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izelascendant · 13 hours

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Sportsmanlike

Chapter 5 - Stanford, Part 2

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Rating | Mature Summary | Things begin to spiral between them. Lots of drama in this chapter. And smut. Pairing | f!Original Character x Art Donaldson x Tashi Duncan x Patrick Zweig Tags | Tennis, Competition, Love Triangles (Squares?), Jealousy, Plot, Emotional Infidelity, Eventual smut, Eventual Romance, Eventual Relationships Word Count | 4.2K Author's note | Important note! This is the last chapter of the FIRST part of this series. Don't worry there's more drama to come in the second part. SMUT warning.

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Sportsmanlike on AO3 | Chapter 1 - US Open 2006, Chapter 2 - Finalist Fusion, Chapter 3 - Aftermath and Accolades, Chapter 4 - Stanford, Chapter 5 - Stanford, Part 2 | Sportsmanlike PART 2 - soon

Art

Acting normal around Tashi proves to be more of a challenge than they had expected. After that night, Art finds himself exchanging secret glances with her, his gaze filled with a hidden hunger that only she can understand whenever they’re around Tashi. And when they’re alone, they fight to keep their hands to themselves.

Not even a week has passed, and she finds herself unable to resist Art. Tashi joins her to watch one of Art’s matches, and she finds herself unamused by his distraction.

Tashi leans back in her seat, a hint of annoyance in her voice as she observes Art on the court below. "He seems distracted," she notes, her eyes fixated on his movements. "I can tell his mind is elsewhere." Her observation rings true, his focus clearly divided between the game and the thoughts that occupy his mind.

“Yeah, it's weird.” She fakes her agreement, a small, secret smile playing on her lips as she observes Art’s athletic body. Her eyes are glued to his every move—she takes in his focused expression, the way his muscles ripple with each swift movement—and the determination on his face.

After the match, she finds herself knocking at the door to his dorm room. Very few words are exchanged between the moment he opens the door and the moment she's lifted onto his desk, her legs wrapping around him as their lips collide in an impatient, desperate kiss.

“Take off your pants.” Her words come out in a rush as she reaches for the band of his sweatpants, hardly giving him a chance to catch his breath.

Art stops her for a moment, his mouth moving along her neck, kissing his way down her delicate skin as he mumbles a soft protest against her flesh. "Not yet." With a swift motion, he pulls off her shirt, tossing it aside, leaving her exposed to his touch. "I still haven't finished what I started at the party."

The sight of him settling down on his knees before her, nestling between her legs, provokes a delicious shiver of anticipation within her. She watches him intently, her breathing growing shallow at the knowledge that he has waited patiently, eager to please her. The thought only fuels her desire.

As she leans against his desk, he strips her from her shorts and gently lifts her legs onto his shoulders, his firm yet tender grip securing her in place.

He’s sloppy with it—practically making out with the soft spot between her thighs—shamelessly lapping his tongue over and over. Her grip on the desk tightens instinctively, her body arching involuntarily against him. Her fingers tangle through his curls, tugging gently as a mix of cries and moans escape her lips.

Art occasionally pauses for a moment to gaze up at her, his eyes locked with hers, a thin strand of saliva still hangs from his lips as he takes a moment to catch his breath.

It probably should’ve stopped there but there's no going back now as their desire for each other takes over. They don't even bother to move to the bed, instead finding themselves right where they are, with her leaning back against the desk—her legs wrapped tightly around Art's hips—his face pressed into the crook of her neck, his breath hot against her skin.

And there goes the rest of their afternoon.

Tashi

About a week later, things start to take a turn.

Late afternoon, just as the sun is setting, Tashi joins her on the court—the golden hue of the setting sun bathes the court in a warm glow. To her surprise, Tashi takes things easy, each swing of her racket is unusually unhurried. The atmosphere is laid back, and the sounds of their racquets striking the ball and their soft laughter fill the air.

"You going easy on me today?" She asks, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Tashi's eyes narrow as she speaks, a note of accusation in her voice. Her words hang in the air, breaking the casual atmosphere between them. “Art told me about you two.”

The atmosphere on the court takes a serious turn as she stops playing and looks at Tashi with a stern expression. "What?" The tension between them is palpable.

Tashi adopts a nonchalant, even slightly apologetic, tone—trying to play to her sympathies—her nonchalant demeanor betraying her manipulative intentions. "Listen," she starts, her tone laced with false sympathy. "I didn't ask about anything, he just came to me and told me everything." She shrugs her shoulders, "I don't know if he was trying to brag or what," she says, the subtext clear in her deliberate ambiguity.

