Can someone please create and organize a wlw convention where we can join together and love all our wlw characters, ships, and stories, without fear of straight people taking over or talking over us? Like could it be a safe place? Also, if we could name it something more inclusive than one ship name so as to avoid confusion to what the con is about?
This already exists and itâs called @tgifemslash!!! Â The first con was last year and we had an AMAZING time. Â Whether youâre going to ClexaCon or not, I would invite ALL femslash lovers to check out TGIFemslash and consider joining us in April. Â It absolutely felt like a safe space and was one of the very best convention experiences Iâve ever had. :)
Kben explains why weâre excited about TGIF/F and why we hope you are, too! Please spread the word and make sure to check back here for updates and at tgifemslash.com.
Rachel got a second chance with Jesse, but she couldnât stop thinking about how she never got a first chance with Quinn.
I desperately needed to do something for this prompt of Elyseâs but I couldnât find a way to flesh it out in fic. Iâm definitely not a graphic artist though. Sorry about that.
Faberry Week has been generous enough to donate 3 supporting scholarships! The winner gets a free supporting membership, which contains a USB drive of 8+ hours of video footage of FaberryCon South programming and other swag goodies.Â
As always, weâll do a reblog contest to determine the winners. Both US and international fans are eligible.Â
To enter: âLikeâ AND reblog this post (yes, both!) no later than Sunday May 31st. Then, keep an eye on your ask box, as jarrow will contact the winners in early June. Only one entry per user, but please help us spread the word! The scholarship program has always been a great way for us to reach new fans around the world.
Please support Faberry Week in their upcoming final run to thank them for their generosity!
(If anyone else wants to donate scholarships to this raffle, email us at [email protected] ASAP to let us know, and weâll adjust the drawing accordingly. Scholarships are $20 each. Thank you!)
tattoo artist who can encode magic into tattoos but doesnât want people to know she can so she just puts low-level luck spells on her clientsâ bodies without telling them
jeweller who makes body jewellery and pendants which have amulet properties and draw love and luck and happiness to their wearers without them realising it
piercing artist who keeps the remnants from her piercings and puts them all in little jars in the back of her shop to work sympathetic luck spells on all her clients
and then all three of them slowly realise what the others are doing and end up in a poly relationship living in a little shop in the shitty end of town, which gets curiously less shitty the longer they stay, and people think itâs just the development of the area but the three artists know
and theyâre never rich and theyâre never famous but theyâre always happy because they have everything they need
they have the shop and they have their customers and they have each other
and when their customers are happy and content, they pack up and move on, all together now, to find another space with skin to be coloured and jewellery to be made and magic to be done.
This is a super short one shot set after Blood Will Have Blood, part 1. Parts of it kept going around and around in my head last night and wouldn't stop until I wrote it down. I'm sorry...
You can also read it on FF.net or AO3.
The first time Lexa kissed Clarke it was impulsive.
Commander Lexa was expected to be anything but impulsive.
The Commander was to be methodical and rational, and for the longest time she had been. She made decisions with only the best interests of twelve clansâ in her mind.
And then a small, determined blonde walked into her world with a piece of braid and a mountainous proposal.
The methodical and the rational slipped as the affection grew.
Her body called to Clarke.
Lexaâs first unavoidable response became to worry first about Clarkeâs safety, and all othersâ second.
Lexaâs first instinct was to slice that Mountain Manâs head right off his shoulders.
But Commander Lexa was being watched, judged by her soldiers. To choose wrongly in this moment could cast a ripple of doubt all the way to the capitol.
The Commander chose.
The first time Lexa walked away from Clarke, she hoped Clarke would forgive her.
As Lexa travelled to the capitol, she was plagued by Clarkeâs face in the moment her features registered the betrayal, and was haunted by Clarkeâs eyes as they had pierced hers in disbelief. She used that methodical and rational mind to replay the scenario over and over again, desperate to change the outcome.
She changed the variables, and altered the circumstances, but ultimately her choice remained the same.
Commander Lexa only had one choice and she made it.
Lexa hoped Clarke would walk away from a fight with the Mountain Men.
Her first, unavoidable response was to worry first about Clarkeâs safety.
Lexa also knew better than to hope the small, determined blonde would stop fighting for her people.
They had that in common, she supposed.
Lexa chose a boy named Steen. She gave him her fastest horse and instructions to bring news of the sky people to no one but her.
He understood what she was really asking.
The first time Lexa saw Steenâs face, she knew.
Lexa gave Indra an excuse for the council, mounted a horse and left. She reached Camp Jaha as the Sky People were gathered, performing a ceremony outside the gates. At least two-dozen bodies lay on a makeshift altar.
Lexa saw Doctor Griffinâs tear-stained face first, followed by anger shining in Ravenâs eyes.
She waited until the ceremony was over before walking towards the bodies.
The second time Lexa kissed Clarke it was deliberate.
Clarkeâs lips were cold and the cold seemed to drain through Lexaâs body to her heart.
She allowed herself one brief moment to feel the weight of what could have been then pushed it away before her body could collapse under it.
The second time Lexa walked away from Clarke, she knew sheâd never forgive herself.
Mistaken For A Vision, chapter 3 (the final chapter)
If you havenât read the first two chapters, you can do so on FF.net or AO3.
Rachel catches Kurt doing something she could never have expected. Could it be the catalyst for something between Rachel and Quinn?
Endless thanks to faberryprompts for the idea.
Read at FF.net, AO3, or here/under the cut
---
"Kurt!"
Kurt froze, his finger poised to strike the y key. He looked over at Rachel on the other couch.
"Why are you making so much noise?" she demanded.
"I'm," he hesitated, "typing."
"Well it sounds like a machine gun, and do you have to breathe so loudly?"
Kurt sighed, and tried to press the keys on his laptop more softly. Rachel had been insufferable for a week, ever since Quinn had come home with the news she was taking someone else to tonight's benefit.
She kept insisting that she was fine, but it was obvious that she was hurt and confused. He tried a few times to get her to talk about what was going on with Quinn but she refused, both out of denial and because of his role in starting this debacle.
So he had endured Rachel's irrational outbursts, and the strained politeness between his roommates, as they had gotten progressively worse. He hoped for their sakes that it would reach breaking point soon so they could sort it out. And maybe for his sake too. But mostly theirs. Yes, mostly theirs.
That evening Rachel was sitting on the couch staring blankly at the television.
