prompt: 74/75 from prompt list, random drysdale! Whatever you want to do:) some fluff and angst possibly 🥰
prompt 74: "You make me brave."
prompt 75: "Just jump, I'll catch you."
warnings: reader gets a concussion, reader has fear of hospitals, ransom is mess, pet name (petal)
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"Just jump, I'll catch you."
Ransom stood in front of you, arms out, ready to catch you when you jumped. You looked around, trying to search for another way out of this, but came up short. Damn you for getting into this situation in the first place. Why hadn't you just waited for Ransom to come down from his office to help you?
Because you were an independent woman, that's why. You'd live on your own for long enough before Ransom came into the picture. You knew how to do things, how to get things, all on your own. Why the hell did you need him to get a mug down from the top shelf? Why did the bastard even put it on the top shelf to begin with? He knew it was your favorite mug. When the realization hit that it was to get you to ask him for help, self-righteous rage surged through you, and you climbed up on the kitchen counter, standing up on your tiptoes to retrieve your treasured mug.
The issue was, though, coming down. As you turned, you realized that getting up was the easy part. Climbing down? A whole other ballgame. How had you done this before? When you were single? Oh shit.
You forgot the most integral part in climbing countertops: Have a chair near the counter so that you can climb down more easily.
You screamed for help, and you swear you'd never seen Ransom run that fast in his life. His face was pure panic as he slid into the kitchen, ready to fight off an intruder or save you from imminent peril, but when he found you standing on the counter? Bastard fucking laughed. And he didn't stop laughing as he took the mug from your hands, transferring it to the island, then saying what you were convinced would be the last thing you'd ever hear.
"I'm not too sure about that," you said, chewing on your bottom lip.
"C'mon, you know I'll catch you."
Knowing that you had no other choice, you bent your knees slightly, before taking the plunge into Ransom's arms. But you'd forgotten the second most important thing about climbing countertops, too: Don't wear socks.
Your feet slid out from under you as you jumped, and you fell backwards. By the time Ransom realized that you weren't going to land safely in his arms, your head had smacked against the counter with a sickening smack!
"Shit, you okay, petal?"
You groaned, caressing the back of your head as you tried to get back up. But you were too blinded by the pain to properly function.
"Oh god," Ransom gasped. "We need to get you to the hospital!"
In your daze, you found yourself shaking your head. Shit, was that supposed to hurt that better? "No, no, no. No hospital. Don't like 'em."
"Petal, you don't have much of a choice," he said, lifting you out of the floor and leaning you against him while you pathetically fought back, still clutching at the back of your head. "Stop fighting!"
"No, can't go there. Won't go there. Hospitals are icky."
But as he eyed the pool of blood on the floor, the blood flowing from the back of your head, he knew he wasn't going to take no for an answer. He scooped you up bridal style, and practically ran out the door. He wasn't even concerned about getting blood all over his precious Beemer. No, his chief concern was getting you to the doctor, to make sure you would be okay.
He drove like a madman to the hospital, offering you comforting words between cussing out other drives on the road. You were sobbing in the passenger seat. Whether it was because of the pain or the fear of where you were going, Ransom wasn't sure. But he couldn't focus on that right now.
The ER wasn't busy when he got there, so they took you back quickly, you fighting slightly against the doctor who was trying to examine you. Ransom held your hand, trying to comfort you, and explained what had happened since you were too spooked to say anything yourself.
Soon enough, they said that you'd gotten a concussion and that they would need to use staples to close up the still bleeding wound at the back of your head. You sobbed louder, clinging to Ransom's arms as he rubbed your back.
"It's okay, petal," he cooed while the doctor got to work. "It'll be over in just a minute, okay? Just focus on me, yeah? Tell you what, we'll go get ice cream as soon as we get outta here. Any flavor you want, my treat."
"Promise?" you sniffed, before letting out a low whine as another staple pierced your scalp.
"Cross my heart."
And just as quickly as it began, it was over. The doctor walked off to go...do something. Ransom wasn't sure. You were still his chief focus. You began to calm down a little more with the doctor not being present, but you were still a little on edge.
"You did so good, princess. So proud of you," Ransom said, kissing your forehead. "Was so scared I was gonna lose you. But you're gonna be okay. Gonna take good care of you, my brave little petal."
"You make me brave," you mumbled, pressing your face into his chest. "Thank you for takin' care of me."
"No thanks necessary. I'll always take care of you."
