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RHIANNON

NEGAN was very competitive.

Which Rhiannon thought was incredibly cute. Because a grown man playing video games next to her, cussing out teenagers and ordering her around to play correctly only made her laugh.

His smile in response was so infectious.

"Come onnnn, darlin," he groaned when she died again. "Baby, you gotta aim before you shoot."

"It's not my fault," she pouted a bit in frustration, looking down at the controls. "I wasn't allowed to play video games growing up."

"What?" His gaze snapped to her for a moment. "Fuck you grow up, a church?"

"My dad was really strict," she shrugged a bit. "Religious type."

Negan snorted. "Ain't your last name Church?" He asked. "That's a bit on the fucking nose."

Rhiannon shrugged. "I guess so," she replied quietly, thinking about her childhood, her father.

Negan softened a bit, pausing the game. The music circled between them, filling the silence with an upbeat tone that didn't match her expression.

"Rhia," he started softly. "You alright?"

"Yeah," Rhiannon nodded, tracing the triangle button on the controller distantly. She could feel his eyes on her but she didn't look at him. Didn't want to think about it. "I'm fine."

Negan was quiet for a moment, watching her. He shifted on the sofa, turning to face her. "Rhia," he reached out, tilting her chin up to look at him. "You ain't gotta talk about it, but I'm here if you want to."

Rhiannon met his eyes anxiously, reaching a hand to his and gently stroking his wrist with her fingers.

"My dad sent me away," she confessed softly. "My family's kind of a mess."

"Whose isn't?" He replied quietly, his hand shifting to cup her face. "Darlin, you ain't your father," he assured her. "Whatever he did. You're not your parents."

Rhiannon nodded, leaning into his hand for comfort. It was larger than her face, cupping her softly; his actions the antithesis for everything his body should be.

A large, brute man with a charming personality and dark eyes should be a red flag. He should terrify a small, young woman like her.

But he didn't.

Negan was gentle and kind and humorous. Flirtatious, yes, but he was gentle.

"Thank you," she whispered before continuing a bit more steady. "I...I didn't want to ruin the mood with that. It just — it came outta nowhere. Sometimes I feel fine about it, sometimes it's like this—this wave and it just hurts and—"

"—Shh," he calmed her softly. "Don't stress about it, baby. You're allowed to feel that pain, but don't let it become you."

"I'm sorry," she whimpered. He reached his other hand up, cupping her face entirely.

"Sweetheart, don't worry about a thing," he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her head. "I got you now."

Tears filled Rhiannon's eyes for a reason she couldn't name. A sense of belonging settled in her, the warmth spreading through her bones and settling in her chest. She leaned against him and his fingers gently ran through her hair, pulling her closer.

Nuzzling against his chest, the feeling of safety consumed her and tears fell from her eyes.

"I got you," he assured her softly as she moved closer, wrapping her arms around him and clinging to him. "I got you, baby. Ain't goin' nowhere."

Rhiannon believed him.

—

NEGAN

Rhiannon was avoiding him.

He fucking hated that.

He felt bad, too. His poor baby was crying in his arms for nearly an hour about her home life but hadn't told him why she was crying.

It broke his heart to hold her gently, cradle her head against him and hear her sobs, feel her pain as his own.

And whoever fucking hurt her was going to get beaten the fuck up, because who hurts a pretty baby like that?

Fuck, no.

A knock on the door startled him from the video game he was playing and he paused, muting it and standing, walking to answer.

There she was in all her beautiful, effortless glory. Hair down in wild curls, a thin crop top to beat the summer's approaching heat, jeans that flared out at the end.

Rhiannon Church was a vision, and he never wanted to stop fucking seeing her.

"Hey, darlin'," he greeted, leaning against the door, a smirk toying at his lips. "What brings you to my house?"

"Um—"

"—I do," Lucille's voice sounded behind him and she walked up, standing next to Negan. "Rhiannon and I are going out."