Kurt had escaped, gone to Duplex on a date with some guy he met at a work party, which just left Quinn, who was upstairs getting her hair and makeup done.
'I should be getting my hair and makeup done too,' Rachel thought bitterly. She wasn't sure where the negative feelings were coming from, probably because there were many meaningful industry connections she wouldn't be making tonight.
'You idiot,' she thought to herself. She knew exactly where the negative thoughts were coming from.
Would Liam know that Quinn needed to take three deep breaths before walking in to the room? Would Liam know when to divert a conversation, lest Quinn's death glare be fixed upon an unwitting person? And who would accompany Quinn to the bathroom and help her fix her lipstick, or adjust a fallen strand of hair?
Mostly Rachel felt like she was being replaced by someone who didn't deserve Quinn.
'Deserve her how?' she thought, but was interrupted almost immediately by Jules walking through the lounge room with her suitcase of supplies and a smile.
"Quinn will be down in a few minutes. Hope you're feeling better soon, Rach," Jules called to her as she let herself out the front door.
Rachel waved, then screwed her nose up in confusion at Jules' farewell.
'Do I look unwell?' she thought, before realizing that Quinn must have given 'illness' as the reason Rachel wasn't accompanying her this evening.
Anger bubbled up in her throat. Hot tears sprang to her eyes. She heard the click-clack of heels on the wooden floor and drew herself up off the couch.
"Sorry I'm too sick to go to the benefit," was hurled at Quinn before she had even registered Rachel's presence.
Quinn sighed deeply.
"What reason should I have given Rachel? That I have to take Lucas-"
"Liam," Rachel interrupted.
"Whatever. It's not like it matters."
"It mattered enough for you to ditch me for him."
"I am doing what's best for both of us, Rachel," Quinn exclaimed as she pushed past the brunette and walked towards the door.
"Oh I'm sorry Quinn, obviously I should thank you. Have fun on your date."
Quinn abandoned her calm at that, spinning back around to face Rachel.
"You know it's not a date."
Her eyes blazed into Rachel's for several seconds until she spun on her heel and walked out the door, slamming it behind her.
All the fight left Rachel's body at the sound of the slammed door. She leaned heavily against the wall of the entryway, fighting back tears.
She hated fighting with her best friend. In fact, she couldn't even remember the last time they had fought. Not like this. Not just silly arguments about who hadn't done the dishes, or how long her third favorite musical ran on Broadway, like a real fight.
The front door swung open, and there was Quinn, looking every bit as upset as Rachel felt.
Rachel brushed her hair back and stood up a little straighter.
"Aren't you going to be late?"
Quinn took a step through the door.
"I didn't want to leave things like that."
"Me neither."
"Rachel," Quinn started, taking a step closer. "IâŠ"
"It's okay Quinn, I will accept your apology."
Quinn stopped, her face hardening.
"I wasn't going to apologize," the fire was back in those hazel eyes. "You don't understand at all, do you?"
"Understand what Quinn," Rachel closed the remaining distance between them and glared right back.
Quinn laughed humorlessly.
"You don't understand what would happen, what I'd lose,"
Rachel scoffed, disgusted at Quinn's cowardice and about to tell her so, but Quinn wasn't finished.
"You just don't understand that I can't take my best friend any more," she was full blown yelling into Rachel's face at this point, "because they've figured out that I'm in l-," Quinn froze.
"In love with me?"
Quinn's recoiled from Rachel's words, stepping back once, twice, three times.
"Is that what you were going to say?"
Rachel stepped forward once, twice, three times.
"That you're in love with me?"
Rachel had backed Quinn against the wall of their hallway, and was leaning closer.
"Stop," Quinn begged.
Rachel paused inches from Quinn's lips.
And then as quickly as she had appeared in the doorway, Quinn had pushed Rachel away and fled down the hall.
Rachel turned to see Quinn disappearing around the corner and towards the stairs that would lead her out of their building and into Liam's waiting car.
Taking a deep breath, Rachel went back into their apartment. She made it to the couch then promptly burst into tears.
Rachel hadn't moved from the couch when Quinn quietly pushed the door open at 1:48am.
Quinn was taken aback when she saw Rachel sitting, still as a statue, illuminated only by the light from the iPad that held her attention.
"Hey," she called tentatively, taking a few steps into the living room.
She was greeted by silence.
Rachel stood, crossed the floor towards Quinn and thrust the iPad into her hands.
"There. Are you happy now?" she asked, her eyes blazing into Quinn's for the first time since she arrived home.
Quinn looked down at photos of her and Liam at the benefit and tweets speculating that they were a hot new item.
She looked back up at Rachel, whose face was a mixture of anger, hurt, and overwhelming sadness.
Rachel waited for a response, waited for Quinn to fix it.
A beat passed.
Rachel shook her head and walked away, closing her bedroom door behind her.
When Rachel's alarm went off at six the next morning, she groaned as the memory of the previous night came flooding back.
She dragged herself out of bed, threw on some sweats and pulled her hair back in a loose ponytail. The last thing she wanted to do was go to rehearsals for sixteen hours, but at least it got her out of the house and away from Quinn.
She walked into the kitchen, grabbed a banana and slipped out of the house. She wanted a day of losing herself in something that had nothing to do with Quinn.
She wanted a day where thoughts of Quinn didn't invade her consciousness.
She didn't get it.
No matter how many times she tried to put it out of her mind, her mind kept going over and over their conversation the previous night.
She kept hearing Quinn's voice.
'They've figured out I'm in l-', as she was executing a kick ball change into fan kick.
'They've figured out I'm in l-', as she was supposed to be listening to the director's feedback on her solo.
'
They've figured out I'm in l-
', as she was trying to eat her lunch.
But she could never get Quinn to finish the sentence, even in her head.
'They've figured out I'm in l-', as she packed up her bag at the end of the day.
"They've figured out I'm in love with you," she heard from behind her.
She spun around, coming face to face with a head of blonde hair and shining hazel eyes.
Quinn took a step forward, and reached out ever so slowly for Rachel's hand. Giving her every opportunity to pull away.
But Rachel's hand instinctively reached back.
Their fingers brushed lightly.
"And last night did not make me happy."
One more step.
"It was one of the worst nights of my life."
Her hand touched Rachel's cheek.
"I wanted you beside me. I want youâŠ"
She captured Rachel's lips.
