#i think that ellie would probably attempt to kill her younger self at the beginning because shes out of her mind

[koipalm]

tlou au where everything is the same but from the very start, joel, tess, and ellie are pursued by a mysterious woman with 8 fingers who wants nothing more than to kill ellie

[13uswntimagines]

Never Enough (Kristie Mewis x Reader)

Request: mal x little sister!reader where the reader is always hidden behind mal's shadow

Author’s Note: So I really hope you like this (though it deviated slightly from the Request) and good luck to everyone starting their next semester of college!!

Pt. 2

You drummed your fingers absentmindedly on the table in front of you, your knees bouncing rapidly. You had just won the challenge cup (proving to the world that Huston wasn’t just the land of broken toys), the last thing you wanted to do was a press conference, but coach had insisted. At least you had Kristi with you.

She had taken you under her wing the second you had been transferred to Huston, becoming your best friend (though your feelings were more than friendly). She understood what it felt like to be overshadowed and could more easily grasp the fiasco that was Jill Ellis in charge of a roster.

Her hand grasped your thigh, halting its movement, and continuing on with the rest of the vapid reporters’ question without so much as a blink.

You probably should have been paying attention to whatever the fuck the reporters were asking, but honestly sitting back and letting the vet field the question so you could watch her answer was so much more your speed.

They didn’t want to ask you about soccer anyway, they wanted sister drama and you weren’t in the mood to indulge them.

You loved your older sister. You were adamant about that, but you didn’t always like her. You and Mal had never really gotten along, even as children. You were 3 years younger than her, always chasing after her, and always falling short. You had come so close, only to have it all ripped away.

****

3 weeks before the start of the World Cup

You glared at your packed suitcase, fighting the tears that threatened to fall from your eyes. Your fingers clenching and unclenching in a desperate attempt to keep your opportunity from slipping through your fingertips again.

You could still hear coaches' words ringing in your head. You weren’t living up to your last name, you weren’t good enough to wear it for your country.

You shook your head, retiring your attention to your very excited sister (who appeared to be completely oblivious to your distress). Mal and you were polar opposites. She was bubbly while you were shy. She had made it to UCLA while you had barely gotten into Texas A&M.

She paused in front of you, holding 2 celebration outfits for you to choose from in her hands.

“Cheer up, I’m going to the World Cup and your mopeyness is killing my mood,” She scoffed. You had been sulking since you came back from your meeting with coach, and while it was probably hard for you to be excluded, you should be happy that she was gonna get to live out one of her lifelong dreams.

You smiled weekly up at the woman “And I’m going back to Huston to watch you,” you blinked and pointed to the backless dress on the left, swallowing down the comment about how Jill’s teardown of your career had killed your mood too. “That one, Rosie likes you in blue,”

Mal rolled her eyes. She could practically hear your lamenting in her head. Enough was enough. This wasn’t about you, it was about the team. it was about being happy for others even when you didn’t get your way. “So, you weren’t good enough. You want us to win right?”

You shrugged, scratching the back of your neck. Of course, you wanted the team to win, but you had hoped that you would get the chance to help them in France. To have it taken just days before they left hurt more than you could put into words, all because you weren’t as good as your sister. “She said she could only take one of us and she chose you. It stings just a little bit,”

Mal gave you a scathing look. It was annoying how you were always doing what she was doing, how you were always running after her and her friends. She wasn’t happy when you started to play soccer, cause it was her thing. She was excited that the World Cup was going to be her thing. She didn’t want to share it with you, and she didn’t care how immature that sounded.

“Look, I’m a better fit for the squad, and for once in my life I wanna do something without you. Anyway, I’m going to celebrate, don’t wait up,”

The door slammed as she left, and it reverberated through you like the final nail in a coffin. How could she be so cold towards you? How could she agree with Jill? You sniffled once, burying yourself under a pile of blankets, your tears your only company.

****

“Y/n, my next question is for you,” A different reporter said when Kristie finished answering, pulling you back to reality. You sat up in your chair, blinking owlishly at the reporter.

