I Bet on losing Dogs

It's not that he even wants you to be interested in him in that way. Not like you haven't been nice to him from the minute you moved into town. Nicer than anyone has been to Shane in a long time. Well, except for Aunt Marnie, but she's family, so he figures she has to be.

You meet his eye and raise your mug in a half-hearted toast. To what, you're not sure. And you're not sure if it's the alcohol making everything a little fuzzy and soft around the edges, but you think you see the hint of a smile.

You shrug and turn your attention back to Pam, who is picking through the peanut dish in front of her for the perfect specimen. "I just think he's lonely, that's all. Maybe he just needs a friend."

"Honey, we've all tried to be his friend. He don't want no part of it. That man would rather drink himself dumb every night then have a deep conversation with anyone that ain't a beer can." She cracks a peanut shell and is disappointed to find that there's only one nut inside instead of the customary two, but she eats it anyway. "Listen, I could sit here all night and tell you what to do, but you're dead set on not takin' my advice, so I'm through wastin' my breath. You be good now, you hear?" In an unusually tender gesture, she reaches over and squeezes your hand in a meaningful, almost motherly way.

Pam isn't always easy to understand or get along with, but you know she means well and she loves hard. You haven't lived in the Valley long, but she grew on you fast, and she's always given you good advice about all things life and what it's like to struggle while starting over. It's why you know she's right about Shane. She's known him way longer than you and has probably seen him struggle to make connections with so many others before. Doesn't mean you don't want to try.

"I'll be good," you promise. Pam says she doesn't believe you, throws a few dollars on the bar and shouts at Gus to pour you another drink, then leaves, lighting a cigarette just before she exits the building.

You try to catch Gus before he serves you again, but your senses are dulled and your mouth feels slow. You mumble thank you and suck the foam off the top, then rest your chin on your palm and watch the room.

Shane watches, too, but his eyes keep drifting back to you. He finishes his beer and thinks for a minute about coming to talk to you, but has no idea what he would even say. He's not sure if you were just being polite the other day when he was trying to make conversation, but he can't get your smile (and you laugh) out of his head. He wants to see you face to face again, to watch your eyes light up because of something he says.

By the time his vision comes back into focus, you're gone. "Fuck me," he mumbles. Another missed opportunity. Another regret. Maybe he should just give it up altogether.

"Night, Shane!" Gus calls from behind the bar. Shane lifts a hand without looking back.

You're a few steps ahead of him when he gets outside. Clouds cover the stars, and there's a balmy breeze that carries the scent of rain. Pam was right, after all. Shane's breath catches and his heart picks up the pace a little. He stops; so do you.

"I know you're back there," you call without turning around. He can't see your smile, but oh, he hears it in the playful lilt of your voice. You might've had more to drink than you can handle, but your wits are still about you enough to sense that someone is following you.

"You shouldn't be out here alone," Shane says. Stardew Valley is probably the safest place on earth, but there's always a chance that something or someone can hurt you. Especially this late and when you're already a little unsteady on your feet.

"I'm not alone now." You turn around and take a few steps toward him, while he stays firmly planted on the cobblestone path. It's hard to breathe when you're close to him. He hopes you don't notice.

In an effort to play it cool, he frowns. "What, you think I'm going to walk you home or something?"

Your mouth falls open a little, and he's so mad at himself for saying such an asshole thing. His heart lurches into his throat. "Kidding, kidding," he deflects. "Stay by me, okay? You seem pretty out of it."

And even though your head is dizzy, you nod and fall into step beside him. He's so much taller than you, so much so that one of his steps is equal to two of yours, and you find yourself nearly jogging to keep up with him.

"Can you slow down a little?" When the stone turns to dirt, you trip over a hazelnut and nearly fall flat on your face.

"Huh? Oh, sorry." He hadn't realized you were struggling until he watched you pitch forward and almost bite the dust. In an uncharacteristic act of chivalry, he grabs your wrist and pulls you toward him until you collide with his broad chest.

