Spirit Guide - Dallas Garrett x GN! Reader (Pt. 1)
The doctor and the judge hadnât sugar coated their words to me. I was the product of a traumatic childhood; parents murdered right in front of me by a gunslinger with a devilish gaze. Disturbed, they said. No good for society. I wanted to laugh at their diagnosis, I wasnât a threat to anyone but myself. That was all Iâd tell them. They didnât need to know anything about Dallas.
ââ
He started showing up when I returned to my childhood home, where my messy life began. I rode up on my horse, sighing with a heavy breath as my gaze fell apon the aged oak planks and broken steps that led to the door. In the dusty front yard were two head stones, and I felt a knot of emotion in my throat at the sight of them. I dismounted and trudged over to the familiar graves, kneeling before them with the care of an animal tamer. As I blinked away the moisture from my eyes, I felt a chill run up my back before I heard the click of a hammer.
âI donât take kindly to trespassinâ.â A low, gravely voice from behind me said. I gulped, turning my head to meet the aged eyes of a weathered man. His furry brow was set in a lethal scowl, his lips pulled into a frown of distrust and annoyance. I let my gaze scan his features, noticing the milky film on his right eye. His hair and scruffy chin were a matching dirty silver, giving me a quick estimate as to his age. I cleared my throat, slowing rising to my feet with my hands raised in surrender.
âI didnât mean any trouble, sirâŚitâs just that this place is my family home-â
âI ainât worried about that. Of course youâd come back here. I figured you would.â He cut me off, his voice taking on a blunt, matter-of-fact tone. âI ainât stupid, kid. I count two graves, I knew someone would come by to grieve eventually.â
ââŚOh. RightâŚâ I mumbled, a rush of heat flooding my face as I looked at the dusty ground, kicking up some red dirt with the heel of my boot.
âQuit thatâŚcâmon inside, you might as well.â Dallas urged gruffly over his shoulder as he headed for myâŚhis house. I nodded dumbly and followed him inside.
ââ
I didnât notice anything odd at first. An old man, retired outlaw apparently, had purchased my childhood home fair and square a few years back. I was touched, heâd kept everything maintained like I remembered. Granted, my memories of this place were faint and frankly not worth keeping so how could I have been so sure.
I brushed my hand against the wooden railing that connected to the stairs, which only creaked in certain places, and winced as I felt a thick layer of dust rub off onto my hand. I chose to ignore it, the man was partially blind, I didnât expect him to keep everything nice. And for a while thatâs all I noticed.
But then after a couple of weeks, I started coming by for different reasons. The more I visited Dallas, the less I cared about the past connected to his home and the more I cared about him. I didnât acknowledge my parentsâ headstones anymore, the swirling butterflies in my stomach kept my focus on the old man.
âYouâre starinâ. Do I look that bad?â He asked me one day, cigarette pinched between his teeth as he leaned against the fence to his horses. I shook my head, blushing softly as I let my vision drift away to the horizon. Dallas chuckled softly, the sound a gravely rumbling in his chest as he puffed a cloud of tobacco smoke through his nose.
Before I could react, I felt his hand wrap around my wrist and pull me closer to him. His breath fanned across my neck like a summer breeze.
âQuit beinâ so shy, darlinââŚâ
I shivered, brows furrowed. His touch was good, but his hand was cold. Ice cold. Too cold for out here. I gasped softly as I felt his cold lips press to my neck, his hand running up my side and nudging me back against him.
âA-Are youâŚ?â In my head,? I wanted to ask. Dead? Or a figment of my broken mind?
I groaned weakly as a cold hand dipped under my shirt and slid down the front of my pants,
He pressed his chilled lips to my ear, âIâm whatever you need me to be, honey.â
I pulled him closer, kissing him carefully as he began to tease me, eliciting purrs of arousal from my lips. I nudged him against the fence, eyes locked on his as I slid my hand down to his belt. A satisfied grunt escaped his throat as I returned the favor he was giving me. He spun me around and pressed my front against the old wooden posts, facing the house as I felt him grind against my behind. He was a few feet taller, his chin on my shoulder as he rocked his hips, grunting in my ear.
âYou wanna let mommy and daddy watch~?â He growled slowly, inferring to the mini graveyard that was within view. A question that should have disgusted me sent heat to my belly that surprised both of us. I whined softly, suddenly aching for that forbidden touchâŚ
ââ
When I came down from my orgasmic high, I felt the heavy chill on my back dissipate as the sun took over my skin. I sucked in a breath, feeling horrified as I turned around to see open air behind me. No Dallas, no touch, noâŚ
I felt the remaining ache of release between my thighs, and suddenly I wasnât sure myself. I trudged back into the empty house, sighing softly as I sat down by the mirror near one of the bedrooms.I tentatively reached out to brush the dust off, gasping at my reflection underneath. On my neck, near my jawline, was a bruising bite mark. I leaned in, awed as I traced the fresh wound. I couldnât have given that to myselfâŚ
In the corner of my eye I caught a mark within the dust, and when I finally saw what it was I nearly fainted. From fear or relief I wasnât sureâŚ.
Written in the dust, âCome visit me again soon, darlinâ.â
I couldâve sworn I felt a ghost of a kiss on my neck as I gawked at the message.
ââ
I wonât tell anyone whatâs been going on. Iâd get thrown in a room for sure. And maybe thatâs what I need. But as I stare down the barrel of my pistol at the trembling form of the man who killed my parents, I feel a cold sensation on my waist that moves to caress the hand gripping my gun. And I smirk.














