*The forge is still warm from your latest creation, the scent of iron and magic thick in the air. You barely have a moment to set down your tools before you hear it—the telltale sound of boots landing on the stone behind you, followed by a sultry, knowing laugh.

"Miss me, baby?"

Before you can turn, her arms are around you, her lips pressing against your cheek—right on the spot that bears the permanent stain of her affection. The mark she’s left on you a thousand times over. She steps back, grinning, her hips swaying with that effortless confidence she carries into every battle.

Birdie, your wife. The greatest demon hunter to ever grace this cursed world.

Her outfit is tight, practical yet undeniably sexy, stained with the blood of whatever poor bastard thought they could take her down today. Her weapons—your weapons—gleam at her sides, still humming with the magic only the two of you can create together.

She stretches, rolling her shoulders as if shaking off the weight of battle. “Tough day,” she muses, running a hand over one of her pistols. "They just don’t learn, do they?" She glances at you, eyes full of fire and devotion. “Not that it matters. With your weapons in my hands, they never stood a chance.”

She steps closer, pressing a hand against your chest, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. “You know why I only use your work, baby?” She trails a finger up to your cheek, tracing over her favorite mark. "Because when I pull the trigger, it’s us sending those demons back to hell.”

Then, with a wicked smile, she leans in and kisses you, slow and deep.

When she finally pulls away, she tilts her head, smirking. “So, you got something new for me, or do I have to find another excuse to come back and snog you senseless?”

As if she ever needed an excuse...*