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bumblebeesfromvenus · 3 days ago

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Forged from Lavender and Iron 🪻

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Farrier!John Price × FlowerFarmer!Reader

This has been sitting in my notes for a literal year now. I never really planned on posting this because I wrote it for my own enjoyment, but maybe if enough people want to see more I'll continue this with the multiple parts I had in mind 👀

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Your little farm with your friendly companions Marigold and Pudding was all you needed. You'd see a friendly face or two at the weekly market where you'd sell the flowers and produce you'd poured your soul into. This time was different, as your life and your heart got turned upside down by a kind Farrier with a voice like silk and eyes so blue you were already gasping for air.

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The soft golden light of the spring sun shone down on your face with a gentle breeze passing through your hair as you heaved one of the wooden crates onto the counter of your stall.

You huffed, your hands tightly planted on your hips, looking over your work of having arranged the boxes just as you'd wanted. Heeps of seasonal veggies and fruit were almost spilling over the edge of the crates thanks to a very rewarding early harvest this year.

The colorful blooms and petals of the first few spring flowers framed your stall beautifully, surrounded by fragrant arrangements of all sizes.

You'd managed to touch up the paint job recently, making the wood rival the flowers in brightness. The weekly market was your favorite part of the week by far.

It was a time when the community would come together and supply each other with all the goods the countryside had to offer; you sold your produce and the flowers you were working so hard on integrating into the landscape, hoping they'd acclimate to the native soil and spread their pollen until every bare spot in your little town was like a sight from an oil painting.

Your stall-neighbors, as you called them, were an old married couple named Alice and Bill. They were lovely people, always checking in on you.

Bill was a passionate dairy farmer, not once have you seen someone handle animals with such care as he did, providing milk, cheese and cream during the market, drawing in visitors from out of town.

Alice, on the other hand, was quite keen with a needle and thread, offering her handmade goods every Tuesday. Her stitches were made with such care and precision, watching her work was a spectacle that never failed to fascinate you.

You'd been invited for tea more than once, spending time with your kind friends. They made you feel less alone, giving you the familiar comfort only grandparents could give.

It wasn't easy being in the farming buisness this young, especially as a woman who was living alone on an old farm.

So, Alice and Bill made sure to pass on as much of their experience and knowledge as they could, hoping to lighten your load as you treaded down your path.

This is the life you chose, one you would choose a hundred times over. The freedom that your little farm out in the fields made you feel was something poets wished they could put into words.

An office job would be your poison, sucking the water and nutrients from your roots and shielding you from the sun until you'd wilt and whither like a delicate flower.

"Oh, look at your flowers, deary!" Alice beamed, clasping her hands together in delight, "they're as lovely as ever. I don't know how you do it."

You chuckled softly, wiping the small beads of sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand.

"You have your secrets and I have mine." You grinned mischievously, earning a jokingly scolding look from the older woman.

"Well, much love went into them. And care. And blood and sweat and tears." You deadpanned.

"Stubborn little things, really." You sighed, breaking into a small smile.

"Go on, take whichever ones you like." You gently encouraged Alice, gesturing to the wide variety of bouquets that were sitting in terracotta pots in front of your stall.

She hestitated, a soft crease forming between her silver brows.

"I shouldn't. I don't want to take from you, deary. Not when they could be making you money instead." She smiled regretfully.

You brushed her off with a wave of your hand.

"Don't be silly, Alice. Your smile is worth more to me than the five pounds I'd get for them." You promised.

You could see the faint spark in her eyes melt into one of adoration.

"You're too kind. At least let me give you something in return." She said kindly, the crows feet around her eyes deepening.

"I don't have much of a choice, do I?" You grinned, watching as Alice confidently shook her head with a sly expression.

You watched as she hurried to her and Bill's stall, rummaging through a small basket before making her way back to you.

"Give this to sweet Marigold for me, will you?" She opened her palm, a small patchwork mouse sitting within.

One of your hands flew to your heart, a small 'aw' slipping from your lips.

"Mari will loves this one. I swear, she's not going anywhere without the little snail you made her." You smiled, taking the small toy from her hand.

Alice folded her hands in front of her.

"She's precious, little Marigold. I know Bill doesn't want to admit it, but he's taken a shine to her." She whispered with a grin.

