lettersfromharley

Latest Posts by lettersfromharley

I don't know who'd all be interested in this, but I made a shifting side blog! I'll be posting about some of my DR's there sometime soon.

Check it out: @harleyshifts

I’d let him

Pairing: Jschlatt (Jay) x fem!reader

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Southern Gothic setting, suggestive themes, longing, age-appropriate obsession, minor religious guilt, emotionally charged romantic tension, kissing, not entirely innocent thoughts, suggestive content, TWINK SCHLATT!!!

Summary: You’ve always watched him from afar. Jay, the loud-mouthed boy with bruised knuckles and a laugh that makes you feel dizzy. You’re sweet, or at least you were, before he looked at you like that. Now you can’t stop thinking about him. And worse, he’s finally started noticing you back.

A/N: Hope this ruins you in the softest, most Southern gothic Ethel Cain way possible. 😘 fr though I love this song with schlatt and this plot/setting just screams twink schlatt to me okay- like all of the skinny trashy boys I had a crush on in high school who smoked way too much weed

You saw him for the first time the summer you turned eighteen, when the heat came in thick and slow like molasses, and the pavement outside the gas station bubbled under your sneakers. You were elbow-deep in freezer burn, rearranging popsicles behind the counter, when the bell above the door rang and your world tilted just a little.

He walked in like he owned the place, all long limbs and loud voice, laughing at something one of his friends said. God, that laugh. Big and brash, like the kind of boy who didn’t apologize for anything.

He was wearing a cut-off tee with a band you didn’t know and a backwards hat that barely contained the curls at the back of his neck. You watched from behind the freezer glass, pretending to look busy as he strutted past the aisle of honey buns and beef jerky, jaw chewing absentmindedly on a toothpick like it had done something to offend him.

He didn’t look at you. Not then.

But you looked at him.

And you kept looking.

⸻

Jay wasn’t the kind of boy you brought home.

He was the kind you watched from across the parking lot while pretending to count scratch-offs. The kind of boy your mama warned you about when she told you to keep your legs closed and your eyes down.

But you couldn’t help it.

He was loud and messy and wild in a way this place wasn’t. The kind of boy who’d get in a fistfight for fun and then kiss you in the fallout. He wore his meanness like cologne and spat sunflower seeds at your feet without saying sorry.

You didn’t know him. Not really.

But you wanted to.

⸻

You made a habit of knowing when he’d show up.

His truck would growl into the lot just after 7PM, rattling like it had a death wish. You’d hear it before you saw him, bass turned up too high, the windows rolled down even though the AC worked fine.

He always parked sideways like rules didn’t apply, and strolled in with two of his friends trailing behind him like bad ideas. His voice was always the loudest. Sharp, cutting, dipped in something vulgar and funny.

You kept your eyes low. Played it safe.

But you felt it.

The pull.

The ache.

The heat that bloomed somewhere just below your ribs and spread like spilled syrup when he walked too close, smelled like smoke and gasoline.

And you started dressing different.

Just a little.

Gloss on your lips. Baby tee tucked tight. A daisy clipped behind your ear.

All soft, sweet things.

Things you hoped he’d want to ruin.

⸻

One day, he looked at you.

Really looked.

You were leaning on the counter, chin in hand, flipping through a trashy tabloid when the bell jingled and Jay swaggered in alone. No friends this time. Just him and the thick heat and the sound of cicadas screaming outside.

You didn’t glance up fast enough.

But when you did—

He was already looking.

Right at you.

His eyes dragged over you, slow and lazy like he had nowhere to be. His smirk curled, and he walked right up to the counter, chewing on nothing, eyes half-lidded and cruel.

“Don’t think I’ve seen you before,” he said.

You blinked. Swallowed.

“I work nights.”

“Shame,” he muttered, tapping the counter with a ringed finger. “Guess I’ve been missin’ out.”

Your face burned, but your voice stayed steady. “You want anything?”

He grinned. “Yeah. What’s your name?”

You told him.

He said it once, trying it out. “Pretty.”

You should’ve laughed.

Instead, you stared at the way his lip curled around the word, the way he leaned forward like he was gonna say something awful, something filthy, and you would’ve let him. You would’ve listened to every word.

But he just winked.

Grabbed a cherry soda from the fridge and left a crumpled dollar on the counter.

No change.

No goodbye.

You watched him walk out into the heat, long and golden and made of sharp edges.

You didn’t breathe for a whole minute.

⸻

You started writing about him in your journal.

Nothing serious.

Just little things.

Like the way he scratched the back of his neck when he was bored. Or how he always seemed to know when someone was watching him and looked smug about it. You wrote down the songs he played when his truck idled in the lot. You imagined what his voice would sound like in your bedroom, saying things you weren’t supposed to want to hear.

You didn’t love him.

You just wanted to kiss him so hard your teeth ached.

You just wanted to be his, even if only for a night.

⸻

Two weeks later, he showed up again.

This time, he leaned on the counter and said, “You ever been out to the creek?”

You blinked. “What creek?”

“The one past Miller’s farm. Little spot with the rope swing.” He smiled like he knew you wouldn’t say no. “You should come.

You didn’t ask why.

You just nodded, heart jackhammering against your ribs

.

“Tonight,” he said. “Ten sharp. Don’t be late.”

And just like that, you were his.

⸻

You told your mama you were staying at a friend’s.

Put on your shortest skirt. Slicked on lip gloss that tasted like strawberries and sin. Walked barefoot down the gravel path until his headlights found you.

He didn’t say hi.

Just opened the passenger door and looked you over like he’d won something.

You climbed in, silent and sweating.

The cab smelled like sweat and spearmint and a boy who never cared what time it was.

He drove with one hand on the wheel and the other resting just a little too close to your thigh.

The radio played something low and slurred, and he tapped the beat on his knee like he didn’t even notice you were staring at his hands.

You were.

You couldn’t stop.

⸻

The creek was quiet.

Moonlight hit the water in soft ribbons, and the trees whispered secrets to the wind.

He cut the engine and leaned back in his seat, one arm slung lazily behind your headrest.

“You’re quiet,” he said.

You shrugged.

“Nervous?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

You glanced at him.

His eyes glittered in the dark.

He grinned.

“You watch me a lot,” he said.

You froze.

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb. You think I didn’t notice? Thought it was cute.”

You looked away, heat crawling up your neck.

He leaned in.

“Gotta admit,” he murmured, “I been watchin’ you too.”

You turned to him, lips parted, but he was already there—mouth on yours, hands rough on your hips, kiss sweet and sharp like peach candy and bad intentions.

It wasn’t gentle.

But it was good.

Too good.

And when he pulled back, eyes hooded, lips shiny, he whispered, “Been thinkin’ ‘bout this.”

You didn’t say a word.

Just climbed into his lap and kissed him like you were starving.

⸻

You weren’t a good girl.

Not really.

You wore white dresses and said thank you and smiled at old ladies in church.

But under it all, you ached.

For him.

For something real.

And Jay?

He was real in all the worst, best ways.

He bit your bottom lip when you teased him. He pulled your hair when you got too mouthy. He kissed your neck like he was marking territory.

You let him.

You wanted him to.

⸻

You met like that every week.

Sometimes at the creek.

Sometimes behind the old laundromat where the lights flickered and the pavement smelled like bleach and burnt rubber.

He’d press you against brick walls and tell you how pretty you looked when you blushed. He’d call you baby and trouble and sweet thing like it meant something.

And God, it did.

To you, it meant everything.

He wasn’t your boyfriend.

Not really.

But he called you his.

And when he drove you home with one hand gripping your thigh and the other curled around the wheel, you felt like you could die right then and be happy.

⸻

You never told anyone.

Not your friends. Not your mama. Not even yourself, not really.

Because to say it out loud would make it real.

And you weren’t sure you could survive that.

He was your secret.

Your summer sin.

The thing you prayed about in the quiet, trembling on your knees with dirty thoughts and clean hands.

You were the girl who watched him from afar and wanted him anyway.

And now?

Now he wanted you back.

⸻

Some nights, you still lie awake and think about the way his hands felt on your waist, the way he laughed like the world was ending and he didn’t care.

You think about the way he said your name—low, rough, reverent.

Like a prayer.

Like a promise.

Like you were something worth breaking for.

And maybe you were.

Maybe you still are.

I need a movie/show/fanfic about Bucky being in congress right NOW.

No fighting or anything, just him fucking around and being a regular congressman. Day in the life of Senator Barnes perhaps.

fucked but i’m so used to seeing that stupid fucking filter on him that i don’t trust any pic of schlatt from snap to Not have the filter on it

REAL AF. He looks so good with the filter, too. It's actually obscene.

Look at the ones I found on Pinterest 😜

FREE SCHLATT X READER PROMPT

This popped into my brain while watching this schlatt and co video!! (btw can we appreciate how beautiful he looks in this??)

Prompt: you were on vacation in Japan with a couple friends, drinking and having a good time, when all of a sudden, you spot a blue coin pouch on the streets of Tokyo. You pick it up and inspect the outside, only to realize that it's.... woah, wait. It can't be.

It's Jschlatt's wallet. You whip out your phone and skim through his Japan vlogs, just to be sure.

Yep. It's totally his.

You DM him a pic of the wallet on Instagram and mention that you're in Japan, providing him your current location. You weren't sure if he would even respond, given how popular he is. But much to your dismay, he does. And under a minute, at that.

Thank fucking god. He texts. I'm on my way.

Schlatt then meets up with you and thanks you by buying you a drink.

I leave the rest up to whoever wants to write this!

Good GOD

2022 schlatt please save me. please save me 2022 schlatt. headband schlatt, if you can hear me. headband schlatt save me. save me 2022 schlatt please.

Jschlatt Imagines - Party Meet Cute

I've had this sitting in my drafts forever! I def wanna go back and add more (maybe with some nsfw) but I wanna put this out anyways. If you guys like this enough, I might just make a part 2! Or a full blown fic?? Idk. Please comment/reblog your thoughts.

No warnings, really. Mentions of partying and drinking. fem/gender neutral reader. Enjoy this party meet cute with the big guy!

Schlatt literally fell into your life one night.

A friend of a friend invited you to Charlie's party, begging you to be their plus one. You figured, why not? You were free and there would be a bunch of streamers there, so you decided to see what the night had in store for you.

