#sdv elliott x farmer

[viridescentelf]

had a dream about this lol

[scourgiez]

Knight in shining armor (feat. Leah, who is used to their bs)

[swarvey]

how they would propose | sdv bachelors x g/n!reader | part one

-> summary: in game, the farmer is always the one to present the mermaid's pendant to their lover — what if it was the other way around?

pt. 2

a/n: starting with half the boys, i'll be working on the rest of them + bachelorettes after ! i got a bit carried away with elliott's ... but can you blame me?

alex

carries the pendant around in his pocket for a week, hoping the right words will magically find him if he does

(they don't)

definitely the type to lock himself in the bathroom and stare at himself through the mirror while practicing what to say to you

decides to propose during a quiet walk in the evening so he has your full attention and all the time in the world to profess his love to you

alex swears his heart is about to fly out of his chest as the two of you walk hand in hand around pelican town, the sun long gone below the horizon. the street lamps guide the two of you, fireflies intermittently emitting gentle flashes of light.

he doesn't even realize you're expecting a response from him until you wave a hand in front of his face, moving in front of him so he's forced to look into your amused gaze.

"alex," you laugh, and his breath hitches, "are you listening? you look like you've been zoning out."

he musters an empty laugh back at you, internally panicking as he desperately tries to recall what you said. "what? me? no, i was just, uh . . ." think, alex, think! you can't mess up now! "i was thinking about gridball." he wants to smack himself.

"really?" you reply, raising your brows. "you're thinking about gridball, now? while i was talking to you about our anniversary coming up?"

shit.

his face pales, stopping in his tracks in the middle of the bridge near the museum. he groans, dropping your hand to run it through his hair — surely he can fix this, right?

"okay, cut the act," you say, worry beginning to show in your features. "is everything alright? what's bugging you?"

"nothing, really! it's just that, uh . . ." alex inhales a quick breath to prepare himself before grabbing both your hands in his. "you know i love you, right?"

"yes . . .," you trail off. you look at him with concerned eyes, beginning to look uneasy. "now i'm really worried—"

"no, no! just hear me out, alright?" you nod. "you know, before you moved here, my view on life was pretty boring," he admits. "all i really cared about was gridball and my grandparents. and dusty, of course, and i guess sam and haley, too—" he shakes his head, blush beginning to cover his cheeks. "whatever, you get what i'm trying to say, right?"

"i'm not entirely sure if i follow," you reply, smiling at how flustered he's gotten. "what are you getting at, alex?"

he sighs. "listen, you moving here was the best thing that ever happened to me. you've shown me there's tons more to life than whatever i was doing before, like giving random gifts to everyone in town just to make them happy, or being a badass and fighting off monsters!" you laugh, and he grins. "anyways, now that i've had a taste of what being with you is like, i don't think i'm willing to share."

your jaw drops as he reaches into his pocket and gets on one knee, opening his palm to reveal a mermaid's pendant.

"will you marry me, y/n? so i can spend the rest of my life learning more awesome stuff from you?"

he nearly collapses in relief when you nod, whooping in joy before engulfing you in a tight hug. after a few moments, he can't help but kiss you strongly, a hand cradling the back of your head with the other on the small of your back. you smile into the kiss, pulling away only to look into his teary, overjoyed eyes.

"aren't you forgetting something?" you tease, glancing down at the pendant that's still clutched in his hand.

"oh, right!" you bend your head forward as he places it around your neck, beaming at the sight.

you hold the jewel in your hand, adrenaline pumping through your blood. "looks like we'll have to plan a wedding," you say, happily pecking alex's cheek.

"yes, this is so great!" he exclaims as he jumps in excitement, unable to control himself. "alright, first, we gotta figure out where we're going to cater food from, but i know grams will want to bake our cake," he rambles, grabbing your hand as he practically starts to drag you home. "oooh, and we should totally ask sam and his band to play something for us! he knows all the songs we like, anyway. i think all the guys will help me get all dressed up, but i bet haley and the rest of the girls would go crazy over helping you pick out what to wear, they probably know better anyway—"

"alex," you interrupt, laughing at his antics, "relax. we'll figure all this out tomorrow. let's just go home." he nods.

"you're right, honey," he agrees, swinging your intertwined hands playfully. "i'm going to need all the rest i can get if i'm gonna spend all of tomorrow bragging about my engagement."

shane

leaves the pendant in his nightstand drawer and looks at it every night before he goes to sleep for nearly a month

he truly never thought he would get married — who would want to marry him, the town drunk?

regardless, the past year with you has proven otherwise, and he knows now there's no one else he wants by his side

he decides to do it quite impulsively one day, literally grabbing it from his drawer and walking to your farm

(marnie nearly faints in excitement when she sees him walk out with the mermaid's pendant in hand, while jas cheers him on)

shane starts to get nervous when he doesn't see you anywhere on the farm, making sure to double-check all the chicken coops and barns before heading toward your house. your pet runs up to him, sniffing the hand wrapped around the pendant curiously.

"got any advice?" he asks jokingly, though he doesn't receive an answer — just a tilted head and wide eyes. "guess this one's on me," he sighs, looking at the jewelry nervously.

"shane? is that you?"

shane nearly drops it as he quickly shoves his hands into his pockets, watching as you step out from your greenhouse. of course, he thinks, the one place i didn't check.

"what are you doing here?" you ask, smiling at his sudden appearance. you're wearing dirt-covered gloves and your hair is touseled and frizzy; shane thinks you're glowing. "dinner's not til later, isn't it? or else i'll need a little time to get ready."

"no, i thought i would stop by a little early," he says. "i had something i wanted to talk to you about, actually." you nod, taking off your gloves and putting them in your bag.

"of course, what's up?" you ask, looking at him with those damn eyes that he could never resist.

"we should get married," he states bluntly, excitement sending chills down his body.

he wants to kick himself as you stare at him, blinking twice before saying, "y-yeah, i guess we should."

he nods, swallowing. "it makes sense, y'know?" he reasons, suddenly avoiding your eyes. "we've been with each other for a while now, and things have been going pretty good." he pauses. "you've gotten me through a lot, you know that? i mean, before you got here, i didn't think anyone in this town gave a damn about me — but you obviously do, for whatever reason, so i'll spend the rest of my life trying my best to be the guy you see me as."

he takes the mermaid's pendant out from his pocket, sheepishly looking at you as he holds it. his eyes are watering with emotion, and by the looks of it, so are yours.

"so, what do you say, honey?" he asks softly. "will you marry me?"

"yes," you reply, smiling as he puts the necklace on you. he laughs in disbelief when he sees you wearing it, still in shock that this is his reality. you roll your eyes, pulling him in for a deep kiss. you cry out in surprise as he hugs you strongly and even lifts you off the ground slightly, his eyes brighter than you've ever seen them.

"i can hardly believe this is real," he sighs, pulling you into his side. "guess i did one thing right in my lifetime."

you slap his arm, resting your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes. "you definitely didn't plan this out, did you?"

"huh? what makes you think that?"

"you couldn't even wait until dinner to ask?" you joke. "i guess it wasn't really a question, either—" you laugh as he pokes your side to cut you off.

"don't forget, you're the one who said yes," he retorts, smiling nonetheless. "you're officially stuck with me."

elliott

oh, he's had the mermaid's pendant for months. pretty much since you two got together

he tried to keep it a secret, he really did, but by the time he actually decides to propose, the rest of the bachelors and bachelorettes know

still, he wants the proposal to be for you and you only, so he plans on asking you during an evening picnic dinner on the beach

that doesn't stop him from asking his friends for some help, though

"is this really necessary?" sebastian questions, placing a candle into the sand and creating a pathway to the picnic blanket near the water.

"i think it's romantic," leah sighs, handing him another candle from the box in her arms. "he's been planning and buying all this stuff for weeks now. plus, candlelight always makes things more magical."

"i'm sure the moon will be bright enough tonight to add some 'magic.'"

"the light itself is not our concern, my friend," elliott says, wrapping an arm around seb — who scowls at the contact, but decides to let him get away with it just this once — and waving his arm to show off their setup. "i need this beach to represent a scene of pure love and endearment tonight, for my beloved deserves no less than a proposal for the century!"

"right," seb monotones. "well, the candles are all set up, so i'm heading to the shade."

"you want the speakers over here, el?" sam calls out, holding up one of his wireless speakers at the entrance of the beach.

"i've got one over here, too!" abigail yells from behind the cabin.

"perfect!" elliott replies, grinning as the setting he's been picturing finally comes together. he waves goodbye as everyone begins to head home, turning to the only part of his plan left untouched — the picnic blanket. i suppose the rest is up to me.

-

"are you ready, my dear?"

"elliott, i've been ready for the past twenty minutes," you say, playfully smacking the hands covering your eyes. "can i look now?" he laughs before finally lowering his arms, watching lovingly as your eyes widen at the setting in front of you.

"shall we?" he asks, holding his arm out. you gladly hold on to him as the two of you make your way down the beach, in awe at the candles lighting your way.

"i must be dreaming," you say, shaking your head. "how did you—? wait, where's the music coming from?" you realize soft acoustic music is playing throughout the beach, feeling as if you're in a movie scene.

"ah, that? i asked sam and abigail if i could borrow their speakers," elliott explains proudly. "i also recruited leah and sebastian to help me create this enchanting path."

you laugh. "let me guess, you asked alex and haley to distract me and bring me to the library?" your jaw dropped. "no, and you asked maru and penny to get lunch with me? all so i wouldn't come to find you?"

"i had a feeling my darling would venture to my whereabouts, so i requested the help of our colleagues to keep you away. though i'm sure it was difficult for you, i wanted this to be a surprise," he admits, smiling at you. "do you . . . like it?" he asks quietly, a bit scared he had done too much.

"elliott, this is more than anything i could have asked for," you say, warmth coating your words. "what's the occasion?"

he sighs in relief before replying, "have i ever needed a measly excuse to spoil you, dear?"

"i suppose not," you agree amusedly, recalling all the times you've returned home to a bouquet sitting on your porch.

finally, the two of you reach the end of the path, sitting together on the blanket. a big basket covered with a cloth sits at the center of it, as well as two plates, utensils, and your favorite food.

you shake your head. "this is ridiculous," you state, looking at elliott with big eyes. "how long have you been planning this?"

he hums in thought as he plates your food, pushing it towards you. "that, my dear, is none of your concern," he says, "though, i will say it took quite a bit of strategy. and money," he jokingly adds.

after the two of you eat, elliott hands the basket over to you, trying his very best to contain himself.

"i thought it'd be fitting to get you some gifts," he states, as you begin to uncover its contents one by one.

inside, you find a framed version of your favorite photo with him, a hand-painted mug, a poem, and—

you gasp. "are those rubies?" you ask, a couple red stones glittering at the top of the basket. you pick them up, realizing they're matching keychains.

"courtesy of emily," elliott explains. he hesitates, breathing out lightly before continuing. "rubies signify love and passion, you know, as well as good luck and prosperity."

you laugh lightly, holding up the keychains to the moonlight to see them shine. "perfect, should work wonders for us and the farm—"

"they also symbolize weddings."

you blink, gently setting down the gems as you look at him. he holds out the mermaid's pendant he has been patiently keeping for you, eyes already shining with tears as you gasp.

"y/n, the time we have spent together has been by far the best of my entire life," he starts, "and when i look to the future, i'm afraid i cannot picture one without you walking by my side. you are, and always will be, the love of my life, my shining light, my fairy book tale. you, my love, are my happy ending.

"so, will you do me the honors and marry me?"

you jump into his arms as soon as he finishes speaking, both of you laughing as he happily holds you.

"yes, elliott, of course!" you exclaim. he grins as he holds your face in his hands, covering your face in kisses before finally landing on your lips. your hands run through his hair before you fall backward, elliott landing on top of you with his hand cradling your head. you peck his nose, and he laughs once more before helping you sit up.

"here, let us celebrate with some wine!" he decides, grabbing two bottles he had left in the corner. "shane and harvey said these were the best the winery had to offer."

"you really got the whole town in on this, huh?" you tease, barely containing yourself as he helps you put on the jewelry.

he rubs the back of his head, slightly embarrassed. "well, it began with leah, and i thought it wouldn't hurt to tell harvey, but then of course i had to tell—" he stops himself. "secrecy has never been one of my strong suits, has it, love?"

you shake your head, leaning into his arm as you listen to the sound of the music mixing with the crashing of the waves.

"don't worry," you reassure, and he looks down at you with nothing but love in his gaze. "you have plenty of other traits to make up for it."

[eemamminy-art]

My half of an art trade I did with @fuerrziah !! :3 The softest guys ever 😊

[valley-of-headcanons]

(I think this is the right way to do this? We'll see)

I was hoping you could do Sebastian and/or Elliott with a pregnant farmer? Dealers choice between headcannons or oneshots!

Thank you! 😁

elliott and sebastian with their first child || headcanons

the boys are finally parents! how are they going to handle this new challenge?

warnings: anything pregnancy related, female bodied farmer with gender neutral pronouns, referred to as mother.

requested by: @merrymagpiesmess , hiya, thank you for requesting! sorry it took so long to get around to it, but i deeply appreciate it! this was fun to write, thank you so much!! :) [also, consider this a part 2 to the alex one :) ]

elliott

• Elliott pictured a very romantic, idealized life for himself. He wanted the cozy house, the loving spouse, and the two beautiful kids. Yes, to many it may seem unrealistic, but Elliott adored the thought. He understands that it may not be in the cards, but he's certainly manifesting! Right now, he has the life that he's dreamed of. He would love to have children with you!

• When he first found out you were pregnant, Elliott was ecstatic! He was so in love with you, and he was so excited to go through the beautiful progress of pregnancy. Bringing a human into this world was so beautiful to him, as most things in life were. He was so excited to be doing something so monumental with you.

• Elliott wrote a lot about you, your pregnancy, and your future child. Late night journaling sessions had many thoughts about you, you were all that flooded through his mind despite being married for so long. You were forever his muse, especially now. He wrote piles and piles of poetry about your pregnant glow and the child that you were carrying. He was so excited, and he couldn't believe how beautiful you were.

• Constantly showering you with affection, Elliott was very considerate of you during the pregnancy. Late night runs to Joja Mart were frequent, getting whatever you needed at the drop of a hat. You were so busy, even while pregnant! It was admirable in his eyes, and he wanted to shower you with as much affection as he could.

