#AND OFC IM EATING YOUR CONTENT!!! SLURPING IT UP!!!!!!

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

HELLO how are you? How is everything? I also was wondering if I could get in on the mutual bingo ILY

REMMMM HELLO MY BELOVEDEST <3333 i’m doing well!!!!! trying to finish a fic… it’s….. Going. how abt you?? :3 ANDDD ofc you can have a bingo hehe!!! here you go!!!!

[ryndicate]

Hypothermic ⨳ Todoroki Touya

“Still thinkin’ about running?”

warnings: fem body/pronouns, zombie apoc au (ofc), assault, enemies to not quite enemies, gun mentions, choking, quirkless au (no scars), blood mentions, dry humping, make out, starts out dubcon as in he doesnt ask first but she doesnt tell him to stop, and a semi ungodly pov switch but let’s run with it

event: @medusashima’s Rise of the Dead collab! Click the link for similiar lovely works!

notes: thank you for being so accommodating of me Dusa!! this came right from my soul. Love how its somehow a zombie au fic with no direct contact with zombies but like.... it works. and im over the moon about it (himmm)

By expanding, you are consenting to viewing adult/dark content, and all warnings listed above. 18+ Minors DNI

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The first thing Touya notices, besides the glaringly obvious there’s an intruder—is that somehow, you’re both pretty and don’t look like much. Pretty in a way that wiggles old thoughts into his brain, old from long gone time where’d hesitate to hurt a little thing like you. But there’s a more prominent, high prevailing relief that he’s confident he can, because he has to. Because of that stupid little ramen cup that you’re helping yourself to right now. Because there’s no way you’d have that right now now unless—unless…

The undead corpses on his front lawn had been his first clue to something being wrong. Shoto doesn’t leave the zombie fuckers to rot if he can help it, an annoyance Touya’s barked at plenty of times as a waste of time and energy, only for his words to be met with quiet disapproval. So to find four of the disgusting things still pouring putrid black and stenching up the frost on his front porch…well, it gave Touya reason to be cautious. Swallowing a burst of nostalgia, he quietly opens the kitchen window—the back door squeaks loud enough to wake the dead—and climbs through with perfect silence, a skill earned in a long forgotten world that had been nothing but a blessing in the world it had turned into. The slow movements it requires give his swirling panicking mind a moment to gauge all the what if's, but when he discovers that the person sitting in his house is not his little brother it's impossible not to come to a single grim conclusion. 

That’s how he was lucky enough to get the drop on you, sitting in front of the makeshift fireplace in his beaten up living room, slurping up that ramen cup like it’s the only thing you’ve eaten in days—and given how his last run went, it’s pretty fucking likely that's how it is. Touya had already been in a pretty foul mood on his return to the safehouse, leaving to find the one thing they’re always running out of. And for the first time, he had nothing to fucking show for it. Clouds on the horizon sent him trekking home empty-handed. Scavengers fearing the approaching cold probably cleared everything out before he could get a look in. Everything they had left to eat, which wasn't much, he’d left with Shoto—who'd promised him that stupid instant ramen on his return. Said he'd save it for last. And damn it all if he couldn’t trust everything that came from his brother’s mouth, even in a world like this. 

The seconds are dragging past in Touya's mind but he knows in real time you'll notice him any moment now. By luck or skill, you've survived this long, and that counts for something. He can't give you the benefit of the doubt. He’s got a gun, secured in the waist of his jeans, but it’s been out of bullets for ages now. It’s mainly been a deterrent for strangers, kept in vain hope that he finds more ammo one day. He’d use it now, if he wanted to scare you.

But he doesn’t. Touya’s past that now. His knife comes off his belt just as silently as he came through the window. Stepping quickly on the balls of his feet, Touya crosses the room towards you, and you react a mere breath before the blade finds a new home in your neck.

Your body twists, and his reach slashes too wide. Before he can redirect the arc you’ve got your hands braced on his arm, forcing it straight with a strength he couldn’t have expected from you. Touya snarls at the combination of anger and fear on your face. You have no right. 

“The fuck’re you doing?” you growl at him through grit teeth. There’s evident strain in your voice so Touya doubles down and your wince sends a blistering satisfaction tearing through his body. When your grip weakens, he lets the blade fall and tackles you to the carpet. 

You let out a muffled yell as your back hits the ground hard, and Touya is quick to plant himself over your center mass, hands bearing down on your throat. You buck and thrash, trying to dislodge his weight, movements limited as you try to block him from cutting off your air. Touya spits a curse down at you as your nails shred at his wrists and the back of his hands. It’s incredibly difficult to keep hold of you. You’re like a fucking animal, choking and wheezing and hissing and fucking growling at him as you fight him off. With ridiculous effort, you manage to shove one of his hands off and get leverage with your feet on the ground, using his own weight to send him in an ungainly tumble to the floor.

