walking with you (sylus, xavier, rafayel, caleb, zayne)
how the lads are when you're just walking around together
tags: fluff, established relationships
content warnings: some nsfw for the end of Rafayel's part, a little bit of angst for Caleb, just a bit, otherwise nothing but fluff,
wc: 1.9k
a/n: i know this premise is a bit weird but i thought about dragging sylus around and then this idea took over me and i had to get it out of my system... anyway i hope you enjoy this self indulgent fluff.
feel free to dm me with requests (I can't guarantee I'll get to all of them but I'm willing to try) ദ്ദി (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧
Sylus loves to walk behind you.
"By all means, lead the way" he'll say, with a sweeping gesture.
He tends to walk just a couple of paces behind you. He likes to let your intertwined hands fall slack, so he can feel you yank his hand when you get too far ahead. He likes feeling like you're pulling him along.
Maybe it's because it reminds him of the linkage that you have, the fact that your souls are bound - its the physical manifestation of that. Whether you had that red linkage or not - you've made one yourself gripping his hand in yours, tightly, tugging on him to let him know where he belongs. Maybe he likes knowing that you desire him. That you need him by your side so much that you'll resort to pulling him along. Maybe he likes that you're not letting him go, that you refuse.
And maybe all those reasons are true.
But he also just thinks it's funny.
He doesn't even need to dig his heels into the ground for you to feel like he's an immovable object. He's just a big guy and he likes to use that advantage to rage bait you. Sylus loves when you huff, cheeks puffing out, and when you call his name all exasperated.
Sometimes you'll pull his arm over your shoulder and try lugging him around that way. When you turn around to face him and continue your attempts - "Sylus, this isn't funny, we're going to be late!" - it never fails to make him laugh.
When he's had his fill, he'll concede and surge forward, and the give will make you stumble a little.
Don't worry though, he'll always make sure to catch you before you fall.
Xavier likes to walk next to you side by side like partners. He always matches your pace.
If you're speedwalking to line up at the new restaraunt that opened up - you never need to call over your shoulder for him to hurry up - he's right beside you. If theres a pole or people walking in the middle of the sidewalk, he'll close the distance instead of tugging you to him or letting go of your hand. If you're drunk and a ten minute walk home becomes a half an hour one, (ten of those minutes involved you cooing and petting a stray cat you managed to see, by a bush you stumbled into) he'll make sure you're steady. He'll walk painfully slowly by your side or get you to climb on his back and carry you home that way.
What Xavier likes most, is swinging your hands between you as you walk.
He used to think about it back when he was a student at school, and then a knight, training with you. He'd imagine a time when he didn't have to be so serious and formal, when he could be playful like he wanted to be - with you.
And sure he'd held your hand back then, but it was the careful kind of puppy love, or it was reverent, or ceremonial. It wasn't like he could have gone swinging it around.
But Xavier was bold and once you'd crossed the boundary of friendship, he was never hesitant with his affection. His want for you overcame anything else, he didn't feel shy, just determined. He'd loved you for a long time, longer than you were fully aware, and you felt so comfortable with him, as if you'd been this close the whole time.
The first time it happened you looked at your joined hands curiously and then up at him.
He paused, "Uh, sorry" and used his other hand to rub the back of his neck sheepishly. It seemed to you as though he'd been doing it without thinking, and hadn't even noticed until now. It was the first time in a long time he'd felt embarrassed. He felt the tips of his ears burning.
But then you poked his cheek, "Why did you stop?"
You pulled on your joined hands, started swinging them again and Xavier turned his face away to hide his smile.
Since then it would only take a couple of minutes of hand holding before you'd inevitably be swinging your hands between yourselves.
Rafayel just loves holding you hand. Whether he's leading you around or you're running ahead of him - as long as you're holding on to him, nothing else matters.
Once he was laying on the floor, whining that he couldn't get up unless you help him to his feet, so your hands grasped his as you pulled him up and then, he just, didn't let go. (He kind of hasn't since). He needs to feel your hand in his. And if you happen to let go he'll start getting pouty. Why are you so far away? Don't you know your hand belongs in his.
It doesn't matter where you are: strolling along the beach, weaving through crowds, helping you in and out of his car, whenever stairs are involved, or even underneath the table while you eat. He's always reaching out for you to take his hand. And when he's helping you carry your groceries or the plushies you've won, he'll be sure to shift everything to one side so he has a hand free to hold yours.
For Rafayel it's not just about having you by his side, always close enough to hold, it's more than that. It's physical. It's about the feeling of your palms against each other, your fingers brushing and then locking, intertwined. There's something intimate about it.
