cruiscin_lan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cruiscin_lan) wrote2010-01-28 03:42 pm
cruiscin_lan) wrote2010-01-28 03:42 pm
FIC: Loves Her For
Title: Loves Her For
Characters: Puck/Rachel
Word Count: ~1000
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: If I owned Glee all proceeds would go towards the Howard Bamboo Legal Defense Fund.
Spoilers/Warnings: None.
Summary: I fell in love with you, no matter what you say / But you were right about the reasons. Established sort-of relationship.
A/N: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
_takemeaway_, who won me in the ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
help_haiti fandom auction.
He loves her for her ass. He stares at it while they rehearse. He's on a higher riser in the back, and as she struts across the stage in front of him, the pleats wave just enough to disclose the color of her panties. He watches intently, hoping to see that tantalizing flash of fabric again, all the while missing his cues and stumbling into Mercedes from time to time ("Yo, white boy, learn to dance or get out the way!").
He loves it when he goes over to her place to "study" or "work on Glee stuff" and she climbs into his lap as he sits on the edge of her bed. He slips his hands up the hem of her skirt and he realizes with a sly smile that she's bare underneath, and he traces the cleft of her butt with his grabby hands as she sucks on his lower lip.
He loves her for her tits. Jacob Ben Israel refers to them as "sweater puppies," but Jacob Ben Israel is a dipshit. "Tits" is the appropriate terminology (they're not technically big enough to be "boobs"). Sometimes she'll come to school in a buttoned-up blouse, and when she leans forward Puck tries to peer into the spaces between the buttons. If he's lucky, he can tell what kind of bra she has on - lacy, racy, everyday, front-clasp or back.
The first time she lets him past second base, he slowly teases her bra strap down her shoulder instead of unfastening it. He thinks maybe this way she won't feel so naked. She closes her eyes as he runs the pad of his thumb across her nipple; when it stands erect, he presses his mouth against it, lapping with his tongue, and she pants a little as the weight of his body presses down into hers.
He loves her for her lips. When she sings, her voice is completely mesmerizing, but when she just talks he has a hard time focusing on what she's saying, so instead he watches her lips. She wears the same shades of lip gloss sometimes two or three days in a row, he notices, and he imagines what that lip gloss tastes like.
He also imagines her lips enclosed around his cock. The image strikes him one day when he sees her in the cafeteria eating a banana for lunch, and for some reason he can't get the thought out of his mind. It's so pervasive, in fact, that when Rachel actually does tug his pants partway down his thighs and pull his dick from his drawers, he half-thinks he's dreaming. But then she leans forward and lifts his dick with her hand and he's lost completely in the sensation of her lips.
He loves her for her hair. She wears it down almost every day - sometimes clipped back to frame her face, and sometimes partly pulled into a barrette, but it's never worn so severely as the Cheerios' facelifting ponytails. Puck had never thought he was that into a chick's hair before, but when Rachel wears hers in two low pigtails, he's almost overcome by a Neolithic urge to grab them like handlebars and ride Rachel Berry like a dirt bike.
When Rachel finally decides she's ready to have sex, she tells him it has to be on her terms. He's not surprised to learn that "her terms" basically mean woman on top, but he's certainly not about to complain (he makes sure he's got a raincoat this time, though, because now he knows from experience that the adage "girls on top can't get knocked up" is a myth). When Rachel straddles him and slowly lowers herself onto his erection, he holds her hips to help her keep her balance, but he's watching her hair the whole time - the way it falls across her face when she leans forward, how it bounces and sways and moves as though it has a life of its own.
He loves her too. He loves things about her - her eyes and her smile and the sound of her voice, too - and somehow loving a few things leads to loving every thing. So maybe he didn't fall in love the right way - is there a right way? he asks himself sometimes - but he's fallen in love against his own better judgment, his own resistance.
And so he tells her that he loves her in the heat of the moment, when they're wrapped in the warmth of one another's embrace. The words slip out as if by their own accord, small and soft and sudden. He doesn't even realize it until Rachel bristles and pulls away for a moment. She looks down, her eyelashes fluttering, and Puck doesn't know what to do. I'm screwed, he thinks, I've totally fucked this up.
"You can't mean that," Rachel whispers, shaking her head. "You're just saying that."
Puck is silent.
"You don't love me," she continues. "You love... you love sex. And you love that I have self-esteem low enough that I don't tell you no, like Santana and Quinn and..."
"Rachel," he interrupts, bringing his hand to her face. Se lets his fingertips play gently along her jawline as he brushes a tear away with his thumb. "Don't say that."
"It's true, though," Rachel replies, sniffling a little. "You're only with me because I'm the only one available."
