a sweet lil one-shot btw farmer and harvey where farmer Takes Care of him as the two of them wake up
MDNI!!!
read it on ao3 here!
When you woke up that Saturday morning next to your husband, you knew nothing would pull you from his side.
Harvey. With his tousled, salt-and-pepper hair and his white boxers with red hearts all over. God, he made you feel things.
Gently, you touched his arm. His neck. His jaw. His lips.
When his eyelids fluttered open, his eyes darted toward you to ensure you were still by his side. He always felt a flash of disappointment when he woke up and you weren’t there to greet him. Today, he smiled and nuzzled into your touch.
“Hello, darling,” he whispered to you. You loved it when he called you that sweet nickname. It was soft, comfortable, and held a quiet elegance, just like him.
You pressed a slow kiss to his lips and his hands came up to capture your face, holding you there.
Your kiss deepened and Harvey let out a low moan before moving one of his hands from your jaw down your back. You smiled into your kiss before moving to straddle him.
As soon as you settled into his lap, you recognized that familiar sensation of his erection rubbing against your thigh. Feeling frisky this morning, you took the opportunity to grind down onto him. He groaned again and thrust upwards.
“Farmer…,” he said, between pants, “I need you.”
Smiling into your kiss, you reach blindly for the hem of your shirt. When you find it, you sit up, and Harvey helps you pull it off.
Almost immediately, his lips latch onto your nipple. A shock rips through you, and you moan out his name. “Harvey!” you say, breathily. He hums a response, still suckling at your nipple.
You arch your back, giving him easier access to your chest. He sucks harder as if rewarding you for your good behavior.
You aren’t letting him have you that easy, though. You grind down on his crotch again and he removes his lips from your nipple.
“Farmer!” he says, suddenly disoriented. You smile at him, innocently, knowing that this look tells him you want to play.
You watch the moment it dawns on him as his eyes darken slightly and his cheeks tinge pink. “You want a game, Farmer? You can have a game.”
He smirked and flipped you over. “Let’s play,” he says, his voice gravelly.
You giggled as he attacked your neck with mustachioed kisses. But the giggles stopped short when he became more aggressive in his technique, sucking and biting at your collarbone.
Your hands moved down his body to his boxers, sweetly caressing his drooling length making him moan into your poor, abused neck.
You pull briefly at the waistband of his boxers, indicating your need for more of him.
He huffed one last breath into your neck before adjusting your positions. He sat with his back against your headboard, his cock sprung free from his boxers. You knelt between his legs, your lips ready and waiting, your hands tied together behind your back with the tie he’d discarded on the floor last night before the two of you jumped into bed together.
“Can I, Doctor?” you said, with batted eyelashes.
With a grunt, he acquiesced, placing a hand on your head in a gesture of unspoken authority.
You spat on his length, preparing him for your mouth. With your lips wrapped around his cock, you began to bob your head up and down. Your teeth grazed his cock briefly, and you heard him whine in anticipation.
Suddenly, you felt his hand push his length all the way down your throat. Gagging, you tried to swallow, knowing he loved this sensation.
He moaned loudly, and you would’ve smirked if your mouth hadn’t been full. You were raised with manners. It’s rude to open your mouth while enjoying breakfast.
You tugged at your makeshift restraints, wishing desperately to cradle and squeeze his balls and maybe even put a finger or two into his tight hole.
You began to shift under his iron grip signalling your need to speak. He immediately removed his hand and began to pull his dick from your mouth.
Regaining your breath, you signalled toward your restraints. He reached over you and untied you.
“I’m sorry, Honey. Did I go too far?” he said with a concerned look.
“Not at all. I just need my hands, Dear.”
His eyes widened and he blushed furiously. After all these years, he still wasn’t attuned to all of your tricks.
“Do I have your permission, my love?” you asked innocently.
He blushed harder before nodding furiously.
With a smirk, you rolled your wrists and pulled him lower on the bed. After adjusting his legs, you spat on your hands and rubbed them together, warming them up.
Harvey followed your actions attentively, hoping he might be able to figure out what you’d planned for him somehow.
Maybe he’d not had enough time today because he was completely in the dark as you began to suck on his balls and circled a finger around his hole.
You heard his breath quicken as you felt his balls tighten.
Slowly, you pushed your finger into his fuckhole. He moaned loudly and gripped your hair with renewed intensity.
“Fuck, Farmer! Please. Harder,” he whimpered.
Slowly, you inserted a second finger. As you resumed curling your fingers inside him, he let out a short cry.
“Farmer… I’m close. Please. Let me come inside you, my love.”
Without another word, you removed your fingers and readjusted your position, straddling him once more.
“Farmer…,” he said when the two of you made eye contact.
You smiled and aligned yourself with his fat cock.
After a brief kiss, you sank all the way down.
The two of you took a moment to adjust before he began thrusting up into you.
Inhaling slowly, you began bouncing up and down determined to bring your husband the pleasure he so deserved.
With his hands positioned on either side of your waist, he began guiding you.
Your movements were quicker and more intense now. It was obvious that your dear husband was so very close.
With one final thrust, he let out a loud groan and came inside your tight little hole.
You weren’t quite done, though, so after a brief moment, you resumed your movements chasing after his waves of pleasure toward your own.
The two of you shared a chaste kiss before he settled you next to him on the bed, kissing your forehead, and leaving the bed to get a washcloth to clean you up.
Synopsis: Sam was happily married. Then, one day, the farmer divorced him.
He can't remember this.
(In other words, the Dark Shrine of Memory's effects...on the spouse. Specifically, Sam.)
I've been into Stardew Valley for a while. I've wanted to write stuff for this fandom so, SO badly but I feel incredibly inexperienced writing these characters and all that. But heck, why not?