It’s startling how quickly you react after that, gasping for air and lunging for him, putting a fist in his gut. The force of it shoves air and spittle from his lungs and has him sucking in air desperately. He rolls away from you as you pounce at him again, your shoulder checking his chin and giving him the taste of blood in his mouth before he gets a solid shove at your chest, resulting in a moan of pain. There’s a brief pause as he staggers to his feet and he freezes as his eyes lock with the gun you now have pointed at him.

You seem to have frozen as well, joints locked and chest heaving.

After a long moment Touya scoffs. “What? You just gonna point the thing at m—”

The gun clicks; time shifts; Touya jerks. 

There’s no gunshot, and your eyes fly wide in obvious fear. Time slows down just enough for him to realize that he recognizes that gun, patting his waistband. His eyes narrow, and you react, whipping the gun right at him.

Touya dodges and you turn and sprint from the living room. He lunges after you, skidding nimbly into the hall as you make a run for it. He grabs at the back your jacket, howling a curse as you jerk out of his grip, the material making an audible ripping sound and snagging at one of his nails instead, forcing him to falter. Blood wells up out of the cuticle and drips down his hand; Touya grips it tightly, hissing through his teeth and tearing after you again, catching up with you right as you start slamming a door on him. He gets his weight against the door and there’s a mad struggle as you both become opposing forces, but there’s a moment where he loses traction, the blood from his finger making his hand slide.

The door slams shut and Touya slams his fist against the wood as fury overtakes him.

“Where’s my brother, you fucking bitch!” 

Fucker was carrying an empty gun!

You wildly look around the small space that you despairingly realize is a bathroom. The man is still pounding on the door, shouting, and shaking the handle. You have no idea what he’s talking about and you need a fix before he stops being pissed enough to figure out that a few solid kicks is all it would take to get through the flimsy wood. You rip down the grimy plastic shower curtain and twist it tightly around the handle, looping it through the towel bar above the sink, hosting a pair of decrepit floral washcloths that look like they haven’t been used since patient zero. You continue weaving the figure eight until you’re forced to tie it off as you run out of length. It’s not much, but it’ll buy you an extra minute or two if you’re lucky. 

The handle creaks with one last aggravated twist. There’s a short silence that follows as you stare at the door, heart beating out of your chest. Then his voice filters through the door, a throaty rasp full of a rage that makes you quake with adrenaline and fear.

“Ain’t nowhere for you to go, lady. Get the fuck out here and maybe I won’t kill ‘ya.”

This not what you’d bargained for. “Like I’m gonna trust the guy who tried to stab me without so much as a hello.”

He chuckles, a soft sound that you’d find pretty if it weren’t for the way your skin breaks out in goosebumps that have nothing to do with the cold. “You want a hello? Come get one.”

Ignoring him—and the way your body tremors—you turn and start trying to peel away the board covering what must be a small window. If you’re lucky enough to get it off, maybe you can drop out through the window. 

But after a solid half hour of tugging, scraping and peeling, and nothing more to show for it than torn and bloody fingernails, you admit defeat. Wincing, you carefully wipe away the blood on your jeans and listen to see if he’s still outside the door. It’s hard to tell anything over your thumping pulse in your own ears, but it sounds quiet. 

It’s better not to risk it. You settle against the back of the tub and sit; if you wait long enough, he’ll pass out and you can slip out quietly. Moving quietly and disappearing is the only thing that’s kept you alive this far, especially after the last group you left. The last thing you want to do is be out at night, between the cold and poor visibility—that’s just asking to get killed. But no part of you can deny that facing that deranged stranger outside this door would be doing more than just asking. 

Time passes slowly, painfully. Ever since the turn, dozing off idly became a thing of the past, something dangerous. You’re stuck being alert and aware of every little creak, every little sigh this house can produce. The wind tears around outside and your fingertips have become numb. It’s gotten much colder tonight that it has in the past few days, and you dig your arms from your sleeves into the body of your clothing in an attempt to keep warm.

A light tapping puts you on edge before you realize you’re shaking so hard that the buttons on your jacket are clacking against the floor. You clench your jaw. You have to try now; if you wait any longer it’ll be too cold to make it down the street, let alone how far you’ll need to get away from this place to feel comfortable ever again. Your joints protest as you stand as silently as you can, after sitting for so long. It’s much more painstaking to get the shower curtain from the door; it’s like trying to tiptoe with a windbreaker, but eventually you manage and crack the door open. 

