𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 | A. Donaldson & P. Zweig x reader
Pairing: Art Donaldson x black!reader, Patrick Zweig x black!reader
Summary: Standing in Tashi Duncan's shadow was not anything a weak minded soul could handle--when the "Pouty Princess" encounters Art and Patrick at her cousin's party, a sudden rush of attention and admiration begins to poison her heart and mind that spans for years beyond her imagination--did you escape Tashi's shadow or had you become an even more calculated adversary?
Warnings: CHALLENGERS SPOILERS, sexual situations, angst, language, minors DNI
CHAPTER ONE "HE WAS MINE FIRST"
NEW ROCHELLE - ATP CHALLENGERS
In August of 2019, the absolute only thing you were concerned with was turning Patrick Zweig into the biggest fucking star in men’s tennis the U.S. has ever seen.
Years of blood, sweat, and tears were inches from going down the drain at the New Rochelle Challengers tournament, and you refused to let yourself and your career be embarrassed because Patrick couldn’t get it the fuck together.
“Listen to me.” You said, cupping his chin. The two of you sitting in a small room as you awaited his call to the court. “I don’t care about the brand deals, I don’t care about the Grand Slam, I don’t care about our argument … the only thing I’m concerned with is you wiping the fucking floor with Art Donaldson.”
Patrick smiled, his right hand wrapping around your waist. He nodded, a look of understanding but hesitance stifling him and his mentality. “What if I don’t win?”
“That’s not an option, Patrick. Don’t start this—”
“It’s possible.” He argued, narrowing his eyes at you.
You scoffed. Snatching yourself from his grasp and grabbing your purse. “Art hasn’t won a match in God knows how long. This is child’s play.” You blinked, studying the stupid look on his face and how it’s never brought about anything good. “Why are you suddenly unsure of yourself? You’ve done this before and you will do it again.”
“He’s different now. We haven’t played against each other in years.” Patrick tried to rationalize much to your dismay. You rolled your eyes, digging in your purse in search of your phone and a cigarette. “I’m just being practical—”
You grabbed the device, fully out of cigs, clutching it firmly in your hand. “You? Practical?” You laughed.
The knock at the door didn’t rattle you, you stared into his soul and awaited for him to tell you the real reason this sudden doubt was being disguised as practicality.
His hand grazed the small of your back, leading you out of the room and through the corridors leading to the court. Something wasn’t making sense, his behavior was off, there was a gleam in his eyes that you knew tennis nor your presence were the cause of.
You were getting flashbacks to Atlanta. Running into Art in the hallway of the hotel. Your significant others missing in the dead of night. That sickening sense of dread causing your stomach and confidence to plummet to your feet.
Clutching your YSL purse tightly to your side, your matching high heels clicked and clacked against the rocky pavement leading to the stands. You were told that a front row seat was waiting for you and you craned your neck to search for your place. It wasn’t difficult to pick her out of the crowd, no matter how much she cut or dyed her hair she would always be recognizable.
You shared blood after all.
You slipped your dark Prada glasses over your eyes, calculated steps leading you to what you assumed would be another unpleasant family reunion. “Interesting they’ve paired us together.” You muttered, taking your seat next to Tashi as you both stared ahead.
“I told you to stay the fuck away from me.” You could hear her sigh beside you, one of frustration and annoyance that you’d identified many times before.
You turned to her, pulling your glasses down slightly. “And when was the last time I listened to anything you had to say?” You laughed, turning back to face the court. “I think you’re stuck in 2006, Tash … I’m not your little bitch anymore.”
The sun glistened, an alarming contrast from the windy and grueling weather the city witnessed over the course of the ATP Challengers match. It was fate for this game to happen, and for the two boys, now turned men, obsessed with the Duncan girls to face each other once more.
Patrick rounded the corner, returning back to your presence after you both just left the locker room together. “Kiss for good luck?” He asked, the only thing between you two being the short fence.
