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tranquill-llama · 1 month ago

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MDNI 18+

Wow here I am, once again stressing and writing to cope. Second last chapter is coming along, but now I'm thinking about the last chapter. Here's a very rough first draft of Harvey and Faye's first time together. Usually when I write I end up changing things as the other scenes are written to make everything flow better, so this scene will probably end up looking very different in the final version lol. But I need to practice writing spice (cannot count the amount of times I reuse the same words) so here we are.

Also tell me why I had more tabs open for research/ finding words for this than I do when I'm writing medical stuff lmao.

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cw: slight dom/ sub, harvey's got some serious self esteem issues, praise kink, blowjobs, cunnilingus, slight overstimulation, discussions of kink

wc: ~3000

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It’s a struggle to contain himself until they’re safely in his apartment. And by the way Faye giggles as he tugs her along she must know. The original plan, to head to the cabin, completely forgotten in his haste.

He breathes a sigh of relief once the door finally clicks shut, once he locks the door, once he can push her up against the door. Their lips meet again and again, Faye panting quietly as he trails his hands up and down her waist.

She does try to shift their balance, bites his lower lip and tries to angle his head so she can take control. But when his hands come up to thumb at her nipples through the fabric of her sundress she concedes with a broken moan.

What a pretty noise, he thinks through his haze.

She lets him push her up, forearms straining to balance her weight, lets him bury a hand in her hair, lets him lick into her mouth.

His focus narrows, fixating on her, her reactions, her quiet noises, her soft skin.

The coarse hair interlaced between his fingers, the way she lets out a breathless whine when he pulls it. (Interesting.)

The way she smells, jasmine and earth. He breaks the kiss to press his nose against her neck. Where he watched her dab her perfume this morning. Where he presses harsh, biting marks, making his way lower…

“Whoa there,” Faye grabs onto his hair, pulling him away. He protests, hand inches from the ties that keep her dress on. Itching to pull at them, let the front of her dress fall down, pull the whole thing off her.

“No.” She reaffirms, her tone stopping him in his tracks. He drops his hands, eyes widening as she lowers them both to the ground.

He stays where she puts him, half sitting and half laying. Breath hitching as she crawls into the space between his thighs, giving him the perfect view of her chest. Of the way her dress frames her figure, drapes over her hips.

She stops when her face is inches away from the bulge forming in his tight slacks.

Blood rushes to his face as he realizes she’s staring, at the way her eyes flick up to meet his. At the way she shifts, supporting her weight on her arms as she leans over him. He sucks in a harsh breath as her arms flex.

“What do you want?” Her voice is soft, breathy as she watches him.

He swallows. “I want to touch you.”

She lets out a displeased murmur. “Try again.”

The noise scrambles his brain as he desperately tries to come up with another answer. He doesn’t want to hear that noise again, doesn’t want to disappoint her, but he doesn’t know.

Doesn’t know the right answer, doesn’t know what she wants.

What’s the right answer?

He wants to touch her, want to taste. Wants to know what she’ll sound like when his face is between her thighs.

She must note his inner conflict. Her hand comes up to cup his cheek, forcing his attention to her. “How’s this?” She whispers, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. “I’ll let you touch me, on one condition.”

“Anything,” he responds the second the words leave her mouth.

A quiet smile at his eagerness, before she speaks again. “You have to come before me.”

“No,” he gasps out, the noise practically ripped from his throat.

No no no no

He doesn’t want… he just wants to touch her. Why does she… why is she so adamant about this?

It sets him on edge, not knowing what to expect. Breaking the easy rhythm, the usual series of events.

This is all he’s good for. Doesn’t she see that?

If she doesn’t want him for this, then why?

“Once,” she promises, trailing a hand down his chest, stopping just before his belt. “Just once, then I’ll let you touch me.”

He bites the inside of his cheek, thinking over her offer. If this is what she wants… then who is he to say no? Shouldn’t he just be grateful she wants anything at all?

“Ok,” he acquiesces, letting her run her hands up his chest, back to his shoulders.

“Good boy,” she praises. Ripping a sharp groan from him as he squeezes his eyes shut.

He lets her help him up, continues exchanging lazy kisses as they make their way to the bed.

All too quickly she’s sitting between his thighs again, hands on either side of him. Undressing him with a tenderness that springs tears to his eyes. She trails kisses down the column of his neck, down his body, nipping occasionally. Eyes roaming like she’s trying to memorize every inch of skin, like, like, like,

like he’s something worth looking at. Like he’s worth the attention she’s lavishing on him.

