spam posting rn but I thought this was funny
genuinely, how do you write smut??? i feel so stupid. this is why i stick to fluff and angst. this is hard đđ
Florence Pugh and Mike Faist on a press tour together FUCK
Remembered that there was a scene of Art eating pussy but they cut it âŠâŠ
someone said something about how the em dash (â) is a sign of ai use but the em dash is literally my baby âčïž. i overuse the em dash because i love it so much, how am i supposed to stop using it đą
WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN?
THANK YOU SO MUCH đ€đ€đ€
IT MEANS THE WORLD TO ME
but oh, what can i do? to turn you on or get through to you? oh, what can i do? life is beautiful, but you don't have a clue - black beauty, lana del rey
pairing: stanford post-injury!tashi x roommate!reader
in which: tashiâs world ended the day she wrecked her knee. you remind her that there's more to life than tennis. that it can still be beautifulâ but she can't seem to see the color in anything anymore.
warnings: hurt without comfort, just hurt. lesbian yearning. brief mention of patrick x tashi. reader has beef with patrick.
note: and they were roommatesâŠ
tashiâs world is tennis.
it always was, and it always would beâ until it wasnât.
you were at the game when it happened. sitting a few rows above art, holding a little âduncanator!â sign with a wide smile. you were at every game. she always won.
you say there, waiting for her to win againâ
then her knee twisted at an inhuman angle, a loud, sickening crack echoed through the court. she collapsed to the ground with a scream.
art was on his feet instantly and ran to her side while you stood there. frozen in shock, covering your mouth,
when it finally clicked to you. tashi was already being rolled away on a stretcher.
you spent the night with her and art, rubbing circles into her back when she cried and gave her space, standing in front of the medicâs door with a sinking feeling in your chest.
soon, patrick heads towards the door and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. âdonât. she doesnât want to see you.â
patrick stops, his eyes narrowing. you know that look, it's the same look he gave tashi before the match. the one she ranted about in the locker room as you helped her get ready. "he's justâ he pisses me off. like, patrick's the type of guy who wants a fucking cheerleader. he doesn't want to listen to my advice, complains about how all i do is talk aboutâ tennis-" she rambles as she yanks on her wristbands, "-and plays like shit. what am i supposed to do, not give him advice?" âyou deserve more than him,â youâd whispered as you tried not to look too hard at her bare collarbones, you never knew why you were like this. roommates usually watch each other change. itâs completely normal. and platonic.
âi know.â sheâd shook her head gently, âtrust me, i know.â
you always hated him. you never thought he was good enough for her.
you could be better for her.
patrick's voice drags you back to the presentâ âmy girlfriendâs been injured. i donât get what your problem is with me, youâre like constantly at my neck.â he leans in towards your ear, âi didnât know you were the gatekeeper of who gets to check on her. maybe youâre being a good friend or maybe... you just miss the way she used to suck on your throat.â
you scoff as patrick shoves past you into the medic room. you let him go, you know tashi won't want to seem him, anyway.
as expected, the shouting starts quickly. you sigh, leaning your head back against the concrete wall. you wince at the particularly harshâ 'get the fuck out, patrick' from art.
patrick passes you, defeated. you bite back your tongue to keep yourself from saying, "i told you so."
before she leaves for the hospital, you press a kiss against tashiâs forehead. âitâll go well, trust me.â you murmur against her skin. âyouâll be back, and youâll demolish those fuckers.â
tashiâs in the hospital for a month.
the room is too quiet without her.
no more godforsaken 5 am warmups, no faint traces of beyoncé drifting from the other room as she gets ready, no smell of her morning coffee, no knock on the door, no murmur of her voice telling you to wake up.
it feels empty.
you miss the way sheâd slip into your bed at night. it started when you couldnât sleepâ sheâd always help you out with that.
tashi helped you a lot.
when your ex-boyfriend couldnât get you off, she did. but thatâs because she was such a good friend.
you visited her in the hospital, and you can tell she was suffering. badly.
âyouâll be able to play tennis again. everythingâs going to be fine, tash.â you mumble as you lay your head on her chest, your thumb idly tracing circles on the back of her hand.
âwhat ifâ what if iâ canât? what if it goes wrong?â tashi asks, breathing into your hair.
