#ftwd fanfic

[insom-nom-nom-niatic]

I see you write Troy Otto Fics 🫣

“you fixed me. you fixed my broken heart.”

could I request a angst turned fluffy fic where Troy is being an ass but around reader he’s an awkward ass bc he doesn’t know how to process his feelings but one day reader confronts him and is like “dude tf” and he reveals it all ? 👉🏽👈🏽

It has been quite a while since I have done any requests and succeeded in actually writing them, so first of all THANK YOU. And secondly, this terrified me so I'm sorry if I changed a few things because that's how my head works.

CHARACTERS: Troy Otto x Female Reader

WARNINGS: Normal FTWD stuff. FEELS!

Everyone within a few miles distance could have heard the yelling coming from the militia tent. No one could tell who had started it when the ruckus had suddenly erupted moments ago. All you could tell was that the boys were finally fighting back at Troy, making your feet pace a little quicker and making your way across the ranch. 

When you made it to the ruckus, you noticed the eyes peeping through the windows of the outlying RVs and tents scattered around. Giving an all knowing smile to the peeping eyes, you quickly disappeared behind the tan curtains finding a group of 5 men squaring off against 2, Troy, with Nick holding Troy back. 

Your entrance was soon noticed and the group grew silent. 

“What in the holy hell is wrong with you all?” Toeing up to John who was rubbing the newly formed bruise on his jaw. Nick let go of his hold on Troy’s jacket, heading to the back of the tent with a grunting sigh, catching your gaze as he did so. 

“You have all been a bunch of children the past few days, and now this?” Turning on your heels you make eye contact with Troy. Scanning his features, you take in the red patches growing upon his cheek and jaw line before meeting his gaze once more, this time more worry and sadness laced in your eyes. “You’re going to attract every walker within miles, and if you’re all fighting eachother, who is going to fight for the rest of us?” 

All men in the tent sunk a bit in their boots, all eyes staring at the ground. Troy’s cheeks reddened, not from a sucker punch this time. You look over to Nick, a smirk turning at the corners of his lips as he stared back. 

“I’m sorry ma’am,” Cooper spoke up. “We had a disagreement. We will watch our voices.”

John scoffed loudly, his eyes shooting back up to Troy on the opposite side of you. “I think she should know. We’re done getting the shit end of everything and still getting shit on while others can skate by and get the royalty treatment.” His eyes then shifted to you, scanning your frame up and down. You could feel the hair on your neck raise at the feeling, and you could feel the way Troy shifted his weight behind you. 

“It’s not her fault,” Nick finally raised his voice. The tone sounding over this bull shit and ready for someone to lay everything out. “You’re all being a bit dramatic anyways. Troy hasn’t done shit, except be an ass as usual.” 

This earned a raised eyebrow and questioning look from Troy, standing with both hands on his hips. Everyone knew Troy was kind of an ass, that’s how he got the miltia where it is, but you had never really seen what everyone else said about him. He was typically kind and oddly gentle when you were around him. He wasn’t this “monster” you hear the ranch whispering about. 

“Troy-” you took a deep breath, your back still turned towards him with your eyes staring straight back at John. “-Say you’re sorry.”

The tent went still. No one, not even Troy, was expecting that. No one told Troy what to do other than his late father and brother, and after they had expired, no one would have ever tried. Let alone tell him to apologize. 

To everyone’s surprise, Troy spoke. 

“I’m sorry,” his voice low and grumbled through gritted teeth, but he said it. The men all shook their heads in response. Not knowing how or what to do next, they funneled out of the tent one by one. All as quiet as a mouse leaving only Troy and yourself in the space.

Turning on your heels, you lock eyes with the tall brunette. His face red and one eye growing bloodshot from what you assume was a nice hit from John. His eyes weren’t angry though… he was nervous as he tried his best to maintain the eye contact. 

“I didn’t think you would actually say it, but I’m glad you did.” Your lips turned into a gentle smile, closing the distance between you both. Your hands reached up to his face, cradling his jaw in both palms, fingers carefully brushing over the small cuts and broken capillaries in his skin. 

Troy returned the smile once he felt your warm touch. His blue eyes fluttering closed with a sense of comfort that felt so extraterrestrial to him. “Thank you for stopping us, Nick, that bastard, was close to getting his ass kicked too.” His voice cracked witha chuckle between his words. 

“Your still a ass though, Troy. You have to change that. I hear it from so many here, yet I never see it. So I know you are capable of being a gentleman, Troy Otto.” 

“If you tell me to, then I guess I have to.” Troy’s body shook with a mischievous laugh. His eyes opening to find yours once more. The closeness between you both instinctively closing little by little. “You fixed me, you know that?”

His words caught you off a little bit, making you stutter in your actions. His skin felt warm against your touch, his mere presence so close brought on a sense of safety and openness. You could have stayed like that for hours… days. It somehow felt right. 

What he spoke, however, caused a twisting feeling in your gut. 

“I was broken after everything, after everyone was gone. I was alone and hurt in so many ways,” Troy’s eyes softened. He had figured opening up to you would be impossible, his feelings always getting the best of him and taking any words he wanted to say and throwing them out the window. Bu here and now, with you like this, he was at peace. 

“I was broken and you fixed me-” His eyes fell from your own to land upon your lips, those nerves that had stopped him from saying it all previously appearing in his belly again. “-so thank you.”

You could feel his tension grow in the moment so you took matters into your own hands, raising to your tip-toes and crushing your lips to his. Years it had been since you had ever felt this feeling. Even then, it didn’t feel like this, not this strong. 

Troy was a pain in the ass. 

At times, an actual ass. 

But you were his golden key to change. 

And there was about to be a lot of it. 

#troy otto x fem reader #troy otto fanfic #troy otto #troy otto x reader #fear the walking dead #ftwd fanfic #daniel sharman fic #daniel sharman #I DID OVER 1K WORDS! #that's nearly impossible for me #like ever #it's been a few days #not great #this better pick me up

[sunny-desk]

Journal (Troy Otto x Reader)

Next Part

Summary: Set during Season 3. Troy's late night notebook scribbling often wakes the reader up.

Author’s Note: This is the second thing I've ever written, I don't really know what I'm doing. I think the tenses might be a mess. Part 2 may happen but it also may not. This has been in my drafts since July.

You wake to the sound of pencil hastily scratching on paper and Troy quietly mumbling to himself. This happened often. You knew there was a lot going on in his head, some of which you’d managed to get him to open up to you about, mainly the simpler stuff, but most of which ended up scribbled in his journal. (He didn’t like it when you called it that but if writing down your theories, thoughts and feelings isn’t journaling, then what is?) You’d been staying in his room, or “our room” as he’d often correct you, most nights for the last few weeks and in that time you’d become mostly accustomed to his ever changing, sometimes unpredictable to the people who didn't know him well, mood. He was quick to anger or annoy but he was also quick to make happy or smile, you just had to be the right person for the job, and the more you learnt about him, the more the right person was you. Being woken in the night had almost become a routine. It wasn’t too hard to predict when it would happen, any significant goings on around the ranch, good or bad, pretty much guaranteed Troy would be up in the early hours scribbling away, noting down any thoughts or ideas he had. Slow days made it less likely but slow days were rare and you’d started realising that sometimes just because the day was slow that didn’t mean Troy’s mind wasn’t racing.

The most useful thing you’d come to learn was when it was worth trying to talk to him during these night-time writing sessions. When the previous day had been a good one, when you woke up, you’d often roll over and ask him about what he was writing down. You’d have to sit for a minute to get a response but he’d always give you one. And when the answer came it was a rush of thoughts and theories and ideas about the dead (Can they survive underwater? How long would it take them to starve? Could they be useful, maybe as camouflage?) or the militia (“We need to change strategies, there’s too much land to cover. Here, look, I drew this diagram of the routes around the ranch. We should do more training in the camp too, I’ve planned this schedule, see?” “They’ll hate you for that wake up time.” “They’ll hate me more if their families die because I didn’t train them well enough to protect this place.”) or sometimes the garden (“We need more people out there working. Maybe we should expand it too.”) He would listen to any thoughts you had on the subjects once he was done rambling and if you said something useful (which, to your credit, you sometimes did), he’d start writing that down too and another five minutes of silence would commence. When the previous day had been a bad one, you had learned to not roll over at all. You’d tried it a few times, the first because you didn’t realise it was a bad idea, the second because you hadn’t yet noticed the pattern and the two times after that because you thought maybe he’d finally want to start opening up to you about the bigger things you knew plagued his mind. He never did.

