#elliott sdv

[rinirinisbestu]

Magma with my friend bleeeeehh!

Elliott being pretty :3

STEVEN UNIVERSE ELLIOTT AND ORANGE!!! I reeaaally want to do this AU hehehe Elliott is a pearl(I can't choose color for him :c) and Orange is cracked Jasper!(becaue of it he is deformed hehehe) I want to draw thwm moooore!!

I think I heard somewhere that Hello Kitty wanted to be a poet, but I think I made that up… BUT I don't care!!! Elliott Hello Kitty

Orange with my friend's OC!

Elliott and Orange!

Bye bye yaayy

[roemustdie]

i’ve been having a really hard time sleeping because of overall restlessness and nightmares but i found this video and its the only thing that helps me sleep 😭 well watching this on my phone with bara ni idororareta akui to higeki no makuake on my tv to lower the risk of a single thought entering my mind

[leighsartworks216]

Started another Elliott fic and it is ALREADY 3k words even tho it's going to be like a full year slow burn and it's still just their first day meeting. But I'm hype cuz I love the concept

[rinirinisbestu]

Random silly doodles with Elliott and Orange from my sketchbook :D

(oh yeah and it's me at the second drawing idk haha)

I headcanon Elliott pretty anxious and grumpy when he was young hehe :D

I LOVE MY BABY ORANGE AND HIS GORGEOUS ELLIOTT!!!!

Thhaaats iiittttt yaaasss need to do more attacks at artfight!!

Bye bye!

[leighsartworks216]

A Week Without You

Elliott x gn!Farmer

I got the first letter and I knew I HAD to write this. It really just poured out of me and I got a little emotional writing it ngl

Farmer/Reader is a bit of a crybaby but that's okay <333

Warnings: hurt/comfort, happy ending, fluff, established relationship, crying, 14 heart event, gift giving, surprises, kissing, comfort, food, fishing, robbery (by raccoons), light angst, suggestive ending, letters, alcohol, drinking

Word Count: 6,434

Masterlist

AO3

Updated Tag List Form

You've always supported and encouraged Elliott and you're not about to stop now. Of course you tell him to accept the last-minute book tour - he's worked so hard on his novel, he deserves the attention and recognition for his efforts.

You helped pack his bags, making sure he had everything he'd need. You made crab cakes as a good luck, celebration dinner. You kissed him slow and savoring, holding onto him all night.

But then you woke up alone...

You sigh into your cup of coffee, sitting at the little table Robin set up in your house when you first moved in. You can't bear to look across the table at the other chair, cold and empty. Even the coffee tastes more bitter without your sweet poet around.

Alas, farm chores need to get done, no matter how you wish to mope all day.

The house is too quiet as your chair scrapes against the wood. The clatter of your mug in the sink is too loud. You sigh again as you tug on your boots and don your jacket, bracing for the cold winter air as you shove open the door.

Following the motions, you trudge to the mailbox. The metal bites your fingers as you retrieve the letters from within.

A letter from Evelyn, thanking you for your help running some errands for her. Another from Marnie reminding you to buy hay from her if your silos run out. And-

Your breath catches.

It's a letter from him. From Elliott! Your heart is racing. You bounce on your feet. You forget how to breathe.

It's silly. He's been gone one night and you're dancing around like this is the first you've heard from him in months. But you don't care. You miss your husband!

After much debate on whether you should wait to open it, you tear open the letter, unfold the paper within, and eagerly read it.

"My love,

I've just arrived in Grampleton, to start the tour. I've forgotten how hectic the city is! The streets are packed with people... they either seem in a mad hurry, or lost in a daze, unaware of their surroundings. I miss Pelican Town already!"

You huff a laugh. You can almost imagine your Elliott among the crowd, staring at the people walking past, creating life stories in his head for people he'll never see again.

"I begin the tour this evening, at a local bookstore. I must admit, I'm becoming a bit nervous at the thought of public speaking... my stomach feels as if it's been twisted into a soft pretzel and doused with spicy cheese dip. Wish me luck!

Love, Elliott

P.S. I hope you had a peaceful night, and weren't too scared all alone in that big house!"

Ah. The reminder of the nights to come sinks into your chest. It's not as though you've never gone to bed alone, but he would always join you an hour or so later. You would wake up warm. Sometimes he'd linger until you awoke, smiling charmingly, hair slightly out of sorts, as he whispers sweet words of your beauty and his love.

Another sigh slips out. The winter air feels colder somehow. You reread the words. Study the shapes of his cursive script. And reluctantly fold it back up and slip it back into the envelope.

