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farmerstarter · 2 years ago

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The Bachelors on their Wedding Day

Hi Hello have this short list of my little Headcanons of the bachelors on their wedding day. Hope you enjoy it! Reblogs and likes are appreciated!!🌷🤍

ʚ🏈ɞ ˚ · . Alex :

🏈 Fiddles with his tie relentlessly and ends up ruining it. He runs to Evelyn to ask her to tie it up again. The only other thing he fusses over is his hair.

🏈 Alex keeps a rabbit's foot in his pants, wanting all the luck he can get.

🏈 Spent literal days writing his wedding vows. Ends up opting to wing it. It wasn't the most eloquently worded thing you've heard but it was sweet.

🏈 He gave himself a pep talk in his bedroom before the ceremony. You only know about this because George was complaining about how loud he was to you.

🏈 Dusty the dog is the mermaid pendant bearer, I decided.

🏈 Also, the song that plays during the wedding is the same tune from Alex's music box. 🥺

ʚ🪶ɞ ˚ · . Elliott :

🪶Beach wedding. You guys have a beach wedding. You've expressed your interest in one and Elliott, with the eager help of Willy, clean up the beach for your special day. Elliott's shoes would fill with sand but his discomfort is overpowered by his delight when he sees you all dressed up.

🪶 He reads you one (of many) of his poems about you. You later learned that he's got a whole book of poetry about you that he's been writing ever since you two started dating. The poem he read on the wedding day was the very first one and is the first page of the book.

🪶 He spent hours trying to make himself look good. Asking for Leah and Willy's input on what he should wear for a solid 3 hours.

🪶 Aside from him worrying over his appearance, Elliott is more excited than nervous. He's on the verge of creating a new chapter in his life with someone else. Gone are the days of his lonely shack and the empty (well, not as empty since you moved into town) beach. Honestly, to say that he's excited is an understatement.

ʚ🛩️ɞ ˚ · . Harvey :

🛩️ Gets awfully shy when reading his vows, stuttering his way through his words and being a blushing mess. He has no problem with the one-on-one check up sessions he does with the other villagers of Pelican Town, but to read aloud in front of all of them at once threw him off. But he kept his eyes on you and managed to power through it.

🛩️ He considered shaving off his mustache for the wedding at least twice. But he decided against the idea.

🛩️ Insisted that you eat Farmer's Brunch the morning of the wedding. Even during your wedding day, he wants to make sure you're feeling healthy.

🛩️ Holds your hands throughout the whole ceremony. Whispering apologies for how clammy his hands are.

ʚ🎸ɞ ˚ · . Sam :

🎸 He wrote a whole song about you and played it on your wedding day. He made it a surprise for you and the moments of him hiding his guitar and shoving music sheets under his bed when you visit his room were all starting to make sense to you.

🎸 Couldn't sleep for the whole night before the wedding. He worried over the ceremony and wanted to make it go smoothly. He's not one to meticulously plan every detail, opting to engage in spur of the moment decisions, but he tried his best to make everything as close to perfect as he can get.

🎸 Jodi tried to gel Sam's hair back, but no matter the amount of gel and hours, his hair would always spring back. Sam wasn't a fan of dressing up in a "dorky suit" but he did anyway, for you.

🎸 Sam didn't want to see you until the wedding so he got Vincent to play messenger for the two of you. He wouldn't do it at first but only agreed to do it because he likes you (Cue a dramatic gasp from Sam).

ʚ🐸ɞ ˚ · . Sebastian :

🐸 Ends up smiling through the whole ceremony, looking at you with such a brightness in his eyes.

🐸 He isn't one to wear anything fancy. The closest thing he ever wore that is considered formal was the suit that Lewis got him and the rest of the dancers to wear for the Flower Dance. He asks his mom to help him dress up for the wedding, asking her about it while she was building furniture. Sebastian doesn't want to admit it, but he liked watching his mom so happy over something that was so mundane to him. He makes sure to keep the suit in perfect condition throughout the ceremony because of it.

🐸 He tells his very heartfelt wedding vows. And while he does, you could hear the faint "that's good," from Elliott before a grunt, inevitably elbowed on the side by Leah.

🐸 You and him ride on his motorcycle after the wedding. He drives you two to the cliff overlooking the city, the same cliff where he confessed his true feelings to you. Under the full moon, the two of you would look at the stars with Sebastian occasionally pointing at a constellation that Maru taught him to find.

🐸 Consider: winter wedding.

ʚ🐣ɞ ˚ · . Shane :

🐣 Genuinely doesn't believe that you want to marry him. He thinks it's a dream at best and a prank at worst. It wasn't until you were tying his mermaid pendant around his neck for him to know that you do love him. He still has trouble understanding it sometimes.

🐣 Shane asked Marnie to teach him how to waltz for your wedding day. Sure, he's danced in the Flower Dance countless of times but he wanted to learn something new to surprise you. And he did. After dancing with you, he dances with Jas. Well, it's more of Jas standing on Shane's feet while he walks and glides around.

🐣 He gave his chicken, Charlie, a bow tie for the wedding and everything. Even got a picture of you and Shane with the little guy. The picture ends up being hanged on Shane's side of the bedroom for many years to come.

🐣 Has his pocket full of corn chips, let's be honest. He offers one to you before the ceremony starts.

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cosmosbabydoll · 2 months ago

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𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐟𝐚𝐫𝐞 જ⁀➴ 𝐄𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐭𝐭 𝐱 ��!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Elliot finally meets the quiet nurse

!!MENTIONS OF GUN VIOLENCE!! Angst, fluff, slow burn, enemies to lovers, emotional hurt, comfort, trauma recovery, guarded characters, mutual pining, survival themes, protective male lead, soft girl x rough guy

The rain hadn’t stopped for hours. The drops were loud as they pelted against the medic tent like distant artillery—constant, dull, impossible to ignore. You were rinsing the blood off your hands after stitching up Tommy’s rather large gash on his leg when the flap of an entrance opened hard, nearly ripped clean of its ties.

He stood there, soaked and grimacing, a fresh streak of red down his temple. Elliott.

He didn’t ask for help or say anything for that matter. He stared at you like you were the one who did this, like this whole thing was your fault.

You were like a deer in headlights; Elliott’s presence scared you—dark and moody, like you never did anything right… Well, that's what the other nurses told you; you were scared to face him. This time you're stuck, no backup, no saving you from his scowl and harsh demeanour.

“Are you going to do your fuckin’ job, sweetheart?” he muttered, stepping inside without permission. “Or do you just stare at all the men that walk in bleeding?”

His raspy tone quickly pulled you out of the daze you were in; meanwhile, your heart picked up a little. “Sorry, you can sit down there, I’ll grab clean supplies.” You spoke softly, thinking—hoping it would keep him calm while you fixed him up.

He huffed while he sat on the cot; his eyes roamed around the room as you quickly and quietly grabbed your things. From what you gathered in your trance, there's a bullet graze on the side of his head; an inch to the left, he would have been dead.

You quickly put down your stuff on the cart and rolled it towards him sitting on the cot; by the time you reached him, he was already glaring at you. You stood in front of him before you spoke in a hushed tone, “Elliott, can you tell me what happened just to make sure I treat it properly?”

He quickly sighed before he spoke, almost like he was embarrassed with what happened. “I took off my helmet because I jammed the strap into my neck; it wouldn’t loosen. I was practically fuckin’ suffocating.” He spoke unwillingly with his first sentence, but the second one sounded less robotic.

He sighed again. “A few minutes later shots were fired, and I guess I got lucky.”

This sentence was shot at her like the bullet was to his big head. You thought to yourself. “Okay, well, I’m going to clean it for you, stitch you up, and send you on your way.” Your tone remained the same, not wanting to make either of your days longer than they already have been.

Elliott didn't say anything. He just sat there, jaw tight, fingers flexing in his lap like he was itching for a smoke or a fight—maybe both. The blood had started to dry at the edge of the wound, a muddy mix of red and rainwater trailing down his squared jaw. His breath was heavy, nose flaring with each exhale, like sitting still cost him something.

You reached forward slowly, gently tilting his stubbled chin with your fingers so you could see better. He didn’t flinch, but his eyes locked onto yours—sharp, unreadable, like he was daring you to say something about the mess he was.

He didn’t like being touched. That much was obvious. But he didn't stop you either.

“This’ll sting,” you warned, more out of habit than anything. You weren't sure he even felt pain the way others did. Maybe he just buried it deeper.

He grunted in response, the corner of his mouth twitching, but whether it was from discomfort or amusement, you couldn’t tell.

You dabbed the gash with antiseptic-soaked gauze, and his breath hitched once. Just once. His fists clenched together, murmuring a “bitch” under his breath.

He took a deep breath. “Are you always this quiet?” He asked suddenly, his voice low but jarring.

You blinked, not looking away from his wound. “I guess.”

“That’s why they keep sending you in here alone?” He added. “Too soft to complain?”

The words stung more than you expected, but you didn’t react—not visibly. You just kept working, cleaning up the blood that didn’t belong to someone who was still breathing.

“I don't mind being quiet,” you answered, voice even. “Some people don’t like being talked to when they’re in pain.”

He watched you. Really watched. Like he was trying to figure out if you meant it or if it was just something you told yourself to sleep better at night.

The silence stretches again, thick with rain and tension. Then, barely above the sound of his breath:

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

The question caught you off guard. He knew it—everyone did—but the way he asked felt deliberate. Like maybe now it meant something.

You said it softly, and his eyes didn’t leave yours.

“Right,” he muttered. “Well.”

And then, quieter—almost under his breath:

“Someone like you shouldn’t be somewhere like this.”

You didn’t answer. Just threaded the needle; let the silence hold the weight of his words.

The next morning you were up just before sunrise for your shift; once again, you were the only one assigned to his unit during the day. Luckily Erik is in charge of the unit, as he had everything in order for the most part, keeping everyone as safe as possible.

You quickly made your way to the crappy sink to brush your teeth before setting up; you had slept in your uniform as always. After you finished up with your teeth, you began to put your hair up in a bun—quickly you were interrupted.

Your name was being called just outside the tent. It was Elliott.

You hurry with your hair before walking to the tent's entrance, when suddenly Elliott enters the tent urgently. Unfortunately, you were not even a foot from the entrance, so when he entered, he knocked you straight to the ground.

“Shit,” Elliott groans, “I didn’t mean to—I scratched open my stitches in my sleep. Are you okay?”

You pushed yourself up off the ground while he ranted; he was less stoic than yesterday—he was covered in a thin layer of sweat, wearing only a tank top with his uniform pants and heavy boots.

“Yeah, fine. Are you okay?” You countered. “You look like you‘ve just seen a ghost.”

After pointing out his state of distress, his eyes narrowed as he swallowed, seemingly trying to hide from his feelings. “Yeah, I just need help—please.”

He paused before saying please, almost like it hurt him to say it.

Your eyes flicked over to him—his temple was bleeding again, red trailing down his cheek, meeting the stubble that covered his jaw, connecting to his ridiculously big moustache. The sweat on his skin made the wound look worse, more vivid under the soft early light.

You nodded silently, stepping aside so he could sit on the cot. He didn’t meet your gaze as he passed, just muttered something under his breath—maybe a thanks, maybe nothing at all.

You grabbed fresh supplies with practiced hands, but your pulse was quick. The Elliott from yesterday had been harsh and guarded. This one? Still sharp, but… fraying. Whatever had happened in his sleep had shaken him, and he was trying hard not to show it.

You approach slowly, more cautious this time.

“You’re sure it was just from sleeping?” You asked, voice gentle, not pushing but not letting it go either.

He didn’t answer at first. Just stared at the floor, then finally muttered, “Had a dream.”

You stopped, eyes flicking up to his face. His teeth grinding against each other. His hands picked at the dirt caked onto his pants.

“Not the kind you wake up from feelin’ lucky,” he added dryly.

You said nothing—just reached for the gauze. You dabbed at the blood again, more carefully this time, and even though you didn’t ask, he kept talking, like the words were clawing their way out of his throat whether he wanted them to or not.

“I saw it happen differently,” he said. “The shot. Closer. Felt it. Heard it. Couldn’t wake up.”

You slowed your movements, but you didn’t interrupt. He wasn’t really looking at you—just past you, at the blank canvas walls of the tent.

“Didn’t even have the helmet. Stupid, right?” He scoffed bitterly. “I got real fuckin’ lucky, and I know it—I was so close.”

Your hands faltered for a second.

Then you said, softly, “That sounds terrifying.”

He didn’t respond. Not for a moment.

Then: “You ever have dreams like that?”

You hesitated. Then nodded. “Not like yours. But… yeah.”

He nodded once, slowly, and for the first time, he looked up at you—not past you, not through you. At you.

“You don’t belong here,” he said again, but there was something different in the way he said it this time. Not like before—condescending or cold. This time, it sounded like regret.

You offered a small smile. “Maybe. But I’m here.”

He held your gaze. “And you’re doing a hell of a job.”

You finished cleaning him up, heart a little louder in your chest. “I could say the same to you.”

Something shifted between you then. Quiet, but real. His shoulders dropped a fraction, and the storm behind his eyes calmed just enough.

Then, low and rough, “Thanks… for not treating me like a fuckin’ ghost.”

You gave a quiet breath of a laugh, your fingers brushing his temple one last time. “You’re welcome. Even if you nearly knocked me unconscious this morning.”

His lips twitched—just barely. “Guess that makes us even.”

“Guess so,” you nodded with a soft smile on your face before grabbing the thread and needles. “Let’s get you fixed up.”

After you sent Elliott on his way, you didn’t expect to see him for the rest of the day, but every hour he would come back asking for random things. At first it was believable: medical tape, a tourniquet, and some bandages. Then it became water, a pen, and then—

��Hey,” he called your name as he waltzed in as you were checking Sam for a concussion. “You got that stuff you use for your lips? They’re really dry.”

You looked away from Sam for a split second before directing Elliott. “See on the counter beside the sink? Yeah, right there. That bag has all my toiletries.”

While Elliott grabs what he needs, you tell Sam he’s good to go, and he and Elliott walk out together, not before Sam laughs at him. “Dude, you’re so whipped.”

You stifled a smile as you heard Sam’s teasing echo outside the tent, followed by Elliott’s low grunt of annoyance.

“Shut the fuck up, Sam.”

There was no real heat in it, though—more bark than bite.

The tent fell quiet again, and for a moment you just stood there, hand still on your clipboard, blinking at the entrance like you were trying to process what just happened. Of all things, lip balm? He could’ve asked anyone. Hell, he could’ve stolen it from someone’s pack.

But he came to you.

