 Greetings, I've received your request to come home for Christmas this year. It baffles me why you should want to when it's proven so much more profitable for you to stay at school the past several years. Therefore, for your sake, my boy, I cannot possibly allow such a request. Stay in school, work hard, and get ahead. After all, we both know the misery that will befall this house should both of us reside in it for any period of time. Spending Christmas away from each other is much more pleasant--wouldn't you agree, Ebenezer? Sincerely, Abner J. Scrooge

February 1, 1811 Son, I am writing you this to wish you a happy birthday and hope it reaches you in time and finds you well. You're a man now, my son, and it's time for you to take your place in the world. This is what these last several years have been preparing you for and I hope you have the gumption to meet it head on. What you do after graduating, is, of course, up to you. Should you return to London, I expect you to seek and find your own accommodations as you will not be allowed to stay in our house. I will also expect you to find and acquire a job no later than two weeks after arriving, as I have no intention of helping you pay for your housing. It's time for you to be a man now. Welcome to the world, Abner J. Scrooge P.S. Ah, yes--I almost forgot: Happy birthday, Ebenezer.

Ebenezer went back and forth between the letters, reading them over and over again, studying them. The handwriting looked so much like his own--only a tad sloppier. Once again, a thick gloom settled over the former miser. Growing up, he'd wanted nothing more than to be the exact opposite of his father; to be wise with his finances and secure, to be loyal, to be kind and loving and content with what he had. While he had and was all of those things now, it had taken him far too long to get there. It had taken a miraculous, supernatural intervention to turn him around, and the fact that he did, in his mind at least, did not detract from the fact of what he'd become and done before. In his desire to be the opposite of his father, Ebenezer had become a worse man than Abner had ever been in most ways, and exactly like him in others. Hell, he'd even aged into him: The face he saw staring out at him when he looked in the mirror was almost the spitting image of his father's! How anyone could ever admire that face....

"Ah, here you are," a warm, melodic voice reached the banker's ears.

Ebenezer looked up from the letters in his hands to see his American bride standing in the doorway, smirking at him as she leaned against the doorpost. Despite his mood, the man couldn't help but smile, his heart instantly swelling with love for the beautiful, young woman that had, for some miraculous reason, chosen him to be her husband. "You know all you need do is whistle and I'll come running, Sweetness," he remarked with a playful wink.

Bess' freckled cheeks flushed ever so slightly as she came into the bedroom. "I know," she chuckled. "You're such a good wolf for that. But I'm a wolf, too, remember? We like the hunt."

Ebenezer snorted and rolled his eyes as he held a hand out to her.

Bess gladly took it and sat down beside him on the mattress, instantly snuggling into his side and wrapping her arms around his waist. She smiled into the kiss he pressed to her mouth, reveling in the familiar, warm, smoothness of his lips against hers. A contented sigh left her lungs. "I love how automatic that is," she whispered against the man's lips when he pulled back. "And I love you."

Ebenezer smiled softly and nuzzled his nose against her as he squeezed her close. "I love it and you too," he murmured, pressing another kiss into her coal-black hair.

Bess leaned into it. "I have a confession to make," she admitted, smiling guiltily up at her husband.

Ebenezer cocked a busy, silver-speckled eyebrow and smirked. "Oh, yes?"

"I didn't hunt--I knew exactly where you'd be." Her midnight-blue eyes became sad, empathetic in their concern for him. "I finally actually looked at the calendar and realized what day it is." She gently squeezed his waist as she rested her head on his shoulder, gazing up into his face as she watched his expressions. "Are you all right, Wolfy?" The question was soft, full of love and care for him: Ebenezer felt his heart throb with adoration for his wife yet again because of it.

The Englishman sighed deeply, pulling his gaze from hers. "Yes," he answered sincerely. "Mostly. I suppose. As all right as I can ever seem to be on this day, it seems." His eyes fell back to the papers in his hands and he absently shifted them around.

Bess' eyes went to them too, her face creasing with slight disgust. Those letters were a major cause of her beloved hubby's currently dower mood, and the Yank did not appreciate it. She hated to see the man she loved so much so low in spirits: A somber Ebenezer just wasn't really Ebenezer. "I know why you keep them," she mentioned of the letters, "but I still wish you wouldn't. They make you so sad." She looked back up at her husband and reached up to cup his far cheek in her hand and bring his face closer to hers. "I don't like it when you're sad, Love; it hurts my heart." The woman pressed a lingering kiss to her man's chin and nuzzled into his muttonchops ever so tenderly as she murmured: "I just only ever want to see you happy."

Ebenezer softly chuckled, bowing his head to touch his brow to hers. "I know, Sweetness," he whispered, slate-blue gazing into midnight-blue again. "And I'm sorry to upset you, but I just..." he trailed off into another sigh as he gestured to the letters in his hand.

"You can't get rid of them," Bess finished for him, knowingly. "Just like I'll never be able to forget about all the things Mama said to me growing up. They're reminders."

"Reminders... never to be like him," Ebenezer murmured nearly to himself as he looked through the letter again. A pang of bitterness stabbed through his heart and he snorted harshly, derisively. "All the good that did."

Bess pulled back from him a little bit, narrowing her gaze in suspicion. "What is that supposed to mean?" she snapped. Her voice sounded a little bit harsher than she intended it to, but only because she had an idea of where Ebenezer was going with this claim, and she knew she wouldn't like it.

The man looked at her, meeting and holding her hard gaze. "I grow up all but despising my father--loathing him--wanting nothing more than to be nothing like him." He held up the papers, clenching them in his fist. "I keep these to remind me of the kind of man he was; how cold and distant he could be--how unkind, unfeeling. For years I kept them in plain sight under my nose so that I might not forget." He laughed bitterly tossing the letters away so that they floated haphazardly about the room. "And yet, somehow, despite all that, despite how I continued to remind myself, I turned out to be just as harsh and mean and even worse-tempered than he ever was!" He balled up his fist and hit it hard against his knee--hard enough to probably bruise himself.

Bess flinched. "Ebenezer, please," she soothed, reaching over to place a hopefully calming hand on his arm.

It didn't work. Ebenezer was much too wrapped up in his gloom and dark thoughts at the moment to take notice of her. He hit his other fist against his opposite knee. The knuckles of both fists were deathly white, his grip was so strong. "I promised myself!" he fumed at himself, his face contorting into a nearly monstrous mask of fury. "Time and time again I promised myself and Jen that I would be different--that I wouldn't become my father! Well, not only did I fail in that promise by growing into his temperament, I became even worse than him in every possible aspect!"

"Ebenezer-"

He was pounding both fists against both thighs now, each strike harder and more savage than the last. His vision was starting to swim, his eyes burning with hot tears that threatened to spill over any moment. He didn't care. "I was cruel, selfish, greedy, cared for nothing but profit and no one but myself! I refused to help people when I should have and so easily could have; even my father was known to dump a boatload of money on someone who needed it when he'd been at the bottle! I was needlessly spiteful and hard on people--forced them to pay exorbitantly more than necessary, and I took pleasure in doing so!" The tears started to fall.

"Ebenezer-"

"I made people suffer, prolonged their suffering, and intentionally hurt and offended them! My father may have been a bad man, but he was nothing--nothing--compared to the monster I was--the monster I am!" The man's chest expanded sporadically as he fought for breath, his ribs feeling painfully tight, his heart racing so fast he felt it might explode. His vision started to black out at the edges. "However indirectly, there's blood on my hands: Blood of innocent men, women, and children--so much blood that I'll never know about all of it! I-I'm a bad man! A horrible, cruel, evil man! I deserve the chains and the endless wandering! I deserve a pauper's funeral and grave--I don't deserve to be mourned or remembered! I'm not a good man--I'll never be a good man! I deserve misery! I-I deserve-"

Small but strong hands suddenly closed tight around his wrists and forced his fists away from his thighs. "Ebenezer, stop! Stop, stop, STOP!" Bess' voice barked harshly, gaining his attention. The dark-haired woman knelt down between the man's legs to look up directly into his burning-red, tearful face. Her own eyes were shining with tears glittering on her lashes as she stared beseechingly up at him, holding his fists back to keep him from hurting himself further. Drawn into a thin line, her lips quivered along with her chin. "Ebenezer, please!" she breathed desperately. "Please, just... just stop. For me, just stop, please!"

Her husband stared unwaveringly at her; her gentle face--a face he loved with his whole being--immediately made a calm break over him like tidal waves against a craggy, rocky coast. His chest and ribs still ached, his temples and the muscles in his face felt tight, and he was badly shaking from head to foot, but the rage that had coursed through his veins seconds ago, the self-hatred, it had stopped full force in the warm love-light of those magnificent midnight-blue irises. Unheeded, Ebenezer's fists unfurled and he instinctively reached out for Bess, cupping her heart-shaped face between his palms. "Bess," he rasped, a whimper in his tone.

His wife reached up to hold his face in turn, ever so gently running adoring fingers over his soaked cheeks to try and wipe his tears away before holding his head in her hands. She stroked his chiseled, tear-stained cheekbones with her thumbs. "Please," she quivered, swallowing hard and trying her best to keep her tone even, "stop saying such cruel and hurtful things about the man I love." She offered him a small but determined smile. "Because very few words that have come out of your mouth have been true."

