Well I did it again. I am stretching myself too thin with too many projects but I can't help myself. I'm not sure how often updates will come but I will do my best.

This is a Negan/OC fiction featuring my character Kayla Walsh. If you have been reading Without Darkness you are familiar with her, if you haven't it's not a problem, these fics are not related other than the characters.

This is going to be an AU fanfic without zombies. It is marked mature, for its swearing aka Negan, smut and other probably offensive things. Read with caution if you have delicate sensibilities.

I do not own the Walking Dead etc etc. All non-canon and OC's are mine. I have also borrowed inspiration/name from Alfred Hitchcock's Rear Window. This fic is meant for entertainment purposes.

Please follow, favorite and review! I love to hear from everybody.

ENJOY

"Cock sucking. Donkey fucking assholes." Negan growled chucking the paperwork at the man in front of him. "Those dick holes aren't getting rid of me that fucking easy. I'll have my goddamn lawyer pegging all of you by Monday."

The lawyer wearing wire-rimmed glasses and a cheap brown suit was from Negan's employer. He sat across from him with a scolding frown and droned on as though Negan cared. "I assure you everything that has been decided has been done per your signed contract with Saint Alexandria High School."

Grinding his teeth, Negan leaned forward and growled, "I assure you that I can find out where a weaselly little chode like yourself lives. I'm not signing shit and I'm not resigning. It was a fucking car accident. I didn't fucking murder anyone and I sure as shit didn't diddle some fucking student. You can't fire me for crashing my car."

"Sir, your contract clearly states-."

"Shove the contract right up your puckered asshole man." Negan shouted pointing at the door. "Get the fuck out before I twist your head off and shit down your throat!"

The other man sighed, shoving the paperwork in his shiny briefcase. "You can't stop this from happening Negan. The board knows it wasn't just an accident and with your record, they have the legal right to let you go."

Leaning forward aggressively, Negan hissed, "Get. Out."

After the door closed Negan rolled his wheelchair to it, locking it angrily. "Fucking fuckers." He sneered, pushing himself into the kitchen, knocking his injured leg on a cabinet door. Cursing a string of vulgar expletives under his breath, he reached up as far as he could, trying to grasp the bottle of whiskey in the top cupboard. It was the only thing that settled the nagging anger and self-hatred, there it sat inches away from his fingertips.

"Bullshit." Negan huffed, collapsing back into the too low seat as his leg throbbed painfully. Yanking open the fridge, he settled for a beer, popping the top off on the arm of his wheelchair. Gulping it down he seethed as he thought about what the nerdy bastard was saying before he left. Negan did have a record at the school, parents complaining he was too hard on their precious kids. Children complaining he didn't let them get away with being little assholes or reward everyone for just participating. He wasn't a soppy pussy who kissed their boo boo's better and told them they were special little snowflakes. He was a hard ass who expected them to work for their grades and positions on the baseball team. Nothing in life was free so why give them a false reality.

"Just a bunch of goddamn pussies." He grunted, steering himself into the living room after grabbing the whole six pack from the fridge. Dropping it on the coffee table he punched the power button, turning the giant TV to ESPN. They were dissecting the shitshow of a game the night before, the men shouting over each other about a controversial call by the umpire. Halfway through his six-pack his phone chirped notifying him of a text message.

"Sign the papers Negan." -Vice Principal Mitchell.

"Suck my cock Bitchell. I'll sign them when your balls drop and you come over and make me." -Negan

"There's no reason for that kind of language Negan. It's part of the reason you're in this situation. Sign the papers and get some help."- Vice Principal Mitchell

"Excuse the shit out of me. I thought we were in the goddamn United States of fucking America where I can tell a bunch of dick holes what shit-tastic hypocrites they are. Like you don't want to tell all those little shits to get their heads out of their asses. Fuck you and fuck all those douchebags in their $2 suits you hired."- Negan

"Mr Nelson will come by again. Sign the papers, don't make this any harder than it has to be." - Vice Principal Mitchell.