“Oh, um go for it I guess,” You smiled shyly at the reporter, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. Kristie squeezed your thigh when it began to bounce again. You blushed, more from the contact than from being caught daydreaming.

“First, congratulations on the win and being named tournament MVP,” The reporter smiled, and you nodded at her, the red that colored your cheeks making its way up to your ears. Kristie squeezed your leg again, and you brought your fingers down to tangle with hers.

“How did it feel to really get to show off in front of Vlatko Andonovski,” The reporter asked.

You let out a deep breath, buzzing your lips. How did you feel? You had scored 13 goals and brought the underdog team to victory. You didn’t just show off, you had implemented all the things he wanted you too when he called you up for a camp before the Shebelieves cup.

“Good, I felt good at camp, so it was really nice to get to show him how I’ve improved in the last few months while we’ve been quarantined,” You smiled, glancing at Kristie as she began to rub her thumb on the back of your hand comfortingly.

She was nervous when you got called to camp again. Terrified that they would crush you like they had before. Terrified that she wouldn’t be there to help you through the fallout of seeing your sister again for the first time in months.

*****

“You sure you have everything?” The blond midfielder asked for the 15th time since you entered the airport. You smiled softly at the woman, who was shifting foot to foot, bringing your joined hands up to kiss the back of her buckles.“Yeah,” You nodded,  glancing over her shoulder to the taller Mewis sister, who also nodded that you both had everything.

“And you’ll text me when you land and get to the hotel?” Kristie asked, pulling you to a stop and forcing you to face her. You Y/e/c orbs met her worried blue ones.

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly, pulling the woman into you and tucking your head into the crook of her neck.“Yes, mom. I promise. Now give me a hug,”

She huffed, but still wrapped around you tightly and placed a kiss on the crown of your head. “I just care about you kid,”

“I know, and I love you for it,” You mumbled, into your favorite hiding spot. “now I’m gonna go get a coffee before I pass out,” You kissed her cheek before heading off towards the crappy airport Starbucks. She watched you go, fingers twitching by her side. How she wished to tell you that she loved you too (probably in a much different way than you loved her, but still).

“You’ve got it bad,” Sam snorted, patting her sister’s shoulder. She was visiting Kristie, so it was easier for her to get a flight out of Huston anyway, and in the time of her visit, her sister’s feelings for you had become abundantly clear.

She was glad that you had a shoulder to lean on. someone to confide in after your fallout with Mal. Though she had had several words with the younger player, the woman couldn’t seem to grasp your pain. At least her sister could understand it better than anyone, and she was clearly helping you overcome it.

Kristie blushed, shrugging slightly. “Maybe a little,” she hummed. It was hard not too. You were actually quite adorable once you let your walls come down.

Sam smirked (how she didn’t know you felt the same way, Sam would never know) “Does she know?”

The older mewis’s lips formed a thin line and she shook her head “no,”

It was complicated. The two of you were roommates, and you were just beginning to pull yourself together in the wake of Jill Ellis destroying your self-esteem.

She watched you grab your coffee, smiling at the young man behind the counter (who blushed). You had this incredible ability to light up everyone around you, like the sun. Though over the years you had lost some of your sunshine, you were beginning to gain it back. She didn’t want you to lose it again.

“Just keep an eye on her for me, alright? She was really messed up after what happened at the last camp,” Kristie said softly, faintly tearing her eyes away to look at her younger sister.

Sam nodded solemnly. “You know I will Kris,”

She knew how much you meant to her sister, and she would help you through whatever this camp brought, even if that meant keeping one of her best friends in line.

****

“My question is also for you Y/n,” A different reporter said, and you tilted your chin up at him in acknowledgment.

“We know that Mal is currently out with a knee injury, any idea on when she’ll be back with her team, and if that impacts your chances with Vlatko?” He asked, scribbling furiously on a notepad in front of him.

You tilted your head to the side, almost like a puppy. You weren’t abreast to Vlatkos’ plans (only that he seemed to be more attuned and aware than one Jill Ellis), and considering you hadn’t spoken to Mal in months, you were also clueless on her progress.