At first, you were nervous as hell, stuck to your friend's side like a leech. But your worries slowly dissipated as you started chatting with people. 

You meet a lot of Charlie's good friends, including Ludwig, Ted and Hasan. They all seemed way too nice to have literally millions of followers on twitch. But hey, it was a great group of people AND you were having fun at a party! Yipee!

Maybe it was the constant blaring music or the shot of Titos you had earlier, but you swear you heard the word “shat”, like, multiple times. And it seemed like it was addressed... to a person? What??

Whatever. You shrug it off. Maybe it was an inside joke in the streaming community.

You decide to take a break from all the socializing to slip into the kitchen, where you find your friend and hunker down next to the fridge.

One moment, you're gossiping and having a nice time, and the next you're pushed sideways and shrieking. Some strange man barrels into your body and shoves your head into your friend's shoulder to prevent his fall.

“The fuck?” You shout, almost chuckling at the bizarre situation unfolding. His hand practically engulfs your entire face.

“Woah! Sorry, toots. Lost my cool there.” He chuckles nonchalantly and peels his sweaty hand off your face, wiping it on his leather jacket which makes you cringe.

Ugh. How drunk is this guy?

He quickly straightens himself and readjusts his jacket. Amidst your disgust and confusion, you take a better look at him.

Oh no. Oh fuck. He's absurdly tall and super fucking handsome. Strike one.

He had these mutton chops that could cut through steel. An odd look for the 21st century, but you admit, it suited him surprisingly well. Strike two.

What really drew you in, though, were his eyes. Despite his intimidating broad figure, his eyes were a soft chestnut brown that just… left you staring for way too long.

Strike three.

“No, yeah. It's all good. You okay, dude?” You ask. Your voice quivers as you take in his intimidating presense. You can't help but blush when you catch him checking you out.

Or, at least that's what you thought he was doing. He could've been 12 shots deep for all you knew.

With a quick nod, he flashes a lopsided grin and by god does your heart skip a beat. 

“That's not how I usually carry myself, by the way. I don't just go stumbling into cute girls thinking I own the place.” His words floated off his tongue effortlessly, almost like he had said this a million times before.

Is that... is that a New York accent? He leans down to meet your gaze. Oh my god. Holy fuck.

You laugh at him - probably a little too loudly. “Sorry again.” The mystery man says, sticking his hand out to you. “The name's-”

“SCHLATT!!” Ted's booming voice cuts through the quiet murmur of the kitchen. He bursts through the door and immediately puts the guy in a headlock, scratching his head vigorously. 

“Ow! Hey, man! Cut it out!” The man grumbles, trying to pry Ted's arm off of his neck. 

The others lingering in the kitchen laugh at them, even your friend. Huh. This must be normal, right? Ted and…?

Oh, wait. 

Schlatt. This is the guy everyone's been talking about. 

Ted finally lets go, gritting his teeth playfully and ruffling Schlatt's hair. “You owe me for that whiskey, buddy.” Ted exclaims, letting him go and pointing a finger at his chest. 

“Hey, it's not my fault the Jack Daniels was just sittin’ out like that.” Schlatt slurs. “Finders, keepers, dude.” He smirks at his friend playfully.

Ted scoffs and glances between you and him. “Ah, Y/N. You've met Schlatt. Careful. He can be a real pain in the ass.” 

Schlatt smooths his hair back and rolls his eyes. “If you're really that sour, man, I'll just buy you a new truck. So, ya know, we’re even.”

“Fat chance!” Ted calls out, walking backwards and swiveling on his heels to going back into the living room. "This isn't over, bitch!"

I'm not going to lie, I love writing long fics. I cannot for the life of me write one-shots. They always turn into longer fics. I wish I could write one-shots, but I physically cannot.

This is the reader I'll be using for the series idea I mentioned in this post!

Alice - tattooed!reader

Alice makes vlogs with her twin brother, Mason, and their best friend, Astra.

Alice has tattoos littering her arms and is constantly at the gym. You’ll find her in a crop top, biker shorts, and her AirPods in. Outside of the gym, she loves a good bomber or leather jacket on top of a tank top. Her go-to pair of shoes is her beat-up pair of Doc Martens.

Alice who gets thirsted over online by her fans. She tries not to let it get to her head, but she can’t help it. She knows she’s hot.

Alice who lives in LA despite absolutely hating it there. She only moved there because Mason and Astra wanted to. She would much rather be living in their old midwestern hometown.

Alice who pretends not to care, but always notices when something’s off. She doesn’t flinch if someone yells, but will completely unravel if someone she loves cries.

Alice who, despite her rough exterior, is genuinely one of the nicest people you will ever meet. She can be sarcastically mean to you in one moment and then super sweet the next.

Alice who loves driving at night with the windows down and music loud enough to drown out her brain. She has exactly one playlist for lifting, one for crying, and one for when she feels like the hottest person alive.

Divider: enchanthings-a

Alice - tattooed!reader

Alice makes vlogs with her twin brother, Mason, and their best friend, Astra.

Alice has tattoos littering her arms and is constantly at the gym. You’ll find her in a crop top, biker shorts, and her AirPods in. Outside of the gym, she loves a good bomber or leather jacket on top of a tank top. Her go-to pair of shoes is her beat-up pair of Doc Martens.

Alice who gets thirsted over online by her fans. She tries not to let it get to her head, but she can’t help it. She knows she’s hot.

Alice who lives in LA despite absolutely hating it there. She only moved there because Mason and Astra wanted to. She would much rather be living in their old midwestern hometown.

Alice who pretends not to care, but always notices when something’s off. She doesn’t flinch if someone yells, but will completely unravel if someone she loves cries.

Alice who, despite her rough exterior, is genuinely one of the nicest people you will ever meet. She can be sarcastically mean to you in one moment and then super sweet the next.

Alice who loves driving at night with the windows down and music loud enough to drown out her brain. She has exactly one playlist for lifting, one for crying, and one for when she feels like the hottest person alive.

Playlist!

Divider: enchanthings-a

fucking schlatt after his work out?!

Cardio Crush

I'm so sorry this took months to complete. I've been in a writing slump for a while, but this is helping me get my motivation back! Oh and this is SPICYYY get ready y’all!!

Word Count: 4.1k

MDNI and 18+, obviously!! Fem/afab reader. I hope my fellow Schluts enjoy!!

Schlatt bursts through the front door, ripping your attention away from your doom scrolling on the couch. He bends over and leans his hands on his knees, panting for dear life as he tries to settle his breathing. Whatever Tiktok was playing on your phone was long forgotten as you watched him in amusement. 

“Damn, did you just get back from the pool?” You chuckle, poking fun at him. “You're drenched.”

“Fuck…you.” He heaves, a small smirk playing on his lips as he glances up at you. 

Schlatt mentioned that he wanted to get back in shape for a while. It took a bit of encouragement on your part, but he finally started running a couple weeks ago. He even told his viewers on stream, so now he had to follow through with his plans and “twinkify” himself again (his words, not yours).

You’re glad that Schlatt’s being more mindful about his health. Sure, you absolutely loved his body to bits, but you could tell that his weight was making him frustrated. Over the past couple years, he's complained about feeling sluggish and worn down. The countless nights spent drinking and eating junk food weren’t doing him any favors, but he's finally turned a new leaf and decided to make a change. You were seeing a whole new side of him that's happier, fuller, more alive. And it’s only been two weeks. Plus, you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t getting hotter the more he exercised.

“Ow.” He winces, doubling over and clutching his ribs. “Running is fuckin’ hard.”

“No, duh.” You laugh. “How long did you run for, baby?” You toss your phone aside and turn to face him. 

“About two miles. Worst fuckin' time of my life, I'll tell ya.” 

You half heartedly chuckle as you stare at him for a little too long. His face glistens with sweat as he stands back up and walks to the kitchen, grabbing a cup of water and sifting through the fridge. Your heart skips a beat as you tentatively watch his chest rise and fall.

“Well, at least it's better than the half mile you ran last week.” You snicker. Schlatt sticks his middle finger at you from inside of the fridge, still searching for something to eat. You could tell his face sported a nasty glare, making you laugh even harder. 

“Do you feel any better exercising?” you ask seriously.

“No.” Schlatt deadpans, taking out a container of hummus and a bag of chips. 

You knew that was a lie. 

He raises his eyebrows as he takes a bite. “But this right here is makin’ it all worth it. This shit is amazing. We should get more.” He exclaims, holding the hummus up to observe the label. He smacks his lips emphatically as he scoops some more into his mouth.

“Wow, I’m really surprised.” You remark sarcastically. “I’d never thought I’d see the day when Schlatt eats vegetables.”

“Go fuck yourself.” He shoots back, talking around the food in his mouth. “I actually like this, alright? Do you want me to throw this at you?”

“No…” You murmur with a slight grin, huffing and resting your chin on your hand. You couldn’t help but feel your face heat up when he dips his head back down to take another bite, admiring  how his brown curls unstick from his forehead and fall into his face. 

You let out a small chuckle, your eyes narrowing on his mouth as you unconsciously lick your lips. Thank god he’s too invested in his snack to notice. 

The thought of Schlatt walking around all buff and broad made your mind spin. You imagined him a little slimmer, his waist taught, his core strong, his arms bulging. You thought of all the ways he could manhandle you the fitter he became. Your fantasies were beginning to light a fire deep inside your core, quickening your breath and making your hands all sweaty. You didn't know if you could even look at Schlatt without melting in front of him.

Schlatt looks up and catches you staring. He notices your pupils are all wide and glazed over, and he breaks out into a sly grin. He knows that look all too well.

“What are you thinkin’ about in that pretty head of yours, toots?” He chuckles, narrowing his eyes in curiosity. He dips another chip into the hummus and tosses it into his mouth.

You quickly shake your head and blush, stuttering out a laugh. “I'm just… so proud of you. Your work will pay off soon, bubba. I just know it.” 

“Mm-hmm. Sure.” He exhales through his nose, seeing straight through your little lie. He walks around the kitchen counter towards you, hummus and chip bag in hand.

“Thanks, anyways.” He beams, a touch of sincerity in his voice. He dips another chip into the hummus and holds it out to you. “Here. Open.” 

You open your mouth and close your eyes, making a little ahhh sound. You expect to feel the smooth texture of hummus on your tongue, but instead, you hear crunching. You shoot open your eyes to see Schlatt laughing through muffled chews. 