"Bitchell I have half a mind to show you how hard I can make it. Tell that four eyed fuck if his shadow hits my doormat again I'll make him a eunuch. Then I'll feed you his shriveled up sack as a side to a shit sandwich."- Negan

Negan chuckled deeply at his vulgarity; gulping the last of his beer. "Goddamn pussies think they can fire me?!" He hollered, chucking the bottle at the wall with a crash. "Can't fuckin' fire me. I'll show those fucking fucks."

Negan's eyes peeled open near noon, the man stretched out on his black leather sofa. His shattered leg was aching, the knee joint feeling swollen and inflamed. Groaning he forcibly pushed himself upright, his hands testing the joint for swelling. Grunting as a particularly sharp pain shot from the joint down his newly repaired shin.

"Cocksuckingbitch." He snarled while moving into the chair, the limb dropping too heavily on the floor. With even more struggle, he got himself into the bathroom and drained his dragon.

Once in his kitchen he muttered a few more curses as he realized his fridge was nearly empty and he had no way to fill it. Not only did he not have his car anymore, aka horrific car "accident", but seeing as it was a "drunk as fuck" related incident, Negan no longer had a drivers license. He was lucky to get a good enough lawyer who could squeeze a time served bargain out of the prosecutor. His lengthy hospital and rehab stint for his shattered leg and subsequent surgeries saved his ass from jail.

It had been his first arrest and with his occupation and the recent loss of his wife, the soft liberal judge let him off with a fine and a short probation. The probation had been over before he'd even left the physical rehabilitation center. He wouldn't be allowed to drive for four years but it was better than spending four years trying not to drop the soap.

Glancing at his phone charging on the counter top Negan sighed heavily, rubbing his scruffy face before giving in. Picking it up he texted Sherry a request for a favor, Negan's version of a request being less than polite.

"Go grocery shopping for my broken ass. I prefer 2% milk and if you show up with fucking store brand cereal in those shitty horse feed bags I'll slap the freckles off you. PS any fucking day now would be great." – Negan

"Gee. Hi Negan I'm great, thanks for asking. Oh of course I'm not busy with work or the kids. I'd love to take care of an over grown man child who decided to fuck his already fucked life up more by driving head first into a brick wall. I couldn't think of anything else I'd like to do than be ordered around by some asshole." –Sherry

"Fuck you Sherry. My legs broken and I'm starving to fucking death. Never fucking mind. Don't worry, I'll just continue with my liquid diet."- Negan

"Suck it up buttercup. I'll bring you food when I am good and ready and by ready I mean after I've picked up Stevie and Madeline, taken them to soccer and ballet, fed them dinner and put them to bed. Then maybe, maybe I'll stop at the store."- Sherry

''I'll remember this the next time you're crying about needing cash for your shitheads braces or the next time you're shit stain of a husband needs bail."- Negan

Negan pushed send and glared at the little screen just aching for his wife's best friend to deny that shit. Sherry and Lucille had been friends for years and the woman's husband, Dwight, had always been a dirtbag. They'd helped her out of debt numerous times, shelling out cash for bail or medical bills. It was a dick move but Negan felt he was owed something for all the goddamn trouble he went too, to help the woman over the years.

"You're an asshole."-Sherry

"Great you're catching on. Now if you could apply your-fucking-self maybe you could dump that shithead and stop by the store for my goddamn Honey Nut Cheerios." -Negan

Smirking he watched as his screen stayed black, Sherry obviously giving up on having a conversation with him.

"Bitch." He grumbled under his breath before cracking open a bottle of water, the only thing in his fridge besides ketchup and a mysterious takeout box he didn't recall taking out.

Gulping it down halfway, Negan sunk into the chair while glowering out the window. Sherry was right, he had fucked up his already fucked life but Negan couldn't find it in himself to give a shit. The whole world was fucked anyways so why bother try to hold it together.

