Nettles

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[odetonettles]

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⌗ Hiiii my name is Nettles, welcome to my blog !!! I like to draw and write about my ocs and favs ! Feel free to ask me anything, whether it be oc related, or writing, even art requests if I'm up for it! ♡︎

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[odetonettles]

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.

read chapter four here!

Word count: 4486

CHAPTER FIVE: Outlander

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.

I step through.

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.

Wet, inhuman breathing.

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.”

WoL is also available to read on Ao3, TikTok and Wattpad all under the username @odetonettles

If you wanna be added to the series taglist lmk!! -`♡´-

[odetonettles]

Hi hello I’m in love with your wander over lover series <3 something something…men not wearing shirts in a barbarian tribe is very attractive 🤣

yes I 100% agree with you...shirtless men....in the wilderness....sweaty and ripped ...like boy let me cling to you whilst you sharpen a blade or something

[odetonettles]

Wander over, Lover, No Such Mercy

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.

read chapter three here!

Word count: 3890

CHAPTER FOUR: No Such Mercy

A streak of blue dissolves into the broad sweep of orange, traces of dusk summoned like a silent wish across scattered clouds. Beyond, the mountains recede into the shadow of distance, their jagged peaks are softened, details blurring into vague shapes of slate and grey. Rows of pinewood stand guard at the foot of the Iron Hills, spilling onto the land in thick ranks. The needles catch the early sunlight with a glow like tempered gold, spotting the loose soil beneath with patches of light through the canopy.

In between the trunks and tangled underbrush, you push forward. The saddle feels foreign beneath you— the bulk of it is hard beneath your thighs as you wrestle to find a comfortable position to place yourself in. Your lack of balance has you swerving clumsily, your horse lurching with each uncertain tug of the reins. You sway, branches beneath you snapping, announcing your every mistake.

Kirishima keeps close at your side, his horse moving with easy rhythm. His eye dance with the uncoordinated mess that is you. The steady clip of hooves and his calm presence smooths the edges of your nerves, rounding your anxieties into a buzzing hum of uncertainty.

"Easy now." He reassures, voice low. "Watch where you're goin'." The amusement woven into his tone makes the correction feel less like a scold and more like a tease. The warmth of his voice is homely like honey, bathed in gold like everything around you.

Ahead, Katsuki rides without a backwards glance. His stallion is just as proud as he is. Palomino coat seeming silken in the haze of mist that frays your vision. He leads the trail, focus fixed on the path that cuts deeper into the forest. Not once bothering to look back. Even from behind, you can sense the unyielding magnetism that he emanates. It pulls you in, forcing you to keep up. Your eyes chase his figure in the fog.

“So, in order for Katsuki to become Chieftain, he has to prove himself?” you ask, repeating what Kirishima had explained when you left the settlement.

“Yep.” Kirishima nods, his tone casual but sure. “Gotta show he’s built for it. Show that he's strong enough, smart enough. The whole deal.”

Your brows knit together. “And he’s doing that by… defeating the Nomu? By saving the world?” The name tastes strange on your tongue, heavy with flashes of memory from yesterday. You think of your own world. The suggestion that your life hangs in the balance twists your stomach.

For the first time, Kirishima hesitates. His easy grin flickers, then steadies. “Something like that.”

His eyes flick toward Katsuki’s back, broad and unyielding in the saddle. “Katsuki’s been waiting for a chance like this. A trial. A challenge. The battle yesterday was the last push he needed.”

'A challenge?' The word scrapes against you, stinging like nettles. How could he reduce the weight of the lives lost to nothing more than a stepping stone in his climb to power? Your gaze hardens on the back of his head, silently demanding an explanation he refuses to give. It leaves a lump in your throat.

You speak despite your disbelief, “People are dying— and my world could be next. And he calls it a challenge?”

Katsuki whirls halfway around in his saddle, crimson eyes hard with vexation. “You got a problem with it? Thats tough. You’re only here ‘cause that damn portal spat you out and now we’re stuck babysitting.” His lips curl into a grimace, voice laced with venom. “So quit whining about things you don’t even understand. You’re already slowing us down.”

Your head recoils from the sudden barrage. A huff escaping your lips.

Kirishima jumps in quickly, ever the peacemaker, “Easy, man. She’s just trying to wrap her head around things.”

Katsuki snorts, dismissive. Kicking his horse forward, widening the gap between you. “Well she better wrap it 'round fast, before she drags us all under.”

The silence that follows is heavy, pressing down on your shoulders like the grey clouds thickening overhead. Sign of another fleet of rainfall.

The scent of rain is thick in the air. You draw in a deep breath, letting the smell of wet grass anchor you. The trail dips lower as you descend further from the hillside. Hooves of your horses stomp against waterlogged brush and damp earth. Each second you spend in silence echos the weight of the journey.

Ahead, Katsuki cuts a ruthless path. His stallion charging forward, refusing to be slowed. Kirishima lingers near, his horse keeping pace with yours. You can’t help but feel the road stretching endlessly on. Every mile pulling you further from home, and closer to whatever truth they refuse to speak aloud.

The sky splits open, thunder rolling so loud it rattles your bones. The three of you ride harder. You're barely able to keep up as Katsuki races ahead. Kirishima sticks by your side. Your horse writhes beneath you. Head jerking from left to right. Ears flat, eyes wild and snorting. You yank at the reins but your grip slips, slick with rain.

You compete with your senses, conjuring the strength to stay upright. Though your body grants you no such mercy. The next lurch sends you tumbling, the world spinning in a blur of mud and rain before it slams the breath from your chest.

Your head spins, ears ringing as you try to lift your head from the ground. A muffled curse escapes Katsuki's clenched teeth, his voice growing fainter as he rides deeper into the storm. You squint, watching as your horse flees into the forest. Swallowed by the great dark of the woods.

Theres a moment of rattling silence, and then: "Katsuki!" Kirishima shouts are cut in half by the pelting rain, voice lost in the storm. “Damn it!” His own horse wheels around, thundering back toward you. Fighting the force of the weather.

Your chest feels like its been kicked in and pulled from you as you gasp for air. Your voice replaced by a horrible wheezing cry into the mud. You’re alone for only a heartbeat, but it’s enough for dread to sink in.

Then Kirishima is there, dismounting in one fluid motion, mud splattering up his boots. He rolls you over, head parallel to yours, searching your eyes.

"You okay?— Don't move. I got you."

His hands skim over your body, kneeling now, helping you sit up. His touch careful where you grip your side, throbbing with pain.

Behind him, Katsuki’s distant silhouette presses forward, unrelenting against the storm.

"All right. All right. C'mon." He coxes you into motion, gentle despite the merciless beating of the rain.

The glow of lightning illuminates the pathway, storm lashing harder, rain drumming like stones against the canopy. You’re still dizzy from the fall, mud soaking through your clothes. He pulls you up, sucking in a sharp breath when you wince— as if the very sight of you brings him pain.

His arm braces your waist as he helps you limp toward his horse—more hale and fearless than your old mount. You grip onto Kirishima's arm like a lifeline, grounding you amongst the wreckage of the storm. Hair whipping around wildly as the winds pick up, Kirishima shelters you with his body.

"Here. Steady now." He pushes you up first before climbing on to his horse behind you. Chest pressing against your back as he tugs on the reins, racing after Bakugo.

The form of Katsuki in the distance is barely visible, a smudge in the wind and rain and disarray. Your eyes lock onto the blurring image of him as Kirishima battles to keep up. If you focus hard enough, the pain falters into a dull ache and heat beneath your skin. You find yourself zoning out until a voice beckons your attention.

"Pathetic excuse for a cover." Katsuki's attention briefly flickers to you. His hair is weighed greatly by the rain, shading his eyes— though you know he's looking right at you.

The horse comes to slow as you come up to a small cluster of trees caging around a fallen trunk. Hollow in the middle. "But it'll have to do." He spits.

The shower refuses to relinquish, each drop like hatred undiluted. Anointing hell upon the land.

Kirishima swings down first, helping you dismount carefully and make your way over to the shelter. Inside the trunk, space is tight. Your shoulders nearly brush against his, and when Katsuki finally ducks in after tying his horse, the tension thickens until it feels like a fourth body stuffed in there with you.

A rumble of thunder speaks before anyone else can. You steady your breaths, clutching your side.

Katsuki speaks second, "Your fault. Again." He nods to himself, as if affirming his words, biting down on his cheek as he stares at the curved wall of the trunk opposite him.

Damp earth and wet pine overwhelm your senses, rain dripping through cracks in the bark above. You breathe through your nose, stifling your words to save yourself from being berated.

Katsuki's muttering eventually falls quiet. His head tips back against the hollow wall, eyes narrowed but heavy-lidded. The storm dulls to a steady rhythm, rain drumming against the bark above like a heartbeat.

Kirishima leans his body adjacent from yours, blocking the draft of chill air and speckles of rain from reaching you. Heat pulses off of him in waves, despite the cold that clings to everything—he's a furnace.

"You okay?" Head tilting to the side. His eyes are lit by the cracks in the bark making them appear reptilian in the low light. “—Still hurts?” His voice is softer now, pitched low. As though the moment is meant for just the two of you.

You shake your head, though the stings still lingers, you bite it down. “I’ll live.” A shaky chuckle follows.

The mans eyes travel over you, scanning where your body had connected with the ground. Red hot skin leads a trail across your forearm from where you braced yourself— embossed by the coarse earth. Raw and tender.

"That'll leave a gnarly scar." He muses, fingers carefully guiding your arm to rest against his lap as he inspects it further, delicate and warm. the corners of your mouth twitch yet again, a strained smile managing to overpower the throbbing.

"If you keep this up, you'll end up looking like Bakugo before the next full moon."

His jesting provokes a grunt of haughtiness from the barbarian, rough, irritated and full of disdain. His glowering slices thick through the air, though kirishima's words sink deeper into your skin. The comparison beckons forth whispers of doubt, 'Im not supposed to be here. I'm not anything like Bakugo.'

Your voice begins to defend your incompetence, "I don't know, i think—"

"So what if it leaves a scar?" Katsuki leaves you no time to simmer in defeatism. "It's only skin." Harsh, his words mirror truth, snapping your doubt. Your eyes lead you to question the abundance of scarring on his own body. The grating sting of your own wound seems small— petty even, in comparison. You straighten your back and bare the ache, drawing in a breath of new resolve .

The smell of wet earth gave way to lilacs. Their potent blooms crowding the garden fence, lined like troopers on the front lines. You stand barefoot in the grass, the pulse of the earth matches your own beating heart. Soft vibrations echo up from where you meet the ground, earth humming you a delicate melody from below.

Your fingers wrap steady round the spiked stem of a rose, clutching it gently, mindful of the thorns. The fibrous length along the stem is deep with colour, velvet and shimmering with specks of light that mean to tell you something. Dew of the early morning is cool between your toes, contrast to the suns rays that defrost the sleep from the soil.

You squint at how vivid the garden glows. How the floral scent clings to the back of your throat. How the air is pierced by the needle of a voice.

“You see?” Your mother hushes your drifting thoughts. Warmth trickles through your system, fingertips buzzing.

She's leant over her flowers, shaded by a canopy of blossoms. The shadows cast pale over her figure. Tinting the glossy strands of her fine hair.

You blink, wind coasting your eyes to meet hers. The anaemic hue of her skin is forgotten, a sun kissed complexion in its stead.

She pats the soil into place. “The secret is patience. The roots take their time. They don’t care about the world rushing past. They’ll grow when they’re ready.”

A sweetness lingers on your tongue— words dissolving into a nod of your head as you stand there— it's as light as the wind, the kind that tastes of beginnings.

You wake with the storm’s fading drizzle, the soil scent sharp in your nose, the ache of loss sharper still. The blur melds into a pounding throb across your skin, strengthened by your conscious state and stiffened by the awkward angle you rest at.

Dawn dances on the horizon, the throes of the storm collapsed as you slept, leaving only the damp aftermath cemented in the mud. Grey blotches of watercolour stain the skies, leaving the woodland below glistening with revival. A scar of clouds hang where the storm erupted, backlit by bruises of violet and blue.

You claw your bleary body out of the shelter, glimpsing Kirishima who is hunched at the edge of the vague border of the clearing— his head is angled upwards at the pale sky, his skin is damp with mist and flecked with dirt. A fond smile plays at his lips, ending the unease of the night along with the rain.

For a moment, it feels as though the storm was a fever dream — the thunder, the pounding hooves, the panic of losing your horse. Only the soreness of your body and the muck dried stiff on your clothes remind you it was real.

A jaded Katsuki steps out from behind you, unfolding his cramped body, brushing bark from his shoulders. "Gotta get a move on." He barks husk and gravely as he passes by you, your skin tingles as you twitch away from earshot. His bloodshot eyes don't pivot to meet you, or Kirishima. He stares ahead, his brutish temperament spent as he climbs onto his horse.

"Wasted enough time already." He punctuates his complaints with a gruff 'tch', kicking his steed away from where he was stowed under a low hanging dripping canopy of pine needles.

Kirishima stands, wringing his body, like a rag as he stretches. "Right, man." His eyes are lit with the same keenness that Katsuki carries, though more gentle as he approaches your shuddering form. "Guess you'll be riding with me." He flashes you one of his signature smiles, motioning towards his own mount with a tip of his head.

You shift in the saddle behind Kirishima, legs cramped from sharing the seat. The warmth of his back is steady, grounding through the damp chill of your clothes. Every bump in the trail sends you tightening your grip around his waist. You can feel his chest rumble with the occasional hum, easygoing as ever, trying to lighten the heaviness of the morning.

"—Nah, that trail'l be cut off from all the rain." Katsuki grumbles, shaking his head. "Obviously this is the best route, don't question me, shitty hair." He hurdles insults from where he rides ahead, leading the group through the softened soil. The forest seems to swallow the sound of the horses’ hooves, squelching and bubbling.

You fidget under the heavy load of silence that encircles the forest, thick like the fog that settles between the branches. You let your attention slip away from the conversation, the unnoticed dripping of rainwater, the obscure rustling of greenery captures you. Speaking now would shatter the untold vow of quiet, an intrusion on the conversation would draw Katsuki's agitation onto you.

Lowering your voice, you lean forwards to speak to kirishima alone. “So… he thinks he can take the Nomu on by himself? What about the… clan?” The words feel foreign on your tongue, you’re intruding on a story that doesn’t belong to you.

Kirishima turns in the saddle, giving you space, his eyes warm and steady. “The clan understands that this is Katsuki’s fight to win—” He pauses, choosing his phrasing, then adds, “—though they’re eager to avenge the fallen just as much.”

“Tch. Don't even. I don’t care what the clan wants. We don’t need anyone else slowing us down. I’m taking this fight on myself. Straight in, hit them hard, done.” His reply is final, demanding acceptance.

“Katsuki, even you can’t take all of them at once. You’ll need help, even if it’s just supplies or someone to watch our backs.” Kirishima’s voice is careful, like he’s moving around a sleeping animal. He kicks his horse forwards, trotting to close the space between him and Bakugo.

“Supplies don’t fight. Strategy doesn’t fight. I do. I’ll finish this.”

“But… what if it’s too many?" You butt in, brows furrowing as you find the words. "I saw you fight them— I saw how many there were.”

The grove answers with a low chorus of wind through leaves. Pinewood thinning out, branches unclench as the trail slopes down. Light finds the world again. The canopies stretch upwards, granting the soil the space to breathe. A fresh breeze settles over you, the damp smell of fallen rain fading into the cleaner scent of drying earth.

Katsuki’s jaw ticks. He doesn’t look less angry—only more impatient. "Exactly. You saw me fight. You know damn well i don't need any help."

The words unspoken itch on your tongue—'but you did'. The soldiers clad in silk, their flaming sigils. The image lingers in your mind; temptation makes you twitch in the saddle. You feel the muscle of Kirishima’s back stiffen, rigid replacing the soft curve of his body. You clamp your mouth shut, exhaling tension through your nose.

