Headcanon:

Hiii, mousey! (◕ᴗ◕✿)

I heard you're planning to take a break from requests, and it's understandable. But I hope I'm not too late to send this idea. You know the assassin fanfic I requested before? The one about how the mages and adventurers react to the Farmer's past as a runaway assassin. Well, I thought it would be interesting to see how the SDV Bachelors would react if they discovered their spouse is a former assassin who now wants to lead a peaceful life.

(I was suppose to send this to you early but I got sidetrack, it'll be like my last request by the time you take a break but its okay if you don't want to.)

Heya! 👋

I got your question right after the askbox was closed, so yeah, have some more headcanons for this interesting idea, and thanks for the ask! 💖

_________________________________________

...So the news that Shane saw on TV crime program about this criminal gang.... Was it connected to Farmer? It was all about contract killings, blackmail and robberies, and... Recruiting kids. And his friend was one of them. No, he's not blaming them. Come to think of it, if Shane was in a similar situation, he'd do anything to protect his niece and aunt. So it's not for him to judge Farmer. He's glad they were able to escape those bastards and their siblings are safe now.

Elliott was at a loss for words. The poet couldn't imagine that Farmer had to go through all this to keep themself and their siblings alive. That being said, this is the first time he won't hold back and say some not-so-polite words in the direction of these scumbags who robbed Farmer of their parents and threatened their relatives with reprisals. If Farmer needs support, let them feel free to stop by his humble cabin, or if they need to watch over their siblings.

Farmer and Sebastian sat by the mountain lake for a long time while the local emo listened to their story, which gave him goosebumps. Just like that, murdered in cold blood right in front of Farmer's eyes? And then... they had to do their dirty work or else their younger siblings would be killed too? What a piece of crap, these criminal scumbags. Sebastian admires Farmer's selflessness and bravery. But also... it's all good now, right? No mobs again, right?

As Farmer's siblings played with Vincent, Sam stood nearby with Farmer, his eyes wide open about his friend's past, which makes the blood run cold in musician's veins. The fact that they'd had to be in a criminal gang at such a young age... That's rough, he's sorry to hear that. Now every time Sammy sees Farmer's siblings running and laughing, the musician can't get it out of his head what kind of suffering their older sibling endured.

Alex's body was filled with rage. Not towards Farmer, of course, they were victimized by these bastards, who the athlete would have given a good punch in the face with his fist. But he can't understand why Farmer's parents got involved in the mob in the first place, having kids already. Didn't they realize they were risking not only themselves but their family?! He didn't mean say that, Farmer, it's just- Why should children suffer because of their parents' mistakes?

There were so many scars on Farmer's body when Harvey did the medical exam, even before they became adventurers. And the fact that all those scars were "punishment" from the mob's members... The doctor's hands were shaking. Farmer and their siblings were innocent children, they didn't deserve to be in constant fear. Harvey just hugged Farmer, silently. He's sorry for what happened to them, and will be relieved to say that he's once for Farmer and their quest to escape the cage and save the younger siblings.

After FOM Full Update:

ꜰᴀʀᴍᴇʀ - ꜰɪᴇʟᴅꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴍɪꜱᴛʀɪᴀ ꜰᴀʀᴍᴇʀ - ꜱᴛᴀʀᴅᴇᴡ ᴠᴀʟʟᴇʏ

March: *who is drunk* Heeeey Farmer, you looking mighty fine today. I wish could kiss you~

Farmer: Oh...Neat!

*later*

Farmer: *lying face down on their bed holding a phone calling to their relative from Stardew Valley* I said "NEAT" right in front of everyone! Who the fuck says neat these days? It's not neat to say NEAT but I said it anyways because I'm fucking stupid!

Farmer: *holding their baby while using their phone* Don't beat yourself up too much, cousin.

Farmer: I will never show my face in front of everyone again! Especially to March. How can I face him without embarrassing myself?

Farmer: Everyone gets nervous sometimes. Remember what I did when Sebastian confessed their love for me?

Farmer: Didn't you thank him?

Farmer: *stays still and looks at the ceiling* I fuc-freaking thanked him.

