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stardewremixed · 11 months

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First Kiss with Shane

@hellhoundmaggie requested a first kiss scene with Shane. He was the first guy I romanced in SDV, mostly because it was easy to in the beginning and I wanted that first-year flower dance so badly. 😂 🌸

🎈 In case you missed it - First Kiss with Harvey. 🎈

While Harvey holds a special place in my heart and is generally my go-to husbando, I didn’t want to leave my “first SDV squeeze” in the lurch. I’m trying to expand my experience with writing romance in general. Hope you enjoy. It’s a freakin’ novella. Haha. I don’t do short, and I wanted to show how he fell in love with the Farmer, and she with him.

This is female farmer x Shane = first kiss. This one might be a little more PG.

😉❤️‍🔥🔥

Sweaty palms. Greasy hair. Chubby cheeks and legs. Is this what she sees in me?

Shane stared bleakly at his own reflection in the refrigerator door. It was quiet. Nearly noiseless in the back aisle of the stark JojaMart. A lull in the daily traffic around 4pm on the dot. When his shift ended.

Shane pressed his forehead against the glass, grumbling to himself about his infinite lack of progress on losing weight. Ever since he started going to therapy and quit drinking, he felt confident that his life would turn around. Like magic.

However, life outside the rehabilitation center was much harder than he remembered. He was still stuck in the same dead-end job. He was still bumming a room off his aunt with his piddly rent And he was still rather plump around his abdomen.

Every time Morris ordered him around, in that pompous high London accent, Shane wanted to give up. To give in. To snatch a beer outta the cooler and gulp away his frustrations.

Instead, he settled for cussing under his breath, and resolving to keep his head down. At least until he could find another job. No one seemed to be hiring in this dying town. The recession was still hitting hard. And he knew he was lucky to get his old job back after nine months in detox and rehab.

It was worth it. It would be worth it. He convinced himself as he puffed a lazy strand of hair out of his eye and continued stocking cartons of overprocessed milk, nothing like his aunt’s fresh bottles or the farmer’s delicious cheeses.

While he was still grossly underpaid, Shane worked out the math. In six more checks, he could repay her. The Jolly Rancher. Just thinking about his silly little nickname for the farmer lady to the north gave him a warm feeling. The kind that alcohol used to give him, only better, more real. Her smile was sweet.

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When she first arrived in town, Shane genuinely disliked her. All her bubbly, bouncy, jolly persona encroaching on his flat, boring, grumpy existence. He had cultivated a philosophy of "me myself and I" and was perfectly content being alone, sulking into a pitcher of beer at the end of the night. But not really…

Her jovialty grew on him, especially when he would see her around town, helping people out. At first, he figured she was just another city do-gooder come to convert the backwater people to a more modern lifestyle. But her joy and kindness was genuine. Even when he yelled at her to go away, she still murmured a heartfelt apology for disturbing him and then brought him freshly grown peppers or tomatoes the next day like nothing had ever happened.

The Farmer purchased cows from Marnie so she could make her own specialty dairy products. He was seriously impressed. Because what city girl just ups and buys cattle?

Sometimes when he was restlessly tossing and turning in bed (and if was honest, lonely), Shane would wander around in the wee pre-dawn hours. He always seemed to make his way to her ranch. Most of the time, she was out in the barn milking the cows and talking to them like they were her babies, with just a lantern illuminating her soft face. She was so beautiful.

Raising cattle was no simple task. He knew this from watching his aunt. And Marnie had horses, pigs, goats, rabbits and chickens to think of too. He wasn't sure if the new rancher in town, with little to no experience (save her degree in veterinary medicine), was stupid or brave. Over time, he determined she was the latter.

Out searching for a lost cow in a thunderstorm. Not thinking about her own welfare. Only wanting to reunite a terrified animal with its herd.

Fixing fences after wolves knocked down the back posts time and time again. Her fingers bleeding and scarred because of her lack of self-awareness sometimes. And chasing of “’dem there wolves” with sheer willpower... and... a big stick.

Rebuilding the barn from scratch when a wildfire spread down from the mountains. She saved every single one of those animals. And needing treatment for smoke inhalation because she went back in for the tiniest frightened newborn.

He remembered the time she got kicked in the head by one of the cows. Shane was so worried about her, even if he wouldn’t admit it when he carried her to the Clinic. Thankfully, it was only a minor concussion. (And it was an excuse for him to deliver Marnie's special basket of goodies to her twice daily so she didn't have to worry about feeding herself during her recovery).

The rancher struggled for a whole year, after arriving in the Valley. But even when things went wrong, she was up and back at it the next morning with a lightness in her heart and step. It. Was. Admirable.

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Shane resolved to do better. To be better. She made him think about how things could be different if he wasn't a self-sabotaging jerkwad. The number of times she dragged his sorry ass home after getting plastered at the Saloon was too high to count, even if it was out of her way, even if she said she didn't mind. She wanted him to be okay. To be safe. She said so.

And she half pushed, half dragged him to the Clinic the night things got really dark. When he faced the edge of the cliff and thought "No more!" When he thought death would be a welcome reprieve from his pathetic life.

She never judged him. She didn't enable him like his aunt. She didn't fall apart into a puddle of tears like Jas. She didn't lecture him on the evils of his ways while twirling his moustache like Harvey. Okay. Shane chuckled to himself. Maybe that last part was an exaggeration and unfair to the good doctor.

She. Simply. Cared.

Through her actions.

In the beginning, it was little things. A happy hello. A robust handwave. Then she started pulling up a barstool next to him in the Stardrop. She would ask him about his day and he would always answer the same way. But "go away" somehow morphed into a sarcastic "just peachy" and then eventually a half-hearted "fine, you can sit there." Once she jokingly called him Peaches.

He didn't want to be bothered with her questions and idle chatter. He didn't want to listen to her ranching successes and woes, retold in a much-too-chipper voice. He didn't want to know about Bluebell and Daffodil and Daisy, how Mister Munster was nursing a hoof injury and how Mrs. Butters was expecting her second calf. Why did she think he cared about such details?

But it grew on him. Those rosy, ruddy cheeks, enjoying a hard-earned glass of whatever Gus had on tap. The way her eyes lit up and sparkled when she talked about her animal friends. The way her pale pink lips pouted when she lost a game of Journey of the Prairie King in the saloon arcade. Again.

Shane found himself drawn to her energy. And he found himself missing her on the nights she didn't stop into the Saloon. Which was a rarity, but did happen.

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Shane knew she was someone special when he would watch the entrance door, breath caught, hoping she would breeze through, and then she didn't. Two days in a row. He started to feel disappointed, but brushed it off. Three days. He started to get concerned. On the fourth night, he went looking for her. And that's when he learned she was sick.

He practically broke down her door when she didn’t answer.

“Aww you were worried,” she laughed weakly, and coughed.

She looked rather pitiful, bundled under the blankets, hair sticking to her cheek, eyes droopy and dark. She thought Marnie would have told him. His aunt had sent a few of her ranch hands to help their neighbor out while she was under the weather. so her cattle weren’t forgotten

No, Marnie never did. He suspected it was because she didn't know it would matter to him. But it did matter. She. Did. Matter.

Without a word, Shane went to the kitchen and returned with a cool towel. He didn't even think. He laid the back of his large hand against her delicate forehead. He could've sworn the little Miss Jolly Rancher blushed. Or maybe it was the slight fever she was running. She audibly sighed as he placed the wet cloth against her burning cheek, closing her eyes and mumbling her thanks.

He wanted to know the last time she ate. She grunted and said something about some cereal earlier that morning. She didn't know for sure. She had slept most of the day. He promised he would be right back.

