can u write John crimber getting hurt while riding the bull and u helping him
john crimber.||pbr.
fluff.
john getting hurt.
“You ready, baby?” I asked, leaning in to kiss his cheek just before he climbed up onto the chute and settled onto the back of Yahoo.
He gave me a focused nod, his hand tucked tight into his rope. The arena roared around us as they prepared to swing the gate open and release him into the dirt.
“WOOOOO!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, gripping the cold steel railing as the bull erupted into the arena.
He rode with everything he had, matching the bull’s violent twists turn for turn—until the sudden jerk threw off his balance. He got bucked high into the air and slammed hard into the dirt, the massive bull’s hoof stomping down on his chest before scrambling away.
I gasped, my breath catching in my throat. His entire team froze, watching the dirt clear, expecting him to pop right back up like he always did.
He didn't move.
The bullfighters quickly distraction-cleared the arena, and a sudden, anxious hush fell over the crowd as people started crowding near the fence. Before anyone else could react, his dad leaped over the barrier, sprinting out onto the dirt and rushing straight to his side. I pressed a hand flat against my chest, my heart hammering against my ribs as I watched them slowly haul him to his feet. Arms slung over his dad and a team member, they dragged him toward the exit gate where the medical crew was already waiting.
Abandoning his team at the chute, I sprinted down the concrete hallway toward the medical room. When I got to them, tears were streaking through the dirt on his face, and he was barely able to put weight on his feet. His dad held onto him tightly, wincing every time he clutched at his own chest in pain.
“I’m right here, baby,” I said softly, stepping in close as the paramedics helped sit him down on the training table.
They moved fast, unbuckling his vest and pulling his dust-covered shirt over his head. The moment his hands were free, he blindly reached out for me. I snatched his trembling hand in both of mine, pulling it to my lips, kissing his knuckles softly while gently rubbing the warm skin of his forearm to keep him calm.
The medics checked his breathing, carefully wrapping the severe bruising blooming across his ribs and applying ice packs to the raw cuts on his torso.
“You’re okay, you’re gonna be just fine,” I whispered, stepping in closer as the paramedics finally gave us some space to breathe.
He looked up at me, his bottom lip pouting like a heartbroken kid. “I didn’t win,” he mumbled, dropping his head down to stare miserably at the concrete floor.
I walked right up to the table, stepping in between his legs so I was standing right in front of him. Reaching down, I cupped his jaw and gently lifted his head back up to meet my eyes.
“You just got trampled by a two-ton bull and you’re worried about not lasting eight seconds?” I scolded him gently, a soft smile tugging at my lips as I used my thumbs to wipe away the stray tears sliding down his dusty cheeks. “Baby, be glad you’re walking. Be glad you’re okay.”
I leaned down, pressing a long, sweet kiss to his lips, then wrapped my arms around his shoulders, pulling his head into my chest. He buried his face against me, letting out a shaky sigh as he sniffled.
I ran my fingers through his messy hair and hugged him. “Come on,” I smiled, pulling back just enough to look at him. “Let’s get you loaded up in the truck and go get some snacks.”
The faint hint of a smile finally broke through his pain, knowing that—if nothing else—snacks always made everything better.
so happy his ride was qualified yesterday!!
