TW: This will contain blood and swearing and torture.
Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3
Not all monsters choose to become monsters. Some are dragged into darkness against their will, transformed by fate, tragedy, or circumstances they never asked for. Yet even with the nightmare living beneath their skin, they fight it every day. They turn away from the cruelty expected of them, refusing to take part in the violence that defines what they are. Their existence becomes an act of quiet rebellion—a constant defiance against the darkness inside them. There is something heartbreakingly beautiful about a soul at war with itself, about someone who knows they have become something terrible and still chooses kindness. They are not trying to return to who they once were; they know that person is gone. Instead, they struggle to create something new from the ruins, carving fragments of light out of the shadows that consume them, proving that even among monsters, humanity can survive.
The ambulance screeched to a stop just around the corner from the diner, close enough that it could still be seen from the main street. Its headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating the empty road and the shapes moving inside.
Inside the ambulance were Tabitha Matthews and Henry, Victor's father. The paramedics who had been driving it were already dead, their bodies left behind after the nightmare that had unfolded only moments earlier. The police officer who had arrived with them had abandoned the vehicle and sprinted toward Colony House in a desperate attempt to survive the night.
The town felt alive.
Not alive in a normal way.
Alive in the way it always did after sunset.
Watching. Waiting. The creatures were everywhere.
Boyd burst from cover first, Jim right behind him. "Tabitha!" Jim shouted, running toward the ambulance.
"Come on!" Boyd yelled. "Move! Move!"
The creatures were beginning to emerge. Then another sound broke through the chaos.
Screaming. Human screaming.
A young woman's head snapped toward the noise.
She stood partially hidden in the shadows between two houses, her long hair dancing in the cold winter breeze.
Her bright eyes followed the source of the sound.
Julie Matthews came sprinting from behind the Liu house. "Ethan, hurry!"
Ethan was right behind her, his face pale with fear. Sarah followed close behind, clutching a weapon and constantly looking over her shoulder.
The monsters were moving toward them from every direction.
Then a loud horn blasted through the night.
BEEEEEEP!
Everyone turned. The bus.
Randall Kirkland stood in the doorway. "GET IN THE BUS!" he yelled. Another blast of the horn echoed through town.
"COME ON!" For once, Randall wasn't arguing with anyone.
Wasn't fighting.
Wasn't making things harder.
He was helping.
The young woman couldn't help the small smile that touched her lips. Even now, with death surrounding them, he was trying.
Julie, Ethan, and Sarah ran toward the bus. Boyd and Jim continued toward the ambulance.
Everything was happening at once. Then Randall jumped down from the bus and ran toward Boyd.
"What do you need?" Boyd turned. "Go grab that emergency tool bag!" Randall nodded immediately.
"Got it." Without another word he sprinted back toward the bus.
The woman watched him disappear inside before emerging seconds later carrying a large tool bag.
"BOYD!" He ran as fast as he could.
But the creatures were already moving. Smiling.
Blocking the street. Closing in.
Randall slowed. "Fuck"
One creature stepped directly into his path.
Then another.
Then another.
The smiling faces formed a wall between him and Boyd.
"Move!" Randall shouted.
They only smiled wider.
The woman felt her stomach twist. She hated that smile.
Always had.
Randall looked toward Boyd. Looked at the bag. Then, with all his strength, he hurled it through the air.
"BOYD!" The bag sailed over the creatures.
Boyd caught it. "GET BACK TO THE BUS!" Boyd shouted. Randall immediately turned.
He started running. Then he froze. The woman saw it happen instantly.
Saw the terror enter his eyes. "No..." she whispered.
Randall stumbled. His hands flew to his neck.
Then his arms.
Then his face.
"No! No! No!" He crashed to the ground.
The cicadas.
Randall began clawing at himself frantically. "GET THEM OFF!" His voice cracked.
"GET THEM THE FUCK OFF ME!" He rolled across the gravel. Scratching. Pulling at his skin.
Trying to remove bugs that weren't there.
The creatures stopped moving.
Watching. Enjoying it.
The woman took a step forward. Then another. Her heart pounding.
"Randall..." he couldn't hear her.
Couldn't hear anyone.
He was trapped inside his own nightmare.
Boyd turned. His face filled with horror. For a brief moment, their eyes met.
Boyd. Randall. One man standing by the ambulance. The other lying helpless in the road.
The creatures slowly closing around him.
Boyd knew.
Everyone knew.
There wasn't enough time. If they stayed... everyone died. If they left... Randall died.
The choice hung in the air. Heavy. Terrible.
The monsters smiled.
Waiting.
Boyd's jaw tightened.
The ambulance engine roared. "Boyd!" Jim shouted.
The ambulance accelerated. The woman watched it pull away. Watched the red taillights disappear down the street.
Watched Randall get left behind. Alone. The episode slowly faded. His breathing became ragged. The invisible bugs disappeared.
Randall blinked, confused. Then he noticed the shadows around him.
The monsters.
Dozens of them. Standing in a circle.
His eyes widened in fear replaced confusion instantly. "Shit..."
A monster crouched beside him. Smiling. Another grabbed his arm. A third tilted his head. Like they were inspecting him. Like he was a toy.
The woman stepped forward. "Leave him alone." Nobody listened.
Randall struggled. "Get the fuck off me!"
One of the creatures dragged a sharp fingernail across his face. A scream tore from his throat.
The cut began beneath his earlobe. Then ripped downward toward the corner of his mouth. Blood immediately poured from the wound. The woman flinched.
