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cevansbrat0007 · 2 years ago

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Southern Comfort

Summary: A day after your ex-boyfriend's unexpected return, you show up on Ari's doorstep intending to ask for a little time. Too bad your grumpy bounty hunter isn't feeling particularly charitable.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Some Angst, Smut, Ari Being A Menace, Arguments, Angry Sex, Discussions of Ex-boyfriends, Mentions of Body Image, Mentions of Disordered Eating, Manhandling, Pushing, Discussions of Female Virginity (mentioned), Edging (mentioned), Restraints (mentioned), Brief Allusions to Rape/Forced Sex, Allusions to DubCon/NonCon, Primal Play (mentioned), Ass Slapping, Spanking (mentioned), Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Takes place directly after the events in Case of the Ex, but it is not the sequel. This story is part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Not beta'd. Not beta'd. All mistakes my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

“Alright, now. Remember to breathe, sugar.” You mutter as you adjust the skirt of your floral sundress. “You’ll be in and out quicker than a hiccup.”

Although the day had cooled down considerably since this morning, the temperature still sat at an uncomfortable 88℉. Which therefore meant that you were uncomfortable. Even after a shower and a change of clothes.

You take one last moment to fluff your curls and reapply your lip gloss before reaching inside your car to pull out a ceramic baking dish, complete with a lid. And then you begin the quiet trek up the concrete walkway. Your stomach is in knots by the time you reach the front door to ring the bell.

Your teeth begin to worry your bottom lip while you wait, part of you wishing that you could just sit the dish on the front porch and make a beeline for your vehicle. But your Mama hadn’t raised you to be a coward, and neither had your beloved Uncle. God rest their souls.

So you had to see this through. And once you were done you would head over to your shop and through yourself into work until the sun came up. There was already a crispy chicken salad waiting for you on the passenger seat, accompanied by some reduced fat buttermilk ranch dressing.

Your stomach growls at the thought of food. It was a subtle reminder that you hadn’t eaten much lately, save for the wrap Ari had brought by yesterday. Now that you’d devoured, right along with the chips, salad, and the cookie – all of which had been delicious.

But when it had come time for you to call him that evening as you were locking up, for some reason, you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to do it. Because if he answered, you knew that he was gonna want the skinny on your ex-boyfriend. And you really weren’t prepared to dive into all of that yet.

So you’d decided to shoot Ari a text message after you’d already arrived home for the night, letting him know that you were safe and that you needed time to process the day’s events. After that was done, you’d powered off your phone, content to simply be alone with your thoughts.

And you had yet to turn it back on. Sometimes a girl needed her space.

In that same vein, you also hadn’t bothered with opening the store today. You’d been a little paranoid about receiving a pop-up visit from Ari or Mason. Or, worse yet, both of them at the same time. Again.

Seeing him like that had really done a number on you. He’d looked so good standing there in your shop with that same boyish grin of his. It had immediately transported you back to high school, in the most confusing way possible. But at least it hadn’t stirred up any romantic feelings.

In your opinion, Mason Prescott was a lot like double frosted chocolate mud cake. Pretty to look at, but indulge in more than a couple bites and it was liable to make you sick to your stomach.

Just as your mind begins going down the rabbit hole of comparing problematic men to desserts, the front door is wrenched open to reveal a stern-looking Ari Levinson. He’s barefoot, wearing a pair of faded blue jeans and light gray t-shirt.

The two of you stand there in silence for a moment, neither of you saying a word. He doesn’t need to communicate the fact that he was worried about you, not when it’s written plain as day all over his gorgeous face. But now, at roughly 6:30 in the evening, he wasn’t just worried. He was downright pissed.

At you. Oops.

“Good evening.” Comes your shy greeting once it eventually becomes too much. “I…I was in the neighborhood and figured I’d drop by.” You offer up a lame shrug, wishing that you would’ve practiced your speech a little more before you’d gotten out of your car.

Ari grunts in response, the seemingly ever-present tick in his jaw growing more pronounced with each passing second. And you can feel your confidence taking a dive as a result.

“I also wanted to tell you that I was sorry for kicking you out the way I did yesterday. And for texting instead of calling. I was a little ruffled, but I could’ve been a bit more gracious about things.” You force yourself to take a steadying breath. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“Alright.” That’s all you get from him. And now that tempting mouth of his pressed into a thin, firm line. Which did not bode well for you.

“I would’ve called you from the shop, but I decided not to open today so…” Your body sways in the wind as a gentle breeze picks up. Boy did that air feel good on your skin.

“I know.” Ari replies flatly. “Drove by your house earlier and saw your car. That’s the only reason I hadn’t filed a missing person’s report with Marlon Timmers down at the station.”

“Oh…”

And that was your confirmation right there. Yes, you had indeed worried this man. Which meant that he’d felt the need to go looking for you. If only to make sure that you were safe. And that a certain Prescott wasn’t taking up real estate in your driveway.

“I made you somethin’.” Pasting on a smile, you present him with the covered dish you’d brought along with you. “As part of my apology.”

The bounty hunter hesitates briefly before accepting your offering with a sigh, followed by a quiet “thanks”. And then he turns on his heel to head deeper into the house. Unsure of what else to do, you decide to follow behind him, closing the door as you go.

Besides, you’d much rather continue this discussion indoors anyway.

“It’s a cobbler.” You find yourself babbling as you both make your way into the kitchen. “A peach cobbler. It’s kind of my specialty, right up there with my brambleberry pie. The secret is a splash of bourbon, plus a dash of vanilla.”

For some reason unbeknownst to you, your nervous admission stops him dead in his tracks.

“You brought me a…” He trails off as he sucks in a breath, his brain kicking into overdrive. “Is this – is this a breakup cobbler?” You wince when he unceremoniously drops your beloved baking dish onto the counter.

Your eyes go wide at that, his unexpected accusation leaves you bristling. As if you had it in you to be so callous. If you were breaking up with him then you would’ve brought along muffins. Or perhaps a nice iced lemon blueberry loaf.

You had simply come to apologize, and maybe ask for a little time. Nothing too crazy, mind you. Only a few days, really. Maybe week tops.

“Oh, simmer down now, Beast.” You sniff, clutching your purse under your arm. Clearly he was still smarting about yesterday’s turn of events. But even so, there was no reason for you to conduct yourself as anything but the proper gentlewoman you were raised to be.

“Duchess, I swear to God….” Ari’s fingers go to the bridge of his nose as he visibly prays for patience. Meanwhile, you’re busy stewing over his ill-treatment of your precious cookware. “If this is a breakup cobbler, I’m gonna spank your ass so hard you won’t sit comfortably for a week.”

That rat bastard! Heat floods your face as your mouth goes slack. Ari Levinson had officially gone too far, which meant that it was up to you to set him straight.

“You are unbelievable!” You screech, smacking his chest with your handbag. It feels good, so you do it again. You’re even poised to do it a third time before it’s snatched from your grasp.

“Oh yeah, baby?” The agitated bounty hunter rakes his fingers through his hair, yanking at the chestnut strands. “Then how come I don’t hear you denying it?”

“I came here trying to do something nice.” You hiss through gritted teeth. “And to apologize for–”

“For what? Trying to fly away on me? Again?”

Ari reaches for you, although you’re quick to slap his hand away. With the way you were feeling right now, you were liable to bite him.

“You came here to apologize for being an ass. I’m supposed to say "no big deal". Next comes the part where you ask for space, because you’re confused and you’re scared.” He finishes with a shrug before turning his body so that he can fish something out of a drawer. Seconds later you see that it’s a spoon. “Add that to the fact that you’re falling for me–”

“Oh, fuck you!” You interrupt with a snarl, slamming your hand down on the counter. But your gaze remains trained on his chosen piece of cutlery.

“I have a feeling we’ll get to that.” Ari jams the utensil into the center of the cobbler. “But first…” He scoops up a hearty helping, grinning at the crumbly bits of crust and juicy peach before raising the spoon to his lips and devouring it in one swift bite. “Mmm. Not bad, baby.”

Not bad? You inwardly seethe. Not BAD? What that man had in his possession was an award winning cobbler. It was better than excellent. It was fucking legendary.

Your man chews animatedly, making a show of savoring the decadent mouthful. “Maybe a little heavy on the nutmeg. But as I was saying…” He sucks a stray drop of filling off his thumb. “Between the sudden appearance of our good buddy, Mace, and you being overwhelmed about this thing we’ve got goin’ on…I reckon that you’re feeling a tad out of sorts. Am I right?”

The gall of this man! A red haze colors your vision as his words wash over you, filling you with a slow churning sense of rage. Just who the fuck did Ari Levinson think he was?

“My cobbler has the perfect amount of cinnamon and nutmeg, you–you uncultured jackass!” You grit out through clenched teeth.

You could tolerate a lot from folks in this town. But one thing you absolutely would not abide by was someone bad mouthing one of your made-from-scratch confections. You baked with learned skill, as well as passion. It was the one thing you felt you were genuinely good at.

Which meant that you were about to choke some sense into the gorgeous man standing in front of you.

“Yeah?” He shovels another spoonful into his mouth. “Then how about you stick around and fight with me about it instead of running off like I know you want to?”

The smug turd gobbler has the nerve to smile at you before helping himself to more gooey, peachy, crumbly goodness. Little did he know that you were this close to slapping him hard enough to make his ears ring.

He wouldn’t even have to stoop down low for you to do it. You were so mad you could practically feel yourself about to levitate.

“No, thank you. In fact, I think I’ll be going.” You tell him, your tone rife with disdain. “Now hand me my purse and return my sub-par cobbler and I will be on my way.”

The damned bag had your keys inside it. Next time you left the house intending to make amends you were going to wear something with pockets!

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“Ya know what, Bird?” Ari tosses the spoon into the sink with a clatter before crossing his burly arms over his broad chest. “I’ve just realized that I’m not feeling all that charitable at the moment. Plus, you didn’t say please.” He tacks on the last bit with a cheeky wink.

“Meaning?”

He has no idea that you’re fantasizing about keying the side of his precious Nissan Titan right now.

“Meaning that we can either stand here all night sizin’ each other up.” He lets out a resigned sigh. “Or we can take a seat on the couch, or maybe curl up in bed, and talk about what’s got you ready to run for the hills.”

“And I take it there is no option three?” Your hands settle on your hips as you glare back at him.

“You and that damned option three.” Ari chuckles under his breath, not finding a damn thing amusing. “Well sweetheart, option three involves me cuffing you to my bed and edging the fuck out of that sweet pussy until you tell me whatever it is I wanna know.”

“There isn’t anything to know, Ari!” You all but shout, feeling every bit as frustrated as you sound. “I haven’t seen Mace in damn near five years!”

“Be that as it may, there was still something about his visit that shook you, Bird.” He goes to reach for you again, only to have you dance away. You absolutely did not want to be touched right now. “I saw it then and I see it now.”

“And if I were to tell you that it’s not a big deal?”

Instead of immediately responding, Ari cocks his head to the side, taking a moment to study you. “Then I would tell you that you’re lying. And not just to me. But to yourself.”

You look away, temporarily at a loss for words as you wrap your arms around your middle. A middle that was a little too soft for your liking, regardless of how often you seemed to be counting calories these days.

“I gave him my heart. And he smashed it into a million glittering pieces the first chance he got. I mean, I guess I can’t be too mad since I’m the one who gave him the hammer. Not once, but twice.” You spit as you feel hot tears prick the backs of your eyes. “But even so, do you honestly think I’d be stupid enough to let him do it a third time?”

“Bird.” Your nickname falls from his lips like a soft, urgent plea. But you don’t hear it. Not really.

“I was the fat girl who fell for the jock. Not really all that notable, I suppose. Except in this case that jock just so happened to be the golden boy of Bell’s Creek.” Your arms fall wide before dropping them down at your sides in defeat. “But I didn’t care. Because I was stupid and in love and a fucking virgin when he–” You abruptly cut yourself off when you realize the direction your thoughts are heading.

You’d already said more than enough.

“When he what?” Ari’s voice comes out hoarse, barely above a whisper.

“It doesn’t matter.” You rise up on your toes as you search for an opening to snag your purse.

Because you were through talking about this. It was time for you to head back home, crawl under the covers, and hide there until you could summon the strength to bake every single dessert you could possibly think of using every last bit of the ingredients you had stocked in your kitchen.

And then you would eat them all until you either accidentally gave yourself diabetes or you finally exploded.

“Please talk to me.” This time when Ari takes a step towards you, you beat back a hasty retreat. And you don’t stop moving until you reach his front door. “C’mon, baby, wait!”

But you didn’t want to wait. What you needed was to be alone. The plan had been to drop off the cobbler, make your amends, and then peace the fuck out. And now it had all gone to shit because you’d allowed Ari Levinson to get under your goddamned skin the way only he could.

So, you’d walk home and send someone to pick up your car later. If you left now, you’d make it back before the sun had even begun to set. Besides, it wasn’t like you couldn’t use the exercise.

A firm hand on your arm halts your movements, hauling you backwards against the solid wall of his chest…

Which is when you finally snap.

“I did not give you permission to touch me!” You hiss, turning in the embrace and shoving at him with all your might. However, you know that the only reason the bounty hunter actually lets you go is because you had the element of surprise.

Because holy shit! What the fuck had you just done?

“Woah, woah.” Ari quickly backs away, his palms raised in surrender. “It’s okay, Bird. I pushed you, so you pushed me. It’s okay. It’s all okay, sweetheart.” You can tell he’s doing his damnedest to keep his tone calm and even so as not to spook you further.

You give him a shaky nod, feeling more than a little embarrassed by your inability to control your emotions.

“I’m so–sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.” You manage to eek out, even as your bottom lip starts to tremble. You scrub your hands over your eyes as you fight back tears. “There is no excuse.” You tell him, keeping your head bowed as your knees feel wobbly.

What an awful mess you’d made of this whole thing. Truly.

“Fuck!” He exhales softly, clearly unsure about whether or not it’s okay to touch you. “I don’t want us to end things like this, baby. I really don’t.” Now there’s a note of desperation in his tone that wasn’t there just a few seconds earlier.

Ari goes quiet, weighing his options as he contemplates the best way forward. At least that’s what you assume he’s doing, since you’re too preoccupied with wishing the earth would swallow you up where you stood.