Summary: My farmer, Isaria invites Caldarus to the Shooting Star Festival, offering him a rare moment of peace beneath the starlit sky. As they watch the stars fall, they share quiet conversations about fate, memory, and what truly matters. In the hush of the night, something unspoken lingers between them. a warmth, a connection, a fleeting glimpse of something more.

The Shooting Star Festival had arrived, painting the night sky with shimmering trails of light. The air was thick with the scent of earth and pine, the cool summer breeze carrying the distant laughter and murmured wishes of the townsfolk gathered in Mistria’s heart. Yet, Isaria found herself far from the bustling celebration, her path winding deep into the woods where the ancient temple lay hidden beneath the moon’s gentle glow. In her hands, she held a delicate star-shaped brooch, its polished surface glinting under the celestial glow. It was a token of invitation, a gesture she hoped a certain guardian dragon would accept, now that he stood in his physical form, bound to the earth in a way he had not been for centuries.

Her heart quickened as she approached the temple’s clearing, where the draconic guardian stood beneath the branches. He was a vision against the night, his long turquoise hair cascading over his shoulders like silk spun from the ocean’s depths, his golden eyes reflecting the starlight above. There was something otherworldly about him still, despite the humanity he now carried, as if the very fabric of time wove around him differently.

Isaria stepped forward, extending the brooch toward him. “I thought you might like to have this.” she said, her voice steady but carrying an underlying sincerity.

Caldarus took the brooch carefully, his fingers brushing against hers for the briefest moment. He examined the design, his expression shifting from curiosity to recognition. “A brooch? Now where have I seen this design before?” He paused, lost in thought, before his eyes widened in recognition. “Ah! Are you asking me to join you tonight to watch the stars? I—” He hesitated, his voice softer now, touched by something that almost resembled wonder. “I gratefully accept your invitation.”

A small smile curved Isaria’s lips. “I’m glad.” she admitted, feeling a weight she hadn’t noticed lift from her chest.

Caldarus nodded solemnly before glancing toward the trees. “I will need to guide you through a secret path in the woods to reach the summit, for I should not stray too far from its protection in my current state.”

“I understand.” she assured him. “I’ll follow wherever you lead.”

His expression softened at that, something unreadable flickering in his gaze before he inclined his head. “Do not worry, Isaria, I will take care to conserve my energy. Let us meet tonight at 8 PM. I am looking forward to it.”

And so, at the appointed time, Isaria found herself beside him once more, the two ascending the hidden trail that wound its way up through the dense canopy. The climb was steep, but with each step, the trees thinned, revealing the heavens in their full, breathtaking expanse. When they finally emerged at the summit, a vast stretch of night unfolded before them, endless and glittering, the stars pulsing like embers scattered across the dark.

Caldarus stood still for a long moment, gazing outward with an expression of quiet awe, his golden eyes reflecting the celestial glow above. The sky painted in endless shades of indigo and silver, stretched vast and unbroken before them, alight with the brilliance of countless stars. He exhaled softly, his voice barely more than a whisper carried by the wind.

“I wonder…” he murmured, more to himself than to her, his tone laced with something akin to longing. “How long has it been since I last saw this particular view?”

Isaria turned to him, watching how the starlight illuminated his features, casting an almost ethereal glow upon his skin. He looked as if he belonged to the night itself, a being woven from shadow and light, standing at the precipice of something long-forgotten. There was a stillness in him, as though he were caught between memory and reality, his presence both grounded and untethered all at once.

“Does it feel familiar?” she asked softly, her voice gentle against the hush of the wind.

For a moment he did not answer, his gaze remaining fixed upon the heavens as if searching for something just out of reach. When he finally spoke, his words were measured, careful.

“Perhaps.” he admitted, a slow breath leaving him. “Though time distorts memory in strange ways.”

A comfortable silence settled between them, filled only by the whisper of the breeze and the distant rustle of the trees. The night was alive with the quiet hum of existence, the kind of silence that spoke louder than words. Above them, the sky continued its celestial dance, streaks of silver and gold cascading in fleeting brilliance.

Then, after a moment, Caldarus turned his golden gaze back to her, something unspoken lingering in his expression.

“Thank you for inviting me out here this evening, Isaria.”

His words, though simple, carried a weight that settled deep within her chest. There was a sincerity in his voice that made her smile, warmth blooming beneath her chest like the soft flicker of candlelight.