• As the time came to deliver the baby, Elliott was by your side the entire way to the hospital. He fulfilled your every request, showering you with words of encouragement and soft kisses on your forehead for comfort. He was worried, of course he was, a child was coming out of you. But, he knew in his heart, that everything would go perfectly.

• When everything was said and done, Elliott was incredibly excited. He was calm, making sure to hold you and let you have a moment to breathe. You meant everything to him, and you made sure to ask if you were okay. Yes, the baby had just been born, but he needed to take care of his spouse first and foremost. After knowing you were okay, he then started to discuss the baby. He was so excited to hold his newborn, he was already teary eyed.

• “Hello, my love ... goodness, you are so beautiful. You have the eyes of your mother, and the nose of your father. I ... for the first time in my life, I have been rendered speechless. You ... are going to be something special. You are the most special sum of atoms that have ever come to be. My dear, I hope that I shall give you the joy that your mere presence has given me.”

sebastian

• Sebastian never really thought about kids until you came into the picture. He didn't think he'd make a really good dad, as he really didn't have a good idea of what a father really is. His dad isn't around, and his stepdad is not the best to him. He never really thought that he could be a dad, but he wasn't against it. He just hadn't put too much thought into the subject.

• When he first found out that you were pregnant, Sebastian was shocked to say the least. He didn't really expect it, but he didn't show it. He gave you a smile and a kiss, happy despite the uncertainty. He didn't want you to worry, as you were the one actually carrying the child, and it would be much harder on you. So, he pushed his anxiety away until later. He showed his love and support for you right away.

• Late nights caught up to Sebastian. He sat in the realization that he really didn't know how to be a father. He didn't want to be like Demetrius: incredibly demeaning and awful toward him. But, on the other hand, he didn't want to be like his father: a deadbeat. So, he was stuck between worlds, freaking out over what may be the right thing. He spent many sleepless nights on parenting websites, or asking reddit what to do. He was stressed, to say the very least.

• During the pregnancy, Sebastian was very attentive to you. He would keep you company if you were ever suffering from pain, giving your belly soft kisses and holding your hand. He was stressed, and he didn't admit that to you until after the pregnancy was done. You did notice he was a bit more on edge than usual, so you tried to reassure him when you could. But, at nights, he was still trying to come up with a game plan.

• Soon, the baby was coming. Sebastian was freaking out inside, but managed to stay semi-calm on the outside. Not enough for you to notice, at least. However, you were going into labor, so you probably weren't paying much attention. He was by your side, holding your hand and saying a few reassuring phrases. They were for both of you, but it definitely calmed your nerves. He hoped everything would be okay in the end.

• After everything, Sebastian was drained but ... more than anything, he was happy. A smile landed on his face, holding your hand as you two waited for your baby to be brought to you. He kissed your knuckles, his nerves seeming to disappear. Being a father was going to be okay, because your child had the most wonderful mother. So, when Sebastian held his child for the first time, he was trying his hardest not to cry.

• ”Oh, wow ... you're a little human, in my hands, and real ... I ... didn't realize how real this moment would feel. I'm a father, and you're my little baby ... you're just a little guy, aren't you? Hehe ... you're such a cutie. I think we're gonna be okay, you think? I think so ... and I was so scared. Why was I so scared? You're really just a bundle of joy.”

[s0urlemone]

Hiya! Have you received any writing requests yet?Just incase you’re not swamped by requests yet, have mine😊 (feel free to ignore if you are in fact swamped)

Could you write a headcanon about how the bachelors react when the farmer brings then flowers?

Thanks in advance!

Gifting flowers to the bachelors hcs - SFW

Hiya, anon! Thank you so much. Please, leave as many requests as you want. Sometimes I’m busy or not inspired enough, but I promise I read you and will try my best to fulfil your requests. Also, sometimes I get lazy, I have to admit it.

Please, if you have feedbacks for me, those are appreciated as well! I did this specific ask for the bachelors, but if you want, I can write some headcanons for the bachelorettes too! Also I am not actually sure lilacs are good for allergic subjects, but for the sake of Harvey we’ll pretend they are. ^^” I might write something more about these scenarios because I’ve had a lot of fun!

INCLUDES: Elliott, Alex, Shane, Harvey, Sebastian, Sam.

WARNING! a little bit of angst in Shane and especially Alex’s scenarios, mention of toxic stereotypes, brief mention to Kent’s whereabouts, mention of alcohol and hangover symptoms in Shane’s scenario, some things might be inaccurate.

WORDS COUNT: 4.8K (I've tried to be equal for every hc.)

Elliott:

We all already know that, but Elliott is a sentimentalist at heart;

He himself is a person that likes gifting apparently meaningless knick-knacks to the people he appreciates or to express gratitude. Sometimes it’s a poem coming out of his own pen, but other times it could be a colorful seashell he found during his morning walk!

Still, receiving gifts makes him happy like a kid on the Feast of the Winter Star, about to receive their present. It’s the thought behind it, you see. You could gift him a particular leaf and he would still treasure it for its deep hidden meaning.

He also stresses a lot over not sounding ungrateful.

Premises made! Elliott has been stuck in bed for almost a week now, trapped by a terrible flu.

Sometimes Willy, the good man he is, checks up on him, but the man wakes up really early to go fishing and he’s not always available when he’s in open sea, you know?

Thankfully, you know no boundaries. You’ve been barging into Elliott’s lonely shrack for days to check up on him. It must be depressing to live alone and be sick. The sound of the waves and the seagulls might make up for it during the day, but as soon as the sun sets behind the shores, you can’t help but think how Elliott must be feeling all by himself, as the wind roars against the unstable wooden shed.

Poor, poor Elliott in need of your care. The fact you have a little crush on him is irrelevant in this scenario, isn’t it?

Still, you’re keen on winning the imaginary best-and-most-nosy-citizen-of-Pelican-Town award for another year. So you decide to do something to cheer him up and barge in once again.

You have no doubt that, being a writer and a romanticist, he will find your gift beautiful and actually get the meaning of it.

That morning, you find him sitting up in his bed in a white shirt, his auburn locks a tangled mess. His eyes still look at you in the soft morning light with a kindness all of their own. He’s genuinely happy to see you. You are his medicine during these miserable days.

You place it in his lap – a modest bouquet you assembled yourself: Chrysanthemum for a good recovery, Chamomile for patience and Coreopsis to keep a good spirit while healing.

His face becomes the same colour of his hair. A few moved tears well up in his eyes as he grabs the simple bouquet in his arms.

He immediately asks you if you can put them in a vase on his nightstand. Then, as you sit down next to his bed, he grabs your hands in his and looks at you with an exasperatedly sweet expression. He’s so dramatic, sometimes, but you know he’s feeling all the gratitude he’s trying to convey in his words.

His lips find the soft skin of your palms many, many times, his touch reverent as he keeps holding your hands in his delicately.

He looks up at you for a second while his mouth is pressed against your delicate palm, pretending it was a mistake, but you find a glint of something a lot bolder than the delicate touches you've exchanged and you can't quite put your finger on what it is that he's avoiding your gaze again.

He looks at the flowers day and night, feeling much less lonely now that a piece of your heart is next to him.

When he’s finally feeling better enough to sit at his wooden desk, he writes you an heartfelt letter for the beautiful present. Something that goes along the lines of: “Ever since you’ve arrived in this little town, you’ve illuminated my days like a bright sun. Without your care and cheerfulness, I would’ve healed just fine, but with a much heavier heart.” – something like that.

When months later he opens up his notebook in front of you on one of those rare mornings when you don’t have much work to do at the farm and join him for a walk, you see it: a beautiful, familiar flower tucked between two pages like a candid secret.

Alex:

I believe that his father’s words have had a great impact on what he thinks and how he behaves – not in a good way. He’s used to walk on eggshells and to think lowly of himself, even though he’s good at hiding it behind a pompous façade.

Even after coming to the valley, the ghost of his father still haunts him. His harsh words echo inside him every day and sometimes he’s just not strong enough to confront them.

He’s one of those guys that believe that true men don’t cry or show their emotions, that they can’t be too soft, that they have to like certain things to be manly and flowers surely aren’t among the things they should like. It’s not his fault. His father was a great example of toxic masculinity among the other bad things he has been for him – a terrible father, to name one.

So he claims he doesn’t like flowers. Flowers are emasculating, he says. Flowers are something you gift to a girl, because he believes it’s in a woman’s nature to like them.

But when you ask him to elaborate, he actually doesn’t have an explanation beyond that thought other than ‘they are too girly’. It’s like that simple opinion has been instilled there and never questioned until this day.

He doesn’t say these things with a bad meaning, I promise! He’s genuinely trying to overcome the terrible traces his dad has left. Just, sometimes he needs a little help to recognise some patterns as wrong. Wrong not per se – in this case, yes – but because many of his beliefs are forged on the fact he has shaped his whole person on what his father constantly criticised.

Ugh, I love him and I want to punch his dad so bad.

When Spring’s knocking on the door, sometimes Alex helps Evelyn with the flowers arrangments around Pelican Town. He’s strong, after all! But sometimes his grandma asks him for an opinion and, well, he has a very refined taste.

Still, he won’t admit he likes flowers. If he gave you another reason other than “it’s a girls’ thing”, you would just leave it, but, given the circumstances, you just can’t.

So, of course, you try to explain to him that men can receive flowers too and that they are absolutely allowed to appreciate them. He looks at you dumbfounded, but he doesn’t say anything about it.

It’s not much you have been going out together. You can’t even pinpoint the exact moment you realised you two were dating. You gradually started spending more time together, you at his kiosk and him at your farm helping around; then he started walking you home after every outing, stopping at your porch until the sun has set. He’s so delicate in the way he cares for you. He’s a good, sensitive guy. He just has to understand it’s not a flaw.

It’s part of your summer routine to spend some time together down the beach or walking around before the sun gets too strong and he has to open the kiosk. You both wake up fairly early and even though he could simply come to your farm and hang out as you do your things, you need a distraction too, sometimes.

And it’s not like you get much done when he comes over anyway.

Every morning, he’s already out of his house waiting for you, waving his imaginary tail at you when you approach him – even though he tries to keep it cool. He has an image, you know.

Today, though, you were so nervous you took the path that leads to the city earlier than usual. Evelyn has found you waiting for her grandson outside of their house, so she let you in.

She glances at the colorful bouquet in your hands with a loving smile and tells you to go wake Alex up, as he’s probably still asleep.

His room is dark, a vagabond ray filtering through a small space left between the blinds and the windowsill finds its way to the bed where Alex is snoring quietly. You sit at the edge of the bed and shake him gently.

He groans, opens his eyes and turns to the other side. Then, after realising it’s you, he jumps on his bed and rubs his eyes.

“Wha… What are you…” he mumbles, trying to fix his hair. You don’t even give him the chance to get out of his confused daze that you place the pretty bouquet in his lap, a little token of your affection and a reinforcing demonstration to your words of the conversation you’ve had in the previous days.

And, oh, your heart shatters when he realises what’s going on and starts tearing up. His cheeks heat up and he’s suddenly picking you up and placing you in his lap, one hand holding the flowers and the other placed securely around your waist as he hides his warm face in your neck, sobbing.

He’s a very sensitive guy and he appreciates you a lot. Just, he doesn’t allow himself to show it too often in case you might judge him as weak. But you don’t and with that simple, genuine gesture he remembers once again that he doesn’t have to pretend around you. He’s free to be himself.

He’s grateful for the flowers, but he’s especially grateful for you. From that moment on, he lets himself be more vulnerable around you. He starts showing that he’s not casual about you, but that he has serious intentions and that he’s not dating you just for fun. Which is great, really.

You start gifting each other flowers every now and then. Evelyn finds it endearing, especially when Alex asks her for advice.

In your love, he can rest and grow. He’s finally safe from his father.

Shane:

We all already know how terribly shy this man is.

And how self-deprecating he is. He truly believes he doesn’t deserve good things. Not that there are that many left for him – or so he believes, at least.

He lives his existence in a drunken haze, devoted to a bottle of beer and to his little niece. Until he met you, that is.

It’s not easy to get Shane to open up, but you’re on a good way. He’s warmed up to you a little ever since you’ve moved to Pelican Town, so, when he’s in a particularly good mood, you join him at the Saloon for a drink or two.

Emily has just brought you your third round before turning around to discuss with Lewis some particulars about the flowers arrangment for the upcoming Flower Dance. Shane scoffs by your side.

You ask him what’s wrong, but he doesn’t elaborate. Then it hits you; it’s tradition among your fellow citizens to gift each other pretty flower arrangements in occasion of the yearly Flower Dance. A pletora of colours decors counters, tables, windowsills as a reminder that Spring is passing by. It’s just a way to celebrate, to wait for the Flower Dance with a little more excitement.

You ask him if he’s ever received a bouquet, but he scoffs. It’s not like he gets that many gifts nowadays. He’s not popular with the ladies anymore. The only “lady” that sometimes gifts him something is his niece, when she comes back home from Ms. Penny’s lessons with a colorful drawing or a pretty handmade bracelet.

You don’t know if he’d be happy to receive a gift from you. Not the usual pepper poppers you bring to the ranch, lying that you “accidentally made too many”, but a proper gift. Still, you’re tired of the confusing tension that hovers over you when you’re together. You want to give him a hint and he’s just served you the solution on a silver plate.

A couple of days later, on a Sunday, he’s feeding Marnie’s chickens in the back of the ranch. He had been drinking the night before – and the one before, and the one even before – and his stomach feels like crap, but Jas is at home and he’s not going to let her notice that he’s feeling unwell. Plus, he’s used to work with a hangover.

The little girl calls him out to the front, telling him the farmer has came to visit.

He grumbles. He’s grown fond of you over the past few months, but you can be a pain in the ass sometimes. Especially when he’s already fighting against the urge to puke everywhere. You were there last night. He doesn’t need your scolding.

Still, he unconsciously runs a hand through his hair to make it decent and comes out.

His face becomes so red it looks like he’s been staying out in the sun for too long.

There’s nothing out of the ordinary. It’s always you and that stupid, cheerful expression of yours – but he immediately notices the large bouquet you’re holding in your arms. And it doesn’t leave any room for doubts. You were doing it on purpose, probably to fluster him or to mock him.

