#troy otto x reader

[escapist-of-fiction]

One shot - Troy Otto x Fem Reader

Description - just a bit of fluff really. Something that has been floating in my head for a while and needed to write it down. Troy is a bit of a tease in this but I like him like that.

Warnings - none really. Mild swearing.

If you do read, a like, reblog and/or a comment would make me smile :) enjoy!

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It had become abundantly apparent to everyone that something was developing between you and Troy.

There was something about the way he looked at you from across the room, never intrusive but always keeping one eye closely on you, watching your every move. You didn't mind though. It made you feel safe. You didn't feel so alone in the crowd.

Every chance Troy had; loading supplies from the trucks, collecting empty dishes at meal times, showing you how to hold a gun in the right way to defend yourself, any excuse to have just a little bit of contact with you. You didn't mind. You wanted him to do it. Your skin tingled at his touch. If he stood close to you, you would hold your breath without even realising. It was just the effect he had on you. In a group situation, he would always somehow find his way next to you, by now it was almost an expectation.

You wondered how long it would take for him to make a move. It had taken so long that you were unsure whether it was all in your mind and he had no interest in you at all.

"You can see it, can't you?" Alicia said one day as you sat together at lunch.

"See what?" You responded innocently.

You needed someone else to spell it out to you. To make it seem real. It seemed too good to be true in your own mind. After all, why would someone as complex as Troy be interested in someone as basic as you?

"Troy. There's something about you two. The way he is around you, it's like you're precious cargo or something. He speaks to you so differently to everyone else, with a whole new level of respect. He doesn't even speak like that to Jake, his own brother."

You didn't know how to respond to this, so you decided not to say anything at all.

On the day the Militia headed out on their short mission, you stood with everyone else at the gates. Going on missions was a weekly occurrence in the post-apocalyptic world but today everyone seemed a little on edge. Everyone except Troy.

You stood a little away from the small gathering, leaning against a table where supplies were piled up high. You watched as Troy fooled around with some of the Militia members, his trusted and closest comrades obviously. He wasn't normally this way before a mission, which made you think it was a little more serious than the average. He was trying to put everyone at ease. Rumours had been going around the Ranch that you were heading out to confront another group, who were threatening to steal water supplies. It wouldn't be an easy mission and lives were potentially at risk.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn't notice someone pick up a box beside you, until their voice brought you back to reality.

"You aren't normally here to see us off," Troy noted.

"I'm surprised you would even notice," you answered with the tiniest of smiles, watching for his reaction.

"Dont worry, I notice."

You watched as he walked towards the truck and placed the final box in the back, hitting the side panel to signal to the group that they were ready to go.

You expected Troy to climb into the driver's seat as normal, rev the engine, turn up his heavy metal music and speed out of the Ranch, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake. But not this time.

This time, he turned and walked back in the direction of you. You lifted your head to look up at him as he got closer and closer, until he was stood toe to toe with you. He had a look on his face, a mixture of uncertainty and, was that yearning?

You were perplexed by Troy's actions and you were just about question his odd behaviour when he suddenly grabbed you by the waist and....kissed you.

The briefest of kisses that lasted long enough to make your head spin, your toes curl and heart race all at once. It stunned you but made sense to you all at once. You felt Troy's hand press firmly into the small of your back to pull you against him as his other hand gently caressed your cheek.

Then no sooner had it started, it stopped and Troy pulled away. No explanation. No second glance as he turned and walked back towards the truck and the waiting Militia.

You stood there in shock, your fingers reaching to your lips to trace the echo of his touch.

What the hell was that?

Five days passed until Troy and the Militia returned.

Five days for you to mull over your encounter and ask yourself a million questions. You flitted from the feeling of lusting after Troy and more from that kiss, to being filled with a mild rage at how the bastard had acted in such an impulsive way and walked right out of the Ranch with no explanation.

By the time they returned, you had made up your mind on what to do next.

You never normally gathered with the others at the gate but this time was different. This time you had a reason to stand amongst the friends and family. You wanted Troy to know he had left someone behind. Someone who cared about him, his reckless behaviour and the consequences that came with it.

You watched him exit the truck last of all. He looked tired and weary, having been on the road with little to no sleep and carrying the responsibility of everyone's safety on his shoulders. There was a part of you that wanted to rush to him, embrace him but something made you hold back and wait.

Eventually, Troy looked up and spotted you, his eyes lighting up as they met with yours. You gave nothing away. He approached you, watching your expression tentatively, wondering how you were going to react since your last encounter. He took the fact you were here at all as a good sign.

Coming to stand in front of you, he rested his hands on his hips and tilted his head with a cocky smile.

Words were lost on you. You tried to think of something smart to say, to chastise him for what he did the last time you saw each other but you just kept losing your train of thought in those azure, blue eyes.

Instead, you communicated in the only way you both knew how.

Stepping forward and rising to the balls of your feet, you placed a hand on the back of Troy's neck and pulled him down to meet you.

Your lips pressed firmly against his. A kiss almost sweeter than the first, full of promise and something that you couldn't quite describe but you knew you needed more of it.

Reluctantly, you pulled away to look up at Troy, your hands pressed against his chest. Judging by the hazy look in his eye and the delectable way he licked his lips, it told you everything you needed to know. He felt exactly the same way.

And then, just like that, you found your voice again,

"Hi."

Troy laughed softly,

"Well it took you long enough, darling"

[luciddaizey]

if i started an Isaac Lahey series would anyone actually read it or is that fandom completely dead? 😞 i wanna do a Troy Otto one too but i think im gonna do both if yall will actually read them IDK HELP?! clearly i love daniel.

[happy74827]

In The Eye of The Storm

[Troy Otto x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: When your refusal to harm the living puts you in a life-threatening situation, you find yourself saved by the one person who embodies everything that you can’t bring yourself to become.

WC: 1446

Category: Slight Angst {Innocent!Medic!Reader, TW: Death, Hints of Assault}

My first fic of 2025!! As a New Year resolution (not really), I finally started binging FTWD after finishing all the other Walking Dead shows. It's pretty good imo. I don’t understand why it’s so hated… but then again, I’m still only on Season 3 LMAO

『••✎••』

The world hadn’t ended in one violent explosion but in slow, agonizing pieces. You thought the worst part would be watching people you loved turn, but the truth was darker. The living had become worse than the dead, and sometimes, you wondered how long you could keep your ideals intact before they got you killed.

You clung to the idea of doing good, of helping others, even as society crumbled around you. You had studied to be a doctor back when the world was still standing, and for now, that knowledge hadn’t gone to waste—at least not yet. It made you useful and valuable even though, in this world, kindness wasn’t enough to survive.

Nick had tried to make you see that more than once.

"You’re gonna get yourself killed, y’know," he’d said after you patched him up for the third time in as many weeks. His tone wasn’t cruel, but it carried that edge of concern he tried to hide beneath his usual cynicism. "You keep thinking people are worth saving. Not all of them are."

You hadn’t argued with him that day, but you hadn’t agreed either. How could you when the instinct to help was ingrained in you? It wasn’t about naiveté or blind hope—it was about holding onto the last thing that made you feel human. If you gave up on that, what would be left?

Still, Nick wasn’t the only one who had warned you. Even Madison, who had once praised your level head, had pulled you aside after one close call and made it clear that mercy wouldn’t keep you alive. And Troy—well, Troy never passed up an opportunity to remind you just how weak you were.

"You’re soft," he’d told you once, his voice laced with that infuriating mix of disdain and amusement. "The world’s gonna chew you up, spit you out. You know that, right?"

It had taken every ounce of self-control not to snap back at him. Troy didn’t care about you in the way Nick or Madison did. He wasn’t trying to protect you—he was observing you, picking apart your flaws like they were things he could exploit. And yet, there had been something in his tone that day, something almost curious, like he couldn’t quite understand why you were the way you were.

And now, standing here, cornered by a group of men who saw you as nothing more than easy prey, you wondered if they had all been right all along.

Your heart pounded in your chest, your hands gripping the knife so tightly that your knuckles turned white. But it didn’t matter how hard you held it. You couldn’t make yourself move. You couldn’t make yourself do what needed to be done.

"Look at her," one of the men sneered, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Shaking like a leaf."

The others laughed, and the sound sent a cold shiver down your spine. You tried to steady your breathing and summon the courage to act, but your body refused to cooperate.

The scarred man at the front of the group took a step closer. "What’s the matter, sweetheart? Too scared to use that knife?"

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Every instinct you had screamed at you to run, but there was nowhere to go. You were trapped.

And that’s when you heard a calm, cold voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

"Well, well. What do we have here?"

The laughter stopped. All eyes turned toward the source of the sound, and you felt your breath catch in your throat.

Troy stood a few yards away, his rifle slung lazily over his shoulder, his posture loose but poised, like a predator biding its time. His lips curled into a faint smirk, his pale blue eyes glinting with that dangerous, unreadable light you’d come to associate with him.

"Gentlemen," he drawled, tilting his head slightly. "This a private party, or can anyone join?"

The leader of the group—the man with the scar that came running down his jaw—snorted, clearly unimpressed. "Keep walking, man. This doesn’t concern you."

Troy’s smirk widened, his gaze flicking to you briefly. Something in his eyes made your heart race. Not out of fear, but out of a strange, twisted sense of relief.

Because you knew what Troy was capable of. You knew that these men had no idea what kind of storm they’d just walked into.

"See, that’s where you’re wrong," Troy said, his voice deceptively casual. "It kinda does concern me." He shifted the rifle off his shoulder, cradling it loosely in his hands. "She’s with me."

The scarred man’s eyes narrowed. "Bullshit."

Troy didn’t miss a beat. "Try me."

It was strange how your fear shifted from terror at the threat before you to unease at the prospect of what Troy would do. Because there was no doubt in your mind that he would kill these men, and you didn’t know if you could handle the aftermath.

The poor irony was that these… men, they didn't even recognize their own danger. You saw the way the leader of their group sized Troy up, the way the others fanned out in a flanking position. They thought they had the upper hand.

Numbers come across as intimidating in the long run, but in truth, the numbers are only as good as the skill of those wielding them.

So, from a glance, it was three men against one.

But in reality, it was three men against an unstoppable force of nature.

"Don’t." You said quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper. "Troy, don't—"

You didn’t know why you were trying to stop him. They would have killed you … or worse, without a second thought, and the fact that Troy was actually willing to stand up for you was something you weren't expecting.