âeven if it did go wrong, and iâm sure it wonât,â you tilt your head up to look at her. âthereâs more to life than tennis, yâknow?â
she stares at you. like youâve said something confusing. or horrifying.
another day on campus. without her.
you zone out as you scan the places that used to feel like home.
you used to sit there with her after every practice, eating ice cream. sheâd laugh as she wiped away at the excess on your chin. you burned after every touch.
thenâ a disturbance in the peace.
patrick zweig smoking a cigarette against a tree.
you never noticed how big this place was until tashi wasnât here to fill it. now, even patrick fucking zweig has room to linger.
you roll your eyes as you walk towards him. âwhat are you doing here? you donât even go here.â you pause. âand iâm pretty sure that tashi most definitely broke up with you. didnât she make that clear when told you to get the fuck out?â
he squints his eyes at you. âiâm here to see art.â
âlike fuck you are,â you scoff. âiâm like 99% sure he doesnât want to see you again.â
patrick glares at you, taking a slow drag of his cigarette. he blows towards your face. âdidnât realize you were fuckinâ campus security. gonna call the cops on me now?â
you sigh. âwhat are you doing here patrick?â
he shrugs, taking a slow drag of his cigarette. âjust killing time before i go back on tour,â a pause, then he smirks, âyâknowâ the plan was to sleep with my girlfriend and hang out with my best friend for two weeks. but, yeah, that didnât go as plan.â
âsoâ youâre hereââ
ââhooking up with stanford girls and partying at the frats,â he shrugs. âiâd ask you to hook up with me too, butâŠâ he gives you a lazy once-over, âyouâre not really my type and,â he pauses, âyouâre like, into girls.â
your whole face flushes up. âwhat?â
âi mean, iâm totally chill with that- yâknow?â he adds, like itâs barely worth mentioning. âbe who you are or whatever.â
âiâm notââ
âwell, itâs quite obvious that you are.â patrick exhales smoke, raising his eyebrow. âbut i mean⊠sure, whatever.â
your mouth opens then shuts.
it hits you. staring at tashi, wanting tashiâ that isnât⊠normal, is it?
âi mean, everyone wanted her, i donât really judge you for it.â he takes another drag, âand, yeah, she gave you hickies, like, that was kind of⊠weird, i guess.â he snorts
you donât say anythingâ canât say anything.
patrick exhales another cloud of smoke, watching it disappear into the air. he shrugs, âanyway, see you around.â he flicks his cigarette and crushes it under his shoe before wandering away.
you just stand there⊠staring at the space where he was. but all you can see is her.
youâve always just wanted her.
when tashi comes back from the hospital, she pretends everything is fine.
she does her morning stretches and runs as usual, though you notice her small winces of pain that spread on her face. she jokes about having âbattle scarsâ but her hands endlessly fidget with the velcro of her knee sleeve.
âyou shouldnât touch it,â you remind her gently. âthe doctor said to leave it be while it finishes recovery. it might get better than it is nowââ
she glares at you and the words die in your throat.
âmight.â she smiles joylessly.
she rips at the velcro anyway.
you sit on the bleachers as tashi and art do rallies.
âstop being a pussy and actually serve,â tashi yells. âactually hit the ball, donaldson.â
you bite your bottom lip gently, teeth worrying at the skin.
âi donât- i donât wantââ art stammers.
âyou donât want to hurt me?â tashi raises her eyebrow. âoh fuck off, iâm not doing this.â
âwait-â art moves into position to serve. he hits the ball- thwack!
tashi hits back, it goes back and forth a few times, before tashiâs knee gives out under her.
she yelps and falls to the ground. you stand up immediately and art runs towards her. but she puts her hand up- âiâm fine, iâm fine.â
she gets up and screams in frustration, her chest rising and falling with sharp breaths. thenâ bam, bam, bamâher racket slams against the floor of the court, splintering with every hit until itâs demolished. art just watches, his hands half-raised like he wants to stop her but he doesnât know how.
the racket clatters to the ground.
âtashi, waitââ art sighs. but sheâs already walking away.
you pace down the stairs and out of the practice court.
she sits under a tree, wiping tears.