"Oh?" Negan asked, glancing to his wife with narrowed eyes, trying to ignore the jealousy threatening him. "What're you ladies up to?"

"Dinner," Rhiannon squeaked out. "I — Lucy said—"

"Lucy?" Negan asked in the same low voice, his eyes not leaving Lucille's.

This was how she was playing it?

No one called her Lucy. Negan occasionally did as a joke, but Lucille hated it. Said it was too simple, and she was nothing if not the opposite of that.

Lucille's small, victorious twitch of her lips told him everything he needed to fucking know.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He was so fucking far behind.

Lucille was going to win and he'd never fuck this treasure of a woman like he fucking deserved to.

Fuck.

"Um, y-yeah," Rhiannon nodded, watching the pair in confusion. "I — maybe you can come too, though?" She asked, eyes drifting to Lucille for confirmation.

Both Lucille and Negan's heads turned to look at Rhiannon at her words.

"I don't think Negan—"

"—Baby, I'd be fucking honored."

Rhiannon's eyes widened at the endearment and her eyes shifted back to Lucille, who only seemed to scowl for a moment before smiling again.

"Fine," Lucille nodded. "Let me grab my bag. Negan, maybe change your shirt," she snapped to her husband. "Rhiannon, honey, come in and have a seat. We'll just be a minute."

Lucille opened the door and tugged Negan away from the doorframe, sending him a small glare before storming back upstairs. Negan smirked to himself, tongue darting between his lips as his gaze fell to Rhiannon's perfect little ass as she walked past him.

He took off his shirt.

Lucille wanted to fucking play — he could fucking play.

Rhiannon's eyes widened and a small gasp left her. He tossed the shirt aside and watched as her eyes flickered to his chest and then quickly away, looking around the room.

"Sorry, darlin," he purred, taking a step closer and standing behind her. Resting his hands on her perfect little waist, he breathed out, "My wife asked me to change clothes. I'm so used to doin' it, I'd forgotten you were here. Don't mind, d'ya, baby?"

Rhiannon let out a breath, trying to keep steady. He could feel her skin under his palms, so soft and perfect just under the crop top. He could fuck her now. He really could. He could win the game while Lucille was pouting upstairs.

He knew she'd go for it.

She wanted him so badly, he could fucking see it.

But, fuck, breathing in her shampoo, the floral and coconut scent wafting through his nose, he knew he couldn't.

Rhiannon was fucking perfect, he knew that.

But, fuck, she was his baby. He wasn't going to fuck her like this, against a wall, while she was sweet and perfect. She deserved to be fucking cared for and looked after and —

Fucking fuck.

Where the fuck were those thoughts coming from?

Negan pulled away, clearing his throat. He paused for only a moment before rushing upstairs, leaving Rhiannon alone.

Should he tell Lucille? Bets were off? He was fucking getting feelings for her? He hardly knew her, right? It was probably just pre-game —

"Holy fuck," Negan looked over Lucille's sundress, her hair in soft waves down her shoulders, eyeliner all fucking prettied up.

She never fucking looked like that for him anymore. They'd developed monotony and routine, a still-mate in their marriage full of tv dinners and silent conversations.

Lucille Smith was fucking beautiful.

He always knew that, it's the first thing that fucking drew her to him, but fuck, she was perfect.

And she was going out with that pretty little girl downstairs.

His heart twisted.

That sealed it. He'd push the feeling aside, keep fucking playing because the excitement in Lucille's eyes was something he hadn't seen in fucking months, years even.

"You look..."

"Oh, please," Lucille rolled her eyes. "It's just a dress, baby, come on," she grabbed a shirt and pressed it against his chest. "Get changed, or I'll leave you here."

"Yes, ma'am," Negan muttered, gaze drifting after Lucille as she walked past him.

That woman deserved to feel fucking perfect and if dressing up for Rhiannon did it for her, then by all fucking means, he would keep this shit going as long as possible.

And he'd get to fuck Rhiannon too.

If he played his cards right.

Hopefully.

—

RHIANNON

Dinner was far easier than Rhiannon thought it would be.

