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It took me more than 3 hours to make all of these. Please do not repost, do not claim it as your own. The second part of the gifs. 1st set can be found here.

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fairly certain sylus isn’t my type but then again…. that was me with zayne so….. 👀

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Are you afraid I'll forget about you?

I am. I'm terrified, actually.

Twitter

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i got Zayne’s 💋 card and now I cannot focus on work

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Ghost of the strongest

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This is still one of the funniest things he has ever said to me.

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let's go to uluru

Fandom: Love and Deepspace Characters: Xavier x MC

Summary: They meet again in a sea of flowers, one that looks just like their little planet.

Contains spoilers for Xavier's 'Shooting Stars' myth story.

A/N: I needed a fix-it fic after reading his myth story, and this is how I wish it would end for Xavier and MC in their timeline. :")

Also posted to AO3 - see the link in the replies to this post!

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It’s been a long time, to say the least. But, coming back to Philos isn’t an event to be celebrated. After all, he’s a backtracker; a traitor who is no longer welcome here.  

The spaceship lands in the middle of Starfall Forest, with only the rustling of leaves and the gentle afternoon breeze extending a soft greeting. The forest, once deemed to be a frightful, dangerous area crawling with wanderers, is now a tranquil haven under the cover of the towering trees. 

Xavier leaves the spaceship and feels the gravel crunching beneath his boots. His hair tousles as the wind blows against his lifted cheeks, and he inhales a deep breath of fresh air. 

When he closes his eyes, all he can see is her. 

And in his mind, the same question that has been haunting him for days remains: 

Is she still waiting for him? 

++++++

Behind the palace is now a blooming field of flowers — one that never existed in his time. 

Xavier climbs up the slopey hill, mindful not to trample on the little wildflowers as he goes by. As he ascends, so does the pace of his heart. It trembles in his chest, his mind anxious as he wonders what he should say when he sees her again. Centuries have passed, and people change. What if she no longer remembers him? Or what if she has fallen in love with someone else? 

Xavier’s questions promptly vanish, dissipating into stardust when he finds a familiar figure standing in the middle of the sea of flowers, her regal cloak floating in the air. A stronger breeze blows then, nudging the hood of her cloak off her head, and then he sees ribbons of her hair, flowing and dancing in the breeze. 

Her head turns at the sound of his footsteps, and their eyes meet. 

For a moment, he’s not sure what to say. But his legs continue to move, closer and closer and closer, until his toes meet hers. 

She doesn’t utter a word, not even when her name slips past his lips. She only stares at him, eyes wide and glassy with unshed tears. The unspoken question that she has is written all over her face: 

Is this a dream? Are you real? Have you truly returned to me? 

He takes her hand in his, marvelling at how warm she is to the touch, and places it on his chest. His heart beats stronger and faster now, as his eyes trace over the curves and lines of her face. 

She looks the same as the day they parted, except now, there’s a trace of a hesitant smile on her lips. 

“It’s me. I’m home.” 

Her palm presses into his chest, taking a moment to feel his heartbeat, and her eyes search his. Whether it’s to search for a trace of a lie or truth in his eyes, he’s not sure. 

But the moment she’s done studying him, no more assurance is needed. She throws her arms around his neck in that instant, leaping into his embrace. 

Taken aback by the sudden weight, Xavier catches her, but fails to steady himself. They go tumbling down the hill, rolling down the slope of flowers. Petals and grass are thrown into the air as they go, until they eventually roll to a stop at the foot of the hill. 

They continue to hold each other tightly, as if afraid that letting go will mean the other will disappear once more. 

Then Xavier hears a quiet sob, and he hurriedly releases her, holding her by the shoulders and checking her for injuries. All he finds are flowers and grassblades in her hair, and despite the tears streaming down her face, she can’t help but giggle as she picks out a stray petal from his cheek. 

“Are you hurt?” he asks, wiping them away with his thumb. 

She shakes her head. “I was, but I’m okay now.” 

Another choked sob escapes her, and she buries her face in his chest, her tears dampening his clothes. 

