Multifandom X Reader Stories

Less Flirting, More Working (John Shelby) PART 2

TW - Suggested SA (Not major but may trigger)

After that first confrontation, Sarah didn't seem to catch on that John was off-limits. If anything, she doubled down, batting her eyelashes and dropping excuses to touch his arm. You tried to ignore it, but it only fueled the simmering frustration that had been building inside you. So, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

One evening, as John lounged at the bar, you poured him a drink and slid it to him with a lingering smile, leaning just a bit closer than necessary. "Here you go, love," you said, your voice dripping with warmth, watching his eyes widen slightly at the casual term. When his hand brushed yours, you let your fingers linger, tracing a light circle around his knuckles before pulling away slowly. You caught his gaze, letting your smile grow as you saw the flush spread across his face. It wasn't long before he was staring at you, his mouth slightly open, caught off guard by the turn of events.

From then on, you turned up the charm. Every touch lingered, every laugh aimed at his quick wit, and every smile was reserved just for him. John was captivated, hardly able to tear his eyes away, and even Tommy had started giving him knowing smirks from the corner of the bar. Each time you brushed against him or leaned close, John felt his heart pound harder, watching the way you subtly yet firmly claimed him. And it felt damn good.

But Sarah remained undeterred, her jealousy simmering in silent glares from across the bar. It wasn't until one night, after everyone had cleared out and you were alone cleaning up, that things took a dark turn.

Lost in your work, you almost didn't hear the footsteps until they were right in front of you. "Bar's closed," you called out, not bothering to look up. But the steps didn't stop, and when you finally glanced up, you found yourself staring at a man you'd never seen before. Sarah stood beside him, eyes narrowed with a smug twist to her mouth.

The man's expression was as dark as his clothes. He leaned in, and Sarah spoke first, venom lacing her words. "That's her, the one who thinks she's so high and mighty, throwing herself at John Shelby, embarrassing me every chance she gets. She's nothing but a common whore."

Your stomach twisted at her words, but you held your ground. "I think it's time for you both to leave," you said, voice steady.

But before you could react, the man lunged, gripping your arm tightly. You struggled against him, using every ounce of strength to twist away, but his grip was brutal. He shoved you back against the bar, your fingers scrambling to reach the hidden button under the counter that would alert the Shelbys.

Just as you managed to press it, he wrenched your arm back and slammed you down onto the counter. You could feel his hands grabbing at your dress, and as you fought, you caught Sarah's face, twisted in satisfaction as she watched. Fueled by rage, you landed a punch across his jaw, but he retaliated, smashing a glass over your head. Pain blurred your vision, and for a second, your body went limp, the sharp edges biting into your scalp.

Dazed, you fought to remain conscious, your head throbbing as the man loomed over you. The weight of him pressed down, and your mind raced with panic. Just as your vision started to fade, a gunshot shattered the silence. You felt the man slump forward and collapse onto the floor, lifeless.

You pushed his body off and looked up, breathless, to see John standing there, gun still raised, his face twisted in fury and horror. He locked eyes with you, relief mingling with rage as he took in the blood on your face. You barely had a moment to catch your breath before Sarah began to wail, collapsing over her brother's body, sobbing uncontrollably.

Fueled by a final surge of anger, you reached under the bar, pulling out the gun kept there for emergencies. Without hesitation, you aimed at Sarah, and fired. The sound echoed through the room, and silence fell once more.

You let out a slow breath, setting the gun down and wiping the blood from your face. "Sorry about the mess," you mumbled, glancing at John, who was now rushing toward you, holstering his gun as he engulfed you in a fierce embrace.

"Forget the damn mess," he muttered, his arms wrapping tightly around you. He pulled back slightly, his eyes scanning over you, looking for any sign of injury. "Are you hurt?" His voice was filled with worry, his hand hovering near the cut on your forehead.

"I'm fine, John," you murmured, touched by his concern. "Just a few scratches."

He wasn't convinced, gently guiding you out of the bar, refusing to let you brush it off. As he led you to his home, he kept his arm around your waist, steadying you. Once inside, he carefully dabbed a cloth to the cut on your head, his fingers lingering on your skin, a fierce protectiveness shining in his gaze.

When he finally looked at you, there was something vulnerable in his eyes, something you hadn't seen before. "Stay here," he murmured softly, his thumb tracing the side of your cheek. "With me."

You met his gaze, heart pounding, and for a moment, all the chaos, all the blood, all the fear, faded away. You leaned into his touch, finally allowing yourself to feel the depth of what had been building between you.

"All right, John," you whispered, a faint smile tugging at your lips. "I'll stay."