And yet, a part of you couldn't stand the thought of him taking a life—even the lives of men like this. You couldn't stand the thought of blood being spilled, all for the sake of defending you.

You knew what he would say: that it was the way of the world. That it was necessary. But you couldn't bring yourself to accept that.

Troy didn't answer, didn't even look at you. Instead, his eyes were fixed on the men, his grip tightening on his rifle. That… you suppose, told you that his ears had heard, and he was choosing to ignore.

The man with the scar glanced over his shoulder, meeting his companions' gazes. They shared a silent exchange, a silent debate, and then the man turned back to face Troy, his expression darkening.

"Let's see how tough you are, pretty boy."

It took about two minutes. Maybe three.

By the end of it, the ground was soaked in blood, and the air was filled with the sharp smell of iron.

The leader of the group had been the first to fall, his skull shattered by a well-placed shot. The others hadn't lasted much longer, their bodies littered with bullets from Troy's rifle.

You'd watched it happen, too stunned to move. It had been like watching a hurricane, powerful and destructive and utterly unstoppable.

When the last man fell, Troy turned to face you, his expression inscrutable. "You're welcome."

You should have thanked him, should have acknowledged his help. But you couldn't bring yourself to do it. Not when you'd seen the cold, calculated look in his eyes, the way he'd relished in the violence.

So, instead, you looked at him, your voice wavering with emotion. "I didn't want this."

Troy snorted, rolling his shoulders as if to release the tension. His rifle slid back over his shoulder, the barrel still warm from the discharge.

His gaze held yours, a challenge in those pale blue eyes. After a moment, he spoke, his tone calm and clipped. "Fine." He nodded his head slightly towards the dead men. "Next time, I'll leave 'em to you."

With that, he turned and started to walk away, his strides confident and purposeful. He didn't look back, didn't seem to care if you followed.

And in that moment, you hated him. Hated him for his coldness, his ruthlessness, his refusal to see your point of view. But most of all, you hated yourself because despite everything, despite all the death and bloodshed and destruction, you were grateful.

Grateful that he'd been there.

Grateful that he'd saved your life.

And no matter how much you wanted to deny it, you knew the truth.

Troy Otto was right.

You were soft.

Weak.

And no matter how much you resisted, no matter how much you pretended, sooner or later, the world was going to swallow you whole.

And no storm could save you from that.

[sombrashe]

i neeeed more nsfw troy headcanons pls 🙏🏼

anon i love you. I saw this and ended up stimming so hard i had to take deep breaths to calm myself down enough to write

He loves squeezing and grabbing at your body whenever he can, he uses it like an anchor when he's fucking deep inside of you

When he's deep in the moment (especially between your legs) his accent is much thicker and will use more southern sounding nicknames like sugar and sweet pea

Missionary is not his style, it might be nice as you two are getting to know each others bodies but it doesn't last long

His favorite position is stuffing his mouth full of you sitting with you on his lap while you ride the fuck out of him

Oral is just... with this man you're going to be pulling his hair for hours he loves listening to your noises as you suffocate him making him take you more and more until you're a whimpering overstimulated mess

Is more of a stomach and thigh guy than an ass or boob/pec guy

Don't get me wrong he's all over a nice ass, but prefers the softness of a pudgy belly and thick thighs

He's not the best at wearing a condom, obviously he tries really hard, but when he's in the moment you better start speaking up or else he's going in raw and whimpering about how good you feel squeezing around him

Talks a lot during sex

Always calling you nicknames

Always asking for more, it doesn't matter what it is he wants more

Always asking how your day was to try and hear your voice break

He may talk a lot during it, but the noises he makes? Oh this man never shuts up

mommy kink (daddy kink after his dad dies :()

won't even ask will simply let it slip during the heat of the moment

let him call you mommy/daddy!!

Taking a shower? That's so funny because he was just about to do the same thing. Oh well i guess you have to shower together now

Just waking up and feeling icky and wanna brush your teeth? Nope sorry Troy is in between your legs and wont leave until you're minutes away from being late for work

Oh honey you got stuck somewhere and need Troy's help getting unstuck? Lets hope you're in a comfortable position because you're not leaving that spot for a long time

[fanfics4all]

Temperature Play

Request: Yes / No Kinktober Day 1!

Don’t be shy, request things! <3 Have a nice day/night

Troy Otto x Fem!Reader 

Word count: 1797

Warnings: SMUT!

Summary: When it's way too hot to sleep in the apocalypse and there's no power to be found. Your boyfriend, Troy Otto wakes to find you not able to sleep and figures out how to help.

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK! 

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(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

It was way too hot out. My skin was melting and my brain was boiling. We had to be in a heatwave. For the past two days the heat has been unbearable and in a normal world we’d be able to turn on the air conditioning, but we were in the fucking apocalypse! We were just stuck in the horrible heat with limited supplies. 

It was dark out, the window in Tory’s room at the Otto house was open. I was desperately trying to circulate some air, but it did next to nothing. I couldn’t even sleep if I wanted to. I had kicked off the covers, leaving my naked body exposed. Oh, how I missed the icy air of the air conditioners. Troy was sleeping next to me, or I assumed he was asleep. He wasn’t moving and was turned on his side, he didn’t bother wearing clothes either. All I wanted to do was sleep, we had to be up in a few hours to start the day. I knew the longer I was up sweating, the more irritable I was going to be. I sighed, feeling frustrated tears sting my eyes. I just wanted to sleep… 

“Still up?” Troy asked, his voice thick with sleep. 

“Yeah.” I hissed miserably. He rolled over to face me. The covers were bunched around his legs with just one above the blanket. His skin was glistening in the moonlight, probably just like mine. His hand touched my cheek lightly.

“Babe…” He sighed. His cold fingers felt so nice against my flushed cheeks that I couldn’t help but moan. He smiled and trailed his fingers down my cheekbone and across my lips. My heated skin quickly warmed his fingers and I was once against too hot and sweaty. I sat up frustrated, burying my head in my hands. Troy sat up and moved closer to me. I could tell he wanted to hold and cuddle me back to sleep, but touching would just make us both hotter. 

“Maybe I should just go jump in the lake, it’ll cool me off for a little while…” I mumbled, dreading the idea of going outside where it was probably hotter. Troy slipped out of bed and put on his discarded boxers. He came to my side of the bed and kissed my forehead. 

“I’ll be right back.” He said, his voice exited as he headed out the door. I heard him quietly walk down the stairs and out the door. I shook my head and sighed. I had no idea how the hell he could be happy right now. It wasn’t long before I heard his footsteps return and head up the stairs. 

“Close your eyes.” He said from the other side of the door. I sighed but did as he asked. I felt him coming towards me, but I couldn’t fight the smile that appeared on my lips. I felt something against my mouth, amazingly cold and numbing that I gasped. My eyes snapped open and Troy was kneeling before me, a small bowl of ice next to him. He was sliding an ice cube against my bottom lip, the cool water dripping down my chin as it melted. 

“Oh Troy…” I moaned slightly. 

“I’m gonna help you cool down.” He said with a smirk. 

“But, won’t your parents be pissed that you took the ice?” I asked and he rolled his eyes. 

“Nah, Jake might but who cares? Now, lay down.” He said, gently pushing me down. 

My back hit the sheets, already feeling a bit of relief from the ice that he was sliding down my neck. Goosebumps appeared as he went. Watching the ice melt quickly against my burning skin. The tension that’s been building over the past two days slowly releasing. 

Once the cube melted completely he laid his icy, wet fingers on my stomach. He grabbed the next ice cube with his mouth, grabbing the ice between his teeth. He dragged it up my shin, water dripping down my calf as he went. A content moan slipped back my lips as I watched him. My hands found their way into his hair as my nails dragged against his scalp. 

“Troy!” I moaned. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I happily groaned out. The ice in his mouth was nearly melted and he sucked it in quickly. He kissed my hip, making me arch up slightly. 

This time he grabbed one cube with his mouth and another between his fingers. He held the cube to my lips, which I quickly began to suck. He chuckled slightly and dipped his head down to my collarbone. He slid the ice against the bone and up my neck. My moans grew shaky, feeling a new form of stimulation. His fingers pushed the ice between my lips. My lips wrapped around his index and thumb, sliding my tongue where the ice had melted. He trailed the ice in his mouth between my breasts, my nipples quickly hardening. His free hand wrapped around my right boob and brought the ice to circle it. I whimpered around his fingers. Troy smiled like a wolf that just caught his prey. My back arched off the mattress as he circled my nipples. 

“They’re melting faster than I can replace them.” He said with a smirk. 

“Feeling any cooler?” He asked and I nodded helplessly. 

He moved back up to my face, kissing me desperately. His tongue explored every part of my mouth, chilled saliva mixing with hot breaths. I reached down, trying to grab the waistband of his boxers and push them away, but he was taller than me. I blindly grasped between our bodies, whimpering against his lips. 

“Take them off baby, please. I need you so bad.” I begged against his lips. My chest arched into his own and my hands grabbed his back. I needed him so bad. He already helped so much, but now my mind was foggy. Troy chuckled at my desperate pleas. 

“You need some help, babe?” He asked as he slid his tongue against mine again so I couldn’t answer. 

“You need me to take care of you, is that it?” He asked with a cocky smirk. I nodded again, hoping he would just fuck me already. 

“Say it.” He ordered. 

“Troooy, please… it’s too hot… please.” I begged. 

“No, not until you say it.” He said, continuing to kiss against my chin and neck. My body was already starting to get hot again. 

“Troy please, I need you so bad! Please help me.” I gave in. Troy quickly shed his underwear and kissed me again. This kiss was deeper and harder, his teeth clinking against mine. He couldn’t hold back anymore. My hands flew to his neck, pulling him closer. I hooked my legs on his hips and released him for just a moment so he could align himself with my entrance. His eyes met mine and I watched them turn darker as he pushed himself inside. It felt like forever as he penetrated me, pushing against my cervix. He angled upwards to kiss that one spot inside of me that had me seeing stars. He let out a low-grown, eyes rolling to the back of his head and his hands bruising my hips as he bottomed out. 

