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bobasheebaby · 6 years

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Full of Surprises- Following Her Heart Chapter 8

Pairing: Athena x Perceval, Tabitha (Minor OC)

Word count: 1,695

Warnings: angst, fluff (I blame Athena for the angst)

Summary: Percy surprises Athena with a wedding planner

A/N: @mrsnazario1223 co-wrote this with me. Love you girl!

It had been a few days since Athena had arrived at Percy’s duchy and she was settling in nicely. It was as if they were perfectly in sync with each other. Things were calm and quiet, never rushed. They spent the days exploring her new home, Percy loved her wide-eyed amazement when he showed her the estate. Nights were spent cuddled together, sometimes in front of the fire, other times tangled together between the sheets.

Athena loved going to sleep in his arms every night and waking up still wrapped in his warm embrace. The lazy mornings they spent making love were her favorite. She would be perfectly happy just staying in bed with him all day.

One morning she woke up after Percy, he obviously let her sleep in. As she descended the staircase searching for her fiancé, she heard a woman’s voice mixed with his chuckles. Her stomach dropped as she rushed towards the voices.

“Good morning doll.” He greeted her as she entered the kitchen.

“Who is this?” Athena question gesturing to the unfamiliar brunette.

Percy walked over to Athena, kissing her lightly on the lips as he wrapped an arm around her waist. “I thought we could start planning our wedding so I hired us a wedding planner to assist us.” He said grinning.

“Percy, you didn’t have to.” Athena said, she mentally chastised herself for doubting him. How could she have ever thought he’d cheat on her?

“I know doll, but I thought Tabitha could help us.” He replied kissing the top of her head.

The wedding planner, Tabitha, had just shy of shoulder length dark brown hair and Hazel eyes, she was gorgeous, intimidatingly so. She was petite, her heels didn’t even make her as tall as Athena in flats.

She looked intimidating, like she was judging Athena, or was she just being to sensitive? Had things with Liam screwed her up so much she felt she couldn’t trust the man she loved? She knew he’d never hurt her, so why did she feel so threatened by the brunette?

“Oh, Percy that sounds wonderful” she said giving him a weak smile.

“You okay doll?” He asked concerned as he pulled her aside.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” She answered trying to sound convincing.

“I don’t believe you doll, you know you can tell me anything.” He said, his eyes staring into hers, like the truth he sought could be found there.

“It’s just that she’s so gorgeous, it’s a little intimidating.” Athena said coming clean, she felt ridiculous saying it out loud.

Percy kissed her forehead. “Huh, I didn’t even notice. As far as I’m concerned you are the most beautiful woman in this room. Now come on doll, let’s plan our wedding.” He said kissing her once more on the forehead before leading her back.

“You must be Athena, pleasure to meet our blushing bride.” Tabitha said, much kinder than Athena was expecting, holding out her hand to shake Athena’s.

“Nice to meet you Tabitha.” Athena replied shaking her proffered hand.

“Okay Tabitha. I want you to give Athena whatever she wants. I know she has a specific vision and I want to make all of her dreams come true.” Percy said smiling down at Athena.

“If you’d like to get ready Athena, I have some venues lined up that I’d like to show you today.” Tabitha stated.

“Doll are you sure you’re okay?” Percy asked, looking down at her concern etched on his face.

“Yeah. I don’t know, I just still feels like none of this is real, like it’s all part of a wonderful dream.” She replied softly, looking down at her hands. She was still chastising herself for doubting this wonderful man.

“It’s real doll. I love you and I promise I’m not going anywhere. If this is too soon for you I can have her come back.” Percy told her, his hand on her shoulder as a gentle reassurance.

“No! Percy, I can’t wait to marry you! It’s just I don’t need a big wedding, I just need you.” She replied, feeling more sure of herself.

"We don't need to have a big wedding to have a planner doll. We can make it as small or as big as you want it. As long as I get to marry you, the details will fall into place." Percy responded, kissing the top of her head.

“Now go get ready doll!” He stated lightly smacking her ass as she walked away, receiving a shake of her ass and a peel of giggles in response. He growled to himself, if only they weren’t about to leave to check out wedding venues the things he’d do to her.