She stops again, just above the waistline of his boxers, eyes shifting up. Her irises bore into his own, slipping down briefly to note how he’s trying to suck his belly in.

“You- you have no idea do you?” Her voice has gone rough around the edges, raspy. “Do you even know how fuckin’ hot you are?”

A wave of insecurity runs over him, that has to be pity right? It cannot be anything else. “I- I… you don’t-”

She pushes herself up so that her face hovers over his. “You… are… so… sexy.” Each word punctuated with a kiss, leaving his lips buzzing. “You– All you do is put others before yourself, I can’t begin to comprehend how lucky I am to have someone like you. Someone who’s kind and compassionate and gentle. Someone who- who’s always givin’, always lettin’ others take, even when ya really shouldn’t.”

He can’t help the tears that spring to his eyes. The gentle way Faye wipes them away does nothing to quell how overwhelmed he feels. From her rapt attention, from her sweet touch and sweeter words.

“I wanna make you feel good.” She whispers against his lips, “wanna touch you the same way you want to touch me.” The kiss she presses against the corner of her mouth is feather soft. “Ok?”

“Ok,” he breathes out, tension leaking out of him, leaving him boneless, completely at her mercy.

“One last time then, what do you want?”

His eyes slip shut as he lets her praise run over him, a balm over his anxieties, over his fears. When he opens his eyes again, taking in her blown out pupils, her soft gaze, he knows the right answer.

“I want you to touch me.”

The grin she gives him feels like victory. He shifts his hips, letting her pull his boxers off. She tosses them, letting them join where the rest of his clothes are strewn across the floor.

“Put your hands on your headboard.” She instructs, as she trails a single, delicate finger up his shaft.

Following her words, hearing the hum of praise that results (So good for me), feels like home. Like this was always how it was meant to be. Like all he needs to do is listen to her, and everything will be alright.

Her fingers circle his head, spreading the drops of pre-cum starting to form. Thumbing at his slit, she looks up again. “Do you-”

“Bedside table.” He rasps out, taking note of the blush painting her cheeks. (Interesting)

“Always prepared.” She huffs, retrieving the foil packet. She fumbles a little with getting it on, laughing quietly at her own mistakes. “That went on easier when I was practicing…”

A wave of heat runs through him. “You practiced?” Groaning at the feeling of her rough hand stroking. “Oh-”

She smirks at him. “‘course. I have done this before y’know? Just not with a real dick… though it’s been a hot minute so… gimme a second to get there.”

That piece of information sends his head buzzing. Images forming and crashing into his mind. Of her, on her knees. Of her, practicing. Of her, with one of her exes, learning how to…

“Ready?” She brushes her fingers against his perineum, causing him to shiver.

“Please–”

He watches her eyes flash, groans as she lowers herself, as he’s engulfed in an all encompassing, wet heat. Gripping the bars of his headboard until it starts to sting. To hold back, to do what she told him to, to be good.

She swirls her tongue around his head slowly, sinking further down. He can feel her throat working as she hollows her cheeks. Eyebrows furrowing as she looks up.

Their eyes meet and it feels like electricity is running through his body, buzzing under his skin. She works slowly, taking her time, watching his every expression. Working him loose with the same determination she puts into everything she does.

He loses himself in the feeling. The way the bars of his headboard bite into his palms, the way her hair brushes against his thighs, the way her hands are squeezing his hips hard enough to bruise.

The praise that slips out his mouth with the other strangled noises. (So good, you’re so perfect for me, taking me so well.) He wants to reach out, wants to bury his hand in her hair, squeezes the headboard harder instead.

He watches how her eyes squeeze shut, the way he can feel her face heat up where she’s pressed against his thighs. (Interesting.)

His head hits the back of her throat. Once, twice, a third time, pushing past the last bit of resistance.

Then she swallows around him and he loses sense of much else.

His thighs clamp around her head so hard he worries he hurt her. Loosening his muscles with an apology on the tip of his tongue when she glares at him through wet eyelashes. Her nails dig into the meat of his thighs, forcing them back to their previous position.

(Interesting.)

He squeezes his thighs again, watches in awe as her eyes flutter shut, at the moan that sends vibrations down his shaft.

(Very interesting.)

Her palms stay glued to his thighs as she bobs, working him into her mouth over and over. His gut tightens and it’s all he can do to not thrust his hips upwards.