She told him not to bother, as she struggled to lift her body off the bed, propping up by a shaky elbow. He insisted she lie back down. She was a stubborn one. Her protestations didn't last long as her head was too foggy to think straight. He microwaved a bowl of soup. She tried to sit up again, and he fluffed her pillows so she could prop up.

Her grip on the spoon wasn't firm, her trembling hands an indication of just how weak she was. So he caught the escaping silverware and lifted the soup to her lips. She turned red as a hot pepper, but he eased her with a surprisingly tender words, "Please. Let me take care of you for once, Miss Jolly." His own face and ears were probably red too. But she accepted.

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Since then, he began the habit of calling her "Miss Jolly." She flushed every time, but he enjoyed flustering her. It was nice… to care… about… someone.

She returned the “favor” and called him Peaches. At first, jokingly, just to annoy him. But over time, even the ridiculous fruity nickname grew on him. She was invading his thoughts and heart and he couldn’t stop her.

He knew he had to change. He had to get better. Alcoholism was a disease that had ravaged his life and he was ready for something better. He couldn’t live like he had been any longer. She had changed everything for him. And he wanted to change in return.

Disappointment smacked cold. He had researched so many places. But the one place that seemed to fit his needs and desired treatment plan was out of reach. Prohibitively expensive. He sold his dad’s watch. His car. He worked longer hours. Maybe in a few years he could make up the difference.

She knew how much he wanted this... and how badly he needed this. Every glance at his savings account wanted to drive him to the bottle, the hopelessness of a solution just out of reach because of his crappy medical insurance. They wouldn’t cover it. Even though he was pretty sure Joja was the reason he drank so heavily.

No, that wasn’t true. It was his own insurmountable guilt. Of surviving the accident. When they didn’t. Of leaving Jas without a respectable father figure. Or a mother. He didn’t even fight when the courts wanted to give him jail time.

His aunt got a lawyer and gave him a place to stay when he got out. She helped him put together a resume and practically shoved the application for overnight backroom clerk in his hands. He had to face the music. He wasn’t cut out for any other job. And it was basically a glorified “stock boy.”

Approaching middle-age, recently released from prison, and overwhelmed with a crushing lack of self worth, Shane interviewed and got the job. He should be grateful. But the hours were grueling and monotonous. Customers were rude. Employees were ruder. Except that Sam kid. He was a ball of sunshine. And his boss was sucking the life outta him.

So he drank. He drank to forget. Because he couldn’t forgive himself. And every time he looked at Jas’ little pained expression, he drank more because he felt... so... damn... worthless.

The Rancher changed things for him. He felt more positive. He got up earlier. He brushed his teeth. He combed his hair. He put on his uniform for the world’s lousiest low-paying job and went to work hoping things would be better.

Faced with the inability to actually “get better” was... frankly... terrifying. What if he went back to being that same old pathetic blob of a human again? After ten agonizing days, he finally confided in the one person he knew he could trust. His “Miss Jolly.”

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He couldn’t believe he had been moved to tears. She surprised him... again. With her thoughtful generosity and selflessness. She promised to pay for the difference. Whatever he couldn’t afford. She told him it wasn’t a big deal. It was a VERY BIG deal! She still had some of the inheritance money from her grandfather. What she hadn’t spent on fixing up the farm.

“So I don’t get those gingham curtains I’ve had my eyes on for the past month,” she quipped.

It was serious. He couldn’t accept it. He wouldn’t accept it. It was too much. He didn’t like the idea of being indebted. He was stubborn. He could refuse.

But she was more stubborn. She insisted it would be a loan, not a gift. He could pay it off over time. Without interest. Or he could work it off - sweat equity - on her ranch. Maybe with those chickens he liked so much.

In the end, he caved. He packed up what little he could take with him. And she walked him to the bus stop. Kissed his cheek. Squeezed his hand. And said the words that simultaneously made him laugh and warmed his heart.

“Go get ‘em, Peaches.”

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That was a year ago now. When he came home, she threw a big surprise party for him. A few people from town, his aunt, Jas. And she never looked more beautiful. She even found chicken shaped balloons. Because... what guy doesn’t want balloon animals from the girl he’s crushing on?

Crushing on? He smirked. I sound like a middle schooler.

He split his time between the market and her ranch. Gradually spending more and more time on her farm. Gathering eggs before his shift. Feeding chickens on the way home from work. Sipping peach iced tea in the shade of her porch and thinking this life wasn’t half-bad. But he wanted more.

She started bringing by lunches on his longer shift days. Homemade sandwiches and fresh-pressed juices and handpicked peppers. The kind that burst with sweetness or that spicy kick he needed to get through the rest of his day.

She learned to roll her own dough. Once a week, on hot summer evenings, she would make him pizza with her own special spicy red sauce. Wearing that cute little red and white checkered apron around her jean shorts and just below the edge of her tank top. Too hot to be standing around the stovetop making pizza sauce or the oven to bake the dough. But she did it for him. Shane looked forward to it after a long and grueling Saturday shift.

He still stopped at the Saloon most nights, but now it was just to drink soda and share a pepper poppers appetizer. Gus started bottling root beer, made from bark and flowers and herbs from around the Valley. It wasn’t alcoholic. And it was an acquired taste. Getting better with time.

She would breeze in and offer suggestions and feedback. Shane enjoyed watching the two “play” squabble over the choice of leaves. The kindly saloon owner and the girl he liked collaborating to make him a refreshing drink became a welcome nicety.

Most nights, they didn’t stay long. Heading out for long walks around town. Shoes scuffling along cobblestones. Kicking up dirt on wooded paths. Kicking off on the beach to feel the mushy sand. Talking about nothing important, but always special. Any time with her was special.

He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have a friend like her. To have a woman of her rare caliber show him any attention at all. She got past his defenses and he welcomed it. And deep in his heart, Shane knew - this was love.

With today’s paycheck, he could finally take her on a proper date. Somewhere out of the Valley. Someplace where they could have fun together. He felt the excitement and nervous anticipation rising in his chest. Somehow he fumbled through an “ask” on her front porch this morning, managing to invite her to join him... if she wanted... at the bus stop... around 5pm. He had tickets to see the Tunnelers play.

Shane finished his shelf, glancing at his watch. Ten past four. Just enough time to get home, showered, and changed. He disposed of the empty boxes in the dumpster and delivered the cart to the back room. Opening his locker, he hung his apron on the hook. Instantly, he felt lighter. Like that thing was a noose around his neck. A ball and chain. He really needed a new job. And in fifty, no, forty-six minutes, he could see her...

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"SHANE!"

The shrill obnoxious tone pierced his moment of peace. The voice could only belong to one person - a holllow husk of a corporate shill, even more unlikeable than him, if that was even possible. Shane frowned, his eyes clamping on the store manager barreling toward him at full speed.

“A whole second shipment came in just now,” the man grunted. “Like I need this when I’m short-staffed, as always,” he offered an exasperated sigh.

I can’t imagine why... Shane thought to himself, bemused. The boss was insufferable. Always barking orders. Never praising his team. Paying peanuts. Polishing his baby - a silver Rolls Royce in mint condition - parked in the only covered spot in the entire Joja lot - every night - instead of doing paperwork like he should. How was he still employed? No one at corporate cared.

“Not my problem, Morris,” Shane replied.

“No, no, no,” Morris fluttered his short arms. “It is your problem. I need you to stay late and help Sam empty the truck.”

The man continued to ramble something about “this is why I pay you” and “you think you can do better somewhere else?” He badgered Shane about his “work ethic,” even if Shane had been a near model employee since returning from rehab. Even if his former colleagues actually welcomed him back, much to his shock. Shy little Claire even commented on how he was “different” than before.