Athena ran off to get dressed her pep returning, she quickly threw on a long sleeved sweater dress, and a pair of simple flats. She applied light makeup and ran a brush through her hair before returning. Percy smiled when he saw her come back down the stairs, his happy doll back, he encircled her waist and led her out to the car to check out the first venue.

They pulled up in front of a large church, Athena internally grimaced, she put on her perfect courtly smile taking Percy’s hand as they followed Tabitha inside.

“Now, Athena this is the church they use for royal weddings, but there are two other options.” Tabitha explained as Athena looked around.

The church was grand, too grand, with its high vaulted ceiling, many arches, ornate carvings, imposing pews, it all felt like too much, it didn’t feel like her and Percy.

“It’s beautiful, but it doesn’t feel like us.” She said, hoping on of the next stops would feel like them.

“I understand, you want something a little less grand.” Tabitha replied as she sashayed to the car.

“Yes, exactly.” Athena agreed, believing that Tabitha understood.

As they pulled up to the second venue, it became clear to Athena that Tabitha didn’t understand at all. They were in front of another large imposing church, she forced her smile, praying Percy wouldn’t notice it was forced as she linked arms with him before entering the church.

The inside was just as grand as the outside, high vaulted ceiling, arches, and gold, and more cold imposing pews. Again it just didn’t feel like them, she just shook her head. Tabitha just turned on her heal and led them back to the car.

This time Athena wasn’t optimistic that Tabitha had what she was looking for, her gut was proven right when the pulled up in front of the third and final venue, another grand church. This time she couldn’t conceal her grimace as they walked inside. More gold, more vaulted ceilings, and again with the cold and imposing pews. This wedding planner didn’t get them at all.

“What’s wrong doll?” Percy asked, sensing her apprehension.

“Nothing. It’s just that these places are like nothing I envisioned.” She replied grimacing .

“What’s your vision doll?” He asked.

“You, me, and some close friends on a beach like the cove in New York.” She replied, her face lighting up at the thought of a small beach wedding.

“That sounds beautiful. If that’s what you want doll, let’s find ourselves a beach.” Percy stated kissing her forehead.

He looked up expectedly at Tabitha, “I’ll try but at last minute I can’t promise we will be able to see anything today.” She sighed, walking off as she pulled out her phone to make some calls.

Percy turned to Athena taking her face in his hands, “if we can’t see something today we’ll just look another day ok doll?” He asked, gently caressing her cheeks with his thumbs.

Athena nodded as he leaned up to kiss him softly, she let out a contended sigh as they pulled apart. She knew they would find the perfect place for them, just maybe not today.

Tabitha came back her heels clicking on the church’s tile floors as she walked.

“Well I managed to find one place, they are set up for a wedding, but I managed to swing approval to show you.” She recounted, leading them back to the car.

They pulled up by a beach, she watched as Tabitha sighed as she removed her heals to be able to walk in the sand.

As they got closer to the water Athena let out an audible gasp, it was perfect, it was them, it was everything she envisioned. They had a tulle canopy set up at the end of the ‘aisle’ lined with tiki torches, a silk carpet runner was scattered with rose petals, she could picture her wedding here. She squeezed Percy’s hand, and he let out a small chuckle, he knew she was excited.

Tabitha lead them to the ‘reception area’, getting married at the beach would mean staying at one venue the entire night. The ‘reception area’ had more tulle, that billowed in the wind, a long slatted wooden table adorned with candle lanterns, simple place settings and chairs. She turned to Percy with the biggest smile on her face.

“Do you like it doll?” He asked, knowing her answer from the smile on her face.

“I love it! It’s perfect.” She squealed happily.

“If you love it then I love it doll. Now let’s pick a date and book our dream venue.” Percy said looking down at her, his face full of love and adoration.

“So when we’re you thinking?” Tabitha asked them expectantly.

“I don’t know…spring maybe?” Athena asked, looking up at Percy.

“Perfect doll.” He replied, kissing her sweetly.

“They have a few dates available in the spring, April 15th, April, 25th and May 6th.” Tabitha replied, rattling off the dates.

Athena looked up at Percy expectantly, “whenever you want doll.” Percy replied, smiling at her, squeezing her hand sweetly.

“Umm…May 6th.” Athena replied.

