whether it was his own apartment, a friend’s place, or his family home, the left corner of the couch belonged to fraser. he told you it was just a reflex, something automatic, to gravitate toward that side when you asked him why that spot specifically. and while that was true, there was more to it. he always sat on the left side in cars, or slept on the left when he and his brother had to share a bed. as silly as it might sound, the left side just reminded him of home and childhood.
of course, when people who didn’t know him well took his sacred little spot, he didn’t get angry. but the second connor, mason, or one of his cousins even dared to look in that direction, fraser would shoo them away or drag them off the couch by their feet.
that’s why during summer, when you were over at his parents’ house with nearly the whole family present and everyone mingling, people exchanged looks when you took fraser’s spot, some silently considering whether they should tell you to move. but then something no one expected happened: fraser simply walked over with the softest smile, the one reserved just for you, so different from all his others. he sat down next to you, kissed your temple, and rested his head on your shoulder.
“you know, i was wondering,” you said one night, looking at fraser in the mirror as you brushed your teeth and got ready for bed.
“hmm?” his blue eyes met yours in the reflection, the corners of his mouth still messy with toothpaste.
“why do you let me sit on your side of the couch? you nearly threw connor over your shoulder the other day, but you never make me move.”
fraser stopped mid-motion, set his toothbrush aside, and rinsed his mouth. you could see the tips of his ears turn red as he patted his face dry with a towel. he reached for his glasses and cleared his throat nervously.
“i guess… i guess it’s comforting, in a sense,” he said. “that sounds so stupid.”
you wrapped your arm around his waist, and with your mouth still full of toothpaste, you mumbled, “not at all, baby.”
fraser cracked a smile and shook his head slightly. “it’s the same as you wearing my jersey. or when you text me goodnight on road trips. or when you grab my hand in crowds. seeing you sit in my spot just makes me feel like i’m truly at home.”
𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐑
connor means business when it comes to food – you do not touch what’s his. he’s reluctant to share even a bite of his order, always bawling internally when handing over a portion for someone else to taste. when he was younger, connor used to throw tantrums if anyone touched something he had left for later in the fridge, and would give his cousins and friends the silent treatment, stubbornly ignoring them for the rest of the day (until someone bribed him with extra food).
years later, at nearly 21 years old, he still acts like a grumpy little kid whenever someone messes with his food.
enter you, who can get his whole meal without even having to ask. sometimes you joke that he’s acting like a mom of five, but connor just shakes his head and insists you need to eat to stay healthy and strong. that makes perfect sense – but what doesn’t is how anyone else is met with a threat of murder for taking one of connor’s fries, while you get a whole burger handed over without a single complaint.
fraser took advantage of connor being distracted by a couple of kids at the table next to yours and reached for a nugget from his plate. “so did you– ouch,” he exclaimed, looking at the red patch forming on his skin where your boyfriend had just slapped his hand away. “what now?” humour laced his voice as he noticed connor’s unamused stare. “it’s just a piece of chicken, man. you just drank half my coke.”
“yeah, but that’s different,” connor muttered, glancing between the nuggets and his friend, ready to defend them if fraser tried to steal another one.
“oh yeah? how so?”
your boyfriend rolled his eyes, and you could help the giggle to escape your lips.
“oh my god, why do you always have to ask so many questions?” he groaned, throwing his head back. “i don’t know. it just is,” he said, but reluctantly put one of the nuggets on fraser’s plate. “just eat it before i change my mind.”
“your boyfriend is a child.”
“tell me about it,” you replied, nudging connor with your elbow and reached for his fries, dipping them in ketchup. “have to live with it almost 24/7.”
“here, just have them all,” connor said, letting the teasing go over his head as he slid the plate toward you, a small, content smile settling on his face.
“you’re impossible,” fraser breathed, shaking his head. “you nearly decapitated me over one nugget, and she gets a whole plate?”
connor simply shrugged. in his mind, it made perfect sense – and that was the end of the discussion.
𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐘
sidney has always been a bit… particular about his personal belongings. it wasn’t that he got angry or frustrated when people moved his sticks, spilled coffee on that one navy suit jacket he’d been planning to wear for the game the next night, or commented on his shoulder pads that had somehow survived what felt like the ten plagues of egypt. okay, maybe sometimes he did. but more than anger, what he really felt was discomfort – that quiet, uneasy shift inside him, like something had been slightly knocked out of place and his thoughts couldn’t help but circle it.
some days he handled it better. on others, even the smallest change could feel like too much, building into something he couldn’t easily ignore.
that was why everyone around him had learned to be careful with sid’s things, careful not to disturb the order that made everything feel just a little more manageable for him.
but if there was one person who could rearrange his ties in the closet, move the vase in the living room to a different spot, or tease him about his ancient gear, it was you.
and if sid ever tried to explain why that tight, anxious feeling softened when it was you, he wouldn’t have the right words at first. eventually, he’d probably say it was because you made everything feel safe. familiar. like nothing could truly be wrong if it was you. your trust, your warmth, your understanding – they didn’t erase the feeling completely, but they quieted it, like a hand gently smoothing out the edges of his thoughts.
and whenever any of the boys were at your place and you happened to be cleaning or ironing his suits, they never dared to joke about it or tease sid about how you could do it, but they couldn’t. instead, they would just exchange quiet, knowing smiles in your direction – the kind that didn’t need words. it wasn’t something they questioned. it just… was. the way you looked after him fit so naturally into the rhythm of his life that it almost felt like it had always been there.
𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋
will is a certified blanket hogger. his cousins hated his ass when he came over for sleepovers, and their mum made them sleep in one bed. he’d leave them cold and shivering, wrapped in a cocoon from head to toe, only his blond curls would stick out (which also happened to be a perfect target for them to pull to wake him up).
and while will doesn’t consider himself to be a selfish person in the slightest, when it comes to duvets, blankets or whatever else he uses as a cover during sleep, it’s his and only his. there is no point in trying to steal it even after he falls asleep – he’ll wake up just enough to yank it back and, in the process, probably leave you with a bruise from blindly searching for the edge.
so imagine his cousins’ outrage when, during one of your trips back to his home, they found you asleep on the couch, actually covered. and he was right there next to you, the blanket barely draped over him.
“i’m going to strangle him.”
“this little fucker.”
“are we sure it’s him.”
they truly couldn’t believe their eyes, because how could this be the same person who had terrorised them just a few years back. at the same time, they couldn’t deny how adorable you two looked, especially with how pathetically in love will looked, even while napping.
it was one of the first things you noticed when you started dating him – how gentle he became in small, quiet ways. the way he’d tuck you in before leaving for practice in the morning, careful not to wake you. how he’d drape a blanket over you when you fell asleep on his shoulder during movie nights. how, even half-asleep, he’d adjust it around you, making sure you were warm.
when he sleeps beside you, he’s still a blanket hogger. just not for himself.
𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐈𝐍
mack is rather… strict about the music he listens to in the car. especially in the morning. after games. after losing games. before dinner. when he’s stuck in traffic. ideally, he wouldn’t listen to music at all – but since he’s usually getting rides from other people, he has no choice but to submit to the torture that is someone’s shitty taste in music. and most of the time, it’s not even about the music itself. mack just gets overstimulated by the sound. he’s surrounded by noise almost 24/7, rarely getting the chance to just sit in silence, so music, in general, is a sore subject for him.
will, who’s been permanently banned from touching the AUX, is the most unhappy about this arrangement. you’d think he’d get special treatment, but whenever he even tries to go near it, mack threatens to leave him in the middle of the road. bribing you doesn’t work either.
you’re the only one who can play whatever you want without him getting irritated. rock, taylor swift, EDM, k-pop, jazz – whatever your heart desires. he’ll just nod along, drumming his fingers against the wheel from time to time.
“dude, we’ve been listening to this girly shit for like an hour now,” will groaned from the backseat, throwing his head against the headrest. too bad he lost rock-paper-scissors for the passenger seat, though mack would’ve made him sit in the back anyway. maybe then he would’ve had a chance to put something else on.
“oh my god, stop whining.”
your boyfriend looked like he was five seconds away from murdering his best friend, who just wouldn’t shut up. both of their hair was still messy from the shower, their suits wrinkled by now, but mack looked like he’d just come out of the trenches.
“then let me put something else on.”
“no.”
mack didn’t even glance at him as he turned the volume up, earning a quiet giggle from you, and another dramatic groan from will.
𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌
wille is sunshine personified – a smile never leaves his face. he’s kind and patient, and you swear his laugh could make even the biggest grump crack. he’s great, although a little shy with new people, always making polite small talk and going out of his way to compliment them. he’s the type of guy your mum and grandma would instantly fall in love with, and your dad would already be figuring out how to get him over for the next barbecue.
however, beware.
your sweet, golden-retriever boyfriend has one very specific trigger: his swedish candy. he does not play about that shit. first of all, he has a special place in his apartment to store it, as if it were the crown jewels. you used to joke that he should install laser beams around the drawer in case anyone tried to steal from it.
wille didn’t find that funny. because, again – this is serious business.
whenever you have someone over and he forgets to hide it, and they ask if they can have some, you have to suppress the laughter bubbling up at your boyfriend’s miserable expression. still, asking is one thing, at least he’s prepared. but when mack, will, and misa pulled a prank on him and somehow managed to steal the entire drawer, he almost saw the gates of heaven.
obviously, you’re the exception. even better – he always gets extra smiley when he sees you eating it. there’s just something about watching you enjoy something that’s so dear to him. like you’re indulging in the real him – the wille eklund part, not just the san jose hockey player.
the fact that you want to try food and sweets from his country? it makes him melt every time.
so if there’s one person who can get away with stealing his precious candy, it’s you – and only you.
That thing where you stomp towards the toddler to hug it but the toddler gets frightened bc you look like you’re about to attack it like a shark. Eky, you will be missed.
