A/N: A little future, married head-canon / pregnant!Quartie fic, dedicated to my one and only— my perfect, beautiful,wonderful RPG partner: my Quinn! I love you with one million and one bunches, CC honey lamb! It starts out a lil’ bit angsty, baha - but I hope you like, precious! Mwah mwah! :’)
It’s been six months. And, on occasion— Artie can still catch that slight glimmer of fear within Q’s eyes. That struggle. That doubt. It’s an understandable worry; a fractured piece of a young girl, not quite sixteen, fighting to get used to the feel of supporting a second life.
And it’s not because she’s unprepared; far from it, in fact. She’s been through this once before. She knows her body— knows the weight of support, how to carry it all in a tender and delicate stride. Mood swings, cravings… familiar changes of physicality, of mind. She’s come to accept the transition, never having forgotten; at times, she’s even come to jokingly liken her pregnancy to the natural reflex of riding a bike.
No. No, the anxiety… the imbalance— it all stems from a single instance. A memory… a loss.
The fear that she might not be able to keep… to raise, and— to mother this second life.
It maintains a certain… hesitance, Artie notes— a hesitance in the anticipation. Quinn’s excitement is painfully guarded, whereas gloved palms are always reaching… always cupping, lips always kissing unto rounded stomach. Velvet tenor addresses the wonder of their unborn babe beyond, babbling and cooing and swearing sweet promise— a daily constant. And yet Q won’t allow herself too much… touch. Won’t say more than a few, scarce words, choking down an instinctive maternity; the half-hearted smiles she shares are drawn. Tight. Discussions of possible names are dismissed, as if deciding might cement her worst nightmare: That what she brings herself to cherish— will only be taken. She doesn’t want to get attached— doesn’t want to succumb to a love she was so undoubtedly graced to give.
It’s a battle internal— deeply subconscious; a burden heavy, one Artie works to assuage. Though there’s only so much he can say, can do to keep his wife in high spirits. He pays compliments… makes late night Ben & Jerry’s runs, wheels Quinn off her tired, swollen feet; she appreciates it, appreciates him. His support… though, like a shadow, the fear remains. Any mention, any thought of Beth is like a shock of electric qualm; churning her stomach, wetting her eyes. The paranoia’s never spoken. On her tongue, it leaves a far too bitter taste. She’s supposed to be strong. And… while Artie’s become half her strength… the wordless panic of being torn from yet another child is something Q can’t imagine herself able to face.
But she tries— and Artie admires, always at her side. The steps… they’re gradual. Stops in front of mirrors… hazel orbs scanning the glow, the supple fullness to her features; at home, she stands in nothing more than underwear, bathed in bathroom light. She acknowledges the fade of past stretch marks, new strains painted atop cream colored skin. A new story, rewritten— signifying health… a person, so small… so vulnerable; growing, never stopping, advertising a warm, “Hi mommy! Hi daddy! I can’t wait to meet you; I’m getting bigger and bigger each day!” A health that… helps calm. Encourages the tickle of slim digits, Quinn tracing the contours of her belly— pressing soft against the flutter of a strong, affectionate kick, baby Abrams already demanding notice. It’s enough to make her giggle… make her push past timidity and rub the firm swell of her tum, impossibly gentle…
It’s enough to inspire a whisper. An honest truth, thick with emotion, managed:
“Mommy loves you very much.”
And that murmur alone is enough to sway the last of Q’s fright.
Day 8- Zombie Apocalypse Quartie
Artie quaked in the corner of the William McKinley High School gymnasium. It was summer, and he didn’t expect to have to be here again for at least another two months, but that was before it happened. One day he turned on the news and everything was abuzz about some guy who got up and walked out of his cell in the morgue, the next day, the virus spread to all parts of America. Including Lima, Ohio. Artie had spent the last twelve hours wheeling away furiously from people he once knew…some had even been his friends…and they wanted to eat his flesh. For some reason, the only safe haven was William McKinley High School, so the only fraction of the town that was uncontaminated stuffed themselves into there. Artie was having panic attacks- especially every time he looked up at the “Max. Capacity: 500” sign on the wall, and knew there were well over five-hundred people in there.
