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On the first day of fall, the sole farmer of Stardew Valley awakens earlier than the sun itself, knowing the day ahead of her will be exceedingly long with all the seasonal farm tasks that await. Her blue eyes blink in the darkness as she begrudgingly rises from the warm flannel sheets covering the king-sized bed she shares with her writer of a husband. Speaking of Elliott, the farmer casts her gaze over to his side of the bed, taking comfort in the soft breathing that escapes his lips with the rise and fall of his chest. Elliott had a busy night yesterday, the inspiration striking him after dinner and not leaving until long after his wife had gone to be for the evening. After she toes on her reliable work boots, she bends at the waist, pressing a soft kiss to Elliott’s forehead, brushing her husband’s auburn hair aside tenderly with her fingers. Elliott sighs happily in his sleep, rolling over to face his beloved wife, his emerald green eyes remaining closed as he continues to slumber peacefully. It is not often that the farmer and writer sleep in due to their hectic scheduled of their chosen professions, so she leaves him to his rest. When the brunette farmer opens the door, she finds Ace, her steadfast canine companion eagerly awaiting the beginning of their day. The dog softly barks once, nuzzling his head into his owner's hand and accepting scratches behind the ears.
"Good morning, Ace," the farmer softly whispers, patting her hand against her side in the motion she uses to encourage the dog to follow her. "Ready to start the day?" she inquires, walking into the kitchen to prepare breakfast for herself and the canine.
Ace follows directly behind his owner, sitting politely near his red food bowl and awaiting his regular food and hopefully even a slipped piece of bacon or two from the frying pan. The farmer quietly hums to herself, tossing open the curtains before placing some eggs and bacon in a pan, prepared to cook for herself and Elliott even if the aforementioned man is still slumbering away peacefully in their bedroom. Ace keeps his owner company, patiently lying at her feet and earning himself two cut up pieces of bacon in his dog bowl in exchange before the start to their busy day in the fields.
The beloved farmer of Pelican Town finishes off her morning in the farmhouse by pouring a kettle of recently boiled water into two mugs, setting tea bags to steep in the matching set of white and black checkered mugs. Shockingly, the newest resident to Pelican Town has never been a coffee drinker, no matter how much sugar, cream, or other toppings her fellow villagers have tried to tempt her with. Harvey in particular continues to swear he will make a coffee drinker out of the farmer yet to help with her late to bed and early to rise schedule. Prior to exiting the farmhouse, the farmer takes a small sheet of paper and composes a small note to Elliott, sticking the corner of the piece of paper underneath the mug.
Elliott,
I hope you enjoy sleeping on this autumn day. Your muse must have struck late in the night for you not to have come to bed until I was sleeping. Your breakfast is in the fridge to be reheated and here is a cup of green tea to give you some energy to start your morning! It's going to be a long day in the fields for me with the harvest approaching, but I will try to be back in time for dinner this evening. I hope your writing goes well today. Please come and find me if you need me, my love.
All my love, always. ❤️❤️
With a final flourish of her signature, the farmer places a straw hat upon her head, whistling once for Ace before opening the front door, the autumnal wind chilling her face slightly as she steps into the outdoors. All of her crops have begun to reach their peak harvest, so the farmer of Stardew Valley has quite the task ahead of her in the coming weeks to ensure that all the produce is gathered, stored appropriately, and either sold or canned for herself and Elliott to eat throughout the approaching winter months. This being the first day of Fall, the farmer knows that she will have to make an extra stop to the orchard today in order to collect Elliott's absolute favorite part of the entire season and what she jokes is the only reason the writer asked her to marry him in the first place. When she discovered that she and Elliott were extremely compatible during their early days of dating, the brunette, blue-eyed farmer had wasted no time buying saplings from Pierre, planting them in the corner of the farm in an orchard that could rival any other farm in the county. By the time they were wed in the summer of the farmer's second year in Pelican Town, the saplings had grown into strong trees and she had harvested the first fully grown pomegranates just in time for Elliott's birthday that year, a cherished memory that has gone nearly unrivaled for the town's writer, save for his wedding day to the hardworking farmer who swept into town like a forceful gale. With a smile on her lips when thinking about Elliott's first birthday as her husband, the farmer gets to work for the predicted to be grueling day of farm chores. Her first stop is to feed the cows and chickens on her way to water the corn, yams, and pumpkins that she had planted just yesterday in anticipation for the change in seasons.
