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[dareistodo]

your new fic was actually perfect🥺🥺 the little moments like the chillwell part (lmaoo), dele complimenting eric’s tummy, dele deciding on olive🥺 i LOVED all of it. i always love your writing and this was one of my favessss

thank you so much 🥺🥺 i’m honestly overwhelmed by all the nice comments, it means so much💓 the chilwell bit was the first bit i wrote haha it set the tone for the rest of it

[dareistodo]

your new fic is okay x

aw stop you’re making me blush x

[dareistodo]

I really love your new fic 🥰

thank you so much!!! 🥺🥺 i’m so glad to hear that, i had a lot of fun writing it

[dareistodo]

“Let’s get married.” Eric says.

Dele opens a singular eye lazily. “Yeah, alright.”

“I mean it.”

He falls silent, eyes flicking across Eric’s face, searching, until slowly he begins to smile.

“Go on then, Dier. Let’s get married.”

snapshots of a married life

[dareistodo]

hi! if anyone has any prompts/pairings/fics they wanna see, let me know! i have lots of time and wanna write something people want

[dareistodo]

Will we get a jan congratulating winksy on his first international goal fic? Please

Okay sorry I’ve written it and I’ll post it later I’m sorry hahaha

[dareistodo]

aww don’t feel like you need to write deledier,etc. i promise there’s a lot of people here for your amazing writing not the pairing ❤️❤️

Thank you so much 💘💘 this is so lovely to hear thank you 🥺

[dareistodo]

Wow you've written a lot of Deledier I'm surprised that it's your least favourite to write. Why have you written so much of it if you don't like it??

It’s very stupid but because everyone else likes them (I know you should write what you want to blah blah). My first fics I didn’t wanna go off by myself too much so I went with them as a safe option and fics thereafter, I know that the pairing everyone wants is deledier so I just do it because of that. The only time I’ve actively chosen to write them for a good reason was for are you leaving? because no other pairing has the same. pre-established intensity? They do to carry off a plot like that

[dareistodo]

if you enjoy writing eric+ winks, you should write them! 🥰 idk i think they’re just so cute

They are aren’t they! And I do love writing them I defo will again at some point x

[dareistodo]

12, 13, 38, 48 🥰 love love your work:)

12) Who is your favourite character to write for? Why?

Doubt it’s a surprise but Winks. I put him in everywhere even when he has no right to be. He’s just so easy and fun to write and his personality can translate into a character in lots of ways I love

13) Who is your least favourite character to write for? Why?

Mm. I don’t think I’ve got a least favourite per se but people like Jan I find way trickier because I don’t them as well but I still love doing them. My least favourite thing to write is deledier though just because it’s never really been my thing and it feels kind of impersonal to me. Just a bit grating to write

38) If you could collab with any other writer on here, who would it be? (Perhaps this question will inspire some collabs!) If you’re shy, don’t tag the blog, just name it.

AGH. I honestly don’t know? I bounce ideas off Becca which is really fun and I have done a collab fic but it’s kind of tricky (fun though). This is such a pussyfooted answer I’m sorry

48) What’s your favourite trope to write?

Non-famous! Don’t even know if that’s a trope but I just love writing AUs like that. It takes away all the constraints involved in football and makes it more of just a story which is so much fun (I’ve still always gotta make it about football though). An actual trope - probs friends to lovers it’s a classic I wish I’d deviate from once in a while because it’s also probably very monontous

[dareistodo]

#18,27❤️❤️❤️

18) Do you have any abandoned WIP’s? What made you abandon them?

Soo many. At the moment in my docs I’ve got about 6 and that’s only because I haven’t committed to deleting them yet. I’ll have 10s of abandoned fics but most of them are deleted anddd I abandon them because I’ll get bored of them, they don’t work out how I expected or I’ll start something else I like more

27) Do you make a general outline for your stories or do you just go with the flow?

Depends on the fic. If I’m confusing myself or I feel like I’m just rambling and I’m not actually making any points I’ll stop and do a few bullet points but nothing more than that. I always just start off the bat, no plan - sometimes I think that’s really obvious hahaha

[dareistodo]

16 for 'you and we and i' and 17 please :)

16) How did you come up with the idea for you and we and i?