Be warned: I have not actually played through Sam's storyline yet. This knowledge is what I've gathered from my interactions and what I've read on the Wiki. I learned about the Shrines, and I saw Sam and Kent and all them and went "ooh, yes, the angst potential"
Sooo here we are. :') Hope you guys enjoy my first dip into writing for SDV! ^ ^ (Yes, this is also on Ao3. I cross-posted!)
He should have seen it coming a lot sooner.
The way they looked at Sebastian, the way they came home so much later, the way they got annoyed when he asked about why they were giving him his favorite food so much...
He couldn't be mad at his best friend. Not really. After all, there wasn't a soul in town who didn't love the farmer who moved in two years ago and restored the Community Center. They were attractive, kind, and rich—the perfect lover. When they gave Sam the mermaid pendant, he knew he could only say yes. Maybe they'd only known each other a year at that point (he'd also heard his mother's warnings about getting married too soon), but he knew they were the one he wanted to be with forever.
It appears that the feeling isn't reciprocated.
Lewis had knocked on the door during the evening, when the farmer had already gone to bed. He had presented the divorce papers with a sympathetic look, told Sam where to sign, and Sam stood in his childhood bedroom only an hour later. Sam locked himself in his room, ashamed to show anyone that he had somehow screwed things up with someone he loved dearly.
The next day, Sebastian was telling Sam the good news. Of course, Sam only smiled in return, and his friend finally quieted down, mumbling something resembling an apology.
Again, Sam couldn't be angry with Sebastian. It only makes sense he'd be excited about his new relationship.
It was about a week later when they came up to him to talk. Before letting them speak, Sam turned away.
"I'm sorry, Farmer," Sam said, forcing the words out. "I don't think I can still be your friend."
He couldn't bear to even look at them. He didn't move, so they walked past him.
"We'll see."
It was so quiet that Sam wasn't sure if that's what he'd heard. When he turned to look behind him, they were already gone.
...Why does the air feel a lot colder?
*******
That evening, Sam was at the dinner table, pushing around some carrots on his plate. His stomach was twisting into a knot.
"How was your day, Vincent?" Jodi asked with a smile, taking the boy's plate and adding seconds of dinner.
"It was great!" Vincent beamed. "I learned some more words, and the farmer gave me an ice cream!"
All three adults tensed, and Sam could feel their eyes on him. Sam looked up, forcing a smile. "That's great, Vince."
Vincent nodded and shoveled more food in his mouth. Kent took a drink of his water, making sure their eyes couldn't meet. Jodi gave Sam an apologetic expression, to which Sam just shrugged.
"Don't forget to eat your green beans." Jodi sat the plate in front of Vincent.
"I don't wanna!"
Sam pushed his plate away and stood. "I'm gonna go for a walk, if that's okay."
"I'll come with," Kent chimed in.
"No fair!" Vincent whined. "Why doesn't Sam have to eat the veggies?"
Jodi shot Sam a pleading look, so Sam quickly shoveled the carrots in his mouth, giving his younger brother a thumbs-up. Vincent seemed satisfied, so he began to eat his carrots, too.
There were only a couple of people walking around tonight, and they were either heading home or the Saloon. Sam was quiet while walking with his father; even if it had been a few years since he came home, he wasn't that sure of what to say to him.
"I know...things are tough."
Sam looked up. Kent was still looking away.
"Huh?"
"You and the farmer...not working out. I had a girlfriend back in high school I broke up with beofre I met your mother. I know it's not the same as divorce—I will always be grateful that your mother hasn't left me for a man who isn't broken. But I know that it's one of the worst feelings to not be with someone you've loved for years. I guess the point I'm trying to make is that things will get better. I know it isn't ideal, and you're allowed to be upset. But it'll eventually be okay again."
Sam turned his head to the ground, a lump growing in his throat. "Thanks, Dad."
"Mhm."
Suddenly, Sam hissed, holding his head.
"Are you okay?"
"Headache. It's pretty bad."
"Oh. Let's head home; I'm pretty sure your mother has aspirin in the cabinet."
"Okay."
********
Like always, Sam woke up and stretched, feeling content. Well...maybe not content. He needed to head to work, then go to Sebastian's, but he was okay with how things were. Once he got dressed, he stepped out of his room—
Time stopped.
A man he hadn't seen in years was sitting on the couch, listening to Vincent talk about his toy cars as if he'd done so for years now. Sam felt like his knees were about to give out.
"...Dad?" The word felt foreign coming from him.
He looked up and nodded once. "Hey. Is your headache gone?"
"I..." Sam's head was swimming. His father was home, acting completely casual. Like he wasn't gone yesterday. "You're home?"
Kent's eyebrows furrowed, but Sam didn't care. He rushed up to him and threw his arms around him.
"You're home!" Sam cried. "You're home!"
Vincent was staring with wide eyes, and Kent was visibly taken aback. However, he hugged Sam back. "...Yeah? I have been."
"You were gone yesterday, though! I just—you—"
"What do you mean?"
Sam was smiling from ear to ear, even as his eyes filled with tears. "You're home."
*******
While Sam walked through Pelican Town over the next week, he found that a few things have changed overnight. For example, Pam and Penny have an actual house now; the library's museum was full of artifacts; Willy had a boat to Ginger Island prepared. His closest friend, Sebastian, was dating the new farmer that moved to town recently. When Sam saw the unfamiliar face, he held out his hand with a grin.
"Hey, I’m Sam. Good to meet you."
The farmer took his hand, and Sam felt a sense of deja vu. Like he'd said this before. Like their hand was in his before. Like he knew everything about them, despite having just met them for the first time.
