Art Donaldson X Reader X Patrick Zweig - Tumblr Posts

a/n challengers changed me, so have this drabble <3

----

the soft sound of rubber soles making their way across the court startles you more than it should. it's bad enough that you're running so late you had to change in the library bathroom and that you're still putting on your tennis shoes. you don't need anything else making you seem un-together.

"you know..." patrick's closer than you thought he'd be, his racket dangling by his side, just barely scraping the ground you're sitting on. you let your fingers rest between your ankle and the back of your shoe as you look up at him. "you took so long we started to think you were standing us up."

the sentence feels lighthearted, but that doesn't keep unease from prodding at you. your friendship with patrick and art is still new enough that the wrongness of being late feels sharper.

"oh, no," you shake your head slightly in an attempt to emphasize your point. you straighten an arm to rest it on your bent knee. "no, i--the lunch with my sponsors ran long, and i had to change and--" patrick lets you ramble as he bends a knee, slowly moving to sit across from you. he sets down his racket with all the patience in the world, watching you with a lightness behind his eyes that radiates good humor. "and you were joking."

he leans back on one arm before lifting a shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. "a little, but that sponsorship thing..." patrick angles his head to one side in what feels like mock contemplation. "that sounds important, we should consider ourselves lucky that we made it onto your schedule."

his tone leaves your face feeling a little warmer. you let your attention fall back to your shoe. "no, not like that at all."

"well, i feel lucky," he says, "art, do you feel lucky?"

you turn your neck to look back at art. he's closer than you remember, the toe of his shoe so close to your leg that you'd only have to stretch a little to reach him. he lets out soft sigh before sitting next to patrick. "extremely."

the word borders on flat, a pinch of something you can't quite interpret bleeding into the syllables. his attention shifts away from you and towards patrick. maybe you weren't meant to fully understand. after all, they're life long best friends. and while normally encroaching on that kind of dynamic makes you feel like an intruder, with them, everything's always been comfortable.

"don't." you refocus on your shoes, pulling the laces taut between your fingers. "i'm the lucky one, you guys are great."

"and you're amazing." art breathes out the compliment in a way that feels concrete. real. the words don't feel like a necessary step in a polite exchange, they feel genuine. it's the kind of unabashed praise that's hard not to fluster at. "seriously--your backhand, i've never seen anything like it."

you let yourself smile, ignoring the warmth crawling up your chest. "thanks."

before you can dwell on the exchange, patrick leans forward. his fingers carefully bend around your ankle. patrick watches you expectantly as he extends a leg. you release your laces, letting him lift your foot onto his lower thigh.

"patrick."

"what?" patrick's gaze briefly flickers towards art as he crosses your shoe laces. "i'm helping out our girl." he tugs on your laces, neatly looping them. "ignore him, he's jealous."

you squint at him curiously, feeling like you're missing out on some kind of joke. "really? you think he wants to tie my other shoe?"

"i think," patrick secures a snug knot into place, "he wants to do whatever you want him to."

patrick settles a hand over your ankle. you let out a sound that's more a puff of air than a true laugh. "shut up." you lift your foot in a pretend kick. patrick makes a show of releasing your leg, holding up his hand as if to convey innocence. you pull your leg back. "don't make him sound so lame."

"yeah," art echoes, leaning towards patrick, "don't make me sound so lame."

patrick grins as he shoves art's shoulder. he pushes himself to stand with no warning. "c'mon, let's play."

you reach over for your other shoe before bending your leg. it takes no time for you to pull on but before you can adjust the laces, art's by your side. he pulls on your laces until your shoe feels secure. "too tight?"

with the way he's studying you, it takes you a moment too long to react. you shake your head once. "n-no, that's good."

he angles his head downwards, attention returning to your laces. "good."

art smiles as he squeezes your upper calf in an almost startling display of affection. he pushes himself to stand before offering you his hand.