“Honey, I’m so- hah– I’m so close…”

It doesn’t take long, not when he was already so keyed up. Not when he can hear her muffled moans, watch as tears fall from her lashes.

She sucks him in, lets his head hit the back of her throat one last time before the tension snaps.

He comes with a strangled groan, forearms stinging as he grips the baseboard tight.

When he finally comes back to his senses, when the buzzing finally fades, he lets go of the headboard with a grunt, stretching his palms out, taking note of the red lines. Once his head stops spinning he notes that Faye’s gently cleaning him up. The simple care makes him want to cry again, a heavy feeling resting on his chest.

Faye tugs on his elbow, coaxing him to sit up against said baseboard. Takes a hold of his hands, kissing the welts delicately. “Yoba, didn’t realize you would– do you have lotion?”

“In the bathroom.” His gaze follows her as she leaves, realizing that she’s still fully clothed while he’s been completely nude this entire time. He closes his eyes, sighing harshly as he flushes.

He hears her coming back, opens his eyes to look at her again. “Off.” He tugs at the hem of her dress when she gets close enough.

“Eager, ain'tcha?” Raising an eyebrow as she sets the lotion onto the bedside table. She winks at him when he glares, before trailing her hands back to the ties he attempted to undo all those moments ago.

She grins again when his eyes widen, before pulling the ties free, letting the front of her dress fall down, revealing the cotton bra underneath. She bites her lip, looking away slightly. “I didn’t know we were gonna… would’ve worn somethin’ sexier.”

“It’s perfect.” He reaches out, pulling her closer by her waist. “You looked so beautiful today, so perfect.”

“You’re doin’ all kinds of things to my ego.” She murmurs, letting the dress slip off. It pools around her feet, before she steps out and falls back onto the bed. He tries to move his hands, happy to finally be able to touch her, before she stops him.

“Sorry baby, just let me take care of your hands and then we’ll do whatever you want.”

“Faye” He pouts, not caring about his hands right now, pressing his nose into the space below her jaw.

“Don’t try it handsome, now gimme yer hands.”

He doesn’t move his face, and she grumbles irritably as she grabs his hands, leaving him be. He presses kisses into her neck, licking along her collarbone as she massages his hands. She sighs as he sucks a mark into a place he knows will make her melt.

“Incorrigible.” She mumbles, finally finished.

“Big word, do you know what it means?” He huffs out a laugh as he pulls back.

She giggles, “No?”

“Now who’s incorrigible?” He raises an eyebrow, unclasping her bra and throwing it behind him.

She laughs as he rolls her underneath him. Finally. She sighs as he thumbs her nipples. He copies his movements from last time, watches the same reactions play out across her face. He can see her better this time, now that there’s no blanket for her to hide behind.

“What do you want?” She hums out, eyes slipping shut as he rolls one of her nipples.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“No.” She mumbles, “this is still about you… your reward for bein’ so good for me.”

His eyes screw shut as he hides his face away in her shoulder. “Wanna taste.”

“Oh… I– um, I haven’t shaved in a while...”

“Faye.” He groans, “if you think a little body hair is-”

“Ok, wow–” she breathes out, pushing his chest so he rolls back to being beneath her. “–Aren’t ya just every girl’s dream?”

“C’mere,” he grabs her hips, pulls her boyshorts down, groans when he sees how wet she’s gotten. She hovers over his chest, knees on either side of him. His fingers grip her hips, feeling her soft skin, the thin sheen of sweat that’s formed. He kisses the inside of her thighs, tasting the salt of her skin. Pulls her forward, towards his mouth.

Faye stills over his face. “What if-”

“You won’t.” He groans, pulling her closer. “I’ll tell you if I need a break,” he taps her thigh to demonstrate before pulling her down and finally, finally, getting to taste.

This is something he knows, something he can be confident about. Faye’s sighs and whimpers egg him on, guiding his movements. Lapping at her folds, sucking on her swollen clit, losing himself in her taste.

The way her thighs twitch around his head, the muffled noises falling from her lips.

He opens his eyes, once he finds a rhythm that causes her to let out a muffled cry. A wave of displeasure at the fist that’s pressed against her mouth, not letting him hear her properly.

He taps her thigh and she releases him immediately, pushing her weight up with her knees. “Don’t,” he tugs on her arm, pulling her hand away from her face. “Keep your hands on the headboard and let me hear the pretty noises you make sweet girl.”

She whimpers when he pulls her back down, squeezing his head hard. Enough for his glasses to push divots into her soft skin, enough to pin his head down, letting him focus solely on her.