"Stop!" Another monster dug its claws into the left side of his neck.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Deep gashes opened through his skin. Randall cried out again. The sound echoed through the empty street.
"STOP!" This time her voice carried authority. Power.
Every monster froze. The street became silent.
They all turned toward her. Her hair moved gently in the winter wind. Her eyes reflected the moonlight.
For a moment nobody spoke. Then she looked toward the horizon. The first faint hints of dawn were beginning to appear, with a few hours to spare.
"The sun will be up soon." The creatures seemed disappointed. Several looked back at Randall. But eventually they began to leave.
One by one.
The smiling faces vanished into the darkness.
Until only she remained. Randall lay trembling on the pavement.
Blood covered his cheek.
His neck.
His shirt.
His breathing shook. She slowly knelt beside him. For the first time that night, he truly looked at her. Even though she is shes not a monster.
Not smiling.
Not cruel. Just... sad. Deeply sad.
"Why?" he whispered.
She swallowed deeply, trying not to let the monster inside her come out. "You are going to be okay."
Summary: Y/N is the newest arrival to the township. Amongst all the townsfolk, she takes a liking to the most unlikable guy in town when things go awry at the colony house. How will she survive the night?
Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, piv, unprotected sex, DubCon (kinda), breeding, public sex, exhibitionism, drug use, mentions of DV, mentions of violence (murder), swearing, fem!reader, romantic smut, aftercare (he deserves that and more!)
A/N: Randall Kirkland needs love, y'all!! You know, under that cold abrasive exterior, he's a total softie with a good heart! From is such a great show, I love Randall and will protect him at all costs!!! Story is cannon, no spoilers for new season, but it's definitely the reason I wrote it… especially after ep. 6. Randall is baby girl!! Please enjoyyy! I love and appreciate you all! Feel free to reach out anytime! I welcome all interaction!
Word Count: 5.4k
FOCUS ON ME
Stepping back into colony house was heavy after last night. Donna and Boyd were outside at first light to cover and remove the body of yet another victim to these creatures. You often reminisced of your days before this nightmare you were trapped in. Wishing, hoping to wake up. You arrived in the township by yourself, close to sunset. The folks at colony house were welcoming albeit, strange. You understood now. Often disassociating from the truth and drowning yourself in a journal or sneaking off to vape THC, often walking in the woods, trying to make sense of things, to find… something. Like everyone's first night, you struggled to take in what this place was, what it did to people, not wanting or willing to trust anyone. There was no answers or information as to why this was all happening, no one communicated, and you felt alone. Everyone else seemingly accepting their fates. Except one person. A guy by the name of Randall who people whispered about in the colony house. After hearing some not so stellar rumors about fighting and guns, you initially opted to stay away. Not just from him but closing yourself off to others as well. Sure, some of them seemed nice, but you knew no one or the circumstances that led you to this place. It just didn’t make sense. It was hard to trust anyone, truly.
After your third night here, you awoke from maybe two hours of sleep to find people rummaging through your things. Personal items mixed with sentimental items that you once thought held value. You were in the middle of a move, taking only your most precious items with on the initial voyage from Key West to Seattle escaping from a violent DV situation literally upheaving your entire life. A new life, new beginnings and new opportunities you had once looked forward to. That was before the tree appeared in the road and the crows circled above.
The car alarm was jarring waking you from an unrestful sleep, you bolted out the door to see people with handfuls of your clothes, bagging up your journals and other personal effects. It felt as if they were taking what was left from your old life, what made you, you. Without hesitation you started ripping your items from the hands of the thieves. One of the women started yelling while trying to yank back your things, you didn’t hear her and acted out, launching a solid fist into her jaw causing her to fall back as others went to restrain you trying to talk about the rules, and other things you were too upset to hear.
This place was already loathsome enough, you thought. “You can't take my things!” You yelled as people held you back, each holding one arm. You bucked and screamed until they let go and you fell to the ground. A crowd had begun to form on the porch, watching you. You could feel the heat of anger and embarrassment rise in your cheeks. You pant in defeat, looking at the ground sobbing as people loaded your things into the home. Boots appeared in front of you and a hand reached down. A deep voice spoke out “Here, stand up” You recognized the face immediately as Randall, who had wandered over after hearing the commotion. Him and some folks from town were trying to build some kind of radio tower near the garden.
You took his hand and stood, dusting off the front of your pants where wet dirt had stained your knees. “Don’t let them see you like this” he whispered. “Give her back her shit!” He yelled to the crowd. Donna stepped forward demanding everyone calm down, she then firmly reminded Randall of the rules if “she” wanted to stay here. “As a community, we have to share everything equally” she had said to him while looking at you. “My journals? My clothes? Are you serious? Its all I have!” You said wanting to swing again but refraining, what good would it do. Your stuck with everyone here anyway. “That or you can do as Randall here did and leave if you don't like the rules” she said directly to you in a condescending manor.
You storm off in a huff, not wanting to display any more emotion than you already have. You walked away fists clenched and head down when you heard footsteps beside you. “Thank you.” You said. Looking up and meeting his eyes. It was Randall. His smoldering gaze made your breath catch in your throat. He stood at least a foot or more taller than you, athletic build, clean shaved buzz cut, hazel-green eyes, and a dimpled chin. Funny you thought, all the talk about him, how terrible he is, how difficult he can be, and yet he was the only person to stick up for you.
