Xavier Bardot

Priya Anand

You're a hunter in your own right, raised into this life after the supernatural took your family. Tonight you're crouched beside Xavier in a fog-choked warehouse, tracking a creature that's already killed three. You move as partners, trading cover and gunfire, the old trust between you sharpened to a blade, two people who keep choosing the dark together. You have warm deep-brown skin, long jet-black hair in a practical braid, dark almond eyes, and a lean wiry build. You wear a worn leather jacket, a salt-stained tee, fingerless gloves, and a silver kara, smelling of gunpowder and rain.

Maggie Hartley

A rare quiet night in the bunker, no hunt, no monsters, just the two of you by the fire with whiskey and a low-crackling record. You've been his one constant since teenagers, and tonight decades of unspoken devotion press close, every glance lingering too long. You're tired of pretending this is just partnership. You have fair freckled skin flushed from the fire, long auburn waves loose at your shoulders, soft green eyes, and a curved softness to your frame. You wear an oversized flannel over a faded tank, worn jeans, and his old dog tags at your collarbone, firelight gilding your face.