“Fuck… he cursed against my neck. I whined and turned my head to allow him more access to my neck. I loved the feeling of his kisses and biting me. My neck was so sensitive, his teeth just barely scraping against my skin. He pulled my thighs up higher on my hips, allowing him to thrust deeper into me. The sound of his balls slapping against my ass mixed with his low groans and my whimpers. My walls clenched around him and he shuddered. 

“Fuck babe, I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop that.” His voice broke as his hips jerked into me uncontrollably. 

“I need you to cum.” I said as I arched off the bed again. 

“Please cum inside me baby… You feel so good.” I moaned. He filled me up completely like he always had. He moved one of his hands to mine, bringing it to his mouth and kissed my fingers. He regained control over his thrusts and his breathing quickly. His other hand moved over to my knee on his hip and down my thigh and brought his thumb to my throbbing clit. I let out a shaky moan and my jaw dropped. 

“Now you’ll cum for me.” He said as he circled my clit perfectly. He always knew my body better than I did. My eyes fluttered closed as my orgasm quickly approached. My hands gripped his shoulders, feeling his muscles under my trembling fingers. His name was the only thing leaving my lips. 

“Babe, I- Oh fuck…” He was already on the edge of another climax. 

“I know me too. I love you.” I said as I pulled his face down and pressed my forehead to his. His thrusts became slower and more direct against my G-spot. His thumb continued to rub my clit, my orgasm building up inside me. 

“Kiss me.” I whispered and he instantly connected our lips. That was the thing we both needed to push us over the edge. He pumped two more times before once again painting my insides with his cum. I fluttered around him as our lips kept connected. He stayed inside me, making sure to keep his cum as deep as he could. 

“I love you too.” He breathed out, making me giggle. I clenched around him again as he pulled out. 

“Don’t tease, unless you wanna be screaming.” He smirked. I blushed and shook my head, making him chuckle. He laid down beside me and pulled me into his side. 

“Feeling a little cooler?” He asked and I nodded. 

“A little, but way more sweaty.” I giggled. He rolled his eyes and reached over to the bowl of now mostly melted ice that was on the nightstand. He grabbed it and dumped it over my body. I shrieked and jumped out of the bed. 

“Troy!” I shouted. He chuckled and then someone slammed their fist against the wall. 

“Keep it down! Some of us are trying to sleep!” Jake shouted and Troy laughed harder. I groaned and moved to Troy’s side of the bed. 

“You can sleep on the icy cold side.” I said and he smiled. 

“Fine.” He said and moved to the other side. I watched him shiver a bit and smirked. 

“Now we can sleep.” I said, happily snuggling into Troy’s side of the bed. He wrapped his arm around my waist and kissed my shoulder. 

“Goodnight babe.” He whispered and I smiled as I finally drifted off to sleep.

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs @lover-of-books-and-teas @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches2 @kmc1989 @drw0301bieber @lady-of-lies @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @rowanthomasknapp @rachelxwayne @ready-4-fanfiction

[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…

[flower-slut004]

5 Times Troy Otto Fell in Love

Troy was never a romantic, he thought of romance as a sign of weakness. He could never show love, he was never shown love.

The first time Troy fell in love was when you helped clean his eye out after Madison had stuck in spoon in it.

"I am so sorry.. this is going to hurt" she squeaked as she heard his grunts of pain. Troy eyed her suspiciously as she held his face gently

"Why the fuck are you helping me? We have nurses for this shit." he grumbles as he looked up at her. Yn shrugged as she took a wet towel to his face.

"I just feel guilty for what she did, the situation escalated and this should have never happened.. I'm sorry" she sighs as she stares into his ocean eyes.

Troy thought his heart stopped for a moment, the intimacy of eye contact was something he had never experienced and he felt as his body was on fire from it.

"Whatever" he looks away, hoping she didn't see his blush.

The second time Troy fell in love was when you ran to him after Walker and his men took their belongings.

Troy felt his heart drop at the sight of everyone rejoicing with their loved ones, everyone but him. He coughed awkwardly as his father approached him, only to be tackled by her.

"Oh my god Troy!" she sighs in relief as she held him tightly. Troy's face grew red as she bombarded him in questions as she held him in her arms.

Troy softly pushed her and cleared his throat "Don't worry your pretty little head Yn" he mummers as he regains his composure.

"I have it under control"

The third time Troy fell in love was when you allowed him to stay the night at your cabin

"Thank again..." he mummers agaisnt her chest as he held her tight. Yn only hummed in response as she played with his hair.

"Yn..." he groans as she gently pulled on his roots, Yn giggled as she heard his groans.

"What?' she tilted her head, faking an innocent look. Troy looked up and smirked at the glimmer of mischief in her eyes.

"You're knocking on troubles door if you keep doing that.."

Yn tugged at his hair once more, teasing him "Good.. is he home?"

The fourth time Troy fell in love was when you were there for him when no one else was

Soft hushes and mummers filled the cabin as Yn pressed her lips to his forehead.

“It’s okay, you’re okay Troy…” she whispers, attempting to soothe him from his nightmare.

Troy gripped on to her for dear life, as if she were to disappear into thin air, tears running down his face as he burrowed his head deeper into her body.

“I’m… Im so sorry” he sobbed “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” he cried out.

Yn hushed him again “Don’t apologize Troy, It’s okay to be human…” she rubs his back “Let it all out, I’m here for you”

The fifth time Troy fell in love, he knew he had to do something.

Troy huffed as he watched himself in the mirror, cracking his neck in an attempt to ease his nerves.

His eyes trailed down his body and led down to his fidgeting hands.

Troy looked at himself in the mirror again and forced a smile on his face, a smile that was quickly turned with a nervous quiver.

“Stupid stupid stupid” Troy mumbles to himself as he hit his forehead repeatedly. Shaking his head again, he took out the ring from his pocket and stared at it for a moment.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her voice throughout the cabin. “Are you ready for the picnic Handsome?”

Troy took another quick look at himself in the mirror with a reassuring smile.

“Yeah babe… I’m coming.”

[edgarapoecolouredglasses]

Little mastermind part six

You know the drill

THE GIF IS NOT MINE

Pairing: Troy Otto/Reader

Summary: The clock is ticking and Troy is desperate to protect his people.The only out he can think of is to make an appeal to the mercy of an old friend.

Part: 6/at least 10

Masterlist

——————————————————

Troy sat for hours, wracking his brain, staring at the maps scattered across the desk, trying to think of a way to keep his community safe. It wasn’t just a group anymore—it had grown into something bigger, something more meaningful. A real community.

He glanced out of the study’s window to the scene below: people doing laundry, others cooking outside, always making something out of nothing, every single day, despite how low the supplies were running.

The children ran around, laughing as they played, while some of the teenagers sat in a corner, passing around old comics.

Guards stood on the perimeter, men and women who had willingly taken up the responsibility of protecting everyone inside.

His gaze drifted over to the makeshift hospital room they’d set up in one of the rooms. He hadn’t seen Tracy with the other kids, which meant she was probably in there, talking Y/N’s ear off like usual. Trying to help

He smiled to himself, the brief thought easing some of the weight on his shoulders. His girls.

But then his eyes caught movement in the woods beyond the fence. A guard quickly took care of a small group of walkers, and Troy’s smile faded.

They couldn’t stay here forever. The supplies around the compound were thinning out, the walkers kept coming, and even though everyone was holding on, he needed to find somewhere they wouldn’t have to constantly look over their shoulders, wondering if the next day would be the one they lost it all.

As he stared down at the map again, his head lifted when the static of the radio filled the room.

Another broadcast from PADRE rang out through the crackling noise.

“If you lost your child or think that they might have been taken, come to the following coordinates…”

Troy reached over and turned down the volume, sighing heavily as the message played on.

It was the same voice, Madison’s voice, that he had heard when he first arrived at this compound. When he heard it for the first time, something had ignited in him. Years of rage, of anger, of grief that he thought he’d buried, all came roaring back at the sound of her voice.

He had wanted revenge. Needed it, even. After everything that had happened, after what she had taken from him, the idea of her being out there, still breathing, still talking, made his blood boil.

But now, weeks later, with the community growing and his responsibilities piling up, that desire for vengeance had dulled. Not because he didn’t want it anymore—he did—but because there were other things pulling at him. Things more important than settling old scores. Tracy. The people here. Y/n.

He rubbed his temples, the weight of it all pressing down on him again. His focus needed to be here. On them. Not on the past.

The radio message faded into static, and Troy switched it off completely. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling for a moment, wondering how long they could really keep going like this. How long until something gave?

He stood up, pacing the room, the tension building inside him again. There were decisions to make—ones that would affect everyone here. Ones that could either save them or destroy everything they’d built. He couldn’t afford to make the wrong choice, not now.

Troy glanced back out the window at the people below, the kids laughing, the adults working together. They were counting on him.

————————————————

A week passed, and everything seemed to be moving at a whirlwind pace. More survivors had come to us, and among them, there was a couple—doctors. Actual doctors! When I first heard about it, I nearly burst into tears from relief. It felt like a miracle, like we had finally caught a break.

Up until then, I had been living on a prayer, doing everything I could with whatever knowledge I had. Guesswork. That’s what it had been. If someone got an infection, I hoped I had enough antibiotics or herbal remedies to treat it. Heart problems? That was another beast entirely. I did what I could with the knowledge I had gathered over the years, but I knew it wasn’t enough. And every time someone came into the med bay, a part of me feared that it would be something I couldn’t fix.

But now, with real doctors, it was different. I worked closely with them. They were patient, showing me things I hadn’t known—how amputate a gangrenous limb, how to handle certain illnesses I’d only ever read about. It was like a weight was slowly being lifted off my shoulders. We finally had real medical expertise on our side, and it was one less thing to worry about.

We had also moved to a new building—a place that, for now, felt safer than where we were. An old library, dusty and worn, but with sturdy walls and enough room for everyone to have a bit more space. It felt strange, though, living among all the abandoned books, as if we had found refuge in the remnants of a world that no longer existed. It was depressing and made me hopeful at the same time.

But even here, I knew it wouldn’t last long. It couldn’t. The building was secure, but our food supply wasn’t. There wasn’t enough land nearby to grow our own, and the scavenging teams were coming back with less and less every day. It was only a matter of time before we’d have to move again.

I was deep into a book on radiation treatment, trying to soak in every detail, when I heard footsteps approach. Looking up, I saw Troy standing there, an unusual expression on his face—almost as if he was hesitant.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “Are you up for an errand?”

