RHIANNON

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THE Smith's was a band Rhiannon loved. She'd always loved them. Some of her favorite songs were theirs and when she was a kid, she and her mom used to put a record player on with "Wonderful Woman" blaring in the corner.

She had half a dozen t-shirts, a signed record, and old photos of her mom traveling with the band.

But when she met Lucille and Negan Smith, the band name took on a new meaning.

The Smith's were no longer an amalgam of memories and music — they were a married couple she found herself growing increasingly obsessed with.

"Sweetheart," Lucille's voice grabbed her attention and Rhiannon looked over, focusing on the woman. "You alright?"

Rhiannon nodded, looking back down to the bread she'd been baking. The pair were making loaves for a shelter a few streets down. Rhiannon had always been one to give to the less fortunate, and when she mentioned it to Lucille, the woman was more than happy to pitch in.

"Yeah," Rhiannon confirmed. "Sorry, I...I'm fine."

Lucille stopped kneading the dough, looking at Rhiannon in worry. Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, wisps framing her face.

Lucille was so beautiful.

"Rhiannon," she prompted gently. "What's bothering you?"

"Sorry," she whispered, looking over at her again. "I just...have you ever liked someone you shouldn't?"

Rhiannon could swear a smirk tugged at Lucille's lips, but it was gone before she could think about it.

"Sure," Lucille nodded, kneading the dough again. "Negan and I met when we were in college. He was a senior, I was a freshman. He had a girlfriend."

So this was a common occurrence for them, then, Rhiannon realized.

"Oh?" She asked faintly.

Lucille nodded. "Yeah. But I always win in the end and all I wanted was Negan."

A quiet fell over the pair as Rhiannon contemplated Lucille's words. Had Negan cheated before to get with Lucille? Would he do that with Rhiannon?

Why did it matter, anyway? It's not like Rhiannon would act on her feelings. And she liked Lucille far, far too much to hurt her.

"Rhiannon."

Rhiannon looked to Lucille again, worriedly biting her lip. "Yes?"

"You're mixing chocolate chips?"

Rhiannon looked down at her bread, blushing when she realized she had, in fact, poured a bag of chocolate chips in the dough.

"Uh..."

"Interesting choice," Lucille commented, washing her hands and moving to cover her bread. "Come on," she strode towards Rhiannon, coming up just behind her.

They were roughly the same height, Lucille an inch or so taller. Rhiannon's breath hitched at the feeling of Lucille's chest against her back.

"Oh dear," she breathed out, her breath ghosting Rhiannon's shoulder. "How are we gonna fix this?" She asked softly, reaching into the dough, her arms wrapping around Rhiannon's waist.

Rhiannon froze, eyes wide, heart pounding against her chest.

Lucille smelled so good.

Lucille felt so good.

Her hands delicately plucked different seasoning and added to the batter, Rhiannon's fingers resting on the edge of the bowl. Lucille's chin came and rested on Rhiannon's shoulder, her lips millimeters from Rhiannon's ear.

"There we go," she breathed out, the low tone sending a pleasant chill down Rhiannon's back. "Much better, hm?"

Rhiannon nodded breathlessly, trying to find words but came up short.

"Sweet and savory," Lucille let her lips graze Rhiannon's ear and a shaky breath left the girl. "Perfect."

Lucille pulled back casually, as if nothing had happened, leaving Rhiannon breathless and confused.

—

NEGAN

Rhiannon was fucking jumpy.

That's something he noticed immediately. It reminded him of a rabbit or a doe, some prey that his father would hunt for sport.

Now he was the predator, hunting her, only he wanted to ravish her, ruin her, leave her more sated than she'd ever been in her life.

She'd be too fucking turned on to run or jump away from him. God, he wanted her so bad. She was so damn sweet.

She smelled like fucking coconut and something sweet — apple maybe? He'd have to ask Lucille, he was always shit at detecting scents. He knew his cologne and Lucille's perfume and the rest didn't fucking matter.

"You and Lucille have fun today?" He asked her casually, seated on her sofa.

He'd invited himself over because fuck only knew she'd never make the first move and if he was going to beat Lucille and actually get the chance to fuck his girl, he'd have to get her to submit.

He didn't like the way that sounded.

Negan didn't want her to submit, he wanted her to crave him. Wanted her to beg for him. Wanted her to look up at him with those big pretty brown eyes and roll them back into her head. He wanted to make her know nothing but his fucking name.

God, he wanted her.

He wanted to please her, wanted to taste her, to have her. She was his. He fucking knew it. Lucille fucking knew it. Rhiannon fucking knew it, he'd just have to get her to admit it.

"Yeah, it was nice," Rhiannon nodded, grabbing a sparkling water — fuck, she didn't even drink beer? she was too young, he remembered and that was the first time in his fucking life the notion turned him on. She was so fucking innocent. "We made bread for the shelters and..."

She kept fucking talking but all he could focus on was her lips. The way her body swayed as she walked over, sat at the other end of the couch. She'd offered him a drink too but he didn't want that fake water shit.

Negan was a bit fucking disgusted with himself, if he was being honest.

Listening to her fucking talk and not hearing a damn thing because he was so turned on and attracted to her.

He wasn't a fucking teenager but his body was behaving like one.

Shit, how many times had he told Lucille stories about his fucking students getting off in bathrooms or locker rooms (that always grossed him the fuck out, his office was right fucking there) but he never thought he'd be acting like that again.

And yet here was fucking Rhiannon in all her perfect little temptation, teasing him by simply existing.

"Negan?"

Fuck, fuck, fuck, what had she been talking about? Shit, he was messing up bad. He needed to pay attention to her, listen to her. Girls liked that shit, right?

Lucille did, at least.

God, he fucking loved that woman.

What kind of a saint of a wife let him be alone with this pretty little thing and challenged him on it? He couldn't ask for anything fucking better.

"Uh, sorry, darlin," he cleared his throat, adjusting his legs a bit. "I've been in my head. What's your question?"

"Never mind," Rhiannon shook her head quickly, flustered. Dammit, it was probably something fucking important.

Fucking hormones fucking him up and not letting fucking listen to his girl.

He hoped Lucille was doing just as badly as he was otherwise he was fucked.

And not in the way he wanted to be.

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this is so fun bye