You busied yourself tidying up, pretending not to think about it. But you were. The shift in his behaviour since last night—it was subtle, but real. Less venom in his voice. Less armour in his eyes. Like something in him had cracked open, just enough for the light to bleed in.

You didn’t expect to see him again after that. Six times in one day? That felt like his limit.

But twenty minutes later, the flap rustled again.

This time, you didn’t even look up. “What now, Elliott?”

“I brought it back,” he muttered, and when you looked, he was standing awkwardly by the cot, holding out the little tin of balm like it was something fragile.

You raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “You could’ve kept it.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Didn’t feel right.”

There was a pause, and then—

“It smells like you,” he added under his breath, almost like he didn’t mean to say it aloud.

Your heart skipped, heat blooming at the base of your throat. You studied him quietly, searching for the usual scowl, the sarcasm—but it wasn’t there. He looked… tired. A little flushed from the heat outside. His buzz cut glistened with a layer of sweat.

You reached for the tin, fingers brushing his. He didn’t move.

“Thank you,” you said softly.

He looked at you for a long moment, then nodded once and stepped back. “You uh… you eat yet?”

You blinked. “What?”

He cleared his throat, eyes shifting like the question was heavier than it should’ve been. “I got a second tray. Ray owed me. Figured you'd rather have it over the shitty protein bars they try to feed you guys.”

You stared at him.

Elliott never offered anything, not that you’ve heard of from the night shift nurses. Never lingered. Never asked.

But here he was—helmetless, wounded, still wearing your chapstick, and offering you his extra rations.

Maybe Sam was right.

Maybe he was a little whipped.

But somehow, the thought didn’t make you feel powerful; it made you feel seen.

Elliott had dropped off the food before finishing the last bit of his slow day. He was right; you did prefer the food he gave you over the bricks of protein bars they usually gave you.

Once you finished eating, you cleaned up your station as it was close to the night shift, and you headed to get ready for bed.

Luckily tonight was warmer than other nights, so you removed your uniform top, which left you in an undershirt and your pants. You brushed your teeth and headed to your crappy bed for a night's rest.

You never fell asleep right away, though; you waited to make sure the night shift didn’t need anything else before they started their shift.

After some time passed, you slowly drifted off into the deepest sleep anyone could get on the mattress you had.

The low hum of the unit at night was oddly comforting—distant voices, boots crunching gravel, the occasional radio squawk. You were somewhere between dreaming and floating when a familiar voice cut through the haze.

“Is she asleep?”

Elliott.

You didn’t hear the reply at first, but someone from the night shift murmured back, confused. “I think so? Why?”

There was a pause, long and strange. Then Elliott’s voice again, rougher now—more hesitant. “I just… need to talk to her.”

Another pause. Some rustling. “She’s in the second cot to the left, near the med packs,” the medic finally replied, still unsure. “She’s off duty, though.”

But Elliott was already moving.

His boots were quieter now, like he was trying not to wake anyone else—like he cared.

You stirred as his shadow hovered beside your cot.

He didn’t say your name right away. He just crouched down near your bed, elbows on his knees, his fingers twitching against each other like he was bracing himself.

Then, softly, like it cost him something, “Hey.”

Your eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the dim light. You blinked up at him, confused, still half-asleep.

“Elliott…?” Your voice was soft, hoarse from sleep.

He nodded once, jaw clenched. “Sorry. I—fuck—I know you’re off, I just…”

You sat up slowly, rubbing your eyes. “What happened?”

He didn’t answer right away. His gaze dropped to the floor.

“Had another dream,” he finally muttered, his voice barely above a whisper and completely stripped of his usual demeanour. “Same one. Only worse.”

You could still see the sweat on his brow, the way his hands wouldn’t stay still. He wasn’t trying to hide it anymore. Not from you.

“Can I stay?” He asked suddenly, almost too fast. “Just for a minute. Just… until it goes away.”

Your heart ached a little. You nodded without thinking.

“Yeah,” you whispered, pulling the thin blanket back a few inches in silent invitation before sitting up against the steel frame of the cot. “Of course.”

Elliott exhaled like he’d been holding his breath the whole time. He climbed in slowly, cautiously, resting against the frame beside you like he was afraid he’d break something.

He didn’t touch you. Not at first.

But the second your head fell on his shoulder and your hand found his—warm, calloused, trembling slightly—he held on like it was the only real thing in the world.

Eventually, he rests his head on top of yours, and whispers your name, like it's the only soft thing left in the world.

You didn’t speak after that. You just lay there, the weight of the day and the war and the nightmares suspended for a while. And even though the bed was barely big enough, and the night was still humming outside, somehow, sleep came easier this time.

For both of you.

@cosmosbabydoll

#elliott warfare #a24 warfare #tommy warfare #erik warfare #sam warfare #warfare movie #angst #fluff #slow burn #enemies to lovers #cosmo jarvis #cosmo jarvis is so hot

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mongoosingisme · 2 months ago

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hiiii if you’re looking for more requests i would love to see your take on the older bachelors in a dom/sub dynamic (maybe see them as both? 👀) no rush or pressure tho just craving more of my favorite old men as told by my favorite fic auth <3

Heyyyyyyyyyy friend!!

Freestyled a bit on this under the cut.

Thank you for asking!!

Elliott

Elliott liked to be in charge.

It wasn’t a control thing, really. It was more a combination of a vivid imagination, excellent verbal skills, and the confidence to go into an encounter with the assumption that you wanted to please him.

You do want to please him, don’t you?

Don’t you want to make him smile? Make the backs of his fingers stroke down your cheek? Make him murmur about how lovely you’re being for him, how you’re being just the sweetest little thing, the stuff of his fantasies, looking up at him all wide eyed from down on your knees?

Yes. He knows you do. And he’ll reward it for you soon, you just have to wait a little longer. Just a little longer, darling. You can do it. Because he loves watching you squirm against the ropes around your wrists. Loves the sounds you make as he strikes his palm against your ass. Loves how eagerly you follow his instructions.

Come sit on my lap, darling.

Open those sweet lips for me. Ah - ah… I didn’t say to close them. Keep them open for me. That’s a love.

Keep those eyes on me, honey. Don’t look away. Right here. It’s all you need to see.

Elliott is good at knots.

Elliott is good with his tongue.

Elliott is good at knowing when you’ve had enough, and when you need him to push you a little more.

He likes to tell you what to say, feed you lines like you’re a character in one of his stories.

“Tell me you want my fingers inside you. Tell me you want them deeper, harder. Oh - oh - oh… that was a lovely noise. You made it when I did… this. Ah, there it is again. Keep making it, darling. It’s transcendent.”

Elliott is all slow movement, drawing things out, making you tremble and whimper and beg before finally, finally giving you what you both want.

And when you’re done, all fucked out and sore in the best kind of way, all spacey and relaxed and looking up at him with that look that makes him shiver, he’ll kiss you on the mouth and draw both of you a bath.

On the flip side, Elliott has a hard time letting you be in charge.

He’ll do it for you. Eagerly, even. He likes new things. He wants you to be happy. But oh man, whether he realizes it or not he’s going to fight you for it.

He’s not trying to be bratty. He’s not trying to be annoying. He just has ideas, okay? Suggestions. If you’d just do this, then that could happen. If maybe you’d shift this thing, then he could do that. All in his head, all unable to get out of it.

Then you order a ball gag and it all kind of clicks into place.

He’s patient as you practiced your knots. He shivers as you run your hands over his chest. He’ll look up at you with dark amber eyes as you work at him. All sweet and pliant and quiet in a way that was still loud, somehow, because he was Elliott and even with something in his mouth he can’t help but give you feedback.

You like his muffled groans.

He likes it when you ride him.

He likes it when you degrade him.

He likes it when you pull the gag out of his lips and tell him to put his mouth to good use.

Elliott is good with his mouth.

Very, very good.

Tell him that and watch him flush and work harder. Grab him by the back of the neck, but be gentle with his hair. Rock your hips a little, he can take it.

Give him all the care in the world when he’s done. Kiss his neck and hold him close in the bath. He’ll be quiet then, fingers tracing over the faint marks left by the ropes on his wrists. Tell him how proud you are of him and feel him shake. Tell him you love him and watch as he melts into you.

Elliott has a hard time letting you be in charge, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want it. Once you get him there you’ll find that every ounce of effort is worth it.

Harvey

Harvey is there for you.

He can read you like a book. He knows exactly what you need from the second you walk in the door.

If you need him to be in charge, that’s what he is. All calm, mild voice telling you exactly what to do.

Go wait for me in the bedroom, sweetheart.

Take off your shirt, then come over here.

Touch yourself, honey. A little slower. Well done, just like that.

All big, steady hands on your body. Cupping around your throat. Grasping gently at your hair. Maneuvering you underneath him. Teeth scraping against your neck, a belt around your wrists.

He likes to tell you no. Click his tongue in gentle condescension when you whine. Tell you that you need to try harder, to be patient. Tell you to be good for him.

Harvey isn’t the type to punish. He doesn’t like to inflict pain. But frustration is a different thing entirely, and he loves having you under his hands, gasping and arching and pulling against your restraints, only to back off at the last moment and leave you gasping his name.

Or the opposite: too much touch, drawing you up and over, again and again, until your body feels like one exposed nerve and pleasure is flirting with pain and finally, finally he’ll sink into you all heavy and full and warm and deep and good.

He’ll praise you, then, as he takes his turn. Tell you how incredible you are, how lucky he is to have you there like that. How crazy you drive him, how distracted you make him, how you’ve changed his life so completely.

And he’ll stay there when you were both done, holding you close, checking your wrists, making sure you’re okay. And of course you’re okay, he always makes it all okay, and the only thing better than his hands on you all strong and sure is the way he’ll tuck you under his chin and let you drift off into sleep.

But…

Sometimes he needs to let go of that control.

You’re always more than happy to oblige.

You can tell by the set of his shoulders when he needs to be told what to do. To be questioned, to have his desires dragged out of him.

“Do you want to put your mouth on me, honey? I bet you do. Look at you. How do you want it? Hard or soft?”

He always wants it hard. Always wants your fists in his curls. Always wants to be on his knees, looking up at you through his glasses. He’ll groan when you press a finger into his mouth, watch you as he sucks. And then when you pull him in he’ll make a sound like relief, all deep in his throat, all hands grasping around your thighs, glasses pressing into the bridge of his nose, long lashes fanning on his cheeks.

He uses his mouth like a man starved.

Or push him back on the bed, lash his hands down. Watch his hips shift. Straddle his chest and make him watch while you touch yourself. Or settle over his mouth. You’ll love the sounds he makes.

Maybe you’ll let him come too. Or maybe not. It’s up to you. He wants it to be up to you. He’s very patient. He likes to be told no. He likes to be told wait. He likes to be told oh, you want to come? You think you’ve earned that? Really? It’s so cute that you think that.

Watch him work even harder after that.

If he finishes or not, he doesn’t care. All he cares is that when he’s done you’ll pull him to your chest, hold him close. Let him listen to your heart. Run your fingers through his hair. Press kisses to his forehead. Tell him what a good job he did.

Because don’t forget: Harvey is there for you. If you’re getting what you need, so is he.

Shane

Shane’s just happy to be there. There with you. There with you beneath him, all soft skin under his hands. Letting him move you. Letting him see you move.

Shane knows where he wants your body to be.

He wants it where he can get at it. He wants it loose and relaxed and yielding. He knows where to put his hands to make that happen. What part of your hip to press. Where to grab on the back of your arm. Just how hard to push your face into the bed to make you cry out and squirm.

He likes the squirming.

He doesn’t have the patience for knots.

He doesn’t care about you being good.

He doesn’t want you to be good.

He wants you pushing back, rolling out from under him so he can pull you back in. He wants your hands grabbing at his hair so he can grab your wrists and press them back into the bed. He wants you rearing away from his kiss so he can grab you by the jaw, pull you back in, get his mouth on you all rough and hot and perfect.

You fucking love it.

Love how easy he is to goad, how strong he is, how he doesn’t hold back when he cracks his palm against your ass. The things he says. No one has even spoken to you like he does, never, you’d kick them out in a heartbeat, but once Shane got going it left you breathless and whining and begging and desperate to please him.

(Fuck, look at you baby, so fucking needy for it, aren’t you? You’re practically drooling. Fuck, you are drooling, aren’t you? Yoba, aren’t you embarrassed by yourself? Squirming around like that? Bet you’d beg for my cock, wouldn’t you? Gonna beg for it? Open up that slutty little mouth and beg for me. There you go. Fucking knew it. Don’t stop. Keep going. Tell me how bad you want it.)

You want it real bad.

And he’ll give it to you, all unrestrained movement and heavy grip and that mouth still going, telling you exactly what to do, exactly who you were, exactly what you were doing to him until it was all too much and it was just movement and force and his face buried in your neck as he groaned your name and melted.

Or…

Maybe you don’t let him do any of that.

Maybe you get your hand in his hair and watch his eyes go blank.

Maybe you pull, get him down on his knees.

Maybe he looks up at you, lips parted, breathing hard.

Maybe you pull again, harder.

Maybe you like the way his pupils dilate.

Maybe you like the way he groans.

Maybe you tell him to touch himself.

Maybe you don’t.

He’ll do what you tell him regardless, especially if you tell him he’s being a good boy.

He really, really likes it when you tell him that.

He’ll keep his hands on his thighs if you tell him to.

He’ll go without air if you tell him to.

He’ll kiss the ground you walk on, if that’s what you need from him.

Just keep him there. Keep him near you. Between your hands. Between your legs. Between your foot and the floor.

(fuck, baby, baby, fuck, if that’s what you want, fucking anything baby, I’ll do it, just tell me, anything anything anything.)

He is extremely eager to please.

He does an extremely good job of it.

Because Shane’s just happy to be there with you. You’re the only person who makes sense in this shitty, shitty world. Anything he has to give, everything he has to give, anything you want and are willing to take, is entirely, unendingly, eternally, emphatically yours.

#sdv shane #sdv harvey #sdv elliott #sdv fanfic #x reader #harvey x reader #shane x reader #elliott x reader #sdv drabble #stardew valley fanfic #sdv asks #mgharveyhc #mgelliotthc #mgshanehc #Stardew valley #stardew valley fanfiction

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hivemuthur · 6 months ago

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Can u request something with modern au with viktor where there’s an established relationship between reader and him and readers an artist? You can write whatever you want whether it’s dating hcs , fluff, nsfw !!