Shane had been nominated for employee of the month, no doubt, angering Morris. The man had it out for him. Sticking him on graveyard shifts. Making him mop baby puke in the aisles. Forcing him to attend a “hospitality” seminar so he could learn to be nicer to, in Morris’ words, “bored housewives who somehow like your prickly personality.”

Morris, a man who prided himself in appearance, with his neat little bow tie and perfectly ironed jacket, couldn’t believe how the ladies bought more after a rough encounter with Shane. It was good for business, of course, and Morris would take all the credit. That hospitality seminar wasn’t cheap, he constantly reminded Shane. Like rehab hadn’t made him a better person already. Or his relationship with little Miss Jolly.

“They just fawn over your monotone delivery of the daily sales,” Morris droned on. “Yoba only knows why. You haven’t been educated at the finest university this side of the Pond with an impeccable taste in... well, everything.” Morris puffed his chest.

“I just don’t understand why they giggle at the register about the ‘handsome’ stock boy when they could have me recite the daily sales in Shakespearean English for heavens sake. Well, no matter. I can use what I’ve got. You.”

The man thinks I’m a frickin’ pack of meat.

“Now in order to have sales, we must have stocked shelves. And in order to have stocked shelves, I need to have you stay longer. Because shelves don’t stock themselves... and what are you staring at?”

Shane rubbed his jaw, catching his reflection in Morris’ little glasses. Could I really be that handsome? Morris wasn’t wrong. The market had been a little busier than usual in the mornings and around lunchtime. Shane came back from breaks early sometimes because customers “requested” him. He could reach the “tall” shelves.

But he wasn’t that tall. And most times, he needed a ladder. Unlike Sam. But even Sam told him he had been relegated to “cute” because the female patrons wanted to check out the new guy (on the ladder) because Shane possessed a look of danger and mystery, and had that "hot dad bod."

Like that’s really a thing I wanted! Shane rolled his eyes. It's all a little disgusting. Being oogled. Because what? Dangerous? Dad bod? I’m just me. There was only one gal he wanted checking him out. And he needed to get going if he was going to meet her.

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“No can do, Boss,” Shane removed his Joja cap and hooked it alongside his apron. “Got plans tonight.”

“No, no, no,” Morris’ voice grew tight, his eyes becoming tinier. “That won’t do. You must cancel your plans.”

“Do I get overtime?” Shane asked, half-distracted by the photo occupying the inside of his locker.

It was the only thing he had ever decorated with at work. A photo of him and Miss Jolly at the Moonlight Jellies festival about a month ago. It was the one time he actually thought he was photogenic. How could he not be happy? With a gorgeous gal by his side, smiling and laughing as the photo was taken, a woman who believed in him, rooted for him, and cared for him. Shane’s expression softened as he thought about how much she had impacted his life.

“You know what?” Shane ripped the photo from his locker wall with gusto. “I quit.”

“Are you even listening?” Morris was saying. “And no, I’m not going to approve overtime. You left early by one minute the other night. One minute!"

"And one time last week, you were late by three minutes. I will not approve overtime for someone who nearly runs over a flock of geese with his bicycle and is late to work."

"If you’re going to keep up with this lazy attitude of yours...” he huffed and straightened his jacket. “I may have to reconsider my decision to rehire you... even if you bring in the ladies... I mean... sales...”

“What?” Morris’ eyes grew wide as saucers beneath his horn-rimmed glasses, and then his expression darkened, as if Shane poured bitter coffee all over the plates. “You cannot quit. Are you joking?”

“Well I do, and I’m not,” Shane shoved the old rusty lock that never latched properly into the other man’s hand, a smile crossing his face. “With pleasure.”

Shane waltzed out of the soul-sucking store, leaving a dumbfounded former boss as the double doors whooshed behind him. He closed his eyes and took a big gulp of sea-salt air and sighed. He felt free.

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When she met him at the bus stop, his heart skipped a beat. She looked radiant in the setting sun. Her eyes sparkling like stars. And her sexy little denim skirt was a nice touch too. The way her hips swayed ever so slightly on approach. He forced his gaze upward.

"Hiiii... Miss Jolly. I'm glad you decided to come," he greeted, his tone a bit stilted and formal.

What am I doing? He rubbed the back of his head.

"Of course, Peaches. I'm excited," she grinned. "This will be my first game."

"You'll love it!" he replied, wrinkling his nose at her childish nickname for him. And I will too with you by my side.

"Is that cologne?" she asked when she reached his side.

Her fingers curled around his hoodie strings as she closed her eyes and took a whiff. "I like it." She grinned and winked at him. "A bit spicy."

"Yeah yeah," he murmured and ushered her onto the bus, but he hopped up the step behind her, feeling a little lighter on his feet.

"You're in a good mood," she remarked as they wandered toward the back of the bus.

The atmosphere was charged. Rowdy. Everyone seemed excited for the Tunnelers game. He nodded to a few familiar faces before settling in next to her seat. The back was better than the front. Cool kids sat in the back. What am I? In the sixth grade?

Still he was relaxed. Smiling even. She repeated her statement as if he didn’t hear her the first time. Damn straight I’m in a good mood. Because I get to spend time with you… maybe even tell you how I feel tonight… He decided the overcrowded bus wasn't the best place for that confession. The vehicle lurched forward and so did the conversation.

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"I quit my job."

Her eyes widened and a slow smile played at her lips, drawing his attention to them. I bet they're juicy. He had fantasized about kissing her, ever since she planted one on him at this very bus stop twelve months ago when he shipped off to rehab. Out of respect for their “business arrangement” and friendship, he held off on the liplocking, but it didn’t mean he still didn’t wonder what it would be like if he had just turned his head to meet her mouth that night.

“Good for you,” she laid a hand on his shoulder.

Her gentle touch bringing him back to reality and away from his lustful la-la land.

“I knew that place was killing the light in you. I just wish I could've seen Morris' smug face when you finally told him."

"Light in me?" he repeated, ignoring the statement about his ex-manager.

"Yes," she slowly slid her hand up to his cheek, blushing a little while she moved. "You look better. Brighter."

"That's just the shower talkin'," he shoved his hands in his pockets.

"No, it's you, Shane," she replied, dropping her hand far too soon for his liking.

He wanted to beg her to keep it there, against his cheek. But present company dissuaded him, and he remained silent, nodding his thanks. The way she said his name... he bounced his leg a bit in nervousness as the bus bumped along the road... it made his knees weak and his head clouded.

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"Did I miss anything?"

Shane descended the last step, returning to their seats in the stadium, snacks in hand. The game was tied up, the teams neck and neck in their scoring with each other. It was one of the most thrilling games he had ever seen in person. Even more exciting because she was there. With her incessant questions about the rules. Her exuberance at the Tunnelers' first goal. Even the little wrinkle around her eyes when she didn’t understand what was happening. He loved every minute of it.

And he loved explaining things. Even if he worried about boring her to death with his encyclopedic knowledge of gridball, he couldn’t stop talking. This was something he loved and he was sharing it with the woman he loved... even if she didn’t know it yet.

"Only the announcer making bad jokes," she smirked. “And that guy...” she pointed to one of the pros. “...doing a silly little dance for the fans.”

“Yeah, he’s known for that,” Shane laughed awkwardly, feeling a small twinge of jealousy that another man had caught her eye.

“Not that he’s any good at it,” she laughed too. “Not like our little grooves in the Saloon.”

“Oh?” he quirked a brow. “By the way, I got us some nachos. I asked the vendor to add some hot peppers… just like we like it."

"Like we both like it," she said in unison. "Thanks,” she snagged a chip and did a deep dip into the sauce. “You should've let me pay for snacks since you paid for tickets and the bus fare."

