The drive home was…awkward. Most members of the group had clapped, myself included – but Finn had walked right up to Jesse, and said, ‘you took advantage of her. She might still be mine if it wasn’t for you!’, he screamed, and walked out of the room. Everyone had stayed very, very silent, until Brittany piped up, ‘Mr Schue, you can’t just hire him because he’s your son. That’s like, racist or something’, as she shook her head in disappointment. That promptly concluded the session.
I didn’t care so much about Finn’s stupid comment, but Jesse clearly did. He pulled over in the car park of the Lima Walmart, and we sat in silence for a moment. I tried to break the silence. ‘Do you need something from the store?’, I asked, although we both knew that wasn’t the reason he’d stopped. Jesse took a deep breath. ‘Rachel…when Finn said you might still be his…what did he mean?’, he asked. I shook my head. ‘Jesse, I really don’t want to talk about this. Please’, I begged. ‘No, Rachel. All of the stuff about the drugs, my sexuality, I didn’t really want to talk about it. But I knew it was important for the sake of our relationship. So I told you. Why won’t you do the same?’, he asked. I sighed in defeat. I told him everything.
Jesse sat in silence, taking everything in. His facial expression didn’t change, so I couldn’t tell what he was feeling. When I was finished, he was quiet for a few moments. Finally, he spoke. ‘So you loved him?’, he asked very quietly. I shrugged. ‘Well, I think I did, maybe a little. But not in the way I love you. He was more like a friend that I cared about a lot’, I tried to explain. ‘But when you kissed him, it was a good thing’, Jesse finished the sentence for me. I felt a tear run down my cheek. ‘I don’t know, Jesse. I just moved on from you, straight away. I’ve never been alone. I could never be alone. So I kissed Finn on the stairs that day because you had broken me, and I needed someone to kiss me, to hold me…to make me feel like I was worth something’, I sobbed. ‘Then suddenly we were dating, and I felt like I shouldn’t think about you. So I didn’t really think about you much until after Finn and I broke up…and then I realised I’d never stopped loving you. It took me so long to realise because I forced myself never to think about you. Then I found you again, last week, and when you kissed me, when you held me…that was everything I’d been looking for in Finn. But he could never make me feel that way. Only you can. Because I love you’, I told him. I looked at Jesse, my beautiful Jesse. He was crying too. ‘Why are you crying?’, I asked him. ‘Because you’re perfect.’
We got back to my house, and as soon as I closed the front door, Jesse picked me up and spun me around. I laughed. ‘What are you doing?’, I asked. He grinned, and sat down on my bed, me on his lap, still with my arms around his shoulders. ‘I love you, so, so much’, he told me. ‘I love you too’, I told him. Before I knew what was happening, his lips were on mine, and everything else went away. Just kissing him forever would be enough, but after a while I felt his hands on my breasts, and I was about to move them – then I remembered this wasn’t Puck, or Finn. This was Jesse. His hands were gentle, though, I noticed, as they slowly caressed my chest. He wasn’t rough like the others. I ran my own hand down his back, and let it rest on his hip. I felt his lips move down my neck, and stop at my breast. He glanced up, asking permission with his eyes. It was so sweet and considerate, and I consented with a nod of my head. He gently unbuttoned my shirt. My heart was beating fast – nobody had ever seen my bare breasts. Should I let him? It felt so right…but what if they were the wrong shape? What if they didn’t feel right to him? But all my worries faded away as Jesse gently lay me down on the bed, and unhooked my bra. He looked at my chest for a moment, and then into my eyes. ‘So beautiful’, he whispered, and kissed the crook of my neck. He slowly moved down, letting his tongue run over my skin. Then he took my breast into his mouth. I groaned as I felt his tongue massaging the tip, his teeth nibbling gently. I could feel something hard on my thigh – had I given him an erection? I’d never given a guy an erection before. Finn always stopped himself, as if it was something to be ashamed of. I glanced at Jesse. He didn’t seem as if he wanted to stop – I could feel him growing on my leg. Should I…help him finish? But would it make me seem like a slut? I considered, struggling to think straight as Jesse moved to my other breast. I decided I should. I took a deep breath, and quickly turned me and Jesse over, so that I was on top. He looked at me in surprise. Suddenly, I had a moment of doubt – but then I remembered what I had sung in glee club that day. I kissed him on the lips, and then started to remove his pants. Jesse stared at me in shock. ‘Are you sure?’, he whispered. I didn’t answer directly. ‘Give in to love, or live in fear’, I sang softly.