Ebenezer's heart clenched and he screwed his eyes shut, unable to keep looking at her. Those adoring words, that warm smile, her devotion and loyalty to him--he deserved none of it. He was not even remotely worthy of the smallest percentage of it! And yet she gave it to him--freely. The man shook his head within her grasp. "Bess," he groaned, "Sweetness, y-you... you can't say that--you don't... didn't know-"

"Precisely--I didn't know you back then, though I have heard just about everything about it from you, so it's not as though you've been denying or trying to hide what kind of man you used to be. And I didn't know your father, but I've heard a lot about him from you as well. So I'm the perfect person to pass judgment because I can look at you and see you without shadows; I can look at you and see you as you are now without any previous memories to taint my vision of you. Ebenezer, look at me." She gripped his face just a bit more tightly and pulled him down closer as she stretched up toward him; they were practically face-parallel-to-face. For a quiet moment, they simply stared into each other's shining eyes.

"From the moment I met you," Bess began, voice hardly above a whisper, "I've seen nothing even close to resembling either of these men you speak of. From the moment you walked through that office door with Millie on your shoulder and we shook hands, you have been nothing but sweet, kind, chivalrous, charitable, and compassionate to me, to my siblings--everyone."

Ebenezer was entranced; by her eyes, by her words, by her soft hands and skin--everything. She was all there was in the world--everything was Bess. He wanted nothing more than for it to stay that way. "Bess..."

"You're not your father, Ebenezer; and you're not the man you used to be either. You're right about them; they were bad men--cruel, nasty, evil men. But they're not you, my darling. Not anymore. If I'm not my past, Wolf, then neither are you: Whatever bitterness you feel towards yourself--whatever harshness you think you deserve, you're wrong. You deserve nothing but good things; love, happiness, peace--you deserve it all and more."

Ebenezer gently shook his head. "I've done so many bad things, Bess--so many things I can never be forgiven for and will have to answer for in the end."

"Maybe. But you're doing everything to make amends for what you can now. Let God worry about the rest." Bess gently stroked her right hand down her lover's face and brought it to rest on his chest above his heart. "If only you could see your heart as I do, my love," she sighed, rubbing her thumb against his chest, "then you could see exactly the kind of wonderful man you are." She pulled away from his grip on her face and leaned forward to press her lips against his chest between her splayed thumb and index finger. Her lipstick left a perfect print on his white, linen shirt over his heart. "You're a philanthropist," Bess stated, meeting his eyes again, "an honorable businessman, a beloved husband and father; a man with such a big, beautiful heart of gold that he shines so brightly and lights the way for everyone else who follows him." Bess slipped both of her arms around the man's waist and hugged him close again, still gazing up into his downturned face. "This world doesn't deserve you, Ebenezer Scrooge." She lowered her face from his and pressed it into his chest, closing her eyes. "I don't deserve you. You're too beautiful, too amazing, too perfect in every way to be anything other than an angel in disguise--no one is worthy of you." She peppered more kisses across his pectorals, leaving more lovely, dusky purple marks in her wake.

Ebenezer's heart clenched and throbbed with undeniable love and passion for the woman before him. He watched the top of his wife's dark head as she kissed all along his chest, gently smoothing his hands up and down her shoulders and arms. "My darling Bess," he sighed almost whimsically. "My beautiful She-Wolf. My beloved wife."

Bess looked up at him again, her chin pressed almost flat against his chest as he craned her neck back. Tears were shimmering in her eyes again. "I'm not worthy," she repeated, voice rasping, "but I love you, Ebenezer. God be praised--I love you! I've never loved anyone as much as I love you--I didn't even think it was possible to love someone this much. You're my everything; my sun, my moon, my stars, my breath, my life. The only thing I have to offer you in return are my heart, body, and soul, and I give them to you freely, unworthy of you as they are."

"They are not unworthy," Ebenezer croaked, wrapping his arms around the kneeling woman, "they are everything to me. You are everything to me."

Bess gave a gentle smile. "Then perhaps, might you listen to the words of the woman who is both your everything and gives you everything of her own free will and not the harsh words of the man who sired you or the demons in your head? Because they only seek to harm you; I only seek to help you become the best man you could possibly be--the man I know you are in your heart." She stretched out her graceful neck as the silver-haired man bowed his head to her and met him in a soft, lingering kiss so full of love it made both their insides melt into bubbling goo.

Bess slowly rose up off her knees, careful never to break the kiss. Gently pushing against Ebenezer's chest, she made him lay back on the bed, crawling up over him as he gracefully descended to the mattress. She laid down atop him, taking his face in her hands yet again as she angled her mouth over his to deepen the kiss. Instantly, tension began to build. Ebenezer's arms came around her, one locking tight around her waist, the other reaching lower for his hand to grab at her buttocks, both urging her closer to him as the desire grew. The American eagerly obliged. She traced her tongue against the seam of his lips and was quickly granted access: She dove in to meet his tongue with hers--no hesitation. She gently raked her nails down his cheek, neck, and chest; the man growled and held her more tightly.

The couple remained this way for several long, blissful moments, groaning, moaning, whimpering, nipping, licking, groping, expertly working each other up, and getting the blood boiling. When finally they parted for air, Bess gazed down into the hazy, half-lidded, slate-blue-ringed eyes of her husband. Her beautiful husband. Her marvelously wonderful husband whom she would stand between Heaven and Earth with, until the end of time.

"You are a good man, Ebenezer Charles Scrooge," she breathed, her head swimming a bit itself. "The very best man I've ever known and, undoubtedly, will ever know." She kissed his top lip ever so gently as she held his gaze before pushing herself to sit up so that she was straddling him. Then she grabbed his hands, which had come to rest on her waist, and brought them both up to her mouth. She showered them in kisses; all over the fingers, across the knuckles, the backs, each calloused fingertip. She made sure to leave obvious lip prints inside his palms and on the soft, sensitive skin of his inside wrists. The woman was brazen enough to gently stroke her tongue against him there and a thrill went through her when she felt her man shudder beneath her, his eyes widening and growing darker as he watched her and quietly whimpered.

"You're a good man, Wolf," she repeated, smiling down at the man as she gently massaged the outsides of his wrists. "A good man." The woman's smile suddenly turned saucy and a devious gleam came to her eyes. Without a second thought, she brought the Englishman's hands to her breasts and pressed them firmly to her plush and pliant mounds, squeezing his hands to encourage him to grope her. He didn't need much urging and she gasped with delight, a familiar, heady sensation fluttering low in her belly even with the barrier of clothing between their skin. She moaned as he continued his ministrations, letting her head slowly roll 'round. "Mmm. We should see just how good a man you can really be...."

Taglist: @rom-e-o @oldmanlusting @the-house-of-auditore-frye @crimson-phantom-designs @ofvampiirisms @purgratoriat if anybody else would like to be added, let me know!

Romey, why do I get the feeling this is when Gil caught them in the act?

[elianas-cozycorner]

𝓞𝓷 𝓟𝓲𝓷𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓝𝓮𝓮𝓭𝓵𝓮𝓼 | 𝓢𝓬𝓻𝓸𝓸𝓰𝓮 (2022)

𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘖𝘯𝘦 | 𝘊𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘋𝘦𝘣𝘵𝘴

Dedicated to @the-house-of-auditore-frye

Summary: In a world where single mothers and working, low-class women are shunned, how can an unwed seamstress survive? With piling debts and the Christmas season underway, there's nothing worse than adding hopeless, one-sided love to your troubles. Pining after your lender and local miser, Ebenezer Scrooge, can only lead you to ruin. Right?

Author's Note: Hello, all!

This little project came to be because of Frye's post requesting a Scrooge fiction. Please be aware that, as much as I absolutely adore this man and the film, this is my first time writing for Ebenezer. Because I wanted this to be as enjoyable as possible, I spent about a week researching the Victorian Era (everything from coinage to etiquette). That being said, I will try my best to make this historically accurate while also being canon compliant. There is also a jump from past tense to present tense in this chapter, denoted by a cut.

Because the story's plot is mostly fleshed out, I will be trying my best to give you all weekly updates. I have kept or changed a manner of things I saw fit to, but largely kept to the user's storyline. I did give the reader a last name to save my sanity (I also do not use Y/N)! If anyone is interested in the parts of Victorian culture I reference, I'll start leaving notes at the end of chapters.

Word Count: 1558

Ao3 - Mature Rating

Warnings: Period Typical Attitudes/Sexism, Victorian Era

The smell of pine and freshly baked goods swirled in the otherwise polluted London air. A soft breeze tussled ladies’ bonnets and ruffled the cravats of refined gentlemen, the perfect reprise from the muggy smog. With the workhouses and factories tucked just beyond view, prevented from covering the shopping district in coal dust, the street was filled with last minute shoppers and happy couples. Christmas was naught but a short eve away and the holiday cheer was perfectly contagious. Women, accompanied by their mothers and sisters, walked along the newly cleaned sidewalks. Occasionally they would break out in conversation among themselves, whether over a charming gentleman across the way or a new shipment of ribbons advertised on a storefront. Poormen and servants wandered about the stalls in the street, collecting food from the grocers or mead from the brewers. The steady clopping of hooves and the calls of pauper boys selling their papers only added to the busy atmosphere of the shopping district. 

The noise was close to overwhelming for some. One such gentleman walked alone, steel tipped cane clicking loudly against the cobblestone. Occasionally the man would pull his top hat further down his temple, adjust his upturned collar closer to his face, or grumble under his breath at the ineffectiveness of his overcoat. If one were to watch him long enough, they might see him pull a watch from his pocket and check its time against the clock tower’s. He avoided every sign of cheer, failed to acknowledge any gentlewoman he crossed paths with, and refused to return the Christmas wishes thrown his way. 

So bothered by the joyous atmosphere was he that, at his next convenience, he ducked into an alley. There he took a moment to sigh deeply and adjust his evening wear. The permanent scowl across his face was not dissuaded by the huff of breath against his knee.

The man looked down, “Prudence.”