I’m not entirely sure! I love non-famous AUs and I’d been trying a few kid fic ideas (like they were still footballers but Eric also had a kid and Harry started getting involved) but the logistics for those ideas was gonna be too complicated for my impatience - Harry was a football coach because I still had to make it about football I suppose

17) Post a line from a WIP that you’re working on.

I’m not really writing anything at the moment but here’s a bit from something I started writing and might go back to:

“What’s your snapchat, mate?” Dele asks, picking potato from his teeth.

Harry can see the hairs of his eyebrows with how low he’s scrunching them. He cocks his head, stares at the smooth slope of Dele’s nose and the cut of his cheekbones even under his hood. He sighs.

“I’ll put it in.” He mutters, and Dele slides his phone across the table unlocked.

Harry looks at himself in the camera for a minute. His upper lip is crusted from his dribbling nose, eyes pink along the rim, all matted eyelashes and cracked lips. He sniffs in, noise loud and harsh, and shakes his head at his reflection, adding himself on Dele’s snapchat.

“Winks.” Dele smirks. Harry flushes. “See you around then, Harry Winks.”

[dareistodo]

Fanfiction Writer Asks

Most of the writer ask posts I come across are only like ten or so questions long so I thought I’d try to make a longer one because we like talking about our writing! Feel free to reblog!

1) How old were you when you first starting writing fanfiction?

2) What fandoms do you write for and do you have a particular favourite if you write for more than one?

3) Do you prefer writing OC’s or reader inserts? Explain your answer.

4) What is your favourite genre to write for?

5) If you had to choose a favourite out of all of your multi chaptered stories, which would it be and why?

6) If you had to delete one of your stories and never speak of it again, which would it be and why?

7) When is your preferred time to write?

8) Where do you take your inspiration from?

9) In your xxx fic, what’s your favourite scene that you wrote?

10) In your xxx fic, why did you decide to end it like that? Did you have an alternative ending in mind?

11) Have you ever amended a story due to criticisms you’ve received after posting it?

12) Who is your favourite character to write for? Why?

13) Who is your least favourite character to write for? Why?

14) How did you come up with the title for the xxx? - You can ask about multiple stories.

15) If you write OC’s, how do you decide on their names?

16) How did you come up with the idea for xxx?

17) Post a line from a WIP that you’re working on.

18) Do you have any abandoned WIP’s? What made you abandon them?

19) Are there any stories that you’ve written that you’d really love to do a sequel to?

20) Are there any stories that you wished you’d ended differently?

21) Tell me about another writer(s) who you admire? What is it about them that you admire?

22) Do you have a story that you look back on and cringe when you reread it?

23) Do you prefer listening to music when you’re writing or do you need silence?

24) How do you feel about writing smutty scenes?

25) Have you ever cried whilst writing a story?

26) Which part of your xxx fic was the hardest to write?

27) Do you make a general outline for your stories or do you just go with the flow?

28) What is something you wished you’d known before you started posting fanfiction?

29) Do you have a story that you feel doesn’t get as much love as you’d like?

30) In contrast to 29 is there a story which gets lots of love which you kinda eye roll at?

31) Send me a fic recommendation and I’ll post it for my followers to see! (The asker is to send the rec not the answerer)

32) Are any of your characters based on real people?

33) What’s the biggest compliment you’ve gotten?

34) What’s the harshest criticism you’ve gotten?

35) Do you share your story ideas with anyone else or do you keep them close to your chest?

36) Can you give us a spoiler for one of your WIP’s?

37) What’s the funniest story you’ve written?

38) If you could collab with any other writer on here, who would it be? (Perhaps this question will inspire some collabs!) If you’re shy, don’t tag the blog, just name it.

39) Do you prefer first, second or third person?

40) Do people know you write fanfiction?

41) What’s you favourite minor character you’ve written?

42) Song fic - What made you decide to use the song xxx for xxx.

43) Has anyone ever guessed the plot twist of one of your fics before you posted it?

44) What is the last line you wrote?

45) What spurs you on during the writing process?

46) I really loved your xxx fic. If you were ever to do a sequel, what do you think might happen in it?

47) Here’s a fic title - insert a made up title. What would this story be about?

48) What’s your favourite trope to write?

49) Can you remember the first fic you read? What was it about?

50) If you could write only angst, fluff or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

[dareistodo]

If you dont mind doing prompts and trent and ben (w); could you do something about trents birthday? Please?

