Evan Peters Imagines and One Shots

April Pt. 3

The spring air blessed my nostrils, along with the delicious smell of pie that James had gotten us for our picnic. Tonight was the night we had been waiting for. We had packed our bags and were eager to get on the train to start our new life. While on our walk over, he'd pick a bunch of daisies and make me a bouquet sitting in the middle of a blanket because that's how the nice decorate their table, and he believed I deserved the best. This picnic was our celebration as we toasted for a better future and reminisced about our time here. And the best part was that we were together eating fruits he had taken from his father's farm while we sat by the creek's edge.

James and his father hadn't spoken since the night he kicked him out. The rotten man didn't even attend our wedding, but James occasionally went to his childhood home and messed with his father's crops to spite him. I found it quite funny when he was malicious, especially when my mother would come home from the Farmer's Market telling us how his father would complain about animals destroying his produce. Most things he did now were to spite him. He styled his hair daily and even had a mustache growing. Whatever his father did or said to him that night changed him because he was now the most refined man in our town.

"I wouldn't mind some little ones running around the hotel. Not too many, though. Kids can be rascals," he declared.

"Something tells me you're speaking from experience," I joked.

I dodged as he tossed a green grape at me, both of us laughing 

"See, you're even throwing stuff," I teased.

He tackled me onto the blanket, tickling me as we rolled onto the grass. He pinned me down once we got too far to the edge. 

"I think we'd better stop before we roll into the creek," he suggested.

The green blades underneath pierced my skin, but it didn't bother me, as my attention was on the brown-eyed stud hovering over me. Lost in each other's eyes, our lips pressed against each other. The world felt like ours whenever he kissed me. Our body heat increased as he pressed his chest against mine, caressing my skin with his hands as he rubbed my thighs underneath my dress. Time felt endless until a raspy cough interrupted our moment, startling me and visibly aggravating James as I pushed him off of me.

"Don't mind me. I don't want to interrupt your fun," the voice snickered.

The voice belonged to one of the locally known fishermen and our local pastor. Reverend Short was one of those older men who shouldn't be trusted alone with anyone younger. James could see how uneasy I was when I started to cover up with the blanket. I wasn't undressed, but the thought of that old bastard even seeing me made me want to hide. My mother often warned me to stay away from him, even as a child. 

"Please. Continue. You kids can pretend I'm not even here," he continued.

His words made me wince in disgust. Men like him were typical and often allowed to get away with their actions, especially when they were a part of the church, giving James and I more reason to be weary. It didn't take long for James to start collecting our picnic items and pull me up from the ground, shielding me from the eyes of the creep before us. James' guard heightened as the reverend stepped closer to us. As worried as I was, I knew that James would die before he let anything happen to me- and he'd always assured me that he wasn't going to die anytime soon.

"I think it would be better if we just let you have this space for yourself, Reverend," he spoke.

"Nonsense. I don't mind spending time with our local youth. Especially beauties like Miss L/n," the man continued.

Although James' face was not in my sight, the anger radiating from his body told me everything I needed to know. Tension filled the air as the men glared at each other. My lovely husband wasn't too fond of letting other men even realize I existed, so to hear another man prey on me was a recipe for disaster.

"Mrs. March is her name," James corrected.

The man continued to dig his own grave as he continued to pester us. I didn't need to see his face to know that James' jaw was clenched to the point where he'd shatter his teeth if he bit down any harder; he'd become more hotheaded as the days passed, and the fear of him doing something drastic overwhelmed me. Whispering in his ear, telling him I wanted to leave and that the other man was not worth it.

 "My apologies. I didn't mean to offend. Although the lady can speak for herself, can she not, " the man snickered.

"She can when the person is worth talking to," James rebutted.

"Well, how about you let Mrs. March know that she's just as pretty as her mother when she was her age, and she's grown up quite nicely. I've known that she would be a beauty even when she was a child," Mr. Short badgered.

James' face was strawberry red as he peered at me; he had hit his breaking point. Reverend Short seemed to find the situation humorous as he snickered, enraging James more as he brought his attention back to the man. 

"Now, little boy, there's no need to get all riled up. I didn't mean to spoil your pride, although a real man would never allow for such things to be said about his woman. I'm sure she understands that as well," he teased.

"Why, there's nothing you could say to spoil my pride, sir. A real man doesn't let poor attempts get to him, especially from men of God who prey on uninterested younger women," James retorted.

I was unsure what provoked the reverend more, James' calling him out for his truth or me giggling at my husband's taunts; either way, the man wasn't too happy. Everything happened so rapidly as the reverend launched at us, particularly James. This wasn't James' first tussle with an older man since he and his father often fought. The reverend had underestimated James' strength as everything seemed hilarious to him. My husband and I could only laugh as he made the Reverend Short look like a fool even more. The reverend looked in my direction, his face smothered with fury.

"You think this is amusing," the reverend fussed.

My grin dropped as the older man walked toward me. My mother always told me men who couldn't fight other men tended to attack women instead. I couldn't tell where James was because I was focused on running backward from the creep before me. I backed away from the man before my foot slipped over my flowers, and I tripped onto the ground. Fear took over my body as the man stood over me.

Before I could scream out for James, the man jerked before dropping to his knees, and behind him stood my splendid husband with a hefty-looking rock in his hand with a crimson liquid on the sharp edge and covering his hand. James' chest beat faster than how quickly everything happened as he exhaled, but his face had no expression. After he tossed the rock onto the ground and stepped over the lifeless body, he squatted down and pulled me into his arms. His shirt became drenched in my tears.

"It's okay, my love. It's all over. That bastard is finally where he deserves- where all people like him deserve to be. We only have to ensure no one finds out," he assured.

He rubbed my back as I nodded into his shirt. Reaching over, he picked up the semi-crushed bouquet and handed it to me to try and make me feel better. The scent of those beautiful April flowers always seemed to help calm me because they reminded me of him.

"No one will ever hurt you, Y/n, and no one will get in the way of us and our hotel- not even God's men. I'll make sure of it," he whispered.

We were unsure if the man would sink, given that our picnic basket was much smaller than him, but my idea of filling it with rocks, including the one he was hit with, seemed to work. It also helped that we'd wrapped him and the basket in the blanket so he'd have less chance of staying afloat. James found it unnecessary when I placed the bouquet of daisies on the sinking corpse to pay some respect; the bouquet continued to float as the man disappeared into the water, and I began to wonder if maybe he was right as the bouquet drifted away.

He wouldn't let me go throughout the rest of the day, even in front of my mother, who assured James that she needed a few more years before she could become a grandmother. The altercation hadn't shaken him yet, but he constantly advised my mother that he would always protect me as we waited for the train, and I reminded him that I'd always support him and be by his side- no matter what. I kissed my mother on the cheek before following him onto the train, watching her tear up as she waved goodbye to her only daughter through the window. When the train pulled off, James squeezed my hand as I lay on his shoulder, wondering what our future would become.