“I’d really like to hold you. But I don’t want to scare you. So you’re gonna have to come to me.” He opens his arms to you then, just as you’re ready to fall apart at the seams. “But – and I can’t stress this enough – only if you want to.”

This time you go time without hesitation. And just like always, your man is right there to catch you before you shattered.

“I’m so sorry I hurt you!” Your words come on the heels of a muffled sob as you cling to him, pulling his body closer to your own as the feelings of remorse threaten to overwhelm you.

“Shh, little Bird. Shh.” Ari murmurs as he lifts you into his arms and carries you into the living room. Once there, he settles you both on the couch, tucking your smaller frame into his own.

He whispers soft, sweet kisses along the damp skin of your brow as he tangles his fingers in your curls to massage your scalp. “I got you. I got you. I got you.” He tenderly rocks you back and forth while he waits for you to calm down.

“Please don’t leave. I swear I didn’t mean it.” You’re babbling now and you know it, but it does manage to earn you a relieved grin from your man.

“Nobody’s goin’ anywhere, sweetheart. Not you. And definitely not me.” He cups your jaw, gently forcing you to meet his gaze. “We’re just fine, you and me. I’m a big boy. You surprised me, maybe. But you didn’t hurt me.”

“But I shouldn’t have –” You begin, your eyes blurring with a fresh wave of tears.

“Listen to what I’m saying.” Ari interjects, his tone containing just the right amount of authority to get your attention. “I’m a big boy, baby. I’m talking 6’3, 220 lbs on a good day. I ignored your body's cues, okay? I'm the one who failed to properly read your warning signs and I got in your space – so please hear me when I say that a pretty large piece of this was my fault too.”

You shake your head “no”, because it should go without saying that Ari would never hurt you. At least not on purpose, and never physically. And yet…

“Baby, you went a little primal is all.” He reaches for your hand to press a kiss to your clammy palm. “That’s all that happened. No harm, no foul. We can even play that way one day, if you’re interested. But not unless we’re both on the same page.”

You weren’t quite sure what he was talking about, but for now you’d simply choose to go with it. Because right now you’d need the kind of comfort and reassurance that only your man could provide.

Needed him to ground you when you felt like you might float away.

“Okay, but I’m still sorry.” You sniffle, gingerly wiping your nose on his t-shirt. Not that he minds overly much.

“I’m sorry too. Not just for pushing you how I did, but for disrespecting your cobbler. Which is divine by the way.”

Now that has you perking up almost immediately. “But you said –”

“Little Bird, I don’t know shit about what goes in a peach cobbler. My nutmeg crack was a shot in the dark meant to piss you off. I figured once I got you talking, you’d spill your guts, I’d take you to bed where you me me promise not to shoot your ex, and then…” Ari trails off as your words from earlier come flooding back to him.

Not wanting to start down this road again, you wrap your arms around his neck before slanting your mouth over his. Your tongue strokes along his plump bottom lip, seeking entrance. Ari responds without hesitation as he buries both hands in your hair, drawing you closer to him.

Right now you needed this man more than you needed air in your lungs. “Please.” You whimper, shifting your body so that you’re now straddling his hips, your legs coming to rest on either side of his thickly muscled thighs. “Please, Ari. I need you. Don’t make me wait.” You nip at his lips, before trailing a fiery litany of kisses along the curve of his jaw.

A part of your mind screams at you to slow down, to explain yourself. But you quickly silence it once Ari’s skilled hands abandon your curls in favor of your chest. Gripping the bodice of your dress, he manages to rip the lightweight fabric in two on the first try.

“Fuck, baby! Promise we’ll talk after.” He snarls, more to himself than you.

Meanwhile, you eagerly reach behind you to undo the clasp of your bra. You both let out a groan once you finally rid yourself of the garment, your heavy breasts spilling into his waiting palms. Of course he wastes no time before drawing a pouting nipple into his warm, wet mouth - sucking deep. His expert tongue takes turns teasing and laving at the pebbled tip as wetness pools between your thighs.

“After.” You hurriedly reassure him as you pull away long enough to unfasten his jeans. It winds up taking the both of you working together to free his impressive erection from his boxers, nearly sobbing with relief when it's done.

Because you needed him inside you now.

Needed him to fill you up just right. Wanted him to go so deep that you didn’t have to worry about thinking anymore. All you wanted to feel was him moving inside you. You couldn’t wait to feel that sweet burn you’d come to crave as he stretched you out with his perfect cock. Couldn't wait for him to claim your body with each slow, delicious stroke of his hips.

Breathing heavy, your hand fists itself around him as you guide his length to your waiting pussy – your panties having been previously torn to shreds. Right now you were so fucking wet for your hunter that you could feel your slick practically dripping down your thighs.

“God, yes!” You slowly lower yourself on top of him, welcoming your man into tight, velvet heat. And you relish the feel of nearly being split in two as you begin to ride him.

Ari’s head tips back in bliss, offering you his throat as you use him for your pleasure. “Doin’ so good for me, baby. So fuckin’ tight.” He grits out as your walls spasm around his cock, milking him as if your life depended on it. And in some ways it did.

He slaps your ass, spurring you on. “Harder!” You growl as your teeth graze along the shell of his ear, loving the rough way he squeezes your globes as you work yourselves into a frenzy. “Just like that, Beast. Don’t let go!”

You bury your face in his neck as stars begin to dance behind your eyes at the same time as that invisible coil tightens in your belly, threatening to snap and send your hurtling into oblivion. But you wouldn't go without your man.

Not without Ari.

“Never, baby.” Without warning, he flips your bodies so that you’re laying on your back, enabling him to take over. He sets a grueling pace – the sounds of slapping flesh and passion-fueled grunts filling the room. “We go together, you and me.” He captures your lips once more, swallowing your heady little cries of pleasure.

“You and me, Beast! God, yesss!” You keen, as you wrap your legs around his trim waist, your wedge heels digging into the small of his back. “Now fuck me like you mean it.”

END

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youronebraincell · 25 days ago

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Casual pt 2

Beth Dutton x Fem College!Reader

Warnings: angst, slightly toxic relationship, mean Beth, breaking up, partying, implied and attempted rape (but nothing happens), reconciling, hospitals, hurt/comfort, gentle sex, good gf Beth, revenge, kidnapping, Russian roulette, murder-suicide, past hysterectomy, mention of pregnancy/having babies, breeding kink if you squint, shower sex, happy ending

Word count: 10.820

Glimpses of life with Beth Dutton

A continuation to Casual pt 1

Things with Beth are going better than you could’ve ever imagined. You’re still keeping your.. relationship on a low profile, but you’re both content with it. No one has to know what happens behind closed doors. Only you and Beth have that luxury.

Your relationship takes a turn for both the better and the worst when she arrives at your door with a freshly battered face and a bloody mouth.

‘You should see the other guy’ Was what she said when you pressed a bag of frozen chicken to her bruised right eye. You couldn’t even be bothered to crack a small smile because of your concern.

She reluctantly decided to stay with you while she healed. You didn’t let it show how much of a surprise it was that she didn’t fight you on it too much when you first brought up the idea.

“Don’t look at me like that” Beth said, moments after she agreed to stay with you.

Okay so maybe you did let it show. “Like what?”

“That” She said before stabbing into a piece of sweet and sour chicken with a fork.

Beth was hungry so you heated up some leftover Chinese food for her. You watched her struggle and fail to chew before she spit her bite back out onto the plate. You saw the way her jaw clenched.

You dragged the plate towards yourself.

“Want a smoothie?”

“Don’t have much of a fucking choice”

Despite her tone, you got up and opened the fridge. You made a poor excuse for a strawberry banana orange smoothie with yogurt. You poured two glasses, one tall and one small, then put what was left in the blender in the fridge.

You put the tall glass in front of her and the other opposite her where you’ll be sitting.

“Almost forgot”

You pulled out a slim bottle of vodka.

A smile made its way onto the older woman’s face as you poured some into her glass. Beth stirred it in with her smoothie, her eyes on the thick pink liquid.

“You know me so well, baby”

You smiled.

You both ate (in Beth’s case, drank) dinner in comfortable silence. Afterwards, you took turns in the shower. You tried to take one together, but Beth was so handsy and you weren’t in the mood so you told her to get out. Lovingly of course.

You lend her a sweatshirt that was a bit big on you, but fit her like a damn glove. You put on a tank top and your plaid pajama pants before joining her in bed. You snuggled up against her.

“Beth?”

“Hm?”

“Did you take off your sweatshirt?”

“Yep”

“So you’re mostly nude right now?”

“Right again, baby”

You snorted a laugh and held her tighter. Beth was lying on her back while you laid on your side. You had your arm draped over her waist and your leg hooked around her legs. Her hand stroked your head as she stared up at the ceiling in the dark.

“What’s the oldest movie you've ever watched?”

You thought about it for a moment. “Mmh.. Probably 10 things I hate about you”

“That came out in 1999. I was in High School”

“Cool” You nuzzled your nose against her throat. You didn’t know why she’s asking this question, but with Beth, it’s best to just humor her. “Wait no. Heathers. That came out in 1984 I think”

“88” Beth corrected, moving her hand out of your hair to trace up and down your arm. “Okay. What movie came out close to your birthdate?”

“Uhm.. Pride and Prejudice. I don’t even like period dramas but I had to do an assignment for my English class in High School and I didn’t have time to read the book” You shrugged.

“Why not watch the show? It’s more accurate”

“There’s a show?”

Beth exhaled through her nose. “Jesus Christ”

“What?”

“You’re so fucking young”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t control when to grace this earth with my presence, Beth” You say sarcastically.

“Don’t use sarcasm with me, you little-“

“I dare you to finish that fucking sentence”

Beth pursed her lips. She sighed and pulled you back towards her when you tried to untangle from her. “Hey, hey. Forget I said anything, okay?”

You huffed, but stopped fighting her. Your shoulders relaxed when she pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Let’s just go to bed”

Beth waited for you to respond, but you never did.

“Or would you rather I make it up to you?”

Now that piqued your interest. “How?”

Beth smirked. “I have my ways” She said before kissing your cheek and going under the covers.

Needless to say you weren’t upset for long.

On another night, as you were getting into bed, you turned to look at her. You were both laying on your sides, facing one another. You put your hand on the side of her face that was visible, the side that was wounded. The pad of your thumb caressed just below her bruised eye. You pulled your hand back when she sucked a breath through her teeth.

“Sorry” You murmured.

You couldn’t see each other in the dark of your bedroom, but you could still feel her gaze on you. “It’s okay” She reached for your hand to put it back on her cheek. “You couldn’t hurt me if you tried”

You smiled a little. “You know,” You let out a soft sigh, “it’s unfair how you got beat up and still look like the most beautiful woman on the planet”

Beth chuckles softly. “You can’t even see me”

You reached around to turn on the lamp on your nightstand. Then you straddled the older woman’s waist. You waited for her to let out a long sigh before she sat up, your faces now inches apart.

Her arms wrapped around your waist naturally. “Still think I’m the most beautiful woman in the world, darling?” She asked with a smile, a hint of mockery and unusual self deprecation in her tone.

“Abso-fucking-lutely” You said without missing a beat. You stared into her eyes. One is narrowed from the swelling. You leaned your forehead against Beth’s. You let out a shaky breath. “I hope whoever did this to you gets what they fucking deserve. I hope they die an excruciating death”

You let your eyes fall shut.

Beth gently wipes away the angry tears that rolled down your cheeks, her touch light as a feather. You let out a shaky breath when you felt her soft lips kiss along the lines of your tears. You sniffled.

“Don’t cry, baby” She whispered softly against your warm skin. “You know I hate it when you cry”

You nodded, screwing your eyes shut before opening them to look at her. You held her face in your hands. “You still won’t tell me what happened. Does it have something to do with the ranch?”

Beth briefly narrowed her eyes, the barest hint of irritation swimming in those light greens of hers. “Why would it have something to do with the ranch?” She asked, her voice serious now.

“Forget it. It was a stupid question..”

It wasn’t so far-fetched. You knew good and well about the Duttons, parts anyway. All of Montana did. They always seemed to get their way. A mere mention of them was enough to make the hairs on your arm stand on end. You don’t gain a reputation like that without having a few enemies and god knew they had them. You’ve heard the stories.

You forced a smile, hoping she wouldn’t see through it, but you knew she could. You could tell by the way her gaze hardened. “Let’s go out” You wrap your arms around her neck. “Right now”

Beth didn’t seem fully opposed to the idea. “Out?”

“Out” You repeated. “You could use a drink and since I don’t have any alcohol here.. I figured we could go to a bar. I reckon you know a few”

Beth huffed a laugh. “You know you just indirectly called me an alcoholic, right?”

“Well..”

“Don’t you fucking dare” Beth chuckled playfully, her face coming to rest near the crook of your neck. Her nose brushed against your throat. “A Martini does sound good right about now..”

You hummed in agreement then turned your head so your lips brushed against her hairline. You were silent. You waited for her to have the final say.

“Alright. Get dressed”

You both got dressed in something casual, but hot then headed down to her car after locking your apartment. The drive to the bar was spent in silence. Beth’s hand rested coolly on your thigh, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that she was still upset over your question about the ranch.

Whatever the Duttons do, whatever they’ve done, it’s clear that Beth didn’t want you to know about it. She didn’t want you sticking your nose where it didn’t belong, something you had a habit of doing.

You turned to face her, your hand covering hers on your thigh. “Think we could get some food after the bar? I was thinking buffalo wings and curly fries”

The corner of the older woman’s mouth tugged upwards in a small smile. “Whatever you want, baby” She took her eyes off the road for a second to look at you. “Your wish is my command”

You arrived at a bar on the outskirts of town. You went in and Beth ordered drinks for the both of you. You didn’t like the way Beth used her cleavage as a distraction to allow the bartender to let you stay despite being just under the drinking age.

“What’d I do know, Y/N?” Beth asked, her tone laced with frustration. She takes a sip of her drink before setting it back down, her fingers lingering in the spine. “Go ahead. Lay it on me”

“You could’ve just paid him off, Beth. God knows you can afford it” You said before taking a sip of the pornstar martini she ordered for you. She said you’d like it. You hated how she wasn’t wrong.