“Okay that doesn’t give us much time. Athena, the next thing I’d like is to get with you to go dress shopping. We need to make sure the dress is ordered so it can be fitted.” Tabitha said as she jotted down some notes.

Wedding dresses were next, time to assemble the girls.

Following Her Heart Masterlist

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#angst #fluff #perceval hunter #percy x athena #athena morgan #oc x mc #choices royal romance #trr au

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drizzitwrites · 5 years

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Football RPF Linear Challenge - Day 2: First Conversation

clI technically wrote this yesterday as the end of the bit on first impressions, so today I had intended to write the scene that I envision coming after that one. It wouldn’t be in the same fic, as that fic is intended to follow the Five Times format like I did for “Five Times Christian Eriksen Helped His Teammates With Their Problems”. What I worked on yesterday is the opening scene of part 1 of the sequel to that, which will be called “Five Times Christian Eriksen’s Teammates Helped Him With His Problem(s)” and is basically five vignette sorts of scenes of Christian figuring out and coming to terms with his feelings for his teammate.

I also wanted to tell their getting together story from Vincent’s POV, so some of it was going to parallel what happens in that fic, but looking at the same situations and conversation through Vincent’s lens, as it were. Basically, what I meant to write today was a scene that came after this initial terribly awkward meeting where Jan and Mousa are being trolls and Toby is going along with them (for now) and while Christian was off in the dressing room calming himself down, they invited Vincent to join them (Mousa, Jan, Toby, and Christian) for dinner. Except no one has told Vincent that Christian will be there and Christian doesn’t know they invited Vincent so they get to have SURPRISE! Awkward Conversation 2.0, and that’s what I meant to write today.

Instead, I spent FOUR HOURS writing close to 4000 words of Vincent’s POV of the exact same first meeting and conversation on the training pitch between the two that I wrote yesterday.

It started out well, but I lost steam at the end (because I have been writing for FOUR HOURS), so it probably needs some work and is making leaps in logic that no one can follow but me.

But I did it and here it is from my fingers to your eyeballs uncut and unedited and filled with Vincent waxing poetic and being deep in his feelings, as usual. Also, I went deep into MY OWN FEELINGS about the KNVB and Dutch football. Not sorry.

Truthfully I haven’t even read through it so possibly it makes no sense at all.

Enjoy.

"Dank je, wel--um, I mean...thank you," Vincent said, climbing out of the black cab and stepping onto the curb.

He took a moment to stare around himself at the scene before him--street filled with people talking and laughing together in the evening sun, the hiss of traffic and occasional shout or horn blast from the street behind him. On all sides of him brick and stone buildings boasting columns rose up out of the sidewalk, and he scanned around to look for the right one.

The nearly hour-long ride from his hotel room near the Enfield Training Centre had been slow and traffic-laden, but uneventful beyond that. Vincent, who'd spent the last few years of his life in and around Amsterdam, thought he'd gotten used to heavy traffic--there was a reason everyone in Amsterdam owned a bicycle--but it was only when he'd looked up the route on his phone and saw that the distance from Enfield to here was only half the distance of his daily half hour commute from his apartment on the outskirts of Amsterdam to the training complex in Alkmaar that everything sunk in.

This was London. A single city the size of the entire Randstand in Holland. Buzzing with the energy of over eight million people. A far cry from his childhood in Oss or even his more formative years at the football academy in Rotterdam.

London. Home to English football. Tottenham Hotspur. The beautiful club he'd dreamed of joining for so long, and now here he was, meeting some of the legends of AFC Ajax for "a celebratory dinner and drinks."

He didn't know what he'd been expecting when he rocked up to the much-lauded Enfield Training Centre to make his commitment to Spurs official, but he didn't think it was this. He'd been through this process only twice before in his short career, and of course it was different this time than either of the previous affairs.

At Almere, he'd been reluctant and reserved, knowing he was making the right decision not helping him resent it any less. He'd ended up there after making the most difficult choice of his entire life to that point--admit failure and walk away from the sport he'd loved since the first moment his father had rolled a ball to his feet or graciously accept that things hadn't worked out the way he'd planned and regroup in the lower leagues. He'd chosen the latter, and while it had been the correct choice, and one that had re-kindled a fire in him that he thought had long since died, although at the time it still felt an awful lot like admitting defeat.