Kirishima releases the breath he was holding, the air thinning with it. Riding up beside Katsuki, he angles his horse forward. “It’s going to be a long journey. Rushing into things won’t make it go any smoother.”

The mud on your sullied boots cracks and flakes away as the ground firms beneath you. Hooves no longer sink with every step; instead, they strike against soil, thumping drier, truer.

Katsuki doesn’t turn his head, but his hands tighten on the reins, leather creaking with tension. “Smoother? This isn’t about smooth. It’s about ending it before more people are slaughtered. Before there’s nothing left to fight for.”

Kirishima’s tone softens, but carries weight. “I get that. But you can't keep throwing yourself headfirst into every single fight." He tries to reason. His eyes latch onto the sharp angle of Katsuki's clenched jaw. "You’re strong, man. No one’s arguing with you on that. But strength doesn’t mean much if you’ve got no one left to watch your back.”

Katsuki lets out a sharp, empty laugh. “Tch. I don’t need anyone to watch my damn back. I’ll make sure nothing gets that close.”

Your chest tightens at the certainty in his voice. It isn’t arrogance—it’s fury. It’s grief. It’s a wound that won’t close. That can'r close, not whilst the threat still stands.

The clearing spreads wide around you, sky vast and open, but somehow the air feels smaller, crowded by words left unsaid. Words saved for later.

Kirishima shakes his head, though there’s no fight in it. “Then I’ll just have to stick by you anyway. Whether you like it or not.”

For the first time since the discussion began, Katsuki glances at him, a flicker of something raw flashing across his face before he looks away again, jaw hardening.

The path ahead dips, winding toward rolling grassland. Far on the horizon, a thin column of smoke twists upward. Signs of a village, maybe. Or something worse.

Katsuki notices it first. "Oi. You see that?" He calls out to no one in particular. You follow his eyes forwards, a small cluster of building sits crooked, just a stretch away.

"That looks like bad news." You shiver as the scent of smoke claws its way into your lungs. Stomach knotting as you circle your hands around Kirishima tighter.

Smoke and decay. Smoke and death.

"She's right, Katsuki. Could be trouble." Kirishima doesn't wait to brace you as he urges his horse forwards.

Katsuki breaks his mount into a sprint, wind whipping his hair back. The sight makes your stomach lurch. You pray that the trail twists away from the foul smoke and destruction.

No such mercy.

The closer you ride towards it all, the heavier the air becomes. Something brooding and deep grips you in the saddle. Your veins pulse, laboured and strained, you fear your heart will give out by the time the path reaches its end.

Ash drifts in the wind like blossoms of grey, stinging your nose, haunting your mind. The houses come into view, or what's left of them. They lay wheezing kindle and smoke. Walls collapsed like ribs, doors splintered and kicked in, glass shattered and scattered in the ash soaked soil.

You cover your mouth with your hand, but the smell pushes through anyway, seeping through your fingers. Rot and iron.

Kirishima’s voice is low, grim. “We’re too late.” His horse slows to a defeated stop as he surveys the destruction.

Katsuki swings down from his horse before it fully halts, boots skidding through ash. His hands curl into fists at his sides, a faint sparking sounding from his palms. “Those bastards—” His voice cracks into a growl, sharp and dangerous.

You follow more hesitantly, as you dismount, eyes wide, You catch sight of claw marks raked across stone, gouges deeper than any blade you can comprehend. You drag you gaze along the ground tracking the prints kicked up in the dust. Specks of gravel are darkened and clumped together. Congealed with blood.

Signs of life cut short.

Kirishima crouches by a torn section of fence, brushing his fingers across the splinters. “Nomu. Big ones.” He states the obvious to fill the air.

Katsuki spins on him, furious. “And if we'd been faster—if we’d stopped wasting time arguing, we could’ve stopped them!” The words stab sharp, and you hold no doubt that he's blaming you, too. His chest stutters, rising and falling like he’s about to explode.

Kirishima stands, unflinching. “Don’t put this on yourself, Katsuki. Or on us. You didn’t know. We couldn’t have known.” He holds his palms out to the sky at his sides, as if to show the heavens the blood that stains his hands. The blood that should wipe clean.

But Katsuki’s eyes blaze. “I don’t care. Every second we waste, more villages burn. More people die. That’s why I don’t want to wait for anyone. This is what happens when we waste time!”

You open your mouth to speak—your throat dry, words escaping you, nothing comes. The ruins speak for you. The desolation. The silence is louder than any argument.

The three of you stand in the middle of it all, the world blackened around you, smoke clawing at the sky like a warning. The beauty of the flickering landscapes you passed seem obsolete. The devastation that lays around you constricts your throat like a viper. The blameless flames coat the sky in an endless film of grey.

The fire grants you no warmth, no such mercy.

WoL is also available to read on Ao3, TikTok and Wattpad all under the username @odetonettles

If you wanna be added to the series taglist lmk!! -`♡´-

[odetonettles]

Wander over, Lover, The Climb

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.

read chapter two here!

Word count: 4334

CHAPTER THREE: The Climb

Katsuki Bakugo was trying to enjoy the celebration. The crease in his brow poised ever so forgivingly to ease suspicions of his growing anger. But behind his teeth, irritation festered. He surveyed the area, treading heavily around the perimeter of the plaza. Circling the pit of fire.

Feral howls and guttural cries rose from the revellers, carrying on the rain-slick wind. The sound traveling over the ridged wooden branches that form the bonfire's body— rising to the stars as high-pitched whistles and hymns. They reverberate, ghostly and wind-whisked. 'The battle had been won,' the spirits cried. The ritual begun.

The crowd stomps a threshing song. Separating the grain of the wounded from those who did not fight in battle. Those who are maimed the worst raise in their hands dried sassafras, rolled over herbs and a colourful fungi. It's bitter on the tongue and worse going down. It bubbles in their gut and sweats their bodies out. Hot flushes erupt under their skin, pain long forgotten. They dance without regards for their wounds. Skipping and singing in glee— their minds are lost in a fantasy.

Even the half-limping, even the blood-slicked, even the dying. They spin in circles and thrash, delirious with laughter. They sing in madness. Joy. Or grief. It was hard to tell now.

Glowing sparks of amber flutter in the air, petals falling from a tree of flames. 'Just a sapling', the creaking of the wood whispers to the dreamers as the fire grows larger.

The people thrash, locking arms in pairs and groups as they dance in a frenzy, beating their feet against packed soil.

Katsuki watches from the shadows, stalking around the fuss of it all, vehemence bitten behind his tongue. He sees the people, lumbering in rings around the bonfire— wounds not yet dressed— devoid of concern for their fallen comrades. Dancing like the dead weren't rotting outside the gates. Dancing like the Nomu hadn’t nearly wiped out half their fighters. Dancing like they’d won.

The air is thick with perfumed oil and a hint of iron. He skulks, loathing the blissful looks on their unknowing faces.

Their memories are skewed, placated by the concoction. Visions of the horrors they faced are warped in their minds. Their memories fickle from dreams of ecstasy and euphoria, but never the havoc they encountered at the hands of the Nomu.

But Katsuki remembers.

He remembers the brutality of it all. How it felt to watch his people die horrible deaths from the force of their fists.

How it felt to slay the beast that stood before him— how instead of glory washing over him, he felt dread.

How it felt winning, despite the overwhelming loss of life.

How it felt to not actually win, he had to ask for help, after all.

Katsuki redirects his temper, eyes dragging along the crowds absentmindedly until the silhouette of Todoroki Shoto comes into his view. He stomps over, shamefaced and glowering.

Standing around Todoroki is an escort of soldiers from Endeavour's manor. They hold a fervent heat behind their eyes as the barbarian approaches.

One that looks like a strap of leather with a scowl for a face takes a step forward to sentry Shoto, only to be dismissed with an unworried. "Hold on." and a prim wave of his lithe hand.

"You—" Bakugo spits with venom, completely ignoring the older man.

"You'll address the Prince as your royal highness, if you know whats good fo—"

"That's enough, Kurumada." Todoroki, interjects. His eyes carry over Katsuki's body— filled with scars and stretch marks around the joints like estuaries of endlessly battled skin pulled tautly over muscle. Each scar is a notch towards a tally of victories. Victories won on his own. Until now.

There is a moment of stale silence around them. Thick enough to only be penetrated by the shrill yips and chitters of the throng— sounding harder to distinguish from animals the longer the festivity drags on. Katsuki's ears ring, he spits on the ground, just missing the prince's silver tipped boots.

"Fight me."

The festivities go on, despite the rain that pelts down from the darkness.

"Who the fuck is this?"

Katsuki's glare cuts to you, lingering briefly before meeting Kirishima's eyes. He's holding a hand to his face, blood crusted dark along the bridge of his nose. It trails down his face like warpaint.

"This is who the scouts saw during the battle. The one who fell–" Kirishima begins, only to be cut short by Katsuki's impatient tongue.

"Tch. From the sky?" The barbarian exhales from his nose. He stares hard at the ground briefly before pushing himself to his feet. His tone is heavy with mistrust and disdain, voice laced with childlike mimicry. Like he's retelling an old child's tale that he's too old to believe in.

The three of you are tucked away in a wooden roundhouse, lit warmly by a small fire in the centre of the circular room. The sharp smell of smoke and sweat clings to the air. Kirishima had dragged you both here once the crowd had begun to settle and Todoroki was led away, escorted by his foreign guard.

Kirishima pushes himself off the pillar he's leant up against, red eyes flicking to you before nodding.

You open your mouth to speak, hesitating for a moment until you glimpse the intimidating heat behind the barbarian's stature, "There was something—" Your head pounds, "—That i fell through. Like a bright light, or a mirror." Struggling to put into words what you saw, you shake your head, disorientation visible on your face.

"A portal. Like the Nomu have been coming through."

Kirishima's voice lowers as he leans forwards, peering at the celebratory dance still occurring outside. His jaw is clenched, sharing a look with Katsuki. They seem to talk without words. His thoughts lead back to you and the spaced look on your face.

"So." Bakugo breaks eye contact first, head swivelling in your direction as he stands from his squatting position. "She's with them then." Accusatory. Stomping over, his anger seems to build with each step he takes.

Kirishima breaths in sharply, "Woah man, what are you doing?" Getting between you and him. Tall enough to block your view of the other man.

"She came through a portal." Bakugo strains through clenched teeth, spacing out each word as if to make his thoughts obvious. "She's working with them!" He yells the last part, bringing a calloused hand up to Kirishima's shoulder to shove him aside.

You scramble up from where you're sitting, feeling the tension in the room. "Im not with them." You defend your case. Not even entirely sure who they are. "I swear! I'm not even from here. Like i said i fell–"

"Thats obvious." Folding his arms over his chest. Katsuki shoots Kirishima a look, bumping shoulders with him as he walks past. "Where are you from then?" His demands leave no room for you to hesitate, or to even think of lying.

"Im from Musutafu." The truth. Though it seems alien in this place.

Katsuki stares at you like you just spoke in tongues. His foot taps, fast and impatient. You watch his jaw tighten. The twitch in his face as his tongue pokes his cheek. The disbelief brewing behind his eyes.

Then he moves.

He grabs your collar, fist clenched in the fabric at your throat. His face is close, breath hot and sharp. You feel the violence under his skin like static in the air.

His lips curl downwards. "Don't fuck with me. Now tell the truth."

"I am!" You squint at the sudden closeness, watching how his eyes scan your face. You're almost certain he's about to rip your head off.

Kirishima places a hand on his shoulder.

"Bakugo. I don't think she's lying." Unyielding in his attempt to defuse the situation.

Kirishima continues, even as Katsuki doesn't move "You heard what the scouts said, she fell from the sky, she wasn't with the Nomu." He takes a deep breath, "I think she—"

"Shut up, shitty hair. You don't know what you're talking about." He jerks his hand forwards, pushing you against one of the wooden pillars— keeping you put as he turns his head.

"Well you were there, man!" Kirishima throws his hands up. "I wasn't. You're telling me you didn't see it with your own eyes? You didn't see her fall? The scouts sure did."

"You're right, Kirishima. You weren't there." Bakugo's voice grows uncharacteristically quiet. Ever the more hostile. "And shut up about the fucking scouts."

"Dude."

"Whatever." Dismissing Kirishima.

You clear your throat, drawing the attention back to yourself as you notice the twitch of Kirishima's brows. Katsuki doesn't budge. Eyes still, but he lets your shirt go, allowing you to slink down onto the wooden floor.

"I'm gonna figure out what's going on with you."

“Why don’t you let her tell us?” Kirishima mutters, retreating a few steps into the room. He unbuckles his sword and busies himself with the straps, giving you space. "She's probably real shaken up."

"Yeah well her heads' all busted up, so no wonder." Katsuki snorts. Nodding his head in your direction, pointing out the thick black blood dried to your temple.

"What?" Kirishima turns on his heel, taking a quick step towards you, head tilting to the side. Now both of them are looking at you.

"I—" You don't know whether to begin explaining or not, hand coming up to press against your wound. You wince. "I hit my head a couple times." You say under your breath to Kirishima. Something tells you not to look at Bakugo.

"I'll go get the doctor." He sighs, ducking out of the roundhouse without another word.

And suddenly it’s quiet.

Just you and Katsuki. Still staring.

Still not convinced.

"Asshole. I ask you to clear the woods of any enemies and you bring me back a headache." Katsuki scolds, biting the inside of his cheek— pouting ever so slightly.

The voices of the two men are muffled. You've been separated from them by a thin divider in the doctors building— having been moved there once Kirishima decided it would be better for you to lie down.

The doctor is quiet, deliberate in her movements. She doesn’t smile, not even politely. But there’s something comforting in her silence, like she’s heard every story a body can tell and still chooses to listen without judgment.

She carries herself in a way that displays her years of experience, brow wrinkling down as she tilts your head up with the palm of her hand. Her eyes are crystal blue dipped in a milky white. You find yourself fixated as she tends to you.

"Eat this, girl." She rasps voice dry as sand.

Then she's holding a bundle of herbs to your lips. Shoving it in your mouth when you hesitate.

The texture is gritty and dry. Unpleasantly enough, it takes a few laboured chews for it to be ground into a paste soft enough to swallow. There’s a mushroomy undertone, dark and loamy, hidden beneath the potent taste of leaf and herb. It numbs your throat as it sloughs down into your sorry gut.

It hits like a stone dropped into a still pond.

You sink into the bed of pelts. Stripped into your undergarments to save the furs from being spoiled from the dirt of you. Your skin is still chilled from your time in the wilderness, you find yourself missing the warmth from the flame of the great bonfire as you watched the barbarian wrestle. Though the aching in your joints, the sharpness in your skull, all of it ebbs away. You're weightless.

You blink up at the ceiling beams. They shift slightly. Not move—but breathe. Like the whole room is exhaling around you. A delightful fog clouds your thoughts. You smile without meaning to.

You catch the doctors eyes again, only now are they enlarged and pulsing, blue hues melting into vibrant reds and maroons. Her irises throb in time with your heartbeat and you find the noise from the celebration grow infinitely louder. Evermore savage.

Though you cant bring yourself to care. Its as if all your aching has been lifted from your body, replaced with a delightful breeze of content.

You don't feel frightened. Or worried. You don't fear your fever or your state of asylum. You could walk out of here right now. You could bite that barbarian's head off. Matter of fact, that's exactly what you'll do. You wobble as you stand, vision hazy as you toddle across the cool floor.

"We call that the Climb, girl. My remedy'll do that to you."

The Climb.

Your movements are ceased by a leathery hand wrapped around your forearm. You languidly roll your eyes down to search for the sudden contact, then back up to the woman's face. Only you recognise her this time. Those wrinkles etched into her skin speak lullabies of home to you. The curve of her brow bone and slant of her nose resemble the inchoate image of your mother, maybe—if your memories had been smudged and rewritten by the forest itself. Though her eyes. Her eyes burn on, blue and bird-like.

You try to nod but it comes out more like a sway your body threatening to topple.