He keeps his eyes open, watches her knuckles tighten, her nails dig into the baseboard.

(Afterwards he’ll find the marks her nails have carved into the wood, won’t be able to think about his bed without remembering these moments.)

Use me, he urges, eyes meeting as she pants. She must get the message, because her hips start to roll. He groans, the noise muffled, as he lets her take the lead.

The one downside to this position is that he can’t talk. That he’s pinned under her, unable to let her know. Let her know that her skin feels like velvet, how sweet she tastes, the perfect way her breasts bounce with every roll.

Let her know how beautiful she is, how perfect she looks like this.

When she does finally come- with a low whimper, her thighs clenching around him- he stays against her, working her through it. She let him lap at her slit for longer than he thought she would. Isn’t she overstimulated?

(Interesting.)

She’s still panting quietly as she rolls off him, he cups her cheek, bringing her lips to his over and over. She whines quietly, tasting herself on his lips, before rolling back on top of him. He reaches over, pulling a blanket over them, closing his eyes and savouring the weight of her on him.

They stay like that for a while, lazy kisses and wandering hands. Content in the tranquility of the moment.

Faye lets out a quiet sigh as his hands rest on her hips, rubbing circles into her lower back. “Don’t think I didn’t realize what you were doin’ piyar’ay.” Beautiful. She told him that was what it meant, the masculine version of the word. She grins at him lazily, kissing his shoulder, “care to share your observations? We can swap notes.”

So she realized what he was doing. The careful experiments he was running, the notes he was adding to, reactions he was memorizing.

“I’ll share one of mine,” she hums. “You like bein’ told what to do.”

He slips a hand into her hair in response, “you like it when I pull your hair.”

“Hundred points,” she smiles against his shoulder, a soft kiss pressed into his warm skin as a reward.

“You like when I’m rough,” another kiss, “you liked when I held your head between my thighs.”

“You do have real nice thighs,” she mutters, giving him another kiss.

“You like being praised.”

Another kiss, “so do you.”

He tilts her head up so he can look at her when he says his last observation. “You like being overstimulated.”

Faye gasps, shuddering as he leans down to kiss her. “You– ya really are observant ain’tcha.” She pushes his head gently when he starts to laugh, whining, “you weren’t supposed to know that yet.”

“So I’m right?” He says smugly, dodging the pillow she tries to pelt him with.

“Oh fuck you. Now you have to tell me one of yours.”

“I don’t think so,” he takes the pillow from her hand, holding her wrists so she doesn’t try to grab it again. “I figured that out on my own, you’ll just have to do better next time.”

Faye pouts, narrowing her eyes. “You wanna be tied up don’tcha?”

He chokes, which he supposes is reaction enough, and she smirks at him triumphantly. Now that she’s “won” at their little game she settles down next to him again.

“You are right though, I don’t mind bein’ edged, or havin’ multiple.”

“I’ve always wanted to try bondage.” He replies with his own honest answer, “just never trusted anyone enough.”

“You trust me?” Her eyes shine when she looks at him.

His gaze softens. “Of course.”

He watches as a quiet, shy smile creeps onto her face. “We should probably get cleaned up. Think we’ll both fit in the shower?”

“We’ll make it work.”

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Take a shot everytime I use the word 'trail' and 'groans' lmao

Also I think I covered everything in the cws but I'm still kinda new at this so let me know if I missed anything major and I'll edit the cws

#stardew valley #sdv #sdv harvey #harvey x farmer #sdv fanfic #sdv smut

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tranquill-llama · 1 month ago

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She's just my little baby 🥺

Yachi’s design deadlines 😩

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tranquill-llama · 1 month ago

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aaaaaa I wanna squeeze him until he pops

Watercolour doodle

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tranquill-llama · 1 month ago

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Kill your darlings they say, meanwhile I kill everything

#surrounded by dead darlings #this went from Faye's POV to Harvey's #I've re-written so many scenes from this fic I could make a book with the drafts #drafting goes brrr #we're exploring Harvey's past relationships with this one 🥳🎉#writing #fanfic

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tranquill-llama · 1 month ago

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Still working on the second last chapter, I think a coherent arc is starting to form now (hopefully). Here's a little warm-up I did to get back into the swing of things. A little fluffy look into how Faye views Harvey's habits.

I have an exam tomorrow and I really should be studying but we live, we laugh, we love ig.

wc: -1,000

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Faye likes to watch.

That shouldn’t be a surprise, it’s not really one to her.