Rachel's surprise came out in a whimper, but it less than a second before she launched herself into Quinn's arms and kissed back with fervor.
Kissing away every ounce of sadness from the last day, confusion from the last week, and tension from the last, well, decade.
When they finally pulled apart the studio had emptied completely.
They looked at each other and laughed.
"I guess I'll have some explaining to do on Tuesday."
"Just tell them Faberry is canon."
Rachel's jaw hit almost hit the floor.
"You looked it up?"
"Yeah well, I was determined to prove that they were all wrong," she smiled ruefully.
Rachel grabbed Quinn's hands and pulled her towards the exit.
"Well it wasn't the Empire State Building," Rachel giggled when Quinn slapped her arm.
"It was better," she grinned, leaning up to kiss Quinn again.
Quinn smiled that Quinn smile and they walked hand in hand down the street towards the subway station.
"Hey Rach? Now I'm happy."
POST SCRIPT
Kurt's phone buzzed on the table.
He stopped writing to check and saw that it was a text from Nathan, one of Rachel's costars.
He opened it, and momentarily thought he was imagining things. But no, there on his screen was a picture of Quinn and Rachel kissing.
The sound he made then was definitely not human. He jumped out of his chair and spun around, wishing he had someone to share his excitement.
And then he remembered, he did.
Bookmark: Â faberryforevr ask box
He had to be anonymous of course. He was always anonymous.
The End.
A/N: That's the end of this story/journey that started during Faberry Week 2013 part 2. I'm sorry it took so long to reach the end, but thank you so much to everyone who has read this. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it. Eternal thanks to my best friend and beta, without whom this would not have been possible.
If you haven't read chapter 1, you can do so here, on FF.net, or AO3.
Rachel catches Kurt doing something she could never have expected. Could it be the catalyst for something between Rachel and Quinn?
Endless thanks to Faberry Prompts for the idea.
Read at FF.net, AO3, or here/under the cut
---
Rolling her head to the side, she took in Rachelâs profile for a few seconds, before Rachel turned to meet her gaze.
âI think I need to tell you somethingâŠâ
Quinn swallowed.
âThat sandwich was terrible,â she finished lamely.
âWhat?â Rachel shrieked, swatting at Quinnâs arm.
Quinn went with it, laughing until Rachel dropped the indignation and laughed too.
âSeriously though Quinn, I know it was a lot to hear. Are you okay?â Rachel asked, looking over at Quinn, whose gaze was fixed to the ceiling.
âSeriously Rachel, yes. I mean itâs not like there is any truth to it.â
âOf course thereâs not,â Rachel hesitated, frowning. âI was just checking.â
A not-quite-comfortable silence settled over them and they stayed not quite touching until Rachel grew agitated.
âLetâs watch a movie,â she said, jumping off the bed and walking over to Quinnâs stack of DVDs. âAny preference?â
âWhatever you want,â Quinn replied, smiling to herself as her best friend tried to smooth things out the way she knew how - by acting overly normal.
Rachel slid back onto the bed with the remote, squinting as she pointed it at the television and tried to skip the annoying previews.
Quinnâs heart beat erratically as she watched Rachelâs adorable expression. Her hand twitched, aching to reach out and touch the side of that perfect face, to push a strand of dark hair behind her ear, or trace a finger along her jaw.
âWhat,â Rachel asked, glancing at Quinn with a self-conscious expression.
âJust wondering what you chose to put on,â Quinn covered smoothly.
âA classic, of course. You canât beat Emma Stone, even if she does end up with that asshole.â
âPenn is a nice guy,â Quinn defends.
âSo you keep saying, but remember that after-party?â
âIâm still not sure that cocktail waitress appreciated your interference.â
âWhatever Quinn, but I better never find out that he did anything like that to you on set.â
âYou wonât, because he didnât but either way I would have handled it.â
âFine,â Rachel huffed. Pressing play, she dumped the remote on the bed and lay back only inches away from Quinn.
They were still not quite touching, but they were relaxed and inching closer towards normal. Whatever normal was turning out to be.
---
It was almost midday by the time Rachel awoke to the sound of Kurtâs very loud singing. She blinked, registering the fact that she was latched onto a pillow that smelled like her blonde best friend, who was nowhere to be found.
Padding downstairs and into the kitchen, she saw Kurt spinning around elegantly while putting away the dishes like some kind of kitchen choreography.
âGood morning,â she said.
âOh Rachel,â he exclaimed, pressing his hands dramatically to his chest. âYou scared me, I thought I was home alone. Quinn left about an hour ago and your bedroom was empty.â
âYeah I slept with Quinn,â she replied.
Kurtâs raised eyebrows asked the question he didnât voice out loud.
âNothing like that, Kurt. Obviously those stories have gone to your head. We talked then watched a movie, and I must have fallen asleep.â
âI didnât say a word, but since you brought it up, how was Miss Fabray about,â he paused and waved his hand, âall that?â
Rachel sighed.
âShe seemed fine, but you know what sheâs like,â Rachel said and Kurt nodded. âItâs a bit awkward but weâll get through it. Like she said last night, itâs not like thereâs any truth to it.â
Kurt attempted to cover his scoff by clearing his throat, and hurriedly asked Rachel about her plans for the day.
âStacey emailed me some dress options for the benefit next week, and I need to figure out which ones I like. I think Quinnâs wearing green so Iâll have to make sure we donât clash.â
âOoh let me know if you need a second opinion. Once Iâm done with this Iâll be upstairs trying to finish an article for work.â
âWill do. Good luck,â she said as she grabbed her iPad and settled into the couch.
Scanning through her unread messages, Rachel found one from Stacey with twelve photos attached and flicked through them. She earmarked two or three as possibilities but none of them really grabbed her.
Perhaps it was her experience with fashion - or lack thereof - in high school, but since her star began to rise sheâs been so conscious of making good choices. One of her worst fears was ending up on anyoneâs worst dressed list, so she hired the best stylist she could afford at this early stage of her career and always chose the conservative option.
Rachel pulled a face and sighed. She didnât always want to play it safe, but she didnât trust herself not to choose something that would see her ridiculed.
She hadnât told Quinn, and probably wouldnât, that she was so insecure about her wardrobe choices, because a lot of that insecurity could be traced back to their interactions in high school.
She decided to look back over her previous dresses for inspiration.