Dear Anon, I took the liberty and added a small, but significant detail to this request - the Reader is visually impaired. It is not implied why, as it wasn't relevant to the one shot, but you can imagine their vision to be compromised to the point of having to use a walking cane and being able to only recognize shapes/shadows. The picture for it is Hephaestus, as he is the godly representation of Viktor for me, just read about him. Having said that, here is: Hand of the Beholder

viktorxgn!reader mature! some suggestive content, Reader has a sight disability, Viktor is their muse :') A small fic, in which Viktor discovers that softness feels nice.

edit/author's note: I treat Elliott as a gn name in general (I might be wrong, but well). And Bono the dog's name - it's a reference to a pin Sinead O'Connor was wearing during one of her interviews after she had met Bono. It said Bono in short legs shock! and I think it's hilarious :)

word count: 3,3K

—

A loud thump, followed by the clatter of something wooden on the pavement. Then, “Are you blind?”—a voice exclaimed with utter irritation, one very familiar to you—followed by a gasp. You always loved that part.

“Partially. Getting there,” you replied, flashing a sweet smile in the direction of the voice. Kill them with kindness—that was the usual strategy.

What was odd was that the voice—and the vague shape you assumed was its owner—didn’t move from the spot where your clumsy dog had knocked them. Either you’d made an astonishing first impression, or they were too stunned to move.

“Forgive me, I—I am usually less… rude.”

“That’s alright, no need to beg for forgiveness on your knees,” you said, offering a more genuine smile. “I’m sorry about Bono; he’s a bit awkward in crowds.”

“This is embarrassing, but I might need your help getting up,” the voice admitted, followed by an awkward chuckle.

Once he accepted your hand and scrambled to his feet, he kept hold of your palm just long enough to give it a quick shake. “Thank you. I’m Viktor.”

You almost introduced yourself when your friend Elliott emerged from whatever pound shop she had left you in front of. “Oh God, this dog! He’s going to get you killed one day,” she huffed, grabbing the leash from your hand.

“Bono. So… are you a U2 fan?” Viktor asked. Smooth, Viktor. Very smooth. He felt his face twist in cringe but decided to own it, smoothing his clothes with his hands to distract himself.

“Ah, definitely not. But I’ve been told he has short legs, so there it is,” you replied with a chuckle, crouching to give Bono a pet and a treat. The dog licked your face in return, and you groaned in mock offense.

“Alright, is everyone fine? Can we get moving?” Elliott pressed, clearly eager to move on. Her ‘just a second’ stop had already turned into twenty minutes of snooping through junk.

Viktor, utterly confused, felt words pushing their way out of his mouth before he could stop them. “Or, I could buy you a coffee? For the inconvenience? If… you’re not busy?” His voice rose slightly with each question, and again, he decided to own it by gulping down on this weird lump in his mouth and producing a smile.

“I feel like I should be the one buying you a coffee, Viktor. But yes, sure,” you replied casually, though truthfully, you just wanted to hear that warm, accented voice for a little longer.

Later, at the café, Viktor found himself absolutely baffled by your bluntness and the merciless jokes you’d thrown in his direction. He wondered where the hell his sass had gone. His legs were continuously bumped by Bono, who had clearly taken a liking to him and wouldn’t stop drooling onto his lap. When Viktor tried to joke about service dogs, usually more collected, he learned that Bono was, in fact, just a dog, and his only service was being a good boy.

Everything about this was so surreal and unlikely that his curious mind wouldn’t let him not ask you out again.

And this was how you met, two years ago, give or take. Two three-legged creatures connected by another, four-legged one, whose short legs seemed to give him matchmaking superpowers.

What had been the strangest feeling in the world for Viktor was being seen in a way he had never been seen before. Without a single question about his looks, without prying touches or purposeful exploration, you had managed to put together all the pieces that made him who he was. And suddenly, his cane didn’t matter, the way others looked at him didn’t matter. What mattered was the warmth of his hands, the tone of his voice, the feeling of soft jumpers, and his mind—the most brilliant thing you’d ever had the pleasure to explore.

And Bono got so many treats for it, his legs seemed even shorter as he grew fatter.

Which is why Viktor agreed to do something that, ordinarily, he would nervously laugh off before fleeing the country. His wobbly legs carried him to the sculpture workshop, late enough for it to be private and unoccupied.

Seeing you setting up the materials around an inconspicuous clay figure, he walked up to you from behind and draped himself over your back, his arms cradling your shoulders, palms connected at your sternum. You could feel his heart thundering against your spine and asked, “Are you nervous?”

“A little,” he murmured, pressing his nose into the crook of your neck. “Is this me?”

“Not yet, for now it’s a dummy. Though, the frame was constructed to depict your figure,” you said quietly, placing your palm over his hands, your head leaning back to place a kiss on his temple. You could feel his scent filling your nose—clothes that are just clean and a faint smell of shampoo lingering in his hair.

“Is it empty inside?” he asked, and you only nodded, brushing your nose against his cheek.

“Hmm, philosophically ironic, don’t you think?”

“Love, if I were to sculpt your liver, I doubt this experiment would prove useful,” you chuckled, hearing Viktor let out a bemused huff. “Besides, it would be very heavy.”

“Pity. I’m sure my liver is magnificent,” Viktor tried to deflect, but his breath betrayed him. The room was unbelievably warm, and he could feel his hands starting to sweat.

“And where do you want me?”

“Right beside me. We’ll do a lying pose, with your hands on your chest. I’ll show you, roughly,” you said, your own nervousness beginning to grow as you realised this was probably far more intimate than anything you’d experienced together before. Suddenly, all the sex you’d had in strange places didn’t seem so insane.

After a short presentation and a couple of awkward chuckles, Viktor splayed himself on the couch beside you, while you sat down by the worktable. You needed to mark the key points of his body to keep the proportions intact, so the first obvious choice was his face.

You placed your hand on his cheek, and he hummed softly, relaxing into your touch. Your fingers traced the structure of his bones, his nose, eyelids, the curve of his mouth, assessing the distance between them with one hand and marking them on the dummy with the other. You couldn’t help yourself and exclaimed, “Oh Viktor, you are so beautiful! All this time and I had no idea.”

Viktor let out an uninhibited cackle and playfully bit your fingers. “There it is—superficial vanity. And here I was, hoping someone would finally love me for more than my looks,” he said in mock offence, making you bite your lower lip to stifle a laugh.

“Of course I do. But at least now I can say things like, ‘Thank God you’re pretty,’” you grinned at him mercilessly, and he laughed again. When the laughter faded into a comfortable silence, you took a deep breath and made sure once more. “Are you absolutely confident you’re up for this?”

“Positive,” he said firmly. “Should I—?” The unfinished question was answered by his hand landing on his shirt, pinching it expectantly—a force of habit stronger when his nerves showed.

“Just the torso for now. It’ll take a couple of sessions, I think. And after that, who knows? Maybe you’ll abandon me and become a world-famous model,” you mused, attempting to hide your own anxiety.

Viktor only huffed in response and obediently slid his shirt off. Taking your palm, he placed it flat against his chest. “For some reason, I feel very close to a heart attack, but I have a feeling you do too,” he said gently, the brave honesty in his voice completely disarming you.

You exhaled softly, leaning in to kiss him on the lips—a lingering, delicate gesture meant to reassure rather than ignite. “Thank you,” you murmured against his mouth, your voice warm and sincere. “Remember, we can stop at any moment. Just say the word.”

Viktor nodded, though words seemed to escape him now. His eyes followed your every move as you shifted closer, warming your palms by rubbing them against each other. You began your work, one hand ghosting over the sharp line of his jaw, the other placed on the dummy to mirror his shape.

Your touch was deliberate, slow, and almost reverent. Your fingers started at the hinge of his jaw, ghosting over the texture of his skin. Most of it was smooth, with the tiniest bit of grain, like a piece of glass worked by the sea over the years. You paused, mapping the angle where his jaw met his neck—the hardness of bone giving way to the flexible tendon beneath. You tapped on it delicately to test the bounce of his muscle—here his skin was silky, and firm and you could smell the faint scent of cream he applied after shaving. You gave it one more lingering touch, before moving to the earlobe, tracing it with your thumb, your fingers brushing against his hairline. Viktor let out a breathy exhale, and you smiled under your nose.

“Enjoying yourself?”

“Mmm, you have no idea,” he hummed, placing his palm over yours instinctively. His hands were warm, and you could feel the heat radiating off his cheek onto your wrist.

You slid your hand toward the hollow beneath his cheekbone, pausing on the beauty mark under his eye to mark it on the dummy. It had a faint rise over the rest of his face, and you did your best to depict it’s shape. You could feel his cheek rising in a smile.

Moving to the slight curve of his lips, your fingertips lingered there for a moment longer than necessary. You pressed on the plushness of his mouth and felt Viktor leaning into your touch, his hot breath fanning your skin. Your finger trembled, when you found the tiny bump crowning his upper lip and Viktor pouted slightly, as if leaving a peck against your skin.

“Your bone structure is ridiculous,” you murmured absently, your voice hushed as though you were speaking to yourself, your fingers still pressed where they were.

Viktor’s throat worked as he swallowed, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm he was no longer in control of. “Ridiculous good or ridiculous bad?” he asked, his tone half-teasing, though the rasp in his voice betrayed how affected he was. You could feel the movement of his lips under your hand and a hot breath coming out, warming you up.

“Ridiculous perfect,” you replied simply, fighting your brain to focus on the clay in your right hand rather than on Viktor’s soft mouth under the mercy of your left.

You took a steadying breath and worked your way up to his brow, your thumb grazing the bushy ridge, your palm cradling the side of his face as you turned it slightly to study the other angle. You could make out the first wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, and the more prominent ones of his forehead, reinforced regularly by a thoughtful frown he wore so often.

His skin warmed under your touch, the heat blooming wherever your fingers roamed. Your other hand shaped the first layers of the structure of Viktor’s face in clay, its coolness a stark contrast to what your left one was going through.

As your hand slipped down to trace the lean column of his neck, Viktor couldn’t help the quiet exhale that escaped him. The feel of your fingers—gentle but firm, your nails just barely skimming over sensitive skin—caused him to tense up in places he didn’t expect himself to, not in this context. Your thumb and index finger examined his Adam’s apple, and it slipped away from your touch as he swallowed and chuckled awkwardly. The pulse in his neck quickened under your hand, and you paused for a moment, your lips curving in a soft, knowing smile.

“You’re doing great,” you whispered, your voice soothing, though you couldn’t help the subtle tone of praise he had granted you so many times when his hands travelled across your body with equal care. “Just breathe.”

“I am,” Viktor replied, his breath there, yet hitching as you moved to his collarbone, the tips of your fingers brushing the hollow above it before trailing the length of the bone. His skin prickled under your touch, and he found himself sinking further into the couch, his limbs loosening as if you had found a secret way to unlock him.

You kept working, holding on to your focus, but Viktor couldn’t take his eyes off you. The way your hands moved—deliberate, confident, as though you were committing every inch of him to memory—was so utterly erotic, so private. The soft furrow of concentration in your brow, the way your lips parted slightly as you worked, the occasional tilt of your head as you checked your progress against the clay—all of it was unbearably intimate, the dummy becoming a labour of love under your steady hand.

His own reaction caught him off guard. His breathing grew heavier, less controlled, his chest rising and falling with a rhythm he couldn’t mask. A flush crept up his neck, and he wondered if this was what you felt like when he had you pinned to the mattress.

You paused, brushing your thumb against the side of his throat. “You’re warm,” you remarked softly, tilting your head toward him. “Is this too much?”

Viktor smiled stupidly to himself, though his voice was low and rough. “Not at all. Just—unexpected.”

You chuckled lightly, your breath skimming his cheek as you leaned closer to reach the other side of his neck. “Unexpected— good or bad?” you asked, echoing his earlier words.

“Unexpected perfect,” he murmured, placing his hand over yours and craning his neck to kiss your jaw. It was utterly disarming—what it felt like to be touched for the sole purpose of being memorised.

You smiled to yourself as your hand moved lower, homing in on the flow of Viktor’s form. The tips of your fingers trailed down his chest, pausing to trace the curve of his clavicle before brushing over the flat planes of his sternum. You gave it a firm press, mechanically forcing out the breath Viktor had been holding. You could feel his heart thundering under your fingers, and it made you lick your lips. Here, his skin was thinner, more flexible, with a speckle of tiny bumps you knew to be his freckles.

Viktor exhaled under the pressure of your palm, and you could hear him chuckle nervously. A soft smile tugged at your lips as you allowed your hand to ghost over the defined ridges of his ribs, your fingers tracing just enough to make him shiver under the tickle. The motion was slow, deliberate, your palm spreading over the warmth of his chest as though mapping the heartbeat beneath.

“You’re tense,” you murmured, your eyebrows arching, cheeks rising in an involuntary smirk.

“I wonder why,” he replied, his voice softer now, laced with dry humour and vulnerability he judged was not worth hiding anymore. He felt himself slowly being disassembled to parts, the tiniest fractions of his being, each held to the light in the safety of your hands.

His cheeks were burning and his forehead dampening as you took your time, letting your hand move lower to the flat plane of his stomach. His muscles tensed instinctively, his tummy sucking in as if too shy to be touched, his body responding before his mind could catch up.

“Relax,” you coaxed, your voice as gentle as your touch, and he let out a quiet, shaky exhale as if obeying your command.

The curve of your fingers moved over his stomach to the sides, giving him a firm squeeze to follow your words. His breath steadied only for a moment before you slid your palm flat on the V-line of his underbelly, tracing the trail of hair disappearing under his trousers. Viktor let out a breathy moan, his spine flexing into your touch as he murmured an embarrassed, “Sorry,” the sound catching in his throat. His hands gripped the edge of the couch, his knuckles pale as he worked to steady himself. “I don’t believe I’ve been this flustered in years,” he laughed breathlessly.

“I shall make a mental note of that,” you whispered with a smile, and you could hear him chuckle again.

Your fingers continued their roam, brushing along the sharp lines of his hips, where the bone protruded just enough to catch the light. The fabric of his trousers shifted slightly under your fingertips, and Viktor shifted with it, a quiet gasp leaving him before he bit down on his lower lip.

The warmth beneath your hand grew, heat radiating from him in waves. His chest rose and fell in an unsteady rhythm, and his eyes—half-lidded and hazy—watched your every movement as if he couldn’t look away.

“You’re quite sensitive, you know,” you teased softly, the curve of a grin in your voice. You could feel the dummy slowly giving in, moulding into the shape of Viktor, his curves and sharp angles, as you mirrored each of your movements.

“Sensitive, am I?” he rasped, though his tone lacked its usual sharpness. It was warm, pliant, as if every word came from somewhere deeper than his throat.

Your fingers brushed the ridge of his hipbone, and Viktor’s breath faltered again, his hands twitching as though he wasn’t sure whether to still them or reach for you. “You’re certainly proving it,” you replied, your voice low, tenderly teasing.