She speaks again, or at least you guess she does. You see her lips move. There's a delay. Like the synapses in your brain have been staggered. Ears, disconnected from your eyes.

Her voice comes to you eventually, but its echoing and omnipresent. Octaves both high and low. Voices, male and female, rattling against one another in a long tunnel, echoing endlessly until you stumble back onto the cot.

"You need sleep, and a good wash once you wake. But first, rest." Her voice sounds nothing like your mother's did, you blink and she's gone. Replaced by the stranger. The doctor wishes you goodnight before leaving the room.

That night you dream of the forest.

Dead quiet under the guise of midnight. A breeze wafts through the branches of the whitewood trees, rustling their pale leaves like whispers behind closed doors.The smell of something vaguely burnt seeps under your skin. It clings to you, it follows you. You cant shake it.

You come stand at the edge of the trail. A thoroughfare of greenery so vast it seems to stretch oracularly far. Endless as it blurs into an impalpable blend of woodland. You feel a certain kind of indigence as you tread further from your starting position, following the calls of the night— the type that frustrates to no end.

Each movement feels like a betrayal of stillness. There’s a gnawing sense of wrongness that grows within you the farther you walk. Time forgets itself the longer you spend straggling in the dark, lethargic eyes lock lacklustre on the soil, a sight you've grown sore of. Home calls to you, though you don't know which way to turn. You’re searching for something. Or maybe something is searching for you.

Morose thoughts become sullen feet dragging a loafing, tired body down the line. A never ending walk. The forest darkens the deeper you go. You drag yourself onwards, feet heavy. You are compelled along further into an opening in the woods. The soil beneath you sinks as you drag yourself deeper, like its swallowing you with each step you take.

You come into the view of a deer, lonesome under the moonlight.

It watches as you step into the clearing. Its coat is pure white and untouched. All except its hooves which have kicked up filth, defiling its resplendence. The contrast is jarring. Large unfocused eyes bore into you. Reflecting the moonlight into two bright stars for pupils. Looking at you. Looking through you.

Adorning its head is a crown of chrysanthemums, petals long and sprawling out like fingers fanned behind the skull of the animal. The flowers shift when its ears flick, alert to something beyond your understanding.

Your skin prickles.

A cold breath glides down your spine, and in the same instant, the deer bolts, vanishing between the trees like a ghost.

Dawn.

Birdsong spills into the morning air. Fauna flourish in the morning rays. Chirps ring through the canopies surrounding the settlement. Small birds weave in the open air. They dance in celebration of the new day, they sing in remembrance of the last. Nothing at all like what you dreamed.

"Wake up."

A voice demands, like the crack of a whip you are ripped from your slumber. You stir slightly, eyes bolting open when a rough hand shakes you from your slumber. You shoot up, squinting and muzzy from sleep.

"Wha—" You're met with the sight of scorching eyes. Red hot and full of fury.

Katsuki.

You reach up to touch your head, only to realise it has been bandaged. The pain nullified. The taste of something bitter lingers on your tongue. Whatever the doctor gave you is still working through your system.

He grips your forearm, "Get up." Tugging you off of the bed, like a sack of potatoes. Inconsiderate of your lack of decency in your half-dressed state. Though his eyes never travel below your collarbone.

"—What the hell are you doing?" You're groggy and unsteady on your feet. The morning bitterness nips at your bare skin, pulling a pelt over your shoulders with your free arm.

"I got questions for you." Borderline growling, "Now come on!"

He tugs harder, causing you skid across the floor as you attempt to steady yourself.

"Can you not!!——Just hold on a second!"

You tear yourself from his grip, tumbling back onto the bed with a bounce. You furrow your brows at him, anger simmering in your chest at his petulance. God he's irritating. “You always this charming in the morning?”

He shoots you an unimpressed look.

You frown as your eyes wonder around the small space allocated to you. The room is dimly lit by a window opposite your bed. A bucket of soapy water sits on the floor beside the bed, murky in colour. Your skin is clean now— you wonder who washed you whilst you slept. Your clothes aren't anywhere visible and you doubt the barbarian will allow you to look around without shoving an axe through your head first.

Before you can voice your confusion, another voice cuts in from the doorway.

"The girl has just woken up, Katsuki. Have some dignity." Tone scolding. You expect a barrage of insults to follow from the man, but Bakugo only grumbles. Huffing as he steps to the side to reveal a woman.

She’s tall, and dressed in furs trimmed with light blonde pelts that glisten like oil in the light. Her eyes are sharp like his, imposing and assertive. Her hair is shaggy and hangs just below the scarred line of her jaw, the colour blends with the halo of pelt trimmings that rests on her shoulders.

"So, this is the trouble-maker i've been hearing about." She takes a few steps forwards, scent of spiced oils invading your senses.

"Outlander." She titles you. A string of curses escapes from Katsuki's lips, granting a raise of the woman's eyebrows.

"Don't tell me you believe that crap." He mutters, body recoiling from the name. He stalks around the room, heavy boots scuffing the floors.

She ignores him. "The scouts say you fell through one of the villain's portals, is that correct?" Her decisiveness allows her to take control of the interrogation, Katsuki forgotten in the corner.

"Villains?— Ah, yes… i think so." You nod.

You find it hard to hold eye contact with the woman, her very presence is overawing. Something about her feels deeply rooted—like the trees in your dream. Ancient. Unshakable. It clicks that this is the barbarian's mother. Her eyes carry her age, despite her youthful appearance— all the more similar to her son the longer you stare.

"Can i— ask a question?" You blurt. Hands clenching the furs that conceal your skin. You can feel Katsuki's eyes on you. You stare ahead.

"Yes. Go on." Giving you an inquiring look.

"Where am i?" It seems every time you ask, your words fall on deaf ears. Though a twitch of emotion reflects in the woman's eyes at your words.

"This is the Iron Hills, girl. My territory." She tilts her head down at you. Shifting her weight from one foot to another. Her authority is absolute and final, like she’s never been questioned in her life.

Her words garner a huff from Katsuki. She continues on, "Im assuming my boy here hasn't granted you the right of an explanation?"

You nod again. She speaks on, a husk of a sigh in her throat. "The lands are under attack— As i'm sure you have witnessed. And we have a reason to believe that your world may be next."

"What?" You blink.

"—You can't be serious." Complains Katsuki. He steps up to his mother, getting in her face, only to be quelled by a sturdy slap to the back of his head.

"You embarrass yourself, Katsuki." He grits his teeth but says nothing. There's a slither of tension weaved within her stern look. The woman's eyes cut back to you.

"My world?" Your throat dries, one of your hands come to clutch your chest. You think of the Nomu, the destruction at their will. You think of your mother and the choice-less grief that drives you to fear for your home.

"Yes." She ruminates for a moment, eyes flicking to her son. "As the Chieftain of this clan it's my duty to safeguard all my people." She stands up impossibly straighter. "Our tribe is strong, Katsuki. Though i can't turn a blind eye to all the lives we lost yesterday. Im sure you know that all too well."

"You know what i have to do. It's about time." She utters to him, her hand gripping his wrist. Though the touch is harmless and grounding.

"It doesn't have to be a scene." She continues gently, "I'll make the announcement once you're gone."

Katsuki's face is hidden by his hair, head hung low. He nods, mouth pulled into a tight frown.

She nods once more at you. Her eyes flickering over your body one last time before she exits the room.

"Katsuki, find a seamstress for the poor girl. Get her something to wear."

And then she's gone.

With your head clear, without injury or hallucinogenic– no pounding, or strange visions— you're finally able to get a good look at your surroundings.

And him.

The barbarian. You're stood behind him as he stomps ahead, watching the indented line of muscle down his bare back. Each stride he takes speaks volumes to his ego. Walking around like he owns the earth beneath him. The men around here seem to favour being bare chested, their bodies decorated with ornaments and vivid painted markings, scars worn like medals.

A gruff voice grabs your attention. "This is your fault."

"Me? How can you blame me for something i don't even understand? Mind you i still have no idea whats going on." You half-jog to keep pace with him, your new garments clinging awkwardly to your skin. They're made for movement, for function. Leather and linen shaped for someone else’s life. You tug at the shoulder where it rubs against your skin.

"Shit went wrong as soon as you showed up, Idiot."

You glare at the back of his head. "You're acting like i'm the one who coordinated this whole thing! Hell, you thought i was working with them."

He comes to an abrupt stop, swivelling around to face you. Nose crinkled as he sneers at you. "Keep that attitude up and i'll fucking skin you." He hisses, eyes ablaze.

You stare up at him, eyes leading upwards to meet his halfway. not quite flinching, but not pushing either. The tension coils tight, then slips loose.

“Whatever,” you mutter, voice low.

He turns away with a scoff and keeps walking. Up ahead, the scent of hay and horses fills the air. Kirishima stands near the stables, running a hand along the coat of a massive draft horse. He spots you, grinning, lifting a hand in greeting. He nods at Katsuki.

"Hey, you." He chuckles at the sight of you. You wonder if you look out of place, standing there. Dressed in linen and leather with a bandage around your head. "You look good! Hows your head?" He points with his chin.

Katsuki walks by, paying no mind to formalities— heading along the stable to seek out his own horse.

Your hand instinctively comes up to touch the bandage."Uhm, it doesn't hurt anymore. Which is odd.. The doctor, she gave me something to eat."

"Ahh—" He chuckles again, nodding knowingly. "I heard the news, man." Peering over his shoulder at Katsuki with a raised eyebrow. "You sure about this? I'm with you either way."

"That's a stupid question." He grunts as he swings onto his horse, watching you with scorn in his eyes. "Tch. This one's gotta come too— Outsiders are bad news around here. They cause trouble the moment you leave them behind."

"Huh?" You sputter.

Kirishima doesn’t look surprised. If anything, he smiles wider. "Oh. Ohh, okay." Kirishima inspects you one last time with a smile before climbing onto his own horse.

"Atta' girl." He pats the mare's neck. "C'mon you."

You stare at them. At the horses. At the stables behind you and the dirt path stretching into the unknown. A dozen thoughts crash through your mind 'Ive only just recovered from the fall. I didn’t agree to this. I don’t know how to ride. I don’t belong here.'

You sigh and nod.

“Try to keep up, assholes,” Katsuki growls over his shoulder, already kicking his horse into motion.

You swallow hard, mouth dry. “Shit,” you whisper, you know in your gut theres no going back.

WoL is also available to read on Ao3, TikTok and Wattpad all under the username @odetonettles

If you wanna be added to the series taglist lmk!! -`♡´-

part four

[odetonettles]

Wander over, Lover, The Fallout

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.

read chapter one here!

Word count: 3514

WARNING: This chapter contains mentions of implied terminal illness and familial death. If you are sensitive to such themes please skip past the first few paragraphs ♡

CHAPTER TWO : The Fallout

You're sure the sounding of her heart monitor had been engraved into your nervous system by now. Each chirp rewiring you. Conditioning you into permanent anxiety. Same with the overhead lights. Baking your eyes in your skull. No matter how many times you blink, that dry sting wont go away. That dread of the inevitable on the horizon out the frosted window, overlooking the courtyard. The bleakness of the sun when it sets, only acting as an annoyance as it shines in her tired eyes through the blinds. 

You're sure the smell of primrose and jasmine keep you sane. She'd ask you to douse her bed in the scent to mask the smell of the sickness burrowing in her chest. The rotting in her gut, the odour of her poor soul weeping. 

Florals did well to hide it all. Florals and the sterile smell of the hospital floors after they had been bleached. The type of stench that burns your nose when you breathe it in. It always does well to obscure any undertones, burning them right from your memory. 

But you couldn't forget the flowers. You wouldn't be able to because you smell them now. Primrose, sweet and delicate. But not sterile, more gritty. Dirty. You smell iron and soil. The floors haven't been bleached yet. You're still in the mud.

Your head is pounding when you blink back into it all. A dull ache behind your eyes warns you as you drag you gaze to the left, then the right. You spot the flowers low to the ground, clutching the soil. They huddle in clusters. Each stalk—a soldier, fighting to champion the light of the sun.

You lay on your back on solid ground, a trail of slick soil leading from the bog to where you're splayed out among the reeds. Your body is stiff, limbs locked,  fingertips trembling. The cold biting away at you. Nipping at your skin like a curious animal.

The sound of steel on steel has long ceased. The battleground, barren, save for the bodies scattered amongst the dry grass and shrubbery. You can't recall how long you've been lying there, staring up at that unfamiliar blue sky, up at the spot where you fell.  

Your breathing has slowed now, you're sitting up and fumbling for your phone. Though the pounding of your head keeps your movements slow and careful.

"Shit." You breathe out, remembering how you dropped it into the mud— no way of getting it out now. Lost to the great deep.

Climbing to your feet, you squint up the sky one last time before surveying your surroundings. You're stood in a wide clearing, caged in by a wall of war-withered trees. There's a circle of destruction surrounding the battleground, this isn't the first time blood has been shed in these woods. 

You feel the muck that coats you beginning to harden, tightening your skin uncomfortably. You know the only way forwards is it to move your feet.

"Maybe I can find some sorta' phone booth or something." Shuddering— lying through your teeth. You remember what you saw, hell, you're looking at the aftermath of it right now. 

Monsters. Men, fighting on horseback— like nothing you've ever seen before. You left anything familiar behind when you fell through the sky. 

Your first instinct is to flee into the cover of the woods, being out in the open gives you a sense of anxiety. Though the thought of running into one of those beasts makes you reconsider. Treading, albeit carefully, towards the bodies strewn along the grassland, you fetch a small dagger discarded in the grass. Only do you then take in the devastation of the scene in front of you as you get closer to it all. The carnage. Bodies upon bodies, more human than not. Some of them are painted and decorated with animal pelts. Others are clothed in lavish silks and ironclad— not that it mattered. The quality of their garments didn't save them from their bloody fates. All dead the same.

Your eyes travel down to the dagger, watching as it glints in your hold. The blade is engraved with ornate florals and etchings at the hilt. Something bubbles in your stomach at the sight.

Your hands tremble with it in your grip, You suck down a breath of air.

"Gotta' keep going." You pick a direction and start walking.

You hear them before you see them. Men on horses, though less than before. You duck into a bush just as they come into your line of sight. It's easy to find coverage in the thickness of these woods.

There is a booming voice, "Search the area." One orders, the others grunt in acknowledgement. 

You crouch lower. Sweat beads at the back of your neck. Something within you nags at you to flee, but your body stays pressed into the grass. There's at least five horsemen. You gauge the amount by the footsteps you pick up on as two dismount. The one giving orders stays mounted. 

"You know what to do if you find any Nomu." He speaks again, quieter this time. The syllables of his words are softened by a mouthful of sharp teeth, his words coming out rounded and lisped. 

'Nomu?' Your head tilts up at the name. Your eye line just above the foliage. You don't know what you were expecting to see—but your eyes meet with his and the air is torn from your lungs.

You think for a moment that he doesn't see you as you shove your head back down. His lips are parted slightly, as if he's about to speak again — but he doesn't. Theres a silence you take to mean he's spotted you. Gulping down bile, you spring into action and tear your mind from his scarlet gaze.

You stumble for the first few steps, staggering out of the bush and into the open— hands clumsily swinging into momentum— suddenly realising how much of a bad idea this is. You hear them holler behind you as you come into their sights.

"Get 'er !" A new voice yells behind you, closer than you'd like.

You're breathing in bursts, eyes wide, you don't dare look back. You don't dare give in to the shaking of your legs and the rustling of the woodland behind you.

Frenzied, you push on despite the hot shooting pain that juts through your side, the swooning sensation that overtakes you. This can't be real. You have to be dreaming. 

The forest is ruthless, roots tripping you. You body rattles as it hits the ground, head craning back to seek your assailants. Two to the left, the others, further back in the trees. The thumping pain in your head is keeping you drowsy, languid and vulnerable. Like a mental block, nullifying any reason. You're in and out of conscious thought. One moment you're on the ground, hands in the mud, the next your tripping through the trees with pure indiscreetness. 

