#﹠ . ⁺ ❛ xᴀᴠɪᴇʀ ғᴏsᴛᴇʀ. ─── discourse. 𐕣

[bloodstainedbible]

@savagecuhnt said: 🌿🍒 ─ send “🌿🍒” (or "mistletoe") for my muse's reaction to standing under a mistletoe with your muse  ♡

Xavier glanced up and froze, spotting the mistletoe hanging just above them. His lips twitched, fighting a grin as he looked to Rosalyn. “Ah, of course. The universe couldn’t resist, could it?” he said, his tone light and teasing. “A perfectly placed ambush. Very subtle.”

He tilted his head, studying the little sprig like it held some kind of secret. “You know, I’m not sure if this thing is binding, but I’m starting to feel the pressure.” His hand rose to gesture vaguely at the mistletoe, as though accusing it of conspiring against him.

Xavier shifted, turning to Rosalyn with a smirk that softened into something a little warmer. “So, what’s the ruling here? Do we honor the ancient, sacred tradition, or do we make a daring escape and leave the mistletoe offended?”

He let the moment hang, his eyes glinting with amusement, before adding with mock seriousness, “I’d hate to upset the mistletoe gods. I hear they’re vengeful.”

[bloodstainedbible]

Xavier watches her, quiet, calculating. The way she speaks—so damn sure of herself, so unwavering in her confidence—it intrigues him. It also makes something coil tight in his gut. There’s an intimacy in the way she describes the killer’s work, the way she understands it, feels it in her bones. Not just facts and figures. Not just research. Instinct.

His fingers drum against the table, slow, deliberate, as she leans in, her voice soft, honeyed, dripping with something dangerous.

“Come on, handsome… aren’t you just the slightest bit curious to see where my help can take you?”

His lips curl into something close to a smirk, but there’s no humor behind it. Just a slow, knowing amusement, like a man who’s heard every con in the book but still enjoys watching the performance.

“You got an interesting way of framing things, sweetheart.” His voice is low, rough, laced with something unreadable. His eyes never leave hers, tracking every flicker of movement, every little shift in her expression. “A little too much sympathy for a killer, a little too much confidence in your ‘findings.’ Almost like you’re not just guessing… almost like you know.”

He leans in now, matching her, making sure she can feel his presence, the weight of his scrutiny. His voice drops, just enough to make it feel like a secret meant only for her.

“See, that’s what makes me curious. How you talk about her—this girl, this woman—you almost make it sound like a goddamn calling.” His fingers reach for his cup, taking a slow sip of coffee, letting the moment stretch between them. Letting her sit with the weight of his words.

Then, finally, he sets the cup down, tilts his head slightly, that almost-smirk widening just a bit.

“But, sure, baby girl… I’ll bite. Let’s see where your ‘help’ can take me.”

Because one way or another, he’s going to figure out exactly what game she’s playing.

Well of course she was fucking sure. She had LIVED each and every kill. This was as personal as it got, but he didn't know that. And may the gods forbid that he ever find out, not yet anyway not before she had a bit of fun with him. "There's just something about it all. I feel it deep in my gut that I'm right. Something happened to that girl, something so bad that she just hunts these poor excuses for men. Now I don't know if these guys deserve it or not, but what if these guys are skumbags? not that that makes it okay, but some of these guys have priors...just sayin' " there was no real defending what she did, though there were times where she felt as though she was taking justice into her own hands, keeping the streets clean, one less dirt bag or perv at a time.

she sits back, making herself comfortable in her seat, reaching for her coffee. She takes the last couple of sips and sets her empty cup back onto the table, her gaze never leaving his. "My findings are correct." she says simply, "I have all the confidence in the world that my findings are 100% correct." she offers him a small smirk, testing the waters as she leans over the table to meet him, her eyes suddenly wandering across his features, down to his lips where they linger for just the shortest yet obvious moment, "Look 'ere babe, you don't gotta trust me on this, I understand the way you may feel about some random girl coming at you with a book of crazy...but something just tells me I'm right on this...and by what I've been seeing on the news lately, it's more than what you've got going."

It was true, as smart as the detective had seemed, there wasn't much to really go off of on a string of cases like this. She made damn sure to keep her kills free of any evidence, almost perfecting her kills throughout the years. Unless she had slipped up somehow, someway, he shouldn't have any evidence to point towards the direction she was openly sharing with him. "come on handsome?-" she leans in just a bit closer, tilting her head. Her voice is soft, laced in something more "aren't you just the slightest bit curious to see where my help can take you?"

[bloodstainedbible]

continued from x. | @savagecuhnt.

Xavier didn’t chase—he hunted.

His stride was unhurried, deliberate, boots striking the pavement in a steady rhythm as the night swallowed her laughter. It rang through the empty street, breathless and taunting, but she wasn’t as fast as she thought.

He caught her easily.

One arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her against him with the effortless force of inevitability. Momentum carried them forward, her body colliding with his—soft against solid, warmth meeting the winter’s bite. A sharp inhale, laughter caught halfway between exhilaration and surprise.

He didn’t let go.

The scent of whiskey lingered in the space between them, mingling with something quieter, something unspoken. Her breath fanned against his skin, close enough to feel but not close enough.

Xavier tilted his head, voice low and edged with something unreadable.

“Gotcha.”

