char

“what are you starin’ at?” he yawns, stretching his back and arms. as he stretches, you watch the bottom of his abdomen get exposed, noticing the way he had gotten shredded. like, totally defined muscles and probably leaner than you’ll ever be shredded. you tear your gaze away, deciding to look at the ceiling, the fan, even the blank tv screen instead of his impossibly chiseled abs. 

“nothing, just was wondering if you’re still asleep…” you reply, picking at your comforter. 

“mhm, sure,” jacob smirks, obviously skeptical of your remark, scooting closer to you. you feel your breath hitch, mentally slapping yourself in the face. he’s not even doing anything! you need to pull yourself together! 

you expect him stop getting closer to you when there’s still some sort of space between you guys, but he doesn’t. he only stops once your legs are basically over his lap, and his arm is wrapped around your middle. 

“‘m not ready to get up yet…” jacob huffs, throwing his free arm over his eyes, the muscles bulging as he does so.

“okay,” you squeak, feeling your face heat up. if he doesn’t let go, you think you might faint. you try to wiggle out of grip, but its to no avail. he removes his arm from his face to furrow his brows, his hand now squeezing your middle even tighter. 

“what’s up with you? i can’t hold my best friend?” jacob questions, furthering his point by rubbing up and down your back. this isn't anything close to what "best friends" do. he had to be playing dumb, right? you decide to bite your tongue, taking a deep breath.

"it's not about that, jacob, it's just really hot in here," you huff, finally freeing yourself of his hold. you watch as his expression drops a little, his arm that was around you going behind his head to awkwardly rub at his neck. he starts to get up, stretching his legs and picking up his backpack he had brought to sleepover with. 

“well, its probably not a good idea for me to sleep in anyways, i should get going,” he mutters, swallowing harshly, “i’ll see you later today, okay? i’ll call you, or whatever..” 

you immediately feel guilty, not really wanting him to leave. actually, if you were being completely honest with yourself, the very last thing you wanted was for him to leave. 

“no, jacob, it’s not–” 

“it’s fine, n/n. it’s not that big of a deal,” he interrupts, his face contorted in a mix of hurt and embarrassment. he shuts your door behind him, not even saying goodbye. 

your stomach sinks. you didn’t mean to make it awkward or hurt his feelings, but he was the one making it weird. why of all of sudden, after all these months of being stuck on bella, is he trying to be, for a lack of a better word, romantic with you? were you just he rebound? you grabbed the pillow next to you, stuffing your face in it to scream as it its the only thing you feel you can do, only for it to smell like him. at this point, you can’t even lie to yourself that it’s platonic with you and jacob, and that you two are just "really close." you like him. a lot more than best friends. 

a/n: okay, another short one, but we're getting there! also, there had been a request for a taglist, so i decided to add one! comment if you would like to be added!

“you should see the way she looks at me! she’s never once looked at you like she’s in love with you!” 

“she barely ever even gets the chance to look at me, since you’re always rushing in front of her when she comes around us," art snarks, resting his head on his fist as he daydreams about you.

this had been the way things went since you arrived at stanford. the two boys were absolutely smitten over you. the way your curls fell in front of your face when you studied, the way you laughed with your girlfriends, even the way you picked food out of your teeth when you thought no one was looking. everything you did made butterflies spark in their tummies, and it was driving the both of them nuts. 

in perfect timing, the dinning hall doors peel open, and you step in. patrick drops his pizza, and art immediately starts fixing his hair in the reflection of his glass. you smile at them for only a moment, turning to go start filling your plate with the fixings of today’s menu. as you walk up to the table they’re sat at, they whisper in hushed tones to each other, trying to make a plan of how to not utterly embarrass themselves infront of you.

“what’s the matter you two? fighting again?” you ask exasperated, knowing full well of their little ‘competition’ over you. 

“n-no! well, not really at least. just patrick being patrick, y’know?” art replies awkwardly, trying everything in his power for you to smile at him instead of the brunette for once. 

“says you, dipshit!” patrick retorts as he elbows art, art doubling over due to the sensation in his ribs. you roll your eyes, picking at the salad taking up almost half of your plate. 

“you two need to get it together, it’s embarrassing how much you guys argue like little kids.” 

they both laugh anxiously, watching intently as you stuff your face. you take in the way art is flushed up to his ears, the red tinge only making his blue eyes pop more. cute, you think, smiling to yourself. 

“sorry, y/n. just hard to not act some sort of way around you…” art confesses, always trying to win you over with flattery. you chuckle, changing the subject as you finish your lunch. the entire time you eat, the boys can’t take their eyes off you. you feel their stares start at your lips, follow down your collarbone, trace down your breasts, where they get stuck for a moment, and then travel to your hands and fingers, trying to burn the view of your fingers clutching the sleek, silver fork into their retinas. it almost made you giggle how insync they were. how similar they were in every aspect, even if they couldn’t admit it. 

“well, i actually wanted to ask you guys something, if you two can behave," you mutter as you finish up your meal, dabbing at the corner of your mouth with a paper napkin. 