She’s always been like this, ever since she was a kid. Hidden away in the branches, watching the town. How it changes, the people’s interactions with each other, the way the seasons pass.

How a branch that starts to grow weirdly eventually becomes an issue, blocking the window of Uncle Pierre’s store, before eventually getting cut down. How a little Abby follows Hailey around the same way Faye did with Emily once. A childish adoration in her eyes, before they fall apart. How Alex always needs a week to settle in during the summers, a week of wide-eyed fear and jumpiness before he's back to his usual loud self.

Faye still likes watching. The people she’s watching are pretty much the same, but they’ve all grown up. Abby and Hailey still don’t talk much. Em’s hair is blue instead of pink. Alex isn’t scared anymore.

The people she spent her childhood with have grown up, changed alongside the town.

Sam’s family moved into Dado’s family home. Two artists moved in. Two changes of doctors in the ten years she’s been gone.

Which brings her to Harvey.

Ever since she met him, she’s been watching him. At first, it was out of suspicion. Waiting to see when that perfect doctor mask would crack. Waiting for his true colours to be revealed, that he was faking that concern. That he didn’t actually care that much about his patients.

It didn’t take long for her to see that it wasn’t a facade, even if she stubbornly refused to believe it. He actually did care that much. He’d actually do whatever it took to make sure people felt safe and comfortable around him.

He pulls the same tactics on her. Getting her to relax around him, to trust him. Helping her get over her lifelong fear of that clinic.

She still watches him after that, but now it's for different reasons.

The few times she ends up in the clinic for farming-related reasons she’ll watch. Watch how he’s careful and measured, not a single movement unnecessary or wasted. There’s a rhythm to the way he works, one that Faye comes to appreciate. Something to ground her, stop her from spiralling in the clinic. A set sequence of movements, the same each time.

The rip of a paper packet, the sharp smell of the alcohol wipe. The sharper sting of said alcohol across her skin, accompanied by a chilling coolness. The methodical winding of the roller bandages, first a reef knot, then the continuous left and right, until the wounds are wrapped.

Then he’ll give her the same set of instructions (take it easy, keep the area dry) before sending her on her way with a lollipop.

The same every time.

As they get closer Faye realizes that he’s like that outside of work as well. Methodical, taking his time with each task.

A man of habit.

When he reads he holds his books the same way each time. In one hand, thumb and pinky holding the pages open, three fingers resting on the spine. His other hand writes notes in the margins, scribbling away with a worn blue pencil.

After they start dating, Faye borrows his books, appreciating the notes. How they make it feel like he’s reading with her. A conversation between her and the Harvey that exists only in the pages of his favourite books.

He does the dishes the same way as well. Plates, bowls, cups and then cutlery. When it comes to cooking he’ll prep all the ingredients ahead of time. Lining them up in the order they’re going to be used, cleaning up before eating.

Coffee is the same, a set sequence that Faye watches play out. Each movement fluid, practiced, certain. When he leaves the cabin on the occasion that he’s spent the night at her place, he checks his pockets the same way. Phone, keys, wallet.

Faye finds it fascinating.

She’s not like that at all. Sure, most days she does the same chores. And they mostly have to be done in the same order. Feeding the animals, cleaning their stalls, checking on the crops, harvesting anything that’s ready.

But she doesn’t ever do things the same way each time. There’s no set order to the way she cleans out the stalls, for example. Just a loose guideline dictated by common sense.

Outside of work, she’s no better. Once her chores are done she’ll just let the flow of the day guide her. Sometimes disappearing into the woods for a walk, sometimes visiting her friends, other times finishing up a long forgotten craft project.

She doesn’t hold her books the same way, or even read in the same positions. Sometimes she’s on her stomach, the book resting on the floor using a paperweight. Other times she’ll be curled up, book held between two hands. She marks her page in different ways, sometimes with bookmarks, sometimes by bending the corner of the pages (much to Harvey’s disdain).

There are times she thinks there is no space for her chaos in Harvey’s organized life. That she messes up his structures, throws wrenches into his plans.

But then she’ll see him use a bookmark she made him to mark his place. Watch as he follows her lead when they bake together, embracing the messes she leaves behind. He’ll set a basket next to his bed for her to pile her clutter into. A mix of half-finished crafts projects and comfy sweaters that she uses for warmth during cold nights.

She’ll find little reminders of him in her life as well. His clothes neatly folded next to hers in the space she cleared out for him. Socks, undershirts and even underwear (who the hell folds their underwear?) rolled up in neat bundles next to her unorganized piles.