You laughed and turned the mouse in your hands, brushing your thumb over the neat seams.

"You ought to come by more often. Mari stopped getting her little sneaky paws on my good cushions since you visited." you smirked, watching the older woman laugh softly.

"She embraces her tiger ancestry a little too much sometimes." You sighed, thinking of your cute stripped kitty that was just as mischievous as she was sweet and cuddly.

"Anyway," you safely stored the little mouse in your pocket before turning to Alice, "your flowers. I took the liberty of picking one for you."

Bending down with a soft groan, you pulled a small bouquet from one of the pots, gently shaking the water off the stems.

"I had a hunch you'd like these." You said softly, handing her the flowers.

It was a small bundle of daisies, baby's breath and few buttercups. Alice smiled as she enthusiastically took them off your hands, her gaze drifting to the pure blooms before looking back up at you.

"Oh, deary. These are perfect! How did you know?"

"Well," you began, wiping your hands on your thighs," I know that yellow is your favorite color, and you once told me how baby's breath reminds you of stars. Which, in turn, reminds you of the first night you spent with Bill. I listen, you know." You smiled softly, watching as a few tears welled up in her pale green eyes with a wide smile stretching across her face.

"You truly are an angel." She said gently, pressing a loving kiss to your cheek.

Before you could respond, Bill walked up to the two of you, loosely resting his arm around her waist.

"Ah, lassie. Good to see you. Quite the harvest you got this year." He said, gaze flitting over the many veggies you had brought today.

"Jesus! Look at the size of those beets." He marveled, abandoning his place beside his wife in favor of gawking at the red root.

"I'm telling you, lassie, these beets could rival even Arnold Schwarzenegger." He said with a serious look, making you huff out a laugh.

"Oh, Stop spewing your nonsense, Bill!" Alice scolded with furrowed brows.

"I don't know what that means, but I'll take your word for it." You chuckled.

Bill continued to inspect the beetroot, testing the size of it in his hand.

"Christ, what're you doing to them to get them this size?"

"Love, Bill. It's all love." You chirped over your shoulder, moving a small box of strawberries out of the way.

"You should know. That's how you got this, eh?" Alice snickered, patting her husband's gut. He grumbled, putting the beet back into its place before placing a kiss to her temple, albeit a little begrudgingly.

"S'all in good spirits, Bill. You know we love you exactly as you are." You smiled sweetly, although your teasing undertone wasn't missed by the dairy farmer.

"Yeah, yeah." He waved you off with a chuckle before taking his rightful place behind his stand, watching as the first few visitors filled the old cobblestone Plaza.

Alice jokingly rolled her eyes at him.

"Right. I better go before Bill's mood sours the milk." She muttered with a grin, coaxing a laugh from your chest.

"I'll see you around, then. I hope you enjoy the flowers." You smiled, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"I always do, deary. If you need me to watch your stall if you want to go strolling around, just give me a shout." Alice said kindly, turning on her heel to join Bill at their stand.

You gave her a nod and a polite wave before nudging some of the crates around, trying to occupy yourself with something. You were mentally preparing a list of the stalls you'd have to visit as the market was your preferred place of getting your weekly shopping done.

There was one of your younger friends, Evie, who was a passionate beekeeper, selling all kinds of goods made with the resources her little buzzing friends had produced. Her honey was one of the best ones you'd ever tasted, and the beeswax candles she poured herself never failed to warm up a cold evening.

You'd given her some dried flowers that you had leftover from experimenting with making your own tea, and she said she'd try to integrate them into her candles. Just the thought of the smooth and sweet beeswax combined with the soothing smell of your homegrown lavender made you sigh dreamily.

Then you'd have to stop by Cassandra, the butcher, and David the baker. A lovely pair of siblings that had taken over their late parents buisness together. David made a mean sourdough, which perfectly soaked up the flavor of the beef stew you'd made last winter with Cassandra's best cuts and root vegetables grown on your farm.

And lastly, a long pit stop would be made at Pam's egg stand. A real blabber-mouth that one. She was the gossip mill of the town, always knowing everything and everyone, sticking her nose wherever she could. But, she loved her chickens dearly and her hens' eggs are of the highest quality.

