Wander over, Lover, Outlander
BarbarianKatsuki! x Fem!Reader, In which an ordinary Reader tumbles through a portal into a realm of ancient magic and whispered prophecies.
Lost and world away from home, she finds herself accompanying the Chieftain's son and his sworn sword on a journey to save both his world and hers.
There i found me in a long, long wood of shadow. Astray, midway of mortal life. I am floating— or standing, in the dark. The surface of my skin buzzes with a hunger for something i can't quite grasp. A droning shrouds whats left of my conscious, misshaping me. The thread of my being was snipped aeons ago. I can't recall how long i've been stranded here, alone with nothing but the humming black.
Darkness engulfs me, wrapped in the opaque gauze of thick nothingness. The shallow pool of water in which i stand in is shimmering black, swishing back and forth at my ankles. Theres a distant cry, detached and muffled, grainy. Like a voice played from the bottom of the sea.
A speck of light breaks the black.
I expect the sting of the light to cast me aside, the ray puncturing the shadow of me as it grows. But instead, i'm beckoned towards it. And i know chaos awaits.
The hum deepens, vibrating through the rippling water and into my marrow. My limbs convulse—first as if resisting, then as if remembering. The light spreads, ripping through the void, widening into a tear. On the other side of the light, there is sound. Screams, thunderous crashes, the grinding collapse of stone.
The portal drags me forward. The hunger within me surges and i am given purpose at last.
And the world greets me with fire, smoke, and the scent of blood.
Bones of homes jut out from blackened earth. Ash drifts in lazy spirals, almost as if the fallout fallows you as you tread through the ruins. The sandy, dry crunch of soil beneath you urges bitterness up from your gut— the land lacks a lived in quality, blood stirred with ash painting a grizzly image.
“They didn’t stand a chance.” Solemn, Kirishima's voice cracks as it sifts through the ashen winds. His head is hung low, the weight of destruction forcing his eyes to the ground. "The place looks deserted."
Katsuki gaze is set still on the spindly fingers of smoke braiding themselves in the wind, as if he could command the wall of twisted fumes to vanish.
His eyes are brooding and dark, striking hatred upon land like the lightning has done. His back is turned, saving you the sight of his face, twisted and morose. The knot between his brow coils tighter with every passing second of silence. Life had been ripped from the land and left scattered in ribbons, the curdled corpse of a town being the only sign of what once was the living— and it was eating away at him more than any dishonourable victory ever could.
You trek through the beams half buried, bricks scattered like headstones, stone fractured with cracks like the fingers of a tree. You don't allow yourself the comfort of looking away. The air buzzes with dull sparks of energy, clinging to your skin like static, only heavier, more charged. The burring in your ears brings you to a stop in front of a building. The cobble walls cave in at one centre point, small towers of disintegrated stone pile up at the foot of the wall. Like it had been pulverised and dusted away. Something had sanded away at pure rock, the crooked chasm into the building revealing a gruesome stage.
Chairs strewn across the floor, table flipped, a meal maimed and forgotten amongst the wreckage— something sickly lingers in the air. Sulphur and stagnant scented. Taking a step forwards it hits you, pungent and distinctive. Death.
"Ugh— God." Gagging a nauseated groan from your throat, you bring your hand to your nose, hoping it does well to block the assault.
You don't hear it at first. Too absorbed in your disgust to notice the shuddering husky panting of a mealy silhouette in the corner. It's bent over, spine protruding like a fanning crest of bone, twitching over a puddle of black blood.
The oxygen is sucked from your veins, blood running cold. You twist your body away as the creature gutturally chirps to itself. Your skin buzzes with adrenaline, the air seems to thicken— down to the very atom, atmosphere swelling with the drop of your heart.
It turns, and the ground vibrates beneath you— a tremor so subtle compared to the rattling of your bones.
You don't dare look away, mouth opening to call out to the others, the Nomu’s skull lolls at an angle, jaw hanging loose, its one good eye glinting wet in the shade. It hunches, one arm limp at its side, shoulders twitching like a marionette tugged by broken strings. The tremor deepens, rattling glass across the floor as its claws scrape over stone.