"Same to you," the farmer smiled. Once they were a few feet away, Sam headed towards Sebastian's, but he spotted two doves sitting nearby, cooing sadly.
Sam felt compelled to wave.
*******
Too much was different overnight.
The Happy Junimo Show was on, and Vincent, Jas, and this weird new kid named Leo were sitting in front of the TV. The theme song was playing at the end of the episode, and the credits included his name. Plus, Sebastian and Abigail were both really confused when Sam asked about the farmer. His father was home after years of being away at war, but everyone acted like they knew him.
As Sam laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling, he felt like something was missing. Like something was different.
Well...I never have had the best memory, Sam thought. Maybe Mom said that Dad was gonna be home yesterday, and maybe everyone knows the farmer from visits to Zuzu City. How it all happened overnight, though...well, maybe it's magic. Yeah, that explains things.
Sam turned his head to look out the window. He spotted the farmer holding a mermaid pendant over their head, and they handed it to Sebastian.
For some reason, he wanted to stop Sebastian from accepting the proposal. But why? The farmer, while weird, seemed pleasant enough.
Maybe I'm just jealous that Seb's getting married before me. Maybe I'm just upset I never knew he had a partner before a dew days ago.
Even if he knew deep down that wasn't right, he just had to accept it, didn't he?
After all, he had no evidence anything else was going on.
Can i request about pilot harvey meeting the farmer (GN) ? (Those HCs about the bachelors archieving their dreams is living rent free in my head for a while )
Maybe harvey taking a break from aviation after an accident and spending some time in pelican town to rest ? 👀
It could be HCs or a little oneshot, whatever you're comfortable with!
(If Anything just sorry in advance)
Hey moot! This one was a monster, and it took me fucking ages(sorry abt that), but I hope you like it all the same!!
Bachelor/ettes Achieving Their Dreams is here.
Warnings: 3296 words, mentions of scarring, burns, fire, some swearing, and Pierre's relationship with Abigail is pretty... not nice. GN!Farmer, Pilot!Harvey. Half edited, so excuse any awkward phrasing or typos. Enjoy!
When the creatures of the valley are sleeping, and the streetlights lining the town square still glow faintly, Harvey wakes up and starts his day.
Like clockwork, he rolls out of bed to wash the sleep out of his eyes and shock his body awake with a shower. It’s a routine he picked up in the early years of his career, when he was lowest in seniority and always stuck with the longest and earliest flights. Sixteen years later and he still does it, even though there’s no reason to wake up early anymore.
Hopping out of the shower at half past five, he wrings the water out of his curls with a towel, and plucks his glasses from where he left them folded neatly on a washcloth. He wipes vapor off of the lenses with it, holds them up to the light to make sure they’re dry, and then settles them on his nose.
The world turns clear, and a flash of pearly white at the front of his bangs catches his attention. Harvey frowns.
He’s lucky his hairline isn’t receding just yet, but he scowls at how his age is starting to show in the streaks of white, in sharp contrast against the rest of his chocolate brown hair. He flicks a dangling curl away from his brow, and leans in close to the mirror, eyeing his jawline in disappointment. He runs a palm over the curve of his cheek, and sighs.
He needs to shave again.
Well, need is a strong word, because he doesn’t—not anymore, anyway. But old habits die hard.
That takes at least ten minutes, and he’s been shaving every other day for half of his life, but he’s still nursing a nick under his jaw as he walks into the kitchenette. The apartment is cool compared to the sauna he’s made of the bathroom, and his skin blooms with goosebumps when he opens the fridge.
He drags out the almost empty carton of eggs from the back of the top shelf, and pulls a pack of bread from the other side. There are two slices left, not counting the ends. He sighs, and knows he’ll have to pick up groceries from Pierre’s in a few hours when the shop opens. Harvey digs the last of his coffee grounds out of the cabinet above the stove. He’ll need to pick up another bag of those as well, and his head twinges at the thought. His grocery list is getting longer the more he thinks about it.
He shakes the thoughts away. Coffee and food first, before everything else.
He fries up the last of the eggs, toasts and lightly butters the bread, and sits at his tiny dining table with a full mug. The window beside him is closed and the curtains are pulled, but the cloth is sheer enough that he can look outside and see the world slowly start to wake up. There are chittering finches in the tree branches, a brown rabbit hopping through the underbrush of Jodi’s backyard, and if he straightens up enough, he can see pure white gulls gliding over the deep stretch of blue beyond Pelican Town’s beaches.
He eats slowly, gazing out the window as the sun finally rises above the mountains and bathes the valley in soft yellow light.
Harvey smiles and pulls the curtains back. It’s still too cold to slide the window open—the valley is just three weeks out of winter, and you’d have to be a madman to subject yourself to the early morning chill—but the warmth of the sun should reach him through the glass just fine. He picks up his mug and takes a swig, settling in for his breakfast overlooking Pelican Town.
The peace is short-lived, however. By half past 8, his dishes are empty and clean in the rack adjacent to the sink, and his computer is on the table, open to a 3-day-old email from Steph, his coworker. He scrolls up to the beginning of the message and skims over it again.
Hey Harv, just checking in again. How are you doing these days? How are your arms? Has your back healed? I’m sure you’re following doctor’s orders, but I wanted to check in to be sure. By the way, I talked to Ricky yesterday, and he says he’s doing good, but he hasn’t heard from you in months. I don’t mean to pry, and you know I don’t mind the radio silence, but he’s your best friend, Harv... Reach out to him, will you? He misses you. We all do. Even the trainees have been asking about you (I think they just miss getting drinks on your dime though). Take care of yourself, maybe go outside for a bit, you old fart. I’ve heard the weather in the south is lovely this time of year. Send me some pictures, okay? Talk soon.