You've never seen a yolk that rich in color and taste. Truthfully, knowing where your food came from and knowing the people behind it all made it that much more delicious.

You'd also take a peek at the craft section of the market. There were all sorts of wonderful things to be found on those cluttered counters; handcrafted jewelery, ceramics and pottery, wind chimes, and glass art. You were grateful to live in such a colorful and fruitful community and one that supported each other with everything they could.

With your daily plan firmly set in stone in your mind, you waited behind your little stall until someone would come by and hopefully empty your crates, filling your pockets in turn.

You sat perched up on an extra crate you'd brought so you wouldn't have to stand all day and feel your legs all the way in your stomach.

It was a lovely atmosphere, the sunny early spring weather accompanied by the sweet melodies of jolly birds singing and the excited chatter of the market's visitors filling the space nicely.

Your stock was about half empty now, although your flowers looked more sparse than your produce.

It seemed that the colorful plants were dearly missed throughout the winter, and that everyone wanted nothing more than a fresh and bright bouquet in their home to ring in the start of a new season.

Some of your friends and regular customers had already stopped by, taking their fill of your veggies and couple of fruits until the next week. At this rate, you'd have to up your harvest by fixing up one of the old dry fields that you'd left untouched until now. You groaned quietly at the thought, remembering how much trouble the first fields were.

Sitting in the dirt with aching knees and a sore back, hacking away at the dry hard soil to plant some potatoes. It took honest sweat and tears to get your soil to what it was now, and as much as you didn't look forward to going through all that hassle again, it'd be worth it in the end.

You lazily swung your foot, which was in the air from your legs being crossed, and looked around whether anyone seemed like they were in desperate need of vegetables or flowers.

After a quick flitting gaze over the part of the market place that was in your sight, you decided that if no one came running towards you, begging for some cauliflower, you were free to leave the stall under Alice's watchful eye for a while to get your own shopping done.

"S'cuse me, Alice? Do you mind keeping an eye on my stand? I still need to get some shopping done." You called to her, making her head snap towards you with a smile.

"Oh, yes, of course, deary! You go ahead and get your supper together, I'll make sure no one steals your potatoes." She said jokingly, the sincerity of keeping watch as honest as ever.

You rolled your eyes with a grin and quick shake of your head before grabbing your beloved shopping bag and heading out into the bustle of the market.

You could see Alice walking over to your stall in your peripheral, making a small smile tug at your lips, your eyes back in front of you to not bump into anyone.

Your first stop was at Evie's stall, following the sweet scent if lavender and beeswax. As much as you wanted your own stall to be the prettiest, Evie had you beat. Despite the quite neutral color scheme, at least compared to your obnoxious paints, you couldn't beat her decorations.

There were little bees hanging from the awning, gently swaying in the wind. Some flowers were scattered around as well, with vibrant green vines, contrasting the soft golden hue of the little buzzy friends.

You walked up to her with a smile, and the one she sends you back once she's spotted you could make the sun turn green with envy.

"Well, well, well, If it isn't my favorite florist! I was hoping you'd stop by today- Oh, I need to tell you something exciting about my new batch of honey and- OH my new candles!" She squealed, almost bouncing up and down from excitment.

You chuckled at her over the top, yet very common for her, reaction.

"Alright, slow down, Ev. One thing at a time, can't have you eating your words again."

The bubbly girl stopped and huffed with a small pout.

"That was one time! Okay, maybe two at best! I can't help it, we don't see eachother often and I just have so much to tell you, about my little bees, and I just keep talking and lose track of what I actually wanted to say and then that makes me all upset and-"

You cut her off with a firm hand on her shoulder.

"Evie, breathe." You reminded her.

You hated to stop her rambling, it was so nice to see how passionate she was, but her face was getting redder and you didn't need her collapsing from talking too much all at once.

She sucked in a deep breath and exhaled before taking a second.

"Oops." She chuckled with a bashful grin on her lips.

You arched a brow at her, continuing only when you got a faint nod of her head.

"So, your honey? What's so exciting about this batch?" You asked, your head tilting to the side in interest.

You could see a wide grin settle on her cheeks as she hurriedly grabbed a glass and shoved it into your hands.

