With a low, agonizing groan, you rolled over in bed for the hundredth time that night. No matter what position you placed your body in, you just could not get comfortable. You had even resorted to the fetal position in the hopes of relieving even just the slightest bit of the pain in your abdomen, but to no avail.
Your period was in full swing, and your uterus was punishing you for yet again refusing to get pregnant.
When you turned around again, you felt a stirring beside you. “Babe? What’s wrong?” the groggy, sleep-filled voice of your boyfriend rung out through the dark, quiet room.
You mentally kicked yourself for being so restless. Because of you, Scud was awake, and you knew how desperately he needed the sleep. Blade had been pushing him to his limit non-stop for the past few days, and Scud had been forced to stay awake to complete an invention way into the early hours of the morning. That night was the first night in a week that Scud had been permitted to go to bed early, and of course your stupid period had to come around and ruin it.
You turned around to face him, a small, albeit strained smile on your face. “I’m sorry, Josh. I didn’t mean to wake you up,” you apologized sincerely.
Scud yawned and brought his hands up to his face, using his palms to wipe the remnants of sleep from his eyes. “S’alright,” he mumbled. When his vision was cleared, he looked back at you, his eyebrows furrowing in concern when you let out a quiet hiss. “What’s wrong, Baby?”
You shook your head and sent him—what you hoped was—a reassuring smile. “Nothing. I’m fine. Go back to sleep, okay? You need the rest.”
It was Scud’s turn to shake his head. The inventor slightly pushed himself up onto his elbows, his cerulean eyes staring down at you as he attempted to decipher what had you in obvious discomfort. With one glance down at your stomach, he saw the way you were subtly clutching it, and realization dawned on him.
“Oh,” he began, his gaze turning more sympathetic. “Your sharkweek began, huh?”
You sighed and nodded. There was no point in lying to Scud now. “Yeah,” you mumbled out weakly. “It started about an hour ago. I saw it when I got up to go to the bathroom. I didn’t think the pain would be this bad, though. I thought I could handle it.” You took a deep breath before continuing. “I’m so sorry I woke you. I didn’t mean to.”
Scud sent you a reassuring smile. “It’s fine, Baby. I don’t mind. ‘Sides, I’d hate for my girl to suffer in silence when I could be helpin’ out.” With that, he threw the sheets aside and pushed himself up from the bed. He stretched his body, his bare back on display for your view, before beginning to stalk towards the bedroom door.
You frowned and sat up. “Where are you going?” you called out to him before he could open the door.
Scud turned his head to look back at you. He sent you a smile, his eyes sparkling in the dim glow of the moonlight that fluttered in through the window. “M’just gonna get a few things for you. I’ll be right back.”
Before you could protest, your boyfriend closed the door behind him. You sighed and shook your head, although you could not deny how loved you felt at his actions. You turned and flicked on the bedside lamp, fully illuminating the room.
True to his words, he did not take long at all. In a mere fifteen minutes, Scud was back, carrying a cup in one hand, a hot water bottle in the other, and a bar of chocolate—still in the wrapper—between his teeth. He walked over to your side and placed the cup down on the nightstand, before handing you the hot water bottle and the bar of chocolate.
“Here ya go, m’lady,” he said, playfully bowing. He smiled at the giggle you let out at his theatrics, and moved over to his side of the bed. He got in under the sheets, before grabbing his watch from his nightstand and checking the time. “Huh. Didn’t expect to be productive at three in the mornin’, but here I am.”
“I’m so sorry, Josh,” you immediately apologised. “I didn’t—”
“It’s okay,” Scud cut you off with a light chuckle. He took one of your hands in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You didn’t ask me to do this. I wanted to. God only knows how many times you’ve waited on me when I was sick. I’m a damn baby when I’m sick.” When you laughed at his words, he smiled, before continuing. “I did this because I love ya. You don’t have to feel bad about it, okay?”
You slowly nodded, and leaned forward to capture Scud in a hug. He instantly reciprocated the action, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.
“I love you, Josh,” you murmured into his chest.
“And I love you, my sweet girl.” A few beats of silence passed, until Scud spoke up again. “Y’know, if all else fails, you know I don’t mind a little blood...”
You laughed and pushed Scud away. “You’re insufferable.”