“Hey. Not nice, big guy! That was mine!” you whine.

“What?” He boasts, his eyes flicking between your scouring eyes and pouty lips. You were too cute when you got angry. He sighs and grabs another chip from the bag under his arm. “Fine. I'll try again, toots.” 

He gingerly holds it in front of your face, slowly inching it towards you. This time, you keep your eyes open and try to catch it with your teeth, but he pulls away again and it disappears into his mouth. Just like that. The sound of crunching made your face run hot.

“Sorry doll. My hand just slipped.” He chuckles, wiggling his free hand and chewing with an even bigger smirk than before. 

You huff and roll your eyes. “Baby, c'mon. You look so fucking hot right now. So if you’re smart, I suggest you let me have a chip, like, right now.” 

He swallows and listens carefully, scowling. “Hm.” Schlatt glances up at the ceiling, pretending to think about it. “And what if I don't? What are you gonna do ‘bout it?” He puffs up his chest, the right side of his mouth forming a smirk. 

Goddammit. He knows he’s winning. You had to think of something quick.

“No kisses for a week.” You reply on the beat, turning your nose up and standing taller to match his posture.

He raises his eyebrows and stares at you in disbelief, slouching a bit. “No fucking shot. You can’t be serious.” 

You squint your eyes and giggle, enjoying this newfound power you have over him. “Way serious.”

Schlatt shakes his head, begrudgingly handing you a chip before strolling to the kitchen and leaning against the counter. 

“Ugh. C'mon, doll.” He hangs his head in defeat, facing away from you. He throws the snack contents in front of him. “You just get anything you want when I'm around, don't you?” he whines from over his shoulder, feigning hurt.

You roll your eyes and snicker, finishing your bite and walking behind him to wrap your arms around his neck. You stand up on your tippy toes to hug him, scratching your fingernails across his broad chest. 

“It's ‘cause you love me, you dork.” You giggle, leaning your cheek against his shoulder blades. 

You feel him inhale and straighten his back as your hands graze him softly. The sweat from his back seeps through the front of your shirt, momentarily taking the air out of your lungs. 

“Mmmm. Yeah, I do.” He purrs, turning his head to glance over at you. “You're right. I should have been nicer to ya. That hummus is really fucking good.” 

He shifts his weight and turns around. You let go of him and step back as he leans his hands back against the counter with a smile. His eyes are heavy on you, noting all the little details and features of your flushed face.

“It seems like you're still mad at me, though.” Schlatt lowers his voice. He’s caught on to your little game, eyeing you up and down. ”How can I make it up to ya, toots?” he hums, his smooth, raspy voice running shivers down your spine.

Oh god. He was absolutely gorgeous. His odor had that slight tinge of sweetness that you just couldn't shake, and he was glowing. Literally glowing. You adored the even rise and fall of his chest, his skin shining under the kitchen light, his shirt darkening with sweat. And that devilish smirk wasn't helping with the growing heat building in between your legs, either.

“Hmmm. Well…” you tease, unable to contain yourself as you slowly run a hand up and down his stomach. “I can think of a couple things.” You feel his abs tense up from your touch, making you blush hard. 

He chuckles and grabs your waist firmly. You tug at the hem of his shirt, staring into his eyes for approval. He nods with a sultry smirk. You take off his wet shirt, throw it on the couch and continue your hungry exploration.

Schlatt chuckles again, squeezing at your sides and pulling you into him. You feel his dick twitch against your stomach, sending bolts of electricity through you.

“Baby,” he whispers in your ear, breathing on your neck and raising goosebumps on your skin. “You know I'm so gross right now. I don't think we should-”

“Just shut up and let me love you. Okay?” You hiss, racing your hands over his slick chest and planting firm kisses on his neck. He moans and leans back on the counter, craning his neck to the side so you can get a better angle.

“If you insist, toots. But god, you're such a fuckin’ tease.” He murmurs, smiling and straining out a grunt from your tongue licking up his neck. He inches his hands up your back, raising your shirt up. Schlatt felt the warm skin on your stomach press into his waist, and it drove him absolutely insane. 

You laugh through your nose and mumble, “Who's the one teasing now? Someone wouldn't let me have my snack earlier.” 

“Oh, enough of that.” He retorts, “We both know your snack is right here, missy.” He promptly groans as your teeth sink into his flesh from that remark. Yeah, he deserved that one. But your brattiness only made him harder. 

He whimpers at your bites, making you chuckle. 

“That's what I thought. Now come to bed with me.” you demand.

All Schlatt can do is nod, his gaze clouded with lust. He follows you into the bedroom like a lost puppy, licking his lips and diving his hands into his pockets. He watches you crawl onto the bed.

Just as he's about to join you, he stops in his tracks. “Wait, doll. We need a towel, remember?” He asks quietly, not wanting to ruin the moment. You whip your head around to see him frown. His chest was still covered in sweat, and you remember now why he asked. He'll cum anywhere on the sheets, but when it comes to workout sweat? No fucking way he'd let that slide. It was just one of his quirks that mildly annoyed you, but Schlatt always insisted on this, and of course, he always had his way.

You roll your eyes and chuckle, practically running to the bathroom to grab a towel, quickly smoothing it down on the bed and intertwining your hands behind your back. You look up at Schlatt all pretty for him, swaying side to side and batting your eyelashes from the opposite end of the bed. “Better?” you ask, hoping the thin layer of cotton would suffice. 

“Much better.” He chuckles darkly and eyes you from across the bed, running a hand over his face and dragging his thumb over his bottom lip. 

“Is my girl trying to seduce me?” He growls, striding over to you and wrapping his big hands around your waist again. 

You giggle and throw your arms around his neck, peppering sloppy kisses all over his cheeks and licking the salty sweat from his chops. “Maybe.” Your face heats up as Schlatt’s hands wander over your ass. He gives your cheeks a light squeeze, making you yelp and rock onto your tippy toes.

Your stomach does a flip when his dick strains into you through his shorts, begging for any sort of relief.

“You're gonna kill me with that pretty mouth of yours, toots.” He hums, his throat vibrating out a low groan. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhmm. Fuck, angel.” He sighs heavily when you bite his collarbone. Your teeth are threatening to break his skin, but it doesn't hurt him. Oh no, far from it. With each graze of your teeth, he grips your hips tighter and pulls you flesh against his growing arousal.

Your whimper is cut off by Schlatt shoving you onto the bed. You land on the towel with a soft thump, gasping from surprise. Schlatt climbs over you, pinning your arms by your sides and trapping you beneath his broad shoulders. 

His lips find your neck this time. You gasp his name and arch your back into his body. 

“Fuck..” you whine, grinding your hips into his. “You like that, baby?” He grumbles, digging your hips down into the mattress and mumbling into the soft spot on your neck. 

“Please fuck me, Schlatt. Please.” You beg, unable to hold back anymore. You can't take it. You needed him now. 

He chuckled at your bluntness, raising his head to look at you. “Patience, sweetheart.” 

He works on your neck feverishly, biting and licking while he lifts your shirt. He briefly detaches from you to discard it and quickly dives his tongue back into your chest. His hands dance across your breasts, roughly kneading the soft mounds of flesh like his life depended on it. 

“Fuuckkk, Schlatt…” you whine, desperately rutting into him and bucking against his hard cock. You snake your hands through his hair, abruptly laughing when he sucks at the ticklish spot on your chest. 

“Am I makin’ you feel good, toots?” he asks as he sucks at your nipple. You nod and card your fingers through his locks, tightening your grip when you feel his teeth scrape. 

“My Superman.” You tease, peering down at the top of his head. He pops your nipple from his mouth and rests his chin on your boob to look up at you. 

“What was that?” 

“I said you're my Superman.” 

“Huh. I think I'm more of a Wolverine type.”

“Is that ‘cause you have his chops?” You laugh, playing with his hair. His big brown eyes sear into your skin.

“No. It's because he has fuckin’ knives for hands.” He says sarcastically, chuckling. He suddenly thrusts his hips into your cunt, eliciting a deep moan from you. He leans forward to kiss you. You deepen the kiss and shove your tongue into his mouth.

Schlatt kisses you some more and breaks away with a smile, bringing some of your saliva up with him. “I look better in yellow, anyway.” he whispers.

He knows he had you right where he wanted when you burst into laughter. You grip onto his hair to try and contain yourself. He tightens his grip on your waist, digging his nails into your flesh with his erection pulsing deep into your core. 

“Wait, wait, baby!” You wheeze, overstimulated with glee and arousal. You kick your feet in protest. “You're so mean!” Your chuckles turn into moans and whimpers as he sits up on his knees, gripping your squabbling legs, spreading your thighs over his and rolling into you. He smirks as he holds you firmly in place. 

“I thought you said you wanted this dick now, hmm?” He mocks, smirking at your squirming. 

You nod through gritted teeth, feeling the familiar pressure build up in your stomach. 

“God, you really are a slut for me.” He grunts, grabbing your tits again and kneading them in his hands. “We haven't even started. How're you gonna last?” 

“It's your fault for… for teasing me, you dumbass.” You quip. Schlatt barks out a laugh, stopping his movements and scooting back a bit. 

“Well, let's change that then, shall we?” He throws your leg over his head and to the side.

You quickly take off your pants and underwear. Schlatt laughs at your eagerness. “Impatient much, doll?”

“Baby.” You say sternly, grabbing onto his forearm for emphasis. “I've been wanting to fuck you since you got home.”

He chuckles, cocking an eyebrow and smirking as he starts to unzip his shorts. “Is that so?” 

You nod eagerly, licking your lips as Schlatt slowly and painstakingly pulls his zipper down, unfolding the flaps one at a time. God, is he serious? Torturing you like this? 

“Oh, for fucks sake!” you scoff, scooting back and yanking his shorts down in one swift motion.

You shift your position and kiss his hard cock through his boxers. It twitches on your lips and you swear your brain short circuits. 

Schlatt moans and bucks his hips into your face, carding through your hair as he feels your tongue graze his tip. “Shit, sweetheart. Guess I need to tease you more often.” He lets out a low groan and watches you in awe, licking and biting desperately at his cock. 

“Need your dick now. Please, baby?” You beg through strained whimpers and groans, barely sounding coherent while licking his boxers.

