Almost, Maybe [Part 2]

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! ❤️

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!

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.

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.

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 [Part 3]

902 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.  A/N: Last part. Part 1 - Part 2

Divider: dialilimoon

At breakfast the next morning, all you can think of is Jay. 

You feel like you’re stuck. The tension between you and Jay has been building up all summer and it’s getting unbearable. Every longing glance, every lingering touch leaves you wanting more.

And last night, Jay had said it. He admitted it. And then Drew had to come along and ruin it.

“So, what happened between you and Jay last night?” Robin asks as you sit down on your bed after breakfast. 

“Nothing,” you mutter.

She snorts. “Bullshit.”

“Wait, did something actually happen?” Maggie asks, sitting on her bed.

“Well, he - we - confessed our feelings for each other,” you say.

“And?” Robin asks.

“That’s it.”

“You didn’t kiss?” Maggie asks.

“No,” you sigh, laying back on your bed. “Drew interrupted us before anything could happen and then I kind of… ran away.”

“You ran away?” Robin asks. “No wonder he was acting so weird at breakfast.”

“You have to go talk to him,” Maggie says.

“Yeah I will,” you say. “Eventually.”

Later that day Gabe and Drew suggest a boat ride.

So, you put on a swimsuit, grab a towel, and make your way to the dock. 

Jay is already there, wearing a t-shirt and swim trunks, his hair messy from he wind. Your stomach flips. 

The boat ride starts normal - Maggie and Robin fighting over music, Gabe driving the boat too fast, and Drew leaning back in his seat with his sunglasses on looking unbothered.

Then, the boat stalls. 

“Shit,” Gabe mutters, fiddling with the motor. “We might be here for a bit.”

“Well,” Robin says, stretching, “guess we’ll have to swim to pass the time.”

One by one, everyone jumps into the lake - except you, Drew, and Jay.

You and Jay are sitting on opposite ends of the boat, avoiding each other.

It’s ridiculous. You know it. And apparently, so does Drew.

Because suddenly, he stands, stretches, and says, “Hey, Y/N, why don’t you and Jay go check the storage compartment for extra towels?”

You narrow your eyes. “Why?”

He smirks. You immediately don’t trust him.

“I don’t know. Just in case we’re stranded out here for a while.”

Jay exhales sharply but stands. “Fine,” he mutters.

You follow him below deck, where the small enclosed storage area is dimly lit.

Jay kneels, checking the compartment. You stand awkwardly beside him, arms crossed.

The silence is excruciating.

Finally, he sighs. “So, are we gonna talk about it?”

Your throat tightens. “About what?”

Jay gives you a look. “Really?”

You shift on your feet. “I mean… what’s there to say?”

Jay lets out a dry laugh, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, maybe the fact that I told you I liked you and then you just—ran off.”

You flinch. “I didn’t run off.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, maybe I did,” you admit. “But Drew totally ruined the moment.”

Jay sighs, leaning against the wall. “Yeah. He did.”

There’s a pause. Then, he looks at you - really looks at you. “But that doesn’t change how I feel.”

Your heart pounds. You open your mouth, but before you can say anything, the boat suddenly lurches.

You stumble forward. Jay catches you. His hands land on your waist. Your palms press against his chest.

Neither of you move. Your breath is shaky. His fingers tighten slightly. Everything feels too much. Too close.

And then - he leans in.

Your eyes flutter closed. His nose brushes yours. Your heart is beating so loud you’re sure he can hear it -

“We fixed the boat!” Robin’s voice cuts through the moment like a knife.

You jump apart. Jay curses under his breath, running a hand over his face.

“Right,” you say quickly, stepping back. “Let’s - uh, let’s go.”

You don’t miss the way Jay clenches his jaw, looking frustrated as hell. You don’t blame him.

Later that night, you go out to the dock to clear your had. It had been a crazy day and you needed a moment alone. 

You stand at the edge with your hands in your pocket.

After a quiet moment or two, you hear the dock creak behind you. You turn around to see Jay. 

He takes a deep breath and steps beside you. “Hey.”

You look over at him and smile. “Hey.”

You’re both quiet for a moment.

So you say it.

“I didn’t run because I don’t like you,” you admit, voice soft. “I ran because I do.”

Jay turns to face you.

Your pulse races, but you force yourself to hold his gaze. “I was scared,” you continue. “Because I like you so much, and I didn’t want to ruin—”

Jay cuts you off.

By kissing you.

It’s not hesitant this time. It’s urgent, desperate—like he’s making up for all the moments you almost had.

You grip his sweater, his hands find your waist. 

You melt into him, the taste of summer and longing being all you ever wanted.

When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours.

“I don’t care if summer’s ending in a few weeks,” he murmurs. “I just don’t want this to.”

You swallow hard. “Me neither.”

He smiles. “Good.”

You kiss him again, because you can.

Because this is yours now.

Maybe this summer was always meant to change everything.

Previous Part

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.

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. 😜

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

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.

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