#oc constance dogoode

[rom-e-o]

Paparazzi caught them ✨

[quill-pen]

Connie Fits (yes, I dress @rom-e-o's girl too🤗)

[thedivinelights]

@rom-e-o I have no idea if you've heard this song or not but I SWEAR it fits Orin and Constance scarily well I felt I had to share. Also hope you don't mind if I sort of just... yeet songs at you that fit your characters now.

[rom-e-o]

Tense moments at the office kitchen kettle. 💕💞

[rom-e-o]

Five years of marriage and four children later 💕

[rom-e-o]

"New Beginnings and Second Chances" (Ebenezer/Constance)

It's proposal time, all.

I've been tweaking and writing this as an epilogue to "Begin Again", and I think we're ready to share.

Thank you to everyone who has come along on this amazing journey! (Oh, it's not over. We're STILL trucking along strong, but man ... you can't deny that we've come far.)

Enjoy!

Ebenezer Scrooge, on most days, was an exponentially composed man.

He had tackled business negotiations, fortified good clients (while tastefully dismantling the smarmy ones) and cemented deals with estimated costs comprised of more numbers than most phone numbers, plus extensions.

However, on this very morning, the man was practically carving a path into the walnut floors of his home as a result of his pacing. He was in his study, and had been for the better half of the morning, waking and readying himself even before the arrival of his maid, Magda.

The day had come. He was going to do it. It was the second time he’d taken on the upcoming task, and yet this time, he felt more nervous than he had the first time.

He was going to propose to Constance DoGoode – the woman he’d been privileged enough to meet, fall in love with, and even receive her love in return.

He was going to ask her to marry him. To be his … wife.

Gods, the words gave him chills.

“Be steadfast, man,” he mouthed aloud, hand flying to his chest as his heart threatened to burst from his ribcage. It was soaring beneath his fingertips. “Don’t kick the bloody bucket before you even ask her!”

His treacherous heart continued to race, and he resigned himself to stepping close to the window for some fresh air. That actually helped, and he filled his lungs with the green-tinted, early morning haze of the early spring morning.

He’d acquired the ring a few days ago after sneaking one of her other bands to a jeweler to get the correct sizing. Now, every time he glimpsed the glittering stone, it took everything in him to not sod all his proposal plans and fall on one knee at the next sight of her. The ring had been burning a hole in both his pocket and mind since he’d purchased it; the stone seemingly just as excited to sparkle upon her finger as he was to place it upon it.

The ring had been an easy choice. A solitaire, square-cut diamond on a polished gold band. Simple. Elegant. Classy.

He’d known it was the ring from the moment he’d spotted it glittering in the case at the jeweler’s shop. One resize later (using one of her everyday rings that he’d silently apologized for taking from her jewelry box) and it was ready. He fitted it into a blue velvet ring box, and kept it in the very back of the only drawer in his work desk that required a lock to open. Just in case.

The ring, all things considered, had been a straightforward acquisition.

The proposal itself? That was a slightly more complicated matter.

Ebenezer had spent the better part of the last month seriously envisioning different scenarios for how he could pop the question. While the gesture itself had dominated his thoughts for the better half of a year, he’d seriously started noodling around ideas and putting pieces together in recent weeks.

It had to be as perfect as possible, he reasoned. Not so perfect that he put it off forever, of course, but it had to be worthy of her.

It had to be completely different than the experience that rat bastard of an ex-husband had given for her. That meant not proposing in a public place (quite fine with him) and not proposing while stumbling over himself drunk (exceptionally fine with him).

So …

Suddenly, like the first call of a meadowlark ending the silence of night, a knock sounded at the door.

“Mr. Scrooge, sir?”

Without waiting for an answer, another giddy knock came from the other side of his study’s door, the sound practically dancing across the lacquered. He bid the guest entry, knowing it was Magda just from her voice.

When the Hungarian woman slipped inside, an excited grin decorated her face. She practically glided through the door’s crevice, careful to latch the door noiselessly behind her before she spoke. “My stars, sir! Today is the day, is it not?”

He nodded, taking a deep breath as Magda bounced on her heels. After an energetic clap, she reached out to take the man’s hands and give them a reassuring squeeze. “Oh, don’t fret! She’ll say yes!”

He hoped. Gods, he hoped so. He hoped she said yes, and he hoped she said yes out of desire and not obligation, like she had with Orin. Although she loved him, it had been too soon, she’d said.

…Gods, was it too soon for them, too?

No, his mind raced to think, there was no going back. He didn’t want to wait, like he had with Isabel.

No, he had to ask. To make his love known and open. The rest was in her hands.

“I sent for the carriage this morning,” he said, breathy with nervousness, “By the time she awakens and dresses, they should arrive.”

Reaching into his pocket, he procured his silver pocket watch and glimpsed the time. The hands sat at 6:48 a.m. It wouldn’t be long before his love began to stir.

“Shall I prepare any breakfast? Or are you lovebirds going to eat in the coach?”

“Much obliged, Magda, but I went ahead and prepared something.”

She waggled her brow in intrigue. “You.”

He waggled his brow somewhat defensively. “Yes, me, as a matter of fact. Thank you for that sign of confidence.”

“I didn’t know you could cook, sir!”

“Magda, may I remind you that I survived many, many years – decades, actually – without a maid helping me cook? While I am infinitely grateful for all the help you’ve provided me, I assure you I am quite capable of…”

“…”

“…Ethel assisted me. Happy?”

Magda let out an amicable laugh. “Happy, and less worried for the poor lady’s stomach, as well.”

Scrooge hmph!-ed at her playful teasing. He knew her jabs were all in good faith, and presented a welcome distraction from his nervous pacing and racing thoughts. Whether it was intentional or not, he appreciated her company in that moment, just like had every single day he’d had the pleasure of employing her.

“Magda, I—”

Then, the faint sound of creaking stairs from outside the study door caught their attention. Both ceased talking just in time to hear a gentle knock on the study door.

“Come in, love,” Ebenezer called, knowing exactly who was on the other side.

Sure enough, Constance peered in, blue eyes wide and her smile bright, but still a touch sleepy. “Ah, there you both are,” she said, chuckling as she slipped inside, shutting it behind her just as Magda had.

Even fresh from bed, Costance was a sight to behold. Her red hair was pulled back in a loose chignon and fastened with large, satin ribbon. She herself was donned in a blue velvet peignoir with golden trim and matching sash that highlighted the hourglass curve of her waist.

“I must confess, I was a little worried,” she said in an adorable, sleep-bitten rasp. She was still waking up, bless her. The woman had awoken to see that her partner was missing from his side of the bed, and had taken little time to wait before investigating fully. “The house is never so quiet in the morning.”

She’s made the comment as a light joke, but upon seeing the main master and maid of the house gathered together so close in the study, she suddenly lowered her voice in concern. “Is everything alright?”

Before Scrooge could think of an excuse, Magda was quick to the rescue.

“I was just asking Mr. Scrooge if he wouldn’t mind if a took a bit of a last minute day off,” she said, “I have some personal errands and appointments, and thought it might be easier to take a full day than mince apart various other working days.”

She glanced at Ebenezer, giving him a coy smirk that matched the mischievous slant of her eyes. She looked like a tabby that had just filled its cheeks at the nearest birdcage, and gotten away with it, too.

“Why, I believe that sounds like a capital idea,” Scrooge agreed, clapping an agreeable hand over her puff-sleeved shoulder. “After all, the house will be vacant all day today.”

