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ellecdc · 4 months ago

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HI QUEEN 🎀🩷🎀🩷

I literally just atalkws all your marauders fics for like 2 solid hours. You're writing is healing me at this point.

I was wondering if your requests were open? And if they are can I please request a fic that happens directly after the first war (marauders era) and reader has ptsd and maybe got triggered by the smallest of domestic actions done by one of the boys and comfort ensues for the episode and aftermath guilt?

I'm sorry it's oddly specific, just fighting some demons rn and your awesome writing kinda does the trick heheh

please feel free to ignore this one! love u <33

thanks for your request, love. hope things have been easier on you as of late <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader who is struggling with PTSD [1.5k words]

CW: PTSD, post-war, mention of past character death/grief, panic attack, hurt/comfort

The war had taken its toll on all of you; ghosts of the people you lost and the people you all once were haunted you, reminding you of scars both visible and invisible that coloured every aspect of your life.

There were things that the four of you staunchly refused to talk about; Remus refused to speak about his time in the feral packs, Sirius refused to speak about his brother, James refused to speak about Peter’s betrayal, and you refused to speak about what happened when you went missing.

Perhaps there were healthier ways to manage the grief and pain, perhaps you would all benefit from reconsidering those lines each of you had drawn in the sand.

But you were all alive, you were all together, and you had your whole lives ahead of you, and for now, that was enough.

It was enough until it wasn’t.

It was enough until Remus was sitting on the floor of your kitchen with you pulled into his chest as Sirius hovered in front of you, holding your hands against his chest as he begged you to breathe, to copy his breaths, to come back to him.

To come back to him.

You and James had been fussing in the kitchen making breakfast this morning; Remus being wholly uninterested in mornings but very much interested in the two of you had been sitting at the kitchen table in camaraderie as Sirius shuffled sleepily into the room.

He took the time to admire Sirius’ sleep rumpled hair and the faint lines over his face and bare torso, clearly having rolled straight out of bed before going in search of his loves.

You were reaching into a cupboard to retrieve Sirius’ favourite mug when he came up behind you and placed his hand at the nape of your neck at the exact moment that James burned himself at the stove; cursing loudly and dropping the pan which landed on the floor with a bang, closely followed by the sound of breaking glass.

Remus was up from his seat in record time, aching joints be damned, and at James’ side.

“I’m sorry, I’m okay; sorry.” James gritted out, acquiescing to Remus’ probes and allowing him to examine his hand.

“Awe bubs, you got yourself good.” Remus cooed as he cast a quick aguamenti over the burn.

“Shit, yeah.” He breathed out. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“What broke?” Remus asked then, looking down at the pan that had landed horribly close to James’ feet and searching for evidence of a broken bowl.

“What do you mean?”

“Did you not drop something?” Remus clarified.

James shook his head with furrowed brows. “Just the pan.”

Their bemusement turned to concern when they heard a choked “baby” coming from Sirius’ lips.

Remus’ stomach dropped as he turned to see you half keeled over, leaning against the counter with one hand at your abdomen and the other over your mouth as if you were suppressing a scream.

“Is she hurt!?” James asked quickly, moving swiftly along from his own pain.

“It…I- it was me. I-” Sirius started, sinking to the floor in time with you as your legs seemed wholly unable to hold you up in your current state.

“She’s panicking.” Remus surmised aloud, quickly tiptoeing over what he realised were shards of Sirius’ mug that you’d been procuring moments before.

“Dove? Hey, look at me.” Remus offered as he crouched in front of you.

You shook your head quickly and sucked in a stilted breath. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry, my love, just look at me.”

You shook your head again and tried to back further into the lower cabinets as if hoping they would simply swallow you whole.

“I’ll clean it up. I’m sorry.”

“Sweetheart,” Sirius pleaded, “we’re not worried about the mess.”

“I’m okay.” You sobbed, sounding anything but.

“I know you are, dove. You’re okay, come now.” Remus said as he finally joined you on the floor, leaning back against the cabinets and pulling you into his lap so that you were fully enveloped in his embrace. “Big breath, babylove, can you do that for me?”

You made a high pitched keening sound and shook your head quickly. “I’m sorry.”

Remus looked over to notice that James had his burnt hand held protectively against his chest while his other kneaded into Sirius’ shoulder as he whispered into his ear.

“Look, dove, Jamie can fix the mug no problem, and Siri’s gonna help you take big breaths, okay?” Remus tired then, stirring both boys into action as James straightened and cast a quick reparo to Sirius’ mug and Sirius shuffled over on his knees to station himself between Remus’ spread legs and in front of you.