“Oh um, I have no idea about either of those questions, sorry,” You mumbled, biting your lip and shifting awkwardly in your chair. The man frowned at your answer, his pen pausing on the pad as he studied you over his horned rimmed glasses.

“Do you think you could beat her out for an Olympic roster spot? And if your success here will help your chances of taking her spot on the team?” He tried again, pointing his pen in your direction. Kristie’s thumb tapped the back of your hand again, three little taps, helping you focus and giving you a little bit of comfort.

You smirked at the man, masking your irritation behind a quip. “Again, I have no clue. That stuff is way above my paygrade,”

Kristie’s hand tightened around yours in warning, a reminder that biting a reporter’s head off wouldn’t make you feel better. It wouldn’t make them see that you didn’t want to be compared. It would just give them more ammunition to shoot at you.

“Do you feel overlooked, as you’ve continuously performed better than your sister within the NWSL?” A different reporter pipped in, looking at you expectantly.

You shrugged, trying to ease the tension that had suddenly come over the press tent. “Well, I think my average is helped by me not having to miss games due to national team duties,”

You swore a few of the reporter’s lips ticked up, and the pat on your thigh told you that your midfielder counterpart was pleased with the deflection.

“Do you think you’ll continue to be able to live up to your last name?” The horned rimmed man asked a vicious smirk etched on his face. You flinched slightly.

It was the one fear that plagued you. The one shortcoming that your parents preyed on. That you would never be as good as your sister. That you would never be the Pugh that she was. That you were undeserving of the name.

Kirstie’s arm was around you immediately, shielding your opening and closing mouth from the furiously clicking cameras as she pulled you to stand.

“I think this press conference is over. We’re very excited to have won and it’s time for us to celebrate,” She said stiffly, practically dragging your frozen form through the door towards your locker room.

You stumbled after her, eyes wide as you tried to catch up to what was happening. Your brain was still split between its lament over his you’d never escape your sister’s shadow (no matter how hard you tried) and the feeling of your crush’s arm wrapped tightly around you. It made you feel safe and warm and wanted. She made you feel like you had a place beside her, like how you were feeling was important.

She paused, pinning you against the cool cement wall of the stadium. You stared over her shoulder, adamantly refusing to look her in the eyes. You didn’t want her to see your inner struggle, to know that despite all her efforts, you still weren’t confident that you could ever be good enough.

“Hey, look at me.” She said, a finger on your chin forcing you to look up. Her blue eyes studied you for a moment, her hips pressing you to the wall while her other hand brushed a stray hair out of your face. “Are you ok?” She asked, her voice soft, hesitant.

“I’m great,” You scoffed, shaking your head. “I just fucking won the fucking Chaos cup and all the fuck they want to ask me about is how my sister is, and if I think I stand a chance against her in making a fucking roster. She hasn’t even talked to me since-...” your chest heaved as the words spilled from your mouth, like the steam from a pressure cooker unable to be contained any longer.

“Hey, take a breath,” her voice was soft as she wiped away the tears you didn’t even know were burning a path down your red cheeks. You leaned into her warm hands.

“I just. I want to be good enough,” You mumbled, your eyes closing with the admission. You didn’t want to be weak.

“Baby, you are enough. You’re more than enough. You’re funny and cute and an amazing forward. You aren’t your sister and that’s ok. You don’t need to be the best Mal, you just need to be the best, most amazing you you can be because I love you,” with every word she got closer to you, until your faces were mere inches apart, and you could feel her breath fan across your lips.

You leaned in the rest of the way and connected your lips with hers. Your mouths moved together, her tongue gently probing for entrance, which you gladly gave her. Her fingers tangled in the baby hairs at the base of your neck, while yours settled on her hips to pull her closer.

“You said you love me,” You smiled against her lips, pulling away when the need to breathe finally caught up with you.

“Hm, I do,” She hummed back, connecting your lips again.

Maybe to the soccer world, you would always stand in Mal’s shadows, but here in the belly of the stadium, you knew. You were enough for Kristie, and she was enough for you.

