I had originally planned for this next chapter to be something Georgia-centric, but it's just so fun writing Negan and I couldn't help myself. He might be a bit OOC in this, but it shows how his feelings are developing. (Contrary to popular opinion, he's still human, and not just human enough to want a good lay.)

Please forgive any errors. This was written after a night of intense partying.

I hope y'all enjoy. :)


"Dentist?"

"No."

"Teacher?"

"No."

"Accountant?"

"No."

"Librarian?"

She released a hushed guffaw. "As if!"

"Can't blame me for imagining, doll. I think you'd look hot as fuck in a tight little pencil skirt."

A blush colored her cheeks and she turned away, promptly checking an overturned crate and pretending like they hadn't already searched that spot. Negan's tongue peeked out of the corner of his mouth as she bent over. He swore she had the most perfect ass he'd ever seen.

"Put me out of my misery and just fucking tell me," he said.

"Not until you tell me yours!"

"I have never told anyone what I was before this whole shit stain started, and I sure as fuck ain't gonna start with you, doll." He grinned when she straightened up, his eyes still on her ass. "Although, I like to think I can be bribed..."

The suggestion hung in the air between them like a well-poised knife. She pinned him with that tawny gaze and said, "I'll keep that in mind."

Electricity shot through his bones, straight down to his balls. Georgia must have noticed because she shot him another grin before walking away. Her bat hung beside her, covered in zombie blood and guts. Negan never thought that such a sight could turn him on until then.

Later on that run, she was helping Dwight and the others clear an abandoned Walmart when Negan noticed the grimace on her face. His mind flashed back to all the other times he had seen her fighting and he had always seen that grimace – one of disgust, however badly hidden it may have been. She was anything but petty, though. Negan assumed that the look was somewhat unconsciously done. That didn't stop him from teasing her about it later on.

There was something about the way her eyes flashed that turned him on.

Another thing he noticed was that she was always so damn poised. It didn't matter whether she was eating, bending over, bashing in zombie brains, or even just waiting for orders. Her chin was always held high, she never slouched, and when she walked, there was a subtle but graceful sway to her hips that drew his attention time and time again.

It was while they were taking a break – Georgia was sitting on an old tire; she had her knees drawn up, her arms resting on them – when Negan finally put his finger on it.

"What?" said Georgia. He'd been staring at her for a while.

"Holy fucking fuck."

"What?" said Georgia, more alarmed now.

"I got it."

"Got what?"

"I got it."

He was grinning from ear to ear and she looked like she was ready to stab someone.

"Negan, I swear to god—"

"You were a model."

His statement was met with silence. He knew he wasn't wrong.

Georgia shifted on the tire, putting her knees together and wrapping her arms around them and making herself look small. She wouldn't look at him. By that time, they had caught the attention of the few who sat close to Negan. They were regarding Georgia with new interest, and Negan couldn't have that.

Still grinning, Negan stood and swaggered over to her, something she was entirely capable of doing, he was sure. He crouched in front of her, close enough that he could count the freckles littering her cheeks. He kept close so everyone could get the message: do not fucking disturb.

"I'm right. You were a fucking model."

"Half right," she said. "I was a student too. I modeled part-time."

His eyebrows shot up. "How old are you?"

"I'm 26. I was studying med when the world ended." Her gaze sharpened into a glare. "What, did you think I was in high school or something?"

"Would've been a damn shame if you weren't legal yet. Kinky as that may be, I ain't into that." She scoffed and turned her head in what he knew was an attempt to hide her blush. "So a model, huh?"

She rolled her eyes. "Never let it be said that Negan would possibly take an interest in a girl for her brains."

"Hey, I never said that I wasn't impressed with med school. It's pretty hot. But you forget that you interested me because of your bike... and Milo. Your bod was just a plus one."

"Don't call it that."

"What?"

"The bat. Don't call it Milo. It's just a bat. Alright?" She was going to give him whiplash, but there was an urgency in her voice that told him he had to be very careful about what he said next.

"Alright, doll," he said. "How long were you in it for? The modeling, I mean."

"I got a contract for three years. I was only on my second when everything went to shit. Never did get that last paycheck."

Negan released a sharp laugh. "The world's got nasty ways of fucking us over."