"Mreow?"

You look down at your feet. Your cat rubs against your legs, tail curled up in the air as it looks up at you with bright eyes. Your only companion for these next several days. "He'll be back soon..." You look at the envelope again. The smile you force is strained, brows pinched together. "He's gonna do great. He'll be okay..."

-

The day passes slowly. You tend to your animals, replacing their feed and collecting their goodies; eggs are cracked into the mayonnaise machines and milk is poured into cheese presses lined up against the walls. You drop them into the bin.

You grab your fishing pole and some bait and head off into town.

It's pretty quiet in the wintertime. The wind moans through leafless tree branches, the snow crunches underfoot, and everyone is huddling up inside to stay warm. Part of you wishes you'd stayed home, too. Snuggled up in the chair by the fire, cat in lap, watching a movie... Alas, the thought of being at home alone is... less than favorable, at the moment.

The beach sand has mixed with the powdery snow. It sinks under your weight as you walk past the patched up boat from your - well, suppose you could call it your first date. The shack beside sits cold and alone.

You're tempted to go inside. There's not much in there anymore, and it's long since lost the presence of your beloved in its walls. But you walk past, down to the shore, and settle in for a long day of fishing.

-

The bed is cold when you crawl in. You shiver despite the fireplace warming the air, curling up tighter in the blankets. And close your eyes...

You can't sleep. You can't stop listening out for the slightest sound. A creak in the wood, a footstep, the turning of a page - anything that means your husband is home. But the only creaking you hear is from the cold squeezing the wood of the house. No footsteps except those of your imagination. And not a single page turning.

When was the last time you were actually alone here? It had to be just before your wedding. You hadn't really been able to sleep then, either, buzzing and giddy with excitement. Squealing into your pillow as you remembered what awaited you tomorrow...

That was a few months ago. Since then, there's never been a night where you didn't have someone else in the house.

You feel silly when you pull his pillow over to your side and squeeze it tight to your chest. It smells like his pomegranate shampoo and his natural musk. You breathe it in deep. As the pillow warms, you can almost pretend it's his own body heat pressing against you.

Soon. He'll be back soon. You can survive a week without him around. Just a week. You'll survive. You can survive.

-

You wake up groggy and disoriented. Your body feels heavy and sluggish despite not doing much physical labor yesterday. Your hair is wild, there's drool on Elliott's pillow, and you're reminded once more that you slept alone last night.

Ugh.

You drag yourself out of bed. Click on the coffee machine. Scrounge around for breakfast in the fridge and- Oh. He must have left some crab cakes in here from the other night. Even miles away, he manages to touch your life with a loving hand.

You push them aside and grab a farm-fresh egg to make an omelet. While you wait for it to cook, you find some magnets and post his letter up on the fridge. Just seeing it makes you smile and eases some of the ache in your heart. You've got a little pep in your step as you eat, drink your coffee, and head outside for another day on the farm.

This time, when you see the mailbox's flag is up, you skip down the stairs and find his letter inside. You open it immediately.

"My dear,

The first reading went well, though the audience was a bit smaller than I'd hoped. Still, I sold enough copies of the book to pay for my (bug-infested) hotel room!"

You wince. You should've sent him with some extra money. You're making enough on the farm now; you could've packed away a couple thousand for his travel fees. He probably would have turned it down, trying to be humble, assuring you he has enough funds as is to last the trip. You could've snuck it in with his hair supplies. Oh well.

"In a few hours, I leave for Zuzu City. If yesterday's reading was a warm-up, this next one will be a true napalm blast...

I miss you very much. Remember to eat well! Oh, and don't forget the leftover crab cakes I put in the fridge...

Love, Elliott"

Your breath catches. Those simple words - I miss you very much - stab through your chest with precision. And the intentionality behind the leftovers, rather than an accidental mishap, oh, you can't love this man any more than you already do.

You hug the letter tenderly to your chest. "I miss you, too..."

-

As evening rolls around, you drag your tired body to the saloon. Today was busier than the last. You delved deeper into the mines. Going down the elevator was more nerve-wracking than you remember it ever being; if something happened down there, Linus or Marlon would have to drag you to the clinic, and Elliott would be none the wiser to your plight. You tried to be extra cautious, and survived with only a couple scratches.

Gus greets you as you step through the door. The warmth washes over you, soaking through your coat and deep into your aching bones. It's a busy Friday night, packed with chatter and familiar faces. One of which you spy sitting alone, sipping on some wine.