"Naw, we're on a date," he shrugged. "The guy pays. Plus, I wanted to."

Shane averted his eyes, suddenly self-conscious. "Did I tell you how much… I l…love…. Gridball?"

She stopped and looked at him as if surprised by his old-fashioned thought. I shouldn't have been so careless, he grimaced. Then he immediately wished his face wasn't so readable.

It was a date. A real date. But somehow they slid from acquaintances to friends to best friends and then... somehow something more, without ever defining the relationship.

Did she want parameters? Did he need a label? Were they... ever going to be what he hoped to be if he ever got his head out of his ass and asked her for real?

"Yes, only the thousand or so times on the bus," she smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “And I knew you played in high school.”

Just like that, she slipped back to a more neutral topic. And he mentally flogged himself for the missed opportunity.

“Yeah, blowing out my knee pretty much killed my chances at playing pro,” he said. “Doesn’t stop me from enjoying the games though.”

“Have you ever thought about it?” she inquired. “Going back. Maybe the minors or even just a pick-up team. I bet you looked great in a uniform,” her eyes twinkled mischievously. “And I wouldn’t mind the view of you in those white pants.”

Red flooded his cheeks. Is she messing with me? How does she do it? Go back and forth between friendzone topics and flirtation? She made it look effortless. She was toying with him. She had to be. Dancing around the subject. Hoping he would ask. Or was he imagining things?

Her hand hovered dangerously close to his side. Brushing the hem of her skirt. Nearly touching his shorts. He gulped, feeling flattered, but strangely unprepared for her seductive little smirks. He handed her the soda he fetched, and she thanked him, gulping back the liquid as if it were a small instead of a large. Saying something about all the cheering making her thirsty.

He was the thirsty one. Eyeing her up and down and wanting to close the distance between them. Taking it from flirty friends to... faithful lovers. He never wanted a woman more than he did right now. To devote all his love and passion and energy and goodwill into being there for her just like she had for him.

For the whole second half of the game, he nursed his cola. Distracted by her every move. The way she would raise her heels in anticipation of a score and lower them back to the ground when they didn’t quite make it. The way she spoke with that happy voice of hers, the kind that could lull him to sleep or rally him to make his best efforts. The way she repeated back facts she was learning about the sport, that he had literally just taught to her that night. He was completely mesmerized... so much so... he forgot to actually watch the game. For once, he liked the distraction.

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When the Tunnelers scored again, she nearly flew off the ground, wildly cheering for their unexpected interception. He caught her hand as she was jumping back down. She squeezed it and continued whooping and shaking her fist victoriously in the air, never taking her eyes off the game. It was now or never.

"Hey," he said loudly to be heard over the stadium noise. "I've been meaning to tell you… thank you.”

“For what, Peaches?” she said, teasingly. “Did you see that? How many yards was it? Seventy-five? Eighty?”

“I mean it, really,” Shane cleared his throat, leaning closer to her ear. “ For sticking with me through everything."

She turned to face him, her expression growing more serious.

"My… anxiety… depression… you know," he continued, fumbling over his words. "The alcoholism… I mean, I wasn't exactly the funnest person to be around back then."

Did I just use the word funnest? He rubbed the back of his head, hoping to read her expression, but for once, he couldn't.

“You do that... when you’re nervous,” she remarked. “That head rub thing...” she reached up and ruffled his hair. “It’s... cute.”

“Uh...” Shane trailed off. She was not making this easy. But he needed to say the words aloud now or he never would.

"You… uh… still helped me. You've been a really… good… friend to me," he shared, and then immediately regretted his word choice.

"Oh," she said, quietly.

Was that a flicker of disappointment in her eyes?

He hurried his words. "Anyway this is your first gridball game, huh? Well? What do you think?"

Smooth, Shane. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Changing the subject again, you frickin’ chicken.

"Oh…" she said, glancing back to the field, sounding a little confused. "Fun. I guess, Pelican Town seems pretty boring in comparison. Unless you count Sam's punk rock blaring at 11pm, breaking noise ordinances." She forced a chuckle.

Is she…? Am I imagining things?

"I'm surprised," he replied. "Didn't you move to the Valley to escape the noise of the city?"

She's looking at me again with those beautiful heart-melting eyes. He rushed through his words.

"I mean… don't get me wrong. I totally understand. My life in Pelican Town is pretty bland, you know. And now that I don't have a job, I gotta find something meaningful to do with my time again. A guy's gotta eat, right? Heh?"

"I was thinking about that," she replied, without looking at him. "I think it would be nice to have you around full-time."

"What?" he blinked.

"I've got one ranch hand now to help in the back pasture and one that helps out with the milking and all, but if I'm looking to expand, and if they ever take a sick day, I could use some extra hands," she continued. "Maybe your hands?"

I couldn't. Possibly. Was she blushing?

"You've already… done so much for me," he hated the hesitancy in his tone. "I… uh…"

She ignored his last comment. "This would be a business thing. We could do it temporarily to see if you like it. And if it's a good fit for both of us. I can be a bit of a…" she narrowed her eyes, mischievously. "Hard taskmaster."

"Oh? Yeah I've heard that from your current employees," he smirked. "But you are still a jolly one."

"Yeah…" she smiled, almost shyly, tucking a hair over her ear. “Your Miss Jolly.”

The noise level in the stadium increased near ten-fold. All he could think about was how she said the words. She was begging him, wasn’t she? Walking right up to the brink and leaving him there? He reluctantly ripped his gaze away from the farmer to the field.

"Gah!" he screamed, his volume matching the crowd. "The Tunnelers are on the attack."

"Yes! Yes!" she shrieked. "Oh my Yoba! Final seconds. They're gonna…" she jumped up and down and clapped her hands. "They're gonna break the tie."

"GOAL!" they yelled in unison.

He never felt so happy. He was going on six months sober. He quit his horrible job. The farmer was offering him another one so he could see her every day. And he got to watch his favorite team in the world in the closest game in history with his favorite person in the world. Sharing this moment together meant everything.

"Thank you Shane!" she said, trying to catch her breath. "This was the best evening ever with you!"

"I know, I know!" he exclaimed. "Probably one of the best moments of my life."

Before he could stop himself, his lips were against hers. Surprise flickered in her eyes. All he could hear was the thudding of his own heart. She was flushed. The warmth of her lips. The taste of root beer. The delight overwhelming the alarm bells. He took a step or two back, stumbling as he came to his senses.

"Oh?" he gasped for air. "Uh… um… sorry. I guess I got carried away there. Maybe I had one too many... sodas. All that sugar. Ha!"

Shane reached up to rub his head like he always did when he was nervous, just like she had noticed. Except this time, she strutted toward him, confidence in her eyes as she grabbed that hand and tugged him down. As they kissed for the second time, he felt her melt into his arms as she offered a faint “finally,” barely audible amidst the roar of the crowd.

Encouraged, Shane grinned, hoisting her off the ground. She giggled and kissed him more fervently. Maybe he didn’t need words. Maybe he only needed actions to show her how he felt.

And she was reciprocating. A dream come true. Their eyes remained locked in a loving gaze as he pulled back from her lips. When he finally set her down, he breathed heavily.

"You really do love the Tunnelers?" she teased, disentangling her hands from his hair.

"No," he shook his head, determined not to let this moment go by. "I really do love you."

"Come on, we'll miss our bus outta here," she grabbed his hand and pulled him through the exiting crowds.

“Wait,” Shane pulled her back for one more greedy kiss.

