Real Good Man - Daryl Dixon
This is almost certainly going to turn into a series of fics based on Tim McGraw/Faith Hill songs so if you have a request hit me with it.
I try to leave my readers non-specific so if I add details please let me know and I’ll endeavor to fix it.
Daryl Dixon x Reader
Girl you’ve never known no one like me
Up there in your high society
You’ve never felt so free. That silver spoon you had been born with had started to feel more like silver shackles. Your parents told you how to dress, how to act, who to be friends with, what to study. When they started discussing who you were going to marry, when they started leaning towards that asshole who didn’t know when enough was enough, when they started blatantly disregarding your concerns; that’s when you decided you’d had enough. That luxury car they’d insisted on putting in your name, you sold it, bought a beat up truck, saved the rest, headed out of the city. The politics of Atlanta weren’t what you wanted for your life. You ended up in some tiny town in a run down motel. You went to a dive bar the first night there and no one recognized you, yea, freedom. It’s late in the night when you notice him. Scruffy, leather clad, the long neck bottle dangling from his fingers like second nature; he’s standing by the pool tables, at ease in this environment. You’ve never seen anyone like him, not in your white collar life.
They might tell you I’m no good
The bartender notices your lingering stare and gives a little tsk, “I’d watch yourself with that one honey, nothing but trouble” It’s easy to buy, he looks the epitome of bad boy, but you’d already decided that no one else gets to make decisions for you anymore. You give the bartender a sideways smile as you trade your drink for some cash. “Keep the tip.” There’s a double meaning there, you’re not open to advice tonight. Your legs eat up the distance to those pool tables. He sees you coming and a lazy smirk starts to spread.
Girl they need to understand
Just who I am
His eyes rove over you, blatant in a way you’re not used to, and it sends a shiver down your spine. You’re not sure how you want to play this, but you find that you’re willing to let yourself go with the flow on this one. It seems like a cliche, the way you ask him to teach you how to play, but you’re not well versed in this kind of thing. When he lifts that bottle to his lips before answering, you wonder why it took you so long to tear yourself out of your stifling life. “Sure thing, angel.” His voice is rough, gravely, so far from polished and refined that it makes your head spin. You could listen to that voice all night, and you fully intend to. You get another round from the bar as he wraps up his current game.
I may be a real bad boy
But baby I’m a real good man
The leather vest and cut off sleeves of his flannel leave tanned, corded arms out to see and you freely admire them. He’s not the soft kind of in shape of the high class men your parents have always shoved your way. He’s sun hardened and kind of beautiful. He racks the balls after sending his previous opponent on his way. When he eyes you from across the table and crooks his finger towards you, your heart races a little faster and you slide down from your stool, moving to step in front of where he’s leaning back against the edge of the pool table. He laces his fingers together around the pool cue as his tongue slides across his bottom lip and the left corner of his mouth hitches up. He tells you you can break and shows you how to set up your hand to rest the cue on. As the game progresses you order a few more rounds and settle into a comfortable banter. When it’s clear you have zero natural ability, he takes the opportunity presented to him. A man that doesn’t shy away from touching you because of what the people in your social circles might think, what a relief. You can feel the calluses on his hands when they glide down your arms to adjust your grip. He’s sure but gentle in the way he handles you. He exudes bad boy in a way that only a real man can.
I may drink too much and play too loud
Hang out with a rough and rowdy crowd
It turns into more than one night. You start hanging around him whenever he has time for you. You always have free time, nothing for you to do in this tiny town, not with your limited life experience. He’s helping with that, teaching you practical skills when you see him during the day. At night, he’s teaching you how to live. It’s a lot more pool games where you get comfortable in his space. Then, when he finally lets you on the back of that bike, it’s a whole new experience. His friends are rowdy and they play their rock and roll loud enough that the neighbors would be bothered if they lived somewhere like you used to.
That don’t mean I don’t respect
My mama or my Uncle Sam
When he takes you to dinner, he’s never short with the wait staff, he doesn’t consider himself above them. They’re all blue collar here. He takes you to meet his mom, you take lillies to put on her head stone. He knows she suffered at the hands of his father just as much as her children did. He doesn’t blame her.
Yes sir, yes ma’am
You realize he’s not just a moment of rebellion for you when he jogs across the parking lot to help an elderly lady with her grocery bags.
I may be a real bad boy
But baby I’m a real good man
In his faded jeans, frayed flannels, scuffed boots and supple leather; he’s more of a man than any doctor or lawyer you’ve ever had thrown your way.
I might have a reckless streak
At least a country mile wide
It’s three months later when you’re dabbing peroxide onto a split in his eyebrow. A fist fight with someone big enough to pose a threat. “He doesn’t get to question your worth angel, not while I’m around”. It takes a while before he stops getting in reckless fights over your honor. He starts thinking them through better.
If you’re gonna run with me
It’s gonna be a wild ride
It’s never boring with him, never stifling. He’s always teaching you new things. You start discovering who you are out of the control of your family. It doesn’t take long to discover that you like people and a mellow atmosphere. You end up with a job at the bar from your first night, but you don’t work too often, you don’t need to and you’d rather spend time with Daryl.
When it comes to lovin’ you
I’ve got velvet hands
When you both settle into the relationship more you realize he’s a very tactile person, which really shouldn’t be surprising. You had noticed right away that he was good with his hands; that he used them often. When you’re in public the touches are less noticeable, maybe a held hand here or there, usually just a light touch to the small of your back saying he’s there. When you’re playing pool it gets playful, you both like to throw each other off your game. As the night passes the touches linger a little longer, grab a little harder. When you start getting sassy, his fingers start catching in belt loops and reeling you in. When you’re alone he can’t keep them to himself. You don’t mind.
I’ll show you how a real bad boy
Can be a real good man
He’s a good man, the best, and before you know it you’ve fallen head over feet. He catches you and you fall together.
I’ll take all the good times I can get
I’m too young for growin’ up just yet
When you talk about where you want life to take you, you’re both unsure. You’re still testing your freedom and he never expected anything like you to happen to him. The both of you are reveling in the way things are. Neither of you want anything to change, not right now.
Ain’t much I can promise you
Except to do the best I can
At first he’s concerned you don’t understand what you’re signing yourself up for. He holds on to the misinformed belief that you miss the high society. He’s convinced you’ll get tired of him. You won’t and when you finally convince him of that truth all he has to say is, “I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure I deserve you.”
I’ll be damned
You smile and shake your head because it’s not necessary and someday you’ll prove it to him. How good of a man he is.
I may be a real bad boy
But baby I’m a real good man
I may be a real bad boy…
...but baby I’m a real good man