You're up and running again before the teetering can wear off, disorientation leading you nowhere in particular.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fu—" You're upside down and dangling before you're even aware, a rope tied tight around your ankle. A snare trap. Your temple hits the bark of the tree you're hanging from, debris flying from the cracked wood. The pain rattles through your head far worse than you anticipate. It's only when you reach your hand towards your head do you realise the extent of your injuries from your earlier fall. The blood mixes with the peat in your hair, matting it in clumps. 

You bellow in frustration. Your vision blurs.

Biting back the urge to give up, you slip the dagger out of your sock and crane your body upwards. The strain is exhausting, and it takes a few attempts of swinging your body upwards for you to get a grip on your tied ankle. Luckily, the steel is sharp. It only takes a few moments of sawing away at the rope before you're crashing back down onto the ground— body almost folding in half.

You clamber up again, head pivoting to look for your pursuers. When you don't see them, you sigh a shaky breath of relief, though the sudden allowance of security does little to alleviate your nerves. Heart threatening to burst into your throat, you get low to the ground and crawl in hopes you stay hidden. 

Clad in grime, you inch through the underbrush, dragging up and along the delicate greenery with you. Too preoccupied with unease as you twist you head peer behind you, to be mindful of where you lead yourself.

You turn your head, your lack of luck persisting as you are met face to face with the snarling snout of a bear. It's brass eyes boring into you. Half it's face is contorted in shadow and scarred skin, one eye gleaming, the other gnarled. You feel it breathe, hot on your face. 

It stands on it's hind legs. You crawl up onto your haunches, bringing the knife up. You feel sick. 

'Do i run? Oh god.' Your throat's so dry you can't even get the words out, a hoarse wince escapes you.

"Go!" A voice beckons you from your trance. 

Just as the beast lunges, it's figure is torn from your sight. It's body jerked to the left, tumbling to the ground. The man from earlier, whose eyes you caught— charges into the animal with ease. Wrestling it to the rocks, his teeth on display.

"I said go! Can't you hear me?" His head turns to you, eyes a lot more sincere this time around. Completely oblivious to the look of terror on your face.

And you listen, cause what else are you to do. You drop the dagger in the dirt.

You listen to the struggle as you sprint on— the earthshaking roar from the bear, the equally as terrifying growl from the man. You need to get away from this place. You need to get out of these woods.

It's not long before they find you again. And it only takes a few moments of struggle until you're hauled— and hogtied, which you find quite rude— onto the back of the mans horse, whose name you learn is Kirishima.

The feeble amount of fight you had in you when they found you did little to resist the tower of a man. He swore he meant you no harm. You beg to differ.

You shiver as the wind picks up, scattering leaves up into the open air. They catch the luminance of the setting sun, highlighting them golden and flickering. 

"I don't understand." trying again. Head lolling forwards with every trot of the horse. All the movement is making you feel ill. You side eye kirishima, your vision only granting you a glimpse of the back of his head and the wild crimson hair that sprouts from it. 

"Like i said, you'll find out when we get there." He answers, not bothering to look back. "I'm jus' following orders." Kirishima offers a hushed apology when his horse bucks ever so slightly. The throbbing of your head grants you no relief from the constant discomfort. 

You huff, unsatisfied. Your eyes rolling over his back in the dim light. His skin is tanned and painted— similarly to the decorations you observed earlier, but more detailed. You watch the muscle of his forearm shift as he redirects the horse, the red and black symbols written along his skin. You notice the beaded bracelets that cuff his wrist and the various animal teeth and bones dangling from them. Your mind sparks.

"The bear—" Suddenly changing the subject, "—You fought a bear!" Your voice cracks, from exhaustion probably. You eye the several large gashes that litter his body, ones that weren't there during your first encounter.

"It's nothing." He chuckles. The others give him a look.

"And, Nomu—" You're talking over him. "Are those the things I saw?"

That causes his head to turn ever so slightly, glancing at you with a look you cant quite decipher. 

"Where am I?" Eyes holding his. Your head jerks forwards, your stomach pressing uncomfortably against the broad back of the horse. Your neck is stiff from the position and you can only manage to lift yourself up for a few moments at a time before you flop back down, forced to stare at the ground.

"You really aren't from here, are you?" Kirishima mutters, eyebrows knitting together, deep in thought before turns to look ahead.

Something shifts in the air, something alien and unwelcome. Chills run over the length of your neck, settling in the base of your skull. An instinctive reminder that you, in fact, are defenceless. Squirming, panic nestles within the back of your throat. The fear of the unknown. You itch to flee again, to throw yourself off the back of the horse and run into the woods. To face the fleeting sunlight. 

A warm hand, steady between your shoulder blades advises you otherwise.

"If i untie you, will you relax?"

Now, you're caged against Kirishima. Sat sideways, legs dangling, uncomfortably close to the man. Both his arms are locked either side of you, holding the reins. Unsure of where to look, and unsure of what to say, you sit staring at your hands, picking flakes of mud off your skin. The trotting of the horses mirror your pulse— the faster they canter, the quicker your heart races. The closer you get to whatever awaits you.

Eventually the forest thins out, the landscape shifting into the curve of a mountainside, sloping upwards. You spot, in the distance, the flickering of lights. Dancing in the darkness, they mark the pathway.

"Is this it?" You ask quietly to Kirishima. Eyes locked ahead.

"Yeah." Looking down at you, offering a reassuring half-smile. "We're here."

You take a deep breath, chest stuttering as it rises and falls. You watch as the other horsemen overtake you, yipping to alert whatever the darkness ahead leads to. 

"Be ready." Kirishima has bent forwards, head next to your ear. He exhales from his nose, as if he's preparing himself.

"For what?" You bite your bottom lip, eyes searching his face. It's hard to make out his expression in the low light. That only throws you off more.

"For what ?!" Louder this time.

You fall back into panicked silence when he doesn't reply. The quiet is arrogant and mocking. You feel small as you sit there. Being chaperoned to uncertainty— to your death, for all you know.

It starts off as a distant rumble. Then a light drumming sound, then it's louder. Then your there and the ground is vibrating. The scent of smoke is in the air. And something savoury. The aroma strikes fear and hunger into you. The weight of the day holding you still. As you approach the settlement you are met with a towering gate. The light from the torches not bright enough, leaving the top of the wall shrouded in shadow. There's a booming noise immured within the chestnut walls, slipping through the cracks—the wood harbours slithers of light in between the notches and natural carved curves— like holding your hand out in front of the sun.

One of the men yells something inaudible up at the ramparts, his horse stirring impatiently, kicking up dirt. There's a reply, though you cant't make out what was said.

Then there's a horrible grinding sound, like stone grated against bone. And the doors crack open, spilling light and song and smell out into the wilderness. It's intense, the heat of a furnace wafts onto your skin, goosebumps banished. You squint your eyes as the light floods into your eyes, holding a hand out in front of you to shield your face.

Your hear Kirishima grunt behind you, ordering his horse into motion. You sway with the sudden movement, your body stiffening to fight the fall, your eyes find Kirishima again. 

The deeper you are into the settlement walls, the more eyes are on you. Heads turn, low whispers are spoken. The place is thrashing with life. A sea of people swarm the horsemen. Some holding spears, some swords. Some dressed, like before. You catch sight of an emblem, on the hood of a mans cloak. A flame. 

You feel culpable, sitting there, higher than everyone. You feel endangered the longer they stare. You're being marched into the mouth of the beast, paraded down that path, funnelled into fire.

"Don't worry." Kirishima silently mouths to you. You can't bring yourself to listen.

He speaks again, but to everyone. "Nothing to see here, people. Carry on." His tone is friendly, but authoritative. Like he's speaking to an old friend.

You dismount alongside Kirishima, the horses are led somewhere you don't care to notice. You're more concerned with the thought of whats ahead of you. 

You stagger along, head thumping still. Still caked in grime. Still scared shitless. Your hands are bound together by the wrist, curtesy of Kirishima, who warned you not to try anything 'stupid'. 

The longer you walk, the more restless you become. All the waiting is killing you. The anticipation for the worst. Your growing unease is in situ with the growing volume of a drumbeat. There's a chanting in the distance. Then a hearty cry followed by what sounds like the beating of flesh.

THWACK

"Come on, Katsuki!" A voice encourages.

"Pummel him!" Another, a woman, cries.

"You have him, my Prince! Don't let it end like this!" 

THWACK

There's a wall of bodies, all crowded around one gravitational pull. Everything is strong smelling and gritty. All heated by a great pit of fire up ahead. Sweat pools on your skin. You groan as you're shoved to the front of the blockade. 

You can't even make sense of what you're seeing at first. An amalgamation of bodies pressed together— dripping sweat, blood and fury. Then you see an elbow draw back, a fist tightening before it slams down onto the face of a man. The impact recoils his head back into the soil, dust flying into the air. There are two blades discarded and forgotten beside them, the aftermath of what was meant to be a duel devolving into pure brutality.

"Katsuki!" Kirishima calls out.

His voice falls on deaf ears, only acting as fuel for the machine, the voices chanting, the beating of a drum perfectly time with each blow of his fist. You feel the ground tremor with each hit they exchange with one another.

"Katsuki.." You sound out, eyebrows knitted together. You watch as the man on the ground slams his forehead into the blonde, his long, two toned hair swishing wildly in all directions. He does it once. Twice. Then he swivels on top, overthrowing the battle. Though the act does little to quell Katsuki who is gushing blood from the bridge of his nose.

The men amongst the crowd whom are dressed in bright  flame-hued garments, all cheer the name 'Shoto' as he gains the upper hand. Frustrated groans emanate from those who stand in support of Katsuki.

"You bastard!" The barbarian fulminates, landing a callous right hook to the side of Shoto's face. He topples over again, Katsuki persists, disarming Shoto with a punch to the ribs.

You can't tell who's name is being yelled the loudest by now— your eyes locked onto the beating. The tempo of the percussion has reached it's climax you feel the vibrations humming in your veins.

"Hey, that's enough!" Kirishima, barrels in from behind you, closing the distance in three strides. He loops his arms around Katsuki's torso, hauling him off of Shoto. The man struggles, thrashing wildly like a predator with prey in its jaws.

"Get the fuck off'a me!" He spits, hands coming to swing at Kirishima.

"Cut it out." Tossing Katsuki to the side, actions not retaining any venom. He backs off, standing guard next to Shoto, who is holding his side, half-sitting. "The both of you." He shoots Shoto a look. 

The crowd dies down, some cursing, some throwing their hands up in irritation. All disappointed to see the fight end so soon.

Shoto nods, his slender body standing with little struggle. Katsuki stands too, though he seems more agitated. Chest heaving, face knotted in a deep scowl.

"Everything's fine, were done here." Shoto drawls, voice indifferent, his eyes locked onto Katsuki's. You doubt he's telling the truth.

"Like hell we are!" He sneers, vehement and foul. He looks like he's just barley holding himself back, body shaking.

"Kirishima, stand down." Shoto doesn't acknowledge the others words.

Kirishima grumbles something to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. The moment he lets his guard down, Shoto is halfway past him and slamming his shoulder into Katsuki, tacking him to the ground. He lands a few jabs at him before rolling onto his back with Katsuki in a chokehold.

Roaring erupts amongst the onlookers, each and every one of them eager. You stand there dumbfounded, watching as Katsuki is forced to tap out. Forfeiting the duel. 

This is also available to read on TikTok, Ao3 and Wattpad, all under the same username

[odetonettles]

Wander over, Loverˏ The Fall

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.

(Note: Im finally back!!!! Hopefully I can keep up with a consistent upload schedule )

Word count: 1,914

CHAPTER ONE: The Fall

A myriad of blazing fireflies whirl in the open air. Spinning and twirling. Never ending. Everlasting; the sheer glow of distant stars dwarfed by their radiance. Thousands of bodies betray their elegance— their movements blurred and erratic— swarming the tall grass. They zip in-between emerald blades, the flora blooming towards the lustre. A billion suns illuminating the sky as if it were day.

They conjure their form closer. Floating tightly now. Descending down, forming a silhouette. Delicate and enchanting, the figure resembles a woman, dazzling in all her glory. And out of pure brilliance the shapely figure comes to be, stepping out of the dispersing fireflies. Willing herself into existence. Born from flaming resplendence, she steps down out of the air and onto the grass. Idiosyncratic skin burning bright with the luminance of molten lava. 

A trail forms. The glowing luminosity from lingering fireflies light a path ahead. Each footstep the woman treads is followed by a blooming bud, one after the other each flower grows. Alien petals infused with a blistering shimmer, gleaming scarlet and clementine. In the near distance stands a tall warrior with red-hot eyes fixated on the approaching entity. Gleaming carmine locked to glowing vermillion waves of light matter.

And then you awake. Jolting yourself out of slumber, cold sweat trickling down the back of your neck. Your eyes flicker down beside you, a dull ache behind them as your gaze lands on your phone. You tap the screen, 2:03 AM. Huffing, your chest rises with inhaled tension as you pull out the earphones lodged in your ears. Groaning as you feel the shadow of a headache growing darker.

Shoving your head down into your pillow, your mind drifts to faint memories of the dream you were just having. You can’t exactly remember what it was about. All you can see in your minds eye as you sink into sleep once more is the faint glimmer of a blooming bundle of petals.

It’s hours later now and it’s the weekend. You find yourself sitting in your less than comfortable chair. Confining in its nature, you’re hunched over your desk. Fingers tapping subconsciously against the wooden surface. It’s dimly lit in the room. Sheer curtains mask the cloudy sight of the sky, filtering the light into a veiled haze of dull blue. A crisp gentle breeze wafts through the room.

You’re waiting to leave for your friend’s place. Today was the first day of the new campaign you and few new friends were running of some tabletop RPG game. Flutters of excitement run rampant in your stomach, unable to tear your eyes away from the screen of your phone. Manifesting the voracious desire into patience for the slow passage of time. The excessive stress of it all makes your head hurt more. You didn't know these people well, you were taking a leap of faith in hopes you would bond with them. In hopes you would make a connection.

Foot bouncing, fingertips fiddling— you slide your notebook in front of you. Flicking through the book until you land on a double paged spread. The page contains an intricate watercolour design for your campaign character. Eyes dancing over the page, you read over the annotated notes and splashes of colour, smiling.

You can’t help but think back to all the late nights you spent racking your mind for ideas; trying to come up with all the features and characteristics. Every. Single. Detail. Looking at it now, you notice how much the drawing resembles yourself, only more dramatised. Like an alternate version of yourself, fitting the fantasy setting your party had debriefed you on.

The buzzing of your phone draws you out of your trance. Slipping your phone into your hands you practically bark with excitement at the message previewed on the screen. Collecting your things with practiced efficiency, you shove your notebook into your bag. Bouncing through the house and down the staircase, feet fumbling in front of one another as you skid through the hallways and out of the house.

You stagger in the doorway, bouncing on the balls of your feet.

"—Going out to see my friends, mum." You whisper into the open air.

You make your way, winding through the labyrinthine streets of concrete and gravel. Monotone hues as far as the eye can see. Still. Joyless. Even the horizon looks lifeless. Once a spectacle now reduced to faded pastels drowned by brutalist monoliths. Buildings squat, some towering. Like a forest of solid bleakness. A canopy of dejecting melancholy, so thick and impenetrable that the light of the sun wouldn’t dare to pierce it. Your eyes wander the surrounding area, flicking to your phone screen every other moment. 

Then something catches your eye. Between two buildings, across the street, a distorted reflection of light flickers. Like a kaleidoscope but splintering and warped.

It disappears. And then appears again. Each time refracting, more contorted, but brighter now. It looks alive almost. The way it moves is unnatural, garbled as it twists. As it grows larger. it jitters and twitches and writhes. It pulls you in. Like gravity has been flipped on its back and you're falling towards it.

Your feet begin to move before you can think. Stalking closer, apprehensive but curious. Clutching your phone to your chest you whisper to yourself.