Xavier lets her cry, cradling her in his embrace and holding her like that for as long as she needs. 

++++++

The sun is setting by the time she’s composed herself. They sit together largely in silence, her head resting against his chest as she leans back against him, and his back rests against the flowery slope. Their fingers are still tightly intertwined, and he can feel the ticklish sensation of her fingertips brushing against the back of his hand, as if to examine him thoroughly for injuries like she used to.

“You made me wait for so long,” she murmurs absently, and his heart aches at the sound of her slightly hoarse voice. “I thought you’d never return.”

“I thought I wouldn’t be able to either,” he replies truthfully, thumb brushing over hers in a soothing motion. “And I thought you wouldn’t be waiting for me after so much time has passed.”

“Hmph. As if I’d let you get away so lightly. You owe me a huge debt for taking over your royal responsibilities all this time, and more importantly, you ought to be punished for lying to me.”

“I… lied?”

She turns her head, shooting him a glare from the corner of her eye, before returning her gaze to the sky above them. “Yeah. You’re a biiiiig stinking liar.”

He chuckles at the sight of her cheeks puffing up slightly. It’s been a while since he saw her throw a tantrum.

“I apologise… But, what did I lie to you about?” 

She scoffs lightly. “Some apology. Shouldn’t you reflect on your own before apologising?” 

Xavier smiles, resting his chin on her head and wrapping his arms around her waist. She doesn’t put up a fight, which means she isn’t truly mad at him. 

Still, he considers her words for a moment, before his eyes are distracted by a nearby bee hovering over a cluster of white flowers. 

“Did you create this flower garden?” he asks, changing the subject. 

“I did.”

“Why?”

“Because… someone said he’d take me to a place where there are no people and no wanderers, only flowers. I waited and waited for him to take me there, but he never did.” She turns around so that she’s now sitting cross-legged, facing him. 

“I wanted to see how it might look like for myself, in case he never kept his promise.”

Xavier’s gaze softens, sweeping over her eyes that hold more sorrow than actual anger at him. With his thumb, he presses the center of her forehead to ease the frown etched on her brows.

“You… remember Uluru?” 

The name is like magic; she fails to maintain her indignant facade and drops her shoulders, eyes lowering and her expression turning wistful. 

“Our little planet,” she murmurs, quoting what he had said that night when he carried her on his back through the forest. “I wonder if it’s already turned into a shooting star now.”

Gently, he tips her chin up, so that she’s looking at him once more. “It’s still a fairly young planet, and the flowers should still be blooming. Shall we… go together?” 

He watches as her eyes brighten like stars awakening in a pitch dark galaxy. Her lips spread into a playful grin. 

“Are you asking me to elope with you again?” 

He chuckles. “Yes. Would you come with me?” 

Instead of saying ‘yes’ like he expected her to, she purses her lips and crosses her arms over her chest, pretending to be deep in thought. 

“So you intend to have me, the Queen, abandon Philos? How irresponsible.” 

“Hmm… It wouldn’t be abandonment if I kidnap you there myself.” 

“Xavier!” 

He only shrugs nonchalantly. “I’m already considered a traitor, I don’t think another count of treason would make a difference.” 

She laughs then, a sweet melody in his ears. “You’re incorrigible.” 

“And you’re beautiful,” he says, fingers brushing against her cheek and holding her gaze, a rush of emotions filling his chest. Her cheeks redden and she doesn’t seem to know how to react to the sudden tenderness in his voice, other than to clumsily change the subject. 

“B-By the way, I never got to ask.”

“Yes?”

“Why did you call the planet Uluru?”  

“Do you not like it?” 

“It’s cute, but it sounds kind of silly. Is there some other meaning to it?” 

“Well… Try saying it out loud.” 

“Uluru.” Her lips form a little ‘o’, and her eyes narrow at him with scepticism. “I don’t get it.” 

Try saying it slower.” 

“U… lu… ru..?” 

In the next moment, he seals the gap between them, lips finding hers in a gentle, sweet kiss. 