Her confusion and disappointment wash over her, leading her to let out a frustrated sigh. She pinches the bridge of her nose, trying to make sense of the situation.

Tashi approaches her with an almost babying tone, her voice laced with a facade of sweetness. "Baby, I'm sorry."

She can't help but lean into Tashi, seeking comfort in the midst of her disappointment. Her voice is hushed as she whispers, "I can't believe him." The depth of her frustration is palpable—yet—she finds herself caught in the web of Tashi's manipulation.

Tashi's tone is soothing as she comforts her, wrapping her in a hug. "He's just a boy," she says, "Boys are stupid like that."

Turns out, she seeks comfort in the familiar warmth of Tashi's arms just as much as Tashi too needs comfort, her own hidden emotional turmoil creating her need to hold onto her just as tightly. In that moment, she allows herself to find peace in their closeness, unaware of the hidden desperation within Tashi.

“Speaking of, I think Patrick’s cheating on me.” A sudden shift in conversation occurs when Tashi shares her worry, her words carrying a hint of uncertainty and unease

She leans back, her eyes widening in genuine astonishment. "Are you serious?"

Tashi's manipulation runs deep, her desire for control over her clear. She sees no happiness in her own relationship with Patrick—and in a twisted way—she wants to prevent her from finding happiness with Art. Tashi knows how to play the game, to control and maneuver the situation to her advantage.

"I mean, he's on tour. I don't know what I expected." Tashi says, her sigh tinged with sadness and disappointment.

“Fuck him.” She attempts to comfort Tashi, her protective instincts kicking in. "Seriously, what is wrong with those two?" she murmurs, her loyalty to Tashi shining through as she offers support.

Tashi's expression softens as she reaches out and takes her hand gently, her grip gentle but firm. "Hey, come sleep over at my dorm tonight," she says softly.

She finds herself agreeing eagerly to Tashi's suggestion, her desire to be there for her friend shining through. "I'll come over later," she confirms with a gentle smile, a touch of warmth in her eyes.

As the two girls part ways, there's an intimate moment where they share a look that holds a silent understanding—and perhaps a hint of something more.

As she rounds a corner on her way back to the building, she suddenly spots Art heading her direction. His presence catches her off guard, and she crosses her arms over her chest as if subconsciously bracing herself for the encounter. The timing couldn't be more comical.

The moment he sees her, he cluelessly makes his way up to her, a smile on his face as he greets her. “Hey, are you coming back from—“

"You told Tashi," she cuts him off, the disappointment evident in her voice. Her frown deepens as she looks at him, her frustration palpable."What part of 'this stays between us' did you not understand?"

Art's expression falters, and a mix of guilt and frustration washes over him. "No, listen," he says fervently, wanting to explain himself. "You know how Tashi is—she always manipulates her way into things," he tries to defend himself. "She coaxed it out of me."

Although Art is telling the truth about Tashi's manipulation, she remains unconvinced, choosing to side with Tashi.

Her arms remain crossed over her chest, her expression hard. "That's not what I heard from her," she retorts, her voice firm. "I just wanted some damn privacy, and you messed up."

"Well, Tashi's lying—that's such bullshit," Art's frustration and desperation to defend himself grows as he tries to make his case. "What reason would I have to go tell Tashi about all this?" he reasons, his voice tinged with a mix of defensiveness and disbelief.

“I don't know, but maybe you should get your priorities straight.” Her cold tone leaves Art feeling stung, the accusation hanging heavy in the air between them.

The sight of her leaving, her words echoing in the silence, leaves him feeling both hurt and frustrated. A small part of him breaks from the unexpected rejection, questioning the situation and their connection.

The calm ambiance within Tashi's dorm brings a sense of comfort. The room is bathed in a soft, warm glow cast by the faint orange light, creating a cozy atmosphere. The familiar melody of their favorite music echoes softly from the old stereo stationed atop the shelf, adding a touch of familiarity and nostalgia to the scene.

♬ I never was in love

You know that you were never good enough

Fall asleep right next to me

You know that you were never good enough … ♬

Tashi's laughter fills the air as she holds her face still, carefully attending to her eyebrows with a pair of tweezers. "Sit still," she chuckles, her tone filled with a hint of playfulness.