When you're squirming under him, clawing at his silk sheets, scrambling for something to hold on to. "Nuh Uh. Remember the rules, Cutie, I said no touching." He'll chuckle as he watches you struggle for a bit, hips slamming faster, fucking you into the bed.
He knows the wait will make it feel more intense. But he folds, it doesn't take long for his restraint to wear out.
He says he's decided to be merciful, when really it's him who can't wait any longer. He doesn't waste another second before he's flipping you hands over, palms up, fingers prying your clenched hand open. He shudders, moaning at the feeling of threading his fingers through yours, and again when you squeeze his hand tight.
"Feels better doesn't it?"
Caleb used to liked walking ahead of you, with purposely large and fast strides to tease you. Honestly a lot of his behaviour was specifically with this goal in mind. It was just so fun.
"Try to keep up, Pipsqueak!" he'd call over his shoulder, poking his tongue at you and laughing at your annoyed expression. He'd watch you and your little legs try and match his pace and found it so cute. Even cuter when you pouted and called him a dummy.
His little Apple. You wanted to be by his side, always. Your Caleb. He remembers the way you used to look up at him like, like he was the person you admired the most in the world. You were like a little puppy, so eager to follow him around.
Now, it's Caleb who's tailing you. He likes keeping you in his line of sight. He'll walk a step or two behind you. He's still tall enough to tower over you, can see any threats up ahead. And he's got your six, ready to whip around and protect you.
He remembers the explosion, the argument leading up to it, him walking ahead of you in annoyance, and how everything ended up. He won't make the mistake of leaving you behind again.
He just... wants to keep you safe.
He'll link a pinky with yours. Or after his fingers brush your back, he might reach out and grab the fabric of the shirt you're wearing. Sometimes, he can't help himself, pressing up against you and wrapping arm around your shoulder, breathing in the scent of you when he tucks his face into the crook of your neck. You'll walk together like that for a while.
Whenever theres a moment to rest, like when your waiting at the crosswalk for the traffic lights to change, he'll place his hands on your waist and hold you flush against him. His chin resting on your head, he likes to dip down to answer you by talking into your ear.
You're extra Pipsqueak to him like this.
When you're at home, he'll lift you up and place you back down so you're stood on his feet. It's something you used to do when you were kids. He'll wrap his arms around your waist, your back secured against his chest, and waddle you around the kitchen like that.
The first time he did it again, after being reunited, you had scoffed.
"Caleb! Really?"
"Come onnn Colonel Pips, humour me. You know you want to."
You turned your head, looking up over your shoulder at him. You rolled your eyes, but he saw the corner of your lips twitch. You couldn't hide it, it broke out.
He caught your smile. It's exactly how he remembered it - like sunlight finally breaking through the clouds.
Zayne needs his hand wrapped around your waist at all times.
He never really gets as much time with you as he craves.
Before his shift begins and, as soon as he's clocked off from his responsibilities as Doctor Zayne, he misses you. Zayne misses you. All he wants is to hold you in his arms. Beautiful, strong, silly, shining you.
It was his wish when he was younger too. He'd see couples walk around campus. Heads close whispering to each other. Arms wrapped around each other. Often, while studying late into the night, his gaze would eventually fall on at the framed photo he kept on his desk. Him, Caleb and you, sitting together eating icy poles in the summer. He wondered what it would be like if you crossed paths again. Whether he'd one day get to hold you in his arms. Wondered what it would feel like to feel your heartbeat for him.
He doesn't have to wonder anymore. But still, even now, whenever he's finishing up his reports his gaze strays to the framed photos he keeps in his office. He still has that old photo but there's another next to it, a new memory. It's just you this time. You're radiant, the sunlight casting you in a warm honeyed glow. You're playing in the snow, cheeks adorably kissed red by the cold. He misses you, is waiting for his shift to end so he can wrap you in his arms like the coat you're wearing in the photo.
Whenever he sees the pen you got him with the little snowman attached to the tip, or the mug you gifted him with colourful macarons illustrated along the side, both one part of a set, he misses you - wants you near. Whenever his phone lights up and it's that photo of the two of you, you're kissing his cheek as he hugs you from behind. He craves you. Craves the closeness.
So yeah, when he finally gets to see you, he's holding you close. He has you tucked into his side. His arm wrapped around your waist. Sometimes he's stroking your side, otherwise, if he's guiding you as he's one to do, he'll move you with one hand on the small of your back.
And he's always keeping you on the inside of the sidewalk. Ever the gentleman, your Zayne.