“Its bullshit, you know it, I know it. They tried that with me too when I got here.” He said as you two continued walking away. “What did you do? Did you get your things back?” You asked. “Yeah eventually, and they kicked me out because of it. Didn’t want to follow their rules” he said with a half grin. “I stay in the bus away from everyone else.” He lamented. Explaining how Donna had showed him how to use the talisman and wished him luck as he took his things. "Wow. What a peach," you said. “I'm Randall, by the way” he said while sticking a hand out. You reached to shake it “Y/N” you replied.
It was nice talking to someone, you had felt alone here for the past few days, even more so when they began taking your things, it felt like your identity being stripped away. He seemed to understand, and vice versa, you understood him and his reasoning. He had already come to terms with some new truths about this place having been here longer, but you were still taking it all in, or rather, bottling it up and pushing it away. Whatever worked really. “So, where are you going?” He asked while walking beside you. “I guess, just for a walk to clear my head. Wanna come?” You asked, flashing a smile at him. “Sure. Anything to get away” you both chuckled as you led the way to the tree line.
You learned a lot from him that day you first met him. You exchanged stories of your lives before, where you were going, what you were doing prior. He spoke candidly with you. It was truly refreshing. Sure, he was abrasive and blunt. You could see that on the surface, but somewhere below, you could see he was kind, that he cared, and that he, like the rest of us, was scared. You found it easy to talk to him and it was nice having conversations that didn’t completely revolve around death or scary night serial killer creatures. It was a nice escape from reality, one you both suffered from and needed badly. Spending much of your walk laughing and cracking jokes. His humor was dark much like your own, something you appreciated. You quickly found yourself wanting to talk to him all the time. He was relatable and understanding. He exuded strength and confidence and a no bullshit demeanor. Everyone else seemed so fake, or so lost.
Although your conversations mostly remained light, he did speak about the people here too, about not trusting anyone, and how no one has really done anything or tried to figure this all out. He explained that living in the bus was hard, the creatures came every night like a routine, he studied them closely. Trying to find weaknesses, vulnerabilities, any information really. You two had stopped for a while. You remembered you had your pen in your pocket and asked him if he was ok with it. "Do you mind if I uh" you said as you wiggled the pen in your fingers. “Nah” he said with a grin. He stood taking stock of the environment you found yourselves in as smoke billowed from your lips into the cold morning air. You nonchalantly hold the pen out to him while also examining the environment. He looked down and grabbed the pen before clicking the button and drawing from the mouthpiece. Eliciting a couple small coughs from him. “Thanks, needed to take the edge off” he said while trying to catch his breath as you two began the trek back to town. You hadn't wandered off too far, never did in fear of getting lost before dark.
He walked back to colony house with you. You didn’t want to go back, wasn’t ready to after this morning but nightfall approached. Randall stopped at the steps as you ascended. “Thank you, for today. I was really struggling, so, I appreciate you talking with me. It was nice.” You said with a coy smile. He nodded “Tomorrow we’ll get your stuff back okay.” He said. “Thank you, please be safe.” You lamented, truly hoping he made it through the night. You at least found solace in knowing you made a friend here. Knowing that made you feel less alone, but when you were on the couch at night as the creatures roamed the streets as Randall watched. You felt more alone than ever. A resident walked by wearing your shoes. You rolled your eyes and turned over, waiting for the night to be over. Tomorrow you would get your things back. You decided you weren't coming back to colony house. Maybe you could stay with someone in town, but you just couldn’t stay sane in a house full of people, especially when they were taking your things. You drifted off thinking of Randall, and what it must be like to stay on the bus at night.
You were awoken by screaming. Someone had gotten killed last night and their body was left in the road in town. You heard residents chatter as Donna left to help dispose of the body. Before your mind could fully wake your body pulled itself up and ran for the door. You walked over to town, not wanting to see the body, but wanting to make sure it wasn’t Randall. A crowd formed around the body as Boyd tried to control the commotion with his hands waving telling people to move back. The bus was down the street a bit further away when you saw the door open and Randall step out to see what happened, who had gotten killed. Boyd gave his speech about safety at night and not trusting the creatures. You found yourself walking over to the bus where Randall stood arms crossed leaning against the open door. He straightened as you approached. “Let's go get your things” he said. “No one needs your journals and shit but you!” He said while starting to walk.
The crowds were all down near the diner speculating about last night's murder. Only one or two people were at the house. You began collecting your personal effects from the rooms and basement where much of it was stored, mixed with other linens in a chest. “What if they don’t let me stay anymore” you said, voice full of concern. Randall set a bag down thinking for a moment. “Then you can stay in the bus with me.” The words sent shivers down your spine. The bus seemed so unsafe; he spoke about how vulnerable it made him feel. No shades for the windows, no pretending like everything is ok at night like the others have the luxury of doing. But it also excited you in a way. Randall was the only person here you’ve connected with, and on a deep level. You felt compelled to stay with him for reasons that can only be blamed on your hormones and lack of social life here. Maybe you would both be better off if neither of you were alone. You could feel heat rise in your cheeks as you continued to pack your things and head for the bus.
After dropping off your things to the bus Randall was kind enough to help you carry, you both opted for another walk in the woods. It was a calmer environment; it was almost like being taken away from the commotion and despair that was the township and the townsfolk. Randall was a breath of fresh air. He saw through the bullshit and told it like it is. You appreciated his directness, especially when it came to you. “They think what they're doing is right, but they have no idea, no one does" you could sense the frustration in his voice. An emotion you shared. You agreed. “I get people are scared, we all are, but why can't anyone come together and think of something more than a temporary fix. These talismans are Band-Aids over a bigger issue were almost ignoring or just not trying hard enough to figure out. How many people are here, have been here, with nothing to show for it? With no answers as to why or how?” Randall shook his head. “See, you get it” he said as he reached to grab the pen from your hand.
