Feb 11
femslash february aesthetics
tina cohen-chang x quinn fabray (glee)
seen from Argentina
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from Australia
seen from United States
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seen from Kazakhstan
seen from Austria
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
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seen from Yemen
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
femslash february aesthetics
tina cohen-chang x quinn fabray (glee)
Faberry Moodboard
College AU: Yale!Quinn x Rising (rock)Star!Rachel
FABERRY / QUINNTANA/PEZBERRY /MISTYxCORDELIA FANDOM!
Years ago I spent time with y'all as a writer of fanfics here
https://m.fanfiction.net/u/3022981/
I wrote "Somewhere a Clock is Ticking" and some others in the glee fandom as well as some Misty and Cordelia stories from AHS.
back when I had no idea what ao3 was and I started to wonder what my place as a male identified person could be as a writer of these young women. I love the characters I wrote because I love strong women. My childhood hero and obsessive collection is still Xena: warrior princess. Anyway -
If y'all want, I'm willing to pass over access to my old account and stories somehow to give them back to the community. I love them so much and maybe some talented younger writer than myself (31 here) can even change or fix the faults in my stories!
As a queer trans man, I don't feel it's my place as a man to have possession of these tales. They were my treasured love stories for my own lonely heart, and as a lifelong writer I used them as a place to grow my writing and explore prose. I'm an illustrator and poet and freelance author now (and an overnight laborer to pay the bills) and these stories are where that career started for me. Yet I also identify as male and am almost six years on testosterone (no top surgery, too expensive). I'm not a queer woman, though I am a queer person. These young queer women were my heroes even after transition. Rachel Berry and her unfailing focus, Quinn Fabray and her secret desire for emotional vulnerability, Santana Lopez (rip naya) and her determination. Later in my fanfic career I wrote a fic in which Cordelia makes a pact to bring Misty back and when AHS made that canon, I felt so happy to see what I had wished would happen come true. Misty is who I wish I could emulate, and Cordelia is who I wish I had in my life. Writing their stories was like being immersed in those two fluid emotional desires.
I have easily multiple hundreds of thousands of words published on the account - most fics ranged from 30k to 150k words.
I just feel these stories about queer young women should belong to queer young women now.
+ ask here
send me a message and we'll work something out. I need to recover the password to my account and see what works I had in progress on my actual computer.
Ship/character(s): Rachel/Fem!Jesse Fandom: Glee Rating: - Genre(s): Rivals to lovers, is that a genre? Smut welcome but not required! Trigger warnings: Genderswap (not sure if it's a TW but just to be safe!) Prompt: Showmance! Jess(i)e and Rachel meet again years after their Lima years when they're both starring in Broadway hits. The Tonys are coming up and they're both nominated for best actress so tensions are running high and sparks (of more than one type) fly whenever they see each other.
Ship/character(s): Rachel/Fem!Jesse
Fandom: Glee Rating: -
Genre(s): Rivals to lovers, is that a genre? Smut welcome but not required!
Trigger warnings: Genderswap (not sure if it's a TW but just to be safe!)
Prompt: Showmance! Jess(i)e and Rachel meet again years after their Lima years when they're both starring in Broadway hits. The Tonys are coming up and they're both nominated for best actress so tensions are running high and sparks (of more than one type) fly whenever they see each other.
Ship/character(s): Faberry Fandom: Glee Rating: M and up Genre(s): Any Trigger warnings: n/a Prompt: Lucy and Rachel used to be best friends as children, but lost track of each other when Lucy became Quinn and changed schools. They don't see each other again until years later, when Rachel's best friends decide to take her to a strip club for her bachelorette party. It turns out Quinn is the star of the show. Please no mentions of drug use or rape.
Ship/character(s): Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry
Fandom: Glee
Rating: M and up
Genre(s): Any
Trigger warnings: n/a
Prompt: Lucy and Rachel used to be best friends as children, but lost track of each other when Lucy became Quinn and changed schools. They don't see each other again until years later, when Rachel's best friends decide to take her to a strip club for her bachelorette party. It turns out Quinn is the star of the show. Please no mentions of drug use or rape.
Has this prompt inspired you? Give our rules a read and put some more femslash out in the world! Feel free to reblog this post to give it a little boost and help it reach more creators!
Giddy (7 of 8)
Title: Giddy (7 of 8) Pairing: Santana/Rachel
Synopsis; Santana’s grades are on the rise. What better way to celebrate than a sleepover at Rachel’s house? The girls talk about labels and the future.
Author’s Note: I was not expecting the large jump in numbers when I updated, to be honest. It’s been so long since I wrote that I was pretty sure no one was paying attention to any of my old fanfics. Then again, I got back into it purely because I missed the fun of watching these characters fall in love. This chapter features Sleater-Kinney’s “Hurry on Home,” from this year’s album The Center Won’t Hold.
If you want to catch up or read other fics, I have written Faberry works, as well as Misty/Cordelia fanfiction from AHS: Coven and soon from Apocalypse. Click here to follow through to the ff.net page.
##
SEVEN When Things Really Kick Off
But just hurry on home to me I've made more space for you
Disconnect me from my bones So I can float, so I can roam Disconnect me from my skin Erase the mark begin again
##
“Abuela,” Santana poked her head around the corner of her grandmother’s bedroom, gym bag over her shoulder. Outside, the sun was setting slowly and cascaded the room in a golden light. The elderly woman greeted her with a smile, laying her book in her lap, “I’m going to Rachel’s now.”
“Okay, hija, I love you. Make sure you’re home in time for dinner tomorrow night. Your cousin is going to join us,” Mariza blew Santana a kiss and the younger woman pretended to catch it, offering a grin in reply.
“I love you, too,” Santana answered just before gently closing her grandmother’s bedroom door. She gave everything one more look – part of her had always worried about break-ins – and jiggled a couple doors that should be locked. Closing and securing the front door, she glanced up at a bright orange sky, grateful for some kind of quiet beauty. She’d initially had a little hesitation when she woke up and realized she’d be spending the night with a girl who she’d just confessed her love to. Santana wasn’t the loving sort, but she didn’t feel like the Santana she had known all her life when she was with Rachel. It was as if a magical alchemy twisted in and betweien them, made them the better version of themselves. Even Rachel, who before had been so focused on multiple career tracks and performing the role of social saint, had seemed to focus more on personally rewarding tasks.