The large, wrinkly mastiff at his feet looked up at the mention of her name. She focused on him, waiting for the graying man to continue. But she did not receive further acknowledgement. Instead, her human took up a brisk pace and exited the alleyway. Set on reaching his destination, the man did not expect to run into a pair of caroling urchins. Nor his nephew shortly after. 

“Uncle Ebenezer, is that you?”

“And to think,” The man growled under his breath, ducking behind a vendor’s stall. “That I should be granted any semblance of peace on such a wretched eve.”

There was a moment of silence and the grouch did not see his nephew’s figure again. “That was close–”

“Uncle! It is you, I knew it!” The cheerful gentleman appeared before him as if teleported by God himself.

Ebenezer Scrooge, cold hearted and lacking patience toward his relative as he was, couldn’t help the obvious annoyance that overtook his features. “Harry–”

“Merry Christmas!” Harry smiled broadly and extended his hat forward in greeting. It was a gesture that Scrooge did not return, favoring instead a scowl and exaggerated eye roll. 

Unfazed by his uncle’s uncouth manner and blatant disrespect, Harry continued on to greet the giant hound at Scrooge’s hip. They engaged in a rather splendid moment, Prudence preening under the kind affections Harry offered. The men exchanged a few short words until the clocktower sounded out, catching their attention. Scrooge smiled gleefully then, a truly cruel and unashamed sort of glee. 

“Out of time, Jenkins,” He turned to face his nephew. “As unpleasant as this encounter has been, Harry, I must bid my goodbyes. I have much to do before the clock strikes the sixth hour of the eve, many debts to collect. Be ye well, God bless you.” He extended his hat, bowing slightly at the waist. 

“Oh, but Uncle–” Harry was cut off as the gray haired man turned down the way. He shared a puzzled look with their canine companion before following suit.

“Uncle, wait! Perhaps, if it will not inconvenience you, I may join you for your final collection.” The request is polite enough, if not a bit hesitant. 

“I suppose you are about to tell me that it would be mutually beneficial to engage in such an excursion together,” Ebenezer Scrooge sighed deeply. “However noble the intention, my good boy, I am about on business –”

“As am I,” The response came from his left. “I have several gifts to acquire before the shops close for Christmas Eve, and I set out with the intent to meet you in the office. Your office.”

“Yes, you said as much.” The ebony cane tapped rhythmically against the cobbles underfoot. “If it is your will, I will not dissuade you. However, I will dismiss you immediately should you encroach upon my time.”

“Of course, as to be expected.”

“Expected?” A large, well maintained eyebrow shot up.

Harry floundered for a moment, unsure if he had crossed a line or poked a nerve. “I only meant that this excursion is as much about business for me as it is for you. ”

“Hmm. Christmas gifts. A pointless waste of coin and effort. Say,” Scrooge turned to face the other man then, halting in the middle of the walkway. “Should not your servant fetch these things?”

“They are preparing Christmas Eve Dinner! It is only right that they spend some time with their families come the morn, so the house will be hosting–” 

-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷

With his cane tucked under his arm, Ebenezer Scrooge adjusts his gloves in the doorway of Jenkin’s Toy Shoppe. His newly edited ledger sits heavily in his vest pocket: 50 pound – Jenkins, due Boxing Day. It gives him great pleasure to know that he will collect double the expected sum of Jenkin’s dues. So much so, the man does not register the fact that he is leaving Prudence in the care of his nephew as he exits the store. He is already tired of the social scenes and obligations placed upon him by society; what with enduring a continued human presence and being accosted by some unlicensed charity band.

‘The nerve,’ He thinks, once again checking his watch. ‘ Twenty past the hour already?"

He lets the cane drop back into his hand, using it for stability in the ice and snow. He has one last destination before he can retreat to his office: Louwermon’s Tailor and Dress Shoppe. A quaint little place on an industrial corner, hidden amongst the poorest rabble and unkempt developments. Originally owned by a stately old man, the clothing store often employed the lowest-class women and occasional middle-class seamstress. Now, after his passing and with shirts going for 7 pence a dozen, only one woman was left. The store and all of Louwermon’s earthly debts left unto her. 

Scrooge cringes slightly at the thought, bringing his gloved hand to cover a breast pocket. Louwermon hadn’t even been her father. How a woman with so little prospects and devastatingly meager income had been allowed, by the courts no less , to keep the shop was beyond him. He knew she worked day and night, nearly twelve hours each day, to pay her late employer’s debts. That much he approved of, her timeliness and portly manner. But lately, come the winter season, such timeliness had given away to shortchanged dues and even missed payments. That, to the old miser, was the most unacceptable thing about her. 

Lost in thought as he is, Scrooge is surprised when muscle memory encourages him to grip a familiar knob. The door handle, when he looks up to confirm, does indeed belong to the storefront of Louwermon’s Tailor and Dress Shoppe . With his right hand occupied with the door, he reaches for his ledger with the left. He wants nothing more than to make this trip quick. 

When he finally steps across the threshold, a warm gust of air and the chime of a bell greet him. A fire roars in a hearth to the back of the front room, keeping it warm for customers. In the furthermost right corner there is an area sectioned off for fittings, more an alcove than a proper room. Several dresses sit on the till counter and a rack of men’s shirts line the most immediate wall. A couple mannequins to his left host unfinished coats and suits, while the store windows are arranged to display seasonal accessories. However, despite all the garments, he does not spot the store’s owner.

He stands alone for several long moments, watching the time tick by on his pocket watch. He strains his ears to hear the clicking of the hands, taps his cane a couple times, and tries to tame his impatience by looking around the room. He waits, and waits. Eventually, Scrooge’s patience runs out. Indignant at being left to loiter, he clears his throat as loudly as the dry air will allow. 

“I’ll say, Ms. Blackwood, this is certainly no way to run an establishment!” 

From some room in the very back, Scrooge hears a clattering sound and the rushing of footsteps. The creaking of the door is accompanied by a small murmur of pain. Well worn hands brace themselves against the doorframe and gentle eyes meet stern ones. In her eyes there is a hint of fear and he knows then that she will ask for another extension. 

‘Will I give it?’ He wonders. 

[born-to-lose-writing]

You Make It Feel Like Christmas

Pairing: old!Roger Daltrey x reader

Requested by anon

Summary: You spend the holiday season with Roger.

Tags: fluff, one sexual reference

Words: 1,321

A/N: Since I've been down bad for old man Roger lately, here's some Christmas fluff 💖

Tag list: @johnentwistlesbassguitar

These weren't your first holidays with Roger, but the first you spent with him entirely after you had only had a small personal celebration on the 23rd last year before spending actual Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with your families, respectively. To say the least, you were excited to experience the whole holiday magic as you now lived with him and had the chance to prepare for and celebrate Christmas with someone you loved like you had dreamed of.

However, Roger was a worthy opponent in the battle of who was more excited. Since mid-November, he had pointed out nearly daily how many days there were until Christmas. You adored how he was still looking forward to it this much while most people his age weren't too invested anymore and only saw the stressful side of the holidays. Despite having played Ebenezer Scrooge, he wasn't one at all.

It was almost like he was a child again, especially when you started decorating the house. He had plenty of decorations—many from the time when his daughters and sons were little—and he let you go through them all and choose this year’s theme. In case you found you needed more, he offered to buy some with you, but his selection was good enough and you only ended up getting a new table runner while you accompanied Roger buying presents for his kids and grandkids.

You had met them all separately before during your time with Roger, but this year, you were going to be together with his whole family for the first time as they were coming over for Christmas Day. You were a little anxious, even though there was no real reason to be, yet you also couldn't wait to see them all again, not least because Roger was happy whenever they visited him.

First, you decorated outside the house, but it was inside where you got to be more creative, putting up fairy lights, candle arches, paper stars, bows, snow globes, nutcrackers, porcelain figures and whatever else you found in his collection. You regularly asked Roger if he thought it was too kitschy, but he just watched you adoringly, handing you more decorations with sparkling eyes and saying he got to decorate every year, so you were welcome to do whatever you wanted.

Obviously, you let him help you decide where to put the items you had picked. That way, it was more fun for both of you and to reward yourselves afterwards, he made some eggnog and you cosied up to the fireplace in the living room together.

“We should get matching socks, shouldn't we?” you suggested, rubbing your leg against his.

“I wasn't going to reveal it until Christmas Eve, but I got us two pairs,” he said after a short pause. “It's not the only thing I have for you, so if you want, we can wear them earlier than that.”

“You really think of everything, don't you? It’s up to you, I don't mind only getting them for Christmas either,” you shrugged.

Roger put his mug down and wrapped both arms around you. Suddenly, you started giggling. “What is it?” he asked, smiling because you sounded like you were up to something.

“I also got matching outfits for us, but you'll definitely only see them in three weeks.”

“That’s okay, I like surprises,” he laughed, interlocking his fingers with yours. He did like surprises, but he was curious what your matching outfits would be; he had a feeling it would either be ugly Christmas sweaters or those silly costumes you could get at department stores.

Besides decorating and other projects Roger had to keep busy and liked to involve you in, you took walks on most days and when it snowed, it was even better. There wasn't enough to build a snowman or make snow angels, but it was nice to just watch the snowflakes fall and realise that Christmas was coming closer.

Of course, you also baked at least twice a week and always together. Roger's recipes were the best and it was no wonder the cookies, cupcakes and cakes you made were gone within two days.

You put down the tray of cookies and turned around to get a plate from the cupboard, but bumped into Roger, who was puckering his lips. “Give me a kiss!”

“Again?” you asked, surprised. He had just kissed you before turning off the oven when the timer rang.

“Didn't you see the mistletoe?” He grinned and nodded up at the mistletoe dangling from the ceiling above you.