Harvey sighs and runs an exasperated hand over his face.
How is he doing?
His back still aches occasionally, but Caroline’s aerobics class helps with the worst of the pain, and the burns on his arms healed a long time ago. The scars are a nasty reminder, sure, but his skin doesn’t feel tender to the touch anymore.
Point is, he could schedule a physical tomorrow, and his doctor would clear him for flight by the end of next week—but that’s kind of the problem.
Harvey looks at his coat closet. In the farthest corner, hidden under his uniforms, his model kits collect dust. He threw everything in there when he first arrived in the valley, and he’s pretty sure he’d have to lean all of his weight back just to get the door open. He goes tense when he hears an engine in the sky, but he doesn’t look up anymore.
Harvey pauses.
When did he stop?
He glances at the time, and closes his computer with a sigh. His chair makes an awful screech against the tile as he stands, and he beelines for his dresser, yanking the top drawer open to grab the first barely presentable thing he sees. An old university t-shirt; one of the few with no holes.
He tosses it on his bed, swipes the top pair of jeans out of his hamper, and unravels his robe.
Harvey gets dressed quickly and only spares himself a quick glance in the mirror to check that everything is sitting fine. It’s certainly not the picture of professionalism expected by his employers, but they’re not here, so as long as he doesn’t look like he’s just rolled out of bed, that’s good enough.
Harvey slips on his most comfortable pair of shoes, shoves his wallet and keys in his pocket, and steps outside.
The sun assaults his pupils as he makes his way down the stairs, and he squints against the glare until his eyes adjust. It’s nicer out now, and he breathes in the sweet smell of tulips—Evelyn’s flowers of choice this year for the planters lining the square. The dogwood trees are also blooming, leaving the cobblestone littered with white and pink petals. Harvey closes his eyes and inhales slowly, feeling peaceful.
“Shit!—”
Harvey jumps, his eyes flying open in surprise at the sound of wood thunking against glass, heavy like a gong. A few birds leap from their perches in the trees, and a squirrel dives under a bush. He turns to Pierre’s, searching for the source of the sound, and finds a stranger with a giant crate in their arms, fighting to balance it as they reach for the doors.
Harvey realizes that it is not one, but two crates.
Stacked on top of each other.
One of them is starting to tip over.
“Woah, woah!” They yelp, and Harvey moves without thinking.
The grit of the wood presses against his palms as he heaves the top crate out of their arms, and he looks at the stranger with a smile.
“Uh, hello,” Harvey says. They blink, perfectly silent, and he grimaces. “Sorry, you looked like you were going to lose it.”
It’s not as smooth as he’d like, but it does snap them out of whatever trance they were in.
“Oh, no! Thank you for saving it, it would’ve been bad if I lost that one. It’s, uh.” They smile, and there’s an anxious edge to their voice. “That one’s full of eggs.”
Harvey blinks down at the crate, and then the pavement. “I can’t imagine the mess that would’ve made.”
“Yeah, I don’t think Pierre would ever buy from me again.” They wince. “He probably wouldn’t let me near his shop at all, actually.”
“That man does know how to hold a grudge.” Harvey glances at the doors, the glass glinting and reflecting the bright morning sun directly in his eyes. He blinks hard, willing the after images away. “I’m just here to pick up some groceries, but would you like some help bringing these in?”
“I wasn’t expecting you to, but I’d be very grateful if you did, stranger.” They smile. Something warm settles in his gut at the invitation.
“My name is Harvey,” He says sheepishly.
“It’s nice to meet you, Harvey. I’m the new farmer.” Harvey doesn’t bother mentioning he never met the old one. They nod at the dirt path leading to the bus stop, and he glances over his shoulder. “I moved into the farmhouse down the road a few weeks ago.”
His eyebrows wrinkle a bit. “You moved in a few weeks ago and I’ve only just met you?”
“I’ve been pretty busy. The farm wasn’t in the best shape, so I’ve been clearing the land, and trying to raise enough money to restore the farmhouse.” The Farmer lifts the crate in their arms a bit. “Hence the crates.”
Harvey looks down at the crate in his arms. “How many chickens do you even have? There’s like fifty eggs in here.”
“I started off with two, but I’ve got eight now. They make a lot.”
“Yeah, no kidding.” Harvey readjusts the crate, a burn building in his arms. He’s surprised it took so long, though. Maybe the aerobics class is doing more for him than just fixing the back pain.
Harvey nearly topples backward as the front doors swing open, but rights himself at the last moment. The crate of eggs remains safe in his arms, even though the glare that Abigail fixes him with makes his knees weak, and the sword strapped to her hip doesn’t help, either.
“Harvey,” she grits out, and he thinks it might be a greeting?
He doesn’t have the opportunity to reply, though, because she levels the farmer with an even nastier scowl, and storms off toward Marnie’s. Pierre appears just then, keys in hand and a matching scowl on his face. Harvey doesn’t have to wonder where Abigail got it from.
“Fucking brat,” Pierre spits, jamming the keys into the front doors to unlock them as Harvey and the Farmer share an awkward look.
“Uh, rough morning, Pierre?” The Farmer asks.
“That would be the understatement of the fucking century, Farmer.” Pierre waves them in, and Harvey follows dutifully. The general store is always warmer than it is outside, and in the winter that’s a boon, but right now Harvey can already feel sweat clinging to the nape of his neck. He rolls his shoulders back, and that helps only marginally. “What have you got for me today?”
“One crate of eggs, one of produce.”
“Good. Set them both on the counter. I’ll get my scale and ring you up.”