Headphones in, Santana made her way out of the Puerto Rican neighborhood they lived in and climbed the slow hill to Rachel’s slightly more affluent neighborhood. The walk itself wasn’t very long, but they certainly came from two different worlds. Santana’s world had been all sharp teeth and fighting for what you deserved – because no one was going to give it to you and most people were more likely to take it from you even if you earned it. Rachel had been born into some kind of unique privilege in which she probably would never have to worry about going to college or finding a job. You could tell by the houses. Most of these rich white people could afford totally unnecessary and tasteless lawn sculptures, and then made a point to dress up the tasteless lawn sculptures for varying holidays.
Class disparity aside, Santana had never felt disadvantaged completely. She had always known and believed she could do whatever she wanted to put her mind to. Most of the time it was motivation she lacked. She wasn’t entirely sold on the modern ideas of success and fame. That was the thing that troubled her sometimes – what was she supposed to do once this whole high school thing was over?
She put her thoughts somewhere in the back of her mind. Rachel’s house was within sight, and she walked just a little faster as soon as she saw it, a slow smile crawling over her mouth the closer she got. Santana knocked, but it was barely necessary. She saw a flash of brown hair in the side window and the door swung open with a near-violence. Rachel collided against her, wrapping deceptively strong arms around Santana’s waist.
“You’re getting sentimental on me already?” Santana teased, but dropped her bag and wrapped her arms around Rachel. She smelled like coconut shampoo. Santana’s dark eyes drooped shut and she let herself enjoy the affectionate greeting.
Rachel laughed a little, disengaged, and took Santana by the hand. “Come on, I’ve got the basement all set up. My dads are both having a date night out and I don’t know when they’ll be back. That means – “
“Whole place to ourselves,” Santana finished, grinning. The old wolfish part of her wanted to linger on the things they could get away with while the parents were out of the house, but that melted away the instant Rachel kissed Santana’s hand delicately.
The shorter girl was certainly good at showing love. Santana could feel the warmth of it spilling over her, and again her normal sarcastic defenses failed her. She wasn’t used to someone who was unashamed of their romantic feelings. She had messed around with plenty of girls, plenty of women, and a couple men, and there was always some gross shame in the undertones of their actions. Santana never felt ashamed, but she had always felt some missing element. Maybe it was genuine, true unconditional love. Love that grew from kindness and mutual respect.
All Rachel had gotten her through, every bad moment, seemed like nothing now under Rachel’s roof. If things had to happen as they did, at least it brought her here.
“Deep thinker,” Rachel teased softly when she caught the thoughtful look on Santana’s face. She laced their fingers together. “Got your bag?”
Santana nodded, hoisted the thing over her shoulder, and let herself be led down the stairs into the basement. Rachel had unfurled the mattress from beneath the couch cushions and set the bed up with comfortable pillows and sheets. Here and there a couple candles had been lit, near shelves. She would’ve expected no less from Rachel Berry. It was inviting and smelled the way she imagined it did in those teen movies when people have sex for the first time. “You know how to set an atmosphere,” Santana smirked as she set her bag down, feeling Rachel’s fingers untangle from her own.
“Oh, I sure do,” She grinned even larger and handed a stack of movies to Santana. “We don’t have to watch all of these. Or any of these. However,” Rachel gave a bashful, lopsided smile, “this movie is really good and I think you might like it, too.” She pushed a DVD on top askew to draw Santana’s attention to it. Funny Face starring Fred Astaire and Audrey Hepburn. “I know it’s old but --”
“No, I really dig old movies,” Santana clarified, handing Rachel the disc. “Go put it in,” she gave her a gentle grin. “I’m gonna put on pajamas already if that’s okay.”
Rachel nodded excitedly and turned her attention to that task. It didn’t take Santana long to change – a tank and some baggy sweatpants.
“Does it matter what side I take?” Santana asked curiously, realizing sometimes that was a thing people were particular about. Most of the time if she’d ended in bed with someone it was in the heat of a moment where neither of them wanted to discuss sleeping.
Rachel shook her head, glanced back, “Wherever you want,” she offered gently. “I’m going to go change, too, I’ll start it when I get back down here.” Santana was settling under a blanket when she felt a pair of lips press against her forehead, a quick, warm gesture, and then Rachel was thump-thumping up carpeted stairs.
Whenever Rachel touched her or kissed any part of her, she felt a sort of surprise that manifested itself emotionally. Rachel didn’t want anything from her when she showed her affection. She wasn’t using it against her, or using it to manipulate her. She was just showing genuine affection and not asking for a thing in return. Most of Santana’s life outside of her family had been people using her for one gain or another, even if it was sometimes a mutual taking. There was never anything like this – never a girl who just kissed her forehead because she was leaving the room.
Santana snuggled up just a little more in her blanket, smiling already. She was so used to being surly that the person she was around Rachel felt new. Yet, she felt more like herself than she’d ever felt. Rachel brought out the Santana that was six years old reading stories to her stuffed animals so they could hear the story too. She brought out the Santana that was twelve years old and crafting best friend bracelets for the loneliest kid in class. She’d had rare moments in her life where she could see the person she wanted to be. The world had never allowed her to be fully that person. Kind people, she had learned, were more vulnerable to abuse from the world than many others. So she’d gone another way and then gone further that way every time the world punished her.
And then Rachel. Rachel had come into her sphere and endured all the uncertainty and forgiven years of rivalry and harsh words in an entire instant. All because Santana had been honest enough with Rachel. They could take off their masks around one another and just be.
Santana felt herself waxing emotional but glanced back over the couch to see Rachel coming down in sushi pajamas.
“You’re a vegan wearing sushi pajamas?”