The silence stretched, heavy with things neither of them said. Then, slowly, deliberately, he loosened his hold.

“Not as fast as you thought, huh?”

[bloodstainedbible]

@savagecuhnt | continued from x

Xavier stirs at the sound of her voice, the familiar warmth of her hand grounding him against the fog of painkillers and exhaustion. His eyelids are heavy, but he forces them open, meeting her gaze with something that’s both soft and exhausted. Even through the haze, he can see it—see the fire in her eyes, the way her fingers tremble ever so slightly despite the strength in her grip. She’s barely holding it together, and it’s for him.

A slow, rough chuckle escapes him, strained and hoarse. “Jesus, baby... You look like you ran through hell to get here.” His lips curl, just a little, a smirk ghosting over them despite the dull throb in his body. He doesn’t need to ask—he knows she did. Knows she probably broke a dozen traffic laws just to be at his side.

His fingers flex weakly around hers, holding on. “M'fine,” he mutters, voice thick with fatigue. “Looks worse than it is.” A lie. He knows she won’t buy it, but he still tries. If only to keep her from unraveling right there in front of him.

Then, her last words sink in, and his smirk fades into something darker, something unreadable. He shifts, wincing at the pull of stitches, his jaw tightening. “Oh, he’s dead, alright.” His voice is low, almost matter-of-fact. “Put a bullet in him myself.”

It should feel like a victory, like justice served. But looking at her, seeing the way she aches for him, for what could’ve been lost tonight—he realizes that surviving isn’t enough. Because she nearly lost him, and that is what’s tearing her apart more than anything.

His thumb brushes weakly over her knuckles, voice softening just slightly. “Didn’t mean to scare you, baby. I swear.” His lips twitch, failing at another smirk. “But you should see the other guy.”

[bloodstainedbible]

continued from x. | @savagecuhnt.

Xavier watches her, his gaze steady despite the way her words shift something deep inside him. He had faced criminals, chased down ghosts in dark alleyways, pieced together twisted puzzles that made his head ache—but this? This was something else entirely.

He sees the moment doubt creeps in, the way her shoulders tense, the way she tries to laugh it off, backpedal, shove her emotions into some dark corner before they can linger too long in the light. But he won’t let her. Not this time.

A breath passes between them, the air thick with something unspoken. His fingers flex slightly where she had just squeezed his hand, the warmth of her touch still lingering, and instead of letting her pull away, he catches her wrist gently, holding her there—not restrained, but not quite free either.

“Rosalyn,” he says, low and steady, his voice laced with something she might not have expected. Not rejection, not pity—just truth. “You don’t get to just take that back.”

His thumb brushes over the inside of her wrist, a slow, absentminded motion as if grounding himself as much as her. His other hand finds the edge of the table, his fingers pressing against the woodgrain she had been so intently studying, as if trying to understand what the hell he’s supposed to say next.

“You think I don’t know love is complicated?” A small, humorless chuckle escapes him. “You think I don’t know what it means to want something that might burn me in the end?” His grip on her wrist tightens for a fraction of a second before he releases her, his fingers curling into a loose fist.

“Rosalyn, I don’t care if you think you’re sparing me.” He leans in just slightly, just enough to make sure she’s looking at him, really looking at him. “I don’t need sparing. I don’t need protecting. And I sure as hell don’t need you deciding for me what I can and can’t handle.”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair before shaking his head.

“You think I don’t know there’s more to you than what you let me see? That there’s parts of you you’re afraid of me knowing?” His lips press together, something unspoken lingering in his gaze. “Yeah. I know.”

A pause, a shift, a choice hanging in the air. Then, finally—

“But you feel like home, too.”

The words come quieter than before, almost hesitant, but no less certain. His eyes search hers, waiting, hoping she won’t run from this, from them.

“So, if you're askin’ if I wanna dip more than my toes?” His lips quirk, a small, almost tired smile breaking through. “Baby girl, I think we’re already drowning.”

[bloodstainedbible]

continued from x. | @savagecuhnt.

Xavier steps inside, the familiar scent of her space wrapping around him as she greets him with that playful smirk, pulling him into a quick hug. It’s still strange sometimes, this thing between them—how easy it’s become, how natural. Two months ago, he wouldn’t have even entertained the idea of a Valentine’s date, let alone with her. But here they were.

And fuck, she looks good. He takes a moment to appreciate the way the black dress clings to her, the heels adding just enough to her stance to make her usual confidence even more striking. But before he can say something teasing, something about how she’s going to make it real hard for him to focus on dinner, the TV cuts through the moment.

“This just in, local man under arrest for multiple slayings.”

His head snaps toward the screen, jaw tightening as he listens. Some drunk idiot giving a shaky witness statement about catching some guy chopping off a man’s legs in an alley.

His eyes flicker to her the second she speaks, catching the subtle shift in her expression—surprise, confusion, something else lurking beneath it that she quickly masks.

Xavier narrows his eyes, watching her carefully, reading the way she pinches the bridge of her nose, the way her frustration seems just a little too personal. There’s something there, something he’s been trying to put his finger on for a while now.

He steps closer, his gaze locked onto hers, searching. “You sound awfully sure about that, baby girl.” His voice is low, steady, but there’s an edge to it now. Not quite suspicion, not yet, but something close.

Then, just like that, she brushes past it, her lips twisting into something almost amused.