While staring out the window, Negan watched a moving truck pull up. Two large men hopped out of the front, as another car pulled in next to it. The men raised the truck roll door and waited as the driver of the small sedan climbed out. Negan's eyebrow cocked high as he watched the woman with dark chocolate hair climb out, the shiny locks thrown into a haphazard bun. She wore a plain white tank top and a pair of jeans that were more holes than fabric. The petite woman grabbed a few bags from her car and motioned for them to follow her. Negan watched as she led them to an apartment across the courtyard, climbing the stairs to the second floor. Her apartment was directly across from his, their patios no more than a hundred feet apart.

He watched them enter and the woman show them the rooms they needed to bring her belongings into. Negan could see her smile and laugh, the men grinning back at her.

Watching the only thing interesting going on in his life, Negan shook his head in disbelief. "Pathetic fucking peeping tom pussy." He grunted, as he continued to watch as the men worked and the brunette carried armfuls of clothing inside. There wasn't much, it seemed as if she lived simply. Nothing like what Lucille would've had. There weren't any ornate bullshit couches that hurt your ass to sit on or giant paintings of shit a two year old could paint.

He smirked at the record player the men hauled in while the woman carried a milk crate of vinyl. It only took a couple hours and soon the moving men left and the woman sauntered around her place, organizing things. The first thing she did was set up her record player; the sound of bluesy jazz came rolling out her open patio door. Sitting in the shadow, obscured by a curtain panel, Negan watched as she bopped around the small space. He couldn't stop the easy grin from sliding on his unshaven face as the limber woman swiveled and dipped, her lips moving as she put dishes away and unpacked books.

Negan jumped in his seat when a knock sounded on the door, a voice calling out. "Open the damn door you stupid ape."

Rolling slowly, he smirked as he pulled the door open wide and found Sherry standing on his doorstep with two overflowing bags of groceries.

"There's enough to live for more than a week so I hope I don't hear from you for a while." She remarked as she strode in throwing things in the fridge and cupboards. Sherry was a firecracker, her short brown hair might as well have been red. She had been a friend of Sherry's for years, both having met in college. Negan used to be jealous of how close they were, not that he would ever admit to such a weakness.

"Nice to see you Sherry." Negan sneered, his tone nowhere close to polite.

"Don't be an asshole Negan. I'm doing you a favor." Sherry complained, her voice turning into a buzzing sound that Negan barely registered. Instead he looked out the window at the girl on her patio, her voice floating over as she spoke on her cellphone. She paced a few times before leaning on the railing, her shirt dipping to show off delicious cleavage. Negan shifted in his seat, licking his bottom lip at the luscious curves coated in smooth skin.

'I wonder what color her panties are. Pink... no, no.. White.' He thought with a grin. 'The kind with the little bow in the front-.'

"Negan!" Sherry shouted from the kitchen, her voice like nails on a chalkboard.

"What the ever loving fuck do you want?" He snapped, turning around to look at her. She stood with her hands on her hips, her lips twisted obnoxiously as she shook her head like a scolding mother. "You look like shit."

"So fucking what? It's not like I can go anywhere. I need to call a fucking crane to get me out of this fucking place."

"I told you to stay with us until you're mobile." She spoke, her voice far too genuine for Negan. He didn't feel as if he deserved comfort, he preferred Sherry's snark and bad attitude, to her pity filled eyes and tone.

"And I told you, I'd rather be fisted by a cactus than live with your half retarded husband and two whiny brats."

"They aren't whiny and you know it. Stop being such a dick. Lucille would be so pissed at your damn attitude."

"Lucille's dead." He growled, his rage getting the better of him. "She's fucking dead so there's no fucking point to living my life by her goddamn high standards anymore."

"Negan-." Sherry sighed, her brow furrowed with frustration and eyes saddened.

"No. No, Negan followed by a shitty guilt trip or meaningless words of sympathy."

"I wasn't going to do either of those. I was going to say, pull your fucking head out of your ass. You need to fix your shit. Your wife died... its..." Sherry stopped and shook her head sharply, her eyes watering as she thought of her friend. Looking away, Negan ground his teeth and scowled to hold in the clawing of emotion in his throat. He was not fucking crying, not in front of Sherry, not ever again.