I raised an eyebrow, immediately cautious. “What kind of errand?”

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes held mine, and for the first time in a long while, I saw something almost…pleading in his gaze. Something was off.

But instead of pushing for more details, I closed the book and stood up. “Okay,” I said, my voice soft but certain. I would be wherever he needed me to be. I always had been.

Without another word, Troy nodded and hurried off to grab Tracy. I gathered my gear quickly, slipping on my jacket and checking my weapons. Whatever this was, it didn’t feel like a simple supply run.

We left the library in the biggest, sturdiest vehicle we had—an absolute tank of a car that had been patched up more times than I could count, but it still ran.

Tracy sat between us in the front seat, unusually quiet, her small fingers tracing the outline of the map spread across her lap.

The silence in the car was thick. I kept glancing over at Troy, trying to read him. There was something he wasn’t saying, and it gnawed at me. I opened my mouth to ask again, but then caught his gaze, and the words died in my throat.

Whatever we were headed for, it was important. And he needed me to trust him.

Troy spoke suddenly, breaking the tense silence without looking away from the road. “I’ve been hearing Madison on the radio.”

I blinked in surprise, turning to look at him. My first instinct was disbelief, and I didn’t bother hiding it. “Madison? As in the Madison.. Madison Clark?” I stared at him for a few seconds, then, half-joking and half-serious, I reached over and placed my hand on his forehead, checking for a fever. “You feeling alright? You sure it’s not a hallucination?”

Troy tensed, clearly not in the mood for jokes, and shooed my hand away with an irritated sigh. “Stop.”

When we had a very random and brief encounter with Alicia, which ultimately caused Serena’s death, she seemed pretty sure that her mom was dead. And that was years ago, so pardon me if I felt like Troy bust have been seeing things.

Tracy, giggling beside me, mimicked my movement, reaching up to put her tiny hand on his forehead too. Troy quickly grabbed her wrist and pulled it away, his tone sharp. “Tracy, please,” he said in that serious, annoyed voice I’d rarely ever heard him use with her.

Tracy was treated like an absolute princess by him. Tracy asked Tracy got, as far as it was possible in this new world. When she was told no, it was always gentle, with a lengthy explanation of why she couldn’t get what she wanted.

The only times I’d ever seen Troy use his strict dad voice like this, it was either because he was very stressed or on edge, or when she had put herself in danger and he was so worried that it turned into anger. It caught me off guard, and I immediately stopped playing around.

Troy glanced down at Tracy with a brief, guilty smile, as if to apologize for his tone.

He was more tense than I had realized. This wasn’t just some passing comment about a radio broadcast; this was something weighing heavily on him. He finally exhaled and continued, “I’ve been hearing Madison… took over PADRE. It’s this organization… you’ve heard of it from those new people, right?”

PADRE—the stories we’d heard about them were grim, nothing good. I didn’t know much, but what I did know made my skin crawl. Children, ripped from their families and molded into soldiers? My thoughts raced, but Troy’s voice brought me back.

“She gave coordinates in the broadcast,” he continued, his voice quieter, more reflective. “For parents to come find PADRE. Look for their kids.”

I swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling in the car like a lead blanket. What was he thinking? What was this errand really about?

Troy paused for a moment before adding, almost too quietly, “The place seems… safe.”

Safe.

I glanced over at him, searching for more than what he was saying, but his face was unreadable, eyes fixed on the road. The wheels in my mind started spinning faster. Safe. In a world like this, what did safe even mean anymore? And why was Troy—who never trusted anything easily—considering it?

“What are you thinking, Troy?” I asked, my voice soft but filled with concern. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer, but I needed to hear it anyway.

Troy’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles white against the worn leather. He exhaled deeply before speaking, as though admitting his plan out loud made it more real. “I’ve been thinking of going there.”

“To PADRE?” I asked, my voice catching in my throat. “Troy, what—”

“I’d have to swallow my pride,” he interrupted, his voice flat, but I could sense the weight of those words. “What she did to me was… unforgivable. You know that. I hated her for it. Still do.” He paused, his jaw tightening. “But I’ve got more people to think about than just myself now.”

I blinked, my heart pounding. This was a side of Troy I rarely saw—the one that wrestled with something more than survival. His eyes remained focused on the road, but I could tell this wasn’t easy for him to admit.

“If swallowing my pride gives us any chance of a safe place for this community… for you, for Tracy,” he continued, his voice lowering, “then I’ll gladly do it.”

I stared at him, trying to piece together the full picture. “Why do you need us to come?” I asked, my heart sinking as it confirmed this wasn’t just some regular errand.

Troy sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair before speaking. “I’m hoping she won’t kill me on the spot.”

“What?” The word tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop it. “Troy—”

“She has no reason to let me live after everything that happened at the dam,” he said, cutting me off again. “I need her, not the other way around. There’s nothing in it for her to keep me alive, except maybe the goodness of her heart—and I’m not sure how much of that she’s got left.”

The weight of his words pressed down on me. I knew about the dam. I knew what had happened between them, even if Troy hadn’t shared every detail. Madison had done something unforgivable, and Troy wasn’t one to forget easily.

“Then why… why bring us?” I asked, my voice trembling with worry.

“She knows you,” Troy said quietly. “You two parted ways on good terms—before you knew what she’d done to me. She definitely won’t hurt you. Maybe she’ll listen to you.”

I shook my head slightly, trying to wrap my mind around it all. “And Tracy?”

Troy’s eyes flickered toward the backseat, where Tracy sat quietly, unaware of the gravity of the conversation. “I brought her to show that I’m not a threat. That I won’t try anything. I need her to see that I’m trying to protect my daughter now. Maybe if Madison sees my family... I was reckless at the ranch, I know that I was a danger. I had nothing to lose, my father was dead, my brother had chosen Alicia over me. I was alone, and that revenge felt justified.”

The car felt smaller with the weight of his words. His eyes found mine again, softer now, but filled with an apology that neither of us had ever fully addressed. But, maybe we should have talked it over one of these days.

He remembered, just like I did, that I had been at the ranch too when he unleashed his reckless fury. Back then, I was just another casualty of that herd made of his grief and rage.

“I didn’t care what happened to anyone,” His voice cracked slightly. “But now… it’s different. There’s Tracy and if we want any chance of Madison letting us in, she needs to see Tracy.”

The words hung in the air between us, heavy with uncertainty. I looked at Troy, my chest tightening with a mixture of fear and understanding.

He was risking everything—not just his pride, but his life—for the chance to secure a future for all of us. And even though I hated the idea of facing Madison, I couldn’t help but feel the same sense of hope Troy was clinging to.

“Troy…” I started, my voice soft, unsure of what to say.

But he just shook his head, his eyes hard as he looked back to the road. “We have to try.”

As they drove, the coordinates on the map became more and more confusing. The further we ventured, the more the land seemed to narrow, and soon we were staring at a stretch of water that separated us from their destination.

Troy slammed the car door, stepping out to look at the map again, disbelief etched across his face. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered.

I followed him out, glancing over his shoulder. The coordinates pointed to a small dot on the other side of the water. “Is that… an island?”

“Looks like it.” Troy ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated. “No wonder we couldn’t get there by road. They’re on an island.”

I squinted across the water, the outline of the distant land barely visible. “How are we supposed to get over there?”

Troy didn’t answer at first, his gaze scanning the shoreline. After a moment, he turned, his eyes landing on something half-buried in the sand at the water’s edge. “Hold on,” he said, already moving towards it.

I followed him, watching as he knelt down beside what looked like the wreckage of an old speedboat. The metal was rusted, the frame battered by weeks, maybe months of neglect, but Troy’s eyes lit up with a spark of determination.

“Think this can still work?” I asked, doubting it could float, much less get them across.

Troy didn’t respond immediately, his hands already inspecting the boat, checking the engine. There was still fuel in there that didn’t seem to be more than a few months old “It’s going to need some work… but yeah, I can fix it.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that? This thing looks like it’s been sitting here for years.”

Troy gave a dry laugh, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Months, it’s worse off because of the humidity. And you’d be surprised what I can get to work when I don’t have a choice.” He pulled out a toolbox from the boat car, setting it down beside him. “Besides, I’ve fixed worse.”

I watched him as he started tinkering with the engine, loosening bolts and replacing parts with scraps he’d salvaged. It was strange seeing him like this — calm, focused, in his element.

After a while, he glanced up at me, a smirk playing on his lips. “You know, when I was in my teens, before the militia, my father used to make me work on tractors and cars after I got kicked out of school.”

I blinked in surprise. Troy never talked about his past anymore, let alone his father. The image of Jeremiah’s face, drained of blood and hollow after he shot himself still sent shivers down my spine.

“Yeah?” I prompted, leaning against the side of the boat.

“Yeah.” He kept working as he spoke, his tone casual but with a hint of bitterness. “He told me that if I couldn’t get my brain to work, ‘I better get those damn engines to work’” he said, mimicking his fathers voice, as far as he could still remember it. “I could at least be useful around the ranch. So, while my brother was off at college getting praised for being the ‘smart’ one, I was out in the fields fixing everything that broke down.”

I felt a pang of sympathy for him but didn’t say anything, knowing he wouldn’t want pity. Instead, I just watched as he worked, slowly but surely bringing the engine back to life.

“I guess it paid off in the end, though,” Troy continued, wiping sweat from his forehead. “Because now, I can get this thing running and get us to where we need to go.”

I couldn’t help but smile at that. I knew his father wasn’t really the best dad. He neglected him for years while he was being abused by his mom. Jeremiah told me that himself. But I knew how much Troy still loved his father, and how much he wanted to prove himself to that old bastard. “Your dad would be proud.” I say

Troy chuckled, shaking his head. “I doubt that. But maybe he’d be impressed. A little.”

After what felt like hours, the boat finally sputtered to life, the engine coughing before settling into a steady hum. Troy stood up, grinning like a kid who’d just pulled off a magic trick.

“There,” he said, wiping his hands on his jeans again. “Told you I could do it.”

I stared at the boat, amazed that it actually worked. “You never cease to amaze me, Troy.”

He shot me a playful look. “I’m full of surprises. Come on, let’s get moving before the tide changes.”

When we arrived at the gates of a small island, a teenage girl with brown hair and a fighting stick stepped forward to open it. She looked us up and down, her eyes sharp and calculating. “What’s your business here?” she asked.

