poseyringaround

[poseyringaround]

MASTER LIST ☟

HIRAETH - bakugou katsuki x f/reader

↳ a story in which two stranded teenagers figure their way of surviving by this ongoing apocalypse that heros failed to stop.

(more in coming)

[poseyringaround]

HIRAETH - CHAPTER ONE, (1) are you idiotic? |

𝓤sing every bit of strength you begged God, you scrammed away from the group of crankers that made its way to you.

It has been 15 months since the mini quarantine turned into a global pandemic. It was taken casually as a virus, which was no surprise to the rotting world until statistics implied that 1/4 of a country was dying. Before that first fact was brought to the news, 5/13 of the world's population was already rotting away. In silence.

You bit your bottom lip to suppress your frustration as you glided on Joe's grocery supplies' floor. Towards the corner, you rethought all your decisions and regrets. The first thing on mind was stepping food into this god-forbidden city.

Midway into the global pandemic, as provinces fell, their cities were later built into trap cities that would be triggered by any movement that was trapped in their structure. nuclear explosions, toxic air that would be ignited, creating an explosion, large pieces of the city hanging, ready to fall, and countless more traps.

But you had no choice. Animals were a once-in-a-blue-moon sight, and you were running low on canned foods. The disastrous weather roamed the land, and until you made sure of it, the city was clear.

The last two months of preparation for this couldn't have been enough.

Growing into this new lifestyle, killing cranks was terrifying but adrenaline-running. It came in handy that your quirk was cosmic energy, as you were able to extract bits of space from your defense and offense in silence, but it took a toll on you.

Cosmic energy; the manipulation of energy that roams the universe. From teleportation to telekinesis (what you were familiar with), as ethereal as it may sound to be related to space, it is mixed up with one's capabilities. Energy beyond what humans could understand, even more, when they have to handle it. It was too much.

Gradually draining the life out of you, you minimized your use of it as migraines and staggered thinking occurred more so often.

You see, that's not handy. The dilemma of either draining your life or saving a few more minutes as an offense against these... devils.

You were going to die anyway.

Adrenaline wasn't going to save you here. Not with that gash on your calf that spilled blood, the more pressure it was being compressed with.

Hence you squirming away on the floor like a pathetic—yet another—human who was about to be eaten by a group of crankers.

Clicks and rasped breathing approached you as your back hit the wall—finally. The rotting stench of previous victims of these crankers reeked while it abnormally made its way to you.

Its head's evident decay to the rest of its body, hanging on by a few mere dead organs that held its misery while others looked as terrifying; another that had another cranker's arm in its mouth—to what you'd assume—was once a human before turning into it.

It hadn't come to mind how mortifying  it looked until you looked up while it gawked at you, almost mocking you.

There was no way this was how I was going to die. Only by a few crankers? It has only been two hours—I even used every bit of bullet I had planned—fuck! Where's the grenade? No, that won't work. It'll just attract more. It's a goddamn city—for once, think common sense, you bastard!

Was this god taunting me for not being stronger? For not saving them two? For not thinking straight?

You clutched your eyes as your grip on your calf relaxed, accepting your fate. The raggedy pace of breathing came closer as it scrambled the supplies that had long been destroyed along with its city. You held your breath until-

Until?

How complete silence sent an eerie feel; nothing happened. It was agonizingly quiet as you kept your eyelids shut, awaiting the inevitable strike, but... nothing.

"H-huh?" Your eyes fluttered open, readjusting to the light that shot through the store's glass.

Again, met with the stumbled shelves that lay on the floor, the lights flickering inconsistently, and the scattered objects.

"Are you going to continue sitting pretty or waiting for an-infection to form in that calf of yours?" a raspy voice spoke.

нιяαєтн

(n.) a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which may had never; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past.