It was just past midnight when you heard the door creak open — quiet, but not quiet enough to fool you. You didn’t even have to look up from your book to know it was her.

Rumi stepped in, bruised, scuffed, and smug, like always. Her uniform was torn at the thigh, her knuckles raw, but the way she moved said she won. Again.

“You’re supposed to rest after patrols,” you said, glancing up.

“I did,” she replied, kicking off her boots. “For like… ten minutes.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart softened the second she slumped onto the couch beside you, head dropping onto your shoulder like a weight she only let you carry.

“Villain down?” you asked, brushing her wild hair back.

“Two of ’em. Got a hit in, but I hit back harder.”

You smiled. “You always do.”

She was quiet for a moment, then mumbled, “Missed you.”

Your chest tightened at how quiet her voice got — so different from the loud, unshakable hero the world saw. With you, she let herself be soft.

“I missed you too, bun,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple.

And for a while, she didn’t say anything. She just leaned into you, letting the world fall away, ears twitching slightly as her breathing slowed. Even heroes need a place to land. For Rumi, that place was you.