“They didn’t card last time I was here and I’m not wasting a couple hundreds on this shitshow”

“Please, you have earrings that cost more than what you would’ve given that guy”

“Why are you being such a bitch right now? I thought this was a chance for us to destress” The older woman grabbed her drink, but not before letting out a sigh. “Clearly I was wrong”

You pursed your lips. “You’re being mean”

Beth set her glass back down, allowing the liquid to burn her throat as she swallowed. “Oh, am I?”

You watched her stand up. You held your breath when she leaned in towards you, her own breath hot against your lips. The stench of alcohol filled your nostrils despite her having had only one drink. It dawned on you that she might’ve had something before you left the apartment. Your heart clenched.

Beth smiled wryly. “Be right back”

Your eyes followed her as she left for the bathroom. You took a deep breath before sipping your drink.

Five minutes later, you heard a commotion from behind you. You turned around to see Beth fighting some redneck woman in a bandana.

You got out of your seat to intervene. You tried to grab Beth’s shoulder, but she nudged you away before headbutting the redneck. Fuck.

With no other choice left, you put yourself between the fighting women in hopes of breaking them up, but it was no use because Beth’s fist connected with the side of your face almost immediately, knocking you out cold.

When you became conscious, everything was white and bright. You looked around you and realized you were in the hospital.

And Beth was nowhere to be found.

You clenched your jaw.

The second you got discharged, you left the hospital and got a taxi home. All her stuff was gone. Your heart sank. Did she go back to her own apartment? No. She got rid of it and it would be impossible to just get it back at this hour.

You took a breath. It was late.

You decided to change and go to bed, the events of the night finally taking their toll on you.

The next morning, you woke up bright and early. You showered, brushed your teeth then put on some clothes before leaving your apartment and going into the uber you’d ordered beforehand.

Within half an hour, you were at the Yellowstone.

You walked the long road to what you assumed was the main house. You opened the door, not even having the chance to be surprised it wasn’t locked, and took in your surroundings. Eventually you reached the dining room and saw her.

“What the actual fuck, Beth?”

Three people sat at the table; John Dutton at the head, Beth to his right and a teenage boy to his left.

Beth took a bite of her breakfast without looking at you. You balled your fists at your sides watching her chew and swallow. She turned to her father.

“Daddy, could you give us the room, please?” She asked in that sickly sweet tone of hers.

John threw down his napkin tapping the boy on his shoulder. “Let’s go check on the horses, son”

The boy grabbed two strips of crispy bacon and a big sip of orange juice before standing up and following the older man out of the dining room.

Beth dusts off her fingers before looking at you.

“Yes?”

Your heart clenched at her cold demeanor. “You left me alone in the hospital. What the fuck, Beth?”

Beth buttered a bagel. “I wouldn’t have left you if I didn’t think you’d be taken care of”

“That’s not a fucking excuse! A-And why did you take away all your stuff? Are we..?”

“Over” She finished your sentence, her tone laced with nothing but venom. “This was a mistake”

You shake your head. “You don’t mean that”

“I do” Beth said, taking a bite out of her bagel. You hated how she was so relaxed and nonchalant about this. “Don’t take it personally. You were just a set of holes for me to fuck and use as I pleased”

Your eyes watered. “Fuck you”

Beth smiled darkly. “You already did. Multiple times”

Tears fell down your cheeks when you blinked. You turned around to leave. You stood there for a while before turning back around to look at her. “I knew you were evil. I just didn’t think you’d be cruel”

With that, you left the Dutton house. You stopped to take a breather outside on the porch. You sniffled and wiped away your tears when John walked over, his hands resting coolly in his front pockets.

He stood on the final step of the stoop.

His silence spoke volume.

You looked at him. “She has your eyes, sir” You said with a sad smile before walking past him.

He watched you walk down the road.

After that you decided to just focus on your studies.

And drink. A lot. Within the safe space of your cosy little apartment of course and never on the days before you had an exam or presentation.

Afterwards, though, was a different story. If there was a party, on or off campus, you were there. Always with a group of friends. Never alone.

Which brings you to now.

Your eyes flutter open as you wake up early in the morning. Your head is pounding. You look around yourself. You don’t know where you are. It looks like you’re sitting in some sort of alley. It reeks.

Your heart skips a beat as an unsettling realization dawns on you. You search frantically for your phone while praying that what you think happened to you didn’t happen at all. You can’t find it.

You swallow the lump in your throat as you force yourself to stand up on shaky legs. Your clothes are still intact, but the way you’re wearing them doesn’t feel right. Not after what might have happened.

You hug yourself while leaving the alley. You’re in nothing but a thin-strapped dress and it’s fucking cold. The hairs on your arms stand on end.

You’re scared and don’t know what to do.

Beth is driving at 80 MPH when she gets a call from an unknown number. She glances at the console screen before answering the call.

“I charge $500 a minute for unsolicited conversations. Clock’s ticking”

Beth’s response is met with silence.

“Speak or hang the fuck up”

“Beth?”

Beth’s brows furrow, her frustration dissipating as quickly as it had come. “Y/N? Why are you calling me from an unknown number? Are you okay?”

Again, silence.

Beth keeps her cool despite the anxious concern that gnaws at her chest. “Where are you?”

You’re uncertain when you give her the address so you start describing the numerous shops and restaurants you passed by and where you are now.

“I’ll be there in five”

Beth does a smooth but incredibly illegal U-turn in the middle of the road before driving at over a 100 MPH to the area you described to her.

You’re sitting at the counter of a closed restaurant.

The owner’s thirty year old daughter saw you wandering alone and when you asked her if you could call someone on her phone, she immediately obliged and told you that you could wait inside.

The woman also made you a house specialty which was the chicken marinara sandwich and gave you a cold glass of water too. She said you looked a bit pale for her liking. And maybe you did.

You eat quietly when she goes to the back to check on something. You're chewing the last bite of your sandwich when you hear the closed front door rattle wildly. You see Beth fighting with the door knob outside. She smashes her elbow through the window, shards of glass splattering on the floor. She reaches through the hole to open the door from the inside. She pushes it open and looks around until her eyes land on you.

Beth crosses the distance between you in confident, broad strides. It looks like she’s about to embrace you when she’s close, but she hesitates at the last second, like it suddenly dawned on her how things ended between the two of you.

Beth wordlessly takes off her pitch black coat and puts it over your shoulders. You lean into her touch. Eventually both of you just decide to not be stubborn for once and give in to one another. Her arms wrap around your shoulders while yours wrap around her waist. You close your eyes, breathing her in. She holds you tighter than you hold her. It’s like she’s afraid that if she loosens her hold on you, you’ll cease to exist. Her lips press against the top of your head in a kiss that lingers.

“I’m right here, baby. I’m not going anywhere”

Beth pulls back, her hands coming up to cradle your face as her eyes roam over your features then body for any signs of distress. The bruise you had around your left eye, the one she accidentally gave you, has faded away since she last saw you. There seems to be nothing physically wrong with you. No scars, no bruises, no struggle marks. The fact that you’re barefoot makes her tilt her head though.

“What happened to your shoes?”

You look down at your bare feet, flexing your toes absentmindedly. “I don’t.. I don’t know..”

Beth inhales and exhales deeply. She’s overwhelmed with barely contained rage. Not at you. At the situation you’ve unfortunately found yourself in. It’s not your fault. Doesn’t matter what you tell her, she knows it’s not your fault. When she does find out what happened to you, she’ll stop at nothing to make sure it never happens again. She takes out a pen and checkbook from her purse to write a check. She briefly glances up when she hears the sound of approaching footsteps.

The woman who helped you looks at the broken glass by the door. “Uhm..”

“What’s your name?”

The woman turns her head to look at the two of you when Beth asks her a question. “Caroline Reed”

Beth writes her name on the check before tearing it off and putting it on the counter by your empty plate. “Thank you for helping her out. This should cover the damage I caused to the door” She puts an arm over your shoulder and tucks you into her side as you make your way towards the door.

“Thank you” You tell Caroline before exiting the small, family-owned restaurant.

Caroline locks up after you leave. She walks over to the counter and looks at the check that was left behind for her. “Holy fucking shit” She exclaims, her eyes wide as she looks at the $10.000 check.

The car ride is spent in silence.

You look out the window.

Beth glances at you occasionally, her grip on the steering wheel tight. “Y/N-“

You cut her off. “I need to go to the hospital”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, baby”

“I need to know if I was..” You don’t finish your sentence. You can’t even bring yourself to speak the word. Luckily, you don’t have to.

“Okay” Beth says softly. “We’ll go the hospital”

Beth holds your hand as you enter the hospital. She does everything. The two of you follow a nurse to a room. It’s sterile and white. You don’t like it.

The nurse advises Beth to leave the room, but you want her to stay. So she stays.

The nurse collects DNA from your body. You feel self conscious when you’re asked to remove all your clothes so they can be collected as evidence. Beth had her assistant get you some new clothes and a pair of shoes so you put those on once she handed them to you. Afterwards you fill out documentation forms. You’re emotionally drained by the time the SANE nurse concludes the examination and gives you the okay to go home. She informs you that she’ll have the results in two to four weeks. Beth basically threatens her to get them faster. The nurse meekly apologizes and says that you’ll have the results within a week or two.

“The faster we get the results,” Beth looks at the nurse’s name on her identification card, “Anna, the more extra cash you’ll have in your pocket”

Beth’s fingers are interlocked with yours as you leave the room and eventually the hospital.

Once you’re in the car, she goes on her phone. After a few seconds, she turns to look at you. “Baby, I’m gonna ask you a question, but you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, okay?”

You nod.

“What’s the last thing you remember about yesterday?”

“I was.. at a frat party last night”

Flashbacks of you playing several drinking games and having drunk make outs with numerous pretty girls assault your vision. You take a breath.

“That’s it”

Beth doesn’t press about details of the party. “That checks out. Your phone is near your college” She says before putting the shift in drive.

“Really? How do you know?”

Beth holds out her phone to you.

You take it and look at the screen. It’s some sort of Find My app. “Are you serious? You knew where I was the entire time we were together?”

“Yep” Beth says as she starts driving forward. “Guess my controlling tendencies are finally paying off, huh?” She teases with a cheeky smile.

You can’t fight the smile that makes its way onto your face too. Goddamn this woman.

When you arrive at the frat house, a dozen memories of last night come flooding back. Some good, some bad. You look down when you feel Beth’s hand on yours. Your eyes meet hers.

“You don’t have to go in”

“I know” You squeeze her hand. “I want to”

Beth respects your decision. “Okay”

You both get out of the car.

Beth kicks open the double doors to the frat house. You follow behind as she walks in like she owns the place. She points at the first guy she sees.

“Call all your frat buddies down here right the fuck now if you know what’s good for you”

The dumbfuck dares to question her. “You can’t just storm in here. Who the fuck even are you?”

His friend taps him on his chest. “Dude. That’s Beth Dutton.. the governor’s daughter..”

“And the current Chief of Staff. Know your state politics” Beth eyes the young men coming into the room once they’re called down. She turns to the guy who knows who she is. “This everyone?”

“Y-Yes, ma’am”

Beth looks at you. “Go get your phone”

You follow the directions to where your phone is using the app on Beth’s phone. While you do that, Beth asks all the men present for their names.

You find your phone under one of two twin-sized beds in the room. It looks suspiciously clean for a frat guy’s room. You unlock your phone and notice how it’s been voice recording for over fifteen hours.

You let out a relieved breath. Even drunk, you’re still aware when some bad shit is about to happen.

You stop the recording and put your phone in your front pocket. You don’t look at the guys in the living room when you descend the staircase. You head straight for Beth who is standing by the door.

“Drunk me isn’t so incompetent after all” You tell her. “My phone recorded something from last night”

The older woman smiles at you. “I never doubted you for a second, Y/N. You could be drunk as a sailor and you’d still be a whole lot smarter than half the people in this damn state”

You smile wistfully. “Get me out of here?”

“With pleasure”

Beth brings you to the ranch. You let her walk you through the same house you stormed into a few weeks ago. Now you have time to admire the architecture. As you do that, it dawns on you just how wealthy she and her family actually are.

You’re halfway up the stairs when you notice her father standing below, his demeanor stoic and his expression unreadable. “Good afternoon, sir”

Mr Dutton nods. “Morning, Miss”

When you’re at the top of the stairs, Beth leans against the railing to look down at her father. “Y/N will be staying with us for a while, daddy”

It’s not a question. It’s a statement.

Mr Dutton walks away. “Okay, honey”

Beth leads you to her bedroom.

It’s large, but simple. Impersonal. There’s not a single frame in the room or anything of sentimental value. It feels hollow in a way you can’t describe.

Beth points to her bathroom. She tells you that you can use her toothbrush and that she’ll get another one later before giving you some privacy.

After a thorough brush of your teeth and a much-needed, hot shower, you step back into the bedroom. Beth sits next to some clothes you same she’s laid out for you; boyshorts, regular cotton shorts and a faded Stevie Nicks shirt.

You put them on. The shirt is just a little bit big on your frame, but you like it that way.

You sit beside Beth on the edge of the bed. “Hi”

“Hi” She says with a warm smile that reaches her eyes. The pad of her thumb brushes against the back of your hand. “What do you want to do now?”

“Kiss you”

Beth’s taken aback by that and it shows. “You still want me?” Her voice is soft, uncertain and vulnerable. “After everything I’ve put you through?”

You nod. “But if you don’t want me..”

Beth’s lips press against yours before you even have a chance to finish that sentence. Her hands hold your face. She pours all the love she has for you, all the apologies that have yet to be said, into the kiss. You straddle her lap and wrap your arms around her neck, arching into her.

Beth pulls away, breaking the kiss. Her pupils are blown wide as she looks up at you. “Are you sure you wanna do this, angel? I don’t want you to feel like.. like I’m taking advantage of you”

“I want this” You say confidently, your eyes trained on her lips as you lean in. “More than you could possibly imagine” You whisper against her mouth before capturing her lips in another kiss.

The sex that takes place moments after is different from all the sex you’ve had before. It’s soft. More gentle. Beth worships your body like a sinner at an altar, her lips pressing soft kisses all over you.

You let her pleasure you, knowing this is one of her ways of apologizing. You want to absolve her of her guilt. So if that means gripping the sheets for dear life, your knuckles on the verge of whitening, as she eats you out like there’s no tomorrow, so be it.

You’re beyond spent when Beth comes to lay down beside you. You let out a soft yawn as she brushes a few strands of hair from your damp forehead.