She happily accepted, but he felt a fleeting ping of sadness even as they kissed in the stairwell, people pushing around them. He wondered if she even heard his confession. Maybe it's too soon? We just had our first kiss. She probably didn't hear me.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When they reached the parking lot, the reality of what had just happened still sinking in, they were too late. The bus huffed away with a puff of smog. They had just missed their ride back to the Valley. And there wouldn’t be another one until morning. If he hadn’t been so carried away and enamored by his date, maybe they would’ve left the stadium sooner.

“Guess we should call a taxi,” she broke the silence first. “Or... actually... find a hotel.”

“A hotel?” he repeated, his ears perking at the thought of sharing space with her.

"Yes," she replied, without skipping a beat. "I mean, if we're gonna be stuck together in Zuzu overnight, we should get a hotel. A taxi ride would be really expensive and I don't think we have enough time to get across town to catch the train."

"Oh right," he said softly. "Uh… I can't let you pay for a hotel too."

"It's no trouble," she pulled out her cell phone and started scouring the internet for places. "And a hot shower sounds nice after all the sweat and grime of us in there,” she nodded back toward the stadium. “...jammed in like sardines."

"Uhm…" he blinked rapidly. You're a grown man. Get it together.

"This place looks nice," she showed him a picture after a minute or two, while he awkwardly plopped on the edge of the sidewalk. "And it's got a 4-star rating." She sat next to him, dropping her hand on top of his. “Oh look it’s got an in-suite jacuzzi.”

"Uh… sure," he shrugged, uncertain about what to do with his hands that so desperately wanted to kiss her again. "Well, that definitely was a good game."

"Yes, and it's going to be an even better night, because it doesn't have to end here," she smiled sweetly. “Since we’re getting a hotel,” she winked.

“Oh yeah... and we won too,” he stammered. “The Tunnelers, ya know?”

“No... no, I didn’t. Really? They did?" she smiled sarcastically, and leaned closer. “It doesn’t matter.”

“What?” he gasped, feeling shocked as her blase attitude toward his favorite team.

“I mean, it was great... and all... and their win was pretty spectacular,” she acknowledged. “But I feel like I won the lottery with you here.” She interlocked arms with him. “Did you mean it? Shane? When you said you loved me?”

So she did hear me! And the way his name fell from his lips caused his heart to soar and he found his confidence.

“Yes, I meant it. I love you,” Shane replied. “But I wanted it to be special. Better than this... stranded in a parking lot with trash all over the place.”

“It is special,” she replied.

“But it wasn’t perfect,” he grimaced. “I was planning on telling you when we got back... when I walked you back to your place tonight.”

His head felt hazy with love and desire as she kissed him again. This time, she draped a leg over his, pressing against his chest. He audibly moaned, leaning into the kiss. His hand naturally slid down her back to help her balance, and he squeezed softly, like he had wanted to for a long time. She matched his intensity with a clutch of her own, and he groaned again, reluctantly breaking their touch.

“I don’t need perfect, Shane. I just need you."

His heart leaped from his chest as she continued.

"I love you too. I want you.”

“Ahhhh... then let’s get to that hotel,” he said, the heat of her breasts against his chest creating a near uncontrollable fire within him.

“Fine,” she playfully pouted. “I’ll behave... Hot Stuff," she fanned herself. “...for now... since we’re in public.”

“Believe me,” he replied with a heavy sigh, feeling a healthy growth between his legs. “I want you all to myself.”

She giggled and tapped her phone. "Done. Got us booked.”

“That fast?”

“Yes, It’s only a two and a half block walk. Now… shall we?" She jumped to her feet and darted away briskly.

“Someone’s impatient!” he smirked. “What if I had said no?”

“I wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Oh really?” he liked teasing her as she brought out his confidence. He started into a jog away, passing her on the sidewalk. “Well, I’ll see you soon.”

“Shane!” she laughed and chased after him.

Of course, he let her catch him. She playfully punched his arm, but then lingered. She was beaming. And he was too. Shane took her hand, looking down at the woman he loved, and smiled, brighter than he ever had in his entire life. She loved him and wanted him… just as he loved and wanted her.

“Shane?”

He wrapped an arm tightly around her shoulder. Tonight, he was going to make her fully his, and he would be fully hers.

"Yes, my Miss Jolly.”

507 notes · View notes

clanwarrior-tumbly · 6 days

Note

You take Stardew Valley requests now?!

Also—you do Morris too?

Hmm. Without immediately getting on the hate train, could I please request a Farmer!Reader getting sick of Morris pestering them to buy a Joja membership? Their reaction to this is to issue the store manager a challenge—since they doubt he’s actually done anything usual for the “company”. Reader worked at Jojacorp previously, they know how cushy manager jobs are. Farmer!Reader states they buy a membership if and only if Morris tries to get through one of their typical work schedules for a day.

Really. Other stores have to be scouted, land cleared, and then built. So it shouldn’t be too far fetched for him to have some experience on the physical of working for the company, right?

Or something like that.

Ohhh I like this one 👀

A little love for Morris for ya'll

.....

"Hello. How are you?"

"Good, thanks. And you?"

"I'm good. Did you find everything okay?"

"Yep. The other place was closed and I needed these seeds for my greenhouse before the season's up-"

"You know you could get them for far cheaper and more by purchasing our Joja membership! It's never too late~"

'Why did I say anything...' Already annoyed, you looked over your shoulder to see Morris, the JojaMart manager, standing at the customer service booth. He had a far-too-cheery smiling spreading from ear to ear, making him look more unnerving than friendly.

After seeing that stunt he pulled at Pierre's yesterday, you knew he wasn't ashamed about boasting his business and trying to push you over to his side.

You rolled your eyes and looked back at the redheaded cashier, handing her the gold and putting the seed packets in your backpack. Now you could say with confidence that you've gotten everything you needed to finish some bundles for the community center.

Wishing her a goodnight, you began heading towards the door--only to see Morris now standing there, once again insisting you buy a membership.

Apparently, ignoring him wasn't the solution this time.

"I mean no disrespect, sir..but the answer's no. I moved here to escape Joja, not get dragged back into it."

"Ah but everything leads back to Joja eventually, dear farmer." He chuckled. "You'll come around, I'm sure. Now you have a goodnight."

"You, too." Grumbling, you practically shoved past him and stormed back home, hopping into the nearest minecart as your shortcut.

Fortunately you had some time to plant the seeds in the greenhouse, knowing your sprinklers will take good care of them from here on out. And then you headed straight to bed, your pet curled up beside you as you dozed off.

........

It was a little past 6AM..and you were already done with today.

You were just 101% done.

That was all because of Morris.

Only now you realized how stubborn that corporate suck-up was...as in the mail he left you an envelope containing Joja coupons and a letter, once again pleading his case.

First he barges into another man's small business and presents a big sale to drive customers away...and now he's trying to bribe you with coupons, knowing damn well how rich your farm is becoming. He was just after your money and nothing more.

You were very close to chucking the letter into the furnace.

Then something dawned upon you..

He's always insisting that his store's products would make your farm work "easier", but what did he really know about the work you do? All that hard labor and hours toiling in the sun to get your grandpa's farm in better shape than it ever was?

You were no stranger to the cushy jobs your managers at Joja Corp had. They only had to do taxes, nag about meeting quota, and barely lifted a finger, lounging in a luxury office while you were cramped in a cubicle, mindlessly typing away on some old computer.

That was the only life Morris probably ever knew.

He didn't pour any blood, sweat, or tears into constructing JojaMart...or did he?

Then again, he liked to tout about building it all "from the ground up", and you wondered if he meant that literally.

That gave you an idea.

You were planning a trip to Skull Caverns today, but now you had something different in mind. Those serpents, mummies, and prismatic shards could wait.

So after checking everything on your farm, you headed to JojaMart right away. Not to buy goods this time, but to talk to Morris about your proposition.

