Winnie dropped onto the couch and exhaled as faer body was consumed by the massive cushions, screaming “movie night!”
A blur of red streaked by until Winnie’s girlfriend tackled faem even deeper into the recesses of the two-seater. “Movie night!” she crowed, muffled by the fabric of Winnie’s sweater as fae laughed.
They both finally managed to make themselves comfortable after a few minutes of trial and error. Only half a bag of popcorn spilled to the floor in the process—a new low—and neither can of Fanta had overturned, so Querída had already determined that tonight was a success.
Almost.
“Quit digging your elbow into my rib,” Winnie whined mournfully as Querída continued to snuggle deeper onto her datemate’s body. “I know you’re practically a cat but this is actually painful.” The elbow withdrew immediately, inadverdantly knocking across the bridge of faer nose in the process.
"Sorry p-bear, I would never try to hurt you!” The freckles along her forehead shifted as her eyebrows rose in concern. “Need me to kiss it better?”
Winnie rolled faer eyes and rubbed a callused thumb across Querída’s cheek. “Babe, I love you, but you’re killing me. This is the fifth time we’ve tried to watch Iron Man all the way through and you always end up missing the beginning with all your wigglin’ and most of the middle when you fall asleep, and then you get so confused about the ending! Can we please just try this without interruptions tonight?”
Querída pouted but laid back down and draped herself across her datemate’s lap. “For you,” she muttered, “I’d do anything. Even watch a rich white guy try to save the world with metal fists.”
looks: somewhat attractive | eh | not really my type (he’s cute but he’s like 9 lol so it’s more of a little-kid-brother-type cute) | pretty | handsome | beautiful | gorgeous
can you relate to this character on a personal level?: no | not really | somewhat (we have some similar issues in a few ways) | yes | they are me
would you date/be friends with this character in real life if they were real?: total bros | friends (I dunno if I’d be up to being best friends with him, but he seems pretty nice and I hope I’d try to be one) | best friends | datefriend | neither | i don’t know
14 for wes/julian pleaaase? Dude your last wulian fanfic was amazing btw!! :)
I may have gone a bit overboard but I wrote it and I’ve posted it. Thanks for requesting and reading my writing<3333
From another kiss meme: ‘I don’t have the words right now so here’s a kiss'
It was lunch hour and the football team took up the entire entity of the jock hangout. They sat on beanbag chairs and sprawled themselves across the wooden floor with pillows on their chests. Their attention was directed towards the moving projection on an otherwise white wall. They were fast forwarding through a recording of their last football match; pointing out where they'd fumbled and how they could improve as a unit. It was a sort of tradition for the boys to pick a lunch hour in which they'd bring snacks and drinks and sit around comparing notes. They had each watched the recording on their own beforehand and used this time to see if they'd missed out on something. There would be occasions in which one of them would notice something no one else had and they'd all "oh" in union.
Julian was at the far back with the remote control in his right hand and a red cup on his left. He mindlessly filled his mouth with lemonade as he sat in a blue beanbag chair that desperately tried to swallow him but couldn't. They were coming towards the last few minutes of the game and he let the scene unfold in its normal speed. Julian let go of the fast forward button and drank the last bit of lemonade before getting up for a refill.
There was a table at the back of the room with drinks, chips, cookies, trail mix, and anything else the boys had thought to bring. They kept their snacks at a safe distance from feet and arms. They'd kicked a litter of Gatorade over once. And when they had cleaned up the sticky mess they hadn't done a good enough job. The next afternoon there had been a line of ants greeting them at the door.
Julian dropped the control on his seat and went to pour himself another cup of homemade lemonade. He picked up the pitcher and poured until the beverage reached the top of his cup. His back was to the projector screen and besides him was the door to the hangout. Julian still had his head down when the door quietly opened and Wes, like a shadow, slid in.Julian felt a presence besides him and looked up to see his boyfriend standing close. He had a finger to his lips and jutted his chin towards the door he'd come in through. Julian figured he wanted him to follow so he put down his cup and- as quietly as a footballer could be- tiptoed behind Wes.
Outside the sun beat down and Julian had to shield his eyes from the sudden change. He felt hot, the temperature he guessed around 100 F. Beads of sweat formed above his brow and Wes noticed the way Julian had to squint to look at him. Without a second thought, he nudged the jock towards a more shaded region. Somewhere the sunlight didn't feel as harsh and he didn't have to strain his eyes.
Julian was amazed at how Wes could look so unaffected by the heat. The boy somehow could wear a jacket and a pair of beat up jeans and still look like it was autumn outside. Once, Julian had asked how he didn't itch to rip of the jacket and he'd gotten a simple, "It's not that bad" as a response.
"Sorry for pulling you out," Wes's foot bounced. He had his fingers in his pockets and he kept squeezing them into a ball before relaxing them.
Julian could feel just as well as he could see the jitters Wes protruded and took a step closer. "It's fine. We were just about finishing up. What's up?" he asked.
Wes looked around the campus as though he expected someone to be eavesdropping on them. He had the sort of look someone who stole something for the first time; reclusive and nervous.