“What? They’re cute.” Rachel defended simply, gave a coy smile, and hopped over the back of the couch. “We can make popcorn whenever you get hungry, too,” she offered as she turned the movie on. “I really think you’ll like this movie. I mean, your public persona doesn’t suggest that you would, but from the you I know now, this movie is perfect.”
“Funny Face?”
“It’s wonderful,” Rachel heaved a quiet sigh. “Maybe this is a stupid question since we’ve ...well, you know, kissed and uhm said...texted...”
“Yes, you can come over here and share this blanket,” Santana finished the request, looping an arm around Rachel’s waist and forcibly tugging her into her side. She felt perfect next to her. Holding Rachel near felt like Santana was being rewarded for some unknown triumph. “I missed you,” Santana admitted as she tucked the blanket around them both, hand gripping Rachel’s hip tenderly to encourage her to move as close as she wanted. To her mild surprise, Rachel wrapped both arms around Santana’s stomach and buried her head against Santana’s neck, pressing a small, loving kiss there.
“It’s weird how often I miss you,” Rachel admitted, her voice a warm gust of air over Santana’s collarbone. She couldn’t see where exactly, but Rachel was tracing shapes over Santana’s collarbone and down her chest, like she was trying to map her out. Learn her. “Like, I know we text, and I see you almost every day, but there’s this physical feeling of something very important missing. And then I’m here with you and I just feel like… I am so grateful,” she sounded vaguely emotional.
The movie had started; on the screen, very well dressed women were coming out of vibrantly colored doors and singing about the season’s fashions. Santana was fully focused on Rachel, though. She pulled away just enough for Rachel to be able to look up at her comfortably. She craved those kind, honey-colored orbs. “I’m gonna say something totally crazy that is really.. I mean every fucking teen movie has a moment like this and I guess I always thought it was fake. I think that --” Santana took a breath, “If there’s such a thing as a soulmate, there’s… it’s someone who makes you want to be the best version of yourself. Someone who brings it out of you without any effort on their part. The only effort is … this, being close to you. It’s like a flower being brought to bloom by the sun. Or finding the one thing that finally makes sense in the world. I don’t … I don’t know what I want for my future,” Santana wasn’t sure why she was saying all this at the moment, but it fell out of her quicker than she could recover, “I just know that when I… when we started this, I suddenly wanted a future. Felt I deserved one. And you didn’t have to do anything. You were just yourself. You were funny and kind and dorky and way too motivated,” the last ended with a teasing grin. “You being yourself helped me learn …. how to be myself. Instead of running from it.”
Rachel was shifting a little in the blanket, freeing a hand so she could reach up and touch Santana’s face, a thumb stroking her jaw, “Are you saying you believe… a soulmate is someone who brings you back to yourself?”
“I guess. I’m not the best with words and explaining my feelings.” She closed her eyes and enjoyed the feel of Rachel’s touch on her jaw. She felt the love transferred through that touch, the way its warmth spread from her face to her throat and then everywhere. “I just know that we’re...we’ve got so much life left. I think this could be the best thing to happen to me. You and Me. And I don’t wanna mess it up.”
On screen, Fred Astaire was standing next to Audrey Hepburn on a ladder – they were putting books back where they belonged after Fred’s very unruly photography shoot had messed up her book store. Fred Astaire pulls Audrey’s ladder closer to him, leans in, and kisses her in the middle of a rant about empathicalism.
“What did you do that for?” “I felt that you wanted to be kissed,”
“Do you...uhm...believe in soulmates?” Santana asked with and uncharacteristically nervous glance.
Rachel’s expression was serious. Somehow, she had shifted them so that Rachel was half on top of Santana’s body, her chin resting on Santana’s chest. “You know, the first time I tried to be your friend, you were new to middle school. I think you were 13. I was really annoying and incredibly dorky, I know that now. I offered you my one and only favorite pastry snack,” Rachel laughed, “And you took it.”
Santana, confused, gave a low chuckle. “I remember that sort of.”
“And that year, the one we all moved to high school, I kept packing those pastries in my lunch bag. I never ate them, which made Leroy a little mad, because I asked for them specifically. I’d bring them home at the end of the day because I never had the courage to offer you another one. I guess I thought if I could bribe you with pastries you might want to talk to me.” The admission was a surprise to Santana.
“Every day, every year, I brought a pastry. I was always hoping I would have the chance. Then it became this fairy tale in my head. Especially when you joined the Untouchables and started getting into trouble. I just didn’t have any other way to reach you. The day I got called in to be your tutor I actually ran out of my class until I realized how silly that looked.”
Santana merely listened, a little in awe. Rachel had thought of her every day for years. So had Santana, but in a different way, no less magnetic or wanting but the world had beaten Santana down enough that she just assumed there was never a chance to even make some kind of bond with her. She remembered that pastry.
“Every day, it was every day I hoped we could… that I could see you just for a moment.”
“Why?”
“I was too young to think about soulmates, but I think it was something in me recognizing that we were … we could be good for each other.”
“I know we uhm...we obviously,” Santana glanced down, felt under the blanket for Rachel’s hands and loosened them, took them in her own. “It’s been sort of a slow-burn. I am not good at feelings because if someone I love leaves, I just...go nihilistic sometimes. It’s been hard to trust anyone.”
“Someone you love,” Rachel whispered as a sort of reverent confirmation, eyes communicating a feeling of awe and appreciation.
“I trust you, Rachel. You’re all I can think about when I wake up. You’re special. If there is such a thing as a soulmate, I think you’re mine. I think that’s fucking crazy coming from me, but … I cannot imagine my life now without you beside me,” Santana’s confession came out of her with the husk of emotion she rarely allowed to be expressed. It was almost a pleading. “I know you’re not going anywhere I just .. need you to know how I feel. I love you. I love who you are, the person you want to become. I love you. I want to be with you and only you.”
Those words were never in any plan Santana had for herself. It was sentimental and confessional in a way she never expected.
“Oh,” Rachel whispered lovingly, crawled up Santana’s frame just a little bit, her full weight now on top of Santana’s, who had gently guided her hands to her waist to hold her there. “Hearing you say it,” tears welled in Rachel’s eyes briefly. “Seeing you say it..”
“I love you, Rachel.”