Usually the small amount he would say on these nights was just short sentences (“I’m fine.” “Go back to sleep.” “Nothings going on.”) or grunts or, one time, a shout (“Why do you want to know my business all the time?!”). You understood it was hard for him to open up, a journal had been his go-to for most of his life when it came to big thoughts and feelings. He couldn’t rely on his father for emotional support and his brother tried but he wasn’t always there and when he was Troy didn’t get the sense that Jake really understood him or would know what to do with all the thoughts sloshing around in his head anyways so it was best not to bother burdening him. After the shouting incident you explained (the next morning, when he was more calm) that you were just trying to be there for him when he needed it. He apologised and made it up to you but talking to him on those nights wasn’t something you’d tried since. Until now. Because his dad was dead.

#fear the walking dead #troy otto x reader #troy otto #mine #ftwd fanfic #troy otto fanfic

[ftwdb]

Don't Say Go.

Chapter 15.

Summary: Soulmates find each other through what is known as The Pull. A sense within a persons body that their soulmate is within reach that guides them to find them. You find yourself following this Pull, guided by vague dreams of a man you can't quite see, until you collapse in the wild and are found by Troy, your soulmate, who has been following the same feeling toward you for days.

Once connected soulmates are able to share emotions through their bond, as well as being able to sense where the other is. But how this force works is very much a mystery still, it can vary from soulmate to soulmate, and just sometimes a connection too deep can lead twist a bond from something beautiful to, well...

Warnings: Dark themes, sexual content, violence, non-graphic description/implications of SA, child abuse and domestic violence. References to addiction. Unhealthy love/obsession/relationships. Soulmate AU. Eventual smut.

(I know the gif isn't Troy in his room but it's all I could find that would be similar to him sat on his couch - work with me k)

You wouldn't describe the rest of the day as awkward, but there was a definate tension between you and Troy which neither was willing to acknowledge.

Aside from that it had been nice to do something that felt relatively normal. Simply wandering the ranch and speaking to people - as Troy whispered his opinions on them in your ear as you walked away - had made a nice change of pace from running from the dead, escaping the living and simply retreating into your bunk to hide from the world.

It was as you finished your meal in the food tent and you spotted Jeremiah eating at the opposite end to yourself and Troy that you asked if you could see his place.

Troy stilled for a few moments before nodding once. You assumed it was only because he knew his father wasn't in the house and couldn't kick you both out again that he agreed. You had a slight spring in your step as you walked back toward the main house and even though Troy was still tense at your side you saw the half-smiles he tried to hide as you linked your arm with his.

The main living area was familiar, although it didn't look as imposing in the daylight. Jeremiah's desk looked smaller, messier. You eyed the bookshelves and the pictures on the wall, breathing in the smell of wood and dust.

"Where's you room?" You ask as Troy seems to hesitate, his shoulders stooping a little as he also glances around the place he called home. You could feel a sort of fluttering in your chest and realised he was nervous.

"I'm not going to pounce on you, don't worry." You say teasingly.

Troy scowls slightly, but its the cute scowl that tells you he's not actually mad.

"I don't know, this could all be part of a ruse to steal my virtue." Troy says mockingly as you laugh. He grabs your hand and leads you upstairs.

The house is dark but still warmly inviting with the sun streaming in through the windows. You end up on the top floor and Troy opens a door and ushers you inside.

It's a large size for a bedroom, more like a studio really. There's the usual dresser and mirror with an old shirt tossed over it. A leather couch and matching chair sit at the foot of his bed. It was all very... brown. With reds, greens and oranges thrown in. It felt like Troy.

You took a deep breath and smiled. It smelt like him too.

"Cosy."

You say as Troy stands by the door, one hand still on the handle as if he's unsure if he should close it or not. You give him a small nod, realising he is waiting for permission to shut you both in. The door closes with a soft click and the tension that was in the air before immediately changes to something... else.

You take a small step further in, toward the bed, then you realise how it might look and change direction to the couch. You take a seat, perching on the edge and look around. The room is quite neat without looking like it hasn't been lived in.

"It's nice. Much nicer than my bunk."

Troy, who has stepped into the room to lean against his dresser, shifts a little uncomfortably.

"I didn't mean anything by that..." You add quickly. "I was just saying... you have a nice home."

Troy takes a look around, his brow furrowing as if taking everything in for the first time.

"I guess..." He says slowly.

You sigh and lean back into the couch. It's worn, a little lumpy, but comfortable enough.

"I'm trying to picture you growing up here. Was this always your room?"

Troy's arms are crossed over his chest and his feet are kicking at a folded section of the rug.

"As long as I can remember." He says flatly.

Your hands press along the cool leather fabric. There was something off about him, he was giving off the energy of an animal trapped in a cage.

"Hey," You say softly and raise a hand to beckon him over to you, "come sit with me."

Troy's eyes fix on your hand before he crosses the room in just a few short strides, placing hisnpalm in yours as you slide over to give him space to join you. When he sits he mimics your posture, head leaning back on the edge of the couch to take in the slowly turning fan on his ceiling with arms relaxed at his sides.

Except for the hands which are intertwined with each other.

The tension seems to ease a little and you smile at nothing in particular.

"I had a great day today." You say quietly.

Troy smirks, "You're very easily impressed then."

"And aren't you lucky." You tease back.

Troy, usually so quick-witted, takes a second to realise your implication. His foot nudges yours as if to reprimand you. You chuckle and nudge him back, slightly harder.

"I'm not playing footsies with you. We are sophisticated adults." Troy tells you firmly as you grin.

You jab him in the ribs with your elbow and laugh.

"Speak for yourself!"

His eyes slide to you, darkening with the promise of retribution.

"Oh? That how your gonna be?"

You raise your free hand in a mock surrender.

"Wait... okay I won't-"

Your own ribs come under a sudden ambush of that most devious and dreaded attack, the tickles. You shriek, trying to lean away and escape as Troy uses your joined hands to hold you where you are.

"Surrender! I surrender god damn it!"

Troy sits back, victorious.

"Dirty move." You glare.

Troy gives you a grin that makes your stomach flip.

"There's no reward for fair fighting if you're on the losing team." Troy tells you, and its something in his voice that makes you think of Jeremiah. It sounded exactly like something the man would say to his son.

You were about to try and bring his father up when a sudden knock on Troy's door has you both frozen for a moment until Troy pulls you up by the hand, gesturing for you to be quiet and pulls you to stand beside the door where you'd be hidden once it was open.

You scowl a little at having to hide like this but if it meant avoiding Jeremiah than you could live with it for now.

Troy opens the door and you're able to see the way his shoulders relax.

"Jake." He greets.

"I was hoping to speak to you for a moment. We've got a problem with some of the dead caught up in our fences."

Troy sighs.

"Get Coop to handle it."

"Coop's on watch. Dad asked for you to deal with it. It's your responsibility - his words, not mine." Jake added quickly at the end.

Behind the door you silently roll your eyes. Jeremiah would find any reason to keep you and Troy separate as much as he could.

"Fine. Just... give me a minute."

Jake speaks up again as Troy goes to shut the door.

"I can walk her back to the bunkhouse, if you'd like."

You go very still as Troy glares at his brother. You can hear the supressed laughter in Jake's voice.

"Come on, little brother. You're too old to be sneaking girls into your room."

You smile to yourself before popping your head under Troy's arm and around the door.

"Hi Jake!" You smile, always genuinely pleased to see him.

He smiles back at you and quirks an eyebrow at Troy.

"I'd say you've got less than ten minutes until Dad gets back. Maybe go round the back way... see you out front."

You wave goodbye as Troy huffs. Troy escorts you from his room and you feel disappointed to be leaving. It was comforting there. Troy does indeed take you out through the back way and around the side of the house where Jake is waiting with his hands in his pockets, trying not to grin at you.

"I'll be back as soon as I can." Troy tells you, and you get the feeling you're being handed over to Jake like a child.

"You know I can walk back to the bunk by myself. Or even around the ranch! I don't need an escort all the time."

Troy looks a little embarrassed.

"I know. I just wanted to make sure you're okay, especially after..."

"We didn't mean to offend you," Jake adds. "But I'd enjoy the walk with you and one last check up would put my mind at rest with how you're recovering."

"Fine." You agree, knowing it was just an excuse to put Troy's mind at ease.

As Troy heads toward the source of the problem Jake keeps a steady pace at your side and begins to speak.

"So, how are you feeling now?"

"Actually quite a bit better today," you say honestly. "It's nice to be normal for a while."

Jake nods understandingly.

"That's good. I was getting worried about you being stuck in that bunkhouse for days."

You smile thinly, remembering how comfortable Troy's room was compared to your living arrangements.

"You don't need to worry. I'm feeling much stronger."