Hiya! I’m sorry I’ve left this for so long and it isn’t for Trent’s birthday but I did write this for @trentsreds birthday and I hope it suffices!

—————

They meet in the middle. Trent had turned his nose up when Ben had suggested Birmingham, moaning an excuse that it’s a longer drive for him than it is for Ben and after a 30 minute argument that clogged up both their camera rolls with screenshots of the route on maps, they’d agreed on some unassuming town halfway between Oxford and Liverpool. Ben hadn’t heard of it before but, over FaceTime to a view of Trent’s bedroom ceiling as he clattered around in his en-suite, Trent had told him it has a Nando’s and a Wagamama’s so they should be fine. Ben had just snorted.

So he’s driving to the post code Trent had sent, tapping the wheel in time to the radio turned up obnoxiously loud. It’s after physio and training for Trent, so the roads are quiet and smooth, nothing slowing him down. He feels a little antsy like he always does, nervous energy and apprehension fizzing around inside of him; he misses Trent so much that every time seeing him again feels like walking through his front door and smiling at everything familiar. Trent could be home, maybe, the kind that’s a quiet love and comfort he craves when he’s away and melts into when he’s there.

Ben shakes his head to stop himself being so sappy, phone telling him placidly to turn left in 2 miles in order to reach his destination. It’s quiet around here, starting to get dark in the creep of winter; Ben can see Trent’s car, Trent propped up against it typing furiously on his phone, fingers playing with the frays in his jeans. He looks up at the sound of tyres crunching against grit and beams. Ben has to swallow a few times to push his heart back down his throat and into place. He grins back when he’s stopped convulsively swallowing, waving his fingers pathetically. Trent smirks.

“Hiya.” He says as soon as Ben’s swung his legs out of the car. He’s holding his arms out already. If Ben didn’t have 13 years experience of it, he’d probably blush.

“Hey.” He smiles back, arms around Trent’s shoulders, head tucked against his neck.

It’s funny, really, how this isn’t any different from normal. Ben’s tummy is still a mess of overlarge butterflies desperately flapping their wings, brain telling him over and over again, burning against his skull, this is a date, this is a date, this is a date, this is a -

“You alright?” Trent asks, looking at him funny.

“Hm? Oh. Yeah.”

Trent shakes his head exasperatedly, leading him through the door to where they’re evidently eating, somewhere cosy and dimly lit with prices that make his eyes ache. He scours the menu, wondering why on earth it’s so expensive for what is essentially a glorified pub, and gleans no answers.

“Costs an arm and a leg.” He mutters.

Trent rolls his eyes. “Enjoy it. Shite date, you are. Ungrateful.”

Ben scoffs and they kick at each other childishly under the table. Trent suddenly pulls his feet back, mouth gaping open as he apologises profusely and Ben stares at him blankly until he rambles about Ben’s injury apologetically and Ben snorts into his drink.

“I’m not made of glass.” Ben snorts, but secretly he’s a little touched.

It’s easy, and Ben berates himself because of course it is. They did this long before they labelled it as a date and they’ll do it long after. Trent tells him all about Melwood and the lads and listen with bright, clear eyes as Ben tells him about Oxford like he’s genuinely interested and doesn’t care about anything more than what’s coming out of Ben’s mouth.

“Such a sap.” Trent mutters when Ben’s licking his dessert spoon clean. He decided to forget about his nutritionist’s strict restrictions tonight. “You’ve been blushing all night, y’know.”

“Fuck off!” Ben snaps. “I have not.”

Trent just glares at him from under his eyebrows and Ben wonders if they’re gonna kiss again. He stares at Trent’s lips for a bit as he talks, wondering if they’ve always been that pink and he’s only just started noticing before Trent tells him off for not paying attention and he zones back in in time to smile at the waiter for the bill.

They leave in silence, hands brushing as they hiss at the cold. Ben smiles and knocks Trent’s side, glad when they fall back into a constant bickering whilst they walk to their cars. Somehow they’re the only ones parked in the car park, and Ben wonders if they can get away with it. If Trent is brave enough. He knows if he posed it like a challenge, Trent would do it on pain of death.

“I wanna kiss you.” Trent says suddenly as Ben’s mulling it over, chest puffed out before he visibly deflates. “Can I - can I kiss you?”

Ben rolls his eyes, smacking a hand off Trent’s shoulder so he lolls back exaggeratedly. “Of course you can kiss me. Muppet.”