There's a beat of silence between you, a shared gasp, two pairs of widened, glistening eyes. Shane's grip on your wrist loosens ever so slightly, but you make no attempt to back away from him. You stare at him almost defiantly, searching his face for some kind of indication that he is capable of human emotion.

"You alright?"

He's taken aback at the question. He should be asking you that, not the other way around.

"What? Yeah, I'm fine." He's not. He can't think, can't focus on anything beyond the way your tongue darts out to wet your bottom lip.

"Liar." Your voice is just a whisper. An owl asks who, who in a tree nearby, and Shane's eyes narrow at your accusation. He releases your wrist and you skip ahead of him, enjoying the scent of cedar on the breeze that seems to pick up speed and intensity with every step you take.

Shane catches up to you in a few long strides. "You know, I'm a lot of terrible things, but I'm not a liar."

He's offended in the worst way. His chest aches, your skirt whips in the wind. He's never wanted to kiss someone so badly in all his life.

"Sorry, that was mean of me to say." He's not sure what game you're playing now, and neither are you. You tilt your head up toward his, lips slightly parted, eyes low. Shane balls his fingers into fists and resists the urge to touch you, though everything in his body is screaming to take you in his arms and hold you tight against him so you can't run off again.

You kiss him just as a strong gust of wind brings a driving rain into the valley. You're soaked in seconds, but you're so exhilarated that you can't bring yourself to pay attention to anything else beyond Shane's mouth on yours. He's hesitant at first, stiff and uncertain, but he doesn't pull away. You kiss him with a fierceness that frightens you, makes your heart hammer wildly against your ribs; you stand on your toes and drag him down by the collar of his hoodie, and he finally relents.

His hand on the back of your neck is warm, wet, heavy. He pulls you toward him and lets you part his lips with your tongue. His eyes fall shut, his brows raised in tender surprise at how your lips slide against his, how soft your tongue is as it slips over his own.

You pull back and look at him through rain-soaked lashes. The water drips from the tip of his nose, from the strands of hair that are plastered to his forehead. It's hard to see much in the dark, but you can tell his cheeks are pink because they're hot beneath your palms.

"What are you doing?" he asks. He knows it's stupid as soon as the words leave his mouth.

"Dummy," you whisper. "Can't you see? I like you."

"Why?" He thumbs your cheek. Thunder rumbles in the distance.

You huff a little laugh. "I'm not sure."

"Well that's reassuring."

"Kiss me some more," you say. Your mouth is so close to his that your lips touch when you speak. The rain blurs his vision, but he sees you lean in and it's all the invitation he needs to oblige. There's a storm on the horizon and it's moving in at breakneck speed.

"We gotta get you home," he says between kisses, breathless, desperate for more of you. You aren't sure what you expected, but he's a surprisingly good kisser. Eager, responsive, reactive. He follows your lead, but takes a few risks of his own. The rain makes his mouth feel cold against the skin of your neck, and the little whine that you make when his tongue slips against your pulse point makes his knees weak and a fire kindle in his groin.

Thunder rumbles again, louder this time, a warning that you need to get out of the woods and back to safety. "Come on!" you laugh. He keeps you close and plants a kiss on your forehead before you tug away and run, holding onto his hand like a lifeline.

You're not far from your house, thank goodness. You splash through puddles, mud up to your knees, laughter ringing throughout the night. Shane laughs, too, for the first time in a long time. He can't remember the last time he felt so young, so light, so happy. For a while, he wasn't sure he could feel such things anymore. Shane has spent years drinking down any semblance of emotion, anything that might cause him pain in the long run. People aren't trustworthy. People are cruel. You aren't, though. And for a moment, he feels guilty for taking advantage of your kindness. He can't believe his good fortune in finding someone like you who takes him at face value and doesn't seem to care that he's not a good person.

You see something in him that not everyone sees, and he's so grateful for the chance to experience happiness again with you, but he's so, so afraid he's going to inevitably fuck it up.