“I love you, Santana Lopez.”
And suddenly the movie was quite well forgotten. Rachel leaned down, brushed her lips delicately against Santana’s in a loving and affectionate gesture at first, tasting the skin there, feeling Santana melt into the couch underneath her. The initial spark always seemed to make Santana let out a barely-audible moan. Rachel kissed her again, deeply this time, as Santana’s fingers clutched at Rachel’s waist in an effort to hold her close. “You’re mine now,” Rachel whispered, all heat and certainty when she said this. Each word brushed across Santana’s lips. This made Santana melt more, almost whimper.
Girlfriends. Lovers. Aiming toward life partners, if they could grow and maintain and healthy relationship.
Right now is what mattered. Right now, Rachel’s fingers were trailing down Santana’s stomach and pulling up the fabric of her tank top. Santana had not been expecting Rachel to be the aggressor the first time they had sex, but here she was. And nothing could’ve been more attractive. The shorter girl caught her in a passionate, distracting kiss, as her soft fingers slipped beneath Santana’s shirt and found a warm, full mound of flesh. Goosebumps answered her fingertips, particularly when she pinched a nipple very gently. Santana reacted with favor, arching up into the touch and kissing Rachel with more need, her lust coming from a deep, hidden place. In many other situations, she was the aggressor. There was something releasing and loving about submitting to Rachel’s kisses, submitting to Rachel’s touches, not trying to control the flow of the encounter herself.
Rachel found her wetness, found the place that ached the most, and when she did, she gasped in a way that only turned Santana on more, “You’re so --”
Santana sat up enough to pull Rachel back into a passionate kiss, opening her thighs just a little more as she felt Rachel’s fingers – shy at first – find just the right notes to play. The slow, burning need became an all-consuming feeling. It didn’t take long for Santana’s hips to cant upward in a quicker rhythm, Rachel’s hands expertly tuning Santana on a whole other level. “Oh, fuc--- Rach, oh God,” she wasn’t sure it had been long, but suddenly she felt overcome and so near the edge that she could only clutch her fingers painfully to Rachel’s arm as she made love to her. “You’re so good… s-s-..so good,” Santana heard her voice distantly.
She had an orgasm that she was sure the neighbors heard, but she remembered they were in a basement. When her body went gentle and limp and she felt Rachel’s loving touch release, some fire in her still burned. Apparently, in Rachel, too, because the girl was disappearing beneath the blankets again, her mouth finding one of Santana’s nipples and teasing it to arousal. It took another round before Santana was able to top Rachel, pinning her hands behind her head and kissing her deeply, lovingly.
“I love you,” Santana whispered against Rachel’s panting mouth, using her knee to separate Rachel’s thighs. She kissed her softly, settled her weight a little. She wanted to love Rachel, so she took her time. Eventually the kisses were small, tender things along Rachel’s throat and neck. Mapping Rachel’s body, learning her needs as she explored. She disappeared beneath the blanket, felt Rachel’s hand tangle in her hair just as her tongue found the small nub that would start Rachel on a journey to complete sexual fulfillment.
All the while, Santana heard a muffled phrase through the blanket, a whisper, and loving fingers tracing her scalp. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” Those muffled words encouraged Santana to make this an act of complete devotion. The Berry men wouldn’t be home for some time, so they had time to enjoy one another. Movies be damned.
##
The morning after sex used to be awkward for Santana. Usually she tried to leave as soon as possible. However, this morning she found herself awake and pulling her exhausted lover into her arms. Their bare skin together felt like a communion, unity, freedom between them. She kissed Rachel’s neck, her shoulders, her back, spooning her lovingly and enjoying every second of this.
Rachel roused as the kisses peppered the center of her back. She rolled over, sleepy and pouty-looking, but when she came to full consciousness and saw her lover’s hand trailing over her shoulder, she sighed happily and covered her hand with her own. “Morning,” she whispered in a gravelly morning voice. She rolled over in Santana’s arms and leaned up, catching her in a gentle and loving kiss. She trailed her fingers over Santana’s face. “Last night was --”
Santana nodded, her eyes soft and full of love. There was no hint of Santana’s defenses today. “Thank you,” she whispered, leaning down and pressing her lips to Rachel’s delicately.
They shared a silent, loving look, and snuggled together once more. Nobody would bother them til later. Judging from the sunrise, she had plenty of time to get home to dinner later. All she could think about was staying here as long as she could, holding this woman in her arms.
“Stay with me?” Rachel asked, drawing her fingers over Santana’s as they rested upon Rachel’s stomach.
“I have to be home for dinner but I’ll stay all day,” Santana answered simply, leaning down and pressing her mouth to Rachel’s again, kissing her lovingly, her brows wrinkling as the feeling of love overflowed through the action. She felt connected to Rachel on an entirely other level, and what they had done last night was only the culmination of a long journey to intimacy. “We don’t have to do anything, but I just want to be here,” she finished a little more quietly.
Rachel smiled at the answer, reaching up with her hand and tracing her fingers over Santana’s face, brushing a little hair away from her eyes. Her own honey-brown eyes softened, and her expression fell serious. “So are we… is this…?”
“Well, I’m certainly not anyone else’s. Never again,” Santana assured indirectly, leaning down and kissing Rachel’s forehead. “I’m definitely yours, as long as you keep me.”
“Will your Dads come down looking for us?”
Rachel laughed a little, “Uhm, well, they aren’t shy. We had a talk before you came over. I told them that realistically we might uhm… that we might have sex. They’re pretty open about things. They said they were going to give us plenty of an afternoon but that any relationship we have can’t interfere with school or family obligations.”
Santana nodded, “That’s actuallly – super cool of them,” she mumbled. She couldn’t even imagine her Abuela giving them a whole two days to essentially do whatever their hormonal bodies wanted to do. Did that mean Rachel wanted more sex? Santana definitely was always interested in it, but at this moment all she could get out was, “Can I just...hold you? Can we just lay here, like this?”
Rachel’s expression softened, and she nodded, leaning forward and pressing her mouth to Santana’s again, a gentle, brief kiss, “Oh yes.”
