Hi!!!!! I have like a weirdly specific request 😭 (this lowkey happened to me recently and idk I just really wanted to send this in but if it’s too specific you can do whatever you want to it). So basically I was thinking lifeguard!reader again and like the pool they work at has a golf course on the other side. So basically they’re working one day and like an old man golfer is just being really creepy and getting close/touching them and they are really uncomfortable (I wanna quit my job so bad omg this is me coping) and idk just coming home at the end of the day to james who can tell something happened and he’s very validating. When I told my boss what happened he just told me that the old man was “harmless” and it literally made me feel gross for being uncomfortable so idk I’m just really needed understanding and protective James rn. I love your writing pls take care of yourself!!!
THE WORST PART
pairings: james x fem ! lifeguard ! reader genre: hurt/comfort, comfort, slice of life warnings: workplace dismissal of concerns, emotional distress, unwanted physical contact. wc: 1,850 words synopsis: after a terrible shift at the pool leaves you feeling ignored and uncomfortable, james notices immediately that something is wrong.
the first thing you saw when you woke up was sunlight.
the second thing was james.
your boyfriend sprawled across the bed beside you, one arm tucked beneath his pillow, blond hair sticking up in every direction imaginable, and shirtless.
you smiled despite yourself.
his chest rose and fell steadily as he slept, completely unaware that you were staring.
you reached out and poked his shoulder.
nothing.
another poke.
still nothing.
a third and final poke.
james groaned dramatically and buried his face deeper into the pillow.
"no."
you laughed.
"you don't even know what i was about to ask."
"i know enough."
his voice came out muffled.
"too early."
"it is not too early."
"it is."
you reached over for you phone on your nightstand.
"james, it's nine."
"exactly."
you rolled your eyes.
"most people are fully awake."
"i'm not most people."
his arm blindly searched for you until he found your waist and tugged you against him.
"there."
"james."
"five more minutes, please."
"you said that twenty minutes ago."
"then i clearly need another five."
you couldn't help giggling.
for a few minutes you let yourself stay there.
stay, warm, comfortable.
the complete opposite of how you'd feel later.
by noon, the pool was packed.
children were screaming, parents talking.
someone had already asked you where the bathroom was despite standing directly beneath the giant bathroom sign.
twice.
you were trying to focus on your shift when you noticed him. an older golfer standing near the fence separating the pool area from the golf course.
at first you didn't think much of it.
people wandered over all the time.
but then he stayed. and stayed. and stayed.
every time you looked over, he was watching.
your stomach twisted.
maybe you were imagining things, maybe you were overthinking.
you tried to focus on work.
a whistle blew, kids splashed.
another lifeguard asked you a question. you answered automatically.
then suddenly he was closer.
way closer.
the conversation started normally enough.
a question, then another, then another.
the kind that seemed innocent on paper but somehow made your skin crawl.
you kept stepping back, he kept stepping forward.
every instinct in your body screamed that something wasn't right.
your shoulders felt tight, your chest felt tight, you wanted to leave, you wanted the conversation to end, you wanted him to go away.
because sometimes girls are taught to prioritize being polite over being comfortable.
eventually he wandered off.
you released a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding.
only for him to eventually come back later.
and somehow it felt even worse.
you left that interaction feeling cross.
not because of anything you did, not because you were rude, not because you misunderstood something.
you felt gross because somebody ignored every signal that you were uncomfortable, and somehow that always left a stain.
by the time you shift had ended, you were exhausted.
emotionally, mentally, physically.
you headed straight towards for your manager's office.
you told him exactly what happened.
you explained why it made you feel uncomfortable, you explained how close the man progressively kept getting, how weird the interaction felt, how you didn't want it happening again.
you manager listened.
nodded.
then shrugged.
"oh, him?"
your stomach dropped.
"yeah."
"he's harmless."
harmless. the word hit you like a truck. harmless.
as if that changed how you felt, as if being uncomfortable suddenly wasn't valid anymore, as if your instincts didn't matter, as if the entire problem was simply solved because someone else decided it wasn't that big of a deal.
you left feeling much worse than before.
the drive home felt endless.
by the time you walked through the front door, all you wanted was your bed, or maybe to cry, you weren't sure.
the apartment was quiet.
james was sitting on the couch with his laptop balanced on his knees.
the second he looked up, his expression changed. immediately.
because of course it did. he knew you too well.