She is unsure of how long she has been tending the fields when suddenly, a strong pair of arms encircles her waist. A small gasp escapes her lips as Elliott's broad chest suddenly connects with her back. Her husband quickly collects her in his arms, wrapping his broad forearms securely around his wife's chest, pulling her as close to him as physically possible, inhaling the outdoors scent that clings to her skin. Elliott presses a kiss to the sensitive skin at the nape of her neck, resting his head atop the farmer's head, once again taking full advantage of the fact that he has several inches of advantage in height over his wife. Smiling softly, the farmer brings one hand up to squeeze Elliott's forearm tenderly, casting her gaze upwards where her azure blue gaze meets Elliott's clover eyes with love shining radiantly on her face.
"Elliott," she breathes, his name on her lips like a prayer or benediction on her lips, the lyrical tone of her voice offering so much happiness to the man behind her.
"My love, your voice is like the softness of honey on this crisp autumn day," Elliott murmurs into her hair, pressing another kiss to his love, this one to the crown of her head.
"What time is it? Have I gotten carried away again and missed dinner?"
"No, my muse, all is well. It is just past eleven and I have been up and about for about two hours now. I enjoyed my breakfast and the tea you left out for me and got a spot of writing done before I ventured into the fields to find you."
"Did you need something or did someone come looking for me? I'd have figured you'd be writing until lunch at the earliest with how much progress you seemed to be making on your latest novel last night."
Elliott gently spins his wife around, his strong arms now encircling her back, pulling their chests flush together. He lets his hands wander down the curve of her cheek before moving his touch to the bared skin of her arms from the sleeves of her flannel shirt being rolled up while digging in the crops. The beautiful woman in his arms sighs happily as his touch continues to warm her body before his hands come to tenderly squeeze hers in his larger ones. If the farmer had to choose the safest place in the world, she would undeniably pick that of her sweet husband's embrace. Elliott could slay her with words, certainly, as all good bards are apt to do, but she will never take for granted the tranquility and safety his mere silence can impart on her when Elliott holds her tenderly in his arms.
"I have come to collect the husband tax of the season, beloved," Elliott whispers, pressing a kiss this time to his wife's lips, humming contentedly as soon as his lips make contact with her plump, pink ones.
"And what might that be?" the farmer inquires, despite knowing that in the nearly four years of knowing Elliott and the two and a half years they have been married that he has always requested the same item as his 'tax'.
"Why, the first pomegranate of the season, clearly," the auburn-haired writer deadpans as if the choice should be obvious, his long hair blowing freely in the wing as he has yet to tie it back today.
"Don't you want to diversify this year? Perhaps with some apples and I can make you the most scrumptious apple pie?" she attempts, her lips quirked in amusement as she teases the man she loves the most in the world.
"Your pomegranates are simply the best part of fall and cannot be rivaled by anything else the autumn season has to offer," Elliott reminds, taking his thoughts on pomegranates particularly seriously, especially as it had been many years since he had eaten one prior to his beloved farmer gifting him one for his birthday during her first year in Pelican Town.
Such a gift had beholden the brunette farmer to him immediately and the two did not have to date for long before they were married the following summer, not even a year after becoming romantic with one another.
"I seem to believe that a certain someone's birthday in four days might rival the pomegranates, my love," the farmer argues back, rolling her blue eyes slightly as she cannot believe her husband would place pomegranates above his own birthday in the grand scheme of things.
And yet, she can believe it because Elliott is known to have a flare for the dramatics when the mood strikes him.
The mood strikes him rather frequently and has ever since he has first made the farmer's acquaintance, citing the woman before him as the muse he had been missing all his life.
"And would this be my birthday you'd be referring to?" Elliott inquires, a shocked tone overcoming his words as his emerald eyes shine with mirth.
"Naturally."
"Because I do rather believe that I'd just as soon trade my birthday away for a lifetime supply of your pomegranates."
Elliott says this statement with the same deadpan tone of voice Harvey would use to give a patient a diagnosis or that Alex may use to talk about sports statistics for a team he couldn't care less about.
"You absolute dork," the loudly laughs, swatting her husband's chest lightly as she rolls her eyes at him. "If I had known that pomegranates were the true way to your heart, we could've been married even sooner had I just offered you one upon first making your acquaintance!" she laughs, causing Elliott to chuckle warmly in return to their back and forth, his eyes crinkling in the corners. "What I shame I moved in during Spring instead of Fall that year. Alas, two whole seasons wasted."
"We found each other when we were meant to, my love," Elliott reassures, pressing their foreheads together as he places the farmer's smaller hand over his heart, knowing that she is comforted by feeling his heartbeat beneath her own hands. "I had to do just a bit of soul searching before I could completely be ready to welcome my beautiful muse into my life," he reminds, thinking of just how much they both grew in those first months after the farmer had moved into her grandfather's farm.
"I love you, Elliott," she whispers, tilting her head up to gaze into his handsome face, running one of her hands through his auburn locks.
