Hi! I’m Tori! 🍅 • she/her • 20s • Requests: OPEN
Writes for Multi-Fandoms
That Town We Bled For
Main Masterlist
"When reality feels small, I write where the characters I love offer their hands and take me away."
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✦ Writer Status
Tori (Astoria) • 20s • She/Her
Writes to escape reality. Proud 2000s rom-com enthusiast. 🍅🍅🍅 My heart never really left 2008. Some days I'm here posting nonstop. Other days I disappear for weeks or even months. But I always find my way back, and I do my best to reply whenever I can. This blog is my little corner of the internet. A library filled with comfort characters, fictional crushes, and stories that live rent-free in my head.
✦ Content
Feel-good fanfics ✨ (occasional angst) Not explicit , safe for minors
✦ Base of Operations
Tumblr • Quotev
✦ Will NOT Write
incest • step-relations • smut • NSFW age gap • teacher/student dynamics
i haven't written anything here in forever... maybe i even ceased to exist for a while. 😭
i'm still not much of a writer, so instead of pretending i know what i'm doing, i spent some time cleaning up my masterlist instead.
also! here's a little lineup of banner GIFs in case anyone wants to use them. i even made versions without the "masterlist" text, so you can use them however you'd like.
They say you can't be a real fanfic writer unless your Notes app is overflowing with unfinished drafts you'll swear you'll get back to "one day."
They say you aren't a real fanfic writer until you've stayed up far past midnight, your eyes burning, telling yourself, "Just one more paragraph," because the scene is finally coming together.
They say you can't be a fanfic writer until you've stopped halfway through a chapter because suddenly... you don't know which character belongs in the story anymore.
They say, "Write for yourself." And somewhere along the way, you forget who you were writing for in the first place.
Fanfiction is free. Always has been.
Yet somehow, a handful of negative comments can drown out a hundred kind ones. You start questioning every sentence. Every idea. You tell yourself, "It doesn't matter anyway," when deep down... it mattered more than you wanted to admit.
For some of us, writing wasn't just a hobby.
It was how we breathed.
Somehow I've collected mutuals I've never actually spoken to. Maybe we've never exchanged a single message. Still, in my head, I know them by their usernames like old friends I've been quietly cheering on from across the dashboard.
You may never know it, but every kudos, every heart, every comment, every reblog, every quiet read at two in the morning reminded someone to keep going.
Because whether you're a fanfic writer or a fanfic reader, somewhere along the way, a story made you smile. It made you laugh. It made you cry. It made you grieve. It made you fall in love with characters that never knew your name.
Maybe that's why we keep coming back.
Because a small part of every one of us has felt lonely before.
And somehow, through words on a screen, complete strangers remind us that we're not alone. Maybe that's the beautiful, crazy thing about fanfiction.
It lets us feel.
And if you're not a big-name writer...
If your stories never go viral...
If the number of hearts still gets to you sometimes...45 not the dream 2k you wished.
I have random followers I have an attachment to for no reason and whenever I see them in my notes I'm like "awww it's them :)" and it makes me happy. Listen to me....you never know the full enjoyment you bring to other people's lives
Su𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: Kyle asked you to Do the Cup Song for them
𝙶e𝚗𝚛𝚎: Wholesome
𝚆o𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 2k
A/n: I did the cup song earlier for nostalgia purposes, after I saw a clip from Pitch Perfect. And thought hey! What if Kyle asked Reader....and I was so excited to write this down after so long I haven't written anything ..since a friend passed away. so... here's to you in dog heaven.
~THE CUP SONG~
The fire had burned down to a lazy glow, soft shades of orange and gold flickering through the camp, the kind that made everything feel warmer than it really was. The five of you sat there quietly, letting the silence settle over tired shoulders and aching bones.
It had been a long day. A successful one, surprisingly, compared to the kind of missions you’d expected this operation to become. The Peruvian military had allowed Task Force 141 to use the outer grounds of their camp for the night under one condition...you stayed the night, then leave by dawn.
Honestly, it was a fair deal.
Better to sleep behind fences than deep in the woods with one eye open and a hand near your weapon. Though by now, you were used to sleeping lightly. Used to waking at the smallest sound.
Dinner had been served earlier. Ghost ended up making stew after Kyle and Johnny somehow managed to win ingredients off a group of Peruvian soldiers during a ridiculous card game that turned unnecessarily competitive halfway through.
The low hum of the military base carried through the night, blending with the occasional clink of gear and the scrape of pebbles under Price’s boot whenever he shifted in his seat.
The five of you sat around the fire staring into it.
