"you what?"

your voice slices through the crusty jail phone like a whip. dabi exhales a low sigh, slumping against the grimy wall of his cell with his fingers on his temples, despite the crooked grin on the corners of his mouth. he presses the phone tighter to his ear, his free hand flicking at a halfpeeled scab on his knuckle.

"baby, honey, can you just... bail me out?" he says, voice low and lazy, like this is just another casual hiccup in his day. his grin widens, already knowing your answer.

your family's loaded. your filthy rich daddy owns half the city, and the other half owes him favors. and more importantly— he knows you’re hopelessly in love with him, even if you mask it with dramatics and venom soaked lectures.

he can already picture it. your eyes rolling, your voice rising as you complain about the audacity of having to send your driver, or worse, driving yourself in expensive heels and a designer coat to fetch your jailbird boyfriend.

he hears the stomp of your heels echoing in the marble hallways of your father’s estate, the click of your manicured nails and jeweled rings as you snatch your keys and bark orders at your driver before getting back to him on the phone.