Jake pauses for a few moments and even though you don't share a connection that links your feelings you can still tell from his face he is contemplating asking you something. You smile at him.

"You know you really need to work on your poker face."

Jake looks at you, confused.

"What's up Jake?" You ask, making it clear you could read him like a book.

Again he hesitates, running his hand over his head just like Troy tends to do when thinking.

"I was just wondering how things are going... between you and Troy."

You feel your heart skip a beat and a slight heat rise in your cheeks.

"Really? Why?"

Silently you're wondering if Troy had said something to him. Brother's talk like that, didn't they?

"I just know how... intense... it can be when you find your soulmate. I thought I'd check in, see if you needed anything."

You smile a bit more warmly and shake my head.

"I think things are going fine. Although..." You remember earlier, the way Troy had seemed to shut off from you somehow.

"Actually, I do have a question. About soulmates."

Jake waits, looking at you expectantly.

"Is it possible to... hide something. You know, from the bond. Feelings?"

Jake tilts his head as if unsure of what you mean.

"Do you mean like being able to feel each other's presence?"

You shake your head.

"No I mean... I could tell something was wrong with Troy earlier. Something he didn't want to talk about. I couldn't get a sense on how he felt."

Jake continues to look confused until his face softens.

"You know, my brother is a... complicated person. It can take a while to get used to his habits. He doesn't really open up much but just give him time."

You begin to feel frustrated, Jake clearly was missing the point. He places a hand on your shoulder and gives a comforting squeeze.

"You know people think being soulmates is easy. That you'll just connect and everything will be perfect. But it's hard. A relationship still takes time and effort. You'll learn to understand each other and soon you'll be able to read Troy the same way you read me!"

Something begins to settle in your stomach as Jake speaks and you begin to realise something. You smile and laugh a little, as if what you're about to say was just a funny joke.

"I know right... wouldn't it be great if soulmates could just... feel what the other was feeling all the time!"

Jake lets out a laugh.

"Oh yeah, that'd make things a lot easier!"

Your stomach drops but you keep the smile on your face as you reach your bunk and Jake bids you a good evening. Once inside you sit on the edge of your bed and begin to shake slightly.

It was clear that Jake had never experienced a shared emotion with his soulmate. Was this just an exception between them specifically? Perhaps influenced by her sickness and closeness to death?

Or... was the exception you and Troy. Your bond.

Was their something wrong with you.

#troy otto #fear the walking dead #ftwd #ftwd fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #fear the walking dead fanfic #ftwdfanfic #troy otto x reader #soulmates #soulmate au #romance #dark romance #don't say go fic

[yanxidarlings]

YANDERE POLY BROMIGOS HEADCANONS (ftwd)

because i took a break from ftwd at season 3 and i'm not confident enough to write for twd yet but i want angst and misery and want i it now

to refresh your memory the "bromigos" are brandon's group (brandon luke, derek, james mcallister, chris manawa) from season 2 that got chris killed. What can I say I like POS minor characters 🤡

BUT let's just say, hypothetically, instead of putting James down, they chuck him in the back of the truck and jus say "if he bleeds out he bleeds out if he doesn't he doesn't", but chris still crashes the truck and darling is there to prevent everyone's deaths 😮

• maybe the darling had followed travis and chris from madison's group or maybe they were apart of brandon's group. heck, they could even have been staying with the mexican guy at the farm. either way, they convince the others to spare the bullet and let nature take it's course with james.

• so the group packs up the truck and sets off. eventually chris gets his turn driving and that's when it all goes to shit. the vehicle smashes in a tree, flipping on it's side in the process, brandon and derek get out with pretty minor injuries, cuts to the head and a sprained wrist.

• james and chris on the other hand are doing pretty bad. on with shards of glass in his leg and the bone sticking out, the other with his gunshot wound worsened by the impact. the darling came out with a small concussion, having been in the back with james.

"look at them!, they're as good as dead. they'll be nothing but extra weight on us" brandon pointed his shotgun at james's head, ignoring the others plea's for mercy. m/n shot the other a sharp glare, raising his brows "oh. i get it" he sighed, lowering his pistol, "so if you were also injured you would hold up the same principle?"

"i'm not injured and since when have you been in char-" BANG. before brandon could finish his sentance, a loud crack sounded. and he was on the ground, his calf now covered in blood. "what the fuck man" "oh look there, derek, he's deadweight now, should we put him down?" m/n quipped, turning towards the only other uninjured member of the group, who was staring at him wide-eyed.

• shooting brandon might not have been the best decision in the long run, as walkers were slowly making their way towards the scene. derek was forced to help james and brandon hobble their way back to the farm - or the closest functioning vehicle. whilst m/n found a piece of tarp and dragged chris along on it.

• out of all of them, brandon hated m/n the most. who does he think he is? but he was also kind of weirdly attracted to the guy. if they weren't in the middle of an apocalypse he'd never even consider what he was nor would he find another male attractive. he'd used to make fun of the gay kids in highschool!

• but it's not like there are many options these days. at some point he tells the reader this, but all that came out of it was a concussion from the slap he received.

• his growing fondness evolved into obsession as the weeks go by and he begins to realise how much of an asset to the group the reader really is. he's the kind of person that would survive and thrive in this world, so much so that other survivors are going to want to steal him away from the group. like hell brandons going to let that happen.

• he used to think the other three were a bunch of gay sissy's, but now he too constantly grills the reader when he tries to go on runs, spends too much time alone or interacts with another survivor.

• after the whole crash fiasco, derek is straight up terrified of m/n. and is of the belief that he would belong in a mental hospital if society hadn't collapsed. as the only other uninjured member of the group, he's forced to take up alot of the slack. he goes on runs with and helps m/n secure the farm, he believes he's much closer to the reader because of this. which is what kickstarts his obsession.

• derek is under the belief that he's m/n's favourite of the group, otherwise he would have shot him as well, right? he does some mental gymnastics which arrive him at the assumption that m/n is definitely into him.

• wouldn't usually be his thing but nor would shooting people. the apocalypse changes you. so he kinda just starts.. acting like he's much closer to the reader than he actually is. mf takes his shirt off whilst on a run, thinking he's doing m/n a service.

• "put a shirt on" "it's boiling out here bro" "you might as well write walker bait on there"

• honestly james was into m/n after one look. it only got worse when he was saved from being put down twice. like derek he is fully under the impression that the reader is into him. but is much less subtle (if you could call derek's approach subtle).

• whenever m/n is attending to his wound, james is shamelessly flirting. and then he wonders why the reader is being less gentle when reapplying the gauze. he exaggerates his condition to the reader and is constantly demanding something "you couldn't look for something to drink when your out there? i'd share some with you ;)"

• when his injury starts to heal he only comes on more strong; unprompted 'bro hugs' (m/n could probably press charges), jumping on m/n during the middle of the night (and getting mistaken for a walker 😵), 'sharing' a piece of chocolate m/n brought him (the busted lip took two weeks to heal)

• but he takes it all in relative stride, and thinks m/n has some underlying psychological issues that need to be addressed.

• chris thinks m/n should have just killed the other three so it could just be the two of them. he hates sharing the readers attention with literally anything and anyone. but he's not exactly in a position to get rid of them, as the most injured out of the bunch.

• whilst he starts off as just possessive, as he gets more mobile and more obsessed with the darling, he becomes overwhelmingly violent. towards the others, towards the darling. he can't stand being rejected, and whilst the other three kind of just laugh the readers blatant disgust with their advances off, chris won't stand for it.

• "do you think your better than me?" chris jumps to the worst conclusions when m/n won't lay next to him, ect. you're planning on abandoning me just like my dad did, you're just using me to find your family, you're a sadistic piece of shit. he swings between shyly and violently affectionate, leaving m/n on the edge.

• out of all of them, chris is the quickest to go full-blown yandere. like brandon he becomes abhorrently possessive of m/n, knowing that there are probably better options out there for him.

• the only thing that keeps them, or chris and brandon, from killing everyone else in the group, is the knowledge that they have an advantage in numbers. brandon is well aware m/n could probably kill him 1 v 1 but 4 v 1 and m/n's chances of escaping are pretty slim.

• but just because they have silently agreed not to kill each other does not mean they have an active agreement. sure if they catch m/n trying to escape they'll break his arm but does anyone have a specific day they get to spend with him and is there any official relationship between m/n and any of them? not that m/n knows of.

• but it's not like any of them take no for an answer, no matter how many times they come onto him and get wrecked rejected they just go back stronger the next time. as a bunch of hormonal young men in the middle of mexico with no one else in sight the reader is kind of fucked here.