Xavier huffs out a short laugh, shaking his head as he drags a hand down his face. Jesus Christ, only her. There’s a fucking serial killer on the news, some copycat or—something else, and she’s worried about dinner.

He exhales, rolling his shoulders before tilting his head at her, smirking despite the unease curling in his gut. “You really got your priorities straight, huh?”

His fingers ghost along her jaw, tilting her chin up just slightly, forcing her to look at him, to really see him. He holds her there, just for a moment, before leaning in, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear.

“Lucky for you, sweetheart… I don’t cancel that easy.”

He pulls back, his smirk widening as he nods toward the door. “Now grab your coat. I’ve still got a date to ruin you on.”

[bloodstainedbible]

continued from x. | @savagecuhnt.

Xavier’s smirk deepened as his gaze flickered downward, catching the slow, deliberate movement of her legs uncrossing. A silent invitation, a challenge laced with a kind of ease that only made his pulse thrum heavier. He dragged his knuckles along the inside of her thigh, just barely skimming the sensitive skin there, a whisper of touch designed to tease. The anticipation between them thickened, stretching in the space between his patience and her quiet defiance.

“You know,” he mused, his voice a low, indulgent drawl, “for someone new to this, you seem awfully comfortable testing limits.” His hand lingered just shy of where she might have wanted it, his touch deliberate in its restraint. His fingers traced absent patterns, his movements slow, unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world to explore just how far she was willing to go.

His free hand returned to her chin, tilting it just so, forcing her gaze to meet his. His eyes, dark and unreadable, roamed over her face, searching—waiting.

“And sweetheart,” he continued, his thumb grazing along her jaw, “I don’t just show—I teach.”

The moment stretched, thick with expectation. Then, his grip tightened ever so slightly, enough to send a clear message, enough to remind her exactly who was in control.

“You ready for your first lesson?”

[bloodstainedbible]

continued from x. | @savagecuhnt.

Xavier had humored her little self-defense demonstration with quiet amusement, letting her tug and pull at him, knowing damn well she didn’t stand a chance. The wine had loosened the edges of his usually firm restraint, allowing rare moments of levity to seep through. But as she lunged at him, clinging to him like she actually believed she could bring him down, something shifted.

The way she laughed, the way her body fit so effortlessly against his, the way her fingers found their way into his hair—it disarmed him in a way he hadn’t expected.

And then she kissed him.

Soft at first, hesitant, but it didn’t take long before hesitation melted into something deeper, something more raw. The moment she murmured her apology, only to immediately contradict it with the way she grabbed at him, pulled him closer—Xavier lost the last thread of his restraint.

His hands, strong and certain, found purchase at her waist, gripping, grounding. He swallowed her confession like it was something sacred, something meant only for him. His lips pressed back into hers, firm, deliberate, dragging her further into the heat of it. If she’d wanted to get him on the floor, this was the way to do it.

“You should’ve done it sooner,” he muttered against her mouth, voice rough, breath heavy. One hand trailed up her back, fingers curling at the nape of her neck as he tilted her head, deepening the kiss. There was no hesitance anymore. No second-guessing. Just this—just her.

He kissed her like he meant it. Like he needed it. Like he’d been waiting for this just as long as she had.

[bloodstainedbible]

@savagecuhnt said: [ NEW ] for our muses first sexual experience (for the feels!)

Xavier’s breath was slow, measured, but there was no hiding the way his pulse pounded beneath his skin. His hands moved with deliberate care, tracing along her warm skin, learning, memorizing. Every inch he touched felt like a revelation, a discovery he never wanted to forget.

He had imagined this—what it might feel like, what it might mean—but reality eclipsed expectation in ways he couldn’t fully process. The heat of the moment, the weight of it, settled deep in his chest, stirring something raw and consuming. His fingers hesitated, not from doubt, but from the gravity of it all. There was no rush, no urgency—just the quiet hum of anticipation threading through his veins.

Every movement felt significant, like an unspoken vow written in the way his lips followed the path his hands had taken. He could feel his own restraint, the effort to be slow, to savor, to let this be something more than just sensation. His mind warred between the intensity of the present and the knowledge that this would change something—perhaps everything.

And yet, he couldn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop.

Xavier exhaled, steadying himself, pressing closer. His world had narrowed to this moment, to this connection, and nothing had ever felt more inevitable.

[bloodstainedbible]

Xavier chuckled at her teasing, shaking his head as he leaned back in his chair. His eyes flicked to the spot on his thigh where her foot had nudged him, a flash of amusement lighting his expression. “You’re lucky I don’t need to be called in sick, sweetheart,” he said, grinning as he held up his coffee mug, taking a slow sip. “Otherwise, you’d have to keep me in bed all day, and honestly… I’m not sure you’d want that,” he said, the teasing glint in his eyes matching the playful tone of her voice.

He listened intently to her thoughts about the case, nodding as he processed her words, though his mind was always partially occupied by the thought of her. It was hard not to let his attention wander back to her, the way she effortlessly moved between joking and serious conversations, the way she looked—always so sharp, so alive. He couldn’t help but admire her, even if it made him a little on edge sometimes. The thought of her out there, hunting again… a shiver ran down his spine, but he quickly smothered it. She was here with him now, safe, and he’d be damned if he didn’t try to keep her that way.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. It’s likely just some overpriced crap on the dark web.” He leaned forward, setting his mug down and giving her a slow, thoughtful look. “But I’d be lying if I didn’t think about the possibility you mentioned. Occult stuff, ritualistic killings… it’s always a possibility.” His voice dropped slightly, the detective in him taking over. “I’ll keep my eyes on it. Just in case.”