I threw his pants aside and stared in wonder. I smiled. ‘That’s…um’, Jesse grinned. ‘Disappointed?’, he asked. I shook my head, unable to tear my eyes away. ‘No, that is most definitely not disappointing. Quite the opposite’, I said. All I could think was that I wanted to touch it, to see how he felt. I ran a finger down him in awe, then realised what a stupid mistake I had made. I didn’t know how to do this! I could put it in my mouth…but I wouldn’t know what to do. Jesse took my hand. ‘Like this’, he showed me. I moved my hand up and down, loving the feel of him in my hand. He groaned. ‘Yes…faster’, he murmured. I obliged, feeling him grow harder under me. ‘Yes, yes Rachel’, Jesse said. I decided to increase the speed even more. Jesse shouted out. ‘Oh god, Rach’, and I thought maybe I was doing it wrong – but the feel of him beneath me told me I was doing just fine. I glanced at his face for the first time, and gasped. Eyes closed, mouth slightly open, eyebrows raised a little. He was beautiful. I didn’t want to look away, and he suddenly said, ‘I’m gonna cum. Almost there, almost there…oh god! Yes!’, he yelled, as I watched his face the entire time. I felt something warm and wet in my hand. He sighed in contentment, and opened his eyes. ‘I love you, Rach. I really fucking love you’, he told me, and kissed me. ‘Was I okay?’, I asked. He laughed. ‘You were more than okay, honey’, he answered, kissing me again. I laughed with him, all of my worries long forgotten. This man loved me, and I loved him. And tonight, I had shown him my love in a truly amazing way.
Only us, and only this. All regret forgotten, otherwise life could just be missed. Only us, only tonight. We’d just let go, to know what was right. I couldn’t control my destiny, I just had to trust my soul, and know my only goal was just…to be. Only now, only here. I’d given in to love, better than to live in fear. No other road, no other way. No day but today.
taken from my fanfic, read it all here: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7178794/1/In_The_Lima_Heights
For St. Berry Week (prompts 1 & 3). With a little help from Jesse & Kurt, Rachel finally achieves her dreams on Broadway.
St. Berry Week (Day 2) - A day late because I never came home yesterday
New York City - Juin 2023
Un anniversaire, une soirée, quelques bières et Jesse était dans un autre monde. Il n’était vraiment pas du genre à se souler, du moins pas depuis qu’il était avec Rachel, et surtout pas avec de la bière. Mais ce soir, il s’était dit, allez, c’est…
Title: Why Finn Hudson Ships Saint Strawberry
Author: The Gerber Baby
Word Count: 1,225
Genre: Romance, Humor
Summary: When Will is stuck in Chicago, McKinley’s very own show choir consultant takes over the glee club. His assignment? Write a 500 page paper on why you ship St. Berry. Written for St. Berry Week Day 2
AN: I don’t write smut, so this is just a random drabble that came up in my head. To make it relate to St .Berry week Day 2…I just added a bit at the end.
Will Schuester rubbed his eyes blearily and sighed. Two in the morning and his Spanish 3 essays were yet to be graded, and that’s not even taking in the issue that Figgins had called an emergency staff meeting at 6:30 am regarding Sue’s recent decision to turn the staff lounge into a call center for North Korean spies.
He didn’t make it a habit of hating on his colleagues; in fact, aside from his vendetta against Sylvester and the occasional problem with Figgins, he quite enjoyed his associations with the other staff members at McKinley. But this guy—if he even counted as a staff member—was just awful. Awful, awful, awful.
Last weekend had been a magical one for Will and Emma. They had taken advantage of the three day weekend and had driven to Chicago to spend the weekend at a quaint little bed and breakfast that Emma had always gone to as a child. Unfortunately snowstorm had hit and when Tuesday came and school started, the pair had still been stuck hundreds of miles from home. Instead of “wasting good bathroom facility money”, Figgins had merely assigned the New Directions show choir to direct the club while Will was gone.
Said show choir consultant had directed the club for about ten minutes before declaring all there but one a group of talentless sad sacks who would spend their day scooping panda poop at the Lima zoo. The show choir consultant then whisked his girlfriend away, but not before assigning an essay prompt that was to be due on Tuesday.
Of course, after assigning the essay the show choir consultant hadn’t wanted to grade them, which was why Will was still sitting on his couch, red pen all over his hands and a freshly read stack of essays in front of him.
There are numerous reasons as to why I ship St. Berry, but at the forefront are two demanding issues that only Jesse can solve, and Finn can only worsen . For example, Rachel Berry looks best wearing warm, earthy colors. After raiding her closet and throwing away all the animal sweaters, Rachel now wears beautiful red skirts, lovely pink dresses and brown sweaters to enhance her lovely hair and eyes. Finn however, looks be—well, alright in cool colors such as blue, green and white. All which clash horribly with Rachel’s now enhanced wardrobe. Meanwhile, Jesse and his ever present black is perfect. Black is a blank slate that allows Rachel’s outfit to pop against him, and that is how it should be.