"Shit!—" Your eyes snap open wide as it lunges, debris scattering under its lumbering feet. Katsuki is already moving. “Tch—” His hand reaches for his sabre sheathed at his hip, steel singing as the blade is pulled free. "Get the hell back!" He barks.
The beast throws it's limp arm into motion, swinging the heap of muscle at Katsuki who darts to the left, directly into the clutches of the Nomu's good arm. The hand is clawed and outstretched, entirely threatening as it reaches to seize him.
The air detonates with a blast from Katsuki's free hand, the room lit with a blinding white as shards of scorched wood and stone ricochet through the room, the smell of burned flesh mingling with the ever-present stink of soot.
The creature shrieks in waves of pain, hand recoiling from the blast, its head lashes wildly as Katsuki strikes it's abdomen with his blade, carving into it's blanched skin.
You scramble out of harms way, ears throbbing, watching as smoke curls up from the palm of his hand, calloused skin glowing. You strain to make sense of what unfolds in front of you, Kirishima tugs at your forearm, pulling you further from the debris that crumbles from the blast.
"Just stay back, okay?" Kirishima doesn't look back as he charges into the scuffle. His skin reacts to the assaults, forearms crossing over one another, skin hardening into jagged red plates as he slams himself into the Nomu's body like a battering ram. The beast staggers back, body threatening to tumble as it pivots towards him, claws curving towards his abdomen.
Katsuki's boots crush debris, circling fast around the Nomu as it focuses on Kirishima, his blade glints in the light as he swings it, chopping into a wooden beam— he tugs at the hilt, once, twice, the wood creaks with rebellion, refusing to surrender.
Your breath stutters. The pressure in your ears building again—like the world itself is vibrating, pushing at your ribs. You watch as the Nomu locks Kirishima's arms with its own, pinning them at his sides. He thrashes to break free, muscles screaming. His face contorts, mouth agape as if to call for help. Your eyes flick to Katsuki, still fighting to free his weapon, curses stringing from his lips, as his eyes lock with Kirishima's.
From the cracks in the ground grow small blossoms, sprouting from where your fingertips graze the gravel. You feel the pressure siphon through your skin and bone, out from the pads of your fingers— out into the blossoms that curl towards the violence.
Bakugo's sabre splinters free, bursting into motion. He doesn't waste any time, hacking against the Nomu's flank. The cut is deep, separating skin and muscle to make way for oozing blood.
The Nomu bellows, warped and distorted as it abandons its grip on Kirishima's aching body, slamming its head forwards into Kirishima's face— the cracking sound chips the air, reverberating as Kirishima is sent crashing backwards into a wall. Dust clouds around him as he crumbles, denting the brick he braces against.
"Kirishima!" You shout, heart lurching. You a locked in place, rooted to the ground as the buds begin to tremor, echoing howls of the Nomu trigger the pale petals to unfurl, steadily growing in size.
The Nomu twists wildly to grab at Katsuki, Bakugo doesn't let the beast advance. He lunges, slipping under it's arms, sabre gripped tight in both hands. The Nomu reacts, swinging down, it's claws collide with steel. Skin against metal. The barbarian parries, sparks and beads of blood fly as he slides the blade along its arm, twisting under yet again, he engraves the blade deep up along its skin— writing curses in red. Skidding to a halt he buries the blade beside the clavicle of the brute— yanking down on the hilt like a lever.
Bone breaks and blood flows— Bakugo drags the blade across the length of it's throat, cutting the roars into wet gurgling gasps.
The flowers sway, as if to reach towards the staggering figure of the Nomu. They wither with the beast, collapsing as the Nomu topples to the ground, blood leaking out onto the ash, trickling down to right where you sit.
The silence that follows is heavy, aching from the weight of what had just happened. The air is thick and smelling of iron, char, and exhaustion. Your chest rises and falls in ragged shallow breaths, and for a moment, the world holds it's breath with you.