“Fucked you straight into exhaustion, huh?”

You don’t even have it in you to humble her (despite what she said being true). You just lazily nod your head as you get comfy under the covers.

Beth chuckles lightly before cuddling you from behind. The last thing you feel before succumbing to sleep is her arm draping around your waist and her lips pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder.

Once Beth is certain that you’re fully asleep, she sneaks out of bed. She wraps a robe around her nude frame before grabbing her EarPods and both your phones and quietly leaving the bedroom.

She gives Jason, the only thing she kept from her old job, a call to tell him to get the security footage of the last 24h from the area you were in this morning. She goes out onto the porch and crosses her legs as she sits down on the sitting wall. She couples her EarPods to your phone after unlocking it in one try. She’s told you time and time again to change your pin from 2580, but none of that matters right now. She opens Voice Memos.

You see, there’s a reason Beth asked those frat guys for their names. She needed to identify their voices. But back then Beth didn’t know that you recorded something. What she did know was that she’s been secretly voice recording your surroundings for the past few months. There was no way for you to have known that. It’s not her proudest moment, but if it makes it less shitty, she’s never had a reason to listen to the recordings.

Until now.

She deletes the hidden military app from your phone, but not before making a silent promise to herself and to you to be less.. paranoid.

She steels herself before pressing play on the message you recorded.

There’s an overlap of male voices followed by the sound of a door locking. You can’t make out what they’re saying. It just sounds like mumbling to you in your drunken state. Strong hands help you sit down on the bed. Your body feels weird. Like you’re an intruder in your own skin. You throw your arm over your eyes before lying on your back.

Asshole one speaks up. “Door’s locked?”

“Yeah” Asshole two answers with a grin.

Asshole one looks at asshole three who stares at you, his brows furrowed. “What’s wrong with you? Don’t tell me you’re gonna pussy out on us again”

“I’ve seen her somewhere” Asshole three says.

“No shit, dude, she goes to school with us” Asshole four says, his voice laced with irritation.

Asshole three’s eyes widen when it suddenly clicks where he knows you from. “Shit. We can’t do this. Not to her. Fuck, I knew she looked familiar, man!!”

The other assholes look confused when asshole three paces up and down the room.

“She knows Beth Dutton. I think she’s her part time assistant or something. I’ve seen them together”

“Dutton as in..”

“Yellowstone Dutton ranch”

A series of groans, ‘shit’ and ‘oh fuck’ can be heard before you pass out. The guys step away from you like you’re suddenly infected or something.

Asshole one takes a breath. “Okay. We’ll just.. get her out of here after the party’s over”

“Dude, last time we threw a party this big, it ended around five in the fucking morning”

“I know, dumbass, but what other choice do we have? If anyone sees us taking her out of here, we’re cooked. I’ll sober up and we’ll take my truck in the morning to dump her ass somewhere that isn’t our goddamn fucking frat house”

He lets out a sigh.

“Everyone clear out. Nobody, and I mean nobody, comes in this room until tomorrow morning”

A series of disappointed ‘fine’ and ‘yeah whatever’ fills the space before it’s followed by the sound of retreating footsteps. The door locks again.

You’re left alone in your drunken sleep, unaware of the depraved acts that would have transpired if you hadn’t aligned yourself with a Dutton.

Beth takes the EarPods out of her ears.

She stares blankly ahead of her until her father walks onto the porch. He observes her.

“No whiskey or cigarette today? Are you feeling alright, honey?” That’s his attempt at a joke, but it doesn’t come off that way with his rough voice.

Finally, Beth stands up, her hands holding her things. “Men are awful, daddy” She says in all seriousness before opening the front door.

Beth heads up to her room and closes the door behind her, careful as not to wake you. She takes off her robe and drapes it over the chair by her vanity before getting into bed with you. She cuddles you from behind again, holding you close as she laces her fingers with yours.

You subconsciously moan softly and scoot closer to her in your sleep. As if that were even possible.

Beth closes her eyes, breathing you in.

The last thought she has before allowing herself to succumb to sleep is of the ways she’ll make those frat boys suffer for what they put you through.

Hours later, your eyes flutter open as you begin to wake up. You stir and turn over to see Beth staring at you. “Fuck” You curse, recoiling slightly. “Jesus Christ, Beth. Don’t do that” You put a hand over your heart, feeling it pound under your touch.

“Sorry, baby” Beth says with a smile. “I can’t help but stare when there’s a pretty woman in my bed”

“Sounds like your speaking from experience”

“Maybe I am. That make you jealous?

You just roll your eyes before swinging your legs over the edge of the bed and just sitting there, your hands resting by your sides.

Beth sits up too, worried that she hurt your feelings. “Shit. Y/N, I was just teasing. I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s not that” You say before nudging your head towards your phone. You swallow the lump in your throat. “I’m.. scared of what I might hear”

Beth follows your gaze before looking back at you. “Let me listen to it. Let me spare you the pain”

You look back at her.

“Please, Y/N. It’s the least I can do”

It takes a moment for you to nod.

You grab your phone and unlock it before giving it to Beth. You grab her EarPods too. Like earlier, Beth couples them to your phone and puts them in.

You watch her intently as she presses play.

Five minutes in, it looks like she skips through the audio. When she reaches the end, she takes out her EarPods and puts them away before looking at you. “You weren’t assaulted”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You put your hand over your mouth, your eyes closed. You remove your hand once you’ve collected yourself. “What happened?”

“You got too drunk and crashed in some guy’s room. They were pissed and I guess they dumped you somewhere because they didn’t know where to take you” It’s a shitty lie, but in this case, it’s better than the truth. Beth doesn’t want you to think of her as your savior just because the only reason you weren’t assaulted was because you were seen with her. Plus, as shitty and manipulative as it sounds, she’s willing to bet you’re taking her word on this.

Which you do.

“Put your clothes back on” Beth says before getting out of bed. “I know how hungry you get after a great fucking” She says with a smug smile as she pulls a pair of jeans over her legs. “I’ll have Gator make us loaded steak fries. Your favorite”

You put on the clothes she gave you earlier. “Your cook’s name being Gator doesn’t surprise me as much as it previously would have” You pull the shirt down your chest and smooth it out. You look at her. “It feels wrong that I look so comfortable in your house. I’m a guest” You slip your feet into the indoor slippers she puts in front of you.

“You’re my guest” Beth says, closing the distance between you. Her hands come to rest on both sides of your waist. “Everyone in this place may be brave enough to ride into danger, but they’re fucking terrified of being on my bad side”

You chuckle. “So in other words, I’m safe?”

“The safest” Beth presses a loving kiss to your forehead. You scrunch your face. “Now come on” She laces your fingers together before opening the door and leading you out of the bedroom. “You can fill me in on what I missed during our break”

“I could say the same for you, Miss Chief of Staff” You tease as you descend the stairs. You wrap your other hand around her arm, stepping closer to her. “What would the press think about you having a controversially younger girlfriend?”

The older woman comes to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. She looks at you. “Girlfriend?”

Your eyes widen when you realize what you said. “Not girlfriend” Your cheeks heat up out of embarrassment. “I-I didn’t mean that. I meant just-“

“Girlfriend” Beth repeats again, this time while looking up at the ceiling before her gaze meets yours. “I like that. You’re my girlfriend”

“I’m your girlfriend?”

“You’re my girlfriend, baby” Beth says with a proud smile. Her hands come up to cup your jaw. “I’m done pretending you’re anything else”

You let her pull you into a kiss that neither of you can help but smile into till you pull away. The worst day of your life turned out to be one of the best.

You stay with her at the ranch from that point out. You didn’t have a lot of stuff so it was a quick move.

You and Beth fall into a routine. She’d give you a ride to campus before she left for work and then she’d pick you up whenever you were done. She had no absolutely no regard for her schedule when it came to you which you found sweet. You’d have dinner together with her family, who was at the table anyway, and then you went to bed. Six out of seven days you tried and failed to keep quiet as Beth ravaged you like a starved woman, whether it be eating you out or fucking into you with her strap.

The family kind of got an inkling of who you are to Beth when she not so subtly made an innuendo at the dinner table that almost made you choke.

Beth made it up to you in more ways than one.

One day, around five in the afternoon, Beth looks at your sleeping form as you take a much-needed nap. Your lips are slightly parted and the covers are up to your waist. She bends over to press a gentle kiss to your brow before leaving the bedroom.

Beth detests horse riding, avoids it at all cost if she can help herself. So for her to saddle up right now, her fingers working swiftly as muscle memory kicks in, means that something or rather someone has driven her to do something she doesn’t want to.

Beth swings up into the saddle with an impatient motion, settling her weight deep into the leather. She gathers the reins firmly, the mare beneath her tossing her head once before falling in line with her command. With a sharp nudge of her boots, she sends them forward, the hooves kicking up little bursts of dust as they pick up speed. She leans slightly into the ride, steering with a sure, stubborn hand toward the thick wall of forest ahead. The trees stretch tall and dense, the shadows between them deepening, but Beth doesn’t flinch. She presses on, the steady rhythm of hoofbeats matching the set determination in her chest as she disappears into the woods without a glance back.

When she reaches her destination, she brings the horse to a stop and dismounts before walking the mare over to a tree and tying the reins to the trunk.

Beth tips her Stetson up as she approaches Ryan and Lloyd who stand ten feet behind a group of naked, frightened young men with their hands behind their backs. Their bodies are marred with fresh bruises. They’re lined up and kneeling.

The sound of their cries is music to her ears.

But it’s not enough to spare them.

“Nice to see you again, boys” Beth says with a devious smile, her voice laced with false sincerity as she slowly walks past them with her chin up high. “I don’t want to be here longer than I have to, so I won’t take up much of your time” She comes to a stop in front of them so they can all see the storm raging in her eyes if they dared to look up at her. “You tried to rape the woman who loves me and still chooses to be by my side despite the many, many ways I’ve wronged her. A woman who knows what a massive fuck up I am and yet still treats me like I’ve hung the fucking moon. I can’t let that stand”

As expected, they apologize and beg for their lives.

Beth mocks them relentlessly until they realize their pathetic tears and mumbling won’t save them. “Here’s what’s gonna happen. All of you will officially be pronounced missing in a few days. Maybe weeks depending on how much your parents love you. There’ll be posters, news reports, hell maybe even a state-wide police search” She crouches down to their level. “But the one place they’ll never have the balls or the jurisdiction to look is here at the Yellowstone Ranch. This place is 775.000 acres. Just to paint you a picture, that’s bigger than Rhode Island” She says with a tight smile that sends a shiver down the boys’ spines. “Nothing happens on our land without our knowing. Well, until today at least” She puts her hands on her knees before standing up. “Here’s how the story will go. First, you boys will have foolishly snuck onto the ranch without any of us knowing. Your ridiculous trucks are parked just a few miles away so you could’ve easily walked over here. That’s the most likely conclusion the detective on your case will draw after finding your corpses. The second conclusion will probably be the fact that you each drank enough to kill a deer. This whole area will be littered with beer cans. Last but not least,” She holds her gloved hand out to Ryan who hands her a K6XS revolver, “your cause of death”

One of the boys’ eyes widen.

Beth notices. “Look familiar, Henry? It should considering it was found in your bottom drawer”

Her phone vibrates in her pocket. She pulls it out and looks at the notification. It’s a text from you asking where she is. She presses her phone to her ear after calling you. She lifts the gun up to her lips and holds it vertically as she makes a sinister shushing gesture to the boys before pushing the muzzle of the gun to the nearest guy’s temple.

“Hi, baby” Beth greets you sweetly. “I know, I know. I’m sorry for leaving without telling you. I just needed to get some air that isn’t polluted by Summer’s presence” She traces the trigger. The safety is off. “I’m close by. Just sitting by the river with my thoughts” There’s a pause on her hand as she lets you speak. “No, you can’t walk over here. It’s too far” Another pause. “Far enough that you won’t hear a scream from there” She listens to you speak. Her brows furrow slightly before she looks at Ryan and Lloyd. “Okay. I’ll be there soon, baby”

After you’ve hung up, Beth puts her phone back in her pocket. She walks towards Ryan and Lloyd.

“Y/N says my father is thinking of moving up the pasture rotation because of bad weather reports”

Ryan glances at the kneeling men. “That means when we ride through here..”

“We’ll discover the bodies” Lloyd finishes his sentence. “What’d you wanna do, ma’am?”

“Plan stays the same” Beth says without missing a beat. “I don’t give a fuck when their bodies get found. Just make sure you act surprised when that happens. The only ones who know about this are you, me and my father and I intend to keep it that way” She doesn’t wait for them to nod in agreement before walking over to the boys and pointing the gun at them. “All of you, in a circle. Now”

After the boys awkwardly shuffle to form a circle, Beth, Ryan and Lloyd stand behind them, each at a distance where the boys are in their line of sight.

“Since this is yours, Henry,” Beth hands the gun to the guy with brown-ish hair and intense, unwelcoming blue eyes, “you get to do the honors of starting this game of Russian Roulette. Each one of you will take a turn until someone eventually gets their brains blown out. There’s one bullet every time. You’ll keep going until only one of you is still breathing. That lucky guy will be free to go”

Henry swallows the lump in his throat before pressing the gun’s muzzle to his temple. His hand and lip tremble dangerously. No doubt out of fear.

“Put it down”

Henry lets out a breath and puts the gun down.

“It’s like you didn’t hear a word I was saying”

The boys flinch when two 12-packs of beer get thrown in the middle of them.

“There’s more where that came from. Get to drinkin’ or else I’ll pour them down your throats myself”

The boys open the cans and start drinking.

Except one.

“Please” The guy begs with tears in his eyes. It’s the same guy who identified Beth at the frat house. “We’re sorry. We’ll never do it again. I-I promise!”

“Oh, you promise? You fucking promise?” Beth raises her voice with every word she says. She tries to restrain herself from straight up attacking this guy, consequences be fucking damned. Her eyes screw shut as she forces herself to take a breath. But it’s not enough. “You were going to violate her” Her jaw sets as the mental image of what could have happened assaults her mind. “If your one inch dicks went anywhere near her, I would have tortured you using methods that haven’t been used since the Middle Ages”

Her eyes bore into his.

“This is me being merciful”

Beth watches them drink and drink and drink. There are eight of them. Their fraternity currently consists of fifteen, but these are the eight voices she identified from the recording. Together all eight of them drink a total of forty-seven beer cans.

