#noah risling

okay sue me but the talk ab masc demitra kalogeras actually has me dead.

I only told my best friend cuz I’m too embarrassed to say to anyone else that I write fanfics…

Kalogeras Sisters Masterlist

🧡= little reader fic

💛= my fav fics

october dumpp 🍂🎃

𝙵𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚈𝚘𝚞..

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ - 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 : 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵!𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺𝘣𝘰𝘺!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘰 𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘱𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 : 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵!𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘺, & 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺𝘣𝘰𝘺!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 : 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧

The pumpkin patch smells like hay and cinnamon and something fried you can’t quite place. Sunday calls it “nostalgia,” even though you’re pretty sure neither of you have ever been to this one before.

Still, it feels familiar.

“You’re smiling already,” Sunday says, bumping her shoulder into yours as you pass a stand stacked with tiny orange pumpkins. “We just got here.”

“I like this,” you say. “It feels… warm.”

She glances at you, lips curling into a small smile, and slips her fingers between yours like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Then we’re staying awhile,” Sunday decides.

You wander slowly, not really in a rush. There are kids laughing somewhere nearby, hay crunching beneath your shoes, a couple debating pumpkin shapes a few rows over. Sunday leans closer to you as you walk, like she’s anchoring herself there.

At one stall, you pick up a tiny pumpkin, barely bigger than your hand.

“This one,” you say. “Look at it. It’s perfect.”

Sunday studies it seriously. “It has good energy.”

You laugh. “You’re assigning vibes to vegetables now?”

“Absolutely,” she says. “This one’s friendly. Low maintenance.”

“So… like you?”

She gasps softly, hand to her chest. “Rude.”

You’re still smiling when she reaches over and gently takes the pumpkin from you. “I’ll carry it,” she says. “It looks like it might get overwhelmed.”

The corn maze is labeled easy, which turns out to be a lie.

A few wrong turns in, Sunday stops. “We’ve definitely been here already.”

You glance at the familiar scarecrow. “Yeah. We’re lost.”

She laughs, bright and unbothered, and suddenly it doesn’t matter. You slip an arm around her waist, steering her with gentle confidence.

“I don’t mind being lost with you,” she giggles.

You tilt your head toward her. “I was thinking the same thing.”

When you finally make it out, the sky’s already starting to soften into gold. You sit on a hay bale, sharing apple cider that’s way too hot because neither of you wants to wait.

Sunday blows on hers, then takes a careful sip. “Worth the tongue burn.”

“Every time,” you say.

She rests her head against yours, fingers absentmindedly brushing your sleeve.

“Same time next year?” she asks.

You smile, leaning into her warmth. “Only if it’s with you.”

She squeezes your hand instead of answering, and somehow, that feels like everything.

note : had this saved in my drafts, lwk hate it ᵕ᷄≀ ̠ᵕ᷅