#modern scroogeverses

[quill-pen]

What pictures of Bess on Wolf’s phone are his favorite? I imagine he has many, haha. Also, is a picture of her his phone wallpaper?

Ooh, this is such a good question.🤔 There are so many pictures of her/them on his phone, how is he supposed to pick?

I think he does have a particular fondness for the more candid shots. They display her natural beauty and loveliness so wonderfully. Not that other pics where she is posing and smiling for the camera don't, but she's being intentional in them and trying to look as nice as possible.

His lock screen is probably the picture Harry snapped of them at a party and posted to his Instagram. They were just friends at the time when it was taken (the caption on insta was/is "Do you think they know they're in love yet?") and are seated side-by-side, gazing into each other's eyes and grinning as they discuss... Wolf doesn't remember. It's a bad habit he has, forgetting things entirely because he was too busy getting hopelessly lost in those entrancing eyes of hers at the time.

He also really enjoys the silly pictures of her, whether she's making funny faces or doing those optical illusion pics. At the moment, his wallpaper is from their latest trip to Italy. Bess appears to be blowing the leaning tower of Pisa over. It's hokey and cliché, but that's never stopped Bess from doing something. And Wolf adores it.💕

[rom-e-o]

One Breakfast At A Time -Modern!AU (Costance/Ebenezer) (Minific)

Morning light, diffused by the early morning clouds into a rosy glow that draped across London like a diaphanous net, seeped through the curtains. Ebenezer Scrooge, very much alert but moving the speed of molasses, inched out of his lover’s embrace without waking her, unwinding himself from the tangle or arms and bedsheets.

Constance DoGoode, his girlfriend of half a year, snoozed happily, smiling against her pillow as she turned away from the rays of sunlight seeping through the curtains.

She hugged the stuffed, silk-covered pillow beneath her head, auburn hair cascading down the milky fabric in waves of molten copper.

“Mmm….light as a feather, happy as an angel…” Constance mumbled in her sleep. “Mm, very merry…”

His hand went to his mouth as he chuckled with the utmost fondness at the sight. Constance was a heavy sleeper and dreamer, he’d learned. She often talked in her sleep, and he couldn’t help but be curious as to what she was dreaming about.

In addition to providing a series of amusing moments he’d often reveal to her later that morning, her murmuring also helped to confirm her lingering distraction.

With her still asleep, he could jump into action.

After making sure Constance was still asleep, he moved with quiet grace and giddiness to the kitchen of his London flat, collecting ingredients from the fridge and utensils to prepare a special breakfast. Their night together had been a private symphony of sighs, moans, and laughter, and now Ebenezer was determined to make the morning just as memorable.

With care, he selected fresh eggs, ripe tomatoes, and a medley of herbs from the kitchen's small garden, which he kept on a small windowsill. Years ago, he would have scoffed at the idea of stocking his kitchen so fully. Fresh food was a waste of money, as far as he’d been concerned. Now, the redeemed philanthropist couldn't help but smile to himself as he went about cooking, eager to surprise her with a homemade breakfast.

It wasn’t much, he supposed. He was no chef, but he took great joy in cooking for the woman he loved. It was the first time he’d done something like this for another, but he’d been planning the surprise for a week, when he’d used her late-shift at the coffee house as the opportunity to sneak some ingredients from the market and up into his fridge before leaving again to pick her up.

Predictably, she’d spent the night, so he was glad to have planned ahead.

In the cozy kitchen, he hummed a gentle tune as he worked. The clinking of dishes and the sizzle of ingredients provided a domestic harmony alongside him.

Meanwhile, Constance stirred in the bedroom, awakening to the comforting and savory scents wafting through the air. She stretched and yawned, her eyes fluttering open to the soft light that spilled into the room.

She shivered a bit, bare from their time together the night before, and reached across the bed for her discarded pajamas. She eased into the silk short and matching camisole with ease before retreating back to the warmth of the covers. It was tempting to roll over into her boyfriend's abandoned spot, where she knew the aroma of his cologne

Just as she nestled back in, she heard the clinking of cutlery and creak of soft footsteps on the flat’s historic hardwood floors.

Ebenezer entered the bedroom, a tray balanced in his hands with an array of delectable treats. A soft smile played on his lips as he approached the bed, where Constance sat up, blinking away the remnants of sleep.

"Good morning," he greeted her, his eyes reflecting the joy of the moment.

Constance's face lit up in response. "Good morning. What's all this?" she asked, eyeing the tray with curiosity.

"Breakfast in bed," Ebenezer announced, setting the tray before her. "I-It’s nothing much. Just a  little something to make the morning special."

The tray bore a feast for the senses – fluffy scrambled eggs with herbs, slices of perfectly ripe tomatoes, and a steaming cup of rich coffee (which he knew she preferred over breakfast tea). A small vase with a single, delicate flower adorned the tray, adding a touch of elegance.

As Constance took in the scene before her, she couldn't help but feel a rush of warmth. "Nothing much? Ebenezer, this is wonderful! You didn't have to."

"I wanted to," he replied, settling down beside her on the bed. "To many more mornings just like this."

As they finished breakfast, Constance thanked him with another kiss on the cheek. “Do you need help with the dishes?"

“Oh, no, I’ll get them,” he said, stacking them on the tray artfully.

After multiple reassurance, he finally convinced her to leave the task to him.

As Constance disappeared into the bathroom for her morning shower, Ebenezer carried the tray to the kitchen sink with a smile. The clinking of plates and silverware echoed in the otherwise quiet flat provided a comforting soundtrack to his thoughts. When added to by the sound of rushing water from the shower bathroom

As he scrubbed plates clean in the sink, his mind wandered to the journey that had led him to this moment. Constance had walked into his life like a gentle sunrise, slowly illuminating the corners of his heart that had long been shrouded in shadows. Their connection felt deeper with each passing day, and he found himself reflecting on…well, just how much she meant to him.

