#sofia writes

“I’ve come to recognize your thinking patterns. You justify your actions through martyrdom, Ziva. You carry guilt beyond what is rational because grief has become intertwined with your sense of responsibility. If something goes wrong, you instinctively place yourself at the center of the blame. You hide the things that matter most to you because you believe loving people is what destroys them. And if you can convince yourself it was your fault, then at least the pain feels explainable. You would rather feel guilty than powerless.”

anyway don't be a stranger

xxx

Since wattpad is being a prat towards me today... I am working on a tiny blurb 😌🥵

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x reader (any gender!!)

genre: fluff, friends to lovers i guess

length: 1.7k words

omg hello this is my first time writing something shdfhsdfg so this oneshot was inspired by one of my favorite songs, Shut Up by Greyson Chance! also bc i wanted something to help me cope with stress and idk writing something seemed like the best way possible. unbeta-ed but who cares! 

I cannot hold my tongue, you give me much to say

The first time you met Ushijima Wakatoshi was when your family moved in next door. You were unable to help out with the moving boxes so you decided to walk around the neighborhood. You caught him playing volleyball with a man that appeared to be his father.

The man asked if you wanted to play with his son and you agreed. For the rest of the day, the boy taught you volleyball with as little words as possible. It was mostly you in the conversation -- asking him questions and repeating his instructions as he nodded all throughout. His father couldn’t help but smile as his quiet and shy son made a new friend.

For the rest of your childhood you were hanging out with him. You were the most talkative person ever. You never ran out of things while he would look at you and either nod or shake his head. You didn’t mind his silence as long as you know he understood every word you said.

Although there are times when you would be taken aback at how much he remembered the things you’ve said. One day he gave you your favorite flower, the next was a drawing of a butterfly in your favorite color, and whenever you got sick, he would visit you with a snack that you loved the most.

He knew so much about you, yet you only knew little about him. It was your main worry that you could count on your fingers about the things he liked. He likes volleyball, Hayashi rice, the volleyball ace in his dad’s stories, Vabo-chan, drawing, taking care of plants, and -- what else?

One time, both of you were resting under the tree after playing volleyball and a finished session of rambling about life, you asked him, “Wakatoshi-chan, what is your most favorite thing in the world?”

He faced you, staring at your eyes, and all he could say was “You.”

(Hello! this is a lil fic of Harley’s side of the story when the events of Infinity War happened, this s my first fic so  I hope ya’ll enjoy!  Warning: angst -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“please?? I’ll be fun!” 

Harley was laying in his couch inside his garage or as Abbie liked to call it ‘the place where he does his nerd stuff’. He had his phone in face-time mode and in the other side of the screen was his best friend Brooke, who was currently trying to convince the blond to join her in a supposedly epic party.

“ You know I don’t even like parties, Brooke” Harley rolled his eyes.

 “plus I have to finish like a million projects tonight” he shifted his camera so it was now facing his messy table filled with loose parts waiting for him to use for engineering, he turned the camera around so his face was showing again “see?”

“you’re a fucking nerd, you know that?” Brooke smiled when Harley flipped her off because of her teasing. “You can finish your projects tomorrow, tonight is about having fun!” she insisted wanting Harley to break and accept to go.

Harley was silent for a moment actually considering and then he broke “okay fine!, hate you by the way” 

he smiled at the girl who only responded with an “I know sweetie”

“Hey so are you gonna come over to pick me up or-” Harley turned around for one second do pick up a pen that was lying on the floor when looked up and saw that Brooke was not in the call anymore but she was replaced by ash. 

“what the fuck?” Harley mumbled while confusedly looking at his phone, he was about to call her back when he heard a piercing scream from inside the house.

Abbie

It all happened in slow motion after that

Harley rushed to the door only to find her mother trying to grab Abbie while  the ten year old’s arm  was disappearing and turning into ashes. He tried to reach out to his sister but it was far too late.

His sister gave him a last terrified look before whispering “Harls?” in a confused and scared tone and then she dissolved into nothing.

Harley’s eyes began to fill with tears without him even realizing it, the image of her sister disappearing repeated a thousand times in his mind. Her terrified look and how her voice broke after calling him out was something that would haunt him forever.

He turned to his mom who was now screaming and sobbing on the floor and went to grab her arm in comfort but he realized he couldn't. Ash began to swirl in the air where his arm was supposed to be and he began to panic, knowing that whatever the hell had happened to his sister it was happening to him too.

He locked eyes with his mom whose face was nothing more than horror and grief knowing her two children were disappearing. He tried to apologize with his eyes for leaving her, he promised a few years ago after his dad walked away from their lives that he will never leave her and he was now breaking that promise.

