#so anyway enjoy this barely edited ficlet i churned out in an hour | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

quill-pen · 5 months

Text

I saw a relationship TikTok, and got inspired, and churned this out. Enjoy, fellow Scroogians and Bess stans!

Rated T for some language, innuendo, and emotional abuse/manipulation.

Warnings: Barely edited. Let's walk on the wilder side!

Synopsis: A bachelor party is supposed to be a man's last night of freedom. At least, that's what society claims.

Freedom: A Timeless Scroogeverse ficlet

Bess bit down on her tongue to try and quell the torrent of annoyance bubbling up inside of her. She gripped her notepad so tightly her knuckles turned white. "Oliver, please?" she beseeched her fiancé for what must have been the fiftieth time in the last hour. "Can we try to focus on getting some wedding planning done right now? Even just the basics?" She tried to keep her tone even and non-accusatory, but still serious to let the young man know she was serious.

Olive seemed to have not heard her as he continued to focus solely on his game. "Oh-hooooo! Get rekt, bitch-ass!" He blew some rival player in half and leveled up. "Boo-yah! Sorry, babe, what were you saying?"

Bess was just about ready to grab the gaming system, the headphones, and the controller, and chuck the whole thing out the window, but then she would be sans all of it considering it was hers, so she refrained. "Oliver, honey, please!" Fifty-one. "Just give me fifteen minutes--even ten. Just to jot down some ideas for our wedding or get some dos and don'ts."

Oliver rolled his eyes as he released a heavy, long-suffering sigh. "I thought the wedding planning was all the girl's thing," he grumbled as he began to jump into another level.

"I mean, yeah, it's kinda turned into that, unfortunately. But I don't want it to be that way with us; we're both getting married, after all--it's both our wedding. We should both have a say." She sat in silence for a minute and waited to see if he would respond. None came. Typical. Bordering on desperation, Bess reached out, paused the game, and moved to stand in between Oliver and the screen. Then she grabbed the controller from his hands and sat it out of the way.

Oliver glared at her. "Hey!" he snapped. "What the hell, Specks--I'm playing! I'm going for the record of most kills in an hour!"

"And you can go back to that after we get some basics covered," Bess shot back, glowering right back at him. "We need at least six months to get stuff ready for the wedding, Oliver--we've put this off long enough. We need to have stuff decided by the end of February."

"Ugh! Fine! Anything to make you stop bitching and leave me alone!"

Bess felt a familiar twinge in her soul at those words and for a moment her resolve wavered. But she stayed. "Have you decided what color you want?

"Sure. Green."

The girl gave him a flat look. "Really?"

Oliver gave her a questioning look. "What? What's wrong with green."

"Nothing. Except I know your favorite shade of green and considering my color is yellow, we might as well just have John Deere decorate the entire thing for us."

Oliver's eyes sparked with an idea. "Hey, you think maybe-"

"No, I don't think they'd actually do it. Not that it matters because it wouldn't happen on my watch anyway."

Oliver crossed his arms stubbornly and stuck his nose in the air. "Well, if I can't have my green, you can't have yellow."

Bess shrugged. "Fine. We'll go secondary colors. Mine's lavender."

"Camo."

"We're not having camo for a wedding color."

"Why not?"

"A) It's not a color--it's a pattern. B) You don't even like the cool-looking camo--you like the ugly, realistic type hunters wear. C) If we have camo at our wedding, you and your buddies are gonna be making invisibility jokes the whole ceremony and reception, and I'm gonna wanna bash your heads in for it."

"Aw, come on, Specks. Just think about it: Me in a camo tux and my best man looking around all confused and going, "Who's she supposed to be marrying?" It would get so many laughs! Classic!"

"Ha-ha, yeah, no--you're not getting camo. Pick a color."

"Fine. Brown."

"Okay. Lavender and brown--those are nice, we can totally work with them."

Oliver sighed. "Great," he grumbled. "We got the colors figured. Can I play my game now?"

"It's my game because I bought it with my money, and no, not just yet. We still need to decide on our parties."

"What's there to decide? We're havin' 'em. Ain't nothin' gonna stop me from getting my bachelor party, I'll tell ya that right now."

"Fair enough."

Oliver snorted in superiority. "Hmph! Like I was 'bout to be cheated outta my strippers--yeah, right."

Bess paused in her notetaking. An uncomfortable sensation settled in the pit of her stomach like a boulder and refused to leave. "S-St-Strippers?" she just barely managed to croak out. She continued to stare at her notepad, unable to find the strength to look up at her fiancé. She felt her cheeks flush with heat.

"Of course," Oliver answered unashamedly, dismissively. "What else would you have at a bachelor party?"

Bess gnawed on her bottom lip, anxiously tapping the tip of her pencil against the notepad. "Uh--ahem!--a-are you s-sure you want strippers?" she asked, her voice sounding meek, small, and pathetic. Fitting--she felt pathetic.

Oliver threw back his head in a biting laugh at that question. "Specks, that's what a bachelor party's for! That's the only thing it's for! Why have one otherwise if you can't hire hot babes to get naked and grind on your lap? It'd be a waste of money! Besides, strippers at bachelor parties are tradition, and you know how I am about tradition."

Bess finally lifted her head just enough to peek out at the boy from underneath her hair. "You think traditions are stupid and meaningless," she pointed out quietly.