The realization hit him with profound clarity – Constance wasn't just a fleeting chapter in his life. The thought of a future without her seemed unimaginable. It definitely wasn’t a future he wanted to live.

With the dishes neatly arranged and Constance still singing in the shower, Ebenezer dried his hands and settled into a moment of quiet contemplation. His heart swelled with affection, and the idea of a future together began to crystallize in his mind.

Proposing, the notion whispered softly through his thoughts. The word lingered in the air, carrying with it a promise of shared tomorrows. Ebenezer had never been one for impulsive decisions, but with Constance, it felt different – as if their connection transcended the ordinary rules of time.

A smile played on his lips as he envisioned the day he would ask her to be his forever. He could almost hear the words, feel the weight of the ring in his pocket, and see the joy in her eyes. Yet, he knew that such a moment required careful planning, the right setting, and the perfect words to properly and artfully convey the depth of his feelings.

Lost in these musings, he was startled by the sound of the shower shutting off. Constance emerged, wrapped in a towel, her laughter mingling with the remaining traces of steam in the air. She caught his eye, and the room seemed to brighten with her presence.

"What's got you smiling so much?" she asked, her eyes dancing with curiosity.

Ebenezer chuckled, his heart still dancing to the melody of his thoughts. "Just thinking about the future," he replied, reaching out to gently tuck a strand of damp hair behind her ear. "And how fortunate I am to have you in it."

She leaned in, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek. "I feel the same way."

In that ordinary yet extraordinary morning, Ebenezer's heart swelled with the certainty that, someday, he would ask Constance to be his forever.

Until then, he would continue to try and show her with every passing moment just how much he adored her. One shared breakfast as a time.

<><><>

@quill-pen speaking of our earlier discussion, this is probably the shortest thing I've done for them, haha.

[quill-pen]

@rom-e-o

Bess: *texts this to Gil*😈

Gil: *instantly blocks*

Connie: 😐Well, that... seems extreme.

Bess: 😌He'll unblock me in a few hours to rant and rave--don't worry.

Super cool ocean fact: there is at least 6 fish in the ocean

[st0r-fruit]

@rom-e-o @quill-pen some Ryu and Kou headcanons for Scroogeverse! (If you want to write them in a fic using these HCS, go ahead! Please do I luv ur writings)

This is both a mix of victorian and modern headcanons!

Ryu joins Adonis in his meetings, always taking notes. He doesn't speak unless necessary.

Referring to quill-pen's latest fic, Ryuu calls out Mr Creepy Shortie (I forgot his name) and calls him a "flithy detestable pig."

Somehow, Wolf and Adonis fights over who can have Ryu as ones assistant for the week. (It always ends up Adonis winning.)

Bess meets Ryu when both was meeting Connie for a need.

Everyone who works there and regulars knows Kotaro who likes to wander around the bank. Hence the tighter security of the bank with multiple cameras, sensors and such.

Ryu's fav game is Animal Crossing & Stardew Valley :DD

Ryu is a good cooker, often cooks with Adonis and Bess.

Ryu is a quick typer and writer, wicked with numbers and social skills.

Kotaro bombards everyone with little gifts (aka things he found on the ground that looks pretty.) No one has the heart to tell him that he doesn't have to do that.

That's all!!

[quill-pen]

Also, as we get into Halloween season, I must ask: do you have any Halloween costume hcs for Ebeness? Maybe including the Pups too? I feel like there are so many adorable potential options!

Ooh, this is a good question and I just started googling.😅 There were so many things, but I narrowed it down to just two examples.

Typical couple's costume for them before babies. Do I need to explain?

After babies become a thing, I see them doing B&tB and having their littles dress up as the other castle inhabitants:

[quill-pen]

@rom-e-o

In Timeless, Adonis has invited Connie as his date to the Lord Mayor's Christmas party. Wolf was encouraged (in the end, more like dared, because brothers be brothers) to invite Bess (as merely close friends, of course) and she accepted.

Let's dress our guys and dolls up and rp a little!

Wolf:

[quill-pen]

The same way that Connie gets advice from Bess on the big wedding day about her building anxiety (from remembering what happened last time) mirroring how Adonis seeks help from Wolf.

He could ask Harry, Bob, Tom and Jake, and he has. They’re just all very DIFFERENT from him. He wants the opinion of another gent that knows him best … his brother.

“I feel like I’m forgetting something. Am I forgetting something? Do you think Connie is okay? I heard Bess was with her … oh gods, did I force her to move too fast? S-Should I go to her, do you think? Am I just an old fool for wanting this to work? You have permission to poke and prod me for this forever, but … I need someone to help me calm down. ACTUALLY calm down. If I accepted every shot or cigar I’ve been offered this evening, I’d be on the floor in a pile dizzy and huffing like some freshman.”

Wolf wouldn't be able to help himself from smirking a little bit at his brother. It's been a long time since he's seen his twin this worked up and worried. At least, without the presence and actions of Christmas spirits being behind it all. He just takes a chair and sits calmly in front of the door to keep Adonis from bolting out. It's not the fact Adonis will run away, but the fact, in this state, he'll bolt to Connie and make a fool of himself being in nothing but his drawers. (The creases in his pant legs were not acceptable, according to Magda, so she's fixing them last minute.)

"I received specific instructions from the ladies you're not to see Connie until the first look/she comes down the aisle (you pick what you want them to do, Romey). So, you try leaving this room before then, and I'll knock you flat on your bloody arse just like I used to when we were children. You're not putting me in the doghouse with Bess."

