I'm Nobody! Who are You?
Title: I'm Nobody! Who are You?
Fandom: Glee, Glee RPF
Pairing: Naya/Heather, Naya/Brittany (Oh yeah.)
Rating: R
Warnings: Unhealthy relationship
Length: 354
Spoilers: None.
Prompt: Naya/Heather falling for Brittany/Santana and the one playing the character hating it, but going along with it because they actually really are in love with the other..."
AN: The title is not my creation. It was taken from a poem of the same name by Emily Dickinson. This is for a prompt at the glee_angst_meme. Allow me to apologize once again for the not-long-ness of this fic.
---
People forget sometimes. They forget that you’re not your character. They forget that you’re smart and you actually know things like what the square root of four is and the difference between right and left and the difference between right and wrong (perhaps especially that).
You notice, but you don’t correct them. After all, you’re nice.
Or, your character is.
What’s the difference, anyway?
---
Naya is simultaneously exactly like and nothing like Santana Lopez.
She likes Brittany (Santana).
She’s dating you (not Santana).
She doesn’t cheat (not Santana).
And she has this ability to shatter people’s hearts with just a single word (so, so Santana).
---
She’s started calling you Brittany. As a joke, of course. (“You’re so cute, B,” she says and kisses your reluctance away.)
You feel something inside yourself wilting slowly. You smile anyway (just for her). It’s something Brittany would do.
---
She barges into your trailer, giggling like a grade-schooler, like an idiot in love.
“Brittany was so cute today,” she says, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and burying her nose in your neck.
For a moment, you’re jealous. But you soon remind yourself that Brittany isn’t real. She’s a character. An illusion.
You forget that, sometimes.
---
Your back digs into the wall, and she clings even tighter to you. Her grip on your shoulders grows more firm, demanding, desperate, like she’s trying not to lose herself in the sensations of you, two fingers deep and thrusting like you have a point to prove.
“Say my name, Naya.” The request comes from nowhere, from your heart, from the dark and hidden and twisted corner your mind that gets off on this because the things she says hurt so good.
“Oh, god… Brittany,” she gasps into your ear and clenches around your fingers, and you know she is lost.
---
People forget sometimes. They forget that you’re not your character. They forget that you’re not a god damned idiot who probably wouldn’t make it a day in the real world, you know when you’re using someone and you know when you’re being used (perhaps especially that).
People forget.
Naya forgot.
Fandom: Glee, Glee RPF
Pairing: Naya/Heather, Naya/Brittany (Oh yeah.)
Rating: R
Warnings: Unhealthy relationship
Length: 354
Spoilers: None.
Prompt: Naya/Heather falling for Brittany/Santana and the one playing the character hating it, but going along with it because they actually really are in love with the other..."
AN: The title is not my creation. It was taken from a poem of the same name by Emily Dickinson. This is for a prompt at the glee_angst_meme. Allow me to apologize once again for the not-long-ness of this fic.
---
People forget sometimes. They forget that you’re not your character. They forget that you’re smart and you actually know things like what the square root of four is and the difference between right and left and the difference between right and wrong (perhaps especially that).
You notice, but you don’t correct them. After all, you’re nice.
Or, your character is.
What’s the difference, anyway?
---
Naya is simultaneously exactly like and nothing like Santana Lopez.
She likes Brittany (Santana).
She’s dating you (not Santana).
She doesn’t cheat (not Santana).
And she has this ability to shatter people’s hearts with just a single word (so, so Santana).
---
She’s started calling you Brittany. As a joke, of course. (“You’re so cute, B,” she says and kisses your reluctance away.)
You feel something inside yourself wilting slowly. You smile anyway (just for her). It’s something Brittany would do.
---
She barges into your trailer, giggling like a grade-schooler, like an idiot in love.
“Brittany was so cute today,” she says, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and burying her nose in your neck.
For a moment, you’re jealous. But you soon remind yourself that Brittany isn’t real. She’s a character. An illusion.
You forget that, sometimes.
---
Your back digs into the wall, and she clings even tighter to you. Her grip on your shoulders grows more firm, demanding, desperate, like she’s trying not to lose herself in the sensations of you, two fingers deep and thrusting like you have a point to prove.
“Say my name, Naya.” The request comes from nowhere, from your heart, from the dark and hidden and twisted corner your mind that gets off on this because the things she says hurt so good.
“Oh, god… Brittany,” she gasps into your ear and clenches around your fingers, and you know she is lost.
---
People forget sometimes. They forget that you’re not your character. They forget that you’re not a god damned idiot who probably wouldn’t make it a day in the real world, you know when you’re using someone and you know when you’re being used (perhaps especially that).
People forget.
Naya forgot.