Otherwise, why would you be carrying him a bouquet of fully-bloomed red roses?

You explain yourself, hiding your equally red face behind the sudden present, and you tell him that there is at least one person willing to give him gifts actually, even if he claims he’s not that popular with the ladies anymore.

He looks at you, stunned, but decides to lift the huge bouquet from your arms – only to help you out. It looks pretty heavy, after all.

He grumbles a quick “thank you”, his face scorching, but he doesn’t have to deal with the embarrassment any longer because you’re as red as him and you claim you need some fresh air before waltzing out of his house.

Jas is a smart kid and she immediately figures out what’s going on, but she doesn’t comment on it, which he appreciates. Except that when Marnie, absent during that shameful exchange, starts teasing him during dinner about what happened that morning, he immediately understands Jas has spilled everything.

He spends days contemplating the flowers in his room, but it’s only when the last petal is rotting that he figures he should do something to express his gratitude… somehow.

He’s terrible with these things. While he walks the sunny path towards your farm, he’s tempted to turn around and go back home many times. Yet, he knocks on your door fairly early during the morning, after having avoided you for a good amount of days.

Pulling you in and planting an awkward kiss on your cheek, he leaves a small box in your hands before trotting away. Inside, there’s a cute hay hat, decorated with a green ribbon, and a ticket: “so you won’t get sunburnt anymore.”

Harvey:

Pelican Town’s citizens have really grown on the goofy doctor. He was searching for a peaceful place to exercise his profession, away from the chaotic city he has studied in, and even though he sometimes misses the endless choices of fun it offered, he wouldn’t go back to the smog and the traffic and the noise pollution and—

You get it. Despite being used to a different life style, and maybe especially because of this, he’s grown to love the quiet valley. It does wonders for the health, too, because the air is clear and the routine is slow.

There’s only one issue and I’ll give you a riddle to guess it. To keep you alert, you see.

You can find it in the air during Spring and it makes you sneeze the whole fucking day.

Spring, after all, is the pollen season. It’s an amazing sight when flowers are blooming everywhere and the trees are producing their juicy fruits, but Harvey can only admire the colorful change of the flora around the valley from afar, because he’s terribly allergic. He follows some therapy to keep it at bay, but he hasn’t found an antihistamine good enough to cover him completely.

His house, too, is full of fake plants because of that reason.

One day, after he was so attentive with taking care of you when you strained your ankle in the mines, not only as a doctor but also as a friend, you decided to have a bouquet of dahlias – symbol of gratitude – delivered to his clinic.

Huge mistake. He was miserable and you couldn’t stop apologising.

Still, you found it so sad. Flowers can really make a person happy, they’re a meaningful gift and they’re just so pretty to look at! You want Harvey to be able to enjoy them too, possibly avoiding harming him in the process.  

When he has finally recovered from his brief crisis, he visits you again to check up on you and your poor ankle. It’s doing fairly good now, compared to when Linus had found you in the mines, crying for help; Harvey is good at his job and he’s a kind soul, which gives him a boost.

He also visits you for the simple pleasure of your company. And he’s confident enough that you enjoy his company as well, because there’s not one single moment of silence whenever he comes over and sits at your bedside to chat about everything but your ankle.

The first five minutes, he tries to pretend he’s there for medical reasons. You both drop the act after a while, though. You simply like spending time with each other, when he doesn’t have any patient or Maru is covering him at the clinic at least.

Anyway, to PROPERLY THIS TIME thank him for the great care and also as a way to apologise for the little allergy accident, you decide to resort to your knowledge as a farmer to find a way to gift him a floral token without potentially causing him another crisis.

One afternoon, after his usual round of his patients’ houses – he regularly checks up on George and Robin has been stuck in bed for a bad flu – and saving yours for last, both because you live far from the city center and because he wants to enjoy your company with no rush, he finds a large bouquet on the chair he usually sits on to chat with you.

Is it a joke? He doesn’t know what to do other than stare at you from the doorway, but you quickly reassure him. You had done your researches and lilacs should be harmless, even for a nose as sensitive as his.

He walks towards your bed slowly, weighing every step, and then he carefully, gracefully picks up the bouquet, staring at the beautiful flowers and especially admiring your effort in finding something he, too, could enjoy. His ears are of a lovely shade of bordeaux, in great contrast with the purple petals.

But you aren’t done teasing the bashful doctor. While he composes himself with a cough and neatly places his case and the flowers on the chair to visit you, you simply observe him. But when he finally sits down beside you, you lean over and whisper, as if it was a spicy secret:

“Do you know what lilacs simbolise, doc?”

Lilacs simbolise the love that blooms in Spring. And the way his quiet care has made its way throughout the gardens of your heart during this Spring you were forced in bed has definitely made a great affection bloom inside you for the kind-hearted, silent doctor of the valley.

Yes, moving to Pelican Town has been the right choice.

Sebastian:

We all already know about Sebastian’s long-cherished dream to abandon the lonely, slow life of the valley for a more electrifying experience in the city.

The city looks so full of life; it has an alluring charm and a promising sense of freedom that overcomes the negative sides of living in a much vaster space that’s so different from what he’s used to. The bright lights that shine even at night, the tall buildings, the feeling of opportunity…

Yes, he wants to be part of something like that. An immense drawing where he can be both a shadow and a star.

So when this important client of his proposed him to move to Zuzu City for a while to help him work on a new project, he should’ve jumped at the opportunity. And he would have, really. If a couple of months ago someone had asked him to move away from his house and finally experience a piece of that delicious cake that is independence, he would’ve been thrilled.

Except that now there’s you in the picture.

It’s not that you are dating or something, but he’s not a stupid. He knows that something is there, lingering in between the languid gazes you send each other at the Saloon or the way you two always find excuses to bump into each other and stay together for longer. But there’s nothing official. Maybe he’s just seeing things, after all.

After all, you were the first one to encourage him to take the opportunity to explore something other than the peaceful valley.

He can’t exactly mention his feelings when the decision is made. That would be selfish. He’d like to be selfish, to ask you to wait, but he doesn’t, because he’s not even sure when he’ll be back.

What he doesn’t know is that this new story about his transfer has made you really upset. You’re worried he will just forget about you. You were a particular character, different from anyone than he’s ever known, but he has been in the valley for so long that you convince yourself the only reason he’s took a liking to you is because you are fairly new, therefore interesting.

Plus, you have known the city. It can swallow you down with its frenetic pace.

You’re worried he will forget about you. But you’re stuck in the same place as him and so you think you’re in no position to say anything about his wishes.

Both of you are stupidly waiting for the other to speak up.

Your affection towards each other has always been subtle. Sometimes a simple gaze is enough between you. Hidden, but fulfilling.

He has to wake up early tomorrow, so you settle to meet up after dinner to spend some more time together.

Your heart trembles when you see him, nonchalantly cool as if he had just came out of a stupid romance book, leaning against his bike as he lights a cigarette.

He takes you for a ride. You don’t speak much, words probably meaningless when the wind and the way your hands are gripping his waist like an anchor are already doing all the talking. When you stop for a quick break, though, you have to face the heavy elephant in the room. And you don’t ask him for any promise – not out loud, at least.

With subtlety, you lean down and pick up a couple of pretty Forget me not.

He doesn’t say much. His gaze is tender, his eyes a bit melancholic. His soft, long hand gently holds the one that’s handing him the flowers.

He takes one and clumsily tucks it in your hair.

There’s this particular silver locket he has once bought on a morning he decided to skip school with Sam and they wandered through some flea market. When he wakes up the next day, he puts one of the small, crumpled token of your affection – so intense you couldn’t dare to put it into words – in it and you can bet he doesn’t take it off. Ever. Not even to shower.

A couple of months pass by and he actually gets the opportunity to prolong his staying in the captivating city he has longed for ever since he was a kid. You’ve heard that from Robin one morning, while visiting her to discuss the building of a new barn. It’s not like you’ve talked much ever since he has moved to Zuzu City.

You pretend your stomach isn’t full of butterflies as you casually ask for more informations. You’re genuinely happy for him, aren’t you? Despite your bitter, conflicted feelings towards him, you care about Sebastian.

So when one evening, while coming back from an exhausting day in the mines, you find him waiting for you leaning against his bike, you don’t understand why you feel so helplessly happy to the point of crying.

He had discovered he prefers the quietness of the valley… and you.

“See, I couldn’t forget you.”

Sam:

Sometimes Samson can be a bit of an adorable dumbass, with his dorky attitude and golden retriever tendencies, but we know he absolutely rocks as an older brother.

Since Kent is fighting on the front line and Jodi has so much on her plate, he gladly takes on the role of a parental figure for Vincent. Also, he’s absolutely weak to that round, freckled face.

His day off from his awful job at JojaMart is on Sunday. He usually rests during the morning, but he doesn’t like to spend the whole day at home, no matter how tired he is.

One Sunday morning, though, he finds little Vincent sulking at the kitchen table, his round eyes full of tears that he’s trying so hard not to spill, only to let them all out as soon as he sees his big brother.

It’s not like him throwing a tantrum, but Jodi has promised to take him and Jas to a little outing to the lake that day. Just, something came up and she can’t take them anymore. Despite them being responsible kids (also read: despite Jas being a responsible kid), Jodi really can’t let him go with a light heart. And it’s not like she can ask Sam, right? It’s his free day, he works so hard at JojaMart-

Well, have I already told you that he can’t resist his little brother? Besides, every occasion is good to show off and demonstrate how cool he is, not like other boring adults. So, despite being tired from stocking the shelves and cleaning the floors all week, he takes his brother and Shane’s niece to the lake.

Passed Seb’s house, Sam discovers that a certain someone had planned to spend their Sunday at the lake, too, and he can’t stop thanking his lucky star. He almost trips over himself as he sets the blanket on the grass and invites you to join their arranged picnic, but you accept gleefully and even promise the kids you will teach them how to use the fishing rod Willy gifted you later.

You spend the afternoon watching the kids together and chatting.

At some point, after tiring themselves out for the whole afternoon, Vincent and Jas invade your little lovely picture with a bunch of flowers they’ve picked on the shore. With graceful mastery, you show them how to make crowns out of the pretty flowers they’ve picked and they immediately get to work under your amused gaze.

You pick some of the flowers, too, and as the conversation flows you start weaving them quickly, your eyes falling only sometimes to your hands to check how it’s turning out. Sam doesn’t think too much of it; despite feeling a bit awkward at first, the words are now flowing out of his mouth smoothly. You feel overwhelmed by his energy, but you find it contagious, so you can’t really complain.

He stops talking – nervous as he is, he needed just a little push to completely lose himself – when you place the crown made of little white flowers on his blond hair.

He laughs, hard, asking you if he looks pretty. Despite it being a casual gesture, something you found yourself doing in the situation, he takes it to his heart to make a crown for you as well. And so, you try to teach him, your fingers casually – it’s not like you have a crush on the dork, no – brushing against his guitarist’s ones twice as necessary.

If the kids were struggling, he struggles twice. He should find it easy, shouldn’t he? He plucks the strings of his guitar for hours with great skill, but the flowers keep breaking or losing petals in his hands. He’s not frustrated though, because you’re there to patiently help him learn from his mistakes.

In the end, he manages to make an… acceptable-looking crown for you and you pretend to not notice the adoring look in his blue eyes when he reverently places it on top of your head, or how it’s making your face heat up.

While Jas and Vincent blast your ears off about how they’re going to make crowns for everyone at the next Flower Dance, you take a look at a very sleepy Sam, leaning against the trunk of a tree.

His crown is crooked. You fix it gently as he boldly searches for your hand. You intertwine your pinkies like two kids, your hands kept a secret by the shadow of the tree as he drifts off to sleep.

It has been a tiring week at JojaMart, after all.

[honey-crypt]

slowburn elliott x farmer please please please please... (falls to my knees) strangers to mutuals to friends to lovers (explodes)

i only ask for angst to comfort and a lot of romantic tension go crazy w this if u feel like it

a/n: y'all... i present to you... my magnus opus... 3 days of work... maybe 50 or so hours dedicated to this... please... please enjoy

wc: 10.1k

features: slow burn (strap in), mentions of war, strangers to lovers, romance that will make you melt, minor spoilers for year 2 of sdv and sdv expanded, elliott cries a lot, imposter syndrome, elliott is a SAPPY SAP OF A MAN WHO LOVES YOU LOTS, i pull from my own sdv worldbuilding/elliott lorebuilding for this

summary: a box of cereal. the spirit eve's maze. a rowboat's maiden voyage. these are just a few moments that define your love story with elliott.

★ chapters in a story called life - an elliott x farmer slow burn piece ★

Chapter 1: First Encounters

A well-manicured hand reached out for the box of cereal at the same time as you, calloused knuckles brushing against your hand. In one swift motion, the hand plucked the last cereal off the shelf. You let out a surprised gasp and whipped your head towards the cereal thief, “Hey!” you exclaimed, ready to reprimand them but your words fell short at the sight of the individual in question. 

Long fiery red hair draped over their shoulders and emerald eyes bore into your soul, as the cereal thief adjusted their grip on the box, “I apologize,” their voice hummed out at a warm baritone pitch, “You seemed… to be struggling with getting the cereal box. I wanted to assist,” the man, at least you assumed them to be a man with their chiseled jawline and overall physique, handed the box of cereal over to you, “Apologies for any miscommunication, I simply wished to help,” his word choice was eloquent, unnecessarily eloquent. 

“Oh, uh,” you took the cereal box and dropped it in your shopping basket, “Thanks.”

“Of course,” the stranger flashed you their pearly whites, “Have a pleasant day,” he walked off to the next aisle in Pierre’s General Store. You looked back at your box of cereal then went about your merry way, finishing up your grocery shopping for that week. 

Chapter 2: Run-in at the Beach 

The local fisherman Willy ordered a bundle of parsnips from your farm and you were able to harvest them today, your first of many orders set for delivery. You tied up the sack of parsnips with a pretty red ribbon and dropped them in your bag, ready to make the trek through town to deliver your vegetables and produce. 

After running through town like a headless chicken and delivering orders to the likes of Pierre, Gus, and Jodi, you crossed over the bridge and onto the beach. Despite living in Pelican Town for almost a week, you never stepped foot on the beach until now. The ebb and flow of the waves greeted you, as you approached Willy on the nearby pier. The old fisher released his rod back in, no fish on the hook, when he saw you walking up, “Ahoy, (Y/N). I take it that yer got me order of parsnips?”