"I'm not being funny, Charlie."

"Neither am. Look, Sammy, Connie is fine. She has Bess and the girls taking care of her. In fact, I'm willing to wager she's in a far better state than you at the moment. Are you sure the pink hearts are the skivvies you want to go with?"

"Charlie! I'm asking you for help, and you decide commentary on my undergarments is the best possible solution!"

"Connie got them for you, didn't she?"

Adonis makes an explosive noise that's part incredulous laugh and part frustrated huff. He throws out his wide wingspan in defeat. "Yes! Yes, as a matter of fact, she did! Are you happy?! Is that what you wanted to know?!"

He turns away to cross the small room and flop onto a lounge on the other side. Covering his face with both hands he massages his brow. "Bloody brothers! You ask them to help get your thoughts in order and they just wind you up to boil and spin!"

Wolf rolls his eyes at the dramatics, but a good-natured smile curls his lips. "All right, all right, Sammy, cool down. I'm sorry. What do you need me to do? Go through the checklist again?"

His twin's desperate but miffed voice is a bit muffled behind his thick palms: "Yes, that would be quite helpful , thank you!"

"Fine. Do you have the ring?"

One of Adonis' hands goes to his breast pocket. "Yes."

"Good. What about your vows? I'm sure you've memorized them by now, but do you have them just in case?"

Adonis sits up and reaches inside his suit jacket to finger inside the hidden pocket. He finds the note cards. "Yes."

"Good. You have your tie. Your jacket. Cufflinks. You have your watch with Connie's portrait in the lid?"

"At the suite, wrapped up. I've decided to present it to her tonight as a wedding gift."

Wolf smiles a bit softly at the endearing sentimentality. "She'll love that," he remarks sincerely.

Adonis gives him a hopeful look. "Do you really think so?"

"I know so."

Adonis smiles a little.

"All right," Wolf huffs. "The ring, the watch, tie, jacket, cufflinks, waistcoat. Soon as Magda finishes your trousers, I think you're all set, Brother. So what are you so worried about?"

His twin's expression turns irked again: Weddings certainly seemed to make men just as emotionally volatile as women. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe it has something to do with the fact I'm wedding the most amazing and gorgeous woman in the world who, for reasons beyond human comprehension, has chosen to love and marry me above anyone else and I'd rather not flub this chance up like I have before and hurt her more than she already has been?" He's a bit red-faced at the end of his diatribe, panting and puffing so the buttons on his waistcoat slightly strain.

Wolf just blinks placidly back. "Sammy. You overthink things."

"Oh, that's jolly rich coming from you, Mr. Should-I-or-shouldn't-I-tell-Bess-fancy-her?-Nevermind!-Better-to-just-pine-like-a-lovesick-puppy."

Wolf's mouth twists in annoyance but he just breathes deeply. "I'll let that go, in lieu of the high-stress events of the day," he states.

"Also because you can't deny it," Adonis mutters.

A slight flush colors Wolf's face at that, but he chooses to ignore once again. "Sammy, tell me: Do you not want to marry Constance?"

"No, of course I want to marry her! She's the best thing that's ever happened to me; the sunlight of my life! I-I didn't realize it was possible to love someone as deeply and fully as I love Connie. She's my everything."

"But...?"

"... But... do I deserve her, Charlie? With my history? I neglected and abandoned Isabel and lost her. And, while I've tried my hardest to change from what I was... who's to say I won't do that again? I didn't realize it was happening last time until it was far too late. Bloody hell, I don't think I recognized it until that Christmas Eve! How do I know I won't miss the slip ups again?"

Adonis buries his face in his hands as he shakes his head. "I can't lose Constance, Charlie. Losing Isabel due to my own foolishness ruined me almost past hope. Losing Constance to it would end me, I fear."

With a sigh, Wolf rubs his chin in thought for a moment before rising from his chair and trodding the small distance to the lounge. He sits down beside his brother and clasps his shoulder in a warm, brotherly grip. "Sammy, do you want to know the difference between your relationship to Isabel and your relationship to Connie?"

"What?"

"You just told me Connie is your everything. As much as you loved her, you never ever once said that about Isabel."

Adonis slowly lifts his head and looks at his brother in silent realization.

Wolf smiles encouragingly at him.

Suddenly there is a knock on the door and it opens to reveal Magda. Beaming, she holds up a long pair of freshly ironed trousers and sings: "They're perfect now!"

[quill-pen]

In the universes where Wolf and Bess have the chance to plan and have a wedding ceremony, just putting it out there, Connie absolutely cries tears or joy. TeTe also tears up. Magda also tears up. Even the engagement announcement/invitation earlier in the season gets some waterworks.

All three will hold back their sniffles during the ceremony, but before/after? There are SO MANY happy, tearful hugs for her and Wolfy.

They are so, so, so elated for this amazing, kind, strong, beautiful woman to have found her happiness, and to find it with a man who loves and treasures her how she deserves to be.

Idk why I didn't notice this ask before, but this is SO SWEET. These wonderful mother figures for Bess expressing the emotions her own mother should but won't. Both of them, George, and Carl are all hogging the tissues.

Bess needs to do first looks with these two, hands down. I'm seeing so many happy sobs and hugs and kisses. So much fawning over Bess in her wedding look. Of course, they would have seen bits and pieces of the look throughout the wedding planning process, but to finally see it all put together? Bess is assured she looks like a goddess on the brink of bliss, I'm sure.

I almost kind of feel bad for these mamas, because they're mother figures to all of the og 1843D girls at least. They're going to have to shed a lot of tears for a lot of weddings there. lol

[quill-pen]

I like to imagine that, while the Scrooge twins have always prioritized certain things about their appearance (hair especially) they never really thought to treat themselves to more. They thought it was a waste, or they didn’t deserve it. Also, maybe just a little bit of some leftover “act like a man” trauma from dad.