“I am glad to see this custom continues to withstand the passage of time.” he continued, his voice quieter now, touched with reverence. “Mistrians once referred to the practice as Starbinding, you know. An apt name, indeed. Humans, despite being mortal or perhaps because they are mortal, tend to be particularly sensitive to the bonds that their souls form throughout their lifetimes.”

Isaria tilted her head slightly, the words stirring something within her, a quiet curiosity threading through her thoughts. “So it really binds people together?”

Caldarus let out a soft chuckle, the sound low and rich, carrying an almost wistful note. “Well, think of it this way.” he said, his gaze returning to the sky. “You will encounter many souls on the journey through this life. Some will slip by the edges without much notice... and others.”

His voice faltered for the briefest moment, and for the first time that evening, a faint blush dusted his cheeks. The subtle shift did not go unnoticed, and Isaria found herself watching him with quiet amusement as he quickly cleared his throat, regaining his composure.

“Mind you, that is not to say that every connection is a joyful one.” he continued, his voice steadier now, though something unspoken lingered beneath his words. “Every hero’s story needs a villain, after all. And of course… some souls you encounter are unable or unwilling to see your light.”

Isaria frowned slightly, considering his words. The weight of them pressed against her thoughts, stirring emotions she could not quite place. After a moment, she met his gaze, searching for something she was not sure she would find.

“But the ones that are meant to… always do?” she asked, her voice quiet yet certain.

His golden eyes softened, and for a moment, the distant expression he often carried seemed to fade, replaced by something far more tender.

“Yes.”

They fell into silence once more, though this time, it felt different, deeper, as though something unspoken had settled between them, threading its way through the fabric of the moment. Together, they watched as the stars continued their descent, luminous streaks painting the heavens in fleeting brilliance. Eventually, Caldarus turned his attention back to her, studying her with a contemplative look as though seeing something beyond what was before him.

“I suppose that is where this tradition comes into play.” he mused, his voice almost thoughtful. “Two souls, each casting their light with intention. Combined with the starlight above. It creates quite the beacon, you see. Guiding us to each other across many lifetimes.”

Isaria listened, his words settling deep within her, stirring an ache of familiarity she could not explain. There was something poetic about it, something that made her chest tighten in a way she did not fully understand.

Before she could speak, he exhaled, his voice laced with regret. “Forgive me… I wish that my memory was clearer. I cannot recall if we stood here together once, in another life.”

She turned to him, her eyes warm with quiet understanding as she met his gaze. A small, knowing smile touched her lips. “It’s okay.” she said softly. “I don’t recall either.”

For a moment, Caldarus simply stared at her, as if trying to process her words. Then a chuckle escaped him, soft at first then growing into something more real, more open. It was rare to see him like this, unguarded and free. The sight of it made Isaria laugh too, her voice light and natural against the quiet night.

He looked at her then, as if trying to remember something just out of reach. “Isaria…” he murmured, as though her name itself might unlock a hidden memory. His voice held something gentle, almost grateful, like he hadn’t expected her answer but found comfort in it all the same.

She only chuckled again, giving a small shrug. There was no need to chase something they couldn’t remember. Not now. Not when this moment was enough.

Caldarus watched her for a little longer before another laugh slipped from him, deeper this time, filled with genuine amusement. He shook his head slightly, a rare smile still lingering on his face. His laughter blended into the quiet sounds of the forest, the rustling leaves, the distant chirping of insects making the night feel more alive.

Her response had surprised him. Most people held tightly to the past, always searching for meaning, hoping to understand the bonds that tied them to others. But Isaria didn’t. She wasn’t afraid of not knowing. She wasn’t desperate for answers. And somehow, that was comforting.

Maybe that was why he laughed. Because for once, he didn’t have to know everything. He didn’t have to search for proof. He could just… be.

Finally, his laughter faded, and his golden eyes softened as they met hers again. “I suppose this kind of uncertainty is to be expected from a mortal—” He hesitated, then quickly corrected himself, his voice quieter now. “From a mortal perspective.”

A short pause followed, the space between them filled with unspoken thoughts. Then, as if making a decision, he spoke again, his voice calm yet certain. “In that case… I will choose to believe.”

