trust || mastermind!reader x kokichi

phantom thief x poltergeist killer au

[a/n]: dude this au has been eroding my brain for a while now so i decided to write a oneshot of this au, yahoo

. . .

Crime is something incredibly clear, yet trivial at the same time.

Some people may say that the lines are so blurred to the point where you can't possibly place yourself. Then again, I'm 99% sure the entire world agrees that committing murder is criminal material.

One step at a time, I bounced through the streets like a carefree teenager. Avoiding the cracks in the sidewalk as if one wrong step could send me to my demise... what? It's fun. You should try it.

Shiny, neon lights illuminated the night sky of the ever-so busy city, filled with the sounds of cars driving by. Ordinary people, going about their ordinary, boring, forgettable lives.

I guess it's a shame- or blessing that I decided to pay them a visit.

Newspapers everywhere! Splat with the huge captions, 'WANTED: Poltergeist Killer', followed by an incredibly blurry picture of me. I'm gonna be honest, it's like they aren't even trying to get a good shot of me. Nobody knows what I look like! Pity, I know.

I couldn't look good in these if I tried. Trust me, I have.

Where was I? Oh, right. Poltergeists. They're known for loud noises and physical disturbances, no? An incredibly... rowdy spirit. I think that's the word!

I smiled softly to myself, feeling the cool breeze brush against my skin. I took my headphones off, stopping in front of a building.

Now, you may be wondering, 'but Poltergeist! What do you have against this area?!'

To answer your question- nothing. See, there's this thing called 'the law hates my guts, and they're after me 24/7.' There's also this thing called, 'whenever I commit an atrocity, the internet goes fucking insane.'

They say they're against everything I've done, that I'm a horrid, corrupt monster, but they can't hide the fact that they flock to the newest stories under my name. That's how it works! I provide the highlights, they spread the word.

All that talk about wanting to stop me, when they're one of the only reasons I'm doing this in the first place. It's funny how the world works, right? Already absolutely unforgettable, building my reputation at the ripe age of 15. The goth kids are gonna go wild with their PowerPoint presentations on me.

It's been a year or two since I started. I sort of lost track of time.

I reached for my purse, pulling out a glass bottle and a match. Okay. Deep breaths!

I took a few steps back, preparing to make a run for it.

I lit the match and the exposed end of the wick on the homemade bomb.

An explosion rang out. I turned tail and ditched.

From a distance, I watched the golden fire spread; the once clear air polluted with the scent of burning papers, and soon, human flesh. Different people have different scents, but if I had to pick the most memorable, I'd have to describe it as charred hair, melted plastic, followed by a slight coppery tint.