Viktor swallowed thickly, his head tilting back against the couch with a soft thud. “I think I need you to kiss me,” he murmured, his accent thickening as his restraint faltered further.

You chuckled quietly, withdrawing your hand but letting it rest lightly against his side. “Hmm. Do I have your consent?”

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at his lips. “W-what? I just asked you.”

“Well, I’d rather make sure. I am no Picasso. This was supposed to be professional; I will remind you,” you said, your feigned seriousness accentuated by taps of your finger against his belly.

Viktor’s eyes darkened slightly at that, his gaze dropping to your lips as he said in a pained voice, “Please don’t tell me you would touch anyone else like this, because I will lose my mind.”

You leaned back, your hands stilling for the first time. “I would never,” you whispered. You pulled out your clean hand to caress his cheek, but his arms were faster as he yanked you into a hungry kiss, smearing some of the cold clay on his chest.

Still holding you close, Viktor let out a soft laugh, running his fingers through his hair as if to ground himself. “I think I would be a terrible model,” he joked, though his voice carried the faint tremor of someone not quite recovered.

“I think you did wonderfully. And I’ve learned a thing or two,” you hummed, your lips finding his nose to place a peck on it. Which reminded you, “Oh. I forgot to trace your nose.”

“Shall I book an extra session for that?” He teased, his tone coming back to himself as his hands slid up and down your back.

“Definitely. Though I think this particular session we should move home. I am feeling very inspired.”

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor fanfic #viktor x reader smut #viktor x f!reader #arcane #viktor smut #arcane fanfic #my writing #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #viktor x oc #viktor nation #viktor x gn!reader #viktor fluff #viktor x reader fluff #requests

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purpleyoonn · 1 year ago

Text

The Line Between Love and War 12

C H A P T E R 1 2: PTD D1 AND OVERSTIMULATION

“It is said that the night sky is made up of tiny wishes that humans were never able to fulfill. That the stars only became bright by the fulfillment of those wishes. In your eyes, the stars that shine never seemed real, your childhood wishes dark and dim as you grow. But now, now you understand the twinkle in their eyes as they look down at you.”

Summary: Your experiences told you that soulmates were something you would never have the pleasure of having; something not given to you because of who you are, despite the soulmark that resides on your inner left wrist. During your solo trip to Los Angeles, you find out that you are more than capable, that your soulmates had been waiting for you for a long time, and would not be letting you go anytime soon.

Genre: soulmate au, bts au, idol bts, polyamory relationship, eventual smut

Paring: Idol!BTS x autistic!mc

Status: Ongoing (randomly updated)

Warnings: mental illness, talk of disability, lots of angst, miscommunication, feelings of depression, feelings of isolation, polyamory bts, stalking, dangerous behavior, eventual smut,

Chapter Warnings: the concert, overstimulation, shut downs, not much, lots of feelings,

Taglist: @azazel-nyx @yuzon3 @hannahdinse8 @quirkybtsarmy @mageprincess7 @fluffy-canada-pancakes @suckerforv @chaoticthingpizza @drissteele @carolinexkpop @avadakadabra93 @lachimolala22019 @justaweird0 @singukieee @welcometomyworld13 @toughbook @kimana122 @kpopmultistantrashsstuff @0funsite0 @joyless-living @sinceritythatcouldntbedelivered @elliott-calls @psychosupernatural

Masterlist // Chapter 11 // Chapter 13

————————————————–

Previously on The Line Between Love and War:

“Alright then. We well let Sejin and Seungho know. For now, I would appreciate if I could have some pre-concert kisses from my littlest mate.” Namjoon reached his arms out, pouting his lip a little knowing it would cause you to laugh at him.

You struggle to get yourself out of Hobi and Taehyung’s embrace, who noticeably tightened their grip once Namjoon opened his arms.

“Heyyyy, not nice!” You whine, finally pulling yourself away and falling into Namjoon’s arms.

“But we want pre-concert kisses too!” Taehyung whined back, making you laugh again, hiding your face in Namjoon’s neck.

You could already hear Army beginning to enter the arena, voices and screams echoing as the pre-concert videos started to play on the big screens. Taehyung was sitting with you, having finished getting ready first. He was in the middle of making sure you were okay being in the security gates in front of everyone else. He knew how loud noises made you feel.

“Don’t worry Tae! I’ve got the headphones that Yoongi gave me.” You smiled wide at him, hoping that would reassure your stressed-looking mate. It didn’t reassure him at all though. He opened his mouth to say something else but was cut off by Seungho.

“Come on, Y/n. We need to get you to your seat before the boys start.” Seungho gives Taehyung an apologetic glance and nod before he starts to lead you out of the room. But before you can leave, you turn around and quickly give each of the boys a hug, not wanting to kiss them in case it ruins the make up the make-up artists spent so long on.

“Good luck! I’m so excited!” You tell the last part to Seungho as you hold your hands up to your chest, your fists shaking in excitement.

You went from traveling about a week early to experience Los Angeles by yourself because you couldn’t get any tickets to now having seven soulmates and being able to attend not just one, but all four of the PTD La concerts. Your entire life literally changed at the blink of any eye, or well, more like running into a wall.

“This is your first concert, correct?” Seungho asked you, not remembering if you’ve attended anything before.

“Yes!” You exclaimed back, your fists still shaking as you make it to the stairs that will get you to the ground floor and into the security gates in front of the stage. There was a good maybe ten feet between the security gates for the floor seats and the stage where the boys would be performing.

Hobi explained it to you that you would have a seat in the section right in front of the edge of the stage, and that it wouldn’t be close to the floor seats where Army is seated.

They were worried to say the least. While they loved Army, and trusted them with you, they also knew there were some “fans” who were not happy that they found their last soulmate, and that it wasn’t any of them. They wanted you to be safe, which was why they wanted you up with their family in the box. Obviously, due to your fear of heights, they had to figure something else out, wanting you to experience their concert like an Army.

Seungho escorts you to the seat set aside but you don’t sit down, to excited and pumped up. You stood watching the stage, taking everything in. It seemed way different than it did earlier before sound check. The entire atmosphere was different. You could feel the energy and excitement of every single Army coming in and finding their seats. Some even running down to the 100’s section.

What caught your eye though was the people who had soundcheck coming back down to the floor section, all running towards you. You startled, Seungho moving directly in front of you once he caught the movement of the crowd. You held onto his arm before letting go just as quickly, not knowing if he was comfortable with your touch.

Despite your aversion to touch, you felt safe with him; you just didn’t know if he also had an aversion to touch and you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

However, a single, subtle nod from him let you know your actions were okay, holding onto his arm again as you try to peak over or around his broad shoulders to see the group of Armies still running your way. You didn’t know if it was because you were directly in front of the stage or what, but seeing a group of men and women running towards you scared the crap out of you.

Now you understand how celebrities feel when fans spot them out and about, without security with them.

“Stay behind me please, Y/n.” Seungho told you, feeling you trying to peek around him. He had a feeling they were rushing for you, trying to get close to the barrier in front of you. He had been watching your social media, following the discussions and posts about you. You were well liked by a lot of people, and also not so liked by some. He didn’t know which it was coming for you tonight, and he didn’t like it.

You could hear your name being called; pictures being taken of you. It was weird and seemed a bit unreal, just like earlier when you did the Instagram live. You could feel some other members of the boys’ security team moving to help Seungho.

“Seungho, I think they are just excited. I don’t think they’ll hurt me. I have you to help protect me. Plus, there is about five feet between my seat and the barrier.” You were not going to lie, you were freaking out. But you didn’t want Seungho or the boys to have to worry about you the entire time, and if Seungho continued to try and hide you from Army, you knew that would happen.

He looked back at you, and seeing how serious you were, only moved a couple inches to the left, still in front of you but not necessarily hiding you. Taking a deep breath, and trying to hide your nervous stimming, you looked at Army.

“Hi guys! Please enjoy the concert! The boys have worked super hard and are so excited to see you guys again.” You spoke loudly, not wanting to yell in Seungho’s ears as he still stood close.

“Y/n! What song are you excited for?”

“Y/n! Have you completed the bond yet?”

“Who is your bias?”

You ignored the second question, and the others like it that were being yelled your way, instead, you tried to answer some of the questions, but didn’t want to make the night about yourself. This night was about the boys, not you.

“Please guys, the concert is about to start!” You decided to move back to your seat and not stand in front of the barrier anymore.

You were now actively stimming, your body trying to help you feel more comfortable with the attention and new experiences. Your fists were clenched in front of you, shaking fast back and forth. It was a stim you’ve been doing since you were a kid, something you did when you got really excited or happy. You tried not to, despite how much you needed to, because you always felt embarrassed when doing that particular stim. You had been made fun of before for doing it, so instead you rocked your body forwards and backwards slowly.

It took a couple more minutes before you could hear the intro starting, music slowly becoming louder until the boys came on stage from below. It also took the same amount of time for you to become completely overwhelmed and overstimulated. Despite your headphones, the music was loud and seemed to be louder than the screams behind you. The lights were flashing and the movement of the boys on stage had you practically shutting down. The stares you could feel on your back didn’t help, either.

You tried hard not to though, even though you know you needed it. Your boys needed this more. This was the first concert for them since the pandemic started and the went into the army. You knew they were happy being back on stage after so long and didn’t want to ruin anything for them. You wanted them to see you happy and not having any issues. You didn’t want them to worry.

You could feel the sting from your nails digging into your palm as you clenched your hands. Your voice gone as you tried to show some kind of emotion resembling happiness or awe on your face. You didn’t need Seungho trying to bring you back into the dressing room and alerting everyone that something was wrong.

So, you spent the rest of the concert rocking back and forth and mouthing along to all the songs the boys sang. Your nails were practically stuck in your palm and you were stuck in your head. You could tell the cord connecting your mouth and brain wasn’t connected anymore and didn’t know when it would again.

You just wanted Jungkook to hold you and rub your back again but figured you probably wouldn’t get that tonight. They would probably be too pumped up with adrenal after the concert to do anything other than want to celebrate with army like normal.

You could probably get away with cuddling up to Yoongi’s sweatshirt again as you laid in your shared bed. You didn’t want to bother them when they shared this excitement and happiness with army after so long. The last thing you wanted was to be a burden.

-*-*-

Despite being completely overstimulated, you thought the concert was amazing. You don’t think you would go to one again, but you could see why so many people always praised your soulmates’ concerts and performance skills.

You waited in the dressing room as the last notes of the last song play out throughout the stadium speakers. Seungho had thought it a safety issue to exit with the rest of army to try and make it backstage. So, he had taken you back during the second to last song.

You still haven’t spoken a word, and Seungho could tell something was wrong. Your facial expression was vacant and it seemed as though your eyes were glazed over as you stared down at the small table in front of you. He was worried.

You almost didn’t notice the arrival of your soulmates, mind gone to the stimulation you felt.

“Hey baby! Did you have fun?” Jin came up and sat next to you on the loveseat, securing the spot next to you before anyone else. It was a couple of hours until his birthday and he was feeling the excitement of having his birthday with his finally complete soulbond group.

But once he saw you, zoned out and not even registering their entrance, he had a feeling of what was going on. He was reminded of the closet incidence, your wide eyes glazed and unable to track what was going on. He moved in front of you, kneeling down so he could catch your eye.

“Baby?” Jin tried, but you were gone. He now had the attention of the others, and Taehyung and Yoongi made it over first.

“What should we do? Should we hold her like last time?” Taehyung asked, remembering how Jungkook held you in his arms and how the physical contact helped bring you back.

“Here, let me try something.” Namjoon took control, switching places with Jin who now sat back next to you. Their movement didn’t phase you, your eyes still glazed over.

Namjoon moved slowly, just in case you came back to, and moved so his palm was cupping your cheek. At his touch, your eyes became focused again and he could see how truly tired you were.

“Hi baby girl. Are you okay?” He knew you weren’t but he still needed to know if something was physically wrong, and you seemed to know his intention as you shook your head no. At this response, they all knew you were nonverbal; Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung all watching from the back as their hyungs take over the situation.

“How about we go back to the hotel, and have a relaxing night, hmm?” Namjoon asks but stops as you shake your head, grabbing tightly to his forearm. His face scrunched up in concern, wondering what was going on through your head.

You swallow your spit, trying your hardest to push words through your lips, only for them to keep getting caught in the back of your throat. Finally, you manage to push through one word, hoping they understand what you mean.

“Celebrate.” You word is raspy, as if you had a bad cold recently.

They had just gotten back from the military only months ago, managed to plan two weekends worth of content and concerts for Army, and as only a fan could know, they usually celebrated the concert afterwards with a live. You didn’t want that taken away from Army, and you didn’t want the boys to break a tradition just because you got overstimulated. It didn’t seem fair in any way.

You would be fine; you always were before. Yeah, it might take time, but you would be fine.

Army needed the boys more than you right now.

“What do you mean baby?” Jimin asked from behind Hobi, eyes narrowed in confusion as he watches your expression.

You knew you couldn’t push out another word, so you grabbed Namjoon’s palm from your cheek and held it flat in front of you, using your pointer finger you traced the word Army on his palm, hoping he would get it. You even trace it in Hangul when he didn’t get it in English.

“You want us to celebrate with Army?” Namjoon finally realizes what you were trying to say, nodding his head as it clicks.

You nod your head in response but stop once you see the look on your soulmates faces. You could tell they didn’t understand why you were asking them that. Why you wanted them to celebrate with army even when you weren’t doing good.

So, you pull out the big guns, something Jimin taught you when Jin kept telling you no more ice cream. Jimin said it would bring out an immediate ‘yes’ from the hyungs every time, so you tried it.

You pulled out the puppy dog eyes and the lip pout.

An immediate round of groans sounded throughout the room, every single one of your soulmates looked away from you, trying not to be drawn in by your expression.

To seal the deal, you brought your hands together, folded in a way that everyone usually added with pleading words, but you couldn’t speak right now, so you held your clenched hands up close to your face.

Eventually, Jin was the one who folded.

“Alright baby! But we have some conditions.” He raised an eyebrow at you as you turned to face him.

“We’ll do the live as long as you are there with us, so we can see you and make sure you’re okay. You’re going to drink some water, and let one of us hold you until the live, because that helped you a lot last time.” You knew they were talking about the last time you got too overstimulated, so you agreed.

Maybe selfishly, though, you agreed to the terms. You kind of just wanted to be cocooned in like a little safety nest as you watched the boys do their live, maybe covered in one of their shirts or sweaters again. They always made you feel safe and comfortable and were slowly becoming a part of your collection of safe clothing.

