11 months ago (39 notes)

#fanslide

#sometimes jackie writes stuff

A continuation of this

You're staring angry daggers. All subtlety in the moment has been lost and you don't even care.

This has got to be some kind of twisted joke. Like, seriously.

It started with Quinn holding what looks like a fucking wedding bouquet behind her back, then she did some kind of slow reveal like she's in a bad romantic movie, and Brittany's smile couldn't be any bigger...

Well, at least you thought you couldn't.

When she presses a gentle kiss to Brittany's lips and those blue eyes gaze at her all adoringly, it gets worse. Your blood runs hot. Your jaw clenches and your hands ball into tight fists, and you're two seconds away from asking Quinn Fabray what her game is and why all the sudden vested interest in Brittany…

She's never come to one of her games, ever. You know, because you're all every. single. one.

Their hands linger together for a moment before she lets go and you watch Brittany grin all the way back to the dugout. Quinn rounds the bleachers and the taste in your mouth becomes an unpleasant one.

She saw you at the top of the bleachers a long time ago though and one thing you're learning is that Quinn Fabray is an astute woman.

Her steps are deliberate. When she grows closer you can almost feel the sly grin in your direction.

It's kinda gross.

"Well well, this is a surprise. I've never seen you at one of these shindigs. You're not missing an important magic card match, are you?" She sidles up next to you like there isn't a single worry in her world. You want to slap that stupid smile off her face.

"Hate to break it to you, Fabray, but I'm always at these shindigs. You, on the other hand...what's the matter? Daddy's limo usually won't come out this way?"

She glares. You smile wickedly.

Two can play this fucking game.

"Some of us have better things to do."

Pfttt.

"Like fuck leprechauns after rehearsal?"

Her eyes slowly look you over like she's forcing herself not to give too much away.

"Who told you that?"

"No one that matters in this conversation."

You lick your lips and find Brittany down by the other cheerleaders. She's doing her routine pre game stretches, all smiles, completely oblivious to this other world.

"Not that it's any of your business, but I am not, nor do I have any interest in fucking Rachel Berry."

"I'd hope not," you state plainly. You know better, though.

She doesn't say anything. She chances a glance down at Brittany and you suddenly remember why this conversation is relevant.

"So why now? Why take the time out of your 'oh-so-busy' schedule?"

"I have my reasons." Her gaze finds yours down by Brittany.

"Funny how you never seemed to care about those reasons before." You let the sarcasm drip from your lips.

Her eyes come up to meet yours and she gives you a hard glare.

"Oh, I always care about what's mine."

You scoff.

She shifts so she's looking directly at you. Her eyes blaze with intent.

"Santana, we both know you're smart,' she states as a simple fact. "And you're well aware who my father is…"

You swallow thick and just stare ahead, knowing where this conversation is headed.

"Speak, Santana. I don't like repeating myself."

You roll your eyes. "I fucking get it."

"Good. Cause I'm gonna give you the opportunity to show me just how smart you are. You see that woman down there? She's mine. Mine. And if you even so much as look at her, I will fucking destroy you. Got it?"

Her words sink as your anger rises. "Are you threatening me?"

A smug-ass grin plays out on her lips before she answers, "Do you really need an answer?"

You laugh as you stand slowly, making sure your stance is as powerful as you feel. She thinks you're just gonna back down like some kicked dog and your pride really needs her to come back down to reality.

"Listen here, Berry-Fucker. I know once upon a time your nanny told you that you're a special snowflake, but I'm gonna make this real simple: you're not. The damaged white girl thing doesn't work for you and the baby-hitler ego-trip definitely doesn't work for you. Brittany's a good person, plain and simple. She doesn't deserve your bullshit. Your daddy's money doesn't change that. I don't know what personality quiz you need to take to get your head outta your ass, but you need to figure it out quick."

Her mouth hangs open and you just sit there, still seething.

"Because if you hurt her, you're gonna be the one who needs to watch their back."

She goes to speak, but you're already walking away, ignoring her shouts.

"Sorry Q, gotta find a seat. Pre-game is my favorite part and I don't want your face to ruin it."