Trent snorts, shaking his head in mock-disbelief before his face smooths out and he’s closer, closer, so close if he were to stay still at that distance Ben could count every one of his eyelashes. He’s just started wondering how many eyelashes that could be when Trent’s lips brush against his, chastely, softly. So gentle Ben wants to shove him again in exasperation whilst another part of him wants to preen and blush. He nips at Trent’s lip and flushes anyway, as he presses their lips together firmly.

His lips go numb somewhere along the line, dry and stingy, fingers cramping where they’re gripping the springy curls at the top of Trent’s head tightly. He’s vaguely aware that his jeans are starting to feel uncomfortable, but he can feel against his hip that Trent is too, so he doesn’t mind. One of them whimpers and another follows, sounds passed between them back and forth and eventually Trent whines so pathetically in his throat that Ben has to pull away to laugh helplessly into his chest.

“You alright there?” He teases.

Trent scoffs. “Never been better, mate.” And Ben lifts his head up to see his smile somehow sincere and joking simultaneously. He rolls his eyes again but something settles in his stomach fuzzy and warm. Christ, they’re ridiculous.

“Score another goal for me.” Ben tells him. “That’s how I’ll know you’re serious.”

Trent raises an eyebrow. “If I could score on command, Ben, y’know I would-“

“Smartarse.”

Ben’s expecting a similar, empty, taunt back so when Trent just pecks his forehead, warm and soft, he knows he goes pink. Trent giggles triumphantly, knocking their shoulders together roughly and it’s all so easy, just a natural transition that Ben wonders how much longer they could have had if they’d have put some more brain cells together a little earlier.

“We’re so bloody stupid.” He says ruefully.

Trent laughs, pressing him back into his car door again. “Speak for yourself.”

Ben opens his mouth to retort but it’s swallowed by Trent’s mouth, wet and messy and they’re laughing again when they pull away. They stand, forehead to forehead, so close Ben can only see a blur of smooth skin.

“I’ll see you soon, yeah?” Trent mumbles.

Ben smiles. “Duh. See you. Good luck.”

“You too. Don’t strain your foot.”

Ben rolls his eyes, mutters something about yes, mum and then they nip at each other without really saying anything before Trent peels himself away, for the final time.

“Love you.” He grins.

Ben returns it. “Love you too.” And it doesn’t cost him a thing to let go of, because they’ve told each other they love each other from 7 to 20, like they’d say hello or goodbye. Trent blows him a kiss with a wink as he pulls away and Ben scoffs, waving back, driving down the same road tapping the steering wheel in time to the radio, cheeks hurting with his smile.

[dareistodo]

prompt; one person gets sick and the other fusses over the person with a couple of your choosing ❤️

Jan wakes up to Harry’s hair tickling his nose, the sound of his steady breathing ringing in his ears. He shifts restlessly against Harry’s back, trying not to nudge Harry too much but the slightest movement aches through his bones. He whines, keeping his muscles rigid but that only emphasises the way his body feels bruised black and blue. He tries to lay limp instead, the pain merely radiating weakly then, but that allows him to notice how he can’t breathe through his nose and, because of this, his mouth is dry and stale with the effort of breathing alone. He groans, pressing his nose gently into the juncture between Harry’s neck and shoulder, peeling himself away as soon as he thinks about how he’s definitely contagious. His wriggle away isn’t as subtle as he thought, because the mattress dips as Harry rolls over, eyes slits glued together with sleep.

“Mornin’.” Harry mumbles sleepily, voice gruff like it is in the morning. His head rustles against the pillow a few times before he settles into the duvet pulled up to his nose.

“Good morning.” Jan croaks. God, his saliva feels like acid. His throat’s been scratched up by a set of sharpened nails.

Harry squints at him. “Jan?” He asks, endearingly confused, not quite concerned yet. “You alright?”

Jan chuckles. It feels like a punch in the stomach. “Of course.” He attempts to smile, but his skin is too tight and achey. He lets out a tired, dejected sigh instead.

“You’re poorly.” Harry tells him firmly. He’s rubbing into his eyes. Jan can see how his eyelashes are all clumped together with sleep. It makes him want to stroke Harry’s hair and kiss his forehead, but the taste in his mouth is too repulsive to share.