Having my thoughts on worned-out scud after having the best sex of his life; hair all damped in sweat, you on top of him still catching your breath from all the bouncing and grinding you've been doing on his lap with your fucked-out expression plastered on that beautiful face of yours
Scud definitely has a praising kink, he'd drop everything else on his mind the moment you call him a "goodboy" it was like a motivation for him to keep on going harder— making his way to please you even more until you squirt on his girthy-cock
And with all that he's always very vocal when it comes to having a goodtime with you, he'd whimper out your name and have his mouth opened trying to keep his gaze onto you
There was this one time he accidentally called you "mommy" then you froze immediately on top of him staring down at scud as confusion painted your face.
The thought of disgusting you with his kinks mortified the shit out the man, after that night he straight up avoided you for a week just because he thought you were weirded out by him calling you that
You obviously didn't mind—hell you thought that was kind of cute coming from scud, after a full week of him avoiding you; one night he went into your room crawling on the sheets begging to be touched by you
main directory scud x reader directory garden archive
summary: what was supposed to be an unforgettable night ends in a way you were hoping to avoid. but your boyfriend assures you that this doesn’t change anything, and he’s not going anywhere.
pairing: scud frohmeyer x fem!reader
genre: hurt to comfort, fluff & angst
word count: 1.4k
warnings: implication of past SA, victim blaming oneself, panic attacks, mention of flashbacks. swearing, discussions of sex, no use of y/n
author's note: this is by far not my best work. i wrote this in like a day and a half, which is the quickest i’ve ever written something after coming up with an idea. but i hope you still enjoy it. this is 100% self-indulgent copium don’t mind me. writing this healed something in me, and i hope, if you need it, that it heals something in you too 🖤
The night had started blissfully, everything going according to plan. There was dressing up, dinner, the newest comedy movie to hit theaters, and the most handsome man in the city with you on his arm. It was a date night that was supposed to be unforgettable, one that you planned to end off with a little mattress action.
But now here you were—curled up in bed, topless, the covers pulled tight against your chest, having yet another panic attack.
Not according to plan. Not according to plan at all.
You had tried. Countless times, you had tried. Every time you ended up in bed together, it went the same—pleasure, flashbacks, panic. You wanted him. Badly. But your mind and body had other plans, trying to protect you in its own weird, fucked-up way.
Scud sat across from you, maintaining a respectful distance as to not overwhelm you. He watched with pain in his expression as you sat there, shaking like a leaf, clutching the covers to your chest like your life depended on it. Every time, it happened just like this, and every time, it managed to break his heart a little more than before.
“In through your nose, out through your mouth baby,” he instructed, slowly extending a hand out for you to take, only if you wanted. All the while, he kept his voice as soft and soothing as he could muster. “You can do this.”
You took a single, shaky breath in through your nose, holding it for a few seconds before letting it out through your mouth. Square breathing, your therapist had called it—inhale for four, hold for four, exhale for four, pause for four, then repeat. You reached out and took his hand, intertwining your fingers between his while keeping your gaze locked on your lap.
An almost invisible smile tugged at his lips when he realized what you were doing, working through your panic to implement one of the skills you’d learned in therapy. “Good job, baby. Can you do it again for me?” he asked, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. He tilted his head slightly, hoping it would coax you to look up. “I’ll do it with you.”
You slowly lifted your head and peered up at him, and the sight of your disheveled state broke him—tears streaming down your face, your eyes puffy from crying, and your face tinged red from embarrassment. He wanted nothing more than to scoop you up in his arms and rock you, soothe all your worries as he stroked your hair and kissed your forehead. But he’d come to learn that you needed space in moments like this. The torrent of comfort cuddles would come later.
“Keep goin’,” he encouraged, maintaining eye contact while he leaned over the side of the bed, grabbing the first article of clothing his fingers came in contact with—his shirt. He held it out to you, still keeping the same breathing pattern as you in hopes you’d continue. You always preferred to put your clothes back on after something like this happened, and he knew this time was no exception. Whether it was an article of his clothing or yours, you didn’t care. You just needed something.
“Fuck, this is humiliating,” you croaked, taking his shirt in your trembling fingers. Your vision was clouded with tears, but your attempts to blink them away were futile as they continued to well up in your eyes faster than you could blink them away.