Schlatt just nods, giving you the green light to tug his boxers down and grab his cock. You vigorously pump him, grateful to finally feel him in your hand. 

Schlatt moans loudly and tugs on your hair, throwing his head back in bliss. You circle your tongue around his tip, making his hips buck into your mouth. “Holy - haahhh - holy shit. I needed this, angel.” Your laugh muffles into him as you take more of him in your mouth, stroking the rest of whatever you couldn't fit.

This continues for a while - Jay’s hand tangled in your hair, his hips meeting your face, his unholy noises harmonizing with yours. You wanted him to cum in your mouth so badly, to taste him, but eventually he pushes you back and lays you down. “Sorry.” He sighs. “Didn’t wanna cum before you did.” He climbs up your body and spreads your legs apart.

You smile fondly, briefly appreciating his courtesy before his thick fingers come down to meet your clit. You gasp and raise your hips in the air. “Fuck, baby. That feels so good.” You whimper.

“Yeah, doll?” 

You nod eagerly. Jay smirks and whispers in your ear, “You’re doing so good.”

“Faster, please.” You beg, your grip on his shoulders tightening as you feel his fingers speed up.

“So good for me.” he repeats.

You couldn’t help but moan at his sweet words, gyrating your hips into his thigh as he presses himself into the mattress.

Your orgasm is building quickly. You scream and whine into his shoulder, feeling the pleasure envelop you as Schlatt works you through it. 

“That’s it, doll. Let go for me.” Schlatt pants in your ear, keeping up the pace on your sensitive clit. 

It hits you all at once. Your body convulses and squirms into him. Jay’s digits slow down as you ride out your high and your breathing returns to normal. He carefully lays you down, kissing your temple and grinning into your cheek. 

“All fucked out for me, doll, huh?” He whispers, his tone light and teasing. He lifts his head to peer down at you, fully expecting you to call it quits. 

But there’s a new spark in your eyes. He’s caught off guard as you regain your composure and huff, grinning up at him like a madwoman.

“Not yet.” You push him onto his back, throwing your leg over his waist and positioning yourself on top of him. Schlatt grabs your hips and tucks his bottom lip between his teeth. He loves it when you take charge, making him feel small under you. It really did something to him. 

That much was evident with how hard his cock was pressing against your stomach, leaking precum onto your belly button.

“Fuck, angel.” Schlatt whimpers, watching you flip your hair to the side and press his dick into your stomach. He squeezes your hips, aching to be inside you. “Need you so bad.”

“So impatient for me, hun.” You tease, mocking him for earlier and gingerly sliding your hand up and down his cock, pressing it into your soft stomach. 

Schlatt groans and lifts his hips slightly, desperately trying to get any sort of friction as he squeezes his eyes shut. “Please, baby. Just fuckin’ ride me already.” he whimpers.

You sigh and lean forward, placing your hands above his shoulders and lifting up on all fours. Schlatt slides his hands to your hips, lining up his tip with your entrance. You kiss him softly, slowly, feeling a moan escape his lips and slide into your mouth. You smile wickedly as Schlatt tries to lower you down onto him. You pull back from his lips, tisking at his disobedience. 

“Nuh, uh. Did I tell you to move me?” You ask bitterly, your harsh voice ringing through his ears. Schlatt stops in his tracks. 

His eyes shoot open. A flicker of fear scatters across his face. 

“Answer me.” you order.

He swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing beneath you. “No, ma’am.” His voice comes out strained, hesitant. You sigh again, staring at him disapprovingly. You ghost your lips past his cheek and bite down hard on his earlobe. Schlatt whines and hisses. “Fuck! Shit!” he curses, his breath escaping in huffs and grunts.

Maybe that was a bit too far. 

You kiss his neck softly to say sorry. “You can lower me now, baby.”

With that, Schlatt sighs shakily, easing you down onto his cock and groaning. He fills you up perfectly. You squeal into his neck, savoring the feeling of his warm cock pulsing inside of you, the tip barely kissing your cervix.

When your hips meet, he rubs your back softly, dragging his fingers along your spine. “Can I move, doll?” He asks, his voice quiet. 

You felt so full, so good, so happy. Your dominance instantly disappears at his question. 

“Please, love. Go ahead.”

He smirks and begins pounding into you, squeezing your hips tighter with each thrust. 

You whine and moan, your voice getting louder and louder as his rhythm quickly falters. Your pussy flutters wildly, hips jostling above him with the force of his penetration, only adding to the pleasure coursing through your veins. 

“Schlatt, I’m gonna - “ You choke out, feeling your second orgasm building faster than before.

“Cum with me, toots.” He pants, reaching up to hold the back of your head. 

You silently scream and arch your back, meshing your hips with his. Schlatt thrusts one last time into you, feeling your cunt squeeze around him and release your juices all over his cock. He pulses inside you and releases his own load, squirting his hot cum into you and holding you as close as he can. 

“Shit, fuck, holy shit.” He curses, tightening his grip in your hair as his body shakes and he releases every last drop. He holds you and drags his fingers through your hair, easing back into the mattress. 

Schlatt coaxes you through your high, squeezing you and trailing his hands over your body lightly. “Shhh, angel. There you go.” He whispers, letting you relax into him. He smiles tiredly and plants soft kisses to your head, whispering sweet nothings into your hair. 

“You did so good for me.”

“You’re so gorgeous.”

“That’s it, pretty. Just breathe.”

A couple minutes pass and you both settle down, a beautiful mess of tangled limbs and sweaty bodies. Schlatt clears his throat and lightly squeezes your waist, signaling you to move. You slide off of him with a groan, resting your head on the pillow. Sleep threatens to overtake you as Schlatt carefully slips out of bed, not wanting to disturb your peace. Your body goes limp on the mattress. Everything feels heavy as gravity sinks you down further into the bed sheets.

“Gonna go shower, angel.” Schlatt whispers, hovering over you and kissing your cheek. You murmur a quiet “m’kay” and sleepily watch him shuffle to the bathroom, smiling to yourself as you watch his ass jiggle and disappear behind the bathroom door. The last thing you hear is the rush of water hitting the tile floor. In the midst of your deep sleep, you dream of Wolverine Schlatt saving you from the forces of evil.

Tagging (albeit late) @the-slimebox @lettersfromharley

BIG BAD JOHN IS FINALLY FINISHED! REJOICE 🙏

Big Bad John

Summary: In the town of Ghostridge, Georgia, Dollie Sheppard runs a quiet saloon where nothing ever really happens. That is until Big Bad John passes through town. He’s supposed to be a legend, a ghost story. But he’s real, he’s handsome, and nothing Dollie expected. With tensions rising, Dollie finds herself caught between the law, her past, and the man with a reputation that could ruin them both.

The Devil Went Down to Georgia ❀ Cowboy Like Me ❀✮ Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy ✮❥ But Daddy I Love Him ❀✮

“Saying me, me, me, me, me more cowboy than you!”

“Me More Cowboy Than You” by The Brudi Brothers

Divider: elleisdesigning

Big Bad John

Summary: In the town of Ghostridge, Georgia, Dollie Sheppard runs a quiet saloon where nothing ever really happens. That is until Big Bad John passes through town. He’s supposed to be a legend, a ghost story. But he’s real, he’s handsome, and nothing Dollie expected. With tensions rising, Dollie finds herself caught between the law, her past, and the man with a reputation that could ruin them both.

The Devil Went Down to Georgia ❀ Cowboy Like Me ❀✮ Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy ✮❥ But Daddy I Love Him ❀✮

“Saying me, me, me, me, me more cowboy than you!”

“Me More Cowboy Than You” by The Brudi Brothers

Divider: elleisdesigning

Big Bad John [Part 4] - But Daddy I Love Him

2,389 words Summary: Cowboy!Schlatt x original character. Dollie and Charlie plot to get John out of jail. A/N: Final chapter! I had so much fun writing this series, y’all have no idea.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

Divider: elleisdesigning

“Too high a horse

For a simple girl to rise above it

They slammed the door on my whole world

The one thing I wanted

Now I'm running with my dress unbuttoned

Screaming ‘But Daddy I love him!’”

“But Daddy I Love Him” by Taylor Swift

Sheriff Clyde Sheppard has had quite an interesting day. A little past noon, he had three boys in his Sheriff’s station claiming “Big Bad John” was in town and staying at his daughter’s saloon. 

Their claim led to Sheriff Sheppard sending his assistant, George, to go check it out and he confirmed that John was indeed staying at the saloon.

Clyde was pissed. His own daughter harboring an outlaw in her saloon? This simply will not do. 

So, he devised a plan. In the morning, he would show up at her saloon and drag John out and imprison him. Clyde doesn’t like the idea of an outlaw cowboy running amuck in his town. He’ll get him out one way or another.

Dollie stands in her doorway with a shocked look on her face as she faces her father. Charlie stands a few paces behind her and John stands around the corner, out of view.

“Daddy,” Dollie says, trying her hardest to keep her voice even. “What are you doin’ here?”

Clyde sighs. “Step away, Dollie,” he says. “I know he’s here.”

“Who?”

“Don’t play dumb. You know who.”

Charlie shifts uncomfortably behind her, clearly wanting no part in this.

Dollie crosses her arms, blocking her father’s path like she could physically stop him if she tried. “You didn’t think to ask before showin’ up here?”

Clyde’s eyes narrow. “I got boys in my station claimin’ ‘Big Bad John’ waltzed into town like he owns the place. And from what George tells me, he’s been stayin’ here.”

Dollie swallows hard, but doesn’t budge. “He ain’t causing no trouble.”

“Yet,” Clyde snaps. “He’s an outlaw, Dollie. You know what men like him do. You think you’re the exception? You think you’re safe?”

“He ain’t what people say he is,” Dollie says. “I’ve seen more decency in him than the men you play cards with every Sunday.”

“Don’t you start,” Clyde says, stepping closer. “You’ve already disrespected me enough by lettin’ him in that door.”

A tense silence falls over them. Around the corner, John’s hand moves to his pistol, but he doesn’t draw. Not yet.

“Who I let into my saloon is my choice to make,” Dollie says.

Clyde scoffs. “You lettin’ that man stay here isn’t just a poor choice, it’s a crime.”

