Stardew Farmer - Blog Posts

Summary: After stumbling upon a mysterious stone on Ginger Island, Rosemary unwittingly activates a portal to an unfamiliar realm, Terraria. Pulled into a bizarre and perilous world, she must navigate its dangers while searching for a way back home. All while acquiring an unusual collection of souvenirs, including a rather explosive pet. Meanwhile, her sudden disappearance throws her loved ones into chaos, sparking a frantic search across the world to bring her back.

A/N: This story was inspired by a tumblr post from @studentinpursuitofclouds about the Farmer opening a portal to Terraria for the Meowmere and ending up stranded. I couldn’t resist turning it into a full story! I love the idea of Rosemary getting isekai’d into Terraria, unfazed, while everyone in Stardew Valley panics. Expect adventure, chaos, and dramatic reactions when she returns. Hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it!

The story is a bit long, so you can read it on my AO3! That’s right, I finally have an AO3 account after what feels like a thousand years!

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.

When you think you've finally settled on the NPC you want to marry, but then you meet another interesting character and suddenly want to pursue them too. You’re curious about their story, but your heart won’t let you divorce your current spouse—so you start a new save file. Then another. Each one with a different farmer OC, each with their own love interest and story. Before you know it, you've built an entire farming game world where your OCs coexist. And now, every time you find another NPC attractive, you have to create yet another OC, complete with a backstory, personality, and design… until it becomes a full-blown creative headache. 😵

With Valentine's Day just around the corner, I'll be writing stories and mini skits featuring my farmer OCs and their NPC lovers as they navigate mundane, romantic, or even chaotic moments during the holiday.

Additionally, with the recent release of Maggs Immersive Alex Romance Dialogue and Events (x)Spicy or Sweet 1.6 by @maggplays, I'll be writing one-shots about my new farmer and Alex, exploring their interactions in each cutscene. Since I’ve never written fanfics about Alex before, this will be a fun challenge for me. ( ╹▽╹ )

Summary: A word of advice, when the fortune teller warns of bad luck, don’t tempt fate… or risk limping home from the mines.

Winter had arrived in Pelican Town, casting a chill that seemed to seep into everything. The cold winds whipped through the air, carrying snowflakes that fluttered down, blanketing the town in white. While most residents of Pelican Town sought warmth by the fireside or tended to their animals, Yvonne had different plans. After checking her kegs and making sure her animals were warm and well-fed, she grabbed her gear and made her way to the mines. Her goal: to upgrade her pickaxe. She might have been content with her farming, but Yvonne knew a stronger pickaxe would make her life a lot easier.

But before heading out, she stopped by Moonlit Mire Farm to visit her best friend, Aleia. Yvonne always marveled at Aleia's farm—how did she do it? The crop fields stretched as far as the eye could see, filled with wintermelons and giant ones at that. A golden clock stood proudly by the fields, surrounded by fish ponds and sheds filled with her various wines and jams. Aleia had even raised a dinosaur!

Yvonne couldn't help but sweatdrop at the sheer magnitude of it all. Her friend truly was a farming demon. As she stood there, lost in thought, the door swung open, and Aleia appeared, brushing her roseate hair out of her face.

"Hey, Vonnie! What's up?" Aleia greeted, her usual cheerful self.

Yvonne grinned, despite herself. "Aleia… please tell me you sleep at night and aren't secretly a farming demon."

Aleia chuckled, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Hard work, my dear, and a sprinkle of obsession."

Yvonne shook her head. "Well, wanna come to the mines with me? I need to upgrade my pickaxe, and having an extra set of hands wouldn't hurt."

Aleia smirked. "You had me at ‘mines.’ Let me grab my gear."

The two women set off towards the mountains, unaware of the fortune teller's warning that it was a bad luck day. They didn’t think much of it, of course, as they were well-prepared for a day of mining, treasure hunting, and monster-slaying. Aleia was no stranger to the deeper parts of the mines, often coming out victorious even against the most vicious of foes. Her Galaxy Sword and skills were more than enough to protect herself and her friend. Yvonne, on the other hand, relied on her Obsidian Edge and her sharp instincts.

Their time in the mines started off fine. They encountered waves of monsters—slimes, rock golems, and bats—but were able to handle them easily. Yvonne’s grip on her sword tightened as she swung it with precision, while Aleia made quick work of any approaching enemies, her sword flashing like lightning.

"Guess this day isn’t as bad as the fortune teller said." Yvonne quipped, breathing heavily as another group of slimes disintegrated at her feet.