"Wes, what's wrong?" Julian grabbed Wes's chin and made him meet his gaze. His palms were calloused from the part time job he'd picked up at a construction site with his dad.
Wes scanned over Julian's features. He could see how his eyebrows furrowed and his brown eyes asked more questions than his lips.
"You okay?" Julian moved Wes's chin left and right as he tried to find something; a scratch or bruise or a sign that he was hurt. Wes had put an effort in getting into less trouble but he'd sometimes show up with a bloody lip or broken nose. He couldn't say no to a friend in need of information (or money).
"Yeah, I just," Wes shook his head out of Julian's grasp. "I just needed to talk."
"About?"
"This," Wes took a step back and reached for his jean's pocket. He brought out an envelope with a stamp on the corner for a university in Upper Manhattan, New York City.
Columbia University.
"It came?" Julian accepted the envelope when Wes gave it to him. He turned it over and found that it was yet to be opened.
Inside was a letter that pertained to Wes. It would either tell him he was accepted or denied entrance to Columbia University. Columbia University was Wes's priority school. He had originally told his brother about wanting to apply there and then jokingly mentioned it to Julian. Julian, like his brother, had urged him to apply. They'd persistently told him how he should try even if it was a private league with a 3rd place ranking in selectivity. Just because less than 2,000 candidates were accepted didn't mean Wes didn't stand a chance. They liked to remind him that he was manager at his job, he did community hours when no one at school was watching, he participated in school and studied and he was a terrible slacker because he took AP classes, had a 4.3 GPA, and high test scores.
They were all guilty of being hopeful.
"It came."
"You need to open it!" Julian tried to hand the envelope back to Wes but he recoiled at the touch.
"I can't," he said.
"What?"
"I can't open it," Wes asserted. "I know this started off like a joke but-"
"Your future isn't a joke," Julian intervened. He took Wes's hand and pressed the envelope against his palm.
Wes looked down at it and grimaced. He hated when things were out of his control and at that moment he had no control of what the letter said. Wes would much rather not open the envelope.
"You're opening that letter," Julian spoke as though he had read Wes's mind.
"What's the point?" his boyfriend tried to give the thing back. When he saw that Julian wouldn't take it he looked around for somebody that would. If Wes had his way he'd hand the envelope to the first person that walked past them. "It's probably going to say something like 'We're sorry to inform you but your application has been declined' or whatever colleges say when they don't want to rudely tell you they're out of your league."
"You're so pessimistic!" Julian groaned. It was a new word he'd gotten into the habit of using. Pessimistic. Some time during his studies with Kallie, she'd explained what it meant and he'd been using it since. Especially when referring to Wes. "It might say you've been accepted!"
"That'd be a laugh," Wes rolled his eyes.
"Come on, Wes," Julian tried again. He used the same soft voice he would use inside the jock hangout when he wanted to keep things between them both, or when he wanted to convince Wes to do something like dress up for picture day or go to prom with him. "Opening it won't hurt you."
"Not physically, but I'm pretty sure my ego would get a good blow."
Wes wouldn't admit to it but what his friends said mattered more to him than life. And when they'd all heard he'd be pursuing college they'd cheered him on. Everyone but Sakura. She meant well, surely, and she was 100% behind him until she found out where he was applying. Columbia was a dream for someone like Wes, she'd laughed, He'd be crazy to think they'd want a slacker with a criminal past. He didn't even have the money to go, she bet.
"Listen, maybe for you it's easy to look at the bright side but that's not gonna change anything. Sakura was right, I'm good-for-nothing trailer trash. And I honestly don't need another damn person telling me I'm not good enough!" Wes scrunched up the envelope and threw it at Julian.
Julian caught the letter as it fell. He ran his hand over the envelope and smoothed out as many of the wrinkles as he could. "She didn't call you trailer trash," he mumbled.
"No, she didn't have to," Wes stood with his legs parallel and his arms crossed. He had an expression Julian could only describe as irritated. "She got her point across when she started showing me the stats and laughed in my face."
"Wes."
"Julian."
Julian had dealt with Wes's stubbornness before. They could be at a standoff for hours and neither would waver in their resolution. Wes was almost as bad as Julian.
Almost.
"Open the letter, Wes."
"No."
"Open it."
"No!"
"Fine. I'll open it."
At that Wes's hands went to snatch the envelope from Julian's nimble fingers. He pressed in into his chest as though it were a prized nugget of gold. "Don't touch it!" he flared.
"You gave it to me," Julian kept a calm voice through the exchange. "Its mine now. Give it back."
Wes clenched his jaw and looked at the envelope.
"Unless you want to open it now?" Julian pressed.
Wes looked at Julian, the envelope, Julian, then back at the envelope. He tapped it on his palm to move the papers away from where he'd make the tear.
Julian watched closely. The bell rang and a pool of students began to pour out the hangouts and lunch area. The bodies were heading to class. They were at a good enough distance under a shaded region that Wes didn't have to move. Which was good considering his eyes were busy scanning the tiny black letters on a single sheet of paper and he wouldn't have moved even if someone had bumped into him. "Wes," Julian spoke after the sea of students had dispersed and they were alone, "What does it say?"