I forced a calm smile and lied smoothly because Madison had to be the first person to see us and hear us out, “We’re looking for my missing child.” Tracy squeezed my hand as the girl sized us up, then nodded and led us inside.

She sized up once more before sighing “follow me.”

She guided us to a small office, which looked more like an interrogation room. “Wait here,” she said before disappearing through another door.

The moment she left, I glanced down at Tracy. She tried to keep a brave face, but I could see the fear in her eyes, even if she’d never admit it. I squeezed her hand tighter, offering some comfort, though a shudder ran through my back as well.

Troy, always observant, noticed and pulled me into a hug. His embrace was strong and steady, but I could feel the tension radiating from him too. He knew as well as I did—this wasn’t the Madison we once knew. Eleven years had passed, and while Madison and I had parted on good terms, things had changed. Madison had changed. She had to have grown colder, harder. After all, who could stay the same after everything that’s happened? I was with troy, and I was sure she hated him.

I had faith that she wouldn’t hurt a child, at least not intentionally, but the thought still gnawed at me. Without a word, I bent down and lifted Tracy into my arms, even though she was getting too big for it. I just needed to hold her, to feel her close. Her arms wrapped around my neck, her head nestled into my shoulder.

Then, the door creaked open.

All three of us turned toward it, the tension thick in the air as we braced for what—or who—was about to step through.

Madison’s face twisted with shock the moment her eyes fell on Troy. She froze, her expression a mix of disbelief and something close to fear, as if she were staring at a ghost. In a way, she was.

Her voice came out in a stunned whisper, “But… I killed you.”

Troy didn’t respond immediately. His jaw clenched tight, the muscles in his neck tensing as he bit his tongue. I could see the battle going on behind his eyes—the anger, the pain, the memories of everything she’d done to him.

I reached out and placed a gentle hand on his arm, squeezing just enough to remind him that I was there. Supporting him. His eyes flicked to mine for a second, and I gave him a soft nod. We were in this together, no matter what came next.

Madison’s gaze darted between us, the tension in the room thickening with every passing second. Tracy shifted slightly in my arms, sensing the heaviness in the air, but she stayed quiet, her small hand clutching at my sleeve.

Finally, Troy exhaled, his voice low but steady. “As you can see I’m alive and kicking,” His face did nothing to hide the glare coming from his eyes as he spoke “You didn’t finish the job, Madison.”

———————————————————

As always let me know what you liked and what you didn’t like.

I’m always open for critique

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added)

@elleirbag50 @aldenenjoyer

[wlwalthea]

needing a troy x reader where they think he looks really good in his uniform and every time the militia goes out they try to sneak glances at him before they leave but gets caught by someone and they’re blushing trying to deny it so harddjksjdj

[maraudereestauderelb]

What are the Chances IV (Troy Otto)

Let me know if you want to be tagged in future parts :)

Tag list: @mischiefnevermanaged89-blog

Part I Part II Part III

Masterlist

The next few days after Y/N’s conversation with Jeremiah were a blur of hard work and anticipation. The shift system hadn’t been implemented yet, but Y/N could sense the wheels turning. People were still exhausted by mid-afternoon, and every time she saw Jeremiah observing them from a distance, she knew he was considering her idea. 

One afternoon, after the day’s work had slowed to a crawl under the brutal sun, Troy approached her. “You ever fired a gun before?” he asked, leaning against the fence with that familiar smirk. 

Y/N hesitated. "I mean, I’ve used that little revolver a few times when we were on the road, but I’m not exactly an expert." 

"Thought so. You’ve been lucky so far, but luck runs out. I’ve seen it." His eyes flickered with something darker before he waved a hand. "Come on. I’ll show you how to really use one." 

They walked out to a quiet area near the edge of the ranch, a makeshift target set up against a tree. He handed her a rifle—heavier than the revolver she was used to—and took a step closer. “Alright, first things first,” Troy said, his voice low and instructive. “So you hold it like this,” he explained, moving her arms and hands until they were in the correct positions. 

His touch was firm, but gentle, guiding her hands into place, and it sent an unexpected shiver through her body. Y/N struggled to focus on what he was saying, feeling the warmth of his body behind her. His breath tickled her ear, and she had to remind herself to breathe. 

"And then you just pull the trigger," Troy said, stepping back just enough to give her space. 

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to steady herself as she looked down the barrel of the gun. Her target—a rough circle drawn onto a board—seemed further away than it actually was. She focused, exhaling slowly as she pulled the trigger. The gun kicked back slightly, the shot ringing out in the still air. It wasn’t a perfect hit, just on the edge of the target, but for her first try with a rifle, it wasn’t terrible. 

"Not bad," Troy commented, his voice close enough to remind her just how near he was. 

She quickly lowered the gun and flicked on the safety, turning around slowly to face him. He hadn’t moved away at all, and as she looked up, she found herself staring into his intense blue eyes. For a moment, neither of them said anything. Troy's gaze flickered down to her lips for a brief second before snapping back up to meet her eyes. The air between them was thick with something unspoken. 

"Had I known you didn’t know how to shoot," Troy started, trying to break the tension, "I would’ve been more cautious and nice when I found you." 

Y/N’s lips twitched into a small smile. “Wouldn’t have shot you even if I had known,” she replied, her voice quieter than she intended. Her eyes drifted to his lips before she could stop herself, the charged atmosphere making it impossible not to notice the closeness between them. 

Troy’s smirk faltered for just a second, his eyes darkening as he stared back at her, the space between them seeming to shrink without either of them moving. Y/N felt her heartbeat quicken, her pulse loud in her ears. 

But before anything more could happen, Leona’s voice cut through the moment like a knife. “Oh Jesus, there you are, Y/N!” 

Both Y/N and Troy jumped, stepping back from each other quickly as if they’d been caught doing something they shouldn’t. Y/N’s face flushed with a heat that had nothing to do with the sun, and she turned to see Leona approaching, hands on her hips. 

"I’ve been looking for you everywhere!" Leona said, exasperation in her voice. "You said you were just gonna grab some water, and then you disappear? What are you two doing?" 

"Uh, just some target practice," Y/N stammered, glancing back at Troy, who was suddenly busy cleaning the rifle like nothing had happened. 

Leona gave them both a suspicious look but shrugged it off. "Well, Jeremiah’s looking for you. I think he’s going to try your shift idea." 

Y/N blinked, her mind still racing from the close encounter with Troy. "Really?" 

"Yeah, he wants to talk to you about it." 

Y/N nodded, trying to shake off the lingering tension and refocus. "Okay, I’ll head over." She turned to Troy, who gave her a subtle nod, his expression back to its usual unreadable self. 

As she and Leona walked away, Y/N couldn’t help but sneak one last glance over her shoulder at Troy. He was watching her, his journal tucked under his arm, the same thoughtful look on his face. 

Part V

[capnsoyboy]

Fics So Good I Have to Share

Fear the Walking Dead

Say You Need Me - Troy Otto x Reader (AO3 series)

Marvel

Heart to Love - Bucky Barnes x Reader (AO3) My Little Love - Bucky Barnes x Reader (series)

Sharing is Caring - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Sorry, I Love You — Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

The Day After Yesterday - Bucky Barnes x TimeTraveler!Reader (series)

Warrior/Worrier - Bucky Barnes x Reader

When We Were Young - Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers (AO3)

Home- Kate Bishop x Reader

The Ghost of You - Pietro Maximoff x Reader (series part 1)

The Ghost of Us - Pietro Maximoff x Reader (series part 2)

Built From Memories - Natasha Romanoff x Reader, Yelena Belova x Platonic!Reader

Hand(s) Off Part 2, Part 3 - Steve Rogers x Reader (series)

Rockefeller - Steve Rogers x Reader

Timeless Lovin’ - Steve Rogers x Reader

Daisies - Thor x Reader

Three Times - Thor x Reader

Outer Banks

Broken - Rafe Cameron x Reader

I'd Choose You Over Anyone - Rafe Cameron x Reader

I Need Help - Rafe Cameron x Reader

Sweet Silence - Rafe Cameron x Reader

If We Go Down - JJ Maybank x Reader

Lie to Me - JJ Maybank x Reader

Not Like I’m in Love With You - JJ Maybank x Reader

Supernatural

Ghost of You - Dean Winchester x Castiel (AO3)

I'll Be Waiting for You - Dean Winchester x Castiel (AO3)

Sugar, Bee Mine? - Dean Winchester x Castiel (AO3)

Domestic - Dean Winchester x Reader

Never Say Goodbye - Dean Winchester x Soulmate!Reader (series)

Touch Starved - Dean Winchester x Reader

The Impala - Sam Winchester x Reader

Pythia - Sam Winchester x Reader (series)

Teen Wolf

Derek Hale Imagines - Derek Hale x Reader

Drawing the Life (1),(2) - Theo Raeken x Reader

Inked Wrists - Theo Raeken x Reader (series)

Teen Wolf One Shots - Multi-character x Reader

[blvckqwz]

Okay so little rant but if there is a thing I absolutely fucking hate is when in a fanfiction they make the reader forgive their s/o in like three second like what the fuck bitch I’mma hold grudges against you ‘till you keep begging on your knees for years. I just fucking read a chapter when I’m supposed to forgive the love interest after HE FUCKING MADE ME ATTEMPT SUICIDE like what. Maybe I’m just an angry individual and I can’t ever be the bigger person but what. the. fuck.

Like that’s not me, I would never forgive him after that. I still have beef with people who didn’t send me birthday wishes in 2017, I’m not going to sleep over the fact that you left me and make me OD and slit my wrists🤷‍♀️

Also just so you know all my OCs are resentful bitches just like the author because they are literally extensions of myself so expect some toe curling revenge from them every time someone crossed them lol

[insom-nom-nom-niatic]

Welcome to tonight's drunk drabbles...

Set after Troy "died"... that's all you need to know.

CHARACTERS: Troy Otto X Fem Reader

PROMPT IS FROM THIS LIST

“Can we pretend everything around us is fine, for one night?”

Troy was in one of his moods. His jacket making a loud THUD as he threw it on the ground entering the room. His footsteps were heavy making his way towards the on-suit bathroom. Not once did he look up from his feet once he entered and it wasn't until you heard an angered huff echo from the bathroom that he finally glanced up.