"Hey, Leah," you greet tiredly.

She perks up right away, sitting up excitedly now that you're here. "My favorite farmer! How goes it?"

You huff and lower yourself into the seat across from her. Elliott usually sits here, but, well... "The farm is doing good. Butter Bean, our new goat, finally started producing, so I'll have some goat cheese for ya by tomorrow."

She smiles knowingly, swirling the liquid in her glass. "And Elliott?"

"Did he tell you?"

"He sent me a letter the day he found out, apologizing for not being able to come around for the next few days," she says. Her eyes follow Emily as she drops off a second glass with a friendly hello. Then she watches you pour yourself some wine and take that first sip. "You must really miss him, huh?"

You sigh, slumping in your chair. Your fingers play with the stem of your glass, dirtying it up with all the rock dust and soot you collected from your adventure in the mines. "Is it that obvious?"

She hums, resting her hand in her cheek. "Maybe not to everyone else, but I know you. And you look... exhausted."

"I am," you readily admit. "I'm not used to the house being so empty and quiet. And I... nevermind." You take another long sip to hide your embarrassment.

"No, what were you gonna say?"

"I..." You push the glass aside, crossing your arms on the table and dropping your head onto them. "I miss him so much, I can't sleep. I can't eat without wishing he was there with me. Every time I go by his cabin, I just want to curl up in his bed. He's only been gone for two days and I'm already falling apart!"

You feel her rub your arm comfortingly. "Do you want to stay over for a few nights? I can make some space," she offers.

You sigh, lifting your head to shake it no. "I need to be on the farm in case something happens. And you're working on your art show projects. I don't want to get in the way of that."

"I could sleep over-"

"It's fine, Leah," you cut her off, forcing an unconvincing smile. "I'll manage somehow."

Before she can say something else, you look at your watch and see the time. "It's getting pretty late and I desperately need to clean up." You stand, draining the last remnants of your glass, and reach for your wallet. "Thanks for the drink."

"Don't worry about it, it's on me." She smiles warmly, pushing away the money you try to offer. "Goodnight, farmer. Don't be a stranger if you need some company, alright?"

You smile, small but genuine. You forget, cooped away on your farm so far from everybody else, just how good companionship feels. "You're the best. I'll bring some cheese over tomorrow."

-

"My sweet,

Last night in Zuzu City was quite the experience! It seems there's a large literary scene here... a few dozen people showed up at my reading!

I even signed a couple of autographs... it's strange to be seen as someone important. It's all a matter of framing, a grand illusion... for truly I am no one special. Only your devoted Elliott, as always.

Currently I'm alone, in my hotel room, 'ingesting' a Joja Value Meal...

Should this be called 'food'? Or 'edible matter'? I needn't long brood It must be the latter

I look forward to being home soon. Hope you enjoyed the crab cakes.

Love, Elliot"

You snort softly at his poem. You've been missing them lately. Throughout the day, when you'd pop inside for lunch or to grab something from the fridge, pressing a quick kiss to his lips in your rush only for him to grab your wrist and pull you to him. Staring so deep into your eyes as he waxes poetic about your beauty, your fragrance, how happy he is here. Just before he steals a longer kiss. Sweeter. One that makes you wish you had the time to linger forever in the moment...

Sigh. You're really missing him now. You can still taste him on your lips, but it's faint. A memory that's becoming harder and harder to recall.

That's it. You're done moping, you tell yourself. (Because, honestly, saying you are is far easier than actually being so.) Your sweet husband has been away in cramped, insect-infested quarters, eating shoddy frozen meals, no doubt losing his voice after so many long readings. You're going to do something to make up for that lost time.

You carefully fold the letter back into its envelope, set it on the table just inside the door, and get to work.

First, your regular chores: tending to your animals, collecting their processed products, and dropping them in the bin. You refill your cat's water dish and check the cave.

Next, to get started on the perfect meal for his return. You know his favorites are crab cakes and tom kha soup, both of which are easy enough to get the ingredients for.

You grab a bunch of crab pots you stored away and some bait, and march down to the beach. You line them up along the shore, drop the chopped up bug meat within, and wait.

In the meantime, you stop by Pierre's and buy the oil and flour you'll need. Then, to the desert (shucking your coat off on the bus halfway there as the temperature steadily rises to an inferno), where you shake the palm trees and try not to get hit in the head with a coconut.

The mushrooms you need you've already gathered plenty of during the fall, and eggs are readily available any time with your coop in full working order.