You stood from your seat, a grin creeping across your lips as you met his. The intensity of his presence had your heart racing with frustration and pleasure. No matter how often you argued, he was still yours in this moment alone. Your hand snuck to his neck before you pulled away from the intimate embrace.
“Fuck him up.” You stated, loud enough for Tashi to hear. You returned to your seat, adjusting your cream Loewe tank top and black dress pants.
Patrick remained quiet, just nodding upon your command before returning to the sidelines. He snuck the tiniest of glances at your cousin, enough to drive you up the wall. You couldn’t tell if it was a power move to keep you in line, or, a flutter of yearning for what once was.
“Whatever it is that you did,” you snapped your head in her direction, “you better shut it down right here, right now.”
Tashi shook her head. “I didn’t do anything, Y/N.”
“You can’t bullshit me.” You hissed. “Art may not see through this act that you do disguise as confidence, but me? I grew up with you and I know all of your tricks.”
She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “…and there you go bringing him up.”
“I have every right to.” You shrugged, relaxing back into your seat. “He was mine first.”
STANFORD - FOURTEEN YEARS AGO
As important as college is to define your identity, yours was once again lost in the shadow of Tashi Duncan. You never wanted to go to school with your cousin, it was bad enough being converted into her lackey as she became the golden child of your family.
The agreement was that her father would pay for your education as long as you two attended together. Your mother and father couldn’t afford it really, and at any other school of your choice, you’d inevitably struggle to pay tuition. The money was used to control you and the tactics worked.
You shared everything together, her dorm being merely across the hall from yours, classes practically the same, the only distinction was that she was the athlete and you were the less cool family member that just happened to always be around. If you had told your fourteen-year-old self that you’d be going to college with Tashi, she would have jumped for joy. But now, with the fame and the money and her being a complete bitch … being in her presence was like hell on Earth.
The only good part about Stanford was Art.
Tennis had grown very boring very quickly until you watched him play. His moans and grunts mirror the ones he released with you underneath him in his dorm room. The attraction between you two was undeniable when you first met at seventeen and now it had transcended your college years.
Entering the dining hall, you could instantly feel the tension and anxiety spinning in the pit of your stomach. Large, obnoxious, “Duncanator” posters were plastered along the walls. Encouraging letters and support from Tashi’s on-campus groupies made you want to gag. You rolled your eyes briefly, searching for the real reason you entered the hall in the first place.
There he was, in all of his glory, positioned directly across from Tashi as they shared lunch together. Your insecurities would have spiked if he hadn’t told you he wanted to talk with her about Patrick and his career. Art may have liked Tashi in the past when you all were kids, but things were different now. It was always about tennis between those two.
Suddenly the loud screeching of the table chair skirting the linoleum flooring filled your ears. Tashi was pissed, something inaudible coming from her lips as Art appeared lost and concerned. You quickened your pace, trying to diffuse whatever was happening before she blew a gasket.
“I think you might be the worst friend in the world.” She fumed, looming over the boy as you neared the two. She noticed you from the corner of her eye and took a rushed breath. “Don’t do this to her.” She stated, whispering so you didn’t hear.
“Hey!” You gleamed, trying to disrupt the tension between them. “It’s hot as fuck today. I had to walk all the way from the College of Business and my Marketing professor refused to turn the air on. I should have worn a tee shirt.” Your eyes focused on the grey material hugging Tashi’s body. “Is that mine?” your smile faded looking at the words “I TOLD YA” painted on her chest staring back at you.
She cut her eyes in your direction. “Yeah, it got mixed up in my laundry and I liked it.”
“So you just took my shirt?” You asked in disbelief. “If you’d have just asked I would have let you borrow it, Tash.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose. Looking between you and Art, the two most annoying people in her world at the moment. “Oh my God, Y/N, it’s just a stupid tee shirt. I have bigger things to worry about right now.”