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an enemy to lovers and one bed trope but I need their responses in the morning being strangled to eachother

One Bed Trope: Morning After Dialogue

-> feel free to edit as you see fit

"Get off of me."

"Is it weird I'm comfortable?"

"Jesus Christ how did we manage to fall asleep like this?"

"How the hell did you wrap your leg around me?"

"You've been laying on my arm all night and I can't feel it."

"I would've moved to the floor but you were using me as a pillow."

"I almost fist-fought you last night when you took the blanket."

"I have to pee so bad please get up."

"I don't think I'm going to be able to look you in the eyes after this."

"You snore. Loudly."

"I do not snore, you liar."

"We don't have to talk about it, just get dressed."

"It's too early for this, we'll talk about it later."

"I don't understand how I slept so good last night."

"Let's keep it professional, alright?"

"Don't get confused, I was only clinging to you because you stole the blanket and I had no other way to keep warm."

"We're not going to bring this up ever again, right?"

"I slept really good last night." "That makes one of us."

"My arm is still asleep."

"Did you know you talk in your sleep?"

"How did the blanket end up on the floor? No wonder I was freezing."

"Go back to sleep."

"You're the only source of warmth in this stupid hotel, come back to bed before I get hypothermia."

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Who keeps teaching him slang?

Someone, please anyone, Grandpa must be stopped. 🤣

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Ocean at night

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zayne, hurting in so many levels x x

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childhood trio

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me reading the start of your prompt 86 fanfic.

"What's it finna play....WHOAAAAAAHHHHH"

MC/Reader (apart from me) is God's strongest soldier because the embarrassment would've literally finished me there. Between Protocore Syndrome and that, my heart would've exploded.

Failing that, I'd switch careers to anything in aerospace, trying to get sent on the next Deepspace Expedition NOW.

-🌺

Anon i gotta be honest I started off that one more as a crack fic and just. Rolled with it for the sake of the prompt 😂😂

Agree 100% I would just yeet myself into another universe if that ever happened to me

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So, can I request number 14 or number 17 with Rafayel? Whichever sparks your interest. I'm not asking for both, btw! 😭 Just can't choose between them. Thank you :)

A/N: Hi Anon! I went with number 17 ("Suck on my fingers") for this one. Gotta love 'em fish sticks~ Hope you enjoy!

Rating: M

Prompt list

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You'd be lying if you said you weren't curious.

Rafayel's hands have always been attractive to you. Not that the rest of him isn't already drop-dead gorgeous (you can already hear his dramatic complaints in your head), but his hands are particularly beautiful somehow. It could be that you've spent an unhealthy amount of time staring at him while he paints (while on duty as his bodyguard, of course), eyes zooming in onto his long, slender fingers wrapped around his paintbrushes. You'll trace the contours of his knuckles, the veins in protruding from his skin, wondering how it would feel like to the touch.

Despite disliking physical contact, every now and then you'll have the chance to hold his hand, whether it's to forcibly drag him out of his studio to attend an event or to pull him aside to safety when you sense that he's in danger. Then there are instances when Rafayel just asks to hold your hand because "it's cold" when it's really not, and you get to feel the warmth of his palm seeping into yours and spreading to your cheeks.

Soooo yes. You might have a little crush on your employer.

It wasn't at all part of the plan originally. You had gotten closer to him only because you needed him to cooperate and give you the name of the suppliers that sold him that peculiar red coral stone; it was purely for work; for the safety of Linkon City.

Which meant that accompanying him on day trips to various scenic locations in search of inspiration for his next masterpiece, fetching him late-night snacks for his sudden cravings and accompanying him as his bodyguard to the many events he'd attend, was all for the greater good.

But now, you're not so sure that even this can be justified as part of your job.

"Suck on my fingers."

Yeah, there's no way you're including this in your work report.

Rafayel has you cornered on the edge of the couch in his studio, one hand on your lower back while you lean as far back as you can against the soft cushions, and his other hand raised so that his index and middle fingers are pressed to your lips.