Instead, he'd turned up at the club ready to do his time, prove himself, and escape as quickly as possible. He was better than lower-league football. He'd lifted a trophy at Feyenoord and then promptly been told he no longer had a place with the club. He'd been nineteen years old and ready to set the world ablaze, then been forced to drag himself into a club whose existence he'd barely registered and pretend he was honoured to be representing them.

His attitude had changed swiftly, of course, once he'd settled in, and he'd honestly enjoyed his time in Almere and still treasured many of the friends he'd made in those three years. It hadn't been what he'd wanted at the time, but it had turned out to be exactly the opportunity he needed to find his feet, get his head back on straight, and focus on moving forward in an environment where there wasn't such a constant, crushing pressure to give more and push harder and get ahead. Not that they weren't expected to give their best--Vincent could never been accused of not putting one hundred percent into his training every day--but the expectations placed on even the top players at Almere City were nothing compared to those placed on you at a club like Feyenoord.

When AZ had come calling, Vincent's Almere teammates had bid him goodbye with smiles and wishes for the best, and he'd bid them all the same. Almere was never a club anyone planned to stay with for long, so no one had any hard feelings about any of them moving on. Vincent would miss his friends there, but it was time for the next step in his career, the Eredivisie, and he was ready to take the league by storm.

At AZ, everything had been different. The club had sold much of its first team from the previous season and brought in a fleet of new signings, all of them learning to re-adjust to life at their new club together. Everyone had been unsteady and uncertain at first, all of them getting to know their new surroundings, finding housing, and exploring the city together, all of them trying to figure out where they fit in within the city and the culture. Vincent, along with many of the new signings, had settled in Haarlem, and they'd all formed fast friendships as they met up for meals and explored the town.

And now, London. Tottenham Hotspur. Vincent's stomach had been in knots and his heart pounding so hard he thought it might be audible even on the videotapes being recorded of him putting pen to paper. He'd been so nervous in his post-signing interview that his mind had gone blank of all words, Dutch and English alike, and his only memory of the moment was of him saying the words "beautiful club" on repeat for lack of anything else.

A beautiful club in a beautiful city with his beautiful teammates.

That wasn't the reason he'd chosen Spurs, or so he told himself. Sure, it happened to be where a certain ex-Ajax player currently plied his trade, but it wasn't about that. He'd wanted the opportunity to play in one of the best leagues in the world and train at a top-class facility along with top-class players. At Spurs he could learn and improve every day. He'd be pushed harder than he had been in years, maybe harder than ever before, and he was ready for the challenge. Pochettino had spoken with him and convinced him he was just the sort of player Tottenham was looking for, and, coincidentally, Tottenham was just the sort of team Vincent was looking for.

That Christian Eriksen happened to play there was just an added bonus.

It hadn't occurred to Vincent that after signing his contract and giving a few interviews and promotional photos, he'd actually be expected to speak to Christian Eriksen. Intelligently. As a teammate and a peer.

Instead, when he'd stepped out into the late afternoon sunshine and found his eyes automatically drawn to the too familiar twisting, turning run he'd spent far too many nights laying on his bed and watching on repeat, rolling the recorded footage back over and over again and memorising every shape, line, and detail of Christian's lean, beautiful body, he realised he'd possibly made a grievous error in judgement.

He was Christian Eriksen's teammate. Christian Eriksen whose post-match interviews he'd nearly committed to memory. Christian Eriksen who made Vincent's legs weak and his blood rush from his head to his groin with nothing more than the way he moved his body on the pitch. And now Vincent would be here, every day, doing his level best to somehow manage to co-exist on the training pitch with that body live and in-person, darting around defenders to find the best angle and passing the ball to Vincent's feet and...oh, he wasn't ready for this.

But he'd gotten through it, somehow. Had forced himself not to stare at Christian and only Christian, his straw-coloured hair dampened with sweat to a honey brown, clinging to his temples even while the front still stood up in its characteristic quiff. Instead, Vincent had forced his face into what he hoped was a pleasant smile and carefully tried to keep a polite distance, fumbling through his English as he provided the usual platitudes about how glad he was to be joining the club and how much he was looking forward to the coming season. All of it true, of course, but none of it really resonating through the blood pounding in his temples and the voice in his head screaming about how much more striking Christian's wide, almond-shaped eyes were from only a few metres away.