"hey."
you tried to smile, it didn't work.
his laptop clicked shut.
"what happened?"
the question was so gentle it nearly broke you.
"nothing."
james raised an eyebrow.
"that's definitely a lie."
you looked away. a few seconds passed, then a few more.
finally he stood, and wrapped his arms around you.
no questions, no pressure, just warmth. that was all it took, the tears came instantly.
"hey."
james guided you toward the couch.
"come here."
you sat beside him.
the second you leaned against his shoulder, he pulled you closer.
"what happened?"
this time you told him, everything.
the golfer, the uncomfortable feeling, the way he kept getting too close, the way your stomach had been in knots all day, the way your manager simply dismissed it.
you expected james to interrupt.
to explain, to play devil's advocate, to say maybe the guy didn't mean anything by it, instead he listened. the entire time.
when you finished, his jaw was tight, very tight.
the kind of tight that meant he was angry, not at you, for you.
"that wasn't okay."
you blinked.
"what?"
"you were uncomfortable."
you looked down.
"my boss said he was harmless."
"i don't care."
the response was immediate, firm, certain.
"i genuinely do not care."
your eyes stung again, james continued.
"if someone makes you uncomfortable, you're allowed to be uncomfortable."
"but what if--"
"no."
he shook his head.
"no what-ifs."
you fell silent. james turned toward you.
"listen to me."
his voice softened.
"you don't need permission to feel uncomfortable."
a tear slipped down your cheek, he brushed it away.
"you don't have need someone else to agree."
another tear.
"you don't need evidence."
another.
"you don't need to prove it."
your lip trembled. james gently tilted your chin up.
"the worst part isn't even that guy."
you frowned.
"what do you mean?"
"the worst part is that you went to someone you trusted for help and they made you feel guilty for speaking up."
that his harder than anything. because it was true.
not just because of the interaction.
because you'd finally worked up the courage to say something and immediately felt dismissed.
james pulled you into his chest.
his hand rubbed slow circles across your back.
"you know what i would've preferred?"
"what?"
"that they took you seriously."
his voice was quiet.
"even if they thought the guy meant no harm."
you listened.
"they could've said, 'i'm sorry that happened.' "
you nodded.
" 'thank you for telling me.' "
another nod.
" 'we'll keep an eye on it.' "
you buried your face in his shirt, because yes, exactly.
that would've been enough, just someone acknowledging how you felt.
hours later, you were curled up beside him beneath a fuzzy blanket.
a movie played in the background.
neither of you were watching it.
james was absentmindedly playing with your hair, his fingers moved carefully through the strands.
slow, comforting, steady.
"i feel stupid."
his hand immediately stopped.
you looked up, james genuinely looked offended.
"absolutely not."
"but--"
"no."
he pointed at you.
"not allowed."
a laugh escaped despite yourself.
"i'm serious."
"so am i."
he scooted closer.
"if my future daughter came home one day and told me exactly what you told me today, do you think i'd tell her she was stupid?"
you shook your head.
"never."
"then why are you saying that about yourself?"
you didn't have an answer.
james softly smilied.
"exactly."
he kissed your forehead, long and gentle.
"you trusted your instincts."
another kiss.
"you spoke up."
another.
"you did everything right."
your eyes burned again, this time for a different reason.
"you believe me?"
the question slipped out before you could stop it, james looked heartbroken.
"baby."
his hands cupped your cheek.
"of course i believe you"
the words settled somewhere deep inside your chest, a place that had been hurting all day.
"you never have to earn being believed."
and for the first time since your shift started that morning, you felt yourself breathe, really breathe, safe, seen, understood.
james pulled you closer until your head rested over his heartbeat.
and while the day had been awful, while your manager's words still stung, while the memory still made your skin crawl…
you didn't feel alone with it anymore.
and somehow, with james quietly holding you against his chest, that made all the difference.
a/n: hey girl i'm so sorry that this happened to you omg! i hope you leave that place, stay safe! xx.
