✰ please accept that i'm not the best writer ✰
requests are not being taken at the moment !
they will be opening again once i get a few drafts completed !
cover by @krisbryants !!
Deze afbeelding leeft onze inhoudsrichtlijnen niet na. Verwijder de afbeelding of upload een andere om verder te gaan met publiceren.
I fly between the automatic double-doors, the bright light of the grocery store instantly blinding me as the contrast is completely opposite of the pitch-black sky. I sigh, my tiredness causing my eyes to slightly close. Someone tell me why I decided it was a good idea to go to a grocery store at 2am. What can I say, when you have cravings, you have cravings. And right now - I need ice cream. In an extremely oversized Yankees sweater and shorts you can't even see under them, I rapidly make my way towards the frozen foods section. I'm trying to get in and out of here as fast as possible. I walk through the aisle of frozen pizzas, internally sighing when I realize how dumb I was to think the ice cream would be in the same aisle as the frozen pizzas. I scratch the back of my neck, looking at the signs hanging above each aisle. I notice the sign for the next aisle over - ice cream. I begin walking to the end of the frozen pizzas, my loud and quite hurried footsteps being the only sound echoing through the store. I take a step out into the opening looking to my left, towards the aisle that holds the goods. The second I walk in that direction, a metal cart runs into my side, sending me flying onto the ground. A piercing pain runs from my hip to my calf. I hear a loud, deep gasp.
"Oh my god." I feel the presence of someone kneeling down beside me as I rub my hand along my leg, which I'm sure is bruised by now. I hold onto my hip, letting out a small, painful groan. A large, and might I say, warm hand is gently placed on my thigh, sending chills through my body.
"I am so so sorry about that." A deep voice says. A bell rings in my head. That voice sounds so familiar. I just can't put my finger on where I'd know it from. My eyes slowly open, my face unclenching from the painful look it previously had. I turn my head to the side, hoping to see a total stranger - someone I'd never have to see again, especially when I look like this. But, I finally match the voice to the person. My jaw surely drops to the floor, my eyes flying wide open. Aaron Judge. I look between my sweatshirt and Aaron, completely starstruck. He notices my anxious actions, his adorable, gap-toothed smile spreading across his face. Aaron clears his throat, extending both of his hands, which I gladly take. My palms are extremely sweaty in his hands, butterflies taking over my stomach.
"I'm really sorry about that. Uh, are you okay?" I take a deep breath. Aaron Judge is talking to me. If you couldn't tell by now, I'm easily one of the biggest Yankees fans. And I just so happen to have had the biggest freaking crush on Aaron Judge since he was drafted by the Yanks in 2013. My eyes remain fixed on the giant man in front of me, my heart pounding like crazy.
"Uhm, yeah. I think I'm fine." Aaron's eyes trace my legs, examining the area hit by the cart. His perfect brows furrow.
"Your leg doesn't look like it's okay. What were you here for? I'll help you to the aisle." I place a hand on my sore hip, slightly wincing at the pain.