Buuuut, they meet the wifeys…

And they help the twins learn to treat themselves. They do hair care, massages, long bubble baths with their spouse, the works.

I feel it’s not uncommon for Bess and Connie to be on a face call, and each hubby is in the background. One in a mud mask, the other in cozy PJs with an eye mask ready to deploy.

Spa days become normal. 👏

I've actually had little visions of this before. Like, Bess and Wolf curled up on the couch with their hair turbaned up reading together or watching a movie. And then Wolf falling asleep because he just feels so relaxed.

I love the idea of one of the hubbies walking through the background of the call, not really paying attention to where he is in frame, and then:

"... Was that Adonis/Wolf in a charcoal mask?"

*cue raucous, manly laughter in the background*

"And just what are you laughing at, avacado face?"

[quill-pen]

In modern day, Bess introduces Eb to sitcoms.

Like, he knows what they are, but he never watched them before, calling them "insipid, pointless drivel". After his redemption he decides he needs to try them out in order to try and integrate back into the world. So Bess takes up the challenge to help him.

He is most familiar with 'Friends' as Marley actually loved it and made him watch a few episodes, so they start there. Before long, Chandler is his favorite character and he's maybe a little too invested in the Ross and Rachel plotline.

Eb: WHY DON'T THEY JUST TALK TO EACH OTHER LIKE BLOODY ADULTS?!

Bess: Because then there wouldn't be any drama to keep people coming back to watch every week.

Eb: Is it always like this, then? Is this the "thing"?

Bess: Yep, pretty much. Lots of sitcoms have crap like this to keep interest going.

Eb: It's maddening! Infuriating! How can people stand it?!

Bess: I hear ya. Do you want to stop watching?

Eb: Hell no! I need to see how these im imbeciles end up!

Bess: 🥰Welcome to the land of sitcoms, Love.

[quill-pen]

Wolf and Bess both have such amazing hair … why do I have a feeling they have a box somewhere just filled with assorted scrunchies, barrettes, and other hair accessories. Then, when kids come over, instead of dress up, they play hair salon?

All I envision is Pack members getting specifically timed calls asking them to come to the Wolves' and when they get there, there are at least two other members seated in chairs, having their hair and faces turned into... unique creations, and Bess or Wolf just being like. "Ah, right on time for your appointment! Have a seat and one of our talented stylists will be with you shortly." I can see Bess also getting play makeup, press-on nails, clip-in extensions maybe even some cheap, child-friendly, wash-out hair dye, face stickers, fake tattoos ("Because ve do EVERYT'INK at de Fantabumazing Hair Prettying-Up Place, Da'link.")--girl just collects a whole trunkful of stuff to enrich the experience.

Bess, of course, plays the manager and helps with the hair dyes and handles the tattoos. She also is in charge of the "social media page" for the salon, i.e. snapping a bunch of pics and posting them to the Pack's group text. Wolf handles the appointment bookings and collects the fees. And he's a hard-ass about it, lol. He also makes sure that the clients tip their talented stylists. (Tips are just treats from the goodie tote the Wolves keep stashed away.)

[quill-pen]

The Twins coming back to one of their flats after a LONG work day. They know their wifeys are hanging out together in the meantime.

They come back, and they find Bess and Connie in the clinch snoozing. They’ve fallen asleep in the middle of a movie, and are bundled under a blanket. 💕

Aww, this is so cute! I can just see the girls snuggled under a couple big, cozy blankets, resting against each other as they sleep. It's a position they've fallen asleep in many times over the years. The Twins watch for a minute in silence, smiling at how sweet and angelic the soul-sisters look before exchanging the glance. The glance that says they still can't believe how lucky they both are.

Then they move forward and gently unbundle the girls before slipping in under the blankets beside their respective wifeys and slipping an arm around them, pulling the girls in close to them. For Bess' part, she half-wakes and smiles sleepily up at Wolf. She wraps her arms around him and snuggles in close, nuzzling her head into the crook of his neck and humming with contentment as she revels in his warmth and scent. And Wolf presses kisses to her brow and gently works his fingers through her curls as he holds her.

[rom-e-o]

Petition to call the boys' business, in the modern Scroogeverses, S&C Financials.

YES. I’m game. It sounds so much more modern and way less clunky and Scrooge’s & Cratchit’s / Scrooges’ & Cratchit’s.

Hc absolutely accepted!

[rom-e-o]

Starla “I’m gonna be a big girl and skip nap time!” Scrooge

(“She’s so brave, she’s well behaved, she is not afraid.”)

[rom-e-o]

A Small Detour (Constance/Ebenezer) (Modern AU Ebenestance)

"How did Connie lose her job at the nightclub and end up working for Ebenezer?"

WELL...

(Rated 18+ for language, some innuendo and descriptions of sexual situations. Minors, DNI. Nothing is graphic, but just in case.)

It had been quite a long time since Ebenezer Scrooge had felt so viscerally, horribly uncomfortable.

Of all the places for his job to take him, these types of locations were always the most concerning: the clubs filled with scantily clad, and often underpaid (or worse), dancers.

It was 7:45 p.m. on a Tuesday evening, and the after-work crowds had already filtered into the seedy building, the brick-and-mortar edges nearly bursting from the crowds and thumping music. The queue of patrons getting into the club was filled with financial executives and other businessmen Scrooge recognized from his own building, some of whom already appeared buzzed and were slumped against their dates. Some of those dated slyly picked at the pockets of the businessmen, only giving Scrooge a wink when he caught their attention with his stare.