You wondered where he even picked as much mistletoe as he hung up all over the house, insisting it's tradition every time you were standing underneath one. However, you were not complaining at all. You would kiss him all day if you could and he was committed to getting as close to kissing you all day as possible. His smile each time you leaned in to give into his gentle demands was the cutest thing.

You chuckled, putting your arms around his middle and pointing out, “You put them up everywhere, and I know you have one behind your back.”

Roger moved his face towards yours and closed his eyes, mumbling, “Mhm, that's for special kisses.”

Then he raised his occupied hand above your heads and eagerly kissed you—deeper than your usual chaste and sweet mistletoe kisses. In the heat of the moment, he pressed you against the edge of the counter, but he soon pulled away and reached up to open the cupboard, handing you the plate you had almost forgotten about by now.

“Thank you,” you said, still playing with the curls at the back of his head and pecking his lips before he stepped aside to let you get back to what you had been doing.

Finally, the day to see your promised matching outfits came. You had wrapped them in pretty paper and gave Roger his, leaving the room to get dressed yourself. Watching each other change was no issue at all, but you found it would make for a more dramatic reveal if you did that separately. Your costume probably looked more stupid than his, but you liked wearing it for a laugh.

You heard footsteps getting louder from the doorway of the living room and before you stood Roger dressed up as Santa Claus, wearing his classic wide smile. As you looked him up and down with a grin, he put his hands on his stomach and laughed exaggeratedly. Due to the way his normal laugh often sounded like a jolly elf, your costume may have been fitting for him too. Perhaps next year. However, he looked better in this outfit than you had expected. A little silly, but it suited him and he seemed to be having fun with it.

“Father Christmas? More like Daddy Christmas,” you purred teasingly, walking up to him and placing the matching hat on his head.

He put his hands on his hips and looked over the edge of his glasses. “Don't make me add you to the naughty list.”

“Oh come on, I’m only guilty of innocence,” you said, batting your eyelashes at him. God knows he had been naughtier than you, though much less now than back in the day, which you appreciated in certain aspects.

Roger sat in the armchair next to him and you immediately took a seat on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. He gently put a hand on your thigh to keep you in place and smiled, stroking it with his thumb. Then he straightened up and asked like a mall Santa, but with genuineness in his tone, “What's your wish, darling?”

You stayed silent for a moment, getting lost in his blue eyes. “I have everything I could wish for,” you replied, gently pulling down his fake beard and cupping his cheeks as you leaned in to kiss him.

[sunshine-for-serotonin]

Hello! Requests:Open!💕

I’m Sunshine, and this is my yandere request blog! I write yandere oneshots, headcannons, and scenarios for your entertainment with a maximum character limit of four. Below is a list of rules and what I will write for!! :)

𝑹𝑼𝑳𝑬𝑺

I will write for:

nsfw (fair warning, it may not be very good) ❣️on that note, I only write for sub characters. ❣️

suggestive content

fluff

most kinks, with exceptions for watersports, spit, and degradation

I will write for GN, afab, and explicitly fem readers only, because I don’t know enough to write about male readers to feel comfortably, sorry!!

𝐹𝒜𝒩𝒟𝒪𝑀𝒮

FNAF (games only):

Michael and William Afton

all animatronics (specify if you want human or natural form)

SLASHERS:                                                                             

Asa Emory

Will Graham

Hannibal Lecter

OG!Michael Myers                                                                                           

Bo Sinclair                                                                                                             

Vincent Sinclair                                                                                                     

Bubba Sawyer                                                                                                       

Thomas Hewitt                                                                                                       

Candyman                                                                             

Brahms Heelshire                                                                                                 

PHANTOM OF THE OPERA

Erik                                                                                   

ARCANE

Silco

ATTACK ON TITAN

Levi Ackerman

Erwin Smith

Bertholdt Hoover (early 20s)

TWISTED WONDERLAND (actual college)

Riddle Rosehearts

Azul Ashengrotto

Rollo Flamme

HETALIA

Kiku Honda (Japan)

Kuro Honda (2p Japan)

Oliver Kirkland (2p England)

Ivan Braginsky (Russia)

Viktor Braginsky (2p Russia)

Berwald Oxenstierna (Sweden)

Lukas Bondevik (Norway)

Tino Väinämöinen (Finland)

BLACK BUTLER

Claude Faustus

Sebastian Michaelis

Ciel Phantomhive (early 20s)

William T. Spears

DEMON SLAYER

Tanjiro Kamado (early 20s)

Yushiro Yamamoto

Muzan Kibutsuji

DISNEY VILLAINS

Judge Claude Frollo

Captain Hook

MASTERLIST 💜💜

Erik Destler (Phantom of the Opera, Musical!Erik and Book!Erik, plus a sprinkle of Cherik.)

General yandere nsfw headcannons 💜

Self indulgent nsfw post💜: part one and two

Erik getting reader pregnant headcannons 💜

Desperate Erik oneshot with cowgirl and facesitting 💜

Erik with a mommy kink headcannons (cannon in all my works) 💜

General kissing with Erik 💜

Erik with voice kink, auralism, and scent kink headcannons 💜

Erik’s nsfw alphabet 💜

Would Erik like to be called babydoll? 💜

Forever and Always, You. Valentine’s Day oneshot (unless someone requests another part and gives some ideas 👀) 💜

Erik with a mommy kink oneshot 💜

A Chance With You series: one💜 two💜 three(in progress)

Cherik general yandere headcannons 💜

Musical!Erik with mirror sex oneshot 💜

Reader making Erik a scarf and he gets whiny because they aren’t paying attention to him 💜

Rollo Flamme

Fragile: Rollo slips you a sleeping potion so he can have your affection while you’re asleep 🔔

Brahms Heelshire

Reader who flinches when he raises his hand 💷

Eyeless Jack

Nsfw alphabet 💙

Ticci Toby

Soft reader headcannons 🪓

Mandela Catalogue

Mark Heathcliff headcannons 🔫

Adam and Jonah x reader from irl 📹📼

Human Cesar Torres headcannons ☎️

Michael Afton

Ghost Michael headcannons 🔦

Withered Bonnie

General headcannons🐰⚙️

Funtime Crew

Touch starved reader 🎉🎈

Silco

Soft reader 💉

Ebenezer Scrooge

Nsfw alphabet 💰

[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.

[weltato]

Rating: General Audiences Warnings: None Category: Gen

Relationships: Ebenezer Scrooge & The Little Match Girl (A VHS Christmas Carol), Tim Cratchit & Ebenezer Scrooge, Tim Cratchit & The Little Match Girl (A VHS Christmas Carol)

Characters: The Little Match Girl (A VHS Christmas Carol), The Little Match Girl's Grandma (A VHS Christmas Carol), Ebenezer Scrooge

Additional Tags: Fluff, Adoption, matchgirl gets adopted by scrooge!, her name is eleanor btw, Tumblr Prompt, Inspired by Tumblr, vhscc is amazing i highly recommend it, it changed my brain chemistry, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot

Chapters: 1/1 Words: 641

Series: Part 7 of 'The 12 Fics of The Holidays (2023)'

Summary:

The Little Match Girl lay on the floor. Scrooge lay on the floor. They had the same energy and someone said he would adopt her so this happened. Just them being a family.

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@jewishruthfleming I did the matchgirl fic! :)

Thank you to @a-christmas-carol-from-hr for inspiring me <3

Coming next is the Bred, Gruelle and Spektr fic!

[moonlesslights]

Like you saw him.

Summary: Being the owner of a little bakery brings you closer to Mr. Scrooge. Seeing him every day is an habit by now, so it is obviously concerning when it is almost closing time and he hasn’t shown yet.

A/N: This man is big, and his big shoulders can crush me any day. Still, I let you here with some fluff and just a little bit of sexual innuendos. Enjoy and lots of love!

…

You saw him everyday.

Most of the time, by morning; when he walked through the bakery doors to ask for the new recipe you manage to create every week. Some other occasions, when work was tough, he would came by when the sun was already setting, asking (rather demanding) for the weekly and most expensive bread you had.

Today is one of those days.

There are only five minutes left of working hours before you close the shop like every other night. You know your parents will grow worried if you are late to home again, and by that you know that there had been only two occasions where you didn’t arrive home at time. Last christmas night, when a complete family showed up out of nowhere to buy tons of bread but keeping you for almost another half an hour; and the time when you sprained your ankle on your way back and weren’t able to walk much more from there.

Neither of both scenarios assure you your father wouldn’t leave home immediately to look for you if you spend a minute more sitting here. But you just can’t go with your last and traditional delivery still missing.

Your eyes dart at the clock in the back of the store, sighing. Just two minutes to nine. Just two minutes and you would be forced to leave.

Trying to distract yourself for the intimidating clock hands moving on an unstoppable pace, you continue your writing on your little notebook, adding quick annotations, encircling keywords and underlining some others to remember your future self to read that right and not miss any step (again). Your next work is almost done, at least in what theory respects.

Nine o’clock.

It was over.

You purse your lips, felling uneasy as you reach for your coat and scarf, slowly scanning the freezing and lonely streets that awaited for you. You frown. What if something happened?, what if he didn’t like this weekly bread as much as the past ones?, oh my, was it your fault?

No. Wait. And why should you care?, it is his goddamn business if he doesn’t think your cooking is good enough. He can look for another bakery if he wishes so, let’s see if they save a damn peace alone just for…

Ding.

Your neck almost cracks when the doorbell rings and you turn to see the entering figure with a bad, if at all, dissimulated surprise covering your features.

