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When they first began dating a little over a year ago, the farmer had often found herself running her hands through Elliott's flowing ginger locks, thoroughly impressed by the length, smooth texture, and overall health of his hair.
"I have to brush my hair daily or else it'll clump up into messy knots. It's a lot of work," Elliott had explained early on, his voice merely a ghost of a whisper as he brushed his own nimble fingers through his hair, thinking of all the time he has spent washing it and brushing it on a daily basis.
His longer hair was just one of the many subjects he and his family disagreed on when he decided to live life by no one's expectations but his own and Elliott himself absolutely adores the length he has managed to achieve. It took a bit of time, but Elliott has learned how to expertly tie it back with a marvelous green ribbon whenever there is a high wind or the weather forecast calls for rain, adding to his overall allure as the only man in Stardew Valley with more hair than most of the women.
"I imagine it would be," the farmer had agreed, her nose crinkling as she lies in the middle of Elliott's bed on his back, the writer leaning over her and some of his ginger strands cascading across his lover's nose and lips.
"I'm surprised I haven't just shaved it off in a fit of passion," Elliott lowly chuckled as the farmer's smaller hand came up to brush the ginger hair to the side where it was no longer on her face. "I suppose I am too vain," he laughed then, the rumble passing through his own chest and reverberating in the farmer's as he lowered himself atop her, pressing their bodies together.
"Never cut your hair," the farmer demanded in a serious tone of voice as she smoother her hand across Elliott's left cheek with an adoring gaze in her blue eyes.
"Such passion in that statement," he smirked as he dropped a kiss to his farmer's plump pink lips, the breath from his voice ghosting against his cheeks. "May I ask why?"
"I love your hair. It's one of my favorite physical characteristics of you," she revealed, a blush appearing on her cheeks as she reverently stroked a hand through it, every synapse in Elliott's body firing at once at the intimate touch he has not allowed from anyone else.
"Then it shall never be cut so long as you are in my life, beloved," Elliott swore that day, already a plan forming in his mind to pick up extra hair care supplies from Pierre's that very next day.
Elliott would still fully admit to the fact that he is vain when it comes to his overall appearance, especially in regards to his flowing auburn locks of hair. There are few things in this world that Elliott cares about more, though his beautiful wife certainly tops that list. Although he is a writer by trade, Elliott has always taken care of his physical body to the best of his ability, working his muscles out enough to obtain a broad, sculpted chest, strong forearms, and a solid, muscular form. When he speaks about his looks to his lovely wife, Elliott has been known to use the word rugged to describe his appearance, which never fails to bring a smile to the brunette farmer's lips as she lovingly gazes at the physique of her strong, dutiful, caring, and reliable husband.
Since moving into the farmhouse with her, the farmer has noticed the swell of Elliott's muscles has increased as he helps her tote around feed bags for the animals, pulls weeds in the fields, and carries bags of soil to help fill in the holes she digs for the new crops. His biceps and forearms in particular have gotten quite larger and more toned over their first few months of marriage, the summer having turned to autumn and now fall turning to their first winter as a married couple. Elliott's aid with the daily farm chores has not only helped ease the workload of the perpetually busy farmer, but it has also improved her husband's physical health, attested by Dr. Harvey himself. She would be lying if she said that Elliott's broad, strong chest, his chiseled jawline, and his muscular, swelling forearms and biceps were not tantalizing to behold in every aspect of the word. When coupled with his piercing emerald green eyes and length auburn hair, the farmer feels as if she is often gazing upon Adonis himself whenever her blue eyes land on Elliott's body. Yes, he was the writer, the poet, the bard between the two of them and often likened his brunette wife to Aphrodite, but the farmer often muses both in the safety of her own brain and aloud to Elliott of the absolute thrill her husband's handsome and "rugged" appearance has on her.
Elliott couldn't be happier as to his wife's love of every piece of him, from the mane of ginger hair atop his head to the tips of his toes. He feels simply resplendent every time she gazes at him with love and attraction shining evidently in her blue eyes.
Today was a rainy winter day, the worst type of weather for a farmer who works outside in the fields most of the day. The farmer was left on her own today, Elliott citing that the cold and rain would make his hair go limp so that he couldn't possibly brave the elements to work at her side on a day like today. She had laughed, knowing that Elliott in truth would be curled up inside under a flannel blanket, his pad of paper in hand and a cup of tea at his side as he pens his next novel. Although most might find it annoying to have a spouse so focused on his own looks, the beloved farmer of Pelican Town has always found it amusing that her husband is more vain about his own looks than even she herself is. He could put Haley's vanity to shame, that's for sure, but she wouldn't have her husband any other way. Her work boots are stained with mud from the fields as she steps onto the front porch, so she toes them off after opening the door so as not to track the mud throughout their farmhouse home.