"Don't make my eyebrows disappear." She warns jokingly, a glint in her eyes as she peers up at Tashi.

“Done.” Tashi's thumb brushes against her eyebrows and she leans back to examine her work. A soft smile playing on her lips. Tashi’s compliment "beautiful" hangs in the air, and she can't help but let out a small huff of appreciation.

The warm lighting and soft atmosphere of the room add to the intimate moment, casting a gentle glow over the two girls as they sit together.

"You know, I missed this." She murmurs, feeling a similar sentiment reflected in Tashi's expression. Just as Tashi is about to stand up, she stops her, taking her hand gently. “Why did you really invite me over?” She asks, feeling there might be something underlying to Tashi’s intentions. “Need me because your boyfriend isn’t around?” The question lingers in the air, its playful tone laced with genuine curiosity.

Tashi smirks and with a firm yank, she draws her closer, her words carrying meaning. "You're here because nobody understands me like you do," she admits, her tone surprisingly sincere.

The room falls silent as their eyes lock, a charged intensity passing between them. The warmth of their joined hands contrasts with the electric air, creating a palpable tension that fills the intimate space.

As their faces draw closer, she can't help but let a smirk tug at her mouth. "What are you doing?" she asks in a tone tinged with playfulness. Tashi leans in further, their lips just millimeters apart, their breaths meeting in the charged space between them.

Tashi's response is direct and without hesitation. "You know exactly what I'm doing," she retorts.

"You sure you want this?" Her heart races with the implications of their actions. Tashi's reply is swift and decisive as she smirks. "I want it even more now that there aren't two losers watching us."

At that moment, any traces of mixed feelings she harbored towards Tashi go out the window.

The passion between them burns even more intensely than the first time, though this time it doesn’t feel rushed. They get to take their time and appreciate each other, the two girls naked and scrambling around in Tashi’s sheets. Their limbs seem to mingle around randomly—kissing each other’s neck, shoulders, back, collarbone, breasts.

Tashi’s eyes flicker down to a spot a little below her hip, her fingers gently tracing the contour of the small tattoo—a lily. With a soft surprise, she speaks up. "How come I've never noticed this before?"

"Oh, it's stupid." She chuckles softly, looking down at her own tattoo. "I got it done when I was sixteen. It’s pretty much hidden all the time," she adds, explaining the discreet placement of the tattoo.

Tashi's fingers glide gently along the pattern of her tattoo, the touch sending tingles down her spine. "Why a lily?"

"Because I like lilies." Her answer is simple, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. "And because it symbolizes a fresh start," she adds, a note of deeper meaning in her words.

The room fills with the sounds of their labored breaths and the soft rustle of bedsheets as their bodies press closer together. The intensity of their kiss deepens, a silent language of desire and connection passing between them.

A hint of playfulness dances in her eyes as she gives Tashi an instruction. "Sit," she says—her voice is firm but the corner of her mouth curls up into an adorable smirk. She pats her own shoulders, signaling for Tashi to obey the command.

"Sit? You want me to sit on your face?" Tashi repeats, a note of surprise in her tone.

"Don't make me beg." She teases, the tone of her voice laced with a hint of desire. She stares directly into Tashi's eyes, conveying that she's absolutely certain of her request.

With Tashi hovering over her, their eyes locked in a silent exchange of desire, the atmosphere between them thick with anticipation. Her eyes gleam with excitement as she gently grabs onto Tashi's thighs, securing her position and drawing her closer to her, bringing her down comfortably.

Tashi's slender body moves gracefully, her hips rolling back and forth in a way that's both captivating and sensual. Soft breaths of pleasure escape her, her desire growing with each lap of the redhead’s tongue against her core.

In return, she relishes the sensation of being beneath Tashi, embracing her submissive role in all aspects of her relationship with Tashi—on the court, and in bed. Being the one to bring Tashi this type of pleasure is a rush—a drug she's helpless to resist.

But, what brings her the most pleasure is waking up in Tashi's arms the next morning. The feeling of their bodies pressed against each other, skin-to-skin, it feels like she's won something precious—Tashi, and Tashi is all hers, even if only for that night. No matter how much she endures throughout their relationship—the tennis, Art, Patrick—what truly matters is this moment, where she holds Tashi close and feels in love.

But as she lies there in Tashi's arms, there's a small nagging voice in the back of her mind. She's aware of Tashi's manipulative tendencies, but she chooses to turn a blind eye, if it means she can have moments like this—moments where she feels loved and adored. It's a calculated decision, a compromise she's made, but the question remains—is it truly love, or merely a prize she's won at a cost?