——

lmk if you liked this, i have so many thoughts about them

being best friends with both patrick and art means that patrick constantly refers to you as "our girl" when talking to art bc it always flusters art just enough for patrick to notice

you write art and patrick so well im literally foaming at the mouth for more

yes yes everyone pls ask me about my boyfriends that are also boyfriends to each other 🩷 (i have two extra drafts for them already)

----

breath in. the pad of your thumb presses into the side of the ball. you give yourself a beat to feel the weight of it, to embrace the familiar feeling of felt against your palm. breath out.

you bounce the ball once. breath in. you squeeze the ball, knuckles briefly straining beneath your skin before letting it hit the concrete again. breath out.

finally, you raise the arm holding your racket. every joint in your body is locked into place. there's a science to a sharp serve. the ball will land where you will it to.

you release the ball, arm stretching forward. a total follow through. the ball hits the center of your racket. the force of your hit propels the ball through the air until it hits the center of the other side of the court.

ugh. the night before your qualifying match and suddenly the precise serve you spent years perfecting loses its edge. what happened to the serve that media outlets have been calling 'the ultimate point guaranteer'? why is today the day that you can only manage a perfectly average serve?

you groan, letting the disappointment's weight settle against your chest. you suck. with a sigh, you start walking towards the extra tennis balls you left near the net. your dad is so never going to get over you not qualifying for the us open.

"there she is." the voice surprises you enough to force you to still. patrick...and a few steps behind him, his doubles partner, art. "the princess of modern tennis."

you turn your head enough to glare in patrick's direction. he's referencing a title some journalist used in one article that your dad decided would be perfect for marketing materials. "don't."

normally, you like seeing patrick and art more than you can justify. you don't know if you can consider yourself their friend, it's not like you guys see each other outside of coincidental run ins at tennis events. the three of you have been to more and more of the same tournaments these days. they're familiar in a way that settles you, like the feel of tennis ball in your hand.

you try to tap into that usual warmth, but you can't quite get there. it's not their fault you're frustrated.

art gives you a look that feels like an apology. he walks forward, opening the gate to the fence and stepping onto the court. "i told him not to."

you bend down to pick up a spare ball. "i appreciate the effort."

"what?" patrick follows art onto the court. "it's on billboards."

he's seen your billboard? you don't know why you feel the need to dwell on that. you weren't the biggest fan of having a picture of yourself blown up and pasted everywhere, especially with a caption that makes potential losses extra embarrassing, but you've never been truly self conscious about it. now, you're trying to picture it in your mind, trying to remember the details of your expression, the way your hair was styled, what you were wearing.

you let go of the ball in your hand, bouncing it against the ground so that you have something to look at. "it was a charity thing."

"i know." you let yourself glance up at patrick. he's closer than you thought he'd be. you catch the ball before releasing it again. "for the youth outreach program thing, right?" before you can answer, he extends an arm, catching the ball before you can reach it. "you looked cute in it."

art looks at you again, something a little more distinct than apology behind his eyes. he reaches for the tennis ball still in patrick's hand. "patrick."

he twists his arm away before his friend can steal the ball from him. art follows him, leaning forward and grabbing his arm. "what?" their play fight grows in physicality, with each of them pushing and pulling at the other. you'd worry about the game losing its lightheartedness if both of them weren't smiling. "you stared at it for more than five minutes before getting out of the car."

"really?"

art freezes, his hand squeezing the only part of the ball patrick's left exposed. "it was a good billboard, you look pretty--looked pretty." the implication of his correction hits him a second too late. "not that you don't look pretty now, you always look pretty, but you looked really--" he cuts himself off with a sharp breath, "but that wasn't the point, you also looked like a strong role model for underprivileged young women."

the compliments paired with his uncertainty make it difficult not to melt. you beam at him. "thank you, art." you adjust your hold on your racket, both hands resting on the grip. "i think you're pretty, too."

he smiles, head briefly angling itself downwards. art manages to steal the tennis ball from his friend. you can't tell if he pulled it out of patrick's grasp or if patrick chose to let go.

"you know what the best thing to do is the night before a big match?" patrick's question feel rhetorical until you look at him. he's watching you like he's waiting for something.

despite knowing what you should be doing, you also know that you're incapable of not playing along. "what?"