“Yes sir,” The farmer heaves their crate onto the counter beside Pierre’s register, and Harvey sets the eggs beside it as gently as he can. When he looks up, the door to Pierre’s home is swinging shut.
“Wow. This spat must’ve been really bad if Pierre is cursing,” The Farmer muses, crossing their arms and leaning against the counter.
“I've never seen him this angry.” Harvey heaves a breath. “I wonder what happened this time.”
“I'm not close with either of them, so I couldn’t guess.” The Farmer shrugs.
“I didn’t think you were,” Harvey whistles. “Certainly not Abigail, with the way she looked at you. What did you even do?”
The Farmer sighs. “Lewis thinks it’s because she wanted to buy the deed to the old farm, and is pissed that I got it through birth.”
“And what do you think?” Harvey asks.
They shrug again. “I’m not about to hunt her down to find out.”
“She’d probably cut you down if you did,” Harvey says grimly, shuddering at the memory of the sword gleaming on her hip. The Farmer chuckles.
“She could certainly try.” The Farmer rolls their eyes, a smug smile playing on their lips, and Harvey suddenly gets the sense that he is very, very out of his depth. They look at him curiously after the silence stretches for a few moments longer than necessary, and Harvey swallows hard.
“Groceries.” He says intelligently, and the Farmer’s eyes slowly crinkle at the edges.
“That is what you originally came here for.”
“I should go do that.”
“You should.” The Farmer nods, their smile unmoving, and Harvey stiffly makes his way to the end of the first aisle.
He can feel the Farmer’s eyes on him the whole way, his eyes skimming the shelf as he tries very hard to ignore the prickling heat climbing up his neck. He slips out of sight, rubs the back of his neck as the feeling disappears, and starts looking for his coffee.
The door in the far corner of the shop swings open again, and Pierre waltzes back into the store with an easy smile on his face. Harvey really should be used to the mood swings by now, but when Pierre’s entire personality changes with the breeze, the whiplash is enough to leave everything spinning.
“Sorry for the wait, Farmer. My scale wasn’t where I left it.”
“Oh, no worries, Pierre. I’m in no rush.”
“No offense, but I don’t believe you,” Pierre jokes. “You’re always in a rush.”
“Not today, thankfully. I’m spending the rest of the day at the beach.”
Harvey hears Pierre clunk his scale on the counter. “The beach? It’s still a bit too cold to take a dip, isn’t it?”
“Oh no, I’m not going swimming, I’m fishing.”
Harvey’s never been the type to eavesdrop, but the store is small and they’re not even ten feet away, so he doesn’t have much of a choice in the matter, does he?
He frowns. It’s a poor excuse and he knows it.
He refocuses on the bags in front of him, and sighs. Pierre has a small selection of coffee, and it’s expensive, but it’s better than Joja. Harvey shudders. He would rather pour hot wax on his own tongue than buy coffee from Joja.
Harvey grabs two bags of beans, stands up, and plucks one loaf of plain white bread from the top shelf. He glances down at everything in his arms. He probably should’ve grabbed a basket.
“Alright, that's the last of it!”
“Thank you, Pierre, I appreciate it.” Harvey perks up.
“Oh no, it’s no trouble at all. Your farm is already doing a lot of good for the local economy, even with that cursed Joja Mart across the river.” Harvey nearly snorts. No one in town is as vocal about their hatred for the big blue building as Pierre.
“Give it time, Pierre. It’ll close down eventually.”
“In a perfect world, it never would’ve opened in the first place.”
“Have a good day, Pierre,” The Farmer calls over their shoulder, and Harvey tenses when he realizes the sound of their steps is getting closer. Harvey looks up, and the Farmer is smiling at him, half concealed by the rack as they peer around the corner. “Hey.”
“Uh, hi again.” Harvey manages a tiny wave past everything in his arms, and the Farmer’s smile widens.
“Just wanted to thank you again for the help,” The Farmer says warmly. Harvey opens his mouth to reply, wanting to say something about it being no trouble, but they’re already dipping out of sight. Regret sours in his throat.
But then they’re reappearing a moment later, still leaning past the corner of the aisle like they’re in some goofy movie poster, with a basket hanging from their hand. “Need a basket?”
Harvey wonders if the twitch of his lips is visible under the fluff of his mustache, and walks up to them. “I do, thank you.”
“I think this is the least I can do, considering.” The Farmer holds it out to him, keeping the handles out of his way as he dumps the bags of coffee and bread into the basket. “I would’ve lost a lot of income if you hadn’t lent me a hand when you did, so thank you.”
“It wasn’t any trouble.”
“Maybe not, but I appreciate you all the same. It’s nice being out here, surrounded by people who actually give a damn about each other.” Harvey stares at them in surprise. “Even the nicest people in Zuzu wouldn’t have given me a second glance.”
“You’re from the city?”
They nod. “Not by birth, but yeah. I was living in Zuzu for a few years until now.”
Harvey takes in their sunkissed skin, and the sturdiness of their arms. They look like they’ve been in the fields for years. “I never would’ve guessed.”
“That’s probably a good thing.” They hold his basket out again, and Harvey takes it.
“Thank you, Farmer.”
They smile, and the flecks of dirt on their face catch his eyes like diamonds. “You’re welcome. Have a good day, Harvey. It was nice meeting you.”
“You too,” Harvey mumbles as they finally leave, the bell above the doors cheerily punctuating their departure.
It takes him a long time to shake himself out of it, but he manages eventually. Harvey plucks a few extra things off the shelves, and when his basket is appropriately heavy, he makes his way to the counter where Pierre is busy separating eggs into cartons.
“Morning, Harvey,” Pierre greets him familiarly, and Harvey nods his head.
