#elliott x reader

[pied-piperrr]

Most Ardently...

Elliott x reader (female)

Listen to me while you read.

( author: i feel like this is what Elliott would do if he confessed to MC i we all wanted a romantic bachelor 😔💔 please be advised that this story is a story that i took inspo from pride & prejudice. Apologies for any misspelled words and grammatical errors. This is my first mini story 🥺)

Elliott have never confessed before, never. He never really goes out

Mingling unless its necessary. Was he afraid? Of what? Rejection?

He wasn't sure.

A man who spends his lone days by the seaside, or in the comfort of his little cabin, writing stories, and poems.

He writes stories. But when will he writes his own?

Not all stories had happy endings.

It all changed when (name) came to Pelican town.

He found himself...

Falling...

Slowly...

Falling...

Seasons changed, he learned her favorite colors, he'd admire afar. The feelings he never felt before overwhelmed him. That's the time he fears "rejection."

The more he knows about her, the more he feels lighter.

"I love her. "

The thought of it felt so right it hurts...

He swallowed his pride and went out one rainy day...

He found himself finding her in the gazeboo of her little humble farm. Sheltering drying from the pouring rain.

She's soaked from head to toe.

He's soaked from head to toe.

They're both soaked from head to toe.

"(Name) "

He called his name, vulnerable, breathless, and scared. But his eyes blown and...

What's that word?

Incandescently happy...

Before she could realize who's the person behind her, Elliott spoke...

"In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."

He blurted those words. It made (name) 's eyes widened.

"You've bewitched me. Body & soul, and i— i love you. I love you. "

He said.

His voice shakened, her breath hitched.

Both bodies soaked and cold from the rain, but their hearts beats and burned just for one another.

(Name) 's eyes teared up.

Emotionally and indescribably happy.

So she leaped to his arms, foot and legs stumbled against the pouring rain. Both lips sealed with a kiss.

Reciprocating her feelings for him.

Between droplets of the cold rain is warmth of one's feelings that finally found each other.

[diesected]

Legendary Fish pt. 1 (Yandere!Elliot x Farmer) (Stardew Valley)

Summary: Your grandfather left you a plot of land in Stardew Valley, a small town with few people. Overtime, one townsperson in particular seems to take a great interest in you.

Part 1

A/N: Hey guys! This account was formerly Yellowjackets, but I've shifted over to obsessing over 2hollis, so that's why the account looks like this now! Also, I downloaded the Yandere Elliott Stardew mod and I loved it so much it made me want to write again! This is based off the mod but I take no credits, and the events I write are loosely based off of what happens in the mod. I also chose to use "love" in place of y/n because I think it flows the best. That's all, enjoy!

This certainly wasn't what you were expecting when you moved to Stardew Valley.

You were looking to escape from the city life, and at first, it had looked promising. A small farm with just enough land for a handful of crops. A few days in, Marnie had been kind enough to drop a puppy at your doorstep, something to keep you company. Eventually you expanded to a few cows and chickens, and it finally started to feel like home.

All of the townspeople were kind too. Clint broke open your endless geodes, you stopped by to see Linus at his tent, and showered everyone with presents from your farm. For the most part, you could see why your grandfather had left this for you.

But something felt... off. It started the day Willy asked you to stop by. He was pleasant, and gave you a nice fishing rod. You set up a spot on the dock to fish for a little bit, but eventually you felt a presence.

You slowly turned your head back, but there was no one on the beach. But then you turned to the small shack sitting far back on the sand. You almost swore, if you squinted, you could see long, strawberry blonde hair sitting on the other side of the window pane.

And then the letters started.

"Love,

I've been watching you. Have you noticed?

- Your admirer"

You snapped your head up from your mailbox, scanning the farmland. Who did this? You looked down at your dog. He was sleeping silently next to his water bowl. Your chickens were pecking at the grass, and the cows staring absentmindedly into the water. Surely if someone had came onto your farm at any time to put this in your mailbox, one of your animals would've made a noise. Right?

You couldn't shake that odd feeling as you moved around your farm that day. The thought that there was someone, somewhere, watching you on your own property kept you from walking even close to the darkest corners of your farm.

You didn't receive another letter for a few days, so you felt it would be okay to head into town and buy some seeds. After all, the farm won't run itself. On your walk there, you couldn't help but look at everyone in town as a potential suspect. Sebastian maybe? He was always lurking the mountains at night. Or Sam? He stopped every time you crossed paths to say hi.