His face was growing older, wiser his team would say but all Troy saw was aging of stress and hard work. Fight after fight, he seems to come out on top yet still felt that he lost.

He wanted safety.

He wanted a home again.

And yet it was just another night he looked in the mirror, scrubbing off the blood that stained his cheeks and had to sleep with his one good eye left open.

He turned the corner, disrobed in all but his underwear and a fresh-ish white T-shirt, and locked eyes with you, peeping those glittering eyes over a torn-up copy of The Tales Of Edgar Allen Poe, the same book you've read over a dozen times by now.

Troy's lips cracked into a small halfway-there smile before climbing onto the fluffy mattress, grabbing the edge of the blanket and covering you both. The book found its typical place on the nightstand once again, but before turning the lamp off beside it, one of your hands entwined with his. The other cupping it's way under his shirt feeling his warm skin against your chilled fingers.

Troy looked down at you, his tired blue eyes glimmering in the light but gleamed back with amusement and curiosity. His fingers wrapped around your middle before reaching your legs and pulling you into his lap.

“Can we pretend everything around us is fine, for one night?”

His one good eye began to darken, drifting between your lips and every bruise, cut, scar, and mark from your forehead to your shirt. The hands gripping your skin tighter in response.

There didn't need to be words, he was too tired for that. But there are certain things, even in the apocalypse, that he would never be too tired for.

She reminded him of what he was fighting for.

The home he needed to find for them together.

For her safety.

[plus-size-reader]

Peace

Troy Otto x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 3842 words

Warnings: None

Summary: The reader comes across Troy’s notebook while he’s out, and notices something strange. 

—————————————————————————————————

You hadn’t meant to snoop.

Jake had asked you to find Troy, said he had to talk to him but didn’t have the time to track him down. He was a busy man, after all, and if Jeremiah needed help, he couldn’t exactly make him wait.

So, you agreed.

You took off toward Troy’s room, assuming that given the time of day and schedule for rounds, that was where he would be.

He wasn’t.

His bedroom was unoccupied by the time you reached it, but not empty.

On the floor, out of place in the immaculate space, was that leather-bound notebook he carried with him all the time. It was one of his most prized possessions and you knew he would be missing it, if he didn’t realize it was gone.

That was it.

By all accounts, you were trying to do something nice. You figured it had fallen out of his back pocket when he was getting dressed or rushing out the door to get to his post.

You had to find him anyway, so when you did, you could take it to him.

It was innocent, at least, at first.

You had only good intentions and you weren’t even going to open it, but almost on instinct, as soon as you touched the leather, you flipped open the front cover. Whether out of curiosity or habit, you weren’t sure but it didn’t matter.

All that mattered as soon as it was open was the ink, dried to the page and committing his every thought, as if recording for posterity.

On the first page, he’d written his name, followed by a date. If you had to guess, you’d say that was the day he obtained it.

It was interesting.

Troy’s handwriting was delicate and even, and you could tell that he put time into every single letter and number. Like he knew they would be there forever and couldn’t handle a mistake.

You smiled, letting yourself sit at the foot of his bed, your fingers tracing each letter as you read them.

For the most part, his notebook was filled with what you would have expected. Factual scribblings and miscellaneous numbers that held no meaning to anyone other than Troy.

In all honesty, you barely understood what you were looking at.

…but it didn’t matter.

Troy had been carrying this time with him everywhere he went since you’d met him, and never once had you held it like this. Never had you looked upon the pages, or even asked what he was always writing.

You just let him keep his secrets, because everyone had something that was just for them, but now that you were seeing it, you didn’t regret picking it up.

No matter how wrong it was.

You felt like, for what was probably the first time, you were seeing Troy for who he was and he wasn’t even in the room with you.

The next few pages were less interesting, though just as telling, with every inch of the paper covered with dates and times.

The watch schedule.

After that, you found what seemed to be a detailed list of miscellanious items, and quantities that had to be supply logs from his runs. You could tell because of the delicate little checks beside each thing, telling you he'd cataloged them.

That was who Troy was.

Organized and meticulous, even when he was within his own private thoughts.

It continued on like that for a while. Page after page full of numbers, little symbols and time stamps, but you didn’t skip over a single one. You took your time considering each little marking, far more than you’d ever studied anything in your life.

It was almost as if you were reading a roadmap and you couldn't forget a single detail, which in a way, you were.

This notebook was a reflection of Troy, and not just who he presented to people on the outside, but the real Troy.

This was the closest thing he’d ever keep to a personal journal, and while it didn’t contain any written feeling or sentiment, you could feel it.

With each word you read, and each number you attempted to quantify, you got it. You understood who he was, more and more.

In a way that he could never have expressed to your face.

You were remarkably relaxed as you read, considering you were actively betraying the personal privacy of one of your closest friends, but that all came to a screeching halt as you neared the center of the book.

There, above everything else you’d seen so far, you found something that surprised you. Something within the collection of thoughts that actually confused you more than anything else had.

It was you.

There, on those worn pages, was you. Or, at the very least, some sort of tribute to you. The resemblance was stark, and you couldn’t have explained it away if you tried.

Which obviously wasn’t what you expected.

Still, you didn’t move to make anything of it at first. You knew Troy well enough to know that there could very well be drawings of every single person he’d ever seen hidden within the covers.

Maybe he just didn’t want to forget the people he knew. Maybe he didn’t want to forget their faces.

That would have been a perfectly reasonable thing to do considering the world you lived in, and how frequently people left your lives.

The second drawing was harder to explain away, and by the time you reached a seventh page, you couldn’t deny it anymore.

They were all of you.

Each one was different, and just as great a resemblance, but they were all of you.

You could feel your face scrunch up slightly as you considered what you were looking at, before eventually turning back to the first drawing of many and just looking at it for a while.

It was good.

A simple pencil sketch, with harsher lines and shading in some areas, where Troy had deemed necessary and softer, lighter emphaisis on others. Complete, of course, with the date in the corner.

It looked a lot like you.

The first one, the one that had caught your attention in the first place, was of your face. There was a soft, almost serene smile on your face and you looked happy.

You looked pretty, if you could look pretty in a pencil drawing.

The second was farther away, and featured you in the middle of cleaning your hand gun on the picnic table. The third was of you reading, your back against the shed and a sharp look of concentration on your face.

Did you really twist your face up like that when you read? You must have.

There were a few others, all capturing you as you existed, in the exact way you must have looked and you couldn’t help but feel like you were watching yourself through Troy’s eyes.

It was strange.

Still, you didn’t stop your quest and continued looking from page to page, until you came to the most recent drawing.

The last drawing in the set.

This one featured you, sitting in front of a roaring fire with the full expanse of the desert at your back. By all means, it was no different than the others, but for some reason, it felt different as you studied it.

You looked peaceful, almost comfortable, with a wide smile on your face and it would be a lie to say that you didn’t find it beautiful.

It was.

That was when it dawned on you.

You remembered this, remembered sitting in the dirt like you were on the page, telling the militia jokes and listening to their stories about what life was like for them before the fall.

Troy had been so quiet that night. This notebook of his had his full attention the entire night, and at the time, you thought he was taking notes, strategizing and planning out your next moves.

…but he wasn’t.

If the date in the corner of the page was correct, that meant he was doing this that whole time.

His mind wasn’t wondering to far away possibilities, or bloody disasters that no one could prevent except for him. His was watching you, studying the lines of your body and the contours of your face.

Listening to your voice and doing his best to capture the emotion on your face to the page, so that it didn’t have to live in his memories alone.

Wow.

You were quiet for a moment as you thought over the implications of this, or if they were any implications at all, only stopping when you heard the sound of Troy’s truck coming up the road.

It had to be him.

It was always him.

At the sudden distraction, you released a breath you didn’t realize you were holding after a moment, and forced yourself to close the notebook, but you didn’t put it down.

You couldn’t.

For some reason, you felt like if you allowed the leather to separate from your fingers, it would go away somehow. Like, if you set it down, what you now knew would be lost to you forever.

So, rather than be caught in his room without explanation, you tucked the book into your back pocket, where Troy often kept it on his own body, and left.

In a lot of ways, it was the perfect crime.

There was no way that Troy could actually prove that you had been in his room, and considering the fact that you were sure he didn’t realize his journal was missing, he wouldn’t know you’d seen it.

He didn’t have to know.

…but part of you didn’t want that.

Part of you didn’t want to get away with what you’d done, to get away with reading his notebook and learning what you had without something changing.

Everything had changed.

This proved it, whether Troy meant for it to or not.

~

You decided not to say anything at first.

Not because you didn’t want to, but because you didn’t know how. It wasn’t as if you could just go up to him and ask why he’d been sketching scarily accurate portraits of you in his spare time.

So, until you could make up your mind about what you wanted to do, you decided to do nothing.

Instead, you focused your energy forward toward where Troy was, unloading his pack and guns from the back of the truck with Cooper and Blake.

They weren’t scheduled for a run this morning, at least, not to your knowledge but you didn’t have time to care about that. The important thing was that they just got back and they were too preoccupied to notice you.

…but you weren’t preoccupied.

Not anymore.

In fact, as you looked upon Troy at this moment, you felt like you were seeing him for the first time. Like, you finally had a point of reference for how he thought and what happened inside his head when he got all quiet.

Like you were looking at a brand-new person.

You tried to think back to the way he looked at you, looking over that notebook of his, that soft concentration consuming everything else around him. Maybe if you saw the world like that, it would be better.

If you saw him the way he saw you.

In your head, Troy had always been this untouchable force. He was stoic and solid, barking orders and burying everything he felt no matter how unpleasant it may have been, but that wasn’t all there was to him.

There couldn’t be.

As you watched him and took note of the way his face faltered as he scanned the crowd, you saw it. A glimmer of something that wasn’t quite as untouchable as you would have thought.

He was unsure, and given the way, he winced slightly after slugging on his pack, tired too but that wasn’t all. There was a silent joy in the way he wiped the blood from his hands and a whisper of adrenaline clear from the pep in his step.

How was it possible?

Had he always been this complex and you’d just managed to miss it? Or was it simpler than that? Maybe you didn’t want to notice because you couldn’t handle the gamble.

You couldn’t handle being let down, not by Troy. He was too important to you, and if you were to fall too hard, you knew you’d never be able to claw your way back up.

Not that you had much of a choice now.