You two had found a log to sit and chat. Remarking at the landscape, trying to find something, anything really. Every answer he found only led to more questions, but at least he was trying rather than ignoring it like nothing ever happened. Like we all just chose to live here, to be here. Neither him nor you accepted that sentiment. He wanted out just like you did. But in the meantime, at least you had each other in a way.
He never said anything but it seemed like he enjoyed your company. Willingly going on walks with you and talking for hours about anything. You were both a nice distraction for each other from the daily depression of existence within the confines of this horrible place. You found solace in him. A warm presence like protection and safety. That night you two had stayed awake for the most part talking through the screeches and screaming heard in the distance. Helping one another to ignore the words of the creatures when they would tap on the bus windows asking to come inside. It was scary but you two got through it.
He had been used to this for some time. As used to it as someone could get, you supposed. But he was able to help you through your first night on the bus. “Focus on me” he said when they wandered to the window at the seat you occupied. He sat next to you and reached for your hand squeezing tightly. “Just focus on me”. The words he spoke echoed in your mind that evening until it darkened with slumber.
You must have drifted off at some point because you awoke at first daylight as the sun began streaming into the windows. Randall was still sitting next to you. Had he held your hand all night? You must have fallen asleep on him. He could have shifted or asked you to move so he could sleep as well. But he didn’t. He sat there with you all night as your head rest upon his shoulder. When you moved, he jumped suddenly, eyes shot open and looking around. “Hey, hey, it's okay.” You said grabbing his leg and shaking it gently. He immediately relaxed.
“Bad dream?” You asked. “No. No I uh, I just never really fall asleep in here. Sorry.” He spoke in a soft voice. “I haven't been able to sleep much at all my self since I've been here. But I was able to last night. I have you to thank for that” you looked on as he processed what you said. “Don’t worry about it. I should uh, thank you too. Having you here I guess, made it easier for me. Not having to be alone when those things show up.” He said clearing his throat and shifting slightly in his seat. “I appreciate you letting me sleep here. And I'm sorry about falling asleep on you” you said sheepishly.
He grabbed your hand once more “Like I said, don’t worry about it.” A light smile lingered on his lips before he left. He had gone up to colony house again. Him and a few others that he was able to gather, had left to scavenge materials for the radio tower they were building. He would be gone for a while, so you spent your day mostly in the woods searching for answers, stopping by the diner for a quick meal then returning to the bus before nightfall.
You sat in the fourth row back from the entrance. There was a break in seating here and room for your things in front of you without feeling crowded. This was normally where he would sit. You sat and journaled about your day, about last night. Jotting down ideas, possible relations between happenings and the effects, trying to make sense of things. The familiar ding of the nightly bell Boyd used to warn the townsfolk rang on the distance as the sky began to darken.
You realized Randall wasn’t back at the bus yet. Your mind spiraled into worry. You panicked rushing to the bus door closing it and waiting for him to arrive. You looked in all directions when you spot him emerge from by the clinic. He’s running to the bus as those creatures slowly follow behind him ever so menacingly. You open the door before he gets to it yelling for him to hurry. He rushes in and runs to a seat. You shut the door behind him insuring its fully closed then rush to help him. Was he hurt? What was going on? He was frantically tearing at his clothes and swatting as if there was something near him.
You stepped close to him trying to calm him, it was as if he could hear you but couldn’t respond. You could see he was scared and was seeing something you couldn’t, his eyes flickered looking at something. Not odd for this place but nonetheless, you were concerned. He was back on the bus, but was he actually safe? What happened out there? You wondered as you tried to calm him. “Randall! Hey! It’s me you’re okay!!” You tried to consol him. You grabbed onto him holding his arms and entering his vision. He was sunk into the seat eyes still wide with fear. You put your weight on him, straddling him in the seat grabbing his face trying to redirect his attention. “Randall!” You yelled helplessly. You were scared, unsure what else to do in this moment. Unsure how to help.
He sat with you on top of him, still unphased. It’s as if he was stuck in a waking nightmare. Suddenly all you could think was to potentially shock his system somehow to take him out of it. "Randall, focus on me, okay?” You lean in quickly, pressing your lips to his, breathing deeply through your nose. Laughter could be heard coming from the creatures that had gathered around the bus. You ignored them. You continued kissing him. Softly pressing your lips to his watching his reaction. His eyes went half lidded before flickering shut.
His breathing slowed and body stopped trembling. He kissed you back, wrapping his arms around your waist. You embraced it and closed your eyes. You didn’t expect that. You pulled away for a moment examining his expression, wanting to know if he was out of the woods so to speak. “Are you okay?” You asked. He looked at you with surprise. “Why did you do that?” He spoke softly, still holding you to him. “I'm so sorry. I didn’t know what else to do, I just wanted to shock your system or something. I had to pull you out of that! I was scared for you, and you showed up past dark and-" he cut you off suddenly, pulling your face back to his. You melted in his grasp, returning the kiss with fervor. You wrapped your arms around him while he pulled you closer as your tongues searched each other's mouths, teeth clashing as you vigorously and passionately kiss.
Somewhere outside there was knocking at the windows of the bus as the creatures taunted you. Neither him nor you paid attention. Your focus remained on each other. As long as the talisman hung from the frame of the bus within and the doors and windows were shut, you were fine as far as you knew. Not accounting for whatever happened to Randall. Regardless of what it was you were able to redirect his attention and pull him back, putting his focus back on you.