“Can you copy me, baby? Like this?” Sirius begged. “Just like this.”

Sirius pried your hands away from your face and encouraged them to flatten out against his chest where Remus was sure you could feel the hammering of his heart as he took a dramatic breath for your benefit.

You choked out a few more apologies that both boys gently admonished you for as you tried to copy Sirius’ breaths; they were nowhere near as deep or graceful, but Remus was thankful for your effort nonetheless.

James reappeared then, his own hand now wrapped with medical tape and smelling strongly of Remus’ healing balms when he held something out for you.

“Angel, can you do me a favour?” He asked extraordinarily softly that it even had Remus feeling more at ease. “Can you hold these for me?”

Remus watched your face as you wretched your eyes open - another ‘deep breath’ stilted by a sob as you looked to him - to see him holding two large spheres of ice that Sirius had for his firewhiskey.

Sirius kept his hands gently stationed on your arms as you removed them from his chest and accepted the ice from James, still never letting go even as the ice began to melt and drip freezing water down your wrists.

When your sobs became the occasional hiccups and Remus felt you deflate further into his embrace, he braved a gentle caress of your upper arms in warning of his presence.

“Better?” He murmured lowly into your shoulder, earning him a deep sigh that came out only slightly shaky.

“I…think so. I’m s-”

“No, no, dove.” He admonished quickly, peppering slow kisses along your shoulder and the column of your neck. “There’s nothing to apologise for.”

“I didn’t mean to cause a scene.” You murmured quietly, and Remus watched as Sirius’ face crumpled.

“You didn’t cause a scene, baby.” He argued quickly. “You were scared; I-”

James made a sympathetic sound in the back of his throat as he wrapped an arm around Sirius and pressed his lips to his long-haired boyfriend’s head.

“Should we not touch you like that, dove? Here?” Remus asked carefully then; dragging a barely-there finger across the nape of your neck and watching goosebumps appear.

“No, that’s fine, I- it wasn’t that I…it was just both and I…I didn’t sleep very well and it was just…”

“Too much?” Sirius offered as James relinquished you of what was left of your ice that had you and Remus damp, drawing circles into your wrists that he still had secured in his grasp.

“Just at once, I’m sorry.”

“Angel…” James chided.

“I am sorry.” You insisted as you looked at James imploringly. “I’ve not been doing a very good job handling my shit lately and now I’ve ruined the morning for everyone.”

“It’s not your shit, baby, and it’s not only yours to handle; we’re supposed to be helping you too, yeah?” Sirius pressed as he craned his neck to meet your eye that you were trying to avoid.

“And you didn’t ruin anything; you could never ruin anything.” James added.

You sniffled at that and took another deep breath that hardly shook at all as you leaned further into Remus. “Is your hand okay, Jamie?”

James smiled softly at you before bending down to press a kiss to your forehead. “It’ll be good as new, but I owe Moons some healing balm since I used a whole jar from his stash.”

“I’ll buy it!” Sirius announced quickly, surprising a small laugh from you.

“I’d think not, Pads; I’m the one who used it up!”

“Yes but you’re the one who was hurt, I’m the one who upset our girl.”

“I upset her too.” James countered as they began arguing who had played a bigger hand in this morning’s commotion.

You and Remus shared a fond yet exasperated look before the two of you stood - on shaky legs after being folded up for so long - and opted to take a warm shower and change into dry clothes.

It may not have been the start to the day any of you would have liked, but you all made it out okay, you were all together, and you had your whole lives ahead of you.

And for now, that was more than enough.

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snowballseal · 4 months ago

Text

Breathe

Zayne X Reader

Summary: Trying to cope with losing Caleb and your grandmother, you throw yourself into work and push yourself to the very limit, only to break at the end of a particularly bad day. Thankfully, Zayne is there to get you through it.

Word Count: 2953

Warnings: dealing poorly with grief, depression, anxiety, what could be considered a panic attack, this is all hurt comfort folks, Zayne calls you good girl cause it's CANON and I can't get over it

Enjoy

---

One person can only take so much before they break. And the harder they try not to, the worse it gets.

Your day sucked. First you were late to the team meeting because you spilled coffee - piping hot you might add - on yourself right before leaving. Then, you and Xavier got into a stupid fight - he thought you were pushing yourself too hard. A part of you knew he was just concerned, they all were, but as soon as those pitying eyes turned on you, you could feel yourself bristling like an angry street cat.

You were fine.