Her thoughts are interrupted as Tashi’s phone's ringer breaks the peaceful silence. Tashi groans and pulls away from her, reaching for her bedside table to grab the phone, leaving her with Tashi's back facing her as she answers the call.

"Oh, it's you. How’ve you been, baby?" Hearing the nickname ‘baby’ coming out of Tashi's mouth sends a wave of annoyance through her, Patrick's presence looming over like a dark shadow.

She pulls the sheets over her head to muffle the sound of Tashi's voice, desperately seeking to drown out the painful reality confronting her.

"I miss you too." Tashi chuckles into the phone.

She slowly climbs out from the bed, the sheets falling away from her naked body as she begins to search the floor for her clothes.

“Hold on, I’ll call you right back.” Tashi hangs up and looks over at her. "You heading back?" she asks, her tone showing no hint of remorse or guilt.

Her voice carries a subtle sigh as she responds, her tone somewhat dry. "Yeah," she says flatly, pulling her t-shirt back over her bare skin.

"Don't be late. I told Art we’d start training at 9:30." Tashi instructs, moving with purpose as she begins to get dressed.

She blinks, accepting her fate—the reality of the situation. She doesn't regret their night together, but she wishes it had ended differently. Ultimately she feels like she fucked up, big time.

She begins to spiral towards the second week.

She offers Art a heartfelt apology, acknowledging her mistake in not believing his side of the story. She knows it unfortunately doesn’t fix the situation or completely mend the rift between them—things can’t return to the way they were beforehand.

She tries to avoid both Art and Tashi, pouring her energy into her studies in a desperate attempt to salvage her academic performance—her grades are slowly declining along with her mental state.

She notices as Tashi takes on a more prominent role in training Art, and perhaps intentionally, Art seems to be going along with it as a form of retribution against her. She suspects that—out of spite or as a form of punishment—he is willingly going along with this change to increase her downfall.

As she contemplates the situation, it dawns on her that Art may be just as in love with Tashi as she is.

She can’t help but think about how everything went downhill so quickly. She feels trapped at Stanford, surrounded by people she isn't sure she can trust, and compelled to participate in a sport she never even wanted to pursue in the first place.

"Seriously?" Tashi's gaze burns into her as she misses yet again, her voice filled with annoyance and disappointment.

Art stands on one side of the court, observing the situation at Tashi’s side, while she stands on the opposite side, racket in hand, her hair pinned up and her body sweaty.

"Your game is fucking horrible," Tashi states bluntly. With each of Tashi’s digs, she feels her frustration mounting, bordering on the edge of a breakdown.

She takes a breath and returns to her position. Art serves and the emotional dam within her begins to crack as she misses the return once again, slamming her racket to the ground with a loud clatter. "Fuck!" she curses loudly, her voice filled with frustration and tears beginning to form in her eyes. Uncharacteristic of her usually composed demeanor, she paces around the court, her clenched fists trembling with pent-up emotions.

Tashi stands with her hands planted on her hips, her voice carrying a hint of annoyance as she taunts her. "C’mon, stop being a pussy," she says, her words cutting through the air.

She glances at Art, searching for some form of support or defense from his end, but instead—she's met with a guilt-laden expression as he looks away. Anger boils within her as she shoves her racket into her bag. "Fuck the both of you," she mumbles as she storms off the court.

Patrick

It doesn’t help that Patrick's return to Stanford coincides with that week, adding an extra layer of complexity to the already tense situation. He immediately notices the shifts in the dynamic.

He decides to address it—at the most inopportune moment—his timing, as usual, leaves much to be desired. It only adds an additional dose of stress as she prepares for her upcoming match against Tashi.

♬ I fucking hate you

But I love you

I'm bad at keeping my emotions bubbled

You're good at being perfect

We're good at being troubled

Yeah … ♬

As she stretches and warms up for the upcoming match, she glances up and notices Patrick making his way toward her, a serious expression on his face. She stops her stretching momentarily and looks at him. "Where's Tashi?"

Patrick's annoyance is evident, his words carrying a hint of irritation. "We got into an argument." His expression shows a mix of frustration and lingering tension. The air between them grows tense with unspoken words

"What?" She pauses her stretching as Patrick's words sink in, her attention fully on him now.