The virus hadn’t gotten anyone in his family yet, thank God, but it did somehow end up getting most of his friends. Noah Puckerman had splayed himself on the windshield of Maggie Abrams’ mini van. Sam Evans had caught hold of Artie’s arm as he struggled into the gym. But they were safe, now, he thought.
Just then, he saw a figure fight her way through the crowd. She walked with a limp, and her cheek was dripping bright red. She was tattered, dirty…broken. But Artie could tell that was the least of her problems- the cause of her limp? A severely twisted ankle. It wasn’t until then did he actually catch a glimpse of her- Quinn Fabray.
A/N: Sexy Quartie!
Set in the future when they’re living together, maybe even engaged and thinking about duck farms. Artie’s directing career is taking off and Quinn is becoming a more well-known actress. They’re happy and in love and ever-adorable. This isn’t important to the fic in the least, just sharing my background thoughts ‘cuz Quartie feels X]
Warning: Pure smut. Nothing much more than that quite honestly.
Artie closed their apartment door, locking it and tossing his bag into the corner. He’d had a long day and was looking forward to just relaxing with his girl. A movie and cuddles sounded incredible.
“Babe?” he called out. The place was quiet and dark, no sign of Quinn anywhere even though he knew she’d be home. Brow furrowing, he rolled through their place, half expecting a giggly blonde to jump out and tackle him(it’s happened more than once), but the further into the apartment he got, the less likely that became. Maybe she went to bed early? He remembered her telling him how stressed and restless she’d been feeling for the past few days now. Still, it was rare for her to just go to bed without sending him a quick text. Plus, something just felt… different…
Moving down the short hallway to their bedroom, he saw a warm glow creep out across the floor and wall as the door sat slightly ajar. He smiled as he made his way down the hall. Reaching out and pushing the door open, he expected to see his girlfriend curled up on their bed with a book.
That was far from the sight he received.
“Quinn, I-” Words fell and throat went dry as he took in the glory before him, heart rate instantly jumping into action.
Quartie Week Day 7- Season 3 Quartie
Artie sat outside of the hospital room. Inside was Quinn Fabray…the girl he had the pleasure of calling an acquaintance, and even on some occasions a friend, for the last three years of his life. Her car accident had startled the town…weddings were stopped, people were getting together and making Get Well Soon cards…but Artie knew that half of the people in Lima didn’t even understand. What they heard was, “Popular blonde teen Quinn Fabray was T-boned by a semi-truck on Avenue J…” but Artie’s heart sunk the second the local newspaper reported that there had been spinal injury.
Having been stuck in his wheelchair for ten years, he had become accustomed to it. And the idea of Quinn waking up and finding that she couldn’t move her legs was crushing to him…no one deserved that. Especially not Quinn, who had just gotten her life back on track.
This was the reason that he sat outside of her hospital room, holding flowers and a teddy bear. As he sat there, mentally preparing himself for what he would find in the room, Artie reminded himself that spinal cord injury did not exclusively mean paralysis. And Quinn had been in a coma for the past three days, so there was really no word around the town…but there was a high chance…He didn’t even know why he brought the stupid bear or the flowers. He hated when he was in the hospital and people brought him stuff. Nothing anyone could bring could give back his ability to walk.
But it was too late to chicken out now. Artie rolled himself into the room where Quinn laid. Her eyes were shut, and she slept angelically. A real sleeping beauty. Perhaps he could get in and out quickly, and anonymously leave the flowers and the bear. But before he could execute his plan…
“…Artie.” he heard. Artie looked up to find Quinn peering down at him from her pillow. She seemed to be still half-asleep. “I’m going to feel like a complete idiot if this is a dream.” she chuckled lightly. Artie gave a smile back. Same old Quinn. He decided to stay for a while.
This is a follow up from my Day One fic.
They’ve had a blissful few weeks, and now Graduation is just around the corner and it’s time to say goodbye.