And then...Vincent surrounded by new teammates, all of them shaking his hand and clapping him on the shoulder and welcoming him to London and to Tottenham. The handshake, he'd learned, was one of Pochettino's hard-and-fast rules. Everyone on the team was expected to greet everyone else with a handshake at the start of every day, a way to build camaraderie and fellowship among them all. The names flew at him from all sides, and he'd known many of them already, of course--Michel Vorm, who Vincent already knew from his short time with Oranje over the past few months, Dele Alli and Eric Dier and the famous Harry Kane, revered AZ club legend Mousa Dembele with ex-Ajax phenoms Toby Alderweireld and Jan Vertonghen not far behind. And from there...

“You have to meet Chris,” Jan said, not even bothering to look back as he reached behind himself and tugged another teammate forward to join their group, and oh, god, Vincent was not ready for this.

His heart resumed trying to slam its way out of his ribcage and his vision went a bit black as his legs threatened to stop holding his weight at any moment. Mouth dry, body trembling, and he was more glad than ever that he'd not had time to eat a proper meal yet that day, because he wasn't at all convinced it wouldn't all be threatening to come back up. And wouldn't that make for a fabulous first introduction. "Hello, sorry my first act as your teammate was to vomit all over your boots, it's just that I think I've been a bit in love with you since I was sixteen years old and I'm not at all sure how to process any of this."

Instead, Vincent swallowed down the rising panic coursing through his entire body, hoped the wide smile threatening to take over his entire face didn't make him look like some sort of maniac, and stuck out a hand towards his new teammate.

He must not have looked overly threatening, because Christian--and here Vincent was already thinking of him as Christian in this overly familiar way, as though they were long-time friends or something--flashed him a shy smile in return, and it was all Vincent could do to hold himself together.

Breathe, Vincent. He's your teammate now. This stupid teenage crush was all well and good when you were sneaking about trying to pretend you absolutely detested all things Ajax, but you're not a teenager anymore and those days are over. You'll never make it here if you can't get past whatever this is and start acting like a god damned professional.

That harsh truth was all well and good, but it didn't mean Vincent's palm wasn't sweating and his knees weren't about to spontaneously give out from underneath him at any moment. He'd have to hope Christian either wouldn't notice or would think the slight sheen of sweat and the slick skin of his palm was just due to the heat of the day.

And then Christian's hand slid into Vincent's own, and Vincent's body hummed and buzzed with the feel of it, his mind spinning with all the times he'd imagined this--well, not quite this, so much as something a bit less appropriate for two people stood on a practice pitch surrounded by teammates, but that was perhaps beside the point. The feel of Christian Eriksen's skin against his own. Long, slender fingers brushing against Vincent's palm. Heat seemingly radiating from Christian's hand and spreading up Vincent's arm to his shoulder and eventually into every centimetre of Vincent's body.

“Uh…Christian. Eriksen. Chris. Good to meet you.”

He spoke in English, and it took Vincent a moment to even register the words. Voice so familiar in Vincent's ears, as though they'd shared thousands of conversations throughout the years instead of just a few mumbled words in passing.

Christian stared up at him, blue eyes wide, and from this distance, Vincent could see that they were shot through with flecks of grey and green and gold and so much more dazzling than he'd ever noticed before, and he had to force himself to look away a bit, changing his focus to stare down at their still clasped hands.

And oh, right...handshake. Doe normal, Vinny.

He forced his hand into motion, pumping Christian's arm up and down with perhaps a bit too much vigour, but he figured it was probably better that than standing there holding onto a teammate's hand while staring mesmerised into his eyes.

“I know this," he managed to say after a few seconds of trying to kickstart his brain into remembering how to form words. "That is...you are Christian Eriksen. So of course I know.”

Not his best work, really, but he supposed he should be glad anything came out of his mouth at all besides 'Hello, I think you're absolutely gorgeous. I'm not asking you out or anything, don't worry, it's just that it's something I've been thinking about for years now and I thought I should let you know.'

Still, Christian was looking a bit baffled and slightly overwhelmed at this point, so Vincent took a deep breath and started over. For whatever that was worth.