"Okay, yeah," he stumbles, knowing that he sounds like a douchebag, but he needs to explain, dammit, "yeah, maybe it started that way."
She buries her face in the pillow, sobbing, and Puck touches the bare skin of her shoulder.
"But Rachel - Rach - it's not like that anymore," he says, struggling to find the right words. "I didn't mean to say that now, but.... but trust me, when I say it, I mean it."
"You probably say that to all the girls," Rachel says, turning her head a little to make sure she's not muffled.
"I don't say it to anyone," Puck tells her, stone-faced.
She looks at him intently, propping her head up on her hand. She studies him, searching for some crack in his facade to indicate that he's lying - she finds nothing. She reaches for her shoulder and puts her hand on his.
"Okay," she says. "I believe you."
[Poll #1517904]
Characters: Puck/Rachel
Word Count: ~1000
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: If I owned Glee all proceeds would go towards the Howard Bamboo Legal Defense Fund.
Spoilers/Warnings: None.
Summary: I fell in love with you, no matter what you say / But you were right about the reasons. Established sort-of relationship.
A/N: Written for
_takemeaway_, who won me in the help_haiti fandom auction.He loves her for her ass. He stares at it while they rehearse. He's on a higher riser in the back, and as she struts across the stage in front of him, the pleats wave just enough to disclose the color of her panties. He watches intently, hoping to see that tantalizing flash of fabric again, all the while missing his cues and stumbling into Mercedes from time to time ("Yo, white boy, learn to dance or get out the way!").
He loves it when he goes over to her place to "study" or "work on Glee stuff" and she climbs into his lap as he sits on the edge of her bed. He slips his hands up the hem of her skirt and he realizes with a sly smile that she's bare underneath, and he traces the cleft of her butt with his grabby hands as she sucks on his lower lip.
He loves her for her tits. Jacob Ben Israel refers to them as "sweater puppies," but Jacob Ben Israel is a dipshit. "Tits" is the appropriate terminology (they're not technically big enough to be "boobs"). Sometimes she'll come to school in a buttoned-up blouse, and when she leans forward Puck tries to peer into the spaces between the buttons. If he's lucky, he can tell what kind of bra she has on - lacy, racy, everyday, front-clasp or back.
The first time she lets him past second base, he slowly teases her bra strap down her shoulder instead of unfastening it. He thinks maybe this way she won't feel so naked. She closes her eyes as he runs the pad of his thumb across her nipple; when it stands erect, he presses his mouth against it, lapping with his tongue, and she pants a little as the weight of his body presses down into hers.
He loves her for her lips. When she sings, her voice is completely mesmerizing, but when she just talks he has a hard time focusing on what she's saying, so instead he watches her lips. She wears the same shades of lip gloss sometimes two or three days in a row, he notices, and he imagines what that lip gloss tastes like.
He also imagines her lips enclosed around his cock. The image strikes him one day when he sees her in the cafeteria eating a banana for lunch, and for some reason he can't get the thought out of his mind. It's so pervasive, in fact, that when Rachel actually does tug his pants partway down his thighs and pull his dick from his drawers, he half-thinks he's dreaming. But then she leans forward and lifts his dick with her hand and he's lost completely in the sensation of her lips.
He loves her for her hair. She wears it down almost every day - sometimes clipped back to frame her face, and sometimes partly pulled into a barrette, but it's never worn so severely as the Cheerios' facelifting ponytails. Puck had never thought he was that into a chick's hair before, but when Rachel wears hers in two low pigtails, he's almost overcome by a Neolithic urge to grab them like handlebars and ride Rachel Berry like a dirt bike.
When Rachel finally decides she's ready to have sex, she tells him it has to be on her terms. He's not surprised to learn that "her terms" basically mean woman on top, but he's certainly not about to complain (he makes sure he's got a raincoat this time, though, because now he knows from experience that the adage "girls on top can't get knocked up" is a myth). When Rachel straddles him and slowly lowers herself onto his erection, he holds her hips to help her keep her balance, but he's watching her hair the whole time - the way it falls across her face when she leans forward, how it bounces and sways and moves as though it has a life of its own.
He loves her too. He loves things about her - her eyes and her smile and the sound of her voice, too - and somehow loving a few things leads to loving every thing. So maybe he didn't fall in love the right way - is there a right way? he asks himself sometimes - but he's fallen in love against his own better judgment, his own resistance.
And so he tells her that he loves her in the heat of the moment, when they're wrapped in the warmth of one another's embrace. The words slip out as if by their own accord, small and soft and sudden. He doesn't even realize it until Rachel bristles and pulls away for a moment. She looks down, her eyelashes fluttering, and Puck doesn't know what to do. I'm screwed, he thinks, I've totally fucked this up.