“Okay, boys, lets grab our things so we can get back to the hotel. Namjoon, why don’t you grab out little soulmate and go get into the car, we’ll grab your things.” Jin clapped his hands together after moving the night along, wanting to get back to the hotel.

It didn’t take but a couple seconds for Namjoon to pick you up, his hands moving under your thighs and holding you to him so you were chest to chest.

“Come here baby. Let’s go.” You looked around for your backpack, only to see Seungho handing it off to Jungkook who had deemed your backpack his responsibility. You can’t fight him for carrying you this time, exhaustion finally hitting you as you tuck your head into the curve of your soulmate’s neck.

It was a good thing too, as you didn’t realize some fans had figured out where the boys’ vans were and had been waiting outside for you all to leave, phones at the ready to take pictures and videos. This also meant that it would take longer to get back to the hotel, as some fans loved trying to follow the boys to figure out where you all were staying.

One of Namjoon’s hands moved from your holding your thigh to covering your face, protecting you in what he considers a vulnerable moment. He walked faster, Sejin moving with him so he could open the door for you both before having a word with one of the drivers.

Even as you get into the car, and Namjoon’s sits down, he still holds you on his lap, crossing his arms behind your back so you were practically glued to his chest. He moved his left hand lower, almost touching your butt as he moves his hand under your shirt, making contact with your back and begins rubbing his hand up and down your back. He knew this helped you last time and it was one of the only things he had to go on right now as far as helping you out of your shut down.

You both wait patiently for your other soulmates, time passing slowly as you turn your head and watch fans take pictures of the van. You knew they couldn’t get pictures of you through the tinted windows, but you still felt a little vulnerable. You were unable to protect yourself in anyway, nonverbal and in the middle of a shutdown, and it was a little daunting.

You turned your head back into Namjoon’s neck, your head resting against his chest as you watch the boys all begin to make their way quickly to the vans. Jungkook, Hobi, and Yoongi made their way into your van, while the others went into the first one.

“Okay, so Sejin is going to separate our vans, each going a separate way to make it back to the hotel so we aren’t followed. We also have three deco vans waiting to draw confusion.” Yoongi’s voice was raspy and slow from the concert and his own emotions.

He, along with the others were feeling a lot of emotions from finally being able to perform at a concert for Army, but also watching you shut down from the very same concert. It was a lot.

“How is she?” Jungkook asks quietly.

Out of all your soulmates, Jungkook seems to have taken on most of the responsibility for your care and well-being on himself. He finally has a soulmate younger than him, that can rely on him and that he can provide for. So, for him, he has put the responsibility on his own shoulders, something his soulmates have already talked to him about.

“I’m okay.”

You were. You had just been relishing in Namjoon’s touch and had felt the connection build again between your brain and mouth. You still weren’t used to being taken care of, to mean something to other people, and you knew it would take a while but you loved the way they worried about you, the way they cared for you.

It was the same way you cared for them.

-*-*-

It had taken you over an hour to make it back to the hotel. There had been several vehicles trying to follow you, the final car getting lost at a traffic light about fifteen minutes ago. To be safe, the driver kept driving around.

Your van had been the last to make it back to the hotel, and when you go to the room, a small bundle of blankets and pillows, along with some of the boys’ sweaters had been made into a little nest for you by the far wall close to the kitchen. You were in perfect view of the boys as the couches and chairs had been rearranged so they could all be in view of the camera.

When Namjoon let you down, a bundle of clothes had been shoved into your hand as Jimin led you to your shared room with Yoongi and Jin to change. Jimin walked into the bathroom while you changed into a pair of your comfy leggings and one of Taehyung’s shirts.

After doing your skincare for you, wanting you to feel nice and clean while you waited for them to be finished, Jimin helped you back into the living room and into your small nest, bundling Jin and Jungkook’s sweater around you while you watched the boys set up snacks and drinks on the coffee table.

“Okay, now, don’t move.” Jimin pointed his finger at you, his face scrunching playfully as he tries to make you smile. And it works, a small giggle making its way out of your mouth catching the attention of your soulmates.

“Here,” he pulls your phone out of his back pocket, pulling up the live on it before handing it to you. “Keep an eye out for questions you think we should answer, okay baby?” He asks you, wanting you to still be involved in their tradition with Army. While he would rather you be seated with them on the couch, he knows it’s not what you need right now.

“I will, Minnie.” You nod and smile tiredly at his request. He smiles back, kissing you softly before pulling back entirely, Jungkook taking his place with a bottle of water for you. He stays quiet, kissing your forehead before moving to sit with Hobi and Joon on the couch.

You watch them as the live starts, hundreds of questions showing up on the screen as thousands of viewers turn into millions. At first a lot of the questions are about you, why Namjoon was seen carrying you out of the venue and some were even asking why you stayed seated the entire concert.

The boys said a simple response to questions about you. They agreed that they wanted to stop the rumors of any health issues or problems while they could, especially after Namjoon was seen carrying you out.

“Y/n is doing okay and is resting here with us after a long and overstimulating day. She had a lot of new experiences and is in the middle of processing them.” Namjoon spoke in his leader voice, glancing at you for a few seconds as he speaks.

The questions and comments continue, but this time mainly about the boys and the concerts and their upcoming plans. You even commented a few things, trying to remember what it felt like to be Army, commenting “I love you” and hoping they would see it.

You did that the entire time, finding cute little comments and even yelling out “Yoongi Marry Me” every time you saw it which did not amuse your cute soulmate who only looked your way while the others laughed every time. You also drank your entire bottled water, knowing that was one of the promises you made to Jin.

And in the end, once the live was finished, he was the first to go to you, picking you up out of your little nest and into his arms. You were feeling a lot better, no longer overstimulated due to your soulmates care.

“How are you feeling, baby?” You could hear the concern in his voice.

“I’m doing a lot better! You all always seem to know what to do.” You hug him tightly, kissing his jaw in a show of thanks.

“Well, I bought tickets for an amusement park for tonight for us. Do you think you might be up for it?” Jin couldn’t even finish his question before you were squealing in his ear, jumping from his hold and rushing to your shared room.

“I guess that is a yes.” He told Yoongi and Taehyung who were staring at Jin, seeing the entire thing before walking off to the room.

Jimin and Jungkook were already in the room, helping you pick out a matching outfit with Jin, who was going in a pair of his overalls and a white shirt. He wanted you all to match, but you and Jimin were the only ones who currently had a pair of overalls to wear.

You were excited, jumping in your seat as you waited for everyone else to get ready to go. You loved the rides and playing the games but you think your favorite was the food. You never really went to the fair often, which was as close to an amusement park as you had gotten, your mother thinking going to a big field full of people of all walks of life below her standing.

But you loved it and couldn’t wait to experience it with your soulmates.

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spacesapphi · 11 months ago

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MOREEEE HES TRIO HEADCANONS

There's some. There's some sad ones in here, sorry. Warnings for mentions of death, neglect, and bullying

HCs below the cut

Elliott

- LOVES cats sm, has a little tabby named Mr. Darcy who he adores more than anything. Sometimes it'll knock over his inkwells or bat at his quills but he doesn't seem to mind

- He's the youngest of five kids and kind of the black sheep of the family. Rarely got attention besides teasing over his interests growing up, and used books to cope with it

- Doesn't really make eye contact, it makes him really nervous

- he actually briefly knew Harvey as a child and they were each other's only friend. Harvey moved away about 3 years after they met and they finally reunited in Pelican Town

- He can draw, but writing is much preferred

- Wrote letters to Harvey after he moved. When he was in highschool his dad got to the mail before him, read a new letter, and forbid him from communicating with Harvey again with no explanation. Elliott was devastated

- Went to college for writing and literature! He was able to publish his first book because he got a very good letter of recommendation from his professors for his work. The money he earned from it helped him get out of his town and away from his family

- Pelican Town has made him feel the most peaceful he's ever felt in his life. The cabin gets lonely, but he's happy and he cant imagine himself anywhere else

Harvey

- His dad was a military medic and unfortunately died while stationed when Harvey was a baby. His grandpa moved in to help raise him, and as mentioned in the previous HCs, was responsible for his interest in being a pilot

- He likes wearing headphones in public to block out loud noises, but gets too shy to do so often because he thinks it'll draw attention to him

- had a secret clubhouse he and Elliott used as a kid (literally just an abandoned garage where they kept a bunch of their stuff) but it meant a lot to them. It was a place to get away from the bullying they faced

- was incredibly short all his life until he got a crazy growth spurt in highschool and wound up being 6'2

- says shit like "good golly!" And "cheese and crackers!"

- he's a nerd, this man does not take his whiskey neat and bed at 3

- HES THE ONE THATS TOO SWEET

- Wrote letters to Elliott a lot after he moved. They stopped when the two of them were in highschool. Harvey sent a letter confessing he had a crush and never got one back, so he thought he did something wrong until he met Elliott again

- his mother is a huge ally and comforted him a lot after that incident. She loves her son so much :(

- He has really bad asthma

Shane

- much of what Jas has is a hand-me-down she got from Shane. All the toys, clothes, and stuff like that are from his childhood before he came out. They're a bit outdated, but Shane and Marnie can't always afford brand new things for her

- He went to college on a gridball scholarship, but studied in Visual Arts. The camera he has in his 7.5 heart event is one he used to make short films for classes.

- Came out to Marnie as trans at 12 and was terrified to do so. She was really accepting and sweet though! He let her be a big part of the new name process too :)

- Jas's parents were also in those classes and the three of them often worked on projects together. It's how they became best friends! He still has all the reels of little films they made, and watches some of them with Jas when they're really missing her parents

- Clint has a one-sided beef with him since Shane is Emily's best friend and ex. He views him as competition for some reason and acts weird about it. Shane has absolutely no clue why and just thinks he's weird

- He got really good at styling hair after he took in Jas. She likes just having her hair in two pigtails mostly but he can do some fun styles!

- Has a lot of health issues post recovery because of how heavy his drinking was. He's sick fairly often and it's frustrating for him

- Driving and being in a car makes him anxious, he prefers to either walk or bike if he can help it

- Let's his hair start growing out after he starts recovery. He gets it to a nice medium length. Tried to go for a mullet but Emily begged him to cut it 😭

- He does NOT like Lewis at all because of how he treats Marnie and he has to restrain himself to act civil, for his his aunts sake

#hes trio #stardew valley #sdv #stardew valley shane #sdv shane #sdv elliott #stardew valley harvey #sdv harvey #elliot stardew valley #stardew harvey #stardew valley elliott #headcanons #Stardew valley headcanons

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bubblergoespop · 1 year ago

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My Top Aaron Quotes

men who are just constantly tired of everything>>>>>

“Well buckle up, wiz kid.”

“So yeah, I am gonna miss you. I’m really gonna miss you.”

“Sue me. Except don’t. My brain is already fried from the financials, I don’t need to throw legalese on top of that.”

“Fuck it. There’s nothing in here I can’t replace. I want you."

“Oliver”

“I didn’t say I wanted to spend the day with you, I asked if you wanted to spend the day with me. I asked first.”

"Ell"

“Hey, stop it. Because you know how much I like you running your fingers through my hair. Makes my brain go all fuzzy.”

“I appreciate it. And you.”

“Oh, it’s not playing dirty. It’s just me making you feel good.”

“I didn’t realise I was apparently dating an anthropomorphic backpack.”

“H-hey—stop it. You—no, your kisses are just… it tickled. Shut up. So what if my sides are ticklish, it’s not like that’s weird, you shit.”

“Oh, and now you can’t even find the strength to lift your head out of my lap, hmm? You poor thing. Who knew that being lazy could be so exhausting?”

“I love you very much. Now get off me.”

“You talked a big talk back then. But it turns out you’re just a cuddle-hungry softy after all, huh? Yes you are. At least when you’re still sleepy, anyway.”

“I also know you’re probably the kind to fly off half-cocked and make me chase you down with the SPF 50 like a madman. If for no other reason than to infuriate me.”

“Come here. Come closer. Because I said so.”

“I love you. And I love rain. And I love being with the person I love while it rains. Isn’t that a fun little combo?”

“You are very cute looking up at me like that.”

“Or is the thought of a few more minutes in my arms that much of an imposition? Asshole. Mmm. I love you too.”

“I can’t even try to say a nice thing without you having to get some snark into it, can I? No, I wouldn’t have it any other way. You brat. I love you just as you are.”

“You make me better. And that’s no small order when you’re talking about me, given the high level I already started at.”

“A man’s gotta eat. And you’ve always been my favorite thing on the menu.”

“Oh yes, you’re so put upon. Your evil boyfriend only makes you a whole breakfast spread, he won’t then also let you sleep in even later than you already have.”

“Eli”

“Yes, in a shocking twist, I do find your absence unpleasant. Perish the thought, right?”

“Time spent with the people I care about is important to me. It doesn’t have to be time doing anything special, it doesn’t have to be conversations about our future or some greater purpose or any of that shit, I just want to be with the person that I’m with.”

“Sure, there are plenty of ways to sleep on a couch just fine. It’s your hybrid approach that lands somewhere between gymnast and pretzel that tends to get you in trouble.”

“You’re okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

“If it feels like it's coming on again, come tell us, okay?”

“I only met them a handful of times. They're sweet. They laugh a lot. They spent most of the time giving Elliott shit, it was funny. Not in like a mean way, like the way you do when you love somebody that much. They were a good balance for one another.”

“God I sound old. And I feel old. And I’m not, but it feels like it. A grumpy old man. Might as well start yelling at kids to not play so loud in the neighborhood, really complete the image.”

“Stop calling me an old man, only I’m allowed to call me old. Don’t be mean. I’m in a vulnerable state. I need baseless praise.”

“Yes. Holding you feels very productive.”

“Yeah. Let me just rub it on that pretty face for a little bit…”

“ It’d be fine. Almost as fine as you. I’m tired, I’m allowed to be stupid.”

“El, I have never hated you. You’re my little brother, I love you.”

“No the windows are mirrored glass. You should know that, you worked here.”

“Whose is it? Louder”

“Thank you baby. Yeah, thank you for trusting me like you do. […] All I wanna do is prove myself worthy of that trust.”

#haven’t don’t one of these in a while #been busy okay #redacted aaron #bubbler’s top quotes #redacted audio #redacted asmr #redactedverse

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studentinpursuitofclouds · 6 months ago

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Hello!!! Just wanted to say I love your headcanons they really give more life to the characters that I just enjoy!! I was also wondering how would the bachelors reject the farmers bouquet not because they hate or dislike the farmer they just don’t feel the same way?