You wish you had time to make him some pomegranate wine. Or, at least, had time to make it before he returned. You throw a fruit (purchased a while ago from the Traveling Cart) into the keg anyway. You can have a celebratory drink after he's settled back into the home life.

Worn, but determined, you collapse into bed with a smile. Soon, your love will be here, and you'll have all the time in the world to make sure he knows how important he is to you.

-

"In dreams, when graced with lofty view I gaze upon the sunlit sea What distant shores I've traveled to But time now clouds my memory

There is but one eternal place Where I shall someday pass beyond In Valley dear, where my love waits: Our little home beside the pond

Elliott"

You reread the poem over and over, until you sink down to sit on the step of the house. You feel the burn behind your eyes. The tickle in your nose.

By your fifth reread, a tear slips free.

You don't know exactly why it makes you so emotional. Perhaps it's the final stanza. Even so far, he sees you, sees the life you share; something far greater to him than the fame and attention his book brought him, the acknowledgement he's been searching for to prove his family wrong.

You sniffle and wipe your cheeks dry before the winter air can freeze them. You imagine him at a cramped little desk, with a feather from one of your ducks, penning this with you on his mind. With the homesickness weighing on him.

Soon, love. He'll be home soon.

-

"Late night fishin', eh?"

You blink out of your stupor at Willy, already baiting his rod beside you on the dock. He moves with a natural skill, hooking his bait without struggle and whipping the line out into the water.

The ocean water rocks in gentle waves, lapping at the dock's legs with an old familiarity. The moon shines bright on the world, casting its light on the ripples to form little fairies dancing with the gently falling snow.

"Yeah," you breathe, coming out in a puff of smoke. Your nose is starting to freeze; you've been out here for hours now. "Trying to catch a squid, but I can't seem to reel it in."

He chuckles. "Squid's a fun challenge. I caught quite a few m'self at the derby." He tilts his rod up as the bobber goes under. You watch him reel it in, working against the fish as it struggles and tries to escape. "This's one."

Sure enough, as he pulls it up, a squid is hooked on the line. He pulls it off and drops it into a bucket with icy water. In a few moments, he's re-baited the hook and casts it back in.

You feel a bump on the line. You jerk the rod up and feel the weight of something attached. It's a short lived battle, though. You feel the exact moment it gets away. You reel in the empty hook with a sigh.

"What'cha catchin' it for?" Willy asks. He's reeled in another in the time you took to lose your own. "Someone ask for it?"

"No. Elliott's away on a book tour, traveling to different cities to read his novel and do signings and stuff. He's been sending me letters telling me how it's going, and while the book is doing great, he's been stuck in awful hotel rooms, eating awful food. So when he gets back, I wanted to surprise him with some of his favorites. Crab cakes, tom kha soup - and a new bottle of ink for his writing." You hook some bait, reel back, and cast out into the dark waters. "But I might not be able to get him that."

It's quiet for a while. You don't mind, and you know Willy doesn't either. It's peaceful, listening to the sound of the ocean waves as you fish side by side. He has no trouble landing anything that catches his line. You catch almost everything else - except a squid.

As you fail again, you know the hour's grown too late to keep going. You curl your hook onto a loop of the rod and tighten it in place. The wood dock creaks as you stand up, butt numb and flat from the cold and sitting too long. You smile at the old fisherman. "Goodnight, Willy. I still gotta get a shrimp, so I'll be back down here tomorrow."

You take a few steps down the dock.

"Wait a moment," he calls suddenly.

You watch as he leans down and fetches a squid from the bucket. It's slippery and goopy in his hand, but it doesn't bother him any as he crosses the planks to meet you, holding out the creature. "Take it - I got plen'y for the shop."

You smile brighter, a surge of warmth filling your soul. You gladly accept it. "Thank you, Willy. This really means a lot."

He smiles, old and worn, but fond. "I saw how the lad was livin' up on the beach, keepin' to himself and struggling to get by. I'm glad he's got you to look after him now. If he forgets how lucky he is to have ya, you send him my way and I'll make sure he remembers." It's a weak threat, one you already know will never be enacted. Your Elliott makes sure you know every day how fortunate he is to have you in his life, and he won't be stopping anytime soon, you're sure.

You laugh warmly. "I will. Thank you again. As soon as it warms up and the bees come back around, I'll have a bottle of mead with your name on it."

He laughs heartily at that. "Lookin' forward to it!"

-

"My dear,

I won't bore you with any more details about my readings. They are mostly the same.