“I don’t care.” You laughed incredulously, letting your bag fall from your shoulder and onto the floor. “You have access to whatever the fuck you want and you still decide to take my shit … you’re being selfish, per usual.”
Tashi shook her head, looking around at some form of escape before she exploded. “Thanks for lunch, Art.” She acknowledged, ignoring you like she always did when she was upset. She sauntered off and out of the dining hall. Leaving you and Art to make sense of what that was.
“She’s such a fucking bitch.” You huffed.
Art pulled you in for a side hug, clutching you tightly and rubbing his strong hands down your arms. “She’s your cousin.” He retorts.
“Which means I’ve been dealing with this since forever.” You fired back, glancing up at your boyfriend. “What was all of that about? She looked pissed at you.”
Your encounters with Art started as hookups. Before practice, after matches, and even as early as 8 am before your first class. You always believed he was obsessed with you when in reality, you couldn’t let go of the idea of him. The idea that someone who was once interested in the great Tashi Duncan was now spending his free time tangled in your sheets and kissing your breasts. You felt relieved…like you’d finally won the silent battle.
Art was someone who genuinely liked you for you, not to get close to your cousin, or so you believed.
It wasn’t difficult for Tashi to read between the lines of your undefined relationship. You were running around campus calling Art your boyfriend and while he never corrected you, his entanglements with you were never broadcasted proudly. Tashi didn’t know what Art had up his sleeve but whatever it was, she truly didn’t want you to get hurt.
He kissed the top of your forehead, a grueling headache forming already. “It’s just some stuff with Patrick. They’re going through a rough patch.” He evaded the question, ignoring where Tashi mentioned his lack of true feelings for you.
“When I talked to her this morning she said they were fine.” You furrowed your brows. Curious as to how their relationship could have gone to shit in the span of four hours. “He’s still coming to her match today?”
Art nodded, scooping your bag from the floor and swinging it onto his shoulder. “Yeah, he should be here soon.” He stated lowly. “Where you headed? You done with classes for the day?”
“Yeah, I’m tired. I’m going back to my dorm.” You held his hand, feeling the callouses from his intense tennis conditioning. “Walk me there?”
“And what’s in it for me?” Art teased, a sly grin creeping on his lips.
You pushed him slightly, and snatched his backward cap from his head, placing it over your curls. “Don’t piss me off before I cut you off.”
Hand in hand, you two walked the campus grounds rather quickly to reach your dorm hall. When he felt as if you weren’t moving fast enough for him, Art scooped you up and threw you over his shoulder. Running through the hall, you screamed and pleaded for him to put you down.
“Art! I swear to God if you drop me!” You slapped his ass, giggling. Making him laugh even harder.
“Woah!” You heard a deep voice say, halting you both in your tracks right outside of your dorm.
Carefully, your feet met the floor once more. Staring at his chest briefly, your eyes wandered upward, meeting the seductive gaze of Patrick Zweig. He was cocky, confident, and from your encounters a silly asshole who won Tashi’s number and never let Art forget it. He raised a brow, looking down at you as if he would swallow you whole.
“Hey, Pouty Princess.” He smirked.
You sighed. “I haven’t heard that since I was seventeen … let’s keep it that way.” You pat his shoulder roughly.
The attention quickly shifted from you to Art. The two friends embracing and catching up in the hallway. As more time passed with no indication of Art cutting the conversation short, your energy had depleted. Even though he rarely saw Patrick, they had the duration of his visit to spend time together. This moment was supposed to be for you and now it was being ruined. Flashes of that hotel room sent chills down your spine—the embarrassment of the two boys fawning over Tashi while you nervously watched.
Between her stealing your shirt and now being second choice compared to Patrick, you were instantly turned off.
“Dude, I’m starving.” The brunette held his stomach. “Do you think we could go grab something—“
You chuckled nervously. “We were just about to chill—“
“Yeah for sure.” Art interrupted, a grin spreading on his face.