She tilted her head slightly, curiosity flickering across her features. “Believe what?”

Caldarus’s golden eyes softened, his gaze steady as if weighing his next words carefully. “That we, like the stars, have simply returned at the appointed time…”

His voice was quiet, yet it carried a certainty that settled between them, delicate yet powerful, as though he had spoken some ancient truth. The meaning behind his words lingered in the space between them, unspoken yet understood. They held each other’s gaze, and in that silence, something intangible passed between them, something that did not rely on memory or logic but on a feeling, deep and undeniable.

The night air was cool, carrying the distant sounds of the forest, the rustling of leaves, the occasional call of an unseen creature. For a moment, it felt as though the world had shrunk to just the two of them beneath the vast sky, standing in the quiet presence of something greater than themselves.

Then, just as the moment threatened to settle into something almost tangible, a faint tremor ran through Caldarus’s frame.

“Ah.”

The sound was barely more than a breath, but it was enough to break the stillness. Isaria’s brows knitted together, concern flashing in her eyes. “Caldarus?”

He did not answer right away. His posture remained composed, his expression as measured as ever, but there was something different now. A weariness in the way he stood, a subtle tension beneath his usual grace. When he finally spoke, his voice was steady, but there was a quiet strain beneath it. “My body...I am beginning to feel somewhat fatigued.”

Isaria’s heart clenched at his words. Without hesitation, she stepped closer, her voice laced with quiet urgency. “Are you alright?”

Caldarus met her gaze and offered a small, reassuring smile, but it did little to ease the worry pressing against her chest. “Do not trouble yourself.” he said gently. “I am simply not yet accustomed to leaving the protection of the woods. I-I just need a moment.”

She watched him closely as he shifted slightly, attempting to straighten, but she did not miss the faint unsteadiness in his movements. The night’s quiet beauty and the distant glow of the stars, it all faded into the background, her focus narrowing to him and the exhaustion that now clung to him like a shadow.

“Why don’t we get you home?” she suggested, her voice softer now. There was no need for stubbornness, no need to push through weariness when rest was within reach.

Caldarus did not answer immediately. Instead, he studied her for a long moment, as if committing her face to memory beneath the silver glow of the stars. There was something almost unreadable in his expression, something distant yet present, as though he were standing in two places at once, one in this moment, and another somewhere far away.

Finally, he exhaled and his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. “I would like that.” he admitted, his voice carrying a quiet sincerity. “I can prepare us some tea, and we can watch the last of the stars through the canopy.”

A soft breath of relief left her lips, and she allowed herself a small smile. “That sounds perfect.”

Without hesitation, he extended his hand toward her. The gesture was both firm and gentle, his fingers slightly curled in invitation. “Come.” he murmured, his voice steady despite his earlier fatigue. “Take my hand. I will guide you back.”

She did not hesitate. Her fingers curled around his, warmth meeting warmth despite the cool night air. His grip was strong, reassuring, yet there was a quiet vulnerability in the way he held onto her, not as one who merely led, but as one who was willing to be led in return.

Together, they descended from the summit, the quiet hum of the forest wrapping around them like a whispered lullaby. The journey back was slow but peaceful, the glow of fireflies flickering like tiny stars among the trees, their faint golden light weaving between the branches. The air was crisp, filled with the scent of damp earth and wildflowers, and above them, the heavens stretched endlessly, silver beams of starlight slipping through the canopy as if bidding them farewell.

When they finally arrived at his temple, the familiar warmth of the sacred place embraced them. Though fatigue still lingered in his frame, Caldarus moved with quiet purpose, his motions smooth and practiced as he set about preparing tea. The rich, earthy scent of herbs filled the air, curling between them like mist, a quiet contrast to the night’s lingering chill.

They settled beneath the temple’s eaves, sitting side by side as the last of the shooting stars streaked across the heavens. Neither spoke, but the silence between them was not empty. It was a presence all its own, comfortable and lingering, filled with the quiet clink of teacups against stone, the faint rustle of fabric as one of them shifted, the steady rhythm of their breaths in the cool night air.

Above them, the stars shone on, indifferent to time, indifferent to memory. And perhaps, in the grand scheme of the universe, it did not matter whether they had met once before or whether their souls had returned, drawn together like celestial bodies in a vast and endless sky.

