can I request a James x reader where he comforts a reader who struggles to connect with people and make friends? Thank you!
gosh this ask is so me. I find it so so so hard to connect and make friends I’m really glad I’m not the only one. it’s tough out there fr!!! love u anon
fem!reader 1.6k words
You get home from work and the only person you want to see is James. Your eyes sting when you realise he’s not home yet. You should’ve realised earlier, but you were too focused on getting home without bursting into tears on the way here. He’s working late today, meaning you’re alone. For another whole hour.
You manage to get out of your shoes, put your bag down, and get half undressed before you start crying. You’re halfway through pulling your blouse over your head when the first tear dribbles down your cheek. There’s no stopping it from then.
The tears come and they don’t stop. You slump down on the bed in nothing but your underwear and cry until your chest aches and then some. It’s hard being a quiet girl, even harder being a quiet girl at your work. Everyone’s friends with each other, everyone’s fun and cool and no one ever has to think twice about what they want to say. You try and try to make friends but nothing ever comes of it. You’re too much, or maybe not enough, you can’t quite decide. Whatever it is, it hurts. And if you keep doing this any longer you think you’ll be drained of all your energy.
You’re crying so much you don’t even hear the door open. It’s only when James calls down the hallway that you realise he’s home.
“Y/N? Where are you, honey?”
You’ve no time to make yourself look presentable. All you can do is wipe the hot tears from your wet cheeks and then James is stepping into the bedroom. He looks lovely as always but his face falls horribly when he gets a good look at you.
“Sweetheart,” he says, panicked. He throws his bag down and crosses the room quickly until he’s right in front of you. He puts his big warm hands on your shoulders. “Honey. Are you— what’s the matter? You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”
You’re too busy trying to get your breathing back to normal to answer. James checks you over for any signs of injury and when he finds none he somehow manages to look even more worried. It’s not something he can fix with a band-aid and a kiss, he must realise. Though you would quite like a kiss right now.
“I th-thought you were working late,” you blubber uselessly, your voice all clogged with upset.
James frowns at you. “I wanted to see you, shortcake. Boss let me off early.”
More tears come before you can stop them. He’s so nice and you’re so upset and he’s come home early to see you and he’s met with this. You cry that awful sort of crying. The sort where you can’t really seem to stop no matter how much you want to. The sort that starts small and gets bigger and bigger until your throat burns like fire.
“Aw, sweetheart,” James coos quietly. He pushes he hands around to your back and pulls you into his chest, arms locked around your shoulders. His big hand finds your hair and he strokes from the top of your head to the bottom over and over again. “Shh. It’s okay, lovely girl. I’ve got you.”
You appreciate that he doesn’t tell you to stop crying. You don’t think you could if he did. And besides, this breakdown has been a long time coming. You’ve held it in for days now and you know you’ll probably feel better afterwards. James stands and holds you for as long as you need, as long as it takes for your tears to slow.
When they finally do come to a stop, you suddenly remember you’re wearing next to nothing. James is still rubbing your back, his big hands smoothing lines into your skin, and suddenly you’re hot and prickly all over. You go to pull away.
“James,” you say thickly, speaking right into his chest.
James hums and you can feel it vibrate through his chest. He lets you pull away but only slightly, moving back about an inch so he can see your face.
“Yeah?” He asks softly. He’s got this look on his face that makes you want to cry all over again. Fond. Pitying but in a nice way. “You ready to talk about it?”
“I should put on a shirt,” you say instead of answering.
“What?” James looks at you like you being in such a state of undress is the last thing on his mind. Like he hadn’t even noticed, too caught up in helping you to feel better. His eyes flick from your face to your chest and back again. “Oh. No, honey, you’re okay. Unless you’re uncomfortable.”
Your heart does this funny backflip that makes you feel better, or maybe worse, you can’t tell. He’s so lovely. You might cry again. “I— no. M’not uncomfortable. I just thought it was weird. For you to be hugging me like this.”
James huffs. A sweet but quiet smile pulls at his lips. “S’not weird,” he says softly. “It’s fine, baby.”
He pulls away but only for a moment, only so he can sit down next to you on the bed, the mattress sinking beneath his weight. He gets an arm around you shoulder and one on your knee and then drags you into his lap with ease. Normally you’d squeal at being manhandled like this. Now you just melt into him.
James keeps one hand on your lower back and the other finds one of yours, weaving your fingers together in your lap. “You wanna tell me what’s got you so upset?”
You’d rather just hug him forever, if you’re being honest. While he’d like that too, you know you should probably tell him.