"I got new glasses, aren't they so cute?! And my bees took a liking to the flower starters you gave me. They're blooming wonderfully. So, technically, this honey was born of joined efforts!" Evie declared triumphantly, watching the way your brows rose and your lips parted from surprise.

"Are... are you serious?" You huffed out in disbelief, followed by a smile.

"They took to the soil, did they? I'm so glad your bees like them." You said excitedly, almost bursting at the seams, matching Evie's usual energy.

"Yes! And let me tell you, that honey is heavenly. I don't know what flowers they are but they're so sweet and fragrant!" She squealed, slightly rocking on her heels.

"They're just a native wildflower assortment, I'm surprised they didn't turn out to be just weeds." You snickered, turning the glass of honey around in your hands.

Evie whisked around, gathering a pair of honey filled glass jars and placing them in a small linen satchel.

"On the house. Or.. stall." She smiled brightly, handing it your way.

"Oh, I couldn't." You chuckled nervously, waving her off.

She gave you a pout and a furrow in her brows that had a feeling of guilt twist in your stomach.

"No is not an answer! Your flowers plus my bees make our honey. Come on, just take it!" she urged, giving you no chance to refuse again as the satchel containing jars of liquid gold was shoved into your hands.

"Alright, alright! But don't even think of sharing your profit with me." You gave her a stern look, pointing a finger at her while your other hand tightly grasped at the straps of the satchel.

Evie put her hands up in surrender and grinned at you. She knew you couldn't say no to her, and the little sly fox she was used it to her advantage.

"Don't forget your weekly candle, though! Can't have you wilting like cabbage in the summer, eh?" She joked, wiggling her brows at you as she slid a candle your way.

Evie poured all her candles in old glass jars; whether they were from jam, broth, or pickles, every glass was unique, and that's what made her products so appealing to many people.

"Here we go again with the veggie jokes.." you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"You love 'em." She smirked.

"Yeah, I do, that's the problem!" You laughed, bringing the golden hued candle up to your nose.

You inhaled the scent, sighing contently as the aromas of lavender, beeswax, and honey filled your senses.

"This type of lavender is really strong when dried... good to know." You grinned, carefully setting the jar atop the ones in your newly acquired linen satchel.

"You have to let me know how they are when lit. I haven't had a chance to test them yet." She smiled sweetly, drumming her fingers on the wood of her stall, a common habit of hers.

"Will do." You saluted to her jokingly, turning on your heel before you were stopped by her.

"Oh, oh, oh I heard there's a new stall today." She called melodically, leaning on the counter of her stand with a grin.

Your brows furrowed as you stepped in again, curious to what she knew.

"And I heard the owner is an absolute hunk of a man." Evie added with a smirk.

A smile threatened to spread on your lips, but there was only a slight twitch at the corner of your mouth.

"Define hunk." You deadpanned.

She rolled her eyes at you.

"I don't know, I haven't seen the man yet! But you better hurry before Pam gets her claws in him."

"Oh, please. First of all, I'm not just going to throw myself at a man just because you or other people say he's a hunk and second of all, we all know that no matter how hard Pam tries to hide it, she's head over heels for Cass." You replied, earning a slight scoff and a creased brows from the beekeeper.

"You have no proof of that. Tell me one reason why Pam should be in love with Cass." She demanded.

You blinked at her blankly.

"She let's Cass butcher her precious chickens."

Her mouth opened to say something but her jaw snapped shut before any words let her and she grumbled under her breath.

"Okay. Fair enough. But-"

"The fleeting touches, the heart eyes, the overly sweet smile- do I need to go on?"

"Yeah, yeah, I get your point." Evie huffed, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"Enough about those two lovebirds- I have candles to sell and you have a a man to check out." She smirked, observing as your glared her way.

"Fineeeeeeee, you have to new stall to check out." She groaned, rolling her eyes when a content smile settled on your face.

"That's better. Don't worry, I'll tell you of this so called hunk if we cross paths." You replied with a small smirk.

"Great. Now, off you go!" She smiled, waving her hands to shoo you off.

"See you, Ev." You laughed, turning away to continue down the main path of the market.

A new stall? A mystery man? Your day just got that much more interesting.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

"So," Pam began with a grin, carefully packaging your dozen eggs, "you seein' anyone, dollface?"