“What the fuck is that?” Lips parted. You suck in a breath of air.

You’re seeing colours you didn’t know existed. Unsure if you are seeing or dreaming. If you're seizing. Your eyes light up at the sight. You don’t know whether to be afraid of amazed. You don't think to identify the anomaly. It’s paradoxical in nature. Eyes locking onto it as you enter the alleyway, careful not to step too close. 

The rapid beating of your heart warns you to back up against the alleyway wall. The thing is constricting and twitching faster now. More aggressive in the way it snaps from one position to another. You itch to flee. To step back and out of its path. You raise your foot to tread away only to hesitate when it warps directly below your foot. Panic settles within you, eyes tracking it as it flickers. Back and forth. Left and right. You wait for an opening.

The window of time is closing. The gap thinning as you watch it grow. it has you locked there. You begin to envision what will happen if you come in contact with the visual cacophony. Looking directly into the core of it is like looking at the sun. A light of bright and otherworldly hues. Like a portal swirling in on itself.

You bite the inside of your cheek, wincing with trepidation as you force yourself forwards. Your heart drops fifty feet as you land on the concrete. There's solid ground below your feet. Then there isn't. Then you're dropping.

Falling.

You awake from a deep brooding pit of black. Light shielded by your eyelids cast you from your unconscious state. There's a thunderous thumping of what can only be described as a thousand heartbeats sounding from within a ribcage of earth. Shuddering waves of repeated battering on a drum of solid packed soil and stone. You tremble and your eyes crack open. 

Your senses return. Your ears ring. You make a horrible wheezing sound — the air knocked right out of you. You're blinded by a relentless white light, vision spotted with patches of black. Dirt is pressed up against your face, you raise your head.

Cavalry, overwhelmingly present, two sides of beating hooves charge towards a meeting point. An invisible wall of devastation directly aligned with your position. You clutch your head, locks of hair tangle in your digits. One breath, two. You need to move.

Time is running out. The ground shakes. You make a noise like a growl mixed with a whimper of urgency. You either move now, or get trampled into a mass of dirt and bone.

You fail to pull yourself to your feet, legs far to wobbly to stand fast enough. So you bring your forearms over your face and roll. Pebbles press into your stomach. Your hair gets snagged on the dry grass. But you go on, rolling and rolling , the ground beneath you looses its solidity. You feel the plush cold damp of mud and murky clay.

You keep going, the sound echoes closer but to the left of you. You're further from death. Though you're too late to realise you've sunk into a bed of peat and spongy earth. It's cold and it shocks your stiff body into motion.

"What the fuck— is happening?!" You croak, arms fumbling amongst the chunks of olive and cedar. Your is body encased in a thick sludge, your only want to flee. Trudging, wide eyed and panting you struggle backwards, straining and squinting to see the mass of bodies colliding just in front of you. You're so close to it all you swear you can feel a gust of wind from impact.

It takes you a few moments to register the grizzly state of the conflict.

The cavalrymen on one side are a vulgar sight. Teeth snarling and sharp, ornamented by braces of copper and bronze. Their hairless bodies vary in shades of deep purples and sickly greens, taut and stretched thin over their robust frames— nothing like you've ever seen. But the most grotesque feature is their uncovered brains — sun baked and shrivelled, a dull pinkish hue— that act as a frame for their eyes.

Awful, the strain the horses have to endure at the demand of their riders. Many of them are wildly snorting and writhing under the weight of the beasts on their backs.

You are unable to peel your gaze away as one of them, one of the beasts, one with a beak, brings his fist down on a horseman on the opposing side. The dull thud of the impact is long lost to the song of the battle, the hymn of blood spilled. You watch as the man falls from his mount. His bare back decorated with streaks of war paint ruined as he is trampled in the dust and dirt.

You fear for your own life as you watch the masses. The line along the field where they meet breaks off as a wave of arrows fly down from the south. You duck, though luckily, you aren't hit. Stray arrows fly over your head as you're submerged deeper in the pit, the chill reminds you of your predicament.

You reach for your phone. The viscousness of the muck makes it extremely difficult. You can feel yourself slipping deeper in the more you move. You take the plunge, clothes weighing you down, you are suddenly regretful of wearing such a loose outfit.

As you claw your way out of the soil, your attention is stolen by a shrill gurgling roar. You snap your head in the direction of the battle.

"The hell?" You whisper, voice trembling from the cold and the shock. You lock your eyes onto one of the deformed horsemen as its struck down by a blade. The strike is fast and powerful and is announced by a war cry. The yell rattles you. You can't reason with what is unfolding in front of you.

Your eyes lead you along the blade as it strikes again, to the hand, the arm, you glimpse a head of blonde hair before loosing the figure in the crowd.

read part two here!

[odetonettles]

Detective Love-struck! smooth criminal

the fourth and final part of Detective Love-struck! , part three here! Shoto x fem!reader in which reader finally uncovers who her secret admirer is.

Word Count: 5,295

It was yours and Shoto's turn to do the dishes. You stood next to Shoto, drying each dish he handed to you, zoning out in-between each plate. An ambient buzz filled the silence between you, that and the clattering of dishes and water splashing. A warm haze of light lit the room, blanketing you in golden radiance. Contrast to the cold blue that shrouded the outside, an onslaught to the soon approaching sunset. You'd caught Shoto stealing glances at you out of the side of your vision, but that was nothing new for you. Giggling to yourself quietly. You had complained once about soggy food in the sink, and how you hated washing the dishes, ever since then you'd be the one to dry everything and Shoto would wash them.

Thinking back on it, Shoto would do anything you asked him. If you were uncomfortable, even in the tiniest most insignificant, unimportant way, he would put himself in-between you and whatever it was that was irritating you. Even something as minuscule as preferring to switch tasks with one another. It was never a problem for him. You felt bad sometimes, he would always oblige, not even the smallest about of objection from him, no matter what it was. It kinda made you feel like you were pushing him about, making him out to be an easy mark or a pushover or something, with how he'd never decline. Aways willing, silent but willing nonetheless. He'd reassure that you weren't actually being a brat and how he didn't mind, but you still felt guilty for it.

You remember how in middle school, Shoto would share his soba with you whenever you were grossed out with whatever you had been packed for lunch. He'd told you once that it was compensation for always sitting with him in class, for being his friend despite, in his words, "how different I am to every one else" . He was often alone without your company, he had a silent aversion to anyone that wasn't you. So he'd repay your company with soba every now and then - and whenever you refused to eat your food of course. Those small favours were so simple, yet they meant so much more to you then it would seem.

"We should try those crepes Mina told me about." You turned towards the boy, catching his eyes on you yet again. Placing a dried plate down.

"Crepes?" He hands you another.

"Mhm!" You nod at him, turning back to work on a plate, "Mina- this one needs to be washed again- Mina told me they're real popular!"

"Tomorrow?" He takes the plate back from you," It's a date."

All of a sudden you had lost all hearing in both ears. If your older brother was here he'd call it selective hearing, but obviously he would. You called it your 'super annoying drawback from your almighty, all-powerful super secret telepathy quirk'. Either way, you chose to ignore what Shoto had just said. Instead focusing on the warmth in your cheeks, and drying the plate you were hold-

"Shoto this one also needs to be washed again."

The day was almost over, suddenly feeling productive, you'd decided to get ahead on your assignments for next week. You padded over to your laptop on your dorm desk to use the lounge area printer. You reckon it would be allot less time consuming to just print out everything you needed rather then writing it out by hand. Making your way over to the common area, you spotted a handful of your classmates conversing in the lounge, two heads of green hair, one red, one blonde and one purple. You nodded your head to Izuku in greeting, waving your hand to Tsu and Jirou as you made your way past, you smiled at both Bakugo and Kirishima, only being replied to by the red-head with an enthusiastic wave and a toothy grin. Bakugo looking to the side with an irritated pout, ignorant as always.

Finally you arrived at the printer, huffing you collected the paper that had been processed by the machine, it whirred as you took them. Noticing the touchscreen on the front of the printer, your eyes lit up with realisation. You tapped frantically at the touchscreen for a couple of seconds, coming to a stop as you stared at the screen before you.

'Printer history' Your heart was pounding, jumping against your chest, rhythmic pattern, erratic. What if it wasn't even printed here? What if he isn't anyone in this class? Your finger was twitching, hovering over the screen. You slid your eyes to the side, scanning your peripheral, you took note of the group, backs turned to you, apart from Kirishima and Bakugo, sitting on the furthest sofa, both oblivious to your current predicament.

You sighed with relief, a cold sweat beading on the back of your neck. You pressed the screen. Various file names loaded up along with the time they were printed, the user of the device the file was sent from, the pages you had just printed, and some other, random file names. You guessed they weren't the files you were looking for.

Scrolling down you spotted it. A file titled DearLnYn.txt, the first two words of the second letter you had received. You're heart rate had come to an all time high, you couldn't bare to look at the User, it was just off the right, your vision of the text concealed by your still raised finger. You snatched your hand down to your side, gaping your eyes to the right. Your next breath hitched in your lungs.

File name : DearLnYn.txt 20:57 User: Izuku Midoriya

"Eh!?"

Your mind was racked full of voices, each one talking over the other. Frantic, panicking voices. You had begun retreating back to the confines of your room, completely forgetting to bring your printed assignments with you. You picked up the pace, wanting to get as far away, as fast as possible, from the green haired boy. Your thoughts, disorganised, chaotic and muddled, swirling, you lost your footing. Coming to a stop stumbling against the hallway wall. Steadying your breath and setting your mind straight. What the hell is going on?! You were unable to even fathom the possibility that Midoriya could be the one who- You were almost one hundred percent sure that it was-

"Yn," Shoto Todoroki appeared in front of you. "What are you.." He gulped, breath harsh,"What are you doing?" You raised your head, latching onto the sight of the boy, he seemed distressed.

"Shoto.." Your eyebrows creased, head tilting to the side, subconsciously drawn to his form, you approached him wearily, like you're afraid he'd shatter in this state. "Whats'a matter Sho?" fiddling with the fabric of your shirt. "Sho?"

"It's nothing serious," He turned his full attention towards you, still tense but his eyes soft. "It's just my father- he's so irritating." Coming closer to you.

"What happened?" You lean into him, head placed gently on his shoulder. You could hear his heartbeat, the pace of yous matching his as you made contact with him.

"He just- he's so overbearing, even when I'm away from him. Even when he can't watch my every move, he's still so overpowering." He huffed, brushing his hand against your arm briefly before continuing, " I expect nothing less from him, but it's still is so infuriating. Asking me if I'm training hard, if I'm slacking off, as if." He sharply uttered. "Who I'm hanging around, like they're distractions. Like I came to UA to make friends." He held his head low, eyes furrowed staring into you. Body rigid until he slumps his shoulders. "Im sorry."

He gripped your shoulder, pulling you away from him so he could see you more clearly. "I don't mind, Shoto, it's okay." Smiling up at the boy, you felt the compassion in his stare.

“Thank you for listening, Yn. I mean it.” Hand still resting on your shoulder, so warm, so right.

The sight of him stole your breath right out of your lungs. His eyes all over you, beautiful, crystalline. The yellow light of the hallway rebound off of them. Casting a warm glow into his stare. Natural blood stained locks framing his face, flicking downward to his mouth.

You didn't know what to say, at a loss for words you remind silent, admiring.

“Were you headed to your room?” He questioned, “ I was worried when I first saw you. You looked disoriented. Are you feeling okay?”

A little stunted by the sudden interrogation, you felt your cheeks heat up as you nodded sporadically, “mhm,” You hadn’t quite come to terms with your new findings just yet, weighing the pros and cons of telling the boy standing in front of you.

Coming to a quick conclusion, “I have something to tell you Shoto, something I just figured out.” His soft smile found itself replaced, his eyes working their way around each feature on your face, as if you had your next words on display. His eyebrows pulled together with concern.

" Deku is the one who wrote the letter."

"What."

“I don’t know either Shoto. On the printer,” You gestured a hand behind you, towards the common room, “I found the file, the letter. Said it was printed by the ‘User: Izuku Midoriya.”

“That-“

You shrugged, lips pursed, slapping your hand to the side of you face, rubbing your eye. “I don’t know…” You trailed off. “Listen, I think I'm gonna go get some rest, ‘s been a long day.” You reached up to him patting him on the chest, “ You sure you’re okay? I can stay with you if you need.”

He shook his head, eyes drifting off, thinking. “No..” He mumbled, clearly deep in thought. At that you tapped him one last time before saying your goodbyes, treading off towards your room once again. Sighing head facing the ceiling, contemplating. Your head hurt.

You woke up with a blunt ache in your head, your efforts last night to nurse your incoming headache proved to be useless. You groaned miserably at the feeling, memories from yesterday returned to you, only worsening your mood. You felt like a backseat passenger in your own body, on autopilot as you got ready for the day. You managed your affliction well enough though, washing the sleep away. You catch your eyes in the reflection in the mirror, downtrodden dark circles under your eyes. “Lovely.” You moan under your breath. Grazing your cheek with you fingertips slightly. An image of Midoriya flickers in your head, you cringe at the thought. Looking over your appearance as you inspect your face for a couple moments before turning out the door.

You aren’t greeted by Uraraka and Mina this morning, turning into an empty hallway, you start walking, gripping your bag. Your footsteps, the only sound in the hall, echoing, before you hear a voice.

“Morning Yn!”

You spin. Izuku Midoriya stands behind you. Your heart drops. You feel like you're in some reoccurring nightmare, trapped in an endless hallway, or a helpless victim in a thriller, were the perpetrator is a quite harmless-looking teenage boy. You shudder, embarrassed at the thought. It's just Deku, you reassure.“Morning.” You unenthusiastically drone with a limp wave, head throbbing.

“Mind if i walk with you?” He marches up next to you, so loud.

“Uhmm..” You stutter thrown off, you track his movements as he walks up to you, “yeah if you wanna.”

“Great! Thanks Yn!” He gushes lyrically. Tilting his head as he notices you grasping at the side of your head, “Everything okay?”

“Just a headache.” You grimace at the blunt tingle. "I'll be fine."

You walk with the boy for a while, stopping on the path to your first period class. "Midoriya?"

He keeps waking for a few paces, rambling on to himself about his hero studies, before stopping with a squeak, "Yn?" He turns to you eyes wide with curiosity. "What's up" Smiling.

"You're the one who put those letters in my locker aren't you." You purse your lips, eyebrows curved downwards. Better to get it over with now. "I can't accept your feelings, Midoriya." You shake your head, eyes trained on the floor, “ Especially not since I-“ Your head shoots up.

“What no!” He mirrors you, shaking his head, although a lot more frantically. He raises his hands in defence, waving them side to side, his eyes wide in peril.

“Wha…” You sigh, mouth agape, nostrils flaring in embarrassment.

“You’ve got the wrong idea! I-I swear!” He slowly starts backing up eyes looking anywhere but at you, deep red coats his face, fading all the way down to his neck, he takes -what you think is the deepest bow you’ve ever seen, muttering something unintelligible before scrambling away .

What the hell is going on?!

You look around, checking to see if anyone just witnessed whatever it was that just happened. Empty hallway. Good. You reckon Midoriya was just nervous, at least you were able to let him know that you couldn’t reciprocate how he feels. Dragging your feet as you follow behind him to class.

Throughout the entirety of first period, Izuku Midoriya refused to acknowledge your presence. Not that you wanted him to anyways. The interaction you experienced prior had been seared into your brain, sweating discomfort. When he saw you walk though the door he spun himself around, knocking himself into an unaware Bakugo. You watched him in silence as he almost jumped out of his skin trying to apologise to the boy, only to have his tie yanked, and then exploded. Shuffling past the two of them as indifferent as possible and taking a seat. You leaned to the side, two seats ahead of you sat the boy, squinting your eyes at him, as if that would grab his attention, if he looked back at you- he wouldn't, you'd probably try and hide. You were attempting to gauge whether he was set to ignore you for the rest of the day. Shifting back into your seat. Looking over to Shoto, about to greet him, you realised you weren't the only one with your eyes on Midoriya.