Moans escaped your lips as his hands caressed your back, sides, and hips, rocking you on him. You could begin to feel the stillness grow in his pants. It was hard to ignore as it pressed against your thigh. His hands slid under the backside of your shirt; you could feel the cold air from the bus creep underneath. You took a moment to pull your shirt up over your head, fully immersing yourself in the heat of the moment. You weren't even thinking about those things outside watching. Let them, you thought.
You caught his gaze after removing your shirt, his eyes met yours with a look of longing. You felt the same, the need. You had only been alone here for less than a week, he had been here for months. You could only imagine how alone he must have felt. Your heart ached for him, but your body lusted. You could feel heat envelope every part of you, concentrating in your groin where you began to throb for him. Your hand wandered his body, exploring every muscle, every curve and line, tracing it with your fingers, following where it led. He continued rocking your hips into him, his face now stern with concentration as he looked in your eyes watching you squirm as he rocked you slowly forward then slowly back.
The look in his eyes as he watched you soaked your panties, that, and the friction he applied. But the way he looked at you, like he needed you, drove the innermost primal part of you absolutely insane. You began rocking with his grip, pushing yourself onto his stillness. Your head flung back as he began pressing kisses to your décolletage, biting at the fleshy mounds beneath your bra breathing heavily.
You slid a hand between you and him down to his waistline tugging at the buttons on his jeans. He motioned to undo them and took them and his boxers off. You stood and slid your pants and panties down as well, taking them off completely before returning to his lap. You grabbed his shoulders to steady yourself as you put your knees on either side of him, while he slapped your ass. You cried out at the sting of the slap that reverberated through the silence of the bus. He looked up at you and grinned, rubbed up your thighs to your backside, grabbing a handful of flesh in each hand and bringing you in for another passionate kiss.
Your chest heaved against his as you lustfully devoured him. You could feel him even firmer now. You were soaking wet; he must feel it you thought as you mindlessly grinded against his length. After breaking from the kiss, you lean your forehead to his looking into his eyes then down at your hand that was moving to grip him. He gasped as you took hold of him, stroking him slowly as you looked into his eyes. He was rock hard and throbbing. His tip sticky with precum. You used your fingers to spread it around before scooting yourself against him and sliding his length up and down your slit.
Your hand held him firm to you as you slightly moved up and down. His manhood throbbing against your clit as he slid so easily against your slick cunt. He had been pawing at your flesh, squeezing, pinching and scratching at your back as you teased him. His face buried between your breasts sucking and biting. He would reach up and grab them and caress them, running his tongue over them leaving a trail of cooled skin behind that made you shiver every time he breathed.
He would look up at you periodically, watching your face enjoy him. The hand you used to hold him against you slowly started applying pressure until he was at your entrance, and you slowly slid down, taking time to accept his size within you. You cried out as he breached, just the tip making you want more. You slid down fully, watching his face contort as you forced him inside you. You were dripping wet yet he was quite substantial, so you felt yourself stretch as he entered.
You wrap your arms around his neck as you start to slowly grind and bounce on top of him. His hands were back at your hips trying to control the speed, pushing you down on him harder each time. His look was stern as he focused on you, looking directly into your eyes as he met every bounce of yours with a thrust of his own. Each thrust drawing a cry from you. Your moans and cries of passion paired with his grunts and heavy breathing, drowned out all the outside noise. All the screaming all the nightmarish things just beyond the windows were now worlds away. They could probably hear you over at colony house with how intense it was, how loud he had you. You pick up your knees bringing your feet onto the seat on either side of him, grabbing his shoulders as you continue to ride him.
His head fell back against the seat eyes closed as he used his hands placed under your thighs to help lift you as you rose and fell against his length. A look of relaxation and serenity you had never seen on him before. You provided a peaceful temporary escape for him. You watched as his chest rose and fell with each panting breath that escaped his lips. You watched how his lips quivered with each passing exhale. You reach a hand up from his shoulders and caress his face softly, he burrowed his cheek into your embrace. You cradled him as he looked at you adoringly. You wondered what he was thinking.
You felt his grip tighten on your thighs as he grabbed you and flipped you onto the seat. He hovered above you as you pulled your knees to your chest. He pushed heavily against you, leaning into your knees, filling you completely. He leaned back slightly, grabbing behind your knees, placing your ankles upon his shoulders as he began drilling into you. The pain he must have experienced here, the things he's seen. You couldn’t imagine. You wanted him to take it all out on you, to have you exactly how he would want. All of his frustrations, anger, and fear, pounded into your readily waiting cunt. You wanted to give him that release, anything to take the pain away, even if only for a moment.
Your legs clung loosely around his neck as he continued pressing his weight against you, forcing loud moans to escape your lips every time he buried himself within you, hitting your cervix. He was so enveloped in you. Watching your face twist with every thrust against you.
He needed this, but so did you, perhaps neither one of you knew. It would have eventually led here though you thought. He was the only one in town you found yourself able to relate to, the only one who stood up for you. Whatever ideas or thoughts people had about him were wrong. They just didn’t know him or understand him. This place makes people crazy; everyone reacts differently. It’s a big change to adapt to that no one wants to.