"Pam, we've been over this. You ask me every week and the answer is still no." You replied blankly, the heavy weight of your now filled shopping bag pulling at the muscles in your shoulder and neck.

"I know, I know. But why? You're a real catch, dollface! You got the face, you got the body, ya got the fire! How men aren't flockin' to ya like moths to a flame, I don't know." She shook her head with a sigh.

"You know, I heard," Pam gently slid your carton of eggs to the side and leaned over the counter, cupping her mouth as if to tell you a secret.

"Let me guess," you stopped her with a gesture of your hand, "a new stall and a mystery man that I, specifically, should go check out?" An amused smile creeped onto your lips at Pam's baffled expression.

"Now, how did you-"

"Evie." You replied with a smirk.

"Oh, that little tattletale!" She cursed, a crease forming between her brows.

"I'm going to the craft sector of the market anyway, you don't need to haul my ass there." You chuckled, watching as the crease smoothed out and a smile formed on her plump cheeks.

"This could really be something, you know? You're as sweet as pie, I doubt he could resist you! Ya need someone in your life, dollface. And what's better than a big strong man with a knack for art, hm?" Pam said softly.

You sighed and chewed on the inside of your cheek.

"I suppose it's hard to argue with that.." you mumbled, rolling your eyes when Pam's smile widened.

"I'll go check it out, that much is clear, but don't think I'll run back next week telling you that I'm getting married."

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it, dollface." She mused, watching in delight as a small scowl came to sit on your lips.

"I'll see you next week, Pam." You grumbled, stomping off.

"Bye-Bye!" She chirped after you with an enthusiastic wave, making you shake your head with a small smile.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

The chatter and laughter of the market's bustling crowd filled the space as you slithered your away around people and children, careful not to wack anyone with your bag, which would also result in a to-go omelet in your satchel.

The soft jingle of wind chimes signaled to you that you'd reached your destination. This was by far your favorite part of the market, seeing all the carefully handcrafted pieces fascinated you. As nice as this place was for your soul, it was equally as bad for your wallet.

You'd leave with something new every week; whether that was a new wind chime, of which you'd started a small collection on your porch, or a pair of sparkly earrings.

You'd caught site of the new stall from the corner of your eye but decided to talk to your local crafters first, like you did every week, before investigating the mystery that had entranced your friends.

The stall looked... intimidating.

Not necessarily out of place with its dark polished wood, but it was bigger than most other stands, looming over them menacingly. You approached it carefully, eyes flitting over your surroundings when the owner was nowhere in sight.

You lowered your gaze to the goods that were haphazardly placed upon the mahogany counters.

Little figurines and sculptures smithed from... horseshoes?

A smile tugged at your lips. They weren't perfectly straight or neat, some were crooked and a little lumpy, which made them seem quite endearing to you.

One of your hands reached out to a little frog, but before your fingers could graze the metal, a giant man popped up from behind the stall and you stumbled back with a yelp, slapping a hand over your mouth.

Your reaction startled the man, pulling a deep rumbling gasp from his chest as one of his big hands came to clasp right over his heart.

"Christ, you scared me." He huffed softly, meeting your eye.

You scoffed slightly.

"Me?? You scared me! You can't just pop up out of nowhere, you 6'0 wall of a man!" You defended before you inhaled a sharp breath and finally took him in.

His tall and very muscular stature, the short brown hair, the cerulean eyes that pierced your soul and that exquisitely groomed beard that looked so soft, you were itching to feel it beneath your fingertips.

Holy shit. He was a hunk.

You weren't aware that you were gawking at him with wide eyes and parted lips.

"Are you... alright?" He asked cautiously, shifting on his feet, visibly uncomfortable that you were staring.

"Huh?" You snapped back to reality with a quick shake of your head.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I was just..." You cleared your throat before putting on a smile.

"You're just a new face, that's all." You chuckled awkwardly, drumming the length of your finger on the wooden counter.

He hummed and bopped his head, successfully trapping both of you in an unpleasant silence.

"So... did you just move here?" You asked, trying to break the ice, or more the glacier, that stood between you.

"Ah, no. I've been livin' here for a while, actually. I'm the local Farrier, John." He held out his hand for you to take with a kind smile and you were caught off guard by how smooth and soft his voice was and his gentle demeanor.