Aleia smirked, her face still calm despite the chaos. "Yeah, but we shouldn’t get too cocky. The mines are always full of surprises."

Just as she spoke, the ground beneath them trembled, and a group of shadow creatures emerged from the cracks in the stone, surrounding them. Before either of them could react, they were thrust into a brutal fight. Yvonne barely had time to react before a creature swiped at her, sending her sprawling to the ground.

"Yvonne!" Aleia yelled, her voice sharp as she cleaved through another group of monsters. She rushed to her friend's side, but not before another creature lunged at her.

With quick reflexes, Aleia threw a bomb to disorient the monsters, using the distraction to scoop Yvonne up and race toward the elevator, her legs burning with exhaustion.

Yvonne, wincing in pain from her sprained ankle, protested weakly. "Aleia, you can’t carry me—"

"Don’t argue with me, Yvonne." Aleia replied firmly, her voice barely a whisper as they both darted into the elevator. "We’re getting out of here, no matter what."

As the elevator doors began to close, the sound of their enemies' footsteps echoed in the tunnel. The two women were in a race against time, the monsters’ pursuit growing louder by the second.

The elevator went upward slowly, and just as the doors began to open at the surface level, Aleia collapsed against the wall. Yvonne, barely conscious, rested her head on Aleia’s shoulder.

"I’m sorry." Yvonne whispered weakly. "I didn’t mean to hold you back."

Aleia shook her head, smiling faintly. "You’re my friend, Vonnie. I’ve got you."

Marlon found them shortly after, dragging them both back to the clinic. Doctor Harvey worked quickly, patching them up with the help of his assistant, Maru. Aleia’s body was covered in bruises, blood staining her clothes, while Yvonne’s ankle was swollen and bruised.

The two women were placed in the same room, but they were too out of it to even realize what was happening. Maru kept watch, making sure they were stable, when suddenly the door flew open.

Sebastian and Sam stormed in, both panting and frantic. Maru held up a hand. "Calm down, guys. They’re resting."

Sebastian didn’t listen. His violet eyes scanned the room, landing on Aleia first. "What the hell happened?" he demanded, his usual cool demeanor completely gone.

Maru crossed her arms. "She’s fine, Sebastian. Just bruises and exhaustion. They’ll be okay."

But Sebastian wasn’t convinced. He sat down beside Aleia, brushing her reddish pink hair away from her face with gentle hands. "You’re an idiot." he muttered, voice full of frustration. "A reckless, stubborn, battle-crazed idiot."

Even unconscious, Aleia stirred, as if ready to argue back.

Meanwhile, Sam had already thrown himself onto Yvonne’s bed, cradling her like a lifeline. "Vonnie! Babe! Love of my life! Are you alive?" His voice cracked with panic.

Harvey arrived to check on his patients and only sighed, rubbing his temples. "Sam, she’s fine. Just let her rest."

Sam didn’t hear him. "Don’t ever do that again!" he cried, squeezing Yvonne’s hand. "My heart can’t take it!"

Yvonne, still groggy, blinked at him in confusion. "Sam, I think you’re suffocating me."

Sam immediately loosened his grip but didn’t let go. "Oh. Right. Sorry. Still not letting go, though."

Sebastian, meanwhile, was still glaring at Aleia, muttering under his breath. "You really need to stop making me worry like this."

Maru smirked, clearly enjoying herself. "Like you’re one to talk. You used to sneak off to the mines all the time."

Sebastian shot her a death glare. "Not the point."

Yvonne, despite her pain, grinned weakly. "So… uh, bad luck day, huh?"

Aleia, still half-conscious, managed to lift her hand and smirk. "Next time… let’s just make tea or sleep instead."

Sebastian sighed heavily, rubbing his face. "That’s the first smart thing you’ve said today."

Sam nodded vigorously, agreeing. "Agreed. No more death trips, just chill inside."

Harvey, already exhausted by the chaos, muttered, "Can I prescribe all of you a week of common sense?"

The room erupted into laughter, the tension easing with every chuckle. Despite the pain, exhaustion, and near-death experience

Aleia and Yvonne would probably do it all again.

Maybe.

…Definitely not on a bad luck day.

Summary: Sebastian wakes up in the middle of the night to find his pregnant farmer wife, Aleia, indulging in her latest bizarre craving.

The farmhouse was bathed in moonlight, its wooden beams creaking softly in the stillness of the night. The air outside was crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine and distant ocean waves. Inside, everything was peaceful except for the subtle rustling of blankets and the faint creak of the bed as Aleia carefully slid out from under Sebastian’s arm.