"I love you, too, my darling," he whispers back, barely able to get those six words out of his lips before his wife crashes their lips together, neither one able to go very long without physical contact with one another now that their souls have joined as one.
As they trudge through the orchard together in search of the perfect pomegranate to satisfy Elliott's 'husband tax', the lovers walk hand in hand and continue to speak in hushed tones to one another. Ace runs beside them, his ears flopping in the wind as the canine lets out a volley of excited barks when Elliott picks up a stray stick from one of the apple trees and throws it repeatedly for the dog to chase into the expansive fields.
"Why pomegranates?" she asks in a curious tone, never quite understanding just how Elliott acquired his intense love for the rarer fruit.
“Persephone herself would simply not endorse a mediocre fruit, my darling,” Elliott declares, thinking of the myth of Hades and Persephone and how the King of the Underworld managed to captivate his bride when she ate but six pomegranate seeds at the end of summer. “Are you doubting a goddess in her choice for the most supreme of fruits?” he inquires, raising his eyebrow in that devilishly handsome way only he knows how, the look that lights a fire in the farmer's heart.
“You’re just saying that,” she laughs, thinking that once again the dramatic mood has struck her husband and he is willing to delve into any myth in order to get one of his precious pomegranates from the fields she had planted just for him.
“Why would I have cause to lie?”
“Hmmm, perhaps because I’m the one who grew the pomegranates and you’re afraid of angering your wife because then you won't receive any more?”
“On the contrary, my dear,” he reassures, squeezing her hand before stopping mid-stride, turning to face his lover. “Have you truly forgotten that after you gifted me a pomegranate for my birthday during your first year on the farm that I never bought another piece of produce from Pierre’s shop?” Elliott inquires with such a serious look on his face that the farmer finds it hard to argue with.
However, because they do adore to tease one another, she simply cannot accept this as a fact quite yet.
“Surely that was circumstantial,” she nonchalantly remarks, taking her turn throwing the stick for Ace as the dog comes bounding back to their sides once more. “Or perhaps I had better prices than Pierre that year,” the farmer continues, rubbing her hand over her chin as her eyes twinkle with mirth.
“Can you stop being so stubborn and take the compliment, beloved?” Elliott whispers, plucking one of his desired pomegranates off the tree and placing it in the basket they had retrieved from the farmhouse prior to their trek into the orchard. “I only bought produce from you from that day forth until the day we were wed, so I’d hardly call nearly two years of patronage simply circumstantial,” he continues his side of the argument, not wanting to back down because his lover simply could not be this oblivious in the fact that he patronized her farm for the pure sake of wanting to taste all the crops she had grown on the restored farm. “I simply mean to tell you that you have superior produce to our local shopkeeper."
“Just my produce is superior to Pierre’s?” she inquires, a teasing smile on her lips as she trails her hand down Elliott's chest, pulling him closer to her chest by yanking on his signature green scarf.
“Well, I don’t think I married Pierre, did I?” Elliott responds, his voice thick with need as he swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing as his green eyes widen.
“Only because Caroline had him first, surely,” the farmer continues to tease and it's then that Elliott's mind short circuits at she begins to move her hand lower down his body, her hand coming to rest right at his belt.
“Tease,” Elliott whispers, his breath shuddering as there is suddenly less than an inch of space between him and his wife. “Temptress,” he continues, his own hands coming to cup his wife's cheek and her bottom, both filling his palm perfectly. “Siren,” he whispers once more, diving down and pressing a passionate kiss to his wife's collarbone, pomegranate all but forgotten momentarily in its basket. "Muse," he practically growls into the fold of her neck as he gently bites the skin there, causing his wife to squeak out a gasp once more.
“Are you quite done?” she breathily asks, a crimson blush appearing rapidly on her cheeks and her heart hammering wildly in her chest.
“With you? Never,” he rumbles into her neck, his hand tracing circles onto her hip as he begins to pull them backwards towards the farmhouse.
“I have farm chores to do."
“Take a moment of respite with me and then I shall help you with whatever tasks await you,” Elliott counteroffers, sweeping his wife into his arms bridal style before all but running them back inside the farmhouse's bedroom, the highly coveted basket of pomegranates barely making it inside to the kitchen table with them.
That moment quickly turns into an hour spent pressed close to one another, cuddled underneath their flannel sheets as they press kisses to one another's skin, whispering words of devotion, affection, and promise to one another in the darkness.
When they do manage to extract themselves from the cocoon of their bed, its for Elliott to cut into that 'husband tax' of a pomegranate as he feeds the seeds to himself and his wife.
Oh, how he loves fall most of all.