You introduced yourself with your name and as a small farmer that mostly worked with plants.

"Nice to meet you, John. I, uh, really like your little metal friends." You said softly, loosely gesturing to the forged sculptures in front of you.

John chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish smile on his face.

"Thank you. Be shame to let all that good iron go to waste, eh?"

"Hm, so Farrier by day and artist by night?" You teased, your arms crossing in front of your chest.

An amused grin settled on John's face, his hands fiding the pockets of his jeans. The green flannel he wore was rolled up to his elbows, showing off the muscles on his forearms that were covered in a layer of hair.

"Wouldn't exactly call myself an artist, love." He chuckled deeply, sending a shiver down your spine.

You didn't admit to yourself how that nickname set your heart ablaze. You cocked a brow at him.

"This frog," you picked up the metal frag that had caught your eye with a small grunt, "says otherwise. You've got some real talent, John." You smiled brightly, earning a smile and soft huff from the Farrier.

"Speaking of this little friend, how much do you want for it?"

John's expression morphed into a surprised one, his thick brows shooting up. He was caught off guard by your question and cleared his throat after a while.

"You can have 'im for ten pounds." He finally declared, albeit a little awkwardly.

"10 pounds? That's it?" Now you were the surprised one, although a small smile creeped onto your face shortly after at his inexperience with pricing goods.

"We've got to work on your pricing, John. You can get at least 20 to 25 pounds for this." You said before placing the metal sculpture back onto the counter after your arms were protesting against its weight.

John smiled sheepishly.

"S'my first time sellin' things, go easy on me, yeah?" He chuckled, his hands moving from his pockets to the counter, leaning forward slightly.

You grinned before reaching into your pocket and pulling out a few banknotes, holding them out for him to take.

"Here's 20. Although, if you play your cards right, you might get discovered and can add a whole lot more zeros to that." You smirked.

He laughed but didn't make a move to take the money, brushing you off with a gentle shake of his hand.

"Here, take it." You urged him with a smile, extending your arm further into his direction.

"S'quite alright. Consider it a gift." He smiled kindly, an honest smile, and your knees were about to give out just from that.

"No, no, absolutely not. If I went around handing out my potatoes and tulips for free, I'd be bankrupt. I'm buying this frog, so take the money." You said a little more firmly than you meant to, but giving him a stern look nonetheless.

An amused smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he put his hands up in surrender and finally took the money from your hand before swiftly pulling a brown leather wallet from his pocket and storing the banknotes.

"Are you always this insistent on paying?" John asked with a teasing undertone.

"Only with the people I like." You quipped back.

A hint of something flashed in his cerulean eyes before they returned back to their casual softness, reminding you of the calm ripples of the ocean.

"Well, I should get back to my stall." You smiled sweetly, adjusting your heavy shopping bag on your shoulder before reaching out to take your newly acquired garden decoration from the counter.

John's eyes flitted to your shoulder, seeing it slightly dragged down due to the amount of shopping you did today filling your bag. He'd noticed at first glance how you leaned slightly crooked, how you'd try to discreetly adjust your bag, or when you'd stretch your neck to release some of the tension in your trapezius.

Just as your fingertips grazed the metal, John's hand shot froward, holding a firm grip on the piece.

"Please, let me." He said gently, his hand slightly touching yours.

"Oh, it's fine, really-"

"I insist, love." He spoke with a gentle firmness.

Your lips were slightly parted as you stared at him, your hands still brushing against eachother before you caved from his kind

gesture and pulled your hand away with a coy smile.

"That's very kind of you." You smiled with a tingly feeling on your cheeks.

"My pleasure." John replied softly, his voice was slowly melting through your ribcage, ambitiously trying to reach your heart.

In the blink of an eye he rounded his stand and picked up the metal frog like it weighed absolutely nothing. Your eyes widened at his casual display of strength.

"Oh wow, you're really strong." You marveled, trying to keep your eyes away from the flexing muscles in his arms.

John smirked and let out a small, amused huff.

"Yeah, well, unfortunately, metal doesn't bend from sweet talking alone."