She moved with practiced stealth, her roseate hair swaying as she tiptoed toward the door. But even with her best efforts, Sebastian stirred, his hand instinctively reaching for her in his half-asleep daze. Instead of warmth, he was met with cool, empty sheets. His brows furrowed. Sleepy or not, he knew Aleia was supposed to be there.

Dragging himself up, Sebastian ran a hand through his tousled dark plum hair, exhaling as he rubbed his face. With sluggish movements, he padded barefoot out of the room, eyes scanning the dimly lit hallway. The bathroom light was off. That ruled out his first guess.

Then, faintly, the warm glow of the kitchen flickered under the door.

Sebastian squinted. At this hour?

With quiet steps, he approached, pushing the door open slightly.

There, under the kitchen’s soft golden light, stood Aleia, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she hunched over the counter, caught in the act. Her cheeks were puffed up, stuffed with something. And in her hand? A piece of watermelon.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “Cravings again?”

Aleia turned toward him, blinking innocently as she struggled to chew. “Mhm!” she garbled, before finally swallowing. “I needed this.”

Sebastian let out a breathy chuckle, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. “Watermelon?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “It’s so juicy and sweet.” Then, as if suddenly remembering something, she reached behind her and grabbed—oh dear Yoba!—a jar of mayonnaise.

Sebastian’s expression immediately dropped.

“Oh no.” he muttered, dread settling in. “Not this again.”

Aleia grinned mischievously. “Oh yes.”

Without hesitation, she unscrewed the lid and like it was the most normal thing in the world, tilted the jar back, taking a long sip of mayonnaise like it was a gourmet beverage.

Sebastian visibly recoiled. “ALEIA, WHY?”

She smacked her lips, sighing in contentment. “I dunno, Sebby. It just hits different.”

Sebastian stared at her, absolutely appalled. “You used to do that before pregnancy, and I thought maybe, just maybe, you’d grow out of it. But no. No. The baby is only enabling you.”

Aleia shrugged before nonchalantly dipping her watermelon slice into the mayo and taking a delighted bite.

Sebastian looked personally betrayed. “That’s an abomination.”

Aleia gasped dramatically. “Excuse me? This is peak cuisine.”

“That is sacrilegious.” Sebastian countered.

“Oh, and you’re one to talk?” Aleia huffed, setting down her watermelon and crossing her arms. “You eat cold sashimi straight from the fridge at 2 AM like some kind of gremlin and think I’m the weird one?”

Sebastian opened his mouth to argue but then paused. Damn. She had a point.

“That’s completely different.” he muttered.

Aleia smirked. “Mhm. Keep telling yourself that.”

Sebastian exhaled sharply before stepping closer, slipping his arms around her waist. Despite the culinary war crimes she was committing, he still pressed a soft kiss to her temple. “You are so lucky I love you.” he murmured against her hair.

Aleia giggled, nuzzling into him. “I know.”

Sebastian’s hands found their way to her slightly rounded belly, rubbing slow, soothing circles. “How’s our little night owl?” he asked softly.

Aleia hummed, resting her free hand over his. “Oh, just making sure I never sleep again,” she teased. “Apparently, our kid is a night creature like their dad.”

Sebastian smirked. “At least they take after me in something.”

Aleia rolled her eyes before nudging him playfully. “You’re really clingy, you know that?”

“You like it.”

“…I do.” she admitted with a grin.

Sebastian glanced at the counter. “So, is it just the watermelon or should I prepare myself for something worse?”

Aleia chewed her lip, suddenly looking very guilty.

Sebastian narrowed his eyes. “Aleia… what else did you eat?”

She hesitated before mumbling, “Pickles.”

Sebastian nodded slowly. “Okay, not too bad.”

“With peanut butter.”

His expression dropped. “Oh, no.”

“…And a little bit of hot sauce.”

Sebastian groaned. “Sweetheart, that’s not food.”

Aleia pouted, poking his chest. “Says the guy who hoards pumpkin soup like a dragon and refuses to share.”

Sebastian gasped, placing a hand over his heart in mock offense. “Hey. That soup is sacred.”

Aleia grinned triumphantly before finishing off the last bite of her cursed watermelon. “There. Now I’m good.”

Sebastian sighed, shaking his head. “Alright, come on, weird cravings queen. Let’s get you back to bed before you start dipping pumpkin soup in ranch dressing.”