Was it that wrong that you just wanted to work? You hate being home alone, which happens often since Zayne has to work extra hours, what with the increase in wanderer attacks. Not seeing him has already made you a little grumpy. But even worse, is the deafening silence of that apartment. Every time you’re alone, every time it gets just a little to quiet, you can’t stop your thoughts from drifting to Caleb and Gran-

So you work. You take extra hours, cover shifts, field the reports nobody wants to do, even if it means you stay up all night, even if it means you skip a few meals. At least then you don’t have to think about it, you don’t have to deal with the nightmares. Maybe if you throw yourself into work, you might be able to outrun the storm creeping on your horizon.

And that’s how you ended up messing up on a mission. Pushed to your limits, your mind was foggy and your body just. wouldn’t. move.

You hadn’t gotten out of the way fast enough. A stray energy blast narrowly caught your shoulder, sending you careening into the nearest wall. The impact sent your head spinning, your vision going blurry for a second too long. You could hardly make out Xavier’s face when he kneeled beside you, telling you to stay down, that he could handle it.

A bitter taste had filled your mouth when he said those words.

You were utterly and completely useless. And that thought seeded itself somewhere in your chest, wrapping tight around your ribs until you couldn’t breathe.

Jenna sent you home after that, with a stern command to rest. You wanted to argue, tell them you’re fine, but your shoulder was screaming and the look she gave you when you opened your mouth was seering enough to shut down the most experienced hunter.

So you threw your jacket over your shoulders and stormed out of the office, trying to ignore the way your team’s gaze followed you, not even bothering to hide their concern. You could feel it burning on your skin all the way home. And that was only the beginning.

Now you find yourself laying on your couch, staring blankly at the television, the volume turned up too loud, just to drown out the thoughts swirling like a storm in your head.

You hate it. This feeling. Like you’re stuck underwater, trying so hard to reach the surface, but everything you do just drags you deeper and deeper. Your muscles are burning for any relief, but you can’t let yourself stop. You’re too scared to let yourself stop. Because if you do-

“Are you aware that listening to the television at this volume could cause damage to your hearing?”

You jump at the sudden calm voice that speaks behind you, flipping around to come face to face with a rather unamused Zayne. Quickly, you snatch the tv remote, turning it down until it’s barely a whisper in the background.

“Zayne! I thought you were working late tonight,” you chirp, the waver in your voice almost unnoticeable.

Almost.

Zayne’s eyes narrow, making you shift uncomfortably. Sometimes it feels like he can see right through you, right to the very core of your being.

“Things were not as busy as expected, so I decided to come home early and make sure you eat a full meal,” he explains, voice calm despite the way his gaze burns through you.

Skin prickling with unease, you jump from the couch, forcing a playful laugh, “What are you, my doctor?”

“Yes.”

Right. You awkwardly shift around him, heading towards the kitchen, “Well, then I guess we should start dinner, huh? What do you want?”

“You are also home early.” It’s not a question, merely an observation, but it makes your throat go dry.

Sometimes having such an observant boyfriend is amazing. You love Zayne more than anything, love how attentive he is, but in moments like this, you feel like a creature under a microscope. Every single flaw and action under his sharp scrutiny. There’s nowhere to hide, and all you want to do is run.

“We have some leftover moo shoo pork,” you hum shakily, hands unsteady as you pull it from the fridge. “And I could make some rice, I think it’s up he-”

Forgetting about your shoulder, you reach up to one of the cupboards. Pain shoots up to your fingers like electricity, searing back down your spine. You inhale sharply, momentarily paralyzed as you clutch it to your chest, eyes squeezing shut.

Zayne is there in an instant. His fingers ease over your taut jaw, his skin cool to the touch. He doesn’t say a word, but you can practically feel his concern in the way he barely touches you, like he’s scared you’ll break. It makes your chest tighten.

“I’m fine,” you breathe, gritting your teeth.

“You’re injured,” he counters, voice still irritatingly calm, “Why don’t you let me-”

“I said I’m fine,” you bite out again, this time with a little more force, “I’m perfectly capable of making dinner. I’m not useless.”

Zayne pauses, partially taken aback by your words. They feel out of place, and he can tell you didn’t mean to say them when you glance away, cheeks burning a vicious pink. His brow furrows, confusion flickering over his features.

“I wasn’t suggesting you are,” he says, each word measured carefully, like the wrong ones could set you off.

And now you feel guilty. God, you can’t do anything right today.

Biting your tongue, you grab the rice with your good arm, stepping around him to busy yourself at the counter. Not that setting up the rice cooker takes up much time. Soon enough you've nothing more to do, bracing yourself against the counter just to stay upright. The silence that creeps between you is unbearable, thick enough to cut, especially when you can still feel Zayne’s eyes following you so closely.