No one really spoke. Everyone was exhausted, worn thin, simply waiting for the hours to pass until Nik finally arrived for extraction. At this point, you couldn’t hope for anything more than hearing that helicopter sooner rather than later.
And yet, in that little pocket of quiet, it almost felt like the world had paused.
The kind of pause where something important happens, even if nobody says it out loud.
You sat cross-legged on the ground with your notebook resting against your lap, pen scratching softly across the pages while your flashlight balanced in your other hand. Half of it were thoughts and Half were doodles... Nothing important. Just something to fill the silence.
Beside you, Johnny MacTavish was finishing the last of his meal like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted, dragging his spoon lazily through the tin as if he had all the time in the world.
Which, on missions like this, he never did.
Gaz broke the silence first with a quiet sigh, leaning back on his hands as he stared up at the sky like he was chasing a memory. Then he smiled that sweet, easy charm of his that always made it look like the world had finally healed something inside him.
“Oi…” he murmured, glancing toward you. “Can you do that cup thing again, y/n?”
You blinked, glancing up from your notebook, a small smile already tugging at your lips.
“The cup thing?” you echoed, tilting your head wondering what he meant. First thought came in your mind was the drinking contest you had with Johnny awhile back.
“Yeah,” Gaz nodded, gesturing vaguely. “That—tap-tap spin thing you did at at Las Almas.”
Price chimed in with a small nod. “Aye, that one.”
Soap looked between all of you, completely lost, brows knitting together.
“Wot’s that?” he asked, thick Scottish accent cutting through the calm like a record scratch.
You stared at him.
“…You’ve never seen it? I really thought you did” you asked, half-offended, half-amused.
"He wasnt there lassy, he was busy cooing his favorite wire cutter." Kyle said with a grin earning a scowl from Johnny.
“The cup song? From Pitch Perfect?” you asked him Soap squinted at you like you’d just spoken in code.
“Pitch… what now?” he muttered. “That a film or somethin’?”
Gaz snorted. “Oh, this is tragic.”
Price shook his head, already smiling.
“Go on lassy, Educate him.”
You sighed softly as you reached for the metal cup Gaz slid over, tapping it lightly against your palm to test the weight, the sound. The firelight flickered across your face, catching in your eyes while you focused, trying to calm the excitement bubbling inside you.
For a moment, it felt like being back in school again. Back when 2015 was trendy, when life felt simpler somehow.
God, take me back.
Soap forgot about everything else around him.
The fact they were technically hiding out somewhere dangerous and not hosting some late-night campfire with marshmallows and stupid stories. None of it mattered the second his attention landed on you. And lately, it always seemed to.
Like his eyes just knew where to go.
You started slow, easing into the pace, fingers tapping carefully against the metal cup before the rhythm settled into something smoother, steadier. The sound mixed with the crackling fire and the quiet night around you, and Soap found himself leaning forward slightly without even realizing it.
Clap clap. Tap. Tap. Clap. up. down. Clap sweep top, table bottom, hand down
The rhythm cut through the quiet, clean and steady, like it belonged there.
🎵 I got my ticket for the long way ‘round
Two bottles of whiskey for the way… 🎵
Your voice was easy, soft, but confident enough to carry, at the back of your head you tried to remember the lyrics that you surely memorized by heart at some point in your life...
And yeah… Soap was staring at you in absolute awe. He’d never heard you sing before, not really. You always insisted you sounded terrible, brushed it off whenever he asked. But to him? It was perfect. Maybe because it was you. Maybe because every word felt like you were singing just for him.
Completely lost in you.
There was something about the way your hands moved, precise yet relaxed, like you’d done this a hundred times before without even thinking about it. The small smile tugging at your lips whenever you caught the rhythm just right.
And then your eyes flicked up for only a second, meeting his
Soap swore it felt like invisible lightning struck straight through him, leaving him grinning like an idiot right back at you.
🎵 And I sure would like some sweet company… 🎵
Soap swallowed, shifting slightly, like he needed to ground himself again. Gaz leaned forward, elbows on his knees, watching like it was some kind of magic trick.
“How the hell are you—” he muttered, completely baffled.
Price sat back, arms crossed, the ghost of a smile on his face equal parts impressed and entertained.
And Ghost was singing the echoes for you.
🎵 When I’m gone…
When I’m gone… 🎵
💀💀💀 “…Gone.”
Your voice carried easily through the quiet camp, soft but confident. For just a moment barely a heartbeat your eyes flicked up to Johnny.
Then back to the rhythm.
🎵 When I’m gone…
When I’m gone…
💀💀gOne
You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone
You’re gonna miss me by my hair
You’re gonna miss me everywhere, oh
You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone… 🎵
The cup tapped, flipped, caught perfect timing.