The club was certainly not a place he desired to be at by choice. Even on this very evening, he was not on-site as a potential customer, but rather as a financial advisor. He was here to collect a sizable debt payment from the owner – one that had not been collected for the past six months.

Some clubs were run by honest management, cleaned professionally, and employed entertainers that sincerely enjoyed their line of work for good wages. Those businesses, he took no issue with. To each their own. If all involved were consensual adults, who was he to care?

This type of establishment, one that was one more citation away from embezzlement and money-laundering, was the exact opposite of what was allowed. The owner, Mr. Harold Lupscholl, owed money. Quite a bit of it.

“Oi, you lookin’ for a romp this evenin’?”

Ebenezer turned to see a blonde woman in a blue sequin dress, her cheeks blazing red from the cold. Her foundation had an orangey tint compared to the rest of her face, and it looked like she’d painted the pigment over her lips as well, making them unusually pale and nearly invisible. Her eyes, on the other hand, were lined with layers of waxy black pencil scribed an obvious millimeter above her glue-caked lash line. She looked … juvenile.

“Oh, no…” Ebenezer said. The girl had to be in her early twenties at the latest. “I’m here on business.”

Frowning, she took a drag of a cigarette and blew the smoke out with a huff. “Boring. Be that way.”

She sashayed away, and he could see her sheer pantyhose had holes dotted along the backs of her thighs. He watched her walk up to another older gentleman, who judging by the way he took out his wallet, was enthusiastic to accept her offer.

He judged the bloke, but deep down, a part of him felt sympathy. Or, perhaps pity was the more apt word.

He knew what it was like to crave the embrace of another. Now, to pay for it? It was  … a nuanced decision, but one he couldn’t see himself making.

Even after the Three Sprits has visited him during the bleary-eyed morning Christmas and inspired him to venture outside the hallowed office walls of his private bank to do good in the world, he was still man of relatively vanilla interests. He was jovial and kind, and as good a partner or master as one could ask for! However, had he tried to channel his new, redemption-inspired cheer into attracting one very special person? He … hadn’t. Not since Isabel had he acted on such intentions or interests.

There was another woman he pined for, but … well, he’d dreamed of her. But only dreamed.

The only time they interacted was when he saw her every morning at New Grounds Coffee Co. Her coffee was … bracing, to say the least. In Bob Cratchit’s words, it was “enough to melt the shell off a snail.” The taste wasn’t what mattered; it was her company he enjoyed.

Whenever he entered the coffee house, Constance DoGoode waved at him like he was a friend, and always made sure to send him away with a complimentary cup of freshly whipped cream for his dog, Prudence. Above all else, she … seemed to like him. When he complimented her, he noticed that she would blush, and how on occasion, her eyes would linger on him just a bit longer than they needed to. Not that he minded.

Nonetheless, he knew it wasn’t ideal to share secret smiles and flirtatious looks forever.

One day, when he had a better handle on his frazzled nerves and could stop blushing like a schoolboy, he hoped to ask her out for a drink. Perhaps dinner, even? Would Constance accept with that same, excited grin she always flashed when he walked into the coffeehouse? The thought brought a light smile to his face, even though he was standing before one of the most garishly lit buildings he’d ever seen. Even clouds of smog couldn’t dull the glow of the flashing neon lights that flashed over the pavement like lights from a cosmic solar storm.

It was the shrill of a police siren behind him that woke him from reality, causing him to turn as see officers scuttle from their vehicle and into what was a very not-up-to-code hostel next-door. A cacophony of screams came from within, and his brow scrunched in sincere concern.

The sooner you do this, the sooner it’s done with, he thought. Stiff upper lip.

With a deep inhale (but not too deep – the smell of warm latex was borderline sickening) and marched onward through the double-doors.

Spider-web cracks on the small, coin-slot style windows prevented him from truly absorbing how seedy the club was from the outside. One he stepped in, a wave of body heat slammed into him. The acrid aroma of cheap, tangy alcohol made bile rise in his throat.

He ventured forth, bobbing and weaving through the crowds and dodging way too many topless dancers.

Of course, he was a grown man. He understood the appeal of going to a place and ogling people. The concept made sense like a memorized mathematical formula made sense. However, the sight of women in pleather unitards briskly walking through crowds of drunk men, trying to avoid contact as much as possible, was deeply troubling.

As soon as this was over, he was filing an official report. This place couldn’t—

“Ough!”

In that moment, one of those very brisk-paced women accidentally clipped his shoulder. The contact came as more of a surprise than annoyance. He quickly recovered (it helped that he was a tall man that towered over most) and went to check on the woman who had collided with him.

“I’m so sorry miss, are you—”

He froze as he saw the woman who had collided with him. That head of coppery hair, even when pulled up into a ponytail, was too distinct to mistake. Even her outfit, a cherry-red bodysuit, clung to her with the same flattering style that her favorite, red satin corset top did.

“I’m so sorry,” the woman muttered, her American accent clear as day. There was a slight tremor in her voice, as if she was trying to swallow a frog. Or a sob. “I wasn’t looking—“

“Constance?”

Her head flicked up with the speed of a fox in the path of a screeching car. The woman looked blindsided for a moment, blinking up at Ebenezer in shock, before embarrassment eclipsed her face.

“M-Mr. Scrooge.”

In addition to the one-piece, the outfit also included white rabbit ears atop her head, a detached collar and bowtie as a choker, and a bunny tail he could only assume was pinned to her backside. It was an obvious and cheaply made Playboy knock-off, only made passable by the beauty of the woman wearing it.

“I-I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” she said.

Realizing how the situation looked, Ebenezer flushed red. He rallied himself just in time to reach down to help her up.

“I-I’m here on business,” he said, raising his voice above the bass-heavy music. “Are you alright?”

