Shane(Stardew Valley) x Reader shots

Imagine X

Shane's P.O.V.

Work sucked - again.
Morris made me stay almost an hour late - 
Again.
And if I'd been let leave when my shift actually ended I'd have gotten home dry but now I was walking home in the rain - - Again.
The pub always seemed much closer than Aunt Marnie's ranch, especially on days like this when I was stuck in the middle of what was basically a tempest. It was a torrential downpour at least, I swear.
Being sober only got more and more difficult when the work days ended like this. Days like this make me wish that I had stayed in the city. Well, until I remember that I'd be living on the streets. Or dead - I take it back, days like this make me wish I hadn't left the city. In this little rundown town there was nothing to live for. A nine to five - excuse me, six - job every weekday along with barn chores during any free time didn't make for a happy life. It honestly was not that bad when I stumbled through it in a drunken haze. Alcohol may be a depressant but when you're too pissed to know what's going on, it's really kind of difficult to be very upset. I could see Alex's house up in the distance and briefly realised that I was walking incredibly slowly before shrugging it off entirely and returning to my self pity and loathing. Alex's house. Being more like Alex might improve my situation, handsome, athletic, driven.. that could get me somewhere.
I sighed and looked toward where I knew the coastline was. I could imagine Elliott curled up in his wooden cabin writing poetry to the sound of the rain on his wooden-shingled roof in flickering candlelight. I'd always had a particular liking for poetry myself, mostly mainstream stuff like Shakespeare but I used to also dabble in less well-known authors. Elliott, too, was a better man than I. He was certainly more attractive, he had that exotic sort of charm to him, and his poetry really was quite well-written. I may or may not have had an opportunity to have read it at one point while we were at his cabin together. He'd told me at the time that my poetry was also very good but I honestly doubt it. He was likely only trying to flatter me.
I realised at this point that I was past the pub and coming up on Emily's house. Just ahead would be Jodi and Kent's place. Kent was driven and skilled - he'd survived long enough to come back home last spring - and their son Sam was almost as vivacious as Alex and was incredibly skilled at skateboarding. Well, he was the best in this town, anyways. It seemed, honestly, as though everyone in this town had somehow bested me and was silently gloating about it. 
The river crashed up against the bank with a loud clapping splash and jarred me slightly out of my familiar pit of self loathing. I glanced the the river and saw a soggy newspaper floating near the surface, being tossed about by the weather. I smiled slightly, remembering when the farmer had been seeking out soggy newspaper like mad. They'd made some sort of recycling machine and could put things generally accepted as trash into it and get out useful items. They'd said that soggy newspaper usually turned into coal but that they were sure they could get it to turn into cloth if they could just get more and try again. I'd secretly wandered the entire town and coastline after work for a week seeking out similar newspapers just to see the light in the farmer's eyes when I handed them to them. I'd never seen the farmer smile that way at anyone else, not Alex with his athleticism, not Elliott with his poetry, and not Sam with his skateboard tricks. I realised that I was the only one in this town that was bringing the farmer such happiness and thought that - as long as that was the case - I'd trade places with not even a billionaire. I found myself nearly beaming by the time I got into Aunt Marnie's ranch and headed to my room to fetch a dry change of clothes. Once I closed my door I allowed my mind to wander to thoughts of the farmer and - oddly - of poetry. (Though I honestly could guess why the farmer made me think of poetry, I decided to pretend that I hadn't a clue) Shakespeare's Sonnet 29 popped into my head and I found it incredibly fitting for what had just happened.
I'd been so down and in such loathing of myself

When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with bootless cries,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate.

And had been wishing I could be like anyone else - take certain aspects from them

Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Features like him, like him with friends possess'd,
Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoyed contented least;

And then I thought of the farmer and a smile spread across my face and I could feel the depression loosen its hold on my soul

Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at the break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at Heaven's gate.

And I realised that as long as I had the farmer, I'd not rather be anyone else.

For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.