I would

The thought popped into your head faster than you'd like to admit, and the shiver at the base of your skull didn't go away, cementing even more how nice his voice was. Rough and hoarse in all the right places, a pleasant rumble that carried through the air straight into every crevice of your brain.

John expertly weaved through the crowd, occasionally looking over his shoulder so he wouldn't lose you in the mass, while making sure he didn't accidentally take out someone's kneecap with the metal statue.

The crowd thinned out the closer you got to your stall as the people migrated to the booths and stands of artisans to finish off their weekly shopping with a handcrafted piece to bring home.

John slowed his walk, making sure you could keep up. He was itching to take the heavy bag off your hands, but he didn't want to seem pushy or too forward.

So he clenched his fists to resist the twitching urge in his hands. You two managed to make pleasant conversation as you led him to your stall, trying to discreetly shoot Pam a sharp glare as you passed her stand and she couldn't help herself but wink at you with a grin that resembled the one of the cheshire cat.

"How come I've never seen you around if you've been living here for a while?" You asked curiously, clutching the straps of your bag that were uncomfortable cutting into your skin.

John let out a soft hum with a absent look in his eyes as his gaze continued to flick back to that damn bag on your shoulder.

"I mostly take clients out of town. Or they come to me, and in both cases I don't pass through here on the daily. There's usually a market on the way so I haven't been inclined to stop by this one." He explained with a polite smile.

"That makes sense, I suppose." You mumbled, slowing your pace to an eventual stop to signal your arrival at your stall.

Alice and Bill were long gone, rightfully so as time had passed faster than you thought and the sun was starting its descend past the horizon.

There was, however, a sweet note from Alice, letting you know that they'd left and where she'd hid your moneybox.

"This is my stall." You said awkwardly, suddenly feeling insecure about the colorful paints around someone has serious as John.

He hummed in response, looking over your, quite marvelous, paint job with approval. He had one hand in his pocket while the other was still tightly grasping the metal frog.

"It's lovely. You did this yourself?" He asked with a quirked brow, running a hand over the painted wood.

"Uh, yeah, I did. Thank you." You laughed nervously, surprised by his answer.

There was a beat of awkwardly silence before you spoke and scrambled to pack up for the day.

"Well, I should really get these remaining things back home..." You trailed off, starting to stack wooden crates, but still refusing to put down that forsaken shopping bag of yours.

"I could help you, if you want." He proposed, clearing his throat. Your eyes widened

"Oh, you really don't have to do that, John-"

"It's nothing. At least let me hold your bag." He said softly, holding out his hand.

You thought for a moment before the burning pain in your shoulder made the decision for you. You slipped it off your shoulder and sighed in relief at the heavy weight that was lifted off of you.

He took the bag and slung it over his shoulder like it carried nothing but a feather.

"Thank you." You smiled softly, gratitude shining in your eyes.

"Not a problem, love." He replied with a smile.

Little did you know, he had purposefully chosen the shoulder that was farthest from you, an attempt at hiding the bag, as he had every intention of walking you to your car.

"Alright, that should be everything." You huffed, having been able to fit all of today's leftovers into one crate.

Something that made it significantly easier for you to carry.

"Shall we go, then?" John asked lightly, making your brows furrow with a small chuckle.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I figured I'd walk you to your car." He smiled.

That stupidly adorable smile of his. How could you ever decline such a nice gesture, especially with all your muscles hurting.

Besides, it was getting dark, and despite this being a safe and close community you weren't too keen to stay out at night. You huffed but broke into a smile.

"I suppose you won't take a no?" You asked with a slightly teasing smile. John chuckled.

"I would. If you don't want help, that's alright with me." His answer surprised you and managed to knock words out of your brain for a minute. He slightly raised a brow, waiting for an answer, but there was a glint of patience in his eyes.

"O-Oh, well..." you chuckled, eyes flitting to the ground briefly before you cleared your throat and met his gaze again.

"That.. that would actually be very helpful. I don't think I could carry all of this in one trip anyway. Thank you." You breathed out with a kind smile.

Maybe your alarms should go off, a strange men you've just met isn't someone you'd want to lead to your car, but there was something so curious and trustworthy about him that made you feel at ease when you were around him.

Well, there are people you just click with. Maybe you'd gained another friend as well. John gave you a kind nod, making you start the trek to your car.