“yeah, what's goin’ on?” patrick answers, cutting off art in the process.

“there’s a mixer tonight, held by some sponsors of sports programs here. wanted to know if you two would up to come, since you guys are the talk of stanford sports at the moment," you tease, rolling your eyes as you think about the popularity they’ve garnered in sheer months at stanford. 

“y-yeah! totally! me and patrick are up for it, right, patrick?” art responds almost instantly, eyes lighting up with the opportunity of being seen with you, or even just being in your presence for that matter. patrick nods, taking a quick sip of water to try and calm the storm bubbling in his stomach. 

“yeah, im down," patrick says, trying to contain his excitement. this is my chance to make a move, he thinks, already coming up with ways to get you alone.

“good, meet me at my dorm at 9, and don't be late," you say, grabbing your tray and clearing your dishes, leaving the dinning hall. the boys shared a common look. they were done for. 

"well, let the best boy win..." patrick whispers to art, stalking towards the glass doors of the dinning hall, art following close on his trail.

when they arrived at your dorm, in their best polos and their nicest khakis, you knew you were in for it. those boys never dressed nice unless they were going out for a drink, or if they were trying to impress you. you assumed it was the latter. 

“i see you guys dressed for the occasion,” you taunt, taking them all in as the barge through your door, you not completely ready yet. you take a moment to check them both out – art was always cute to you, no matter what he wore, but seeing patrick in this sort of attire made nervousness bubble in your tummy. even though you’d never say it to their face, they’re both painfully attractive to you. you’ve always thought that of them. 

“i mean, we are the biggest asset to the sports program at this school right now. we always have to look our best around the public,” patrick chuckles, winking at you. you immeaditely look down, trying to hide the smile on your face. 

"yeah, sure..." you roll your eyes, spraying your perfume, watching as art shut the door and locked it. there's no way they're gonna make a move this early in the night, right? you think to yourself. oh, were you mistaken.

"y'know... we could always just skip the party… stay here, have some drinks, maybe play some cards. maybe get even closer as friends?” art paces as he talks, his eyes dragging over your body, and not so surprisingly, over patrick's body as well. predictable. “whaddya say, pat?” he turns to patrick, patrick looking over him with a similar hungry look art passed over patrick with earlier. 

“think a night in sounds fun…” patrick speaks, smirking to himself. 

“looks like we can both be winners, huh?” art says as he stalks over to you, patrick following suit. both of the boys tower over you as you feel your body buzz, flush rising to your cheeks. you suppose they were right, though. why choose when you can have both?

- older bf!toji, who never lets you go without anything. the newest phone, the trendy new shirt that’s all over tiktok, all of it. when you go to the mall, he’s willing to spend every cent that he’s ever worked for just to see you smile for a moment.

“this shirt is gorgeous!” you gush, looking up at him through your lashes as you pluck a flowy tank top off the rack.

“would look good on ya, babydoll,” he replies, taking in the way your face seems to glow as you thumb over the material of the frills.

“‘s a little expensive though, don’t you think?”

“you never have to worry ‘bout things like that ‘round me, baby,” he responds, plucking the shirt from your hands and throwing it into your already overflowing basket of items.

- older bf!toji, who always gives you a shoulder to cry on. no matter if it’s just that time of the month and you’re moody, or if you feel like your world is collapsing. he’s always ready to tend to with a hand in your hair and sweet words murmured in your ears.

- older bf!toji, who’s been on his best behavior after he realized that you weren’t as far from reach as you seemed. rarely smokes, stopped drinking, and never answers odd calls anymore.

“you gonna answer that?” you question as his phone rings due to the same caller for the third time as you guys enjoy an evening in, rain pattering on the windows and wind shaking the boards of your guy’s small home.

“nah, jus’ some old client i used to work for…” he mutters, the shame of his past evident in his tone.

“really? why not? always seems like its good money.” you emphasize the good part, knowing how much cash the odd jobs he never fully told you about would bring in.

“not worth risking leaving ya without me,” he responds fondly, squeezing you tighter on his lap and brushing stray curls away from your face.

- older bf!toji, who never lets you go to bed angry. even if you’re in the wrong (even though you never like to admit it), he makes sure you feel loved and understood before you turn in for the night, even if it means him waiting hours for you to be ready to talk to him and express how you feel.

“sweetheart?” he questions as he knocks on your guy’s shared bedroom door for the fourth time tonight. the door unlocks and opens slowly, your eyes still wet with tears and your expression still tinged with upset. “oh, babydoll…” he mutters as he pulls you to his chest, your shoulders shaking as you cry.

“‘m sorry…” you slur, pulling away from his chest to looking at him, to make sure he knows you mean it.

“no need to be sorry, dollface… know ya been upset lately,” he replies, wiping your tears with his thumbs. the rest of the night, he holds you and reassures you, only stopping his ministrations when your sniffles turn into snores.

- older bf!toji, who loves you with everything within him, and would never do anything to make you doubt that, no matter what.