##
When Santana returned home that night for dinner, she felt like a changed person. Something in her had awoken, some drive to live a beautiful future. Some drive to create a beautiful life she could share with Rachel. Now she just had to figure out a career. So much easier said than done.
Dinner with her cousin went by the way family dinners tend to – quick and surface conversation and then a quick exit for Santana. She kissed her abuela on the forehead before she said goodnight to her cousin and disappeared into her bedroom. Her body was still humming even then, laying in bed, images of Rachel’s body and her pleasure carrying Santana into a half-awake pleasant dream. Love felt weird, like an energy source that got in your blood and made everything feel just a little more worthwhile.
I miss you so much. -R*
Her phone vibrated, pulling her out of a semi-sleepy state.
I can’t wait to see you tomorrow. Wanna meet outside before classes start? - S
Yes, please. - R*
It was all so perfect. - S
You’re a dream. - R*
Am I? I feel pretty real – S
I wish you were holding me. - R*
Soon. If we move in together now they’ll call us crazy dumb kids. - S
Stay with me again soon? - R*
This weekend? - S
Or we could skip school and run away together ;) - R*
Laughing, Santana had to admit it sounded like a damn good idea.
Nah. Let’s play it safe. But don’t worry, I don’t care where we are, I need you, Rach. I need you beside me. It’s the only time I feel completely whole and happy. You make me so happy and I didn’t think that was a thing I could feel. - S
I need you too. Try to sleep. I’ll see you outside school in the morning. - R*
I love you, Rach. More than the moon and the stars. - S
Now who’s getting sentimental? - R*
You do bring out the best in me. - S
She could almost see Rachel’s blush in her mind’s eye, and that was enough.
Giddy (Chapter 6)
Title: Giddy (Chapter 6 of 8) Pairing: Santana/Rachel Synopsis: It’s taken a lot for Santana to get to this point. She did not expect to end up here with Rachel.
(If you aren’t caught up you can find this story and all of my others HERE.)
Author’s Note: Obviously it’s been approximately 4 years since I’ve gotten around to any writing, particularly public writing that wasn’t paid for, so I just want to say I’m glad to be writing for fun again! Thanks to anyone who returns to this work, or any of my work. This story has 3 chapters to go, including this one, but from here on out each chapter will be inspired by my favorite musical artists, Sleater-Kinney. Also, I’d love to go back and fix all the stuff I would change in retrospect, but I had forgotten the volume of work I produced in my life at one point. Hopefully I’ll find time for that later. Not like that matters to anyone, hah, but go check this band out sometime. This chapter features lyrics from Sleater-Kinney’s song “Love,” from their newest album The Center Won’t Hold. ###
SIX Something Sacred Heard you in my headphones Slipped you my address Call the doctor Dig me out of this mess Tuned it down to C Turned the amp to ten A basement of our own A mission to begin You and me Strings and a melody It took a little while But now I see it's Love
### “I have never been so proud of you as I am right now,” Mariza, Santana’s abuela, was holding a slightly wrinkled piece of paper in her hands and smiling widely. She gasped, touched her hand to her head and then her mouth. “My sweet hija got such good grades!” She surged forward and embraced her granddaughter.
Santana started crying. She did not expect this part to happen – the crying. Then again, she had been through an emotional wringer for the last few months in an effort to make her abuela proud. Maybe Santana was not expecting herself to succeed. Tears rolled hotly down her cheeks and she quivered a little. “I tried really hard. I don’t know why I’m crying,” shame made her blush as she pulled away from her grandmother’s embrace. “I just tried really hard, and Rachel’s been such a big help – “
“Rachel? This is the tutor? I must call her,” dry lips ended the sentence against Santana’s forehead before the elderly woman shuffled into the kitchen. Did she know Rachel’s number? Just before she could open her mouth, a loud question announced itself from the kitchen, “Well, are you going to come dial the number or not?”
Santana laughed, suddenly very self-aware. She would probably sound just as demanding in her old age. “Si, lo siento Abuela,” She apologized with a matching smile, not nearly enough time to realize she was dialing Rachel’s number from memory. How far things had come in only a few months?
“Why have I not met her yet? I think – Oh! Hola! This doesn’t sound like Rachel,” Mariza glanced at her granddaughter, who had a good laugh at both the timing and her tone. “Hiram! I’m Mariza. Your daughter has been tutoring my granddaughter, and I’d like to invite you all over for dinner to celebrate her good grades.” Mariza wasn’t really the type to take no for an answer, so the conversation shortened from there and before Santana had time to think, her abuela was rushing her into her bedroom insisting that the girl put on something nice for company. Santana didn’t really give any thought to the implications of their two families dining together in such a small home, or the fact that Rachel hadn’t been here yet, until her abuela closed her door. The muted click resounded as a punctuation in reality. Oh, shit. She was going to see that Santana and her abuela barely got by. Or that their kitchen was abysmally small. She’d see Santana’s piles of clothes, probably, and all the things she’d forgotten to keep up on while she was recovering from Squeaks and Toad attacking her the final time. The other amount of time had been spent at Rachel’s. So here she was, staring at piles of clothes and realizing she had nothing to wear that would make her abuela happy.
Except one thing, which she loathed to wear. Mariza would smile and clap her hands when she saw it, though. Sighing heavily and glaring at the garment, Santana selected a knee-length yellow sundress. “I owe you one,” Santana murmured quietly. Her abuela had given much of her later years for Santana. Worked long hours and hunched over enough paperwork to fill a filing cabinet just to get them by.
When she was thirteen, her parents had been arguing long enough that it was almost all she could remember. Years later, it was all she could remember about them. They had gotten into knock-out fights, broke countless dishes, put one another in the hospital, and bled on the kitchen floor before they split. She didn’t know now what they had even fought about, just that one night her father quietly threw a dufflebag at her and told her to pack her things. Her mom had already been gone for a few weeks at that point. She remembered it being cold and rainy and miserable as she stood at her abuela’s doorstep, shivering and unaware of the fact that she’d never see either of her parents again. Mariza had stepped in to care for her without question. She owed her everything.