“Huh?”

“Are you alright?” he repeated again, straining to annunciate over the music, “I apologize for running into you!”

“Oh, it’s fine!” she resonated, “It’s a little chaotic in here.”

He laughed stiffly. “Y-Yes, I can see that.”

Despite the awkwardness of the encounter, she still wore the same, kind smile on her face that she flashed each time he saw her at the coffee house.

There was a lull in the music as the DJ changed tracks, and she seized the opportunity. “I’m sorry. I-I guess my clumsiness is just as bad here as it is at the coffee house.”

She gratefully accepted his hand, which was still dressed in a leather glove. She wobbled upright, teetering on heels so tall that her feet were practically perpendicular to the floor. As he helped her to her feet, he heard an odd, clanking sound that sounded oddly metallic. It came from the vicinity of her ankles, and when he glanced down to inspect the source (perhaps she’d dropped her keys, or her wallet?) he was met with a disturbing sight.

“Are those…shackles?” He mouthed the words and pointed for extra emphasis.

She looked down at the faux-iron bindings around her ankles.

“Oh, um, sure are,” she said, trying to play it off casually. She dragged a foot up, lifting the chain with it. Perhaps they weren’t made of real metal, but they definitely added weight. “It’s part of the gimmick, I guess. Some guys are into it, but they’re hard to walk in! Especially for a klutz like me!”

That irritating bass from before queued up again, and Ebenezer could feel his patience crumbling.

Despite the music and bustling crowd around them, a silence settled between them. The moment was made more palpably awkward by the fact that he tried to respectfully look away from how nicely the bodysuit hugged her body.

“If you’re here on business, are you looking for Mr. Lupscholl?” she asked curiously.

“Yes. Do you happen to know if he’s in tonight?”

Realization made her brow furrow. “He should be. Um, he has a back office. I can take you there.”

She beckoned him to follow, guiding him through a maze of swaying bodies and gyrating couples. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied topless dancers blowing kisses to the crowds. When he gazed forward, he blushed at the realization that there was a bunny tail, plush and cottony, pinned to the apex of her bum.

He veered his eyes away immediately out of respect. When he did so, he caught sight of a woman sliding provocatively across the very tented lap of a well-endowed man in a booth.

She led him around the edge of a large drink bar, which was curved and topped with a cherry-tinted marble.

Two dying palms marked the start of a small hallway hidden at the back of the dance floor.

Down the hall, which was kept dark so as not attract attention away from the dancers or the spectacle of the dance floor, was a small series of doors. There was one bathroom, one storage closet, and all the way in the back, a singular office.

Constance approached the door and knocked. “Excuse me, sir—”

A grunt interrupted her. “New girl? Buzz off, yeah? I’m busy.”

Ignoring his rebuttal, she knocked again. “A man is here to see you. Mr. Scrooge is his name.”

“Mr. Scroo—fuck, he’s here?”

The door swung open a few moments later. A man, easily 5’5” in stature but intimidatingly red in the face stormed out. Despite Constance having a few inches on him in height (especially in heels), he didn’t hesitate to grab her by the wrist and give her a harsh jerk.

Constance, scared but adept at handling such situations, held firm. “Sir, he said here on business.”

“You let him in?”

“I didn't, and even if I did, I can’t prohibit people from coming in—”

“Fucking moron!” he screamed, spit spraying in her face. “You stupid cunt!”

While she stayed calm, Ebenezer was by her side in a heartbeat. He swiftly intervened, placing himself between Constance and the shady business owner.

His hand seized Mr. Lupscholl’s wrist, sinking his fingertips into the sweat-sheened flesh.

"Let go of her," Ebenezer's voice was low and commanding, a dangerous edge to it.

The man glared at Ebenezer, but the man’s icy stare left no room for argument.

With a grunt, his released his grip on Constance's wrist. She stepped back, finding refuge behind Ebenezer, who reached back to lay a comforting hand on her as she did so. He continued to glare at the man, a silent warning in his stance.

“Keep your hands to yourself.”  Ebenezer's tone brooked no argument.

“Or what?”

“Or I have even more evidence to report to the authorities to have this establishment shut down,” he said. “In addition to the sky-high debts that you’ve been avoiding for the past few months.”

The last part practically caused the man to short-circuit.

“Get off these premises,” he hissed at Ebenezer. Then, he looked to Constance and pointed an accusatory finger at her. “And you. You’re fucking fired! Forget your last paycheck – I want you out of here in five minutes.”

“You won’t speak to her that way,” Scrooge reminded the man bitterly. “And you can’t legally withhold her compensation either.”

“What are you, her fucking lawyer?”

“No, just the lender here to serve your paperwork. A lawyer would be kinder.”

The man, chastened and likely recognizing the futility of further confrontation, mumbled a few choice words under his breath. He ducked into his office and beckoned Ebenezer inside with a wave of the hand. “Let’s get this over with.”

"This won't take long."

"Fuck you."

With one last look of reassurance, Ebenezer stepped through the threshold just in time for the door to not slam back on him. Once he was inside, someone audibly locked it.

This left Constance in the semi-darkness of the hall.

Five minutes later, Constance walked out of the club in her civilian clothes. After the awkward confrontation, she’d stopped by her locker to collect her toiletries and change before exiting. If she was kicking her out, she could at least look semi-dignified.

What was she going to tell the girls, she thought. Her roommates. Her job at the coffeehouse didn’t give her enough hours to pay rent.

Time to update her resume, she supposed.

Walking out in a loose black T-shirt and denim miniskirt with slip-on sneakers, she looked more like a woman shuffling home after a one-night stand than she did a woman leaving work.

Stepping out into the night without a proper coat, she felt a shiver inch up her spine like a worm.