"Elliott?" she calls, noticing that time had gotten away from her and it is quite later than she normally arrives home for dinner.
"In the bathroom, darling!" Elliott calls, his voice louder than normal where he can be heard over the rushing water no doubt filling their clawtooth bathtub that Elliott has always adored.
After scratching their dog under the chin, the farmer pads down the hallway to their master bathroom, all the exhaustion leaving her body and a smile gracing her lips as she catches sight of Elliott. His shirt hangs over the back of the chair they keep in the bathroom, his attention focused on the mirror as he carefully shaves the appearing ginger stubble on his chin, having never been one much for facial hair. The bathtub continues to fill with steaming hot water, the scent of honey and lavender reaching the farmer's nose, no doubt from whatever bath accoutrements Elliott has added to the water.
"I thought with your long day in the freezing cold and rain that you could use a hot bath to warm you up when you arrived home," Elliott tenderly remarks, abandoning his shave midway and crossing the room easily with his long strides.
He immediately collects his beloved farmer in his strong arms, pressing her against his bare chest and holding her tenderly against him. Elliott hums softly as he rests his chin on the top of his farmer's head, inhaling her scent deeply and noting how the smell of the damp earth still clings to her skin.
"You're so thoughtful," she happily sighs, winding her arms around Elliott's waist, pulling his thighs closer to her core, enjoying the way that his pants sling low over the crest of his hip bones. "Whatever did I do to deserve you?" she inquires, her voice the ghost of a whisper right before Elliott captures her lips with his own, one hand gripping the back of her head tenderly and the other hand resting upon the small of her back, pulling his wife as close to him as physically possible.
"Ah, but that is the question I ask myself every day as to how I acquired such a wonderous muse, my dearest," Elliott reverently whispers back against her lips, his breath warming her cheeks as he speaks against her.
"You're such a charmer," the farmer happily breathes, moving her head to rest in the crook of Elliott's neck, the scent of the bath filling the room around them.
"Don't ever forget that," the writer teases, gently bopping his wife's nose with his index finger.
"How could I when you're so insistent upon showing me all the ways you care for me?"
"Then that means I have done my due diligence as a husband."
Breaking their contact for just a moment, Elliott pads over to the clawfoot bathtub, turning the faucet off now that the tub has filled with steaming water. He takes care not to get his woolen socks wet before grasping his lover's hand in his own, leading her to the bathtub before beginning to help her remove her layers of clothing from the outdoors, starting with his farmer's heavy winter coat, shucking it down to the tiled floor.
"Have you had your bath yet?" she inquires half in a daze as Elliott continues to help her remove her soaked clothes from her chilled body.
"No, I can wait for you to get done first. There will be enough hot water for us both now that Robin's upgraded the farmhouse further for us," he answers half in a daze as he focuses on the task ahead of him, now moving on to remove the socks off his lover's feet.
"Don't be silly. There's plenty of room for us both," the farmer admonishes, pointing to the large bathtub that she had chosen specifically for that reason prior to Elliott moving in to the farmhouse.
"Ah, but I wouldn't want to intrude on your time for relaxation time. As you know, my hair requires quite more extensive care when it rains or snows to keep it from becoming limp," Elliott says with a low laugh, the expected vanity finding its way into his words, making his farmer roll her blue eyes playfully at him at such a statement.
"Then let me help you with your hair care today."
"You don't need to trouble yourself with that, darling. Surely you'd like to rest after spending such a long, dreary day outside while I simply sheltered myself safely in front of the fireplace while working on my novel."
If there's one thing the farmer hates more than almost anything else in this world, it's hearing that self-deprecation slip back into Elliott's words simply because his family had made him believe his talent as a writer was unworthy of respect and admiration for so long.
"Please," she pleads, her hands coming up to grasp Elliott's larger ones. "I'd like to be the one who helps you with your hair for once since you're always washing mine for me," she continues as she sinks into the scalding water of the bathtub.
"So beautiful," Elliott whispers like a man possessed, his green eyes darkening as they lock on his lover's bare collarbone bobbing above the water, the only part of her visible besides her knees. "I adore gazing upon you like this," he softly says, burying his nose in her hair as he presses a kiss to the crown of her head.
"And I you, but you're only halfway there," she says, her blue gaze pointedly looking at Elliott still clad in his thick trousers, his tossed away shirt still on the chair where it has been the entire time the farmer has been home. "Join me?"
"Beloved...."
"No arguments. Wife's orders," she insists, tugging emphatically on Elliott's wrist. "Let me take care of you, Elliott," the farmer whispers, tossing her brunette hair over her chest, baring her back completely to him.
"Yes, dear," Elliott mumbles, his mind practically in a haze as he reaches for the fabric situation on his hips.