“Morning, Pierre.” Harvey clunks his basket on the counter. “Can I get two cartons of eggs too, please?”
Pierre checks him out quickly, and Harvey is out of there two minutes later with his arms full and his wallet a little lighter.
He climbs up the steps to his apartment, and pauses at his door. He looks up toward the bus stop; squints hard to see past it. The trees block most of his view, but he can still make out the hint of open farmland between the branches. Harvey blinks and turns to his door, his keys jingling obnoxiously between his fingertips as he unlocks it and steps inside. He’s being weird.
He sets his bags on the kitchen counter and starts unloading his groceries.
Later, just past noon, Harvey is sitting in front of his computer, once again failing to type up a worthwhile reply to Steph. He gets a sentence down, maybe two, and then he’s grumbling to himself and deleting everything again. And again. And again.
And again.
Harvey thunks his head against the tabletop in defeat, and groans loudly.
“This isn’t working,” Harvey mumbles, as if the world needed any confirmation.
He sits up, his forehead aching faintly, and looks out the window. Beyond the square, beyond the thick line of trees, he can see the ocean glittering under the sun, deep blue and endless.
All it takes is a tug in his chest, and Harvey gets up, puts his shoes on, and walks out the door.
What is he going to do with you... Almost giving him a heart attack shuffling into the house, he almost dropped his coffee mug when he saw you. Looking pale as a ghost on the verge of passing out with cuts all over your body.
As a doctor for once he just wants you to take it, maybe go home relax your muscles take a day or two off from your farm work.
As your lover... He can't help but worry, his heart filling with nothing but anxiety every time you tell him that you're going down into those monster infested mines. Pretty much always being ready for you to come home like this.
He helps you into the kitchen sitting patiently on the chair while he goes gets a medical kit and his equipment.
" It looks bad today." Harvey says inspecting your body. His touches were careful, afraid of hurting you more. " I need to see more of you."
Knowing precisely what he means, red flushes to your cheeks, hesitant. He chuckles. He's sure you face scarier things down underground, yet you're still like this when you're with him. His mustache tickles your cheek as he kisses you" Don't worry darling, nothing I haven't seen." he's usually like this too around you, but your health is his number one priority.
Harvey, with the alcohol-soaked cotton ball, gently tends to each wound. The gashes weren't deep, but they were a lot of them.
Harvey made sure to kiss each bruise on your arms and legs.
However you are not free from his wrath as Harvey scolded you for being so reckless with your own body. Only to kiss you on the forehead bringing over a cup of your favorite drink.
" I just want you to take it easy... For now that least"
He gives you a small smile when you nod in response.
"Thank you, I love you"
" Now if it continues to hurt for a few days and I'm not here, come to my office-"
Harvey could never stay angry at your recklessness, you were going to be okay and that's all that mattered to him. No matter how much you fall and get hurt he wants you to know that he will always be there to patch you up it is his duty as your doctor and your lover.
I've already broken my 100 word rule because I can't help myself. And it's the holidays, so naturally I'm feeling very self-indulgent.
The majority of my work up until this point has been for the Mayans fandom. If you'd like to be tagged in my Stardew Valley work, or even just in the Drabbles, let me know! ✌🏻
❄️
2. Cocoa (Sam x GN!Farmer)
"Ok, I think I’ve done it,” Sam declared as he traipsed back towards the couch, a very full, steaming mug in each hand. You grinned at him, his blond hair messy from sleep, his pajama pants slightly askew.
“Done what?”
“Perfected my cocoa recipe,” he replied, handing you a cup before plopping down beside you, somehow managing not to spill.
“Ah,” you giggled, “didn’t realize I was dating a cocoa connoisseur.”
Sam leaned towards you, plucking the marshmallow off the top of your cup, and rested it against your lips. His eyes sparkled bewitchingly as you opened your mouth, the room suddenly several degrees warmer, his nimble fingers brushing along the swell of your bottom lip. You sighed needily at the sweetness on your tongue and the proximity of Sam, his lips hovering close to yours as you chewed.
Suddenly, he pulled back, pressing a quick kiss to your nose and backing all the way across the couch with a coy wink.
“Yep,” he said, smirking as he turned back to the TV, your mouth hanging open in indignation.
*Barges into your house with fluff nobody asked for* In this house we LOVE and RESPECT our sad boi and wish him well.
Hopeful Fluff of Shane getting better. Idk what to call it but I wrote it soooo-
TW: Mentions of alcoholism and withdrawals symptoms
Mornings were your favorite. The crisp mountain air coming in from your open windows. Helping erase the slight bitter tinge of mead and wine fermenting in your basement before the next festival. Pouring another cup of coffee you watch the sunrise from your kitchen window. It’s golden rays bounce off the river water flowing lazily outside your garden wall. A few fat salmon jumped out teasingly, scales shining in the cool fall air.
“Whatca think Salem?” You pat your shepherd's head. “Fishing after herding the sheep? Or a horse ride into town? I think Gus has got some new treats for ya.” Salem woofs, wagging his tail once before trotting to his dog bowl. He eats quickly then eyes the back door expectantly. “All right, herding it is.” Checking the breakfast casserole in the oven and peeking in on your boyfriend’s sleeping form you tiptoe out the house to get your morning started before breakfast.
Watering and harvesting took longer than usual. The fruit trees hung low and groaned under the weight of their labor. The peaches looked exceptional this harvest too. You pick them, making a mental note to preserve some for Evelyn and Abigail then sell the rest to Pierre. After the harvesting and several trips to the storage shed you go to check on all your babies.