"doing anything that keeps you from getting in your head." you stand a little straighter, chin angling itself a fraction of an inch upwards. as nice as the local doubles duo is, advice offered from other tennis players comes with its own sort of tension. saying that you know best implies that you see yourself as the best. "that's what's wrong with your serve."

your eyebrows briefly pinch together. "you think i'm in my head?"

he takes a slight step forward, body angling itself to make the distance between you feel even smaller than it truly is. "i think your serve is technically perfect." patrick takes a moment to press his lips together. "but you're tense."

patrick's going about this the nice way. he's focusing on what you're doing right. you technique is objectively precise, your dad made sure of that. he's coached you since you were old enough to securely hold a racket for a reason. but tennis isn't just routine and muscle memory.

there's an art to the sport, and you know the difference it makes when you're playing. you can feel when your heart is in it, and right now, all you can think about is that your retired tennis champion dad watching you in the stands.

the feeling of something warm on your shoulder pulls you out of your train of thought. you blink. patrick's hand is on your shoulder. "you need to relax."

"i'm..." it's instinct to argue, to insist that you're fine and that you'll push through, but something tells you that that'd be pointless. he'd know. "i'll work it out."

his fingers briefly press into your shoulder, the squeeze assuring and gentle. "that's your problem--work." you look at him skeptically. "you're overworking yourself, and it's putting you in your head."

art angles himself a little closer. he extends an arm, placing his fingers on the edge of your racket. "that's why you're supposed to rest the night before a match."

the thought of not being in motion isn't appealing. if anything, you feel like you have too much energy in your system. but objectively, you know they're generally right.

art gently tugs on your racket. "you should come hang out with us."

"yeah," patrick agrees with a slight hum, "you're in the hotel down the street, right?"

okay--you know the right answer. your dad would be mad if he found out you snuck out the night before a match to practice, but if he found out you ended up in a hotel room with some guys--he'd die and then come back to life just to kill you.

"um..." your eyes briefly fall to your racket. "yeah, i am." okay, you need to think of an excuse that doesn't make you sound like a little kid with a curfew. you twist your wrist slightly, a halfhearted attempt to free your racket. "but it's kind of late...and i have to be up early tomorrow."

art pulls on your tennis racket again. there's nothing overly forceful about it, but it's enough to make you look at him. "yeah, but you were going to stay out here for a awhile, right?"

"and it's good to take your mind off of things." patrick tacks on his point. "i mean--we always do something fun before our matches."

patrick stretches out an arm, the back of his hand softly hitting art's shoulder. "yeah, yeah, we do."

you press the nail of your thumb against the side of your racket's handle. "really?" you're mumbling to yourself more than anything else, "something fun."

it's risky. if anything goes wrong, you'll never hear the end of it. and if you mess up tomorrow because you're tired or distracted, you're not sure you'll be able to forgive yourself. you've already taken some risks tonight. you should quit while you're ahead.

then again, you like being around them, and they're in the same hotel as you. it can't be that bad of an idea.

you let out a reluctant sigh before finally looking up. you glance between them, too aware that it's too late for you. "okay," you breathe out, "i guess going up for a little bit can't hurt."

patrick grins. "can't hurt at all."

art lets go of your racket before taking a few steps forward. he stops once he's at your side before throwing an arm around your shoulder. "you know us." art's hand settles over patrick's. "we'd never do anything to hurt you."

warmth crawls up your chest. you're comfortable with them--maybe too comfortable. "yeah," you hum in an attempt to dismiss the feelings bubbling in your chest, "let's just go."

——

im thinking of writing a part 2 to this so if you’d be interested in that and/or would want to be tagged pls lmk :)

I agree that Art and Patrick need each other.

How do you think their dynamic would change (if at all) if they were in a throuple with someone?