Oliver's eyes widened a bit and his face flushed; he'd been caught out. "Ahem! Well... I-I've changed my mind." His momentary flummoxing faded away and he looked confident and cocky again. "I mean, I am an engaged man after all--I'm growing." He reached around Bess and grabbed up the controller again. "Now, can we be done, Specks? Racing the clock for my record-breaking moment here." He grabbed Bess by the arm and rather forcefully pulled her out of the way of the computer. For added measure, he gave her a rather hard swat on the rump to send her on her way. "Love ya, babe. Mind makin' me a snack?"

Bess staggered a few steps away with a yelp. She reached around to rub her stinging buttock, and stood there a moment in a daze, still processing the conversation. Then she turned back to her fiancé. "O-Oliver?" she stammered voice still quieter than she would have liked. "Ollie... I-I think we need to talk more. A-About this stripper thing?"

"You volunteering to find some good strippers for me?" Oliver asked over his shoulder. He was already back to sprinting through the map to locate his next target. "'Cuz otherwise, I gotta rely on Mack and the guys, and you and I both know he's kinda an idiot for stuff like this and might get duped into hiring some fat, old, slobby wannabes looking to make a quick buck through Craig's List or some shit. I don't want wannabes--I want real, professional strippers."

Bess stared at him for a long moment, not quite believing what she was hearing. Oliver had never been particularly empathetic or even that great of a guy, but to ask her--his betrothed--to "find him some good strippers" for his bachelor party? This seemed like an entirely new layer of scummy Bess had yet to encounter. "I..." Bess began, then stopped. She tried to think of what to say: She wasn't always the greatest at putting her feelings into words Oliver could understand. "Oliver... I don't like the idea of strippers."

"That's okay. You don't have to watch them."

"Oliver, me watching them is not the problem; you watching them is what I don't like."

Oliver paused his game and swiveled around to look at his fiancée. "That right?" he asked, a certain edge to his voice.

Bess felt her anxiety spike with that tone. "I-It makes me uncomfortable," she stuttered, gripping her notepad tight and close to her chest, almost as if it were a shield. "The idea of you watching and getting rubbed on by naked women that aren't me... it feels... gross."

Oliver looked her up and down, his face unfathomable. That just made Bess more nervous. "Okay," he said after a moment with a non-committal shrug. "So, I'll tell the girls they can't get naked and rub up on me."

Bess shook her head. "That's not really the point--naked or scantily clad, I don't like the idea of you interacting with other women in any kind of sexual manner. It makes me feel... disrespected."

Oliver was tensely quiet for a minute. "So... what else do you think I should do instead?" he pressed, an angry bit to his voice. "If you're too insecure to trust me around other women?"

Bess felt tears sting her eyes at that accusation. "Ollie, I do trust you-"(at least she tried her best to)"-I just don't see why you need attention like that from any other women but me. I don't need it from any other guys but you." The girl prayed her fiancé would see her case; the idea of going on much longer with this conversation was a nightmare.

"I don't need it," Oliver corrected her. "I want it."

That doesn't make it better. "But why?"

"Because I'm a dude, Specks: I like it. Besides, don't I deserve to be treated real good on my last night of freedom?"

Bess was at a loss as to what to say to that. "I-I-I-"

"Look, babe, just because you're not as hot as a stripper doesn't mean you gotta worry me being snatched away by one of 'em okay?" Oliver's voice was infuriatingly patronizing. "After all, everyone knows you don't get caught up with a nine or ten. The fours through sixes are the marriage material girls." The boy had the audacity to wink up at her with a smirk. "And I've got my cute little five picked," he stated. "Ain't nothin' changing that."

Bess had never felt more disgusted. Or disgusting. She knew, objectively, she didn't rank above average in attractiveness and, even then, wasn't on the higher end of average either. But to learn that her own fiancé--the man she was about to marry and spend the rest of her life with--didn't even find her above average subjectively? The girl felt as gutted as a dead fish.

"O-Oliver... please..." she tried to continue, trying to hide her heartbreak and humiliation, "... I really don't think-"

"Oh, my god!" Oliver suddenly erupted, his face going dark. "It's not that big a deal--just let it go, Bess! Shit, you can be so controlling, ya know that? It's not my problem you feel like a fugly cow and can't handle other girls giving me attention!"

Bess stepped back in wide-eyed surprise. Oliver had never snapped at her quite like that before! A slight sting burning in her eyes, the dark-haired girl shook her head and started pleading: "O-Ollie, p-please-"

"It's my last night of freedom before I get stuck with you for the rest of my life--it's not gonna hurt anything to just let me have this one thing for one night. It's not like I'm gonna have it ever again! Jesus--Mom warned me about you being a bridezilla: Can't believe she was right! How fucking entitled are you to think you have any say in how I spend my last night of freedom?"

"You're right!" Bess suddenly blurted, desperate to get him to calm down. His yelling was quickly turning her nerves raw. "Y-You're completely right. I don't have any right to tell you how to plan your bachelor party or any say in what you do for it. It's your special night, and you deserve to be treated... y-you deserve to be treated."

The thundercloud that had quickly arisen in Oliver's eyes just as quickly evaporated away. He smiled rather triumphantly. Even smugly. "Glad you're finally seeing reason, Specks," he crooned. "I was afraid we were gonna have to call everything off. I'm not about to be stuck in a toxic relationship like some lame-ass chump. Love ya and everything, babe, but Oliver Sprague ain't no fucking simp!" He spun back around to start up his game again. "Now I need some peace and quiet, babe. Still got time to beat the record if I move fast enough!"