Then begins the game of Russian Roulette.

Just like before, Henry lifts the gun to his temple. He’s shaking. Tries to mumble something, but Beth doesn’t care. He raises the gun to his head.

Click.

He lets out a breath of relief, his heart pounding in his chest. He hands the gun to his friend, Alex, who mirrors him by lifting the gun to his temple too.

Click.

The cycle continues. The third guy is sobbing before the metal even touches his temple.

Bang.

Blood spatters across the circle. One down.

Beth pulls the gun from his lifeless hand. Reloads. Spins. Hands it off to the next guy.

Bang.

Another.

Click.

Bang.

Click.

Bang.

Seven bodies slump in the circle like broken dolls. The last guy still breathing feels like his heart is gonna leap out of his chest. He survived.

He doesn’t speak at first. Just stares up at her. His hands are covered in blood that isn’t his.

“I-I’m done. I’m the last. You said I could go”

Beth kneels in front of him, close enough that he can see her eyes. There’s no warmth in them. There’s no reason for there to be. “I lied”

He shakes his head slowly. “Please..”

She pushes the revolver into his palm.

He lifts the gun with trembling fingers.

Cries like a child.

Bang.

Beth stands as the last echo fades. The forest is still. Quiet. Satisfied, she turns and walks away, leaving Ryan and Lloyd to cover up.

She wastes no time riding back to the ranch and handing her horse to Carter after dismounting her. They make short conversation. She asks him about the girl he’s been seeing to which he smoothly deflects by asking about the girl she’s seeing. She calls him a smartass and playfully shoves his head with a smile before walking to the lodge.

Once she’s inside, Beth heads into the kitchen for a cool drink and maybe a light snack. Her blood runs cold when she sees you talking to Jamie.

Your back is unknowingly facing her while you’re face to face with Jamie. You’re just talking, but you stop when he looks behind you, his eyes flashing with pure, unadulterated fear. You jump from the chair mere seconds after he does. He stumbles back, nearly tripping over his feet. You follow his gaze and see Beth storming towards him.

“You fucking waste of oxygen and space” Beth sneers as her vision turns red. “Don’t talk to her. Don’t you ever talk to her” She says, pointing her finger at him. “Don’t even fucking look at her”

You put a hand on Beth’s chest, keeping her at arm’s length. The only thing keeping her from killing Jamie right here and now is you. “Beth. Upstairs”

Beth doesn’t look at you.

“Now” You stress, your voice low and stern.

Beth’s upper lip twitches as she stares her ‘brother’ down. She manages to slap him hard enough that the sound echoes through the kitchen walls. You push her away firmly enough that she decides to turn on her heels and go up to your bedroom. You don’t glance back at Jamie before following her.

You slam the door behind you, not caring who hears. “What the hell was that, Beth?”

Beth looks at you in disbelief. “Me? You’re the one getting all chummy with that fucking traitorous bastard!” Her voice rises towards the end. She paces up and down, her hands on her hips. “I don’t want you anywhere near him, understand? Never”

Beth risks a glance at you. She comes to a stop when she realizes how much distance you’ve put between the two of you. Her lips purse. She can’t blame you for being weary of her right now.

“I’m sorry” The older woman says, avoiding your gaze out of shame and regret. “I didn’t mean to scare you like this, baby” She knows she’s never let you seen this side of her. The Jamie-hating side that often threatens to consume her whole.

Finally, her eyes meet yours. You steel yourself the best you can in order to ask her the following, “What did he do to make you hate him so much?”

Beth looks away, her jaw twitching. “He took something from me that.. I can never get back”

“..Is it something I can give you?”

Beth turns her head towards you so fast, it’s a miracle she doesn’t get whiplash. Her mouth opens and closes a few times, but no words come out.

You take a seat on the edge of the bed and pat the space next to you. “Sit down. Please”

Beth breathes out slowly before walking over to you and sitting down beside you. She doesn’t look at you. Her eyes are fixated on a random spot on the floor. “Yes” Is what she says after a long stretch of silence. “There is a way for you to give me what was taken from me. Probably more than one”

“Then I’ll give it to you” You say without missing a beat. You intertwine your fingers with hers, giving her hand a firm squeeze. “Just tell me what it is”

“It’s not an ‘it’. It’s more of a who”

You furrow your brows. “I don’t understand..”

Beth looks at you, her eyes glossing over. “I can’t have children. I was young and made the mistake of trusting Jamie of all people because I was scared. He had my womb cut out of me”

A shiver runs down your spine as you take in her words. “I’m sorry. Shit, that’s.. that’s so fucked up”

Beth blinks, letting a single tear fall down her cheek. She looks down at your interlocked fingers. She lets that ground her to the present while the past threatens to pull her into a dark place.

You look at her as she caresses your hand. “Do you.. still want kids? Cause’ I’ll give them to you”

Beth huffs a laugh.

“I’m serious”

Beth furrows her brows before looking at you. A disbelieving half-smile pulls at her lips. “Really? You’d fuck up your body to give me a baby?”

“I’ll give you a dozen babies if you want me to, Beth. Hell, I’ll let you breed them into me. Science has evolved and it keeps on doing so. I guarantee there’s a way for me to carry your beautiful, super feisty, blue-ish, green-eyed baby boys and girls”

Beth looks down at your hands again. “They’re hair would be strawberry blonde like mine” She says with a small smile, deciding to humor you.

“Good” You grab a gentle hold of her chin and turn her face towards you so you can look at her. “Because then I get to see you in them all the time”

Beth narrows her eyes at you, but not in a judgy manner. “Are you in heat, baby? You never mentioned wanting kids before and now you’re practically vibrating at the idea of them”

“I want to make you happy in any way I can, Beth, because you constantly do the same for me. So if a baby is what you want, I’ll give him or her to you”

Beth stands up and settles in front of you so you’re looking up at her. Her hands cup your face as she looks down at you with so much love in her eyes. “I’ll never deserve you, you know? Never”

You smile at her. Your eyes roam over her clothes. You didn’t have a chance to properly take her in beforehand. She looks like a real cowboy. Your breath hitches as your cunt throbs with want. God, the effect this woman has on you. “I think you were right about me being in heat” You hook your fingers into her belt, looking up at her with dilated pupils. “Cowboy Beth is really..” You breathe out slowly, “really doing it for me..” You bite your lower lip.

The older woman smirks. “Well, this cowboy is gonna take a nice warm shower. And maybe,”

You squeal when she throws you over her shoulder and lifts you up like you weigh nothing. “Beth!”

“she could use some company” Beth finishes her sentence before heading into the bathroom, the sound of your giggles music to her ears.

The water beats down on both of you. Steam clings to the tiles, obscuring the outline of your bodies as they intertwine under the large showerhead. You stand there with your eyes closed, the hot spray cascading over your face, as Beth's soapy hands glide over your skin, leaving trails of bubbles in their wake. Her touch is firm, yet tender, a silent promise of the pleasure she's about to unleash.

Beth's fingers trace the contours of your thighs, her fingertips grazing the sensitive skin just above your knees before delving lower. You shiver with anticipation, your breath hitching as she parts your legs, gently pushing them apart. She's in no hurry, her movements deliberate and calculated to drive you wild with desire. The pads of her fingers dance along your inner thighs, teasing you with feather-light touches that make your legs quiver.

Her hand moves to cup your mound, the heat from her palm sending a jolt through your core. You can't help but whimper. She chuckles, a dark, seductive sound that makes your stomach flutter. “You're so wet” She murmurs, her voice a low rumble that vibrates against your ear. “Already so eager for me”

Without warning, she dips a finger inside you, the sudden intrusion making you gasp. Her digit slides in and out, setting a slow, steady rhythm that has you leaning back against the cool tiles for support. Your hands grip her shoulders as she adds a second finger, then a third, stretching you open with a practiced ease that speaks of countless nights spent exploring your body. The walls of your cunt clench around her, trying to draw her deeper.

You watch through hooded eyes as Beth drops to her knees, the warm water caressing her skin as she brings her mouth closer to your core. She flicks her tongue against your clit, a gentle but insistent touch that has your hips bucking forward. You can feel her smug smile against your skin as she continues to tease you. Her fingers never still as they pump in and out of you. She's in control, dictating the pace of your pleasure. You're putty in her hands, eager to submit to her every whim.

After the first wave of your orgasm crashes over you, she doesn't let up, her tongue swirling and flicking to coax more ecstasy from your body. The sensation is overwhelming, leaving you panting and begging for mercy. But mercy isn't what Beth has in mind. She laps at you greedily, devouring your sweetness as your legs threaten to give way.

When she's satisfied with the taste of your release, she stands and lifts you up effortlessly. Your legs wrap around her waist, your arms clinging to her neck for balance. She presses you against the shower wall, the coolness of the tiles a stark contrast to the heat of your bodies. Her eyes lock onto yours, a silent challenge in their depths.

You know what's coming next and the anticipation alone is almost too much to bear.

Her mouth moves to your right breast, capturing a nipple in a fierce suckle that sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body. You gasp, arching into the sensation, as she continues to pump her fingers into you. The combination of her mouth on your sensitive peak and her fingers delving deep within you is incredible. You feel yourself building towards another orgasm, your cunt clenching around her hand in a silent plea for more.

Beth is relentless, her teeth grazing your skin as she leaves a trail of love bites from your collarbone to your neck. The slight pain only serves to heighten your arousal, each mark a brand of her ownership. You're lost in the sensations, a whirlwind of pleasure that threatens to consume you. Your breathing turns ragged as you struggle to keep up with the pace she sets, but you know you won't last much longer. Her thumb circles your clit, her tongue flicking against your nipple. Suddenly you're hurtling over the edge again, your body shuddering with the force of your release.

Beth senses your impending climax and shifts gears, her movements becoming more fervent. She slides her fingers in and out of you at a rapid pace, her thumb now pressing down firmly on your clit with each stroke. The change is like throwing gasoline on a fire, your body igniting with need. You tighten your grip on her neck, your nails digging in as you try to hold on, but it's no use.

Her eyes never leave yours, watching your every reaction, gauging your pleasure with a focus that's almost predatory. The water continues to stream down on both of you, mingling with the sweat that coats your skin. The steam in the room thickens, creating a haze that feels like a physical presence, wrapping itself around you, trapping you in this moment of pure, carnality.

The intensity builds, your moans growing louder, echoing off the walls. You're so close, so very close, your body a tightly wound coil ready to snap. And then, with one final, deep thrust of her fingers, that wonderful thing happens. Your orgasm crashes through you like a tidal wave, stealing your breath and making your vision swim near the edges.

You whimper, your nails dig into the skin on her back, drawing blood that washes away with the hot water that cascades down Beth’s back. She welcomes the pain like an old friend. Doesn’t complain, doesn’t hiss. You wonder if she feels it at all. Her lips whisper soft praises as you come down from your high. She gently withdraws her fingers from your cunt once you’ve caught your breath.

You watch her lick your cum clean off her fingers.

Hot.

You both continue to shower normally.

Afterwards, you each dry off and just lay down on the bed bare naked, staring at one another with your fronts pressed into the mattress.

You reach over to softly caress the scars on the right side of her face with the back of your index finger. “How’d you get these scars?”

“Long story”

You hum. You drag your fingers to the healed, third degree burn scars on her back. “And these?”

“Same answer”

You retract your hand. You stare into her eyes. “What was he like? Your husband?” You know you’re stepping in dangerous territory.

Beth purses her lips. “More than I deserved” She says, smiling a little. “I think he would've liked you”

You grab a hold of her fingers, fidgeting with them as you take them in. “I met him one time”

Her eyes widen. “What?”

You hum affirmatively. “At a grocery store” Now, you avert your gaze to her. “He stepped in when the cashier was being a creep. Stared him down so hard I think the dude actually shit his pants”

Beth chuckles, a soft hearty sound. “That sounds like my Rip. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want to upset you. The last time I mentioned him, I saw something dark flash in your eyes” You say honestly. “And not in a hot way”

“I understand” Beth says, her hand reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “I wasn’t good to him in the beginning either”

She lets out a regretful sigh.

“He died because of me”

“Don’t say that”

“No, he did. I have so much blood on my hands, Y/N. My mother, assistants and my husband” She exhales breathily, shutting her eyes before speaking again. “I don’t think it’s ever coming off”

“Then I’ll learn to embrace it” You bring her hand up to your mouth. You stare into her eyes as you press a kiss to the back of her hand. “Like I have embraced every other part of you”

Beth’s heart swells as a smile pulls at her lips. “Can you promise me something, darling?”

You nod.

“Outlive me” Her voice breaks a little. The pad of her thumb gently drags across your cheekbone. “I don’t have it in me to outlive both loves of my life”

“I promise to outlive you, Beth Dutton”

Beth smiles.

“Can I drive your Bentley then?”

Beth chuckles. “Not on your fucking life, baby”

Her lips meet yours to silence you when you open your mouth. Yeah. You can get used to this.

#beth dutton #beth dutton x reader #rip wheeler #bethrip #john dutton #jamie dutton #yellowstone #kelly reilly #braincell reader

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abbysimsfun · 7 months ago

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Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 88 (Bringing Home a Ghost)

After Ghost Night ended at the Salty Paw, Heather, Conrad, and their new friend Felix Psyded left Fisherman's Wharf and returned to their home on Sable Square. Heather entered first, finding Hazel on the sofa watching TV. "Hey, how were the kids tonight?"

"They were great! Ashy said you guys usually read him two bedtime stories but he fell asleep after the first one, and Lava hasn't woken up since I put her to bed. I got to watch Moonlight Massacre after all! How was your night?"

"It was nice! We went looking for a man we didn't find, but we met someone else while we were there..."

Conrad walked inside the front door as Felix floated in behind him. Heather stood, and Hazel looked up from her phone in quiet awe. "Felix Psyded, Esquire. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, miss."

"Hazel Moody-Nesbitt," she replied. "Heather's cooler younger sister. You're, like, really a ghost!"

"Since 1915." He warmly tipped his bowler hat. "May I say, you're stunning like your sister."

"You may say! But I'm married."

"Of course the lovely Nesbitt women would all be spoken for. Though I hope your husband is friendlier than Sargent Gordon."

Hazel laughed. "My wife is sweet, but Conrad's great! Are you the one guy in the world he doesn't get along with?"