“…That’s actually not a bad idea.”

Sebastian groaned.

With a laugh, Aleia wrapped her arms around his neck. “You love me.” she teased.

Sebastian kissed her forehead. “That’s the only reason I’m putting up with this.”

Hand in hand, they walked back to their room, the dim glow of the kitchen light fading behind them. As they curled up under the covers, Sebastian wrapped his arms around her again, his warmth chasing away the night’s chill.

“Good night, my love,” he murmured against her hair.

Aleia smiled sleepily, snuggling into his chest. “Night, Sebby.”

The farmhouse settled back into silence, the moonlight casting a soft glow over them. And despite the absolute madness of her cravings, Sebastian knew one thing for certain.

He wouldn’t trade any of this for the world.

Summary: In the early morning, Sebastian wakes Aleia up to show her something special. Despite her sleepiness, she trusts him and follows him, leading to a quiet, tender moment.

The farmhouse was peaceful, an oasis of quiet in the stillness of the early morning. The moon hung low in the sky, its silver light illuminating the landscape outside. Stars scattered across the heavens like diamonds against deep indigo, but inside, the world was tranquil—except for Sebastian.

With a quiet groan, he silenced the alarm, the soft beep cutting through the silence. He rubbed his face, pushing his messy dark purple hair back with a tired hand, glancing over at Aleia. She lay peacefully beside him, her reddish-pink hair cascading over the pillow, lips slightly parted, breathing steadily in her sleep.

A playful smirk tugged at Sebastian’s lips as he stared at her. Waking her up was going to be a challenge. But the idea of sharing this moment with her made his heart race in ways he hadn’t expected.

He slipped out of bed with care, dressing quickly in his jeans and favorite hoodie, the warmth of their bed still lingering on his skin. His leather jacket slid over his shoulders effortlessly, and he approached her side, crouching down to gently shake her shoulder.

“Aleia...” he whispered, his voice soft but insistent.

She groaned, pulling the pillow closer to her face. “No. Five more minutes...”

He chuckled, brushing a lock of her roseate hair from her face. “It’s not five minutes, sweetheart. You need to get up.”

Aleia cracked one eye open, her gaze instantly narrowing at him. “Sebastian... It’s the middle of the night!”

He grinned, crossing his arms. “It’s three in the morning, actually. Time to rise.”

“That’s... Even worse!” she muttered, curling deeper into her pillow. “Why would you wake me up at demon hours?”

Sebastian laughed, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her forehead. “Because I’ve got a surprise for you. Trust me. Get dressed, and meet me outside.”

Before she could protest any further, he stood and walked toward the door, leaving her with little room for argument. Aleia groaned, but despite her protests, she eventually gave in. She slipped on her favorite cozy sweater and jeans, boots clicking on the wooden floor as she stepped outside into the cool night air.

Sebastian waited by his motorcycle, his posture casual, but his eyes alight with a mischievous glint.

“Seriously? A motorcycle?” Aleia raised an eyebrow. “You better have a good reason for dragging me out here at this ungodly hour.”

He tossed her a helmet with a grin. “I’ve got a good reason. Now hop on.”

She sighed dramatically but climbed onto the bike anyway, wrapping her arms around his waist. “If I fall asleep and fall off, that’s on you.” she muttered into his back.

Sebastian chuckled as the engine hummed to life beneath them. “I’d catch you, don’t worry.”

The ride was quiet, the world around them enveloped in darkness. Aleia rested her cheek against his back, letting the wind ruffle her hair. Her exhaustion from being pulled out of bed faded slowly, replaced by the trust she had in him, the trust that had only grown stronger over time.

After what felt like an eternity, he pulled to a stop, and Aleia blinked, looking up at the at the surroundings.

“The Summit?” she asked, her voice thick with grogginess.

Sebastian helped her off the bike, pulling a pair of blankets from the side storage. “Yep. I promise, it’ll be worth it. Come on.”

With his hand firmly in hers, they hiked up the final stretch of the trail, the mountain air growing thinner and colder with each step. But nothing mattered except the space between them—close enough to feel the heat of his hand, to hear the quiet rhythm of their breaths. It was just them, and the world was waiting.

When they reached the peak, Aleia gasped, awestruck by the view that stretched before her. The valley lay below, bathed in the faint light of the approaching dawn, rivers reflecting the stars. The sky itself seemed to be awakening, shifting from dark to lighter shades of purple and orange as the first touch of the sun’s rays began to bleed across the horizon.