Left in a welling, dizzying pool of emotions, Bess simply turned to leave without a word, shutting the door behind her. Then, before she knew it, she was running, sprinting down the hall to the bathroom. With no time to lift the toilet lid, she lunged for the tub and spewed into it violently, painting the slick, off-white surface with partially digested food. She heaved over and over again until her stomach decided it was empty enough and wouldn't send anything else up.

Coughing and panting, tears and snot streaming down her face, Bess fumbled with one hand towards the faucet and turned the water on full bore. She changed to the shower setting to wash her puke down the drain. Then, exhausted and overwhelmed with emotions, the young woman collapsed against the side of the tub and sobbed. "I can't do this! I can't do this! I can't do this! I can't do this!"

Bess had never felt more trapped than while hearing her fiancé talk about his last night of freedom.

Bess stopped at the bottom of the steps to, once again, check the contents of the basket over her arm. For a brief moment, she feared she forgot the mustard, but, after double checking underneath a stack of napkins she thought she might have placed over the jar, she was reassured she hadn't and that everything was in its place. Whistling a little tune to herself, the woman mounted the steps and entered the two-story, Victorian-age, brick bank. The electronic tone announcing her arrival chimed throughout the floor.

"Be with you in just a moment!" a female, American voice called out.

Bess smiled as she turned her attention to the desk tucked behind a partition to her right. Behind the half-wall, sat a familiar copper-colored bun skewered with a pair of pencils in front of a computer monitor. "Hey," Bess greeted as she approached the desk. "Anybody order lunch?" She sat the basket on the desk and beamed ear to ear as that copper ponytail and the woman it was attached to rocketed around in her swivel chair to face her. "Hey, Con."

Her former housemate and best friend, Constance DoGoode (soon to be Scrooge) grinned back at her. "Did you say 'lunch'?" she asked.

Giggling, Bess reached in and pulled out a wax-paper-wrapped bundle. "Know anybody around here who likes toasted bagel sandwiches with salmon, avocado, arugula, cheddar, pickles, and tomato?"

Connie was immediately reaching for the paper-wrapped sandwich. "Oh, my goodness, I love you!" she exclaimed. "I'm famished! You'd be surprised how hungry inputting and adding up numbers can make you!"

"I have a feeling it'd just piss me off," Bess snorted as she watched her sister figure rip off the wax paper and chomp with a crunch into her sandwich. A little wave of anxious anticipation twinged through her. "How is it?"

Eyes closed, Connie raised a hand and slowly chewed her bite of sandwich. Finally, she swallowed. "This..." she began, slowly looking up at her friend with a bright grin, "... has got to be the best thing you've ever put together, Bess!" She dove back in for another bite. "Oh my god--so good!"

Relief washed over the dark-haired woman. "I tried something a little different this time. Gal asked me to help her come up with some new condiments and sauces for the cafe and pub. I decided to try a peppercorn mayo and I used it on your sandwich. What do you think? Any good?"

"Amazing!" Connie exclaimed around a mouthful of sandwich. "It adds the perfect little zing to everything; just the right amount of heat."

Bess beamed. "Good. Oh, and there's this." She reached again into the basket and pulled out a brown lunch sack. "There's some dessert in here, and a couple jalapeño poppers leftover from what I made for dinner last night with Wolf and Carl. And..." she reached in again and brought forth a little thermos decorated in cute, smiling cartoon suns and sunflowers, "... some pink lemonade that Mr. Cobblebottom brought over this morning." She sat both the thermos and sack down and pushed them towards Connie.

The redhead smiled up at her. "You're the greatest, ya know?" she remarked affectionately. "An absolute gem. Have I told you that lately?"

Bess smirked mischievously. "You could stand to mention it more," she teased with a playful wink. She turned her head in the direction of the back-office space and found it was empty. "The boys?" she inquired, raising an eyebrow at Connie.

Connie quirked an eyebrow towards the ceiling in indication. "Surprise business meeting."

There was suddenly a sound like the scraping of chairs on floors and the clattering of footsteps overhead.

"Sounds like they're done," Connie stated. "Right on time."

Bess turned her attention to the small stairwell on the left side of the room to see a group of people she recognized as the Scrooges' business associates and didn't know by name, come streaming out. Out with them came Bob, Ebenezer, and Ebenezar. The men were all still talking to one another, relaying their last opinions about whatever they'd been discussing, settling plans, and recounting short anecdotes.

A particularly short, round little man with a purple-red complexion and a walrus mustache was monopolizing Bess' dear Ebenezar's--or Wolf's--attention. "Listen, Benny-boy," he was saying, his voice a bit louder and more boisterous than the others, "all I'm saying is I've known you and your brother a long time--practically since you started in this business when old Marley hired you boys. I found out about your brother's wedding too late to put forth my candidacy to be the Best Man, but I'm not too late to do it for your wedding."

Wolf was looking rather annoyed (accurate, considering he hated anyone but those closest to him to refer to him as "Benny-boy"--and even then, he only liked to hear it from Magda) and uncomfortable. "That's most generous of you, Mr. Tittersmyth," he replied, trying to be as polite as possible. "But my brother is going to fill that roll."