You're not sure what to make of this. Just five minutes ago you had been celebrating your win at arm wrestling and Rafayel had complained about his fingers hurting. As always, he rejected your offer to take him to the hospital, and insisted that you administer emergency first-aid before his hand became unusable and he was forced to retire from his job.

And apparently, Rafayel's idea of first-aid measures is sucking on his fingers.

You push his hand away, freeing your lips to speak.

"That's not how first-aid works," you tell him with a pointed glare to mask how flustered you're getting, but he's quick to grab your chin between his thumb and index finger, trapping you in place before you can run.

"But when children get hurt, don't you humans always 'kiss it better'?" There's a mischievous glint in his eyes as he smirks at you.

"That's not the same as sucking, is it?"

"And the injury to my fingers is far graver than a typical knee-scrape for a human child."

"The grip you have on my chin suggests your hand is perfectly fine, Rafayel."

The veteran actor's grip on you loosens right on cue, and he feigns a pained expression.

"What a barbaric city we live in. I guess deepspace hunters are in the habit of wounding innocent civilians and leaving them to die."

Rafayel continues to ramble on, and his words fade into the background as you consider your next move here. There's really no winning this man-child, and your only way out of this is to beat him at his own game.

"Fine."

"—Thomas will never let you hear the end of— Wait, what?"

"I said, 'fine'," you repeat, before removing Rafayel's hand on your chin and uncurling his fingers, much to his visible bewilderment. He starts to panic when you open your mouth, bringing his hand closer and closer. He watches without uttering a word as your tongue darts out, licking up the length of his index finger before enveloping it with your lips, teeth grazing his skin.

Your eyes don't leave his face, and you watch with some satisfaction as his eyes seem to darken and his ears begin to turn bright red.

Without warning, Rafayel withdraws his hand.

"H-Hey, I was just kidding. Since when did you take me so seriously?"

"Since you claimed you were gravely injured, I figured I should take you seriously."

Rafayel is momentarily at a loss for words, and he pauses to search your eyes, perhaps to see if you're actually mad at him for taking his joke too far.

"Besides," you add, "you seemed to like it."

You're not sure where the courage to utter such provocative words are coming from, but the expression on the usually chatty artist's face is priceless.

Rafayel's lips are parted, but no sound is coming out. His dumbfounded state continues for a few more seconds that feel longer than they should, until he finally asks a question in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

"And you... Did you like that too?"

He already knows the answer; it's not like you're making much of an effort to hide how turned on you are at this point, not with his body pressed against yours and your breaths growing shallower by the second.

Your hand finds his, and raise his fingers to your lips once more. His fingers are long, slender, beautiful...

And they taste so good.

"I don't know. I guess I'll have to try again to be sure."

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86. Does it make you nervous when I stare?

Fandom: Love and Deepspace

Characters: Xavier x Reader

Rating: E / 18+

A/N: Prompt List

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The partner sytem in the Hunter's Watch has gotten you out a pinch a few times now. Just recently, when you found yourself dealing with an impossible horde of wanderers, your partner had received a red alert on his watch and came to your rescue, teleporting you out of the way in the nick of time. If not for him, you may well have died that day.

Then again, it may have been better to die with some dignity while carrying out your duties as a hunter, than to die from embarrassment like this.

And by 'this', you mean caught with your pants down (literally) and a dildo shoved halfway up your pussy, and a certain partner teleporting into your bedroom mid-orgasm, staring at you with utter bewilderment when he realises you’re not screaming for help.

Oh, and how could you forget to mention? He'd walked in right when you were screaming his name in ecstasy.

What happens in the next few seconds is complete chaos. You scream, chucking the nearest pillow at his head, which Xavier expertly dodges as he bolts out the door after mumbling a red-faced apology over his shoulder.

The rest of that afternoon is spent searching for apartments in Linkon City that are available for rent; the sooner you move away the better, lest you run into your partner by chance in this apartment building. Goodness knows how devastatingly awkward it will be to ever face him again. You’re not sure if you can even look him in the eye anymore.