You snapped your head in his direction. “You literally just ate.” You furrowed your brows.
Patrick looked between you two, the gears shifting in his mind. “Wait…” He let out a loud chuckle, gesturing in your direction. “Were you guys about to fuck?”
“Yes.” You deadpanned. “I was about to give Art the fucking time of his life, but, it’s fine.” You rolled your eyes, snatching your bookbag from your boyfriend’s grasp. “Go eat.”
Art’s features softened, knowing he was in trouble. “Wait, Baby.” He reached for your waist which made you inch away from his grasp. You quickly dug into your bag, grabbing the Stanford lanyard from the front pocket that held your keys.
“I’ll see you at the match.” You unlocked the door, stepping inside. “Always good to see you, Patrick.”
The slamming of the door completed your sentence. You gave it a few seconds. Sensing from the bottom of your heart that there’d be a knock on your door and a curly-haired blonde on the other side. When a minute passed, you gave up, throwing your bag across the room and knocking over the lamp on your desk.
Second best to Tashi, second best to Patrick.
Is this how things would be for the rest of your life?
Looking at the wall clock beside you, there wasn’t much time until Tashi’s match. You didn’t even want to go at this point. So mentally drained with her and her attitude that the match was the least of your worries. You sat on your bed, arms crossed, foot tapping the ground in frustration as you and your thoughts sat in silence. They would all be at the courts, together, having a great time without you. You refused to allow them that satisfaction. They couldn’t just throw you away.
You served a purpose beyond playing fucking tennis.
Wiping the two tears that managed to break free, you shot up from the bed and dug through your dresser. Pulling out leggings and a matching grey tee, you freshened up and changed. Taking your hair from it's ponytail and allowing it to be free flowing, you looked at yourself in the mirror and already began to feel a bit better. By the time you finished getting ready, you were going to be ten minutes late.
Grabbing your keys and wallet, you headed for the court and regained your composure during the five minute walk. Looking into the stands, you saw Art, sitting alone and squinting due to the beaming sun. You trudged up the stairs, breezing past spectators as you sat to the right of him.
"Where's your boyfriend?" You asked dryly.
"He's not coming." Art replied, trying to make you laugh.
You cut your eyes in his direction. "You think everything is a joke."
"I don't." He stated defensively. "I just hadn't seen him in a while and there was some time before the match."
You huffed, trying to ignore the perfect pout in his lips and how helpless he sounded. "Yeah well that was our time together and he's going to be here the whole weekend. Seems like you'd rather spend time with everyone else but me."
"Hey." Art said softly. When you ignored him, he grabbed your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes. He pulled your lips into his, giving you a sensual kiss in the midst of all the screaming fans. The sense of security and warmth fleeting as soon as he let you go.
The audience gasped. Screaming on the court was the only thing your ears registered. Tashi was laying on the court, holding her leg, and crying to the top of her lungs.
"Oh fuck." You muttered, shooting up out of your seat in disbelief.
Without a second thought, you cut through the stands and pushed people out of your way. You beat Art to the court, him following behind you quickly.
"Tash?!" You yell out. "I'm here. Hey, I'm here it's okay." You dropped to the ground, trying to hold her but it was no use. The amount of pain rushing through her was unfixable.
She opened her eyes, an amolunt of sadness behind them that you didn't think she was capable of expressing. "It really hurts." She whined.
"We'll get you fixed up in no time." You nodded, tucking her braid out of the way. "I promise."
There was something unintentially sinister about making a promise that you could not keep. As you sat with Art in the infirmary, Tashi and her wrapped knee between you both, you kept replaying the match in your head. She had never cried like that before, not even when you were children. You blamed yourself even though there was nothing you could have done to avoid this. You were here to protect her and you failed.
A figure appeared in the doorway, catching your attention. You turned and saw a sweaty Patrick, cheeks red and flushed from running to the infirmary.