The house is dark, but even after a few moments no one shoves the door open, so pull it wider and peek out. There’s no sign of him. You step quietly out and feel your way down the wall, back towards the living room. There’s no chance you’ll get your pack back, not much in it besides clothes and water anyways, but you’ll have to make do. You inch into the kitchen where you remember seeing a backdoor, and gently turn the lock before pulling the door open. The hinges squeak so painfully loud that you suck in a breath, heart thudding in panic, but that’s not what has you frozen, shivering in the doorway.

What you heard from the bathroom floor wasn’t just wind, but a full blown snowstorm. It’s too early for snow, at least you’d thought, but here it is swirling so thick that you can’t see more than a couple of feet into the yard, and there’s already about a foot of snow. The moon highlights your breath getting swept away in the wind.

“Still thinkin’ about running?”

You shut the door and warily face him, not deigning to answer. The chances of making it more than a couple of blocks without freezing to death are slim. You can’t see much but his silhouette and a mess of pale hair, so it’s hard to make out what he’s thinking. All you know is that he hasn’t wrapped his hands around your neck yet.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t go pointing a gun at me again, and I won’t kill you tonight.”

“Try not to stab me then.”

You think he’s smiling. “No promises.” 

Another shudder wracks through you and you try to tighten your jacket around your body. There’s a tear somewhere near the underarm seam—another reason why running is a terrible option.

“C’mon. It won’t last the night, but I’ve got a small fire going.” He turns his back on you, and you have no choice but to follow him. “Name’s Touya, by the way.”

The “fire” Touya’s got up is nothing but a few table legs crumbling into ember, but you have to admit it’s much warmer in here than it was in the bathroom. The soft light gives you your best look at him yet, and you notice he’s far more handsome than he should be. Hair a bright white, his skin is fair beneath the light grime, and he has piercing green, maybe blue eyes—it’s hard to tell in the flickering orange glow. 

He glances at your raised eyebrow and scoffs. “Look, it’s all I had left. Shoto was supposed to be gathering wood while I was gone.”

You sit slowly a small distance away from him, as close to the fire as you can get. He tosses you a ratty blanket that had been hanging off the back of the couch. “Is Shoto your brother?”

He looks at you and scowls. “Yeah he is, and the only reason I haven’t come after you again is because I have no leads if you’re dead. I need you, if I’m gonna find out what happened to him.”

“Is that why you attacked me?” you ask him quietly. He’s throwing a couple of torn book covers into the embers, light flickering brighter as they catch and blaze. “You think I—”

“An eye for an eye,” Touya chuckles, his expression hardening into something devoid, something frightening. 

“I didn’t kill your brother.” You tell him softly, wondering how you’re supposed to convince him when he’s already convinced himself. You have no idea who he is. He simply stares at you.

“Right.”

“Look when I got here, there were a bunch of zoms in the yard. I barely got past them, my knife broke in one of their heads. I figured the place was empty and needed somewhere to hole up. I never saw your brother, I swear.” Touya’s expression is still hard, but his eyes have begun to flicker with doubt. “Bet you went through my bag already. You know I don’t have any weapons. I’ve got no reason to lie.”

“Other than to save your own neck.”

“Isn’t that what we’re all trying to do?” You glare at him. “Look, if he was here, I would’ve asked him to let me in. I’ve never… I’ve never killed someone like that before.”

“Like what?” He looks at you now, eyebrows slackening at the tremble in your voice. “You were all too willing to pull the trigger on me.”

“Self-defense is different.” You look away, curling your legs to your chest. “I’ve never…murdered someone. I’ve seen it happen before, but I can’t. That’s why I’m so good at running.”

Touya stills, seemingly taking in your words, sifting through them like one would examine sand through a looking a glass. Finally, he sighs.  

“He’s not dead.” You glance at him; that didn’t really seem like he was talking to you, so you let it rest in the air like that. His eyes shine in the dying fire before they flicker and pin themselves to you.

“So that’s why’re you alone, then? Couldn’t kill someone?”

Your lips twist into a frown, and you look away from him, resting your chin on your knees. Your mind is a swirl of blazing violet eyes, crimson full of rage, viridian vexed of indecision. “My last group was falling apart. Left before things got ugly, been on my own since.”

“How long ago was that?” Touya asks quietly.

You peek at him warily. “Long enough.”

He nods at you at that, grunting as he lays down and gets comfortable. You take that as his signal that conversation is over and follow suit, inching closer to the tiny flames that you vainly pray will last the night.