"It's horrible." Her voice shook but she swallowed her emotion down. "It's horrible but you can't throw the rest of your life away on anger and booze."

"Speaking of, can you bring that bottle down so I can fucking reach it?" he asked, completely ignoring anything remotely similar to genuine concern.

"Negan!"

"What?" He growled, throwing her a glare. "Yes my life sucks. I should get over it but guess fucking what Sherry, it's not gonna happen. I won't be skipping along singing showtunes with rainbows shooting out my ass. Lucille's fucking dead and my shit-tastic job is firing me."

"They're what?" Sherry's voice became shrill and grating, making Negan grimace.

"You heard me. And you know what else? I have nosy fucking assholes trying to make me feel shit I don't." He growled, pointing to the cabinet door. "Now if you can give me my bottle of Jack I plan on drinking my breakfast, lunch and dinner. Hell maybe I'll splurge on dessert too."

"What're you gonna do?" She asked, leaning against the kitchen countertop, her arms crossed.

Rolling his eyes Negan grumbled, "I just fucking told you."

"No Negan, about your job. Do they have grounds?"

Shrugging his broad shoulders, he rasped, "Well let's just say all those pussies I coach have written in complaints one too many times and that they aren't fond of a teacher drunkenly driving his car into a brick wall."

"I don't think it's the accident, I think it's the reason for it." Sherry muttered, her eyebrow raised haughtily.

"Shut up." He growled deeply, pointing at her angrily "It was a fucking accident. I was drunk and my foot slipped."

"Keep lying to yourself Negan. Look I'll come over this weekend and help you clean up but seriously stop drinking so much. It's not healthy, especially with your pain meds."

"What-the-fuck-ever. I can handle my shit, you go handle yours."

"Jesus Christ Negan would it kill you to at least be thankful I'm helping you at all?" Sherry huffed, picking up her purse and car keys. "You can't be a dick forever and expect people to stick around."

"See that's where you're wrong. I don't fucking expect anyone to stick around." He ground out his eyes angry. "I may be a drunk but I'm not fucking delusional."

Twinkle toes had been dancing around her apartment all day, the music varying widely but never straying to modern pop bullshit. Negan couldn't stop watching her little hips and light feet. It wouldn't have been such a big deal, new neighbors always brought attention but Negan's attention was far from innocent. After tugging himself off a second time in an hour, he had to physically remove himself from the sight of her perky ass perched on a ladder hanging pictures.

"Fuck." He groaned as he lowered himself into his chair after using the restroom. Pulling his pills down, Negan popped a couple pain meds and headed into the kitchen for food. Sherry had actually hooked him up with a good amount of groceries, the woman obviously wanting nothing to do with his cranky ass anytime soon.

He'd been sitting in the living room eating a sandwich while watching Deadliest Catch when he heard angry voices outside. Setting his food aside, Negan rolled to the window and saw the new tenant in the courtyard having a loud argument with a man. She wasn't too happy to see him, her face twisted into a sneer as she smacked his hands away.

"Go fuck yourself Kyle!" The petite woman snapped, her finger pointing at the parking lot, "or better yet go fuck Julie."

"C'mon Kay. It didn't mean anything." The chump pleaded, his head bowed trying to look sincere.

"Fuck that guy sweetheart." Negan muttered watching as she slapped his hand away again.

"Leave Kyle." She growled, turning on her heel to stomp upstairs again. Negan watched the guy chuck a bouquet of flowers into a garbage can before striding away.

Chuckling Negan stayed poised to see the woman return to her apartment. He caught sight of her storming inside, her mouth moving as she talked to herself. After a few angry paces in her living room, the woman he now knew as Kay, stood in her kitchen drinking a beer. She leaned against the counter and sipped her beverage, her neck arched beautifully.

"Good idea doll." He muttered, cracking open his own while watching her over the bottle. The woman across the way paced in her apartment drinking her beer until it seemed she calmed down. Sitting on her patio, the dark haired beauty typed away on a laptop propped on her knees while another bottle sat open on a folding table.