“It will?” Constance asked, her surprise palpable but pleasant.

“Indeed so,” he said, turning to her, hands reaching out to take one of hers. “I’ve arranged a bit of a … surprise for us today. A surprise outing.”

“Oh, really?” A flush of joy made her freckles pop across her sun-kissed cheeks.

He laughed softly, pleased by her excitement. “I’ve prepared breakfast, and a coach should be here on the hour for us. I-If you’d be so kind as to join me, I would be most honored.”

Magda tried hard to not roll her eyes as Constance enthusiastically agreed, both leaning into a embrace and chaste kiss that Magda had the decency to avert her eyes from.

Of course Constance had agreed to the outing, the maid thought secretly. She had no work that day, and when the happy couple wasn’t at work, they were spending time together in some capacity. Reading in the sitting room together, taking a stroll together, sometimes even rowing out on the Serpentine in Hype Park to bask in the sun and watch the swans skate across the waters.

Today was no different, but he had still kindly asked her if she was free to spend time with him.

Silly man, she thought kindly, though the maternal side of her longed to pull them both into a hug and wish them luck. Especially him.

“I’ll get dressed this instant,” Constance said with a nod. “I won’t be long, promise.”

“I’ll help.”

“Oh, Magda, I thought…”

“I’ve got a moment to spare,” she said lovingly, fluttering to the young woman’s side and giving her a nudge. “Come now, let’s make you look like an absolute vision! I have the perfect dress in mind, as well.”

“But…”

“Please, love. It would be my honor.”

As the carriage pulled up to the house and Scrooge loaded the basket and blanket they needed, he called up the stairs for Magda and Constance to come down.

While they waited, he made small talk with the driver, paid him in advance, and offered him a vague outline of the day’s itinerary. As for the directions, he’d scribed those carefully as well, and even provided a map, though the driver gave him a reassuring look.

“Been doin’ this ‘ob for many a year, Mr. Scrooge,” he said, taking a long drag of his pipe at the end. “I’ve got many maps, compasses, and back-ups of all me back-ups. You and yer lady are safe wit’ me.”

Well, he had hired the best, he reasoned. It seemed the sterling reputation of the driver and business was true, even if the man himself was a little rough around the edges. “Good man. Thank you again. Oh, um…here’s some breakfast for the road.”

Scrooge handed him a slab of cheese and an entire loaf of bread wrapped in a cloth. This excited the driver more than the directions. “Cheers, mate! I’ll take th’ smoothest paths for you and yer lady!”

“Much obliged.”

“Oh, and betw’n you and me, feel free to close those curtains if you lot would pr’fer some alone time, yeah? I can’t hear a peep fro’ where I’m sittin’.”

“…I’ll remember that.”

He would not act on that, but he supposed the gesture was … kind? Thoughtful? It was something, he ultimately decided.

While the conversation with the driver had been interesting in and of itself, all memory of the conversation seemed to fly out of his head as Magda rushed out with Constance on her arm.

As always, Magda met and exceeded expectations by leaps and bounds.

Dressed in a gown of chocolate brown satin with golden-white petticoats shimmering beneath the skirts, Constance stepped carefully down the stone steps of the house, her heels a matching shade of deep coffee. A matching shawl, trimmed with pearly fringe, concealed her shoulders from the morning chill. Her hair was adorned with a white ribbon nestled in a perfect bow in the back, the curls falling in loose spirals around her shoulders.

He noted that she also wore the freshwater pearl earrings and choker that he’d gotten her for her birthday a few months ago. Also, on her right ring finger, a fire opal ring she had inherited from her father blazed brilliantly. She rarely wore the piece, treasuring the item too much to risk losing it.

Magda really had worked her magic.

“Are you sure this isn’t too much?” Constance asked as she plucked at the skirt of her dress. Magda distracted her tentative movements by helping her into a pair of satin gloves, occupying her fingers for a moment. “This dress is beautiful, but is it too much for…um …”

She laughed and glanced at him somewhat bashfully. “Oh … I just realized I never even asked you where we were going.”

Gods, she was lovely, he thought.

“A picnic,” he supplied vaguely, almost breathless as he took in the sight of her. “And no. P-Please don’t change. You look absolutely beautiful…and you’re comfortable, yes?”

“Oh, very comfortable.”

“Then that’s what matters.”

Prudence bounded down the stairs, barking excitedly at the sight of the sleek, cherrywood carriage.

Of course, she would be invited along for the proposal. Why, it was largely because of Prudence that he and Constance had bumped into each other in the first place on that fateful December day, as he’d been in the butcher buying bones for her. As sch, it seemed only right for her to be present on the day that he asked Constance to be a part of his life for the remainder of his days.

Seeming to sense the importance of the occasion, she trotted up to her master and pawed at his leg.

Scrooge chuckled, then opened the door so she could hop in. “Go on, Prudence.”

After an excited spin, she leapt up and instantly made herself comfortable on one of the long, leather-clad benches, just beside the picnic basket and rolled up blanket. The mastiff flopped down and let out a satisfied huff.

Thank goodness he’d sprang for the larger cab, he thought as he surveyed the remaining space.

“We may need to cozy up just a tad for the trip,” Ebenezer warned Constance playfully. She returned an amused look, her smile only broadening when she peeked into the carriage and saw Prudence curled up on the opposite bench.  

After bringing Constance her purse (which contained only her pillbox, a book of poetry she’d been reading, a money clip, and some rouge), Magda then turned her attention to him. She helped Ebenezer slip into his black overcoat, smoothing the fabric as she did so. She also produced his top hat and cane, which she’d pulled from the entryway closet ahead of time.

As she skimmed the lapels of his coat with her fingers to make sure they laid flat and symmetrically, she gave him one last, reassuring stare, the burning resolve in her eyes all the more magnified by the thick lenses on her spectacles.

He took one last deep breath …and nodded.

“Right. T-Time to go.”

Assuming his post at the carriage’s open door, he extended a hand to Constance. Slowly, he helped her mount the step to the cab.

Once she was seated, he slotted himself into the space beside her.

“We’ll be back before sunset!” he called before shutting the door. He gave her one last wave.

“Have fun, you two!” Magda called innocently, stealing a handkerchief from her apron pocket to wave as the driver snapped the reins and the carriage rolled forth across the cobbled roadway. “Be good! I won’t wait up!”

Prudence let out another bark, and Constance leaned out the carriage window to wave excitedly. The maid also saw the woman lose her balance, and Ebenezer’s arms frantically circle her to pull her back to safety.

As soon as the cart was out of sight, Magda was off like a shot back inside. She raced to grab her coat and hat, practically flinging them on her body. The maid didn’t even bother to check her reflection as she shimmied down the strop steps of the house and made her way down Lime Street and into the churning streets of Cornhill. The woman had a few key destinations in mind.

First, she’d traverse Lime Street to a residential neighborhood a few blocks over, where Harry and Hela lived.

Then, she’d wind her way through the alleyways and cobbled roadways until she reached Camden Town.

 The carriage ride out of town lasted all but two hours, but inside the cab, the minutes all but flew by.

The couple shared bites of breakfast (orange peel-flecked scones that he’d practiced in secret for days) and read passages from the small book of poetry Constance had tucked into her purse.