Mr. Tittersmyth wasn't giving up. "Wait, wait--I haven't finished yet," he stated, completely unfazed. "As your best man, I'll make sure you get to have as much say in your wedding preparations as possible; because I'll be honest with you, my boy, women? You have to do battle to wrest any sort of control from them when it comes to a wedding! Otherwise, you're going to end up with a frilly, frou-frouy, powderpuff wedding that focuses solely on your bride, and you're just standing there beside her like a well-dressed doorstop. The very idea of a wedding--of a marriage--caters almost exclusively to the feminine sensibilities. We men have to fight for our voices to be heard or risk losing our very identity! Trust me, I know. Happened at my first two weddings; Everything was what my brides wanted--I was lucky to choose what color I wanted, and even then, I was given options to pick from. I don't know why neither of them liked my first choice: Pea green goes quite well with magenta and lilac, wouldn't you say so, Ben?"

Wolf looked at a complete loss for words. He began to flicker his gaze around the room to find something--anything--to use as a life-preserver in this sinking conversation. Instantly, his eyes fell on Bess. Immediately the banker lit up like a supernova, his fake smile turning into a genuine grin, his eyes softening with adoration and sparkling with joy. "Bess! My beautiful, wonderful darling!" he practically laughed. He strode towards her, looking like he was trying very hard to not break into a run to get away from Mr. Tittersmyth. In just a few strides of his long legs, the man was sweeping the woman up into his embrace and kissing her fully, unabashedly, somewhat gratefully.

Bess squeaked in some alarm at the sudden onslaught of blatant affection with such a professional audience in the room, but then she much too easily sunk into it. Her insides liquified to mush that bubbled and tickled in the most delightful way. She held her man's jaw in her hands to keep him close and let her eyes drift shut as she angled deeper into the kiss. The Yank felt breathless and lighter than air.

"Well, golly," Bess giggled when they finally broke the lip-lock. "What a welcome. Do you greet everyone who shows up in your office like that?"

"If this business deal goes off as planned," one of the associates stated with a chuckle, "I'll greet all of you boys like that next time I come in here." She sent a wry smirk Ebenezer's and Bob's way. A wink followed.

Bob blinked at the woman before turning to Ebenezer. "I feel like there's a threat in there somewhere," he stated only half-jokingly.

Ebenezer laughed awkwardly. He laid a hand on Bob's shoulder and gently ushered him away from the woman.

"What are you doing here, Brightness?" Wolf inquired, quirking a bushy brow. "I wasn't expecting you."

Bess shrugged within his arms. "Well, this morning, when you mentioned we probably wouldn't be able to go out for lunch because of all the work you had to get done, and that you probably wouldn't be going out for a lunch break at all, I decided I'd bring lunch to all of you."

"Isn't she just the greatest?" Connie chirped from behind her desk. She was never one to let a moment of praise for her loved ones slip by.

Wolf's eyes softened to a heartbreaking degree as he gazed upon the woman in his arms. "Yes," he agreed, speaking just loudly enough for his fiancée to hear. "The greatest, most amazing, most spectacular woman."

Bess blushed.

"Bess, you didn't have to do this," Ebenezer stated with an affectionate smile.

The dark-haired woman shrugged. "I know," she stated. "But it's no biggie. I'm off shift today and had the time. Besides, I enjoy cooking and making sure my people are taken care of." She smiled adoringly up at her fiancé who, in turn, bowed his head and touched his brow to hers. She bit back another girlish giggle.

"How utterly... traditional and domestic," the female associate replied. It was probably meant as a compliment, but the way she said it with such apparent disgust made it hard to take in a positive way. "I should go--my driver's waiting. I'll see you boys next time." She shook hands with Ebenezer and Bob (as well as rather coyly straightening his lapels and picking a piece of lint off his shoulder with rather suggestive finger movements) but bypassed Wolf altogether. For a second, she paused in front of the embracing couple as if in contemplation, then, with a look of distaste, moved on out the door.

The other associates slowly filtered out after her, all saying goodbye to the boys and the girls as well. A few slapped both Scrooge twins on the back with quiet little remarks along the lines of "You lucky fools," as they unashamedly ogled the women. Eventually, the only associate left in the room with the group of friends was old Mr. Tittersmyth. The stocky little man--a good two to three inches shorter than both Connie and Bess--approached the Wolves, his beady little eyes trained solely on Bess.

Seeing a hunger in his gaze, Bess shifted closer to her beloved, feeling even safer when his grip on her tightened and he moved a bit to stand between her and the man. Her grip on Wolf's waistcoat tightened as she pressed into his side.

"Well, well, well," Mr. Tittersmyth chuckled. "I've seen her pictures in the news, but are you going to finally introduce me to your pretty little vixen, Ben old boy?" The little businessman rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, looking much too eager for either Bess or Wolf's tastes.

The couple exchanged a look. Wolf was uncertain, as he didn't want to introduce his bride-to-be to such a lecher as he knew Mr. Tittersmyth to be. However, as lecherous as he could be, Tittersmyth was most definitely an important cog in the London business world and could either make future business proceedings and philanthropic ventures easier for the Scrooges, or much, much harder depending on if they pleased or displeased him; Tittersmyth was known to be excessively petty. Of course, despite all that, Bess' comfort and desires were the number one concern for Wolf, how ever Tittersmyth might end up feeling.

Picking up on her fiancé's silent inquiry, Bess smiled and nodded. Not that it didn't make her skin crawl, but she could make acquaintance with the old man. For the future her future husband and brother-in-law wanted, she could play nice with an old creep.

Wolf returned her small smile and nodded back. "Mr. Tittersmyth," he sighed, trying not to sound reluctant as he looked back at his associate, "this is my fiancée--Bess Sullivan."

"Bess," Tittersmyth repeated, his voice low and growly. He seemed to taste and savor her name, enunciating slowly and dragging out the 's' as though he were a snake. "What a lovely name."