Disclaimer: I still don’t own Glee.
A / N: This is kind of short and sweet / silly!sexy, dedicated to my wonderful, sweetie honey CC lamb! She’s such a dear friend to me, and I love her with all my heart; I hope this makes you smile, bee bee!
“Artie…? Baby, are you ready?”
“Woman, if I was any more ready, I’d be takin’ matters into my own hand.”
“… Don’t you mean ‘hands’?”
Quinn’s laughter echoed just beyond bathroom door at her man’s playful insistence, Artie smiling wide and flushed, catching the musical - if muffled - sound; clad in only pale blue boxer briefs, upper torso casually eased against the headboard at his back and Yale dorm candle lit, Artie anxiously awaited Q’s earlier suggested “surprise” re-entrance.
“Now, c’mon out!” he invited, hormonal enthusiasm spurring an exaggerated thrust of arms heavenward, above head. “Dazzle me!”
Quinn’s delicate giggles rang out yet again— fading into what Artie assumed was a readying inhale, his girlfriend sighing deep (nervous) before at last revealing herself to him…—
—… He hadn’t been prepared, wide blue eyes trailing the length of Q’s figure. Not in the slightest; her costuming so deliciously unexpected, familiar heat pooling south— despite a sudden… humored disbelief. Artie swallowed thick, momentarily incoherent, hypnotized by the sway of exposed hips nearing his bed’s edge… It was like being thirteen, he boyishly overwhelmed and unable to speak— only, rather than on Carrie Fisher, Princess Leia’s known gold bikini decorated Quinn’s beautiful, petite hourglass…
… She’d instead become the (infinitely better) star of his not quite so secret and— sexy eighth grade fantasy.
“… Nooooooooooo you didn’t,” Artie managed, chuckling low - a stunned rumble - between lithe pecs— gaze falling to ogle Q’s own chest, admiring the artfully crafted sculpt of cream colored curves without breath, a bit shyly. Her face pinked in notice, wisps of braided blonde hair framing the sudden blush atop each cheek; Quinn bit back a wry grin, manicured touch finding her left arm band and fiddling.
“Do you like it?”
Artie’s brow quirked, gaze focusing unto her bashfully matched hazel— glinting.
“Babe—” he promised, gut churning and toned arms supporting the weight of his frame, leaning froward through tease: “The, ah… ‘force’ to take you right here… right now… is most definitely ‘strong’ with me…”
… Though the pair was stalled in their attempt at foreplay; at least until after they’d stopped giggling.
Quartie Week - Take Two, Day 6: Sexy Quartie
Quartie Week Day 6- Sexy Quartie
Just wanted to thank my lovely anon for giving me the prompt for this. :3 I probably would’ve been stumped for much longer if they hadn’t helped me out.
Artie’s arm held Quinn in a warm, comfortable embrace. The film critics they were, they spent most of their time between filming (and Artie dropping subtle hints toward marriage) in their cozy apartment, watching movies. On this particular chill autumn evening, they had decided to pop in Paranormal Activity. The movie had been a scary movie favorite of the public since Quinn’s sophomore year, and Artie nearly had an aneurysm when she revealed to him that she’d never seen it.
As a religious girl, the idea of demons and possession always shied Quinn away from movies like The Exorcist. When she’d heard that Paranormal Activity was all about a demon, she had decided to stay away from it. But Artie insisted, and she knew that if she stayed under his arm, she’d feel safe.
The movie was at its end, now, and Quinn could feel her heartbeat. She hoped Artie couldn’t, because she was used to appearing tough to him. But gosh darn, this movie was scary.
“Is that your heart?” Artie asked, sounding a bit concerned. Quinn tried to steady her voice as she answered.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” she gulped and clutched the throw pillow to her chest.
Artie gave a chuckle, “I think you, Quinn Fabray, are scared.” Knowing that her cover was blown, Quinn shut her eyes and buried her face into Artie’ chest, shielding herself from the terror on the TV screen. His scent had this way of comforting her whenever things were out of kilter. Shakily, she let go of the throw pillow and wrapped her arm around her boyfriend’s torso. She knew she probably looked like a cowering child, but she didn’t care.