For now, you'll just have to avoid him for as long as you can.

Unfortunately, that only lasts for a matter of hours.

Later that night, you hear your doorbell ring. Afraid that it might be Xavier, you ignore it, but when the doorbell ringing continues after 10 minutes, you give up and head over to get rid of your visitor. Much to your dismay and no surprise, you find Xavier standing at your door, meeting your gaze only for a second before dropping them to his feet and shifting his weight restlessly.

"I brought food. To... apologise... for this afternoon."

You look down at the plastic bag in his hands, and you catch a whiff of what smells like egg tarts.

"You made this?"

"No, I bought it. I was afraid it wouldn't turn out right.”

The tension is so thick you could suffocate. With a resigned sigh, you accept the bag from him. "Thanks. Let's... just forget about everything. Nothing happened today.”

"I can't do that." Xavier's abrupt reply has you blinking twice and doing a double-take.

"What- What do you mean, you 'can't'?"

"Because I heard you... saying my name back there."

Trying to feign ignorance is a herculean task in front of sweet, innocent Xavier. Not to mention, you’re not exactly a seasoned liar.

You clear your throat awkwardly and in the most convincing voice you can muster, you tell him, "You must have heard wrong."

Xavier stares at you, unfazed.

"...You're not a very good liar."

Damn it.

"Sorry. It doesn't mean anything, so don't... think too much about it. Let's just call it a night, okay? I'm tired, and—"

You move to close the door, but he immediately holds it open, swiftly sidestepping you and worming his way into your apartment before you can stop him. What would be the point, anyway? He could teleport in here if he so wished.

"I think we should talk about it," Xavier insists. It's rare for him to be so stubborn, and you find your resolve softening when you meet his piercing, determined gaze.

Your head falls, eyes resting on your feet. "I'm sorry for what happened this afternoon.”

"I'm not here to ask for an apology." He steps closer, figure approaching you. You instinctively step back, withdrawing farther and farther until your back hits the wall and you realise that you've been cornered.

"Then," you ask after some hesitation, voice trembling slightly, "what… are you here for?"

Xavier leans in, closing the gap between you until your noses are nearly touching. His eyes bore deeply into yours, as if searching them for an inkling of the thoughts running through your head at that moment, and you're thankful then and there that Xavier is not actually telepathic because all you can think of is how pink and kissable those lips are, how soft they would feel against yours and how hot and heavy his tongue would be running across your lips—

"I wanted to know if you... Do you..." Xavier ears have turned a dark shade of red now, and despite the trouble he's having with finishing his sentences, you can guess what he wants to ask.

That alone is enough to send your heart into overdrive once more.

"Do you have feelings for me?"

Your mind goes blank, like a hard drive that got wiped clean in an instant. You have no idea what to say to your partner who has that earnest, sincere look in his eyes. He's seriously wondering what you feel about him, while you are suddenly reminded about your unfinished business in the afternoon before you got interrupted. With him leaning in this close, his scent permeating your senses, your fingers are itching to just grab him by the collar and crash your lips to his, feel his hands on your hips and dig your fingers into his soft, silver hair...

It's then that you realise that this is no longer just your imagination. Suddenly it's real: the feel of his lips on yours, kissing you, and you're kissing back, parting your lips for your tongue to sweep across his lower lip, and then catching it between your teeth in a light nip. His hands are roaming, up and down your back, down your waist and hovering close to your ass. Yours are in his hair, pulling him closer to you and hugging him tightly, as if he'll disappear any second.

Did you make the first move? Or did he do it?

The questions fade away into nothing, melting along with your body as he kisses you with the passion of a starved beast. He’s bolder than usual, hands exploring your body with an urgency that was strange but oddly exciting, coming from him. He steps closer, positioning his thigh between your legs and pressing against your aching center. The pressure against you has you moaning softly into his lips, and you can't help but rock your hips, seeking the sweet friction that you had been denied of this afternoon.