“Yes, sir!” you gave him a salute and pulled out the sack of parsnips before handing it over to Willy, “Hope they’re up to your standards.”

“If yer anything like yer dear old grandpa, I’m sure that these parsnips will be golden,” the fisherman reassured you with a belly laugh, “Here’s a few extra G for yer troubles. Go get yerself a nice drink at the saloon later,” he placed about 500G in your hand, “I best be gettin’ back to fishin’, you have a good day, alright?”

“Thanks, Willy, I’ll do my best,” you gave Willy a nod before exiting the pier. Stepping back on shore, you inhaled a fresh breath of sea air and stretched out your legs, sore from running around for so long. You were about to make your way back to town when you noticed a familiar redhead by a fire pit to your right. The redhead sat by the fire pit, a towel beneath him and his shoes set aside. The sea breeze ruffled his ponytail, as the man peered silently out into the ocean. 

I shouldn’t bother him, you reasoned with yourself, He seems busy. You turned your heel towards the cobblestone pathway, only to hear the redhead call out to you, “Oh! Hello, there!” Shit, okay, now I have to talk to him. You turned your attention back on the man on the shore, “Er, hello there.”

His eyes fell onto your delivery bag, “Ah!” he broke out into a smile, “The new farmer we’ve all been expecting and whose arrival has sparked many a conversation,” you made your way to his side and plopped down next to him, “How did you know that I’m the new farmer?”

“Your bag sports your farm’s name,” the man pointed to the embroidered letters on your grandpa’s old bag, clearly showcasing the name of the farm. Your face warmed up with mild embarrassment and you quickly fanned your cheeks, “Oh, yes… makes sense,” Yoba, I’m so- ugh! Silly? Yeah, I’m silly and trying not to make a fool of myself in front of such a… handsome? Yeah, he’s handsome, alright. Handsome man. Okay, please stop yapping-

“We briefly met at Pierre’s earlier this week but I never had the opportunity to introduce myself,” the well groomed man broke you out of your internal monologue and extended a hand to you, “I’m Elliott. I live by the little cabin on the beach,” the man- no, Elliott- gestured to the cabin behind the two of you, its exterior weathered from the elements, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

You eyed his hand and grasped it, surprisingly rough to the touch. The two of you exchanged a handshake, as you introduced yourself to Elliott, “I’m (Y/N). It’s nice to meet you, too.”

Chapter 3: Writer’s Block

You stood outside Elliott’s cabin, clutching a bag of freshly grown potatoes in your hand. Another day, another round of deliveries; at least, you got to deliver to a friendly face. You knocked on the door, only for it to slowly creak open. Cautiously, you entered the cabin and called out to the redhead, “Hello? Elliott, are you home?”

The cabin was surprisingly under-decorated and somewhat shoddy, a lone bed in the far corner of the room with a piano beside it. In the corner closest to you, Elliott hunched over his desk, the sound of pen scrubbing echoing throughout the cabin’s old walls. You called out to Elliott once more, “Elliott?” he perked up at the sound of your voice, “Ah! (Y/N)!” he rose from his desk, “What a surprise to have you in my…” his voice trailed off, “…humble abode! What do I owe the pleasure of your visit to?”

“Just dropping off your order,” you set the bag of potatoes on the closest available space, “Whatcha doing?”

“Oh, the usual,” hummed Elliott, “I’m attempting to narrow down how to address this one scene in my novel.”

“You’re a writer?” you raised your eyebrows, trying to see if you can catch a glimpse of his work. Elliott hovered by his desk and brushed a few loose papers over his work, “Yes, yes I am. It’s a bit of a funny story, but I actually moved to Pelican Town to pursue my writing career.”

“Oh, really? How come?” you asked.

Elliott placed his hands on the desk and leaned on it for support, “I supposed a life of solitude would impose some… literary genius upon me, like the great Ernest Hemingway. Yet, I’m at a standstill—” he cleared his throat, “Well, in all honesty, I’ve been at a standstill for the past two or so weeks with this one scene and I’m afraid that I’m losing steam.”

You frowned, “Yikes, that really sucks,” you moved closer to the writing desk, “Maybe you need a fresh set of eyes? Like a new perspective.”

Elliott’s eyes twinkled at your suggestion, “A most excellent idea!” he hurriedly gathered up his notes and shoved them into your hands, “Alright, the scene I’m at an impasse with is when Clara confronts Horatio about his late lover. I’m not sure if I should go with a tame heart to heart or something along the lines of a miscommunication gone awry.”

You read through the passages, familiarizing yourself with Elliott’s work. He wrote in a style similar to the aforementioned Hemingway, but his vivid imagery and passionate dialogue left you with a sense of awe and a desire for more. You got to the scene Elliott was stuck on, thumbing between earlier scenes and scanning the pages. Finally, you spoke up and suggested to Elliott, “Given Clara’s kind demeanour and Horatio’s sensitivity, I would go with the heart to heart option.”

Elliott broke out into a grin, “Splendid! You’re absolutely right!” he grabbed the papers and set them back on the desk, “Many thanks for your assistance, (Y/N). I truly appreciate it.”

“Of course,” you flashed him a smile and a thumbs up, “Happy to help.”

Chapter 4: The Flower Dance

You stood by the assortment of refreshments and finger foods, nursing a glass of sparkling cider. Every few minutes, you would mindlessly adjust your flower brooch or take a sip from your glass. Laughter and chatter filled the air, as the residents of Pelican Town joined the day’s festivities. 

You scanned the crowd and found Elliott by the river, standing beside Leah and talking about something, Probably art. Not wanting to remain idle for another moment longer, you made a beeline towards the pair of redheads and greeted them nonchalantly, “Hey, Leah. Hey, Elliott.”

“Hi, (Y/N)!” the artist returned the greeting while Elliott waved at you, “Good day, (Y/N). Are you enjoying the festivities?”

“As much as I can without dancing,” you hummed, finishing off your glass. Elliott nodded, “You make a good point. This is the Flower Dance, there’s not much planned beyond dancing.”

“Speaking of dancing, are you two dancing with anyone?” you asked the pair of redheads.

“We’ll be dancing together like we did last year,” answered Elliott. For some reason, your chest tightened at his response, but you brushed it off as allergies. Elliott fixed his tie, “We best be on our way, Leah. The dance will be starting soon.”

“I’ll catch up with you in a sec!” replied Leah, placing a hand on your shoulder, “I wanna chat with (Y/N) for a bit.”

“Okay,” the writer smiled at the two of you, “It’s always a pleasure to see you, (Y/N), and Leah, I’ll be in the main area whenever you’re ready,” he walked off without another word, as you stared longingly at his fading figure. Leah nudged you in the side, “You should dance with him instead.”

“I should?” you blinked, “But you two already agreed on dancing with each other.”

“I don’t mind passing the torch to you,” the artist nudged you once more. Yet, you shook your head and answered, “I rather not. I’m not much of a dancer anyway.”

Leah puffed out her cheeks and exhaled before stating, “You two would make a cute couple.”

You eyed Elliott in the distance and mulled over Leah’s words, “You think so?” you found yourself smiling in unison with Elliott, as the writer engaged in light banter with Willy. 

“Yeah,” the artist nodded, “I think so.”

Chapter 5: Drinking Buddies

Friday nights at the Stardrop Saloon were always the most rambunctious, at least two thirds of Pelican Town packed inside. You entered the saloon, hungry for a meal after a long day’s work, and saw a familiar figure in a blue shirt and suspenders. Elliott turned his head and grinned at the sight of you, “(Y/N), my friend! Please, have a seat with me.”

You took a seat beside Elliott at the bar, “Hey El,” the writer’s grin grew in size at the nickname, “You enjoying your Friday evening?”

“Absolutely,” answered Elliott, “Well, I must admit that it has gotten better since you arrived. It’s always a joy to see you.”

Your face heated up at his words, but you brushed it off with a laugh, “You’re sweet.”

“Of course,” the writer responded. Elliott then waved Gus over, “Hello, Gus, my friend! May I have two beers?” to which the bartender nodded, “Two beers, coming right up,” and poured two pints of beer from the tap, “Enjoy!”

“Thank you,” the redhead slid over some G to pay for the beers, enough leftover to provide Gus and Emily with some solid tips. Elliott passed one of the beers to you, “For you.”

“Why, aren’t you generous?” you chuckled, happily accepting the beer. You clutched the pint tight in your hand and Elliott raised his up towards you, “I propose a toast,” the writer announced. You held yours up, “To what?” you asked. Elliott smiled, “To our friendship.”

Your heart skipped a beat and your expression nearly soured- you weren’t sure why, though- but nonetheless, you nodded in agreement, “To our friendship,” and clinked glasses with Elliott. 

As the night went on and after a few more beers, you and Elliott were completely hammered. You could hold your liquor, of course, but the sight of Elliott merrily dancing and humming a tune made you break out in laughter and let loose. He’s cute when he’s silly. 

Chapter 6: Dance of the Moonlight Jellies 

You returned to the pier for, what local scientist Demetrius referred to as, an ‘utmost special occasion’. The occasion in question? It happened to be the annual event where moonlight jellyfish would visit the pier. You had vague memories of experiencing the event when you were a little kid with your grandpa, you remembered the fond look he had when the jellyfish would pass by.

You approached the edge of the pier near Willy’s shop and noticed Elliott looking out into the sea with that same longing look you saw the first time you properly met the tall redhead. Gently, you tapped him on the shoulder, “Hi, Elliott.”

“Oh, hello, (Y/N),” his tone was much more… serious? No, it was somewhat sad. You frowned, “What’s wrong? Aren’t you excited for the jellies?”

“I am,” he responded, as the summer breeze ruffled his ponytail, “I’m excited to the point of grief,” your frown deepened and you questioned Elliott, “What do you mean?”

Elliott scooted over so you had more room to stand, you stood by him while he explained, “We pollute the world so much, (Y/N), especially here with Joja… I see Joja CDs and Colas washed up on shore all the time and I fear the worst,” his eyes glistened with pain, “I fear that we won’t see these magnificent creatures unless we take action and hold Joja accountable for their actions.”

You let out a low hum of agreement, it reminded you of your days at Joja Co. and the stories you heard from your coworkers about the higher ups bypassing environmental protections with some hush money. It was part of the reason why you left Joja, other than the fact that it was sucking the life out of you. The day you left Joja Co. was the day you freed yourself from the chains of society. Just like Grandpa wanted. 

“I’m sure we can,” you offered reassurance to Elliott, “I believe in us, I believe that we ultimately make the right decision.”

Elliott nodded, “Thank you, (Y/N),” he looked back at the ocean, “I hope so.”

You were about to retort when Lewis announced that the event was starting, turning your attention to the mayor. Lewis released the little boat towards the sea, you watched with bated breath for the jellyfish to arrive. Your hand brushed against Elliott’s, as the town witnessed the Moonlight Jellies appear. Elliott’s pinkly slowly reached out for yours, you timidly locked pinkies with the writer, as you enjoyed the sight of the beautiful jellies. 

Maybe, one day you’d have the courage to hold his hand. 

Chapter 7: Roadblocks 

Elliott was a no-show to your weekly outing to the Stardrop Saloon and it left you concerned. He was always so punctual and he always told you ahead of time if he couldn’t make it to an event. You worried that he was sick so you left the saloon and headed to the clinic. 

The overhead bell in the door chimed when you entered, signaling your arrival to Harvey. The town doctor gave you a wave, “Hello, (Y/N),” he greeted you, “How are you today? Are you feeling unwell? Injured?” 

“No, no! I’m okay!” you explained, “I was just wondering if you had any over-the-counter medicine. I think Elliott might be sick.”

“Oh!” the doctor let out a relieved sigh, “Well, I’m glad you’re well. Let me see what I got in stock,” he left the waiting room of the clinic and after a few moments, Harvey returned with a box of medicine, “I have this generic medicine in stock. It should help with most symptoms of illness.”

“Thanks, Dr. Harvey,” you handed him some G, to which Harvey gave you the medicine in exchange, “Have a good one.”

“You, too,” the doctor replied, as he put the G in the front desk’s cash register, “And remember to stay healthy! I’m here if you need anything.”

You flashed him a thumbs up and exited the clinic, heading off to Elliott’s cabin with a determined step in your stride. Upon arriving at the cabin, you knocked on the door, “Elliott?” you called out to your friend, “Elliott, it’s me. Are you alright?”

You heard shuffling and slowly, the door creaked open to reveal a dishevelled Elliott. His usual tan was replaced by a washed out pale, as if he hadn’t stepped outside his cabin in days. He sported heavy eye bags and an exhausted expression, “Hello, (Y/N)…” the writer rubbed his eyes, “What are you doing here at this hour?”

“This hour?” you blinked with bewilderment, “El, it’s 5pm. What time do you think it is?”

“Oh, dear,” he let out a weary chuckle, “I must have the times mixed up. I apologize, but I should go back to work. I’ll be free to chat another day,” the redhead proceeded to shut the door, but you stopped it with your foot, “Elliott,” your voice was strained with worry, “You missed our saloon hangout. You never miss an event without telling me,” you held up the medicine, “So I was worried that you got sick… I got you medicine.”

Elliott gawked at the sight of your worried expression and the box of medicine, “Oh, (Y/N), I apologize… I didn’t mean to worry you. I’m not sick or anything, I just have been so wrapped up in my work that I lost track of time.”

“Elliott,” you pushed the door open with your foot, desperate to reach out to your friend, “When’s the last time you got any sleep? Yoba, when’s the last time you went outside?”

Elliott’s freckled cheeks turned red at your questions, “I, er…” he stepped back and allowed you passage inside. The inside of the cabin was dimly lit, minus the light at Elliott’s writing desk. His trash can was overfilled with crumpled up papers, broken quills, and empty bottles of ink. You set the medicine by his nightstand and asked Elliott, “How long have you been writing?”

“I lost track of time,” he answered, taking a seat at his desk. Elliott took out a fresh quill and bottle of ink, dipping the quill into the ink and writing. Yet, the quill snapped and the man who prided himself on his elegance let out a stream of curses. He shoved the papers aside and laid his head on the desk, utterly defeated. You frowned deeply and placed your hand on Elliott’s back, rubbing it tenderly, “El… Talk to me. What’s been going on?”