The sudden shift in her tone didn’t go unnoticed, and he followed her gaze to the window. The peaceful scenery outside seemed at odds with the way she looked—distant for a moment, lost in thought. He couldn’t help but wonder where her mind had gone, especially when she spoke of her “clients” and her more questionable hunts. He watched her, his expression softening as he could see the conflict in her eyes.

“You know, babe…” He hesitated, leaning in slightly as he reached for her hand. “You don’t have to do it. I get it, I do. But you don’t have to carry that weight. You’re more than just this... hunter.” He let the words hang in the air, his voice tender but firm.

As the old hound dog gave a whimper, Xavier grinned, trying to lighten the mood. “Izzy’s a good judge of character, huh? Maybe she should deputize you,” he said, his tone playful, though his gaze never strayed too far from hers. “But nah, I’d probably have to keep you out of the action. You’d distract me too much.”

He let out a deep breath, watching her pet the dog, and for a second, he couldn’t help but think how lucky he was to be here with her—peaceful, even if everything about their world wasn’t.

She tries to hide the smile that's painted across her lips, with her coffee mug, but it's all but obvious how his exaggerated groan amuses her. "I know my cookin' is good, but come on." she pokes the tip of her tongue out at him, "you better watch out or I'll really give you something to moan about." her foot playfully reaches up to nudge his inner thigh, "I'll call into your work and say you're sick, keep you here all to myself today." she wishes it was easy as that, but she knows just how responsible he is and how important work is to him. She takes another sip of her coffee before setting it down, "I'd imagine you'd be just a total nutcase without me, just completely miserable...maybe locked up in some padded room somewhere waiting for a puddin' cup." she tries to keep a straight face, but fails miserably in her attempts. Though teasing, she can imagine his life staying as routine as it was before her. A simple life. and she would still be roaming the states, hunting and killing like nothing ever changed. the thought of killing again sent a familiar shiver down her spine.

She takes a bite of her food, pushing the thought far back into the depths of her mind where it belonged. She was HAPPY where she was. With HIM. She wouldn't change a thing...right? "Art theft?" she hums, trying to busy herself with her food. She takes a few bites before bringing her attention back to Xavier, "any occult art?" she raises a curious brow, " Occult related objects could mean the appearance of some sort of ritualistic killing." she points her fork at him, "and then that means psycho killers." there's a playful tone to her voice and demeanor though she knows it's not really a subject to tease about. He was a professional, an upstanding citizen and a respectable detective of his department. He CARED about others. Truly and whole heartedly CARED. "I'm sure it's just someone selling shitty art on the dark web...maybe the owner refused to sell and well, someone found another willing to steal it for them for the right price." she takes another bite, "Or it could all be for insurance purposes. That's like the usual case. It goes missing, they get a nice chunk'a change in return, probably more than what the things even worth."

She sits back in her seat, reaching for her coffee again, taking a break from her meal to just sit and sip. Her gaze slips to the window for a moment, admiring the way the sunlight began to break through the shadows of the trees. She noticed movement among the trees, probably deer. She takes a sip and sighs, "my day has started just like every other day, babe." her lips offer a warm smile, but there's a tone to it, "pretty picturesque." she returns her gaze to his, "I get to wake up in the arm's of a man that loves me, I get to cook and clean and enjoy my day in this peaceful paradise. What more could I ask for?" she continues to smile before clearing her throat, "I uh- I had a client message me a few days ago, wants this massive bear piece. Told him there aren't many bears out this way, usually just deer, and smaller game. Maybe a Wild cat here and there. Offered a pretty penny, but-" she shrugs, "These animals out here, they don't deserve what I do to them. Feels kind of wrong most days...don't really know how much it's helping, ya know?"

There's a small whimper at her feet, and she smiles, reaching down to pet the old hound dog peeking out from under the table. "Yes, Izzy, I know, you're the best huntin' partner a girl could ask for." she reaches up and breaks off a piece of bacon for her furry companion, "maybe you should deputize me. Get me into the action, detective." she grins, "honestly, I'd probably just be a distraction."

[bloodstainedbible]

Xavier listens in silence, the weight of her words settling over him like a dense fog. His eyes never leave hers, unwavering even as the sharp edges of her confession cut through the air. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t recoil—not when she calls herself a monster, not when she questions his intentions, not even when her voice cracks under the weight of her emotions. His hands remain steady, one resting gently at the curve of her back, the other lightly brushing against her trembling fingers as if grounding her in place.

“I’ve seen what you’ve done,” he finally says, his voice low but steady, resonating with a quiet intensity. “Every dark, twisted thing. The blood, the pain, the chaos. I’ve seen it all.” He pauses, letting his words sink in before continuing, his gaze searching hers as if daring her to find a hint of hesitation in his conviction. “And yet, here I stand.”

There’s no judgment in his tone—only an unshakable certainty, a calm acceptance that almost feels out of place given the gravity of the moment. “You think I don’t understand? That I haven’t walked through my own hell? You’re not the only one with blood on their hands.” His grip on her tightens slightly, not out of fear or anger, but to remind her that she isn’t alone. “I don’t care how dark your past is, how many demons claw at your heels. I’ve got my own, and maybe that’s why I can look at you and see more than the monster you think you are.”