The villagers in town were wondering why you were smiling, yet otherwise said good morning and continued about their day.

.............

As Morris was approaching the store, he was surprised to see you standing in front of the entrance. "Why hello, farmer." He chuckled, twirling the keys around his finger. "I see you've changed your mind? You must really want that membership-"

"Yeah, about that.." You huffed, backpack slung over your shoulder. "I wanna make a deal with you."

"..really, now? I thought you weren't into "business"." He pouted, but after seeing your stare, he sighed. "Fine. Out with it. I do have to open the store in five minutes."

"It'll only take one minute. I'll get the membership-"

His grin returned.

"--if, and only if, you come to my farm for a day and try to get through one of my work schedules."

Immediately it faltered as he gawked loudly, looking as though you tried to gift him trash. His glasses became askew as he physically recoiled, but he tried fixing them, sputtering out nonsense.

You titled your head, smirking. "What's wrong?"

"I--erm..i-is that all?" He managed to compose himself, trying to stay professional. "I mean..it's....how hard could it possibly be? That's why I was stunned. Because it seems..too simple."

"....I thought you were gonna say no-"

"No? Hah! I could never pass up a challenge, dear farmer. If that's all it takes to get you into our membership club and out of Pierre's rundown shack of a store..then why not?"

"Oh good. It shouldn't be that hard for someone like you who built this store "from the ground up"." You reminded him, noticing the subtle change in his expression. He was still smiling, yet he looked nervous. "You must be familiar with toiling for hours in the sun, scouting, clearing land of trees and boulders to make way for the foundation...."

As you went on and on, Morris kept nodding his head. But in the back of his mind, he was panicking.

He never got a spec of dirt on any clothes he wore, nor did he partake in any hard labor, having left that to his construction crew. He only ever managed the finances of the store--none of the physical aspects of running one.

That being said...he couldn't just let go of the 0.1% chance that you'll give into a membership. Not when you're coming to him at this hour with such a deal.

Whatever will give him an edge over Pierre, he'll take it.

"...oh, and there's one tiny string attached."

"Of course.." He chuffed, fixing his bowtie. "What is it?"

"You and your workers aren't allowed to touch the Community Center even if I buy that membership."

Once more, he gawked. "Huh?! But..but...with that extra 5,000 gold, we'll have more than enough to fund-!"

Your stare silenced him, and as frustrated as he was....he finally relented. "Fine. Fine. I'll call someone else to run customer service in my steed. As long as you hold up your end of the bargain."

"Don't worry. I won't leave you high and dry." You smiled, patting his shoulder and ignoring the way he cringed and hastily brushed the dirt off his suit when you moved away. "Come by my farm after work and I'll give you the rundown. Tomorrow morning you start."

"Will do. But until then...care to come in and shop?" He chuckled, unlocking the door.

Yet when he turned back around, you were already gone, and his shoulders sagged with defeat.

'That farmer is a strange one, but I'll get them that membership yet.'

....

"--and finally, between 11PM and 2AM, check the slime hutch and makes sure the troughs are full of water and sell off any petrified slime they may produce."

"..sounds disgusting."

"You want me to buy that membership or not, Morris?" Glaring at the Joja manager, you saw the way he flinched and looked at you with panic. "Because I can just-"

"No, no! It's fine..I agree with all of these..terms and conditions." He looked over the book of instructions you lent him, containing a log of one of your daily work schedules.

By the time you finished writing down the tasks, he arrived on your farm in the late evening in a pair of jeans and a white shirt (with the Joja logo, of course). So at least you knew he was taking this seriously.

Although you're sure he's only trying to convince you that he can do this, and you had some doubts. Even Sam and Shane were taking bets after learning where their manager was gonna be tomorrow, with Sam thinking he'll lose it at the slimes, and Shane betting he won't last an hour on your farm.

Time will tell if either of them win.

"Good, and there's just one more thing....don't mind the Cursed Mannequin."

He did a double take. "I'm sorry, the what now?"

"Oh nothing. I just have a perfectly normal mannequin in the house." You smirked. "Just don't touch it or look at it for too long. Anyways, I got an extra bed set up for you. Don't come looking for me in the morning because I'll be camping out at Calico Desert all day."

Digging a desert warp totem out of your bag, you looked at Morris one more time. "I got a few hours to set up camp, then I'll be down in the skull caverns."

"It's reassuring to know that's not part of this work schedule.." He muttered. "How much did you pay for the-?"

"I made it myself. Get yourself acquainted with the area and rest up. Tomorrow your challenge starts."

His eyebrows furrowed a little, as he wasn't a fan of you bossing him around like this. But then again this was your "business", technically, and he was only playing the role of employee for a day...

He only had to get through one day, and then you'll have no choice but to agree and get the Joja membership!

"Wait, but what if-?"

"You'll be fine, Morris. Try not to burn my farm down." With a wink, you activated the totem and disappeared in a bright flash of light, which made him quickly shield his eyes, wincing.

Suddenly he was all alone in the cabin, and his gaze eventually wandered to the single mannequin positioned by your wardrobe. It was wearing one of your festival outfits...

And, for a split second, Morris swore it was blinking at him.

But he just shook it off as his imagination, deciding to go outside and check over everything like you told him to.

'Okay, maybe this won't be so bad after all...I can do this. For Joja.'

.........

"Thanks, Pam!"

"Oh anytime, hun." The blonde driver chuckled as you were let off at the bus stop in Pelican Town, happy to be back after a long day at the Skull Caverns.

Least to say, it was a super lucky day for you...aside from the occasional swarm of serpents that had you running, ducking, and swinging your weapon like crazy. But you didn't pass out this time, thank Yoba.

You got a few things to donate to the museum, geodes to crack open, and gifts to give to your friends, but the most important thing right now was seeing how your farm was in Morris' hands.

Hopefully nothing burned down.

But part of you realized that if he was okay, that meant buying a Joja membership and having to succumb to the corporation you tried to get away from.

Oh well, you proposed that deal in the first place. It would be cruel not to uphold your end of it.

As you walked onto your farmland, you took a good look around, seeing that your crops were properly watered and the animals were out of the coop and barn, happily grazing in the fenced area. They seemed highly content.

'Well I'll be damned. He did it. I guess it wasn't so bad for him after all.'

Smiling, you headed inside the cabin to organize your backpack-

Only to find Morris passed out on the floor of your kitchen, his face sweaty and clothes covered in dirt and slime residue; not to mention several scratch marks on his skin, more notably his hands.

'Okay, maybe I spoke too soon.'

"Morris?" You got your watering can ready in case you had to wake him up-

Then he abruptly snapped his eyes open, sitting up with a gasp, scrambling to his feet the moment he saw you. He looked extremely strung out and..almost traumatized, even.

"Farmer, you...! Y-You...you didn't....!!"

"Hey, hey. Calm down, Morris." Setting the watering can on the table, you put your hands up. "You're okay. Everything looks good out there-"

"You didn't tell me you had beasts living on this farm! Oh god, I'm a mess. Don't look at me anymore!" With teary eyes, he rushed to the kitchen sink to wash his hands, nearly scrubbing them raw as he tried calming himself down. "Those Slimes were so vicious, they kept swarming me and one stole my glasses! A-And the animals...why didn't you say there were dinosaurs in the coop?!"

"I did put that down, but you must've thrown away the paper I gave you. I told you to look it over carefully."

"And I told you to get an Auto-Petter!" He huffed. "I would've offered it to you at a discount had I known you had so many animals! But noooo...you'd rather risk getting your fingers bitten off, I guess!"

"Oh come on. They're sweet little things who crave real human affection-"

"To you, who raised them, they might be!" Turning around, he could see your small smile, and he frowned in return. "You know what the worst part about all of this was?"