The sundress slipped over her skin and she scrutinized her reflection. In a green-framed mirror hung over her door, Santana turned herself to the side, smoothed the fabric. “Something missing,” she mumbled. She was very aware she looked good in yellow, though. Weighing her options, she prayed her grandmother wouldn’t yell at her for wearing military boots with a sundress.
##
It didn’t take long for Mariza to put together a meal, that was certain. When Santana shuffled out of her bedroom, feeling just a little uncomfortable in such a soft dress, she smelled enough spice to knock a house down. She remembered something though – Hiram was a vegan and most food her abuela made wasn’t vegan. “Hey, did Hiram mention that he’s a vegan?”
“Si, hija,” Mariza replied simply. “I have a whole menu up here,” she tapped her finger to her head and smiled at her granddaughter. “Sweet child,” she remarked, and let out a throaty laugh, “I should have known you would wear those terrible boots, but I like your dress,” she wagged a cooking utensil toward Santana’s seat. “You, there,” she instructed. “Your friend will sit next to you on that side, and her fathers will sit across.”
“What about you?”
“Head of the table,” Mariza winked at Santana before returning to the task of finishing up dinner. “Although I am so proud I almost offered you that seat. You worked so hard.”
“It was mostly Rachel,” Santana dismissed. “Pero, gracias, Abuela.”
“You did the hard work. Rachel, I will thank her later. They’ll be here shortly, I think. You look very nice in yellow.”
“I’m not used to dresses.”
“Don’t I know it? If I could get you to wear a dress more often, I might convince you to do something with your hair,” Mariza teased over her shoulder.
Santana laughed, tapping her fingers on the wooden dinner table. Her eyes fell to the empty seat beside her. Rachel would be sitting there soon. As consumed as she had been a few minutes ago, the realization dawned upon her that she would not only be in close quarters with Rachel, but with everyone. Abuela was also likely to make any successful dinner into a weekly occurrence, so Santana had to prepare herself for that eventuality.
That had been the thing about Rachel. It all felt inevitable with her, some gravitational law of physics. She wondered if the HBIC had seen it coming, too, or if it had been just as surprising. There was a long way to go – they were so young that Santana wasn’t’ about to try to guess at the plot of their life. Dinner tonight with both families just felt inevitable.
“If you do something with your hair, that girl might kiss you.” Santana looked up so fast and scooted away from the table so fast that she smacked her hand against the wood. She hissed in pain, shook her hand as if that were going to make it less painful, “What did you just say?”
“You heard me.”
“Abuela we – Rachel and I … aren’t … I mean,” Santana huffed, closed her eyes. “You and I have never talked about my sexuality.”
“You think you are so clever and sneaky that I don’t know that special look?” Mariza began plating the food in large portions. “Santana Lopez, mi hija, child of my heart, I am not so stupid.”
“I don’t think you’re stupid,” Santana defended, but it was a lame-sounding thing to say. She stared at her hands. “We aren’t a .. thing. Rachel and I. I mean, she might be the best friend I’ve ever had. And she’s .. she’s wonderful, abuela, but --”
“You are not? You are.”
Damn mind-reader. Mariza was a damn mind reader. “I know.”
“Knowing is not feeling.” Her tone was a little sad and self-reflective. “You must fight sometimes, to feel properly. I know you struggle because of what your parents put you through.” Things got a little serious once all the food was set and ready. Mariza had a moment to sit. “I hear the prayer in your voice when you say your friend’s name.”
Santana glanced up at her abuela. “She uh – Rachel is very special to me. I probably --”
Mariza gave a knowing smile at the corner of her lips and narrowed her eyes.
“I care about her a lot, but we aren’t in a relationship. She’s just been a kind of a blessing.”
“Yes, she has,” Mariza reached forward, touching her granddaughter’s face. Santana warmed under the touch and closed her eyes. “Let’s have a good family dinner. My granddaughter is so strong and smart she must eat and be happy tonight,” her grandmother left no room for argument. Before Santana could open her eyes, she felt her grandmother press a kiss to the top of her head. A knock sounded at the door.
Santana stood to answer the door but Mariza was already halfway there. ##
Rachel looked beautiful for no reason. At least, that’s how Santana felt when she saw her come in behind her fathers. She was dressed in a pastel-green silk shirt and a dark-washed pair of jeans. It was a wash of relief to see her. The Berry men were dressed nicely as well, but all Santana could focus on was Rachel. She stood lamely in the kitchen doorway, yellow sundress and untied military boots, distracted. The chatter in the living room sounded like a faraway murmur.
“Come introduce me properly, hija,” Mariza beckoned, a knowing gleam in her eye.
Santana nodded, the spell broken, “Lo siento, this is Hiram,” Santana gestured with a nod, “and this is Leroy. And Rachel – “ she felt her eyes being drawn again to Rachel, who stood with her hands clasped in front of her as if she had to contain herself as well, “everyone, this is my grandmother Mariza.” Santana drew her shoulders back as she introduced them to her grandmother. She was filled, in that moment, with love for the woman who had taken over the task of raising her.
“Beautiful,” Mariza shook Hiram and Leroy’s hands before she moved on to Rachel. As if appraising the short girl, she stood six inches away from her, grasping her shoulders before embracing her. “You are so beautiful!”
Rachel blushed and laughed, surprised at the woman’s embrace and affection, “Oh.”
“You are the beautiful tutor who helped mi hija turn herself around,” this was said with a delicateness, a tenderness. She appeared to squeeze Rachel closer, “Thank goodness for your brains,” Mariza finally let go with good humor and motioned to the kitchen. “Come, we’re going to celebrate.” Mariza took Leroy and Hiram by the hand and by the shoulder, corralling the gathering into the kitchen.
Santana fell behind just enough to let them pass and smiled a little bit at Rachel, “She’s excited about my grades,” she mumbled by way of apology for any awkwardness.
“She got you in a dress,” Rachel spoke quietly between them.
The taller girl nodded, trying not to be embarrassed although that may have been her first reaction, “Yeah, I uh --”
“I like it. The boots, too.” Rachel’s hand, gently, on her arm. Rachel’s fingers gripping her arm. Just a half-second long enough for their families not to notice.