Sebastian spread a blanket across the cool ground, patting the space beside him. Aleia sat down beside him, rubbing her arms against the cold. Without hesitation, Sebastian draped his jacket over her shoulders, pulling her into his side.

She exhaled, resting her head on his shoulder. “Okay, I admit it. This is pretty amazing.”

“I told you.” he murmured, his lips curling into a satisfied smile.

Aleia looked up at him, a playful glint in her eyes. “So... You just decided, ‘Hey, let’s wake up my wife in the middle of the night, make her trek up a mountain, and then show her the sunrise’?”

Sebastian gave her a teasing grin. “Pretty much.”

“You’re the worst.” she groaned, nudging him lightly with her shoulder.

“And yet, you married me.” he replied, his voice smooth, full of quiet pride.

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged at her lips. Her hand found his, their fingers lacing together as they both stared at the sky in silence. The world around them was so still, so peaceful, and for the first time in a long while, Aleia felt completely at ease.

Then, slowly, the sun began to rise. The sky shifted from dusky purples to shades of pink, gold, and fiery orange, bathing the landscape in warmth. Aleia’s breath caught, the beauty of it overwhelming. She couldn’t look away.

“It’s beautiful...” she whispered, her voice soft, as if afraid to disturb the moment.

Sebastian, however, wasn’t looking at the sunrise. His eyes were on her.

“Yeah.” he murmured, his gaze never leaving her face. “It really is.”

Aleia turned to him, her heart skipping at the tenderness in his expression. His deep midnight purple eyes were filled with something she couldn’t quite name, but she could feel it, love, perhaps, or something deeper.

“I meant the sunrise, dork,” she teased, her voice affectionate.

Sebastian smirked, that same playful spark returning to his eyes. “The sunrise is nice,” he said softly, “but you, Aleia… You’re breathtaking.”

She laughed, her cheeks flushing. “Oh my God, that was so cheesy.”

He chuckled, leaning in close, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “You love it.”

“…I do.” she admitted with a smile, warmth flooding her chest.

Sebastian cupped her cheek with one hand, his thumb brushing gently over her skin. “I love you, Aleia.”

Her heart soared. She leaned into his touch, her own hand coming to rest on his. “I love you too, Sebby.”

And as the sun continued to rise above them, painting the world in its golden glow, Sebastian leaned in, pressing his lips to hers in a slow, lingering kiss. The world felt like it paused for just a moment—nothing else mattered except for the two of them, together, here, in this perfect slice of time.

When they finally pulled apart, Aleia grinned, resting her forehead against his. “Okay, fine. Waking up early was worth it.”

Sebastian chuckled, holding her closer, the warmth of his embrace making the morning chill feel miles away. “Told you.”

They sat there in comfortable silence, watching as the sun bathed Stardew Valley in golden light, knowing that whatever challenges the future may hold, they would always have each other and moments like this one.

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

𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚘 𝙼𝚊𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜

[This is a continuation for "Riddle Me This".]

Aleia: *crossing her arms and sitting back down on the couch with a huff* Anyway, speaking of mayo… I still don’t get why you refuse to acknowledge it as a good beverage.

Sebastian: *pauses mid-smirk, his grin fading as he stares at her, incredulous* You’re kidding me. We’re back to this?

Aleia: *nodding enthusiastically, leaning forward as if she’s about to give the speech of a lifetime* Listen, it’s creamy, it’s versatile, it has eggs for protein, and oil for energy! It’s basically a smoothie!

Sebastian: *groans loudly, dragging a hand down his face* Oh my gawd, please don’t call mayonnaise a smoothie.

Aleia: *completely ignoring him, gesturing animatedly* Think about it! If you mix it with a little lemon juice and maybe some herbs, boom! Gourmet drink! It could even be a café special, like 'Aleia’s Creamy Mayo Delight.'

Sebastian: *staring at her in sheer disbelief, slowly lowering himself into the chair, his head in his hands* Here we go again…

Aleia: *grinning now, clearly enjoying his misery* I mean, you’ve got people out there drinking celery juice and kale smoothies, but mayo gets slandered? Where’s the justice in that?

Sebastian: *looking up at her, deadpan* The justice is in basic human decency, Aleia. You can’t just go around advocating for mayonnaise as a drink. That’s not a personality trait; it’s a cry for help.

Aleia: *gasping dramatically, clutching her chest* A cry for help?! Wow, Sebby. That’s rich coming from someone who survives off coffee and instant noodles.