Wes mumbled something that Julian couldn't catch.
"What?" Julian stepped closer and leaned in.
"I didn't get in," Wes repeated. He squeezed the letter in his hand and looked up to see Julian's staring back at him. "Told you it was pointless," he laughed.
Julian was at a loss for words. He knew the school was hard to get in but he'd seen how hard Wes worked on his essays and the effort he'd placed in building up his application. He knew Wes had gotten into some trouble in his past but he'd shaped himself up the last two years. Didn't everyone deserve a chance to better themselves?
If only they could see what they were missing out on by denying him, Julian thought. Sakura had been wrong about Wes. She'd based her opinion on his appearance. Everyone did. Columbia was supposed to do otherwise.
Julian wrapped his arms around Wes and pulled him in for a hug. He held him tight and moved his hand in circular motions on Wes's back as he placed kisses on the top of his head. He did it once, then twice, then a third and fourth time while Wes kept his head hung and his ear pressed against Julian's chest. Wes heard the rhythmic beat and counted them. He wouldn't admit it aloud but it was soothing. He always liked to lean up against Julian when they were alone because he'd let his mind wander to the sound of the beat. Plus, it was sort of a reminder that he wasn't alone anymore. That someone was by his side again.
Wes only pulled himself away because they were out in public and things had began to get too sappy. He meticulously folded his letter and slipped it back into the envelope instead. "I'm fine," he reassured the jock when that'd been done.
"Want to ditch class and go to the slacker hangout?" Julian suggested. He knew Wes liked the place because there was a beat up coach he'd always sleep on. Whenever Julian couldn't find his boyfriend around campus he'd be there, his feet kicked up and his beanie over his face. But Wes didn't want to go there right now. He wanted to go to class and sit down and listen to a boring voice tell him about boring things that would make him forget he wasn't accepted to his dream school.
Wes patted Julian's shoulder. "Nah, I'm kinda feeling class right now. I want to pretend this didn't happen."
"Aw, come on," Julian took a step forward. Wes's face hadn't shown any signs of anger or sadness but his hands were murdering the envelope and Julian could see the veins on his arm. He softly rubbed Wes's wrist and then his fingers. "You could sleep and pretend this didn't happen."
"If I'm alone I'll probably do something I shouldn't," he whispered.
"That's why I'll be there."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," Julian took the envelope from Wes and replaced it with his own hand. He took that chance to pull him in until they were chest to chest.
As they pressed their bodies together under the jock hangout shade, Wes turned his head so he could hear Julian's steady heartbeat. "I just really wanted to get accepted," he admitted, "I wanted to show everyone that I could really do it, you know? Make them regret their words." He didn't have to clarify who 'they' were for Julian to know Wes was referring to everyone that had ever doubted him. Everyone that had ever said he'd end up like his brother, in jail.
Julian didn't know what to say in response to the confession. He didn't know the right words but he felt as though he had to say something. He placed his hands on Wes's neck and made him meet his gaze.
"I really want to forget," Wes breathed.
Julian ran his thumb over Wes's jawline and though his fingers were rough, Wes kissed his thumb as it outlined his bottom lip. He thought himself lucky for having a boyfriend like Wes. One that tried when no one else did and loved when no one else would.
Without another word, Julian led Wes in for a kiss and helped him forget. Even if just for that minute, he'd have Wes think of nothing more than the way he felt under him. Remind him that there was always something to look forward to.
I tried to keep this brief, I really did, but it just isn’t happening so…
Emilio
Emi likes to act hard but he can’t really back it up. When people flirt with him, he tends to puff himself up to a comical degree as a protection against potential insincerity. No matter how vulnerably or honestly you present your heart to him, this kid will always fear that you didn’t quite mean it. After awhile he loses interest in those who shower him with too much affection, even (perhaps especially) if it’s heartfelt.
Casual flings aren’t really his style since he commits pretty deeply and quickly, but he soon grows hot and cold. His sense of boundaries are also a bit weak so he can quickly misinterpret playful flirtations or insults as the real deal. He has a lot of heart under a lot of layers of armor, but he gives it unreservedly every time.
Ocean
Don’t bother.
It’s not that they don’t appreciate a good raised eyebrow or well-executed wink, but they’d much rather receive accolades than affections. Cynicism and aloofness are far more likely to interest him than shy smiles or furtive glances, but there’s no room in Ocean’s heart for anyone who’s more arrogant since he requires so much attention. They tend to see emotions as things to collect or use and they refuse to ever pay too much attention to their own, let alone those of anyone else.
People like to misinterpret that Ocean is emotionless, but that couldn’t be much farther from the truth. When he was younger, his heart was just like his namesake: tumultuous, treacherous, and abundant. Over time they have simply transitioned into a quiet reflecting pond. The adage “still waters run deep” sums up Ocean fairly succinctly.
If Emi is the kid that acts out in class for the attention but secretly brings the teacher a handmade gift on their birthday, then Ocean is the kid that fights with the teacher to prove he’s smarter and never backs down from a challenge on his pride. Their similarities are what make them so at odds with one another.