Charlie clears his throat. “Now, hold on,” he says, trying to calm them down. “Maybe we should all just take a second-”

“No,” Clyde says. “I’m here to drag that outlaw out of here and put him where he belongs.”

John steps into view.

“Ain’t lookin’ for trouble, sheriff,” John says. 

Clyde locks eyes with John. “Then why are you still breathin’ my town’s air?” he asks.

“Because your daughter offered me a roof and I gave her my word that I’d cause no harm,” John replies.

“Your word?” Clyde turns to Dollie. “And you believed that?”

“I did. Still do,” Dollie says.

Clyde lets out a humorless laugh, stepping forward until he’s toe-to-toe with her. “You think that man’s different from the rest of ‘em? You think outlaws just stop bein’ dangerous ‘cause they look at you soft?”

John tenses. Dollie places a hand on his arm to hold him back.

“He ain’t dangerous,” Dollie says. “Not like you are right now.”

Charlie takes a cautious step forward. “Sheriff, maybe there’s another way to settle this that doesn’t end with bullets flyin’. Folks in town don’t need the drama.”

Clyde’s gaze stays firmly planted on John. “Drama’s already here, Charlie. And it’s wearin’ a damn vest.”

John lifts his chin slightly. “I didn’t come to cause problems. But I’m not gonna let you treat me like some rabid dog either.”

Clyde looks him up and down. “Then let’s settle this the way men do.”

Dollie’s stomach drops.

“Tomorrow. High noon. You and me, outlaw,” Clyde says. “One shot each. You win, I let you stay. You lose…” he glances at Dollie. “Well, you leave town and leave my daughter alone.”

“You can’t be serious,” Dollie says.

“I’m the law in this town,” Clyde snaps. “And this is me bein’ merciful.”

John crosses his arms, staring him down. “Fine.”

Dollie turns to him. “John-”

“It’s the only way, Dollie,” John says.

Clyde reaches into his coat and pulls out a pair of iron cuffs. “And you’ll be staying the night in my jail. That way I know you ain’t gonna run.”

John nods.

Clyde steps toward him and puts the cuffs around his wrists. 

As they start for the door, Dollie calls out, voice trembling with rage. “You think this makes you a hero, Daddy? Arrestin’ an unarmed man in front of your daughter?”

Clyde pauses in the doorway. “No, baby girl. This makes me the sheriff.”

And then they’re gone.

The room goes quiet. 

“So, what now?” Charlie asks.

Dollie turns around, looking defeated. “I don’t know Charlie.”

Charlie stays with Dollie for most of the day. She cries - a lot - until Charlie is struck with a plan.

“There’s a trapdoor under the floorboards in the jail,” Charlie says, leaning into Dollie. “The tunnel goes all the way out to the General Store. I used it once back when your daddy was still a deputy.”

Dollie stares at him. “Is it still usable?”

“Should be,” Charlie says. “They sealed it up, far as I know. Just covered it up with some old boards. Your daddy probably forgot it exists.”

Something sparks in Dollie - hope. She has a chance to get John out of this predicament and save his life - and her father’s.

“We could sneak in at night,” Charlie says. “George don’t stay the night and your father will be sleepin’. I’ll go through the tunnel and get John, while you stay at the other end with one of my horses. Then…” Charlie trails off, looking a bit guilty.

“Then, what?” Dollie presses.

“Well, then he’s goin’ to have to get out of here, Dollie,” Charlie says, looking at her with sad eyes. “He can’t stay in town.”

Dollie looks down at her feet. 

“I know, Charlie,” she says. “But I don’t want him gone. I want him here. With me.”

Charlie sighs, stepping closer to Dollie. “This is the only way. John needs to leave town.”

“Let me go through the tunnel to get him,” Dollie says.

“Dollie…”

“Please, Charlie,” Dollie says. “I need to see him one last time.”

Later that night, Dollie meets Charlie behind the General Store. He brings his horse, Patsy. She’s got a beautiful, brown coat and a black mane. Dollie pets her as she neighs affectionately.

“Alright,” Charlie says, he approaches the wall and taps his foot on the ground. “The hatch should be around here somewhere.”

He taps his foot around some more before finding a hollow spot. He bends down to brush away some loose hay to reveal a hatch. He yanks it up to reveal steps leading down into a tunnel.

“Woah,” Dollie gasps.

Charlie turns around to look at her. “You know the plan,” he says. “You’ll go and get John and then bring him back here so he can make his escape.”

“Yup,” Dollie says. She stares at the steps for a while, debating if she truly wants to do this. 

Charlie notices the hesitation on her face. “You alright?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Dollie says. “Sorry, I’m just a little nervous. Feels like I’m goin’ down there just to say goodbye.”

Charlie’s gaze softens. “You are, but it’s better than watchin’ him die at noon.”

Dollie sighs. She knows he’s right. It’s better for John to get away knowing he’s alive rather than him stay and he dies. But she’s afraid she might never see him again and she doesn’t want that.

“You’re right,” Dollie says. 

With that, Charlie hands her a lantern as she steps down into the tunnel and makes her way through. The tunnel is shabby, the walls and floor cracked in some places. The air around her feels thick and damp.

She doesn’t know what she’s going to say when she sees him. Or how she’s going to walk away when she already feels like she’s leaving herself behind with every step.

She walks through it for what feels like forever before finding a trapdoor at the end of the tunnel. She sets down the lantern and uses all her strength to open it, trying not to make any sound.

The trapdoor softly creaks as it opens and she sees John sitting on a cot, staring at the floor with his head in his hands.

“John,” Dollie whispers.

His head snaps up and his gaze meets hers. “Dollie?”

She pushes the trapdoor up more and pulls herself up to stand in the cell. John immediately rushes to her and tightly wraps his arms around her.

“What’re you doin’ here?” he asks, his voice soft.

“Gettin’ you out of here,” Dollie whispers. “There’s a tunnel. Charlie helped me.”

John exhales through his nose, half a laugh, half a sigh. “‘Course he did.”

They stand there for a moment, wrapped in each other. He smells like smoke and iron and dust, and she wants to breathe him in until she forgets what it’s like to be alone.

“You’re not stayin’, are you?” she asks quietly.

John pulls back just enough to look at her, and the answer’s already in his eyes.

“I can’t, Dollie. Your daddy won’t stop ‘til one of us is six feet under.”

“I know,” she says. “I hate it.”

He brushes his thumb across her cheek. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I had to,” she says.

He leans in and kisses her - slow, full of everything he can’t say out loud. It’s the kind of kiss that tastes like goodbye and something worth fighting for all at once.

When they part, he rests his forehead against hers. “I love you, Dollie Sheppard.”

She stills.

“I love you too, Jonathan Schlatt,” Dollie says.

And she means it. Sure, she’s only known the guy for a few days, but it feels like she’s known him for a lifetime. She feels like she knows him better than she does anyone else.

“Come on,” she says softly. “We gotta go.”

She lowers herself back into the tunnel and John follows close behind. 

They barely speak as they follow the tunnel out. Speaking feels too final - like it really is a goodbye. Like they both know that they’ll never see each other again. Like there’s no hope.

Eventually, they reach the end of the tunnel.

“Finally,” Charlie sighs. “I was beginning to worry that you got caught.”

“Luckily, we didn’t,” Dollie says.

“Well, John,” Charlie says. “This here is Patsy. She’s one of my horses. You can use her to get out of town.”

“Thank you, Charlie,” John says, walking over to pet her.

He looks back at Dollie, who’s standing a few feet away, holding back tears. He pulls her into another hug and puts a hand on the back of her head. 

“I’ll come back for you,” he says quietly, kissing her forehead. “I promise.”

She looks up at him, a tear rolls down her cheek. John reaches a hand to caress her cheek, wiping away her tears. 

“I’ll wait,” Dollie whispers.

He doesn’t say when, doesn’t make empty promises about how soon. Just gives her that look - like she’s the only thing anchoring him to this earth. Like walking away might kill him more than any bullet ever could.

“I don’t want to let you go,” she says.

“I know,” he says, brushing her hair back behind her ear. “But if I stay, he’ll win. And I ain’t lettin’ your daddy be the reason you bury another man you care about.”

That one hits deep. Dollie swallows hard and nods.

Charlie clears his throat softly in the background - he’s trying to give them space, but time’s running short. They all know it.

John steps toward Patsy, gives her a pat on the neck before putting one foot in the stirrup and swinging himself into the saddle. He’s silhouetted against the night, tall and dark and unshakable like the legends say he is, but Dollie knows better. She’s seen the man underneath the myth.

He pulls on the reins, then looks down at her one last time.

“You keep that saloon runnin’, y’hear?” he says, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “And don’t let your daddy sell it out from under you.”

“I won’t,” she says. “I’ll keep a bottle of whiskey behind the bar with your name on it. Just in case.”

John gives her a final nod, then turns Patsy toward the dark stretch of open land beyond the general store. The hooves clatter quietly at first, then fade into nothing but wind and memory.

Dollie stands there long after he’s gone, her arms wrapped around herself like she’s trying to hold something in that’s already slipping away.

Charlie steps beside her. “You alright?”

She nods, but her voice comes out barely above a whisper. “I will be.”

Years later, Dollie will be tending to the bar. A polished-looking man will waltz into her saloon. She’ll recognize him by his eyes and his tamed mutton chops

He’ll walk up to her bar and take a seat. He’ll tell her he’s a changed man - dropped the cowboy life and became a banker. He’ll tell her he’s looking for work. He already talked to her dad and he reluctantly agreed to let him stay in town, but if he causes any trouble, he’s gone.

She’ll drop a glass on the floor out of shock of her father’s kindness, causing it to shatter. 

He’ll help her clean it up and pull her into a long awaited hug. Then, he’ll ask if she’s married.

She’ll say no - she waited years to be back in his arms. Her father tried to marry her off a few times but she always found a way to get out of it.

He’ll ask for her hand in marriage. 

She’ll say yes as long as her daddy approves.

He’ll tell her he already asked and he said yes.

They’ll marry and live together in a small cottage just outside town. Dollie will keep tending to the saloon. John will get a job in town as a banker. And they will finally be happy together.

Previous Part

Okay so I'm a senior in high school right now and I'm participating in my school's senior assassin (if you don't know what that is, look it up on the Tok). And I got into a high speed chase with my target tonight. All I could think about was teen!Schlatt getting you as a target and being really apologetic about it when he gets you out and kissing your forehead and shit. UGH get him out of my head fr.