A soft sniffle reached your ears, as Elliott lifted his head up and exposed his watery eyes to you, “(Y/N), it’s awful. I’m awful!” he turned his body towards you and hugged your waist, “I can’t write for- I can’t write for shit, (Y/N)!” his cursing caught you off guard, but you made no comment, as the writer continued to lament, “It’s been almost two years and I haven’t completed this damn book! I- I-” he buried his face into your shirt and sobbed, “I want to give up, (Y/N). I want to throw it all away.”

You held the back of Elliott’s head in your hand and stroked it, as the redhead cried his heart out. Yoba, how it broke your heart to see him in such… agony. You remained silent while he cried, wanting to give him time. Soon, the sobs subsided and Elliott pulled away from you, his cheeks stained with tears, “I- I apologize,” he looked flustered, “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Hey,” you cupped his face in your hands and playfully squeezed his cheeks, “You’re my friend- Yoba, you’re one of my best friends. You’re allowed to lean on me for support, you’re allowed to cry in my presence,” you released your hold on his cheeks, “I’m here for you.”

Elliott sniffled and wiped away any remaining tears, “You truly are my muse,” he mumbled under his breath. Your chest tightened at his comment, “Huh?” you asked. Elliott’s eyes widened, not realizing that he made that comment aloud, “Oh, uhm- Apologies, it was nothing.”

“Oh,” you did your best to hide your disappointment. Maybe I misheard? “You need a break,” you changed the subject, “You can’t keep pushing yourself when you’re so low on steam,” you gave the writer a pat on the shoulder, “So how about you change your clothes and meet me outside, okay? We’re going to the saloon.”

Elliott nodded in confirmation, “That sounds like a marvelous idea. I’ll just be a moment,” he got up from his writing desk and walked off to his dresser. You took that as your cue to leave the cabin, wanting to give the redhead privacy to change. Although, I wouldn’t mind looking- you smacked your cheeks together, Hey! Don’t think that! You then proceeded to leave the cabin, not wanting to be consumed by thoughts of seeing your best friend naked.

Chapter 8: Spirit’s Eve

Jack-o’-lanterns and other spooky decor lined the pathway into the town square, as you entered Pelican Town for Spirit’s Eve. You dressed up as an old-timey sailor, a simple but classical costume. The town square was buzzing with chatter and the occasional creak of… skeleton bones? You peered out into the distance and sure enough, there were two skeletons in a cage. 

To your surprise, one of the onlookers happened to be Elliott, dressed up in a costume that resembled the Mad Hatter from Alice in Wonderland. I didn’t realize he was into the spooky. You waltzed up to him and tapped him on the shoulder, “Hey, El. Enjoying the display?”

Elliott whipped his body around to face you, his face deathly pale, “Er, I don’t believe I am enjoying the display,” he leaned in and whispered in your ear, “I mean to alarm you, but I think those are real skeletons.”

You stifled back a snort, “Oh, yeah?” you eyed the skeletons, as they shuffled about the cage, “I think so, too.”

Elliott audibly gulped and appeared to be on the verge of fainting, “Oh, dear. I think I may need a drink. Care to join me?”

“I would be honored,” you replied. The two of you walked off to the assortment of fall-themed foods and drinks. Elliott grabbed himself a glass of pumpkin ale while you got some apple cider. He slammed the drink back in one or two gulps and exhaled in satisfaction, “That hits the spot,” he poured himself another pumpkin ale, “I needed something to take the edge off after seeing those… creatures,” he shivered. 

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as a scaredy cat,” you hummed, taking a sip from your glass of apple cider. Elliott pouted, “It’s perfectly reasonable to be cautious around creatures of the undead,” he protested to you. In exchange, you let out a snort and stated, “It’s okay to be a scaredy cat.”

Elliott rolled his eyes and took another swing of his ale, “I’ll prove to you that I’m not a scaredy cat!” he proclaimed. You eyed him up with curiosity, “Oh, yeah? How so, tough guy?” his cheeks were flushed at your usage of tough guy and he responded, “By completing the maze! I hear that it’s especially spooky,” the redhead pointed to the maze in the distance. He was right, it did look especially spooky. 

“Wanna make this a bet?” you offered to Elliott. The writer’s eyes twinkled with excitement, “Depends on the bet, all I ask is that there’s no skinny dipping involved. You wouldn’t believe the amount of times I had to do that.”

Oh, I can imagine, “First one to finish the maze gets an IOU from the loser,” you proposed the bet to Elliott, “Other than skinny dipping,” you added on. Elliott flashed you his signature smile, “That sounds wonderful,” he finished his ale and discarded the glass in the washing bin, “One, two, three, go!” the writer sprinted off, leaving you in the dust, “Hey!” you yelled, trying to finish your cider as quickly as you could so you could run after him. 

Soon, you found yourself in the dreaded maze, thick but neatly trimmed bushes towering before you. You passed by a few other townies in your quest to complete the maze, such as Harvey and Abigail. After confronting a few dead ends, you were positive that the area where you found Sam in had a way. The blond mentioned something off about the nearby bush, perhaps that was the key to beating Elliott.

Footsteps echoed throughout the maze, as the man in question showed up behind you, “It appears that we’re tied,” he stated, “Yet, there also appears to be another dead end.”

“I don’t think so,” you beckoned Elliott to follow you. You approached the bush near the left side of the maze and patted around the area. Your hand suddenly slipped through an opening in the bush and you grinned, “Found it!” you immediately ran through the opening, Elliott hot on your heels. You weaved and bobbed through the terrain, laughing up at a storm. 

However, you failed to notice a tree root on the path and tripped over it, barely twisting your body in time so you landed on your back and not your face. Elliott couldn’t stop himself in time and promptly fell on top of you, slamming the palms of his hands into the ground so he didn’t crush you under his weight. Time seemed to pause, as you and Elliott locked eyes with one another, so painfully close. Your eyes drifted down to his lips and you swore that he did the same. You were so close, you were so very close. 

“Are you okay?” Elliott asked, as he pushed himself off the ground and back onto his feet, much to your disappointment. You were so close, “I’m okay,” you answered. Elliott then extended a hand to you and pulled you up from the ground, you stumbled a bit but Elliott caught you in time before you could fall again. Yoba, he was so warm and gentle, it was as if you were hugging a teddy bear.

“Be careful,” he told you, “I don’t want you to get hurt,” your heart fluttered at his words, “O- Okay,” you stammered a bit, “I’ll try not to.”

“Let’s try to finish the maze,” the writer released you from the embrace. You nodded in agreement and the two of you resumed your journey through the maze in silence. Finally, after what felt like hours, you two arrived at the end of the maze, where a treasure chest laid before you. Elliott gestured to the chest, “You should have it. After all, you were the one who found the opening that got us here.”

“Are you sure?” you questioned the writer. He gave you a smile in confirmation, “I’m positive.”

You approached the treasure chest and opened it, pulling out the prize. It was a golden pumpkin! Oh how it shined so beautifully under the moonlight. You showed the golden pumpkin to Elliott, “Look here! Isn’t this neat?”

“Very neat!” he laughed, “What a wonderful prize,” the writer then pointed to a nearby mine cart, “I believe that might be our ticket out of here.”

You hopped into the mine cart and noticed there was enough room for you, “Wanna ride with me?” you asked. Elliott shook his head, “No, it’s alright. I’ll take it when it comes back.”

You did your best to hide your sadness at his rejection and responded, “Alrighty… I’ll see you later, then,” you activated the mine cart and rode back to the outside of the maze. You considered waiting for Elliott to come back, but ultimately decided against it. You needed to go home, you needed space… so you left.

After some time, Elliott returned to the outside of the maze, eager to see you. Yet, to his surprise, you were nowhere to be seen. He frowned upon the realization that you left early and went over to grab his bag so he could leave, as well. As Elliott left the festival, his bag’s zipper opened a bit, revealing a small bouquet of flowers nestled inside. 

Chapter 9: My Muse 

Things were tense between you and Elliott ever since the incident in the maze during Spirit’s Eve. Each time you would hang out or see one another, the air would be… off. Yet, neither of you would address it, much to the annoyance of Leah, who happened to know both sides of the story and was sworn to secrecy about the crushes. Poor Leah, oh how she just wanted to slam you two’s faces together so you could make up and make out. 

You knew that Leah was right, though; you had to confess sooner or later, but the idea of getting rejected by Elliott consumed any confidence you had about asking him out. Nonetheless, you bought the bouquet from Pierre’s, the traditional gift used to ask a person to be your partner in Stardew Valley. You kept the bouquet fresh with water and plant food, not wanting it to die out before you could give it to Elliott. 

You weren’t sure how this crush started nor how it flourished to the point where your mind was plagued with Elliott almost everyday. Does he feel the same or am I just a dumbass for wanting him to feel the same? That was the question on your mind since Spirit’s Eve. 

You left your farmhouse early one morning and found the flag up on your mailbox, indicating that you had mail. Setting your scythe aside, you headed over to the mail and opened it, collecting the letters inside. You thumbed through the letters, seeing one from Pierre and another from Jodi. However, you stopped when you saw a letter with all too fancy handwriting and a red wax seal on it, Elliott wrote me a letter? you carefully opened the envelope and read its contents.

Dearest (Y/N),

I’m delighted to announce that I finally finished my novel, Camelia Station! I would be the utmost grateful if you were to attend my book reading today, at 3pm in the library. If you can’t, I understand. You’re a busy person, after all. Nonetheless, I hope you can come.

— Elliott 

You grinned ear to ear at his use of ‘Dearest’, he wrote like a Victorian noble. Your eyes darted to the words underneath Elliott’s signatures, eyes wide as you read.

P.S. I have a surprise for you. 

A surprise? your mind ran through all the possibilities of what it could be, Could it be him confessing to me? you shook your head, Maybe not… but this is a good chance for me to, though. You looked down at your watch and set an alarm for a quarter to three, plenty of time to get from the farm to the library. With that all out of the way, you then went about your chores for the day. 

After hours of hard labor, your alarm went off. You ran into your farmhouse and wiped off any sweat or grime from your body, spraying yourself in body mist to conceal the smell. On your way out, you grabbed your bag and the bouquet, neatly tucking it inside the bag. 

By the time you arrived at the library, most of the town was inside, presumably for Elliott’s book reading. Yet, the man of the hour was nowhere to be seen. You scanned the room and found Leah near the front, so you slid up beside her, “Hey Leah,” you adjusted your grip on your bag, “Have you seen Elliott?”

“I did earlier,” she answered, “I think he went to the bathroom, but he’s been gone for a while.”

“Can you hold this for a second? I’ll go find him,” you passed your bag off to Leah and made your way to the bathroom. You entered the bathroom and found Elliott by the sink, gripping down on the porcelain. He was muttering something under his breath, you couldn’t make out the words, “El?” you touched his back and he nearly jumped out of his skin, “(Y/N)!” he exclaimed, “Oh, dear, you gave me a fright!”

“I knew you were a scaredy cat,” you jested. Elliott rolled his eyes, just like last time you brought up his tendency for fear. You moved next to Elliott and leaned against the sink, “Why are you hiding in the bathroom?” you asked. Elliott lowered his gaze and mumbled, “I… I’m scared.”

“It’s okay to be scared,” you rested your hand on his shoulder and squeezed it, “It’s your big day. I know you’re gonna do great. Everyone’s here to support you,” the redhead looked back at you, “Are you sure they’re not here to witness my demise?” You stifled back a laugh at his melodramatic question, “I promise that they’re not here to ‘witness your demise’ or anything of the sort.” 

“Promise?” he asked, his tone similar to that of a small child. You held up your pinky, “I promise,” and intertwined pinkies with Elliott. The redhead smiled weakly, but nonetheless, he was ready to perform. With you trailing behind him, Elliott entered the main area of the library and greeted everyone with his good old Elliott bravo, “Good afternoon, ladies, gentlemen, and folks! I’m ever so honored to have you all here to celebrate the release of my book, Camelia Station.”

As Elliott babbled about his journey with writing his novel, you returned to your spot with Leah and watched with a fond twinkle in your eye at your friend. Elliott took one last deep breath and announced to the crowd, “Before I read the first chapter, there’s something I need to say…” his eyes fell on you, “I wish to thank my muse… (Y/N),” your heart began to pound like a bass drum, “Without them, I wouldn’t have completed this book. Through every hardship and challenge I faced with this process, (Y/N) was my shining light. I dedicate Camelia Station to them, so please... give them a round of applause.”

The library erupted in applause, but it was white noise to you, as you stared at Elliott in awe. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears and your hand grew clammy, as you slowly melted from the writer’s sweetness. His muse… I’m his muse.

The applause slowly died down and Elliott seized the opportunity to begin the reading, “Chapter One… Your ticket, sir? Ticket collector Gozman extended a gloved hand towards the young commuter. Ah, yes. I have it right here, he replied, reaching into his coat pocket. Mortified, he discovered that the ticket was missing…”

You listened with a keen ear to Elliott’s reading, mesmerized by his storytelling. The way he switched voices for each character, the vibrato in his words, the detailed imagery transported into the world of Camelia Station. Elliott was talented, but most importantly, he was having fun with his book.

By the time Elliott finished the chapter, a few townsfolk left the library, most likely returning to their daily responsibilities. The remaining audience applauded the writer for his reading and Elliott took a bow, “Thank you, thank you! I will have signed copies for sale at the front. Once again, thank you for coming, everyone!”

You hovered by the front of the library, watching silently while some individuals like Emily and Gus bought a signed copy of Camelia Station from Elliott. Once the crowd dispersed, you approached Elliott and flashed him a cheeky grin, “See, I told you that there was nothing to worry about.”

“You were right,” the writer replied, “Most times, you are right,” you scoffed mockingly, “Most times?” to which Elliott gave you a little nudge, “You do think sea cucumbers are a lovely fish when in actuality, you’re very very very wrong.”

“C’mon! They’re just little guys!” you huffed, much to Elliott’s amusement. A comfortable silence then fell upon the two of you, as you stared into one another’s eyes. Elliott’s pupils were big as saucers, you were positive that yours were, too. 