âyou okay?â you whisper.
she doesnât say anything in response, you sit beside her, close but not touching. you gently press your hand against her back, rubbing small circles
âitâs okay.â itâs not. itâs clearly not, but you hope telling her that will make it better.
she starts to cry, and you let her, pressing her body into your chest. you play with a few strands of her hair, whispering sweet nothings into her ear.
âhey, heyâ hey.â you pull her face into your hands, wiping her cheeks. âstop. thereâs more to life than tenââ
ââstop saying that.â she pulls back, wiping at her eyes with a sharp breath.
you shut your mouth, not knowing what to say to make it better. you want to make it better for her, take away her pain. but you had no idea how.
you sigh again. you hesitate, teeth sinking into your lip again before asking, âwant⊠want to go to the beach?â
she looks at you, eyes unreadable.
you think sheâs about to refuse, shut you down again, push you awayâ
then she sighs.
âsure.â
you glance at tashi every once in a while throughout the car ride. she stares out the window, tapping her finger against her knee sleeve, lost in thought.
the ocean slowly comes into view as the sky begins to darken. a soft, muted blue.
âare you going to park now, or are you going to drive in circles?â tashi laughs gently. âjustâ pull in there, dumbass.â
you grin with an eye roll, doing as youâre told.
you open the door, the scent of sea salt hitting your nose. the waves crash against the shore. you move to tashiâs door, opening it and pulling her out of the car with your hand.
a few strands of her brown hair sway in the air and you share a small smile.
âit might be a bit cold for the beach, but hey. weâre by ourselves?â you brush a few strands behind her ear.
you start walking, hand in hand, and you find a spot on the sands.
"it's really pretty," tashi whispers gently. she leans her head against your chest and you wrap an arm around her waist.
"mhm," you muse but you can't help but look at her. she's prettier than the waves, you rub your thumb in shapes against the back of her hand.
"it's just, hard." tashi tilts her head. "i've played this my whole life, this is likeâ probably the only thing i'm good at-"
"-no, it's not, you're good at a lot of things-" you protest.
"then it's the only thing i think i'm good at," she sighs. "i mean, i came to stanford because i wantedâ i wanted to figure out what else i could be good at-" she scoffs. "and reallyâ all i am good at is hitting a ball with a racket."
your arm around her waist grows tighter. "that's fineâ you'll still- you'll still be great. y'know? like- you're always amazing at whatever you do," you say.
"you think so?" tashi doesn't believe you, but she hearing it makes her feel better.
"yeahâ we'll- we'll figure it out."
she laughs bitterly. "and what if we don't?"
the words die in your throat again, something that happens more often recentlyâ you just want to help.
you don't know how to answer her, so you don't. you justâ
you pull her into a kiss. messy. desperate. hoping, praying that this will make it better. that this will make her pain go away.
but tashi doesn't quite move at all. she tenses the second your lips touch. a sharp intake of breathâ
then she pulls away.
âuhââ she blinks then lets out a nervous laugh. âokâ whâ wow.â tashi looks away from you.
your stomach drops.
the waves keep rolling in.
âiââ
âno-â she gets up, âno, justâ just- forget it.â
you sit in the sand, heart pounding. she walks off towards to shoreline. the wind feels so much colder than before.
you sit there, frozen. maybe you should let her go, stay here, watching the waves pull in and out and drown in your misery.
but your body moves before you can thinkâ
âtashiâ tashi- waitââ
she doesnât stop.
you run a bit more, and face her. grabbing her shoulders.
âiâm sorry- i didnâtâ i shouldnât haveââ
she puts her hands on the hands of your shoulders, taking them off of her. she shakes her head. ânoâ no- iâ said- forget it.â
your eyebrows furrow. âpleaseâ i-â
"i think you should go."
"tashiâ"
"i think you should go"
you bite your tongue so you don't say anything, but you end up blurting out aâ "i can drive you back to campus?"
"i'll figure that out myself."
she turns, walking without looking back.
the waves keep rolling in.
the winds howl.
you sniff, a stray tear rolls down your cheek.
you shove your hands into the pockets of your hoodie, but youâre still freezing.
-
part 2: good luck, babe!
tags: @hyuneskkami for the dividers
RIDING A SCOOTER DOWN A STREET WITH MIKE FAIST WOULD FIX ME đđđđđ