To add onto this, I was thinking about maybe doing it in first person and make it sort of diary-esque? And I might purposely put the chapters out of chronological order. So one chapter may take place in September 2021 and the next in November 2019 idk.

Hear me out.

I want to write a Schlatt fic in which the chapters are out of order (each takes place at a different point in time). The MC and Schlatt are sort of in this situationship. It takes years for them to finally realize their true feelings for each other. (Sort of inspired by One Day except there's no sad ending because I don't like sad endings.)

I hope this made sense. I can't wait to start writing it. 😜

I think I'll try to get Big Bad John finished before I start this though but I've been in such a writing slump lately it's actually crazy. Hence my inactivity. Work and school have been taking over my life.

Hear me out.

I want to write a Schlatt fic in which the chapters are out of order (each takes place at a different point in time). The MC and Schlatt are sort of in this situationship. It takes years for them to finally realize their true feelings for each other. (Sort of inspired by One Day except there's no sad ending because I don't like sad endings.)

I hope this made sense. I can't wait to start writing it. 😜

Hear me out.

I want to write a Schlatt fic in which the chapters are out of order (each takes place at a different point in time). The MC and Schlatt are sort of in this situationship. It takes years for them to finally realize their true feelings for each other. (Sort of inspired by One Day except there's no sad ending because I don't like sad endings.)

I hope this made sense. I can't wait to start writing it. 😜

Just hit 20 followers today. 😜 thanks guys

COWBOY SCHLATT SMUT IS HERE 🙏

Big Bad John [Part 3] - Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy

1,487 words Summary: Cowboy!Schlatt x original character. What the title says. NSFW / MDNI A/N: The smut took me forever to write. I’m no good at smut so if it’s bad, I’m sorry.

[Part 1] [Part 2]

Divider: elleisdesigning

“And I was going, just about as far as she'd let me go

But her evaluation of my cowboy reputation

Had me begging for salvation all night long”

“Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy” by Big & Rich

Dollie lays in her bed, staring at the ceiling. The scene of John kissing her replays in her head. 

After the kiss, their conversation continued a bit before John called it a night and they returned to their rooms.

She's restless, constantly shifting positions to get comfortable, but to no avail. 

Finally, she gets up and goes into the hallway. A soft light coming from the kitchen casts shadows on the walls. Dollie turns the corner to see John sitting at her kitchen table, drinking out of a glass of water. 

“Couldn't sleep?” John asks as Dollie enters the room. 

“No,” Dollie says. “Kept tossin’ and turnin’. You?”

“Same,” John says. 

Dollie crosses over to her cabinets to grab a cup and fill it with water. She turns around to look at John as she leans against the counter. 

The two are silent for a moment. The tension of their kiss from earlier still twists in the air. She can still feel his lips on hers, the warmth of his hands still lingering on her skin. 

She knows he feels it, too - the ghost of the kiss shared between them, lingering in the silence.

John leans back in his chair, looking at Dollie. “So, that kiss,” he says. “You regret it?”

Dollie exhales, taking a sip of water before setting her cup down on the counter. “Do you?”

“No,” John says, sighing. “But I wonder if you should.”

Dollie cocks her head, a confused look on her face. “Why’s that?”

John looks away, shaking his head. “I ain’t a good man, Dollie,” he says. “I got a past full of trouble.”

“I ain’t askin’ you to be a saint, John,” Dollie says.

He looks back at her. “You should.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Dollie studies John for a moment - his hands make fists at his side and his jaw is clenched.

She scoffs. “You think I ain’t been hurt before?”

“Not the way I mean,” John says.

She walks over to the table, placing her hand on the table in front of him and leaning over him. “You keep talkin’ like you got some kinda say in what I do, John. Like you get to decide what’s best for me.”

His gaze flickers at her. “Maybe I ain’t got no say,” he says. “But that ain’t stoppin’ me from carin’.”

Dollie stills at that. He said it so simply. Like she hadn’t heard that from men like him - men who come and go and don’t leave much behind but their shadows. 

She watches him, how he won’t quite meet her gaze, like he’s waiting for her to call him a liar. But she doesn’t.

Instead, she takes another step closer, standing between his knees.

“John,” she says, her voice a little softer now. “You really think I’m scared of a bit of trouble?”

John finally looks into her eyes, his lip twitching slightly, like he wants to smile, but won’t let himself. “Ain’t a little trouble I’m talkin’ ‘bout.”

Dollie tilts her head, resting her hands on his shoulders. “Maybe I don’t care.”

John exhales slowly, his hands making their way to her waist. “You should,” he murmurs, but there’s no longer any weight behind his words.

Dollie smirks. “You keep sayin’ that, but you ain’t exactly pushin’ me away.”

John chuckles. “I’m not,” he says.

A quiet moment passes between them and John pulls her in a bit closer.

Dollie’s fingers travel along his jaw, tracing patterns in his thick mutton chops. “You gonna kiss me again, cowboy?”

John doesn’t respond - at least not with words.

He reaches up to cup her cheek, pulling her toward him. Their lips meet in a slow, deliberate kiss like they know they shouldn’t be doing this but can’t bring themselves to stop.

Dollie sighs into his lips, her fingers tightening against the fabric of his shirt as he deepens the kiss. His other hand slides up her back, holding her in place as if she’ll slip away.

“Dollie,” John breathes. 

“Yes, John?” Dollie asks, pulling away from his mouth.

John looks her up and down. “Can we please go to my room?”

Dollie nods.

John moves quickly to scoop Dollie off her feet bridal-style. Dollie giggles as he carries her to his room, nudging the door open with his boot and gently setting her down on the bed. But there’s nothing gentle about the way his lips find hers again - desperate, urgent. 

His hands roam her body with reverence and hunger, like he’s trying to memorize her by touch alone. 

“Dollie,” he breathes as he kisses down her jaw and neck. “You don’t know what you’re doin’ to me.”

Dollie laces her fingers into his hair, pulling him back up to her lips. “Then show me.”

That’s all he needs.

John smirks. He slips off her nightgown, tossing it away as he pushes her back against the mattress, his weight pressing into the creaky bed. He starts to unbutton his shirt while Dollie fumbles with his belt buckle.

He pulls off his shirt and tosses it to the floor, revealing a body marked by a life on the run - scarred, tanned, and worn in the only way real cowboys are. He then helps Dollie with the belt buckle before throwing his belt across the room and pulling off his jeans and boots. 

Dollie looks up at the man in front of her, admiring him.

John chuckles, noticing her stare. “Ain’t much to look at, I’m afraid,” he says.

“You’re beautiful,” Dollie says. And she means it. Every inch of him is something she wants to explore - to cherish.

John moves to press his weight into the bed once more. “You’re killin’ me,” he says, half in awe, half in agony. “I ain’t ever wanted somethin’ like I want you.”

Their lips crash into each other again. John’s hands rub tiny circles into Dollie’s hip.

Dollie slips a finger into the waistband of John’s boxers. “Take these off,” she breathes.

He does as she tells him, his hard cock bobbing up as he does so. His hands slide down her body to do the same to her.

When their lips meet once more, there's a beat of stillness. No bravado, no games. Just John and Dollie together as if it was always meant to be that way. 

John lines up with her entrance and thrusts into her. Dollie gasps at the feeling of him filling her up. 

When he moves inside her, it's slow and deliberate - like he's savoring each second, like this may be the only time they do this. His breath stutters against her neck as he rocks into her. 

“God, Dollie,” he moans. “I ain't gonna last.”

“You don't have to,” Dollie says. “Just stay with me.”

And he does. Every touch, every kiss, every gasp is full of the kind of need that borders on devotion. 

They move together as if they've done this hundred times before in a dream. Like fate brought John into the saloon for them to find each other. 

John gives his last few thrusts through both of their climaxes, pulling out and laying down next to Dollie. He places his head on her chest. Dollie moves a hand to his head, scratching it gently. 

The room is quiet except for the sounds of their quiet breathing - slow and uneven as if they're trying to come back to earth. 

Eventually, they both drift off to sleep, wrapped up in each other's arms. 

The next morning, the sound of frantic knocking wakes up Dollie. She pushes John off of her, quickly slips her clothes back on, and gets up to walk over to her door. 

She opens the door and Charlie comes stumbling in - his eyes wide and body trembling. 

“Charlie, what is it?” Dollie asks, reaching out to steady him. 

“Your father,” he gasps, catching his breath. “He uh - he found out about John stayin’ here. He's not happy about it. Says he's on his way.”

“Shit,” Dollie breathes. “Shit, shit shit.”

She rushes over to John's room to wake him. 

“John, you need to leave,” she says. 

John sits up, trying to gather his clothes and groggily puts them on. “Why? Was last night that bad?” he asks, chuckling a bit. 

Dollie stares at him. If she wasn't so terrified of her father, maybe she'd laugh too. “It was amazing, John. But seriously, you need to get out. My father found out that you're here.”

John's eyes widen, he starts to move faster, trying to get his clothes on. 

But it's not enough. 

When Dollie opens the door to let John leave, her dad is standing on the other side. 

Previous Part

Big Bad John [Part 3] - Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy

1,487 words Summary: Cowboy!Schlatt x original character. What the title says. NSFW / MDNI A/N: The smut took me forever to write. I’m no good at smut so if it’s bad, I’m sorry.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 4]

Divider: elleisdesigning

“And I was going, just about as far as she'd let me go

But her evaluation of my cowboy reputation

Had me begging for salvation all night long”

“Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy” by Big & Rich

Dollie lays in her bed, staring at the ceiling. The scene of John kissing her replays in her head. 

After the kiss, their conversation continued a bit before John called it a night and they returned to their rooms.

She's restless, constantly shifting positions to get comfortable, but to no avail. 

Finally, she gets up and goes into the hallway. A soft light coming from the kitchen casts shadows on the walls. Dollie turns the corner to see John sitting at her kitchen table, drinking out of a glass of water. 

“Couldn't sleep?” John asks as Dollie enters the room. 

“No,” Dollie says. “Kept tossin’ and turnin’. You?”

“Same,” John says. 

Dollie crosses over to her cabinets to grab a cup and fill it with water. She turns around to look at John as she leans against the counter. 