“Did you mean what you said earlier?” you rested your hand against your bag, the bouquet so close to your person. With pink tinted cheeks, the redhead answered, “I meant every word.”

“Elliott…” your mouth grew dry with nerves.

“(Y/N)...” the writer whispered.

Time stopped, as you pulled the bouquet out of your bag. At the same time, Elliott pulled out an identical bouquet from his own bag. Neither of you moved or spoke, you could only stare at the opposing bouquet. Soon and in unison, you and Elliott bursted into laughter, loud enough to get a scolding look from Gunther. 

You two finished your laugh fest and smiled at one another, “Wow,” you let out a soft laugh, “We really had the same idea, huh?” the redhead nodded, “It seems so.”

“Guess that means we’re dating?”

“Well, I did have a sonnet for you to highlight your passion, beauty, and kindness, but yes, we are dating.”

Chapter 10: Feast of the Winter Star

The fall season went by in an instant and brought the snow and frigid temperatures of winter. You and Elliott had been dating for a while when the Feast of the Winter Star rolled around. 

To your surprise and joy, Lewis mailed you earlier in the season that Elliott was your secret gift receiver. Part of you wondered if Lewis did that on purpose, but given how he handled his relationship with Marnie (you unfortunately found them in a compromised position in the bushes by the bridge in town), you highly doubted it. 

Despite Camelia Station’s completion, Elliott was already on his next book, a mystery called The Blue Tower. You thought it to be fitting that you gifted him a glass dip pen; he was strict about his writing instruments and never used a laptop, despite its ease and functionality. Hopefully, this was a good compromise. In addition, Marnie’s poor ducks would no longer have to suffer with Elliott’s weekly trips to the ranch for duck feathers. I think those ducks might be afraid of Elliott now. 

The Feast of Winter brought families, friends, and lovers together in the beautifully decorated town square. The lamp posts were lined with tinsel and a thick evergreen tree stood in the center, decked out in various ornaments with a big shining star on the top. You searched the bustling square for Elliott and found him with Gus and Leah, enjoying a glass of cranberry wine.

“Surprise,” you hugged Elliott from behind and whispered in his ear. He yelped and almost dropped his wine, “Oh! (Y/N), my love! You scared me!”

“Told yah,” you cooed, “You are a scaredy cat.”

“I concede,” sighed Elliott, “I am a bit of a scaredy cat.”

“Good enough for me,” you released him from the hug and pecked him on the kiss. You then turned your attention to Leah and Gus, but they were too absorbed in conversation. Well, at least, Gus was, as he enthusiastically lectured Leah about his various techniques for cranberry sauce. Leah, on the other hand, appeared half-sleep, but managed to have perfectly timed head nods to fake engagement.

“By the way,” you perked up at Elliott’s voice, “I have something for you,” he handed you a somewhat heavy box, neatly wrapped in red paper and secured with a golden bow, “I’m your secret gift giver!”

“What a coincidence!” you giggled, as you held out your gift to Elliott, “I’m yours,” the two of you shared a laugh and Elliott mused, “Perhaps the mayor had a part in that.”

“I doubt it,” you responded, “He’s–” you felt Lewis stare daggers in your back, as if he could hear what you were about to say, “He doesn't seem like the type to meddle in romance or romantic relationships,” you looked down at your gift, “Why is this kinda… heavy?”

“Open it up, my dear, and you shall see,” stated Elliott.

“Only if we do it at the same,” you requested and Elliott nodded, “It’s a deal.”

Together, you and Elliott unwrapped your gifts, you more so ripped through yours while Elliott was meticulous with his unwrapping. Before you, there was a black box, you opened the box up and gasped at the item inside, “You didn’t!” you exclaimed, proudly showcasing the gift to the world, “You got me the Polaroid camera we saw at the antique shop in ZuZu City!”

“I did!” replied Elliott, “You looked so happy when you saw it and you mentioned how much you wanted to get back into photographing your life, so I had to get it,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “Anything for my muse.”

“You’re sweet,” you chuckled, “Now, look at your gift!”

Elliott opened the thin, white box and nearly choked on his own saliva at the glass dip pen. He carefully removed the pen from the box, a beam of rainbow light shining from the glass, “Oh, (Y/N)... this is one of–” he cut himself short, “No, this is the most beautiful and thoughtful gift I have ever received,” he gave you another kiss on the forehead, “You spoil me, my dear.”

“You haven’t seen the best part yet, turn it around,” you informed Elliott. 

He turned the pen around and read the engraving, “It says…” he squinted, “The Spirit of the Valley,” he seemed a bit confused by the words and you elaborated to him, “Your writing and you, Elliott, are so deeply connected to this valley. You brought life with your writing to this valley. You brought life, joy, and peace to me. You are the spirit that’s ingrained in me and this valley.”

Elliott sniffled, tears pricking the corners of his gentle emerald eyes, “You, my muse, are intertwined with my very being. I would be utterly lacking in life’s blessings if you weren’t here,” he pulled you into a deep kiss, your hands finding their way through his long fiery hair.

“Uh, guys?” the sound of Leah’s voice interrupted the kiss, “Too much PDA.”

Chapter 11: The S.S. Granger

Spring flew by as fast as it came. You tended to your farm, interacted with those in Pelican Town, and partook in the festivities. Your first spring was one full of unknowns and uncertainties but now, you finally felt like you were part of the town and the valley. You got some good use of the camera Elliott gifted you during the Feast of the Winter Star, photographing every precious moment. Your favorite photo was the one Leah took of you and Elliott dancing at the Flower Dance. 

Soon, summer followed the peaceful spring weather with thunderstorms, heatwaves, and… green rain? Yeah, green rain happened. Only in Stardew Valley, huh? It took half of the season before nice sunny weather came and it happened to be the same day you received a somewhat cryptic letter from Elliott.

My darling,

I hope this letter finds you in good health. If you are available, please stop by the beach before noon today. I have something spectacular to show you. 

– Yours truly, Elliott 

Elliott didn’t know, but you cherished every letter he sent you, even though they were  somewhat cheesy. You went back inside your farmhouse and opened your dresser, grabbing the ornate box you kept Elliott’s letters in and placing it inside. Your eyes darted up at the wall clock, the time being around 11am or so. I need to get to the beach!

You made your way to the beach, exchanging greetings with the passing residents. When you stepped on the bridge, you noticed a man with a short crew cut and camo leaning against the bridge and admiring the river. You smiled at him, “Hi, Kent.”

The man in camo flinched at your greeting and you frowned. It was only last spring that Kent returned from the Gotoro-Ferngill War and he wasn’t adjusted yet, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” you apologized.

Kent shook his head, “It’s alright,” he ran a hand through his hair, “Just a reflex.”

“Gotcha,” you nodded. You eyed the river and asked Kent, “Enjoying the view?”

“I am,” he answered, “Water is… calming.”

“Agreed,” you hummed, “Well, I’m off to the beach, but I hope you have a nice day.”

“Thank you, (Y/N),” replied Kent, “I wish you the same,” you bid farewell to Kent and resumed your walk to the beach. 

You soon stepped foot on the beach, as a crisp summer breeze blew through the air. You sighed with relief at the cold sensation, it was a hot summer day. Feeling energized, you scanned the beach for Elliott and found him standing outside his cabin. He broke out into a grin when he saw you, “(Y/N)! My love, I’m so glad you’re here!”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you laughed, embracing Elliott. The two of you held the other as tight as you could, “What’s the surprise?” you mumbled, voice muffled by your face in Elliott’s chest. Elliott released you from the hug and responded, “You’ll see,” he intertwined his hand with yours and led you to the pier. In the center of the pier, a rowboat bobbed against the waters. 

Elliott gestured to the boat, “I finally fixed up the old rowboat outside my cabin… with Willy’s help, of course. I’m not much of a handyman but I did give it a fresh coat of paint,” you examined the rowboat with intrigue, its mahogany coat glimmering under the sunlight. You noticed some cursive on the hull of the boat, “S.S. Granger?”

“Named after my high school English teacher, Mr. Granger,” the redhead explained, “He was the one who lit the spark of creativity and my passion for writing,” he smiled sadly at the boat, “We kept in touch after I graduated high school, but sadly, he passed away from cancer when I was finishing up my bachelors’ at East Ferngill University.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you gave Elliott’s arm a squeeze, a sign of support, “I’m sure he would be proud of the man you’ve become.”

“I hope so,” the writer sighed. Elliott shook off his melancholy and hopped onto the boat, extending a helping hand out to you, “Care to join me for its maiden voyage?”

“Of course,” you grasped Elliott’s hand and boarded the rowboat. You took a seat across from Elliott, who grabbed the oars and began rowing farther into the Gem Sea. The pier faded into the distance, as Elliott rowed the boat. By the time he stopped, you could only make out the silhouette of Stardew Valley, “Wow,” you were starstruck, “You can see the whole valley from here.”

“Beautiful view, isn’t it?” the writer shuffled around a bit in his seat, “Although, I prefer the beautiful view right before my eyes.”

“You’re cheesy,” you snorted. Elliott shrugged his shoulders, “I would rather be cheesy if it means bringing a smile to your face,” you playfully nudged his arm, “You’re gonna make me melt.”

“Oh, my dear, don’t do that just yet,” Elliott cleared his throat, “I have another surprise for you,” you tilted your head with wonder, “Oh? You do?”

“I do,” the writer stated. He then secured the oars in the boat and began to recite, "Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate… Rough winds do shake the darling buds of Spring…”

You leaned in closer, entranced by your boyfriend’s words, as he continued, “And summer’s lease hath too short a date… Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines… And often is his gold complexion dimm’d… And every fair from fair sometime declines…” 

The world around you two came to a standstill, “By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d… But thy eternal summer shall not fade… Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st… Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade…”

You leaned closer and closer into Elliott’s space, you could inhale his sweet pomegranate perfume, or in his words, his eau de parfum, Elliott was always a stickler with his words. He stared into your eyes, your soul, as he finished the sonnet, “When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st… So long as men can breathe or eyes can see… So long lives this, and gives life to thee.”

“Ellie…” you whispered. The writer smiled, “For the first time in my lifetime, I was at a loss for words and it was the moment I laid eyes on you at Pierre’s. You took my breath away, my love. It was only fair to share it with you in the form of one, if not, the greatest love sonnets.”

“Ellie, what are you saying?” you watched, as Elliott pulled a small, velvet box from his pant pocket, “(Y/N),” his tone was deep with emotion, “My muse, my love, my darling, my dear. I have a thousand names for you but,” he pulled a velvet box from his pants pocket, “Will you do me the highest honor and allow ‘spouse’ be one of those names?” Elliott slowly opened the box and inside, there was a Mermaid Pendant.

You covered your mouth and muffled your scream of delight before calming down enough to answer, “Yes! Yes, Elliott, I will marry you!” you embraced the redhead, nearly tackling in the process. You kissed Elliott deeply, the flames of love and passion exploding like fireworks. In that very moment, everything in the world- no, everything in the universe- was simply perfect.

Chapter 11: Wedding Bells

You fidgeted with your Mermaid’s Pendant, as Marnie and Emily added the final touches to your wedding outfit. Once they finished your outfit, you promptly walked off from the mirror in your farmhouse and began to pace around the farmhouse, “Oh my Yoba, what if he changes his mind?” you spouted off your worries. 

“I highly doubt,” answered Leah, your person of honor, “If he dares to even think about leaving you at the altar, I’ll knock some sense into him,” she held up her fists, “And I mean knock some sense into him.”

“Thanks, Leah,” you sighed, relieved. Emily, a member of your wedding party, approached you with your bouquet, a small one made of summer spangles and sunflowers you grew on the farm, “You are gonna do great, (Y/N)!” she reassured you, “I’m manifesting it for you, you will do great.”

“Thanks, Emily,” you chuckled, “I can always count on your manifestations.”

“Are you ready, dear?” Marnie asked, “It’s almost time.”

“I’m as ready as I can be,” you answered. 

You exited the farmhouse with Emily, Leah, and Marnie; the four of you making way to the entrance of the beach near Cindersap Forest. You gripped the bouquet tightly, your chest just as tight with fear. Marnie stood beside you and held out her arm, you relaxed the hold on your bouquet and locked arms with Marnie.

“You’re such a gorgeous marrier,” the rancher told you, “I’m so honored to be the one who passes you off, I hope I do your parents’ duty proud.”

Your parents couldn’t attend the wedding, your father being overseas fighting in the Gotoro-Ferngill War and your mother on the other side of the Ferngill Republic with her responsibilities at the hospital she worked at. You responded to Marnie, “You’re like a mom to me, Marnie. It felt right that you would be the one to hand me off.”

“And you’re like one of my own, (Y/N),” she retorted. You stared out towards the beach, getting a small sneak peek at the wedding arch. It’s now or never. You gave Marnie a nod and she hollered to the trio of Sam, Sebastian, and Abigail by the entrance, “It’s time!”

“Alright!” Sam cheered, “Let’s rock!” the band launched into the wedding march and you began walking to the beach with your wedding party behind you. 

Before you, the entirety of Pelican Town sat in white fold out chairs on the beach, as you followed the row of fabric towards the wedding arch. Near the front of the crowd, you spotted two familiar figures in a suit and blue dress, your parents. When you passed them, you whispered to them, “You came.”

“We did!” your mom smiled at you, “It took some phone calls, but we didn’t want to miss our angel baby’s wedding,” your dad nodded in agreement, “I can handle Gotoro grunts on the front line, but the thought of missing my only child’s wedding? That’s unacceptable. I’m sorry we couldn’t tell you sooner.”

“It’s okay!” you replied, “It’s a great surprise!” you blew kisses at your parents and continued your walk to the wedding arch. Under the arch, Willy and Gus stood by Elliott as his wedding party. Your soon-to-be husband’s back faced you and once released to the altar by Marnie, you tapped Elliott on the back, “I’m here, honey.”

Elliott turned around and audibly gasped, “My darling! You- You-” tears suddenly formed in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks, “Oh, my sweet darling, you look absolutely radiant,” he leaned in to kiss you, only to have Mayor Lewis shove his hand in between you, “Mr. Lovebird! No kissing until I say so!” he proclaimed. Elliott pouted at the mayor’s interruption, but nonetheless, he pulled back. 

The two of you smiled widely at the other, your eyes shimmering with anticipation. Lewis stood behind you and he began the ceremony, “Can all attendees rise?”