"I'm eager to know." You sat down at the table, your pet coming to sit beside you on the floor.

"...Pierre. He came by to sell you some ridiculous recipe, but instead saw me down on my knees, trying to tear some stupid fruit out of the ground! And he LAUGHED and called me your "new farmboy"!! You have any idea how humiliating that was?!!" His face was turning red.

"I can imagine...what was the recipe?"

"Wh..nevermind that! I represent all of Joja in this town, and if anyone finds out through my rival that I'm....!! I'm....!" As he looked at you and saw your expression, he felt defeated, his anger replaced with tiredness.

"...sorry. I told myself I wasn't going to lose my head." He rubbed his temples, groaning. "And here I am, doing just that. I..I don't know how you do it everyday, [y/n]. All of this work. I'm definitely not in the best shape for it."

"Believe me, I used to think the same thing." You chuckled, glad to see the haughty manager becoming so humble. "You remember our deal?"

Morris perked up. "Yes. You were..serious about that, correct?" His eyes narrowed. "Because if you made me go through all of this just to embarrass me-"

"Relax. You're gonna have a new member of your little club very soon." Sighing, you took out an envelope containing 5,000 gold that you've reserved for this. "Really didn't think you'd last long enough to win...but you did it."

He looked at you like a fish out of water, utterly speechless. But he quickly regained his composure and laughed, standing upright. "Hah! One score for me, none for Pierre! Shall we get you set up right away into our rewards program-?"

"Get cleaned up first, and then we'll talk about that."

"......fine, "boss"." His shoulders slumped as he pouted, heading back into the spare bedroom to wash up and put his black suit, slacks, and bowtie back on.

While waiting, you sighed and looked down at your pet. "That son of a bitch really did it, Miso."

"........"

"Yeah, I should've known better. But it was nice being the manager of him for once."

#clanask #anonymous #sdv x reader #stardew valley x reader #sdv morris #stardew valley morris

21 notes · View notes

maxwell-mtv · 5 months

Text

To Wish Upon a Winter Star [Morris x G/N!Reader]

[HEY THERE, HI THERE, HO THERE! Sorry this took me a moment, I had to make sure this was perfect and then realized this would make for an excellent series so this will probably only be part 1 tbh. So my apologies for the offish end, but I assure you this intended to be a series now.

TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNINGS: Spicy old men who will gladly kill each other if they were only able too, jealousy, and brief alcohol mention!

Any who-sies, Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and Happy New Year to all you lovely folks out there <3. I hope you enjoy, and let me know if there's anything I can improve upon. I want to only produce the best for you all.]

“Morris Tod, the manager of Joja Mart, at our town's festival? That's ridiculous! What business does that corporate pig have nosing around our traditions? As if he has any right to intrude! He's the one who's actively ruining this town!” The shop owner slaps his newspaper onto his sales counter.

With a careless shrug, the purple haired girl finishes shuffling through her backpack.. “I don't know, Dad, that's just what Sam was telling me. Seems like maybe he's really trying to get involved.”

Sniffing and narrowing his eyes, the hunched man takes a bitter sip from his coffee mug. “What are the odds he's only showing because of the new Farmer?” His question was framed more as an accusation than a genuine point of conversation.

“I don't know. I don't care. I just don't want you to have an aneurysm when you see him there like you did when he showed up to the Luau…” The young woman rolls her eyes as she slings her bag over her shoulder and heads for the exit.

“Language, Abigail!” The man nearly stands up from his stool. “And where do you think you're going with that bag?”

“Outside?” She responds incredulously, pushing her way out the store.

Sitting back in his seat, Pierre takes another sip from his mug but not before scoffing at his daughter's rude attitude. This was going to be interesting, to say the least.

…

Looking like Ebenezer Scrooge in the way he dressed, Morris carried on conversation after conversation with the locals in town square. It was funny how despite his general appearance that the man could be so charming when he wanted to be. At least to him, all it took was a one-liner here and there, then a charming incentive to make them want more. For hours, every chance he got, he'd practiced and practiced for every possible scenario. Even in the mirror in those brief moments when he'd be tying his bowtie, he'd practice his facial expressions and the endearing expressions that would help charm those around him.

Despite his best efforts, these skills could only take him so far. Often only as far as the supermarket he ran. He wasn't as sought after as he may have liked, years of rejection and loneliness helped to drive that point home especially. Now, as he took his seat on a corner table, this point was driven home for him once more. No one came up to him, and with every passing glance of the locals, he swore he wasn't truly welcome there. Perhaps observing this town's tradition this year wasn't the best idea. He could have easily taken his one day off a year and stayed home. Or maybe he could even call his mother who he'd hardly talked to since he basically moved into the town.

Bouncing his leg, he glances over to spot the incoming farmer who seemed in a rush to get to the festivities. Glancing at his wrist watch, he saw why they were in such a rush. It was already nearly noon, halfway through the celebration hours.

Suddenly, his ideas of leaving, escaping, or anything of the sort disappear. He watches the young farmer as they start their rounds. But he's taken by surprise when a strange pang of jealousy bubbles within him as he watches them talk to Pierre before scurrying off towards the others. He stands and weaponizes this strange new feeling, planning his his attack while he approached Pierre's stall, he makes sure the farmer's back is turned for this next part.

Resting an arm on the desk part of the stall, he glances at Pierre. “Working year round, are we?”

“Save for Wednesdays, I have no choice.” Pierre responds coldly.

“What a shame, this wouldn't happen if you'd just close up shop and work for us. We could use a good numbers guy.”

“Oh really?” The tired middle aged man says sarcastically. “Is that so?”

“Oh yes, you know pricing all our items can become quite the daunting task. I'm sure a man of your caliber could easily achieve such low-brow work.” Morris says, finding himself to feel rather proud in the moment.

Pierre gawks and nearly chokes on his own spit. “What's your deal, you slimy scumbag?” He spits out through clenched teeth. “What's your fetish with tearing me down and ruining my life every chance you get?”

Morris's grin widens as he gets this response. “I would say you're the one who's self-sabotaging, Pierre. After all, how hard could it be to just shut down shop and work for a more secure job?”

“Because I'd be letting you win.”

“What a childish way of looking at things.” Morris takes a pause to glance over his shoulder to make sure the farmer was nowhere in ear shot. He quickly turns and leans in, smirking at his glowering counterpart. “Why don't you just surrender this losing battle of yours? I'll gladly take your clients off your hands and in return you can spend more time with your darling family.”

“As far as I'm concerned, you can kiss my-” Before Pierre can finish his statement, his wife approaches with two plates sandwiched together. Morris takes this opportunity to leave and go to the tables of food and beverages, some of which this year proudly provided by the local Joja Mart. It was merely a small show of appreciation to the townsfolk for letting him join in on the local festivities.

As you finished your rounds, you took a deep breath. Now all there was to do was to give your secret person the gift, receive yours and then you could head out. As you approached Willy to say hello and hand him his gift, you're stopped by a familiar voice.

“Well if it isn't my favorite soon-to-be customer!” Morris approaches, holding out a travel cup for you to take. His cheeky grin never falters as he eyes you over.

“Oh, hey Morris.” You hadn't known the man outside of the few awkward encounters at and around Pierre's. You only ever went over the stream for the Library or Clint's so you hardly ever thought about Joja Mart. You glance warily at the steaming cup, wondering what it was you were supposed to do.

“Here, it's rather chilly out here, don't you think?” He gestures for you to take the cup before sensing your hesitance. “Don't worry, this is Joja's finest cocoa! It's soy, dairy, nut, and gluten free!”

“Then what's in it?” You question, skeptical of any and all Joja products, having worked for the central offices for so long.