Heather sighed, sliding over to make room for Conrad on the sofa. "They got off on the wrong foot."

"Well, why'd you bring him home? I know you love strays, but I didn't think that meant sims who've been dead for over a century!"

"They've promised me a plate of ambrosia in exchange for my services."

Hazel gaped. "When you guys said you were doing this challenge I just thought it was, like, a team building exercise. I didn't think you were really going to resurrect anybody!"

Heather shrugged. "Well, why shouldn't we? We went through all that to learn how to do it, so we might as well help someone with unfinished business while we're at it."

"So is that it, then? No one dies, they just get to live again with ambrosia?"

"Not everyone's unfinished business is to live again. Some die so old, with bodies so used and broken, living again isn't worth it. Even some of the younger ones. Everyone is different and fascinating in their own way, which is why I took to studying ghosts and their stories in the first place."

"He's going to help us figure out if Conrad met a ghost out on Deadgrass Isle."

Hazel grinned as Conrad stood to shoo one of their chickens back outside. "You're fighting crime by day and paranormal activity by night? Holly was right, Conrad. You're basically a superhero."

He blushed, and Felix turned a dour look in his direction. Ending the tense conversation in the living room, Hazel left to return home.

Heather and Conrad left Felix on the sofa and headed to bed. But before they'd changed into pajamas, she blurted her question with concern. "What's going on with you? I've never seen you snappier with anyone than you were tonight with Felix. Like I brought home two ghosts tonight instead of one."

"He was kind of acting like a dick."

Heather nodded. "And you met him there. That's not like you. Is it George Brindleton again?"

"No, George has been quiet. He and his wife spend a lot of the winter in Sulani every year." He could see Heather found this insufficient and kept talking. "I'm just dealing with a lot. I know I wasn't really myself tonight. There's this one case I can't crack and it's making me a little crazy."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I do, but I can't say much about it."

"I know. Confidential. But I want to give you whatever you need to be able to keep your work life at work, and not take the stress home. Not even for me and the kids, because you're so good to us. That's not the issue. I'm worried about you, and I want you to talk to me. The night we got engaged, you promised you would always tell me how you're feeling."

Joining her on the bed, he held her hand against his chest. "When I've finally solved the case, I'll tell you everything. I promise."

She grinned. "Not every gory detail, I hope."

"Do I ever? I don't want to think about the case tonight. I don't want to think about the ghost in our living room. All I want to focus on the rest of the night is you."

They made love before Heather fell asleep in Conrad's arms, (at least temporarily) satisfied by their conversation. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: I debated whether or not to bring Felix Psyded and his lore into this generation because there's a university generation much, much later in this challenge, but Felix was the first ghost that showed up to Ghost Night, sat right next to them and was immediately enamoured with Heather. So my mind spun with a bunch of possibilities for him and I went for it, even though he's mentioned in urban legends for UBrite students and those obviously won't be canon to my timeline anymore.

The In Bloom challenge doesn't have anything related to Felix in the challenge rules, even in the university generation, and Reaper Rewards didn't even require use of the ambrosia Heather made. But I wasn't going to do all that and not fully finish what they started. They're not really the type to lure sims into a cowplant just to test whether ambrosia works, no one in my save needed to die and be brought back, and I have a plan now for Felix! @pixeldistractions mentioned a possible prequel flashback and I'll never say never, but setting up an early-20th Century photo save will take a while if I do it, so no promises. I am invested in him getting a happy ending to his second life, however!

#sims 4 #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 screenshots #sims 4 legacy #sims in bloom #ts4 #ts4 gameplay #ts4 legacy #ts4 screenshots #sims 4 story #ts4 story #legacy challenge #sims legacy #ts4 legacy challenge #gen 2 #brindleton bay #felix psyded

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emo-gremlin · 1 month ago

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Harley: You fuck mothering toaster strudel

🫂

P03: Well jokes on him because now I'm a famous Inscryption player with a 10 inch dick, and I made him into a babyfur.

🫂

@the-lion-guard-88 : My plan to conquer Nick Jr. Didn't work out so I'm going to stay up all night and color myself with markers.

🫂

Mr. Cannibal: I cannot in good conscience be friends with someone who unironically says "u mad bro"

🫂

Mr. Serpent: You are jusssst mad becaussse you are angry

🫂

AM: I hope you all burn

Edgar: love you too <3

🫂

CRT: Yesh!

@jovialoddity : did you just say yesh?

CRT: No.

@jovialoddity : boy

@jovialoddity : are you some sorta

@jovialoddity : WEEABOO

🫂

Banban: You are every single shade of Fucked.

🫂

Me: I got the kritz

Mr. Wpnz: You got the shitz

Me: How did you know

🫂

Vox: I'm gonna beat you like a neckbeard's weiner.

🫂

@liliththequeenofdemon : That wasn't very fresh of you

🫂

@purplehairball : fuck anime

Mr. Puzzles: what did anime ever do to you?

@jovialoddity : my partner left me because of anime

@the-lion-guard-88 : Anime killed my parents

🫂

Me: Oh he's hot? Color me intrigued.

Daydreamer! Puzzles: He's SUPER hot. He might be your type.

Me: Is he Daddy?

Mr. WPNZ: *exists*

Me: AAAAAAA-

THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR ALL YOUR SUPPORT!

Daydreamer puzzles belongs to : @brownii-milkshake

Sargent Telly belongs to: @briandraws

#gremlin approved meme #300 followers special

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sleeper-kerennnnnnx · 9 months ago

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MASHLE author’s Q&A translation （3）

Please point out some poor translations or errors! I will correct them in time, thank you!

I will translate this in four parts!

Here are the Q69-Q99 parts! See my page for the original text and other parts!

To the animation fans: This article talks about many characters that did not appear in the animation! Please note that there are slight references to the subsequent plot of the comics‼ ️(Q86, 87, 88, 90, 93, 96-99) You can avoid it if you don't want to see these

Q69: Why does Mr. Ajito wear a collar?

A69: To punish himself!

Q70: Will Mr. Renatus not age?

A70: No!

Q71: Mr. Renatus is immortal. Even if he is cut or get hurt，he will regenerate. So how did he get the scar on his left face?

A71: It feels like it was left by him protecting the person he loved before he became immortal! He is a person who is loyal to love! But I didn't write it when I was serializing it!

Q72: Is Tsurara（Ice Cane） a boy or a girl?

A72: It is a child born from a boy and a girl.（Translator：come on man， I saw on Wiki that she is a girl)

Q73: What temperature does Tsurara feel?

A73: The temperature she feels like minus five degrees! How pitiful!

Q74: What flower is in the hair ornament of Miss Sophina?

A74: It is blueberry. (Translator：It is a flower in the anime and a blueberry in the comics)

Q75: According to Dot's investigation, the more evil a person is, the stronger he/she is. So is the cold-blooded Divine divisionary Sophia (the Cane of Knowledge) also "evil"?

A75: When she speaks, it sounds like Hiroshima dialect! ! ! ! ! !

Q76: If the Divine divisionary compete with each other? Who is the strongest? Is it Ryoh, the masterpiece of mankind?

A76: It is Mr. Ryoh! The highest masterpiece of mankind! ! ! ! !

Q77: Kaldo is the director of the Magic Talent Management Bureau, Ryoh is the captain of the Magic Guard, and are the other Divine divisionaries also the directors of their respective management bureaus?

A77: That’s right! ! !

Q78: How did Orter become a divine divisionary? Please tell me how to go from the Magic Police School to a Divine divisionary.

A78: Integrated into Easton!

Q79: Did anyone else get married besides Ryoh？

A79: No! ! !

Q80: Does Macaron have other things to dip in tartar sauce besides fried shrimp? Can he forgive fried chicken dipped in tartar sauce?

A80: Yes! Whether it’s fried chicken or tartar sauce!

Q81: Is it also magic that Macaron changes his appearance after releasing magic?

A81: Yes!

Q82: In the last episode, Capaccio and Max were together. Did they become closer? Also, did Capa apologize?

A82: Apologized! Everyone should apologize after a quarrel!

Q83: What is the name of Cappaccio‘s personal magic?

A83: Rebound magic

Q84: What is the personal magic of Bamboo Man Tom? Bamboo magic？

A84: Bamboo magic!!! Bamboo!!!!!!

Q85: What is the opportunity for Tom to be interested in bamboo? Will he turn into bamboo?

A85: I think he noticed it when picking bamboo shoots! I think he has become a person as strong and flexible as bamboo!

Q86: Levis (Valgis blond eye mask) uses armored form in the work. If he has other forms, please tell me!

A86: There is a torpedo state that turns himself into a projectile!

Q87: How is Levis's twin brother?

A87: I felt that he was much better when I saw him last time.

Q88: What do Domina and Levis think when they see the mama's boy Charles?

A88: Uh… uh…okay… that's how it feels！

Q89: What is the order of Adam's three disciples? From the eldest disciple to the third disciple

A89: They were classmates at the same school, like the student version of the original trio of Naruto!

Q90: Meliadel and Wahlberg became Adam's disciples at the same time. Did she do anything to make herself to look young? Or is her personal magic to delay aging?

A90: She probably used lotion, toner, and sleep to look so young…

Q91: Why did Innocent Zero rarely use Wahlberg's space magic?

A91: Because other magic is very powerful!

Q92: I want to know why Innocent Zero went astray, which was cancelled in the main story.

A92: Realized that humans are despicable animals… We are animals! ! ! ! !

Q93: What happened to Innocent Zero and the four children? What did they do in prison? Will they be released in the future?

A93: I think they spent most of their time studying. They will never be released in the future.

Q94: What happens if the owner of the Thirteen Master Canes dies?

A94: The Cane will come to someone else, and a new owner will be born!

Q95: In addition to Cappaccio and Doom (the eldest son of the Root), what other blessings are there for the Thirteen Master Canes?

A95: Something like the Thirteen Master Canes that can predict the future five seconds later!

Q96: Is Doom's Thirteen Master Cane in the hilt of the sword?

A96: It should be in the sword!

Q97: It seems that Doom is not wearing any clothes when he use 100% power. Is he naked? Or is he wearing a rubber suit?

A97: Wearing a rubber suit or something like that!

If you are naked, you will be caught (sweat).

Q98: Did Doom open a pancake shop?

A98: He is serving a life sentence! Maybe he opened a shop in prison!

Q99: What hairstyle does the second son of the Innocent zero have when he takes off his hat?

A99: It's bald!

Can I please ask for the little red heart if u like🥹? See the my page for the others！

Chinese version updated in：longyou1225.lofter.com

#マッシュル mashle #mashle #kaldo gehenna #doom #innocent zero #levis rosequartz #domina blowelive #carpaccio luo yang #margarette macaron #ryoh grantz #charles contini

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lesbianelphie · 5 months ago

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thinking abt marty mcfly. Who grew up in an unhappy family with a nonconfontational insecure doormat of a father, and ends up developing a reactive response to being called "chicken". The most prominent threats to his physical safety and happiness come from biff/the tannens, an archetype of the toxic masculine macho bully. He gets into fights when challenged or to defend other people - it would be safer to just walk away and reject the toxic masculine norms inflicted on him, but he's convinced he has something to prove - and wrecks his entire life after accepting a dare to street race.

he spends the entire trilogy working a car up to highway+ speeds to save himself and fight for his present/future (speeding the car out the mall parking lot and accidentally sending himself to the 50s in the process; half the plot of pt III is just them figuring out how to get the car to go fast enough) but in the end his saving grace and pivotal character development moment is his refusal to race even when challenged as "chicken".

Something about how our maladaptive habits which hurt us stemmed from adaptive things we used to have to do to survive, but healing and growth come from unlearning those things. The 88 miles per hour that saved marty in 1885 and at the twin pines mall would have ruined him if he'd continued to give in to peer pressure. By refusing to race his new truck at the speeds that were needed to power the now-destroyed delorean, he makes the measured choice that prioritizes his future, instead of the reactive habitual one that would have left him stuck in the past.

Tl;dr Marty getting repeatedly stuck in the literal past, defending his ego to the point of unnecessary self-endangerment, and having to speed in the delorean vs. Choosing not to street race in the end represents him growing past his past learned attitudes/behaviors guided by the insecurities and toxic masculinity inflicted by the men in his life, allowing him to focus on his future and break the pattern established by men like George, the tannens, needles, etc.

#idk is this incoherent #back to the future #bttf #marty mcfly

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useless-catalanfacts · 3 months ago

Photo

De Salses a Guardamar i de Fraga a l’Alguer: les comarques de parla catalana una a una. 63/88: l’Horta Sud (València, Valencian Country).

Horta Sud (“South Orchard”) is one of the four parts in which the historical Horta de València area is divided nowadays.

Located in the Albufera de València Natural park, its landscape is marked by the Albufera coastal lagoon, its fields -most famously, its rice fields-, and the ditches that irrigate the fields in a system inherited from the Islamic period.

Product of this landscape, the Horta de València is known for its delicious food. In this photoset I’ve included a photo of the making of a paella, a dish consisting of rice with green beans, peas, rabbit and/or chicken meat and snails cooked in broth and seasoned with saffron.

Besides the now world-famous paella, the rich gastronomy of Horta has much more to offer, including but not limited to all i pebre (a soup with eel, potatoes, and grilled green vegetables), esgarrat (a cold dish of smoke-grilled bell peppers with olive oil, garlic, and pieces of salted cod), coca de mullador (savoury flatbread topped with smoke-grilled bell peppers, aubergine and onion) or with chards or tomato, or coca de llauna (a type of brioche), among others. The area also grows lemons, oranges, melons, green vegetables, and fishes eels in the lagoon and cod in the sea.

Photos by comunitat_valenciana, comunitatvalenciana.com, Vicenç Salvador Torres Guerola/wikimedia, hoteles.net, valenciaturisme, Millars/wikimedia, cervezaturia, Quoan/wikimedia.

#comarques #horta sud #país valencià #menjar #paella #l'albufera #cuisine #food #foodblr #travel #southern europe #europe #natural park

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bonefall · 1 year ago

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are amphibians like newts and frogs considered aquatic? i know crustaceans & mollusks would be

Yes they are! Generally, the more time it spends on land, the closer it will be to 5 calories than 4. The estimate was actually based on frogs and tadpoles, I had to make an educated guess.