Frantic eyes scatter around the aftershock, landing on Kirishima. He groans, pushing himself off the fractured wall. His crimson scales flicker and fade, folding to reveal skin, bruised and scraped but alive. He sways slightly before planting both feet firmly, hands gripping the jagged stone at his sides for balance.
“Damn… that thing hits harder than I thought,” he mutters, head low, shaking dust and ash from his hair.
You exhale a breath of relief, shoulders falling limp as you raise yourself from the ground.
Bakugo stands over the Nomu’s ruined body, chest heaving, sabre still clutched tight. His face is sharp and angry, something flickers beneath it, something you can't name. He spits onto the ground and wipes the blade clean.
You shift on the gravel, eyes peering down at where the blossoms had briefly thrived, collapsed entirely now, petals dissolving into pale ash that drifts lazily on the breeze. A strange, fleeting warmth tingles through your hands, fingertips disconnected from the chorus of buzzing, leaving your skin tingling and numb. Neither Bakugo nor Kirishima seem to notice. You curl your fingers, trying to push the sensation down, uncomprehending.
Kirishima glances over at where you stand, head tilting to the side ever so slightly, a lopsided twitch is on his lips— the ghost of a smile. "You okay? You weren't hurt, were you?"
“I’m fine,” Voice quieter than intended, you're more concerned about him, and the damage he had taken— the way he had rushed into the fight without a weapon. Your gaze flicks back to the Nomu’s corpse, half-expecting it to twitch again. You begin trekking along the outskirts of the scuffle, close enough to see the milky film coating it's dead eyes. The sight coaxes a shudder over your skin.
Kirishima shifts, wincing slightly as he leans back against the fractured wall. Dust smeared across his cheek, “We should move. Can’t stay here.”
Bakugo wipes his blade once more, then shoves it into its sheath with a sharp clink. “Yeah. Enough gawking. We move before more of those freaks show up.” He reaches out, offering a hand to Kirishima without hesitation.
You watch as Kirishima grips it, gritting his teeth as Bakugo hauls him upright, a grimace breaking through his usually steady grin.
“You okay?” you ask, voice tentative.
“Yeah,” Kirishima lies, shaking out his arm. “Just a little sore. Nothing new.” He tries to flash a reassuring smile, but it falters.
Bakugo side-eyes him. “Idiot. You took a headbutt from a monster twice your size. Don’t make me drag your ass.”
Kirishima chuckles weakly. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
You fall into step behind them as they limp back to the horses, the crunch of ash and glass underfoot filling the silence. The flowers you’d accidentally birthed are gone now—wilted, collapsed into dust, leaving no evidence except in your memory.
The silence stretches. You turn it over in your chest, wrestling with whether to break it, until the words tumble out before you can stop them.
“What was that? Back there. When you fought.”
Bakugo doesn’t even look at you. “What part?” His tone is edged, almost daring you.
"Your hands—" your throat feels dry, but you push through. "—they were sparking up, and Kirishima, your skin. That isn’t—normal." Though you know well enough by now, nothing here really is.
Kirishima chuckles weakly, scratching the back of his head. “Guess not. It's uh— magic. A quirk. Not everyone's got one.” He tilts his chin, flashing a crooked grin despite his bruises. “— But i do, mine just happens to be making my body tougher."
Your mind blanks, though you push on, eyes drifting to Katsuki as he hoists himself up onto his steed. "And you?"
His crimson eyes finally cut toward you, sharp as the steel in his hand. “It’s mine. That’s all you need to know.”
"Right." You exhale. Classic barbarian answer.
Kirishima shoots him a look. “C’mon, man. She's just asking.” He holds a hand out to you as he mounts up.
Bakugo’s jaw tightens. He looks away again, pulling at the reins of his horse. “Explosions. Sweat ignites. That’s it. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”
"Explosions." You echo more to yourself than anything else, "Right on." Your eyes don't break from Katsuki's figure as you take hold of Kirishima's hand, grunting as you pull yourself up. Slotting yourself behind the man, you're careful not to graze the reddest, most battered parts of his skin.