Santana warmed all over. She chewed her bottom lip for a moment, forgetting all about dinner and their parents in the kitchen. “I’m so glad you’re here.” The words came out in a rush. More words bit at the back of her tongue. She opened her mouth and found herself unable to get any of them out.
Rachel blushed. For the first time in a while, visibly blushed. Despite all the cuddling, the emotional intimacy, seeing Santana without clothing, all of it, she was still here blushing in front of Santana simply from a few kind words.
“Girls, dinner may get cold if you don’t join us,” Mariza spoke from the kitchen as she began plating everyone’s food from the center dishes, slapping Leroy’s hand away gently when he tried to help.
“It may also be gone by the time you sit down,” Hiram smiled widely from his seat.
Santana laughed, feeling something in herself loosen as she motioned for Rachel to head into the kitchen. She followed, feeling that giddy warmth all over again. Suddenly, sitting in a tiny kitchen with the five of them all together seemed just perfect.
##
“I’m sorry she spent so much time talking about me.”
Dinner had finished with Mariza ushering everyone into the living room so she could do dishes. (When they had all insisted that she have a seat and let someone else do it, she merely dismissed them with a little more authority.) The Berry men had gathered in the living room and insisted the girls go do whatever they wanted to. Mariza could do the dishes pretty fast, apparently, because Santana had heard her voice joining theirs not ten minutes later. While the small, curious part of her wanted to hear what they were all saying, she’d been elated at the chance to go relax a little bit with Rachel.
“I’m not,” Rachel answered. “She’s really proud of you. It’s really wonderful to see. I mean, it’s a relief. It’s a relief to see that you have unconditional love.”
It was such a kind, such a gentle thing to say that Santana wasn’t sure how to respond. Rachel was good at getting her to shut up.
“So, this is your room,” the shorter girl took a seat on Santana’s bed, “I like it.”
“It’s a disaster,” Santana’s laugh filled the space between them.
“No. It is, however, exactly what I expected.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good thing.”
Rachel’s smile answered for her. She wasn’t seated long; soon she was on her feet and looking at old photos on the walls, stepping gingerly over discarded things and picking up small, sentimental items on Santana’s vanity. Santana just wasn’t sure what to say. She was just glad Rachel was here. “Oh my gosh,” Rachel’s delighted giggle startled Santana from her reverie, startled her from just taking in the sight of Rachel being in her bedroom, “you were so small,” she commented on a small, old framed photo. It was Santana’s baby photo. “Is this – ?” She didn’t finish the next sentence as she picked up the photo next to it.
Her instinct was to snatch the photo away. Some old, bitter part of her wanted to prevent any vulnerability. Instead, she bit her lip with some force and closed her eyes for just a half-second.
When she opened her eyes, Rachel was waiting patiently, photo in hand, thoughtful. Her gaze was one of gentle encouragement.
Santana nodded. Rachel set the photo down. They sat together in silence a moment later, shoulders pressed warmly together. Underneath the silence, Santana knew that the other girl was giving her the space to say something when she was ready.
“All I really remember is that they fought constantly. And my dad stuck around for longer, but I was 13 when they brought me here. When he brought me here,” she corrected quietly. “It was cold, and in the middle of the night. And raining.”
“Do you miss them?”
Santana thought about that. She never really gave them enough thought to miss them, but seeing Rachel holding that photo cast the whole thing in a new light. The kind of light that shone on forgotten things. After another few seconds, she nodded, “I guess so. I mean, I mostly wonder why things … happened the way they did.”
“Am I not enough? Do they not want to know who I am now?” Rachel almost whispered these things. She was leaning her weight ever so subtly against Santana’s. “I think that all the time, about my mom.”
“I know.”
More silence. Out in the living room, Hiram was belly-laughing and Mariza was laughing, too.
“Should I uh --” Santana swallowed, shifted her weight so she could sit sideways and look at Rachel. Being beside her was nice, but something about her was so comforting to see. “Should I do something with my hair?” Stupid. Stupid. Stupid question. Suddenly she felt scrutinized and small.
“What?”
“I just … we were talking before you guys got here and my abuela may have suggested that I should do something different with my hair,” Santana left out the rest of it, but a slow blush crept from her throat to her face.
Rachel laughed, a little confused by the seeming importance of the question, and shook her head. Surely, she was seeing Santana blush.
“Right, stupid, I mean, I like my hair. It’s not that I don’t like my hair. It was just that she suggested it might be something new and I guess I just thought I would ask you since you’re --”
It clicked. Santana could see it happen. The dawning of Rachel’s understanding. “You’re nervous,” it was almost a reverent murmur. “Santana, I’m making you nervous.”
It wasn’t an accusation or a judgment. Santana could hear that. Her defensiveness welled up inside of her and madly, she found herself laughing. “Fucking right I’m nervous.” She wanted to say that a little louder, or maybe a little differently, but it barely bubbled from her mouth. And suddenly she just didn’t know what to say.
“I still make you nervous?”
Stop asking questions, Santana wanted to say. She didn’t. She merely stared at her hands and nodded her head thoughtfully, slowly.
“Why?”
Stop.
When she didn’t get an answer, Rachel didn’t demand Santana look at her, the way she might have expected her to. Instead, Rachel’s fingers made a gentle trail from Santana’s roots to the tips of her hair, and fell gently to cover and halt Santana’s fidgeting hands.
“Madre los dios, Rachel,” these words tumbled out of Santana. She didn’t know how to express herself. Rachel awoke feelings in her that grew strong and deep.
“Santana?” Rachel tried again. This time, the taller girl was able to raise her eyes and meet Rachel’s. Warmth spread from Santana’s fingers (guarded and clasped by both of Rachel’s hands now) into her throat, and then everywhere. “I just want to hear you say it. I just need you to say it.”
“I can’t – Rach, I’m not good at this shit,” her fear would not go down without a fight.
Rachel was smiling, slowly. As if Santana had said something completely different. Between them, though, they both knew.