Hee hee, thanks dear anon! Glad you like my silly writhing 😊

_________________________________________

SDV Bachelors rejected the bouquet because they don't feel the same way:

"I don't think this is a good idea." It might seem from Shane's tone that he can't stand Farmer and their bouquet offering irritate him, but that's not the case at all. Shane believes that he has a lot of unresolved issues in his life that he definitely doesn't want to transfer onto Farmer, after all they are one of the few people he considers a friend and believes they truly care about him. How can he love them if he can't love himself? Besides, they are both too different. So it's not worth starting, especially since Farmer will definitely find someone better (still low self-esteem, but he's working on it).

"I think you're a wonderful person, Farmer, but I don't feel attracted to you..." Harvey do thinks Farmer is a wonderful person and his best friend, truly. But only a friend, nothing more. The local doctor once said that he is probably the oldest bachelor in Pelican town and the status will remain as such, but he feels no romantic feelings for Farmer, and to take their bouquet and lie just because Harvey is with someone at least, he thinks is wrong. He apologises but will honestly refuse the bouquet.

"Oh, my apologies if I gave you that thought, but I don't see you that way. Don't get me wrong my friend, I enjoy your company and the time we spent together was wonderful! It's just..." Poor Elliott will be torn between wanting to explain more to Farmer the reason for his rejection so that there will be no hard feelings between them, and wanting to shut up and stop his long-winded refusal so as not to give the impression that he is giving this long speech just to appear nice. He saw them as nothing more than a good friend. Elliott would give them space after the rejection, knowing full well what Farmer was going through and hoping it wouldn't destroy their friendship.

"Oh man... Thanks for the bouquet, but I don't think... uh... Can we talk about this tomorrow?" Putting something like this off until tomorrow wasn't the best idea, but honestly, Sam just panicked at the sudden confession and gave out the first thing that came into his head. Though by the answer alone, the musician sort of let Farmer know that there was already doubt and the answer would be no. Sam will call Farmer in an hour to meet live again (or tomorrow if it's late). He'll apologise for his reaction first, taking full responsibility that he behaved not great and honestly admitting that he only sees Farmer as a friend. Sammy hopes they haven't screwed up and ruined the friendship.

"Sorry, but no." Sebastian, surprisingly to himself, replied rather confidently and succinctly. The local emo thought at first that he wouldn't be able to get any words out at all after Farmer handed him the bouquet, afraid to say the wrong thing. But it's better to answer them honestly than to lie and then regret the decision, deceiving Farmer. Sebastian is in love with someone else already (*ahem*, Abigail), so he doesn't see Farmer that way. This is something he won't say out loud, of course, so as not to hurt them more.

"I'm... grateful for everything you done to me, really, but..." but "I don't see you as more than a friend" didn't come out of Alex's mouth. After a single 'but' the athlete saw Farmer's bashful expression immediately go away and replaced with a sadness that made him feel sad too. Alex hadn't meant to hurt them, and he wished he felt the same way Farmer did. A hard pill to swallow, but bitter truth is better than sweet lies. He'll try to say more and apologise, but he thinks he'll only make it worse if he keeps going. Being rejected is always unpleasant, no matter how you look at the situation.

#stardew valley #sdv #sdv shane #sdv alex #sdv sebastian #sdv elliott #sdv sam #sdv harvey #sdv headcanons #thanks for the ask!

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deepestnightcolor · 1 year ago

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Hello! I just read your post on jealous!sam and if it's not too much trouble, may I request the same prompt but with Elliott? No pressure to write it at all if you decide not to, but if you do thanks so much in advance!

ᴀ/ɴ: HERE I AMMMMM! I tried to change my writing style for headcanons here - don't ask me why. I think I the way I wrote them before... Anyway! I hope you can enjoy this! Thank you so much for your time and request <3

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Elliott (SDV) x GN!Reader

ᴡᴄ: 779 words.

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: jealousy. There's a sex scene, and it's not only hinted at. But it's not as intense as a full-blown smut.

☾ ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜꜱ!ᴇʟʟɪᴏᴛᴛ - ᴘᴜꜰꜰʏ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʙɪʀᴅ ☽

Getting Elliott jealous would take ages; he's got firm boundaries, yes, but you wouldn't ever even toe them. But then they talk to you a little too often. Their hands are on you a little too much. They laugh a little too loud around you. Don't they know the two of you are in a relationship? A happy one, at that? Don't they know that you are adequately pleased in this relationship with him? Maybe he's got to show them that there is no need to act like this around you - like a bird on a mission of courtship.

Elliott's jealousy would simmer beneath the surface, until he just wouldn't be able to stay in his seat anymore. Slinking over to the bar, he orders your favorite drink from Gus. If this was a matter of courtship, he'd court you. He would straighten his broad back, shaking out his luscious long strands of hair before wandering over to the two of you. He would kiss your head gently and offer you the drink, then smile brightly at your interlocutor as one of his arms snakes around your waist. "Good afternoon," he would say, voice so sweet and yet so close to boiling over, "I heard you laughing so loud over there, and just needed to join the two of you. I hope that is no bother." Elliott being jealous doesn't mean that he would act in a way that wasn't polite; but the slight that his voice carried could be picked up on if one listened closely

Elliott's jealousy would rest beneath the surface of his ever-polite smile, his gestures towards you extra affectionate. He would join the conversation so smoothly, making sure to take in the space in such a subtle manner that there was no way to feel intruded on. Yet the signs would be there: kisses to your head, brushing strands of hair out of your face, smiling at you so tenderly and sweetly. His opponent (self-called opponent, admittedly) would be killed with kindness. Elliott would be overly interested in their words, asking why exactly they found this or that pleasurable, or how they got into that certain hobby. All the while at least one hand would be on you, until he would check his watch with a certain dramatic undertone resting in the gesture. "Oh! Would you look at that, love? We wanted to be back by now - you're still staying over with me tonight, aren't you?"

Elliott would wave at the one that would be left behind; giving them a smile that was the most obvious sign of jealousy, sugary sweet and yet nothing more than a non-verbal "I won". "I hope you have a pleasant rest of your evening, albeit not having such lovely company around anymore," he hums as he watches you return your glasses to the bar, the edge underlying in his tone a clear attack, almost threatening; like a tower of clouds darkening the sky that announce a thunderstorm. Then he would wave, ever the gentleman again, wrapping his arm around you to lead you back to his hut.

The soft kisses that are immediately scattered all over your face were gentle, proof how the jealousy boiling deep within him. You're naked faster than you could blink, your body being painted on with wet lips and traces of a tongue. His eyes would look at you like he was writing a new story in his head, and you are his muse. Tender testimonies of love are whispered in your direction as he thrusts deep inside of you, and with each thrust he would make sure to bottom out within you. Telling you that you're his, that you're precious, that he loves you so, so much. Watching your eyes glazing over with that fucked-out expression he always manages to inflict on you. Hands holding on your hips as you cum, pride filling his body as he knows he is the reason for all of this; that he is the reason that your mind is far gone, that you're shaking beneath him. His cum would fill you up, paint you as his just as his kisses had done. But that wouldn't mean that he's done with you - there are way too many places that needed his name spelled on.

Elliott would write a story about you. Of course, not using your name. He's a gentleman, after all, and wouldn't want to exploit you. Yet there would be obvious signs that this story was about you and your love, his eyes searching for the person that had tried to leave an impact on you, holding them as he finds them. Each word is for them; just so they would know not to act like a puffy little bird again.

#sdv #stardew valley #stardew valley fanfic #stardew valley farmer #sdv fanfic #sdv sam x reader #stardew valley smut #smut #sdv elliott #sdv elliott x reader #sdv elliott headcanons #headcanons

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syrenki · 30 days ago

Note

(if you are still wishing for asks, how about:) orchid, azalea, and tigerlily?)

i don't know how i missed this, i'm so sorry!!! but thank you for the ask:) i'm a couple days late, again i apologise, but here goes:

orchid — when you're being extremely quiet, what are you typically thinking of?

it's nothing good to be honest, if i'm being extremely quiet i'm either thinking of terrible things or else thinking of nothing but in a terrible way. anyone who keeps their finger on the pulse and addresses me when this happens is a lifesaver, i don't like being left in that silence of mine unchecked and alone for too long. it grows teeth.

azalea — what is the most recent song you listened to? how do you feel about it?

how to fight by eartheater, i've seen her live and couldn't be thankful enough. i love how gentle her voice is, but not in a tender-gentle way but rather far-too-spent-to-be-loud way. and the instrumental is so lush and incohesive. someone told me this song is about me, we lost touch quickly after, i've been big on goodbyes but this doesn't read like an epilogue to me, if i survive this summer this will be one of my favourite songs after. wet as a newborn, little horns, little hooves, sure feet, uncut wings, uncut wings, uncut wings.

tigerlily— do you have any favorite quotes from any movies, tv shows, books, or poetry? (or from people in real life)

christ, there are honestly so many? i'm not even sure where to start, half the time i don't write them down or anything, i just kind of swallow and digest them and they grow to be part of my body, of my internal vocabulary, and it's impossible to tell what i really thought and what i just heard some years ago and has now resurfaced out of the murky swirls. okay, so these aren't by far my all time favourites because i can't remember them at all at a moment's notice, but here are some random ones i like a lot that are currently popping into my head:

hello, my dear, here's a confession. i will love you the whole winter, and winters here are eternal. - grafitti in russian

god will forgive her the deeds of the heart and serve her raspberry ice cream - oczy tej małej, agnieszka osiecka (roughly translated by me rn, she's a polish poet)

god is not going to be able to put my sorry ass back together once i'm done with my great work - tumblr post by @dogheadhermitsshed

the trouble with you humans is that you are so concerned with staying afloat. go ahead, be gouged open by love. gulp that saltwater, sink beneath the waves. you’re not a boat, you can go under and come up again, with those big old lungs of yours, those hard kicking legs. - on the 100th anniversary of the sinking of the titanic, we reconsider the buoyancy of the human heart, laura lamb brown-lavolie

purity is not of this world. but every 25 years or so, there is a glimmer. a flash. - (?)

every wave is tidal - king's crossing, elliott smith

i am an insane woman for whom houses wink and open their bellies. significance stares at me from everywhere, like a gigantic underlying ghostliness. significance emerges out of dank alleys and sombre faces, leans out of the windows of strange houses. i am constantly reconstructing a pattern of something forever lost and which i cannot forget. i catch the odors of the past on street corners and i am aware of the men who will be born tomorrow. behind windows there are enemies or worshippers. never neutrality or passivity. always intention and premeditation. even stones have for me druidical expressions. - (?), anaïs nin (my ebook broke and now i can't find where this is from!!!)

(also while we're on her topic:) reality doesn't impress me. i only believe in intoxication, in ecstasy, and when ordinary life shackles me, i escape, one way or another. no more walls. - the diary of anaïs nin, 1932-1934, anaïs nin

i'll be the gun and i'll be the one who points it to the sky - nichole, flower face

i believe that truth has only one face: that of a violent contradiction. - the deadman, georges bataille

laika's still up there. not her body, sure, but her soul is. i saw it through my telescope one night when i was looking for aliens. she was sniffing for table scraps under saturn's ring. she chases comets and bites down on satellites. i saw her napping by neptune, she was kicking her feet. passing through the oort cloud is like the stroke of a hand on her fur. eyes like marbles and four little paws like flames. she bobs through jupiter's moons like cold moscow streets. up there the stars are a great big field. and look, she's running so fast. god damn, look at her go. - tumblr post by @hellforever

not often, but now and again there's a moment when the heart cries aloud: yes, i am willing to be that wild darkness, that long, blue body of light. - whelks, mary oliver

no live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream. - the haunting of hill house, shirley jackson (basic, i know, sorry, but i do love the book and this opening stirs something inside me.)

is this the glittering world i've been begging for? - manhattan is a lenape word, natalie diaz

i hope death is like being carried to your bedroom when you were a child and fell asleep on the couch during a family party. i hope you can hear the laughter from the next room - twitter post by @ petfurniture

there are more things in heaven and earth, horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy - hamlet, william shakespeare (listen. do not laugh at me. year after year these words ring more and more true.)

anyhow you had to perish hamlet you were not for life

you believed in crystal notions not in human clay

always twitching as if asleep you hunted chimeras

wolfishly you crunched the air only to vomit

you knew no human thing you did not know even how to breathe

- elegy of fortinbras, zbigniew herbert (the theme is a pure coincidence, i just happen to love this poem and i thought of it as soon as i attached the quote above)

very early in my life it was too late - the lover, marguerite duras

i don't paint dreams or nightmares, i paint my own reality - frida kahlo whenever she was called a surrealist painter

nobody's had more shots at the moon, and missed, than me - tired of singing the blues, lana del rey

there should be just one safe placein the world, i mean this world. people get hurt here. people fall down and stay down and i don’t like the way the song goes. - road music, richard siken

i'll be the gun and i'll be the one who points it to the sky - nichole, flower face

you can die now.

you can die now as

people were meant to die:

great,

victorious,

hearing the music,

being the music,

roaring,

roaring.

- splash, charles bukowski

i sit beneath the staircase built from hair and bone and listen to the voices of the living. i like it, she says, shaking the dust from her hair, especially when they fight, and when they sing. - death comes to me again, a girl, dorianne laux

and in the same trail of thought:

when you die, you walk into the cold unknown hand in hand with a girl you met once when you were five in a hotel pool and her hand is warm. - tumblr post by @vampireghostlawyer

there are. so many. i'm so sorry. sending love.

#answered #sidabro #ee

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rainstormies · 2 months ago

Text

(3) what remains

title: what remains

fandom: warfare

word count: 960

synopsis: an Iraqi med student is forced into a war she didn’t choose, and falls for the soldier who never meant to stay

The day had started too quiet.

That kind of quiet always meant something bad was about to happen. Layla felt it in her spine. Even the dust in the air hung heavier, like the sky was holding its breath.

The house groaned with movement upstairs. Boots on wood. Low voices. Clicks of gear. The American soldiers had made themselves at home in the upper floor of the neighbor’s house. Radios buzzed. Sometimes, laughter filtered down like ghosts through the ceiling. Layla didn’t understand how they could laugh here.

In the cramped bedroom below, the air was stifling. Her mother had opened a window, but it barely helped.

The little girl in the corner coughed again - dry, hard, and painful.

Her name was Mina, the father had told her in a whisper last night. Mina, only five, with hollow cheeks and lips cracked from dehydration. The cough had started soft two days ago. Now it sounded like her lungs were being scraped raw.

“She needs medicine,” Layla murmured, kneeling beside her. “Or she’ll get worse.”

The father just shook his head helplessly.

Suddenly-

The whole house shook.