Because in this moment, they were here now. And for tonight, that was enough.

A/N: After playing the new Immersive Sam mod by Maggplays. This inspired me to write a one-shot. In this story, Yvonne and Sam are not yet in a relationship.

Summary: Sam and Yvonne attend the Flower Dance, where Sam is captivated by Yvonne's beauty. She asks him to be her partner, they dance, and the moment sparks a potential romance.

The picturesque town of Stardew Valley was adorned with blooms for the annual Flower Dance celebration. Everyone in town was enjoying the festivities, surrounded by the beauty of the lush gardens serving as the venue for the event, when Sam was approached by the farmer, Yvonne. She was dressed in a stunning white satin off-the-shoulder dress, accented by a vibrant blue ribbon cinched around her waist, her light blond hair now braided in a charming twin style, adorned with a delicate blue flower crown.

Sam's heart skipped a beat as he took in her loveliness. Before he could compose himself, Yvonne approached him and asked if he would be her partner for the dance.

"I would be honored." he replied, his voice betraying a slight waver. Yvonne smiled warmly and led him to the dance floor, where couples were already swirling and spinning to the lively music. As they began to dance, Sam felt an overwhelming affection for the farmer. The way she moved, the smile on her face, and the way her hair fell so charmingly on her shoulders were all incredibly captivating. The scent of her perfume, a mix of lavender and honey, filled his nostrils, making it hard to think straight.

The other guests watched them with smiles, complimenting the couple on how well they danced together. Sam was conscious of all the eyes upon them, but he was too enchanted by Yvonne to care. Every spin and step was in perfect synchronization, their bodies moving with a grace that seemed natural and effortless.

The dance continued, and as the final notes of the song faded away, Sam and Yvonne found themselves standing closely, breaths mingling and hearts still racing. The rest of the world seemed to blur and all he could focus on was her.

"You're an incredible dancer.", Sam whispered, still holding her close.

Yvonne's cheeks flushed slightly, a soft smile spreading across her face. "So are you.", she replied. "Thank you for being my partner today. I had a wonderful time."

They stood there for a moment, lost in the moment and the feelings it had stirred. Sam ached to say something more, to express the depth of his affection for her, but he found himself at a loss for words. Just as he was about to open his mouth, the sound of applause and cheering broke the spell, reminding them of the world around them.

They pulled apart reluctantly, the spell between them momentarily broken. The rest of the guests began to chatter and move back to the festivities, but Sam's gaze lingered on Yvonne, his heart still filled with a mixture of joy and longing. He knew that he would remember this moment and this dance, for a very long time.

Here are some of Sam's dialogue during the Flowe Dance:

Mod: "Maggs Immersive Sam Romance Dialogue and Events (x)Spicy or Sweet 1.6" by @maggplays

Who would win?

A/N: After reading @studentinpursuitofclouds headcanon about the bachelors/ettes' reactions to being kidnapped for revenge or ransom only for their furious Farmer spouse to storm in and rescue them. I felt inspired. I couldn’t help but write a version for Lance, blending it with my farmer OCs' backstories. Hope you enjoy the fic!

The moon loomed high over the farmhouse, casting its pale, silver glow across the quiet fields. The night was still, almost unnervingly so, with only the soft rustle of leaves stirred by a gentle breeze. The greenhouse stood as a lone beacon in the darkness, its glass panels faintly aglow, sheltering a world of warmth and life separate from the cool hush outside. Inside, Rosemary moved among rows of flourishing crops, the earthy scent of soil and faint hum of lingering magic surrounding her. Yet, despite the comforting atmosphere, a knot of unease twisted tightly in her chest.

Lance should be home by now.

He had left at dawn, that familiar confident grin on his face, promising—promising—to return before sunset. She had believed him. Lance always kept his word. But now, as the hours stretched long past nightfall, the promise felt like a fading echo.

A message had come earlier, brief and reassuring. But Rosemary’s instincts screamed otherwise. She brushed her gloved fingers over the rough skin of a void root. The dark, twisted form seemed to absorb the soft light, pulsing faintly with ancient magic. She tried to focus on the task at hand—on the routine—but her thoughts kept circling back to one question.

Why isn’t he back?