I'm sure your time has been much more exciting! I can't wait to return and see what progress has been made.

On these long travels between towns, I amuse myself by closing my eyes and envisioning the farm... I see kegs pulsing with sweet wine, a furnace ablaze with precious ore, and our little kitchen with the smell of cinnamon and nutmeg. There's a lot to enjoy!

Just don't stay out too late in the mines, my love. It's dangerous in there! If you must go... bring plenty of food.

Love, Elliot"

In all your moping about, missing your husband, you almost forget about the Feast of the Winter Star. You probably would have continued to be oblivious to the holiday's fast approach were it not for the Traveling Cart shopkeeper who sold you a fully decorated tree.

Though, even when it's fully set up, glowing beautifully, lighting up your home, it feels out of place. Not position-wise, but because Elliott isn't here to decorate and celebrate with you. He'll be home in time to do just that, of course, but that doesn't make the empty void any less apparent in your chest.

Your cat's starting to miss him, too. Every night, you find it curled up on Elliott's side of the bed. Every morning, it follows you around, meowing, questioning you incessantly about his disappearance. You wish you could tell it in a way it would understand that it won't be long now before he returns.

Thanks to Willy's squid, your surprise is almost fully set up. You have all the ingredients for his favorite foods, the most beautiful duck feather prepared for use as a quill, a bottle of fresh ink, and a sweet pomegranate, the first off the newly grown tree.

Your plan is in motion already, waiting for the time to be enacted. As soon as Elliott lets you know he's on his way home, you'll cook the foods, gather them all into a picnic basket, and bring him down to the beach for a picnic.

You sigh dreamily just picturing it. The breeze from the ocean, the warmth of a shared blanket, a thermos of spiced cider, sharing bites and kisses between conversation and laughter. Once you get too cold, he'll insist on ushering you into his old cabin. Musty as it may be, it's also quite private. And after the time you've spent apart, you can't imagine his old bed won't be put to good use - to "warm you up", of course.

You do wonder if perhaps you're going a little overkill. With the Feast of the Winter Star being only a week or so away, you should realistically save all these gifts for then. Not to mention, it's a lot of presents just to say "I missed you" when he's only been away for a week...

But you know he'd understand completely. You know he misses you just as much, and that he would do just the same to surprise you had your roles been reversed. After all, you got married for a reason.

You fall asleep with an excited smile on your face.

-

You are rudely awoken in the middle of the night by a clatter and a crash.

Groggy and out of sorts, you throw the covers off of yourself and stumble out of the bedroom.

In the blue-white light of the fridge, you see the glowing eyes of two troublemakers: a pair of plump raccoons. They startle when they see you. One of them, squeezed onto one of the shelves of the fridge, panics as it tries to squirm out, knocking out food and bottles to the floor. They crash and shatter, creating a dangerous mess for your bare feet.

The other grabs greedy handfuls of things and holds onto them like precious treasure as it rushes toward the front door, cracked open and letting in the freezing cold air of the outside.

You're in shock. You don't quite know what to do.

Your cat has its own solution to the issue at hand: violence.

It comes from behind, hissing and yowling as it chases after the two intruders. Straight through the door and into the darkness beyond.

"No, wait!" You stumble after them all. But it's useless. Your feet freeze the second they touch the fresh layer of snow on the ground, and the cold air blows through you right after. You strain to see any movement in the night. You can barely hear the skittering and rummaging through some grass, and another hiss, but nothing that can tell you exactly where they are.

You have to trust your cat will know when to give up the hunt and return home. It's roamed independently around your farm since Marnie brought it over, after all, hunting mice and chasing frogs. You just hope it'll be alright...

You reluctantly return inside. Your toes are already frozen, burning from the temperature change. You hurry to light a fire in the fireplace.

The light it provides is enough to illuminate the crime scene in the kitchen. Broken wine bottles and forced-open containers of mayonnaise. Liquid spilled out, dry foods scattered into the puddles. You see the shape of a crab claw sitting detached and alone in a path toward the door.

Dread slowly sinks in while you don your boots.

Glass crunches under your soles as you take in the full extent of the damage. Everything you'd gathered for the surprise is destroyed. Flour is pouring out across the floor. The crab has been torn to pieces and the shrimp is missing. The oil is uncapped, slowly glugging its contents onto the remnants of egg shells. The only thing intact at all is the coconut. Even the pomegranate has been pried apart by little hands and munched on.

You take a deep breath.

Then another.