The wedding guests rose from their seats and Lewis spoke to everyone, “We are gathered here today to celebrate the love of Elliott and (Y/N). My dear friends,” he smiled at you and Elliott, “This is a new chapter in your lives, from the moment I proclaim them to be spouses to the day you die.”

“That’s the plan,” you mused, earning a few chuckles. Mayor Lewis let out a laugh, “Splendid! Then we should get right into it!” he continued with his opening remarks, but you paid no attention to him, as you found yourself lost in Elliott’s eyes. 

“Now, the marriers will exchange vows,” you perked up at the mention of vows, watching silently as Elliott pulled out a piece of parchment and unfolded it, “(Y/N)... As I mentioned before during our boat ride, I was at a loss of words when I first laid eyes on you,” he recited his vows.

He let out a shaky breath, on the verge of crying again, “And today, I am again at a loss for words. There are no words in our language that can accurately describe your beauty, your strength, your resilience, your passion, your love. (Y/N), I thank Yoba and the forces of the universe that we are here at this moment,” the redhead hastily wiped his tears away, “You are my world, (Y/N). I love you.”

A collection of ‘aws’ and cheers erupted from the audience, as they clapped for Elliott’s vows. You sniffled a bit and blinked back your own tears, “Damn,” you let out a wobbly laugh, “Your vows blew mine out of the water, honey,” you passed your bouquet to Leah and grasped Elliott’s hands, “Elliott, the day I met… I was hella pissed off that you grabbed my cereal.”

The crowd laughed and you added on, “I thought you were a dick for that, but when you explained to me that you only wanted to help… that spark of unprompted kindness lit a flame in me. As I got to know you, I found myself falling deeper and deeper in love with you. From your passion to your mannerisms to your silliness to your determination… Elliott, I can’t picture my future without you. I can’t wait to make a beautiful life with you.”

Another round of applause came from the wedding attendees and Elliott grinned at you, his eyes full of unabashed love for you. Mayor Lewis gestured for the applause to simmer down and once there was silence, he announced, “With the vows now done… It’s my honor to, on this lovely summer day, unite Elliott and (Y/N) together as one,” you squeezed Elliott’s hands, eager to hear the ‘okay’ to kiss.

“As the mayor of Pelican Town and regional bearer of the matrimonial seal…” the mayor stated, as you took a deep breath, “I now pronounce you spouses! You may kiss!” you and Elliott wasted no time when given the ‘okay’ to kiss, as Elliott dipped you and kissed you tenderly on the kiss. Cheers and hollers of joy erupted once more from the wedding attendees in celebration of your new matrimony. 

Elliott pulled you back up and finished the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. He whispered softly to you, “You’re my spouse,” to which you smiled, “And you’re my spouse,” you planted a kiss on Elliott’s cheek, “It’s time for our new chapter, isn’t it?”

“You’re right about that, my dear,” he answered, “The first chapter in our story.”

A new chapter, indeed.

...

...

...

...

...

Epilogue: Remembrance

A redheaded woman in pantsuit stood in front of the orchard, fresh fruit hanging from the trees. Besides her, two small children held each of her hands. The woman heard the sound of footsteps, as a man in farmer overalls and similar red hair approached the orchard, his work boots crunching the autumn leaves. 

“Eleanor,” the farmer greeted the well-dressed woman, “Glad to see you here,” he supported his body against the hoe, “I didn’t think you would come.”

“I may be a busy woman, but I take offense that you doubt my attendance for this day, Elias,” Eleanor scoffed at Elias, the farmer. He shrugged his shoulders and instead commented, “You brought Kenny and Quinn with you?”

“Yes,” answered Eleanor, “I thought they deserved a chance to– Heyo!” a loud voice cut into the conversation, as another redhead appeared. They dressed in casual but neat attire, a flannel wrapped around their waist and their exposed arms displaying some old scars, “Sorry, I’m late! I got held up at my logging site.”

“Late as ever, Echo,” chuckled Elias. With a pout, Echo exclaimed, “Hey! Not my fault that I had to cut down a whole forest after last week’s wildfire!”

“Enough, you two,” Eleanor stated, “Do you have the supplies?” to which Echo and Elias confirmed that they did, “Splendid,” she squatted down to her children’s levels, “Kenny, Quinn… I know this might seem scary, but Mommy’s here to keep you safe, okay? You might not understand it now, but you deserve the chance to see them.”

“Okay, Mommy,” replied Kenny and Quinn. Eleanor squeezed their hands and with that, the group entered the orchard, going deeper and deeper until they made it to their destination. Two gravestones stood proudly in the center of the orchard, a few dead fruits and flowers by them. Echo pulled out a trash bag and collected the dead items while Eleanor and Elias set down fresh pomegranates and sunflowers. 

“Mommy, where are we?” asked Quinn.

“We’re at your…” Eleanor blinked back tears, “These are your grandparents, you were very little when they went to Yoba, but they loved you both so very much.”

Kenny stared out at the gravestones and squinted, “Mommy, what do they say?”

Eleanor read the gravestone engravings aloud, “The one on the left has ‘Elliott Cunnigham’ at the top and below it, it says ‘Beloved Writer, husband, and father.’ The one on the right has ‘(Y/N) Cunningham’ with the words ‘Beloved Town Hero, spouse, and parent’,” Eleanor looked up at Echo and Elias with tears in her eyes, “Can one of you do it?”

“I got it,” answered Elias. He approached Eleanor’s side and grabbed the final offering, setting it down between the graves, “We can go if you want.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” replied Echo. Eleanor nodded in agreement, “Let’s go to the Stardrop Saloon, I think Gus would be happy to see all of us together.”

“Sounds like a great plan,” chuckled Elias. 

With everyone in tow, the siblings and their children left the orchard, leaving the gravestones at peace for another year. The final offering laid still in the space between the burial sites. 

A single box of cereal.

[0niceyslicey0]

Hello Internet

[deepestnightcolor]

Just imagine Elliot ranting to his friend (Reader) how he just can‘t really put the scene from his mind onto paper, the reader of course would love to help him…

turns out the scene was about a beautiful woman masturbating, that lands her on Elliots bed with him telling her how to touch herself (to get it as accurate as possible of course) with him so close to her, watching and analyzing her every movement while he takes notes for his story

(You can add as much to it as you want)

ᴀ/ɴ: Okay, anon, wow. What is your BRAIN! I drooled a little over this, honestly. And I was SO excited to write this. I hope I hit the right spots with this, because hehehe. Had my head go brrrrrr. Thank you so much for your time and attention and your willingness to request! <3

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Elliott (SDV) x Fem!Reader

ᴡᴄ: 2007 words.

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: alcohol consumption, masturbation, making out, being watched while masturbating, finger fucking, teasing, pining.

☾ ʙᴇ ᴍʏ ᴍᴜꜱᴇ ☽

Usually, Elliott tried to avoid talking about his writing on Fridays. The reason for that was simple: Fridays were spent with you in the saloon and needed to be honoured.

This Friday was different, though. Something was bothering Elliott, and even though he tried not to show it, he did show it. On accident, of course. A dramatic sigh left his lips, wettened by the beer he was sipping, eyes looking out of the window wistfully. His whole body language screamed “HELP ME OVERCOME THIS WRITING PROBLEM”, and you just weren’t one to let your friends suffer.

“What is it, Elliott?” You asked, leaning your elbows on the table so you could take a closer look at the author. “It’s nothing,” he sighed, voice filled to the brim with drama and expiration. “You sure?” “Yesss, everything is finnnnneeee.” The stretched-out “fine” ended in a drawn-out sigh, hazel eyes looking up at you, just begging for you to ask again. You sipped your own drink, eyebrow cocked at him. “You suuuuuuureeeee?” “I mean, it’s Friday...,” Elliott began, his lips now pushed forward in a cute little pout, “I don’t talk about my writing on Fridays.” “And if I tell you that it really is fine?” “Well…Maybe I would be able to make an exception then,” he murmured, adding a quiver to your lower lip. Oh, Elliott. So cute, so dramatic, lying it on thick for you today.

“Alright, it really is fine for you to tell me about you-“ “There is this scene I am struggling with,” he quickly began, scared you could change your mind faster than he could get his words out, “and I think you would be the perfect aid.” You hummed, licking your lips clean from the stickiness of the alcohol. “Is that so? And what is that scene about?”

The shimmer of mischief in Elliott’s eyes should have worried you, even more so when it was combined with him lowering his voice to a hushed whisper, telling you how he needed to tell you at his shed. It wouldn’t work here, you see, confidential information would be shared with ears that shouldn’t yet hear it. So of course you agreed, following your friend to his home without even a seed of doubt planted in your mind. “You want what?” You asked, disbelief drenching your voice. “I know, I know, it must sound absolutely ridiculous, yet you must consider! I am stuck on this scene, and I could use a beautiful muse like you!” “So, and just to be clear I heard you right, you want me to masturbate in front of you!” Elliott gave you this awkward, pleading grin, head cocked to the side: “Uh…Yes. Though it would be professional, I promise! No words will be shed about this – I just… I just really could use it for my book.” His hands clasped together as if he was silently begging you, and yet again he pulled his face into that cute little pout. “Pretty please…It is one of the last elements of my book and I-“ “Fine.” Surprise flashed over Elliott’s face, and really, you yourself were surprised. Both of you had expected that it would have taken a lot more to convince you, yet who was Elliott to complain? “Great, great! Thank you so, so much, darling! How about you lay down and get comfortable already, and I will just get my pen and paper.” “You will take notes about this?” “Why, yes!” Well, that had answered it, hadn’t it?

You took a deep, shaky breath as you began to take off your top, the little skirt that you had thrown on for the saloon. After a moment of hesitation, you even discarded the bra that had been holding your tits up, allowing them to bounce free. With a glance in Elliott’s direction, you allowed yourself to slowly find a spot on his mattress, but as soon as your head hit the pillow, you were surrounded by his scent. It would have been a complete and utter lie if you had tried to say that this didn’t begin to turn you on; lying almost naked in your friend’s bed, surrounded by his smell. About to be watched by him. Goosebumps arose on your skin, your clit twitching gently at the thought. You had always found Elliott handsome, but he had always seemed to keep his distance; most often hiding himself behind his manuscripts. This…was incredibly raw and open.

The sound of a chair’s legs scratching along the ground caught your attention. Elliot’s flustered face appeared in your field of vision, leading you to blush as well.

“You look…stunning,” he whispered. There was no dramatics in his voice, no exaggeration. Only that sweet, honest compliment. You gave him a smile, biting down on your lower lip. He had taken off his coat by now and rolled up his sleeve; his hair tied back in a top knot. He looked absolutely delicious himself, the way he started to write his notes. Hazel eyes taking you in completely, just to scribble something down on the paper. He had lit up a candle on the nightstand, the flickering flame accenting his sharp features in a way that made you want to drag him onto the bed with you, but instead, you slowly let your fingers slip down your neck, to your breast. The movement caught Elliott’s attention, and you could feel his gaze following the dance of your fingertips. You, on the other hand, shamelessly focused your attention on him. Being watched like this had a thrill to it that you hadn’t expected, but now fucking loved. Your thumb was now caressing your own nipple gently, mind wandering to the thoughts ofhow it would feel if Elliott was the one doing it. The goosebumps that appeared in your skin weren’t solely because of the pleasure you felt from teasing your nipples, but also because you believed Elliott’s hands on you would feel much better.

He scribbled something down again as your hand travelled down further, catching the hem of your panties. You lifted your hips, slowly sliding them off your hips. Your lower lip was bitten as you felt the air brush your cunt, and the throw of your panties towards Elliott definitely wasn’t an accident.

His eyes lingered on your cunt as it was exposed, taking it in with a deep inhale. He wrote something down, then scribbled over it, running a palm through his hair while shifting on his seat. “Oh, yes,” you whispered as your thumb caught your clit, giving the bundle gentle flicks of your thumb. Elliott swallowed thickly, his feather scratching the paper in a newfound frantic. You pressed your feet in the mattress and spread your legs wider, your eyes slipping shut as the gentle waves of pleasure washed over you. You had only just started, but feeling Elliott stare at you like this…Yoba, it made you wet. As if to prove it to him, you allowed a single digit to run through your folds, only to suck it into your mouth. The low groan coming from next to you caught your attention, yet when you looked, Elliott was fixated on the paper, feather just barely able to follow all the words that were supposed to spill out of it.

You slowly allowed your hand to pick up the journey along the curves of your body again, slowly stroking up and down your thighs with quivering fingers. You knew a pair of hazel eyes were following each and every touch, and you easily began to rub your clit again. More warmed up than the first time, you let a moan of pleasure leave your lips, not even opening your eyes when you heard Elliott shift on his chair, his hot breath hitting your skin soon after. “Mhhh,” you cooed, arching your back in a little just for show, dipping a finger into your cunt, your perverted mind wishing it was the author’s dick instead.

The quivering gasp next to you was the first thing that caught your attention. Looking over at the man, you could see that his hand was placed firmly in his lap, eyes wide. “What’s wrong, Elliott? Got a little hard there?” You whispered. Pride that your looks turned him on so much filled you, making you add another finger. The brunet grunted, shifting in his seat again under the pretence of getting more comfortable, but the lustful expression gave him away.

“You just look so luscious,” he breathed, his hand now wrapping around his shaft through his pants with barely an ounce of shame. “So pretty for me,” he added, willing himself to at least pretend to write down some more notes.

You didn’t really care about that, your eyes were now solely focused on his hard dick, just barely hidden behind his hand. Fucking yourself with your fingers, you whimpered his name, causing his attention to snap towards you.

You were close, you could feel the orgasm building up beneath your touch, but you just…you just needed a little more. “Elliott, kiss me? Fuck, please,” you whispered, a high-pitched moan leaving your mouth as you circled your clit again. Elliott’s lips pressed against yours in a captivating kiss; teeth clattering against teeth, tongues battling for dominance. Even though you had just asked him for a kiss, his hands automatically began to roam, finding your clit with ease and replacing your thumb there. Him rubbing patterns into the bundle of nerves while his tongue licked over yours sent shocks of pleasure up your spine, leaving your brain light and empty. In all honesty, Elliott couldn’t hold back anymore. His hips sloppily and greedily humped against your thigh while he rubbed your clit, sucking on your tongue with a tenderness you had expected from him, but also with greed that made your heat throb.