Her pruning slowed. Water dripped from a nearby watering can. The silence grew thick.

Then it happened.

A chill—sharp and sudden—sliced down her spine.

Her breath hitched.

Her gloved hand froze mid-motion.

It wasn’t a sound. Not a shadow shifting in the corner of her vision. No. This was deeper. Internal. Like something inside her had snapped.

No...

The comforting aura of Lance’s magic, ever-present beside her own like a steady heartbeat—had vanished.

Gone.

Her pulse thundered in her ears.

“No.”

The word escaped her lips in a broken whisper. The trowel slipped from her hand, clattering against the stone path. A ragged cry tore from her throat as she stumbled back. Her gaze snapped toward the hills beyond the farmhouse. She reached inward—desperately—trying to find the familiar pulse of his magic.

There. Faint. So faint.

But still there.

A gasp tore from her.

Lance...

Alive. Barely conscious. But alive. Reaching for her.

Her hands fumbled for her phone. The screen blurred before her eyes as her fingers darted across it, moving faster than her mind could process. Only one number mattered.

The line rang once. Twice.

“Rosie?”, Her sister’s voice answered calm as ever, but edged with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Cerise!!! I can’t feel him.” Rosemary’s voice cracked. “His magic! it’s gone—I don’t know what’s happening, what does it mean?”

Silence.

A silence that stretched for only a moment but felt like a lifetime.

When Cerise finally spoke, her tone had shifted, cool, sharp, edged with something Rosemary rarely heard from her sister: fear.

“No… they wouldn’t.” The words came as a whisper. Then, sharper, cold with realization: “Stay where you are. I’ll be there soon.”

Rosemary’s grip tightened around the phone.

“They must've took him.”

The words hung heavy in the air.

“They took my husband.”

This time, her voice was low, dangerous, a quiet fury simmering beneath each syllable.

Cerise inhaled sharply on the other end of the line. “Most likely. If they couldn’t get my Jio, their next move would be—”

“I’m going.”

“Rose—”

“I’m not waiting around, sister.” Rosemary’s jaw tightened. Her ocean jade eyes—usually bright and warm—narrowed into cold flames of determination. “I’m getting my husband back. Whatever it takes.”

”Rosemary, wait—”

But the call had already ended.

Without hesitation, Rosemary snatched up her sword from the greenhouse floor. The blade thrummed with her magic, responding to her rage. She pulled on her dark cloak, fastened the clasp at her neck, and slung a pouch of potions over her shoulder.

She stepped out into the night.

She didn’t need a plan.

Only a direction.

Lance’s faint magic—like a whisper at the edge of her mind—would guide her.

“Hold on, love” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I’m coming.”

And nothing would stand in her way.

The room reeked of damp stone and stale air, a subterranean prison swallowed by oppressive darkness. The narrow space was barely lit by a flickering lantern that hung from a rusted chain in the corner, its dim glow casting trembling shadows across the concrete walls slick with condensation. The ceiling sagged low, pressing down like a weight upon the soul. The air itself was suffocating, thick with the scent of mold and the faint, undeniable metallic tang of old blood. A chill seeped from the stone floor, gnawing at the skin, while the silence—broken only by the rhythmic drip of water echoing from some distant corridor—felt almost unnatural. But worse than the cold or the damp was the lingering, suffocating aura of magic that clung to every surface, woven into the very air. It was a cruel enchantment, designed to sap strength, to suppress power. And it was working.

Lance shifted in the chair he had been bound to, the rough rope digging into his wrists. His head hung low, dark pink hair falling messily into his face. A dull ache throbbed behind his eyes, sharp and insistent, growing worse with each breath drawn in the magic-saturated air. His eyes flickered open with slow, deliberate effort. His arms ached from the tight restraints that hummed faintly with the same suppressive power in the room. Even the smallest attempt to draw upon his magic was met with resistance, a suffocating weight that dulled the spark he relied on.

A breath slipped from his lips—slow, frustrated, bitter.

The Second-in-Command of the First Slash Clan, renowned combat mage, captured.

Not by a rival clan worthy of his strength. Not in battle against some formidable foe.

No, by a group of low-ranking mafia thugs who had no comprehension of the power they were trifling with.

