Shawn Mendes Imagines (Reader Insert)

Peachy Keen (Italy!Shawn)

Prompt: Plucking a peach off a tree & calloused palms

Warnings: none :)

Word Count: 5.5k | Fluff

---

The warm Italian sun was high up in the sky as you peddled your bike down a dirt path. The crunching sound of your tires rolling over loose dirt and small pebbles was one you would never get tired of. You momentarily shut your eyes as the light breeze pulled your hair back.

You had just gone into town to pick up a few small groceries for your grandparents. And biking was your chosen mode of transportation. You biked into town, spoke the minimal Italian you knew with the shop keeper, and then quickly headed back to the villa. The reusable bag sitting in your whicker basket was filled with the Italian essentials: fresh vegetables, pasta, and wine.

God, how you loved visiting your grandparents in the summer months.

Your grandparents lived around the tiny town of Cesena; about an hour north of San Marino and a thirty minute drive to the eastern shore of Italy. It was a quaint town, one that was rarely ever littered with tourists.

Your grandparents house came into view as you peddled a little faster up the hill with a smile on your face. Your time in Italy was almost over, but your boyfriend was coming to visit, and that made you smile.

Shawn had a small break during the North American leg of his tour, and after convincing Andrew that Shawn wouldn't miss much on the days where nothing was scheduled, the days were approved. He was due to arrive tonight and then take a taxi down to your grandparents place. Even though his flight was still a few hours away from landing, you couldn't help but check your phone every half hour.

You smoothed your white t-shirt and jean shorts down once you got off your bike, plucked the grocery bag from your basket, and walked through the screen door, "Nona!" You called out to your grandmother, "I'm back with the groceries!"

"Kitchen!"

The walls of the hallway were covered with family pictures. Ones from when your mother was a child, your parents wedding day, your first days of school, and your summers spent in Italy. The wall was always a walk down memory lane and it made you smile every time.

You carefully placed the bag on the wooden counter and began emptying the contents, "Cristian says hi," you peeked over your shoulder to see your grandmother stirring a pot of sauce on the stove, "He says that while he loves to see my shining face, he misses seeing you at the store."

Your grandmother lifted the spoon up to taste the sauce, "Grumpy old man," she shook her head in laughter, "Still the biggest flirt––even when I take your Nonno."

Rolling your eyes, you brought the bags of pasta over to the boiling water, "He's a sweet man."

"Who?" Your grandfather strolled into the kitchen.

"Cristian," your grandmother let out a laugh, "From the store."

Your grandfather shrugged as he opened the cabinet and took out three plates, he paused before closing the cabinet door, "Will the boyfriend be joining us for dinner?"

"He gets in late tonight," You moved around your grandmother to get three wine glasses down, "He'll be here for breakfast though."

"I'm excited to meet him," your grandmother continued to stir the sauce around in the pan and put a little more salt in the water the pasta was cooking in, "I've been doing my research."