« Mon bras pressait ta taille frêle Et souple comme le roseau; Ton sein palpitait comme l’aile D’un jeune oiseau. »

« Longtemps muets, nous contemplâmes Le ciel où s’éteignait le jour. Que se passait-il dans nos âmes ? Amour! Amour! »

« Comme un ange qui se dévoile, Tu me regardais, dans ma nuit, Avec ton beau regard d’étoile, Qui m’éblouit. »

Ebenezer pronounced the words graciously are carefully, Constance using her French lessons from long past to speak alongside him.

“It has been quite a while since I’ve spoken French,” he admitted, “Not since I was a boy, reading some of the classics for my studies. I fear I’m rusty in the romance languages.”

“You are doing well,” Constance enthused.

Ebenezer knew Constance was fluent In English and Dutch, but Frensh was a … more recreational language for her. A nifty party trick, although it was a vast help in situations just as this, where they crowded over a small book and took great care to read the delicate writing accurately.

“My arm clasped your fragile waist that’s supple as a reed; Your breast beat like the wing Of a young bird.

“In a long silence we contemplated The sky where the day was fading away. What was happening in our souls? Love! Love!

“Like an angel who reveals herself, You looked at me, in my night, With your beautiful star’s gaze, Blinding me with … light.”

A comfortable silence settled over them as the words lingered a beat.

“I do so love that one,” she said with a dreamy, wavering sigh. “Especially the ending.”

“Very beautiful indeed,” Ebenezer husked, deepening his voice to a burr to attract her attention. When she glanced up and saw the smirk upon his visage, seeing only her own reflection in his icy eyes, her cheeks bloomed with pleasant color.

All the while, the sun continued to climb in the sky outside. By the time they near the spot that Ebenezer had directed the driver to, it was nearly midday.

Another turn of the page, and Ebenezer spotted a familiar piece of literature. “Venus and Adonis, by Shakespeare.”

“Oh, that one is wonderful, but quite long,” Constance chuckled.

“Certainly longer than his most famous sonnets,” he said, “Sonnet 29 comes to mind. Shorter … and easier for a man to memorize and recite to his lovely lady.”

His last remark harbored just enough cheekiness for her to wonder how many men he’d witnessed recite the same sonnet over and over across the city during romantic, spring days. Probably dozens, she thought in intrigue and amusement.

“I saw it performed a few summers ago in New York. By a theater troupe in Central Park. They memorized the entire thing – amazingly impressive for such green performers! A duo, in fact.”

It was a tragic poem, of course. It was also an erotic epic. Not necessarily appropriate for the occasion. Still, right as she was about to close the book, he reached out and paused her. With the tap of his finger, he urged her eyes to fall upon a specific passage.

She read:

“Ten kisses short as one, one long as twenty:  

“A summer’s day will seem an hour but short…”

As the words finished leaving her painted lips, he leaned down and placed the gentlest of kisses upon her mouth. In that moment, the sentiment on the parchment manifested into warm, breathing reality.

“Now that,” he said, reaching up and thumbing the curls about her cheeks, “Reminds me of today.”

She blinked slowly. Again, dreamily. “Does it, my Adonis?”

An airy chuckle left him, but his fingers tightened their grip just slightly. He did grip her tight, he held her tight. “With you, the hours blend into beautiful, fleeting moments. Evey second with you feels…healing.”

He thought of yet another line from the poem: “Love comforteth like sunshine after rain.”

A perfect summary, he thought as he leaned in again, kissing the tip of her nose. “My Venus.”

A few precious moments later, the couple heard the driver gently urge his horses to a gentle stop. They obeyed with a few clicks of the man’s tongue, and once they were fully stopped on a well-trodden side path, the driver alerted them of their arrival.

“Splendid,” Ebenezer said, praying his voice didn’t convey the nervousness he felt. “Shall we?”

He opened the door to allow Prudence to jump out (which she eagerly did). As the mastiff busied herself biting at butterflies and rolling in the dust like a chipmunk, Ebenezer stepped out and instantly felt the heat of the sun above them. It was considerably warmer than it had been the morning before.

He shed his hat and coat, leaving them in the carriage with his cane.

Constance followed suit by shedding her shawl, then tilted her head back in bliss as she stepped into the sun. “Mm. Warm.”

Sun was a rarity in England, he noted. It was rare to see the sun or moon in their true glory.

In that moment, she appeared to be drinking in the light, her tanned skin and vibrant hair giving the blazing a star a run for its money in radiance.

“Here we are, lovebirds,” the driver said, giving his horses a pat as they dipped their heads to graze. “Spot to ya likin’, Mr. Scrooge?”

“Very much so. Much obliged.”

Just like before, he reached into the basket and produced some food and drink to help bide the time while they made merry, so to speak.

Surprised and pleased by the next round of gifts, the man took a large bite of a mincemeat pastry from his share before waving the couple off and telling them to “have a bit o’ nanty narking, ya hear! I won’t ‘ell, haha!”

Constance gave Ebenezer a playful grin while he blushed red as a beet.

“T-Thank you, sir,” he mumbled, ushering Constance away with one arm while carrying their picnic basket with the other.

 The air was scented with the sweet fragrance of wildflowers, and the distant melody of birdsong accompanied their amicable conversation as Ebenezer led her up an ambling stone path to the spot he’d picked. Their destination was atop an overlook with a perfect view of the swaying fields for miles around, different patches dotted with clouds of fresh blossoms.

The couple set up their spot, then sat on a blanket spread across the lush grass, surrounded by the serenity of nature. The smog and incessant chatter of the city was long forgotten as they basked in the aroma of sun-warmed wildflowers and relaxed to the melody of the babbling brook nearby.

As they enjoyed a picnic of sandwiches, fruits, and a bottle of sparkling cider, Ebenezer couldn't shake the anticipation bubbling within him. For the entire duration of their outing, he stole glances at Constance. In fact, he would have been hard pressed to remove his gaze from her on any occasion, and especially in this moment and setting. It was a scene he knew he didn’t want to forget for the rest of his days alive, and as he drank in the details of her, he knew he never would.

By the time they’d finished eating, they lounged for a while against the shade of the oak, even making a trip to a nearby stream to dance in the ankle-deep water and splash around a bit. Prudence even followed, running circles in the riverbank under her entire belly and paws were dripping with river water and mud.

When they returned from that, lazily strolling up the hill hand-in-hand, it was the golden hour of sunset.

In the halo of warm light that radiated from the horizon’s dark edge, it was a treat marveling at the way the sunlight played in her hair, making it glow like strands of molten bronze. The way her cornflower eyes glittered like the sea captivated him further.

A moment of silene stretched between them … and with the sun slowly vanishing, he knew the seconds of his opportunity were literally ticking away.

Constance, catching the anxious way Ebenezer fumbled for his coat, glanced over. “Are you alright, love? Are you cold?"

Love. The endearment bolstered his resolve.

“Quite alright,” he said. “In fact, I’ve never been happier.”

Ebenezer took a deep breath, steadying his nerves.

Something touched her expression as she realized when was happening. She didn’t say a word, but her eyes widened almost knowingly, the blue color shining like the isles of Neptune.

Now or never, he thought.

“Constance. The Christmas of my 50th birthday, I…became a changed man. I realized the error of my ways, and became transformed. I realized that I’d wasted much of my life in misery, content to be alone and deprive others, and myself, of happiness. I remember thinking that I would never go back.

“Then, the moment we met, you did the impossible … you transformed my life again. Since then, you've brought … warmth to the coldest corners of my heart, and every day with you feels like a gift. A gift that was almost stolen away by circumstance …”

Stolen away by a past of abuse, falsified medical records, a razor blade, and a man with eyes like the coldest fog.