He watches you run up onto your porch, but stands just below the bottom step. It dawns on you that you've never seen him smile until tonight. There he stands, drenched in rain, shoes caked in mud. His hands are in the pockets of his hoodie, his face is radiant under the gentle yellow glow of your porch light.

"What are you doing?" you laugh. "Get up here out of the rain! Let me get you a towel!"

You tug off your boots one by one and wring the water from your skirt, then your hair. Shane stays put, still grinning at you like an idiot.

"Shane!"

"You're so pretty." He's earnest. Enamored with you and the way your wet clothes cling to your body, with how you look so beautiful even when your hair is plastered against your forehead and your eyes are still a little unfocused from drinking.

"Get up here!" you repeat, stomping your foot. You're not sure why you're laughing. Nerves, probably. He's got you acting like an idiot the way he's acting foolish. He's going to get struck by lightning; you tell him as much.

So he does what you tell him. He walks up the stairs and takes you back in his arms. It's drier under the shelter of your porch, but the wind still blows a little rain your way. "I'll just stay until the storm passes," he says, backing you against the wall beside your front door. You let him cage you in, staring up into those green, green eyes that you're not sure you'll ever have enough of. When he kisses you again, you want to invite him in, but you know that if you invite him in, you'll make him a coffee. And then you'll dry off, and dry him off, and probably kiss him a little more until you invite him into your bed, and you can't be trusted to make that kind of decision right now.

You're content to kiss him until the wind dies down, until the thunder rolls off to the east, until the rain is nothing but a gentle drizzle.

"I should go," he says. Oh, it's so reluctant. It's so full of defeat that you almost bend to it.

But you nod. You touch your fingers lightly to his kiss-swollen lips and you hug him so tight that he wants to crawl inside your chest and stay there. "Come by tomorrow for breakfast?"

"Yeah," he says, knowing that he won't be awake until at least noon. Granted, that's even if he calms down enough to sleep at all.

"Even if it's late. I don't mind." You read his mind, and he laughs. God, it feels good to laugh again.

He kisses you one more time. He lingers, and he lingers, and you finally have to give him a little push. "Better go before the rain picks up again."

Shane nods. "See ya tomorrow."

Hard launch part two, forma de snake defender who I guess I like a lot... Art by the super dope chaicha (surprise me option! what a brilliant pose, right?) thanks to the wonderful wonderland resident @wondeurland 's recommendation which I am seconding! #myalicehasgoodtaste

dividers by @strangergraphics : lyrics from when this feeling by swv

venus giggles maniacally, twirling the leash between her fingers as she looks chika up and down. he doesn’t hide that he’s staring too, despite the warning in his tone.

“venus.”

“hmm?”

“take these off me.”

“what! no way. I just put them on.” she pouts, adjusting his cuffs to sit more comfortably on his wrists. “besides, you said you’d wait for yamato to get home.”

“I change my mind. I’m cold.”

“don’t worry pretty boy,” she grins wickedly, gathering the lead to bring him closer to her. “we’ll warm you up in no time.”

he has half a mind to trap her against the wall, after all, his lower half is…far from restrained. but his thoughts are interrupted by the muffled sounds of humming, and a key turning in the door.

yamato’s declaration of arrival is cut short with choked, garbled noises and a few beats of silence. venus stifles a giggle as she flaunts the leash she holds, giving it a few light tugs before chika’s eyes flit to the door in annoyance.

“make this worth it, yamato endo.”

a gift to yamato on this beautiful VENYAVERSARY <3 @dead-ghouls did suuuuuch an incredible job with this I cannot recommend him enough! please do consider commissioning him <3

Hiiiiiii a hugeeee thank you to my new sweet friend Katyaa on Vgen for this Kenzo piece. It literally makes me laugh so much look at these fools. literally no one can come near me without them being guard dogs. And the way Kenzo is mimicking Katsu's stink face bahahah and how I look like "what am I gonna do with these two?" bahahah Anyway a very lovely birthday present for myself with my forever boy and my sweet pretend baby boy who means the world to me. Once again please be nice. Thank you. 💖