And there he was. Covered in snowflakes and leaving a snowy mess all over the shop floor. His dark coat seemed to be little for the sharp cold city tonight, but you couldn’t catch a single hint of shivers running through him, not even when his gloveless hands wiped off some more white dust of his clothes. Rather than that, he appears to have been in a hurry with his reddened cheeks and unfazed breathing.

And you knew you shouldn’t have, but you smiled, sincere, almost relieved to see him there.

He had always had that effect on you. You never knew why, why did the most hated man of this city caused you to do nothing but relax in his presence, why did everyone despised him, why didn’t you. Safety is the usual word that come across your mind. You feel safe with him. He may be grumpy, serious and alarmingly rude, but you don’t think he could ever hurt you (as long as you're not indebted to him).

“Good evening, Mr. Scrooge.” Your greeting goes unanswered as he moves towards you, still trying to catch his breath. “Do you feel unwell?”

“Nothing that concerns you.” He does answer to that.

You nod, watching how his eyes travel along all the remaining bread of the afternoon and, as always, waiting for his usual request.

However, one thing goes unplanned.

“I believe I arrived a little too late. Goodnight.”

As unpredictable his appearance was, his return to the exit doors was even more. His back was facing you before you could even register what had happened and his steps were hurried towards the cold streets again.

You frown, turning your gaze to him and to what he was watching a second ago with your mouth wide open. Two times until it hits you: the little wooden shelf where you kept the weekly creation was totally empty.

“Wait!” His hand on the handle, his body stiffens at your sudden call. He only gives you a sided look, refusing to let you see more of him. “You are here for the new bread, aren’t you?”

Another unanswered question.

You huff, shaking your head.

“Y’know, everything would be resolved if you just told me what you want…” You state while looking down and taking a paper box with one of your hands. Sighing, you place it on top of the counter. “Voilà.”

Slowly, he returns his face to you. Suspicious, he wrinkles his nose, asking you with a single lifted eyebrow what was that.

“Bread. The bread. The last one. Only for you.” You say almost in defeat. “Now, could you please take it?, it is already really late.”

You look up at him and he receives you with an unusual expression on his face. So much that it takes you by surprise.

His eyes are wide open and his mouth remains unclosed. Now both of his brows are slightly lifted as you can hear him almost gulp. You have never seen his pupils light up like this, almost like a tiny star trapped in there. His lips parted, you can see as one on the corners of his mouth fight to remain pointing down.

Screw you, Mr. Scrooge, you find yourself thinking as you watch closely his salt and pepper hair covered still in small snowflakes, his crooked nose and big shoulders underneath his clothes, making me lose my time, getting on my nerves… I don’t know why I still-

“I want you to come to have dinner in my house.”

Now, what?

“What was that?” You ask, suddenly snapping out of your trance.

He looks at you for a solid second before stating again:

“I want you to come to have dinner in my house.” This time he repeats every word with a considerable separation between each of them.

You tilt your head, remaining quiet for quite an unreasonable amount of time just trying to figure out the words coming to your ears. He has left you astonished and you can hear a little you mocking your saying of always having something smart to say.

Well, look at you now…

“Eh, mhm… Why?” You find out that was the only thing able to be formed by your mouth.

Little did you know, your companion was, if not more, falling into nervousness at the same time as you did.

What the hell had gotten to his mouth?

What was he even thinking?

“Because I want to.”

Your mouth falls open. Blinking slowly in his direction, you find yourself fighting to process the very conversation you were having right now. 

“Because you want to?” 

Ebenezer clears his throat, putting on his most confident face. 

“You told me to tell what I want.” He pauses, raising an eyebrow. “Well, I want that. I want you to join me to dinner.”

You blink again, and suddenly, his words snap in your head. Yes, you did tell him that, but you could have never believed he would have take it this literal. In less than a second, a smile takes over your lips, bringing a bursting laugh to your throat. 

“Are you serious?!” You ask, even more excited that you would’ve had like. 

Ebenezer nods, big open eyes with confussion looking at your reaction. You laugh again, giving him a big toothy smile and... He could have died right there. 

You just gave him that smile. The smile you gave when you were really happy, the smile he only had seen a few times, never to him, never in his direction. And maybe someone else would have scolded you for your lack of decency in that thunderous laugh, but him... He was fascinated. If you just stopped in the middle of it you would’ve had caught his bright pupils and the smile threatening to cling onto his own lips. 

“I would love to, Mr. Scrooge.” You finally take him out of his trance, welcoming him with another warm smile. 

“Ebenezer.” He rushes to say. 

Your eyes soften even more, nodding. 

“I would love to have dinner with you, Ebenezer.” You conceed. “When?”

“Christmas.” He bursts out, taking you aback. Well, that would be a hell of a long talk with your parents to be absent on that day, but still...

“Sure. That sounds amazing.” 

He smiled. 

A year has passed and looking back on that day, you can’t believe how much things have changed. 

Now, after a beatiful wedding only two months ago and another dog, you finally moved in to his house. Both have made a lot of remodelations and bought a lot more of decorations. In his words: The house came to life when you first set a foot on it. In yours: He was just a little careless. 

Now he is the first one to taste your weekly creation after, as always, trying to “help you” cooking. He and the two dogs usually are just there to make a mess and, every time, you end up with several hand marks in flour covering your hips, waist, belly and sometimes other places. 

Now he takes as an excuse how messy you both are after cooking to take you to the bath with him. He always insists to undress you, taking his time to caress your body, softly, before insisting again in washing your hair when you get into the bathtub. Then, sometimes, he gets cooky as he unbuttons his shirt, smiling when he catches your gaze on his exposed skin; some other times he just uses this excuse to bury himself in you, slowly, spilling water all over the floor everytime he pushes. 

Now he waits for you to fall asleep every night before he does. Taking you in his arms, your breath lulling him to sleep. Easing his hearth. And every day, his eyes, full of love, wish you good morning as he playfully pecks your lips. He makes breakfast, meals are usually out, when he takes a break from work and takes you to different restaurants all around the city; dinner is on you. He sets the table and you spoil him with a homemade food made with the groceries he always insist on shopping with you. 

Now, he might still be the most hated man in the city. But your love for him remains as untouched as the one that started growing in you since the very first day you saw him. 

[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

[chelleinyy]

I desperately need a fanfiction where after Isabel leaves, Scrooge finds the ring she left behind.

Oh and also, I need a fanfiction where Isabel comforts Scrooge after his sister's death. In Isabel's perspective ofc.

[rom-e-o]

Not Supposed to Be Here (Ebenezer/Constance)(Modern AU)

Unwanted company follows Constance home one day.

Rated 13+. Triggers for stalking from a third party, light violence w/ mention of blood, and some language. All the romance is just fluff, maybe with some innuendo if you squint.

Also, this takes place in a modern AU universe featuring @quill-pen's Bess (and her own Ebenezer/zar), Addie, and Gal. Cameo time!

Happy reading!

Usually, Constance felt safer upon entering their flat’s guarded lobby.

The gentle chime of the entry bell and lemony smell of freshly sprayed cleaner offered an air of professional hominess. It felt sophisticated, but also slightly cavernous, which usually aided her feelings of safety.

The building was old in design, with darkly lacquered walls and natural stone floors, but the cameras and keypads that dotted the vicinity were the best money could buy. The cost of the units within the building damn near insisted it. As a result, most of the residents did the same.

Literal resident, philanthropist (and casual billionaire) Ebenezer Samuel Scrooge, for example, had spared no expense in making her feel safe once she moved into his upscale London apartment. The man already had an impressive security system installed. A few years ago, he would have said it was to protect the funds, ledgers, and gold he prized. Now, it was to protect the woman with a heart of gold whom he had the honor of marrying in a few months’ time.

While Ebenezer treasured Constance open and ardently, her presence alone wasn’t the only factor that inspired him to pay top dollar for security.

He knew that being at his side put her in the public eye, and considering her ex-husband’s very active restraining order, he had updated the system to the latest model the day she first entered his abode.

Not only was the front door guarded by a doorman and the front desk staffed by two receptionists, but the floor Ebenezer’s flat occupied could only be accessed by a special elevator, which was manned by its own staff member at all hours, except for the occasional break. There was, of course, the fire escape out back, but that area was also guarded with cameras closely.

Yet, even as she made small talk with the attendants and checked their postbox for mail, a sense of uneasiness lingered over her like a storm cloud.

She felt unusually restless; like eyes were on her, but not just any set of eyes.

It had been just over a year since she’s felt that familiar sense of dread … the nightmare of his eyes, dark and cold as fog, watching her. Scrutinizing her. Hating her from afar.

A Harrods catalog slipped from her hands and onto the floor.

The rustle caught the attention of a nearby receptionist.

“Something wrong, Ms. DoGoode?” one asked, peering up at her from their post behind a large Mac monitor. They appeared to be checking their emails, the camera feed resigned to a smaller window in the lower corner.

Constance turned and looked behind her, her gaze moving through the lobby and out into the busy London streets. The frost-covered glass hid the details of the sidewalk and traffic outside from her view, but nothing immediately caught her attention.

Prudence, the large mastiff that loyally followed her lead even without a leash, followed her eyes. In response to her owner’s obvious discomfort, her stance immediately became more protective at the first showing of fear. She glanced around, growling in an attempt to stave off whatever was causing her new mama to tremble.

Yet, even as they both ladies stared out the front door, they saw … nothing.

Perhaps she was imagining things. Or, imagining people.

Trying to save face, Constance chuckled and tucked her mail away in her evergreen Telfar shopping bag, a recent acquisition from New York that her mother had sent.

“I’m fine,” she said, making sure to flash the receptionist a grin. “Clumsy as always, haha! Thank you for worrying.”