“As turbulent as the start of our time together was, facing those trials, it made me realize that parting ways from you was never even a consideration. Even if we only remained friends or coworkers, you were always in my future in some capacity. As we continued to court, I stopped imagining you as just a coworker or friend, or even as just a lover. I-I know some might roll their eyes at the ide of a man of my age wanting such pomp and circumstance, but…I do.

“I’ve thought of little else in the past few weeks … hell, honestly, the past few months. What would life without you be like? I … can’t fathom it. Or if I could, I can’t bear the thought of it.”

Sensing the weight of his words, she nodded with a nervous swallow. “A-And I can't imagine mine without you, Ebenezer.”

With a tender smile, Ebenezer reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. The sight of it made Constance's breath catch.

He opened the box to reveal a delicate ring, the sunlight catching on the glimmering diamond in the middle.

“Constance, my angel,” Ebenezer began, his voice filled with emotion, “I-I never thought I’d ask this question of another, but I have to know. I must. W-Would you do me the honor of remaining by my side, in spirit and name? Will you marry me?”

The question hung in the air, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause. His emotions were suspended in stasis as well.

Then, a wave of joy swept over her face, and she nodded, tears of happiness glistening in her eyes.

“I-I will.”

He blinked, huffing out a laugh. “You will.”

“Yes! Ebenezer, a thousand times yes!”

A delighted smile broke across Ebenezer's face as he took the ring from the box. Laughing in equal parts disbelief and bliss, he leaned forward to meet her as she rushed to kiss him.

Prudence, who had been watching from the edge of the blanket, barked in excitement as the two kissed, arms wrapping around each other and holding on tight.

“Oh, thank you,” he praised, lips moving against hers. “I’ll be good to you, my angel. I promise with all my heart.”

“I know you will.” Her tears, warm and fresh, fell upon their laps. “I-I know. Oh, I’ve dreamed of this.”

“You have?”

In tandem, sharing a desire, their raised their hand in tandem to entwine their fingers.

“Y-Yes, and today…it’s been even more perfect than I ever imagined,” she confessed, bumping their noses together as another joyful sob threatened to clench her.

A pause. Then, her fingers gripped his arm firmly, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “It’s just … m-me? Are you certain?”

A redheaded New Yorker of questionable pedigree, former socialite and divorcee, married to a wealthy Englishman and philanthropist. It was certainly an eye-catching combination, he supposed, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Absolutely yes,” he replied, voice breaking at the sight of her tears. He brandished a handkerchief and dabbed them away, pepping her forehead with more kisses all the while. “I’m beyond certain. You have my heart, Connie.”

Gently, he slid the ring onto Constance's finger, sealing their promise beneath the setting sun.

“And you have mine.”

With another kiss, their commitment was sealed.

From afar, the Scrooge manor looked quite vacant. No lights shined from inside, no smoke plumed from the chimney, and no shadows busied themselves beyond the windows. It was almost an uncanny sight.

“Goodness, it looks so ominous from here,” Constance joked, arm-in-arm with her fiancé as the carriage approached the estate. As the sun had dipped below the horizon, and they reentered the scrutinizing eyes of the city limits, they donned all their proper layers.

“It used to always look this dour, I’m shamed to admit,” he said, giving her hand an affectionate pat “We’ll fix that straightaway once we’re indoors. Get a good fire going – well, maybe just some candles. It’s a little warm.”

“Too warm for celebratory glass of wine?”

“Oh, never too warm for that! Especially on such an occasion.”

“I think you’re quite right,” she agreed, eyeing a very muddy Prudence from across the car. She lifted her heeled shoe and gave the mastiff a light tap. “And you need a bath, miss. I don’t think it would be very comfortable to sleep in muddy fur, yes?”

Averting her eyes (as if that made her invisible), she pretended to not hear the woman’s theory. In turn, the couple chuckled at the sight.

The carriage pulled up to the house, right under the light of a gas lamp to provide better visibility. Ebenezer, having redonned his coat and top hat, stepped out with his cane in hand. Then, he helped Constance out. In the process, he glimpsed the sight of the dazzling ring upon her still ungloved hand, and his heart started up again.

The ring also caught the attention of the driver, who let out a whistle. “Oi, hearty congratulations ar’ in or’da to ye both!”

After a few last goodbyes, the driver tipped his hat one last time and wheeled himself away into the foggy night.

There, they stood before his home, arm-in-arm again. He carried the dirty, rolled-up blanket and while carried their now empty basket.

After a glimpse to make sure they were truly alone on the quiet street, they shared a lingering, public kiss. It was the kind that always sent Beryl and her boys reeling when they did it outside the privacy of their bedroom.

As they parted, he offered her a grin and squeeze of the arm.

“Welcome home, Mrs. DoGoode-Scrooge.”

She returned his affection with a gleaming smile of her own. She noted that he’d included her maiden name, her father’s name, in the title. If possible, that sentiment was the final, stone-enforced in the proud, tall tower of certainty.

“It is my honor to bear the name, and have the heart of the man who gave it to me,” she replied.

Giggling like excited teenagers, they shimmied up the stone stairs leading to the massive front door. He fished out the substantial key from his coat pocket and slipped it in, the tumblers of the lock giving way with the same, comforting melody they always had.

They opened the door, expecting the same darkness within that they’d glimpsed from the outside.

Yet, once the door opened, the room lit up as the gas-burning chandelier roared to life. The rest of the wide foyer was decorated with glittering, gold crepe paper and vases bursting with fresh lilies, daisies and sunny daffodils from the flower market.

Friends and family stood shoulder to shoulder around the circumference of the room, clapping and cheering as they came through the door.

The Cratchit children jumped up in greeting from behind one of the chamber’s marble-top tables, and Beryl’s gang of boys cheers from the railed hallway overhead, clapping and cheering as if they’d just watched an amazing stuntman at one of the London fairs.

“Surprise!”

Magda, looking pleased as punch, uncorked a bottle of icy prosecco from the cellar with a swift yank of the corkscrew. “There you are, the two turtledoves!”

Tim, who saw Scrooge as a second father, ran to the man and hugged him. “Congratulations, Mr. Scrooge! You’re gonna be a good husband, I know it!”

He was too overjoyed to be stunned for long, the man’s heart melted as he returned the boy’s hug with a tight embrace of his own. “Thank you, my boy.”

“Congrats, Miss Connie,” the blond boy turned and said sweetly. “You’re going to be a mighty pretty bride.”

She dabbed at the corner of her eyes with her fingertips. “Thank you, Tim.”

“C-Can we see your ring?” Kathy asked timidly, fiddling with the end of one of her braid as she approached.

“Yes, the ring!” Martha echoed excitedly, her chignon bouncing as she danced closer.

Constance nodded and held her hand aloft. Immediately, an audience gathered around her.

“Blimey, girl, that’s a stunner,” Tom Jenkins noted, appraising the gem with a keen eye. “Good job, mate.”

“Oh, it’s positively beautiful, uncle!” Harry agreed, before breaking away to pull the former curmudgeon of a man into a teary bear hug. “I-I never thought I’d see the day! My uncle getting married to a woman he loves! Oh, the way my mother must be smiling now!”

“H-Harry, ow.”