• now is the reader in any particular danger with this group? just a lil bit. nowhere near as much as other survivors they come across are. doesn't matter if m/n is compassionate and offers to take them in, he'll find them as walkers in the barn the next day.

• BUT on the brightside when it comes to decision making for the groups well being, you, dear reader, have the final say. they reluctantly recognise that they owe their livelihood to the reader for knowing a questionable amount of survival knowledge.

#yandere the walking dead #yandere fear the walking dead #yandere twd #yandere ftwd #chris manawa #yandere chris manawa #twd #ftwd #ftwd headcanons #ftwd yandere #ftwd x reader #ftwd fanfic #chris manawa x reader #chris manawa headcanons #brandon luke #derek ftwd #james mcallister #kenny wormald #kelly blatz had no gifs so here's the next best fc #tom cruise #lorenzo james henrie #israel broussard #wtf did i just write #twd x male reader #twd x reader #twd fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction

[noemitenshi]

Lark

or

And silently loom the shadows of my past

Summary: Tracy loves to cause mischief - but this time she may have just gone too far

“Tracy!?”

Troy shouted his daughters name in the way all parents did when they suspected – more than that, were most certainly convinced, at least Troy was, that their kid had done something stupid. And as all kids that most certainly had done something stupid, Tracy did not answer her father's call. "God damn it," Troy muttered. Normally, he'd be charmed by Tracy's antics − but not when it put others in danger. And she most certainly had – put someone in danger.

She knew better than that. He had taught her better than that, god damn it. What the fuck had she been thinking?! Ok, no, that wasn’t any use, getting angry at her, he thought, as he ran restless fingers through his hair. First he needed to know exactly what had happened – though he could guess. Could guess that Tracy had dared Tom (Deborah’s son. Deborah, who was still standing right next to him, equal parts annoyed and worried) to do something dangerous. Because Tom hadn’t been seen for hours. By anyone, if Deborah was to be believed.

It wasn’t the first time those two had done stupid things – to everyone’s sorrow they seemed to have deemed this the most interesting game among themselves; daring one another to do dangerous, forbidden things. Troy had a feeling that Tracy had started it. Their whole dynamic reminded him uncomfortably of himself and Mike—

“Russell?!”

Russell, unlike Tracy, was quick to follow Troy’s call. Good man. He still wasn’t sure how he’d been lucky enough to find someone like him, but he was glad to. Russell was Troy’s second in command, his most trusted fighter. And he’d earned that title over and over again. Their friendship ran deep – as it tended to do when you’d saved their life and they’d saved yours, over and over again.

Russell came over, his expression telling Troy he was expecting to receive orders. There was a certain tone Troy used when he went into leader mode.

“Any chance you seen Tom?” Troy asked without much hope and Russell shook slowly his head, his eyes sweeping the area. “No,” he said slowly and then, as Troy expected of him, his mind went where Troy’s was, “Tracy…?”

The question didn’t even need asking in its entirety. Troy nodded swiftly.

“We think so. She’s also nowhere to be found.”

Russell didn’t hesitate, radio-ing the rest of their men, urgently.

“We’ll find him,” Troy assured Deborah. She nodded, though didn’t go without a muttered,

“When that boy gets home…”

Troy took this as a good sign. If she could threaten her son, she wasn’t as worried as he’d feared. He, himself, on the other hand, had a very bad feeling about this. Tracy making herself scarce like this meant she knew this one was bad. Or – she was with Tom. On whatever ill-advised adventure they’d cooked up.

And he didn’t know which one to hope for.

They did end up finding Tracy pretty quickly. And it turned out all his instincts had been right and she had done something very stupid. Troy breathed through the urge to grab and shake her, shout at her until she understood what it was their childish games had ended up.

But by the way she looked at him, head tilted towards the ground, her eyes flicking up just for moments at time, looking pointedly away when he caught her gaze, he knew she knew she’d fucked up.

“Where could he have gone?” he pressed out instead, focused on finding Tom, who she’d dared to go outside the fence.

Alone.

He’d made sure all kids were well-trained – but even so, they were not used to being out on their own. No way to tell they wouldn’t panic or freeze in the face of danger. And though for Troy it was second nature to be outside, he knew it wasn’t for the kids. Even if they’d seen walkers up close, he’d also made sure they knew them, knew how they moved, how to incapacitate them, it was still different when they weren’t chained up. When there weren’t adults around.

“Fucking hell, Trace,” he growled – the only way he allowed himself to show his anger – and she shrank back. “Where do I find him?!”

“I… I don’t know…” she finally whispered her response.

God damn it.

God fucking damn it.

These childish fucking games. He’d known where they led to, he’d fucking known. Why hadn’t he put a stop to it sooner?!

He grimaced, wishing he could hit something. Tracy still looked at him with wide, guilty eyes. If they wouldn’t find Tom in time, it’d be on her conscience. He couldn’t let it.

“Let’s go!” he ground out, turning on his heels and stalking away, expecting both Russell and Tracy to follow.

He went for the dirt bikes. Tom probably didn’t get far, but they still had a lot of area to cover, and most of it wasn’t easily accessible by car – that had been by design. So their camp was well-hid.

“Is… Tom going to die?” his daughter asked, voice timid and almost inaudible. He grit his teeth.

“Not if I’ve got anything to say about it.”

And that was that.

Minutes later they were past the front gates, and they wouldn’t be the only ones, Russell had stayed back to organize a larger search party. But he couldn’t wait around for it, not with such a thing hanging over the conscience of his daughter. They needed to find Tom before something else did.

“Any idea where he could’ve gone?” he shouted over the engine noise over his shoulder. He felt her shake her head against his back. “Think, Trace! Anything you two talked about? Anything he said he was curious about?” He tried to jog her memory – if there even was one – while the world flew past them, his sharp eye sweeping the area, again and again – he wouldn’t want to miss anything.

Then, Tracy’s arms around his middle tightened, and he turned his focus back to her, just before she whispered a hesitant,

“Dad… the stream. I think he went to the stream…”

Troy had already turned the bike around, not waiting for her to finish the question, then relayed the information to Russell. Tracy’s grip on him was still tight, tight.

He started at the closest point to their camp, driving upstream. Tracy was leaning to the side, probably so she could watch their surroundings, too. Could catch sight of Tom, if there was any. Hopefully Tracy was right with her guess. Hopefully Tom hadn’t strayed too far.

“There!” Tracy’s trembling voice rang out – firmer now. Troy had already seen it, too, a little dam made out of stray branches in the stream. Something a kid would do. And a bit further away he could see a fresh path trampled into the undergrowth. He tucked his lips under his teeth, a subconscious gesture of concentration, and sped along that path—only to come to an abrupt stop when he saw two figures – fighting. The smaller one had to be Tom, or at least some other kid, not big enough to be an adult. The other was, though, the one pulling and dragging at Tom, while he tried to kick and bite this unknown figure.

So it wasn’t a walker then. A walker would’ve chomped down already. The unknown figure turned their head, just a quick look backwards, before trying to hurry Tom along even more insistently. And for a second Troy thought he knew that figure. Maybe it was the hair, or the build, or maybe the semblance of her profile…whatever it was, for a second he thought he’d seen a vision of his past. Or a nightmare.

For a second he’d thought this was Madison.

He used to see her in every flash of blonde hair, in every slender figure, in every blue-eyed woman… back then, when he’d barely survived her at the dam. He used to see her everywhere for years. But not for a while now. Not in the last few. Not since… Tracy?

But that couldn’t be. It couldn’t be because she was dead, his mind playing tricks on him again. He must’ve been more apprehensive than he’d thought about Tom vanishing like he had, why else would his mind show him a ghost of his past.

All of that only lasted for a second, a slight hesitation, then the gun was in his hand and a shot rang out.

The figure keeled over and Tom ran. Good boy. Tracy started to run, too, no doubt trying to get to Tom, but Troy caught up with her in long strides, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Stay,” he hissed, and she nodded with wide eyes, chastised. That was why he didn’t want kids out alone, they weren’t yet able to adhere to all the rules, all those things that would keep them alive. Too easily distracted. He pressed a gun into her hand – no way to know if this woman had been alone and he’d be damned if he left his daughter unprotected. Then he ran towards Tom, towards this woman. Whatever she had planned with Tom, he had to know. Had to know if she’d acted alone. If they were in danger.

Tom ran towards him, too, and seconds later was wrapped around Troy’s legs.

“Go to Tracy,” Troy whispered, tone tense. He had no time to soothe him, though Tom looked like he needed it.

Later. There was time for this, later.

The woman was half-crawling, half-dragging herself away from Troy, leaving a bloody trail behind. He was able to block her path only moments later. That stopped her pitiful attempts to get away and she raised her head. His breath caught in his throat and the blood in his veins turned to ice.