Several new chickens had hatched overnight too. Three brown, a white, and another void. You tuck the little black chick into your hoodie and give it a smooch. As useless as their eggs were for eating you always had a soft spot for these tiny goth chickens. Taking it to the coop you had specially built for your void-born feathered friends you deposit the little one amongst its brethren. It peeps in thanks before waddling off to peck at the fresh feed.
Morning chores done, you jog back to your house hoping your casserole hasn't burned. The house smelled of spiced ham and fresh garlic when you reentered. The rest of the windows open to let in the river breeze and faint scent of your flower patches. The fireplace roared in its corner, chasing away the frosty nip that clung to your cheeks. “Shane?” You follow the noise from the mudroom to the kitchen entrance.
“Ye?” He poked his head around the corner. Warm brown eyes blink at you blearily. The corners of which were still crusted over with sleep. He must have just rolled out of bed. “Morin’.” He yawns widely scratching at his rumpled old gridball hoodie. Exchanging a brief morning breath laden kiss you smooth down a few of his more wild strands of bed head.
“Thought you were taking the day off?” Your lips touch again, pulling a happy little hum from him.
“I am. Just thought I would finish making breakfast so you could put your feet up faster. Plus, I think I finally figured out your ham recipes.” He drags you to your favorite spot at the breakfast nook before going back to the oven. “It’s the clove to cinnamon ratio ain’t it? Too much of either distract from the flavor of the fat.”
You nod in approval at his deduction. He pours you another cup of coffee, his hand shakes on the carafe handle. He was jittery today. Whether it was his anxiety spiking or just the jitter after a decent night of sleep you don’t know. But he’ll tell you when ready. He catches you staring when he turns back with two steaming plates of your eggs and veggie casserole and a thick slice of ham. “Tell me what you think.”
“I’m sure it's fabulous. Gus better watch out or there will be a new chef in town.” Shane practically glows at your praise watching you like a hawk as you eat. You inhale it, the morning exercises catching up with you. He lets you eat in silence, his previous twitchiness evaporating into a nervous silence. “Everything good?” You ask in between bites. You hated to pry or push but sometimes he needed a little nudge to get talking.
Shane stares into empty space above your head worrying his low lip. His fluffy brows dipping low. “Shit-ye- I got something to talk to you about.” He rose then, shuffling off to your shared bedroom. You exchange a worried look with Salem. He whined low in his throat then followed Shane. Since Shane had moved in Salem had stuck to him like glue. It tickled you, as he was not the friendliest dog to people that took your attention away from him. But, with Shane, he found a couch companion and a late-night walking pal. It worked out great for Shane’s mood and recovery.
Your boyfriend reappeared with a black binder and several stacks of paper. He places them in front of you. “I’ve been thinking over what you’ve said.” He stuffs his hands in his hoodie pockets burrowing himself deeper into the thinning fabric. “Between you and Harvey I-I want to have a go at it.” His eyes are downcast in shame. You riffle through the brochures.
Brentforest Care Facilities
“It’s a three-month inpatient care program. Harvey helped me set up the initial psych evaluation and has vetted for it. He’s got some friends that work there too. He-we think it would be good to work on a few hold-ups I’m having.” His stomach turns sour at the downward tug of your lips when you see the zero’s on the page. “Marnie is helping me cover the cost, an’ after the first few weeks I’m even allowed guests.” He pitters out, the overwhelming need to fill the dead air as you read disappeared as quickly as it had come.
“You got it all sorted out huh?” You look up from the documents. Shane nods. You look back at the books, then him. He forces himself to breathe through his nose. This is it. This was the last straw, it had to be. He couldn’t blame you though- he wasn’t worth the effort.
No-nope. Not starting this again. He fought with himself shaking the thoughts right out of his head. He trusted you. Dr. Martina trusted you. You were there during the worst of his withdrawal symptoms. The fevers, and shakes; you never flinched from his unwarranted shouting and irritability either. How many sleepless nights had you spent comforting him as he wept over things he wasn’t ready to talk about. You had gone through a lot with him and still was. You wanted to see him healthy. This was just another step.
“Dr. Martina- my therapist- and I have been working on this for a bit. I just need a few more signatures and to make the initial payment. Then- then I’m good.” He raises his eyes to meet yours, pushing the fear he felt further down in his chest.
His arms were suddenly filled with you. Your warm body flush with his. Soft skin and fresh windswept hair flooding his senses with your hug. “I’m so proud of you.” You mutter into his jacket. Farm callus fingers grip him close inviting him to hug you back. Shane let out a shaky breath he hadn’t even known he was hiding and reciprocated. He held you close and rocked you both side to side. “What do you need me to do?”
“Mmm?” He pulled you away from his neck. You loved burrowing your face there for some reason. Months ago he had hated when you did that. He always thought he smelt of stale sweat and the recycled air of the JoJo Mart. It had clung to every part of him for years. Hardly attractive by anyone's standards. But now, working out in the coops and fields alongside volunteering at the Community Center, it had all but disappeared. Now you swore he smelled like earth and like the pine trees that grew around your house. You had even admitted his sweat smells better too. Perhaps his alcohol sweats were finally lifting. Or maybe it was the better diet you made him eat.
“What do you need of me?” You kiss his scruffy cheek. Eyes alight with determination and affection.
He returns your kiss with a light peck of his own. “A few signatures- to show you can visit. An’ if there was an emergency you would be a contact. If-if that’s ok with you?” He asks.
“As if you had to ask.” You beam putting your forehead to his. “I’ll miss you.” You whisper between feather light kisses.
Shane sighs in utter relief around your coffee scented lips. “Promise to write?” He asks cupping your cheeks to rub his thumbs over the sun kissed skin. “And feed Charlie too?” You laugh, nose scrunching up in delight at his joke.