Meanwhile, Bob and Ethel embraced Constance tightly, Ethel pecking her cheek joyfully. “Oh, a wedding! I hope you know that Hela and I would be absolutely enthralled to help, my pet.”

“Indeed,” said woman agreed, her earrings jingling in agreement as she nodded her head. “I know you’ve done this before in New York – getting married I mean, but it’s intimidating to do in a new country! I would be honored to provide the names of those Harry and I worked with and found pleasant. I’m also happy to share a list of those I did not enjoy working with, haha.”

“Oh, that would be very helpful! Thank you both, truly.”

Constance then turned her attention to Magda, smirking and giving out crystal flutes of prosecco to guests.

She paused at Constance, their eyes meeting in a moment of understanding. The redhead flew to embrace her tightly, skirts swinging around her ankles. “This morning. You knew.”

Magda patted the redhead’s back affectionately. “I did, love. I’ve known for a while, in fact.”

“Have you?”

“I knew it the day you came to live with us,” she said, “The day your former husband’s boat left that dock, I knew you’d never leave. I know I’m always right, but I’m extra pleased about it this time.”

She laughed airily, but the way her grip tightened was sincere in the deepness of her gratitude. “Thank you.”

Nodding between happy tears, Ebenezer came behind Constance to lay a delicate hand upon her shoulder. She stepped away at that moment, now wanting to detain Magda for uncomfortably long, and accepted a flute of celebratory bubbly eagerly. She also passed one to Ebenezer, who kissed the top of her hand in thanks.

Errol, Magda’s ballet dancer husband, passed out cider to the young children in small, purple-tinted glasses. He’d also had the good sense to wrap Prudence in a thick pestemal to protect the guests. It would take only one shake for the guests, and wallpaper, to become polka-dotted in pattern.

Once all the glasses were passed out, Ebenezer hoisted his high. Everyone followed, anxious for the former miser’s toast.

“Everyone, to each other,” he said, wrapping an arm around Constance’s waist and glancing down to meet her gaze. “To second chances and new beginnings.”

She then glanced around the room, taking care to make eye contact with each smiling face. Each person who had helped her. Each soul that had believed in her, and her redemption.

“To second chances and new beginnings,” Constance agreed proudly, tapping her glass against his. “And all those who help us find them.”

Thank you to everyone for your support, likes, comments and more: @quill-pen, @crimson-phantom-designs, @thedivinelights, @alolaamii, @bluestarliight, @vixx-ari, @ray-painter, @shipshroom, @akitauma, @blueapplesiren,

I see you and appreciate you! <3

[rom-e-o]

Nobody's Approval (Constance/Ebenezer) (Modern AU)

@quill-pen has been providing some top-tier fashion inspiration for the Scroogeverse, and a spicy, academia-inspired fic was a natural result of all the top-tier headcanons. I had so much fun with the fashion, motifs and scenery in this story.

That being said, THIS IS AN 18+ FIC. Minors, DNI.

Fic is below the cut~

He … had to be dreaming. The sight before him couldn’t have been real.

Just moments before, Ebenezer Samuel Scrooge had been twisting about in his bed at home, furiously trying to find some position that would prompt his body to slip into the catacombs of slumber.

He’d been trying in vain all evening to get the visions of his uncomfortably beautiful clerk, Constance DoGoode, out of his thoughts. They’d spent the entire day alone in the office together, working in tandem in a tense silence that was thick and cloying.

Every time his mind had drifted, he’d thought of her. Now, even as he attempted to rest his mind (and certain parts of his anatomy) he remembered the scent of her vetiver perfume and the way her copper hair caught the light, and he was tossed right back into the throes of delusion for her.

Then, with just a flutter of his eyelids, she was miraculously in front of him.

She was there … but not in his bed.

In a manifestation as quick as lightning, he was back in his office, still dressed in his starched work shirt, slacks and tie. It was as if he’d never left for the day, as even the accidental ink stain on the joint of his thumb was still present from the leaky pen he’d thrown out earlier in the day.

The sky was dark, and all the other offices were shuttered. Everyone else appeared to have gone, as they should have been at such an hour.

Yet, somehow, he was right back at the bank. And he wasn’t alone.

Constance, dressed in the same brown, tweed pencil shirt and matching blazer that she’d worn mere hours before, was waiting for him at his desk.

The woman was facing him, her posture deceptively casual as she leaned against his lacquered, executive desk. Her cornflower blue eyes remained trained on his icy ones, her lashes painted dark with mascara and her smirking lips a delicious shade of rosewood. Even her freckles seemed to pop more than usual.

Gods, she was a vision, he thought. Framed against the backdrop of an after-dark London skyline, a blend of historic spires and modern skyscrapers, her already disarming beauty was inscrutable.  Her mile-long tanned legs were crossed casually at the ankle, the additional height of her faux-crocodile Manolo Blahnik heels only serving to further highlight the glorious build of her legs and thighs. Speaking of her thighs, her pencil skirt was pulled up to reveal more skin than before. The slightly taut fabric accentuated the softness at the tops of her legs, and he wondered how they would feel under his hands. Or around his hips. Or around his face.

Her coppery hair was curled delicately and styled so it fell in loose spirals about her shoulders. Half of her hair was pulled back with a satin ribbon, tied neatly in a bow with matching tails that fluttered when she walked. He had admired the look on her many times before, as she wore it daily to the office. He’d lost count on how many times he’d longed to thread his fingers through those sun-kissed strands. How he’s been bombarded with daily thoughts about twirling those glowy strands around his fingers or lifting delicate curls to his lips to place delicate kisses upon.

Of course, on either side of her face were those familiar, unruly curls that always seemed to spring up and rest upon her cheeks. He secretly adored those springy little curls of hers, taking extra joy in occasions when she didn’t try to gel them down or pin them back.

Her blazer was, oh … she was opening it. How had he missed that? Had he truly been so distracted? Was he so predictable of a man.

She then laughed; a musical, casual sound that he could have listened to for hours. Had she read his mind? He blushed at the realization, and felt his trousers become slightly more constricting in the same breath.

As she popped the last button of her blazer, she pushed the coffee-colored top aside to reveal her ample bosom donned in a beautiful (but delightfully flimsy-looking) lace bra. The fabric provided virtually no tangible support, but sod that, he was of the mind that she looked even more lovely for it. The natural slope of her heavy breasts, combined with the slightest peek the garment offered at her apricot-brown nipples … it made his legs buckle. His swallowed thickly, consumed with thought of kissing down her cleavage, and taking the peaks of those woman mounds into his mouth, worrying them until she was mewling and whimpering. How would her skin taste? Would it be as soft on his lips as her hands were when she grazed his fingertips by accident?

His hands remained clenched at his sides, his restraint waning.

He wanted to reach out. To touch her … but the second he did, he knew it would be gone.

 As if she couldn’t drive him to further madness, the woman threw another match on the already churning fire.

Moving her hands to the edge of the desk for support, she leaned back, hopping up so that she was seated upon his desk. Then, with maddening slowness, she parted her legs inch by glorious inch.

She was bare beneath her skirt, and already wet with need.

He inhaled with a hiss, shoulders arching and chest expanding. Fuck, it couldn’t be real.

“Make love to me, Ebenezer…” she whispered pleadingly, eyes glazing with a wetness that matched the yearning between her legs. “Right here. Now. Please. Please…”

If only, he thought.

He took one step forward, and the vision faded, the beautiful woman before him becoming a fuzzy distortion, until finally, she was gone.