“…Madison?” he whispered in a voice that didn’t sound like his.

“You?!” Her voice very much sounded like her. Angry and ready to fight. Though there was a slight tremor in it, too. And when she’d spoken he’d seen her bloody teeth, the blood welling in her mouth. He’d at least damaged the lungs. It wasn’t likely that she’d make it.

He knelt down, to her eye level.

“What the fuck are you doing, stealing kids?” he asked. She glared at him.

“As if… you haven’t done worse.” Her breathing was labored, and she ended up coughing after that sentence. It wracked her body and it looked like she’d lose her balance, fall. He caught her.

“In fact, I haven’t,” he informed her while his arms steadied her. Kids were off limits. Especially when they weren’t doing anything threatening. He couldn’t imagine that Tom had threatened her.

God, this felt unreal. Of course it did. He’d thought her dead. The nightmare of his past. But here she was, alive.

Dying.

He almost felt like moving to stop the bleeding. It wouldn’t help, though. Not for long.

What was she doing, stealing kids?! Was this the same Madison that had whacked him for… for what, actually? Being a perceived danger to her kids? Out of morality?

“… I thought I killed you.”

Of course she didn’t answer his question. Still playing her games, still trying to have the upper hand. Not this time, though. This time she’d lose. Her shirt was already soaked through.

She knew it, too. It was in her tone, still angry but now, now there was surrender in it, as well.

“Next time you’d best stay to make sure, huh? My ability to survive is unparalleled.”

“I will,” she whispered. He almost didn’t understand her, with how much she was coughing up blood. It wouldn’t take long now.

“Why did you try to take Tom? What do you do with the kids?” That was a guess, that she’d taken more. She hadn’t contradicted him on it before. And she didn’t now, either. Instead some of her fight returned and she hissed,

“Why do you care?!”

Hissed it like she didn’t believe he did, and blamed him for it. His lack of caring. He had no intention of getting drawn into her bullshit.

“Does it matter?” he asked pointedly. She was dying after all. He cared or he didn’t, it would be irrelevant to her in a few short minutes. He couldn’t help himself though and added, “Tell yourself… I’ll save them.”

She laughed, short and ugly and he smirked in return. It didn’t last for long because then she was coughing again. Longer this time. He waited for it to ease.

“What happens to them, Madison?” he asked again, serious now. Commanding. She felt her life drain from her. What would it matter if she told him, indeed. So she did, all the while telling herself he’d save those kids.

He’d saved this one from her, after all, hadn’t he.

-The end-

Or more like, the beginning. Of course Troy now sets his eyes on P.A.D.R.E., mobilizing his entire force to save the kids and their parents. And he gets a neat little compound out of it, too. The people from his past he'd run into doing that (e.g. Luciana, Daniel, ..?) could still be assholes to him, but this time most would get around to seeing he has changed. And/or they operate on the principle of 'better the devil you know'.

#troy otto #tracy otto #madison clark #russell #Mike Trimbol #ftwd #ftwd fanfic #ftwd oneshot #oneshot #fear the walking dead #post s7 #pre s8 #fix-it #my fic #lark #and silently loom the shadows of my past

[blvckqwz]

the real star crossed lovers

#fanfic #twd x reader #nick clark #troy otto x oc #troy otto x reader #troy otto #ftwd #ftwd fanfic

[a-really-mediocre-writer]

Hi I love your writing and I’ve noticed you write for Chris Manawa, who I feel is under appreciated. There’s not a lot of writing on him so I was wondering if you could write something with him and reader on the boat and having a sweet moment together, like maybe messing around and play fighting? Just some fluff maybe some suggestive flirting. Thank you!

Sorry if my writing is a little messy English is not my main language.

Chris Manawa

GIF not mine, credit to @yanxidarlings

AUTHORS NOTE: hi guys so i havent written a fanfic or anything in like 3 years and my writing style may have change, lmk though if you would like me to write any other stories! requests are always open, and i have a few ideas for stories in the future as well. also after revisiting my only other chris oneshot i have realised that these are both set after his mom gets to walk the plank whoopsie

ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU ENJOY <3

---

Although the boat saving our lives from being snuffed out by the apocalypse was a luxury that it seemed no one else could afford, it had its downsides…such as the constant close quarters with everyone on board, as well as the boredom. It feels like such a selfish thing to admit whilst knowing about the fates of those we knew and loved that we couldn’t save, but at the same time I didn’t ask to be thrown into this hellscape, surely I should be allowed a pass on my lack of gratitude.

One of those who were not able to survive long enough to see life on the boat was Liza, Chris’s mother- the boy would not let us forget his grief and her loss, with it being written across his face as if it was stuck in a permanent frown. Most of us if not everyone aboard tried to avoid him and his snaps and cold tone, however as one of the only other teenagers on the sea with him I felt it was my duty to at least try to connect with him, especially after he had saved my life during the city riots at the start after I had lost my own parents in the chaos and the dead.

Chris was sat looking up at the stars on the outer deck of the boat alone. The day had been a rough one, with Liza’s sea burial not going so smoothly, tensions were high between him and his father Travis.

“Hey stranger” I said warmly as I emerged from the inner boat wrapped in a blanket, making my way over to the troubled boy.

“Hey..” He replied solemnly glancing over to me, his eyes following me until I was sat cross legged next to him. I held a spare small blanket out to the boy who declined the gesture by pushing it gently back towards me. Rolling my eyes playfully, I sat up on my knees and wrapped it around his shoulders, making him blush and stiffen for a moment, only to relax once I had sat back down again. The silence between us was deafeningly awkward.

“Soo.. Whatcha doing out here?”

“The stars are so peaceful tonight..” He quietly replied as he gazed up into the moonlit sky.

“Yeah, that’s one good thing about life nowadays.. you can see all of the stars you wouldn’t be able to with all the big city lights back at home.” I smiled gently at him and he glanced down at me before going back to star gazing. He was in deep thought and holding back tears as he kept his head held high trying to stop them from spilling out, eventually failing as I watched one stray tear roll down his cheek.

“Chris, we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but I am here for you and can be a shoulder to cry on if you need it…I really care about you…” After a few moments he lowered his head to look at me and his eyes were bloodshot and glossy. He stared into my eyes as if searching for something lost, and eventually raised the corners of his mouth into a weak smile to tell me,

“Thank you.”

After a few moments of silence and us smiling at each other he looks to the side out to the water, “I feel like… no one understands what I feel here… my dad doesn’t care that she is gone, he didn’t care about her he’s too busy with his new family… you are the only person that I think cared that she died.”

We sat in silence for a while, thinking about what he had said, before Chris broke it again.

“Sorry…That was pretty heavy…”

I let out a soft chuckle and reassured him, “Hey, I can handle anything you know… I’m superwoman but for like…listening to people I care about” attempting to lighten the mood a bit and nudging him on the shoulder, which seemed to work as I caught him smiling to himself and playfully nudging me back.

“Yeah yeah don’t get cocky…” He smirks at me and I mock offence, dramatically putting a hand on my chest and joking back to him, “Me? Cocky? I could never- How dare you even THINK that…” I giggled watching him roll his eyes at my dramatic outburst.

“You are so immature,” he starts, “Sometimes I wonder why we are friends…” He stares at me for a moment as if he were analysing my every movement, before his eyes land on the blanket wrapped around me like a burrito and he decides to quickly snatch it from me, laughing and saying “Maybe it’s because you’re so generous for giving me your blanket”

“HEY!!” I shout as I sit in shock for a split second before lunging at him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders in an attempt to get the blanket back around myself. We are both wriggling around at this point trying to reclaim the blanket, as we forgot that the couch had a limited space, so when he eventually tried to get me off of him we both rolled down the steel drop from the couch to the deck, landing with a thud onto my back and physically wincing at the sudden pains shooting through my back. I was more shocked however to feel Chris landing on top of me, and when I opened my eyes he was there leaning over me, his hands either side of my head. We both just stare into each other’s eyes for a few seconds too long, getting lost in his dark coffee coloured eyes; this then led to me scanning his face and admiring his undeniably handsome features and plump lips that he had begun to nibble into nervously. Feeling the blood start to rush to my face I decided to break the silence.

“Okay okay I didn’t realise that it was that serious to you…keep the blanket Manawa!” I giggled and poked his sides to shock him, which worked and his cheeks began to flush. He picked me up and I gasped, grasping onto his shirt incase he dropped me, but instead he put me onto the couch and sat next to me, opening up the blanket inviting me to sit wrapped up with him, which I accepted and crawled into his side, getting comfortable next to him as he settled the blanket over us both.

