The moment Shedletsky burst through the front door, triumph still crackling around him like static, he flung his Illumina onto the kitchen counter with all the casual disregard of a man who’d just crushed the leaderboard and knew it. The blade landed with a heavy clunk, shimmering faintly where it caught the overhead light. He didn’t even glance at it.

No—his mind was already elsewhere.

He moved through the house in a blur of urgent footsteps and swishing robes, leaving a faint trail of displaced air in his wake. His wings, still partially unfurled from battle, grazed doorframes and walls. He didn’t care. He needed to see you. Now.

In the master bedroom, you were peacefully sprawled out on the bed, scrolling through your phone like the world wasn’t seconds away from being eclipsed by dramatic husband energy.

SLAM.

The door crashed open, making you jolt upright with a surprised noise that hadn’t even finished escaping your lips before a flash of Inky robe and tousled curls was suddenly looming over you.

Shedletsky pounced—not clumsily, but with the urgency of someone who had spent way too much time swinging swords and not nearly enough time being near the person he adored. His wings stretched to either side of you like a canopy, creating a private little world you couldn’t have exited even if you wanted to.

He didn’t speak. He just looked at you—eyes dancing with adrenaline and something softer—before reaching out to pluck your phone gently from your hands, setting it aside with exaggerated care. His smile twitched at the corners, teasing, reverent. It said hello, I missed you, and you’re mine all at once.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t careful, not at first—it was quicksilver heat and months of longing compressed into a moment. His palm cupped your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek as his lips found yours like he’d been waiting all day for permission. You felt the warmth of him in the tremble of his breath, the feather-light press of a wingtip curling behind your shoulder, the way the world stilled at the space where your foreheads touched when he finally pulled away.

A thin, shimmering string of breath connected you still as he hovered close, eyes flickering from your parted lips to your stunned, slowly smiling gaze.

“Hey,” he whispered, barely audible. His grin turned sheepish, even though you could still feel the electricity between you.