“Het spijt me," he said, the apology coming out in Dutch on instinct before he remembered that this was England.

"I was...at Almere for a time, " Vincent said by way of some kind of explanation. "I saw you play...with Ajax. You were...I...um...remember you. It is...an honour to meet you. I am looking forward to playing together.”

Not much better, but hopefully he'd saved himself from coming off as some kind of weird stalker and maybe at least earned himself a downgrade to oddly endearing superfan.

Except...he realised at that moment that he was still shaking Christian's hand and had been for a bit too long for it to come off as casual.

He released it, then flashed Christian an apologetic smile and dropped his eyes to the grass in between them, trying to regain some measure of composure--not that he was sure he'd had any in the first place, at least since the start of this conversation. He ended up, instead, staring at the fluorescent yellow and orange of Christian's boots. Which...was better than returning to gaze into his eyes, he supposed.

“I…” Christian said, dragging the word out a bit, as though uncertain of how to follow that up. Vincent didn't blame him. Nothing about this conversation was going the way Vincent had imagined it.

Which...didn't surprise him, really, but still. Every time he'd thought about his first real conversation with Christian, Vincent had remained cool and calm and composed--a bit distant and detached, as though he'd been about to do something else, but might as well blow it off for a brief exchange with someone moderately interesting. He'd been confident and alluring and had ended their brief exchange with the perfect witty send off, and hopefully an exchange of contact information so they could continue the conversation at a later date.

Instead he'd managed to linger too long over a handshake while his palm positively dripped with sweat, stare into his new teammate's eyes for a beat too long, and stumble through a litany of English words that made him sound like a bit of a twat.

Honestly, even though they were teammates now it would be a miracle if Christian ever initiated a conversation with him again.

“That’s...well...thank you?" Christian said, the end bit coming out as more of a question. Probably because he was beyond baffled by this entire situation. Vincent didn't blame him in the least. When he glanced back up at Christian--he might as well start getting used to carrying on what passed for a conversation while looking him in the face if they were going to be teammates--his expression was blank, his head tipped slightly to the side, his blue eyes wide as he worried his bottom lip between his teeth.

And damn, if Vincent wasn't going to have a hell of a time adjusting to that, he thought, as his blood once again started migrating towards his groin. He was still clad in a simple white t-shirt and jeans that had started out tight and were growing tighter by the second. Thankful, he supposed, that at least he hadn't been expected to change into training gear yet where the slightest sign of arousal would be more than apparent, he shifted his weight slightly in an attempt to at least re-adjust into a more comfortable position.

"Welcome to London," Christian said at last, releasing his bottom lip and quirking his mouth into a strained-looking smile. "And Spurs. Jan and Toby are also from Ajax, so...”

He trailed off, glancing around himself a bit as though seeking out his friends and former teammates. A buffer between himself and this oddly over-eager new teammate.

“Oh, yes, I know this," Vincent said. It almost certainly didn't make him come across as any less of an obsessed fan, but at least maybe he could pretend it extended to the entire club? And oh, Vinny, what would your friends think of you now? 'Yes, of course I love Ajax. What a club. My only regret is that I was never fortunate enough to be chosen as een Godenzoon.' Honestly, it was enough to make him a bit disgusted with himself.

Best change tactics before he got too far down that road to have any hope of getting himself out again. He may have long since lost any loyalty he'd once had to Feyenoord, but he'd rather quit playing football on the spot than proclaim his allegiance to Ajax.

“It will be nice to have friends here who know Amsterdam. I was not raised there, but I enjoyed my time in the city. I am so thankful to come to a club where I can feel like I have a piece of home as it were. You know?”

“Ja,” Christian responded, catching Vincent by surprise as he shifted their conversation into Dutch.

Not that Vincent wasn't well aware of Christian's proficiency with the language. He spoke it nearly as well as Vincent, judging from the promotional videos and post-match interviews he'd done during his time in Amsterdam.

“Let me know if I can help with anything,” Christian continued, his face and tone pleasantly neutral--one teammate welcoming another to a new city. “Where to eat, shopping--although that’s not really my thing, but I can try--if you want to know the best neighbourhoods for your house or anything. I mean, it’s not like I get out much, but I’ll do what I can.”