But each one gets choppier and choppier. Tears well quickly in your eyes. The reality of it all sinks in. Your surprise has been destroyed. Ruined. Completely obliterated. The only things left are the quill and ink pot, which you'd placed safely on your dresser.

The first sob is harsh and broken. Choppy and gasping. It's too much. Too much carnage all at once. The complete upheaval of your perfect plan.

You make sure the door is locked this time; your cat will go into the barns for warmth if it needs to, you're sure of it. You crawl into bed. And you cry yourself back to sleep, until your pillow is drenched with tears and snot, your eyes burn and your throat is raw.

-

You wake up bleary and depressed. The weight of the aftermath of the raccoon robbery last night presses down on you like an elephant. You wish you could lay here all day. That by doing so, the next time you wake up, it'll all be gone like nothing more than a bad dream.

But you know that won't work.

You have a farm to run, after all. You don't have time to waste the day.

You slog tiredly to the kitchen to clean up the mess. You sniffle back more tears as you toss the pomegranate and the crab remains. You cut your finger on some glass. Another woe to add to the pile. The only thing you salvage is the coconut.

The mailbox's flag is standing tall, proudly announcing more letters are waiting for you to read them. But... even knowing another of Elliott's letters must sit within, the idea of reading his hopeful words and having nothing to show for it crushes you.

So you go to the coop first. Then the barn. Then the small cave. And the greenhouse.

It's all futile time stalling. All chores lead you back to the mailbox eventually.

You pull out the small stack of letters. A request from Gus, a stock-message from Pierre, and... Elliott's letter. You don't know what you're hoping for. You want your husband to come home, so you can hold him and kiss him again, bask in the comfort he radiates. But you don't want him to come back to this mess, and with so little to give him now to steal the burden of the way he's had to live this week. You carefully pick open the flap on the envelope, pull out the paper inside, unfold it, and read his letter.

"My dear,

This will be my last letter before I return home. I've had a fine trip... though nothing exciting. It's been nice to meet people who enjoy my work, but I'm eager to return home.

I look forward to the comfort of our little house, the satisfying farm work, a home-cooked meal, and most of all, cozying into the flannel sheets with you.

See you soon!

Love, Elliott"

A fresh wave of tears chokes you. Relief that he's finally coming back, and disappointment because you can't provide the home-cooked meals he would have loved most. There's no time to collect everything again. The most you can do is grab another pomegranate from the tree, maybe even hope you'll get lucky with catching a lobster, but nowhere in the same scope as it was.

Just as you turn to hide away in the dark of your home, you hear a familiar sound. You follow it to its source.

"Mrrrp!" Your cat trots along, quite proud of itself and the item it carries between its teeth. You almost laugh. A bright red crab hangs by its claw, swinging to and fro with every little step. It circles and rubs against your legs before looking up at you with its little gift, expectantly waiting. When you reach down, it plops it into your hand and rubs against your fingers with a purr. "Mreow!"

You sniffle, wiping your face with your other hand as you examine the crab, turning it over and assessing its quality. It's a pretty good crab, all things considered. And all you'd need is to buy the rest of what you need at Pierre's to make crab cakes...

You pet your cat fondly, scratching under its chin as it lifts its head with what could almost be a grin. "Good kitty."

"Meow!"

You tuck the crab in the near-empty fridge, lock the front door, and walk off into town to snag your last saving grace.

-

"My love..." Something warm and gentle touches your cheek, brushing over skin raw from crying. "I'm back..."

"Mmm wha...?" you mumble out as you're drawn back into wakefulness. You sleepily stretch out, leaning into the warmth and the sweet scent of-

Your eyes snap open and you jump out of bed, throwing your arms around broad shoulders with reckless abandon. Elliott laughs heartily as he catches you, wrapping his arms tightly around you in return and squeezing you tight against him. He tucks his nose in the crook of your neck and breathes deep. You smell like home. Like freshly tilled dirt and dried hay. Like a stray ocean breeze and a hot meal.

"Ah..." he sighs, shoulders relaxing. "I've missed you. One drop of the big city and I'm quenched... I much prefer being back here with you!" He gently pries you away, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead to yours and see your face. The face he missed being able to gaze upon every single day. He cradles your cheek with one hand and brushes his thumb along the sensitive skin below your eye, smile crinkling with concern. "Have you been crying, my love?"

You think you could right now, in truth. He's here again - you can touch him and feel him and breathe him in to your heart's delight. But the guilt from yesterday bleeds through; the feeling of not doing enough to welcome him home. You find it hard to meet his eye as you weakly tell him everything.