I want to know your Challengers opinions on EVERYTHING but I suck at coming up with things to ask

this is such a fun ask!

sorry if i'm all over the place, i just had so many thoughts :)

disclaimer: this is based on my interpretation of the plot and characters, so it's very opinion based,, and if you see them differently that's totally okay bc room for interpretation and analysis is what makes an artistic work art :)

okay so i think some of the dynamic changes would depend on the personality of the third person, if that person is similar to tashi (and they actually managed to get into an official relationship) i think everyone would be happy but still a little toxic

this isn't me fully blaming tashi for all their issues btw!! i think fully assigning blame to one individual ruins the point of the movie and oversimplifies their relationships, but i digress

i think part of the reason that the plot of the movie worked out the way it did is bc tashi helped bring out the "hubris" of both art and patrick--patrick's pride and art's ability to trap himself in his head

to me, these are the main traits capable of ruining their relationship

wanting someone like tashi drove patrick's desire to be the "best", i see him as someone with a slightly obsessive personality,, and having someone so desirable, strong willed, and talented kind of becomes an ego thing

however, wanting someone like tashi works the opposite way for someone like art,, he wants to prove himself "worthy" so bad it traps him in his head and actually makes him more insecure

so with patrick constantly working to maintain his improved ego and art struggling to keep up the way he sees himself, ofc things get a little toxic bc even though they care about each other, it's more about their headspace than actually wanting to compete with each other

also i think tashi wanted to want art more than she wanted patrick, but she just wasn't there, which brings me to the dynamic i think would work best

patrick cares about art sm, idc argue with me if u want but i will never be convinced that patrick wasn't in love with art that the entire movie would have been maybe 20 minutes long if art said he wanted to fix their friendship/relationship

this isn't to say that art doesn't love patrick, i just think that they express love in different ways

patrick is so open in his affectionateness, and that's ideal for keeping art from getting stuck in his head, and art loves in a way that emphasizes consistency, which is ideal for someone like patrick, who places sm emphasis on external factors when it comes to his self worth

bc of this i think that the ideal third person for them would be someone that prioritizes art a little more,, i'm not saying someone that would love art more, but someone that'd take care to focus on art's feelings to make sure that art feels like he exists at the center of things

that might sound like a reach, but if you think of the moments in which tashi and patrick connected most, i think it makes sense, for example:

in the dorm room scene when tashi and patrick are about to hook up, they're literally talking about and complimenting art, when tashi and patrick hook up in atlanta it's after finding out about tashi's engagement to art (which 'proves' that tashi loves art), and they hook up in the car after tashi explains why she'd want patrick to throw the match, which implies she still cares about him

also the conversation in which patrick accuses tashi of hating art is arguably one of their least connected moments, even if he's flirting a little, that moment kind of felt like patrick was probing, trying to see where tashi was at

if they were in a throuple, i think they'd be happy, especially with someone that balanced out their pride and insecurities

patrick would become even more affectionate, he's definitely the type to pull in a s/o and kiss them mid sentence and then say he just couldn't help it

art would be even more open about his feelings, he's the type to mention how much he loves his s/o so casually it actually knocks the wind out of you

I keep thinking about your style of writing the reader in the movie challengers and my girl would NOT have a good time 💀

She would see this trio being lovey dovey with her and she would be so shy she would have a heart attack... She just wants to organize her sticky notes in alphabetic order leave her be.

Now if she was already in the friend group, she would totaly just get up and go to bed:

Trio: *on the verge of hooking up*

Reader: *yawns* would you look at that, well bye!

Trio: its not even midnight.

Reader: well, beauty sleep yk?

Trio:😔

ART:🥺

But also:

Art: we will be in eachothers life forever right?

Reader:duh! Your my friend 😀

Art: 🥺🥺

anon i can literally feel you understanding my writing, omg, we are so connected

however the trio is so hot and charming and good at flirting i fear it'd take an unnatural level of self control to not accidentally hook up with them

i agree that this scenario is definitely influenced by wether or not reader is already friends with them, so let's take a second to talk about both:

if reader wasn't really friends with them first, i can see her going to tashi's party. she starts talking to tashi to congratulate her, and then patrick and art invite both of them over.

tashi and her joke about it, but when tashi says she wants to go, reader's already regretting her life choices. she's finally making a (very pretty, very intimidating) tennis friend, she can't back out.

it'd start off so calm, everyone passing around a beer, and reader feeling like drinking during a tournament is already rebellious of her. maybe patrick hands her his cigarette and she takes a drag bc she's convinced she can pass off being this chill person.