His intimidating presence looms over her, his expression growing cold and accusatory. "Don't play dumb," he says in irritation. "Art told me about you." His gaze is locked onto hers as he practically towers over her.

She narrows her eyes defiantly, her voice growing in defensiveness and sarcasm as she counters, "What about it? Aren't you happy Art got some action?

"About you and Tashi." he clarifies, his voice taking on a more serious tone.

Did Tashi tell Art herself, or is this another consequence of her manipulation? The realization sinks in, and she knows that Art must have passed the information to Patrick—panic begins to crawl up her spine as her heart skips a beat.

Patrick's voice pierces through the air, cold and filled with spite. “You've got some fucking nerve, sneaking into my girlfriend’s bed when I'm not around," he spits out, his words laced with anger and disgust.

"Jealous because you weren't there to watch?" She challenges, her eyes locked on Patrick’s. She continues, her words laced with sarcasm and mocking. “You sure liked it that night at the hotel, huh?"

“That’s different.” Patrick maintains a serious demeanor as he responds, his voice firm.

"How so?" She presses—her eyes boring into him—awaiting his explanation.

Patrick's words hit hard. "Because it meant something this time. You’re in love with her, for fuck’s sake—everyone can tell." The truth of his statement renders the space silent for a brief moment.

Her frustration reaches a boiling point as she struggles to find a response. "Fuck you." She hisses at him, her voice laced with a mix of anger and helplessness.

Patrick drops the final bombshell, his voice cold and calculated. "You wanna know what else? She doesn’t love you back. She knows you’re the one person who can beat her, and she just needs to have that control over you."

She angrily grabs her belongings, the weight of Patrick's revelation hanging heavy in the air. "Fuck you and fuck Tashi," she spits out.

He follows after her, determined to keep the discussion going. "It's 'fuck Tashi' until she chooses you, right? and what about Art? Do you feel good playing games with his feelings?" His tone is harsh, his words aimed to provoke and guilt her.

"Playing games with his feelings?" She scoffs, her voice filled with frustration and annoyance. "You haven’t even been around, and you try to act like the judge here?" Her accusations hang heavy in the air, adding fuel to the fire of their argument. "Why did you and Tashi really get into an argument? Was it because of me—or because you can’t keep your dick in your pants when you're on tour?"

Patrick shakes his head in disbelief, attempting to turn the tables with his response. "That’s rich coming from you," he retorts, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

She tries to distance herself from the heated exchange, but Patrick continues to pursue her. Just as she’s about to push him away, a voice cuts through their altercation, calling out to Patrick. “Let it go, Patrick.” Art’s familiar voice causes both of them to stop in their tracks.

With a scoff, Patrick steps back, his expression frustrated and defeated. "Enjoy your match." He mutters as he turns and walks off, leaving her and Art alone together.

"How long have you known about me and Tashi?" She asks, her question hanging in the air.

Art's demeanor is surprisingly calm though she can tell everything has taken its toll on him just as much. His soft gaze meets hers, conveying a mixture of understanding and exhaustion. "Just forget about it. There's no point in dragging this out."

She buries her face in her hands, sighing deeply as the weight of their situation settles heavily on her shoulders.

As she steps onto the court for her long-awaited match against Tashi, a surge of anger and determination washes over her. The moment brings her back to the first time she faced Tashi, in the finals, and how she succumbed to Tashi's dominance under the pressure—not this time.

Tashi locks eyes with her from across the court, her gaze sharp and almost calculating. It's as if she knows what's going on in her mind, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife. Meanwhile, Art blends in amongst the spectators—silently watching from the sidelines—there's no sign of Patrick anywhere.

The heat of the match is palpable as she and Tashi face off against each other. They match each other's intense energy and aggressive rhythm, each swing sending powerful blows across the net. Harsh grunts fill the air as they play with fierce determination, neither giving any ground to the other.

The match abruptly comes to a halt as the sickening sound of bone cracking pierces the air. Tashi falls to the ground, clutching her knee in agony. Panic fills the air, and she reacts immediately, leaping over the net to be by her side. She drops her racket and kneels beside Tashi, her heart pounding in her chest as she tries to comfort her injured rival.

Art quickly sprints over from the bleachers, his expression filled with worry as he rushes to be next to her and Tashi. Their eyes meet, mirroring each other's fear. Tashi lies on the ground beneath them, her knee twisted in a horrifying position as she cries out in pain. It's a gruesome sight, difficult for either of them to look at.

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