Bess shivered. "Thank you," she replied quietly. Somehow, she managed to keep a smile on her face.

Wolf's fingers on her waist tightened. "Bess, Darling," he continued on, voice sounding a bit strained as he tried to keep civil, "this is an old associate of the business, Mr. Richard Tittersmyth."

"A pleasure," Tittersmyth said, extending a hand toward Bess. "You may call me 'Dick', Love." He gripped the woman's hand tightly when she placed it in his.

"That's kind," Bess returned as politely as she could. Her stomach lurched when she recognized that the man was going in to kiss her knuckles and wrenched her hand from his grip. "But I'm afraid I'm not comfortable with that, seeing as we just met, Mr. Tittersmyth."

Tittersmyth didn't seem a bit put out or fazed. Instead, his gaze grew darker as he leered again up at Bess, and he chuckled. "Feisty young thing," he remarked, folding his hands behind his back. "Knows her mind, I think." He took a step closer, angling to move around Wolf and get closer to Bess.

"That she does," Ebenezer cut in. He stepped in between Tittersmyth and his brother, as his twin--while pulling Bess further behind him--had now dropped his congenial mask and looked like he wanted to reach out to knock the fat little encroacher clean off his feet. "Bess is quite a self-assured woman of conviction."

"Ah, all the more reason to have me as your best man, wouldn't you say, Benny-boy?" Tittersmyth chuckled looking around one brother to the next. "I can make sure this pretty thing doesn't run roughshod over you with the planning." A sly smirk curled the man's lips, making his walrus mustache arch into grin. "And, uh, should it happen that your little woman needs some... extra entertainment-" he winked up at the tall billionaire rather conspiratorially, "-I'd be more than obliged to offer my assistance."

Bess felt both offended and nauseous at once. Bob spluttered on another thermos of lemonade he'd snuck over to take from the basket. Connie made a disgusted exclamation before clamping a hand over her ruby red lips. Ebenezer went white and glanced back over his shoulder at his brother.

Wolf looked borderline murderous, face red with that infamous vein popping and pulsing along his temple, jaw clenched so tight his teeth grinded, mouth and eyes drawn narrowly, hands clenching tight into a fist and onto Bess. He actually snarled, but only loud enough for both his brother and Bess to hear. The man made to move towards the little cad, but the tightening of his fiancée's grip and the shifting of his brother to stand even more in between Tittersmyth and himself stopped him. "I've been in the saunas with you, Tittersmyth," Wolf spat. "The only way you could possibly entertain Bess would be in the comic sense. Otherwise you would be of very pitiful and little assistance."

Bess bit her lip and shoved her face into Wolf's side to try and fight back the laughter that response threatened to summon from deep inside her. Connie snorted a bit, herself, and quickly swiveled around to face her computer to hide her goofy face.

Tittersmyth didn't even blink. He launched immediately into raucous laughter, grabbing at his round, jiggling belly. "HAAAAhahahaha! Oh, Ben! Good old Benny-boy! You always were the best one for wit and jokes." The little man, met Bess' eyes as she peeked out from her man's side and winked at her as he jutted a finger towards Wolf. "He's always liked to tease me, this one," he stated with a wide grin. "He can cut to the quick with it sometimes, but I know he's fond of me. Aren't you, Benny-boy?"

"As fond as two like magnetic poles."

That just made Tittersmyth laugh harder. "What a laugh you are, Ben!" he exclaimed as he slipped his hat on and turned to leave. "What a laugh!"

He was about to walk out the door when he paused and turned back to the group. "Just saying, Ben," he said, a singsong in his voice, "have me as your best man, and I'll get you the best exotic dancers for your stag."

If it were possible, Wolf's face flushed even darker red as his whole body went rigid. "Leave. This. Instant!" he barked savagely.

Tittersmyth did not drop his jovial smile. "Just keep it in mind, my boy." And with that, the codger finally left, whistling jauntily as he went.

The tension finally eased out of the air as Tittersmyth faded from view.

Sighing heavily in weariness, Wolf relaxed in Bess' grip and turned his full attention back to her. "I'm so sorry you were subjected to that... indecorous manner, Brightness," he murmured regretfully. The man lifted a large hand and gently brushed a curl of hair from his lover's face before stroking the backs of his fingers along her jawline as she gazed up at him. He felt the anger and irritation melt away as he gazed into those velvety, midnight eyes of hers. "I was hoping to prepare you a bit more for your first meeting with Tittersmyth, instead of having him thrust upon you like today."

Bess smiled reassuringly up at him. Standing up on tip-toe, she cupped his jaw in her hands and pressed a soft kiss to his cheekbone. "It's okay," she assured him, nuzzling the kiss in. "It wasn't your fault. You didn't know I was coming to try and warn me away."

Wolf hugged her tighter. "I am happy you came, though," he whispered as he nuzzled her back. "I'm happy you're here." A kiss was pressed tenderly to her brow.

Bess giggled and gently pulled away from him and out of his grip, grabbing his large hands in hers as she did. "Well, you'll be even happier when you see the lunch I brought you. No working on empty tummies today, boys. There's plenty for everyone." She led her fiancé to the basket sitting on the desk that the other two men and Connie were back to investigating.

The next hour or so was filled with warm laughter and camaraderie as the group took up chairs and lunched together, both ladies opting to take seats in their respective fiancés' laps. The men quickly filled the women in on what the meeting had been about, then spent the rest of the time chattering and laughing about the bank's associates. (Tittersmyth, of course, was a particular target for mockery.) The bank was filled with good vibes and cheer.