“I’m fine.” Jan tries but Harry clicks his tongue and shakes his head, stumbling out of bed and hopping around the bedroom with one leg in a pair of Jan’s joggers that bunch up at the ankle, drawstring pulling in all the material at the waist.

“Shut up and let me get you some medicine.” Harry smiles, and Jan just has a chance to think about how nice it feels to be looked after for once, even though Harry being the one to look after him is vaguely comical. Maybe that makes it all the nicer. “D’you like warm Ribena? That’s what my Mum always gave me for colds, dunno how much it helps but it tastes nice, nice on the throat. Hey.” He wanders back over, hair on his arms sticking up in the cold of the room. “Prop yourself up.”

Jan smiles up at him helplessly as he gathers all the pillows on the bed and puts them behind Jan’s head, hardly believing it as Harry cards through his hair like Jan does to him. The role reversal makes him feel almost as disjointed as the sudden inability to breathe through his nose does. He wants to fight back, vaguely, but the clenching of his stomach muscles needed to get out of bed burns through him. He settles back into the pillows with a little grunt.

“Just let me look after you.” Harry scolds lightly. “Stubborn bastard.”

Jan barks with laughter, not thinking about how it’ll hurt his throat and stares at the ceiling as he listens to Harry trot down the stairs humming to himself, telling himself what he needs to remember for Jan as he taps along the bannister. Jan can just hear him saying get chicken soup later or something, what does Mum normally do to himself absentmindedly, and he has to turn the telly on before his cold-softened brain completely melts over Harry.

He’s vaguely entranced by Loose Woman when Harry comes back in with a cup of tea and handful of paracetamol, water bottle and cough syrup held under his arm. He smiles at him brightly, still shirtless, hair all bed-messy and Jan damns whatever’s made him ill because he wouldn’t mind pulling his own joggers down Harry’s thighs and thrusting slow and lazy.

“What’s with the slapped arse face, eh?” Harry teases, curling in beside him after surveying him take the medicine. “It’s just a little cold.”

Jan snorts, massaging his throat as the sound burns. “Don’t wanna be ill.” He croaks. “Wanna fuck you.”

Harry pinks, freckles painted over peach cheeks. He coughs lightly, a little flustered even still by the words and that makes Jan smirk smugly, semblance of his usual control back. Harry turns back to look at the telly like he thinks that’ll mean Jan can’t see his blush.

“Drink your tea.” He mumbles, even as he presses into Jan’s body, fingers stroking along his bare arms. The pressure aches but Jan doesn’t want to mention it.

It’s nice, and in a way Jan hates that because he’s ill but Harry stroking his skin and playing with his hair and bringing him tea and getting him tissues is so nice it doesn’t take long before he’s milking the attention Harry would never deny him, making him go to the shop to get him soup and ice-cream and wondering if he’s taking advantage as Harry trots away obediently, swinging his car keys between his fingers and telling Jan in a sing-song voice that if he wants anything else, just to call.

“I like looking after you.” Harry tells him earnestly, bringing in his soup on a tray with a piece of bread all nicely buttered and the Lemsip Jan wanted because warm Ribena didn’t do quite what Harry promised it would. “It’s fun.”

Jan chuckles, shoving Harry weakly. “I’m sick!”

Harry shrugs, slightly sheepish. “I know! I just like being able to help you. Doing something for you, for once.”

Jan smiles at him helplessly, skin all feverish hot and mind goopy with his cold, so he can’t be blamed for muttering something about how he loves Harry, just before Harry jokingly spoon feeds him chicken soup that he ends up dribbling half of his down his chin when they can’t stop laughing. Jan tries to press a kiss to his cheek when he’s wiped his mouth clean, just a little thank you and because, below the ache of illness deep in his bones, there’s an ache for intimacy he hasn’t had today, but Harry holds a hand out, shoving him away and back into the pillows gently.

“I’m not gonna get you sick!” Jan whines, head thudding back against the pillows. He sulks until Harry kisses the corner of his mouth lightly, little resigned sigh leaving his mouth as he lets Jan press their lips together properly, mumbling something against his lips about how gross he is.

————

“Jannnnn.”

Jan grunts, burrowing further forward into Harry’s body curled into his front. He slings a hand across his waist blindly, and Harry whines. Jan opens one eye and slowly extracts himself until he’s hovering above Harry, still laid on his side, sniffling pitifully into the pillow.