“That's a surprise.” He winks at you, basically placing the cup in your own hand at this point.

You take a moment to smell the steam billowing from the cup, only for you to instinctually lean away. “Thanks.” Noting the oddly chemical scent, you lean away and subtly place the cup on a table behind you.

“Not a problem. I don't know why they hold this event outside. Wouldn't it be much more reasonable to have it indoors?” He glances around the set up. “Joja Mart is always happy to rent out our vast, open spaces. Our shelves are easily movable with the help of our able-bodied staff!”

“I heard they used to hold this in the Community Center before it crumbled apart.” You mention passively.

“I see, I suppose this way when it gets dark, we can all gather to see the star.”

“The star?” Was there really the legendary star? You'd never seen it before, of course it was a local legend for a reason.

Nodding the larger man turns to point you towards where the sea was. “Ah yes, the star. Haven't you heard the story yet?” He cocks a brow. “Everyone in town knows the story, even I do. Although if you ask me, I think it's all fantasy.”

Intrigued, you pry for the story. He tells it to you with less enthusiasm and color than Willy might have, but it was informative to say the least. If only you hadn't been interrupted on your way to the fisherman, it would perhaps seem more magical to you. “How would you like to meet me tonight on the docks? I’d be happy to point it out to you.”

You didn't know why, but the way his crimson eyes stared into yours inclined you to say yes. “Sure.”

“Great! Meet me tonight at 10, I'll be waiting by the fishing shack.” He establishes, letting you go off to finish what you were inclined to do.

…

Hours go by, the festivities quickly wrap up with Pierre hardly making any gold. Exhausted, everyone goes back to their respective homes, others retire to the Saloon for a late night drink to calm their nerves. At the bar side, Morris sips on an Old Fashion and thinks over the day's events. What was up with that feeling inside his chest from earlier? Why did he so readily and easily insult and belittle Pierre? Sure they'd always had a strained business relationship, if one could even call it that. But he certainly went too far to go out of his way to shut him down like that. For a brief moment, Morris could feel some guilt festering in his stomach before drowning it with a final sip from his drink.

Setting the empty glass down, he places down a fine amount of gold to match the generosity shown to him with the potency of Gus's pour. He strides from the Saloon and makes his way over the bridge to the beachside. Any minute now, he'd need to show the new farmer a star he didn't even know the location of. All he knew was he would know it when he saw it.

Sitting on the docks, he lets his finely crafted leather shoes dangle over the water. Truly the drink had helped to let him relax more than normal. Leaning back, he takes a deep breath in. This was it. He was going to sell the farmer on Joja. Who didn't love to support a manager who went out of their way to create a relationship with them?

He heard the sound of steps walking over the creaking wooden boards which separated them from the sea below. Glancing over his shoulder, his hazy mind grew elated at the sight of you. His usual cheeky smile returned, but you could swear there was something different about it.

“Hey! If it isn't my favorite soon-to-be customer!” He says, turning his attention back up to the night sky. His heart seemed to skip a beat, only to pound all the harder to make up for lost time. His cheeks flushed red, but you couldn't see that, much to his luck, under the night light. “Come join me.” He offers a place next to him, patting his hand on the wooden docks.

“You sure? The dock is rather wet.” You cautioned yourself, unsure of his intentions. It was clear that something was off about his demeanor, but not necessarily in a bad way.

“You don't have to if you don't want to. I've just always loved this spot.” He shrugs, continuing to get lost in the stars above.

“Are you okay? You don't seem like your usual self today. I mean, Pierre even told me how you absolutely tore him to shreds earlier. I don't know you very well but if I had to guess I'd think something was wrong.” You take your seat next to him, albeit carefully considering you weren't wanting to get hypothermia tonight if you happened to slip into the waters below.

Morris felt his stomach drop. Of course Pierre would tell the farmer about that. “Oh, yes. I don't know what happened with that.” He lies, looking into the distance. That was the last thing he wanted to think about right now.

You take a moment to look over the manager's features. His slightly feathered hair, his sorrowful, almost empty expression, not to mention his glistening red eyes. It felt as if this wasn't the manager you'd grown to know over time. “Morris,” you start.

He looks over and into your eyes. “Hm?”

“You know you don't have to put on an act with me like everyone else, right? I hate it when people feel the need to wear a mask around me in order to gain my favor.” You confess, looking into his softening gaze.

“I don't know what you mean.” He chuckles, trying to brush it off.

“Listen, I know it might be hard, especially doing it all the time but you can let your guard down around me. Either way, I'm never going to shop at Joja Mart.”

That last sentence gets his attention, his glasses nearly tilting off his face with how fast he shoots you a look. “What!?”

“Yeah, I hate to break it to you but I'm in full support of Pierre. So please, stop pretending.” Shrugging, you watch as the man goes through several stages of processing.

For a moment, Morris wonders why he's even sticking around then. He knew he could charm anyone into shopping at his store, sometimes all it took was a big enough discount to have them reeling in. Then again, why didn't he try that already?

He looks to you and sighs, slumping his shoulders and swallowing his pride. “I suppose that's only fair.” He relents.

You watch in surprise as he gets up and starts walking off the docks. Wasting no time, you rise to your feet, slipping a little as you rush after him. “Where are you going?”

“Home.” He says, sounding defeated.

“You were supposed to show me the star.” You point out.

“Hm?” He looks back over his shoulder at you, he'd nearly forgotten.

“Yeah, you were going to show me the star.”

“You still want to see it?”

“Of course I do.”

“Willy would be far better for that.”

“Willy's not around.” You state bluntly. You were not about to let this man go so easily. At least, not in the state he seemed to be in now.

Turning around, Morris runs a nervous hand through his already messy hair. “Look, I won't lie to you, I don't even know where that stupid star is.”

It was as if in letting his mask fall, he'd revealed just how exhausted he really was. And the alcohol in his system certainly didn't help with him feeling it.

“That's okay, we can look for it together.” You insist calmly. “Unless you'd like to go home, in which case I'm completely fine with that too. But I'd love it if you'd look for it with me.”

Your subtle plea peaks his fancy. “I-I can stay.” He says, wondering if he'll regret this.

But just as his doubts were getting the best of him, your warm smile washes any future regret away.

Cut to nearly an hour of sitting back on the slippery docks together, you two start pointing out stars.

“I think it might be that one.” You say, pointing to another especially bright star.

“No, what about that one?” Morris points up in his own direction.

“Which one?”

Morris leans in and tries to point your vision towards his. “There.”

“I don't know which one you're seeing, but you're definitely wrong.” You say, leaning into him more until you two are touching. It felt so right, considering the chilly outdoors, his warm body made the lovely view even cozier. Morris chuckles and shakes his head. “No, see? It's large and purple and-”

“That's a plane.” You burst out laughing.

Morris looks down at you and adjusts his glasses. “What?”

“Yeah, that's a plane! See? It's lights are flashing, that's why they look-”

“Ey, what're ya two doing out here at this late hour? Don'tcha know I'm trying ta sleep in here?” A scruffy voice hollers from the window at the top of the fishing shack.

Both of you dart your eyes up to meet the fisherman's gaze. “Sorry, Willy.” You say. “I didn't even know you were in there.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. But just so you two know, the Winter Star is over there.” He points in the direction of the town where a large, looming purple star is clearing shining upon the sandy beach. “Now get outta here ye two love birds!” And with that, you two are left to each other again.

For a moment, you stare into each other's eyes again before you eventually break the awkward silence with laughter. “Well, we found it!” You manage to say.

“Yeah.” Morris says softly, glancing at you with a new found fondness.

Love birds?

This could be the beginning of something he'd been needing all along.

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