Pulling up a browser, she typed in her name with the term âred carpetâ and the screen filled with pictures. She smiled when she saw the first picture was her red dress from last yearâs Helen Hayes awards. The Aladdin cast had been nominated for Visiting Production, and they walked the carpet together.
She let her mind drift back to the moment. Quinn had been standing off to the side while they snapped a cast picture, which is where Rachel had been looking as this photo was taken.
She remembered the tingles she had felt when their eyes met, which was obviously because of how excited she was to be there. She remembered the look of intense pride on Quinnâs face, and how her hazel eyes had danced as they looked at each other.
Shaking herself from that thought, Rachel scrolled through some more photos.
The next photo was from their very first carpet, the Flowers for Sarah premiere.
Rachel almost gasped at how young they looked, even though it was only three years earlier. She noticed how happy they both looked, like wide-eyed children experiencing the world for the first time, which was kind of true.
She couldnât tear her eyes away. Enlarging the photo, she saw the source was a tumblr called faberryforevr. Intrigued, she clicked through and was taken aback. A header proclaimed she and Quinn were meant to be, a gif rotated pictures of the two of them, menu items included âFlowers for Sarahâ, âAladdin tour photosâ, and âFic Recsâ.
Time disappeared as Rachel clicked through the site, examining the âevidenceâ that had been collected in the case against their heterosexuality. Eventually she stumbled across the video from the Flowers For Sarah premiere.
Hesitantly she clicked play, not realizing she was holding her breath.
It started with the interviewer asking Quinn if this was her first red carpet and if she was excited. She saw rather than remembered herself squeeze Quinnâs hand reassuringly and Quinn shoot her a grateful look.
She saw herself watching Quinn with that mix of pride and reverence.
She heard Quinn tell the interviewer that she had brought her friend Rachel - who would be a big Broadway star one day - and the interviewer had fumbled a moment before shooting a polite question Rachelâs way.
She watched Quinn watching her answer the question. She saw the intensity of her gaze, the look ofâŠshe didnât know what.
She watched as she finished answering the question and looked over at Quinn.
She watched as a second or more ticked by of them gazing at each other as if they were the only ones in the world, while the interviewer tried to get Quinnâs attention to ask another question.
She watched it all, and then she watched it again.
When it ended she sat, unable to move or process what was going on inside her head.
The sound of their front door broke her from her thoughts. She looked up to see Quinn hanging up her coat.
It was as if she was watching everything happen in slow motion. Quinn slipped off her shoes and turned to walk into the lounge.
She watched Quinn run her hands through her hair.
She saw Quinnâs eyes, shining slightly as they darted around.
She took in Quinnâs long neck, and her collarbones peeking out from the low v in her white shirt.
Rachel felt like she was seeing Quinn, truly seeing her, for the very first time.
Then she saw herself reach up and grab Quinnâs hand, pulling her down to the couch
A shiver ran down her spine as she imagined kissing that spot, and hearing Quinn breathe her name against her ear.
âRachelâ
âRachelâ
âRachel!â
Rachelâs eyes snapped up to meet Quinnâs worried gaze.
âHuh? Um sorry,â she stammered.
âYou were a million miles away. Are you okay?â Quinn asked.
Rachel took a brief moment to realize that no, she wasnât okay, but she couldnât let Quinn know that.
âYes Iâm fine, where have you been?â
âI had brunch with Paul. We talked about,â she hesitated, âthat whole internet thing and the benefit.â
âOh speaking of the benefit,â Rachel exclaimed. âStacey sent me dress options. Do you want to see?â
A pained look crossed Quinnâs face.
âActually, Paul and I agreed that I should take someone else to the benefit,â Quinn said quietly. âHeâs setting me up with one of his other clients, Liam something or other.â
Rachelâs breath left her.
âOh. Right yeah, of course. That makes sense.â
Rachel stood up, smoothing out the non-existent wrinkles from her clothes.
âExcuse me,â she continued, walking out of the room and leaving Quinn standing alone, feeling like the biggest asshole in the world.
Started for Faberry Week (accidental stimulation) but obviously missed that by a few weeks! Inspired by two prompts on the Faberry Prompts tumblr (x) and (x)
The layout of the school is taken from Vulture's map of McKinley High.
Read at FF.net, AO3 or here/under the cut.
---
Rachelâs not sure what propels her in this particular direction on this particular day. Normally after belting out the dayâs frustrations in song, she leaves the auditorium, drops by her locker, and then heads straight out to the parking lot.Â
Today sheâs so preoccupied that sheâs halfway to the gym before she even realizes. Perhaps her subconscious is hoping to run into Finn post-basketball.
She peeks through the gym doors, slightly disheartened to find it completely deserted, but before she can walk away a flash of movement catches her eye.
Pausing, Rachel realizes the door to the Cheerios locker room has been left ajar. Presumably by accident, as sheâs sure the Cheerios â however confident they might be â would not want just anybody to be able to see in. Jacob Ben Israel walks these halls after all.
Despite the hell often rained upon her by McKinleyâs cheerleaders, Rachel is not the type of person to just walk away. She takes a few steps towards the door and reaches for the handle when someone comes into focus.
Sheâs facing away from the door, clad only in her Cheerios skirt and a black sports bra.
Rachelâs hand grips the handle and she freezes. She wants to turn, to run, but sheâs transfixed by the smooth, milky skin of Quinnâs back.
Quinn bends down to untie her white sneakers, and Rachel canât help her eyes trailing up the back of Quinnâs long legs.
An unexpected burst of arousal shoots through her.
âGod bless the perv indeed,â Rachel thinks wryly.
The desire to bend down and kiss every inch of those legs consumes her.
Until Quinnâs muscles tense and she reaches around to undo her bra strap.
A shiver runs down Rachelâs spine.
The bra falls away.
Sheâs sure she stops breathing.
A phone rings.
Her vision blurs.
As Quinn reaches for her phone, Rachel comes to her senses and runs.
She sprints down the corridor, accidentally banging her bag against the hallway wall. Without looking back she launches herself into Mr Schueâs classroom just as she hears Quinn call out âpervâ and slam the locker room door shut.
Rachel sinks down against the door, partly to block herself from view and partly because her legs just donât want to hold her up anymore.
âWhat just happened?â
Sheâs never been attracted to another girl before, but there is no mistaking what she felt while looking at Quinn.