Her tears carve silent trails down her face, and he catches one with the pad of his thumb, his touch impossibly tender. “Do you know what I see when I look at you?” he asks softly, his forehead nearly brushing hers. “I see someone who’s survived. Someone who’s fought and clawed her way through a life that gave her nothing but pain. Someone who thinks she’s unworthy of love because she’s only ever known a world that told her so.”

The crack in her voice as she talks about happy endings shatters something inside him, but he doesn’t let it show. Instead, he cups her face, his fingers brushing away the dampness of her tears. “You think I’m here because I want something from you? Because I’m naïve enough to believe this is easy?” He shakes his head, a flicker of something fierce flashing in his eyes. “I’m here because I choose to be. Because for all the darkness you think defines you, I’ve seen the light too. It’s there, no matter how much you try to bury it.”

When her resolve finally crumbles and she leans into him, burying her face in his chest, Xavier exhales a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. His arms encircle her fully now, holding her as though she might shatter if he let go. “I don’t regret this,” he whispers into her hair, his voice raw and unguarded. “I don’t regret you. And I never will.”

For a moment, they stand there in the quiet embrace, her sobs muffled against his chest and his fingers threading through her hair with a tenderness that seems at odds with the storm they’ve just weathered. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, lingering there as though willing her to feel the truth in his words. “If this is hell,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against her temple, “then I’d rather burn here with you than live in any heaven without you.”

She takes a deep breath; a valiant attempt at controlling the swarm of questions, fears and warnings that are flooding her mind. She still questions the very reality she now finds herself in, her all but serious stare never faltering nor does her physical hold as trembling digits entangle with his. Sharp brows knit tightly together suddenly, her one and only concern now pushing itself to the frontline, "I . KILL . PEOPLE. XAVIER." she states sternly, " you've seen my victims. You know all the gruesome details. I offer NO mercy." She takes a deep breath, "I TORTURE and MAIM. How can you say that you understand and accept that?" her grip tightens, holding him close as she stares deep into the dark of his eyes, as if she's stealing a glimpse at his very soul.

"Can you truly accept me for the MONSTER that I am? can you really, truly trust ME?...and how do I know that this isn't just some ploy to turn me in for all of my crimes?" her grip loosens as yet another wave of emotion suddenly washes over her. She can look into his eyes and feel a warmth, a trust, but every part of her wants to deny herself of this. If he was honest about everything he speaks, what would that mean for her? would that mean after all that she has done wrong in this world, that the universe would still allow her a happy ending? was that even possible for someone like her?

The thought of a happy ending with HIM causes a flood of tears to flow from the corner of her eyes. "That's NOT how this world works, I don't get to have a happy ending. I don't get to have my cake and eat it too." even when there is no argument to have, she still needs to fight. She wants to prove him wrong, but more than anything she wants to prove herself right, that there is no light at the end of her tunnel. How could anyone want this, want her? "I don't want you to regret this...to regret me." bottom lip trembles as she sobs, "and even if it's days from now, o-or weeks, or fuckin' y-years, you will regret this. I just know it." she closes her eyes as his gentle touch wipes away her tears. With a deep breath, she does the unthinkable... she gives in. With a deep breath, she welcomes him with a tight embrace, her face burying into his chest. If she had believed in a heaven or hell, she was certain Hell was what awaited her whenever her time did come, but for now she would enjoy what little sliver of heaven was offered, and that was with Xavier.

[bloodstainedbible]

Xavier's eyes darken as Estelle steps out of the shadows. The voice may be lowered, but he knows her — knew her. That realization cuts deeper than he expected, dragging all the memories he'd tried to bury back to the surface. Her face is obscured, but the fire in her stance, the steady grip on the gun—it's all too familiar. He doesn't flinch, doesn't step back. Instead, he lets the weight of her words settle between them.

“Estelle...” his voice comes out rough, more like a sigh than a greeting, as if her name itself brings the exhaustion of a lifetime with it. He’s seen the change in her—the steel in her gaze, the coldness behind the warning. Yet beneath it, he can still feel the pain he caused her. She isn’t just angry—she’s haunted.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” His lips curl into a small, humorless smile, though there’s no mirth behind it. “After everything, you still think it was all me, don’t you?” He can’t tear his eyes away from her, from the gun in her hand and the trembling rage in her voice. The accusation, the bitterness—he’s felt it before, but hearing it now, from her, stings like an old wound torn open.

“I know what they told you, what they made you believe. That I was the reason. That I was to blame.” His voice remains steady, but there’s a tremor in his hands, one he hides by shoving them into his pockets. “I didn’t come back to stir up anything. You should know better than anyone that I left because it wasn’t safe—for me or for you.”

His gaze drops to the gun again, studying it, almost amused. “Are you really gonna shoot me for something I didn’t do? Or is that what they’ve got you convinced you need to do?”

Xavier steps forward slightly, just enough to show he’s not intimidated by the gun or the threat. His tone softens, though his words stay sharp. “I won’t run, not this time. I came back because there are things left unfinished. If they want me gone, they’ll have to do better than sending you. And if you want me gone...” He pauses, his eyes meeting hers again, “Then pull the trigger.”