[itsomgitsgreenblogging]

Break My Heart: Chapter 1  (A Solangelo Fanfiction)

Imagine you take your average “Three Days in the Infirmary” fic, and then add a twist. This would be your fic! And the twist is a prophetic dream that throws Will Solace into turmoil. 

I hope you all enjoy!

Read on AO3

Preview: 

“Okay, but in all seriousness. What are you going to do?” Cecil asked him, resting his chin on his hands. “Not all of us get dreams to give us forewarnings about the treacherous nature of the dating waters, so how will you use your newly acquired powers?”  

“Well, since starting anything with Nico di Angelo obviously isn’t going to go anywhere, and I had no idea why, I…I guess I’m just not going to go for it. If I tried it would be a self-fulfilling prophecy,” Will said as he waved off Cecil. “I mean, how hard could not falling for one boy be?”

It was a dream.

A caveat being that it wasn’t just a dream. Demigods, as Will Solace had learned early on, don’t just have casual viewing experiences. Especially if the demigod in question was a child of Apollo, who was indeed the god in charge of prophecy despite all of Apollo’s notoriously bad decision making. That didn’t mean that Will couldn’t have your run-of-the-mill weird trippy nonsensical dreams, or other dreams that tended to be inappropriate for young impressionable demigods. But that did mean that Will had to be able to tell the difference between the two, and the difference was always this: in regular dreams the scenery would be foggy, whereas the prophetic dreams were sharp, colorful, and loud.

And that was what this dream was; it was vivid, it was real, it was prophetic…it was about Nico di Angelo?

They were sitting together at the end of the dock, the autumn breeze crisp and clean as it flitted from the lake carrying with it the scent mist and strawberry. The sky was almost blindingly bright and blue, while the trees were just tinged with just a blush of color. Will turned to the boy next to him, noting his leather jacket and feeling a thrill that nearly set his heart on fire. The Will who was a part of this dream welcomed it, while he succumbed to his confusion.

“Will…I…” Nico was saying to him, looking up at him with eyes wide and…was that a blush staining his cheeks? And he looked healthier than any time that Will could ever remember Nico di Angelo being, his cheeks filled out, the dark bruises under his eyes only shading them, his hair pulled back in a little ponytail, and his skin had color to it versus the warmed-over-corpse white shade he had been on Half Blood Hill during the battle.

And Will was holding his hand (how had he not noticed that was beyond him, but somehow it felt natural, so natural), and Nico’s fingers were curled with his own instead judo-flipping him and killing him with a well-placed strike. On that note, why were his own nails painted?

“Am I…is this…alright?” Will’s mouth moved and asked, and Will could feel his own cheeks heat up in return. He was just wearing a flannel and jeans but he felt entirely too warm, as if he would explode from nerves. Nico didn’t move, something guarded in his expression, before he met Will’s gaze evenly. It was intense and dark, and Will could feel his stomach twist up in a hundred knots.

“Hey Will?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think we should do this anymore.”

Will woke up with a start, his heart racing in his chest. He felt like the rug had been pulled out from underneath him, he felt the sickening feeling in his stomach as if he had just missed a step on the stairs and his foot had fallen through the air, he felt the recoiling blow of rejection like a slap to the face. The dream was there, and he replayed it in his mind again and again as his heart rate fell, trying to parcel out some sense from it but finding nothing.                                                                                          

“What in the name of the Gods?” Will asked himself, before looking around his mostly empty cabin. Thankfully the younger kids were still asleep, not disturbed by his sudden outburst. Kayla and Austin were probably still in the infirmary with Roman children of Apollo who had accompanied the legion to Camp Half Blood. And it was still before dawn, probably too early for him to be getting up. But if Will was good at one thing, it was avoiding his own problems by helping to solve other people’s. And this dream was something he definitely wanted to avoid before being more awake to deal with it (or possibly never).

And so Will crossed the camp in the dark after throwing on some fresh clothes and a sweatshirt, and walked into the infirmary. Phoebe looked up from the desk at him in confusion. She was the leader of the Roman medics, and had been nice enough once they had gotten past the initial awkwardness. That awkwardness being attributed to an unfortunate relative of both of them named Octavian, and though Phoebe had definitely not been a fan of the guy, there was also the principle of the matter. Will supposed they both had inherited Apollo’s protective nature in the end, and death wasn’t easy for either of them. So they had mostly agreed to focus on their work, and leave everything else to fall as it would.