“God, this is so stupid,” you huff out, false bravado broken as your voice warbles, “I’m fine. I can handle it. I’m a hunter. I’m supposed to handle it. I’m supposed to- I’m supposed to help people. Not-”

You bite off the rest, fingers digging into the counter. The pain in your shoulder distracts you, keeps the tears at bay. You can’t cry. Not now. Not-

A hand traces lightly against your waist. You tremble at the gentle touch, a lump forming in your throat as his arm circles around you. Zayne pauses for only a moment before pulling you back into a rare embrace when you show no signs of moving away. He presses his face against your hair and holds you like you’re the most fragile thing in the world, like you’re made of the thinnest ice, which is how you feel.

Tears blur your vision. You take a deep, shuddering breath, trying to hold it all together. Until-

“It wasn’t your fault, (Y/n).”

His voice is so quiet, so certain.

And you break.

You don’t know what sound leaves your body at that moment, but you’re sure it’s ugly and broken. Your entire body trembles in his hold, but he doesn’t waver, simply holds you tighter as everything spills out.

It’s so much. So much weight, so much grief, your throat is raw in seconds from crying. Every breath is like knives, until suddenly, you can’t breathe.

It’s like your lungs are full of sand, your chest spasming as you fail to take in air. It hurts. It all hurts.

“Darling, I need you to breathe,” Zayne’s voice speaks urgently at your ear, and you want to, you need to, but all you can muster is a pathetic whimper and shake your head. Before you can blink, Zayne has you turned around and lifted onto the counter, slotting himself between your legs. He catches one of your hands, pressing it firmly against his chest as his green eyes bore into yours, a hint of desperation pulling at his features. “I know you can. Be a good girl and copy me, alright? Can you do that?”

You nod shakily, trying to focus on him and not the burning in your chest. Zayne takes a deep, exaggerated breath, his chest rising against your hand. You try to do the same, your body shaking with the effort.

“Now breathe out.”

His chest falls and you once again copy him, the breath leaving you shakily. It takes a few repetitions until your breathing comes to any normal pattern, and Zayne silently tracks the time in his head. He traces your wrist gently, subtly checking your pulse to see how your heart is doing. It’s racing, but still within a normal range, which is enough to ease his firing nerves a little.

Not that this is over.

“‘m sorry,” you hiccup softly, gasping down breathes, fresh tears spilling over your cheeks. “God I’m sorry, Zayne. I didn’t mean, I didn’t mean to snap at you, and I just, I-”

The doctor hums, tone stern, making you fall silent. He traces his fingers against your cheek, the cold of his touch welcome against your overheated skin. He carefully wipes your tears away.

“I accept your apology. It is very common for people dealing with grief to lash out at those closest to them. I am merely thankful you trusted me enough to let me help you through it.”

You sag into his touch, lips wobbling. To most, that wouldn’t be comforting. But for you, knowing Zayne, it’s like finally having a hand to hold you above the water. He’s unmoving, unyielding in the way he loves you, all of you. Even like this.

“I trust you with my life, Zayne,” you whisper and lean forward to press your forehead against his chest.

“Then I assume you’ll allow me to examine your shoulder.” It’s not really a question, but you nod anyway. Zayne leans down, pressing a chaste kiss to your hair. “I will go get the first aid kit. Please take off your shirt if you feel comfortable doing so. If not, I ask that you change into something that will give me access to do a thorough exam.”

“Yes, doctor.”

“That’s my good girl,” he hums approvingly, a ghost of a smile in his voice.

Your heart jumps a little at that and you’re thankful for the curtain of hair hiding your face. It’s not often Zayne indulges you with such soft praise and you can’t help but soak it in, especially now. Your eyes flicker shut when he presses another kiss to your head, the touch lingering before he disappears to go retrieve the kit.

Sighing softly, you set to work on trying to get your shirt off. The nerves have settled back in your chest, not sure what to expect. You haven’t looked at your shoulder once since the fight, dead set on ignoring it as long as you could. Which was stupid. If the pain tells you anything, it’s probably pretty bad.

Bad enough that you can’t actually get your shirt off. You’re able to slip one arm out, but wince when you try to lift your bad one. So you're stuck like that, half undressed. Which is how Zayne finds you when he comes back, medical kit in hand.

He glances at you, dark brow raising a fraction. If he’s amused, his face doesn’t give it away.

“Will you um, will you help me?” You ask, voice quiet, “I can’t…I can’t lift my arm.”

