*make Him Think He's Cancelled Dbsbsjsb Hope Toge Cancels Us 🥹 Your Subconscious Is Putting The Idea

bUt HuNtEr bIdEnS LaPtOp!

"he would not fucking say that" i say with disgust, but im not talking about characterization im talking about his, like, vocabulary

*this is your subconscious ooooh*

*make the inumaki smau*

*also drink water and eat fooooodddd*

*be nice to yourself*

*and make the Inumaki smau*

AGH- THE VOICES NOOOO

bokuto’s valedictorian speech ♡

<3

— 1 missed call from [Name] —

Realistically, he knows he shouldn’t call you back. Ignore the missed call, head back to bed, and forgot you forever. Forget the romance you once shared and move on. Forgot all the words of love that ever left his lips. You are not his and he is not yours.

But he can’t. He can’t possibly ignore you when you’re calling him at 2AM, yearning for him in whatever way you do.

So he calls. Like the fool that he is, he calls his ex-girlfriend of one year back.

“Hello?”

“Tsukishima…” you trail, and your voice is distant. So far, so small, so fearful. He hears your hesitance from one word only.

He wishes you could call him your Kei again.

“Why did you call me?” Tsukishima responds with hostility, for that is all he knows. When he lost you, his ways changed and his heart turned to stone. It seems that anger is all he knows these days, a hard tongue made of venom and stone.

“I-I wanted to talk to you.”

You stutter. You stutter and Tsukishima knows that you’re drunk. You have a few habits whenever you’re intoxicated, and a stutter is always accompanied with the alcohol.

“You’re drunk,” is all he says.

“I know.”

“Talk to me when you’re sober,” he goes to cut the call, but a quick wait! is enough to halt his movements.

“God, I don’t even know why I even called you,” you whisper, as if speaking to yourself.

He sighs, “where are you?”

“Um, I’m not sure.”

“You went out not knowing where you’re going?” He asks, and it’s that condescending tone you hate. The one that pushed your relationship to its limit.

“It’s not like I wanted to be here,” you whisper yet again, a measly attempt at defending yourself.

Another sigh, another sign of disappointment, and Tsukishima finally speaks up.

“Go to the Maps app.” You mumble a small okay, and do as he tells you. “Now zoom in on your location and send it to me.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

You listen to him and soon after Tsukishima gets a notification. He doesn’t bid you goodbye, simply cuts the call and gets up from his bed. He heads for his closet, grabbing two jackets, and heads out the door.

He’ll see you for the first time in a year.

-

And see you he does.

You’re sat on the curb of the road, your knees pushed against your chest and your head resting on your knees. It seems as if you’re asleep, your eyes closed and body still.

He kneels beside you, whispering your name loud enough to wake you up.

“Huh?” You groan, turning your head to look at the man you can’t seem to let go. “Kei?”

There it is. It’s always sounded so sweet on your tongue, so sultry and intimate. It’s his given name, the one he grows to love each time you say it.

It’s bittersweet hearing it from you.

“Why are you just sleeping in the middle of the road? What if some pervert stopped by?”

“But nobody did,” you say, logic leaving you in your drunken state. You move closer to him, seeking his warmth.

You’ve always loved his touch. When you once called him yours, his body was always somehow attached to yours. Your skin on his, his heart in your palm.

He sighs, “get in the car, [Name].”

He pulls you up from your position, easily holding you as gently as he can.

“You never used to call me by my name,” you stop and lean into his shoulder. “I was always your baby.”

Tsukishima knows it’s the alcohol talking. That you’d never say this sober, and that there’s a possibility that you don’t mean any of those words. But his heart still hurts. It hurts so much that he feels as if he has lost himself. Lost all the progress he made to just get over you.

(But perhaps he never really stopped loving you, if he was so willing to pick up your call.)

He lays you on the passenger seat, buckling your seatbelt for you. He drapes the extra jacket over your shoulders, and you remember it to be one of your favourites. You stare at him the whole time—eyes on his—but he refuses to look back. Not when he knows how easily his resolve could crumble with you around.

The car starts soon after, and you’re already asleep. Your head lays peacefully on the mirror, and Tsukishima wishes he could stay like this forever. In a world where he is yours and you are his.

-

There are not many things that Tsukishima regrets.

He prefers to live in the present and let the past be the past. What has happened is unchanging, so why worry? Why worry about what he should’ve done, when all he has is the now?

There are not many things that Tsukishima regrets. But he will always regret leaving you.

He knows that now, as he is in your bedroom, trying to find a way to change you out of your clothes and into your sleepwear.

You’ve always been a heavy sleeper, unmoving in the midst of all noise. That trait carries on to now, as he struggles to get your top off your body.

You squirm as he touches you. “Kei,” you whisper. “Why’d you pick me up?”

“You called me.”

“But you picked up,” you slur, “you could’ve ignored me. You were good at that when we were together.”

He winces. He knows you don’t mean it. You’ve always been far too kind to respond with such malice, especially towards him. Even when your relationship was walking on a tightrope, you never once yelled at him.

“Why were you so mean, Tsukishima?” It’s a rhetorical question, he knows it, but his heart burns the more you speak.