“You are here early,” Phoebe observed stately, taking another sip of her coffee.

“Anyone I can help?” Will asked, sitting himself up on the desk and looking through a chart. With his general level of sleep deprivation and dyslexia, he barely made any progress before the words began shifting on the page.

“You know that you should be sleeping, you need the rest,” Phoebe pointed out to him, running a hand through her hair.

“I had a weird dream is all, I’m not going to be falling back asleep anytime soon,” Will dismissed her, shoving the dream as far back as he could in his head for the moment.

“Well, if you must, check out Alicia’s leg, you know, the child of Mercury. She was awake and groaning about it earlier, but I also have a feeling she was trying to pickpocket Kayla and she isn’t awake enough to ward off attacks,” Phoebe told him with a huff, standing up to go to the coffee pot and pour him a cup with a splash of cream and sugar. She handed it to him, and Will smiled back gratefully before going to do just that.

Alicia’s leg was in good condition and healing well, and Will managed to avoid any wandering fingers. Ellis Wakefield’s broken ribs were on the mend, and Will knew that because Ellis could hiss out insults after being poked and prodded with minimal gasping. Lacey from Aphrodite was sleeping soundly and the cut on her forehead was looking fine, while Nyssa from Hephaestus’ fingers were looking much less swollen. And Suzuka Yamato, a Mars legacy, reported her head was feeling better by communicating with both him and Ellis Wakefield in a series of expletives in Japanese, Latin, and English.

He continued to do the rounds, scooting his tired siblings who had done the nightshift out of the infirmary to get some rest, and tugged at his sweatshirt’s sleeve absently. The sensation reminded him of what he was working so hard to avoid, and eventually he had to say something to someone.

“Hey, Phoebe, has Nico di Angelo come in at all?” Will asked Phoebe, trying to be as nonchalant as possible, as he returned to the desk with the excuse of making a fresh cup of coffee.

“You mean the son of Hades?” Phoebe asked, her eyebrows drawn. “I haven’t seen him. Why? Should I have?”

“Well…I told him to report to the infirmary for three days,” Will excused quickly. “I guess this means I have to go get him.”

“Well, I would rather you not die. I will talk to Chiron about it,” Phoebe said with a sniff. “I’m sure he’ll corral him and have a conversation about the importance of healing wounds.”

“Nico wouldn’t—“

Phoebe’s look was enough to get Will to do the smart thing and shut up. And maybe she had a point. After all, Nico had apparently been the one who would break up with him, so maybe the guy secretly hated him and would try to fight him if he approached. But that still didn’t mean that he should let Nico be injured, the more rational part of Will’s brain pointed out, and if they had at least had a thing or would have a thing then maybe Nico also liked him somewhat. (And Will had to admit, after the birthing and just running into the field of battle, he had been hopped up on adrenalin and had probably been more forceful then he had needed to be, and he had been previously hoping the days in the infirmary would give him a chance to apologize.) But the whole thing didn’t make any sense to begin with, Will tried to reason back. Everyone knew that Nico had had a crush on Annabeth Chase. Maybe Nico was bi? Maybe Will would have just been the unfortunate rebound. Or maybe Will had been making the moves on him and was about to be rejected—

Will’s head hurt, and he desperately needed council. So Will went to sit next to Cecil who was nursing a pulled tendon and a sprained ankle. He poked his very good friend awake, and like a true friend Cecil blinked awake, groaned, and then immediately turned over.  

“Bro…no…just no…” Cecil groaned dramatically, trying to dig himself back under the covers like a bear attempting to return to hibernation. Will wasn’t having it.

“Cecil, please, I need to talk to someone I think I’m going crazy,” Will told him as he pulled off the covers, Cecil sat up to snatch them back and Will let them go.