"I wanted to surprise you when you got back. I wanted you to see how important you are to me, and to all our friends here. So I got everything - crab and shrimp, and mushrooms and a coconut - everything I needed to make your favorite foods. And I was going to surprise you with a picnic on the beach, a-and everything would have been perfect." He wipes away the tears forming at the corners of your eyes. His heart aches terribly, watching the pain come to the surface, hearing the way your voice wavers. "But then a couple of raccoons broke in and stole and ruined everything! And our cat ran out chasing after them and I couldn't follow after in the dark and-"

"My dear, it's alright."

You shake your head. "And you deserved all of it! Especially after dealing with bugs and- and garbage Joja meals all week and interacting with so many people! And I just- I-"

He shushes you gently, pulling you back into his chest in a warm hug. He tucks your head under his chin. Rubs his hand up and down your back. Allows you to let out these powerful emotions into his shirt.

Once you're able to calm down, he murmurs to you, "You have gone through so much while I've been away, haven't you? Oh, my love. You did excellent - I know that. Whether the fruits of your labor were stolen or not, I know you put your entirety into preparing this, because you always do, don't you, my dear?" He chuckles softly against your head, picturing all the times he's seen you running about, always in a rush, always doing your best for everyone. He brushes a kiss there, too. "You've already given me more than I could ask for. By simply being here, waiting for my return, and staying by my side. By allowing me to hold you and hear you and adore you with every fiber of my being."

You sniffle softly. He gives you time to gather yourself. He would stay here all day if he could, holding you as the sun rose and fell across the Valley. Your mere presence rejuvenates the exhaustion that began to settle in his soul. Then, quietly, you say, "I managed to save some of my gifts for you..."

He huffs a laugh. "Of course you did. I should expect nothing less of my determined farmer."

"It's not enough to warrant a beach picnic, though." You slowly pull away from his hold, but your hand finds his. He eagerly twines your fingers together, however awkwardly, just to keep touching you. He sees the beginnings of a smile start to break through.

You lead him back into the living room, then to the kitchen. You feel silly as you work with one hand to open the fridge and pull out a plate of fresh crab cakes. His eyes widen with delight, a grin stretching his face as he accepts the plate in his free hand. "Oh, darling, I've been craving your cooking all week. These look splendid!"

You smile a little more as you grab the pomegranate waiting there next. He sets the plate on the counter to accept the fruit. "The first fruit off the tree got eaten by some raccoons, but hopefully the second one is just as good."

"It looks marvelous! I'm sure the second will be even better than the first!"

Closing the fridge, you tug him along to one of the cabinets. It's not one you use that much; plates and cups have their own space already, and you don't need so much equipment in your kitchen to require using up all this space. Sitting inside is the pot of squid ink you harvested and a shining, brilliant quill. You let go of his hand to retrieve both and present them to him.

He accepts them with delighted awe. He holds the feather to the light. Bright greens catch the sun through the window just so, shimmering like magic. He lifts the ink next, tipping the bottle this way and that to observe the consistency as the black liquid clings to the glass container. "My dear, you spoil me! I feel so inspired!"

He's beaming, glowing with love, as he sets aside his gifts and cradles your face within his palms again. "Thank you. These are all splendid, my dear. But..." He smiles wider as you start to frown, worry taking over your expression. "I would like to claim the true gift I've been waiting for all this time."

His nose brushes yours. Lips come so close they brush against your own. You pinch his side with an eye roll and he laughs. "Don't scare me like that!"

"Allow me to make up for it."

And he does. Oh, Yoba, he does. Just the first kiss alone makes up for all the longing, all the hardship of the past week. Slow and savoring, tasting each other, remembering all the little things with each caress, each gentle bite. You sigh into his mouth, tangling your fingers in his long, silky smooth hair. He groans in turn, shivering at the pleasant sensation.

With each kiss, each parting for air before diving back in for another, you move together, closer and closer to the bedroom. Hands roam, slipping under shirts and tugging at pants. You fall back onto the plush mattress and he follows, auburn locks falling around your head and pooling against the bedding as he kisses you deeper. His knee comes up beside your hip, supporting himself as he begins to eagerly undress.

"I missed you so much," you sigh into his mouth.

He swallows it up with a desperate need. "I'm staying right here," he promises, barely pulling away to speak. "You'll never have need to miss me again."