It was tiny, a little dirty, but she was a well-oiled thing that ran without complaints. All thanks to Bill's obsession with oiling things don't really need any oiling at all.

It was a quiet walk, though a pleasant and comfortable air orrounded the both of you.

The sky was turning a light purple, bleeding into a deep blue. You've never spent this much time at the market, but today was full of new things for you it seemed.

You heaved the crate into the boot of your car before turning to John and spotting him waiting patiently with your bag slung over his shoulder and your newly purchased garden decoration in hand.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make you my pack mule." You said apologetically, although a smile was never far with him around.

"No, I offered." He replied kindly, waving off your worries before handing you your things.

"You said you were a Farrier, right?" You asked through a groan, using all your strength to close your boot.

Bill had insisted on some new springs that now made your life that more difficult.

"I am." He nodded, keeping enough space between the two of you so it wouldn't feel weird.

There was something so calm about you that intrigued him. Smiles seemed to follow you wherever you went, and a cloud of faint sweet flowers hit his nose whenever he'd come a little closer.

"Do you think you could come over for Pudding?" You asked, like it was the most normal thing in the world. His brows shot up and he laughed nervously, eyes flitting to the ground. "That's a little early, don't you think?" He asked with a lopsided smile. Your eyes widened and your cheeks blushed.

"No, no, what I mean- what I meant was- my horse. I have a horse. Her name is Pudding." You scrambled to explain the situation.

You didn't think about the wording and how it seemed suggestive to other people.

John chuckled and shook his head.

"A horse named Pudding, eh?" He questioned with a smirk, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"Yes. Yes, Pudding. I... didn't think about how that would sound." You cleared your throat with an apologetic smile.

John smiled, his eyes crinkling.

"It's alright, love, don't worry. I'll have to check when I can fit you in my schedule, but it'll be no problem."

"Oh, of course. There's really no rush." You replied politely, a smile gracing your face once again.

"Here, let me just-" You quickly pulled a small and well-loved notepad from your pocket and scribbled down your number.

Your handwriting was rushed and messy, but you hoped John would be able to make it out and call you eventually. Shoving the piece of paper into his hand, you stashed your pen and notepad back in your pocket.

Although John was a little surprised at your enthusiasm, it wasn't unwelcome. God, how long has it been since someone was this excited about him? There was a faint spark of adoration shining in his eyes, a spark that had been snuffed out for far too long.

One that you, the kind yet sassy farmer, had ignited once again. He stored the note in the breast pocket of his flannel, giving it a pat to assure you that he'd keep it safe.

"I'll give ya a ring then." He chuckled, his hands finding the familiar spot in his pockets.

"Yeah, okay." You sighed, the beaming smile almost glued to your face.

"It was lovely meeting you, John. I'll see more of you around? It's good to have connections." You joked, earning a pleasant huff from him.

"Don't know how good of a.. connection, a Farrier is, but I'll be around."

You gave him a satisfied nod.

"Well, good night, John." You said softly, sleep aching deep in bones.

"Night, love." With a smile he turned on his heel.

He was fighting everything within him to not turn around and get one last look at you. With a clenched jaw and a sharp huff through his nose, he kept on walking. You were halfway in your car, but before you could sit down, you jolted up again, calling after him.

"John!"

He whipped around faster than he'd like to admit. He wouldn't be surprised if he had pulled a muscle in the process.

"Everything alright?" He shouted, watching as you turned your torso, steadying yourself on the door of your car.

"You're not allergic to cats, are you?" You asked loudly, slightly wincing at how far your voice carried over the empty car park.

"Not that I know of. Why?" A smirk was tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"No reason. Night!" You called out one last time, a wide and cheeky grin sitting on your face was you waved him goodbye and finally got into your car.

John shook his head with a grin as he walked back. He snuck a peak of your car, watching as the bright lights got duller the further you drove into the night.

If he'd known such pleasant company was hiding at the market, he'd have gone months ago. Your note was a reassuring weight in his pocket, and he'd made it his goal to show up every week from now on.

Of course, it was to sell his figurines as a side hustle and definitely not because he was completely enarmoured with the sweet farmer that ignited a spark in his chest he hadn't felt in years.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

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