“Um,” you say, and then stop as soon as you start because your voice is all thick and thinking about it makes you want to start crying again.
James rubs your back. “Take your time, sweetness. M’here all night.”
You wheedle your arms around his waist and bury your face in his shoulder. It’s easier like this. Where you can’t see his face, where he can’t see yours. You talk into his shirt.
“It’s just. I— I try so hard to be friendly and I feel like it all goes to waste.” It feels both embarrassing and relieving to say aloud. You push your face further into James’ shirt. “Nobody likes me at work, James. I’m awful at making friends. I can’t— can’t keep a conversation or say more than two sentences without getting … awkward.” You say the word like it’s a curse. It sure feels like a curse. “I don’t know. It’s just hard.”
James doesn’t say anything for a moment, though his hands don’t stop where they’re smoothing over your skin. After a beat of silence he manages to encourage you from his chest. He pulls his hand from around your back to take your damp face in both hands. He’s looking at you all melty and soft. Looking a bit like he might cry himself.
“Sweetheart,” he says, and he says it like it’s your name. “You’re not awful at making friends.”
“Yeah, I am.”
“No, you’re not. You’re the loveliest girl I’ve ever met, you know that?”
You frown. Partly because you don’t believe him. Mostly because he’s calling you lovely and it makes your chest ache.
“That doesn’t mean I’m good at making friends, Jamie. It’s— they’re so hard to talk to. I can’t make myself do it.”
James sighs. His thumbs drag under your eyes carefully and come away wet. “You’re being too hard on yourself, angel. You’re doing your best and that’s all that matters.”
You almost believe him. Almost.
“I feel invisible, James,” you admit quietly. “Like I don’t even exist.”
He sighs again and drops his hand to your hip, squeezes and then grabs your thigh so he can pull it over his lap so you’re straddling him. It makes you equal parts melty and shy. You’re barely clothed and he’s making you straddle him. You think he’s doing it on purpose, because he knows you’ll listen to him like this. It’s practically impossible not to.
“Darling,” he says. His hands finds your waist and push around to your lower back. Warm and firm. Grounding. “If they can’t see how amazing you are, then that’s their fault. But I see you. I see how amazing you are.”
Your eyes sting all over again. You blink rapidly. “James.”
“Seriously, angel,” he insists. “You’re incredible. My favourite person in the whole entire world. I love you so much. You know that.”
You don’t want to start crying again. You blink away the tears forming in your eyes and will the next ones not to come.
“Give it time,” James says quietly. “Give it time, honey, and they’re sure to warm up to you. And if they don’t …” He shrugs and gives you this devilish smile that makes you feel about a million times better. “Well, they’ll have me to answer to.”
You giggle because he’s an idiot and you’re in love with him. “Thanks, James,” you say. You meant it with your whole heart.
James kisses your forehead and then both your cheeks. “You’re welcome, sweetness. If you need to talk about it more later, we can.” He chucks you under the chin with a gentle hand. “But for now, how about a nice warm shower?”
You smile up at him. Your chest hurts less now. You feel a lot better. Enough at least to say, “Together?”
James grins wolfishly. “Obviously together.”
-
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Introducing...
*overdramatic drumroll*
The ASTROSTIX!!!
A species of Stix whose true origins are still being debated today.
This species will be replacing our Musix OCs. They'll still be the same characters, however their lore and attributes will be altered heavily.
Text version for those who can't read the image:
a species of humanoid figures whose origins are scattered across the universe with very little knowledge to who they are or why they arrived here.
theorised to originate from a new universe entirely.
ATTRIBUTES
this interstellar species of stix is incredibly diverse with colour variations across the spectrum in regards to skin, eyes, hair etc.
some have a furry / fluffy dermis while others may have scales, physical light or tissue identical to a human's. Their organs follow the same rules.
they show classic human intelligence and personal moral codes, though some hold knowledge normal humans are incapable of comprehending.
BINARY SOUL
when tested on, the readings only showed various letters and numbers that alluded to their origins and generic makeup.
these were nicknamed "binary souls" for simplicity.
these binary souls included readings ranging from objects of space to manifestations of controversial theorems, e.g. the Boltzmann Brain (see subject).
with each unique binary soul, the stix had unique abilities. for example, the subject on display is capable of telepathy and "spontaneous manifestation" – teleportation.
a common trait amongst subjects is they each had markings across their body, prominently on the back.
some were opaque, others glowed under certain lighting e.g. blacklight.
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