“I loved you so much, but you didn’t love me at all.”

“Don’t,” he immediately interrupts, “don’t say I never loved you.”

“You never showed me,” your voice is small, and he knows you’re about to cry. (Even after all these months, your habits remain in his mind.)

“I love you. So much more than you’ll ever understand,” he speaks with so much passion, that he forgets his confession.

He loves you. His heart will always belong to you.

“I love you too,” you cry, and a single teardrop grazes your cheek.

“You never deserved me.”

“I get to decide that,” you grab his delicate face with your rough hands. He always fit so perfectly in your palms. “I get to decide who is good for me.”

He pauses, resting in your hands and cherishing every moment he has with you. And it’s in your calloused palms where Tsukishima realises what he misses. He misses your presence, your love, you. Every habit that made him love you so deeply, he misses.

He will be yours again, he decides, as you hold him close. Somehow, someway, he will win you back.

gojo satoru, often referred to as the most powerful sorcerer of his time, feels his palms start to sweat because he knows he’s coming home past curfew.

so he does what any man fearing his partner's wrath would do. sneak in and deal with the consequences in the morning.

he closes the door behind him as quietly as possible, slips his shoes off and places them neatly beside yours, and tries his best to tiptoe through the darkness without bumping into anything.

he makes it two steps when the kitchen light is flicked on, and he's greeted by your wary expression.

plan a has failed, so he quickly switches gears to plan b, pulling the limp bouquet of roses from behind his back.

but you've never been so easily wooed, hardly sparing his apology gift a glance and not reciprocating the kiss her presses to your lips as you state, "you're almost an hour past curfew."

gojo sighs, glancing around. he's on the lookout for a broom-wielding megumi. "i know, i'm sorry-"

"this is the third time this week."

"i...know."

but you're not done, arms crossed over your chest as gojo follows you into the living room, taking a seat on the couch. "what were you doing?"

the truth is the only way to placate you, it seems. "there's this curse that the higher-ups want me to exorcise. special grade."

"did you do it?"

"i can't," he insists, like he has been for the past week since he'd been given the assignment.

"then i'll help you," you shrug. "you've obviously done a lot of scouting, so tomorrow after we drop megumi off at school--"

"i can't do it because it's attached to a kid!" he admits, his voice raised a little more than he'd prefer. "i don't think he even knows about curses or the one that's clinging to him."

you curse quietly, shaking your head slightly and asking, "how old is he?"

"a few years older than megumi."

you're looking past him at the kid's rooms. at megumi's, and tsumiki's empty one. he takes a seat beside you, taking your hand and squeezing gently.

"so what are we going to do?"

"take him in," gojo proposes. "teach him how to use it. control it. he seems like a bright kid, i think he can learn. but...i need your help convincing the higher ups.

you turn to face him, sighing, "you know i'm always on your side."

gojo satoru isn't sure of a lot of things in this world, but that is one of them.

"we'll go talk to them in the morning. and on the way, we're going to discuss your habit of bringing home weird sidekicks," you scoff, rolling your eyes. but gojo catches a hint of a smile on your lips as he presses a kiss to your temple.

"ah, you love it," he teases, and to no one's surprise, you don't argue.

-

BONUS

"you came home late again," megumi says over breakfast. "that's three times."

"i was working. the roof over your head? the cereal you're eating? i paid for with my blood, sweat, and tears," gojo quips.

you clear your throat loudly, shooting him a glare.

"we paid for," he corrects. but when you turn your attention back to your book, gojo points at himself, mouthing, all me.

megumi rolls his eyes, and gojo gasps at the blatant disrespect. "you were still late. you slowing down or something, old man?"

of all the low blows he could be dealt, this one always hurt the most. who the hell raised this kid? "i am not old! how dare you insinuate such a thing!"

but megumi isn't done, because when do moody teenagers ever pull their punches? "maybe you should start taking your blindfold off more often. you obviously need all the help you can get."

gojo looks to you for help, but you don't even spare him a glance. "be nice. or i'll ground you both."

gojo just huffs, muttering under his breath. "next time we do groceries, i'm leaving you at the checkout. i'll just walk out."

"do it," megumi shrugs. "then i can walk home instead of sitting in your old car and listening to your old people music."

"it's a vintage car!" gojo argues, pointing a spoon in the kid's direction a little threateningly. "and you're the one whose favourite song is 'island in the sun!' that song is older than you are."

megumi doesn't miss a beat. "not older than you, i bet."

gojo's even more offended when you laugh, high-fiving megumi and saying, "hopefully the next one is nicer to you."

*APPLE A DAY APPLE A DAY APPLE THROW THE APPLE*

*letting toge speak is the coward way. Make him accidentally use his technique hehehe*

WHAT ABOUT APPLES⁉️⁉️

Category is: anime that were enormous for about a year before mysteriously dropping off the face of the earth for no discernible reason.

the man is 2d. the man is fake. but the emotions for the man are real

I love writing toge as the absolute LOSER that he is

for anyone wondering how i’m incorporating his limited speech into my au

Toge Inumaki, absolute YAPPER. only speaks one word sentences at most to yn as of now