Even so, as Bess sat in Wolf's lap, laughing with the others and teasing him by snitching off his food and drink, she felt a familiar sensation niggling deep in her stomach--one she hadn't felt for a long time. Tittersmyth's comment about exotic dancers kept playing through her head: No matter how hard she tried to push it down and forget about it, she simply couldn't. And that was what brought back the old feelings of disgust, anxiety, and inadequacy. She was starting to feel exactly as she had when she'd been engaged to Oliver. And no matter how hard Bess tried to reassure herself that her amazing Wolf was nothing like Oliver Sprague, the feelings simply would not leave her in peace.

Bess sat at the dining room table in Wolf's penthouse flat. The beautiful mahogany table had, yet again, been turned into a wedding planning station, just as it had every other night since they'd gotten engaged. While initially intimidated by the process as her first attempt with it had been a complete nightmare (ending in a bad breakup), the woman had quickly come to enjoy the process. There was something incredibly satisfying and confidence-boosting about making and solidifying wedding plans. And when you actually had a partner that could be mature about it and actually wanted to participate in the process, it could even be fun. Bess had actually started to become excited for the planning sessions.

But not tonight.

Tonight, Bess' mind was racing to the point she felt sick. She was still thinking about Tittersmyth and his parting comment. She was still about exotic dancers and stag parties. Her fingers drummed out a nervous beat on the table while her feet tapped rapidly to keep up.

She tried to calm herself with the facts of the scene. Wolf had seemed extremely angry with that comment and had insisted Tittersmyth leave; even so, Bess' proclivity to overthink and be anxious refused to take comfort in that knowledge. What if he'd just gotten upset because Tittersmyth had mentioned the topic in front of her? Could it be possible Wolf actually wanted strippers for his stag? Pre-marriage parties and strippers seemed to go hand-in-hand--like it was some rite of passage or something. Bess had made it clear to her girls early on she was not into that scene: She wasn't the sort of woman that wanted to watch some random man strip down and give her a lap dance. She'd also thought Wolf wasn't that kind of man, but could she have been wrong? It was his stag party--his last night of freedom after all. It was a bit different than just going to a club some random night in the week to watch women get naked and ride poles: A stag was a special celebration for a man. Was it really that big a deal to celebrate with a naked woman who wasn't her so long as there was no funny business?

Bess didn't know how to answer that, she just knew it made her feel sicker than ever. Sicker even than when she'd gone through this fiasco with Oliver.

A hand suddenly gripped onto her shoulder, ripping the American from her thoughts and causing her to scream in alarm. She tried to whirl around to face whoever grabbed her, but she upset her chair in the process and toppled over. "Yipe!"

"Bess!" Wolf exclaimed. He quickly bent over her to help pick her up off the floor, concern etched in deep lines on his face. "Oh, Darling, are you all right? I'm so sorry, Brightness; I didn't mean to frighten you! Had I realized you were zoned out instead of merely focusing, I would have been gentler."

Still trying to calm her racing heart, Bess did her best to smile at her fiancé and brush off the situation. "No, it's okay," she assured him, rubbing her backside with only a slight grimace. "Zoning out, focusing--I look pretty much the same either way. And I had all the wedding stuff out, so it made sense you thought I was just focused. Oof! That's gonna bruise though."

Wolf gave her a sorrowful look. "I'm so sorry, Moonlight," he repeated gently. "Let me get you an icepack." He moved into the kitchen and dug into the freezer. "So, what was it?" he called over his shoulder.

"What was what?" Bess returned as she sat her chair upright and picked up a few papers that had scattered.

"What was it you were thinking so hard on that you zoned out?"

Bess' stomach twisted in anxiousness. She wasn't sure she was ready to have this conversation. "Oh... ya know. Things. Wedding business."

"I see," Wolf replied, folding the icepack up in a soft towel. "Wedding business." He sounded a bit skeptical. Coming back to the woman, he handed her the pack and watched quietly as she sat back down and settled the ice over her sore elbow. Then he gently pressed: "Could this be the same wedding business you were thinking about when you left the bank today?"

Bess looked up at him, hoping her surprise didn't show on her face. Really, it was uncanny how this man could read and understand her so easily. The only other man that had ever been able to do that was her stepfather. "Why do you think I was thinking of anything then?" she tried to avoid the question, attempting another smile.

Wolf wasn't convinced. "Oh, I don't know," he drawled. He grabbed another chair and drew it closer to sit beside his love. He straddled it and crossed his lanky arms over the top of the back before resting his chin on his forearms. The man gazed closely at the woman. "Maybe because you had that thousand-metre stare you only get when you're brain goes into overdrive and can't stop racing. Maybe because you grew steadily quieter during lunch and had to have things repeated more than once to you before you processed them. Maybe because you didn't answer Connie's "See you later, alligator". Maybe because my bloody brother made a ghastly pun and you didn't even snort."

Bess went silent, unable to think of any sort of explanation to give the man. She felt the color drain from her face as her guts knotted and unknotted continuously. Damn his intuition! But also bless it.

Wolf smiled empathetically and stood to move around his chair and kneel beside hers. Taking one of her hands in one of his, he covered the back of it from her fingertips to her wrist in kisses before holding it against his chest. He gazed up into her eyes, the slate-blue of his warm and liquid. "What is it, Brightness?" he whispered. "You can tell me anything--you know that."