My best source was a feeding chart from a reptile food website which sells whole small prey for consumption by snakes. It perfectly lists out the values of dozens of small animals, but no fish. So I took a note of the 4 calorie estimate, observed that an adult frog increases in calories compared to tadpoles (bucking the trend with the others on the list where younger animals are worth more caloric value) and went on to do more research

I couldn't find a source that broke down WHOLE prey caloric value like the chart, so I ended up comparing caloric value between rabbit fillets, chicken fillets, and fish fillets on human-centric nutrition websites. My hypothesis was mostly consistent, even with more species added. Fish (perch, flounder, pike) < Wild Mammal (rabbit, squirrel) < Poultry (chicken, turkey, quail). There was overlap between "classes", certain fish getting over the 100 hump, but generally there was a trend I boiled down into 4/5/6

This is consistent with how a lot of fish meat is actually water. In fact, cats quench a lot of their thirst from the food they eat. I also learned some very interesting stuff about the fat distribution in fish which is going to blow a bit of a hole in some of my Clan culture stuff lmaoooo, but I'll furiously swim across that obliterated bridge when I get there

But funfact! Fish oil is rendered fish fats and it is the form that unsaturated fat takes, whereas lard is what saturated fats become. I need to do more research into this topic to understand what kind of difference it would make in a wild cat's diet.

There was one big bucked trend though: salmonid meat was WAAAAY higher in fat and calories. Like, absurdly high. Like 150 cal trout fillet vs 110 cal of rabbit fillet vs 88 cal of perch fillet.

I do not know why that is. My guess is that maybe it's because they were taking the number from farmed salmonids? Maybe it's because they're particularly fatty fish? Perhaps this is just the raw power of salmon slammin'.

Anyway, at one point I was trying to estimate exact caloric value per popular prey species, but decided I didn't have the "backing" to get so exact with the numbers since I was doing estimates with the fish. I'll do the work if it comes down to it, but for now, 4/5/6 is a quick, easy guideline you can use for just about any WC project.

#I was planning for Bb!RiverClan to be the guys who didn't cook much #Being quite snooty about it and insisting it's good for you #But it turns out they're actually at the highest risk of getting worms for that #Maybe I'll keep it for the irony because that sounds VERY funny #Cleric in the corner SOBBING because Waterpool just caught tapeworms for the 4th time #Willowpelt over in TC like ''I ALWAYS KNEW THEIR GLOSSY COATS WERE TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE!!''#No wonder her daughter Sorrel has a thing about worms lmaoo #I need to do more research but what I've come across here is that. Like. Actually?#A fish-only diet might cause a lot of really specific and pretty serious problems in RC #Another is that fish have so many micronutrients that some of the sites I visited were warning about some of those 'overdose' side effects.#The carp example was just the most interesting #I guess I had been assuming a lot based on the conception of fish as being 'the healthy meat'#Clan culture #Nutrition guide #Bone babble

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chuck-snowbug · 5 months ago

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走っている途中にお腹が空いて食べたもの八景・その８９ - Foods I Ate During Running Part 89

1: Onigiri of "Seven Eleven" at Atsugi-Asahicho-Icchome - November 2024

2: Chicken, Egg, Vegetables & Chili Sauce Sandwich of "Seven Eleven" at Sumida-Ryogoku-Nichome - December 2024

3: Sausage Danish of "Fanpan" - December 2024

4: Onigiri of "Lawson" at Den-En-Chofu-Icchome - December 2024

5: Onigiri of "FamilyMart" at Yutenji-Ekimae - December 2024

6: Onigiri of "FamilyMart" at Komae-Higashiizumi - December 2024

7: Onigiri of "FamilyMart" at Shimouma-Komazawa-Dori - December 2024

8: Onigiri of "Seven Eleven" at Kawasaki-Ikuta-Hacchome - December 2024

#onigiri #おにぎり #マラソン #marathon #japanese food

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songbirdsanctuary · 9 months ago

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Buchteln

So... 88 votes, and not a single 'no'. I guess you wanna see a fic where Scar bakes.

So this one he makes one off my personal favorites, Buchteln filled with apricot.

Word count: 5,359

Scar wandered aimlessly around his kitchen, his tail flicking with each step as he mulled over what to make. The room was warm and cozy, the soft glow from the late afternoon sun casting a golden hue across the counters, but Scar’s mind wasn’t on the light—it was on what to bake. He wanted to make something good, but for once, he wasn’t sure what.

His eyes drifted over the shelves of ingredients as he ran a hand over his chin, deep in thought. Scar didn’t bake for himself often; in truth, he rarely ate the fruits of his labor. No, his joy came from baking for others, the way they smiled when they took their first bite, how their eyes lit up as the flavors danced on their tongues. The satisfaction of bringing a little bit of happiness to his friends was what drove him into the kitchen time and time again.

He stopped for a moment and rested his hands on the cool marble countertop. Who should he bake for this time? He tilted his head, running through his list of friends. Impulse? No, he had just brought him a fresh apple pie last week, and Scar doubted Impulse would be ready for another sweet treat so soon. His tail swayed behind him as he paced a little, considering his options. What about Xisuma? Scar smiled at the thought of the admin, remembering how pleased X had been with the chorus fruit chocolate cake he’d brought by a few days ago. Another gift so soon might be a bit over the top.

Scar hummed softly to himself, then paused. Pearl. He hadn’t baked anything for Pearl in a while. A broad grin spread across his face as the decision settled in his mind. Yes, Pearl would appreciate something special. She always had a way of making him feel like his efforts were worthwhile, even if she never demanded anything.

“Alright,” Scar muttered to himself, already feeling more focused now that he had a recipient in mind. “Pearl it is.”

But now came the question: What to make? He tapped his fingers against the counter, thinking hard. A cake? No, too similar to what he had already done for Xisuma. Something light, sweet, but not overwhelming. Maybe a pastry of some kind, something Pearl could nibble on during one of her long adventures.

After a few minutes of deliberation, inspiration struck. Buchteln. Yes, that would be perfect! Light, pillowy rolls filled with something sweet—he had apricots growing in the garden that would make an ideal filling. It was a comforting dessert, a treat that would warm you up on the inside but wasn’t too heavy.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Scar got to work. He walked over to his pantry, pulling out a large bowl from one of the lower shelves. He hummed softly as he began to gather the ingredients. For the dough, he would need flour, eggs, sugar, butter, milk, yeast, salt, and vanilla extract.

One by one, Scar pulled the bags of flour and sugar from the cabinet, setting them gently on the counter. Next came the yeast—he checked the packet to make sure it was still fresh—before reaching for the little bottle of vanilla extract from a nearby shelf. His hands worked with a practiced rhythm, each motion deliberate but easy.

Scar’s gaze flicked to the window as he remembered the eggs. He grinned and made his way outside, his boots crunching softly against the gravel path that led to his small chicken coop. The chickens clucked softly in greeting as Scar approached. He reached into the coop, carefully gathering two warm, brown eggs in his hands, giving a soft chuckle as one of the hens nudged his arm as if in approval. “Thanks, girls,” Scar said, giving them a fond smile before making his way back inside.

Once he returned to the kitchen, Scar placed the eggs beside the other ingredients, pausing for a moment to survey everything laid out before him. There was something immensely satisfying about this part of baking—the preparation, the anticipation of creating something from nothing more than a handful of simple ingredients. It reminded him of building, how each block placed down eventually became something greater than the sum of its parts. But instead of bricks and wood, he had flour and sugar, butter and milk.

He rolled up his sleeves and got ready to begin, his thoughts already drifting to Pearl and how surprised she’d be when he showed up with a basket of fresh, warm Buchteln. The thought made him smile as he reached for the flour and began measuring out the first cup.

Scar reached into one of the lower cabinets, pulling out a sturdy pan, his fingers grazing the cool metal as he set it down with a soft clink onto the stove. The kitchen was filled with a warm glow, and the hum of activity was soothing to him. Cooking and baking always gave him a sense of purpose. He carefully measured out 1/3 cup of butter, watching the golden chunks fall into the pan, their soft edges already beginning to melt. Turning the heat on low, Scar kept a close eye on it, occasionally swirling the pan to ensure the butter melted evenly, a habit he had picked up after a few too many incidents of butter browning unintentionally.

As the butter slowly liquefied, its smooth golden surface reflecting the light above, Scar inhaled deeply, letting the rich, creamy scent fill the kitchen. When the last of the butter melted into a warm pool, he turned off the heat, carefully tilting the pan and watching the butter glide to one side. He set it aside to cool slightly, knowing that patience was key in baking—too hot, and the butter would scramble the eggs.

While the butter rested, Scar moved over to the counter, reaching for his large mixing bowl. He loved this particular bowl—it was wide and deep, perfect for stirring ingredients without making a mess. Grabbing a wooden spoon, he set to work. First, the flour. He scooped it with precision, leveling off each cup before letting it fall with a soft thud into the bowl. Once the flour was in, he added the sugar—a delicate cascade of white powder—and then, the yeast, sprinkling it over the top like magic dust.

The mixture in the bowl looked like an unassuming pile of dry ingredients, but Scar knew that soon it would transform into something entirely different. With a few gentle swipes of the spoon, he mixed the flour, yeast, and sugar together, watching as they combined into a pale, soft mixture. The flour was light and powdery, swirling slightly in the air with each movement, and Scar couldn’t help but smile at the sight. There was something calming about working with ingredients so simple, yet so integral.

He stopped for a moment, holding the spoon mid-stir, and then carefully made a well in the center of the dry ingredients, just like he had done countless times before. The flour and sugar slid to the edges of the bowl, forming a soft, pale crater in the middle. Scar stepped back for a moment, admiring his work—it almost looked like a little nest, waiting to be filled.

Next came the wet ingredients. Scar moved to grab another bowl, this one slightly smaller but still spacious enough to handle what he needed. He picked up the measuring cup, carefully pouring in the warm milk—just the right temperature, not too hot to kill the yeast but warm enough to activate it. He glanced over at the butter, now cooled to the perfect temperature, and poured it into the bowl with the milk. The two liquids swirled together, the butter leaving golden streaks as it mingled with the creamy milk.

Then came the eggs. Scar cracked them against the rim of the bowl, one at a time, watching as the bright yolks slipped down into the liquid below, their rich yellow contrasting with the pale milk and butter. He whisked them gently, the sound of the whisk rhythmic and soft, until everything was well combined, smooth and slightly frothy. The salt came next, just a pinch to balance out the sweetness, and finally, the vanilla extract. He loved the smell of vanilla—it reminded him of warmth and comfort, like curling up with a soft blanket on a cold day. As he added a teaspoon, the scent blossomed in the air, bringing a smile to his face.

Satisfied with his mixture, Scar moved back to the large bowl with the flour, yeast, and sugar. He picked up the smaller bowl, carefully pouring the wet ingredients into the well he had made earlier. The liquid mixture slid into the crater, pooling at the bottom before slowly spreading outwards, soaking into the flour from the edges.

Scar set the bowl down and grabbed the wooden spoon once more. He began stirring slowly, drawing the flour from the edges of the well into the wet center. His movements were gentle but deliberate, folding the ingredients together with care. The dough began to form, thick and sticky at first, but gradually becoming smoother with each turn of the spoon. The process was almost meditative—Scar lost himself in the rhythm, in the soft scrape of the spoon against the bowl and the feeling of the dough coming together beneath his hands.

He knew that soon it would be time to knead the dough by hand, but for now, he simply enjoyed the quiet act of mixing, knowing that each step brought him closer to creating something special for Pearl.

Scar continued to stir the mixture, watching as the flour gradually absorbed the liquid ingredients, transforming into a sticky dough that clung to the sides of the bowl. As the spoon became less effective, Scar set it aside and dusted his hands with a bit of flour, feeling the familiar, gritty sensation against his skin. He reached into the bowl, his fingers sinking into the soft, yielding dough, and began working it with his hands. The dough was warm and pliable, sticking to his fingers slightly as he began folding and pressing it together.

He transferred the dough onto a clean, lightly floured surface, dusting the top with just enough flour to keep it from sticking too much. Scar took a deep breath, letting himself sink into the familiar rhythm of kneading. His hands pushed the dough forward, stretching it out, then folding it back on itself with a firm but gentle touch. The repetitive motion was soothing, almost hypnotic, as he worked the dough into something soft, supple, and smooth. Every fold and press of his hands brought the dough closer to that perfect texture he knew so well.

As he kneaded, Scar’s mind wandered, thoughts of Pearl and her reaction drifting through his head. He smiled to himself, imagining her wide grin when she took her first bite. Kneading was always the part of baking that made him feel the most connected to the process—it was personal, his hands guiding the ingredients from their raw form into something full of potential. Each press of his palms was like building the foundation of a structure, brick by brick, until everything was just right.

The dough started to transform under his hands, growing firmer, smoother, and more elastic with each passing minute. He could feel it gaining strength, the gluten developing and binding the ingredients together in a soft, stretchy web. His arms moved in steady, practiced motions, pushing the dough down, turning it over, stretching it again. He occasionally dusted the surface with more flour, just enough to keep things moving smoothly but never too much to dry it out.

Eight minutes passed, then ten, and the dough was ready. It felt springy and smooth beneath his fingers, elastic and responsive to his touch. Scar pressed a finger into it lightly, watching it bounce back. Perfect.

With a satisfied hum, Scar lifted the dough and placed it back into the large bowl, tucking it into a neat ball. He grabbed a clean kitchen towel from a nearby hook, soft and warm, and carefully draped it over the bowl. The dough was now ready to rise, and Scar knew the next step was to wait—a lesson in patience that baking never failed to teach.

He carried the bowl over to a cozy spot near the window, where the afternoon sun streamed through the glass, casting a gentle warmth across the counter. It was the perfect place for the dough to rise, nestled in the sun’s embrace. Scar glanced at the clock and smiled to himself; it would take about an hour or two for the dough to double in size, enough time for him to relax a little before continuing.

With the dough resting, Scar took a moment to stand back and admire his work. The kitchen smelled faintly of vanilla and yeast, with the promise of freshly baked bread hanging in the air. He felt a quiet sense of accomplishment, knowing that soon enough, the dough would be ready for the next step, inching closer to becoming the delicious Buchteln he had envisioned for Pearl. Now all he had to do was wait, letting the magic of yeast and time do its work, slowly transforming the dough into something light and airy.