Leaving Pierre's, you bumped into Leah. Before you could say a word about your strange letters, Leah jumped into conversation.

"I think Elliott has a crush on someone."

Your breath hitched. Of course. You'd only met him in passing, but he seemed nice enough. But you couldn't help but piece it together: of course a writer would be the one sending love letters to you. And he's on the beach, far enough away from you that you'd never suspect it. It's him.

"I mean, he's always whispering to himself. And he's out of his cabin more than usual. I wonder who it is?" You snapped out of it and forced a smile.

"Yeah, haha. I wonder."

You couldn't sleep that night. Elliott's face just kept flashing in your head.

"Ah, so you're the new farmer?" He had said. You had managed to intercept the hermit of a man in Pierre's with Leah one day, who insisted you should meet every town member. "Well, it's nice to meet you. I'm sure maintaining a farm is hard work. Make sure you get plenty of rest, okay? See you around."

At first that had felt like just some kind, friendly advice. But now that "see you around" held a much different meaning.

Throwing your covers off, you grabbed your pickaxe. If you can't sleep, might as well mine. As you took the path up to the mountains, you finally felt at peace for the first time in weeks.

As you moved closer to the mine entrance, you slowed to a stop. From behind the bushes, you swore you saw that same hair from the window.

As if he knew he'd been caught, he smoothly turned the corner and smiled at you.

"Oh, hello love. So you do like to sneak off to the mines at night." He said, moving closer. You were frozen in fear.. and you also felt something you couldn't really name yet.

"You know, you really shouldn't be coming alone. It's dangerous up here even during the day, and here you are past midnight! At least bring little Milo to keep you company."

"How.. how do you know my dog's name?" You asked, practically trembling.

Elliott's eyes widened. "Well, Leah loves to talk about you, and.. and-"

"Right..." You started to step back.

"Oh, love! You don't think... you don't think I'm stalking you, do you?! I would never!" Elliott threw his hands up in defense. "You know, I'm only up here right now because Willy told me about this so-called "legendary fish", so I figured I'd try my hand."

He looked right into your eyes.

"It's just that, some fish are trickier to catch than others."

Your heart leapt to your throat. Just then, as you opened your mouth to speak, a door opened and shut in the distance. Sebastian had slipped out into the night and was headed your way, presumably to do the same thing you were up here to do: cool off, before you had been interrupted.

"Well then," Elliott said, brushing off his pant legs, "It's very late. I wouldn't mind walking you back, making sure you get in safe."

Part of you was ready to say 'no, thank you' and run like hell. But the other part of you was willing to bite.

"Sure."

Elliott smiled softly and gently brushed past you to lead the way to your own farm. You followed, not once questioning how he knew the exact path back to your home from here.

Maybe some fish aren't so tricky to catch, as long as you bait the hook right.

Part 2??..

[winglezzangel]

life with... Elliot (mlm)

yes yes, he looks like Howl, bla bla bla. look me in the eyes and tell me he isn't AT LEAST bisexual

𓇢𓆸 Elliott is a romantic, and while there weren't many gay love novels he could get his hands on, he firmly believed romantic gestures went beyond gender.

He likes to hold the door open for you when you go to the Saloon for dinner. Go on walks and come back with a small assortment of flowers for you. Give you a kiss and call you "handsome" first thing in the morning as he puts a warm cup of coffee on your hands.

𓇢𓆸 Farm life wasn't his strong suit, but he was eager to help. After his failed attempt to get up early to water your crops, only for the sprinklers to go off at 6 A.M., right after he was done, drenching him on the process, he decided to try with animals.

Cows and pigs were too big and intimidated him, and he was afraid of accidentally hurting sheep if he tried to shear them. So he settled on chickens. So now, every morning, he will excitedly wave at you from the coop, hair tied up, sleeves rolled up and feathers everywhere, with happy chickens clucking around his feet.

"Darling! I feed them and put the eggs on your mayonaise machines!"

"Attaboy!"

𓇢𓆸 He tries really hard to nor make ALL his writting about you. He doesn't want his writting to be monothematic! But its so hard, when just looking at you makes a few verses pop on his head each day. You're just such a good muse without even trying.

𓇢𓆸 Elliott's favorite part of the farm is the little garden next to the house, where he set up some plants to make a reading corner. And further more, you, his darling husband, set a nice stone path and a bench for him, and even changed the place of your shipping bin so it wouldn't be on the way. He loves lifting his gaze from his book to see you working on the farm, specially in summer days when you lose the shirt and he can admire your body as you do so.