[leighsartworks216]

Piano Lessons

Elliott x gn!Farmer

I posted this like four days ago on ao3 but had nooo energy to post it on here with my phone, especially with ellipsus giving me a hard time with formatting (for some reason copying the fics from my notes app and pasting it into the site on my phone really messes up the paragraph spacing)

But it's here now and that's what matters!

Warnings: fluff, almost kiss, pre-relationship, romantic tension, silly

Word Count: 696 (nice)

Masterlist

AO3

Updated Tag List Form (I only realized now I didn't have any stardew characters as an option oops)

The usually dank and musty shack feels homier today, Elliott thinks. Of course, it's all thanks to you. Your mere presence is a breath of fresh air. A beam of sunlight on his face. A flutter in his heart. A- Well, you get the picture.

You laugh at yourself as you mess up another set of notes on the piano. Pressed side by side to fit on the small bench, hips, legs and shoulders squished together, he shares his own laughs with you. "You've almost got it," he assures.

"You're just saying that," you tease him in return. His hand on the keyboard repositions your fingers. They're so warm and soft compared to your rough and calloused fingers. The difference between a pen and a plow. "I don't think I'll even be able to play Hot Cross Buns."

"I'm not," he denies with another huff. "And you will. I'm not giving up on you yet, dear farmer. Let me just..."

He lays his hand fully over yours. Heat rises to both of your faces. Hearts stuttering in tandem as he presses your fingers down against the keys. You should be focusing on which notes he plays, but all your attention is set on every brush of his hand. Every slight rub of arms together. The way he hums the melody softly under his breath...

"Now you try."

You blink away your stupor, then laugh. "Ah, I didn't quite get that," you admit. "C-Can you show me again?"

You glance at him and, oh Yoba, be still your heart. His face is all flushed. Hair brushed behind his ear and falling over his shoulders. Stealing a look at you at the same time and flushing brighter as he gets caught. "Of course. Ahem, ah, let me try..."

He pulls his hand from yours. You don't have time to mourn the loss when his arm instead wraps around your shoulders, aligning with your arm down to the keys. Closer than ever before, nestled against each other, hands overlapping. You forget how to breathe. Forget you need oxygen at all. What a trivial thing to remember when you wish to drown in all of him.

He leans forward slightly, trying to meet your eye over your shoulder. His hair falls down in waves of auburn. You swallow, doing your best to gather yourself, and turn to meet his gaze.

"Is this alright?" he whispers. So close. You can feel his breaths ghosting over your face. See every facet of color in his eyes. Catch the way they betray their owner as they flicker down to your mouth...

"Yes," you breathe in turn, afraid to speak any louder.

His own mind floods with words. Too many of them. Sifting through his extensive, flowery vocabulary to attempt capturing this moment forever. Every word he finds falls short. There is no way to encapsulate you in so many words, letters, sounds. Every poem he conjures falls short by miles.

You hear the shudder in his exhale as he risks moving just a millimeter closer. "May I...?"

You lean in with him, subconsciously answering his desires with your own. "Yes..."

He glances down again. Your lips are right there. Slightly parted. Waiting. Expectant. He wonders what you taste like. What it feels like... to kiss you...

Snap snap!

"Ouch!" He startles, pulling away sharply. The piano rings out a discordant sound as he looks beneath to find the inopportune creature that just pinched his ankle. "Oh! Oh dear!"

Down at his feet is a crab, looking up at the both of you with what can only be contempt as it snaps its claws. You turn toward a skittering sea of them clattering over the old floorboards. "Elliott!"

He follows your gaze. You're jostled unceremoniously as he hurries to his feet, muttering furious apologies and creative complaints. He's doing his best not to step on them, teetering on one foot then the other, as he rushes to the door that's been left cracked open at some point during your visit. "Ah, come on, shoo! Shoo! Stay there, dear farmer, I'll- I'll chase them out! Watch your toes! Ah, where did I put my broom?!"

[rinirinisbestu]

ALL I DO IS CINNAMON BUNS!!!!

still trying to understand how to draw in ipad... and it's too hard for meeeee

Now I'll go and continue my work at af attack!! >:D

[sir-walton-goggins]

Elliott's dialogue lines that kill me:

- "Drinks for everyone on me! Oh wait right im broke lol nevermind"

- anything that includes "that is the trouble with -" he says it so many times that its comical atp its like its the only turn of phrase that is socially acceptable to complain for him. My neurodivergent king

- him being an absolute slut for any greasy food at the festivals

- the one about being able to tell its gonna be a good day because "i get this special feeling in my nose..." its so goofy I love it sm

- the entire iridium bars exchange