she's even fine when art rests his hand on her knee for a little. everything feels light, friendly. and then patrick tells that story about teaching art how to jerk off, and reader's still not overly affected bc she's not directly involved. for a beat, she even thinks it's kind of cute that art's flustered.

and then tashi gets on the bed and there's an immediate switch in energy. reader immediately knows the window to leave without being labeled 'weird' or a 'mood killer' is slowly closing. so she mentions the time, and when anyone tries to get her to stay, art is for sure the one that helps her out. he's a sweetheart like that <3

art agrees that it's late, and would probably even offer to walk her back to her room. or, if things didn't feel too tense, he might ask her if she wants to go with him to get some ice and stay for one more beer. a subtle reset to help protect reader's boundaries. he's so bf material, i'm sorry.

----

now, if reader was already friends with them:

i feel like if patrick and art had a close girl friend, hotel room would not be the first time they came close to hooking up 😭. even though reader is still shy, there's a familiarity between them that has her feeling secure.

bc she knows them, she can tell when they're in a bit of a flirtier mood. patrick's hand is on her knee and art rests his chin on her shoulder, all while they're giggling and kicking their feet at everything tashi says. reader's spider senses start tingling. thirsty bitches.

her first thought is: 'i didn't hook up with you guys at my high school graduation, and i'm not hooking up with you guys now.'

i think the main difference if she's already friends with them is that reader feels a little more comfortable slipping out. there's a bit less social pressure bc they're already friends, so there's less pretending.

patrick would probably be more comfortable teasing her if they were already friends. he'd be touchier, asking reader if she'd sit with him for a few more minutes, and then he'd walk her back to her room. scout's honor.

art's quicker to pick up on reader being uncomfortable if they're already friends. he's going out with her to get ice and asking her if she's feeling okay. if she seems extra shy or like she feels bad for not being super okay with everything, art will probably stay out with her a bit. he'll talk to her about stuff she likes and then walk back to her room.

i love your side note about art and reader's dynamic, he'd find everything so endearing. like, yes, reader is the one making promises to be in art's life forever without a second thought. that is his very necessary second emotional support best friend that he pines after.

he's making sure everyone leaves her to her color coded sticky notes and tennis practice if that's what she wants!

post match

----

the edge of your thumb brushes against the bottom of your racket. again and again, a much more docile back and forth than the game of tennis you just finished.

"now that was a...game." the breathy quality bleeding into patrick's voice implies a tiredness that serves as a point of pride. you're a fan of keeping friendly games friendly, but after playing with a talented duo that understands each other as well as patrick and art do, it's nice to know that you held your own.

your knees bend slightly, arm reaching downwards to grab the gym bag that you abandoned on the sidelines. "yeah," you hum earnestly, "you guys were great."

art tilts his head upwards, the corner of his mouth tugging itself upwards as he reaches for his own bag. "please," he mumbles as he unzips his bag, "even when you were on the singles side you had us fighting for our lives."

the warmth of art's words makes it hard to focus on rearranging the contents of your duffle bag. "you're exaggerating." you push the sandals you were wearing earlier, a spare pair of socks, and a set of tennis balls to one end of your bag. "but i appreciate it."

you're a little more careful when it comes to moving your t-shirt and denim shorts, taking the time to keep the clothes folded as you move them further into your bag. as you retract your hand, the side of your palm brushes against something cool. your water bottle.

how did you forget about that? you pull out the metal container, tucking it between your chest and forearm as you adjust your hold on your gym bag. finally, you shove the head of your racket into the newly available space.

your eyes shift upwards as you tug on you bag's zipper. patrick and art are standing close together in a way that highlights their familiarity. you've always felt the way that they understand each other on the court, but you're just starting to get the way that their closeness translates itself into life outside of the game.

"you guys are really good together." the suddenness of your own words surprises you. "anticipating moves, knowing when to let who go for it..." your explanation borders on awkward for some reason you don't exactly get.

there's a beat of silence, and the two of them exchange a look. you don't fully understand that either, but the corner of patrick's mouth shifts into a smile. he leans towards art, extending an arm to pull it around art's shoulder. "we're the team."

art works at remaining stiff, shaking his head slightly as patrick makes a show of squeezing his arm. "yeah, because he needs me to-"

"need?" patrick tugs on art's arm. "really? i need you?"

art lets out a partial laugh, shaking his head once as he halfheartedly tries to pull away. "no, no--you cut me off."

patrick looks over at you, eyes narrowing skeptically. "i don't believe him."

you twist the cap off your water bottle. "i'm neutral."