It started with a high-pitched pop - sharp, like metal snapping - and then a concussive boom that rattled the lightbulbs and sent a cloud of dust raining from the ceiling.

Samir screamed.

Mina cried out in her sleep.

The windows trembled in their frames, and somewhere upstairs, glass shattered.

Layla hit the floor instinctively, covering Samir’s head with her arms, as the walls around them seemed to exhale. Her mother gasped beside her, pulling a blanket over Mina like it would stop whatever had just happened.

Then came the shouting.

Boots thundering across the ceiling.

Doors slamming.

A man screamed - brief and ragged.

And then: gunfire. Controlled bursts. Loud, close. Too close.

Layla looked up at the ceiling, her heart pounding.

Of course people would know the Americans were here. If they hadn’t before, they definitely did after this much noise. This much chaos. They might as well have painted a target on the roof.

The Iraqi soldiers guarding the hallway outside barked orders into their radios. One cursed under his breath and pushed past the door.

Layla sat up slowly, her ears ringing, her hands trembling despite herself.

“What was that?” Samir whispered.

“A grenade,” Layla murmured. “I think.”

She didn’t want to think about what that meant. She didn’t want to picture who had been near it when it went off.

The door creaked open again.

This time, it wasn’t a soldier with his gun drawn or blood on his hands. This one moved differently - more deliberate. Authority radiated off him like heat. His gaze swept the cramped room, pausing on each face like he was scanning for a threat.

He didn’t find one.

Just Layla, standing near the door. Her mother beside her. Samir clutching her hand like a lifeline. The little girl wheezing in her father’s lap.

The officer’s eyes stopped on Layla’s open backpack, which still lay on the floor near her blanket roll. Books had spilled out during the explosion - Human Anatomy, a pocket English-Arabic dictionary, an old gray medical manual with dog-eared pages and highlighted lines.

He stepped forward, picked one up carefully.

"You speak English?" he asked, glancing down at the dictionary.

Layla straightened. “Yes.”

His voice was calm, measured. “What do you know about medicine?”

She hesitated. Then, with steady breath: “I’m a medical student. Final year. Baghdad University.”

He looked at her for a long second, like he was deciding whether to believe her. Then: “You saw upstairs.”

She nodded.

“We need help,” he said. “Our Corpsman - his name’s Elliott - he took shrapnel. Badly.”

Her stomach twisted at the name. So now she had one to put to the pale face and blood-soaked floor.

“I want to help the girl,” the officer added, nodding toward Mina, who was now whimpering quietly, her father holding a wet cloth to her forehead. “But my men need your help first.”

Her mother stepped forward sharply. “No,” she said in Arabic, her voice cold and clipped. “She’s not going anywhere with them.”

“Mama—”

“They’re Americans,” she hissed. “They will use you and then forget you. Or worse.”

Layla looked down at Mina.

The child’s eyes were glassy. Her breath wheezed in and out like wind through broken shutters. She wouldn’t last much longer without real help. A hospital was out of the question. But maybe antibiotics. Maybe fluids.

And maybe, if she helped them, they’d actually listen.

“Mama, please,” Layla said gently. “They can help her. But only if I help them first.”

Her mother’s eyes filled with helpless rage, but she didn’t speak again. She turned away, pulling Samir closer.

Layla looked up at the officer.

“I’ll go,” she said.

He gave a single nod.

“What’s your name?”

“Layla.”

He turned and motioned to one of the men at the door. “Let her upstairs. Carefully. Tell Sam she’s coming.”

The soldier glanced at her like he didn’t quite know what to make of her. But he stepped aside and gestured silently for her to follow.

As she climbed the stairs again, her heart pounded - not from fear, exactly. She wasn’t afraid. Just unsure. Of the wounded man upstairs. Of her mother and brother. Of the little girl who needed her help.

For the first time, Layla wasn’t just surviving the war.

She was stepping directly into it.

The little girl - Mina - was crying now, her cough worse than before. Dry, barking sobs that shook her small body. Her father rocked her gently, murmuring nonsense into her hair. Her fever had risen overnight. Layla had checked.

They didn’t have medicine.

They didn’t have time.

Layla stood, brushing dust off her skirt, her legs still shaky.

“I need to go,” she said.

Her mother looked up sharply. “Layla-”

“She’s not breathing right. And I heard someone scream upstairs. Something’s wrong.”Before her mother could protest, she slipped through the door. The two Iraqi soldiers turned, startled.

“I need to speak to someone,” she said in Arabic.

“No,” one of them said flatly.

“It’s about a child,” she insisted. “Mina. She’s sick.”

The younger soldier glanced toward the stairwell. “You can’t go up there.”

“There’s a child down here. She’s sick. And someone’s hurt. I know what a grenade sounds like.”

“No one asked you to-”

“I’m not asking for permission.”

Before they could stop her, Layla pushed past and climbed the stairs.

The stairs creaked under her feet as she climbed, every step a new sound - groaning wood, cracking dust, distant muffled voices. Her hand skimmed the banister, her heart in her throat.

The second floor looked like a war zone.

The hallway was thick with smoke and the sharp, chemical scent of explosives. The white plaster walls were scorched in one corner - blackened like charcoal. Pieces of wood and drywall littered the floor, along with a twisted, broken chair.

And blood.

“—he’s going into shock—”

“I need pressure here, here— God, he's losing too much—”

Layla stepped into the room and froze.

A soldier was lying flat on his back, his vest cut open, a jagged piece of metal lodged deep in his side. Blood soaked his shirt, the floor, even the arms of the man holding him down.

That man - Sam - looked up, eyes wide.

For a second, everything stopped.

She took in the scene in flashes:

One of the soldier’s lips moving, trying to give instructions.

Sam’s hands clenching soaked gauze against the wound.

Another soldier fumbling with medical supplies he clearly didn’t know how to use.

The sound of the wounded’s labored breathing, rattling like crushed glass in his chest.

Then someone saw her.

“What the hell - who is that?!”

“She shouldn’t be up here!”

“I only wanted…” Layla’s voice drifted off… she wasn’t sure what she wanted.

Sam’s voice cut through it all. “Wait— she speaks English?”

Layla took a step forward, voice clear despite the panic rising in her throat. “I’m a medical student. I can help. Please—”

She didn’t get to finish.

A soldier grabbed her roughly by the arm and dragged her back toward the hallway.

Sam called after her— “Wait! Just let her—!”

But it was too late. She was shoved back onto the stairs.

The door slammed shut behind her, leaving only the echo of shouting and the heavy scent of blood and smoke clinging to her clothes.

She stood there in the dark stairwell, heart pounding, ears still ringing from the explosion.

She’d seen worse in hospitals. In Baghdad. After car bombs. After riots.

But this was here.

This was her home.

And the soldier… he was dying.

And she knew, deep in her bones, they’d come back for her.

#warfare #warfare2025 #sam #joseph quinn #will poulter #a24 #charles melton #michael gandolfini #noah centineo #cosmo jarvis #a24 warfare

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teddy06writes · 10 months ago

Text

Whumptober Day 3 - Diego Hargreeves

Diego Hargreeves x gn!autistic!reader

Prompt: Overstimulation (The autistic kind)

Trigger Warnings: vague descriptions of being overstimulate, mentions of the Franknel footage/doomsday

Summary: Between the prison break, Diego's strange siblings, and everything else going on, it's no wonder that you get so overwhelmed.

{A little borrowed from the diego and lila in the closet scene from season two}

Of all the places you had ever run away to hide to when the world got too loud, and your feelings too intense, you had to admit that Elliotts dark room was one of the best.

This strange world Diego had dragged you into when you went with him after the mental hospital was just too much for you. His young older brother, Elliott and his alien theories, and that strange movie footage...

As if the escape hadn't already been overwhelming enough.

You'd tried to keep it all in. To keep all the things screaming inside you locked up tight.

But that footage of President Kennedy was the last straw.

Elliott's dark room was a welcome safe haven, where you could rock all you pleased, let out all your feelings, and ignore the brothers arguing outside.

The door creaked open and you froze, looking up to find Diego in the doorway.

"What are you doing?"

"I-" You grasped at straws, trying to find the right words, "I just-"

He just stayed there, looking down at you with a strange amount of patience that you could never get used to.

Your hand flapped around near your head, "I get all weird inside- like I'm all empty- floaty? But too much- and I just-"

Without a word, Diego stepped inside the room fully, shutting the door carefully behind him, and dropping down to sit beside you on the floor.

Why was he here? Why did he keep looking at you like that? Unable to help it, you began to rock back and forth again. "Sorry..."

Diego's brow furrows, "You don't need to apologize. What's going on? You can talk to me."

"I just- it's a lot, that whole-....." You shrugged, running your hands over your thighs, "And it was already a lot. And I do this stupid thing when it's all a lot cause I'm just.... I dunno, something's not right with me- with my brain."

You sighed, staring off at the cabinet on the other side of the room.

Diego bumped his shoulder with yours, "Hey. I don't think there's anything wrong with you. I think people are stupid."

"You don't understand- it's like my brain is wrong, Diego-" You broke off, suddenly fighting back tears, "I mean that whole- home movie thing- doomsday- What if this is just me getting too wrapped up in my head again? Maybe-"

"Stop," His voice was firm, but gentle, and you couldn't help but turn to look at him, "Do you believe there are things in this universe that we aren't meant to understand?"

You sniffed wetly, "I think there's a lot of things I don't understand."

"Okay, well-"

"Like people. Why do they always say things they don't mean?"

Diego nodded, reaching forward to take your hand gently, "Like people. We don't have to understand shit about it for it to be real, right? Doesn't make us crazy, or mean something's wrong with us."

You tried to blink away the tears, unable to stop a few from escaping.

"That home movie," Diego reached up, brushing the stray tears away gently with his thumb, "It's just that. It's like people. Okay?"

You nodded, suddenly shifting to wrap your arms around him fiercely, "Thank you. I'm sorry."

After a moment of shock, his arms moved to hold you in return, "Don't apologize. Anytime you need me, I'm here. If you wanna go sitting around in dark closets, you go for it, okay? I've got your back."

#teddy06 writes #teddy06 #teddy 06 #teddy06writes #teddy06 attempts a writing event #the umbrella academy x reader #umbrella academy x gn!reader #umbrella academy x autistic!reader #deigo hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves x gn!reader #diego hargreeves x autistic!reader

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amberskywrites · 6 months ago

Text

Little Problem

Fic Masterpost | Ao3 Link

Fandom / Genre: Stardew Valley / Fluff

Pairing: Sebastian/Elliott, Elliott & Robin

Prompt: Requested by @cooltuna69 :

Elliott is thinking of proposing to Sebastian, but his cabin is too small and needs an upgrade to fit in another person. So one day when he thinks Sebastian isn't home he goes up to the mountain to secretly ask for an upgrade from Robin, but Sebastian walks in on them. I was also thinking of the timeline being after Elliott's 10 heart event but before Sebastian's to fit your other fic, "Together".

Warnings: None! Lmk if there's any I need to add ^^

Summary:

Elliott considers what he could get Sebastian for their two-year anniversary. There's just one little problem… Luckily, he knows exactly who to ask for help.

Elliott leaned back in his chair, rocking it back slightly onto just two legs. He stared at his calendar, pinned above his writing desk and scribbled over with a myriad of notes and dates. At the end of the month, circled just about a dozen times and with little hearts doodled around it, was his and Sebastian’s two-year anniversary.

He still hadn’t decided on a gift.

What do you give someone, who has brought you absolute joy for 224 days? Who has been a light in a storm you didn’t even realize you were in? Who was willing to change to make things work and who helped change you? Who has become one of your most cherished treasures in the world?

What do you give someone?

The sappy, romance-adoring part of himself had an idea.

He’d been thinking about it for a while.

The letter from Lewis, Welwick’s vision at the fair, and Gunther’s recent book recommendations certainly did not help… but they just made him consider the idea more seriously, rather than passerby daydreams.

A mermaid’s pendant.

He may not have grown up in the valley, but the stories were not kept secret from him. And when he and Sebastian had been more open with their relationship, when others discovered how long they had been together already, it was soon that people began asking not a matter of if but when. Robin’s teasing questions, Evelyn reminiscing with Elliott on the mornings he visited her garden for inspiration about her and George’s proposal, Sam and Abigail poking fun at Sebastian good-naturedly.

Elliott would watch Sebastian, anytime someone brought it up.

In the beginning, he would bluster and his face would tinge pink but he’d roll his eyes, would say “yeah, right” or “we haven’t been serious for that long” and Elliott was never hurt, really, by these statements, because he understood and Sebastian was right, and while of course he had hoped everything would work out and they’d live happily ever after… even he knew one could not predict the future.

But as of late, Sebastian’s face would not tinge pink and he would not roll his eyes and he would not bluster. Lately, Sebastian would grow quiet, and not his usual quiet, but more contemplative, like when he visits the docks on a rainy day and looks out into the distance and just thinks. Lately, his face would bloom a deeper red and he’d look away.

Sometimes, he’d shrug and say “maybe” or “we’ll see where things go”.

Elliott hadn’t figured out a good way to broach the subject, just yet. He was terrible with this, talking about his feelings and discussing big changes. He remembered confessing to Sebastian and how he had nearly screwed that up, tripping over his words and almost making Sebastian think that Elliott didn’t even want to be friends anymore. But, well�� he did hope that maybe, possibly, Sebastian would want to get married.

There was one little problem, however.

Literally.

Elliott glanced around his cabin. His bed tucked against the wall opposite his desk, his piano swamping about a fourth of the room. His bookcase takes up even more of the floor.

He didn’t have much, and for one person it worked out perfectly fine.

But if there were two people…

He sighed, leaning forward again, his chair hitting the wooden floor with a loud thump that reverberated through the cabin. He didn’t even have a kitchen, or any sort of appliances to actually cook. He usually swung by the saloon for dinner, or shared dinner with Willy or Leah. It wouldn’t be practical to have another person move in when, really, his cabin was barely big enough for one person.

He wouldn’t be able to move in with Sebastian’s family, either. He had no doubt that he’d be welcomed - Robin already did her best to make him feel at home when he visited, or was invited to dinner. Maru was easy to talk with, when it came to topics of sci-fi or medicine. And Demetrius was Demetrius - a little standoffish, he didn’t quite seem to get Elliott, but he was polite and still welcomed him for dinners or when he visited Sebastian. But their home was already constantly bustling, and there wasn’t much space for another person there.

And, most important of all, Elliott knew Sebastian already didn’t wish to remain there.

Elliott would never ask him to stay somewhere he didn’t want, and it would be cruel, he thinks, to ask Sebastian to somehow fit Elliott into the home he already wanted to leave just so they could be married.

