NEGAN

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SHE was too damn young for him. Too damn pretty. He knew Lucille caught him looking and he tried to hide it, really, but he couldn't help himself.

He wasn't a cheater, he loved his wife. Lucille was the prettiest fucking thing he'd ever seen and most days he couldn't get enough of her.

But, shit, that little piece of ass walked up with her hair pulled back in these cute little buns, hair flowing down at the ends, a little floral sundress and a smile brighter than the fucking sun...what the fuck was he supposed to do?

Say: get the fuck out, my wife's prone to jealousy and you're too hot for this world to handle?

That was simply impolite and Negan was nothing if not fucking polite.

"Hi there," she started brightly, holding out a tray of something he couldn't fucking name under the tin foil. Not that he fucking cared either. "It's nice to meet you, I just moved in next door. I baked some brownies and just thought, 'hey, maybe I should share' so this is me attempting to be neighborly."

God-fucking-damn, his heart melted at her hopeful expression. She reminded him of one of his students, but there was an air of confidence about her that kids that age lacked.

She was probably a few years older too, he'd wager. Owning a house and shit. Probably had rich parents. Shit, he could just eat a pretty little thing like that up.

Her expression began to shift and his eyes widened a fraction. Fucking hell, in all his gawking he'd forgotten to say hello.

"Hey there, darlin," he recovered smoothly, leaning against the door, ensuring the interior was covered. If he was gonna be sneaky he'd have to make sure she didn't see any of Lucille's shit.

God, was he really doing this? He and Lucille had been struggling lately, sure, but was this the best solution? It felt cruel, something inside nagging him not to.

But she'd never know and she was being damn fucking annoying lately with all her nagging.

One good fuck and he'd be right as fucking rain.

"I'm Negan," he introduced, tongue darting between his lips as his mouth pulled into a grin. "I'd love some fucking brownies. Got anything special in 'em?"

He meant pot. Lucille always made hers with pot. It was something he fucking loved about her.

Confusion brought her eyebrows together and her smile fell. "Uh...love?" She asked hopefully, trying to get the answer right.

Fuck. Fucking fuck. He couldn't think straight looking at her like that. She was so fucking innocent. He'd never been with anyone that innocent.

He observed her for a moment, waiting for her to get what the fuck he meant, but she just kept that innocent, cute look on her face.

He fucking liked that.

"Yeah," he nodded a bit, grin widening. A chuckle left his lips. Damn, she was cute. "That's what I meant. Listen, I, uh, I'd invite you in, but I got shit everywhere, and no lady like you deserves that."

He reached out, taking the small tray (it felt like pottery, did she fucking make her own pottery? Christ, she was fucking cute) and let his fingers graze over hers.

He watched as her breath hitched a fraction, chest raising only slightly, her perfect collarbone showing for a moment.

Negan bit back a soft little groan. He was down fucking bad. She was so fucking perfect. This little slice of heaven would fuck up his life but shit looking at her innocent, wide eyes, strong jaw and slender little body. So fucking small, so much smaller than him, he could lift her up and—

"Thank you, darlin," he added, holding the tray in one hand. "When did you move in?"

"Yesterday," she replied with a light shrug and a small smile. "My grandma owned it before she died, left it to me."

Ah, no trust fund then, he was wrong. He could remember that old lady.

She was a fucking cunt.

Always telling him and Lucille to quit fucking in their own damn car in their own damn driveway. Nosy ass bitch.

He didn't say that though.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he offered instead, and he did feel genuine sympathy for the little thing when her face grew a bit sad.

"It's okay," she shook off his words. "Oh!" She exclaimed, brightening. "I'm Rhiannon. Rhiannon Church, it's nice to meet you."

"Yes, it damn well is," he grinned, not able to stop the smooth words from slipping. Every second with her was a fucking test and Lucille better give him the best fucking head for passing it.

Shit, he wasn't a cheater but he'd fucking think about it with her.

Rhiannon's eyes widened and she cleared her throat, shifting a bit. She fucking liked him too, he could see it. A chuckle left his throat.

"See you around, sweetheart," he nodded to her, eyes looking her up and down slowly.

Rhiannon took a step back, smiling and then clearing her throat. She glanced down, shook her head — she was so fucking cute, blushing for him like that — before meeting his eyes again.

"I—yes. Yes, you will." She pointed finger guns at him and he let out a genuine laugh because what the fuck was that? Was this girl real? "See you, dawg," she laughed nervously and then her smile fell and she seemed surprised by her own words. She offered a tight wave and scurried off back to her house.

He watched her go, brownies in one hand, the doorknob gripped tightly in the other.

She was just as fucking perfect leaving.

—

RHIANNON

Lucille was the most attractive woman she'd ever met.

Eyes warm, yet surprisingly calculative, she offered Rhiannon a kind smile.

Rhiannon could see the stiffness behind it. She swallowed back her fear, hoping her newly founded crush on her neighbor's husband was hidden well behind every wall she'd ever built.

"I'm Lucille," she greeted, holding out a hand. "I heard we got a new neighbor. It's nice to meet you officially."

"R-Rhiannon," she cleared her throat, shaking Lucille's hand. "I — I like Rhi. Or Rhia. Or anything. Uh, a-anything's fine."

Lucille's smile grew a bit. "Rhiannon's pretty," she told the younger girl. "Too pretty to shorten. Did you bring the brownies last night?"

"I—yes," Rhiannon nodded, letting go of Lucille's hand.

She definitely noticed Lucille's fingers graze over hers, hooking for just a millisecond before dropping.

It made her heart race.

"They were delicious," she praised Rhiannon, whose smile widened. "You did very well."

"I — thanks," she let out a nervous laugh. "I'm pretty good at those. My mom loved baking, I remember a few recipes."

"Well, tell her thank you," Lucille continued easily.

"I will do that," Rhiannon nodded, clearing her throat. Her fingers tapped against her leg anxiously. "At the graveyard. She's dead. Like, super dead."

Surprise flashed across Lucille's face before she observed Rhiannon for any hint of sadness. Instead, she only found a smile, a cheeky grin amidst her dark humor.

Lucille let out a laugh. "Well, I do love a good ghost story," she replied. "What are your plans today?"

Rhiannon blinked. She didn't think Lucille was actually curious about her. Did she know that she harbored the burgeoning crush on Negan? God, she hoped not.

"I'm — well, I was going to get some groceries," she cleared her throat. "And maybe a new couch. My grandma smoked a lot of cigarettes and I don't like the smell."

"My husband smoked before we met," Lucille nodded with a small hum. "I'll go with you."

Rhiannon's frown deepened. "What?"

"Unless you don't want company?" Lucille asked. "My husband's a teacher, he's not around during the day. You're too young to go out alone."

"I'm twenty," she replied, eyebrows furrowing, a small pout on her face. "I'm not that young."

"A baby," Lucille smirked a bit. "Negan's thirty-eight, I'm thirty-four. You're a baby."

Rhiannon frowned. "I'm an adult. And I'm in school. And I have a house."

"Yes, you're doing very well," Lucille's voice lowered a fraction as she looked Rhiannon over.

Rhiannon felt the same rush of heat warm her body that she did when Negan smiled at her.

"Thank you," Rhiannon breathed out.

Lucille's smirk softened into a smile. "Grab your purse, baby," she told her, not dropping the nickname. "We're going shopping."

Maybe Rhiannon wasn't only into just a married man.

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first chapter hehehehehe