The two are silent for a moment. The tension of their kiss from earlier still twists in the air. She can still feel his lips on hers, the warmth of his hands still lingering on her skin. 

She knows he feels it, too - the ghost of the kiss shared between them, lingering in the silence.

John leans back in his chair, looking at Dollie. “So, that kiss,” he says. “You regret it?”

Dollie exhales, taking a sip of water before setting her cup down on the counter. “Do you?”

“No,” John says, sighing. “But I wonder if you should.”

Dollie cocks her head, a confused look on her face. “Why’s that?”

John looks away, shaking his head. “I ain’t a good man, Dollie,” he says. “I got a past full of trouble.”

“I ain’t askin’ you to be a saint, John,” Dollie says.

He looks back at her. “You should.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Dollie studies John for a moment - his hands make fists at his side and his jaw is clenched.

She scoffs. “You think I ain’t been hurt before?”

“Not the way I mean,” John says.

She walks over to the table, placing her hand on the table in front of him and leaning over him. “You keep talkin’ like you got some kinda say in what I do, John. Like you get to decide what’s best for me.”

His gaze flickers at her. “Maybe I ain’t got no say,” he says. “But that ain’t stoppin’ me from carin’.”

Dollie stills at that. He said it so simply. Like she hadn’t heard that from men like him - men who come and go and don’t leave much behind but their shadows. 

She watches him, how he won’t quite meet her gaze, like he’s waiting for her to call him a liar. But she doesn’t.

Instead, she takes another step closer, standing between his knees.

“John,” she says, her voice a little softer now. “You really think I’m scared of a bit of trouble?”

John finally looks into her eyes, his lip twitching slightly, like he wants to smile, but won’t let himself. “Ain’t a little trouble I’m talkin’ ‘bout.”

Dollie tilts her head, resting her hands on his shoulders. “Maybe I don’t care.”

John exhales slowly, his hands making their way to her waist. “You should,” he murmurs, but there’s no longer any weight behind his words.

Dollie smirks. “You keep sayin’ that, but you ain’t exactly pushin’ me away.”

John chuckles. “I’m not,” he says.

A quiet moment passes between them and John pulls her in a bit closer.

Dollie’s fingers travel along his jaw, tracing patterns in his thick mutton chops. “You gonna kiss me again, cowboy?”

John doesn’t respond - at least not with words.

He reaches up to cup her cheek, pulling her toward him. Their lips meet in a slow, deliberate kiss like they know they shouldn’t be doing this but can’t bring themselves to stop.

Dollie sighs into his lips, her fingers tightening against the fabric of his shirt as he deepens the kiss. His other hand slides up her back, holding her in place as if she’ll slip away.

“Dollie,” John breathes. 

“Yes, John?” Dollie asks, pulling away from his mouth.

John looks her up and down. “Can we please go to my room?”

Dollie nods.

John moves quickly to scoop Dollie off her feet bridal-style. Dollie giggles as he carries her to his room, nudging the door open with his boot and gently setting her down on the bed. But there’s nothing gentle about the way his lips find hers again - desperate, urgent. 

His hands roam her body with reverence and hunger, like he’s trying to memorize her by touch alone. 

“Dollie,” he breathes as he kisses down her jaw and neck. “You don’t know what you’re doin’ to me.”

Dollie laces her fingers into his hair, pulling him back up to her lips. “Then show me.”

That’s all he needs.

John smirks. He slips off her nightgown, tossing it away as he pushes her back against the mattress, his weight pressing into the creaky bed. He starts to unbutton his shirt while Dollie fumbles with his belt buckle.

He pulls off his shirt and tosses it to the floor, revealing a body marked by a life on the run - scarred, tanned, and worn in the only way real cowboys are. He then helps Dollie with the belt buckle before throwing his belt across the room and pulling off his jeans and boots. 

Dollie looks up at the man in front of her, admiring him.

John chuckles, noticing her stare. “Ain’t much to look at, I’m afraid,” he says.

“You’re beautiful,” Dollie says. And she means it. Every inch of him is something she wants to explore - to cherish.

John moves to press his weight into the bed once more. “You’re killin’ me,” he says, half in awe, half in agony. “I ain’t ever wanted somethin’ like I want you.”

Their lips crash into each other again. John’s hands rub tiny circles into Dollie’s hip.

Dollie slips a finger into the waistband of John’s boxers. “Take these off,” she breathes.

He does as she tells him, his hard cock bobbing up as he does so. His hands slide down her body to do the same to her.

When their lips meet once more, there's a beat of stillness. No bravado, no games. Just John and Dollie together as if it was always meant to be that way. 

John lines up with her entrance and thrusts into her. Dollie gasps at the feeling of him filling her up. 

When he moves inside her, it's slow and deliberate - like he's savoring each second, like this may be the only time they do this. His breath stutters against her neck as he rocks into her. 

“God, Dollie,” he moans. “I ain't gonna last.”

“You don't have to,” Dollie says. “Just stay with me.”

And he does. Every touch, every kiss, every gasp is full of the kind of need that borders on devotion. 

They move together as if they've done this hundred times before in a dream. Like fate brought John into the saloon for them to find each other. 

John gives his last few thrusts through both of their climaxes, pulling out and laying down next to Dollie. He places his head on her chest. Dollie moves a hand to his head, scratching it gently. 

The room is quiet except for the sounds of their quiet breathing - slow and uneven as if they're trying to come back to earth. 

Eventually, they both drift off to sleep, wrapped up in each other's arms. 

The next morning, the sound of frantic knocking wakes up Dollie. She pushes John off of her, quickly slips her clothes back on, and gets up to walk over to her door. 

She opens the door and Charlie comes stumbling in - his eyes wide and body trembling. 

“Charlie, what is it?” Dollie asks, reaching out to steady him. 

“Your father,” he gasps, catching his breath. “He uh - he found out about John stayin’ here. He's not happy about it. Says he's on his way.”

“Shit,” Dollie breathes. “Shit, shit shit.”

She rushes over to John's room to wake him. 

“John, you need to leave,” she says. 

John sits up, trying to gather his clothes and groggily puts them on. “Why? Was last night that bad?” he asks, chuckling a bit. 

Dollie stares at him. If she wasn't so terrified of her father, maybe she'd laugh too. “It was amazing, John. But seriously, you need to get out. My father found out that you're here.”

John's eyes widen, he starts to move faster, trying to get his clothes on. 

But it's not enough. 

When Dollie opens the door to let John leave, her dad is standing on the other side. 

Previous Part - Next Part

A couple of things I'd like to share:

I changed my username! I was previously known as daredevils-toe, but no longer.

Asks/requests are open! Please check my pinned post for guidelines.

Masterlist!

Fluff - ❀ | Angst - ✮ | Smut - ❥

Jschlatt

Series ೃ⁀➷

midnight. you come and pick me up, no headlights. (ao3) ❀✮❥ Almost, Maybe ❀✮ Big Bad John ❀✮❥

Readers ೃ⁀➷

tattooed!reader Supercut (COMING SOON)

Dividers: thecutestgrotto

Almost, Maybe

Summary: Fem!reader x teen!Schlatt. You’ve had a crush on Jay since you were twelve, unsure if he feels the same. Inspired by The Summer I Turned Pretty. 

Part 1 ❀✮ | Part 2 ❀✮ | Part 3 ❀✮

Divider: dialilimoon

Guys I promise Big Bad John Part 3 will be out soon. 🙏 it's a smut chapter and I always get stuck writing smut. I will try to get it out as soon as possible! ❤️

Big guy's looking fucking IMMACULATE in the new Schlatt and Co vid holy shit 🤤🫠

Big Bad John [Part 2] - Cowboy Like Me

1,415 words Summary: Cowboy!Schlatt x original character. Dollie and John get to know each other a bit more. A/N: Sat my ass down and managed to write this chapter in about three hours. 💪

[Part 1] [Part 3] [Part 4]

Divider: elleisdesigning

“You're a bandit like me

Eyes full of stars

Hustling for the good life

Never thought I'd meet you here

It could be love

We could be the way forward

And I know I'll pay for it”

“cowboy like me” by Taylor Swift

Dollie leads John upstairs and shows him her spare room. It’s not much - quite small, the wallpaper is tattered and coming off the wall in some places, the furniture is quite old, and the bed squeaks when you sit on it. But it’s a place to sleep.

“Well, here’s my spare room,” Dollie says.

John grunts in response. He walks into the room, looking around before sitting on the bed with a loud squeak.

“My room is just down the hall,” Dollie says. “If you need anything just holler.”

“You got any spare clothes?” John asks.

Dollie juts her head toward the wardrobe in the room. “Should be some clothes in there, but don’t count on it. I don’t get visitors a whole lot.”

John nods. “Alright, thank you,” he says.

“Don’t mention it,” Dollie says before shutting the door and walking to her room.

Dollie lay awake that night, her mind restless as she thought about John. He wasn’t what she expected. Not at all. The stories painted him as some ruthless outlaw, a gunslinger with blood on his hands, but the man sitting in her saloon tonight had been quiet, almost careful. There was something in his eyes - something thoughtful, something tired.

Her father wouldn’t see that, though. He was the sheriff, and to him, an outlaw was an outlaw. If he found out she had given John a place to stay, there’d be hell to pay.

The next day, Dollie gets up bright and early to open the saloon. She makes a quick breakfast for herself and leaves some out for John when he wakes up. 

She goes downstairs into the saloon and does her normal opening tasks before her first customer walks in.

John finally joins her about midday. The folks in the saloon give him wary glances as he walks up to the bar.

“You heading out?” Dollie asks.

John sits down at the bar and looks up at her. “Think I’ll stick around for a few more days if that’s alright.”

“‘Course,” Dollie says. “My saloon is always open to ya, John.”

John smiles. “Good to hear,” he says. 

“Can I get ya anything to drink?” she asks.

“Just a whiskey.”

“You bet.”

Dollie pours him a drink and goes back to serving other customers. 

She’s not sure how much time has passed, but eventually the sun starts to set. Golden rays of light pour in through the saloon’s windows. 

Just as she’s about to start polishing glasses, a group of three men burst into her saloon. They all wear similar tattered clothes and each wear a cowboy hat. She doesn’t recognize them, but she gets plenty of folks she doesn’t recognize in her saloon all the time.

“How can I help you, boys?” Dollie asks.