As if sensing her discomfort, Prudence whimpered and pawed at her lower legs. She bent and scooped up the mailer, then rubbed her large, meatball-shaped noggin. “Sorry, girl. I guess I’m just imagining things.”

Something must have triggered the feeling, she thought. Maybe another man in the lobby was wearing the same cologne as him, and she’d picked up on it subconsciously. Maybe she hadn’t seen someone coming in behind her at the entrance, and she’d let a door fall shut on someone. Yet, if that was the case, they apparently hadn’t stuck around to chastise her.

With kind words of parting, Constance made her way to the gilded elevator tucked in the back of the lobby. Prudence stayed behind just a moment longer, cocking her face at something beyond the glass.

Constance whistled as she held the door. “Come, Prudence.”

With a huff, the pup gave up her pursuit and trotted into the elevator.

“Good girl,” she praised. With those words, the elevator doors fell shut.

Moments later, the front door opened softly, and a man stepped in.

“Excuse me,” he asked as he approached the desk. We wore a dark trench with camel-colored gloves tucked into his pockets. His American accent was distinct, with a slight Dutch twang. “I looking for someone, and I think I just saw her go up.”

“Let’s see…oh, Harrods opened their Christmas department,” Constance exclaimed as she read the mailer on the ride up. “Oh, they already have their teddy bear display up this year! The Cratchit children would adore that. We should all go on an evening after work!”

While Constance attempted to distract herself by reading the seasonal ads, Prudence kept glancing around, as if even the tiniest shadow in the elevator could pose a threat.

“I wonder…has Bess ever been before?” Constance pondered aloud. “I’ll have to text Wolf and see. What a fun surprise that would be!”

Lacquered maroon nails tapped the glossy paper impatient. She glanced around the small space and heaved a sigh. “The, um, attendant must be on break.”

The mastiff definitely wasn’t listening. Her expressive eyes furrowed at every sound, and when the doors opened on the private floor, she even let out a bark.

Smiling softly, Constance gave Prudence a reassuring pat on the back as they exited. “You’re so brave, protecting me. Thank you, sweetheart.”

The praise temporarily distracted Prudence from her apprehension, her tongue lolling from her gummy jaw. Her tail swayed like a ship’s mast during a sea storm.

“Now, keys, keys…” Constance said, reaching her entire arm into the large bag to fish out the front door key to the apartment.

When her fingers brushed the distinct, heart-shaped keyring, a grin bloomed on her face. “There you are! Sneaky.”

Constance unlocked the front door, making sure to wipe her heels on the welcome mat before crossing the threshold.

“Ebenezer?” she called into the space, only to be greeted with silence. She heard no voices, or even music, from within. It seemed he was still out on business. He’d been called to a private meeting at a client’s estate. As the meeting was outside of their usual office location, there had been no reason for Constance to accompany him. Instead, he recommended she take the day off.

She smiled at the memory, especially how he had promised her he’d be back by dinner, then kissed her lovingly on her lips to seal the promise.

In fact, he kissed her each and every time they parted, no exceptions.

She kicked off her heels quickly, then reached up to a keypad located right next to their coatrack.

In addition to a front door key, the apartment had a security system that triggered every time the door was unlocked from the outside. Upon each entry, a special code had to be keyed in to disarm the system until the next time someone entered the space.

Some called the measure tiring or even nerve-inducing. She understood those sentiments, but to her, it was nothing but reassuring. It was a small price to pay for safety, in her mind. More than anything, she was grateful that Ebenezer took her safety so seriously.

She reached up and keyed in the code, her manicured nails tapping polished nickel buttons quickly. By now, she knew the code so well that she could enter it without even looking at the numbers.

A gentle beep sounded from the device, and Constance grinned in satisfaction. “There we go! Now then, miss ma’am Prudie, let’s—”

Without warning, the mastiff began to howl and bark. The volume of her bellows was so loud that the windows seemingly rattled in place.

His cheap cologne gave him away to Prudence before Connie had realized.

Just as the door was about the latch, a gloved hand shot through and stopped it from falling shut. The hand was large and masculine, adorned in a nondescript leather glove that would have been commonplace for anyone in London to wear, especially during the ideas of winter.

However, Constance recognized the glove instantly. She only knew one man who wore camel-colored leather gloves, complete with gold buttons at the wrists.

“Well, well,” Orin Spiegler grumbled, throwing the door open hard enough that the knob punched the drywall and left a hole. “The Sun was right.”

“Orin.” The sound came out as a choked gasp rather than a question.

“Normally I don’t read the tabloids, but when I saw that you hadn’t sent me a wedding invitation, I thought I’d check in with you personally.”

On stockinged feet, Constance stepped back from the front door. Shock stole her voice and ability to move, causing her to creep away with the speed of maple syrup through a frozen tap.

After a terrifying beat of silence, the man raised his arms like a preacher in a sermon and let out a loud laugh. “Well, don’t just stand there! Why don’t you give your ex-husband a hello, at least? After all, I flew all the way here. Don’t I at least get a kiss?”

She felt physically sick, as if she could vomit right there on the spot. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“I’m banned from London? I’m here on business, Connie. Something our little … separation almost ruined for me. Don’t worry, I have no hard feelings about it, so don’t worry yourself into an episode over it.”

“I have a restraining order,” she said, her voice steady but far from confident. The acid behind his stare made it hard for her to control the tremble in her voice.  “Y-You know that. You can be in London, of course, but…”

“I know you do, my little pumpkin-haired princess,” he said, his tone as condescending as his verbiage, “But, I was in the neighborhood. You know, the financial district, and saw you walking that fabulous little pup of yours.”

Her eyes flitted to the keypad, the red ‘Alarm’ button in the corner practically screaming to be pressed. She wanted to lunge to it, but her ex-husband’s broad-shouldered frame blocked it readily. Perhaps she could shove him, she thought, though her gut knew that she could move him even if she tried her hardest.

She’d never been able to shove him away before, after all.

Prudence continued to growl at the strange man, her canines flashing, and her impressive berth only accentuated by her splayed pose. Lowering herself close to the floor, she looked ready to spring up and attack, like an overwound toy or Jack-in-the-box.

“Easy there, princess. I’m not going to—”

When she snapped at his leg, his brow lifted in surprise.

“Temperamental, are we?” Orin sneered, “I never did like dogs. Too needy.”

His words sounded assured, but Constance couldn’t help but observe that the man had shrank away from her the tiniest bit.

He was scared of Prudence, she realized. Good. This was very good!

“She’s weary of strangers,” she offered, tilting her head down slightly.

“Didn’t seem weary when you were in the lobby.”

Her stomach congealed. So, he hadn’t imagined the feeling after all. “T-Then you must have also seen that I was talking with building security.”

“Who are just SO great at their jobs!” Orin mockingly posed, index finger bouncing in the air as if to tap an invisible period on the end of his statement. “Truly, bravo! I mean, all I had to do was walk in and speak to that lovely receptionist. She heard my accent, and I said I was a friend of yours. I told her I’d seen you while walking by and had just missed you in the lobby. Not a lie, after all. Then it was just a matter of choosing the right floor.”

“The right floor?”

“Everyone knows where your decrepit fiancé lives,” he said. “Exterior shots are all over the gossip rags. You should read them, actually! They say some things about you. Mostly about your breasts and age. I can’t believe they think you’re a 32DD. We all know you’re a—”

“Please stop,” she pleaded, holding a hand up, “I don’t care. I really don’t.”

“You should. They’re short-changing you, babe.”

“Don’t call me that. Also, don’t insult Ebenezer.”

“Well, anyway, images of you at your last dress-fitting kept me and all the other guys very entertained in the airport,” he said with a smile. “You ladies all looked so cuuuute! I’m glad you had some friends for this fitting. It must have been so lonely last time, with just you and your parents.”

“I-I…”

“I recognized Bess – fucking gorgeous lady, tell her I said that—”

“I won’t.”

“—and the other two … Addie and Gal, yes?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“So, I’m right. Fah-bulous. Are they taken?”

“In every way, shape and form,” she said flatly. “Are you satisfied?”

Orin chuckled a little too hard, until the sound petered out into a garish gasp. Then, his eyes drifted out the nearby apartment window, as if he was lost in thought. She almost thought she could sneak past him, until his eyes flashed back to her at the speed of an owl’s.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Connie?” he asked. “You. Here. With him.”

Constance furrowed her brow. “I don’t understand the question.”

“You’re not going to fall for the same song and dance again, are you?” he asked. “Doesn’t this feel familiar to you? The courting? The sweet nothings? You, sitting alone in an apartment, biding your time until he grows bored with you?”

It was Constance’s turn to laugh, but this time, in disbelief. “You and Ebenezer are nothing alike. Not in any way.”

“Now, that can’t be true,” he objected. “After all, you love him … and you loved me. Once upon a time, maybe, but you did. We must have a few similarities.”

“I loved the man I thought you were.”

“Perhaps we have acting in common.”

“No.”

“You think this one will last?” he asked. “That a man with his wealth and status will be satisfied with just you?”

“You have no right to—”

"Want a little insider tip?” Orin asked with a smirk. “Think of men like cabs, babe. When they're available, their light goes on. Ping! They wake up one day and decide they're ready to settle down, have a couple brats, they’re like a driver on-duty. The light goes on, and then, it’s a race against all the other cabs to get their next passenger. The next woman they pick-up? BOOM! That's the one. Marriage, kids, life-rending depression.”

Constance shook her head. “You might be like that—”

“—All men are like that—”

“—But Ebenezer isn’t.”

The guffaw that left Orin’s lips was as strident as cannon fire. “You think you're living a sweet little love story? You got lucky. You were just a pretty, desperate redhead on the curb. He pulled up, and you couldn't wait to hop in, couldn't you?"