Bess managed a tiny smile. "I know that," she said. She reached up with her free hand to cup the man's sculpted chin in her palm. She gently scruffed her fingers in his muttonchops. "You make me feel so safe, Moonsong."

Wolf chuckled warmly and let his free hand reach up to place atop hers and flatten it closer to his face. Turning into her hand, he kissed the wrist, heel, and palm before turning back to her fully again. "You are safe," he assured her, stroking both of her hands with his thumbs. "I promise you. You will always be safe with me, Bess--you understand that?"

Bess nodded as she felt the sting of tears in her eyes. In an attempt to control them, she screwed her eyes shut and leaned in to plant a kiss along her beloved's hairline before touching her brow to his and breathing deeply. Even in her present anxiousness, the Yank had never felt so safe and loved.

Wolf held steady, allowing his love a moment to collect herself and use him as the rock to anchor herself to do so. "Was it Tittersmyth?" he inquired quietly when Bess wasn't pressing so hard against him.

Bess sighed, not pulling away from the contact yet. "Yeah," she rasped, voice a little shaky. "But... not in the way you might think." Finally, the woman pulled away from her fiancé and gave him a somewhat sheepish look.

Wolf scowled and let his gaze fall dramatically away from Bess. "I'll have his hide," he rumbled. When Bess snorted and giggled at that his smile returned and he looked back at her. "What was it then, Darling?" he gently prodded. He let go of her hand on his cheek and reached up to brush some loose hair from her eyes. He ran his fingers back along the coal-black waves and drew her loose ponytail forward over her shoulder to gently play with and twirl the strands. Bess always seemed to calm down best when he played with her hair. "What do I need to skin Tittersmyth alive for?"

Again, Bess snorted and shook her head. "You don't need to skin the old fool alive."

"Ah, we don't know that yet."

Bess rolled her eyes and cast her glance over the expanse of wedding planning tools spread out over the table. The smirk dropped from her face as she traveled back, not just to this afternoon with Tittersmyth, but all those years ago with Oliver. "Wolf..." she croaked out after a long silence, "... do... do you want... strippers at your stag?"

The man's fingers froze in her hair. His hand around hers at his chest tightened its hold. "What?" he nearly scoffed the answer.

Bess felt the tears in her eyes again, but this time they weren't coming from a place of happiness and love. She couldn't bring herself to look at the man she loved. "Because..." she had to gulp down the lump building in her throat, "... i-if you do... y-you can. I-I'm not gonna lie and say I'll be ha-happy about it, but it's your stag party, so I... I can be okay with it if you want strippers." Her chin was suddenly taken in a firm but tender grip and her face brought 'round to meet eyes with Wolf again. She gulped again as she gazed deep into those slate depths she loved so much.

The man looked at her for a long time, as if studying her closely for the very first time. He looked slightly... perplexed. Disbelieving. "Would you?" he finally uttered, voice very quiet. "Would you be all right if I had dancers at my stag, Bess?" Somehow the question sounded a bit like a challenge. A challenge to what?

Bess drew her lips into a thin line and set her jaw against an oncoming sob that made her chest and throat tighten painfully. She tried to breathe through it. "I... I think I could be okay with it," she managed to croak out, her voice sounding pathetic and broken.

Wolf's soft eyes grew sad, and it quickly spread across the rest of his features. "Bess...."

"I-It's your last night as a free man, after all. You sh-should get to spend it h-how you like, yeah?" Bess' vision was starting to swim now.

Without another word or any warning, Wolf was taking his mate into his arms and embracing her tight to his chest. Cradling her head, he pressed his lips to her crown in a lingering kiss. The way she curled up into such a small ball against him and pressed so close as she quietly shed tears into his shirt could have shattered his heart. Wolf knew how much Bess hated feeling this way--small, meek, frightened. She thought it made her weak and she hated to be viewed as weak. Of course, Wolf never viewed her that way, but the feelings remained all the same.

"This wasn't just because of Tittersmyth's comment," the man murmured after a moment when Bess' breathing seemed to have evened a bit. He stroked large hands over her hair and up and down her back in soothing strokes. "This was an issue with Oliver, wasn't it?"

Bess croaked out a laugh. She pressed her face deeper into his chest and moaned wearily as she gently smacked his shoulder. "Ugh. How do you always know?"

Wolf couldn't help the little chuckle that escaped him in turn. "Just lucky, I suppose." His fiancée snorted and he smiled, glad she was in slightly better spirits.

"Bess, my sweetest moondust," he went on after a moment, voice soft and low, "you wouldn't be all right with strippers at my stag party." It wasn't a question.

Bess sniffled and shook her head against his chest. "No."

"Then why say you would be?" He was sure he knew the answer, but even so, Wolf wanted to hear her say it. Bess being able to voice her feelings and have them listened to and taken seriously helped her to realize that her emotions and thoughts were valid--that she was valid.

Slowly, Bess pulled away from his embrace to sit back and face him again. She reached up to wipe away her tears and smiled when the man did as well, stroking her cheekbone and the inside of her nose with his thumb. It still amazed her how any man besides her stepfather could be so gentle and caring in every possible way with her.

"Bess?"

"Oliver... made a stink when I told him I didn't like the idea of strippers at his bachelor party."

Wolf made a quiet noise of derision in response to that. That fact didn't surprise him in the least bit.