We sat awkwardly close to each other in silence for a few minutes, neither one of us wanting to scare the other away, but then Chris grabbed my hand underneath the blanket and without looking at me he said, “Thank you, Y/N… I needed this distraction from..everything…” he glances over at me “…you mean a lot to me…even if we have only just met, I feel like I have known you a lifetime, but it’s only been a month.”

I smile warmly at his words and glance at him before engulfing him into a tight hug, which he takes a few seconds to return.

“Chris, you mean a lot to me too. I would risk anything and everything for you, you are all I have left…” I feel the tears start to well up as i pull out of the hug and look him in the eyes, “…so you better not do anything stupid” I laugh and wipe my tears off of my face. He sits with an arm over my shoulders and laughs quietly about what I said.

“Maybe you aren’t ALWAYS immature and crazy… At least you aren’t boring.”

#chris manawa #ftwd #twd #twd fanfic #twd imagine #fear the walking dead #chris manawa imagine #i just realised this is the more fluffy version of the other chris fic i have whoopsie #this is probably bad i havent written in 3 years #ftwd fanfic #troy otto

[alyssaforevermore]

Darkness ↦ Troy Otto

Synopsis: While searching for her younger brother, Josephine Clark and her family are captured by what they at first think is the military. They soon come to realize that their new home holds dark secrets. All Josie wants is to keep her family together, but will Troy Otto get in the way of everything?

Show: Fear The Walking Dead

Pairings: Troy Otto x Clark!OC

Warnings: Major series spoilers (full series will be covered), use of profanity, descriptions of violence, death, blood and gore, and mentions of drugs and alcohol.

Status: coming soon

Note: This series will follow the main plots of the show, starting at season 3. Many things will be changed, as I am also considering this a bit of a rewrite for the show. We will continue on as long as people are interested in the story!

Available on: Tumblr || Wattpad

Tags: OPEN!

Extras:

TBD

Character Bios:

Josephine Clark (coming soon)

Chapters:

TBD

#troy otto; darkness #fear the walking dead #ftwd #ftwd fanfic #troy otto #troy otto x oc

[aquarian-queen]

Saw the episode will share my thoughts on it.

#troy otto #daniel sharman #ftwd spoilers #ftwd fanfic #fear the walking dead #Some of the things don't make sense #Villain Troy #I dig #But the reason why??? #The Ranch and all that #Babyyyyy I love you but you brought that damn horde to the Ranxh #Also the Alicia reveal???? #Let me make some cute gifs for my man

[writerslittlelibrary]

Hello lovelies 👋

I'm a big fan of "Fear the Walking Dead," and I was wondering if anyone would want to read it if I wrote anything?

I haven't seen a lot of fics about it, and the ones I have are always romantic towards Alicia, Nick, or Chris

I really want to write a platonic one with like a neighbour reader or something

#fear the walking dead #ftwd #nick clark #madison clark #ftwd x reader #alicia clark #alicia clark x reader #nick clark x reader #reader insert #twd #ftwd fanfic #fear the walking dead x reader #madison clark x reader

[leilamarie99]

Reunited

It’s been a couple of months and troy hasn’t been home to the ranch his been working at military Face and head haven’t heard from him for long for a while today is meant to be the day he comes back so I’m happy I’ve been waiting on the stairs of our house when I saw some cars show up running over I didn’t see him until he got out of the car running over at the gate as it opened I jumped in his arms and kissed him

“ I miss you so much baby “

“ I miss you too“ Troy kissing you again

You looked at his eye

“ what happened to your eye “ going to grab his face but pulled away

“ ask that bitch“ Troy said you looking at some newcomers the ones that must’ve of done this to Troy you can deal with that later you finally got Troy back if I finally been reunited together again

#troy otto imagines #troy otto x reader #troy otto #fear the walking dead #ftwd fanfic

[insom-nom-nom-niatic]

2 Of A Kind Ch. 3

CHARACTERS: Troy Otto X Fem Reader

WARNINGS: It's made for FTWD so you should know the basics. +SMUT (read at your own risk. I'm nobody's mom) +Fem receiving

There may or may not be a part 4... need to see how people feel about it. ALSO! Shoutout to all the GIF makers out there for giving me so many options and I love you all... I still feel the need to use the same one repeatedly, but you all help me fight that urge!

This is made for THIS anon request!

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

“Can I help you with that?”

Troy’s eyes grew dark, feeling his senses begin to tunnel into her and her alone. The woman merely smiled, adjusting herself under the blanket to the side. Her cheeks burned with a fury of confusion and anticipation as she stared back into the blue eyes watching her. “I mean-” Troy shuffled his feet lazily towards the right side of the mattress, closest to the woman. “You helped me so it’s only polite of me to offer my assistance. That is - if you want me to help. Not to be frank but, I could do a bit better than what you were doing.” Troy cocked his head to the side with a crooked smile when the woman scoffed exaggeratingly at his remark. It had been some time, if ever, that anyone had made him feel like this.

Powerful.

“Come’er,” She whispered to him, a voice sending shivers down his spine, but Troy followed her order. The mattress slunk down from his weight, dipping the two into one pothole in the middle. Her fingers ghosted over his hand, the wound on it open to the warm air. His eyes flinched at the sting that rang up his extremity as she placed the hand to her lips, gently kissing the inflamed skin while looking up at him through dark eyelashes. with a twist of his hand, Troy caressed the woman’s cheek, feeling the heat radiate from her dewy skin. Their eyes never broke until Troy lowered his gaze to her lips, softer than he thought they’d be, swiping one calloused digit across the delicate flesh.

With a smooth lick of his lips, Troy initiated the kiss. Pressing his flesh upon her own, feeling her warmth and hearing the ever-so-silent moan that escaped her lips against his. He thought about going slow. He thought about taking it easy with her and not being so forceful, but the sound she made turned him into something more than he thought he was. Deepening the kiss, Troy licked at her bottom lip begging for permission.

Denied.

He could feel her lips pull at the sides, smirking against his touch. This was a game.

A hand found its way to the base of her neck, his fingers dancing along her spine until she felt his way into her hair. Troy took a handful of lush locks, pulling it into a fist. Her body began to arch as her neck pulled back just enough to gain his awaiting tongue entry. His body began to barrel over her as she was lost in the feelings. She wasn’t one to ever relinquish control… yet, here she was. Allowing a stranger control over her body, and she liked it.

As Troy’s tongue ventured into the walls of her mouth, his free hand found its way up her chest, burning fingerprints into the skin he began to expose. With one final nip to her bottom lip, Troy backed away, his lips at least. His eyes regained control again, watching her once-hardened eyes turn soft and needy. The look she gave him through those dark eyelashes gave him the feeling of warmth… possessive… needed.

Fully collapsing into the soft sheet below, the woman gave up her fight. His touch felt too good to push away.

Watching his head dip below her chin, she felt his lips once again burn into her skin, just below her collarbone. His tongue swirled with small suctions traveling lower and lower. His nimble fingers pulled the blanket she was hiding under exposing both breasts to his full view. Troy glanced up, his fingers pinching the sensitive skin of her nipples.

He wanted to see her face as she let him do everything he wanted.

He wanted to see her vulnerable. He wanted to see her as his.

After a little while, he couldn’t take it any longer. Seeing her skin raised in goosebumps and her nipples formed into full points, Troy replaced his fingers with his lips. He hadn’t thought he had an oral fixation before, but the way his cock begged for his lips to have her, any part of her, was beginning to make the brunette re-think that. Her voice jumped when he sucked in a breath against her, biting harder than he had before. Her fingers weaved through the curly locks on Troy’s scalp, tugging ever so much with each moan that escaped her. Troy hadn’t realized that his hand had already found her most sensitive region until she shook under his grasp.

“Wait-wait-wait-wait!” She exclaimed, her fingers lifting his chin to look back at her. “If you’re going there, then I need something other than ‘fuck-boy’ to scream. So what’ll it be?”

Troy smirked, a devilish smirk, with one arm under his weight to keep him raised above her form. The hand that was at her core swiped the saliva from his lips before ghosting down her body, once more resting where he could see a glint of her slick dripping from. His eyes watched her skin react to his touch the entire time, her scars rough and coarse before his fingertips met more soft skin. He thought about toying with her, prolonging her wait for any form of identity of him, but he wanted to hear his name echo on those walls just as bad as she wanted sweet release.

“I’m Troy.”

