Evan Peters Imagines and One Shots

April- James Patrick March

All the beautiful flora and fauna undoubtedly made me fall in love with spring, but I especially loved April; that's when all the farmers re-opened their food stands. I loved the smell of the flowers blooming, along with all the fruits and vegetables. Whenever my mother asked if I wanted to come with her, I never turned her down. I'd come to this same farmer's market since I was a tadpole, and usually nothing changed. Today was different. There was a new face, one I'd never seen.

"Y/n, I need your help with some of these vegetables," my mother called for me.

"Coming," I shouted back.

She stood at the vegetable stand, deep in conversation with a man who ran the stand. But I could barely focus on their conversation because standing next to him was the most handsome boy I'd ever witnessed, and the boy looked to be around my age; a smirk appeared on the boy's face as I strolled toward the three of them and handed my mother the two woven baskets we'd brought.

"Here you are, mother," I spoke to her.

"Thank you, sweetheart. Could you help with these vegetables," my mother asked me.

Before I could respond, the boy spoke to my mother.

"I could help with that, misses," the boy said, "Two lovely ladies like yourselves should never have to lift a finger when us men are around."

Looking back at me with a smile after he said those words, I couldn't help but feel butterflies fluttering in my stomach. My mother gasped at the boy, placing her hand on her chest in response.

"Why, thank you," she responded.

He looked back at my mother with a dimpled grin.

"It's no trouble, misses," the boy continued, "It's what we 'March' men are here to do."

My mother and the boy turned back to his father, who nodded with a proud smile.

"You're raising such a gentleman," my mother told his father.

"Why, thank you," his father responded to her, "I try to raise him right. He's a hardworking boy, too. He's even started to work at the stand with me after school now for allowance."

"That's just for now, Pa," James interrupted, "When I get old enough, I'm going to get a job drilling oil. Then, I'll start my own oil company business and grow my money. After that, I'll start another business and build a hotel."

Disapproval appeared on his father's face as the boy revealed his plan. I didn't understand why his plan seemed innovative. It wasn't like he was going to hurt anybody with it.

"That plan sounds good on paper, but you're going to be a farmer just like your old man," his father responded, "It's the family business."

"But Pa-," the boy whined.

"No, 'buts' now, why don't you go ahead and start filling these baskets," his father instructed him.

"Yes, sir," the boy responded to him.

The boy looked saddened as he walked toward us and grabbed the baskets. My mother and the boy's father proceeded away from the table, now conversing about what new fruits the boy's father started to grow this year. When they were far enough, I spoke to the boy.

"I wouldn't listen to your father if I were you," I reassured the boy, "I think your plan will work!"

The boy stopped packing and filling the basket as he looked at me; he looked more hopeful as he did.

"You honestly think that," he doubted.

"Of course I do. I wouldn't have said it if I didn't," I laughed, "I've always thought hotels were pretty cool too. I'd love to live in one. My name's Y/n, by the way."

"Y/n, that's a beautiful name for a beautiful girl," he stated.

I looked down at my feet because I didn't want him to see the grin he'd put on my face.

"I'm James Patrick March," he resumed, "It's my pleasure to meet you."

James grabbed my hand and kissed it.

"I'm most pleased to have met someone as pretty as you are," he continued.

I tried to change the subject before I started to giggle like the schoolgirl I was. James noticed and continued to fill up the baskets.

"James Patrick March, huh," I spoke, "Why did you have to give your full name?"

"Because Pa says we 'March' men should be proud in addressing ourselves," he answered, "That's one reason."

I looked back up at him. He had finished putting up the produce.

"And what's the other," I questioned.

"I wanted you to know what last name you'd replace yours with," James flirted.

His brown eyes never left mine as he watched me gasp at his answer; his forwardness made my heart beat faster.

"James," his father called him, "Come get these fruit over here?"

"Alright, Pa," James shouted back.

James grabbed the baskets and walked over to his father and my mother, leaving me in a lovestruck state by the vegetable stand as I repeatedly thought my name with his.