Started Writing It Today. 🫡 I Have About 3-4 Parts Planned And There's Just So Much Angst Omg.

I just finished a particularly long Schlatt fic on ao3. 18 chapters. 35k words.

midnight. you come and pick me up no headlights.

Summary: Nora Parker is a content creator who makes cooking videos. She meets Schlatt at a party, and he pisses her off. He agrees to do a cooking stream with her to make up for it.

Just hit 20 followers today. 😜 thanks guys

Thinking about cowboy!schlatt. May need to let the brain worms take over and write it.

Started watching daredevil…now THAT is a man who knows how to moan

bring back tumblr ask culture let me. bother you with questions and statements

Might fuck around and write some hobama fanfic idk guys

Almost, Maybe [Part 2]

1,759 words 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.  This part isn't necessarily NSFW but contains some dirty thoughts. Read at your own discretion.  A/N: I love this series so much so far. Thank you all for your support! Part 1 - Part 3

Divider: dialilimoon

The sun is out and high in the sky, its heat pouring down on you. Gabe drives the speedboat fast enough that little droplets are coming off the sides and hitting your skin, but it's not enough to cool you down. 

Gabe slows down the boat and comes to a stop at a bay at the edge of the lake. “Alright, everyone get in the water willingly or I'm pushing you in,” he says. 

You look over at Robin. “Wanna jump in with me?” you ask. 

She nods. “Of course.”

The two of you make your way to the end of the boat and jump in the water. 

The water is cold, but refreshing. You swim away from the boat a bit. Robin follows you. 

You float of your back, letting the water cradle you as the sun beams down on you.

Robin splashes water in your direction, you sputter, laughing as you retaliate. 

You hear Maggie yelp, looking over to see Gabe has pushed her into the lake, jumping in himself. 

“You’re an ass!” Maggie shouts as she surfaces. 

“Jay, you better get in too or you’ll end up like Maggie here,” Gabe says.

Jay stands at the end of the boat, hesitating. 

“Come on, Jay!” Robin says. “Don’t be a wimp.”

He grins. “I’m just thinking about my approach.”

Jay backs up to get a running start and cannonballs right beside you. The impact sends a huge wave of water over you, momentarily submerging you. 

When you resurface, he's already laughing. “Worth it.”

“You suck,” you say, chuckling a bit as you splash him in the face. 

He coughs, sputters, and splashes you back. The two of you dissolve into laughter, water flying everywhere. 

Suddenly, he grabs your wrist. His touch sends shockwaves through your body. “Truce?” he asks, dropping your wrist just as fast as he grabbed it. 

You smile. “Truce.”

Gabe climbs back into the boat and claps his hands together. “Alright,” he says. “Who's up for a game of chicken?”

Robin whoops. “Let's do it!”

“Okay, teams of two,” Gabe says. “Robin, why don't you go with Maggie. Then, Jay and Y/N can be partners. I'll be the ref.”

You look over at Jay. “Guess I'm stuck with you, huh?” he says. 

Your cheeks burn as you swim toward him, hoping he doesn't notice. “Guess so.”

Jay kneels down slightly and gestures for you to climb onto his shoulders. You hesitate for a second before placing your hands on his wet skin and hoisting yourself up onto his shoulders. 

His hands grip your thighs to steady you and your entire body goes rigid. This was a bad idea. 

Robin and Maggie prepare for battle while you try not to think about how close Jay’s hands are. How natural it feels. How you wish they were exploring your entire body, not just your thighs. 

“Alright,” Gabe shouts. “Ready, set - go!”

Robin lunges toward you, trying to push you off Jay’s shoulders. You try to fight back, gripping onto Robin’s arms. 

Jay’s grip tightens around your legs, keeping you steady. He’s stronger than you expected. 

At some point, you almost fall, but he adjusts quickly, holding you tighter. 

“Hold on to me,” he murmurs. 

Your breath catches, but you do as he says, your hands tangling in his hair for balance. 

After a few minutes of back and forth, Robin wins the round and sends you toppling backward into the water with a laugh. You break the surface, gasping for air.

“I think you let her win,” Jay teases, running a hand through his wet hair. 

You roll your eyes. “Excuse me, I fought for my life.”

He laughs, but his eyes linger on you for just a second too long. 

“We should probably head back to the house,” Gabe says. 

You and the others scramble back onto the boat. You grab a towel and dry off before sitting down. Jay does the same and sits down next to you, his thigh gently brushing yours. 

Gabe starts the boat and speeds away from the bay. 

Later that night, Drew finally arrives, pulling up in his car just before dinner. He doesn’t look like he wants to be here, but your mother, Susan, and Julie run out to greet and hug him anyway. 

“Drew!” Maggie says excitedly, running up to hug him, while you approach more cautiously.

“You actually showed up,” you say, crossing your arms.

He smirks. “Don’t sound too surprised. Mom guilt-tripped me into it.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re glad he’s here. 

After dinner, the parents decide to go to a bar and you and the other kids start a bonfire. You grab blankets and marshmallows, settling into a circle around the crackling fire. The night air is cool, but the flames keep you warm.

Gabe stokes the fire, sending sparks up into the night sky. “Anyone want to play truth or dare?” he asks.

“Hell yes!” Robin says. 

“Alright, I’ll start. Robin - truth or dare?” Gabe asks.