"You can't mean that," Rachel whispers, shaking her head. "You're just saying that."
Puck is silent.
"You don't love me," she continues. "You love... you love sex. And you love that I have self-esteem low enough that I don't tell you no, like Santana and Quinn and..."
"Rachel," he interrupts, bringing his hand to her face. Se lets his fingertips play gently along her jawline as he brushes a tear away with his thumb. "Don't say that."
"It's true, though," Rachel replies, sniffling a little. "You're only with me because I'm the only one available."
"Okay, yeah," he stumbles, knowing that he sounds like a douchebag, but he needs to explain, dammit, "yeah, maybe it started that way."
She buries her face in the pillow, sobbing, and Puck touches the bare skin of her shoulder.
"But Rachel - Rach - it's not like that anymore," he says, struggling to find the right words. "I didn't mean to say that now, but.... but trust me, when I say it, I mean it."
"You probably say that to all the girls," Rachel says, turning her head a little to make sure she's not muffled.
"I don't say it to anyone," Puck tells her, stone-faced.
She looks at him intently, propping her head up on her hand. She studies him, searching for some crack in his facade to indicate that he's lying - she finds nothing. She reaches for her shoulder and puts her hand on his.
"Okay," she says. "I believe you."
[Poll #1517904]
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Puck is still a bada$$ but with a sweet chewy center.
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This comment makes me think of really inappropriate candy bar metaphors.Thanks for reading!
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I know. I'm bad. But your fic "Another Slow Song" just killed me!
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Oh and ticky boxes are the bane of my existence.
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*It took me three times to spell this word right. Man, I need a comment-beta.
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It makes me quite happy that Puck loves her. And that she believes him. :D
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bahahahaha
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You're fast becoming my favorite PR writer.
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*readsing? need more coffee.
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Oh, I already told you this, but this fic is just lovely. I really like the progression of his reasoning for loving her and the end scene is almost restrained (I think?) in an excellent way. Thank you and great job! :)
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'Tis okay, I do not know either.
Thanks for prompting! It was fun to write for you. :)
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Thanks for writing it!
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This was great...I like that is not surgary at the end, but turns out sweet...its kind of real...plus its P/R so you really cannot go wrong there!!!! Awesome story!! Always a pleasure to read your work!
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BEST LINE EVER? Yes, I think so!
This was gorgeous. Also, my first foray into Glee fanfic, so I'm super glad this was the first one I read.
<3 treeson
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And he's already gone by this point. I'm very much in awe of how you shape the words, transforming them into this living breathing thing with meaning and depth. Sure, he's Puck and he's thinking about getting some, but he's also thinking about her needs, which is just so sweet that you know he has "feelings" at this point even if he's not ready to admit them to himself.
(he makes sure he's got a raincoat this time, though, because now he knows from experience that the adage "girls on top can't get knocked up" is a myth)
Ummm... YES, IT IS! Why would you ever think that was real, Puck? Geez! Love the "raincoat!" Haven't heard that one in a while.
He loves her too. He loves things about her - her eyes and her smile and the sound of her voice, too - and somehow loving a few things leads to loving every thing.
AND BOOM! Epic Puck revelation moment! Yes, loving certain things can lead to loving the whole. It's scary but it happens.
The words slip out as if by their own accord, small and soft and sudden. He doesn't even realize it until Rachel bristles and pulls away for a moment.
So like Puck to just not be in control over the situation at all, and thinking automatically that it's the biggest fuck up ever.
Then their conversation. I'd quote the entire thing back to you because of what's said and what's omitted. She doesn't say it back to him and that's okay. It's enough to know that she believes him when he says it to her. Enough to know that he's willing to be honest with her (which is something he's lacked in all other relationship - friendly and otherwise - up 'til now.
This was really masterfully written. Great job.
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He loves her for her hair. She wears it down almost every day - sometimes clipped back to frame her face, and sometimes partly pulled into a barrette, but it's never worn so severely as the Cheerios' facelifting ponytails. Puck had never thought he was that into a chick's hair before, but when Rachel wears hers in two low pigtails, he's almost overcome by a Neolithic urge to grab them like handlebars and ride Rachel Berry like a dirt bike.
I love so damn much. I cracked up!
Terrific!
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I also have to go with the majority and say that this line:
Puck had never thought he was that into a chick's hair before, but when Rachel wears hers in two low pigtails, he's almost overcome by a Neolithic urge to grab them like handlebars and ride Rachel Berry like a dirt bike.
Is the best line ever typed in a fanfic. Ever.
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