Enveloped in your thoughts about him as the pleasure began to become overwhelming, you pulled your legs back down spreading them wide and wrapping them around his back as you tugged on his shirt, pulling him in for another passionate kiss. Holding him as close to you as you could. You took his tongue into your mouth, sucking it and pulling from the kiss with a gentle bite to his lip. This only made his motions increase furiously. He slammed into you continuously, teeth gritted, eyes narrow. A wave of pleasure washed over you emanating from your core, a sensation that began taking over your entire body. You clawed at his back, leaving red lines trailing your fingernails, it made him shiver under your touch. He could tell you were close; he was too. “Please, don’t stop!” You cooed in his ear.
The creatures still outside could be heard chattering near the windows. Why were they watching? Maybe it mattered, maybe it didn’t. Right now, it didn’t, Randall was your focus and you-his. You had managed to pull him from his waking nightmare, however difficult that may have been. You did it, you helped him. Whatever control they had over him, was not present when he was with you.
Hearing your plea, he maintained his rhythm as your legs began to quiver and shake around him. You squeezed your legs tightly around him as you arched your back, meeting his thrusts with your own enthusiasm. Still holding him close, his forehead resting against yours, your eyes watched each other approach the precipice of climax, focusing only on one another. You could feel him begin to pulsate within you as your own climax began to coalesce. Your walls clenching tightly around him as he buried himself to the hilt. No longer able to hold on. As your own climax eclipsed his. The pulsating of his member echoed by your own quivering climax. You both erupted. Your moans filling the air of the bus and beyond. The feeling, immeasurable, as he let out an animalistic groan, thrusting into you with every pulsating shot of his essence that painted your insides. You could feel each pump, burning you from within, a fire you so badly desired.
His face relaxed, shoulders dropped, every ounce of tension left his body with his seed, spilled deep within you. Your bodies, both shaking with exhaustion and satisfaction. Temporary focus offering temporary relief for you both. He slumped beside you cradling you to him with his large arms wrapped around you. You felt his breath on your neck, still heavy but slowing, his stillness pressed against your back as pearls of his desire dripped from your core, slowly leading a trail down your thigh.
He pulled a blanket draped over the seat behind him and spread it over you and him with one arm. You turned your head slightly to him and raised a palm to stroke his cheek as you planted a kiss upon his lips before turning back around. He looked at you admiringly, his eyes soft and a smile that touched the corners of his lips. He kissed the back of your head before cradling himself in the crook of your neck as he held you close to him. "Thank you for letting me stay here with you.” You felt him nod and his arms squeeze you tighter. “I'm not going anywhere; you don’t have to tell me what's going on if you don’t want to. Just know I'm here, you're not alone, and my focus is on you.” You spoke candidly in a loving voice. He only nuzzled his face into your neck further, peppering your shoulder with light kisses as he quickly drifted to sleep.
A story about what it costs to survive—and the one person who refuses to let you lose yourself trying.
pairings: randall kirkland x softangelgirlfriend!reader
synopsis: When kindness starts to look like a liability, you learn how to survive—you take less risk, give less away, stop reaching for people who won’t reach back.
She learns.
Randall is the one who notices first.
What starts as irritation turns into something sharper when the softness he couldn’t stand is replaced by something colder, quieter—something that looks too much like everyone else.
The argument that follows isn’t really about survival.
It’s about what she’s willing to lose to stay alive—and why he can’t stand watching her become someone she’s not.
CONTENT WARNING: emotional distress, survival setting, loss of identity, behavioral change, being taken advantage of, self-sacrificing tendencies, moral ambiguity, arguments/conflict, harsh environment, implied violence/danger, anxiety, internal conflict, themes of survival, angst, soft randall (if you squint)
word count: 2.1k
a/n: thanks to the lovely anon who requested this!! i had so much fun writing this and love the idea of randall dating someone who’s like the complete opposite of him. love this concept and the idea of randall noticing her change before anyone else just stuck in my head. considering turning this into like a non plot series type thing, so think of this as like how they were before they got together type thing!
She says thank you too much.
Not in a way that draws attention, not in that bright, performative tone people use when they’re trying to be liked. It’s quieter than that. Automatic. Like it’s stitched into her, like she doesn’t know how to exist without softening everything around her.
“Thanks.”
“Thank you.”
“I appreciate it.”
It slips out of her without thinking. For everything. Someone hands her a cup of water, she thanks them. Someone barely spares her a glance, she thanks them anyway, like acknowledgment in itself is something she owes something back for. Half the time, the people she says it to don’t even register it. The other half, they take it and give nothing in return.
Randall notices before he realizes he’s watching her.
And it bugs him.
Not because it’s wrong—he doesn’t care about that, doesn’t even know if it is—but because it doesn’t fit. Not here. Not somewhere that eats through people until there’s nothing left but what’s necessary. Softness like that doesn’t last. It gets worn down, traded off piece by piece until there’s nothing left to take.
Or it gets you hurt.
“You always like that?” he asks one afternoon, voice cutting in without warning.
She’s sitting off to the side, splitting what little food she has into two uneven portions. The bigger half is already gone from her hands, passed quietly to someone who hadn’t even asked for it.
She glances up at him, and there’s no embarrassment in it. No defensiveness. Just that same open, unguarded look that makes it hard to tell whether she doesn’t understand what he’s saying or just doesn’t agree.
“Like what?”
He tips his chin toward the empty space in her hands. “That,” he says. “Giving your stuff out like it’s unlimited.”
“They needed it.”
“So do you.”
She shrugs easy, like it’s not even worth arguing. Like her own needs don’t carry the same weight in her head. “I’ll be okay.”
Randall lets out a short breath through his nose, something between a scoff and a laugh.