Also, the second issue is that Finn’s too tall to walk in the doorways of that little condo I found in Manhattan for us. I really don’t want to have to rush to the hospital all the time to fix his head.
Wait, you just described mine and Ms. Pillsbury’s wardrobe—Mr. Schuester
So maybe I hate Berry with a passion but with hate comes love, right? So I suppose I love that sexy little bitch in a way. And I don’t let shit happen to the things I kind of love on the off day. Finn is terrible in bed. He reeks of mediocrity. Cabbage patch dolls are sexier than him. Seriously, I’d rather go at it with a doll than him. Berry deserves better, and that St. Assbag is quite a fine work. If it weren’t for Britt he’d totally make my lady loins explode. I wonder if he’s up for a threesome with us. I wonder if Berry’s up for a threesome with us. Or I could just join them, I know they’re doing it.
Santana this essay is absolutely inappropriate for a scho—who am I kidding, this whole assignment is inappropriate. – Mr. Schuester
If I had it my way, Berry would be with Lopez and we’d be going at it all night. It’d be so fucking hot, Berry could dress as a Jewish schoolgirl and Lopez could be like some hot Zorro chick and ohmyfucking god I need a bathroom break.
I need to talk to you in my office about what is appropriate for school—Mr. Schuester
I like it when Rachel’s with Jesse. I mean, in a way he’s the one that got me together with Sam, otherwise who knows what could’ve happened at prom? So in that, I’m grateful and I also like him because he distracts Rachel from trying to take all the solos. I mean seriously, that little gremlin just GOES AND GOES AND GOES ON AND ON ABOUT NOBODY APPRECIATING HER AND TAKING ALL THE SOLOS AND I’M JUST LIKE BITCH I WANT THE SOLO AND I DESERVE THE SOLO. I AIN’T NO ANITA. I AM MARIA.
Mercedes, you had the solo in the group song last week, please don’t leave the group again—Mr. Schuester
hI. I lyuk st. bluebery becuz rachl had tht big crushe on u mr. shooe and sinc she cnt have u she shuld haf the nextxt best thing. Ur son. Aslo lord tubbingtn lyks jesse, he lerned a lot abt reality teevee from him.
Brittany, he’s not my son and
I have scheduled a meeting with writing lab for you tomorrow—Mr. Schuester
I like St. Berry, ya dig? I mean, boy’s gawt a good head on his fine little shoulders and his singing is dope, yo. Plus, when Rachel’s with my homie st. James, she’s less annoying and that’s always good, ya know whatta mean? Plus, Jesse’s the only one that helps me with my wheelchair choreography these days. And a brudda gotta stick with a brudda.
Artie, I have scheduled you for the same writing lab that Brittany’s attending tomorrow. Also, we’ll be doing another wheelchair song soon—Mr. Schuester
I like Saint Berry lots. It’s like the Grilled Cheesus, food made holy and that’s always awesome. This one time my mom made me alphabet soup and I think that the letters spelled jesus but I can’t remember since that was a really long time again . but I think it said jesus. Anyways, just imagine how awesome Saint Berry is, especially if it wears one of those funny pope hats. I wonder if it’s a strawberry. Or maybe a blue berry. I really wish Rachel would stop dating Jesse.
Finn…well…um…hey! Writing lab worked for you!—Mr. Schuester.
Will was surprised that he was missing one essay. Rachel Berry never ceased to turn in an assignment, and he was honestly pained to have to give her a red 0 on this one.
Not that she cared though. For you see, Schuester wasn’t the only one still awake at 2 am. Or the only one doing “schoolwork.” Rachel however, was luckier because she had some help in the form of a very naked Jesse St. James
(This was written by The Gerber Baby on ff.net. She doesn’t have a tumblr, so I’m submitting it for her.)
In which, Rachel tortures Jesse during a heat wave … and picture messaging is a wonderful thing.
“It’s going to be another scorcher,” Rachel observes, stepping inside from their balcony and pulling the glass door firmly shut behind her.
Jesse grimaces, pulling his T-shirt on over his head. New York City, in August, in the middle of a heat wave, is the closest approximation to hell on earth that he can think of. “At least you have the day off. I get to spend my morning with the choreographer from hell.”
“Stop whining – don’t you always love to regale me with tales of the superhuman endurance of Vocal Adrenaline?”
“That’s true. I am much tougher than you.” He smirks and then artfully dodges the couch pillow she tosses at him.