Negan watched and listened to ESPN recount the game he missed earlier in the afternoon while being a pervert. He wanted to introduce himself to Kay but it wasn't as if they could accidentally run into each other without Negan rolling his ass to the other side of the complex for the crappy elevator. It was hardly ever used and half the time ended up stuck between floors. The thought of joining her on his own patio and greeting her crossed his mind but he didn't want to be the weirdo yelling across the courtyard. He also didn't want her to realize just how much he could see into her apartment without any drapes installed. The large expanses of glass let him view pretty much every room besides her bathroom. It was like a zoo enclosure that housed a sex kitten. Negan wasn't about to give up his ticket to the show.

Deciding to take a break from peeping, Negan moved his broken ass into the bathroom to try and clean up. He hadn't showered since leaving the rehab facility when he had nurses to help. He wasn't exactly sure how he'd pull it off but figured he'd be relying on bum baths until his leg became more mobile.

"Maybe Kay is the nursing type." He mused out loud with a chuckle, the idea of the petite girl sliding soapy fingers over his body waking up his dick.

"Enough." He grumbled, looking down at the tent in his pants "no more five finger shuffle today big guy. I'm gonna chafe."

Pulling off his shirt before struggling with his pants, Negan filled the sink with water and began washing up while sitting on the closed toilet seat. Once semi-clean, he leaned over the vanity and scrubbed his face and hair as best as possible. With that out of the way he rolled himself into the bedroom, pulling on new boxer briefs and found a pair of track pants that buttoned up the legs. He figured they'd be easy to get on and off, smiling at his stellar idea. "Fuckin, genius." He congratulated himself.

Negan had signed the papers after consulting with a lawyer. There wasn't much he could do with the school claiming his behavior was reckless and broke the contract prohibiting behavior unbecoming of an educator, i.e. getting drunk and plowing a pristine 67 Mustang into a brick wall. There would be a sizable severance package but Negan was still out of a job and crippled for the time being.

Five days into his self-imposed house arrest and Negan was obsessed with his new neighbor. He discovered her name was Kayla Walsh when a pizza was delivered to his door rather than hers, their apartment numbers being accidentally transposed by the pizza boy. The Asian man seemed flustered when Negan answered the door wearing nothing but boxers, a baseball bat propped on his broad shoulder. The poor kid stammered out the order, double cheese-double peppers, while Negan grinned widely at the kid's nerves. It was comforting to know that despite the mangled limb, he could still make other men piss their pants.

Kayla Walsh liked spicy foods and cheese, she danced to bluesy jazz on rainy days and listened to death metal while working on her laptop. He discovered she worked from home, only leaving to buy groceries or stopping at the local coffee shop, even though she had her own coffee machine. He noticed she had a penchant for fresh flowers, new ones appearing on her tiny dinette every Sunday, and her favorite being tulips.

Negan knew she preferred to laze around in comfortable clothes because she would change as soon as she came home and hesitated until last minute to get dressed. Kayla had an extensive band t-shirt collection from classics to bizarre bands Negan had to google. He spent an unhealthy amount of time watching videos of random punk bands from Scotland or mid century blues artists, his advertising algorithm was permanently skewed.

Negan was aware his newest hobby was beyond appropriate, it was all kinds of wrong and creepy but he couldn't find it in himself to stop. He still drank a lot but it seemed to have lessened as the dark haired beauty now distracted his mind. Rather than being consumed by guilt and self-hate, he was filled with thoughts about the petite girl and her pert titties. Negan figured he was only substituting one bad habit for another but felt at least he couldn't die from staring at a hot girl dancing to Etta James. Well maybe a coronary from cumming too hard while she was bent over doing yoga. At least he'd die with a giant goddamn grin on his face.

Thanks for reading. Please review.

Ps. I'm not sure if any of you have seen Jeffrey Dean Morgans movie Resident but I had begun writing this fic and then watched it. Omg. I was like OH NO! Now my fic feels super fucking creepy. But just to assure you Negan isn't on the same level of weirdo as the character Jeffrey played in Resident. Yuck. Ok that is all. Sorry for the long author note. I hope you enjoy my new story.