𝑫𝑨𝒀 𝑭𝑶𝑼𝑹: 𝑳𝑨𝒁𝒀 𝑺𝑼𝑵𝑫𝑨𝒀 𝑰𝑵 𝑩𝑬𝑫
A/N: Day four with gender neutral reader!!
Contains: fluff, Shane being such a softy, just a lazy day in bed
The late morning sun of a perfect Sunday in the Valley filtered through the cheap blinds of the bedroom, painting stripes of warm light across the rumpled sheets. Outside, the world was alive with the chirping of birds and the distant hum of a tractor, but inside this small room, there was only the sound of soft, even breathing.
Shane was already awake, but he hadn't moved. He rarely did on Sundays, especially not when his partner was still curled against him. His arm, thrown possessively over their waist, held them close. He watched the gentle rise and fall of their chest, the way their face was relaxed in sleep, completely free of the worries that so often plagued his own waking hours. A year ago, a morning like this would have been unthinkable. A year ago, he would have woken up alone, the first thought in his head a dull, pounding ache for a drink he knew he shouldn't have. But things were different now. They were better.
They stirred, a soft sigh escaping their lips as they nuzzled deeper into the warmth of his side. Their hand, which had been resting limply on his chest, moved in a sleepy, unconscious gesture, their fingers tracing idle patterns over the worn fabric of his t-shirt. Shane's heart gave a familiar, painful lurch. It was a feeling he was still getting used to—a good kind of pain, like a muscle finally healing after being torn for so long.
He shifted slightly, pressing a kiss to the crown of their head, his lips lingering in their hair. The gesture was small, almost imperceptible, but it was loaded with a gratitude so profound it still sometimes left him breathless. They were here. They had stayed. They saw the broken, angry, miserable man he had been and had chosen to stay anyway.
Their eyes, still heavy with sleep, blinked open. They were hazy for a moment before focusing on his face. A sleepy, contented smile bloomed on their lips.
"Mornin'," they murmured, their voice thick and raspy with sleep.
"Mornin'," he rumbled back, his voice a low gravel. He didn't move to get up. Joja could wait. The chickens could wait. The world could wait. For now, there was only the warmth of the sun, the softness of the sheets, and the profound peace of having them right here with him.
They shifted, propping themselves up on an elbow to look at him better. Their eyes were soft, full of a warmth that never failed to make his chest feel tight. "You're staring," they whispered, their smile widening.
"Can't help it," he admitted, his voice barely audible. He reached up with his free hand, gently tucking a stray piece of hair behind their ear. "You're... nice to look at."
A faint blush colored their cheeks, and they leaned into his touch. "So are you," they replied softly, their own hand coming up to cover his, their thumb gently stroking the back of it.
He let out a soft huff of air, something between a laugh and a sigh. He'd never get used to it, the easy way they complimented him, the genuine affection in their eyes when they looked at him. He still saw the shadows, the failures, the man who had stumbled through life hurting everyone he got close to. They seemed to see only him.
"What time is it?" they asked after a moment of comfortable silence.
"Don't care," he said immediately. "It's Sunday. We're not moving."
A full, brilliant laugh escaped them, bright and carefree. "Is that so? And what if I'm hungry?"
He considered this for a moment, a mock-serious expression on his face. "Hmm. Valid point." He tightened his arm around them, rolling them both so they were lying face to face, tangled in the sheets. "I could go for some of those blueberry pancakes you make. The ones with the vanilla in 'em."
"I think that can be arranged," they said, their eyes sparkling. "But not right now."
"Good," he murmured, closing the small distance between them to press a soft, lingering kiss to their lips. It was a gentle kiss, slow and sweet, tasting of sleep and shared breath. It wasn't about passion or urgency, but about comfort and connection. It was a kiss that said, 'I'm here. We're okay. We have this.'
When they pulled apart, they rested their foreheads together, the space between them filled with a comfortable quiet. He could hear the chickens starting to make a fuss outside, a faint, distant clucking that was his usual call to action. Today, he ignored it. Today, the world could wait.
"Stay like this a little longer?" they asked, their voice a soft murmur against his lips.
"Always," he promised, his voice thick with an emotion he still struggled to name. "As long as you want."
And so they stayed, wrapped in each other's arms, a small island of tranquility in a life that had been anything but. For Shane, these lazy Sundays were more than just a pleasant break from the world; they were a lifeline, a reminder of the goodness he fought so hard to protect, and the love he never thought he'd find. It was in these quiet moments, in the simple act of just being together, that he felt the most like himself—the man he was finally learning to be.
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Stardew Valley Taglist: @leon-must-die
gummygunk
blakekathryn
snowghoul
ellievsbear
yousharknotpass
discoholicmusic
pixelskylines
stormborns
romaincrisis