They didn't get to talk much after that. The sun was getting low and Negan had to get his men back to Sanctuary. The roamers always got friskier after dark, and he didn't want to lose any more men. Rick the Prick had done enough of that. They'd head out again tomorrow. Despite the constant income of supplies from the other communities, Negan knew Sanctuary needed more if they were going to survive the upcoming winter.

Georgia didn't come with them on the next run. Negan placed her in kitchen duty. She was confused, even more pissed, but he had his reasons. He just didn't tell her any of them. He did tell Dwight, though, the last person who would ever think to come onto Georgia.

"I got a special fucking job for you, Dwighty boy," Negan had said.

"Boss?"

"I need you to find something for me."

When he had finished explaining, Dwight was confused. "We already got one of those back in camp. You can use that one."

Negan shook his head. "I don't want that one. I'm using this one for something else." Something relatively more… sentimental – something less fucked up.

Dwight, being the bendable henchman that he was, didn't fail to bring Negan what he wanted. As a reward, Negan left him alone for the rest of the next day, because as it was, he had other things to do with his time, involving a certain female whose body would look fucking good in a Polaroid picture.

He waited until the end of the working day to go searching for her. He found her in the hallway, heading to her rooms to get cleaned up, no doubt. Her hair was in a messy bun and Negan would bet his balls that she'd worked up a good amount of sweat. Just what he liked to see.

"Hey, doll," he said, holding the camera up to his eye. He wanted it to be perfect.

She whipped her head 'round. As soon as her eyes settled on him but before any emotion could settle in, Negan took the picture. There was a loud click, and then a flash.

Georgia let out a startled yelp and shut her eyes, rubbing them. "What the fuck, dude?"

Negan just grinned. The photo slid out from the top of the camera and he waved it around, waiting patiently for the image to appear. Meanwhile, Georgia approached him and looked at the Polaroid camera with interest. She took it from him, thankfully leaving the photograph in his fingers.

"Where did you find this?"

"I had Dwight look for it on the run yesterday."

She raised a sardonic eyebrow. "That's why you didn't want me coming with?"

"Couldn't risk getting a scar on your pretty face, doll. I needed this." By that time, the image had appeared on the film in his hand. Negan was transfixed.

He had taken the photo at the precise moment, it seemed. It showed her neck craned to the side, looking over her shoulder. Her eyes were wide with expectation, curious as to what he had wanted. Her mouth was parted just slightly. The strawberry strands that had escaped her bun framed her face. Her shirt, which was a size too big for her, hung low on her shoulder, showing a dark bra strap and just the slightest hint of forbidden skin.

It was perfect.

Georgia had come to stand beside him, peering down at the photograph. After a few moments, she released a loud huff. She obviously didn't like it. Negan couldn't fathom why.

"I hope you plan on burning that," she said.

"Why the fuck would I do that?" Negan said, still staring down at her picture in awe.

"I look like shit!"

"We all look like shit these days, doll, but you must be fucking kidding yourself if you think you look like shit here. For a model, you've got a shit fashion sense."

"And I suppose you think you have a better sense of what looks good and what doesn't?"

"When it comes down this Polaroid, I probably fucking do."

She glared before promptly snatching the photograph from him and stuffing it into her back pocket. Negan growled. "Give that back."

"No. I won't have you jerking off to shitty photos of me."

His eyes lit up. "So you plan on taking any better ones?"

"If you're hoping for nudes, you'll be disappointed." Still, to his pleased surprise, she handed him back the camera. "Next time, give me a warning. I never fucking liked candids."

Humming, Negan brought the camera up to his eye again. "Say cheese," he said. He gave her enough time to do so, but he wasn't disappointed when she didn't flash a smile. Instead, she crossed her arms and tilted her head to the size. Her nose crinkled slightly and her lips curled into an exasperated sort of smile. Her eyes sparkled.

The photo was in his hand. As soon as the image had appeared, he pocketed it.

"Hey!" Georgia complained. "Let me see!"

"Nope. I'm keeping this one."

"It's shitty!"

"It's fucking perfect, doll. Now get cleaned up. Dinner's in ten minutes."

He turned around and walked away. He heard her complaints from behind him, echoing up and down the hall, but he didn't stop. On his way to his room, he thought about when he'd be able to get a shot of her holding her bat. That'd be something he could jerk off to.

But the picture from earlier, he realized when he was finally alone, was something he had kept for an entirely different reason. He slipped it out from his pocket, stared for a minute, and groaned.

He was so fucked.