The humiliation stung, but it wasn’t the real issue gnawing at him. His pride could endure this. What he could not endure was the knowledge he had failed. Failed to see the ambush coming. Failed to protect what mattered most. With all his training, all his magical prowess, he should have burned through these restraints with a flick of his wrist. But this room—the entire place—reeked of the kind of magic meant to weaken him, suppress him, render him vulnerable.

Still, it wasn’t his own fate that consumed his thoughts.

It was hers.

The realization cut deeper than any blade.

They weren’t after him.

They were after Rosemary.

He had heard them, muffled voices beyond the door, carelessly assuming he was too weak, too broken to care. But he had listened. Every word. Every plan. The truth had struck him harder than any blow. They believed that taking him would draw her out. They thought Rosemary would come running, desperate and vulnerable—a perfect trap.

But they didn’t know her.

They didn’t know Rosemary.

She wasn’t some fragile woman to be lured like a helpless bird. She had Cerise’s blood in her veins—the blood of the Crimson Wraith.

And worse still, they didn’t simply want to use her as bait. No. Their plan was far more twisted. They wanted her alive. They wanted to mold her into a weapon—a new puppet assassin forged from the only sister of the Crimson Wraith.

The thought made Lance’s jaw tighten, his fingers twitching against the ropes. His entire being recoiled at the idea of anyone laying a hand on her. His Rosemary. His wife. The woman who had fought for her freedom, who had lived in the shadow of her sister’s bloody past but had never allowed it to define her. They thought they could twist her into something she wasn’t.

The audacity.

The rage brewed quietly beneath his composed exterior, his magic stirring despite the oppressive weight. He would burn this place to ash for even daring to think of touching her.

The door creaked open.

Rusty hinges groaned like a dying animal, breaking the stillness.

Lance lifted his head, eyes narrowing as two figures stepped into the dim light. One was tall, broad-shouldered, with a jagged scar slashing across his cheek—a permanent sneer carved into his skin. The other remained near the door, arms crossed, eyes dull with boredom.

The scarred man grinned, a slow, mocking curve of his lips.

“You know.” he drawled, stepping forward with deliberate slowness. “None of this would’ve happened if you hadn’t married that red-haired bitch. We didn’t want you. You were never the target.”

He crouched, bringing his face close enough that Lance could smell the foul mix of tobacco and cheap liquor on his breath.

“We wanted her sister. Cerise. She was... valuable to us. But she escaped. Left everything behind, dragging her little sister along like a coward.”

His grin widened, malicious satisfaction gleaming in his eyes.

“But now? We have something better. You see, we realized something. What better way to replace the Crimson Wraith than with her own blood? We’ll take your precious wife, and turn her into the perfect weapon. Our new puppet.”

The words echoed in the damp room.

Lance didn’t move. His expression didn’t change. His face remained calm, far too calm.

But inside?

How dare you.

The air shifted.

Even bound and suppressed, his magic stirred, a quiet storm gathering, waiting. The ropes bit into his wrists, but they were nothing more than an inconvenience. He would burn this entire place to the ground before he let them touch her.

And then—

Footsteps.

At first faint, almost mistaken for an echo. But then louder. Steady. Unyielding.

The two mafia members stiffened. Their smug confidence faltered.

The pressure in the air built, thick and suffocating. The flickering lantern dimmed, shadows crawling further along the walls. The footsteps didn’t slow.

They grew louder. Closer.

And then—

The door exploded inward.

Wood shattered into splinters. The force of the blast sent fragments clattering across the stone floor. The oppressive magic that had choked the room recoiled instantly. For a moment, the air itself seemed to fear the figure standing in the doorway.

Rosemary stood there—fury incarnate.

Her rose-red hair blazed in the dim light, cascading behind her like a river of flame. Ocean jade eyes burned with unrelenting rage and fear, swirling with power she no longer cared to conceal. The aura surrounding her crackled with raw magic—a tempest on the brink of being unleashed.

“Where...”, she whispered, her voice low, trembling with restrained wrath, “Is my husband?”

The scarred man stumbled back. “Oh shit-!” he muttered in disbelief, glancing at his companion.

But the moment he moved—

Rosemary vanished.