“I feel – “
It took another false start before any of the words would make sense in Santana’s head.
“I missed you.”
It was more than she expected herself to say, but once the words came out it felt like a release. An unshackling. Rachel’s smile rewarded her, though. It seemed to take Rachel by surprise, too, but she responded by ducking forward and pressing her lips to Santana’s hand, lovingly.
“I missed you,” she whispered these words against the back of Santana’s hand.
Santana turned her hand over slowly as Rachel’s lips left her skin, grazed Rachel’s jaw gently with her palm and guided her back up. Suddenly her thumb guiding a path along her cheek felt like a grander act of love than any of the times she’d done way more than touch someone’s cheek. In her mind, all she could see was the look of love and concern when Rachel had found her beaten to a bloody pulp. Her eyes trailed first Rachel’s face, then her arms – those warm, deceptively strong arms.
Rachel’s cheeks were a soft red, her lips parted a little in surprise at Santana’s tenderness. She seemed to lean herself in to Santana’s touch just a little more as she lifted her hand to cover the moving fingers near her cheekbone.
The desire to press her lips to Rachel’s swelled up in Santana’s gut. There was no first kiss jitters, no butterflies, just an overwhelming desire to communicate all of the feelings she wasn’t sure how to. She resisted, bit her bottom lip, and embraced the intensity of just looking into the eyes of the woman she might actually love.
“Don’t worry,” Rachel was the first to speak, though her words sounded a little whispered and strangled. She lowered her hand, trailed her fingers in a reverent way down the side of Santana’s neck, and closed the distance for them both. Her mouth pressed shyly against Santana’s at first. Hesitantly, as if the taller girl might pull away.
A shock of lightning traveled from Santana’s lips to her gut and lower. When she tasted Rachel’s hesitance, some deeper part of her demanded that Santana stop acting out of fear. She answered hesitancy with hunger, kissing Rachel back in a way she had only daydreamed about in the old days of fighting and skipping classes. Something buried inside took over, communicated through a warm, insistent kiss, unleashed itself on them both.
Rachel’s fingers danced along the back of Santana’s neck just before her arms finished the gesture, the shorter girl pulling herself up and into Santana’s embrace. She kissed with a ferocity that surprised Santana. A sincerity of desire that she absolutely had not thought was there. “Don’t worry,” Rachel whispered hotly against Santana’s mouth, “I think I love you, too.”
The raven-haired girl pulled away, breathing quietly as those words sunk in. She opened her eyes as Rachel’s mouth touched her cheek, her other cheek, her forehead, and finally again her mouth. They were kissing softer this time, with less urgency. “Yeah?”
Rachel, shivering with emotion, laughing, inexplicably also crying, “Yeah.”
Santana reached up, putting just enough space between them. “I didn’t plan on this.”
“That’s okay. Neither did I.”
She hadn’t actually said she loved Rachel, but she hadn’t needed to. “I do.”
“I know.”
This was good.
##
The emotional revelation and kissing session their night had become ended all too briefly. Hiram and Leroy had knocked in a certain rhythm at the door the way dads do when they think they’re being funny, and the pair had shot apart for fear of getting in trouble. Though they were a sex positive family, from what Santana gathered, it was not likely that they’d allow the girls in a closed room if they knew things had gone the way they did so soon.
Santana was the first to get to the door, all too practiced at feigning innocence. “Hey, Dads,” she greeted the men. “Is it time for you guys to go?” The disappointment was a heavy weight at the end of the sentence, and she glanced back as Rachel approached. She felt a warm palm at the small of her back.
“Yeah,” Leroy said with equal disappointment, “Although I’m in love with Mariza and we’re coming back next week.” His unparalleled grin was met with Hiram’s playful eye roll.
“Oh, honey, you’re not in love with her, and if you are, we’re going to have to talk,” Hiram gave his husband a slow smile. “Santana, it was great to spend the evening here. We’re proud of your grades, too. I’m proud of Rachel for helping, but you really did put in a lot of work. You even got beat up for it.” He gave her a warm, fatherly embrace before he offered his own daughter his elbow. “Come on, kiddo.”
Rachel nodded, but before she took her father’s elbow, she hugged herself close to Santana and buried her head briefly.
Santana wrapped her arms around her tightly, a hand trailing the ends of Rachel’s hair before gently encouraging her toward her fathers. “Thank you guys, for joining me and my grandmother.” To Rachel’s back, as she left the room, Santana implored, “Text me when you get home?”
“Of course,” the shorter brunette turned around with a nod and a wide grin. They left without much more ceremony.
Mariza had returned to the kitchen to presumably do some more cleaning, so Santana locked the door behind them and flipped the porch light off as soon as they were safely down the walk. While she looked out the small viewing window, on her tip toes, a voice came from the kitchen.
“Did you do something with your hair?” Mariza’s question came out underneath a sly laugh, a plate and towel in her hand.
Santana blushed, but had the good sense not to glare at her own grandmother. “I love you, too, Abuela.” Avoiding further interrogation, or jest, she gave the old woman a kiss on her cheek before she returned to her room with the intention to get out of this damn yellow sundress. ##
Well, they don’t seem to be opposed to you spending the night tomorrow night, so they must not have figured it out. - R*
I’d love to. - S
Are you okay with spending the night still? We don’t have to do anything. - R*
I miss you. I’ll be there. - S
I miss you, too. - R*
I’m sorry I didn’t say it. I was scared. - S
I didn’t need to hear it to know it. - R*
Trembling, Santana set her phone in her lap. Waited a moment for her hands to stop shaking.
I love you, Rachel. - S
Santana wanted to say my grandmother told me your name sounds like a prayer when I say it, but she wanted to save that one. She wanted to say that one out loud, too.
Oh gosh. I love you. How am I supposed to sleep now? I’m too excited to sleep. - R*
Dork. - S
Santana fell asleep with a smile on her lips and a chuckle buried in her throat.
Christmas List DONE!
Disclaimer: This gif set does not belong to me. I found it on a fanpage and it had no username or gave credit to anyone. If you know who this belongs to, please let me know so credit can be given to the proper person.