The night passes but sleep does not come for you, held at bay by memories that you wish would fade as quickly as the fire seems to, a deep cold settling over you as the embers turn to smoke. You pull the blanket tighter around you, now scared to sleep in case you don’t wake up.

“Well fuck,” Touya sighs, sitting up and leaning on his palms. You can hear his teeth chattering. With the fire gone you can’t see his face, there’s no lighting coming through the covered windows either. “Daylight’s still a few hours off. That sucks, ain’t nothing for it.”

“What?”

He rolls into your space and you try to scramble away from him, only for him to yank you to his chest and curl and arm around your back.

“You’re fucking insane.”

“No, I’m fucking freezing, and not interested in dying. You interested in dying? Or I don’t know, losing a few fingers and toes?”

You glare into his chest, clenching your jaw to keep your teeth from echoing his own chattering.

“That’s what I thought.”

After your racing heart settles, you hate to admit that it’s the only way. Wrapped up in his arms, tugged tight to his chest like this…it’s still cold, but an endurable kind of cold, the kind that has you worming your way closer to him to make it less uncomfortable. 

“Don’t,” you warn him as you feel his cheek stretch into a grin against your temple.

“Alright, alright. Fine. Could make this nicer, you know. Just sayin’.”

Suspicion blooms in your chest at his cheeky attempt at charm. “What are you talking about?”

A growl tears up your throat as he rolls you onto your back, ready to shove him off but you tense in shock as he leans down and closes his lips on the spot right beneath your ear. You exhale sharply on instinct. You haven’t been touched like this since—you slam your mind closed on those thoughts and try to think through his tongue tracing over your pulse point.

“Wh– what are you doing?”

“‘M gonna make you warm,” he whispers, nosing up and nipping lightly at the shell of your ear.

“Holy fuck, you are crazy. I’m not sleeping with you,” you hiss sharply, trying to wiggle away from him.

Touya tosses his head back in a wry laugh. “Sweetheart, if you think I’m dropping my pants in a blizzard, you’re crazier than me.”

“Then, then wh—”

“Shut up and stop thinking for a minute, won’tcha?” Touya grumbles and lowers himself back towards you, capturing your lips and working your mouth open with a little rumble of approval when you relax back to the floor. One hand comes up to hold your cheek, fingers cradled around the back of your head and the way he groans into your mouth sends a heatwave of embarrassment and arousal crackling across your body.

He paws at your covered chest, something warm and hard digging into your thigh as he grinds against you, and you resist the insane urge to wrap your legs around his waist.

Like he’s reading your mind, long fingers dig into one of your thighs and hike it up, and you gasp into his mouth as he shifts and suddenly his clothed dick is pressed hard against your core.

“Oh, you ain’t so hard are you?” Touya chuckles as you bite his lower lip in retaliation. You can almost imagine his eyes flashing at you as he begins to grind against you in slow, controlled motions. Your clit throbs underneath the rub of denim, and you can feel yourself slowly soaking through the material of your panties. “Still fiesty though. ‘S nice.”

“Fuck you.”

Touya groans, fingers digging into your hips as if trying to pull you up into him. “Don’t make me think about that, darlin’”

“Not your darling.”

“Yeah, yeah. Keep reminding me darlin’.”

He moans low and sweet into into your neck, suckling softly in one spot and continually moving to the next. It’s maddening and you keep shifting and rocking your body into to his, feeling pleasure unfurl in you so hot and deep, clit pulsing and sensitive, sparking until you’re sure it’s going to take you apart.

Touya stiffens, hips jumping before he grits his teeth and collapses gently over your chest, fists curled tight on either side of your head. The swirling ball of pleasure that had been moments from reach boils and begins to fade, leaving you gasping in frustration.

“Seriously, you’re stopping now?” you whine, squirming when he holds you in place. 

“‘M not interest in finding out how fast my pants would freeze to my dick with spunk all twisted up in there,” he snarls under his breath, biting back the urge to keep rutting against your body. “Believe me, sweetheart. Blueballing myself is not the end goal here. Fuck. You’re warm now, yeah?”

You’re struggling to get your heavy breaths under control, not giving him the satisfaction of a response. You’re warm all over, but you don’t know how long that’s gonna last. 

Touya grabs the ends of the blankets and makes sure they’re tucked around you both, shifting so that he’s no longer on top of you, but on his side next to you. “Then fucking sleep, okay? I know you haven’t yet. We’ll figure it out later. Deal?”

You snort. By figure it out, you wonder if he’s talking about the thing still twitching against your hip, or the whole mess of a situation. But either way, you’re heeding him. As the rush slowly drifts from your system, exhaustion takes over and you find yourself dead asleep, tucked under his arm.