“Yeah you have to be pretty freaking mental to be up so early, and making me be up so early!” Cecil snapped back, before seemingly giving in and laying back down. “Alright, alright, I’m awake. What do you need?”

“I had a dream, but it wasn’t just a dream it was a prophetic dream,” Will tried to explain before realizing that had not been an explanation and groaning.

“Okay? And? You get those sometimes right?”

“Well yeah…but this one was different…it…” Will trailed off before shifting uncomfortably. Cecil did not look amused by Will’s fidgeting and rolled his eyes as he reached over to swipe Will’s coffee.

“Alright Will, seriously spit it out—“

“Nico di Angelo was breaking up with me,” Will blurted out.

Cecil immediately choked and coughed out the liquid, and after getting through the worst of his coughing fit, Cecil stared at Will with something akin to disbelief as he set Will’s coffee back on the side table.

“You’re joking, that’s supposed to be funny right,” Cecil said as he wiped his face with his arm, and when seeing the suffering look on Will’s face he broke out into a grin, “wait you aren’t joking? Seriously? Damn Solace you’ve got so much game you see it ending before it even starts.”

“Okay seriously I’m having a moment so I would appreciate some concern,” Will groaned as he let his head fall into his hands. “You can at least pretend to be my actual friend.”

“Why would I do that when this is so much more fun,” Cecil noted before humming as he laid back against the pillows, “that’s crazy though, seriously.”

“I know, you’re telling me!” Will said as spun on his chair absently.

“And you are sure it was a prophecy, and not just some weird lucid dream?” Cecil asked seriously, a brow quirking in his favor. Will dismissed it with a glum shake of his head.  

“Yeah, I can tell the difference. It was prophetic, very prophetic, with the sense of impending doom and everything,” Will explained nervously as he continued to spin, until he got dizzy and settled with nervously tapping his foot to the frantic rhythm of his panic instead.

“Well tell me what happened,” Cecil said as he crossed his arms over his chest.

And so he did, recounting the plot of dream, every little detail he remembered, and the state that he woke up in. Cecil hummed and nodded along, only interjecting once or twice for clarification. At the end, they both sat quietly for a moment, the infirmary coming to life as Roman demigods did their rounds. Cecil finally broke the silence,

“We’re pretty sure that Nico was breaking up with you. Or at least rejecting you. And the way you describe the dream…well…it sounds like it took place a few months from now. It had to at least be September or October-ish.”

“So what should I do?”

“Well, I don’t know. Do you like Nico di Angelo?” Cecil asked curiously without judgment.

“I…he’s cool, and heroic, and he’s pretty attractive. You saw him in the battle, and I do want to help him. But I don’t know, it’s hard to like like a person I don’t know. And I don’t really know him,” Will said in return with a noncommittal shrug.

“Apparently, you are going to get to know him pretty well,” Cecil pointed out and he flipped to laying on his stomach. “Well enough that you are going to start dating, or at least making moves on him.”

“Don’t be a douche,” Will told him with a sigh.

“Okay, but in all seriousness. What are you going to do?” Cecil asked him, resting his chin on his hands. “Not all of us get dreams to give us forewarnings about the treacherous nature of the dating waters, so how will you use your newly acquired powers?”  

“Well, since starting anything with Nico di Angelo obviously isn’t going to go anywhere, and I had no idea why, I…I guess I’m just not going to go for it. If I tried it would be a self-fulfilling prophecy,” Will said as he waved off Cecil. “I mean, how hard could not falling for one boy be?”

“Infamous last words,” Cecil noted as he lay back down completely. “Don’t worry there are way more fish in the sea.”

“What am I? Percy Jackson? I—at least get your leg elevated,” Will muttered as he pulled pillows from the side and helped Cecil get readjusted with a small piece of ambrosia, not bothering to address the implications of Cecil’s previous comment.

Will left Cecil’s bedside soon after that and Phoebe immediately looked towards him.

“Chiron’s going to bring Nico di Angelo in later,” Phoebe reported without any preface. “He said he was going to have words with him, so, let’s hope for the best.

“Alright,” Will said before putting on his best smile, which felt oddly placed. “Better get to work then.”