It’s Supposed To Be Sexy
“Ok, just lie down on the bed, and prepare to be amazed.”
Quinn raised an eyebrow, trying to hold back the laugh that threatened to escape her lips. She wasn’t sure what he had planned, but she could only assume it would be something great. He usually made great plans.
She watched as he pulled out his iPhone, selecting some music, before setting it down on the nightstand.
“Ready?” he asked, as Quinn got comfortable on the bed. “No laughing, ok?”
Quinn wondered what he thought could make her laugh about the situation, when he started removing his sweater vest, swaying to the music.
“Wait, is this a strip tease?” she asked, as he tossed the vest aside, doing something that resembled…shimmying his shoulders, before he began slowly unbuttoning his shirt. She watched, slightly amused as his fingers fumbled with the many buttons on his shirt.
As Artie attempted to look sexy while undoing the buttons, he wished that he had picked something different to wear. But, of course, it was too late. He closed his eyes momentarily, and when he opened them, he spotted Quinn, hand over her mouth.
“Woman, this is supposed to be sexy! I said no laughing!” he said, feigning indignation as he tossed his shirt aside, revealing a white undershirt.
“It’s taking too long,” Quinn replied, grinning and biting her lip. “Faster, please,” she added, grabbing his phone and changing the song to something a little more upbeat.
“Always with the demands! Sexiness cannot be rushed!” Artie said, hurrying to toss the undershirt aside, revealing his nicely defined chest and abs, before doing the same shimmying thing he’d done with his shoulders earlier.
“Pants,” Quinn demanded, with a flick of her wrist. “Come on, I haven’t got all day! You should definitely do that on the bed, lying next to me.”
This time it was Artie biting back his laughter, as he quickly took off his shoes, and then quickly got ready and transferred himself to the bed.
“How about a little help?” he asked, once he was situated there.
“You promise me something sexy, and then you want me to work for it?” Quinn asked, sitting up a little, and fingering the buckle on his belt. “What’s in it for me?”
“You get the shock and awe of the Abrams experience,” Artie joked, reaching down, as they undid the belt together.
“Shock and awe…right,” Quinn said, looking even more amused as she ran a hand up his chest.
Before either of them knew it, the pants were off, leaving him lying there in only his boxers and socks.
“You wore Star Wars boxers to the strip tease?” Quinn asked, looking down.
“Stop calling it that!” Artie said, his cheeks suddenly growing hot.
“What?” Quinn murmured, moving closer, and placing a light kiss on his chest. “Isn’t that what this is? My own personal sexy show, by my own personal sexy and adorable hottie?” she asked, kissing up his chest to his neck.
“Well, when you put it like that-” Artie started, cut off by a particularly forceful kiss.
“You are seriously the hottest ever,” Quinn murmured, in between kisses. “What happens now?”
Artie looked her up and down for a moment, noticing she was still fully clothed. He grinned.
“Now it’s your turn.”
Title: Love in an Elevator
Author: slushiemecarrie (me)
Dedicated to my wonderful Angie Bee! I love her to pieces and she’s always here for me. She’s one of the greatest friends I could ever ask for. Quartie sexy-times are much deserved!
Warning: There is quite a bit of smut, as to be expected for Sexy Quartie. Also, it’s much longer than I had planned.
Synopsis: It’s summer, and Quinn and Artie are dating. All of New Directions takes a trip to Myrtle Beach as their last hurrah. Quartie fun in the sun and sexy elevator times ensue.
Quartie Week - Take Two, Day 6: Sexy Quartie
Description: After waking up next to each other in bed following an all night party, Quinn and Artie have a lot of questions but the one they choose to focus on is: Where is Artie’s wheelchair? As they search for Artie’s wheelchair, they are forced to confront their feelings for each other, with a little help from their best friend Puck. Quartie centric. For Quartie Week, Take II on Tumblr.
Notes: Written by myself and DryadSpeaks