She wasn't entirely sure why the pair were both seemingly putting the moves on her — at least Negan definitely was, she couldn't be absolutely sure with Lucille — but none of it was brought up at the restaurant.

They talked about everything that came to mind. Negan ordered Rhiannon a fruity little drink, charmed the waitress into letting her have it, even if Rhiannon wasn't twenty-one, and she cringed taking a sip of his beer.

Lucille had a glass of red, which for anyone else might seem presumptuous, but for Lucille, it sort of worked.

"What about you?" Negan asked Rhiannon. "What's your future lookin' like, baby?"

Every time the endearment slipped from his mouth, Rhiannon would look to Lucille, who appeared not to even notice it.

The entire situation confused her.

"Um," Rhiannon cleared her throat, buttering another roll as she mulled over the question. "I kind of love kids. I'm in education right now, I — I want to teach."

"Shit," Negan swore, shaking his head, an awed smile on his face, dimples in full view. Rhiannon's heart skipped a beat. "Just like me, baby."

"Negan hates teaching," Lucille smiled over her wine. "He loves coaching but the actual teaching of kids, he's terrible. Has very little patience."

Negan snorted at her blunt words. "I'm not the worst, angel, I'm good about it. I can — I can be a great fucking teacher. I love kids."

"Yeah, if they listen to you," Lucille rolled her eyes. "Rhiannon, honey, I think you'll be a great teacher. They're always understaffed at Negan's school, maybe you'll end up teaching there."

Rhiannon's eyes brightened at the idea. "That — I mean, thank you, and, yeah, that would be totally cool if I could. I think I'd want to teach high school anyway. It's the most competent age."

Negan scoffed. "Ain't sure that's the word I'd use, sweetheart."

Rhiannon and Lucille laughed at his words. "I only mean that in the education sense. I want to teach math."

"Math?" Negan and Lucille said together, exchanged a look, then looked to Rhiannon like she'd grown two heads.

"Yeah, numbers...make sense to me."

"No fucking way," Negan chuckled, shaking his head. He let out another laugh the more he thought about it, head falling back. "What the fuck?" He asked. "Math? Who the fuck wakes up and thinks, 'yeah, I love the square root of fucking pi so much, I'm gonna fucking teach it', baby," he looked at her again. "You are something else."

"What?" Rhiannon asked shyly, sinking in her chair a bit.

"Oh, honey," Lucille cooed, laughing despite her words. "Baby, we just think it's cute is all."

Rhiannon's nose crinkled up and she covered her face. "Shut up," she muttered behind her hands.

She wasn't sure how to feel about them ganging up on her — and then making it better together. It made her stomach all fluttery and her mind wander.

To very inappropriate thoughts about both of them.

Which could be very dangerous territory.

"No, baby," Negan reached over and moved a hand from her face, taking his hand in hers. Rhiannon's eyes widened because what in the hell was he doing in front of his wife, but he just brushed his thumb along her palm, meeting her eyes. "Don't hide that pretty face, sweetheart. You like teaching math, you go right a-fucking-head."

"What he said," Lucille nodded, eyes drifting to Rhiannon and Negan's hands, then met Rhiannon's gaze again. "I'm assuming you'll go back to school then?"

"Yeah," Rhiannon nodded. "I have my last class next week and then in the fall I'll be finishing. I took off a bit of time because of my gran's death, but I'll be here all summer."

"All summer?" Lucille raised an eyebrow, eyes shifting to meet Negan's, and he met hers with a small smirk.

What was that about?

Rhiannon tried to pull her hand back, but Negan kept it there, soft, yet firm, and she felt goosebumps trail up her arm with every touch.

"Y-yeah," she replied to Lucille's question breathlessly. "Hopefully, you don't get sick of me."

"Rhiannon Church," Negan met her eyes. "I think that's fucking impossible."

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rahhhh okay new update it's cute i love them i'm so sad for their future and ugh anyways hope you guys enjoyedddd!!