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whittle hearts

Summary:

in which the farmer attempts whittling to woo the woodworking artist

Notes:

im back!!!!! i will be writing the next chapter as soon as possible!!! also, do you like the title pun?

i also have a fic for Penny in the works as well!!

Chapter 1: the long night

Chapter Text

Frankly, the farmer was a complete mess. She had to admit this, even if only to herself. Wood shavings littered the floor as well as her clothes (and, not to mention, her hair). She had a bandage wrapped carefully around almost every finger. It was well into the night and well past her habitual bedtime.

The farmer took a deep, grounding breath and set down her work for a moment to regroup. Scattered on the table in front of her was a hodgepodge of woodworking tools, carving knives, and chunks of soft wood. Stacked to her left were library books on whittling.

She thought about how she ended up here. Not in a general, cosmic sense, but specifically here, at her diner table at one in the morning covered in wood shavings and desperately trying to whittle a small heart.

It was Leah. The artist was the crux of the whole thing. The farmer had realized last week, after attending her art show, that she was in deep. In what, she wasn’t sure, but she was sure of the weight of it in her chest.

She decided she had to make some kind of gesture; give Leah some physical evidence of what she felt. She racked her brain for days and finally settled on whittling. Then she thought deeply for another day on what exactly to whittle.

It took her another day to realize that she had no idea how to whittle and to check out every book in the library on it. Gunther gave her a knowing look while checking her books out that she would rather not think about the implications of.

She then spent the afternoon and evening trying her hardest to grasp the basics of whittling. Which led to her moment of introspection.

She took another breath, centering herself, and grabbed another block of balsa wood. She took the carving knife that she had been having the best results with and began again. This time, she took her time, becoming more mindful of what she was doing.

Eventually, it came together. It wasn’t perfect but the farmer was satisfied with what she had accomplished in the amount of time given.

She shook off the wood shavings and crawled into bed. She slept heavily.

Chapter 2: morning glory

Summary:

the sun rises on the long night

Notes:

oof, that was a very long time to update, very sorry! here's the rest, hope y'all enjoy!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The next morning, after a quick trip to Pierre’s for fresh flowers, she made the trek to Leah’s cabin, swiftly but not so quickly that she would sweat. She drafted what she would say in her head over and over again, trying to make it perfect. She did her best not to dwell on any thoughts about possible embarrassing outcomes to this.

Eventually, perhaps too soon, she reached the cabin. The farmer took a steadying breath and straightened her best pair of overalls (aka the pair with the least amount of suspicious stains).

She took a step forward to knock on the door and was thoroughly startled when the door opened seemingly on its own, revealing Leah. So startled was the farmer that she tried to step back, confused her footing, and fell on backwards on her butt with a great “OOF”.

“Oh!” cried Leah, “Are you alright?” Leah reached for the farmer’s free hand, pulling her to her feet easily. Absently, the farmer wondered at her strength.

The farmer said sheepishly, dusting herself off, “Yes, but I’m afraid my pride took quite a blow.”

Leah laughed, relieved. Then her eyes settled on the bouquet in the farmer’s hand. “What have you got there?” she asked carefully, not giving any hint to the farmer as to what she might feel.

The farmer swallowed, “Ah, well, I wanted to give these to you.” she said, gesturing to the flowers, “As well as this,” the farmer reached into her pocket and fished out a small box wrapped in brown paper.

Leah’s lips parted in a silent ‘o’ and the farmer couldn’t help but take in all her features. Her eyes were bright and shining in the morning sun and her lips looked soft and glossy. Her ginger hair was carefully pinned in its usual skillful braid. The farmer was suddenly very aware of the color rising in her cheeks.

Silently, the farmer handed Leah the box. Leah took it gently, shifting her gaze slowly from it to the farmer’s face and then back to the box again. It seemed like it took Leah an agonizingly long time to unwrap the box.

The farmer found herself entranced by Leah’s strong, steady fingers picking up the balsa wood heart.

Leah looked up at the farmer again finally, her eyes misty and cheeks flushed, “I didn’t know you felt the same way.” she said softly.

Registering the words slowly and carefully, the farmer felt elation in her chest, “How could I not?” she said just as softly.

Leah, smiling wide, took the farmer’s hands in hers, “I accept.” she said, leaning in and laying a kiss on the farmer’s parted lips. The farmer, in turn, accepted the kiss, gladly and sweetly.

After an immeasurable amount of time, Leah broke the kiss and opened her mouth to say something, but was distracted by the texture of the farmer’s hands. Looking down and furrowing her brow, she asked “What on earth happened to your hands?”

The farmer laughed, a few tears slipping down her cheeks from the strength of the joy bursting in her.

Notes:

thank u very much for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider leaving a comment!