Itâs at least an hour before she dares to move, by which time itâs getting dark out, but she couldnât risk being caught by Quinn and â if sheâs honest â she couldnât stop getting lost in the memories of what sheâd seen and how her body had reacted to it.
Itâs the memory of Quinnâs skin and the thought of touching it, of kissing it, that has Rachel searching against her hand later that evening.
In fact, it becomes a nightly activity.
Several weeks after the incident in the locker room, Rachel is much less confused but much more sexually frustrated.
Seeing Quinn walk around in her Cheerios outfit is the sweetest form of torture sheâs ever experienced, but itâs their close proximity in the sectionals dressing room that leaves her barely able to breathe.
Almost all of the New Directions are in the foyer celebrating the win with their families, but Rachelâs dads arenât there and neither are Quinnâs parents, which leaves them alone in the dressing room.
âYou were wonderful tonight, Quinn,â Rachel says sincerely.
âThanks, Rachel. So were you,â Quinn responds with a smile.
Rachel ducks her head and thinks, âitâs now or neverâ.
âI, uh,â she stops to clear her throat. âCould you unzip me?â
Quinn says nothing, just motions for Rachel to come closer.
When Rachel stands in front of her, Quinnâs long fingers slip under Rachelâs hair, gathering it gently and sweeping it over her left shoulder.
Some stray hairs dance against her neck and Rachel feels Quinnâs finger slide across her skin in an effort to put them back in place.
Gripping the zipper Quinn pulls it down agonizingly slow. Her thumb is either mistakenly or intentionally placed to drag a long line down Rachelâs spine and a trail of goose bumps breaks out beneath her touch.
Rachelâs shallow breathing is almost panting in and out of her dry mouth â the only part of her that is dry â and itâs all she can do to stay as still as possible.
When the zipper is fully down, Rachel sucks in a breath and starts to move but Quinnâs hand on her waist stills her.
The other hand slides inside the zipper and ghosts over Rachelâs back, pushing one side of the dress away.
Rachel stops breathing altogether when she feels Quinnâs lips press against the back of her neck.
The next kiss is wetter and behind her ear, which almost causes Rachelâs knees to buckle but Quinnâs firm hand on her waist grounds her.
She opens her mouth to say something, anything, because sheâs Rachel Berry and she canât help but speak even when it might ruin everything. But before she can, a burst of excited chatter is outside the door, and she freezes as she realizes her teammates are about to walk in.
Before Rachel can even pull her thoughts into any kind of plan or explanation, Quinnâs hand is out of her dress, her zipper has been returned to its original position and she feels a reassuring squeeze on her waist.
âTo be continued,â is whispered in her ear before Quinn grabs her bag and walks out.
Written for Day Two of Faberry Week 2014 - Meeting Frannie.
Rachel volunteered her services to sing to patients at the hospital. She never expected anyone to recognise her voice from her MySpace videos, or as the patient laying in the bed said, "that voice from that video that my sister would listen to on loop for weeks"
Endless thanks to Faberry Prompts for the idea.
Canon until the scene referenced from 1x04 Preggers. Diverts from canon at that point.
Read at FF.net, AO3, or here/under the cut
---
Rachel Berry is entirely sick and tired of her talent not being appreciated.Â
Her MySpace posting schedule has significantly decreased since the videos became a playground for the Cheeriosâ most vicious insults, and while Glee Club was supposed to be a sanctuary, itâs turning out to be anything but.
She is storming down the hallway after Mr Schuester once again ruined her life, this time by giving Tina the solo in Tonight, as she tries to decide how she might take revenge.
Arriving home, Rachel pulls out her notepad with the blue and yellow star border and sits down at her desk to write.
âPLACES/PEOPLE THAT WILL APPRECIATE MY TALENTâ
She starts to write âcommunity theaterâ, but then she remembers how she was fired from young Cosette after a particularly heated difference of opinion with the director and asked never to return.
A few minutes later, the list includes âsinging telegramâ andâŠthatâs about it.
Turns out this is harder than it looks. Surely there are plenty of people that would appreciate her talent.
âThatâs it,â Rachel exclaims moments later.
---
She tries Lima Memorial first, but they hang up on her when starts singing a Celine Dion song down the phone. On the second call, to Kindred, the receptionist laughs at her.
She finally gets through to St Ritaâs volunteer coordinator, who tells Rachel that the only opening they have is delivering flowers.
âIâll take it,â she says, deciding that no one will mind if her flower deliveries come with musical accompaniment.
---
Dressed in her best plaid skirt the next afternoon, Rachel plasters a smile on her face and marches through the front doors of St Ritaâs Medical Center.
âIâm Rachel Berry. Could you please point me in the direction of the Volunteer Center? The patients are in for a treat today becauseââ
âDown that way, take the lifts down to LL, turn right, through the doors,â a tired voice cuts in.
âThank you,â Rachel responds with a smile, and heads off with a skip in her step.
---
So far three nurses have shushed her, and a doctor cursed at her for accidentally hitting him with a bunch of flowers while she belted out the final note to âLet It Beâ.
On her last delivery of the day - an arrangement of pansies to a young woman along with a spectacular - if she may say so herself - rendition of âOver The Rainbowâ, when an annoyed voice cuts in.
âYou have got to be kidding me,â Rachel hears from a young blonde woman across the room, who is giving her a very familiar glare.
âExcuse me,â Rachel says, suddenly uncertain.
âI thought being in here Iâd at least get a break from your singing.â
âHow, um, howâŠdo I know you?â
âNo,â the blonde says pointedly. âMy irritating little sister will not stop playing your videos on Myspace. Sheâs obsessed. I mean, seriously, who still uses Myspace?â
âIâll have you know thatââ
âNo no pipsqueak. Myspace is dead. Move on.â
âJust who do you think you are?â
âIâm Frannie. Frannie Fabray. Iâd say itâs a pleasure to meet you, but your voice is more annoying in person than in your videos.â
âYouâreâŠQuinnâs sister?â
âSheâs my sister, yes.â
âWait,â Rachel says. âYou said your sister watches my videos. You have another sister?â
âNo, just Quinnie,â Frannie drawls with a roll of her eyes. âAnyway, you can leave now.â
âButââ
Frannie holds up her hand to silence Rachel then waves her out of the room.
Rachel backs out of the room, and turns to walk down the corridor. Itâs not often that someone gets the better of Rachel in a verbal confrontation, but she puts it down to the surprising news that Quinn has been watching her videos, even if she canât put her finger on why.