When you first met him, you were a bit overwhelmed by his “pep.” The boy with the spiky, blond hair who always wore a smile despite his ever-healing lip piercing. He did have a wonderful smile. No wonder he was always showing it off. It made you smile to yourself, just thinking about it.
In your first year on the farm, you were swamped with work. From chopping down trees to make room for sprinklers to trying your best to fix up the old community center in the middle of town, you’d just barely make it into bed on time every night. This meant you had barely any time to meet your neighbors, much less get to know them. Your over excited neighbor, however, seemed to have made it his mission to spend as much time with you as possible.
One day, in mid summer, when you were replanting melon seeds, his shadow darkened your property. You’d heard him coming before you saw him; he’d been humming to himself a song he’d been writing for his band. He had asked you, in the spring, what genre of music you liked and you’d tried to answer in a way that he would’ve approved of: “hi-energy dance music.” He seemed to accept this answer and promptly started writing such a song with his long-time best friend.
“Hey,” he said as he approached.
You greeted him without looking up from your field, “hi, Sunshine.”
This was a nickname you’d started calling him after he’d lost at pool for the seventh time in the three weeks you’d known him. You had always known him as a ray of sunshine, but when he lost at pool, he seemed to get downright depressed. The nickname was born from insistent teasing, but after a while, it became a pet name of sorts.
The boy rolled his eyes when he heard the nickname but you could swear you saw his cheeks tinge pink in the afternoon sun.
“Whaddya need? I have about fifty more seeds to plant today, but then I can hang out if you want,” you said, face buried in your work.
“Hmm,” he said. Then, “can I help? I dunno how you want me to plant, but maybe I could water some of them? …if that’d be helpful, I mean.”
You looked up at him. “Yea. Yea, that’d be great. Thanks, Sunshine,” you said and smiled at him.
He smiled back at you and picked up the copper watering can that had been discarded early in the morning when you found your crops ripe to be plucked.
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈
About an hour later, you had both finished your chores, and you were sitting on your porch while he stood in front of you. You leaned in just enough to examine each of his features closely. He was quite beautiful, you thought to yourself. His silver lip ring, his enormous blue eyes, his golden hair, covered up today with a baseball cap. You reached over and pulled it off his head. He started.
“Why did you do that?” he asked.
You shrugged before saying “I wanted to see your face better.” You reached up to brush his hair out of his face and smiled. Suddenly, he grabbed your hand and pulled you toward him. You were about to say something, but he kissed you, and it felt like you were on fire. He was maybe the third person you’d ever kissed and, by far, the best one.
He smiled brightly and said cheekily, “alright. I gotta go. Mom’s making dinner and she needs me to swing by the general store before she can start cooking.” He looked you up and down before simply saying “bye!” and turning on his heel.
Shane had never considered himself a romantic person. In fact, Shane never considered himself at all, really. He had a routine that he followed, didn't think about how he worked a minimum-wage job at thirty-three, and when pretending that everything in his life was totally fine got to be too much, he drank. A lot. It was almost certainly unhealthy, but it got him through the day - for the most part.
When the new farmer moved into the dingy cottage north of his aunt's ranch, he didn't think much of it. He went to Joja Mart that day, same as always. He stocked the shelves, same as always. He saw the other town drunk wandering the aisles of Joja, same as always. He went straight to the Stardrop Saloon after closing, same as always. He saw the drunk again, same as always. He saw all the other Monday regulars at the Saloon, same as always.
But.
There was someone new today. It must be that new farmer, Shane thought to himself. Where did they move from? Was it Zuzu City? Somewhere across the Gem Sea? Hmm, I can't seem to remember... Whatever. It doesn't matter anyways. Not like I care. Even if I did, everyone always leaves. No use getting to know anyone new, Shane finally settled on that thought and took another sip of his beer.
Suddenly, a shadow crossed the floor to his corner by the bar. After introducing themselves to the local chef and the blue-haired barmaid, they seemed to walk toward Shane. He looked up. The farmer was staring at him, obviously exhausted from a hard day's work and socializing, but, curiously, appeared to be satisfied. Happy, even.
This perplexed Shane. He understood that his niece and his chickens and the boy with the bright yellow hair were all happy, but this was because they had never left Pelican Town. They didn't know what else was out there. They were blissful out of ignorance, not out of true joy. This farmer, they seemed different. They certainly weren't ignorant to the richness of city life. So why? Why did they seem so content? He had half a mind to ask them right out when the farmer asked him a question first:
"You're Shane, right? You work at the Joja Mart? I have to ask... Is it because you hate the shopkeep in town as much as I'm beginning to?"
Shane laughed out loud. He couldn't remember the last time he'd done that. It felt nice. The farmer smiled, bigger, this time, somehow. It made Shane feel... Well. He didn't know how it made him feel, but he knew that it was a feeling that he'd not had in a very long time.
He finally answered the farmer's question after a moment. "Unfortunately, my employment at Joja is not a condition of my spite, much as I wish it were. The store in town doesn't keep any staff at all. That's why the store's closed on Wednesday."
The farmer nodded and said "oh well. I simply had to ask." Then, after a short pause, they said "I'd better head off, I have some more planting to do tonight." And with that, they turned on their heels and walked out of the Saloon.
Shane watched the door for a long time after the farmer had closed the door. He hoped that they would turn around and run back inside. He hoped they would trip and fall over the threshold on their way out the door. He hoped they'd leave and never return.
He didn't know anything about the farmer but after this interaction, he knew one more thing about himself:
he was totally and utterly fucked.
teehee I love Shane ok anyways im thinking I might make this into like a series but we shall seeeeeeeeeeee xoxo