Elliott climbs into the tub across from his wife, facing her with love overwhelming his facial features as their legs twine together beneath the honey and lavender scented water. The farmer reaches her hands upwards towards Elliott's scalp, prepared to begin to soak it with water to begin the ritual of caring for his often untamed, wavy locks.
"I've had this recurring nightmare that you gave me a buzz cut. You wouldn't ever do that to me, would you?" Elliott blanches, a nervous laugh escaping his lips at the frankly terrifying prospect.
"You don't trust me?" she inquires with fake insult, dramatically pressing her hand to her sternum.
"But of course I trust you, my muse," he responds without hesitation, reaching out for her and wrapping her tightly in his arms. "With my heart, my love, with my very soul, with every single fiber of my being," Elliott assures, that deep voice of his tickling the side of her face as he marks the vow with a kiss and small bite to her clavicle. "It was simply a dream I had, which means nothing as to my real-world thoughts for you. I'm sure I have done something to anger you in a dream."
"Eating all of my pomegranates that I intended to take to market to sell," the farmer mumbles under her breath in regards to the dream she had the other night that caused her to sit straight up in bed to admonish Elliott before she realized she had just been dreaming.
"Alas, that one may one day come to fruition, dearest. Your pomegranates are my ruination," Elliott wickedly grins, a devilish look appearing on his face at the mere thought of the succulent fruit beneath his fingertips and in his mouth.
She splashes him in the face for that comment, earning a deep, throaty laugh from her husband in return.
Prior to even using the comb or brush Elliott keeps for taming his ginger waterfall of hair, she first begins to tame the taut tangles and eliminate the knots with her slender fingers, not wanting to hurt Elliott by pulling a strand of his hair wrong in any way. The farmer knows just how important Elliott's hair is to him because despite them being married for almost six months now, he has never once allowed her the honor of caring for his hair in the way he has cared for hers in the past. Elliott's body reacts instantly to his wife's touch, the writer letting out a content sigh at the feeling of his beloved's fingers gently coaxing his hair out of the clumps, knots, and tangles it has found itself in throughout the day. His easy, relaxed breathing serves as the only sound in the bathroom, save for a shuddered inhale whenever his wife's ministrations touch a particularly sensitive point on his neck or throat. Had he known just how absolutely reverently his wife would treat his hair, Elliott would have let her have full control of his hair care from the day they first wed. Satisfied with the work she has done on his hair thus far and content that there are no more knots or tangles, his farmer grabs the brush from the chair next to the bathtub, starting from the bottom as she brushes section by section of his auburn hair, working her way upwards in deliberate yet gentle strokes.
"You have no idea how wild you are driving me, darling," Elliott murmurs against her neck, sending a flurry of goosebumps down his wife's skin.
"By caring for your hair?"
"Oh, beloved, yes," Elliott heavily sighs, his emerald eyes closing as he shudders out an exhale, a tingle racing through his entire body as he feels his wife's fingers now move to the tip of his scalp. "Having one's hair washed and brushed is one of the most vulnerable acts of love one can bestow upon their partner," he explains his thought process, further pressing himself as close as possible to his wife. "I thought you realized this was why I love to help you with yours."
"I never realized," she admits, her voice barely audible despite the stillness of their bathroom.
"Oh, my love, that feels incredible," Elliott practically moans, leaning into his wife's touch as she massages the shampoo into his scalp, the friction between her fingers and his head further amplifying his sense of utter love he has for the woman behind him.
Her chest presses as close to his back as physically possible with her forearms wrapped around his bare chest as her hands move in front of his face to continue lathering the shampoo. The touch she continues to bestow upon her writer, her bard, her poet as she dances her fingers through his hair feels akin to her holding his beating heart in her very hands, cradling it gently and giving it the utmost care and devotion he had never experienced prior to falling in love with her.
"I'm glad to hear it."
"I think you shall have to help me with my hair care from now on."
"I think I shall enjoy that."
After they both have scrubbed the day's grime from their bodies, Elliott carries his wife to their bed, prepared to tuck her in under the warm flannel covers before he will head into the kitchen to warm their leftover soup from yesterday's dinner. When they are finished eating, Elliott takes their bowls to the kitchen to soak in the sink. He climbs into bed, sitting with his back against the headboard and his legs spread widely apart.
"Would you like me to braid your hair?" he softly asks, enjoying feeling his wife's brunette strands between his fingers just as much as he enjoys taming his own auburn hair.
"That sounds wonderful, my love," she responds nearly instantly, sitting upright and loosening it from the ribbon she had placed it in after their shared bath.
"Sit between my legs and relax, darling. I shall take the best care of your hair as you have done for mine this evening," Elliott promises as the farmer comes to sit between his legs, her back pressed firmly against his chest as his hands begin to part her brown hair in thirds.