translucent body and love - oumota pregame ghost/human au
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/StlImez
by trickcup
"Shut up, there's no way there's ghosts here," Kaito shook his head rapidly, brainstorming alternative possibilities frantically. He had always been against things like the occult and denied the very existence of the supernatural, but hearing it mentioned gave him some serious goosebumps he just couldn't shake off. "There's just no way.. No way!"
"Oh, but there is a way!" A mysterious alluring voice chimed from behind him with a teasing undertone to the statement. As soon as Kaito heard this, his entire body was drenched in sweat as he let out yet another rampant screech. You could practically hear it from the next block.
"Urh.. huh?... AAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!"
Words: 989, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Fandoms: Danganronpa V3: Killing Harmony, DRV3, Danganronpa, danganronpa v3 - Fandom, Danganronpa Killing Harmony
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: M/M
Characters: Kokichi Ouma, Kaito Momota
Relationships: Oumota - Relationship, oma/kaito, kaito/oma, kaito/ouma, ouma/kaito, kaitouma - Relationship, kaito x kokichi, Kokichi x Kaito, oumomo, Kokichi Oma/Kaito Momota, momota kaito/kokichi oma
Additional Tags: Poltergeist, ghost boypussy, im not good at tags
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/StlImez
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“You’ve been lying all this time?” for oumota pls?
ch5 canon divergence AU
“You’ve been lying all this time?” Momota panted, climbing into the exisal after Ouma, still a little dazed from the poison. He stumbled inside gracelessly, slipping on a puddle of blood and nearly landing face-first on the controls. With a trembling hand, he reached out to pull himself up, staring at Ouma with a wide-eyed look on his face. “Are we… Are we seriously staging a murder scene and taking down the mastermind?”
Ouma looked over his shoulder, throwing him an incredulous look. “This is seriously the most important thing right now, Momota-chan?” he asked, a deep scowl twisting his face into an ugly grimace. “And no, we are not taking down the mastermind, we are trying to take down the mastermind.”
Momota could feel a grin pulling at the corner of his lips, a tickle of a laugh bubbling in his chest.
“Same difference,” he breathed out, plopping down on the seat just as he felt his legs buckling under his weight, the rush of adrenaline from before slowly making way to a deep-bone exhaustion that settled heavily in his limbs.
He wasn’t quite sure how Ouma was still capable of standing, his small frame trembling uncontrollably and skin sickly pale and gleaming with sweat in the dim light of the exisal cockpit. Even in this light, he could still see the trickle of blood dripping down the length of his spine, making something deep in Momota’s gut twist and turn in unrelenting guilt.
He managed to wrap a scrap of his shirt around Ouma’s arm in a makeshift dressing, but there was little he could do for his back, the wound inflicted by Harukawa’s arrow cutting deep through the skin and not giving them many options with their limited supplies.
Momota blinked, Ouma’s voice pulling him out of his thoughts. “What?” he asked stupidly, realizing too late that Ouma must have been talking to him. .
Ouma rolled his eyes, but didn’t comment, distracted with a book clutched in his hands. “There’s a box under the seat,” he said distractedly, flicking through the pages, “open it.”
Momota found the box easily, pulling it from under the seat and lifting it to put it on his lap. He reached for the lid, curious to see what’s inside, only to be greeted by the sight of a fresh pair of clothes. His clothes.
He carefully pulled out his jacket, the same one he had seen not so long ago disappear crushed in between the plates of the hydraulic press. He stared at the jacket for a long moment, speechless, running his fingers over the tiny stars scattered along the entire length of the inside layer of the fabric.
When he finally managed to pry his eyes away, Ouma was looking at him, observing his reaction closely. His face didn’t betray any emotion, a perfectly blank canvas carefully devoid of any indication of what he was truly thinking.
Momota swallowed thickly around the emotion he couldn’t quite label, pulling the jacket closer to his chest. “Thanks.”
A shadow of emotion passed through Ouma’s face, only to vanish as quickly as it appeared. He offered a curt nod, turning back to his book, shoulders tense and little tremors still wracking through his body.
“Better put it on,” he advised after a moment, not looking back. “The trial is probably gonna start soon.”
Momota drew a shaky breath, realizing that Ouma was probably right.
Time was of the essence and they were running out of it and quickly.
He carefully put his jacket on the back of the seat and made a quick job of undressing, taking off the bloody clothes and throwing them in the corner and replacing them with a fresh pair of jeans and a shirt, sighing in relief and reveling in the softness of the fabric.
He reached for the jacket, but before he could put it on, he caught sight of Ouma, still crouched on the floor in nothing but his blood-soaked pants, leaning over the book and scribbling in it furiously with a pen he must have kept somewhere.
Ouma flinched violently the second the fabric made contact with his skin, head whipping back forcefully and mouth opening in a soundless yell before he could fully realize what was happening, his eyes widening in realization.
Momota put his hands up, keeping eye contact. “I’m good. I don’t need it.”
“You will need it later,” he said, blinking up at him. “When you make your grand entrance, remember?” He sounded a little annoyed, frowning at Momota and yet making on move to take the jacket off. “You have to look like you always do to really sell it.”
Momota smiled slightly. “Yeah. Not now, though. I’ll take it back later.”
Ouma nodded slowly, still eyeing him suspiciously, but not fighting him on it.
“Okay...” he said, pulling the jacket tighter around his neck. “Okay.”
Momota decided to count it as a small victory.
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