He'd always loved listening to Christian's Dutch--soft and silken and fluid, with the slightest hint of a slur around the edges of the syllables. It was no different now, although his accent had shifted a bit during his time in London. Still, Vincent was captivated by it, and found himself staring at Christian's lips as he spoke, much the way he'd always done when watching Christian's interviews on the screen.

“Your Dutch is good.”

And, honestly, Vinny? A mere, 'thank you for the offer, I will let you know' would have been fine. You were both finally starting to settle in a little bit and you had to go and make it uncomfortable again.

Thankfully, this actually earned him a surprised "oh" and a small smile from Christian whose eyes flicked up to meet Vincent's once more before quickly darting away once more.

“Thank you. I feel it’s important to learn the language wherever you’re playing, so I worked on it a lot before I moved to Amsterdam. These three still correct me all the time, though.”

He tipped his head towards the trio standing behind him--Mousa, Jan, and Toby all of whom, by report, were seemingly inseparable both on and off the pitch.

“Because your pronunciation is terrible,” Toby teased and the others all laughed.

Christian opened his mouth to respond, but slammed it shut as Vincent dropped a hand to his shoulder. He hadn't meant to reach out for him like that, it had just sort of happened, his body moving on instinct, sliding into the sudden lighthearted ease of banter and teasing of the conversation. It was an overly forward gesture, considering they'd only been speaking for a few moments, and Vincent readied himself to yank his hand away and offer profuse apologies as he felt Christian's breath hitch in surprise and his body tense. But Christian didn't pull away, so Vincent let his hand remain.

“Never listen to Belgians on the right way to pronounce Dutch,” Vincent told him, “I think your pronunciation is just fine.”

And, Godverdamme he definitely hadn't meant to sound that flirtatious. Once again, instinct had taken over and it had slipped out, his tone teasing and flitting and light and definitely not the right way to speak with anyone you were just meeting unless you planned on trying to take them home at the end of the night. Here Vincent was, trying it on with a teammate, no less.

He felt the hot flush creep into his cheeks at the thought, letting his hand drop from Christian's shoulder.

Christian's eyes widened even further before he ducked his head and stepped away from Vincent and towards the safety net of his friends.

He flicked a desperate glance to the side, swiveling his head slightly until his eyes fell on yet another teammate--this one with dark hair and a pale, squareish face. He reached out a hand towards the man and tugged him closer, much the way Jan had done to him what felt to Vincent like hours earlier, but in reality couldn't have been more than a few minutes.

The other man, for his part, let out a startled yelp and a shout of "oy, what the--?" but Christian seemed to pay him no mind. He all but shoved the man towards Vincent, all the while angling around to put the other man squarely between himself and Vincent.

“I...thanks," Christian said, his eyes still wide and his shoulders hunched in. "Um. Have you met Ben? You two should meet. I...I have to go, I’m sure I’ll see you at training this afternoon.”

With that, he'd flashed Vincent an awkward sort of half wave and then nearly tripped over his feet as he turned to jog quickly away towards the training centre, leaving Vincent, the three Belgians, and this new man--Ben, Vincent guessed--staring at one another in confusion.

No one said anything for a few moments until Ben flashed Vincent a dazzling grin full of perfectly straight, white teeth, stuck out a hand, and said in lilting English, "Well, that was something. Ben Davies, nice to meet you."

#football challenge #football rpf #writing #30 day writing challenge #writing challenge #christian eriksen x vincent janssen #wip #unedited #thoughts on writing and life #drizzit writes

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rhythmic-idealist · 6 years

Text

fic I will never write #247

Everyone who’s played the game is resurrected on Earth C. There’s a whole host of new societal issues, and Kankri and Karkat both wind up heavily involved in different respects - Kankri trying his damndest to shape this world to be exactly what it was supposed to be when he was playing and envisioning his perfect egalitarian utopia, partially because he finally has the chance and partially because he feels responsible, and Karkat really not meaning to do anything important ever again because he just wants to live quietly and not worry about dying, but his heart is too big to just see bad things happening and do nothing.

