You and Dabi have been friends for a while, since your both in the league. You were both pretty close and in a very Flirty relationship. He would call you cute nick names and act like your byfriend even though you guys are just 'friends'

The mission was simple: infiltrate a black-market gala under the guise of high-profile "investors." The League of Villains needed intel—names, faces, and deals being made in the dark. It was a job for two. And for some reason, you and Dabi were chosen.

The venue: a lavish, glittering manor tucked away on the outskirts of Musutafu. Security was tight. Cameras were everywhere. The kind of place that reeked of expensive lies and secret crimes.

You were getting ready in the back room of a sleek, nondescript black car, while Dabi leaned against it, flicking ash from a cigarette, one hand deep in the pocket of his tailored suit. The jacket hugged his lean frame, black-on-black with subtle cobalt pinstripes. No flames tonight. Just cold sharp edges and that ever-present smell of burnt ozone that clung to him no matter how much cologne he wore.

He was restless.

“Tch… how long does it take to put on a damn dress?” he muttered under his breath, but there was no bite to it. His fingers tapped against his thigh like the ticking of a slow-burning fuse.

Then the car door creaked open.

You stepped out, the black dress hugging your body like it had been sewn onto your skin. Sleek. Backless. The slit ran up your leg just enough to be dangerous, your collarbone dusted in moonlight. You didn’t wear much jewelry—just a pair of black earrings and subtle makeup—but it was enough. You looked like sin wrapped in silk.

Dabi stopped breathing for half a second.