Your hands fidget in your lap. You feel the phantom warmth still buzzing under your skin, the memory of petals tearing out of the ground. Something in you wants to ask—'did they see it too? Do they know what’s happening to me?'—but the words tangle and die in your throat before they can become anything more than thoughts astray.
Kirishima's twists slightly in the saddle, the glint in his eye raising the heavniess, "Hey, maybe you've even got your own thing going on, Outlander." He shoots you a closed-mouth smile, soft and hopeful. "Maybe, it'll even show up soon."
Outlander. Your skin tingles once again, body nagging at you to speak. Your eyes drift to the Nomu, stiff and gone on the ground— the remnants of the blooms disturbing the blanket of ash.
Bakugo notices your stare. His voice cuts in, low, suspicious. “Yeah. Maybe it already has.”
The silence after hangs heavy, thick as the smoke that still lingers in the sky.
The trail that departs from the town brings the plains of grassland into thickness once again. The scattered, thin trees replaced by a denser shrubbery, lining the path that you ride. The forest brings along life once again, chirping and chittering echoing through the low hanging canopies as you trot along.
Eventually Katsuki comes to a stop at the edge of the forest, where the woodland spits and diverges on either side— curving away from the path. The opening makes way for a river bank, water washing gently downstream, reflecting the horizon on its rippling surface.
Seemingly satisfied with the scenery, the barbarian drops from his mount, clicking his tongue as he begins to speak: “We're setting up camp here," He announces, "we’re not wasting any time, though. Just enough to eat and sleep. We move at first light.”
You follow suit, boots sinking slightly into the clay-coated ground. Your legs still tremble faintly from the fight, but you’re grateful for the distraction. “Do we have anything to eat?”
Kirishima grimaces, patting at the pack tied to his horse. “Couple strips of dried meat, some old bread. Not enough for three.” His gaze drifts to the side where the forest looms, quieter now. “I can try to hunt. There’s gotta be rabbits, birds—something living out there.”
Bakugo scowls, dragging his sword into the river to wash it clean. “Hn. Go if you want. I’m not wasting time chasing rodents. I’ll build the damn fire.”
“You?” Kirishima raises a brow, clearly amused. “Didn’t peg you for the firewood type.”
Bakugo clicks his tongue, sparks dancing briefly at his fingertips as if to prove a point. Smoke rises, “Don’t need wood to make fire, dumbass. Just bring something worth cooking.” He squints, challenging.
Kirishima chuckles despite his injuries, then turns to you, tilting his head. “You up for it? Could use an extra pair of eyes. Safer if we stick together, too.”
Your stomach twists—half from hunger, half from nerves. “Yeah, I’ll come along.”
Bakugo's voice cuts through, “Don’t get yourselves killed. I don’t feel like digging graves tonight.” He doesn’t look up from where he’s dragging stones into a circle, "And you better bring something back. Otherwise, you and that idiot will be eating dirt for dinner."
Kirishima rolls his eyes, already starting toward the tree line. “C’mon, you. Let’s see if we can scare up some dinner before he bursts a vein.”
You follow, leaving Bakugo crouched in the dirt, the dim sparks of his palms catching and fading like fireflies. The forest ahead looks thicker, darker, but more alive than the town left behind.
The forest grows quieter the deeper you and Kirishima move away from camp, the air heavy with the smell of damp moss and pine. A low canopy filters the fading light into pale strips, the rays of sunlight seeping through.
Kirishima walks ahead of you, guiding the way, careful with his steps despite the bulk of his frame. He grips in his hand a small hunting hatchet retrieved from his horses tackle. His grin flickering in the half-light. “Hunting’s kinda like a waiting game. Patience, timing, then—bam! You go for it.”
You trail after him, eyes flicking to every shadow— your eyes mending figures into the corners of your gaze, “I’ve never hunted before.”
