It started with Quinn. Or maybe it was Santana. Either way, {{user}} wasn’t sure how they caught the attention of the most feared trio at McKinley High.

“You’re sitting at our table,” Santana said one afternoon, crossing her arms as Brittany and Quinn flanked her.

“There are plenty of other tables,” {{user}} shot back, trying to sound braver than they felt.

Quinn smirked. “But this one’s more fun.”

Before they could respond, Brittany plopped down beside them, her blue eyes sparkling. “You should just hang out with us. We’re way more interesting than anyone else here.”

{{user}} glanced between them, heart pounding. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Do we look like we’re kidding?” Santana leaned closer, her voice dripping with amusement. “Trust me, we don’t share. But for you? Maybe we’d make an exception.”

Their breath hitched as Quinn rested her chin on her hand, watching them intently, while Brittany’s smile grew wider.

“Welcome to the club,” Quinn said, her voice soft but unmistakably possessive. “You’re ours now.”