𓇢𓆸 Still, he sometimes misses the beach. The salty smell of the air and the soothing sound of the waves. So on slow days of farmwork, you two go down to the coast to spend the afternoon. Set up a towell on the sand in front of the sea and just sit there together. Often, Elliott will bring a book with him, so he will lay down with his head on your lap and read outloud for the two of you while the sun goes down at the end of the sea.

𓇢𓆸 There are many, many things he loves about you. But one he absolutely despises is when you go to the mines. No matter how often it is, or how carefull you promise to be before leaving, he spends the entire time pacing around and fidgeting with his hair anxiously, eyeing the phone non-stop in case Harvey calls to let him know you are on the hospital.

When you come back, he is quick to greet you at the door, hands fuzzing over you and nose scrunched up.

"You reek of sulfur and traped air. Shower, right now. I'll turn on the hot water for you"

After the fact, he apologizes for being harsh. He understands why you go down there, he just worries a lot. This man wears his heart on his sleeve, and most of it belongs to you.

𓇢𓆸 Unless you are also a guy with long hair, don't you DARE touch his hair products. He gets those delivered directly from Zuzu City and they are expensive. Elliott doesn't even want to see your 3 in 1 near them.

"My darling husband whom I love so much, care to explain why my new shampoo bottle is already half empty?"

"... I didn't mean to knock it over"

"You are sleeping on the Coop"

𓇢𓆸 Elliott is not a small man by any means. His genetics, and the time he spent scrubbing seaweed off the wooden floors on his cabin doted him of a good body. But my God, if you didn't make him feel small in comparison. Even if you aren't physically taller, the endless days of building fences for your crops and animals, chopping down trees, and smashing rocks on the mines have make you, in Elliott's words, irresistible. Is not necesarily that you look strong, but that you feel strong.

He loves running his hand down your back when you come to bed, to soothe yes, but also to feel the muscles on your back, across your shoulders and down your arms.

"You are a vision, my love"

"Look who's talking. Have you seen yourself?"

"Hush, it's my turn to be the infatuated husband"

𓇢𓆸 On hot summer nights, you both sleep shirtless to cope with the heat, but he will still cuddle up to your side, head resting on your arm and nose pressed to your neck. On the coldest nights of winter, he shivers when you slip your hands under his sweater to rest them against his skin, underneath his pijama, palms warm and calloused from farm work.

𓇢𓆸 Elliott never takes his mermaid pendant off. Why would he? How could he risk to lose something so precious, or worse, hide it from the world by not wearing it? To him, having it on his neck means to show off your love, and it gives him hope that, upon seeing it, someone might ask about it, and Elliott will have the chance to once again talk about the man who made the love stories he spent his life reading come true.

not my first time doing fanfiction, but my first time doing an character x reader. i just want male readers to have love too. let me know what you think and if i should do other characters

[dopecollectorbarbarian]

Stardew Valley Headcanon!

Elliott x reader

-> he draws tiny doodles within margins of his notebooks. Some of them look like you.

He might go all blushing mess if you notice them while he is showing his new notes.

-> During walks out in the forest he may see your face in the clouds. He has a vivid imitation.

He would add this detail in his novel, maybe, with making it a little oblivious.

-> He wanders around your farm to “get inspiration or/and information about the plants”. Also he uses it as an excuse to watch you in your habitat. Maru would compare it to her own science hobby and Elliott would blush hellishly much (and deny it of course).

Yandere Elliott pops out involuntarily

-> If you have a keen on something, he may save his money to buy it. But if you love wild things such as flowers… well. He would collect it. Also he would dry it so he could give it to you even during the winter season.

-> He has a beautiful handwriting and he helps (even if you doesn’t really ask out) you with writing the stickers for jam jar, tea packs and so on. (Indeed they look complete)

[mongoosingisme]

A couple days late, but this is for the Quilluary prompt “Tipsy”

It’s smut! So… keep that in mind!

Okay thanks love you bye

When Elliott got tipsy, he got handsy.

The two of you at the saloon on a Friday night. Elliott a drink and a half in, smiling in that way of his. All bright eyes and dimples, ducked head and looking over at you through his lashes.

And yup, you could almost time it, how soon it’d be until he’d need to be in your space. How he’d stand up behind you, wrap his arms around your waist, all without breaking the conversation he was having with Emily. Within minutes you’d be standing too, so he’d have more of you to press against. His chest to your back, his chin on your head, his knee rubbing the back of your thigh.