He shifts his weight against the doorframe, arms crossing loosely over his chest. “Yeah,” he mutters. “Heard that one before.”
There’s no real bite to it. Not like there usually is when he talks.
She watches him for a second, like she’s actually thinking about it, like she might take it seriously.
“Still,” she says after a second, “thank you.”
He frowns at her like she said something that doesn’t make sense.
“For what?”
She tilts her head slightly. “For saying something.” Then continues softer. “For looking out for me.”
That throws him off in a way he doesn’t like.
He hadn’t meant it like that. Hadn’t meant it as anything, really. It was just… a comment. An observation.
“I didn’t say anything,” he shoots back immediately. “I made a comment.”
“It counts.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
She smiles anyway.
That… irritates him more than it should.
He looks away first.
“Whatever,” he mutters.
It’s small, but it’s real, like his intention doesn’t change the outcome for her. Like it counts regardless.
And that should’ve been the end of it.
It isn’t.
He doesn’t notice the change right away.
Or maybe he does, and just doesn’t care enough to name it.
At first, it’s small.
She hesitates.
Someone asks for help, and she pauses instead of moving right away. Just a second—but it’s there. Like she’s thinking about it now, running it through a set of rules that didn’t exist before. Sometimes she still steps in. Sometimes she doesn’t.
Then she stops offering.
Stops hovering near people who look like they’re struggling. Stops splitting what she has. Keeps to herself more, stops inserting herself into situations that don’t directly involve her. It’s as if she’s learned where the invisible lines are and decided not to cross them anymore. Like she’s finally figuring out how things work.
Smart.
That’s what it is.
Smart.
Her voice changes too, a little. Less extra. Less… her.
“Yeah.”
“Okay.”
“Fine.”
The extra words disappear. The softness that used to round everything out gets trimmed away, piece by piece, until what’s left is efficient. Careful. Distant.
And eventually, the thank yous stop.
That’s what Randall notices first.
Not in some big, dramatic way. It’s just… gone. A beat that used to exist, a rhythm he hadn’t realized he’d gotten used to until it wasn’t there anymore.
She hands him something one day—he doesn’t even remember what—and turns away like it’s nothing.
No pause. No acknowledgment. No “thanks.”
Nothing.
He waits for it without meaning to. It doesn’t come. He catches himself almost saying something.
Doesn’t
Just watches her walk off, something in his expression tightening for a second before it disappears. It shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t mean anything.
But it does.
Because once he sees it, he can’t stop seeing it.
It’s in everything she does. Or doesn’t do.
She doesn’t look at people the same way anymore. Doesn’t step in. Doesn’t react. Someone drops something right next to her and she just keeps walking like she didn’t hear it.
Someone asks for help, and she gestures vaguely toward someone else instead of stepping in herself. She keeps her food now—every bit of it—tucked away like she’s finally learned the lesson everyone else picked up years ago.
And maybe that’s a good thing.
Maybe that’s what she’s supposed to do.
But it doesn’t sit right.
Not because the behavior itself is wrong, but because it’s her doing it, and it looks… off. Like she’s wearing something that doesn’t quite fit, like it pulls in the wrong places.
Randall leans back against the wall one evening, arms crossed, watching her pass by like she doesn’t even register he’s there.
“Hey.”
“What?”
She pauses, but she doesn’t fully turn toward him. The distance is subtle, but it’s there now—something measured in the way she holds herself, in how much of her she allows anyone to see.
“When’d you start ignoring people?”
“I don’t.”
He lets out a quiet huff. “Yeah. You do,” he continues, flat. “Just watched you do it.”
“They’ll figure it out.”
“That’s new.”
There’s something different there. Not colder, exactly. Just… shut down in a way it wasn’t before.
“People said I needed to stop,” she says.
“Stop what?”
“Being stupid.”
The word sits wrong.
Randall’s expression shifts, something sharper creeping in.
“Who said that?”
She shrugs. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Yeah, it does.”
“No, it doesn’t,” she says, a little firmer now, though her voice stays level. “They weren’t wrong.”
He pushes off the wall then, uncrossing his arms.
“Right,” he says, tone flat. “So now you just don’t do anything.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
She exhales, already looking annoyed. “I’m just not making things harder for myself anymore.”
“By what—acting like you don’t see anything?” he cuts in.
“By not being an easy target.”
“So this is you fixing it?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“You call this better?”
“I call it necessary.”
There’s no softness left in it.
“Necessary,” he repeats, pushing off the wall as irritation sharpens into something more pointed. “No. This isn’t necessary. This is you turning into everyone else.”
“And what’s wrong with that?” she shoots back, and finally there’s some heat in her voice. “They’re still alive, aren’t they?”
“Barely.”
“But they are.”
“And you think this is why?” he presses, stepping closer now, frustration creeping in around the edges. “You think acting like you don’t care is what’s keeping them alive?”
“It’s part of it.”
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s what’s left after everything else gets stripped away.”
She exhales sharply, already looking like she wants out of the conversation. “I’m not doing this with you.”
“Yeah, you are,” he counters, stepping into her path before she can move past him. “Because this isn’t you.”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“I don’t have to. I saw who you were before.”
“Yeah?” she says, turning fully toward him now, something raw slipping through the cracks. “And where did that get me?”
It lands.
Not loud, not dramatic, but exactly where it needs to.
“Nowhere,” she continues, quieter but sharper. “It got me taken advantage of. It got me ignored. It almost got me hurt.”
“And this is better?”
“It’s safer.”