As soon as he spoke, Troy delved two fingers into her core. Her hands fisted into his hair as he did so. He watched as her entire body arched from the mattress and her lips enchanted the delight of moaning his name. Enjoying the sight before him, Troy watched as she came to orgasm. His digits glided in and out of her sodden core, stretching the walls of her pussy farther with each spasm she had. As she began to clamp down, his thumb rubbed circles through her clit, only causing even more mess as she finally climaxed with a squirt of fluids soaking the bedding below her sweat-slickened skin.

She was a mess, a hot uncontrollable mess as she came back down from her high. She had completely forgotten she was even in company until she felt one strong arm tighten over her belly and soft curls itch across her cheeks. Troy knew she needed a little time, so kept himself busy making bruises to last her a few days on her neck. Once he felt her heart rate slow against his touch, he pulled back to look upon the magnificent work he had done. One arm, again held him up as the other moved slickened hair from the woman’s face. His eyes peered over her lips as he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth to keep from dazing before meeting her watchful gaze.

“I suppose I should thank you.” She spoke quietly, much softer than normal. Her mouth upturned into a shy smile before turning to look at the ceiling. Troy chuckled tenderly. This woman wasn’t at all who he thought she would be as he peeled back layer after layer.

“There’s no need, I’m here to help, ma’am.”

Troy rolled over to the edge of the mattress, swinging his legs over the side. He didn’t want to overstay his welcome so he figured it was off to the couch for another night. Then, a soft touch wrapped around his wrist.

“Why are you leaving? Did I-”

“I didn’t want to overstay or put you in a position to ask me to leave.”

Troy looked back at the woman from over his shoulder. She sat where he had left her, trying to hide her modesty behind entwined arms and legs. The look she returned was not one that he had assumed he would get. Her coy smile beckoned his feet to not move. Her eyes were like a siren making any thought he had of leaving melt away.

“I’m grateful, I truly am -” her hand that was on his wrist weaved through a belt loop, tugging at the fabric, “- I need more, Troy. And given by how tight those pants have gotten, I think you need more too.”

#troy otto #fear the walking dead #troy otto fanfic #troy otto x reader #troy otto smut #troy otto x oc #ftwd fanfic #ftwd #daniel sharman fic #smut #fem receiving

[schizophrynia]

MASTERLIST

as of the present moment, i only write for the walking dead, fear the walking dead, the last of us one + two. i will only write nsfw for adult characters without aging up.

the reader will always use gender neutral pronouns, but nsfw content may include the reader description of afab or amab.

requests : open

last updated : february 1, 2024

fear the walking dead

troy otto ;

knock on wood — nsfw, fluff

❧ daryl dixon x afab gender neutral reader

"after troy is exiled from the ranch, you are left to wallow in your own thoughts. that is, until he returns for one, erotic night, shallowly hidden in the shadows."

the walking dead

daryl dixon ;

his imagination — nsfw, fluff

❧ daryl dixon x afab gender neutral reader

“you called him a pretty boy and that's simply too much for his heart, and body, to handle.”

#fanfic #smut #twd daryl #twd rick #the walking dead headcanons #teratophillia #twd preferences #ftwd #ftwd fanfic #nick x reader #nick clark #alicia clark #qaletaqa walker #qaletaqa walker x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou2 #ellie williams #ellie x reader #joel miller #joel x reader #x male reader #x male smut #x female reader #x female smut #x gn reader #x gn smut

[ftwdb]

Just dirty, filthy smut about Troy’s obsession with making notes while “watching you”…

Troy likes to watch you masturbate. He will sit on a chair nearby or on the edge of the bed and make notes, describing what you do to yourself and how it makes your body respond and the different sounds it coaxes out of you. He’ll time you. He will note down the length and intensity of each orgasm.

Then he will use this information to see if he can make you go longer, moan louder and your body shake harder. He keeps record of his own “personal bests” and nothing turns him on more than “interviewing” you after each round. Prodding you for more information, more in depth descriptions of what you felt and what you did until your face is red and your chest heaving.

Afterward he places the pencil in-between the pages and snaps it shut. The sound always makes you flinch because you know you’re in for another round.

“Let’s try it this way…”

He will tell you, gesturing for you to move positions. You oblige. You’re happy to be his test subject. His little experiment. After all, he might be getting off on the things he is learning and observing but you’re the one reaping the benefits…

#troy otto #fear the walking dead #ftwd #ftwd fanfic #troy otto x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #fear the walking dead fanfic #ftwdfanfic #troy otto x reader smut #smut #short ficlet #fear the walking dead imagine #troy otto imagine #troy otto fear the walking dead #troy otto x you #troy otto fic #troy otto smut

[sunny-desk]

4,252 Days Chapter 2: Day 1, Pt 2

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Fic Summary: FTWD re-written to include an OC named Gemma who has a platonic relationship/friends with benefits situation with Nick Clark and then goes on to be with Troy Otto. Chapter Summary: Gemma sits with Nick at the hospital before his family arrive Word Count: 2192 Author’s Note: Gif from here.

It isn’t long before they arrive at the hospital and Nick is unloaded from the ambulance and wheeled down some corridors and into a shared room. That must be a good sign, Gemma thinks, the sickest people always get a room to themselves. Dad got a room to himself. She stands outside the door not sure what to do with herself but thinking it’s best to keep out of the way while they get Nick comfortable, attach him to a drip and ask him questions she can’t quite hear the answer to. 

“Is it okay if I go in and sit with him?” Gemma asks the final person to walk out the room once they’re done with him, a nurse, she assumes.

“Do you know him, miss?”

“I was there when he got hit. I just thought maybe I could keep him company until his friends or family get here. I don’t know. Sounds weird now that I’m saying it, actually. Maybe I should just…” Gemma gestures to the exit.

The nurse smiles politely, a dimple forming on each cheek, and touches Gemma’s arm before saying, “If he’s comfortable with you being here then, yes, you’re very welcome to stay. It could be good for him, keep him calm.”

“Great, thank you.” Gemma smiles.

As she walks in Gemma sees Nick laying in his hospital bed, no longer donning the stretched out, white t-shirt and jeans. Now he’s in a white patterned hospital gown, staring at the patient in the bed on the right side of the room, an old man with thinning grey hair being tended to by another nurse. As Gemma gets closer to him, Nick turns his attention to her. 

“You’re still here,” he says. His voice is slightly monotone. He should probably be resting. “Don’t you have places to be?”

“Sorry, I- '' she feels awkward, “Yeah, I’m still here. No, I don’t have places to be. I was thinking of staying, just until someone you know shows up.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Gemma makes her way to the chair at the side of Nick’s bed and takes off her blazer, leaving her in a short-sleeved white blouse, another item borrowed from Liv that morning. She puts the blazer over the back of the chair before sitting down.

Gemma knows she should hold off for a bit, have a normal conversation with him first before asking this, but she can’t, “Look, tell me to shut up if you don’t want to have this conversation but... What were you looking for earlier? You kept looking around, like you were trying to find something. You seemed.. scared?”

“Nice tattoos,” says Nick, trying to sound casual.

“Thanks,” Gemma replies, appreciating the compliment but knowing it’s Nick’s way of avoiding the question. She looks down at her tattooed arms. The biggest is a snake, winding down her left forearm to her wrist. Gemma runs her hand over it. “I saw a snake at the zoo one time when I was about seven and then spent the better part of three years begging my mum for one as a pet. This is the closest I’ve ever got to actually getting one.”

“There’s still time.” Nick says. 

“Yeah, there is.” Gemma nods. “So, how are you feeling? Better now that you’re in a bed and not on the concrete, I assume?”

Nick doesn’t respond to Gemma’s question. Instead his eyes follow the nurse who was tending to the old man as she gives him a small smile, pulls forward the curtain to separate the two of them and then walks out of the room. It’s safe to talk now.

“You’ll think I’m crazy,” Nick says seriously, “I think I’m crazy.”

Gemma leans forward in her chair, intrigued, concerned.

“I saw… something. Someone. I saw someone. When I was hit, I was running from someone and I don’t know if…” He rubs his hands down his face, something he can only just do as each hand is cuffed to the side of the bed, avoiding saying any more.

“You don’t know if it was real.” Gemma finishes the sentence for him. Nick looks at her, fear and worry etched all over his face, and nods.

“I didn’t see you leave there but the way you kept looking back at it- You came from the church, right? Listen, I know that church, I’ve been to that church, I-”

“You’ve been there?” Nick cuts Gemma off. Now he’s the one intrigued.

“It’s not an interesting story, trust me. There was a wagon, I fell off it, not for the first time, and that church is where I ended up for a few days.”

“When? I never saw you there.”

“Maybe we just missed each other.” Gemma shrugs. “Or maybe we were too off our faces to notice one another.”

“If I had to bet on it, I think I’d go with the second option.” Nick responds, smiling slightly. 