“We heard Big Bad John’s in town,” one man says. “Heard he might be here. Just wanted to pay him a visit.”

By the way the man is looking at her and how he said John’s name, Dollie isn’t sure these guys are looking for a friendly chat. But before she can say anything, John gets up and approaches them.

“That would be me,” John says. “What can I do you for?”

“Well, you see,” says another man. “We caught wind of you passin’ through town. You killed our brother a couple years ago. We’ve come to get payback.”

John looks like he’s sizing the three men up. He’s studying them intently, planning his next move. She notices a flicker of something dangerous in his eyes. 

Dollie doesn’t like it.

Silence settles in the saloon - thick, heavy. Some patrons back away, some leave entirely. Dollie herself isn’t sure what to do. 

One man shifts on his feet, his hand moving toward his holster.

John takes notice. “Now, I don’t want any trouble,” he says, putting his hands up. “If you boys are smart, you’ll walk away.”

“Is that so?” the man who spoke first - likely the leader - asks. “Funny. Last I heard, Big Bad John doesn’t walk away from no fight.”

Before John can respond, Dollie slams her hand down on the table with a loud thud. The men look at her. 

She shakes her finger at the leader. “That’s enough,” she says. “I don’t care what unfinished business y’all think you got, but it ain’t gettin’ settled under my roof.”

“This ain’t your fight, lady,” the leader sneers.

“It sure is when it’s happening in my saloon,” Dollie retorts. “Now, unless you boys are lookin’ for a drink, I suggest you run along.”

The man who had been reaching for his gun scoffs. “You think you can just send us packin’?” he asks.

“I don’t think,” Dollie says. “I know. This is my saloon. You start trouble, I promise you won’t like how it ends.”

The leader scoffs and juts his chin toward the door. “Let’s go,” he says. “But this ain’t over.”

“It is for now,” Dollie says.

The men make their way toward the door, glaring at Dollie as they do so. She watches them leave and listens as the sounds of their heavy boots get quieter and quieter. 

After a few moments, the saloon goes back to its normal hum of conversation. 

Dollie turns back to John who has returned to his seat at the bar. “You sure do know how to attract trouble,” she says.

John smirks, taking a sip of his whiskey. “Not my fault folks don’t know when to let things go.”

She rolls her eyes. “Next time, don’t bring it into my saloon.”

Later that night, Dollie and John stand on Dollie’s balcony, sharing a cigarette. The cool night air feels good on her face and she can just barely see John in the moonlight.

They sit quietly for awhile, just taking turns with the cigarette.

“So, Dollie,” John starts. “How’d you get to own the saloon?”

“Grandpa owned it before me,” she says. “I practically grew up in the saloon. Mom died when I was quite young and dad didn’t know what else to do with me while he was working, so he’d dump me here durin’ the day. Grandpa taught me how to tend the bar when I was about eleven. He taught me everything I know. After he passed, I inherited the saloon. Been runnin’ it by myself ever since.”

“Sorry about your grandfather,” John says.

“Don’t be,” Dollie says, taking a drag of the cigarette before handing it to John. “It happened a while ago.”

The two are quiet for a moment, taking in the night breeze.

“What does your dad do?” John asks, breaking the silence.

Dollie chuckles a bit. “He’s the sheriff, actually.”

She looks over at John - even in the dark, she can see his eyes go wide. 

“He doesn’t know you’re here,” Dollie says. “My dad and I… we ain’t on the best of terms. He don’t approve of me runnin’ the saloon. In fact, he wanted to sell it after grandpa died, but legally, it’s mine. Now, Dad’s set on marrying me off to some guy and convincing him to sell the saloon. But he ain’t found anyone to marry me yet.”

John nods, not adding anything.

“How’d you get into the cowboy life?” Dollie asks.

John exhales, watching the smoke swirl into the night air. “Didn’t have much of a choice. My old man worked cattle. Taught me how to ride and shoot. Figured out real quick that life ain’t always fair. You either get tough or get left behind.”

Dollie studies what she can see of him for a moment, seeing something deeper in his words. “That why you left? To find something better?”

John smiles softly. “Something like that.”

Dollie leans on the railing, very aware of the way John’s side presses against hers. “You ever think of leavin’ the cowboy life behind?” she asks.

John turns his head, his gaze meeting hers in the moonlight. “Some days,” he says.

Neither of them says anything for a moment. The air feels heavier, charged with something neither of them are quite ready to name. 

Without thinking, Dollie shifts closer. John hesitates for only a second and leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips. The kiss is slow and tentative, almost like they’re feeling this out, trying to figure out what the other is thinking.

When they pull apart, John chuckles. “I didn’t see that comin’,” he says.

“Me neither,” Dollie says, smirking. But she definitely doesn’t regret it.

Previous Part - Next Part

Really liked the cowboy au!!

AAHHH TYSM!!!

I finally finished the first part of my cowboy!schlatt fic. Rejoice. 🙏

Big Bad John [Part 1] - The Devil Went Down to Georgia

Summary: Cowboy!Schlatt x original character.  A/N: Brain worms got me. 😔✊ Divider: elleisdesigning

In the old town of Ghostridge, Georgia, nothing ever really happened for someone like Dollie Sheppard. She ran the town's saloon after her grandfather died. Most of her days were spent pouring drinks and dealing with the occasional rowdy drunkard. Folks passed through her saloon all the time telling stories about outlaws, shootouts, and menacing figures that haunted the West like ghosts. But in the quiet town of Ghostridge, Dollie didn’t witness any of that herself.

There was one outlaw in particular that Dollie heard the name of a lot: Jonathan Schlatt. Most folks called him “Big Bad John.” He was the kind of legend that made men shiver and women clutch their children a little tighter.

They say he comes into town dressed in all black, his gun visible at his side. Some even claim he’s killed several people, but no one ever says the same number - it’s always either two, five, or even thirty.

Dollie doesn’t believe in fairytales, and sure as hell doesn’t believ in ghost stories. Hell, she’s not sure “Big Bad John” even exists. Folks come into her saloon spouting phony make-believe over a glass of whiskey all the time. 

That was, until he walked right into her saloon saloon.

One moment, she’s standing behind the bar, polishing glasses while making small talk with Ol’ Charlie. The next, the doors to her saloon fly open and a man scrambles in, his eyes wide and full of terror.

“It’s him! It’s Big Bad John!” the man shouts.

Panic spread through the saloon like wildfire. Chairs scrape against floor as men try to hide under tables. A few darted for the exit, practically tripping over themselves in their haste. The only ones who didn’t move are Dollie and Charlie.

Dollie scoffed, arms crossed over her chest. “Y’all really believe that nonsense?” she asks. 

No one said a word. 

Then, she heard it. Heavy boots against the wooden planks of the saloon floor. Slow. Deliberate. The kind of footsteps that belonged to a man who wasn’t in a rush, because he didn’t need to be.

Dollie lifted her gaze as the man entered her saloon.

He was tall, at least a foot taller than her, and built like a man who’d spent his years taming the land rather than letting it tame him. Dressed in dark jeans, a belt with a large silver buckle, and a maroon button-up beneath a black vest, he carried himself with the kind of ease that only came with experience. A long black leather coat hung from his shoulders, dust clinging to the edges like he’d ridden through hell and back to get here. A black cowboy hat cast a shadow over his face, but when he stepped fully into the light, Dollie caught sight of sharp brown eyes and neatly trimmed mutton chops.

Something about his demeanor makes Dollie freeze for a moment.  Was this actually Big Bad John? He looked dangerous. But not in the way people had described. He wasn’t the monster they had painted in their stories—he was something else entirely.

She stood behind the bar, watching him closely as he makes his way to the bar and sits down. He reaches for his hat, taking it off and setting it on the counter. 

“What can I get for ya?” Dollie asks.

The man looks up at Dollie. She feels captivated by his good looks.

“Whiskey, neat,” he says.

“Coming right up,” she says, reaching for a glass and pouring the man a whiskey. She slides the glass across the counter to him. “There you are. Enjoy.” She smiles at him.

Dollie goes back to polishing glasses and speaking to Charlie. Slowly, the other saloon patrons go back to whatever they were doing before this mysterious cowboy entered the saloon.

“Can I get another?” The cowboy asks. 

Dollie pours him another. “So, cowboy, where ya from?” she asks. 

“All over,” he says. 

Dollie nods, not pressing. “And your name?” she asks. 

“That a habit of yours? Getting to know every man who walks through that door?” 

Dollie looks him in the eye. “Just want to get to know who’s sitting in my saloon,” she says. 

“Your saloon?” he asks. “You run this place?”

“Indeed, I do,” she says. “Now, are you going to tell me your name or what?”

He takes a long sip of his whiskey. “Jonathan Schlatt,” he says. “But most call me John.”

“Like Big Bad John?” Charlie pipes up.

John chuckles. “Yes, like Big Bad John - if that's what they're calling me,” he says. 

“Well, welcome to my saloon,” Dollie says. “If you don’t mind me saying, you don’t seem so big and bad to me.”

John chuckles. “Is that so?”

“If I believed all the stories, I’d be shaking in my boots right now,” Dollie says. “But you’re just another man looking for a drink, huh?”

John lets out a low chuckle. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just waiting for the right time to prove ‘em right.”

Dollie doesn’t flinch. “If you were going to prove ‘em right, I figured you would’ve done it by now.”

John smiles. “Smart lady.”

Charlie let out a laugh. “I like this one, Dollie. Seems like he’s got some sense.”

John tipped his glass toward the man. “I try.”

Dollie leaned forward, placing her elbows on the bar. “So, tell me, John. How does a man get a reputation like yours?”

John exhales. “People like to talk. Sometime’s a story is better than the truth.”

She considers this. “I get that,” she says.

The the three of them - Dollie, John, and Charlie - talk until Dollie closes the saloon. Charlie eventually heads out, but John stays.

“So, where can a man get a place to sleep around here?” he asks.

“Well, there is an inn down the road, but they may not let you in. Not too many folks like ‘Big Bad John’ around here,” she chuckles.

John chuckles as well. “I guess that’s true.”

The two are quiet for a moment before Dollie gets an idea.

“You know,” she says. “You could stay here. I live above the saloon. There’s a spare room.”

“That would be nice,” John says. 

“Alright, follow me, then,” Dollie says before leading John upstairs.