She scowls sweetly at him as she throws herself back on the couch, snatching the novel she’s been reading this week off the end table. “Fine. I hope you suffer at rehearsal while my delicate self enjoys my day off in the air conditioning.”
He laughs, jamming his feet into shoes, and leans over the back of the couch to kiss her. “Don’t miss me too much.”
He’s stepping out of the subway into the bright sunlight, steeling himself for a sticky two-block walk to the rehearsal space - even at 8:45 a.m., the sun is already beating down on the pavement with no mercy - when his phone buzzes in his pocket with a text.
Jesse, the air conditioner stopped working.
Sorry, sweetheart. I’ll fix it when I get home. Can you find some way to keep cool until then?
I suppose I can think of SOMETHING, she answers quickly.
He drops his phone back in his pocket, intent on making it to rehearsal a little early, but jumps in surprise when it almost immediately vibrates again. He pulls it out and sees the notification for a picture message.
He frowns at the little screen, trying to figure out why Rachel just sent him a photo of a shirt, wondering if it’s something she meant to send a girlfriend instead. But the shirt in question looks awfully familiar. He realizes it’s the light purple top she was wearing when he left the apartment this morning. And it appears to be on the floor of their living room.
He laughs a little, fires off a quick reply.
Definitely wish I was around to help with that.
He’s just pulling the door open when he gets a reply back.
Although Kurt very gently, but firmly, made Rachel stop wearing the animal sweaters around Manhattan shortly after they all moved to the city a few years ago, she still has plenty of quirkier items in her wardrobe. These particular cotton shorts - which she was wearing to bed last night and hadn’t bothered to change out of this morning - have little birds embroidered all over them. And they’re currently on the floor next to the shirt.
He swallows hard, suddenly realizing she is about to make this a very - very - long day for him.
She WOULD happen to pull this today, of all days. Usually, learning new choreography comes easy to him. But today, his mind is definitely in the wrong places - such as on the image of her, in her underwear, casually lounging about their apartment. He forces himself to focus when he almost steps on his partner’s foot after a lift (almost. He’s Jesse St. James, after all).
When the director breaks from the routine to make a comment to the choreographer, he risks pulling his phone out to fire off a quick message.
You are killing me, Rachel.
“Are we interrupting something, St. James?” the choreographer barks.
He shakes his head innocently, dropping the phone back in his pocket and gritting his teeth in frustration when he feels it buzz with a reply. As soon as he thinks he can get away with it, he pulls it back out.
I was just thinking of taking a cold shower. Sounds like you could use one, too. Too bad you’re not home. We could save water - as you know, the environment is very important to me.
He loves his job. Really, he does. But he can honestly say he’s never wanted to be at a rehearsal less in his life. Particularly when the next text happens to be of her bra - a lacy pink number - hooked casually on the back of the bedroom doorknob.
Come home soon, Jesse. I miss you…
He only vaguely remembers finishing rehearsal, having a discussion with the director, and making his way back to the subway, firing off a quick message to Rachel before descending the stairs.
On my way home. Finally.
He never gets cell service down there, so he doesn’t get her next message - the one with the attached photo of her panties on the floor of the bedroom, oh God - until he’s on their block. By the time he gets to the lobby of their building, he’s far too impatient to wait for the elevator.
He takes the stairs at a run.
He fumbles with his keys, slams the door shut behind him, and comes up short at the door of their bedroom. Rachel is indeed lounging on the bed without a stitch on, idly paging through her book. She looks up and raises an eyebrow at her boyfriend, who is standing in the doorway breathing hard.
“It’s hot outside. You’re overdressed,” she comments, then squeals when he doesn’t even bother to kick his shoes off, diving onto the bed to pin her against the mattress for a kiss he’s been thinking about all day.
“You lied,” he breathes when they come up for air. “The air conditioner’s intact.”
“Good thing it’s working.” She grins up at him innocently - or as innocently as she can when she’s naked, pinned underneath him and tugging at the hem of his T-shirt. “Because I think we’re about to turn up the heat.”
St. Berry Week | Day 2 — Burning Up For Your Love
St. Berry Week Day 2: Burning up for your love || Night of the hunter 2
When I look at her it feels like I’m on fire. My skin suddenly feels too small for my body and I can’t think about anything else besides her.
She doesn’t look the same way at me.
All I want is for her to love me like I love her. I want to invade her thoughts like she invaded mine. I want to be all the things for her she is for me.
I don’t believe in God but sometimes I pray that one day she’ll wake up and realize that my friendship isn’t enough anymore, that she wants us to be together no matter what difficulties there might be.
Night of the hunter - A musical written by Jesse St. James