Just as she shivered, a familiar shadow drifted outside to join her.

“Gods, you must be freezing,” Ebenezer noted with obvious concern. “Here.”

Setting his briefcase down without a second thought, he stripped his jacket and offered it to her. “O-Oh, no, that’s not necessary—”

“I insist. My car is right here. I drove – I’ll be fine. Please. You’re shivering.”

After an icy wind caused her skin to prickle with gooseflesh, she accepted. The satin-lined coat was warm from his use indoors all evening, and also carried the scent of his cologne. It took noticeable effort for her to resist burying her nose in the fabric to take in the aroma fully, but she resisted.

“Thank you.”

“It’s the least I can do,” he said. Then, he laid a concerning hand upon her back, and pressed. “Are you alright?

“I … feel a little bad.”

He blinked. “You feel bad? About what?”

“About the other girls. Should I warn them? I know he only fired me, but they’re going be out of work too, right?”

He almost paused in sheer awe of her empathy in the face of the current situation, but he recovered gracefully.

“Don’t worry about that,” he reassured. “I have no intention of your coworkers paying for Mr. Lupscholl’s misdeeds. You, and them, will be receiving a payout.”

“R-Really?”

He nodded, pleased by her hope. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“B-but…he’s got to be bankrupt, right? How could he have any money left to give?”

“I’m sure he has some funds I can weasel out of those pockets of his,” he said vaguely. When it came to helping his clients, the billionaire was always able to conveniently scrounge up proper funds and compensation.

Another icy wind blew past, but the chill wasn’t as potent as it had been moments before. Ebenezer noticed that a contributing factor to the shift was the sudden presence of more people on the sidewalk than there had been minutes before.

Both him and Constance turned their attention in tandem to the inside of the club, where the shadows of rowdy patrons and employees were starting to flail about. Shouts creeped through the spiderweb cracks in the windows, the sounds strident enough to make the delicate panes rattle in their frames.

“Seems your former boss announced the news.”

The same people rioting inside were beginning to spill onto the pavement outside in angry throngs, each band of bickering partygoers getting larger by the second. Whether Lupscholl was the target, or they were looking to take their anger out on each other, was hard to determine.

Scrooge reached into his trouser pocket and clicked the button on the key fob to unlock his car. Its lights flickered on, and Ebenezer opened the passenger door for her.

“Get in.”

A loud crash pierced the night air, and one of the large strobe lights inside flickered out from beyond the fogged windows. Without further argument, Constance raced inside the car and pulled the door shut before anyone else could attempt to climb in behind her. When someone who recognized the redheaded employee saw her try to slip away, they charged after her. Before they could lunge for the handle, she flipped the manual lock on the door to shut them out.

Ebenezer ran around the driver’s side and did the same. With a click of the lock, he immediately queued up the engine. After a quick gear shift, he shimmied quickly out of his parallel parking spot and sped down the street as safely as he could from the chaos.

The echoes of chaos they left behind them quickly faded into silence, replaced with the ambient sounds of city nightlife. Honking horns. Loud advertisements over store radios. Even the hum of the car’s relatively silent heater contributed, and also paired nicely with the 70s hits playing softly on the car’s radio. It would haven been quite the relaxing combination had they not just driven away from such an upset.

Then, faintly, the reverb of sirens rang out from a comfortable distance back.

The man made a sharp left onto Berners Street at the soonest opportunity, clearly aiming to hop on the A40 to take him back east, which would take him back to Lime Street in fifteen minutes, or twelve if traffic was particularly light.

Constance, breathing hard and still wearing the man’s coat, glanced at him as he drove. “W-Wow. Um. Thank you. Again.”

As the adrenaline settled, the older gentleman puffed out a laugh.

“You’re welcome.”

She joined in the soft laughter as her own nerves began to soften.

They two reveled in shared mirth for only a moment, as he traveled north on Chenies Street before arriving at an intersection with a long line of dark gray, uniform townhomes that signified that he'd reached the residential area of Gower Street.

“Right, let’s see,” he mumbled to himself, refocusing on driving, “Left takes me to Camden Town, but right here should put me on Gower, then en route to A40. Then, in a jiffy, Lime Street should be …”

He paused, tapping the brakes at the same time the realization hit him. The man practically blanched at the realization that he had put both of them on a direct route to his flat.

“I-I’m so sorry,” he rushed to reply. “We need to get you home. Please pardon me, I wasn’t … I mean…”

As he stammered, Constance only stared at him with a neutral, smiling expression. “No, no. You’re fine! You were focused on getting us out of there. I’d want to make a break for home too.”

“Still, that’s no excuse!” he replied with reddened cheeks, chastising himself for the lack of decorum he’d displayed. With a stiff cough and loosening of his tie (it was getting too hot in the car, he noted) he gripped the wheel and inched forward again. The universe had blessed him with a visible lack of traffic to deal with, which was greatly appreciated.

“Where can I take you?” Ebenezer asked properly this time, still a tad frazzled even as Constance pulled a map up on her smartphone and mounted it on his dashboard.

“Here. It’s just south of downtown, so you’re on the right route anyway.”

“Ah. Good.”

For the rest of the car ride, Constance leaned back in the passenger seat, looking tired but relaxed. It was a view that he found oddly comforting, he admitted internally. A beautiful woman, wearing his coat, relaxing in his car while he drove her home … it was enough to soften every red-blooded man’s heart a bit, he reasoned.

Even her body language had greatly changed from their first few moments in the vehicle. Now, wearing his coat as a blanket, she angled her head and stared out the window as he drove, as if she was taking in the sights of the city. That made sense, he thought, as she likely didn’t have a car. These routes were likely unfamiliar sights to her, at least in some capacity.