“Jan.” Harry chokes. Jan rolls his eyes. “Jan, I’m poorly.”

Jan tuts and nudges him gently until he rolls onto his back, mouth hanging open as he breathes harshly through it. He coughs and then sniffs; the gurgling sound is repulsive and Jan scrunches up his nose in disgust.

“Yes.” He agrees. “You’re poorly.”

Harry coughs weakly and glares at him. “And who’s fault is that?” He snaps, but the effect is lost in the coughing fit that invades the end of his sentence.

“Dunno.” Jan grins, already leaving the room to get him medicine and tea. “Must be your weak immune system, no?”

[dareistodo]

Your Harry/Ben was really amazing, especially how you write their dynamic. Would love to read more of them :)

thank you!!! funnily enough someone else also mentioned them so i just posted a prompt with those two x

[dareistodo]

Chilly and winksy - winksys dreams come true when madders has to go home over international break

It’s not that Harry hates Madders, because he really doesn’t. He doesn’t hate anyone - apart from the odd Arsenal fan who’s barbed insults about Spurs wriggle under his skin more than they should - so he definitely doesn’t hate Madders.

He actually quite likes him. He’s loud and brash and Harry likes that in people, especially when their loudness and brashness is funny too, and Madders can make Harry laugh for hours. He’s like every other boy Harry’s friends with, a spin-off of the same brand Harry is. He likes Madders. They get on fine.

It’s just that Madders, being loud and brash, demands a lot of attention. Specifically that of Ben. And that’s fine too, because they’re best friends and Harry knows and respects that and he’d never worm his way into it, just like he wouldn’t with Marcus and Jesse or Dele and Eric, but international break, when Gareth actually deigns to call him up, is the only opportunity he gets to see Ben and he wouldn’t mind having some of that time concentrated just on them. Him and Ben.

He thinks about it wistfully as he watches Ben across the players lounge when they’re all crowded in upon arrival, buzzing off each other with beams and firm handshakes before reality sets in and they argue over who took the last fried egg at breakfast and whether that tackle was really a pen and, actually, we should’ve beaten you, why are you screaming at me for saying that?

It’s the equilibrium that makes Harry smiley and happy, hovering around Danny even though Danny glares at him sternly for it from the very corner of his eye whenever they’re left alone just the two of them again. Harry just smiles sheepishly and shrugs and Danny sighs but stays where he is, shielding Harry, despite being even shorter.

Madders is ruffling Ben’s hair which is soft and wavy and thick, falling into his eyes with the highlights Harry spent 30 minutes taking the piss out of with increasingly creative insults and that he still doesn’t really like. He doesn’t mind that, though, because he still wants to play with the little strands that curl on his forehead when he pushes it back even if he doesn’t like the colour that much.

*

Ben grins at him, skin all glowy from the breakfast buffet hot plates and Harry has to bite his tongue and call himself some choice names in his head for being so ridiculous. He tears his next piece of toast off so aggressively he splits the piece in half and it thuds to his plate in a little shower of black crumbs because he didn’t realise the toaster here was so powerful. Ben slides into the seats opposite him and puts his sliders over Harry’s trainered toes and slides a piece of perfectly cooked toast onto his plate with a grin.

“Shocking culinary skills, mate.” Ben scoffs, waving a forkful of cooked tomato in his direction and Harry feels his cheeks pink as he laughs.

“Even I can cook better than that!”

Ben chuckles and immediately turns to Madders to berate him, shoving and prodding him with firm fingertips all over his arms and chest and Harry sighs, slumping down into his seat as Ben’s feet leave his under the table and Madders sits down next to Ben with a cursory smile shot in his direction.

*

“The only way you can survive is if one of us nets a free kick. You picking me or Winksy?”

Harry perks up at his name, essentially galloping the short distance from Kane’s shoulder to Ben’s side. Barkley is glancing between them, sizing them up, face set solemnly. Harry starts giggling as his deliberation drags on and Ben shushes him playfully, pinching his hip. Harry instinctively pushes into his side and now they’re pressed together hipbone to hipbone.

“Chilwell.” Barkley declares, looking over his shoulder for support and then Sterling is agreeing, and then Sancho and Harry’s trying to smooth out his scowl.

“Hey.” Ben teases him, pinching him again, the soft skin stretching across his waist now. “First to get it wins. Prove ‘em wrong.”