Zayne’s lips press into a thin line. He nods, setting the kit aside. You can’t help but hold your breath as his fingers brush against your knee, slowly tracing up your thigh, jumping to your waist and brushing against your ribs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. His touch is unbearably soft, and your heart squeezes as you watch his face, noticing the way his brows twitch as he works, and how focused his gaze is. Every movement is calm, self-assured. You hardly have to move as he lifts the shirt over your head, sliding it down your injured arm.

And once it’s off, his hand returns to your waist, thumb brushing tenderly over your ribs. His eyes stay focused on your shoulder, and yours stay glued to his expression, catching the smallest flicker of shock.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” You ask, biting your cheek.

Zayne carefully schools his expression, but you can still see his disapproval in the tight set of his jaw, “You should have gone to the hospital immediately. I am surprised your team let you walk away with such an injury.”

“They didn’t know,” you mumble, trying to defend them at least a little bit. It really was your fault.

“So you hid this injury from your team?” He doesn’t hide his disapproval this time. You flush, looking down at your lap again, though that’s hard with him settled right between your legs.

“I didn’t…” The words get caught in your mouth. It’s so silly now, you know that. Your team would never look down on you for being injured, but- “I didn’t want them to think I couldn’t handle it. I just, I didn’t want to seem…useless.”

Zayne clicks his tongue, but he doesn’t say anything else. His fingers graze lightly against your shoulder and you wince, a low hiss passing between your teeth. Murmuring an apology, he moves to grab a few things from the kit. The silence returns as he sets to work, though this time, it’s not so uncomfortable.

Your head feels a little clearer now. You’re not through it, that’s for sure, but the pain from losing Caleb and your grandmother lingers a little less sharply. Zayne’s words from before repeat like a mantra in your head, and for once, you can feel yourself almost accepting them.

It wasn’t your fault.

There’s nothing you could have done. You can’t change the outcome of that day in the same way that you can’t change the color of the sky. That doesn’t stop how deeply you feel their absence, though.

“I miss them so much,” you admit, mostly to yourself.

Zayne pauses, already wrapping your shoulder after applying some medicine and deciding that the hospital could wait until tomorrow. He finishes pinning the bandage down before shifting back, eyes trailing over your face. You look up at him, exhaustion gleaming in your wide, (e/c) eyes. It’s like looking at a sad, little puppy. He breathes out a low sigh, brushing a few rogue hairs from your face.

“Your grandmother and Caleb were kind, caring people,” he says slowly, thoughtful, “It is right that you should miss them. It is not a sign of weakness to feel grief.”

“I know.” You reach for his hand, desperate for some form of contact. He gives in without hesitation, fingers brushing against your jaw to hold your face. You turn, nuzzling into his palm with a sigh. His touch gives you the comfort to continue, “Sometimes it just feels like if I let myself sit with it too long, I’ll be swallowed whole. And that…scares me. A lot.”

A pause. You keep your face tucked against his palm, enjoying the way he pets you as he thinks. Zayne has never been the strongest when it comes to emotions. With everything else he likes to distance himself from them to stay objective, so you know he needs the time to figure out what he wants to say.

“I suppose…” he starts, and you glance back up at his face, catching the serious gleam in his eyes, “if it gives you any comfort, I would like to remind you that I will always be here to bring you back from whatever depths you fall to. Even if risking your life is your choice of coping mechanism.”

He pinches your cheek ever so lightly, and finally, finally, a smile pulls at your lips.

“I’ll work on it, I promise.”

He doesn’t look like he truly believes you, but Zayne nods.

“As your doctor, I would deeply appreciate it if you would.”

Eyes dancing with a bit of mirth, you lean forward, pressing a loving kiss to his cheek. Zayne catches you before you can pull back, fingers curling along your jaw as he draws you into a deeper kiss. It’s slow, his lips slanting perfectly over your own, like a well-rehearsed dance. When he pulls away, you can’t help but sigh, leaning your forehead against his chest again.

“What on earth would I do without you, Zayne?”

He presses another kiss to your hair, voice a low, teasing murmur, “You would likely die from an untreated wound.”

And just like that, you’re laughing. Zayne smiles, relief washing over him at the sound.

You’ll be alright. He knows that today was just the first step, that grief is complex and differs from person to person, and you might have another bad day like this, but he doesn’t mind that. Not now that he’s finally by your side and can take care of you.

Nothing could drive him away.

---

I literally started this game 11 days ago and I'm so down bad for these characters, it's shameful. Anyways! Hope y'all enjoyed!

Feel free to send requests!

#zayne x reader #zayne x you #lads zayne x reader #love and deepspace #love and deepspace zayne x reader #x reader #reader insert #love and deepspace reader insert #hurt/comfort #dealing with grief #panic attack #lads zayne #my beloved

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