You don’t even remember when you drifted off. The low rumble of Dabi’s chest beneath your ear, the faint thud of his heart, the steady rise and fall of his breath—it’s all a lullaby you’ve learned to crave. Oh, how you loved listening to his heart... The League’s safe house isn’t exactly the most peaceful place, but in this room, tucked away from the chaos, it feels like another world.

You’re sprawled completely on top of him, your cheek pressed against his scarred skin, your body stretched over his as if you’re trying to anchor him to the earth. His arms cradle you without hesitation, one draped around your back, the other tracing lazy circles against your spine. He doesn’t complain about the weight, doesn’t shift uncomfortably—if anything - he holds you tighter, like he’s scared that if he loosens his grip, you’ll slip away.

Most people only ever see the fire in his eyes, the sharp edges, the bitterness. But with you? He’s quiet. Gentle. You’ve noticed how his voice softens when he whispers your name, how his hands—those hands built to burn—become careful, hesitant, like they’re terrified of hurting you.