“Yeah, I think I would too,” Gemma laughs before trying to steer the conversation back on track. “So, what you saw…”

“Back when I got hit, I was looking around so much because I was so sure about what I’d seen, it felt so real, you know, but now? I’ve been thinking about it so much that I don’t even know. Maybe I just imagined it.” Nick throws his head back onto his pillow, looking up at the ceiling as he talks. “But then what does that mean for me, Gemma? I must be.. insane, actually insane.” He looks at her now. “And what I saw was so bad that maybe that would be better, if it just came from me, because that being real? I don’t even know what that would mean. For me, for you, for everyone.”

Gemma can see the worry in Nick’s eyes, she feels bad for him. “Is there a chance you just hallucinated?” She tries to reassure him. “I mean, maybe it wasn’t real and maybe you’re not insane. Maybe you just got high and hallucinated.” 

“I really want to write it off like that, I do, but that’s never happened to me before.”

“Nick, what is it we’re actually talking about right now?” Gemma asks, almost whispering. “You saw someone? You saw them, what?”

“I saw-”

Just as Nick starts talking, he cuts himself off, looking towards the door where two police officers can be seen, and heard, striding down the corridor towards the room Nick, Gemma and the old man are occupying. 

“Nick Clark?” Asks the first to enter, a short black man. He’s already reaching into his pocket for a small notepad.

“That’s me.” Nick responds, voice calmer and more upbeat than it was five seconds ago.

“I’m Officer Lake and this is my colleague, Officer Martin. We need to talk to you about what happened this morning.” 

“I went for a walk.” Nick responds. Gemma sits quietly in her chair, wondering if now is her cue to leave or not.

“You were running, Nick.”

“I went for a run.” Gemma can see Nick smirking.

“Barefoot, down “Needle Alley”?”

“Man, Kenyans run barefoot.”

“Uh-huh. You said someone got hurt. You remember that? You were raving about “flesh and blood and viscera.”” 

So that was what Nick was saying to the doctors while Gemma was waiting outside. Flesh and blood? Whose flesh and blood? Nick had said he was running from someone so does that mean there’s someone out there right now hurt or hurting people? Gemma tries to remain neutral but knows a look of worry is forming on her face as her mind runs through what this could mean. She can never control the look on her face.

She sees Nick turn to look at her, like he’s realised that piece of information is going to make her start thinking all sorts of things. She stares back at him, trying to figure out what he wants her to do, what she wants to do. Stay or leave? Say something or say nothing?

It only takes her a second to decide. Stay. Say nothing. 

Maybe it was all in his head, she rationalises, and she isn’t going to bring up things he’s said and end up being responsible for him being taken away if it turns out there’s nothing going on and this was just a very bad trip. And even if it is real, whatever this is, they don’t have any proof right now. How likely is it that the police will believe something with no proof and coming from a drug addict? Not very. Best to let it play out for now. She looks at Nick and he knows she’s not going to say anything.

“It’s runner’s high.” Nick says to Officer Lake. “Oh, and I don’t know what viscera is.”

Officer Lake looks at his partner. They’re suspicious. “Okay, tell us where you scored. Lots of kids buying in that hood. We clean it up, you come out a hero.” Nick starts laughing. “Nick, you could have died.”

“Yeah, coulda, woulda, shoulda.”

“Okay, we’ll take it from the top. Nick, why were you running.”

Gemma leans back in her chair, preparing to be sat for a while, since these officers seem determined to get answers that Nick isn’t willing to give, and just as she gets comfy a woman with shoulder length blonde hair comes charging into the room. Nick’s mother. 

“Is my son under arrest?” She demands.

“No, ma’am.”

“Then get out. Thank you. Leave.” 

“We could charge him.” Lake continues, but Nick’s mother clearly isn’t phased.

“Well, charge him when he’s healed. For now, go away.”

Officer Lake turns to the man who followed her in. “Does she do all the talking?” 

“Get the-.” She stops herself. “Get out.” She says firmly. Gemma starts thinking things are about to get interesting but instead Lake holds his hands up and walks out while Officer Martin hands the man who entered with Nick’s mum a card before he trails out behind him. 

“What happened?” Nick’s mum asks him demandingly. “And who’s this?” She questions, looking towards Gemma, giving her a once over. Gemma isn’t sure if the mild annoyance in her tone is a product of Nick’s situation being aimed at the wrong person or if she’s actually annoyed at her but either way this time it definitely feels like her cue.

“I’m no one, sorry.” Gemma starts to stand, grabbing hold of her blazer she put on the back of the chair. “I got to Nick when he was hit and thought I’d stick around until his family got here and, well, now you’re here, so, I should leave.”

“Yeah, you should.” The woman replies curtly.

“Mom!” Nick shouts at her before looking to Gemma. “Sorry, what she actually meant to say was thank you. And me too. Thank you.”

“No worries,” Gemma smiles to Nick, not acknowledging his mother's comment at all.

She wants to bring up what he was saying before but decides it’s better not to. She isn’t sure what Nick wants his family to know. Instead, she steps over to the small nurse’s station at the side of the room, grabs a blue, ballpoint pen and a small slip of paper and writes down her name and phone number. 

“This is embarrassing to do in front of your family but um, when you get out of this place and you’re feeling better, give me a call, if you want to. We can… I don’t know, go on one of those shoeless hikes.” Gemma smiles and hands the paper to him, looking him in the eye as she says the last bit. 

She hopes he can tell what she really means. If he wants to tell her more about what he saw, find out if it was real or just dodgy drugs from a dodgy dealer, then she’ll help him out. He just has to call.

Nick does a small nod. She nods back then starts walking out, past his parents. A girl he assumes is Nick’s sister looks up at her and moves back slightly to let her pass. Gemma is pretty sure that’s the first time she’s taken her eyes off her phone since they walked in. Proof of Nick being here often, she thinks. 

Once Gemma is out of the room she hears Nick start talking and slows down to catch what he’s saying. “What was that, mom?” He asks, annoyance in his voice. “Travis, tell her she was out of order.”

“What was what?” She looks behind her to the man, Travis, and then back to Nick and makes a huffing sound. She’s defensive. “I don’t know who she is. I don’t know who you hang around with these days. Excuse me for being worried.”

“You don’t even know the girl, Maddie, come on.” Travis notes, trying to calm things down.

“She wasn’t dressed like a druggy.” The girl adds nonchalantly.

“Okay, just relax. I told her she should go, I didn’t exactly rip into her.” She justifies herself. Gemma shakes her head and decides to pick up the pace and get out of there. Let Nick’s mother think what she wants.

#nick clark #nick clark x oc #nick clark x reader #nick clark imagine #ftwd fanfic #mine

[noemitenshi]

Excerpt

He leaned his shoulder against Lee’s, his head to his and watched him finish threading the flower crown.

This may have been hers, before, but it was Troy’s now. He could appreciate the skill it took, how quickly Lee worked. He was even humming a little now. When it was done, it didn’t look any less fragile. Though it was pretty, Troy had to admit once Lee took it all up in his hands, holding it out for Troy to admire, stretched gingerly over all of Lee’s fingers.

“I may be a bit rusty…” Lee whispered. Shyly?

“Let’s see if it holds.” Troy leaned his head slightly down, an invite. After Lee had placed the crown there – he could hardly feel it, or, not the weight of it but he was overly aware that it did sit on the top of his head – he straightened again.

“How do I look?” he asked his boyfriend. He didn’t even know what kind of answer he expected – whether he wanted him to say, better than his ex-wife (he most certainly did, even though it was childish). Lee’s answer was unexpected.

“Soft.”

It made Troy furrow his brows, unsure how to respond – whether he liked hearing that…

“I like you soft…” Lee added, tone so tender. A whisper, really.

“You like me hard, too,” Troy countered, a little tease of his own. He even raised his brows meaningfully.

This amazing art piece is posted with permission from @lindamarieanson​ (again thank you so so much for it, we love it 🥰😍🫠) Here’s a link to her original post of it, and also check out her art-blog @lindamarieanson-art​

@fluffbruary​ so i had honestly planned to have this done by the 14th, however. the chapter just kept growing and growing (initially i was worried if it would even hit the 3k mark. now it’s doubled in size oo) - and also i got sick three days before the deadline. anyway, now it is here, my entry for ✨vintage✨ (it fits more or less hihi)

#troy otto #crazy dog #troy otto x crazy dog #ftwd #fanfic #ftwd fanfic #fluffbruary in january #so much fluff #tooth-rotting fluff #their first official date #flower crowns #and teasing #and swimming in a stream #picnic under the stars #troy pulled out all the stops #my fic #addicted to mess