You had picked up that notebook, and there was no taking that back. The most you could do now was keep going, and deal with what followed with as much grace as you could muster.

“Hey, there you are”

It was the sound of Troy’s voice that brought you out of your head, but not in time to actually prepare yourself for having to face him.

The best you could do was smile, desperately hoping that your face didn’t look as guilty and conflicted as you felt.

“Yeah, here I am,” you tried, willing yourself to focus on the conversation at hand and not on the way the midday sun made his eyes sparkle. Was he watching you like you were watching him?

Stop it.

“I was supposed to tell you to find Jake. He was looking for you” you forced, giving the blonde a soft smile before continuing on your way, brushing past him only slightly in your hurry.

You couldn’t do this.

How were you supposed to just go about your life like you didn’t know he was silently studying every little thing about you?

How did you do that?

“Y/N, wait up. What’s going on?” Troy called out, shocked by your uncharacteristic briefness and evidently choosing this very moment to start caring about other people’s feelings.

Perfect.

You stopped, considering your options for a second as you waited for him to meet your side, his boots keeping time with his usual stride.

On one hand, you could just abandon your original plan and tell him about the notebook, confess that you’d read it and that you had seen the drawings. On the other hand, you could keep it hidden and say nothing, but that was a bandage at best.

Eventually, you would have to give it back.

So, you took a deep breath and made up your mind. Today was going to be the day that you faced Troy Otto and the feelings you had for him that you’d been steadily burying since you’d met.

You didn’t have any other choice.

It was unceremonious, all things considered, the way you just pulled the small book from your pocket but you didn’t really care. Of all the things currently fighting for the top spot in your mind, finesse didn’t even crack the top ten.

There was no getting away from this and the longer you tried to play it off, the worse it was going to be for both of you.

There was probably a perfectly casual explanation that you just had yet to consider. All you could know for sure right now was that you were never going to know if you didn’t give Troy a chance to explain himself.

“You found it” he allowed, gingerly taking the book from your hands and inspecting it lightly before returning it back to where it belonged.

Safely away in the back pocket of his jeans, away from prying eyes like yours.

“Yeah, I found it.” you could practically feel your blood dropping in temperature as you forced yourself to take the leap. “And I read it too”

Troy’s blood ran cold as soon as you spoke.

You read it? What did that mean? Most of what he’d cataloged in that book wasn’t something you would have been able to understand, even with as clever as you happened to be.

It was an extension of what happened inside his head, and if he was being honest, Troy was lucky he could understand what he’d written most of the time.

It wasn’t possible that you’d read it.

It just wasn’t possible.

“What do you mean?” his words were much more pensive this time, as he waited for you to explain yourself.

Troy was smart, and he knew better than to incriminate himself, even if technically he hadn’t done anything wrong. The drawings were creepy, sure, but not necessarily disallowed.

“It’s a good likeness. It could have been a lot worse. I mean, I didn’t even know you could draw” you shrugged, telling him everything he needed to know without having to actually admit to what you both knew out loud.

It was the most painless option, but knowing that didn’t stop Troy from panicking as he considered what this might mean for the two of you in the future. Of course, he wouldn’t blame you for whatever choice you made.

He’d crossed a line, again.

“You weren’t supposed to see those” he tried, ultimately preparing himself for the yelling or screaming that would follow your discovery.

It was strange.

Troy knew that when he started the sketches, but for the life of him, he couldn’t stop once he’d started. There was just something about you, and the way you looked when you were completely in your element.

It was like the rest of the world fell away, and even if for a moment, he wanted to capture it.

…but there was no way for him to explain that to you without making the whole thing a lot worse than it already was.

After all, the only thing more inappropriate than drawing you without your permission or awareness would be justifying it with unreciprocated feelings of admiration.

Feelings he could hardly rectify within his own head, let alone out loud to you.

“Why do you draw them?” you wondered, heading back down the hill toward your own cabin, Troy following you gingerly.

You had no idea what you were doing here, or what difference this whole thing would make but you knew that you had to talk about it. You had to figure out where to go from here, and you’d rather do it without an audience.

This definitely wasn’t the business of anyone else at the ranch.

He sighed, watching you out of the corner of his eye as you moved, making no motion to say anything else until he spoke. “Got bored” he tried, his voice wavering in a way you’d never heard before.

“Don’t lie. It’s okay, I just want to know why” you shrugged, practically pleading with him to tell you the truth.

You didn’t blame him for assuming the worst. That was just who Troy was, and who he would always be, but you weren’t angry with him for this.

You were just surprised.

Most of the drawings, kept between important data he’d collected, were of you out in the world, going about your day and unaware that you were being watched.

Which, to some, may have been unsettling but you didn’t think so. You knew Troy and you knew that in order for him to put the time and effort into these, they were important to him.

Because you were important to him.

All you wanted was to hear him say it.

“Truth?” he hummed, more for himself than you as he bought just a little more time before you finally stopped, just far enough away from the center of the ranch to have some privacy.

You nodded, trying to ignore the way his gaze shifted around your face before finally dropping to the dirt.

“You’re real. Real and beautiful” Troy shrugged, in what had to be the most pitiful attempt at minimizing himself that you’d ever seen.

This wasn’t who he was.

Troy was strong and self-assured. You had never seen him doubt a decision or second guess a choice once in all the time you’d known him unless that was just another one of his illusions you’d never looked twice at.

Sensing you weren’t content with just that, he continued, laying his soul bare in a way you’d never expected.

Not from him.

“You know that feeling when you’re staring them down out there, and you know that if you make one wrong move or miss anything, that will be it?” he questioned, clearly referencing the dead and the thrill he got from the sick little game of chicken you’d had to put a stop to quite a few times before.

“Yeah, but what does that have to do with me?” you started, only to stop again when Troy continued, “The feeling after, when they’re all dead and everything is okay again…that’s how I feel when I’m around you”

Troy paused, his eyes meetings yours for a moment as he breathed, clearly trying to gauge your reaction to his confession so far.

He found nothing.

You knew the feeling he was talking about. The relief that flooded your body when the adrenaline peaked after the danger had already faded away and you could revel in what you’d accomplished.

…but the drawings.

You didn’t understand how they were related.

So, clearly following your train of thought, Troy fished the book out of his pocket and opened it, pausing only briefly before showing you the page he’d ended on.

It was further along in the journal than you’d gotten in your initial search this morning but it would seem that there was a reason for that.

It was another drawing of you.

This time, you were curled up in your sleeping bag, fast asleep. It wasn’t entirely different from any of the others, but considering that it was the one he’d chosen, you knew it was special.

It was his favorite.

This was the first one he’d drawn. The one that had started the habit that he’d yet to break, even now.

You had been out with the rest of the militia. Under his direction, you’d wandered too far away from the ranch and bunked down for the night in a cave, but for the life of him, Troy couldn’t sleep.

He couldn’t quiet his mind and he certainly couldn’t have hoped to get any sleep, so he picked up his notebook. At first, he was just going to read over his notes from the outpost, but then he glanced over at you.

You were too peaceful and too beautiful. It made him feel something he’d never felt and some part of him felt like if he didn’t commemorate it somewhere, that feeling would just slip away and he didn’t want to let it go.

He couldn't let it go.

“I won’t say I love you, because I don’t think I’d know even if I did, but I draw these because they remind me of what I do it for,” Troy muttered, admiring the graphite as if he’d done it a hundred times before, and maybe he had.

“They remind me of what peace feels like”

[sombrashe]

relationship troy x reader

content nonconsensual voyeurism, nonconsensual mutual masterbation, troy is a fucking creepy, daffodil is just as creepy jacking off to him smh

He was so lucky your window opened to the untilled land west of the camp. Your sounds carry on the wind into nothingness, straight into his ear canals. Such pretty little sounds. He loves listening to you like this. Enthralled in your actions unaware of the going ons just a few feet away. Whispers turn into squeals as you slowly get closer to the edge. It normally takes you about half an hour to cum and he makes sure to stay until the very last moment.

Daring a peak he freezes once his eyes rake over your body. Bare, sweat gleaming over your entirety. You’re a masterpiece. Legs spread wide as your toes curl into the sheets below. Drooling cunt soaking those same sheets like a Bob Ross painting. He can’t tear his eyes away. The hand which rubbed at your clit occasionally leaves to pinch and twist at your nipple.

He takes in the sight like a starved man. Maybe he is. No, he definitely is. A man so starved he has to hope you leave your window open. Leave it open in the hope he gets to hear those wonderful sounds. Lock them away in the vault that is his mind. Get a single glance so he can hastily scribble a drawing of you. This time he was going to commit. Take it all in. Watch you from start to finish. Watch as your body reacts to each sound that falls from your lips.

You shift and pause. A defeated huff and you're flinging yourself onto your stomach. His heart hammers loudly in his ears. He becomes nervous as you raise your hips. There was no way you knew he was there and yet here you are presenting yourself for him. Eyes tightly closed as you grit your teeth. Jaw clenched tightly as you grind against the air. Your fingers working yourself over. Pinching and clawing at your puffy cunt. Doing anything to get yourself off and he knows if you just invited him in he could satiate that need for you.

He would make you cum over and over again.

His cock head is swollen as he lazily rubs his fingertips over it. Pre cum slicks his fingers and he shamefully imagines it as your slick. Salty and sticky he imagines how you would feel wrapped around his ruddy tip. Would you suck him in as he slowly slipped inside? How would you sound squealing out his name as he finally bottoms out? What would you say if he asked for a taste? Would you say yes or shy away from him and his tongue?

“I’m not a disappointment.”

His ears perk up at your low words. The words he spat in your face hours earlier. Some simple mistake during a mission made him snap on you and your team. Something stupid he was going to apologize for if Madison hadn't stolen him away mere seconds later.

“T-troy~ hng, mmm.”

He fumbles with his belt. Yanking himself free from his zipper he doesn't let his cock a break as he doubles his efforts. He doesn't care if you catch him anymore. He thinks you wouldn't mind it either. Not after tonight. Not after hearing you beg for him. Maybe he should stick his leaking cock back into his briefs and knock on your door. Catch you all disoriented with a painful-looking tent. See if you’ll offer to help him. Let him just a moment to feel how warm you are. God, I bet they’d feel amazing.