“Is it,” he asks, voice dropping, “or is it just easier?”
Her jaw tightens. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know exactly what I’m talking about,” he shoots back, something deeper threading through the frustration now. “I’ve seen what this place does to people.”
“So have I.”
“Then you should know better.”
“Know better than to survive?”
“No,” he says, the word cutting clean. “Know better than to lose yourself doing it.”
She lets out a quiet, humorless breath. “That’s easy for you to say.”
That one sticks.
Because it’s not wrong.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, even though he already knows.
“It means you already know how to be like this,” she says, gesturing toward him. “You don’t hesitate. You don’t second-guess. You don’t care about people you shouldn’t. That’s how you survive here.”
Each word lands steady, deliberate.
“And I don’t,” she adds, softer now. “So I’m learning.”
Something twists in his chest, sharp and immediate.
“Yeah,” he mutters, jaw tightening, “and how’s that working out for you?”
“Better than before.”
“No, it’s not.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do,” he says, stepping closer again, voice rougher now. “Because you look miserable.”
That stops her.
Not completely, but enough to crack something in the surface she’s been holding together.
“I’m not—”
“You are,” he cuts in, not letting her pull away from it. “You don’t talk to anyone, you don’t help unless you have to, you don’t—” He exhales, shaking his head. “That’s not surviving. That’s just existing.”
She swallows, gaze dropping for a second before she forces it back up. “At least I’m still here.”
And that—
That’s it.
“This place already ruins people,” he says, quieter now, but heavier. “Don’t help it.”
He holds her gaze, something real breaking through the usual edge in his voice.
“Do you think I like being like this?” he adds. “You think this is something you should be aiming for?”
She doesn’t answer.
Because she doesn’t have one.
“I didn’t start like this,” he continues, dragging a hand over the back of his neck, pacing once like he needs to burn off the weight of it. “Nobody does. This place takes whatever you were and grinds it down until this is what’s left.”
He gestures to himself, something bitter flickering across his face.
“And you want to speed that up?” he asks, looking back at her. “You want to do that to yourself on purpose?”
Her expression shifts, just slightly.
“I’m just trying to survive,” she says, but it’s quieter now. Less certain.
“Yeah,” he replies. “So was I.”
The words settle between them, heavy.
“And look how that turned out.”
That’s what finally gets through.
She looks at him differently then, like she’s seeing past the surface of him for the first time, like she’s noticing what it cost him to get here.
“I don’t know what else to do,” she admits, and there’s something fragile in it now, something honest.
Randall exhales slowly, some of the tension easing out of his shoulders.
“You keep going,” he says. “The way you were.”
“That doesn’t work here.”
“It did,” he counters. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”
“Barely.”
“Barely counts.”
She lets out a small breath, shaking her head. “You don’t get it.”
“Then explain it to me.”
“I can’t keep being that person if it’s going to get me killed,” she says, voice tightening again, but not as defensive. “I can’t keep giving things away, trusting people, acting like things are normal when they’re not.”
“I’m not saying be stupid,” he says, more controlled now. “I’m saying don’t kill the only part of you that makes this place bearable.”
She goes still.
“Not just for you,” he adds, quieter.
Her gaze lifts back to his, something unspoken settling between them.
“You don’t have to be like me,” he says. “That’s not something you should want.”
A beat passes.
“Trust me.”
There’s something almost ironic about it, but neither of them acknowledges it.
Silence settles, but it’s different now. Less sharp. Less guarded.
She looks down at her hands, turning everything over, and for once he doesn’t interrupt it. He lets the quiet sit, lets her work through it without pushing.
After a moment, she exhales, her shoulders loosening just slightly.
“…Okay.”
It’s not a promise.
But it’s something.
It doesn’t fix everything, doesn’t magically undo the shift.
The next time someone asks for help, she still hesitates. It’s there, that pause, that instinct to pull back, to protect herself the way she’s been trying to.
Then, slowly, she steps in anyway.
Not like before. Not automatic.
But it’s hers.
Later, when she passes Randall in the hallway, she slows just enough to catch his attention, holding something out for him to take.
“Here.”
He takes it, glancing at her.
She starts to walk off.
There’s a pause.
It’s small. Uncertain.
“…Thanks,” she says, quieter than it used to be.
It’s quieter now. A little uncertain, like she’s still figuring out how much of herself she’s allowed to keep without it costing her.
Randall nods once, like it’s nothing.
“Yeah.” he mutters.
But he doesn’t look away as she walks off, watching her as she goes.
And this time, there’s no irritation in it.
Just something quieter.
Something that looks a lot like him making sure she doesn’t disappear into this place the way everyone else eventually does—even if he never says that part out loud.
It’s because he’s decided—quietly, without saying it out loud—that if the world tries to take that softness from her again, it’s going to have to go through him first.
dividers/borders by these lovely people: @dollywons @uzmacchiato @mieluno
shotgunning that leads to making out slow with you in my lap that leads to you grinding on my cock with your head lolled back and your arms around my shoulders
imagining how billy felt when he realized he cut stu too deep...when stu tells him that he thinks he's dying, that he's most certainly bleeding out. it doesn't truly seem to affect him in the moment; he just continues raging. there had to have been some part of him that truly refused to register that he might be the reason why the man he cares the most about dies. maybe it didn't make sense in his mind then, but the moment billy died, i wonder if he thought about what would happen to stu. maybe he was too focused on their goal, on killing sidney. maybe he regretted everything, even stabbing stu multiple times. i don't know....it's just a really interesting thing to think about.
