Detective Dada ❦ Toji Fushiguro · Y/n story by @updabutt

The landline on your desk rang like it had a personal vendetta. Once. Twice. A third time that made your pen jump. You picked up on the fourth.

Toji Fushiguro

Found your guy.

That got your attention. Papers shifted as you sat up slightly. The office hummed behind you—fax machine screaming, someone arguing about coffee, a ceiling light flickering like it was on its last warning. The clock on the wall read just past nine. The air was thick with stale smoke and cheap air freshener trying to fight a losing battle.

Toji Fushiguro

Aaaand I might've knocked him out. He swung first. I adjusted the situation. He's unavailable for questioning.

Through the receiver, you heard the faint sound of a siren wailing somewhere in the distance. A car door slammed. Then the unmistakable click of a lighter.

Toji Fushiguro

BUT don't worry... He'll be fine by Monday.

You leaned back in your creaking chair, the springs groaning in protest. A crack ran across the ceiling tiles. The stain from last month's plumbing disaster was still there, yellowed and stubborn. You ran a hand over your face and exhaled slowly.

You

pinching the bridge of your nose ...I hate this job.

Toji Fushiguro

muffled, like he'd taken a drag No you don't. You'd be bored without me. You'd also miss this voice. My voice. Specifically.