As he wiped the flour from his hands and leaned back against the counter, Scar glanced out the window, watching the golden rays of the sun inch lower across the sky. It was a peaceful moment, the calm before the final flurry of activity that would bring his creation to life.

As the dough rose quietly in the kitchen, Scar decided to stretch his legs and take a short walk outside. His backyard was a peaceful retreat, filled with life and vibrant energy. The gentle breeze rustled through the leaves of his small garden, and the sun dappled the ground with patches of light. His boots crunched softly against the earth as he approached his favorite tree—a lone apricot tree that stood tall and proud at the far end of his yard.

Scar had always loved this tree. It had been one of the first he planted when he moved in, and over the years, it had become a steadfast companion, offering shade in the summer and fruit in the late spring. He could see the small buds of future apricots beginning to swell, but they were still green, not yet ready for picking. As he came closer, his heart sank a little—none of the fruit seemed ready to harvest. But Scar wasn’t too worried; being part tree elf had its perks.

Gently, Scar rested a hand against the rough bark of the trunk, feeling the connection between them spark to life. He could sense the tree's slow, steady heartbeat beneath his fingertips. The leaves rustled softly above him as though the tree was waking up from a lazy nap.

“Hey, Apri,” Scar said softly, his voice warm with affection. He loved giving nicknames to his plants—he found it made them more personable, more like friends. And they never seemed to mind; in fact, they responded to it, even if trees were a little slower than other plants to show it.

The tree hummed in response, its voice deep and slow, as trees often spoke. It was a sound more felt than heard, a vibration that echoed through the earth and up through the soles of Scar’s feet. “Mmm... Scar... What brings you here today?”

Scar smiled, patting the bark affectionately. “Could I have a few fruits today?” He asked, his tone polite and respectful. He always made sure to ask nicely; trees appreciated kindness, and he believed in giving back to the land that provided for him.

“Mmm?” The tree took its time to respond, its leaves swaying lazily in the breeze. “How many do you need?”

Scar looked up at the branches overhead, thinking for a moment. He didn’t need too many—just enough for his Buchteln, enough to make Pearl smile when she took her first bite. “Three. If you please?” Scar asked, his voice soft.

There was a pause as the tree considered his request. It hummed again, a deep, resonant sound that vibrated through the trunk. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, one of the branches began to lower toward Scar, inching its way down like a living thing. Scar watched in quiet wonder as the tree responded to his magic, the buds on the branch swelling before his eyes.

As the branch lowered to his height, Scar noticed the apricots beginning to grow right before him. Their greenish-yellow hue slowly deepened into a rich, warm orange, the fruits swelling and ripening in mere moments. It never ceased to amaze him how nature could be so generous with just a little nudge from his magic.

Once the apricots had ripened fully, their skins soft and fragrant, Scar carefully plucked them from the branch one by one. He handled them with great care, their slightly fuzzy skins cool and smooth against his hands. “Thank you, Apri,” Scar said softly, giving the tree another gentle pat on the trunk as he stood back up.

The tree hummed once more, its branches swaying gently in a breeze that seemed to answer him. “Hmm... Anytime, Scar...”

With the apricots cradled in his hands, Scar made his way back to the kitchen, the scent of the ripe fruit filling the air as he walked. He set the apricots down on the counter and grabbed a small knife from the drawer. One by one, he sliced each apricot in half, twisting the two halves apart to reveal the small pits inside. He discarded the pits, then gently crushed the apricot flesh with a fork until it began to break down into a thick, pulpy jam.

Scar decided not to add any sugar; he loved the natural sweetness of freshly picked fruit, and he knew Pearl appreciated the authentic taste of the ingredients. The apricots, still warm from the sun and the magic of the tree, softened beautifully, releasing their juices as Scar worked them into a rustic, simple filling.

He smiled as he watched the apricot jam come together, thinking about how it would pair perfectly with the soft, pillowy dough now rising in the bowl. Everything was coming together nicely—just a little more time and care, and the Buchteln would be ready to fill with this fresh, sun-kissed fruit.

And with the dough rising steadily behind him, Scar felt a sense of calm satisfaction wash over him, knowing that every element of this bake—from the dough to the apricots themselves—was made with care, attention, and a little bit of magic.

After about two hours, Scar returned to the kitchen. The dough, now soft and swollen, had doubled in size, filling the bowl with its light, pillowy texture. He grinned, pleased with how beautifully it had risen. This was the moment Scar always looked forward to—the transformation from mere ingredients into something alive and full of potential.

He approached the bowl and gently placed his hand on the surface of the dough. It felt warm and soft, like a plush cloud, but he knew it was time to move on to the next step. With a decisive motion, Scar punched down the dough, his fist sinking into it as the air rushed out in a satisfying whoosh. The dough deflated instantly, its puffiness collapsing under the pressure. Scar chuckled quietly to himself; there was something deeply gratifying about that moment, a sense of control and power in shaping the dough as he pleased.

He dusted his counter with flour, watching the fine white powder fall like snow onto the surface. Carefully, he turned the dough out of the bowl, placing it on the counter with a soft thud. It spread slightly, but still held its shape, elastic and smooth beneath his touch. He took a deep breath and began the process of dividing the dough into smaller portions.

With a bench scraper in hand, Scar divided the dough evenly into twelve pieces. He worked methodically, cutting and weighing each piece to ensure they were all roughly the same size. Scar had always liked precision in baking; it was a delicate balance of art and science, and getting the proportions just right always made him feel more connected to the process.

Each piece of dough was rolled into a ball, the smooth surface stretching and glistening faintly in the light. Scar placed the small dough balls in a neat row on the counter, his fingers moving with practiced ease as he prepared for the next step. He pressed each ball flat, shaping them into small circles with his hands. The dough was supple and warm, slightly tacky to the touch, but it yielded easily beneath his fingers as he shaped it.

Once he had twelve flat circles of dough in front of him, Scar retrieved the apricot jam he had made earlier. It had thickened nicely while he worked on the dough, still fragrant and vibrant with the sweet, tangy scent of fresh apricots. He smiled to himself, satisfied with the filling he had created—it would be the perfect complement to the soft, fluffy dough.

Scar spooned a small amount of the chunky apricot jam into the center of each circle of dough, careful not to overfill them. The bright orange filling sat like a small jewel in the middle of each dough round, glistening in the light. He worked quickly but carefully, knowing that too much filling could cause the dough to break or leak during baking.

Once all the dough circles were filled, Scar began to carefully pinch the edges of each circle together, drawing the dough up and over the apricot jam. He made sure to seal the edges tightly, pressing the dough firmly together to trap the sweet filling inside. His fingers moved deftly, pinching and twisting the dough until each piece was securely sealed, the jam nestled safely in the center.

Scar placed each dough ball seam-side down in a buttered baking dish, arranging them snugly together so they would bake into a warm, golden mass of sweet, filled buns. The buttered dish glistened softly, its sides slick with melted butter that would help the dough bake to a beautiful golden brown. As he placed the last dough ball into the dish, Scar stepped back for a moment to admire his work. The balls of dough fit snugly together, their surfaces smooth and taut, with just a hint of the soft jam hidden beneath.

Scar brushed the tops of the dough balls with a little melted butter, ensuring they would bake to a beautiful golden color. He could already imagine the scent of warm, sweet bread filling the kitchen, the soft, pillowy Buchteln fresh out of the oven. The apricot jam, still slightly chunky, would melt into the dough, creating pockets of sweet, fruity goodness in every bite.

Satisfied with his work, Scar set the baking dish aside, ready for the final stage of baking. The hard part was done; now all that was left was to wait and let the magic of the oven do its work, transforming these simple dough balls into something special for Pearl. As he wiped his hands clean, Scar felt a warm sense of pride. He could already picture the look on Pearl’s face when she took her first bite, the sweetness of the apricots mingling with the soft dough.

After about half an hour, Scar began to notice the sweet, comforting aroma of freshly baked bread filling his kitchen. It was rich and warm, with just a hint of fruity sweetness from the apricots. He peered through the oven window, and his heart fluttered with excitement—the Buchteln had risen beautifully, their tops a perfect golden brown, shimmering slightly with the buttery sheen he'd brushed on them.

Satisfied, Scar grabbed his oven mitts and carefully opened the oven door, feeling the rush of warm air escape. He gently slid the baking dish out of the oven, the weight of it solid in his hands. The Buchteln looked perfect—plump, golden buns nestled snugly together, slightly puffed up from the heat of the oven. Each one held a secret pocket of apricot jam, their surfaces smooth and shiny, promising soft, airy bites filled with sweetness.

With practiced precision, Scar carefully removed the buns from the pan, one by one, setting them on a cooling rack to let the steam escape. He handled each one delicately, feeling their warmth through the thick mitts, making sure not to disturb the delicate balance of the dough and filling. Each Buchteln was slightly firm on the outside, but he could feel the softness underneath, the dough springing back with a slight press of his finger.

After letting them cool for a few minutes, Scar set the warm, golden buns on a plate. Their rich scent still lingered in the air, filling the kitchen with that unmistakable comforting smell of home-baked goods. He stepped back for a moment to admire his work—there was something deeply satisfying about seeing the fruits of his labor sitting there, waiting to be enjoyed. The light in the kitchen caught the golden tops of the Buchteln, making them glow with an inviting warmth.

He wasn’t done yet, though. Reaching for the powdered sugar, Scar carefully dusted each Buchteln with a fine layer of white sweetness. He held the sieve high, letting the sugar rain down in delicate, airy puffs, covering the tops of the buns like freshly fallen snow. It added the perfect finishing touch, a light sweetness that would complement the apricot filling without overpowering it.

Scar smiled as he watched the powdered sugar settle, a soft dusting that contrasted beautifully with the golden-brown tops of the Buchteln. They looked so inviting, so perfectly made, that for a moment he wondered if he should keep one for himself—but no, these were for Pearl, and the thought of sharing them made him even happier.

Once the dusting of sugar was complete, Scar carefully transferred the Buchteln into a wooden container. The container had been one of his favorites for years, a beautifully crafted box with a smooth finish and intricate carvings along the edges. He liked to think it added a personal touch, something that made the gift even more special. He gently nestled the Buchteln inside, making sure they were securely placed so they wouldn’t shift around on the journey. As he placed the final bun inside, he marveled at how snugly they fit, almost as though the container had been made just for them.

Scar placed the lid on the container, the soft wooden click sealing the Buchteln inside. For a moment, he stood still, the container in his hands, feeling the warmth of the freshly baked buns radiating through the wood. There was a sense of anticipation building within him—he couldn’t wait to see Pearl’s reaction when she opened the box.

With everything ready, Scar made his way out of the kitchen and toward the door, the wooden container tucked securely under his arm. The afternoon sun was still bright in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the landscape as Scar began the walk to Pearl’s base. The container felt solid and reassuring in his hands, each step bringing him closer to the moment he would share his baking with her.

As he walked, Scar couldn’t help but smile. He loved these small acts of kindness, baking something from scratch and then delivering it to a friend. There was something magical in it, a quiet, simple joy that came from creating something with care and then offering it to someone else, knowing that they would appreciate the effort, the thoughtfulness, and, most of all, the taste of something made just for them.

The path to Pearl’s base was familiar, winding through a beautiful landscape of rolling hills and colorful flowers. Scar hummed a little tune to himself as he walked, the container held carefully in his hands, his heart light with anticipation. He imagined Pearl’s face lighting up when she opened the lid, the surprise and delight when she saw the beautifully dusted Buchteln waiting for her inside. That thought alone made the entire process worth it.

By the time he reached Pearl’s base, the sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the ground. Scar stood at the entrance for a moment, adjusting the container in his hands, a smile on his lips as he knocked gently on the door. He couldn’t wait to share the fruits of his labor with his friend, knowing that the warmth and sweetness of the Buchteln would brighten her day as much as the process of making them had brightened his.

Pearl noticed Scar approaching from a distance, the late afternoon sun casting his familiar silhouette against the warm golden sky. With a gentle flutter of her moth wings, she took to the air, her soft, silken wings catching the breeze as she glided gracefully down toward him. The vibrant colors of her wings shimmered in the fading sunlight, giving her an almost ethereal glow as she descended. As she landed softly a few feet away from him, her wings folded neatly behind her back, their edges still shimmering as they tucked in close to her body.

"Scar!" Pearl greeted him with a bright smile, her voice full of warmth and joy. She practically bounced on her feet as she stepped closer, excitement radiating from her. Her eyes gleamed with curiosity—she always loved when Scar visited, knowing he often came bearing something special.

Scar smiled back at her, his heart lifting at the sight of her bright, cheerful energy. Seeing her always made him feel lighter, and her enthusiasm was contagious. He held the wooden container carefully in his hands, the same one that now held the sweet treats he’d spent the afternoon making just for her. He could feel the warmth of the Buchteln still lingering within the wood, a promise of the comforting, sugary goodness inside.

"Hello, Pearl," Scar said softly, his voice filled with affection. He took a step forward and presented the container to her, his tail flicking happily behind him. The weight of the box was light in his hands, but it carried with it the thought and care he’d put into every step of the baking process.

“I brought something for you,” he said, his smile widening as he held the container out toward her. There was a note of pride in his voice, but also a gentle modesty—Scar never baked for praise or recognition, only for the joy of sharing what he made with the people he cared about.

Pearl’s eyes lit up with curiosity as she looked at the wooden box. Her hands reached out, delicate and eager, as she gently took the container from him. For a moment, she held it in her hands, feeling the weight and warmth of the contents inside, already guessing what sort of delicious treat Scar had prepared for her this time. She smiled softly, glancing back up at him with gratitude.

"Aw, Scar," she said, her voice touched with affection. “You didn’t have to, but I’m so glad you did. What’s inside?”

Scar grinned, leaning in a little closer as if to share a secret. “Something special,” he said with a wink. “Freshly baked Buchteln, filled with apricots I picked just for you.”

Pearl’s expression turned to one of delighted surprise. She loved Scar’s baking, but the thought that he had gone out of his way to pick fresh apricots just for this recipe made it all the more meaningful. She couldn’t wait to open the container and see the sweet, golden buns for herself, to breathe in the scent of fresh pastry and fruit.

Her wings fluttered slightly in excitement, the soft movement betraying her eagerness. "You always know just what I like," she said with a laugh, holding the container close to her as if it were a treasure.

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