“El- Gonna-“

He didn’t let you finish the sentence, too busy to fill your mouth with his tongue again, his humping growing faster against your leg. The squeal that left you made him moan lowly, rubbing the bundle of nerves despite your orgasm already being torn out of you.

Your free hand reached for Elliott’s hair, tugging the long strands as you moaned, your body spasming at the feeling of your orgasm recking through you. Not even the tug caused Elliott to show any signs of mercy, his thumb steadily kept up its circling, with him only pulling away from the kiss to watch you shiver and squirm beneath his late touch.

“Elliott!” You cried out, eyes rolling back as you felt one of his fingers enter your sensitive gushing cunt, the grin on his face almost diabolic. “Are you going to cum a second time, my muse? It would be great for my story,” he whispered to you, working his finger into you while his thumb was still tracing patterns on your clit. His lips peppered gentle kisses upon your chest, making your heart thump against your ribcage.

“Elliott, can’t, oh, Yoba!” You tried to hold on to his wrist, but his merciless treatment of your slit didn’t even falter. “El! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Your body squirmed away and drew closer, like the tides at the beach, but in the end, he still pushed you over the edge. With a quivering cry you released, your hips snapping up to get the author’s finger knuckle deep within you, your legs spreading and snapping close – it was as if your body was malfunctioning.

As your back met the mattress, Elliott’s fingers on you began slowing down. Gentle kisses were casted upon your skin, attempting to calm you down. Your hand was still buried in Elliott’s hair as he came down next to you, one arm wrapped around your waist. In the bliss of two orgasms, you rolled around and slowly snuggled into his side, pressing your face into his chest.

“You know,” you whispered after a while, voice still hoarse, “I think your book really needs a sex scene…And I know just the muses.”

[spiders-in-the-valley]

um... he just remembered he missed a step in his hair care routine, that's all!

[viridescentelf]

i had this vision of elliott after an all nighter with writer‘s block grabbing the farmer‘s face to stare into their eyes for inspiration

something like this but in more desperate

[scourgiez]

Elliott passed out drunk in the fall maze- KSNXNKFN

[arachnerd-8-legs]

two gallons is plenty, though.

[unabashedly-so]

Reaching

word count: 920

warnings: mentions of alcohol, sex, and kind of self-destructive vibes I guess?

Similar to and taken some inspiration from @snailmail444's fic, "Elliot Situationship"; but I promise while are inevitably structural similarities, the content is, hmm, unfortunately organically homegrown. Hope you don't mind the mention--it's a fic that stuck with me and I just felt it fair to acknowledge the similarities! 💕

----------

Elliott needed a muse; you needed a release. Neither of you were ready for commitment, but neither of you were ready to be alone.

So together, per the agreement, you do everything except love.

He reads you his manuscript. You tell him the town gossip. You dance, you drink, you dance some more, you drink a little more. You discuss philosophy, politics, religion, family, and all the things neither of your last partners knew very much about. You smell salt in his hair, the cherry wine on his breath, and taste the cherries when he kisses you.

It’s well past 3am—and not for the first time nor for the last—when he asks you if you’ve ever…? And the answer is complicated—it always is. When he listens, you’re certain you see it—in his intention, disbelief, sadness, care. When he holds you in his arms, it’s secure.

Then you make love. Or, you would, but it can’t be that, so you… what was the word he used, ever the wordsmith?

“Fuck.”

He tries to say it smoothly, but it trips out of his mouth like an accident. Elliott doesn’t curse. He could euphemize, allegorize, wax poetic… but whenever it comes to this, he curses instead.

He is gentle, tender, slow as he lights sparks down your body.

The first several times, everything feels right in the world. Riding the high of release and connection, you hardly notice it’s not the same. Then its absence begins to grow heavier on you, time after time, until you finally recognize—it hurts.

You spend your days raking yourself over different scenarios: we have to stop doing this, or I can’t keep doing this, or this is no longer beneficial for me, or you’ve begun to mean too much to me, and always, I’m sorry.

You spend your nights chasing, reaching for what you know you cannot have, and telling, lying to yourself that the act of reaching is enough. Because you can’t, but you do. You do, you do, you do.

If you think you are in love, and you feel like you are in love, then how far of a reach is it to say you simply are?

Pain’s like that, too.

“Harder,” you tell him the next time he’s between your legs.

He kisses you just below your ear, whispering as he does not falter in his steady pace, “Patience, patience…”

“Harder.”

Now he pauses. He looks at you, his beautiful auburn hair tossed in a way he never lets anyone else see, and you look at him. His voice is soft but firm.

“I don’t want to hurt you…”

--but there’s a lift at the end, you heard it. He’s weak for you. “You won’t,” you lie, sinking your teeth into his weakness. “Please.”

You blink and hope the lowlight hides what had welled in the corners of your eyes when he’d stretched you to tears only moments ago.

His eyes hold yours in the winded silence between you. He opens his mouth to say something, then looks away, lips pressed into a thin line.

This is what we signed up for, isn’t it? If you don’t love me, then fuck me like it.

“Do it,” you press.

And not without hesitation or passion, he does.

It hurts, but at least it’s an honest hurt.

Afterwards, you lay your head on his chest and listen to his heart gradually find its steady rhythm again. His arm is wrapped around you. He pauses before he kisses your hair, where his lips do linger.

When it is time to leave, because someone must always leave, his fingertips trail against your skin. For a split second, you imagine they twitch, reaching, as if to grab you and bid you stay. But you stand up and only feel the chill of empty air on your skin.

It’s not the first time you’ve done this together, too, so there’s a ritual around leaving. You go through it with mechanical precision. He thanks you for coming by, says he enjoyed your company. You say the same, and together, at an arm’s length, you do both mean it.

“Good night, Elliott,” you bid him as you reach for the door.

“Good night, love,” he says back to you without flinching.

Why would you say that? you want to scream, Why would you say that?

And so, instead of screaming, you don’t say anything at all. You open the door and step outside and away from the cabin, and maybe the door closes behind you, maybe not, it doesn’t matter. Your eyes transfix on the sea as the roaring of the waves crashing against the shore drowns out everything else. They swell, they break, they reach and reach and reach, and then they’re dragged back, cast back into the devouring void. To be re-congealed, reformed into swells destined to break again and get dragged back again—

and reach. And reach. And reach.

It’s high tide, and the sand an arm’s length away is solid and cold from a wave for now receded. Another wave swells, breaks, reaches, and is dragged back, leaving barely a trace to show so that each wave looks fresh and new, and not an infinite plus one.

You are not so lucky. Though your tracks in the sand quickly erode in the breeze, you will hold the memory from each and every time you find yourself here again.

How many more times will it be?

You begin to count the waves.

[ssaeri]

the moon as our witness

☆ tags: elliott x gn!reader, established relationship, reader is farmer, moonlit beach picnic, alcohol mention, drunk shenanigans, silly people in a silly relationship, I quite like the location of elliott’s beach house, I wish we could keep it when we marry him ☆

When Elliott invited you to his home for a picnic under the full moon, you said yes immediately. He’s the writer, not you, but there was something to be said about the feeling of wind in your hair, salt on your tongue, and sand beneath your feet.

And when it came to beach picnics, Elliott could not be beat. At ten o’clock exactly, you walked around his house and arrived at a scene taken straight out of his romance novels. He offered you a glass of wine as you slipped off your sandals and settled onto the checkered blanket next to him. The only thing he let you do was provide the ingredients; he insisted on doing the rest himself. Lemon butter lobster, glazed potatoes, garlic stir-fried string beans, chopped kale and parsnip salad, steamed cauliflower, wild rice, and—he promised with a wink—a strawberry and rhubarb pie waiting in the oven.

The epitome of spring in a meal. You thought that the night was going to be perfect.

However, a bottle and a half of pomegranate wine, split between both your glasses, was all it took for your sweet picnic to devolve into something else entirely.

You wrestle the wooden oar from his hands, and Elliott honest-to-Yoba pouts at you.

”It still counts as operating a vehicle under the influence,” you say, pointing the handle of the oar at his flushed face. “As much as I love you, I am not continuing a relationship behind bars.”

Elliott, ever the drama queen, falls back onto the blanket and throws an arm over his eyes. “O, cruel and cursed fates! You have bound my heart to someone whose love is conditional!” he bemoans to the stars. After a beat of silence, he peeks under his arm. “Wait a minute, the Valley doesn’t even have a jail. Lewis is our only form of law enforcement, and he would simply slap a fine on my door.”

“Taking advantage of an underdeveloped justice system, I see.”

He sits up. “At this hour, you’re the only one around,” he says, slowly turning to you. You do not like that glint in his eyes.  “I’d never be caught if I just…get rid of the only witness.”

You shriek when he pounces and pushes you onto the sand. The oar doesn’t help, either; it keeps you pinned as he giggles breathlessly into your neck, his hands coming to rest on your waist. It takes some wiggling to move the oar out from between you, but once it’s free, you toss it to the side. It lands somewhere with a soft thud.

Elliott settles his head against your shoulder and sighs. After a moment, he says, “You smell lovely.”

“And you’re tickling me,” you retort, but you make no move to change positions. He smells nice, too—a curious mix of pomegranate, sea salt, and ink that’s uniquely his. You feel him smile into your skin as you thread fingers through his hair.

Distantly, waves crash onto the shore, and somewhere at the end of the pier, a leashed wooden rowboat bobs on the water, awaiting its passengers who are—much to Elliott’s disappointment—too inebriated to enjoy a romantic view on the ocean.

You’ll pass, thanks. You’ve seen the movies, you know what would happen next, and waking up stranded on a random island in the middle of the Gem Sea is not on your bucket list.

You’re enjoying the view just fine—here, on solid ground. The full moon bathes everything in a gentle hue, peeking around tree tops like a halo. And the stars. You never saw stars like this from your cramped apartment in the city. Going from the honking bustle of downtown Zuzu City to the buzzing cicadas of Stardew Valley was a hard transition for a cityslicker like you. When you first arrived here, the quiet of evening was unnerving; the silence made space for your thoughts, and the dark for your fears. Time slowed, and for seasons, it felt like you were drowning. Until you let yourself be held by the Valley’s embrace—its land, its resources, its people—and realized that maybe you were actually just learning how to breathe.

You breathe in deep, just because you can.

“It’s beautiful tonight,” you murmur, arms spread wide.

Elliott rolls to the side and props his head up with one hand. “Very beautiful,” he agrees, unabashedly staring at your face.

You push him over. “Okay, cheeseball.”

He only falls onto his back with a chuckle. “...it was also a full moon when you gave me the Bouquet.”

“How do you remember that?”

“How do you not?”

“I’m pretty sure I blacked out. I just remember chasing you after you left the saloon earlier than expected, and when I woke up, you were hugging me.”

“Well,” he hesitates, then sighs. “Yes, I must admit you made little sense at the time. Perhaps a stammer of my name as a warning before shoving the flowers into my face. But on the footbridge under a full moon? Incredibly romantic, dear. Great job; I couldn’t have done better if I tried.”

“Are you kidding me?” You sit up and gesture at the food. By some miracle of Yoba, you’ve managed to make a sizeable dent in the spread, but you hope that he has a cabinet full of takeout containers and space in the fridge.

“You deserve at least this,” he says absently, fiddling with the hem of your shirt, “if not more for making me the happiest man alive.”

You have to turn to hide the smile on your face, but you’re not fast enough—he sits up and catches your chin, earnest green eyes boring into yours. He scans your features like he’s committing them to memory, and then his gaze flits to your lips. You don’t know if you lean in first or if he does, but the kiss is inevitable either way.

His lips are soft, the movements steeped in wine and adoration, and you distantly register the hand on your chin smoothing out to cup your face. Elliott is always gentle with you. Cradling. Cherishing.

When he pulls back to pepper more kisses across your forehead, you pretend to wrinkle your nose in annoyance.

“Hey, why does it feel like I’m forgetting something?”

“I don’t know.”

.

.

.

Three or so kisses later, you both snap to attention at the same time. “The pie!”

[valley-of-headcanons]

Idk if you count Krobus as a bachelor, but do you have any head cannons about him moving in with you and adjusting to domestic life? (If you don’t consider him one, feel free to swap him out with a your favorite bachelorette/bachelor)

elliott moving in with you || headcanons

elliott's romantic fantasies of creating a life with you are finally here, and he's more excited than ever!

warnings: just extremely fluffy!

requested by: anon! hiya, tysm for requesting!! this was probably from like ... five-ish months ago? i've been so busy, it's unreal. anyway! i have no earthly idea how to write krobus, and i really tried, but i just couldn't. so! i haven't written a lot of elliott, so it's elliott time!

• After you two got married, Elliott was so excited to move in and start his life with you! He loves seeing you everyday, and now he gets to wake up next to you? The love of his life? He is more than ecstatic! He started moving his stuff in right away, even though he really didn't have much in his little cabin.

• He only has about three boxes, and his piano. He puts most of his stuff on shelves. He's really neat with where he puts it, trying not to bother any of your things. He's a very neat person, and he tries to make that obvious. Elliott is an incredibly conscious and helpful housemate!

• Elliott is deeply concerned with aesthetics. If your house is a bit ... not interesting ... he tries to implement suggestions. He is definitely bias toward the academia styles, but he's really down for anything! Anything with a pretty, cohesive style is absolutely okay! It's a house, and a home, built by both of you. That's what he likes about it the most.

• He is incredibly good at doing chores around the house! He didn't take care of his old cabin, but he really wants to try to make this house a home. He wants to make your life easier, knowing that you do pretty much everything around town. Elliott does all of the housework and tries to help a little on the farm. He waters the plants occasionally, but he won't go out to the barn. He loves you, but he's not gonna touch those dirty animals. He's not a fan, and you understand that.

• Elliott loves spending time with you, and he loves living with you. It's refreshing, not being so alone in a cabin. He might miss the beach view, but it doesn't compare to the view he sees when he wakes up everyday. It's definitely a different living style, but he warms up to it so quickly. He's been ready for this longer than you'd imagine.

• “Living with you has been a magical experience, my dear. I am forever blessed with the knowledge that you want to live with me, and forever blessed with your presence. If you ever need anything, please, let me know. Your company is payment enough, my love.”