A flash of purple swept through the air. Her blade glinted once, a crescent of death cutting through the dim light. With a scream, the scarred man flew backward, crashing into the far wall with a sickening crunch. The second man barely had time to react before Rosemary descended on him with relentless precision. Her strikes were merciless—graceful yet devastating. Every movement spoke of years of training, of lessons carved into muscle and bone.

They had expected a weak sister.

They received a force of nature.

The second man crumpled to the floor without a sound.

Silence fell.

Lance remained still, his gaze fixed on the woman who had torn apart his captors without hesitation. His heart thundered in his chest—not out of fear, but awe. She had come for him. She had shattered their illusions. She was magnificent.

Rosemary turned.

Her gaze softened the moment it met his. The fury faded, replaced by something far deeper—fear, worry, desperation.

“Lance.”

Her voice broke.

In two strides, she was beside him, dropping to her knees. Her hands reached for his face first, trembling as they brushed against his skin, as if afraid he would vanish.

“Are you—did they—?” Her voice cracked, unable to form the question.

“I’m fine.” His voice was soft but firm, though his smile faded when he saw the tears shining in her eyes.

“No, you’re not.” She gritted her teeth, glancing at the glowing restraints. Without hesitation, her fingers tightened around the ropes. Magic pulsed through her veins, rushing to her hands.

The ropes hissed.

With a surge of power and a cry laced with all the fear and rage she had suppressed, Rosemary ripped them apart. The restraints shattered into ash beneath her touch.

Lance didn’t move. He simply watched her—watched as she clung to him, as her shoulders shook.

“I thought—” she choked out, “I thought I was too late.”

Gently, Lance wrapped his arms around her.

“You weren’t.”

She buried her face in his chest. “I would have destroyed this whole place if they’d laid a hand on you.”

“I know.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You were perfect.”

“No.” She pulled back slightly, her ocean jade eyes locking onto his, fierce even through the tears. “Not perfect. Just in time.”

And when Lance leaned forward to press his lips to hers, tender lingering. It wasn’t simply relief that filled the space between them.

It was a promise.

A promise that no matter who came for them next, no matter what shadows lurked in the past, they would face them—together.

✿✿𝚂𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗✿✿

Sebastian and Aleia's relationship blossomed throughout the changing seasons in the valley. Their first meeting, unexpected and almost comical, left Sebastian worried about making a bad impression. However, Aleia's persistent efforts to spend time with him slowly erased his doubts. As they got to know each other over the seasons, their bond deepened. In the verdant days of spring, they shared lighthearted moments and budding affection. As summer arrived, they spent more time together and grew closer, their bond strengthening under the warm sunshine. And as the leaves turned crisp and golden in the fall, their moments together became more intimate and their connection deepened with the shifting seasons. As the quiet, snowy winter enveloped the valley, they found solace and warmth in each other's company, their relationship reaching new heights of closeness and understanding. Through their shared experiences and the passage of time, Sebastian and Aleia came to realize that they were meant for each other, and ultimately, they decided to tie the knot, marking the culmination of their beautiful journey together.

(Ngl the wedding theme kinda looks like a dark fantasy fairytale and I freaking love it! 💜 The mod creator made such an awesome job on this new update. Very worth it.)

Mod: "Maggs Immersive Sebastian Dialogue and Custom Events Spicy or Sweet" by @maggplays

After 3 Years

After years of sudden interest, declarations of love, budding romance, passionate moments and a series of misunderstandings, the decision was made. He turned to her and asked the question, "Will you marry me?" The shock of the sudden question overcame her, tears streamed down her face, then she hugged him, "Yes..."

Finally! Finishing the dating phase with Sebastian. Now I'm on the road to get those marriage heart events with him and my farmer.

Me, patiently waiting for Caldarus to show up in human form: I am cool, composed, the pinnacle of self-restraint.

Also me the instant he graces my screen: unhinged dragon-simp screeching

I have been religiously feeding this Dragon essence like a devoted cultist, and now he finally descends in human form? My soul is prepared. My heart is not.

I don't know if I'm being late to notice this in the new update. When I had my farmer attend the Luau Festival on the beach, I couldn't help but notice that everything looked different. The NPC's have changed their spots, and the Luau Potluck has switched places with the dance floor. Though it took me some time to notice the change, I have to admit that I really like the new arrangement! 😮✨🏖️🍲