Did she take the bus nightly all the way from downtown to Soho for work? That wasn’t an ideal situation for even a seasoned local, let alone a recent transplant from across the pond.

She was living a hard life in London, he thought. A life a woman like her didn’t deserve to live. She was a hard worker, intelligent and kind. She deserved an opportunity – a starting spark to spur the blaze of a better life.

“Um, Constance?”

“Yes?”

“I know you work at the coffeehouse as well, but given the current situation, a…thought has occurred to me,” he confessed.

“What is it?” Her voice was so kind and inquisitive, and clear as a bell to boot.

“To make sure you’re compensated fully for your boss’ negligence, I’d like to make sure we arrange a meeting to discuss things,” he said, “Go over paperwork, sign all the necessary documents, you know. It can be anywhere you feel most comfortable.”

“Your office is right around the corner from the coffeehouse, right? Can we meet there?”

He cracked a light smile at the suggestion. “I was hoping you’d say that. Um, yes.”

She leaned forward, curious at what was on his mind. “Why do you say that?”

“Well…” he started, giving her a look out of the corner of his eye, “If we meet at my office, might you be able to bright a copy of your CV? You see, I’m looking for a new bank clerk, and knowing what I know about you…I think you’d be a whiz at it.”

“You saved and changed my life that night.”

A glass of bourbon warmed in one of his large hands while the other rested upon the back of a woman, his fingers meticulously carving their way through coppery waves.

Ebenezer lounged on the large sofa in his flat, donned only in pajama bottoms and a dressing gown. He rested upon a large, expansive L-shaped sofa that he’d never found himself using to its full potential until recently. Constance, who had just recounted the story of the fateful night, was curled up beside him, head resting on his shoulder. Just like that fateful evening many moons ago, she was so relaxed in his presence that she had to try to resist the tempting lull of sleep. The feat was made even harder by the fact that she was also donned in a silky nightie and heeled slippers, complete with feathery pom-poms across the straps. Glamorous, but completely and utterly comfortable.

The duo was nestled together before his flat’s massive panoramic windows that showed off the pristine London skyline, the view only split by a massive, warm fireplace that blazed with fragrant alder firewood.

“I had been dreading going to that damn club and dealing with that leech of a man the entire week,” he recalled with a cheeky grin, glancing down at her. His eyes burned with fondness for her, his fingers moving to stroke her visage as if he was caressing a statue. “If I would have known you would have been there, and that everything after that night would have led to this, I would have raced there sooner.”

She giggled as he dropped a devout kiss upon her coppery crown.

“You were so cute and shy,” she said, giving his arm a squeeze. “Heavens, when you realized that you were actually driving me back to your apartment, you were so sweet about making sure I knew you’d made a mistake.”

“True, but … ugh, I was such a bumbling schoolboy the entire time,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Certainly not dashing enough for a lady like you.”

“Not dashing enough? You saved us both by getting us out of there! You offered me a job and an opportunity to start over at a new job that I liked. You were a knight in shining armor!”

Chuffed but always modest, he shrugged.

“I still could have been quite a bit more graceful about it,” he said. “You’re too kind, my sunflower. I still think it’s a bloody miracle you kept talking to an oaf like me.”

She huffed, rolling her eyes at his stubbornness.

“You were a perfect gentleman,” she said, “Although, this more assured side of you is definitely welcome as well.”

He took a swig of his drink, his icy gaze still resting on her from over the rim. He drained the liquid in one last gulp, exhaling the delicious burn. “Do you, now?”

She nodded, pulling his arm even closer and resting her chin atop his shoulder. “Masculine, virile, charming, and handsome? Oh, very much so.”

Ebenezer sat the now empty glass down on the marbled end-table so he could use both hands to cradle the woman at his side.

“By the way…” he asked, her voice burring pleasantly as he moved his lips against her hairline, “Whatever happened to that skimpy little outfit you had to wear?”

Her cornflower eyes flicked to his with a mischievous glint.

“Oh, I have it still,” she revealed with mock casualness.

“Truly? Even the heels?”

“Of course,” she teased. “Why ever do you ask?”

“Why do you think?”

Her smirk broadened into a bright grin as Ebenezer moved his lips down to her neck and gave a playful nip. He continued to trail kisses along her velvety, perfumed skin as she laughed. Keeping his movements slow and languid, he made sure he properly worshiped her entire décolleté before lifting his head again to offer a bourbon-flavored kiss. She accepted willingly, parting her lips to drink in the delicious flavor and his even more delicious moans and huffs of laughter.

On that fateful night just over a year ago, Ebenezer Scrooge had glanced over while driving through west London, and had found the view of the woman in his passenger seat as mesmerizing as he did enthralling.

Now, as he and that exact same woman collapsed in a tangle on the sofa, hands slowly shifting beneath layers of silk, he couldn’t help but think of home much that view had changed and evolved … and how thankful he was for taking that small detour near Camden Town to get there.

@quill-pen Some fun lore for how the nightclub era ended! I couldn't find if we decided on an exact neighborhood for the girls' cottage, so I totally ballparked it, haha. ^^;

[rom-e-o]

“I say, is that…Mr. Scrooge?”

“Is it! My goodness, who is he dancing with?”

“No idea…my goodness, I’ve never even seen his dance before! Do you…think they are on a date?”

“Him? You think? If they are, it must be a first date. He’s a man of routine, despite his changed ways. Plus, it’s hard for London’s most eligible bachelor to fly under the radar.”

“Maybe. Goodness, regardless, he looks smitten already!”

“As does she…huh.”

“What?”

“I was just thinking…I don’t think I’ve ever seen him cut loose. Dance. Laugh. Whoever this woman is, she perhaps worked a miracle.”