"I'm sorry, I---" He began, taking small steps inside.
Tashi refused to face him. "Out."
You scrunched up your face, confused as to what had happened between them.
"Tashi..." Patrick pleaded.
She pointed toward the door. "Out!"
"Listen--" The brunette didn't stop. Not when he felt insurmaountable guilt for being absent.
"Out! Out! Out!" Tashi hollered, making you jump and the pure rage fueling her.
Art stood on his feet. "Patrick!" He shouted. "Get the fuck out."
Patrick looked at his best friend, then his girlfriend, who turned away from him and returned her attention to the wall in front of her. He shook his head in shock and left from their sights.
"Why were you so mean to him?" You asked innocently, to no one in particular.
Tashi scoffed. "Excuse me?"
You stood up, leveling with Art. "He's your boyfriend and he's here to support you." You frowned. "I mean really, what the hell happened between you two?"
"I don't think this is a good idea, Y/N." The blonde protested, watching Tashi grow more upset.
"I'm literally just asking a question." You retort. "I'm trying to understand why you both just turned on him out of nowhere. What am I missing here?"
She sat up in the bed, eyes lasered in on you. "My relationship is really the least of your concerns right now." She hissed. "Not when yours is nonexistent." Your cousin slipped.
You raised a brow. "What the fuck are you on about now?"
"It's the mere fact that you have all of these opinions and ideas and haven't the slightest damn clue as to what is happening in your own life." She spewed venom in your direction. Pointing at you with the utmost vitriol you've ever seen. "I tried everything to prevent you from getting hurt but now I don't care. While you've been around blowing Art, he's been coming to me trying to find the words to break things off with you."
The boy could barely look in your direction. "Tashi, please." He begged too late.
"He thinks you're annoying, clingy, and I frankly feel the fucking same." She continued. "You're always around and embarassing the hell out of me everytime you open your mouth."
You looked to him, trying to find some indication that this was a bluff. Art didn't defend himself, defend you, or deny anything that was said. You held more dignity than to ask him if any of this was true. You should have known that sex wasn't enough, that men will fuck and suck anything that isn't nailed down. You weren't special.
Everything between you and Art might as well have been a lie.
"I didn't think this was possible, but, your leg getting mangled turned you into more of a complete cunt." You choked down sobs. Turning to Art, who finally looked you in the eye, and you just shook your head. "Fuck you!"
You turned on your heel, storming out of the infirmary and ignoring Art calling your name. Your chest heaved furiously. You wanted nothing more than to kick the shit out of Tashi in her other leg. It took everything inside of you not to turn around and unleash on her.
The better half of your anger stemmed from heartbreak. How much you actually loved Art had turned you into a fool, apparently an annoying one. The other half stemmed from insecurities...the fact that some of those things Tashi said were probably true and you'd successfully buried them deep within you until now.
You burst through the doors of the sports center. The hot sun beaming down on you and further fueling your irritation. You cupped your hand over your eyes, trying to find the path back to your dorm when your gaze landed on the pacing figure smoking near the trees.
Patrick was still here and as of right now, the only friend you had.
"You have another one of those?" You asked, sauntering over in his direction.
The man squinted, looking down at you. "Since when do you smoke?"
"Since apparently I'm clingy and annoying." You leaned against the tree with him. "Oh, and embarassing, can't forget that."
Patrick winced. "Tashi said that to you?"
"She simply repeated what Art told her." You nodded in disbelief.
He opened his mouth to speak. Closing it quickly as he searched his pockets for a pack. Carefully he grabbed a fresh cigarette, passing it to you with a small smile. "If it makes you feel better, I don't think you're any of those things. I actually think you're kinda cool." You looked between him and the stick hesitantly. "I'm gonna have to teach you how to smoke it, you know?"
You took the cig between your fingertips, looking up at his gentle eyes and in that moment, you shared a grin. "Well, Patrick, teach me then."