"neutral?" patrick repeats, letting his arm fall off of art's shoulder. he takes a small step in your direction. "really?"

you nod once before lifting your water bottle to your lips. before you can actually take a sip, the bottle is pulled out of your hand. you recognize patrick's smug smile before you've fully processed the fact that he's now holding your water bottle.

you cross your arms in front of your chest, lifting your chin slightly in an attempt to seem firm. "patrick."

"what?" his grin broadens as he bends his arm, holding the water close to his chest and out of easy reach.

you let your arms fall to your side in an attempt to seem nonconfrontational. patrick watches you, eyebrows raised and smile still glued into place. you take one step forward, and then another, again and again until patrick's within reach.

he watches you with an openness that's almost hard to take in all at once. you hold his gaze for what might be a second or a minute--you can't quite tell--and then you lift your arm as quickly as you can manage.

patrick's not thrown by the suddenness of your movement, taking a step back with an ease that's honestly a little irritating. he lets out a slight laugh as his arm bumps into art's.

art places a hand on patrick's shoulder in an attempt to keep him steady. you reach forward without thinking, your hand finding the skin beneath his wrist.

his grin broadens. patrick moves at a snail's pace. your fingers bend around his forearm. to your surprise, he doesn't move away again. he extends his arm carefully until the water bottle is just shy of your lips.

sometimes patrick's full attention feels so intentional, you feel like you should be able to pinpoint why he's looking at you so distinctively. if you dwell on it for long enough, you start feeling like you're missing something.

this time, though, there seems to be a silent question behind his gaze. you let your chin dip downwards in a cautious nod.

patrick tilts the container, the edge of it pressing against your bottom lip as water spills forward. you take two sips before patrick's straightening his wrist. he pulls the water bottle back enough to offer it to you. you take the bottle back out of instinct.

the confidence his smile radiates implies a smugness that digs at your skin. if he was anyone else, you're not sure you'd be able to stand him. "come on." patrick slings his tennis bag around his shoulder. "we need to hurry if we're going to make that movie you want to see."

patrick turns on his heels, walking forward without another word. it's instinct to want to follow along. patrick's a touchy person, and if no one else is going to consider what just happened weird, you won't either.

art's still, tennis bag sitting on his shoulder. you can't get yourself to take more than a step forward without seeing him move. "art?"

his gaze shifts from something just past your shoulder and onto you. the weight of art's full attention settles on you differently than patrick's. when art watches you, it's consuming in a way that's patient. there's a steadiness to any underlying intensity, like a minute could pass or an hour or an eternity and it wouldn't make a difference. he'll see whatever he needs to all the same.

art turns to face you fully before taking a step forward. he continues to walk towards you until he's so close you can see the faint array of freckles scattered across his skin. there's a particularly dark one near his chin.

he lifts an arm slowly. you don't move, not even when you can feel the tips of his fingers near the side of your cheek. art studies you for a second longer before letting his thumb brush against the edge of your bottom lip. the side of his thumb briefly presses into your skin, just enough to get your lips to part.

art pulls his hand back carefully, letting his palm linger against your skin as he moves back. "there was water on your..." his eyes briefly dip downwards before finding your own again. "patrick's messy."

"oh," you say, because you need to say something, "yeah."

the corner of his mouth pulls itself into a partial smile. he turns before you have to say anything else. "come on." art throws an arm around your shoulder. "we're gonna miss the movie."

you smile, a part of you glad that neither of them are looking at you right. "yeah, let's go." it takes a conscious effort to keep in pace with his long strides, but you don't mind it. "i don't want to miss the previews."

art's eyebrows draw together as he turns his head. "no one likes the previews."

you force a glare, tilting your chin downwards in an attempt to seem more intimidating. "i like the previews."

he squeezes your shoulder warmly. "you're so weird."

you let out a mock gasp. "really? i'm the weird one?"