There’s a long, heavy silence between them. He lets her weigh his words. He knows what’s at stake, but he also knows this is bigger than just him.

“I didn’t show up to make excuses. I didn’t come back to hurt you. But you need to know...” He steps forward again, closing the gap. “If you’re gonna let them manipulate you into hating me for what happened, then you’ve already lost. And I’d rather you hate me for something I actually did than for a lie.”

what had started as one small rumor she sought to dispel had turned into a whirlwind journey for her the moment she realized that several of her dear brothers and sisters had told her was entirely true. he was back, he was here.

a man she'd tried everything she could to wipe from her mind and her heart, still plagued by both the ache he'd caused when her sister had died and then when he'd left shortly after. estelle grits her teeth at the memory, reliving the moment the funeral ended and he hadn't shown up. it was the first sign and a huge one, but she was oblivious .. perhaps delusional. she wanted to believe there was some understandable explanation for his absence but as the days stretched into weeks and then months without seeing or hearing from him she bega to turn bitter, lonely.

it was foolish, perhaps, to think that she would never have to confront him again .. but she was full of foolish hope that in his absence others had been able to successful manipulate. they'd promised her their love, their protection, that if he ever came back they would make sure he paid for what he did to her sister. it was everything she wanted to hear, desperate for someone to blame and vulnerable enough to be convinced that it was his fault.

" you shouldn't be here. you need to go, " her voice is disguised at a lower octave in the vain hope that perhaps he wouldn't be able to recognize her as she steps out from her hiding place, adjusts the covering over her face, and steels herself. the gun in her hand is held steadily, with confidence. she had come a long way since the last time they'd seen each other. she doesn't level the weapon at him yet but makes it very clear that it's there between them.

" i promise you the next person who's gonna get here won't be anywhere near as nice as i am, " she knew she was making a mistake in warning him, but she'd started to hear the way they spoke about taking care of him ... getting rid of the problems he'd started to create the moment he arrived back here, back home. " so get the fuck out. "

[bloodstainedbible]

Xavier’s breath is fucking ragged, his grip digging into her thighs, pressing her tighter against the wall, keeping her right there, exactly where he wants her. Where she wants to be. The way she clings to him, the way her nails scrape across his skin, marking him, claiming him—it’s maddening. She growls, she demands, and fuck if he doesn’t want to give her everything she’s asking for.

His lips drag along her throat, hot and open-mouthed, tasting, teasing, feeling the way her pulse races beneath his tongue. “You’re so goddamn greedy, baby girl,” he murmurs, voice thick with something dark, something just as insatiable as her. “Lucky for you, I don’t mind giving.”

But then—fuck.

Her voice softens, turns into something syrupy sweet, like a blade wrapped in silk. The teasing brush of her lips against his neck sends a slow, wicked shiver down his spine, and then she speaks.

And Jesus fucking Christ.

His head tilts back at her command, her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling just enough to make him feel it, just enough to make his jaw tighten, his breath catch. She maps a path of soft, deliberate kisses along his skin, fucking testing him. And he lets her. Lets her think she’s in control.

Until she grips his throat.

A low growl rumbles in his chest, his fingers flexing against her thighs as her teeth scrape over his lip, as her voice drips into his veins like fucking sin. Every word—each slow, deliberate whisper of filth—floods his brain, feeds that primal need to wreck her, to see how much of her own taunting she can take before she’s gasping his name like a prayer.

His lips curl into a slow, knowing smirk. “That right?” His grip tightens, dragging her even harder against him, making sure she feels just how fucking much she’s already worked him up. “You think I need to be convinced to ruin you?”

He lets the tension hold, lets the silence stretch just long enough to make her anticipate it—crave it.

Then, suddenly, he moves.

His hands shift to her ass, lifting her effortlessly, carrying her through the dimly lit space before slamming her onto the mattress, pinning her beneath him in one smooth, deliberate motion. His body cages hers in, his hands braced beside her head, his breath hot against her lips as he hovers over her.

His voice is low, dark, dripping with control. “You’re right about one thing, sweetheart.” His fingers trail down, slow, teasing, before gripping her jaw, forcing her to look at him, see him. “I do deserve to take what’s mine.”

And fuck if he isn’t about to do just that.

fingertips wildly wander across bare skin, across his shoulders and down his back. She was in fact claiming him, he was HERS. Sharp and teasing, she can't contain the aggression that comes with her demanding needs. The way she growls and nips teasingly. "you've no idea, babe." she breathes through smirked lips. He's like a breath of fresh air after she's been held under the surface for so long, the way she needs to continuously breath him him, to feel him. She wants him all and she will take what she wants.

there's a pleasurable huff as he presses her back against a wall, her head rolling back against the smooth surface while he tempts her desires with the arising pressure that presses against her, letting her know just how bad HE wanted her in return. "Ugh, you fuckin' tease-" she hisses back as her hips lift to meet his, her legs tight around his waist, keeping him right there pressed against the inviting heat of her core. " 'm so greedy." she hums as his mouth claims the sensitive spot below her ear. He knew just how to tease her, how to tend to the growing flames burning within, and OH HOW SHE BURNED FOR HIM.

she takes this small moment to catch her breath, to lock eyes with him , mirroring the darkness behind his gaze. God, was he gorgeous. " What am I going to do with you? " there's a devilish smirk that suddenly stretches across her lips,--

Her voice is suddenly soft, gentle as the inviting heat of her parted lips brush across the side of his neck, “I’m gonna take you into my bedroom, strip—” her hand comes up, fingers moving to entangle within the back of his hair as she slowly begins to tilt his head back. She teasingly begins to trail small kisses along the side of his jaw before stopping to hover over his lips, “then, im going to FUCK that charming mouth of yours until you’re so fucking hard for me that you throw me onto the bed-” her free hand slips around his throat, caressing the smooth of his neck, her grip tightening as her teeth graze over his bottom lip. “Bend me over, and ravage this tight, wet cunt.” Her voice drips in desire, bordering the line of a soft breathy moan “you deserve to take what’s yours.”