That question keeps her so preoccupied for the rest of the evening that she canât focus on her homework, her fathersâ questions about her day, or even her vocal exercises. Itâs a disaster.
She channels her frustration into song then spends an hour trying to decide whether or not to put it on her MySpace page. In the end, her ambition wins out and she sighs, hits the upload button, and gets ready for bed.
---
Itâs between third and fourth period the next day when Rachel first spots Quinn, alone at her locker. She walks toward her and for a second is sure she hears Quinn humming the song from her most recent video. She stills, and unwittingly draws Quinnâs attention.
âWhat are you looking at, Treasure Trail?â
âI thought I heard you humming just now. It happened to be the same song that I recorded on my MySpace page last night,â Rachel responds.
A flash passes through Quinnâs eyes, before takes a step closer to Rachel and fixes her with a glare so fierce there are practically flames coming from her eyes.
âHow would I know what songs youâve ruined on your stupid MySpace page, Raâ Stubbles?â
They stare at each other for a few more moments, Quinn trying to keep her breathing under control, while Rachel tries to get a read on Quinn.
Before she can say anything else to an almost-shaking Quinn, Santana and Brittany walk up and Rachel suddenly sees Quinn fold her emotions into herself and replace them with an ice-cold mask.
âYou best be moving along, midget,â Santana tells Rachel, who looks back at Quinn for a second before turning and walking away.
She turns back to look again as she reaches her classroom, but all she sees is Quinn and Brittany laughing while Santana is hitting herself in the nose with an imaginary microphone.
---
After school sheâs back at the hospital, although this time with a strong caution from the volunteer coordinator that if thereâs any more singing, she will be forced to ask Rachel to leave.
Rachel knows of at least three patients she can ask to sign a petition that she plans to submit to the volunteer coordinator, and as sheâs mentally writing the accompanying letter, she turns the corner without looking and smacks straight into someone.
âQuinn,â Rachel squeaks.
Out of her usual Cheerios outfit, Quinnâs long hair is flowing around her shoulders and sheâs wearing a pink dress and white cardigan.
Quinnâs hands fly up and she pushes Rachel backwards - hard. Rachelâs head hits the wall and her eyes close instinctively as she winces in pain. She awaits a flurry of insults to be hurled her way.
Instead, soft lips press urgently against hers and then, just as quickly, theyâre gone again.
Mind reeling, Rachelâs eyes open but Quinn is already walking away, heading in the direction of Frannieâs room.
Rachel catches Kurt doing something she could never have expected. Could it be the catalyst for something between Rachel and Quinn?
Endless thanks to Faberry Prompts for the idea.
Read at FF.net, AO3, or here/under the cut
It could probably be traced back to the red carpet of Quinn Fabray's very first movie role.
It was a small role, with less than a dozen lines of dialogue, but it had a few big names in it and she was invited to walk the carpet when it premiered at Tribeca.
So maybe it was her connections from Jodie Foster's Clambake who were to blameâŠor thank.
Or maybe it was her ex-boyfriend, Steven, who cancelled on her at the last minute.
Or maybe it was inevitable.
---
Quinn had been sharing an apartment in Manhattan with Rachel and Kurt since graduating from Yale. It wasn't always smooth sailing, and she had to put up with her fair share of diva tantrums, but they also put up with her and at least Kurt helped keep the apartment clean.
That's what Kurt was doing that Saturday, cleaning the kitchen, while Rachel and Quinn bought groceries. Or at least that's what he was supposed to be doing. When he heard the keys in the door, he flew off the couch, slamming his laptop shut before rushing to the kitchen and picking up some dirty mugs.
"I'm telling you, Quinn. It's eleven years, not twelve," he heard Rachel insist as the door swung open.
"No it's not," Quinn's tone was matter-of-fact but playful. "In fact, I'm willing to bet you dinner that I'm right."
"Hello Kurt," Rachel addressed him as they entered the kitchen with several bags, overstuffed with food.
He looked up and caught Quinn's eyebrow raised at the lack of progress he'd made in cleaning, and he quickly turned away and back to the task at hand.
"Ladies," he greeted them. "What's the bone of contention today?"
He heard Rachel huff but he refused to turn around, afraid of the silent wrath Quinn Fabray might unleash with only her gaze.
"Oh, it's just Quinn trying to pretend she knows more about Broadway than I do," she tossed over her shoulder as she walked towards the living room.
"She's about to be proved wrong," Rachel said as she sat down on the couch and reached for Kurt's laptop. "I'm just going to use your laptop, Kurt."
"Wait Rachel, no!" he called loudly, stumbling over a grocery bag in his haste, but it was too late.
She was looking at the screen with a frown and his stomach lurched.
Time seemed to slow to a stop, and he debated making a run for the front door but his feet were rooted to the spot.
"QUINN," Rachel shrieked just then.
"Rachel," he started but she made no move to acknowledge him, continuing to scan the screen with wide eyes.
"So are you ready to concede?" Quinn questioned as she entered the room, trailing off as she looked between Kurt who was still frozen in horror and Rachel, who ignored her.
Suddenly, without a word, Rachel stood up and handed the computer to Quinn.
Quinn looked at her questioningly before gazing down at the words on the screen, scanning quickly down the page before her cheeks reddened and she closed it, returning it to the table.
She looked back at Rachel and felt as if she was watching the countdown to an explosion, but it never arrived.
"Kurt, what is that?" Rachel asked in an eerily calm voice.
He swallowed before responding.
"Well, it's called RPF," he began. "Real Person Fiction and it's, uh, well it's about the two of you."
When he received no response, he took it as his cue to continue.
"I found it about six months ago andâ"
"Six MONTHS ago?" Rachel roared, finally breaking the peace. "Why didn't you tell us about it? I could have gotten my publicist to take it down, orâŠor I don't know, done something. How could someone write a story like this about us?" she motioned between herself and Quinn, who still had not uttered a word.
"Honey," he started calmly. "It's not just one story. There are over 300 stories."
"Three hundred?" Rachel whispered, with a tinge of awe. "ButâŠ"
He motioned for them to sit, but neither woman moved so he stayed standing and continued.
"From what I can tell, it's been going on for almost two years. Ever since the 'Flowers for Sarah' premiere.
"Some of them are sure you're a couple, others aren't convinced, but everyone WANTS you to be a couple," he finished.
"Me andâŠQuinn," Rachel shook her head incredulously.