“You have nothin’ to be embarrassed about, baby,” he reassured. He turned to the side, giving privacy while you got dressed. Despite having seen you topless countless times, he was happy to give you as much space as you needed while you were feeling extra vulnerable. “Just keep breathin’. You’re doin’ great.”
You continued your square breathing as you released the death grip on the covers, letting them fall into your lap. You slipped your boyfriend’s shirt over your head, the faint scent of the cologne you’d gotten him for his birthday still lingering in the threads of the cotton. Slipping your arms through the sleeves, you reached out to him again, your fingers grazing his tricep to indicate it was safe for him to turn back around.
Pride swelled in his chest as he saw you continued your square breathing. Sometimes, helping you utilize your coping skills required a little more effort, but today, you seemed to be keeping them going with ease. “I’ll be right back,” he promised, his voice barely above a whisper. Swiftly, he hopped out of bed and stepped out of your room, returning a minute or so later with a glass of water. He took his spot back on the bed and passed it to you, not releasing until your shaky hand had a firm grip on it.
“I’m sorry, Josh.” Your voice came out groggy, tired, like you had just woken up. And perhaps, in a weird way, you had.
“What are you apologizin’ for?” He knew the answer. You always apologized when this happened, despite him always assuring you that it wasn’t necessary. “Apologies are only for when you’ve done somethin’ wrong, and you certainly haven’t done anythin’.”
You let out a deep, shaky exhale before taking a sip of the water, the cool liquid soothing your raw throat. “I just feel like I should be past this by now,” you muttered under your breath.
His heart shattered at your words. You said it so bluntly, so harsh, like it was fact. He didn’t believe it for a second, and though your tone conveyed otherwise, he was hopeful you didn’t truly believe it either.
“Don’t say that,” he practically begged, his voice a mixture of sweet and commanding. He held a hand out, letting it hover near your leg but not touching it, silently waiting for your permission. When you nodded, he placed his hand on your knee, drawing small shapes with his fingers. “You don’t need to be past anything. What you went through was terrible, and there’s no time limit for your healing. You take as long as you need.”
“You deserve better,” you sighed, the matter-of-factness heavy in your words, “you deserve someone who’s not going to have a panic attack every time they try to have sex.”
His retort was quick, hardly missing a beat as you finished your sentence. “And you deserve to feel safe during our little escapades, which takes precedence.”
You curled into a ball, hugging your legs tight to your chest and burying your face in your knees. Your eyes burned, and the heat radiating off your face from how red you were scalded your skin. The embarrassment you were feeling now was all-consuming. You were sure it was going to kill you.
“My love? Can you look at me?”
You looked up at him, peering through strands of hair that had fallen in your face. His hand was held out again, giving you space for you to take it if you wanted but leave it if you didn’t. Wanting to feel his touch, you took his hand, pulling it toward you slightly, indicating that you wanted him to move closer. He moved slowly, coming up next to you and adjusting himself to face you.
Finally, you looked at him—really looked at him. You saw the sincerity in his eyes, the honesty he had shown you time and time again. You saw the adoration that ran deeper than you could fathom, and as you locked eyes, you took one last final, shaky inhale, your breathing having almost returned to normal. You never doubted his words, but something about tonight and the way he looked at you hit differently this time.
“You’re in control here, baby. I don’t want you doubting that for even a second.” He wiped a few tears off your face with his thumb, a smile barely tugging at the corners of your mouth as he caressed your cheek.
“I know. You’ve never done anything to make me question it,” you assured.
“That’s good,” he mused, a soft little grin forming on his face as he gave your hand another squeeze, “you take as much time as you need. I’m not going anywhere.”
You adjusted slightly, pulling the covers up over him and scooting into his lap, relaxing into his chest as he snaked his arms around you. More than ever, his arms felt like the safest place in the world. “I love you.”
He kissed the top of your head, pulling you tighter against him. Beginning to rock you gently, he buried his nose in your hair, whispering your favorite words he’s ever uttered. “I love you more.”
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Now that we're almost through with the Lyric-Drabble-Mania, we can shift back into regular story posting probab already next week and... I gotta say...
I HAVE SO.MANY. STORIES FOR YOU.
I've been writing and writing and writing - aaand writing, lol. My writing brain was braining. We got four or five Daryl oneshots, two Scud oneshots and I started a Diego (mini?)series. 👀