Constance couldn’t look Orin in the eyes. “I-I…accepted Ebenezer’s kindness, yes. But I assure you, he was kind to me out of the goodness of his heart. He never expected anything in return because he’s a good man. A generous man!”

“Right,” Orin said. “And yet…here you two are. Living together. Engaged.”

“Stop.”

“A therapist would call this a troubling pattern, Con. You’re the common denominator here.”

“You were the one who asked me to marry you!” she asserted, her voice starting to hike in volume.

Then, to her horror, a grin split his face. “Oh … that’s right. I asked you. I flicked my little light on when I chatted you up, bought you a few vodka sodas on starry rooftops, compared you to a Botticelli angel, held your hand when we ice-skated in Rockefeller Center …I pulled my car up to your curb. And what did you do?”

He stepped forward again, which sent Prudence into a frenzy of howling and barking. Given the volume of her bellowing voice, it wouldn’t be long before neighbors (or security) investigated the noise.

This time, however, he didn’t shrink away. Instead, he reared his foot back and landed a solid kick right in her gut. The force sent Prudence staggering back enough for her to lose her footing.

Constance blanched at the sight. “Prudence!”

“You, a beautiful but dense girl from Manhattan,­ saw my light was on … and jumped right in.”  

She flew to her knees and went to check on Prudence’s condition. Thankfully, it wasn’t a second of checking later that the mastiff was back to her senses. It appeared his blow had merely stunned her temporarily. With one shake of the head, she was right on her feet again.

Prudence weighed more than Orin by about twenty pounds, and while she had been holding back before, his attack only shattered her self-restraint. She lunged forward, jaws snapping and gullet foaming with rage. The force of her attack sent him to his elbows with a bone-rattling thump. Prudence didn’t cite or claw at him, but she did make a lot of noise while pinning is chest.

As predicted, the commotion caused doors to open in the hall, and Constance heard the concerned questions of neighbors.

While Orin was distracted, Constance bolted up and slammed the ‘Alarm’ button on the system. Along with the loud, reverberating barks from Prudence, the rhythmic blaring of the alarm created further commotion.

Pressing the button also automatically pinged authorities of an emergency.

It would also notify Ebenezer via cell message – a notification she knew he never silenced.

She wasn’t answering.

Ebenezer had no doubt he’d find at least twenty traffic tickets in his mailbox in the coming weeks, but the alarm had been activated at his flat and Constance wasn’t answering her phone.

If only he’d been at his usual office; he could have sprinted home, but no. Today of all days, he had been in a meeting outside of London, and had had to drive 15 minutes out to meet a particularly uppity client at their private estate.

Ebenezer had a feeling that the man would become an ex-client after how he’d dashed out after barely a word to Bob and his twin brother Ebenezar, but he couldn’t even care.

“Dammit, MOVE!” he swore, avoiding a flock of cyclists as he sped down A2198.

Once again, his call went to voicemail, and he immediately dialed again. All he could focus on was driving (AKA not crashing the car) and calling Constance’s phone over and over.

He left one pleading voicemail after another, begging her to call him back and also letting her know that he would be there soon.

When he finally had a visual of his building, he saw police parked out front, but their lights were off. Most importantly, there were no ambulances or other emergency vehicles. This slightly ebbed his panic, but not enough for him to coast into the building’s private garage and find a spot. Instead, he pulled up and parked in the street with alignment that could generously be described as cattywampus.  

Again, he couldn’t care. Let them blast his windshield with parking tickets

Pushing the doors open and sprinting into the lobby, two of the guards immediately went to his side. Their goal had likely been to inform him of the situation, but their insistence upon pleasantries was too much chatter for him to handle.

“Sir, we’re glad you’re here!” one said, a light sheen of perspiration already coating their face. “Thank goodness, we were just going to—”

“Talk while you walk with me,” Ebenezer ordered, his voice practically bladed with tension. “Now.”

Instead of taking the elevator, he keyed into a private side staircase and took the steps up two at a time. Even professional firefighters would have had a hard time keeping up with the man.

Ten floors passed in the blink of an eye. Upon arriving at his flat’s level, he threw the door open to his floor to see a gaggle of officers crowded around his open doorway at the end of the hall. For a moment, his heart stopped at the sight before him.

Then, amidst a sea of curious onlookers and uniformed constables, he saw a flash of red hair. He would have recognized that hue anywhere.

“Constance!” he yelled, running down the hall at the sight of her.

Upon hearing her name, she turned to face him, her face puffy and her eyes blazing from worry. She was sitting on the floor in the doorway of their flat, Prudence seated at her side and nuzzling her face. They were okay, he thought, barely resisting tears.

She didn’t have time to speak before Ebenezer had shoved his way through the crowd and enveloped her in his embrace. They crashed together like comets compelled together by gravity.

Once in his arms, he felt her sink into him desperately, as if she was a small animal seeking solace from a hunter. “E-Ebenezer …I’m so sorry.”

He shushed her kindly but immediately, his wide palm falling protectively across her back.  He urged her closer, and she obliged with a thankful sob, her shoulders shaking as she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in the crook of his neck.

“It’s okay, Sunshine,” he whispered, turning slightly to place a kiss upon her damp cheek. “Gods, I’m so relieved to see you. I-I…can’t even tell you what I was thinking on the drive … ”

As they embraced, Scrooge heard nearby officers chatter about what had just transpired.

“The bloke said he was here on business, but his name isn’t pulling up any employers here or Stateside.”

Business? Stateside?

With Constance still folded tightly in his arms, he looked over to see a smaller group of officers that had gathered around … someone. He squinted his eyes, as if trying to peer through the physical entities that blocked his view.

“Is he going to need a transport for any injuries?” a voice radioed in. “The dog jumped him, but all injuries look superficial.”

Dog? Were they talking about Prudence? He looked over to see that Prudence was staying close to Connie, hugging her flank closely while laying his head upon one of his bent thighs.

“Hey there, girl,” he whispered, his hand giving the base of her skull a scritch. “Are you okay?”

Prudence whispered, and Scrooge’s confusion deepened.

“No, we checked him out and he’s going straight to holding,” the officer replied, his tone clipped. “He’s breached a restraining order.”

“Acting in contempt of court, huh?” another repeated, followed by a huff of amusement. “Stupid bastard.”

Ebenezer’s blood ran cold. The realization of what had transpired hit him like a ton of bricks.

All other senses; his sight, his hearing, his sense of touch; faded away, and all he became conscious of was a building fury that threatened to turn his vision red. There, through the narrowest gap of legs, he saw the distinct pale skin and dark-hair of the man that had tormented his fiancée for decades.

“You.” Ebenezer stormed to his feet and crossed the hallway in two steps. He was driven by blinding anger, which caused his heart to buzz like a saw. With the posture of a lion spotting wounded prey, he surged forward and grabbed the front of Orin’s coat. The over-starched lapels crunched under the older man’s fingers from the strength of his grip.

At this lunge, panic ensued.

“Mr. Scrooge, sir—!”

“W-wait! Ebenezer!”

Ebenezer paid the others no mind as he hauled Orin close to his face, their brows nearly touching as he eyed the man like a Minotaur out for blood.

Orin wheezed out a laugh. Only then did he notice the light bruising and raised marks on the man’s neck, each swatch standing out brightly against his sickly skin.

Oh, he would absolutely reward Prudence for her hard work.

“I should put your hard head through this bloody wall, Spiegler.”

“Then we’d both be off the jail, wouldn’t we?” Orin taunted. When he grinned, he saw his teeth outlined in red. “See, I tried to tell Sunshine that you and I were more alike than different.”

"Did you?" he asked, practically snorting in amusement.

"Yes, but I see that time in sleepy little London has made her more of an airheaded bimbo than she already was. She just couldn't seem to grasp the concept."

He raised his other arm in preparation to dislocate Orin’s jaw first-hand, but paused just short of contact. Unfortunately, the goblin of a man had a point, and he was in no mood to be forced away from his wife. Or go to prison.

With a furious sneer, Ebenezer threw the man against the wall in release. The officers fumbled to catch him, but understandably, made no effort to chastise the philanthropist for his reaction.

“Get him out,” Ebenezer whispered, his shoulders hiked up to his ears, and his voice oozed with venom.

“W-Would you like us to—”

“I want everyone who isn’t a resident on this floor off of it,” he seethed, his tone oozing with disappointment. “Any officers that need to question us can come inside.”

When his gaze fell on Constance, still huddled next to Prudence on the ground, his icy gaze melted into something more careful and tepid. Slowly, he sank back onto his knees and pulled her into another hug.

“Come one,” he urged, his voice soft and so, so tender. “Let’s go inside. I’m with you.”

The entire questioning process was as cut-and-dry as it could have been, considering the circumstances. With the assistance of Orin’s digital footprint in addition to the less than glowing testimonies Constance and Ebenezer offered, the authorities were able to piece together a likely series of events. It seemed Orin had lied about his employment status. He was a self-employed crypto investor after having a falling out with his New York office and had no reason to be in London for any professional reason.

“There is … much for us to look into,” a constable said as they jotted notes in a small flipbook. “Ms. DoGoode, you said he made a comment about watching you enter the lobby. Yet, you say you didn’t see him?”

“N-No,” she answered, her voice sanded with exhaustion from the day’s events. “I felt like someone was watching me, and Prudence was looking out the front window too. I … thought maybe I was imagining things? I never actually saw him, though. Not until I keyed in and he grabbed the door.”

“Ah.” The officer scrawled another note.