There was a whiff of ownership that came out when he touched you like that. Not possessive, more like proud. Look what I have, the hand on your stomach seemed to imply. Look who chose me.

And you did. You chose to link your fingers with his, chose to have another drink, chose to run your cheek along the line of his jaw. He smelled good, always, but he smelled even better like this. The lingering scent of wine, of his aftershave, of the cedar that lined his wardrobe. He’d pull back, squint down at you, look at you like you were the most important person in the world. “Hello, you,” he’d say, trying to sound serious but utterly failing

“Hello yourself,” you’d respond, then graze your lips over his.

“You two are too cute. Get out of here.” Emily would flap her towel at you, shoo you on home.

You were glad to go. Glad for the darkness, the lack of eyes on the walk back. No one to notice Elliott’s palm sneaking up under the hem of your shirt as you stumbled along together. No one but you to hear what he whispered in your ear. The kind of promises he never made when he was sober. His poet’s tongue was nimble when his wits were about him, but the things he murmured with his voice all slurred would never be found in an anthology of verse.

I’ll have you dripping down my face, my love.

Want your nails down my back so I can still feel you tomorrow.

Going to paint you, my darling, make you mine both out and in.

Damp, breathy kisses under the maple tree. Stumbling steps in through the front door, then his lips sucking tight against your neck. His hands would shake as they slipped down your pants, fingers delving all unrefined as he pushed you up against the wall.

Fuck, you loved it when Elliott was tipsy. Loved it when he lacked finesse. Loved it when he brushed up against that line between gentle and rough. Loving him meant long hours wasted in bed, fingers skimming up and down your skin, a focus on the journey, not the destination. But it could also mean those long fingers pulsing inside of you as he murmured against you ear.

There she is. There’s my love. All slick for me. You’re shaking, honey. I can feel it. Does it feel good, what I’m doing to you? Yes? Yes it does, I know it does. Keep making those sounds for me, like that. Just like that, darling. Oh, what you do to me. Can you feel it, right here?

His hand on your wrist, pulling your palm against the front of his pants, squeezing your fingers over the place he pulsed. You could feel it, what you did to him, because he did it to you too, which is why you were rising up on your toes, hips arching out, sobbing his name as he whispered yours.

Tipsy Elliott was no less loving than his sober counterpart, but his love came out in different ways. Through fingers splayed on your back as he guided you down over the kitchen table. Through a hand dragging upwards, anchoring itself in your hair as he buried himself within you. Through a lack of words, all speech disintegrating into gasps and moans, all low and heady as he draped himself over you and settled his mouth near your ear.

Darling, you… you’re… hah… I’m… I can’t… oh… oh love… I have to…

He’d never last long, but that was never a problem. It just meant more time in bed afterwards, you head on his chest, listening to the way his heart would pound. It’d slow in time, and so would yours. Soon tipsy Elliott would wane, and the man you knew would rise back to the surface. His words would flow, and his love would show itself in its usual ways. Until another Friday night, another bottle of wine, and another hand pressed against your stomach. Not possessive. Proud. Look who chose me.

And you did.

[mongoosingisme]

okay. to complete the trio of oldies is it time to ask for a morsel of subspace elliott. ? assuming no one else has already wuahahha. hope the construction stuff goes smoothly btw

Thank you thank you 💕💕💕

(Also I saw your other ask and I wanna do both heheheheheehhe)

It was a good thing Elliott liked to tie you down, because when he put his hands on you, you floated

He’d take his time, of course. Weekend afternoons with the rain drumming on roof. Sitting on the floor in front of the fire, every inch of you on display. He’d smile at you, run the backs of his fingers down your cheek, then tell you to put your hands behind your back.

That’s when the feeling would start. As the first loop of rope wrapped round your wrists, the gears in your mind would slow, and the hold the rest of your life had on you would loosen. With each knot Elliott worked up your arms you’d feel it lessen, more and more, until when he finished above your elbows there was nothing left inside you but a pleasant hum.

“Exquisite,” he’d whisper, dragging his fingertips along the lines the rope cut into you. He’d sit behind you then, pull you in close between his legs, let you lean on him while his hands mapped your skin. He’d trace circles over your pounding heart, pull your hair back to drop kisses on your neck, dip down between your legs to promise and tease.