[bloodstainedbible]

Xavier watches her, the way she flips through the files with an almost casual ease, the way her voice carries no hesitation, no stumbles, just smooth, practiced confidence. The way her finger trails along the map like she knows it too well, like she’s tracing a story she’s read a thousand times before.

His jaw ticks at the way she teases, the sharp glint in her eye when she calls him daddy of all fucking things, her smirk full of challenge. He doesn’t rise to it—not completely. Just levels her with a look, dark and unreadable, a silent warning that she’s playing a dangerous game.

Then she keeps going. Detailing the kills, the patterns, the breaks. And fuck, she doesn’t just know the facts—she understands them. Speaks about them like she’s inside the killer’s mind, like she’s been there, seen the blood, felt the pulse of violence thrumming through each scene.

His fingers drum once against the table before he leans back slightly, studying her, measuring.

“You sound awful sure about all this, sweetheart.” His voice is even, but there's something in the way he says it, something weighted.

She looks up at him then, pausing, testing, gauging his reaction. He doesn’t give her much. A tilt of his head, the faintest flicker in his gaze. Intrigued? Yeah. Bored? Not even fucking close.

“Triple digits in thirteen years.” He lets the words settle, rolling them over, watching how she reacts to hearing them said aloud by him. His fingers tap against the edge of the table, slow and thoughtful before he exhales sharply, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“If your findings are correct, that is.” He echoes her words, his voice like gravel, low and deliberate.

A beat of silence stretches between them, thick with something neither of them are quite saying. Then, Xavier leans in, resting his elbows on the table, his eyes locked onto hers.

“So tell me, baby girl—” His voice dips, just enough to make her listen, just enough to make it feel like a secret meant only for her. “—why do you sound like you were standing in the goddamn room when it happened?”

There's a bit of an eyeroll as he finds it necessary to correct her on the year of his car. Of course. A car like that was something to be proud of, and she was sure it was probably his one and only possession he cared more than himself about. That's how it was for men like Xavier. Pride went into work and possessions if there weren't any relationships to waste time with. Life was easier that way. She could appreciate that in a sense, that was exactly what she did. Prided herself in her 'work'. Even this 'work'.

"Oh, sweetheart. I do like a good pet name." she teases back with a quick wink. She was doing her best to keep up with him and his need for control, but it was proving difficult to bite her tongue and her need for sarcastic comebacks. She sighs, giving a small nod before returning the note back onto the table top. "tough crowd, tough crowd." she mutters to herself before flipping to the first page, "Okay, daddy- I mean detective." she peers up at him through thick lashes, smirking to herself as she begins, "It would seem the first kill was sometime in 2012, in a city outside of Colfax." she remembers this kill, not her first but the beginning to a long, bloody journey. A drunk who tried to take advantage of her, the kill was sloppy. She realized that when an eyewitness spoke of a young brunette covered in blood. From that night, she began to take her kills seriously. Stalking her prey and studying her surroundings.

"Then the next, same year two murders in Oregon. Cleaner. No eyewitness, but same ferocity in the kills." her finger points on the map, dragging down to California, "She got wild once she got to California, At least twenty five similar murders that never made the news. Known drug dealers, addicts with anger issues, a couple married men with prior domestic violence charges." she remembers her drug fueled killing spree. So many vile people in such a large state. It wasn't hard to hide her kills. so much blood. so much fun. "there's a small break between her next few kills though." a short romance before heartbreak. "Then she pops back up all the way in Boston. Five kills."

she pauses for a moment to bring her attention to the detective's expression, was he intrigued or was she boring him? "she's reached triple digits in a span of thirteen years...If I'm correct with my findings, that is."

[bloodstainedbible]

Xavier barely has time to react before she’s on him—small but fierce, her body wrapping around his like she belongs there. And maybe she fucking does. He catches her effortlessly, his hands instinctively gripping the back of her thighs, pressing her flush against him as her mouth crashes against his.

Jesus fucking Christ.

She’s insatiable. Raw. Wild. And it drives him mad. Her lips move against his in a mess of heat and desperation, rough, hungry, full of something neither of them are saying out loud. It’s more than just lust. More than just a moment. It’s something fucking real, something she’s already trying to run from even as she clings to him like she never wants to let go.

He growls low in his throat as her fingers rip at his shirt, tugging it free from his body with a level of impatience that makes him smirk against her mouth. “Impatient little thing, aren’t you?” His voice is rough, teasing, full of that same fucking control she keeps trying to fight.