Yet, for a moment, he swore her gaze still lingered through the illusions.

“Please.”

He awoke with a start, snapping upright in bed as if he was a drowning man who had just pulled himself up and free from a tide pool.

The first thing he registered was the sweat rolling down his brow and back, then the suffocating feel of the linen pajamas he wore. Cursing, he reached down and pulled his shirt up and off, tucking his chin to his chest to easily pull it up and over. Once he’d balled that up and flung it across the room (careful not to hit Prudence, who was blissfully out like a night in her bed in the corner) he reached for his pajama pants. Upon pulling them down, the relief on his erection was immediate.

“Fuck…” he gasped, laying a hand over his forehead.

Arching proudly toward his navel, his cock was already nearly purple at the tip, a small beam of precum shimmering at the top. All that, just from a dream about her?

Swearing, he reached down with his free hand and clenched the base tenderly, attempting to belay further pleasure.

“Down, boy…” he whispered, head falling back with a sigh as he settled back into reality.

As the tenderness ebbed and rigidity fled the tense sinews of his body, his mind still wandered. Speaking her name like a prayer, he shut his eyes and willed himself to relax.

Tomorrow, he had to do something to ease the tension. They’d been on two dates already, but things had become more complicated since then.

When they’d first started seeing each other, she had been working as a barista at the coffee house. Then, she’d gotten fired from the nightclub (well, all the staff had been fired, as was the natural result of a fraud investigation), and he’d invited her to work as a clerk for him, Bob Cratchit, and his twin brother. It was a perfect arrangement, in a business sense. She filled the role of a clerk perfectly, her poise with people and her knack with numbers making her a one-in-a-million find. She was perfect.

“Which is why you can’t continue to court her, you daft buffoon,” he reminded himself aloud, the words as worn as if he’d dragged them across concrete to speak them. “You’re her employer. It’s not ethical.”

He was being delusional, he thought. A man like him, lanky and graying – a literal lifelong bachelor, with a woman who was literally a former model? It was a joke.

“She … deserves more. Better.”

He rolled over to face the window of his bedroom. He glimpsed the same skyline he’d seen in his dreams and grimaced against the pale silk of his pillowcase.

Fuck. Fuck.

What the hell was he going to do?

“You’re going to ask her out again. That’s what you’re going to do, mate.”

Ebenezer's left-brained twin brother and business partner, Ebenezar Charles Scrooge, stared up at him with an unamused expression.

“H-How can you say that so easily?” Ebenezer asked, pacing another frantic lap around the outdoor café table they were both seated at. “Do you know what could happen? We could lose our best clerk! S-She could walk.”

The older twin’s latte sat vacant, quickly growing cold, while the other sipped hot chai and watched the man pace about. His eyes followed him over the paper rim of his cup, his gaze unamused and his brows furrowed.

“This isn’t about losing a clerk, Sammy,” Ebenezar remarked. “We both know that.”

As if caught in a spotlight, Ebenezer turned and flashed him a wide-eyed stare. “The bloody hell do you mean?”

“Mother of—we’re too old for this.”

He finished his tea in one swig and thumped the cup on the table with adamancy that made his twin jolt. “I mean that we both know we don’t put business relations above personal ones. Not anymore.”

He leaned forward in his seat, eyes boring into his brother’s. Searching. Knowing. They were identical twins, after all. They could attempt to keep secrets from each other, but it had been a fool’s errand for decades.

“Come off it,” Ebenezar said, “You’re afraid of losing her, not her position.”

Blanching and blushing at the same time, Ebenezer slid into his seat and steepled his fingers at the accusation. “Now look here—”

“You don’t have a leg to stand on,” his twin said, “You’ve been out with her twice already, you’ve bought her flowers, you took her to Estella’s for your first dinner date, you always stare at her at work—”

“Not always!”

“—Blimey, man, it’s so obvious!”

Ebenezer slinked back in his chair, caught but not defeated.

“The fact remains that it would be extremely improper for us to be in … any kind of relationship. I have superiority over her! Not literally, but technically, in the eyes of our company. You know. I-I wouldn’t want her to feel forced to comply…I mean…”

As he tripped over his words, Ebenezar smiled gently. “You care for her, and don’t want her to think she has to agree to a relationship with you to keep her employment. Yes?”

“Exactly!” The sound came out as both an exclamation and a sigh. “That’s the last thing I want. I-I’d never want to pressure her into anything, or even imply that our relationship was something that needed to be reciprocated. I-I don’t need us to be involved. I certainly…would like it, but I’d never use that as any leverage for anything.”

“So, you don’t want to fire her?”

His head bounced up from sulking as if he’d been electrocuted. “No!”

“Or break things off with her?”

“No!”

The word came out more strident than he intentioned, and the guests at the smattering of other outdoor tables glanced over in concern. Muttering a hushed apology, he turned back to his brother, returning the man’s chuckle with an embarrassed glare. “Of course I don’t, you twit!”

“You two began dating before you brought her aboard, you know,” he reminded gently. “Last I checked, she agreed to go out with you. Quite enthusiastically, it seems.”

“I’m aware,” he drawled, pinching his brow. There wasn’t a day that didn’t go by where he didn’t recall her giddy smile when he picked her up for their first date … nor a night where he didn’t think of their first kiss on her cottage doorstep. He still swooned when he remembered the feeling of her plush lips against his, and smirked at the memory of her roommates on the other side of the door audibly whispering in excitement and cheering in hushed tones (or, what they’d thought had been ‘hushed’ at the very least.)

“And you two work quite well together in the office,” he said, casually smirking at the incriminating blush that spread across his brother’s cheeks at the insinuation. It wasn’t uncommon for him to spot his brother speaking with Constance regularly, even when matters of business were not the topic of discussion. “I don’t recall any awkwardness.”

“It’s…amazingly pleasant to be with her, I’ll confess.”

“No need to confess. I have eyes.”

“Smart ass. You know, it’s been forever since I enjoyed the company of another so much. Not since…”

“Since Isabel?”

He froze, realization hitting him like a brick across the cheek.

Isabel, the woman he’d loved with all his heart … and one whom he’d lost to the same hesitation. Due to inaction, he’d sent away the woman he had once dreamed of marrying. The woman he, at one point, had wanted to start a family with.

“I … see,” he whispered.

Then, with a puff of laughter, his head fell into an overturned hand. “Damn. I’m an idiot.”

“You’re overly careful, and a little dense, but not an idiot,” his twin corrected. “Well, not yet. But if you keep dawdling here and waste the rest of this lovely spring day with me instead of her … well, then you’re irredeemable, I’m afraid.”

No further advice was needed.

After throwing down some bills to pay for the latte he’d been far too nervous to drink, Ebenezer thanked his brother and left the café immediately, starting down Cooper’s Row and moving briskly northward in the direction of Lloyd’s Avenue. In one hand, he held onto his bifold, making a beeline to an esteemed florist he knew to be nearby. In another, he held his cell.

He punched in Constance’s number by heart, then crossed his fingers she would answer.

Just two hours later, right as the sun set, Ebenezer was en route to the cottage Constance shared with her three roommates.

She’d not only picked up, but … she’d sounded happy. Relieved, even.

“Really? Y-Yes! I was hoping you’d ask me out again. It’s been a while…I’d love too!”