Sebastian: *crossing his arms, raising an eyebrow* Says the woman who drinks coffee like its water but coffee is a respectable beverage. Mayonnaise is... mayonnaise. It’s not even in the same league.

Aleia: *leaning forward, eyes glinting mischievously* Alright then, Mr. Respectable Beverage. How about a challenge? You try drinking mayo for a day, and I’ll-!

Sebastian: *cutting her off, holding up a hand* Absolutely not. I’d rather code for 24 hours straight than suffer through that nightmare.

Aleia: *pouting dramatically* Sebaaaastian, you’re no fun!

Sebastian: *smirking slightly, shaking his head* No, I’m just sane. There’s a difference.

Aleia: *grinning triumphantly* Fine. But one day, when mayo smoothies take the world by storm, you’ll be the one begging for forgiveness.

Sebastian: *snorts, leaning back in his chair* Yeah, sure. And when that happens, I’ll start calling you 'Chef Aleia, the Mayo Queen.'

Aleia: *smirking back, throwing another pillow at him* Deal! But don’t forget. Mayo is the future!

Sebastian: *catching the pillow and shaking his head, chuckling softly* And yet, somehow, I still love you.

Aleia: *grinning proudly* Of course you do. I’m adorable and revolutionary.

Sebastian: *sighing, resting his head in his hand* Adorable, yes. Revolutionary? Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, sweetheart.

Aleia: *laughing* Mark my words, Sebby. Mayo. Smoothies. 2030. You’ll see."

Sebastian: *leaning back, groaning dramatically* Someone save me before this actually happens.

𝚁𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚕𝚎 𝙼𝚎 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜

[Farmer Aleia is lounging on the couch, flipping through a book while Sebastian is at his computer, typing away. The mood is casual, and the two are enjoying their time together.]

Aleia: *suddenly perks up, grinning mischievously* Hey! Sebby! I've got a riddle for you!

Sebastian: *still typing, without looking up* This better not be like that time you tried to convince me that mayonnaise counts as a drinkable snack.

Aleia: *waves him off dramatically* Hah! I stand by that statement! Mayonnaise is versatile, and you're just close-minded. But no, this one's different. Listen up!

Sebastian: *leans back in his chair, spinning slightly to look at her, raising an eyebrow* Fine. Hit me with your best shot.

Aleia: *grinning smugly* Okay. "You feel good when you stick something in it. You feel happy when you shake it. But you feel sad when you take something out of it. Now, what am I?"

Sebastian: *pauses, staring at her blankly before a slow smirk creeps onto his face* Oh

[Sebastian gets up, crossing the room slowly. Aleia's smug grin falters slightly as he approaches and stops in front of her. He leans down, placing his hands on either side of her on the couch, effectively pinning her in place.]

Sebastian: *in a low, teasing tone* Sweetheart, If you wanted to have sex, you could've just asked instead of hiding it behind riddles.

Aleia: *face turning crimson, flustered* AH!No! That's not! It's a piggy bank!

Sebastian: *blinks in surprise, then bursts out laughing* Piggy bank? Really?

Aleia: *starts giggling uncontrollably* YES! Admit it, I got you!

Sebastian: *still laughing, straightens up and crosses his arms* Alright, alright. Fine. But now it's my turn.

Aleia: *playfully narrows her eyes* Bring it on!

Sebastian: *grins wickedly, leaning slightly closer* Okay. "What's long, hard, and stiff, gets used inside a warm, wet place, and works best when you move it back and forth?"

Aleia: *bursts out laughing, pointing at him* HA! Easy. It's a toothbrush!"

Sebastian: *suddenly crouches in front of her, gently takes her hand, and smirks devilishly, his voice dropping* Wrong answer, love?

Aleia: *blinking rapidly, her blush returning* E-Eh?! Wait, what-?

[Before she can react, she grabs the nearest object, a pillow, and throws it directly at his face. Sebastian catches it effortlessly, laughing as Aleia scrambles to her feet in a mix of embarrassment.]

Aleia: Sebastian! You're the worst!

Sebastian: *grinning, tossing the pillow back at her* And yet, you still love me.

Aleia: *trying to suppress a smile, but failing* Yeah, yeah. Don't push your luck, emo boy.

Sebastian: *leaning back smugly* Admit it, though. I make this relationship very exciting.

Aleia: *rolling her eyes but smiling anyway* Exciting isn't the word I'd use... but fine. You win this round.

Sebastian: *winks* Always do, sweetheart.

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! 😮✨🏖️🍲