"I tried explaining to him that, um... that the idea of him watching other women undress and having them g-get all up in his business... m-made me feel disrespected and gross." Bess made a dry laugh. "He didn't care. He was determined to get his strippers and who the hell was I to tell him what he couldn't and couldn't do for his bachelor party--his last night of freedom?" There was no mistaking the pain, anger, and betrayal in her own voice, even after all these years. Bess snorted at herself and buried her face in her hands. "I don't know why I'm still so upset about it. Moses, I'm so stupid!"

Wolf reached up and gently grabbed her wrists to pull her hands from her face. "No," he gently scolded. "Moonbeam, Darling, look at me." Her eyes came to his and he held her gaze as he shook his head. "No. We're not talking or thinking like that anymore, remember? We're going to feel what comes and acknowledge it, no matter how unreasonable it seems, yes?"

Bess sniffled and nodded. "Right. Because every emotion is valid," she repeated what their couple's counselor and told them many times. "Just not every action."

Wolf nodded. "So... did the rat bastard have his strippers?"

Bess scoffed and shrugged with a wry smirk. "Never made it that far. He wanted to celebrate his party the night right before our wedding. I'm sure he would've, though." Her voice dropped in a deeper register and took on a cartoonishly dim-witted drawl as was normal when she mocked and imitated her ex: "Like he was 'bout to be cheated outta his strippers."

Wolf chuckled at that, his gaze falling to their fingers as they absentmindedly played with each other, twining and untwining, playing out little battles of dominance. It was incredible how they just went together so easily--so naturally. It was something the billionaire had never suspected to have ever in his life. He wasn't about to let it go now. "Last night of freedom," he muttered, looking back up at Bess. "That's what Oliver called it?"

Bess nodded. "He made quite a point of it."

The man looked down at their entwined hands again, stilling his fingers to simply hold the woman he loved in the safety and security she deserved to have. How anyone could have ever treated her so harshly and cruelly as they had, he'd never understand. How Oliver Sprague had been able to two-time and betray her and not see the absolute blessing he had when he had her.... Perhaps it was a bit smug, but Wolf couldn't help but think that this is what was meant when the difference between boys and men was spoken of.

"Elizabeth Felicity Sullivan-Marley," he spoke after a moment, "my stag party would not be my "last night of freedom"." He looked up to find the eyes of his beloved focused completely on him and he smiled. "I haven't been a free man the moment you came into my life," he continued on. "And I certainly haven't been a free man since we became a couple." He brought her hands to his mouth again and kissed both of them with such sweet tenderness, Bess made that teary squeaky little whimper he loved to hear so much. Then he met her eyes again with all the sincerity in the world. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

Bess' heart fluttered in the way only he could make it flutter. It wasn't the first time--she should have been more than used to it by now--but she still felt as giggly and mushy and freshly in love as she had since the first night they'd curled up in front of the woodstove kissing into the morning. (And then getting caught by George.) "Really?" she asked, slipping her bottom lip through her teeth. "You don't pine for the days of being a single man again? The freedom to do what you want when you want without regard for someone else?"

Wolf quirked up an eyebrow. "I'm not sure I ever really had that," he remarked with a smirk. He glanced at her hands again as she snickered and stroked his thumb over the little moonstone ring on her left hand. Never had a ring looked more natural or fetching on a woman. "No," he said, looking back to his fiancée. "I don't pine for a single moment where you wouldn't be in my life. Perhaps bachelorhood is freedom for other men... it was never that for me. With you... I've never felt more comfortable or free to be myself. When I'm with you, I feel secure to express myself in ways I previously thought I couldn't. What's more, I feel as though I actually have someone who cares about the things I say, think, feel, and do."

Bess smiled tenderly and reached up to stroke his cheek. "You do, my moonlight," she assured him. "I do care. I care about everything concerning you."

That did it. Overcome with emotion and acting purely on impulse, the man reached up to cup his mate's neck and pulled her in close until he could press his mouth to hers and kiss her soundly. He moved his lips in tandem with hers, a tingling warmth spreading throughout his body. Her smell and taste--even a bit salty with her tears--intoxicated him more than any alcohol ever could. If he jumped out the window of his top-floor flat, he was sure he would fly.

Finally, the pair broke the kiss, and Wolf brought his hand up to hold Bess' jaw. He traced his thumb over her rosy lips. His lips curled into a smile as the ethereal, luminescent beauty she always exuded shone tenfold as it always did when she was left enveloped in the haze of a kiss. "My most darling Bess," he whispered, voice husky, eyes soulful and dark, "being with you... that's my freedom."

Bess had no response to that other than to wrap her arms around the man's neck and kiss him deeply again. As he rose from the floor to stand, she wrapped her legs around his lithe waist and tangled her fingers into his hair, setting the silvery strands free from their horsetail. "Take me to bed, Ebenezar," she rasped against his lips. "Please."

The man had the cheek to smirk. "Are you going to strip for me, then?" he teased, biting his bottom lip in the way he knew Bess couldn't resist.

Bess gave him a saucy smile. "Just don't expect it for your stag, Handsome."

Wolf rumbled a growling chuckle and made his way toward the spiral stairs to the second floor. It seemed wedding planning would have to wait for the time being.

@rom-e-o @ray-painter @crimson-phantom-designs @purgratoriat @st0r-fruit @m0nsterwife @the-house-of-auditore-frye @oldmanlusting @christmasgaybusinessmen

#scrooge 2022 #netflix scrooge #scrooge a christmas carol #scrooge #fanfiction #scrooge x oc #ebeness #bess scrooge #sims 4 au #timeless scroogeverse #ebenezar scrooge #ebenezar x bess #engaged couple #idiots in love

17 notes · View notes