The rest goes by in a blur, quite literally. One second you're your doorway, and in the next, you feel the wind enveloping your tightly connected bodies and when you open your eyes again, you're in your bedroom. All it takes is one step for him to push you down onto the sheets with a bounce, and then he's on top of you, lips crashing back to yours as if pained to have been parted from yours for even a moment.

"W-Wait," you say, when you finally break apart for want of air, and Xavier acquiesces, stopping himself from dipping in again for another taste of you. You find yourself nose to nose with a heavily breathing Xavier — a rare sight for a hunter who fights off wanderers without even breaking a sweat.

"This– So— It's happening so fast—"

"You want me," Xavier says matter-of-factly, husky voice sending delightful shivers down your spine. There's no trace of a question in that statement.

"You... but..."

"But, what?"

"We're partners. Isn't this weird?"

"You were touching yourself while thinking of me first—"

"Oh my god, can we stop talking about that? I died so many times from shame today."

"It doesn't have to be a bad memory, you know,” Xavier says with a sweet smile. You would have thought he was talking about going to the convenience store for a snack or something normal, if not for the position you're both in and the undeniable undertones of something naughtier that he has in mind.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

His smile widens, and you hold your breath as he leans in to whisper something you’d never ever thought you’d hear from him.

“Show me how you pleasure yourself.”

He… He can’t be serious.

Your unspoken question must have been written all over your stunned face, because Xavier reaches down to hook his fingers under the hem of your shorts, and yanks it down to expose you to him.

“I want to see it. So I can do the same for you.”

Blood rushes to your face and your already wet cunt clenches at those words. You want to say no, but how can you, when he’s looking at you with such a sincere, pleading gaze? Saying no to him would be the equivalent of kicking a puppy; you just can't.

But your fingers are also hesitant, and when you waver for too long, Xavier decides to take your wrist in his warm hand, and guide them to your center, brushing your fingers over your wet slit.

"This... is too embarrassing," you tell him, biting down on your lip as he sinks your fingers into your slick folds. Your fingers aren't moving, paralysed by his heated, intense gaze.

Xavier's darkened eyes meet yours once more, and you want to look away, but his other hand catches your chin between his thumb and index finger, holding you in place.

"Does it make you nervous when I stare?" he asks, voice lowered to a deep whisper. He leans in closer and you find yourself unable to shift back. All you can do is hold your breath as his nose finds yours and you feel his warm breath fanning over your parted lips.

Your eyes dip down for a brief moment to his lips, and in that moment you hear him chuckle. His hand, formerly on your wrist, slides down to rest over your index and middle fingers, and he pushes them into your folds, rubbing gently over your clit.

The shock of pleasure shoots through you and you let out a gasp, which is immediately muffled when his lips captures yours in an eager kiss.

The kiss is better than how you imagined it would be; it's warm and gentle like the rays of the morning sun, melting all your nerves and worries away.

His hand moves from your chin to your cup your cheek, thumb swiping delicately over your cheekbone, before sliding to the back of your neck to tug you closer to him. In response, your arms wrap around his back, hugging him tightly. Moans of his name slip out every so often when you break apart for air, and when you can't hold back when he continues moving your fingers against your sensitive clit.

"Is this better?" he asks, lightly panting as well when you pause to rest your forehead against his, focusing on the pleasure that he's giving to you. His eyes are closed, as they have been for a while now.

"Are you going to keep your eyes closed?" you ask back, raising one hand to trace the curve of his eyebrow.

His lips spread into a smile, free hand taking your wrist and holding it against his cheek. His face turns towards it, lips pressing a kiss to your palm.

"I don't necessarily have to look to learn."

It's then that you feel two fingers sinking into you, stretching your walls with the sweet friction that you've been craving all afternoon. Unable to stop yourself, your hips buck into his hands as your back arches, head thrown back with a loud gasp.

"You can show me in other ways," Xavier whispers, and you don't need to look to know that this night is going to be a long one.

[betweenbreaths]

He is eepy, please scroll quietly

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tfw you try to read the LDS boys' myth stories to understand them better and end up even more confused 💀