His grip tightens as he spins them, pressing her back against the nearest wall, pinning her there with his weight, letting her feel him, letting her know exactly how fucking badly he wants her too. “You think you can just take what you want, huh?” His lips ghost along the curve of her jaw, his teeth grazing her skin before he presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss against the sensitive spot beneath her ear. “Greedy girl.”

Her nails bite into his back, her breath hot and heavy against his skin as she presses even closer.

Xavier chuckles, the sound low and dangerous as he finally pulls back just enough to look at her, eyes dark with something deeper than just desire. “You have me, baby girl.” He grips her chin between his fingers, tilting her head up just slightly, making damn sure she sees it, feels it. “Now… what the fuck are you gonna do with me?”

"It sounds fuckin' good right?... yours." she was never one to really care about titles or relationships, but there was something there, something obvious, something special. Something she just couldn't pass up. Everything in her wanted to see where it would go, how far they could get before it would all inevitably blow up and crumble around them, because it would. Monsters don't get happy endings.

The heart pounding adrenaline began to dissipate for the time being, the nip of the cold air calming the heat that had engulfed her just moments ago. Instead she clings onto him, keeps him close. She wants to continue to feel the comfort of his body heat, continue to breathe him in. Relish in his very presence. "you wanna keep me? Is that what I'm hearing?" her tone still playful, laced in lust. There's a part of her that wants to believe him, wants to believe this is all more than just a heated moment, but how could it be real?

she tries not to dwell on what may lie ahead for them, but instead focuses on tonight. Her footsteps are eager, pulling them closer and closer to the privacy of her own little temporary home. It's not long before she's welcoming into her living room, a place he's already seen a handful of times. "Welp-" she smirks as she shuts the door behind them and locks it.

"Where were we?" she hums, not allowing anymore time to pass before she's suddenly jumping onto him like a rapid monkey. Arms and legs wrap around him, clinging as her lips overpower his in a dance of desire laced dominance. Rough, hungry kisses. She can't help herself, can't stop the need to satiate the hunger for bare flesh and raw pleasure. Here, in the quiet privacy she can take what she wants, experience all that she's imagined. Tonight was the night. "Fuck, i want you so bad-" she growls against the heat of his mouth as her fingers demand to feel bare skin. She rips and tugs at his shirt, freeing him of just one layer as she continues to selfishly indulge herself with rough, hot kisses.

[bloodstainedbible]

Xavier remained silent for a long beat, his sharp gaze unmoving, studying her with the patience of a man who had spent years dissecting lies from truths, confidence from bravado. He didn't flinch at her little impression of him, nor at the precise details she rattled off like she’d been reading his case file. Instead, he exhaled slowly, reaching for his coffee, bringing it to his lips without breaking eye contact.

“And it’s a ‘66.” He set the cup down with a quiet clink, leaning back in his seat, the ghost of something—amusement? interest?—tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t ask names unless I think I’ll need to remember them.” His head tilted slightly, studying the way she sat back, the way her smirk wavered just enough to betray that she wasn’t entirely sure of herself. Good. Confidence was one thing. Cockiness was another.

“You do your research. I’ll give you that.” He let the words stretch, a deliberate pause hanging between them. Then, he shifted forward, forearms resting on the table, voice lowering just enough to be personal. “But the thing about getting close to the fire, sweetheart…” His hazel eyes darkened, something unreadable flickering behind them. “You don’t always get to decide whether you just feel the heat… or go up in flames.”

His gaze lingered a moment longer before he finally eased back again, tapping his fingers once against the tabletop. “You wanna be helpful?” He motioned toward the notebook in her lap. “Then stop wasting time convincing me and start talking.”

Glacial gaze narrows for a moment, her confidence slowly returning now that she's argued her case. There's a hint of what was that? amusement? or was it mockery? she's not quite sure, but there is something about his energy that seems less cold. "Didn't know this was an interrogation, detective. Am I suddenly under suspicion?" she crosses her arms over the tabletop, leaning in as a confident little smirk begins to lift at the corners of her plush pale lips, "ya know, I came to you to share my hard work with, perhaps I've made a mistake."

she reaches for her book, gently closing the cover before sliding it back towards herself, "I just thought you might've appreciated the help of a concerned citizen, is all. I however, will not sit here and continue to waste my time if all my hard work is just to be mocked. -' They usually fall into one of two categories. The ones who really want to help… and the ones who just love getting close enough to the fire to feel the heat-" she does her best impression of his voice, sounding more like a Chicago mob member instead, "Like what iwas that, are you making kitchen jokes or somethin'? It's like twenty degrees out, Everyone is trying to feel the heat here."

She sits back in her seat, pulling her notebook into her lap, "Ya know, for being a detective, you didn't even bother to ask my name, but don't worry because I've done my research, Detective Xavier Foster. You're thirty six, six five- more like six three to me, but what'a I know? Born in Louisiana, Ex priest, and ya drive a pristine green 1965-1966 Pontiac GTO. You live alone, you enjoy morning jogs and most of your meals come right from this here diner...how am I doing?"

hands come up to fold atop the table, "I can be helpful, where help is wanted, and I'm confident in sayin' you could use all the help you can get." there's a self satisfied smirk spread wide across her features, yet there's a hint of concern that lingers deep within. Her confidence had returned, that was certain, but now the fear of 'over shooting her shot' with him weighed on her. Did we just fuck things up?