"Yes Rachel. You and Quinn," he chanced another look over at Quinn, whose features were perfectly schooled into a mask of nonchalance.
"But why would you read them?" Rachel questioned.
"Well I don't read the smutty ones," he responded.
"There are SMUTTY ONES," Rachel exploded, rubbing her temples.
Quinn slipped quietly from the room at that moment, closing her bedroom door behind her.
---
Several hours later there was a knock at Quinn's door, and a head of long brown hair poked inside.
"I brought you some food," Rachel said quietly as she waited for a sign that she could come in. Normally they went in and out of each others' rooms with ease, but this time it seemed right to wait.
"Thanks Rachel," Quinn said, sitting up and smiling as Rachel made her way over, passed Quinn the plate and settled onto the other side of the bed.
"Are you alright, Quinn? You haven't said anything.
"I'm fine," Quinn replied, reaching out to give Rachel's hand a reassuring squeeze. "How are you?"
"Well it's been quite the evening. You wouldn't believe the things that Kurt showed me," she paused momentarily.
"I admit it's slightly overwhelming that they are so invested in whether or not we are romantically involved, but they love it, they love us."
She was pretty sure that wasn't going to be the argument that convinced Quinn, fiercely private as she was, but Rachel couldn't ignore that small part of her that had always kind of, but not really, but sort of thought having a stalker was truly 'making it'.
"They look at photos of us at events, for instance at the press event when they announced the cast for the Aladdin national tour, and they analyze the way we look at each other and how many times we touch or hold hands.
"And then they were keeping track of how many times you came to see the show when we were touring. I don't even know how they would know that but they do.
"Like Kurt mentioned, there's a video of our interview at your premiere, and they go gaga over it, convinced that we're staring at each other, completely besotted."
If Quinn knew what Rachel was talking about, she didn't let on. She just continued to eat the sandwich Rachel brought and listened.
"And then, and this is what you saw, they write stories that fill in the blanks between all these moments. Or they take us and put us in another situation entirely, like meeting for the first time on the set of a film or giving us completely different jobs and history.
"I still haven't gotten to the bottom of why Kurt is reading it and why he didn't tell us about it, but I will," she finished with a nod just as Quinn took her last bite and placed her plate on the nightstand.
They leaned back against the headboard, Rachel's arm falling naturally between their bodies, while Quinn consciously kept her hands to herself.
Her relationship with Rachel wasn't something she spent a lot of time thinking about. It just was. They were close, like lots of close girlfriends, and of course that translated to holding hands or lying in bed talking until all hours of the morning.
But skimming that page of text, which described some overly saccharine, grand romantic declaration of love from the top of the Empire State Building, awoke something inside her. Sure, the story was tacky and Quinn didn't think she'd ever actually be okay with such a public and predictable display of emotion, but it suddenly had her questioning herself.
She'd been in the same spot, staring up at the ceiling for hours, contemplating the question over and over.
'Do I have feelings for Rachel?'
Ever since Rachel stepped in for Steven the first time, there was never any doubt that Rachel would be her date to any premieres, parties or other industry events that followed. She used to tell herself it was because Rachel was so good at networking, and that it was good for them to be seen at each other's events.
But the longer she thought about it, the harder it was to ignore the funny flip her stomach would do whenever Rachel emerged from her bedroom dressed in a form-fitting dress with her hair swept to one side.
She couldn't help but remember the tingling in her palm whenever Rachel held her hand on red carpets, or played with her fingers while they lay in bed talking.
There was no avoiding the fact that looking Rachel in the eye caused her breath to catch, or that being around her made Quinn happy in a way she didn't think she ever had been.
She knew Rachel would be getting anxious about her silence.
Rolling her head to the side, she took in Rachel's profile for a few seconds, before Rachel turned to meet her gaze.
A long, slender arm reached out, searching for warmth and comfort in the early hours of Sunday morning. Her fingertips brushed hot skin and she blindly traced a pattern while the boozy haze of sleep lingered over her.
Her eyes flickered open and shut several times, trying to get used to the light streaming through the window. Squinting, she took in the mess of dark brown hair and naked torso on the other side of the bed. Without a thought she slid her fingers up and tangled them in the long locks, combing her fingers through and massaging the scalp.
 âMmmm,â a voice purred and she froze. It was a flat sound, lacking the melodic tones she had expected, and suddenly her stomach bottomed out.
She jerked her hand back, sleep forgotten as she rolled, tumbling awkwardly out of bed, and rushed into the en suite. Her head spun violently from the motion and she emptied the contents of her stomach.
As she stood over the sink, willing the nausea to pass, a lone tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. She lifted her gaze to the mirror, and swallowed thickly as she took in her appearance. Her short, blonde hair was disheveled, stuck to her head on one side and wildly defying the laws of gravity on the other. Her eyes were bloodshot, the remains of her makeup clumped in the corners and streaked across her normally flawless skin.
Her hand shook as she lifted it up to swipe at her eyes, which were now shedding tears at a more consistent rate.
Opening the faucet, she let the cold water run over her hands while seconds, and then minutes, ticked by. Then, cupping them together, she lowered her face and splashed the cold water against it over and over and over again.
Face washed and teeth brushed, she felt slightly more human. She vaguely registered the dull thudding of her head and realized that the sooner she was able to usher out her unwanted guest, the sooner she could down a few painkillers and some greasy bacon.
Taking a deep breath, she smoothed her features into a mask of indifference and stepped back into the bright bedroom.
---
She made it three steps into the room before her gaze was pulled towards the bed. The overwhelming desire to look at Rachel was like a force of nature - it had always been that way - and her steps faltered along with her breath as a realization hit her.
âThis is it,â she thought to herself. âI never want to wake up to another face, another voice for the rest of my life.â
She smiled and took the remaining steps back to the bed, sliding in next to her sleeping angel.
---
âHey,â she said as she roused her companion with a not-so-gentle shake, âitâs time to go.â
The girl stirred and started to sit up, so Quinn turned to collect the items of clothing strewn around the room. As she returned to the bedside, she held out the clothes and nodded for the girl to take them.
When she didnât, Quinn dropped them in her lap and turned to walk away.
âI was thinking we could get some breakfast,â the girl called out.
Quinn didnât even turn around, tossing out a curt âno thanksâ, and continuing out of the bedroom.