Her bookcase starts to become organized alphabetically instead of having books shoved haphazardly where they’ll fit. Her dishes are organized the same way Harvey has them in his apartment.

She still likes to watch him. But now when she sees bits of herself interwoven into his habits she can’t help but smile. Knowing that he’ll always be there, a comforting steady presence at the end of a long day.

#stardew valley #sdv #harvey x farmer #stardew harvey #sdv harvey #sdv fanfic #fluff

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tranquill-llama · 1 month ago

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I have the worst writer's block rn.

After spending nearly a month away from Harvey and Faye I'm seriously struggling to get back into their minds and finish up the few scenes that need to be written still. It probably doesn't help that I'm writing the scenes out of order and so there's no real coherent "arc" right now.

So here's a little snippet of their first scene together.

cw: slight spice, fondling

MINORS DNI PLEASE AND THANK YOU

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Sunbeams dance in front of Faye when she finally decides to leave her half asleep hazy state. Coming back into reality she’s eternally grateful that on non-harvest days she and Shane have a schedule to feed the animals. Giving her a few rare mornings a month where she doesn’t have to do work early.

Faye’s always been an early riser. When she was a kid it was because she wanted to be out of the house before her parents woke. In college it was more of a necessity, a habit reinforced out of a need to be up early for morning shifts at the diner. After that there was work, then the farm.

It wasn’t until she started dating Harvey that she ever laid in. She’d still wake up early, but if he was with her it was nearly impossible to get out of bed. He’d pull her closer, stubbornly mumbling about ‘five more minutes’. Eventually Faye would give up and go back to sleep.

Though this morning, the warmth of her body was a sharp reminder of how exactly he’d convinced her to stay in bed. His large, warm hands skirted up the front of her camisole in the pre-dawn light. Slow, deliberate motions, methodically running his fingers across the plane of her stomach, before dipping under the fabric, stretching out.

The shock had nearly jolted her awake, body burning as she registered just how big his hands were. Long, slightly calloused fingers continued their slow exploration as Faye squirmed. His mouth had ghosted over her shoulder, the slow drag of his lips nearly driving her insane.

Her breath had hitched as his fingers reached upwards, pausing just under her breasts.

“Not so eager to leave now are you?” He teased as she pressed herself back against him with a breathless sigh. His low timbre did absolutely nothing to stop the ache that was growing between her thighs.

“Yer such a fuckin’ tease.” She pressed her thighs together, wondering just how far he’d take this. “If my chickens fuckin’ starve to death I’m pinnin’ their murder on you-”

Her rant was abruptly cut off as his hands finally cupped her breasts, squeezing gently. Faye screwed her eyes shut, face burning as he continued his ministrations. He was watching her, she could tell from the way his moustache tickled her ear, the way his heavy breaths warmed her neck. Watching to see her reactions, see what she liked and what she didn’t.

They didn’t go further than that, much to Faye’s disappointment. Instead he’d spun her around as they exchanged sleepy kisses. She nuzzled into him, still sensitive but too tired to care, falling asleep easily.

Faye blinks her eyes, waking up slowly as she registers the smell of food. She cocks her head to the side, watching Harvey.

It’s almost funny how at ease he’s become in her home, so different from when they first started dating. Scared to overstep, to become too comfortable. She reassured him plenty of times that she didn’t mind. That he could treat her cabin as his second home. But it still took some time for him to warm up to the idea.

Now he’s completely in his element, flipping eggs while humming some song. Faye smiles slightly, admiring the way his sweats hang low on his hips. He turns as he finishes with the eggs, finally registering that Faye’s awake.

She giggles quietly at the rosy blush that blooms across his cheeks. Seems like his boldness was short lived. He’s back to being her bashful doctor now.

“Mornin’” Faye mumbles as she stretches, purposely flexing her arms a little more than necessary, watching as his eyes drag down her biceps.

“G-good morning,” he stutters out, ears fully pink now, “I made eggs…”

She crocks an eyebrow, teasing. “From the very chickens that you starved to death?”

°˖✧ .✧˖° °˖✧ .✧˖° °˖✧ .✧˖° °˖✧ .✧˖° °˖✧ .✧˖° °˖✧ .✧˖° °˖✧ .✧˖° °˖✧.°

(screams and throws this into the void, ok thank you bye)

#sdv #stardew valley #sdv harvey #harvey x farmer #slight spice

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