Through it all, Kankri and Karkat wind up having this weird sort of tangential relationship. Kankri makes an initial effort to reach out to him, but eventually comes to the conclusion that he’s got to let his dancestor work things out on his own. Besides, he actually really admires Karkat. There’s no more need for meddling, and Kankri matures just enough to find his place doing his own work without needing to meddle in everyone else’s. At least not Karkat’s. Karkat’s doing good.

There’s an air of awkwardness between Kankri and Karkat that most other dancestor pairs don’t have, but mostly that’s Kankri being hyper-conscious of every boundary Karkat might have, and Karkat genuinely having about half of those boundaries.

Altogether, though, there’s not too much Beforan and Alternian cultural exchange. Like you know, tidbits leak through, Tavros and Rufioh and Dirk all exchange anime recommendations, Kanaya and Porrim draw from each other’s fashion and have an interest in the history behind it. But as happened in canon - despite Kankri’s continued, obnoxiously tireless efforts - the new planet winds up pretty accidentally segregated. It’s okay, for the most part. Feels normal.

Eventually, the plot point that’s really sticking in my head is that Kankri gets sick. And doesn’t really want to be sick, and ordinarily this is the part where he just keeps semi-functioning until his culler literally pins him down or his teammate finds him passed out somewhere in-game and begrudgingly drags him back to the nearest hive.

It turns out, however, that this is some funky human disease - maybe, I don’t know, the flu - and his and Karkat’s immune systems are already shit and he’s never been exposed to it before and it is bad. When Karkat catches wind of this he’s furious, because first of all, he’s used to a constant need to survive and it makes him angry that Kankri can just be so fucking flippant like that and wait for someone else to pick up his mess (and angrier that he can’t say that without Kankri being a step worse than offended, yes, okay, we get it, he didn’t ask for that); second of all, why did anyone let him do this for so long; and thirdly, neither Kankri nor anyone else has any idea what they’re doing. (What. Who told you you could only take that much [x medication]. No I don’t give a SHIT what medicullers have to say about the mutation I’ve taken at least four times that much [x medication] before I start to get woozy. Cue horrified stares from every Beforan present and a “what” from Karkat.)

Turns out, maybe they should stop being awkward and hush hush about their blood relation and pursue this a little, because Karkat has done far more trial-and-error first aid and Kankri’s got a decent body of legitimate research to pull from (so did they try this shit on you, or. Beforan me, or. yeah ok shutting up now) as well as an actual idea of when they’re going to die, because Beforus Karkat (outed posthumously as a mutant, which Kankri has thus far tried very hard to respect and whose story he has has absolutely refused to pursue) lived to a perfectly decent 29, and that’s another thing, Alternian lifespans-

Cue outrage in general about lifespan, from both of them, because Karkat had expected so much less and is prompted to explain why, and what the hell do you mean (Kankri actually says, out loud, in these words) burgundies only live to be 12-24. Dying at 12 is a sign of neglect if not terminal illness. Did- did they factor in those- you know- culled? No?

Kankri’s going to be sick. It turns out enslaving people and keeping them in imperially-mandated abject poverty drastically lowers their life expectancy, and no one has bothered to actually talk about what that might mean for Alternians and their current expectations until… this moment, because Kankri got the flu, and Karkat finally bluntly brought up the mutation and Kankri went oh, thank fuck, I’m allowed to say that around him now.

Suddenly we’re talking about uniquely Beforan and Alternian issues, and digging deep into the baseline assumptions and attitudes they’ve carried over into the new world, and really, viciously digging into the concept of a new world. We haven’t made one yet. Kankri is an effective advocate now and he’s doing none of the teaching, all of the questioning and directing, but it’s Karkat who’s the second signless- and he does it gently, he doesn’t do it from a leadership position. That wasn’t working well for him; he cared enough and was angry enough about stupid people doing stupid things to themselves or each other that he had tried it again, but it wasn’t going to fit. This was. And this whole paragraph wasn’t planned in the original concept, it’s much shoddier and much more likely to be cut out of the fic if I ever wrote it in favor of something better, but I guess the Vantases grow into who they were actually going to be and have things to like about themselves.

This is where the plot trails off, and why I post it as a concept, incomplete.

#kankri vantas #karkat vantas #vantases #vantas bros #kankri #karkat #homestuck #homestuck fanfic #homestuck fic #medical //#illness //#slavery mention #neglect mention #death mention

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