Shoto eyes had darkened, examining the green haired boy, none the wiser. His brows had pinched together, corners of his mouth downturned in the start of a deep frown. You'd never seen your spit haired friend so worked-up, not at Midoriya at least. You reached over and tapped him on the shoulder. The contact dissipated the look on his face, swivelling his head to face you, all of a sudden calm. Only the twitch in the corner of his mouth remained, a shadow of his face just seconds before. He pulled his head to the side, resting it on his shoulder, staring into you. "Yn? Need help?" He lifted himself out of his chair slightly, resting his forearms on his desk, leaning towards you to get steal a look at your work.

"Nooo, all good, and good morning." You ducked your head at the sound of Aizawa announcing something unimportant, you continued talking, quieter this time, "Why are you giving Deku a death stare?" You jerked your head in the direction of Izuku.

"Morning." Looking at Deku and then back at you. "I wasn't giving him a death stare.." He looks back again at the boy, "You can kill people with a single look?" Dead serious face.

You opened your mouth preparing to respond, finding no words coming out. "Shoto..." You could not believe what you had heard, more concerned then amused. The boy squinted slightly before twisting his mouth into a small smile. So. Not. Funny.

"It was a joke, Yn." Now smiling fully. Pearly whites figuratively blinding you. You exhaled, pinching at your nose bridge. You almost believed he was serious. Pursing your lips, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you smile, he took your lack of reaction as a chance to poke at your cheek, taunting you. You slapped his finger away, puffing out your cheeks and turning away from him, trying your hardest to focus on your classwork. "Don't ignore me."

"Go away." You bluffed, looking back at the boy to make sure he knew you weren't serious. You cupped your hand to the side of your face, blocking yourself from his view.

"Fine." He shuffled around for a moment. You peeked out between a slit in in between your fingers only to be greeted by the sight of Todoroki copying your pose. You snickered. "you're so annoying."

You have an inkling that Shoto is mad at Deku, what for, you have no idea. Classes had just ended for the day, Shoto spent all day at your side, like he usually does. The absence of Midoriya evident in the way he avoided you like the plague. As quiet as Todoroki can be, today he was scarily silent. Brooding almost. You had briefly separated from one another to get changed for your after school outing, planning to meet up to go to the cafe together. Only you were snatched up by Mina before you could reach Shoto. Foiling your plan, what would have been a relaxing stroll was now quite literally the opposite. At least she has the decency not to drag you down the street.

You sent a text to Shoto, letting him know. You felt bad for leaving him behind, but your pleads to Mina to wait up fell on deaf ears. Slipping your phone into your pocket, you caught up with Mina, she was skipping ahead of you in the street, twirling, in a world of her own. Your mind drifted off recalling the events of the past couple of days. Retracing the letters you received, thinking back to the notes Deku had written: the list of 'clues' you had gathered the night before. You couldn't comprehend how he'd go out of his way to help you, whilst also being the one you were looking for the entire time. How scheming. Even if you did ask him for his help in the first place, you couldn't see why he'd do it.

He's like a serial killer who disguises himself as an innocent civilian, helping out the police investigation- or something like that. An image of Deku with red horns protruding from his green locks, paired with a forked tongue pops up in your minds eye.

You lingered on the notes Deku had written, the only ones - that you knew of- that applied to him, were that he's male, he's ranks 4th in class, so does that make him skilled academically? Or just above average? You feel your head ache returning.

When it comes to combat, you can admit he's certainly resilient, and adaptable. Other than those two being checked off the list, you had no idea how well off his family was, in terms of money. Or what fruits he likes and what tv he enjoys. And obviously his quirk was not fire related, if that clue proves to have any meaning behind it. On top of that, he did attempt to deny your accusation. Sooo..?

You furrowed your brows, working through what he said to you this morning. Could it be that it isn't him after all?! A flame lit in your chest, taking a deep breath in, the crisp air coated your lungs. Cooling glaze of the wind coating you. Ahead, you spotted the pastel cursive sign of the cafe you were heading towards. Treading on.

Forced out of your thoughts by Mina's excited squeal, spinning on her heel to grab at your forearm, the scent of her perfume forcing its way into your nose during the close proximity. She yanks you towards her, "We're here!" Pulling you to her chest, "Lets go!" Before taking off, still holding on to you. You struggle to balance your footing, letting her drag you off.

Up ahead, through blurry, shaky vision, you spotted- through the stores glass window, Kirishima and Bakugo sitting at a table, Bakugo was yelling at the red-head, hitting him over the head with a textbook. Ouch. Bouncing through the store doors, Mina shimmied over to the boys. Where the hell does she get all that energy from? She had let go of your hand on the way in, turning around you see another group of classmates approaching the store. "Guess this is it." You say to Mina, she doesn't hear you.

Slightly disheartened as you slip into the seat of the table, parallel to the full one beside you. Glancing to the side, Bakugo side-eyes you, also ignoring you, only on purpose. He hisses at Kirishima and the pink haired girl after they ask him if he wants anything. Noooo don't leave him with me, you whine in your head, as they walk away, not daring to actually say that out loud less the ticking time bomb hear you.

Unloading your bag, placing your stationary infront of you, turning a couple of pages in your notebook, you come across the notes Deku had written, you must have tucked the page in there yesterday night. Like right out a scene in some cheesy cartoon, a light bulb lights right up above your head, or at least that's what you imagine you look like right now. You snap your head to the right, directly at Bakugo who has his nose in his textbook- the one he was using to bludgeon his friend mere moments ago.

"Soooo Bakugo." You saunter up next to the boy's sitting figure, your chair making an agonising sound as it drags across the floor. He's now leaning back in his chair, hands in pockets, scowl on face. " How do you feel about murder mysteries?" You ask, slightly low in volume. One eyebrow raised, squinting at the last word, accusatory. Slowly you lean towards him in an attempt to analyse his reaction.

"Hah?! You hit your head or something? Forehead! " He growls, eyes narrowed, snarling like a beast.

You gasp, slightly hurt at the insult, standing up straight, fist clenched to your chest with hurt. "Jerk! It was just a question, no need to insult me!" You pinch you brows together, balling your fists at your side in frustration. ass.

"What type of questio-" The boy only gets more riled up at your reaction, jumping out of his chair, it falls against the floor with a crash. Garnering the attention of a few employees. "You got a death wish, freak? Who are you calling' jerk, huh?! " He gets all up in your face, it doesn't seem like it's him, and for that, you're thankful. What a handful... The blond boy continues, spitting,"You're the one stalkin' me, staring at me like 'ya do, 'n asking weird questions! Freak!" He yells again, 'Jeez I get it.' His voice filled with venom, eyes darkening.

" I was not stalking-"

"Whatever." Bakugo spurts out a string of curses that you can't even recognise, not even letting you finish, barging past you to walk over to Kirishima, who's staring at you two, concerned look on his face. You shrug at him. Bakugo wasn't even a little bit bashful at your interaction. Your shoulder hurts where he knocked past. You follow his frame over to where he's walking and spot your split haired friend. Shoto's here! You think as drag your chair back over to its rightful table.

That went well. It also means there's only one suspect left, unless Mineta- who is currently eyeing you, outside, pressed up against the glass- Is secretly a super smart, super strong rich guy. What a pig.

You gulp hard at the thought, not at the thought of Mineta, gross, but the thought of approaching him. The task suddenly seeming daunting.

It's possible. If Deku and Bakugo count as suspects, he could too. He fit into over half of the criteria the culprit had laid out for you. It had to be him. You wanted it to be him. It all seemed clear to you now.

You trudged up to him, announcing your presence with every step. Not even able to get a word in before you pull him out of the door with you, abandoning your studies. He stumbles back, gripping you for balance, "What's the matter Yn?" He sounds the tiniest bit annoyed at your rapid attack.

You ignore the strain in his voice, "Going to get crepes, remember?" Looking back at him him, innocent look planted on your features. He relaxes at your explanation, slipping his arm away, only to replace his touch with a hand wrapped around yours. The warmth returns to you, humming contently. This isn't so bad.

"Which flavour will you get, Sho?" You nudge him with your shoulder, loosely knocking him to the side. You get pulled along with him, his grip on you never loosening.

He returns the favour, although a lot more gentle. "Im not sure. What flavours do they have?"

You recall the information Mina had told you when you asked her the same question, "Chocolate hazelnut, caramel, Oreo annnd~ strawberry too!" You list the selection of desserts to the best of your ability, probably forgetting some.

Shoto clicks his tongue, heedless to your advances.

Arriving at the crepe stand and ordering the goods, Shoto picks out the strawberry flavour, just like you did, which could mean absolutely nothing. You smile at him. He smiles back, shooting a rush up your spine, diffusing into goosebumps all over you. Did he always have this effect on you?

Soon after you order, you are handed your treats by the clerk, you pull out your wallet, only to be bested by a faster, more agile Shoto. "I can pay, y'know." Offering.

"That's too bad, because I'm paying." He quips.

"So sassy, Mister." He sniffs at your nickname.

The two of you take a seat at a nearby bench, Shoto preferring to sit with you only, rather then return to the rather packed cafe.

"I think I figured it out, Sho" You break the comfortable silence between the two of you, taking a bite of your crepe. It's filled with a cream filling sweet and fluffy, completing the soft crepe and the tart taste of the strawberries. You hum, pleased, taking your mind off what's to come.

"Figured out what, Yn?" He mirrors your pattern of speech, taking a bite of his crepe, peering at you out of the side of his eye.

You turn your head to face him. "What do you think?" You question sweetly. Twitching your eyebrows up at him.

"Midoriya wasn't the one who wrote the letters." His voice is quiet.

"Right," You turn back. Finishing your food.

Neither of you know what to say. There's a breeze lingering in the air, it rushes over the both of you, cooling you down.

"You. You or Deku, one of you put the notes in my locker. You had him help you?" Your tone indicating you weren't entirely sure.

You suspicions were confirmed with a nod, red and white hair swaying along with the motion.

"You had him help you. Give me clues 'n stuff, to let me know who you were. To tell me how you felt." His gaze lowered over you. "That's why on the printer it said he printed them."

Another nod.

"Did you write the letters, or did he?"

"I did." He struggled to keep eye contact, looking away. "But he did help."

"If Deku helped you write the letters, why were 'ya glaring at him in class this morning?"

" I thought Midoriya was trying to take credit for writing them. Since he never came to me, to tell me you found out.."

"I don't think he'd do that Sho."

He didn't reply to that. Clearly unconvinced. Unwavering in his opinion.

It was hard to believe you were right this time. The signs all pointed toward him , but still you struggled to come to terms with it all.

"I never knew you liked strawberries Sho, thought you were kinda indifferent to 'em" You saw it in his eyes, his eyes were looming. Hardening. "They're my fav too y'know!" You try to ease the sudden seriousness the conversation was steering towards.

At that he looked at you again. This time he didn't look away.

"That's why they're my favourite, Yn." His eye contact unwavering, cool-toned eyes frozen in place.

'Jeez,' You chuckle, "You're allowed t'have your own opinions you know." You joke at the boy.

He doesn't reply, but you know he knows, he just doesn't care.

You stayed seated like that for a while. Shoto got closer to you, gravitating towards you. Just like he'd always do. He smelled sweet, lips glazed with the remains of the crepe he'd eaten. The sun was setting now.

You don't know how long you were staring at each other for. You found yourself leaning in to his frame, growing ever close to you. You looked up at his fluttering lashes, trembling lip. He wanted to say something.

"Whats on your mind, Sho?"

His breaths had picked up, gasping slightly. He shut his mouth, huffing out his nose, in frustration.

You were patient with him, placing your hand onto his that was resting on the bench in-between you and him. You saw he was nervous in the way he tapped his foot at an irregular pace, and how he couldn't look into your eyes for more than three seconds.

"Hey it's okay." Cupping his face, directing him to look at you. His eyes were darting around and his breath had hitched at your touch. Then he relaxed into you. "You could've just told me you know." Tilting your head, " Didn't have to do all this."

He nodded, placing his hand on top of yours, running his fingertips up and down your wrist. "It was easier then telling you in person."

"Right, I remember you said that in the letter." His second hand lingered over you. Up and up until it planted itself onto your cheek, pulling you into him. Forehead resting on yours.

"Well, detective." Leaning impossibly closer. "What's the verdict?"

You giggled at his nickname, 'Detective' you whispered, remembering the last time he called you that. "You're guilty."

"Yeah." Chuckling.

Both smiling ear to ear, childlike, giddy. Shoto pursed his lips, smile fading into something calmer. You were about to pull away, but he tilted his head against yours, lips hovering just inches apart.

"I really want to kiss you, Yn." His squeezed your wrist his his hand, the warmth traveled up you, like a shockwave.

You didn't answer, fulfilling his request instead. Your lips lead onto his. Tender and sweet, just like you. It send a million sparks through him, staring at his fingertips, his lips, all the way though him. Shoto had to fight the urge to activate both his quirks, pulling away as soon as it got too much.

You were met with the sight of a steaming Shoto, mist rising from his left side, frost tricking up his neck on his right.

He quickly rids himself of the frost and flame, apologising with a bow of his head. Surprised when you only laugh in his face. It lights something in him, a flame. He wishes he could watch you laugh forever. His fantasy is cut short as you gasp, suddenly enamoured with the sunset on the horizon.

Rays of gold laid out before him, but all he could see was you. You were encapsulated by the sight, sitting still against him, beckoning him to follow your eyes, but he watches you instead.

He grew up hard. But he fell in love with you way harder, and it showed.

OMG AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH TAHTS IT EVERYONE!11111!!!

this is barley edited so excuse any mistakes plz </3

p.s, I'm taking suggestions for any headcannons/drabbles/mini fics so if you have any ideaaaaaas... 😏

Series taglist:

@sikuthealien @morganalatina21 @bleedingwhiteroses222 @johnnysilverhandeeznuts

[odetonettles]

Detective Love-struck! a new lead

part three of Detective Love-struck! , Part two here! Shoto x reader in which fem!Reader discovers a second clue towards uncovering her secret admirer!

Word count: 3,467

Todoroki Shoto didn't stay in your dorm room long, claiming he wanted to 'go to bed early' because of 'training tomorrow.' A sensible idea you thought. Much unlike your own sleeping habits, you'd often get so wound up in your own thoughts, that you end up falling asleep in the early hours of the morning. You soon came to realise tonight was no different.

You had just turned over onto your other side for the umpteenth time in the past half hour. It was currently midnight, to your dismay. You dread how you would feel in the morning. Your legs were restless and you could not, for the life of you, get comfortable in any position you rolled into. You growled into your pillow, giving up hope on sleeping at all. You sluggishly reached over to grab your phone, seething at the sudden flash bang, working your finger desperately to lower the brightness.

*one unread message*

Sho ᐢᗜᐢ : Good luck with tomorrow, I hope you and Midoriya have a pleasant time. 21:02

That's a little strange, you never told Shoto about your and Izuku's plans. Thinking about it a little longer, you come to the conclusion that Midoriya was probably the one to tell him. You hum, pleased by Shoto's message to you, at least now your mind was at ease. Shoto doesn't seem upset at all. He's real dry in his texts, but you assume that he didn't mean to sound the tiiiiniest bit passive aggressive. Not that he has any reason to be. You scoff at your own stupidness.

Hearting the message, 'cause you're too lazy to actually reply in text, you roll over with your phone in hand, clutched to your chest, trying one last time to sleep, before you actually give up on rest. Your heart feels as heavy as your eyelids as you finally fall to sleep.

The morning rolls around way too soon for your liking, you slide out of bed rubbing at your eyes, dragging your hand across your face. You groan at the feeling of a headache forming. That's what you get for sleeping late. You'd only slept for a total of six hours, and it was showing. Getting ready and fixing up your hair before you leave for the day, you glance in the mirror briefly, tongue in cheek, you wonder if Shoto is awake yet. You're curious if he'll like your hair today. The thought of Shoto sends a mellow feeling budding through your chest, you sheepishly eye yourself in the mirror. "Pull yourself together!" You squawk. Rushing out the door, huffing.