“Dare.”

“I dare you to shotgun this beer,” Gabe says, tossing Robin a beer from the cooler. 

Robin catches it and pulls out a pocket knife. “Challenge accepted,” she says as she cuts a hole in the side of the can and puts it to her mouth. You and the others cheer her on as she chugs the beer. 

When she finishes, she does a small bow and throws the can into the trash before sitting down. 

“Alright,” Robin starts. “Maggie. Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Maggie says. 

“I dare you to… run across the dock barefoot.”

Maggie takes off her shoes and socks. “That’s easy,” she says as she runs toward the dock. 

The game moves on, each person getting their turn. Drew is dared to jump in the lake fully clothed, Jay has to tell an embarrassing childhood story, and Gabe is dared to prank call his ex-girlfriend. 

Finally, it lands on you. 

“Y/N, truth or dare?” Gabe asks. 

“Truth,” you say. You don’t want to do some crazy shit and potentially get hurt. Telling an embarrassing story is better in your opinion. 

Robin whispers something in Gabe’s ear and smirks. Gabe gives her a confused look. “Okay, who was your first crush?”

Your stomach drops.

You glance at Jay instinctively while Robin watches you like a hawk. Your heart pounds. Do you lie? Do you brush it off?

Before you can answer, Drew speaks up. “Oh, that’s easy,” he says. “It was Jay.”

The entire group falls silent. 

All eyes turn to you. Your face burns. Jay looks stunned, his mouth falls open as if he’s about to say something but stops himself. 

“Drew, shut up,” you say through gritted teeth. 

“What?” he says. “It’s true. You used to follow him around like a lost puppy when we were kids.”

Maggie chokes on her drink and Robin looks like she’s going to explode from excitement. 

Jay clears his throat. “I - uh - I didn’t know that.”

You want to crawl into the ground and disappear. Or, better yet, throw yourself into the fire. Anything to get out of this awkward situation. 

Robin leans forward. “But what about now?” she asks. “Still got a thing for him?”

“Okay!” You stand up abruptly. “I think I’m done with this game.”

Robin is dying of laughter, and even Maggie looks amused. Drew looks pleased with himself, while Jay is unreadable. 

You turn on your heel and start walking back toward the house.

As the night goes on, the others slowly trickle back into the house. A storm quickly rolls in, causing the last few to come running back.

You spend most of the night playing board games and watching movies, but you can’t shake the awkwardness with Jay.

You go out to the back porch, wanting to get some fresh air. You hear the door slide open behind you. You turn your head to see Jay. 

“Hey,” he says, leaning on the railing beside you.

“Hey,” you mumble, avoiding his gaze.

You fall silent, the only sounds coming from the rain falling on the ground. Jay sighs, rubbing the back of his neck like he does when he’s nervous.

“I - uh… didn’t mean to act weird earlier,” he says. “Drew caught me off guard.”

You scoff. “Yeah, he seems to have a talent for that.”

Jay exhales. “I just didn’t know that you felt that way.”

You tighten your grip on the railing. “Yeah well,” you say. “It was a long time ago.”

Jay doesn’t he respond right away. Instead, he turns to look at you. You can feel his gaze on you, watching, waiting.

“But what about now?” he asks.

Your breath catches. 

You knew this conversation was coming. From the moment Drew revealed your crush, it was inevitable. But now that you're standing here, with Jay looking at you like he actually wants an answer, like maybe he’s been thinking about this too, you don’t know what to say.

“I don’t know,” you mumble, though it’s a blatent lie.

Jay exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look… I get it. This is weird now. But I just - I need to know if you still feel that way.”

Everything inside you goes still.

The air shifts between you, heavy with something unspoken. The only sound is the rain, steady against the roof, against the wooden deck.

You could lie. You could brush it off, laugh, make a joke.

Or you could be honest.

Your throat feels dry, but somehow, you find your voice. “Yeah,” you admit, barely above a whisper. “I do.”

Jay doesn’t react at first. He just stands there, watching you, as if processing what you just said.

Then, he steps closer.

“Okay,” he says, exhaling as if he’s been waiting for you to say that. “I think I feel the same way.”

Your stomach flips.

He lets out a nervous laugh. “Actually, no. That’s a lie. I do feel the same way.”

The world narrows to just him. Just this. 

“Jay,” you whisper. Your heart beats faster as you stare at him. 

He takes another step forward, but before either of you can say or do anything, the door slides open. Drew steps out, startling you and causing you to step away from Jay.

“Oh, shoot,” Drew says with a slight smirk. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No,” you say before moving past him and into the house, making your way to your room. You reach your room and shut the door behind you, staring into a nearby mirror. 

What the hell just happened?

Previous Part - Next Part

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

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

1,040 words Summary: Cowboy!Schlatt x original character. Dollie gets an unexpected guest in her saloon. A/N: Brain worms got me. 😔✊

[Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

Divider: elleisdesigning

“Nobody seemed to know where John called home

He just drifted into town and stayed all alone

He didn't say much, he kinda quiet and shy

And if you spoke at all, he just said, "Hi" to Big John"

“Big Bad John” by Jimmy Dean

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 believe 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.

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 the 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 were 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 made his way to the bar and sat 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. Sometimes a story is better than the truth.”

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

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.

Next Part

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.