V-DAY EXCHANGE FIC! Prone Position, for becca_radcgg
Title: Prone Position
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Puck/Rachel
Warnings: Light BDSM, under age sex, angst
Word Count: 4473
Recipient:: becca_radcgg
Disclaimer: No infringement intended, just flexing my creative muscles, no money was made with this endeavor.
Summary: Puck's progression from the summer before his freshman year of high school to his reluctant teenage ( Read more... )
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Puck/Rachel
Warnings: Light BDSM, under age sex, angst
Word Count: 4473
Recipient:: becca_radcgg
Disclaimer: No infringement intended, just flexing my creative muscles, no money was made with this endeavor.
Summary: Puck's progression from the summer before his freshman year of high school to his reluctant teenage ( Read more... )
Those were the last words he ever said to me, maybe not at my face, but, you know... addressed to me.
What an ass! I love this. It's so... Puck. He's just so... removed from it. Even now. You know that it must have been a pivotal moment for him because he treats it so matter-of-factly.
"Hi! Mrs. Puckerman!" Finn opened the door, and she just looked at him like he'd grown antlers. It was like, 'that's right, you still have his mother fucking name', and so did I.
That is heartbreaking. Completely heartbreaking. Because it's really the first wake-up call for Puck and his mom. Like a big, "hello, he left you, but you still have to be reminded of him every second for the rest of your life."
I wouldn't want to look at me either, I look just like him.
Ah, that line is one of those hidden gems. You know, one of those lines that just speaks so clearly of the character and the head space... beautifully done.
I totally love that you mention Paisley Scott but never go into detail with her because she's really not that important. I'm pleassed that he remembers her name, but that's probably all he remembers.
The 34B and the 32A combo chicks, it was like doing it with two different people at the same time, which didn't happen till after Santana broke up with me.
Such a Puck thing to say. Tee hee hee.
"What are those for, Baby?" I asked.
Baby, so he'll never screw up and call out the wrong name! Classic! :)
"Sorry." I pushed back and slid off the bed. I got a little sick thrill from taking even more control away from her, just a little twinge in my belly.
GAH! He's brilliant! Seriously. To take some sorry housewife and really get her warmed up and ready to rock... then LEAVE HER!!! GAH! He's so evil. But it hurts SO GOOD!
I was 16, and no one's aloud to say I was acting out. Fuck that psychology shit, I know what you're thinking.
Holy hell. If he was sixteen and doing that... what would happen when he was an adult? I mean really!!!!! Wow.
Slowly she was able to pry them away, and I just sank, putting my face down on her small shoulder. She backed us up into an isolated alcove holding a soft drink machine, and let me cry.
I signed the papers, I was 17, and it was the right thing to do.
There are so many things I could say about this. That he finally cries (after all that he's been through) I think is the most telling. And all because she looks like him. Just like he looks like his dad. It's coming full circle. And then the idea that he doesn't want to leave her...
She was still in her blue dress, but was holding her shoes in her lap, guess they hurt her feet.
Such a mundane observation to make, but meaningful in a deeper way. :)
Rage flashed through me, it felt like electricity passing from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. When it past, I was taking heaving breaths, doubled over on the floor, the blonde wood of my guitar were splintered, pieces and chunks scattered around me.
I have read this now three times, and I managed to miss this the first two. Which is probably why I'm commenting now. There's just such a wonderful continuity in this story. You do such an amazing job of bringing in all the pieces that you mention early on. I love that this is the event that takes him over the edge. That allows him to really grieve. It's beautiful.
"What color were her eyes?" I heard my mother say from my doorway.
I looked up at her, my vision blurring at the edges.
"Blue, Mom. They were blue."
That his mother understands him... is touching. She knows that he doesn't want sympathy or even someone to hold, just someone to be there with him.
So... I'm really in awe of this story. It was nuance and subtle at times and glaringly obvious at others.
Needless to say, I loved it! :) Thanks for writing it. It was more than I could have ever expected, or anticipated, or dreamed.
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