After purchasing a large bouquet of forsythia dressed on golden tissue and coffee-colored satin ribbon, he’d gone back to his flat, changed into one of his finest suits, and drove to her home to pick her up. It was nice enough that he could have walked, but he had special plans for the evening, and wanted to make sure her every whim would be catered to. Whether it was the comfort of not catching a chill on a nighttime walk or the relief of not having to walk blocks in tall heels (which he knew she liked to wear) he was devoted to anticipating her every need and catering to it.

There would be no more half-measures.

As he drove, his thoughts droned in his head like a hive of aggravated bees.

“It’s been a while.”

She’d been waiting. For him.

Bloody hell, his heart ached to think that she had doubted his interest in her. He’d had her best interest in heart, true, but he’d made assumptions.

Not again, he told himself firmly, gripping the wheel firmly as he turned into the cottage’s narrow drive from the side street and parked his car.

His long legs carried him from the driver’s seat of his car and to the front door in record time. After a small internal debate about ringing the bell or knocking, he opted for the bell. It felt more gentlemanly, he reasoned, which is what he wanted to be for her.

He’d braced himself the best he could before the front door opened, and yet, he still wasn’t prepared for what he saw.

“Gods above.”

Constance stepped out, dressed in a spaghetti-strapped satin dress that rested as beautifully over her as a second skin. The color, a deep coffee shade, transported him to his dream from the night before. Her hair, pulled back partially with a black ribbon, was curled to perfection. A pair of strappy, black heels artfully laced up those wonderfully sculpted legs, the patent black color matching her handbag.

As she stepped out into the night, she smiled bashfully. “Hi.”

“H-Hello,” he said, then brandished the flowers for her. “For you.”

At the sight of the impressive blooms, her eyes lit up in joy. He took equal pleasure in placing the bouquet in her arms with ginger care, taking a step back afterward to admire the full sight of her.

She cradled the long stalks of forsythia like one would cradle an infant, her disbelief as endearing as it was legitimate. “T-These are beautiful … and the ribbon! I-It even matches my dress! How did you know?”

“I just had a feeling you’d wear that color tonight,” he said, “Brown does looks gorgeous on you. Like every other color.”

He paused, his gaze licking up and down her form. “You … look breathtaking.”

Burying her face in the golden petals to conceal a laugh, she peered up at him with excited eyes. “T-Thank you.”

Heat passed between them – a raw need clothed in tepid exteriors.

“Ebenezer, I…”

“Con, don’t forget a jacket!” a voice called from within. “You were shivering in the house in that dress. It’s going to be even colder outside.”

Elizabeth "Bess" Sullivan, Constance’s best friend (more like a sister, from how close they were) stepped out from behind the door brandishing a lace trimmed, wrap jacket for her to slip into. At the sight of her date standing there, her sapphire eyes took a moment to read him up and down, as if sizing him up.

Before a word was spoken, he knew what was coming.

“Why, hello there, stranger,” she said, her tone unreadable. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

So, it had been noticed. Of course it had been.

“A horrible oversight on my end,” the man replied, dipping his head respectfully to the midnight-haired woman. “Rest assured; it won’t happen again. I’ve missed having this lovely lady in my life far too much.”

Constance blushed and Bess hummed.

“Trust me,” he added, “If I ever forget myself, you have permission to initiate some choice words with me. Although, you may have to get in line behind my brother to do so.”

The corner of Bess’ mouth quirked upward. “Ah. Good, then.”

After a small detour inside to place the impressive flowers in a vase of water, Bess hugged her friend and bid her off into the night, telling her to be safe, and to enjoy her evening.

“Call if you need anything,” Bess muttered, helping to fix the jacket prettily and evenly upon her shoulders, “I’ll be up and have my phone on me.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Constance replied, but her tone dripped with gratitude all the same. “Oh! Um, should I pick anything up while I’m out?”

“What? Of course not, you goofball! You’re on a date. Just have fun.”

After one last hug and whisper of encouragement, Constance drifted to Ebenezer’s side. Offering her an arm, he carefully led her down the cottage walkway and to his McLaren 540C, where he opened the door for her to slide in. She did so with a murmured ‘thank you’ that made the hairs on his neck stand on end.

With one last polite wave to Bess, he rolled out of the narrow drive and merged back into the main roadway, the sounds of regular city traffic rushing to meet them as he accelerated onto the freeway.

As they cruised through the twinkling streets of an after-dark London, Constance took the opportunity to glance over and smile. “I didn’t have a chance to say so when you were picking me up, but you look … very handsome tonight.”

She blushed then, averting her eyes nervously. “I mean, you always look handsome! It’s not like tonight is the exception. But you look … especially dashing tonight.”

One hand remaining on the wheel, he reached over and took one of her smaller hands in his. Lifting it to his lips, he kissed her knuckles, allowing his touch to linger for a few extra seconds after the initial caress ended.

“I’m glad you think so,” he said truthfully. “Thank you.”

He wore a dark navy Brioni ensemble with soft, pale blue stripes and darts to add just enough texture without being too busy on his tall frame. His belt and shoes were made from a deep, dark brown leather, matching her outfit yet again. It was a choice he’d instinctually made at the last second, but it was paying dividends in spades. Judging by how her keen eyes examined him, she was … impressed.

“By the way, you never said where we’re going tonight,” she realized aloud. “Is it a surprise?”

He chuckled as they lazily rolled to a stop at a red light.

“Not an intentional one, but I hope you’ll enjoy it nonetheless,” he said, shifting the gear manually. “Want me to tell you?”

She hummed, considering the offer, then shook her head. “No. I think I’d like to be surprised!”

He laughed, nodding in agreement. “Very well. We’ll be there in five minutes, so you won’t have to be in suspense long.”

Her eyes widened, the bright blue orbs practically neon against the dark cityscape behind her. “Five minutes? It’s that close?”

“It’s a secretive, hole-in-the-wall place. Exclusive, you could say. I’ve known about it for a while.”

“Have I been there?”

“Not that I’m aware.”

“Hm. Well, I'm still getting used to the city, so it'll be exciting to see anywhere new! Heck, it may become a new favorite spot."

He chuckled warmly, snapping on his turn signal to weave down a slightly tighter street in a more historic area of the city. "I certainly hope so."

True to his word, five minutes later, he expertly parallel parked his car in a free space along the cobbled street. Stepping out after a cursory glance to make sure the street was clear, he rounded the car and opened the door for her. “And here we are. Here.”

Dipping down and offering a hand to help her stand, he guided her out of the car with expert poise and grace. He was quick to note the slippery glaze coating the cobblestones below.

As poised and professional as Constance was, she wasn't the steadiest on her feet. Ever.

Just as she lost balance, his arm flew around her waist to support her. "Woah! Ha...careful there. I've got you."

Her hand landed squarely over his chest, as if magnetizing to the pulsebeat of his heart.

“Oh! U-Um, thank you.”

He nodded, his hands holding firm even after she was momentarily steady. “Anytime.”

As they walked into the small, vertical brownstone, his arm remained protectively around her. For good reason too, as she looked around in intrigue as they drew closer, focusing anywhere but where she was walking. Unlike the other bars lining the street, the one they were advancing into has a large stoop and spacious windows with blooming boxes of pansies, ironically hardy against the spring night chill.

The centerpiece of the establishment was a palatial arched doorway, the columns on either side made of emerald green marble and gilded rings of sculpted flowers.

The warm, Italianate features of the building were a stark contrast to the moss-dappled stone walls and dark iron accents featured on other pubs and shops dotted along the lamplit historic streets.