“There’s no rush, my love,” he’d murmur, then draw you up close to a peak, so close you could feel it in the back of your tongue, before denying you the satisfaction you thought you wanted. But it was because he knew what you needed, knew it better than you did, knew that with each minute that passed with you trembling against him your mind was starting to still. He’d do it again. Again. Again. Laughing soft in your ear as you whined and shifted, desperation creeping into the cracks in your mind, fighting the ropes and questing for his fingers until finally, finally, it all fell away.

And that’s when you’d float. Mind empty. Body tingling. Weightless and free of worries. Your perception narrowed to the feel of his hand, the sound of his breathing, the exquisite tightening between your thighs. He’d see you over the edge then, hold you while you shook, guide you back down to earth where you’d lay limp and smiling.

“Alright?” he’d ask later, fingers tracing the lines where ropes used to be. You’d just hum in contentment. There was nothing to say. Words were unnecessary. Words were impossible. All you needed to be was exactly what you were - floating in Elliott’s arms, weightless and free.

[mongoosingisme]

This is your NSFW Elliott thing warning

You’d never thought much about thighs as, like, a desirable part of your body. But then you started living with Elliott.

He wasn’t overt with his fascination. He was never one to have his hands all over you, wasn’t one to grope and obsess. No lewd jokes, no innuendos. But you noticed the way his gaze would linger, especially in the evening when you traded in your jeans for leggings.

He’d pretend to read, but there was no denying that he’d watch you while you moved around the house. When you’d catch his eye he’d look away with a guilty laugh, and that was your cue to go sit on his lap.

“Mmm, my love,” he’d sigh as you’d settle your back against his front. “I’ll never understand how you can be the epitome of beauty one day, then grow even more breathtaking the next.”

“I’m just talented, I guess,” you’d say, then melt back into him as his palms found the tops of your thighs. He’d rub up and down slowly, squeezing each time he reached the fleshiest parts. You could feel him growing beneath you, and the feeling paired with the heat of his hands would make you squirm.

Elliott would try to keep his composure, but it would never last long. “Darling,” he’d groan, pressing down on your legs and arching his hips up.

Then came the arranging of clothes, the feeling of skin on skin, him all hot and hard between your thighs. “You’re so soft,” he say, the wonder in his voice tempered by the desire in the way he pushed your legs together.

You’d move against each other there, his reading chair creaking as you arched and relaxed your hips. Elliott would get his arm wrapped around your chest, hand firm on your shoulder, holding you close as he thrust up between your thighs.

There was so much more pleasure in it than you had ever anticipated. His lips on your neck. The pleading gasp of his exhalation. The tip of him moving back and forth at the apex of your thighs. The friction that turned into a glide as his excitement spurred yours. Until finally he’d shudder, lock his arm around you, pull you in tight as his hips arched up and hot wetness spilled against your skin.

“My love,” he’d gasp as he fell back into his chair. “How do you do this to me?”

The question could just as well be aimed at him as you lay collapsed on his chest, satisfied in a way you’d never been before you met him. You’d feel it most in those moments, the beauty he saw in you. It would bloom in your chest, blossoming outwards, surrounding the both of you as you settled in the warmth of his arms.

[mongoosingisme]

This is your SFW Elliott New Year’s fluff warning

Elliott loved New Year’s Eve. He loved dressing up and going into town for the party at the saloon. The two of you would get ready together, him letting his knuckles brush against your back as he zipped up your dress, you stealing a kiss while you straightened his tie. You’d walk to town together holding hands and looking at the stars.

Then of course you’d lose sight of him for a while.

This never worried you. Elliott had a way of becoming one with a crowd. Talking, listening, laughing, enjoying. Flutes of champagne and the music loud, everyone all loose and happy to see the old year gone and the new one beginning.

Of course, right before midnight you’d find each other again. And you’d think this would be where Elliott shined the brightest, where he’d drink in the noise and elation as everyone counted down in unison.

But no. When the clock struck 11:59 he’d be holding your coat up for you. Thirty seconds later the quiet of the cold night air would envelop you. The countdown of your neighbors would linger in the periphery, a ruckus behind the saloon’s cracked door, but neither you nor Elliott would really notice.

“I want to make sure you’re the first person I see in the new year,” he’d explain, and as the clock struck twelve his lips would be on yours. He’d pull back slowly and smile down at you, haloed by the light of the streetlamp. Your breaths would mingle in the air between you, then float away together as the old became new all over again.