You're met with the sight of two girls walking by, arms interlinked with one another. You recognise them as Uraraka and Mina. "Oh good-morning Yn!" Their girl with pink cheeks chirps.

"Hey girl!" The girl with pink skin shoots a quick wave at you, before stopping, turning on her heel to face you.

"Morning Mina, Uraraka! You mind if I walk with you guys?" Uraraka shakes her head smiling sweetly, contrast to Mina's more aggressive, animated display, hopping over to you linking her arms with yours.

"Have you heard?" Your twitch your head to the side, questioning.

"Some of the guys and girls in our class are going out after class tomorrow! We're gonna visit a super cute cafe!" Uraraka walks up to your other side, unoccupied by Mina, holding on to your free arm.

"There's a cute Photo Booth in that area! And a crepe stand that's reaaal popular! You should totally come with!" Mina leans her head on your shoulder, squeezing your arm affectionally.

"Well we're all going there to study actually, but who can turn down a sweet treat?" Uraraka tilts her head forward at you to garner your attention. Holding onto your arm a little tighter, closes her eyes, enveloped in a dreamland filled with desserts and good food. "I definitely can't." She sighs flopping her head down onto yours.

"Oh" You stutter, slightly taken aback by the sudden affection. You had no idea about your classmates plans,"Who will be there? I mean-I can totally go." You explain slightly wide eyed due to your fumbling of words.

Mina snickers, leaning her head forward to make eye contact with the girl with brown hair. She squints her eyes and holds her hand over her mouth in a weak attempt to stifle a chuckle. "Don'tttt worry girlie, Todoroki-kun will be there!" She takes her finger poking at your ribs, as you try to swat her hand away.

You feel your face heat up, embarrassed, "That's not wha- um, that's great! Any other guys coming?" Nice recovery.

Mina deadpans as you whip your head around to see Uraraka making an attempt to mimic pinkie's face, only she looks a lot more amused, her lips wobbling, and her eyes glazing over with tears as she zones out, trying her hardest not to burst with laughter. "Ummm guys?? What's funny??" You prod. You feel a weak wave of humiliation wash over you. Trying to hide your face by pressing your chin down. You end up looking stupid, smooshing your chin into your neck.

"Nothingggg" she drags, " You guys are like besties right?"

At that you raise your head to look at her. Nodding, "Yeah, ever since we met in elementary school."

"Exactlyyy," She drags on. Silent for a moment," Kirirshima, Tokoyami, Kaminari and a couple others are coming, even Bakugo was convinced to show up." She snickers. "Can you believe that? Thought he'd be too good for a casual outing to grace us with his presence.." Mina mocks, lowering her voice in an impression of your blonde classmate.

Uraraka nods in approval," Deku's coming too, and Iida. As for the girls.. pretty much all of them are gonna go!" She places her index on her lip, as a gesture of thought.

oooh okay, you think, "Sounds like it'll be fun." Both of the girls agree on that, nodding on queue, still holding onto you as they walk. They've successfully assimilated you into their posse.

Training whisks by faster than you thought it would. Your tiredness had worn off, or rather, you had forced yourself out of exhaustion and into liveliness out of pure fear. Bakugo Katsuki was currently barreling towards you, deathly grin on his face. He was out for blood. The last sparring match of today's training session. You verses a literal death sentence. He swipes at you with his right arm, igniting his quirk right as his open palm passes your face. You grimace, swinging your head back. The overwhelming heat from his power causes you to throw yourself backward, violently trying to evade his attack.

You land right on your ass, bouncing on the padded floor with an oof . You almost think that he'll attack you again as he lingers over you, arm raised, scowling. You hold your breath in anticipation only sighing with relief when Aizawa sensei calls off the 'battle'. Bakugo looks at you out of the side of his eye, peering at you with what you can only describe as pure disdain. He scoffs, "Weak." Before turning his back to you hoofing off.

A few faint 'whoop"s and claps of sportsmanship - or pity, probably pity, fill the silence left by your teachers orders. Now you have to live with the embarrassment of today for the rest of your life, annnd, a sore bottom for the next half hour. You grip your back as you stand up, feeling as though you just aged sixty years in two minutes. You straighten up catching Shoto's eyes on you. Oh god. A lump in your throat as you jaunt over to him.

"How embarrassing was that." You widen your eyes and throw a thumb over your shoulder. Like you just witnessed something that would garner secondhand embarrassment. As if you didn't just make a pathetic spectacle of yourself in-front of your entire class.

"You need to work on your combat techniques." He suggests.

"You need to work my foot up your ass- What was I supposed to do?!" Throwing your hands up, instantly regretting it as you look around, noticing Bakugo staring you down with that same hatful look on his face. You shrink into yourself, shoulders deflating in defeat.

"We all have weak spots within our abilities, Yn. Yours must be close quarter combat."

"Okay Mr. Perfect. That's soooo easy for you to say y'know." You poke at his chest. "You are practically invincible, what's your weakness? A undeniable constant-craving for soba?" You pick up the pace in your prodding, "If I dangle a bowl in front of you will 'ya wag your tail??"

Shoto exhales sharply at his, feigning annoyance in favour of amusement. He shakes his head in disagreement, "I excel in power when I use my ice quirk, however I do in fact have a weakness." Pausing he looks to the side for a moment before turning his attention back to you, his eyes stutter to your lips for a moment before continuing, "I have an aversion to using my other quirk, my fire. But, I am working on it. I'll be invincible soon though." Dropping the irritated act, a sly smirk creeps onto the boys face, obviously proud at his quip. Sooo not charming.

Before you can reply, Shoto falls in line with the students slowly filtering out of the training room. You drift over behind him, making your way out the door, you feel a silly sure, but for some reason, you find yourself stuck on Shoto's words, his fire . Still deep in thought you shake the suspicion out of your head, deciding to just forget about it for now. Instead choosing to narrow your eyes at the back of his neck, channeling your secret super telepathy: I know what you are. Cough if you're guilty. Nothing. You roll your eyes clearly not convinced. I'm onto you boy. You can't fool me, Im gonn-

You crash into Todoroki as he suddenly stops. You blink rapidly reverting your eyes as to not look absolutely insane. He hums at the contact before turning to you, " Want to go get soba?"

" Yeah okay." Shrugging.

Lunch with Shoto was usually filled with silence and quick glances at one another, your spilt hair friend focused on his bowl for the majority of your meals together, only ever replying to conversation whenever he was spoken to. But for some reason, today was different.

"Any new leads, Yn?" Shoto stops slurping his soba, turning his attention to you fully. Dual hue eyes leading to yours and flicking over your face as he waits for a response.

His sudden directness startles you,"Huh? Oh, right. " For a moment you'd almost forgotten what he meant, " No actually, nothing at all." You shrug. Deku perks up at this, He looks almost surprised. You turn your head as Froppy speaks up.

"What are you guys talking about, ribbit?" Tsu tilts her head. This draws the awareness of Iida and Uraraka, suddenly you have an audience. You itch at the feeling of eyes on you.

"Ohhh its nothing really- Um I got a letter. " Waving your hands, "From someone..! Only I don't know who its from..." You trail off and purse your lips. You take a moment to look at every one at the table individually.

"Ooooh! What kind of letter?!" Uraraka places both hands on the table lifting herself and leaning towards you, eager to get closer.

Iida hastily chops his hands at her, "You mustn't ask such invasive questions! And sit down!" He orders.

Midoriya shovels a spoonful of rice into his mouth, humming merrily, oblivious. "Oh it's a love letter!"

Again Deku?! Seriously?

Ochako freezes before latching onto you, squealing as she purposely ignores the plethora of commands from Iida. "Really? Oh wow!" She shakes you, " How romantic!"

"Well I certainly ribbit wasn't expecting that." Finger on mouth, Tsu quips. Wow backhanded much.

"It's whatever guys! Not a big deal I swear!" You try to focus on your meal but you can feel your face grow more and more red in real time. You eye Shoto in a silent plead for help. He notices your predicament and smiles. Is he dense?! Wow thanks a lllot for all the help. - You hate him.

The teasing from Uraraka was constant throughout the rest of your lunch, Iida right behind her chastising her every move. Deku apologies sheepishly and you turn away from him huffing with your arms crossed. You obviously weren't that mad, but you still wanted him to feel bad. Maybe he'll learn his lesson this time.

Your last period of class had just ended, you make your way out of your classroom, remembering, Deku had mentioned he'd be waiting by the lockers so you could walk back to the dorms together. As expected, he was there waiting, along with Todoroki and Iida. You wave as you approach them, Shoto notices and raises a hand to you. He looks pleased at your sudden appearance, per usual, he always has a smile on his face when you show up. He beckons you over. You spot Midoriya wave a goodbye to Iida, turning to you. Once you reach them you huff and release the tension in your shoulders, as if to express the wear of the day. Deku hums and nods in acknowledgement.

"Just need to get my stuff from my locker, then we can get going." You sling your bag over your arm and swivel round to face your locker, inputting the code and opening the door with a crack. As the door opens, you notice a small slip of paper float out onto the floor. Shoto sees it too and bends down to reach for it. "Thanks Sho." You reckon it must be a loose sheet of paper from your notebook. At closer inspection Shoto comes to a conclusion.

"It's another letter." He looks up at you and hands it over, his hand brushing over yours. He's so warm.

"From the same person?" Deku gets in closer, now both of the boys are huddled around you, leaning in to see the new letter.

"No idea." You unfold the paper, briefly scanning over it. You slam the Locker door shut with your hip, leading the boys in the direction of the dorm building. You nose is still buried in the paper as the two boys trail on either side of you.

"Yn, would it be okay if I joined you and Midoriya?" The boy nudges you slightly, brushing his arm agains yours. You lean into his touch and continue walking.

"Yeah Sho, 'course you can. Right Deku?" You smile up at him, cheeks rounding into apples. You turn to Midoriya, for a split second, you think you see a confused expression on his face, he's looking right at Shoto. It doesn't last long as he looks back at you, shaking his head in an overly-eager manner.

"Yeah! I-it's not like it's up to me anyways." He scratches the back of his neck, chuckling with his eyes closed. You think you see a drop of sweat drizzle down the side of his temple. weird.

"Then it's settled! Tonight we'll crack the case! I can feel it!" You raise both your arms, with a newfound determination. Your heart is beating rapidly, you can't believe you'd almost forgot how fun this could be. The way you felt at this moment was reminiscent of the 'good old days'. The days in which you could mess around with your best-friend all day, play pretending, so entranced in each others company within your imaginations.

You glanced back at Shoto one last time before exiting the school building, his face matched yours, lips curved upright, staring into you, silent like deep water. In this moment you knew that he was feeling everything you were.

You, Midoriya and Shoto were sat in a circle on the floor of your dorm room, in the middle of the circle was the two notes you received so far.

"So I'll start by reading out both letters, then we can work from there." You look up at both of the boys opposite you, checking to see if they were on the same page. Izuku is sitting with a notepad in hand, pen in other, eagerness in his eyes. You shift over to look at Shoto, he's sitting with his legs crossed, hands on his knees unmoving. He nods at you, ready.

You start with the first letter, clearing your throat:

Dear Ln Yn, I'm writing the letter to you, as I feel as though it will be easier then telling you this in person. Over the time we have spent together, I have found that I enjoy your company much more than anyone else's. To put this as plainly as I can, I have developed feelings for you, as a friend, and as something more. When ever I see you, I feel as though my whole world comes to a stop, It becomes difficult to notice anything else other than you. Like tunnel vision or something similar. So I suppose this counts as a confession and I don't have much else to say other then how I'll set your heart alight.

You pause before looking up at them again, "Should I keep going or..?" Deku is scribbling away at his notes, quickly looking up and signaling at to carry on. Shoto hasn't moved at all.

You exhale, picking up the second note:

Dear Ln Yn, I hope this letter receives you well, I've thought about my first attempt and decided that my approach was perhaps a little creepy, you have to understand I lack experience in this sort of thing. Ive only just realised that you would be more open to my advances upon you, if you knew more about me. For example, my favourite fruit is strawberries, My family is quite well of in terms of money, and I fair very well in both the practical sense and academically , so if it comes to it -and our relationship progresses to the point, I will be able to support you financially.

You pause at that, looking up with wide eyes, "That escalated fast?!

"So bold!" Midoriya chimes in. Locking eyes with him, sharing stunned look with the freckled boy.

You gape in awe and utter disbelief. "This guy is serious." You frown back down at the paper reading on.

Other then that, during my free time, I like to watch variety of television shows, off the top of my head, Criminal minds,- well, comes to mind. Forgive me if this is a little lacklustre, if you couldn't tell already, I can be a little clueless. Again, I hope you are well, and that this letter will provoke some semblance of a positive reaction from you.

Farewell Yn.

You sigh, stretching your back and looking up. "That's it." At that deku finishes writing on his notepad, you look around trying to gather any impressions, Shoto, neutral face, bland as ever. Although you catch him fiddling with the fabric on his trousers.

"Ive gathered every-thing they mention about themselves," He tosses the notebook to you, "And everything that might be true about them, things that might not be said outright, but hinted at."

You glance at the writing on the notepad, its slightly intelligible, handwriting scribbled erratically:

• The culprit is male • Well off finically • The culprit likes strawberries • The culprit is academically proven to be skilled • The culprit is practically skilled, hero course??? • Culprit watches tv- Murder mysteries??

You scan your eyes over the page, well that narrows it down. You hum in a questioning tone," How'd you figure out he's a guy?" You raise an eyebrow and peer up at Izuku who's fiddling with his fingers, he looks a little nervous.

"Well, he mentions supporting you, financially. And commonly- well- you know, within families, the husband is usually the one to take care of money. In the sense tha-"

"Ohh right! Makes sense!" You nod, now understanding where the boy was coming from.

"Annnd, usually girls are more enthusiastic I guess??" He chuckles, pleased to find you appreciate his explanation.

Right.. as if you aren't You muse in your head. You hand back the book to Midoriya, who takes it from you with a smile.

"Oh, and add that they might have a quirk related to fire!"

Midoriya freezes in place, body rigid all of a sudden. You quirk an eyebrow up at him, and he responds by nodding, "Right okay!" Quickly scratching at the paper with his pen. "Okay then now we can start to-"

There's a knock at the door, followed by a "Dinner!"

"Oh!" You stand up, "come on guys, we can finish up later,"

final part

only one part left until the end of this mini-series guyyyyyzzzz (✿´‿`)

I feel like this part is a little corny, especially the letter part lol, plz forgive me, idk if its obvious or not but I'm making up this story as I go, without any plan or anything,so I apologise if the plot is a little silly or flat. ♡

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@sikuthealien

IMPORTANT NOTE:

: ̗̀➛ If you would like to be added to thisseries taglist, any upcoming series tag lists, or a taglist for all of my writing works, feel free to let me know. I would be happy to add anyone, it feels great seeing people enjoy my works! ♡

[odetonettles]

Detective Love-struck! the hunt begins

part two of Detective Love-struck! , Shoto x reader, in which Deku and Reader brainstorm ways to uncover the secret lover who gifted reader a love letter! fem reader, I apologise for any errors in advance,

cw: mentions of bruises on Shoto's arm, child Shoto being afraid of Endeavour, implied bullying.

Word count: 1,613

The walk back to the 1-A dormitory was riddled with half-baked plans and endless cries of paranoia, no matter how hard Izuku had tried to rationalise it, your mind kept drifting back to the last line of the confession letter you received. The last thing you had expected on a random Wednesday, was a love note, there were no upcoming holidays, like valentines day or anything. The forest training camp funded by your school, Yuuei, had just ended a couple weeks prior, love was hardly in the air. Rather, the overall vibe of your fellow students had only just started to revert back to normal.