---
She shouldnât have been surprised by her feelings for Rachel Berry, but they snuck up on her and Quinn had never been great at owning her emotions.
Theyâd been close friends for three years by then, ever since the summer before junior year of college when Quinn came to New York for an internship and stayed on the couch in Rachelâs tiny apartment.
From tentative beginnings where their high school past was never far from memory, their three years of sharing relationship dramas, school and work stress, and audition disappointments (and successes) brought a friendship, stronger and deeper than either had previously experienced.
They grew more affectionate as the years wore on too, thanks mostly to Rachelâs tactile nature, but Quinn - once she got used to trusting and being comfortable with Rachel - grew to love it.
But when catching Rachelâs eye started making her heart skip a beat, she began keeping her gaze lowered.
And when their innocent touching started lighting a fire in the pit of her stomach, she began rebuilding the famous Fabray walls.
It was a Tuesday night and Quinn was curled up on Rachelâs couch with a book after their weekly diner.
Rachel tentatively approached her with two cups of tea.
âI made you tea,â she said sweetly, offering it to Quinn with a hopeful smile.
Quinn looked up from her book, taking the cup and returning Rachelâs smile as she took a sip.
âThanks Rach.â
Rachel flashed her thousand-watt smile and Quinnâs heart tap danced in her chest, before returning to her book.
The words seemed to scramble on the page as Rachel took a seat next to Quinn, their knees resting together. She maintained the effort of pretending to read until she felt a small hand on her thigh.
She chanced a look up at Rachelâs face, finding an earnest expression, and willed her heart to stop racing. Their eyes locked and, feeling as if Rachel was reading her thoughts, Quinn pulled her gaze away. Rachel squeezed her thigh to command her attention once more and cleared her throat.
âIs everything okay Quinn?â Rachel asked; her voice laced with sincerity and concern.
âOf course it is,â Quinn replied with a smile meant to dispel Rachelâs worry. She took another sip of tea to distract herself. Or maybe Rachel.
âThings just seem a little,â Rachel hesitated. âStrained between us.â
Quinn didnât know what to say. She sat looking at her tea so Rachel continued.
âIt just feels like maybe youâve pulled away in the last couple of weeks. I just want you to know that Iâm here for you. Youâre my best friend and you know you can talk to me about anything.â
âI know Rach. Thank you,â she replied softly, her eyes still cast downward as she ignored the pang she felt when Rachel called them friends.
Silence fell over them for several seconds.
Rachelâs hand slid off Quinnâs leg and she couldnât help but miss it immediately until she felt it again over her hand.
âQuinn,â Rachel tried again. âIf youâre feeling something thatâs confusing you, it could help to talk it out. I know that itâs not always easy for you to open up, but I feel that we have built a very strong foundation over the last few years and Iââ
âRachel, please, I canât,â Quinn interrupted, looking up.
Discarding her book, Quinn reached up to touch her face, surprised to find moisture on her cheeks. She wiped haphazardly at her eyes, vaguely registering that Rachel was taking the cup from her hand and placing it on the table with her own.
Moments later she was engulfed in Rachelâs arms. Her body stiffened and then relaxed as a torrent of tears started to fall and she choked on a heavy sob.
Rachel held her close, resting her forehead against Quinnâs temple, stroking her hair and whispering into her ear, telling her over and over that it would be okay, that she was okay, that she was safe.
As her tears subsided and her breathing slowed, Quinn felt a sob go through Rachelâs body and her heart pounded dangerously knowing that Rachel was also upset.
âPlease Quinn, please tell me how youâre feeling,â she heard Rachel plead in a whisper. âPlease. Please tell me Iâm not the only one who feels it.â
Her mouth went dry. Did she hear that right? Could Rachel have feelings for her too?
She pulled back slightly, turning to face the now-crying Rachel.
âRach,â she started, feeling their roles reverse as Rachelâs brown eyes were fixed on the carpet.
Quinn lifted her hand to Rachelâs chin, using her index finger to gently guide Rachelâs face up.
âRachel,â Quinn tried again, and something in her voice pulled Rachelâs gaze from the floor.
Quinn felt the air leave her lungs as their eyes connected.
Recognition passed between them and her skin buzzed all over.
Seconds passed with Quinnâs finger under Rachelâs chin and their eyes locked. The air was still, waiting for them, giving them their moment.
All at once Quinn pulled Rachel toward her and, pausing to gather her courage, pushed forward to close the gap.
Rachel gasped as their lips touched. Or maybe it was Quinn.
They were pressed together, frozen.
Then they came to life, their lips crashing over and over again, sliding over and in between.
---
When she was alone in the apartment once more, Quinn sat down on the couch and took a swig from an open bottle of whiskey.
She barely felt the burn anymore. Six months of practice had built up her resistance.
Had it really been six months? Six months of getting wasted and going out to clubs, picking up girls with long brown hair that she could fuck.
If she couldnât pick one up, she could make a phone call. They knew by now which girl to send, and that girl knew the part she was supposed to play.
Neither method numbed the pain completely. Nothing did, but the combination of the two did a good enough job. At least until morning.
---
Theyâd had eleven blissful months together.
It wasnât always smooth sailing. They were both far too strong-willed for that. But the fireworks never lasted very long (or they turned into a different kind of fireworks).
But Quinn couldnât remember ever being happier.
She spent weeks orchestrating the perfect anniversary dinner. She booked Rachelâs favorite restaurant, the one that made the best vegan chili in the city. She organized a limo to pick Rachel up after her rehearsal.
She wore the dress that made Rachel bite her lip and whisper that she couldnât wait to remove it.
They had the kind of night people write poems about.
At the end of it, Quinn got down on one knee in and asked Rachel if they could spend eternity together.
Rachel giggled as Quinn spun her around after she said there was nothing she wanted more.
When they got home they wore each other out, whispering promises of forever into each otherâs skin.
They woke up late the next morning and Rachel rushed out the door with a quick kiss and âI love youâ tumbling from her lips.
An hour later, a knock at the door had Quinn ready to make a joke about how many times Rachel had forgotten her keys.
Instead, she was greeted by two policemen.
---
She didnât know what kept her in that night.
For the first time, she didnât feel so alone in the apartment. She sat on the couch and pretended she could feel Rachel next to her until she was sure she really could.
She talked and cried, and then shook the bottle until it was empty.
The remaining whiskey washed them down and she lay on the couch. She felt herself drifting closer to Rachel.