“H-How did he get up onto the floor?” Constance asked. Prudence sat to her right, head in her lap, and Ebenezer sat to her left. One of his hands cupped her knee, his thumb moving in gentle rotations in one of the indents there. It was a soothing reminder of his presence that she was beyond grateful for.

“We’ve already interrogated the main office and are currently looking into where the oversight occurred.”

“That should be no issue, as there are cameras all over the building,” Scrooge chimed in, peering at the officers with impatience. “That should alleviate much confusion.”

“Yes, it should sir,” one replied. “We’re working to secure that footage properly.”

“Good.”

Constance watched her fiancé in intrigue. In all the time they’d known each other and dated, she had never seen him stare anyone down before, and she had to confess … it was quite unnerving. Regardless of how he addressed the officers, his hand remained tender when touching her.

Meanwhile, while the couple chatted with authorities, other members of the growing Scrooge family pack (comprised of the many friends, associates, and relatives that the twins had connected with) texted in. His twin brother, Ebenezar, had known something was amiss. He’s watched him sprint from the meeting after all.

Upon receiving a brief overview of what happened, as well as a request to inform the others, the messages trickled in steadily:

>>Ebenezar: I knew something was wrong when you left … but I had no idea that it was that bad, Sammy.

>>Bess: I will KILL that man, I swear.

>>Ebenezar: If the authorities half-ass detaining him, they’re not going to like the next letter from our firm that crosses their desk.

...

>>Addie: Don’t worry about any errands! Tom and I can bring things your way!

>>Tom: You bet we can. Are you both set for dinner tonight? I can run something over.

...

>>Harry: I’m so sorry, Uncle. Can Hela and I do anything? Just say the word.

...

>>Bob: I just called Mr. Ebenezar as well, and we’re going to divide and conquer at work. Consider it all done.

>>Ethel: What cell is he in? I’ve been taking axe-throwing lessons, and my aim is damn good.

...

>>Gal: If you guys need some door security that’s worth a damn, Jake and I are free tonight.

...

After one last swipe of their men, the interviewer cleared their throat, the loudness of it conveying a sense of finality.

“We’ll keep you both apprised of any updates,” the officer said as they pushed themselves up from the sofa. With a nod to their partner, they reached across the table to shake Scrooge’s hand. An odd gesture, all things considered, but he did reciprocate, though his eyes remained as sharp as a steel edge.

“I certainly hope those updates include information on whether Mr. Spiegler’s detainment details change,” he said. “Clearly an order from the court is not enough to stop him.”

“Absolutely, sir. We’ll keep you both posted.”

Constance was relieved the questioning was over, and allowed her fiancé to take the reins at leading the officers out the door. After a few more pleasantries, she heard the reverberating sound of the door latch and the telltale beeping of the security system turning on for the night.

When she looked up, she saw Ebenezer tentatively approaching her. His footfalls were soft, as if he was walking on snow. His touch was even softer as he reached down to push a few strands of auburn hair back from her face.

“I’m so, so sorry,” she started. Her tone was borderline formal in manner and delivery, as if she was speaking to an associate rather than the man she wanted to marry.

Ebenezer’s gentleness turned to confusion swiftly. “Goodness, whatever for?”

She paused to blink back tears before answering. Another apology left her.

“I’m sorry for how … for how I seem to always make your life more difficult,” Constance said slowly. She directed her gaze at a notch in the hardwood flooring, unable to look her fiancé in the eyes. She knew in that moment that, if she glimpsed his face, she knew she would cry again. “I-I should have noticed him sooner. I should have trusted my gut better.”

“No, sweetheart—”

“I should have trusted Prudence,” she said, looking down at said pup, whose head still rested in Constance’s lap. Upon seeing her sweet, droopy eyes peer up at her, Constance caved as a sob rattled her body. “H-He kicked Prudence, Ebenezer! She was so brave, protecting me, a-and I let her get hurt!”

For a moment, Ebenezer couldn’t find the words to speak. Did she … really care more about Prudence than her own safety?

Seeing Constance cry spurred London's finest lady (and treat aficionado) to lift her head and lick the woman’s face, lapping away her tears. She was also incredibly ticklish there, and Prudence’s kisses dissolved her tears instantly. With peals of laughter leaving her, Ebenezer leaned in and gave Prudence an affectionate kiss on the forehead.

“She’s a strong girl,” he assured, grinning broadly. “Aren’t you, Prudence?”

She barked in agreement, her warm and deep ‘ruff’ filling the space.

Constance huffed out another laugh, always amazed at how the pup seemed to understand conversations better than some humans. Although Prudence had done a sterling job at ridding Constance’s face of her tears, Ebenezer still fished a clean handkerchief from his trouser pocket. He dabbed her face gently, careful not to pull or tug her skin.

“Tomorrow, just to be safe, we’ll take her to the vet,” he promised. “We’ll get her looked over and make sure she’s in tip-top shape. Trust me, Prudence has had many children accidentally tumble over her before. She helps the Cratchit children decorate at Christmas, after all!”

Constance giggled again, covering her mouth sheepishly as she did so.

Just the sight of her smile was enough to lift a huge weight from his shoulders. While the entire afternoon had been an exercise in panic, all that mattered to him was that she was safe.

“Now,” he said, placing the handkerchief in her hand, then caging her smaller hands in his, “What we’re also going to do is take a holiday. We’re going to spend some time away from the flat and let things calm down.”

The suggestion brightened Constance’s eyes, but that excitement was almost immediately tempered. “What about work?”

“I’ll call in some favors. My brother is a damn fine businessman – definitely better at handling clients than I am. Don't tell him I said so, though. Bob will handle the books. And if all else fails? Well, being a private practice has many benefits.” He then paused to rub his chin in thought. “Actually, it might be good to close our doors for a few weeks to give everyone a break.”

“Y-You think?” she asked. “Wait, but what about…?”

“Profits?” he asked, unable to hold back a smirk. “You’ve seen our accounts. We could shut down for the next thousand years and be right as rain. And that’s a moderate estimate.”

Again, that beautiful smile came back. Mere hours before he’s suddenly been faced with the possibility of never seeing that smile again, and the thought of that physically sickened him.

“Sunshine, what you said earlier…” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper, “I…never want you to think that I see your ex-husband’s actions as a reflection of you. When you say you don’t want to make life more difficult for me, I realize that I cannot even begin to describe all the ways your have made my life immeasurably better since we first met.

“Since you came into my life, I’ve been changed in ways that, frankly, I thought I were beyond me. I thought I was too old to experience many of these lovely, sentimental emotions that poets love to wax on about.” He laughed, tossing his head back and staring at the ceiling. “Gods, I’ve never met someone who makes me feel so excited every time I’m proven wrong. It’s a feeling I’d wish every human could feel.”

Transfixed, she could only watch as he slowly turned to face her again. “You have made me excited to face each day. You’ve inspired me to notice small things – before meeting you, I don’t think I ever paid attention to those fuzzy caterpillars that come onto the sidewalks after it rains, or the way Prudence’s nose always wiggles slightly when she’s about to sneeze.”

“Really?” she asked. Her tone sounded so hopeful that it practically broke his heart.

“Yes!” he confessed. The answer couldn’t rush from his lips fast enough. “When I was calling your phone earlier, I…started thinking the worst. I suddenly couldn’t bear the idea of walking into that flat again if you weren’t there, or going back to work and seeing your desk empty. Seeing your coats line dup so neatly in our hall closet. Seeing your make-up on our bathroom sink. Not smelling your perfume on the pillow beside mine. Not hearing you have a sneeze attack every time you smell pepper, or not being able to race you down to the front lobby when we order take-away.”

Constance’s breath caught in her throat as she noticed tears prickling the corner’s of her love’s steely eyes as he rambled.

“When I tell you that there is no possible way you could make my life worse by being a part of it, I’m deathly serious,” he confessed. A tear darted down his cheek, and as he attempted to stifle a sob of his own, she dabbed it away with the handkerchief.

As if this gesture proved his point, a puff of laughter escaped him.

“The only possible way you could make my life harder or worse … is if you were no longer in it.”

It was his turn to cry as the tension of the day caught up to him, and he felt the floodgates break. Blast, he hated how easily he could be brought to tears sometimes.

What made it easier, however, was feeling Constance’s embrace circle him. Her hands latched at the base of his neck as she leaned in and covered his broader body with hers. His arms circled her waist, securing her in place, keeping her safe and present with him.

For many hours, they stayed like that, silently sobbing and embracing each other as the anxiety of the day left their bodies in literal waves. By the time they’d both exhausted their eyes to achy redness, sleep lingered over them with overwhelming insistence.

With mutual understanding, both parted ways to make some small changes before laying down. Ebenezer loosened his tie and Constance removed her constricting pantyhose, leaving her only in her blouse and pencil skirt. He gave her an impish whistle, and she threw that garment at him playfully.

Using her fiancé’s head as a pillow, she curled up atop his body and nuzzled her face against his shirt. Her ear laid squarely over his heart, where she could hear its steady and strong beat just inches away. Ebenezer moved a hand to the small of her back to not only make sure she stayed in place atop him and didn’t roll off, but to remind her of his presence.

“I’ll watch the door,” he promised, kissing the top of her head. “You sleep. I insist.”

His broad hand gave her waist a reassuring squeeze, hugging her close.

“And I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

>>Hello! You’re reached the voicemail for Constance DoGoode. I’m away from the phone right now, but leave your name and number, and I will return your call as soon as possible. Thank you!

… <BEEP>

<<Sunshine, it’s me. Please, please tell me you’re okay. I need to know you’re safe. I-I’m sorry for calling you over and over, and … fuck, I promise I’ll be there soon, angel. I promise. I love you, okay. I love you so much. I-I’m going to call again. Okay, love you. Please call me.”