Her eyes sparked at the scenery, and he couldn’t resist smirking at the fact that he knew why.

“Does it remind you of home?” he inquired as they reached the door. “Of New York?”

“It does,” she answered. “W-where are…”

 With a light shove, he pushed the door open to reveal a cozy, dimly lit speakeasy. Stained glass lamps diffused soft halos of warm light over an impressive bar. Tall bookcases lined the walls, each one stacked to the brim with novels and vintage paperbacks. Potted plants and palms of all shapes and sizes were scattered about, all as lush and green as if they’d been planted in the Amazon. The walls, patched with peeling wallpaper, displayed framed prints of Matisse’s Polynesian-inspired works, alongside other impressionist, oceanic pieces.

On the sill of one of the front windows, a glass bowl was adorned with sticks of orange and cayenne-scented incense, the smoke filling the air with a biting, fruity aroma.

It … looked like home.

“It’s a New York-inspired dive, right here in London,” he said. “Completely authentic. Well, as authentic as you could manage here, of course.”

He took a peek at her face, delighted by her obvious excitement. Still too thrilled to speak, the woman allowed Ebenezer to help her out of her jacket and escort her to the bar, lined with mismatched stools that looked like they’d been plucked out of a handful of diners from across the country.

The bartender, in a decently-passing American Midwest accent (it was a little too Patrick Bateman-esque to be convincing, she thought with a grin), ask the two what they’d like for the evening.

“Don’t even try it, man,” Ebenezer teased. “She’s from Manhattan. Born and raised.”

Blanching, the man looked to her with a look that begged forgiveness. “Ough, sorry! Cripes, that must’ave been like getting a knife in ya ear!”

“No, not al all!” Connie replied with a laugh, waving a manicured hand about as if to wave away his worries. “It’s not like I can pull off a convincing London accent on my end, and I live here!”

The good faith earned them a free preliminary round of drinks, put on the tab of “American generosity.”

One scotch and vodka soda later, the two tucked themselves into a corner booth, their small table forcing the two to cozy up, their legs practically crossing over the other’s. They were practically joined at the hip, yet it wasn’t an arrangement either of them minded in the slightest.

As they sipped their drinks, the antique speakers played a tinny recording of Tracy Chapman, the soft vocals filling the intimate lounge wall to wall with swells of sound. Each crescendo or thrumming melody reverberated with the passion of a second heartbeat.

Maybe together we can get somewhere Any place is better Starting from zero, got nothing to lose Maybe we'll make something Me, myself, I got nothing to prove

“This place is so perfect,” she whispered, glancing around the space, breathing deeply, as if she was trying to lock the memory away in her brain and her lungs to live in for as long as possible. “I…really feel like I’m back in SoHo. Or Brooklyn.”

Laughing in equal parts relief and joy, he eyes her idle hand on the table. His free hand itched to reach out and take it. “I’m so glad you like it here.”

“Oh, I love it! I’ll have to come here more often. It’s not too far from the bank, yes?”

He hummed as he calculated a rough estimate of the distance in his head. “It’s … fifteen blocks, maybe.”

“Not bad at all! Oh, I’ll definitely be coming here more often after work. Imagine this place on a humid, rainy day!"

"I thought you disliked rain?"

"Oh, I do, but here on a rainy day? That's different!"

"What? How so?"

"Listening to jazz while thumbing through old books and drinking espresso all day? Oh, I already have chills!”

She was so visibly enthralled and happy … it was impossible for him to take his eyes off her. Well, truthfully, that was the case for him anytime he was fortunate enough to share space the same space and breathe the same air as her. Yet, in that moment, her palpable glee was so contagious that he found himself homesick for neighborhoods in a city he’d never set foot in before.

“Well, if it’s not far from the counting house, perhaps we could … both come here more often?” she asked tentatively, peering up at him through spiked, mascara-coated lashes.

The man’s expression softened, but his smile broadened.

“I…think I could absolutely agree to that arrangement,” he replied.

Reaching out, he took his hand gingerly in his own, his thumb stroking the underside of her warmed palm.

“In fact, Constance, I’d … very much like to see you as often as possible,” he began softly,

“Oh?” There was a skip in her gasp.

“I’d…quite like the honor of officially courting a lady like you,” he whispered, leaning in close enough so his words were audible only to her. She followed suit, the resulting proximity nudging them close enough for their foreheads to touch.

The feeling of skin on skin made her shudder, and when their eyes connected again, he spied the most lovely, apricot blush on her cheeks.

“I’d very, very much like that,” she replied, just a touch breathless. "Is it ... alright for us to do this? I'm not going to...put you at risk for losing credibility, right?"

Of course, she was concerned for his reputation, not her own.

"Nothing would put me at risk," he said, his tone hushed but firm. "I have everything I could want, in a business sense, and additional resources to be comfortable forever even should the market plummet tomorrow. I need nobody's approval for us to be together ... except yours."

“Ebenezer. I-I don’t know what to say.”

“I do,” he said.

You gotta make a decision Leave tonight or live and die this way

“I’m sorry it took me so long, angel.”

With a sound that sounded something between a sob and a laugh, she leaned forward and urged him into a kiss. He accepted readily, tilting his head to meet hers, then moaning one their mouths molded fully. His free hand traveled up her arm to grip her shoulder, her tanned skin practically branding him. Holding her was like embracing condensed sunlight, her form blazing with heat and radiance.

The dimness of the space concealed them from nosy onlookers, keeping each other’s looks of bliss and gasps of delight a secret from everyone else except them.

Their kiss ensnared the attention of all his senses. He all but drank in the taste of vodka on her lips, and practically melted when he felt her lift one of her bare legs to possessively twine around one of his, her heeled foot running up and down his leg.

He could have nudged her against the closest wall and kissed her senseless, and a primal part of him wanted to do just that and more. Yet, the other part of him wanted to be … softer. To hold her, Kiss her. Stroke her hair, and continue to tenderly hold her hand all through the night.

When the kiss broke, punctuated by her giving his bottom lip a playful bite, he swore he’d never felt such fondness for another in all his days. In that moment, she had his body, mind and heart as her playground … and instead of toying with him and having a field day, she laid her head of cinnamon-colored hair upon his shoulder.

He was quick to angle himself so she could rest as comfortably as possible, a hand falling upon her back to caress lovingly.

Lovingly, he thought, practically delirious from joy.

When he did look up and saw the bartender making his rounds and polishing up the water rings and napkins left behind by other patrons, he held his hand up, calling for another rounds of drinks.

They were going to be there for quite a while, he figured.

After all, they had a lot of lost time to make up for, and all the approval they needed to get started.

Tracy Chapman always makes me tear up, but these two find it romantic! Silly geese, these two.

[rom-e-o]

Mr. Scrooge isn’t the only one that relives the terrors of the past.

[rom-e-o]

A modern Connie wedding dress concept.

[rom-e-o]

I woke up with no hangover! Let’s celebrate.

Spicy artwork below the cut (18+) MINORS DNI.

[rom-e-o]

“Now kiss” I say

[rom-e-o]

He falls asleep in the LEAST comfortable positions ever. It’s as baffling as it is adorable.

[rom-e-o]

They’re going to dinner after work. 💕

@quill-pen I like to think Bess inspired the scarf moment. ☺️

[rom-e-o]

Ooooh, those rascals

[rom-e-o]

wippy wip of a couple drunk dorks

[rom-e-o]

“I love when you roll up your sleeves like that.”