Night Vibrance | part I

Rhysand's sister, Sofiya, and her story, told from my perspective and what I wish happened both while she was alive and an alternative ending where her mother and her don't die. This summary was confusing, I'm sorry,  I hope you understood it though

If you like this new project of mine, leave a little like, reblog and tell me what you thought of it!! As usual, if you wish to be tagged in later chapters, message me or comment! 

Writing masterlist

Sofiya aesthetic

Sofiya sat in her room in the palace atop the mountain, watching dusk fall over her Father's Court through the magical barriers protecting her from the elements. She wished the barriers disappeared. She wanted to feel the wind and snow and cold that she could only get properly while flying, not the balmy, soft atmosphere in the palace.

"Cauldron, Sofiya, you were supposed to be dressed already," her brother reprimanded from the threshold.

"Have you heard of the concept of knocking? Also, the concept of equality of opportunities between siblings?"

"Sofiya, we've discussed this, I cannot change his mind, neither can mum," Rhys said sitting down next to her.

"So you have to keep a reputation because you'll rule, but you can still train at the Camps, yet I can't? Regardless of not being his Heir? That's simply sexist, irrational and extremely infuriating."

"I know, dearest."

"Mother of us all, Rhysand, we repeat this conversation every week. And it ends the same every time," Sofiya said at last.

"Then go get dressed, Sacha.” Cauldron-damned Rhysand using her Illyrian nickname, the one only he and their mother used.

“I don’t want to go play the perfect daughter to a man that barely likes me on a good day, Rhysand.”

“He does like you, he’s just shit at demonstrating it,” Rhys retorted.

“I’m not going.”

“Of course you are, come on, for once in your life don’t be contrary and back down,” Rhysand said, his temper getting to him just a little bit. It was obvious for both of them that even though the High Lord didn’t love his son, he could barely stand Sofiya. And there were not many things Rhys hated more than that fact. She opted for taking her book and reading it instead of answering her brother. “This is not how you fight him, Sacha, this is not how you’re going to end up in the camps.”

“I’m more than capable of reaching my own conclusions and elaborating my own opinions, Rhysand. I’m not 3, I’m 13, and while I understand that’s not very old at all, it’s old enough to know he isn’t letting me go train. However, if he can ignore my existence, I can ignore his and his wishes’.”

“This is going to end so badly, I hope you are aware of that fact.”

“He’ll just keep on loathing me, nothing new,” she answered, her nose still buried in her book.

***

“YOU BETTER BE READY WHEN I OPEN THIS DOOR, SOFIYA,” her mother yelled from the other side of the door.

“I’m not, you can save the scolding already,” she answered as the older Illyrian opened the door.

“Rhys has talked to me, I know your reasoning and arguments. Your father’s feelings are his own, I have nothing to do with them, but I can tell you my own. You are putting that damned dress on and you are accompanying me to the Spring Ball, regardless of your currents feelings towards your father, that’s nothing to do with me, Sof,” her mother admonished,

“You could have tried to sway him,” she responded, taking her hair out of the braid she had used for trained in the morning and started getting ready to bathe, knowing she had already lost.

“No one holds sway over your father but himself, darling. The only person that can convince your father of anything is himself,” her mother said gently.

She lowered herself into the bath, her mother sitting down behind her on the ledge, starting to wash her hair gently. “Why can’t I go train at the camps, then? I always thought you had a say so in this situation.”

“What do you mean?” Her mother's brows were knitted together in confusion.

“Because of what they did to you, I always thought you wouldn’t let me go. Rhysand told me the other day you agree with us, not father. Then why doesn’t he let me go?”

“I- I know you, and I know that you’re smart enough to make your own choices, you have all the information on what it would be, if you decide to go, I wouldn’t stand in your way,” her mother concluded while gently combing through her hair, already dried by the young Fae’s magic. “About your father, I never understood. And know that I’ve asked him, time and time again, why he wouldn’t let you despite having allowed Rhysand. He never answered me.”

“Do you agree with me? In going?”

“I’m not sure yet, I would like him to allow you a week there, to see how well you would fare. But the one point you’re forgetting is that you are not a male, darling, it is always going to be different, and harder, than it was for Rhysand,” her mother said, gently shuffling through her fancier dresses, giving her daughter one. “You have to be ready for that sort of violence. It isn’t just a holiday, this time.”

“I know.” She paused halfway through getting her dress. “But can you convince him?”

“I have never been able to convince him of anything, it is not going to start now,” Sofiya’s face visibly fell. She was incredible at masking her own emotion, despite being so young, but she never felt necessary to keep that pretense around her mother or brother. The kindness had never extended to her father. “Go on, darling, finish up and let’s go. They must be waiting for us upstairs.” “You should be proud of me, though, did you see how quickly I got dressed?”

“I wouldn’t have believed it if I weren’t here,” her mother said with a gentle laugh. “But I’m always proud of you, darling.” Her daughter beamed right back at her as she opened her room’s door.