Harry hasn’t scored a free kick in his life. Maybe he would’ve done, if people had asked him to more, but he’s Harry Winks and he has no reason to be in front of goal, so no one’s ever bothered to ask him to be. Sure, he can get on the end of a cross when the cogs of his brain tell him to run at the right time but his accuracy is shocking. He can barely hit the dartboard playing darts.

But Ben is ruffling his hair, so softly he’s really just stroking through it gently, and Harry sighs all warm and content and nods. He vaguely hears everyone cheer but it’s background white noise to the buzzing that’s Ben teasing him, praising him, wishing him luck all in the same short breaths.

“We’re diabolical.” Harry giggles 10 minutes later, stomach aching from laughing so much, pitch in front of them an obstacle course of failed balls. Their audience left after the first few failed attempts but Ben kept on setting them up and Harry kept on playing along, because he loves that he’s the one making Ben laugh right now. Even if it’s through his own incompetence.

“Oi!” Harry turns, breathless smile still plastered on his face, and Madders is jogging towards them, going for the ball Ben just set down and of course, strike clean as a whistle, he bangs it into the top corner with a smirk. Ben wolf-whistles and clambers on Madders’ back and Harry wanders back off to hang off Danny’s elbow, knowing his time in Ben’s spotlight has run out.

*

“What did you think of the series finale then, eh?” Ben asks, flopping onto the settee beside him with a soft thump. He immediately stretches his legs out so his calves are crossed over Harry’s legs folded neatly in front of him. Harry leaves a hand around his calf and tries not to squeeze.

“Of Peaky Blinders?” He asks, wanting to tuck the bit of hair covering Ben’s left eyebrow behind his ear as he watches it tickle his eyelashes. Ben nods, jaw working at the chewing gum in his mouth.

Harry launches into an eager monologue, hand gestures and eyebrow movements although his palm wrapped around Ben’s leg never leaves and sometimes when he’s caught in the middle of a sentence, he puts pressure in his grip without thinking and he can feel Ben’s muscles tensing. He tried not to think about that as he bemoans the ending and how he really, absolutely cannot abide cliffhangers.

“I actually quite like ‘em.” Madders declares, arms crossed over the back of the sofa, fingertips dangling in front of Ben’s face. Some of those fingertips brush back the hair Harry wanted to tuck behind his ear. “Keeps it interesting, innit?”

Harry’s mouth opens and closes a few times before he shrugs, realising he isn’t being listened to anyway because Madders is telling Ben about what Mings just said over at the pool table and Harry knows the conversation is open and he is very much invited but he still wriggles out from under Ben’s legs and trundles over to Trippier watching telly, even though his comments about Poch make Harry’s skin hot and itchy with anger, and he really couldn’t give a shit about how difficult it is learning Spanish.

*

He’s just on the phone to Dele with a little summary of the goings on and every single comment he has heard about Dele since his arrival, getting a little bratty when he sulks about how Madders is always around Ben and Harry never gets any of Ben’s attention and how badly he just wants him to himself, just for a little bit, when there’s a knock and then a thud at his door. Harry leaves his phone on the bedside table, Dele still snapping away about why he couldn’t give less of a fuck about Harry’s pathetic Ben issue when he’s sat on his arse at home, and opens the door to Ben, grinning breathlessly and already wandering in.

“Oh, hi, Del.” Harry hears him call over the muffled ranting still echoing from Harry’s phone. There’s a beat of fuzzy quiet before silence, Dele hanging up. Harry snorts.

“Madders’ got a little cold.” Ben tells him, lying on his side on Harry’s bed, already reaching for the remote. “Load of fuss about nothing, complete wuss, but he’s been sent home.”

Harry has to sink his teeth into his bottom lip to keep from smiling, making the appropriate sympathetic noises and asking the right questions until he’s lying on his side next to him, curled in so they’re facing each other. Their knees touch and Ben smiles at him, soft and quiet and Harry wriggles closer until his head is pressed under Ben’s chin and Ben’s fingers are stroking through his hair and he can feel the gentle rumble of Ben’s laugh as they chat and tease each other. When Ben’s distracted with the telly, Harry unlocks his phone and texts Madders, get better soon, mate, hope ur alright x and tosses his phone away as Ben strokes the soft skin at the back of his neck.