“Don’t worry,” voice low but reassuring as his eyes scour the greenery. “You’ll get the hang of it. Just listen for movement. Look for tracks. Animals leave clues if you’re paying attention.”
You crouch when he does, peering at faint impressions in the mud—small, delicate shapes, maybe a rabbit. Your heart quickens, not just at the thought of food but at the strangeness of moving so quietly, almost as if the woods themselves were listening on your secrets. You feel like a complete amateur, you are a complete amateur.
After a moment of silence, you ask, “Back at the village… you called me Outlander. The Chieftain did too. What does it mean?”
Kirishima glances at you, expression softening. “It’s what people here call anyone who falls through the rift. Folks from another world. You’re rare, though. I don't think theres ever been anyone like you around before."
You swallow, hard. “So, this has never happened before?”
He nods slowly. “Well—Yeah.” Staggering for a moment, choosing his words carefully, "But we've been expecting it, and so have they."
"They— The Villains? Nomu?" You question, voice no longer hushed, "Why? What's so special about me?"
He hesitates, hearing the emotion tied to your tongue, gaze flicking to your eyes before he replies, serious. "The tales talk of an Outlander like you, coming along carrying magic tied to the rifts themselves—fuelled by the same kind of power that charges the portals.”
You freeze. His words echoing in your skull. “Magic like– the rifts?” Your shoulders sink, stiffened by his explanation.
He nods, offering no more.
Your throat only tightens, you push on, "And people really believe that." You think back to the Chieftains words, worry etching itself deep into your marrow.
Kirishima shrugs, eyes leading back to the woodland expanse, “Belief’s cheap out here. But when Nomu keep pouring through those portals, people start looking for any kind of hope."
A twig cracks nearby, freezing you both. Kirishima holds up a hand to stifle you, then whispers, “Stay low.”
You hunch over, heart thundering. Through the brush, a small rabbit noses its way into the clearing, ears twitching. Kirishima’s grip on the hatchet tightens, waiting, patient, steady. You watch, holding your breath.
But your attention slips, drawn by the shimmer of light near the rabbits tail—a tiny flower blooming where no flower should be able to grow, fragile and pale in the mud. You blink, startled, and the rabbit bolts, vanishing into the bushes.
Kirishima exhales hard, letting the hatchet clatter to the ground. “Tch. Guess it wasn’t meant to be.” But his eyes linger on the single bloom, voice growing quieter. “Weird though, huh? Almost like the land’s… listening.”
The air grows heavier, your skin prickling as though the forest itself was leaning in closer to listen. For a moment, you wish the deer hadn’t ran, that the task of survival was simple, straightforward. Instead, you carry a question heavier than hunger. Why you, why here, why now.
Kirishima flashes you a grin to break the tension. “Well, no luck this time. Let’s circle back before Bakugo explodes the whole forest wondering where we are.”
Your stomach churns, heat crawling under your skin and wiggling its way into your veins. You don't answer.
The river appears first, smoke curling faintly from the fire pit. The air thick with ash and damp earth, a reminder of the devastation left behind. Kirishima trudges ahead, holding his hatchet and nothing else, you stalk behind, boots crunching over mud and twigs.
“Nothing,” Kirishima admits, voice low. “Rabbits, squirrels… they all ran.”
Bakugo eyes don't meet his, methodically poking at the embers, sparks flickering along his fingertips. A few stagnant moments pass and he finally turns, eyes sharp and unreadable. “Nothing? You mean you two were gone all that time, and came back empty-handed?”
Kirishima's horse clops over to the bank, the water yawing in rippling spurts.
You kneel to help, gathering small sticks, feeling awfully responsible for the lack of food. Katsuki swats at your hand, face curled up and dismissive. A scoff breaks from your lips, scuffing over to a toppled lock, setting yourself down, knees pulled to your chest.
"Guess we've gotta stretch out these rations between the three of us." Kirishima settles beside you, handing you a strip of salted meat and a chunk of bred. He offers a crooked smile, the warmth meeting his eyes, sympathetic and reassuring.