*** “Hello, Lady,” Lord Helion told her while kissing her knuckles. “What brings you to my family’s humble abode?”

“There’s this stupid ball, you see? And there’s your stupid friend, who happens to be my stupid brother, and I happened to end up here, as a consequence of those factors.”

“Oh, Sofy, I remember when you were just a youngling who hadn’t yet come into your brother’s sarcasm. Good times,” Sofiya laughed out loud for the first time since arriving at the Day Court. Helion was very annoying most of the days but the Day Court and the Night Court had close enough relations that Rhys and he were good friends and he had almost adopted Sofiya as his own sister.

“Shut up, you love my sarcasm and my sarcastic brother,” she fired back with a smirk.

“You know who I love? Your brother’s bat friends.” “I’ve noticed. Which one? The annoying one or the quiet one?”

“Both. Preferably together. Preferably on my bed.” “You do realize I’m thirteen, right?” Sofiya asked him with a laugh. She’d heard it all before, obviously, you don’t grow up with Illyrian warriors without knowing how children are made from too young an age.

“Please, I’m teaching you how to survive through Court politics, sweet cheeks, you have to be used to everything,” Helion murmured back to her in her ear. She simply laughed in his face.

“Maybe you’d be lucky, though. Have you tried?”  

“Very domineering, strong mountain men? I wouldn’t stand a chance. I know the Illyrians, hun,” Helion said, his brightness dimming a little bit at the face of prejudice.

“You may know Illyrians in general, but you definitely don’t know those two, then. Try your luck, seriously. I don’t promise shit, but I promise they won’t treat like that.”

“You may be the best little wingwoman I’ve ever had, sweet Lady,” he said with a grin.

“Thank you, dear Lord Helion. Oh, why, hello, Morrigan,” she said as her cousin approached her, flowing red gown dancing around her.

“If you hook me up with her, I’ll be just as thankful,” Helion whispered in her ear with all the discretion he could muster.

“Deal. One of the three,” she murmured back.

“Since when do you have secrets with dear Helion, cousin,” Mor said leaning on the wall next to her.

“He’s just annoying me, I was murmuring back so you wouldn’t share my annoyance. I wasn’t aware you knew him so well, though. You don’t usually attend these disgusting gatherings,” Sofiya told her cousin.

“Rhysand doesn’t usually bring the dogs, either,” she replied.

“Indeed, darling cousin, the whole gang is here tonight it seems,” Sofiya said with a soft laugh. “And to think that I didn’t want to come.”

“Why not? Don’t think the Day Court is good enough for you?” Helion asked with a curved brow.

“I was just tired, that’s all, but your company has obviously dispersed that feeling,” she answered, with all the Court grace she had been taught since birth.

“It obviously did. Now, if you allow me, ladies, I need to have a word with young Tamlin over there,” said Helion, leaving the cousins alone.

“Has your father reconsidered?” Morrigan asked after making sure they were truly alone.

“No. I’m starting to think it is a helpless quest, after all,” she said sipping from her iced tea.

“That wasn’t—hey.” But the idea was already there now, dancing shamelessly in his eyes. “I know how this looks, but I didn’t—” She pressed her body against his, wrapping her arms around his neck. Yes. She liked this version of him—a man in control of things, owner of his own space. Wearing Tom Ford and treating all his employees with respect. Comfortable in his own skin. It would be a lie to say Ziva was not secretly pleased right now, knowing he was the boss. And a very good one, at that. But she had always known he would be. Or at least expected it. “What?” She tracked the cogs turning in his mind, the slight shake of his head beneath her amused stare, even as his hands slid lower against her shirt, pressing into the small of her back in complete contradiction to his attempts at denying where his thoughts had gone. “I didn’t—” His tongue poked the inside of his cheek. Then Tony looked at her, his gaze dipping briefly to her lips so close to his, and a smile danced at the corner of his mouth, betraying just how much he liked the idea. “Yes?” she asked, already laughing. He rolled his eyes. “I didn’t exactly install privacy glass for office sex, okay?”

“What went wrong, then?” he asked, even quieter. His eyes averted hers.  And Ziva couldn’t find it in herself to explain it. “It was just…” You. It was you. It was me. Us.  It’s always us.  Complicated, complicated, complicated.  “It was only a date.” “I know how it works,” he said, jaw tightening. "Went on a few myself.” Tony glanced back at her, the humor gone. “With you.” She shouldn’t feel good about that. It would be wrong. But she couldn’t help it—Ziva almost smiled, caught off guard by the confirmation that he was comparing the two. Good, she thought. May my ghost haunt you, too.

I'm forcing myself not to share any more of this fic so this will be my last update before I post it haha 🤍👻 tagging the talenteds @sheistheweapon @silvertonedwords @samwhity @mrsmungus