He sighed heavily and slumped onto his desk, resting his cheek on his arm. What to do…

It was by chance, the next day that he found himself walking up to Sebastian’s, the memory of Robin offering to renovate his cabin anytime hitting him earlier in the morning and with a text from Sebastian that he would be at band practice all afternoon, but would stop by Elliott’s this evening. Much as he loved Leah, and she too had offered multiple times to help expand or decorate his cabin, even she conceded that Robin was more skilled when it came to architecture.

And besides, there was more than one thing he needed to ask Robin.

One thing at a time, Elliott reminded himself, knocking on the door before opening it - because no matter what Robin said about always being welcome, he still had manners - and returned Robin’s smile when she caught sight of him.

“Elliott! It’s so good to see you,” she rounded her desk as she spoke, enveloping Elliott into a tight hug. “I’m sorry, but Sebby’s not here. He’s with Sam and Abby right now in town.”

“I know,” Elliott reassures, extracting himself from her hug. “I actually came here because I needed to speak with you. I was hoping to ask you about home upgrades?”

“Oh? Well, by all means, take a seat!” She pulled one of the chairs from the wall and moved it to her desk, gesturing for Elliott to take a seat. “Yoba, I remember building that cabin of yours, let me pull up the layout. You haven’t changed it since then, have you?”

“Not really, no. Nothing besides furniture of course.”

Robin nods as she opens a large book, flipping through the first couple dozen pages before stopping. She pushes it so the book is between them, and Elliott sees the blueprint of his cabin, exactly as she had shown him when he had first come to town and needed a place to stay.

“Alright, you said you were interested in home upgrades? What did you have in mind?”

Back and forth it went, Robin pulling out another book to sketch their ideas into as they spoke. She would ask questions upon questions, from how large he wanted a room to be, to the color or style of the walls, if he wanted to change anything about the existing room. She took meticulous notes, and Elliott truly lost track of time as Robin engrossed him further into the process of working out the details.

Eventually, the questions about the house renovations tapered off, and Robin began to create a new blueprint for his cabin that she said she would place into her book, once the renovations were complete. The questions grew more casual as he watched her map out the new blueprint.

“So, what sparked you to upgrade now?” she eventually asked. “You’ve lived in Pelican Town for a few years, but are only now expanding.”

“Well,” Elliott started, and he could feel his face warm just slightly from nerves, “that’s actually something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

Robin paused in her drawing to look up at Elliott, tilting her head, and Elliott couldn’t help but notice that this, this is where Sebastian gets his curious look that he tries so hard to stifle around others to feign disinterest, but has been so open with Elliott for so long now. “Oh?”

“Yes.” Elliott took a deep breath. He prayed to Yoba his words would come out clear, that he wouldn’t push the wrong idea across. “You see, I’ve been thinking about Sebastian and I, and where we are in our relationship. I’ve heard about a certain tradition in the valley, and, well… my cabin is too small as it is, if it were to ever fit two people…” he trailed off, realizing suddenly that he had looked away from Robin with a steadily warming face, and he snapped his eyes up.

He was greeted with her hands covering her mouth, but behind them he could see what he could only describe as a beaming smile.

She cleared her throat and dropped her hands, but didn’t manage to stifle her grin. “So, you want to marry-”

Robin was cut off by the door swinging open, and Elliott jumped as it hit the wall, not terribly hard but loudly. Robin’s mouth shut so fast and eyes grew so wide, that Elliott spun around to see who had entered only to find-

Sebastian, standing in the doorway of his own home, keyboard slung over his back and blinking in confusion at Elliott sitting in front of his mother’s desk.

Silence, for about thirty seconds, and Elliott could see Sebastian trying to work out what was going on before he had a chance to ask anything else. When he finally did speak, it was slow, the gears still turning in his brilliant head.

“El, what… are you doing here? I thought you were gonna be home?”

The warmth which had been on his cheeks since he started speaking with Robin only grew deeper as he stood, unsure really on what to say, because he hadn’t been planning on telling Sebastian just yet that he was hoping to upgrade his home. And, he usually did tell Sebastian when he would be stopping by, and rarely did he ever come up to the mountains on his own terms unless it was to the spa.

Before Elliott could think of anything to say, Sebastian’s eyes caught sight of the desk and his eyebrows rose. He stepped closer to get a better look, and a minute amount of tension bled out of Sebastian but upon seeing the blueprint of a different layout of the cabin he was growing so used to, confusion plagued his face once more.

“You’re renovating your cabin?” He looked up to Elliott, head tilting the way Robin’s did just a few minutes ago, puzzled but determined to understand the situation presented to him.

“Um, yes! I ah, it was a bit of a spur of the moment thought, really.”

“You never mentioned wanting to upgrade it,” Sebastian said, not accusatory but still something in his voice was off - a little hurt, if Elliott had to guess, and his heart clenched. “You’ve said before you liked how cozy it is.”

“Well, yes, of course-” Elliott stammered. “And I do love it the way it is now, but-”

“But Elliott stumbled across some cookbooks this morning at the library, and came up here wanting to discuss getting a kitchen,” Robin chimed in. “I convinced him to upgrade a liiitle more,” she said with a small laugh. “It was all very ‘spur of the moment’, as Elliott has put it.”

“I was going to mention it later when you came over,” Elliott added sheepishly, thankful also that Robin did not mention the true reason he was seeking to renovate his cabin.

The hurt that had creeped into Sebastian’s eyes dissipated at this, and Elliott could see even his hold on his keyboard strap relaxing. He even chuckled slightly after a moment, shaking his head and looking again between the blueprint laid out on the desk and Elliott. “Of course you’d randomly decide to renovate your place because of some cookbooks.”

Elliott laughed even knowing his cheeks were flushing a deeper red, and he nodded to the blueprint. “Would you like to see what I have in mind? Your input as well would be very valuable, if you wouldn’t mind sharing.”

And - there it was, a spark in Sebastian’s eyes that Elliott loved to see, a glittering of happiness at being asked to join a discussion, to share his thoughts. Elliott vowed the first time he saw it to at any chance return it to Sebastian’s expression, and he was filled with pure joy each time he managed it. The spark was only emphasized by the soft smile Sebastian gave in return to the invitation.

Robin was already pulling up a chair as Sebastian nodded. “I’d love to.”

Sitting back down, side-by-side with Sebastian and across from Robin, Elliott figured he would broach the subject once more with Robin another time.

He wasn’t aware that she already had her answer for him.

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glazedsnail · 2 months ago

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Domaystic Day 7: Story Time

About Us

This one might sparks a longer fic if I'm honest... Just didn't have the spoon to flesh the idea more but ough this is tempting.

Shane needs to find more stories to tell Jas at bedtime.

SDV Fanfiction: Shane, Elliott. Fluff/Domestic Fluff/Self Indulgent

Cracking of knees covers the pitter patter of the raindrops on the roof of the library. Groaning, again, Shane stands back up. He pulls the books one by one, scarce volumes on near empty shelves, sighing, scoffing. Nothing in this dump. He grumbles, turning to the neighboring shelf, even more empty than the previous one. A loud groan, no way he's crouching down again for fuck all.

"I'm just going to browse quickly." A voice replies to Gunther. "Oh, good morning Shane!"

Shane turns around to the red coat waving at him. He nods, muttering a half hearted "Mornin."

"It's rare that I see anyone this early in the library." Elliott chirps, browsing the shelf next to Shane. "And you're the last one I expected to meet here!"

"Why? Cause I'm a moron who can't read?" Shane barks in a whisper, turning his attention to the stack of books he's not disrupted yet.

"Oh, dear, no!" Elliott laughs. "Pardon me, that is not what I implied at all. Aren't you usually at work?"

Shane looks up at the clock. "Ah shit." He rubs his face. "Morris will have my ass."

"You know what they say, in for a dime, in for a dozen." The red head snickers. "You are obviously looking for something to-"

"Need a book for Jas." Shane grumbles, surprising Elliott who was expecting the ranch hand to be as elusive as he always is. "Feel I read all the crap I could find back home and in 'ere"

"Well." Elliott seems to ponder, recognizing his desperation. "This might be presumptuous, but, you could always invent your own stories."

"Invent?" Shane snarks. "That is presom… That's bullshit." He scoffs switching to the next shelf.

"Or maybe, recall something? A little retelling, creating your own bedtime story with your own stories?"

Shane is taken aback by the proposition. Fuck does he have to tell. "Barely appropriate stories for a child." He laughs, still somewhat grateful for the writer's input.

"It doesn't have to be yours." Elliott takes a soft breath in. "Apologies if I put my foot in my mouth but, you probably have million stories about…"

"Bout what?" He doesn't look at the visibly embarrassed writer.

For once, Elliott was lost for words. How to put it gently, how to propose such a thing when they were nothing but mere neighbors? If even. It seems utterly out of place to mention it. Him knowing about it was already a step too far.

Then again, the little girl wasn't shy about sharing.

"Jas' parents?" Elliott finally say, exhaling in one go. He sees Shane's shoulders tensing even more, his frown furrowing deeper, and gets ready to get chewed out.

"Fuck that's a good idea…" Shane says instead, making Elliott open wide eyes. "I could… I could tell her things we used to do n shit…" He scrubs his stubble for a while, lost in thoughts, and suddenly droops his shoulders. "But I suck ass at any of that." He says in a rather factual tone, playing with the hardback of a random book.

"I suppose…" Elliott clears his throat "…I am not working on anything at the moment, my muse is being rather volatile recently. I could help you?"

"You wanna write kid's bedtime stories?"

"Not in particular, but I can teach you how to start."

Elliott readies himself, surely, the man slurring every night at the bottom of a pint will not find the idea appealing for a cent. A shame, really. It could have been a good exercise, a good way for Shane to have new stories to tell Jas, and a magnetic way to introduce Jas to her parents lost so young.

"A'right." He says, holding his hand to the writer who opens, yet again, wide eyes.

"Pardon?"

"I said alright." Shane repeats. "And that's a handshake." He adds, nodding at his lonely open hand.

Elliott smiles, hiding a laugh, and grabs Shane's hand to shake it. "I'm sure Jas will love it."

"I hope…Could always blame ya if she doesn't"

#domaystic2025 #stardew valley #stardew valley shane #stardew valley elliott #sdv #failed writer #stardew valley fanfic #stardew valley fanfiction #Day 7 Story Time #writing #ao3 fanfiction #ao3 link #fluff

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leifygreeens · 2 years ago

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Elliott Scrap 🦀

Elliott being a smitten man, as usual. Fem!Farmer, she/her pronouns. No other warnings necessary. I'll find a place for this scene eventually.

Elliott’s boots thunk softly against the stone bridge leading into town, his route illuminated by warm yellow light. He looks up at the rusty lamp posts, his breath puffing out into clouds of vapor in front of his face. It’s two days into Spring already, but frost still clings to the emerald green grass framing the cobblestone path, and Elliott tucks his nose low into the collar of his jacket.

The windows of the saloon burn a fiery orange, and Elliott picks up his pace. After hours of staring at ink on half-empty pages, and with no solace found in the sound of waves kissing the shore outside of his home, he needs a distraction.

Tied to a post outside of the saloon is a horse, its ears flicking back and forth as it grazes on the overgrown grass breaking through the cement. Its coat is dusty brown, with a dark brown mane, and a very new looking saddle strapped to its back.

The horse picks its head up, sensing his presence. Its ears flick again, and if Elliott knew anything about horses, he might say it looks curious. He doesn’t though, so he walks past without a second glance, and up the steps.

He pushes the door open. It’s not a slow night by any means, but it’s not loud enough to drown out the cheery jingling of the bell above the door as Elliott pushes inside. The warmth from the fireplace hits him square in the face, and he relishes the way it melts the chill settled into his bones. Gus looks up to greet him, and Elliott knows it’s more out of habit than anything else. Just standard, to welcome a guest.

Elliott looks around, expecting to see Leah at their usual table next to the jukebox, but surprisingly, she’s nowhere to be seen. He frowns, resigning himself to a night of drinking alone, when something catches his attention.

The farmer stands alone at the bar, loosening the strap of her shoulder guard.

The last time he saw her was two weeks ago. He’d poured his heart out into a heap on the floor of his shack, and she had carefully placed every piece back into his ink-stained palms. She’d been wearing overalls and brown work gloves, with steel-toed boots and the straw hat she won the spring prior for achieving first place in the egg hunt. She’d looked like a proper farmer, and a little like an angel.

But here, in the flickering firelight of Stardrop Saloon, she looks like she’s stepped out of an adventure novel. Dressed like a heroine whose only goal is to slay foul beasts and protect those weaker than herself, there’s a small array of leather holsters criss-crossing over her torso, cuts and bruises on her arms, and fresh white bandages wrapped around her knuckles. There’s a large black stain on the front of her shirt, and he wonders what the hell she’d done to get it.

She looks up, and their eyes meet.

Recognition passes over her face, and then she smiles.

He makes a beeline for the bar, the restless buzz in his chest getting louder with every step, like a swarm of cicadas in the summer.

“Hello, Farmer,” Elliot says, the buzz starting to make his ears ring. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Elliott. I was hoping I’d see you tonight,” she says softly. Elliott blinks, and thoughts he’d never dare entertain flicker like firelight over the inside of his eyelids. She’s lovely. “I thought about stopping by your cabin, but I figured I should check here first, just in case.”

Elliott feels lightheaded. “You were looking for me?”

She hums, nodding as she turns away to search through her bag. “Last time I dropped by, you were running out of ink.”

“Ah. I was planning to purchase a refill from Pierre in the morning.” Elliott winces. He’d put it off for too long, and his plans to write well into the night were dashed when his fountain pen ran out in the middle of a chapter.

“No need. I have some for you.” She turns around, a glass inkwell standing proudly in the center of her palm. “I hope this is enough, but if it isn’t I can bring more later.”

Elliott’s lips part on a breath as he plucks the bottle out of her hand. The glass is heavy, sturdy between his fingers and sapphire blue. He whistles softly, a reverent sound. “It’s lovely. Where did you get it? The ones at Pierre’s don’t look like this.”

“Oh, no, I made it.”

Elliott jerks his head so fast he nearly gives himself whiplash. “You made this? All of it?”

“Well, not really. I harvested the ink from squids, but I had leftover corks from my wine bottles, and the bottle is made out of glass shards I collected from the beach.” She chuckles, tapping her fingertip against the glass. “Though, the glass might have some warping; keeping my smelting furnaces hot enough while forming the bottle was a little difficult.”

#stardew valley #sdv #sdv elliott #stardew elliott #sdv farmer #stardew farmer #scraps #elliott brainrot is bad rn #flowery language #because this is elliott we're talking about

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