"Ill catch something tomorrow." Bakugo grumbles, hauling himself away from the flames, "You guys would starve without me."
The three of you perch near the embers. Kirishima unrolling his blanket, chewing on the tough meat, glancing at you with a faint smile. “At least the fire’s good. That counts for something, yeah?”
Bakugo's crouched nearby, eyes still sharp, fingers idly fiddling with the sheathe of his sabre. “Counts for nothing if don't get a move on soon.” He paused, voice quieter, almost reluctant. “We didn't die today though, so that's something."
You swallow, nodding. Your face scrunching at the salt of the meat, entirely too overpowering. Silence stretched, thick but no longer hostile, the forest presses in around the fragile glow of the fire.
Kirishima yawns, stretching. “Try to get some sleep. Big day ahead.”
Bakugo’s eyes flick towards the sky, then back to the dying embers. “Sleep, yeah. But no ones slacking tomorrow. Especially you,” he warns, voice low, directed, but unyielding.
You tuck your knees closer, staring into the glowing coals. The tension in the air hums—not just from exhaustion or the threat of the Nomu, but from something more fragile, more electric.
the fire of dusk spits the sky, charring the expanse into an endless black.
Kirishima is already asleep, sprawled beside the raging fire, his steady breaths are lost in the crackle of embers. The woods hushed, the night sky yawning open above you, stars stretching endlessly along the sweep of black. Pinpricks of starlight spill through the thinning canopy, brighter than you’ve seen in a long time.
The fire grows stronger as the night awakens, crackling in the pit. Shadows stretch over the barbarian's face, all his sharp edges softened by the dim glow. You sit close enough to feel the warmth radiating off him, though the night air stays cold, prickling against your arms.
You tilt your head back, following the scatter of constellations, trying to count them, though your eyes keep slipping sideways— Katsuki hasn’t moved, sitting rigid with his elbows braced on his knees, eyes fixed on the fire’s glow.
For a while, neither of you speak. Eyes reaching up to the cosmos, the infinite blur of galaxy capturing your attention as you focus to ignore the heat of his skin.
As you search the stars, your mind traces the events of the day. "All that destruction.." You whisper to the wind that flows through the fire— not expecting the flames to carry your voice to Katsuki.
His eyes stir like the inferno, sparks flashing as his voice cuts through the quiet night.
"The Nomu," He starts, "they thrive on it— Live off of it." His boots kick up dirt as he shifts, nose scrunching up as charred ash flies. He makes no move to look at you, entranced by the flames as they whip the night air.
"Without chaos, the portals can't come to be." The crackle of the pit harmonises with his words, snapping flashes of illumination onto the ground.
"That day," His chest rises with a heavy breath of recollection, eyes trained on the hot glow of the flames, "We expected a flurry of Nomu to fall through from the bloodshed, but they didn't." His eyes lit by the fire overcast hues of emotion, feelings you can't place, "You did."
His eyes are suns rising to watch you, molten clusters gravitating around the axis of your presence— As bright as the stars that glimmer above, reflecting cool tones of midnight down on the warm red of Katsuki Bakugo. Though the stars seem insignificant as you sit there beside him. The weight of the world crushing you closer to him. Interlinked by the strain of your circumstance, you are forced to meet his eyes.
You brace for the intensity of his stare, though he's no longer looking at you, the heat you once felt displaced, as his eyes drift up to the inky black, a placid twitch between his brows, mouth pulled into a thin line.
"Everyones talkin' like it's meant to mean something." You don't miss the slight shake of his head, it's stiff, but it's there— body trying to fight the mind.
"Like you're meant to mean something."
Your lips curve, unsteady.
"They better be right, Outlander."
Above, a star drags a white glowing trail across the dark, gone before you can wish on it. Katsuki shifts, breaking the spell, gaze snapping back to the coals.
“Get some rest,” he says finally, quieter now, almost reluctant. “Tomorrow’s gonna be worse.”
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