It was only the first semester of the hero course, and you'd only just started learning more about your classmates. The possibility that one of them could be the culprit seemed absolutely insane to you, you barely knew them, they barley knew you. Its not like you liked any of them anyways.. not in that way.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by Izuku hatching yet another scheme,"what if we can gain access to the security cameras in the hallway! That way we can actually see who put the letter in your locker!" His hair bounced along with his words, he talked so fast sometimes it took you a few a few moments to process it all.

You're you were reminded of your younger self persistently trying to convince your hometown police station to let you in on their investigations. Prancing around with Todoroki, hand in hand, play pretending you were legendary investigators tracking down a high profile criminal. Claiming you didn't need the help of the actual investigators, you and him were waayyy better off without them. As humiliating as the memories were, you couldn't help but feel a sharp twang in your heart at the sudden recollection. Echos of the reminder rung warm within you, you smiled softly at the thought.

Snapping back to reality you replied to the boy, "As helpful as that would be, I doubt that we'd actually be allowed to review security footage. The time that would save though.." You actually considered it for a moment,"Im sure we can figure it out on our own though!" You raised a fist with ambition, as Izuku's eyes lit up with excitement.

"y-yeah okay!" The boy stuttered at your sudden enthusiasm, what was up with you all of a sudden?

By the end on your first week at your new school, you and Shoto were already attached at the hip. He had this inexplicable gravity towards you. You were quiet, but friendly, not snarky or cruel like the other kids that approached him. You never made uncomfortable comments like, "Why is your hair like that?" or "What's that weird mark on your face?" You never poked him or pulled at him, and you'd let him hold on to your bag as you'd both wander around too. Sho liked to wander with you, it would get too crowed sometimes and you'd always drag him away, nicely of course.

You liked how he listened, no matter how long you'd talk. At first you thought he was zoning out or ignoring you, but then you would aways notice a soft smile creeping up on his face whenever you'd get to an exciting part in whatever story you were telling. He didn't shy away from your excitement when describing your favourite sweet or tv show, he was drawn to it. Like a warm flame, one that he wanted to nurture, although young Shoto wasn't sure how. He figured staying close by you would be enough for now.

You were inseparable in no time. Completely enchanted, the boy would get worried that one day you'd change your mind, that you'd find him weird, or get angry at him for not being able to come to school some days. Or for being upset, and not being able to tell you why. You'd notice the bruising on his arms, he'd worry that you'd be sacred of them, but you'd just smile at him with that smile of yours and drag him off to show him a cool rock you found.

Shoto would start to greet you with slight enthusiasm, better then nothing, whenever you would meet his eye before you'd go into school. He craved you the same way he'd crave a cold bowl of soba, although you made him feel a lot warmer on the inside, you made his heart beat faster then anything, and when you'd smile at him he felt like he was falling in place. It panicked him at first, he confused the feeling with the way he felt whenever his father would come home. Then he realised he wasn't scared when he was with you, like when he was with his mama, he was happy with you. He wanted the both of you to stay with him forever.

You and Deku had made plans to brainstorm a solution to crack down on the 'crook' , but that was for tomorrow, right now you were sat on your bed in your dorm room, fiddling with the cloth of your pyjama leg. Cheek resting on your knee with a befuddled look on your face, the days events fading through your mind, going over each every word of the letter. You had it open on your bed in front of you, the once pristine edges now crumpled and folded from your aggression earlier. You scanned over the words once more, 'I'll set your heart alight'..

With petrol orrr...? No. stop being stupid, you thought, obviously the person responsible isn't an arsonist out to get you. You hadn't done anything wrong! Besides who would put a threat in a love letter. It's obviously an attempt at courting you. Perhaps they have a quirk related to fire! You sat up, back straight. Groaned loudly, why hadn't you thought of that before, you guess you're just on edge sinc-

knock knock

Jumping in your skin, your heart racing, you scramble to reach the door, you unlatch the lock fumbling with the door handle, hands still shakey. You sigh a breath of relief, realising it's just Shoto at the door. Shoulders relaxing, you invite him in,"Hey Sho," you chuckle, "you startled me for a second."

"I apologise Yn," You notice the boy clenching and unclenching his fists, eyes still calm. On you, as always. You learnt over the years to look for other signs of body language, other than his eyes, such at fiddling hands tense jaw, clenched fists. Although you seem to be the only one who ever notices the behaviour. Was he nervous? "Are you busy at all?"

Your lip twitches at the sudden question, your heart jumps a little, calm down you weirdo, "No, not at all, come in!" You beam up at him, you wonder how you don't have smile lines around your mouth yet, considering all of the cheesing you do at him.

Stepping to the side, you lean against the door, letting him walk in past you. "What's up" His hair is slightly damp, he looks like he's just showered and smells warm and like mint.

"I.." He pauses for a short moment. Blinks, thinking, "I was thinking about what Midoriya said earlier." Cool toned eyes immediately latch onto yours.

"Oh yeah?" You ask strolling over you your bed, you sit down, back and head now against the wall , you pat the space next to you, inviting him over.

He nods,"Yes. Midoriya mentioned you received a letter?" He asked, tone slightly questioning, mostly monotone. The boy didn't seem at all phased by the situation. You study his face, no disruptions in his features, no strain or tenseness. Body completely relaxed.

"Yeah, it's right here. Pretty strange huh. Who the hell prints a letter out without writing their name or something. Ive got no idea who it could be from." You hand it to him, gesturing to the writing on the paper. "It's just a regular love letter, 's got a confession and everything, nothing out of the ordinary." You state as if you get love letters on the regular. You've never received one before but you guess that that's what they usually say. "No hints as to who they could be."

Shoto nods again at this. You turn your head to face him, his eyes lurking over the text meticulously. Damn he's more into this than I am. He hands the letter back to you once he's done. "It seems as though you have a secret admirer." He turns his head, faces inches apart.

"Yeaahhhh", You lean back slowly trying not to bring any attention to your movements. "What do I do? Should I even try to track 'em down?" Turning your head away from his, feeling much less flustered staring at the ceiling instead. "Would it be even worth it? The type of person willing to send me on some wild goose chase, I mean, who would do that. Am I overthinking??" Haphazardly swishing your head back around to look at him. You're greeted by the sight of Shoto staring right back at you, having not moved an inch.

"No. Perhaps this person will make another move."

"You mean like, send another letter."

"It is possible, Yn." He replies, face serious as ever.

"So you're saying I am overthinking this." You huff, acting fake annoyed at him. He responds by pinching your cheek in-between his thumb and index softy, a slight smile on his face, a rare glint in his eyes.

"Don't twist my words Yn."

You chuckle slyly, pretend glaring at him,"Im not! You're supposed to make me feel better! Instead you're just enabling me."

"Right."

everrrrr so slightly shorter than yesterday's part but here we go! Im aiming to make the next part longer, but we shall seeee

hope you guys enjoy ! ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Let me know how you liked this one, and feel free to ask me anythinggg ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

part 3

[odetonettles]

KATSUKI BAKUGO, masterlist ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

⌗ fics

Wander over, Lover

⌗ CHAPTER ONE: The Fall

⌗ CHAPTER TWO: The Fallout

⌗ CHAPTER THREE: The Climb

⌗ CHAPTER FOUR: No Such Mercy

⌗ CHAPTER FIVE: Outlander

[odetonettles]

SHOTO TODOROKI, masterlist ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

⌗ mini-fics

Detective love-struck!

childhoodfriend!Shoto x fem!reader, in which Reader discovers a love letter in her locker.

⌗ Detective Love-struck!

⌗ The hunt begins

⌗ A new lead

⌗ Smooth criminal

[odetonettles]

Detective Love-struck!

Shoto x reader in which Reader discovers a love letter in her locker, and recruits deku to help her. fem reader, maybe oc deku and shoto idk, reader has an older brother, first little fanfic thingy, I haven't written in god knows how long don't burn me at the stake plz

Word count: 1,707

When you were younger, stupider and shameless, you and your only friend Shoto, would play detective during your free time together. At the age of five, you and your comrade had already solved ONE case, the infamous 'who stole older brother's motorbike?!' case, which you and shoto apparently 'took credit for' or whatever that means. Despite how much you swore to your brother how you and Shoto knew where it was before the police. And how you tipped the cops off with your super secret telepathy quirk that no one but shoto knew about.

He responded with a, "well if you're so smart why don't you figure out where my old 3DS is?? by the way, you don't have telepathic powers, forehead." You'd clench your fist every time that cursed nickname left his lips, but anyways, you accepted his challenge, walking away cursing him with the most vulgar name you could think up, telepathically of course. you swear you heard his breath stifle in shock as you stomped off, coincidence? I think not.

Your winning streak of problem solving ended with anger at your rivals, the police down the road, when they refused to let you into the station after you relentlessly demanded that they let you see the files of fifty year-old unsolved homicide case. The next day you sulked to Shoto during lunch, who stared at you with that blank stare he always does."you tried to break in again?" An accusation?!?!?!? The tipping point.

You fake-angry threw your paper cut-out detective badge, that you and your best-friend made during arts and crafts, with all your strength, only for it to slowly flutter to the ground awkwardly. That day you announced your retirement from the force. Claiming all the hard thinking was giving you wrinkles, that only caused shoto to look more confused, tilting his head to the side. "Wrinkles?"

"On my forehead." You huffed.

Your interest for the antics of detectives on tv and corny live-action crime thrillers died off as your ambition and hope to become a real life pro hero ignited, as did your connection with Shoto, even if you started to see him less frequently as the years of your childhood passed by. It was a blessing that you managed to land a place in class 1-A alongside your companion. Your bond reinvigorated, grew stronger as you were reunited with the boy, the lingering figure of his father, Endeavour had dissipated, granting the boy a newfound freedom. You found yourself spending almost all your free time with him now, way more than you ever did when you were kids. And you were grateful for it. So very grateful.

Now, both you and him had matured, albeit not a lot since you were both fifteen, but in a fifteen year olds eyes, it was a lot. The boy's once chubby cheeks now had a more slim-chiseled appearence. His head of hair was the same length, perfectly split down the middle, not one stray hair misplaced on either side. His eyes were more narrowed and stern, still fronting that blank look that his eyes always held. However hard his stare was when he looked at others, he'd never dare look at you with that coldness, whenever he caught himself glancing at you his creased brow would almost immediately flatten. His gaze defrosted into liquid, a softness so delicate and reminiscent of the early days of your relationship. The days where he'd follow you around, craving the warmth of your presence, your smile, you, and everything a five year old brat could offer. In your case, it was friendship.

You and him were two peas in a pod, Detective Shoto and his partner, Sometimes in class you'd daydream about playing detective with him, like how you used to, but you guess you both were a little too old for that now. Besides it's not like there was any mysteries to be solved in the halls of Yuuei.

Not until today.

"a love letter!?!? oh wow!" Deku shrieked a bit too loud for your liking. His whole body shook as he held onto the straps of his backpack. A few students lingering around the halls looked towards the commotion.

"Yeah but shhh!" You leaned closer to the boy pressing your finger to your lips harder and harder. " I don't want anyone to know, it's embarrassinggg! What if they're messing with me? I don't even know who wrote it! I don't wanna get my hopes up you know..." You mumbled that last part, your finger silencing yourself made it hard to talk. You've never been popular with the male species, only ever receiving confessions as jokes from more popular, less disliked, boys. Not that you minded all that, you had a best friend after all, and he was a boy! You were considered popular and you were liked by him!

You tossed your head about to shake the thought of Shoto to no avail. You felt you cheeks heat up. "Can you read it out to me? Maybe they gave a clue as to who they are!" Deku ignored the redness in your face, chalking it up to nervousness. Yeah, you were nervous alright, nervous about what Shoto would think. He's always been relentless in the pursuit of your attention, you couldn't help but wonder how he would react to all this. Would he be mad? No why would he. He has no reason for all that.

You take your time reading out the letter you found in your locker, looking up to meet Izuku's eyes after every sentence, waiting to see if he caught on to any hidden meanings written in-between the lines of the confession. You'd read the letter countless times, scanning over every word to no avail. Only deciding to drag Deku into your conundrum as he was walking past. Whoever had written the letter gave no clue towards their identity. It was just a confession. No 'can you meet me behind the school later today?' or ' will you go out with me? Just an ordinary love letter. Apart from the last section. At the bottom of the paper read a slightly threatening, ominous quote:

"I'll set your heart alight. "

The words made your chest tighten, but not in a good way. It gave you a funny feeling in your stomach, such a normal letter ending so strongly, you were kind of unsettled. "Don't you think that last parts s'a little odd?" You mentioned after finishing up reading. "Kinda sounds like a threat to me." You suddenly gasp, "What if our undercover lover is a villain! They could be plotting to kidnap me ..or worse!" Due to recent events, everyone had the possibility of kidnapping looming over them.

" Umm.. I doubt that a villain could sneak into Yuuei, especially now. I think it was maybe just an attempt romance." Deku chuckles, trying to lighten the mood.

"No I seriously thi-

"Yn. Midoriya." Shoto Todoroki stood behind you. You hadn't even noticed him sneaking up on you, whether it was his intention or not, he scared you straight.

"Oh! Hi Shoto!" You calmed yourself, turning your head to make eye contact with him. He only grew closer to you, taking the eye contact as permission to get closer. You could feel the air get hotter as he lingered next to you, reaching his head forward so he could peek at what you were holding so tightly in your hands. His eyes offering no insight to his current emotion whatsoever.

"What is that?" Tilting his head. Suddenly embarrassed you smushed the paper into your chest, crinkling it. "Uhhh.. I got a letter! I don't know who it's from though. Not that it matters." You shrugged. Nice, the nonchalant approach.

"What kind of letter?" He strained his neck for a moment longer before backing up. Face still, ice cold. You sighed at his retreat. Anxiety welling up in your stomach, 'why the hell am I so paranoid for?' You thought.

You were about to dodge the question when Deku asnwered for you, "Its a love letter! From someone unknown, we're actually trying to figure out who it could be from!" At that you crumpled in defeat. Thanks a lot Izuku. Why the hell are you trying to cover it up so much anyways? Huh?!? Your inner monologue accused you.

"Oh." He stepped back even more, No longer feeling his warmth, the hall seemed a whole lot colder without him so close, you urged to scuttle up to him, Only to turn to see Shoto preparing to leave.

"Would you like to help us Sho?" You offered, not wanting him to go so soon. Leaning at the hip towards him, head tilted down, eyes looking up at him.

"No thank you. I have to go, Goodbye Yn, Midoriya, good luck." And at that he started to walk away. You rushed to find something to say, deciding to just let him go, offering a small, "Bye Sho." Along with Izuku's cheery goodbye. 'Was something wrong? Did I do something wrong?' Your spiralling thoughts were soon interrupted by Deku," I wonder what that was all about." The look on Izuku's face mirrored yours, laced with confusion, only less angsty than yours.

"he's probably just busy with assignments or something, wants to get ahead." You chirped, lightening the tension.

"weird of him to turn down an opportunity like this though, he's usually all over this kinda stuff, he's a real hardcore theorist sometimes!... don't tell him I said that."

"oh really?" you jest. Tension dissolved, nice. As if you and him weren't attempting to solve murder mysteries during break time a couple years ago. The memory returning to you, you can't help but feel a little sad.

A couple moments of silence and then, "Ive got it! we could track them down through their handwriting!"

"yeaahhh... but the letters printed!" you retired the letter from your iron grip with an obnoxious groan, provoking a handful of glances from students passing by. "good idea though." You shrink into yourself a little, eye twitchy as you try to disappear through sheer willpower.

"the culprit has thought this out really well.."

"Yeah.. no clues or anything. Apart from the curse at the end."

"Yeah."

AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH PLZ LET ME KNOW IF YOU ENJOYED THIS IM WORKINT ON A PART TWO!!!

I don't rlly know how to write stories like this, perchance ill turn it into a mini series or something

part 2

[odetonettles]

Masterlist ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

masterlist of everything I've written ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

Shoto Todoroki

Katsuki Bakugo