You're humping the mattress now. So close. He can tell by the way your right leg angles itself. The tremors in the hand pumping lewdly in your pillowy cunt give you away further. Only when the tremors start do your squawks turn into grunts. When those grunts start he knows he only has a few minutes before you're pooling into your palm. Messily pumping his cock he squeezes around the base with one palm and roughly massages his balls with the other. He cums in tandem with you and he feels absolutely euphoric. Like he could float right through the window and land curled up beside your heaving body.

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[escapist-of-fiction]

Title - Old habits die hard

One shot - Troy Otto x Fem Reader

Warning - alcohol use, mild language and some hot and heavy foreplay.

Disclaimer - I borrowed some of the characters of FTWD but that's all.

Author's note - I honestly loved writing this. Heavily influenced by the Chris Stapleton song that's included throughout. If you read, feedback is most welcome. Reblog if you think someone else might enjoy 😉

~ E

I know it ain't all that late

But you should probably leave

And I recognize that look in your eyes

Yeah, you should probably leave

-------

"A storm's coming," Nick murmured, his eyes lifting to the sky, squinting under a furrowed brow. No one disagreed with him. The air felt thick and the sky had turned a hazy, pale orange with streaks of dark pink running through it. Uncrossing his legs that were rested on the table, he stood up, stretching his arms above his head with a loud yawn. "I better go. I'm on the night shift at the gate."

"We're going to make tracks too," Alicia said, "I promised I'd help with prep the breakfast in the morning now the large group have arrived." She looked over at me as I remained in my seat, "are you coming Y/N?"

I shook my head, "not yet, I will soon. Promise." Alicia hovered on the steps of the veranda hesitantly, trying to read my expression but failed. She allowed herself to be ushered on her way by Jake, his hand laced securely with hers as she looked back at me curiously.

I watched everyone leave and stared up at the night sky, lost in my thoughts.

I knew why Alicia was reluctant to leave me behind. I had no reason to stay. Troy and I had broken up a month ago, albeit for the second time after a brief reconciliation. Ordinarily I would have followed everyone else. We'd been on a supply run earlier, the five of us, and had habitually decompressed over a few beers and some food after at Troy's.

Except now I couldn't leave without speaking with Troy alone, I had a bone to pick with him.

I heard the familiar thud of his boots on the wooden floorboards of the porch behind me and slowly turned around to face him. Troy looked around at the vacant chairs and seem mildly surprised that I was still there.

"How come you haven't left with the others?"

"Because I wanted a word." I said curtly. "I need to set something straight with you."

"Okay..." Troy looked at me in question, he crossed his arms over his chest defensively and waited for me to speak.

"On the supply run today, when we were killing that herd...I was fine, you know. I didn't need you to get involved. You can't just step in and save me all the time."

Troy's mouth twitched ever so slightly as he realised what I was referring to. He shrugged,

"Y/N, when we go on a run, we have each other's backs. We do it for anyone out there. That's just the way it goes. It's what the Militia do."

I rubbed my forehead in frustration,

"You know that's not what I mean, Troy. When we're out there, you need to let me be me. I can fight my own battles. I'm not your girlfriend. I'm not yours to protect anymore." I huffed and turned my back to him to face the fields as I leaned over the side of the porch.

Troy's shadow loomed over me in the moonlight as he came to stand beside me,

"Fine. I promise that in future I will not have your back, nor will I be your second pair of eyes on a run or help you out. In future, I will just let you get bitten and count down to the minute until the moment I watch you turn."

I turned to scowl at him,

"You're an infuriating bastard, do you know that?"

Troy smirked, "you're not the first person to tell me that and you won't be the last." He held up a bottle of red wine, "drink with me?"

I shook my head,

"I should probably leave."

-------

There's still time for you to finish your wine

Then you should probably leave

And it's hard to resist, alright, just one kiss

Then you should probably leave

-------

"One swig won't hurt." Troy insisted as he twisted and pulled at the cork, with a 'pop.' "peace offering?" He said, waving the bottle under my nose.

I sighed and took it from him, helping myself to a generous sip. The red liquid tasted sweet and nutty. Clearly not the dregs of the apocolyptic world. I handed the bottle back to Troy with a questionable look on my face.

Troy glugged back the wine with a satisfied "ahhh" before answering me. "It's one of the old man's bottles. I found it behind his whiskey stash. He'd obviously hidden it for a rainy day."

I swiped the bottle back from Troy and drank a generous portion again before raising the bottle to the skies,

"Cheers to pilfering old Jeremiah's alcohol. His loss is our gain!" My wicked laugh echoed in the darkness.

I hadn't eaten a lot earlier on so I could feel the wine was going straight to my head.

This wasn't going to plan at all...

It all suddenly seemed too easy again. Standing together, laughing, sharing stories about everyone on the ranch. I had forgotten this feeling when I was around Troy. This is when it felt right. So why had it stopped?

With every sip of wine, my reasons for being mad at Troy and his stupid decisions seemed to peel away and disintegrate, as if they had never been there at all. I was losing myself in a comforting blanket of red wine and Troy's company. It was a downward spiral.

As Troy drained the last of the bottle, he peered down its glass neck to double check the contents was truly gone and sighed, before placing it back onto the table.

He came to stand next to you and looked over at Jake's house that he shared with Alicia. You noticed their porch light was still on - she must have been waiting up for you to pass. A similar thing must have run through Troy's mind as well.

"She won't be happy that you're still here, you know." He said it with a gentle nudge of his shoulder into mine. I rolled my eyes in exasperation.

"She's not my keeper."

Troy's look said it all, I scoffed and changed tact,

"She just cares about me and doesn't want me getting hurt..." again, I added silently.

Without realising, our bodies had gravitated toward each other, I could see his fingers twitch, wanting to reach for my hand but he decided against it last minute.

Troy lowered his voice as if the world were listening and he didn't want them to hear,

"I would never hurt you, Y/N. You know that. I care about you too much. Its why I do what I do when I'm out there..."

I bit my lip. It was so easy for him to say those words and for me to fall right back into his trap. They weren't lies. He did care about me and he didn't hurt me but it was everything else - the stupid decisions he made (without thinking them through) with a gun in his hand, the experiments, let's not even mention the obsession with his notebook...

I turned to step away from him but in one sly movement, he had closed the gap between us, his legs either side of mine, a hand on my waist holding me in place.

"I need to go... " I murmured, already fighting the magnetic pull that was drawing me closer to Troy, like a moth to a flame.

I didn't feel trapped . Right now I wanted this.

I wanted him.

"Troy, what are you doing?" I whispered. His hand reached for my cheek, his fingers grazing my skin and my eyes fluttered closed, succumbing to his every touch.

I felt the stubble of his chin graze my cheek briefly as he spoke,

"This is me saying goodnight," He said, and I gasped quietly as his lips connected with mine.

-------

Like a devil on my shoulder you keep whisperin' in my ear

And it's gettin' kinda hard for me to do the right thing here

I wanna do the right thing, baby

------

I should have stopped him right there and then, I should have turned and walked away but when your heart says one thing and your brain says the other?

You go with the burning desire that is rushing through your veins and making your head spin.

My hands moved up to grasp the collar of his jacket and I pulled Troy down to my height, eager to increase contact with him and deepen our kiss.

I grazed my teeth across his bottom lip teasingly, emitting a growl from deep within his throat and I smiled, knowing I'd hit his sweet spot. I knew him too well.

Everything about this felt familiar and delicious - the warmth of his hands as they found their way under my shirt, the circles he danced across my torso, the impatient tugging at the waistline of my pants.

I shook my head, "not out here.." I mumbled against his lips. I felt Troy's lips curl into a devilish smile before moving to my neck, leaving a trail of kisses down to my chest. Ignoring my request.

Insistently, I tugged on the bottom of his jacket, pulling him in the direction of the front door, hoping he'd get the message.

With a little laugh, he followed but known for his impatient streak, decided to speed up the process by picking me up. Without skipping a beat, my legs wrapped around his waist, my arms wound around his neck. I pulled back to look at him under the porch light as we passed through the doorway,

"This is such a mistake." I declared, almost groaning. Troy chuckled,

"No time for regrets. Hate me in the morning, darling."

------

Sun on your skin, 6 AM

And I been watchin' you sleep

And honey, I'm so afraid you're gonna wake up and say

That you should probably leave

Oh, you should probably leave

------

I woke up with a start.

I knew that I wasn't in my own bed but it certainly felt familiar to me. As I opened my eyes, I glanced around the room and found Troy sat in his favourite spot, his bay window, notebook in hand whilst he scribbled down in it furiously.

My hand went to my head, I could feel the beginning of a hangover rumbling.

"We did it again, didn't we?" I knew the answer. I didn't need him to confirm it.

Troy smirked, obviously enjoying as I squirmed in embarrassment, he placed his notebook down on the table next to him,

"Actually if you want to be really accurate, we did it again... three times."

I groaned inwardly, having no patience for his humour then threw a pillow in his direction, which he expertly dodged. I then began to move around the room, collecting the discarded clothing from the previous night and dressing myself in haste.

"Why are you in such a rush? I can make us some breakfast before you go..?"

I froze and looked at him incredulously.

"This," I began, pointing at both of us, "is not a thing. This was a mistake, a huge one at that."

Now fully dressed, I walked toward the door to open it but in three long strides, Troy had reached it as well and infuriatingly placed his foot in the doorway to stop me in my tracks.

I stared up at him, eyes wide in rage,

"You can't keep me here under duress, Troy. I'm not one of your prisoners. Let me pass."

"I will... if you answer me one question first."

I folded my arms in a huff and looked at him questioningly.

"Admit you enjoyed yourself last night."

I opened my mouth to give him a seething response but closed it again, he knew it would be a lie.

Of course I had enjoyed last night.

But this was the dance we did, Troy and I. We fought, we made up, we would do the same over and over. We were each other's addiction and no matter how much I fought it, I would always keep going back to him.

My silence spoke volumes.

Troy dared to reach out and push a strand of my hair back from my face, tucking it behind my ear.

This was the Troy I fell for, the one that no one else saw. The softness underneath the hard exterior.

He tried leaning in for a kiss but miraculously I resisted, placing my hands flat against his chest to gently push him away.

"Don't push your luck."

Troy chuckled but nevertheless, moved to the side to allow me to pass and watched me jog down the stairs before calling after me,

"Same time tomorrow then?"

Gif not mine