Soap smiled without realizing it, something warm and unguarded slipping through as he watched you. Like it was easy to forget everything else.
Gaz leaned forward slightly, eyes locked on your hands, trying to figure it out like it was some kind of tactical puzzle.
“How the hell d’you even—” he muttered under his breath, half-impressed, half-confused.
Price sat back with a quiet chuckle, shaking his head, the kind of look a proud father might wear watching something unexpectedly wholesome in the middle of chaos.
Johnny's elbow rested on his knee, fingers loosely curled, but his focus was entirely on you the way you moved, the way you sang, that brief glance you gave him earlier still stuck in his head. And when the verse dipped for just a second
He spoke, voice low, roughened slightly by something he didn’t quite name.
“Careful, lass…” he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
“Sing like that, you’ll have us you're secretly telling us you're leaving.”
But his eyes said something else entirely.
You smiled at him Clearly you're singing it to him now. tapping the cup back into rhythm, the metal clicking softly against the pavement.
🎵 I got my ticket for the long way ‘round
The one with the prettiest of views
It’s got mountains, it’s got rivers, it’s got sights to give you shivers… 🎵
Right on cue Gaz pointed off toward the dark outline of the mountains.
Soap followed, gesturing lazily toward the river beyond the trees, both of them half-serious, half-mocking as they bobbed along to the beat.
🎵 …But it sure would be prettier with you. 🎵
That earned a small huff of amusement from Price, while Ghost’s shoulders barely shifted though the faintest tilt of his head suggested he was listening closer than he let on.
🎵 When I’m gone…
💀💀💀When I’m gone…
You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone… 🎵
By now, they were all in it.
Gaz joined in first, a little off-beat but enthusiastic as Soap followed, his voice rough but steady, a quiet grin tugging at his lips as he glanced sideways at you.
Even Ghost murmured the echo again—low, dry—
“Gone.”
🎵 You’re gonna miss me by my walk
You’re gonna miss me by my talk, oh… 🎵
The rhythm built, the cup flipping, tapping, sliding flawlessly through your hands as the group soldiers, hardened and worn sang like they weren’t sitting in the middle of a mission.
🎵 You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone… 🎵
The last note faded into the night, leaving only the crackle of the fire and a lingering warmth in the air.
Price was the first to break it, clapping his hands together with a proud grin.
“Well I’ll be damned that was somethin’,” he said, clearly impressed.
Gaz laughed, shaking his head. “Still don’t get how you did that without messin’ it up once.”
Somewhere in the middle of it, without much thought. Soap had slung an arm around your shoulders..He looked down at you, grin softer now, a little less teasing, a little more… genuine.
“Think you can teach me that?” he asked, nodding toward the cup. “Reckon I’ve got the rhythm for it.”
You laughed " you sure do got rhythm for California girls Johnny" you said nudging him with her elbow.
Gaz leaned in, mimicking the motion with his hands. “what was it again? Palm… tap down? Spin? I’m lost already.”
Soap froze for half a second, then broke into a shy grin, caught red-handed.
“Aye… since you brought it up,” he said,
And then without hesitation, the Scotsman sang in his husky voice.
🧼🎵“You could travel the world
But nothing comes close to the golden coast—”🧼🎵
Gaz groaned immediately, dragging a hand down his face.
“Oh no… soap please dont-”
"You're my ears bleed son!" Price said
🧼🎵“—Once you party with us, you’ll be fallin’ in love—” 🧼🎵 Soap continued, louder now, fully committing.
Price pinched the bridge of his nose, already regretting everything.
Ghost just tilted his head slightly, like he was contemplating walking into enemy fire instead.
Johnny had been running on fumes all day briefings, drills, paperwork he hated more than any battlefield. By the time he finally stepped into the common room, the smell of food hit him like a punch.
And there you were.
Sitting at the table with a little white takeout box, chopsticks in hand, happily eating your Chinese lunch.
Johnny slowed his steps, blue eyes locking onto the box like a starving man spotting treasure. His stomach growled loud enough that he cleared his throat and casually leaned his hip against the table beside you.
He dragged a hand through his mohawk and looked down at you with that crooked grin the one that usually meant trouble.
"Aye… that smells suspiciously good, bonnie.
His gaze flicked to the noodles dangling from your chopsticks, then back to your face.
"Tell me that’s not what I think it is… because if it’s sweet and sour chicken, I might actually pass out right here."
He pressed a hand dramatically to his stomach, leaning a little closer.
"Been workin’ all day, haven’t eaten a bloody thing…" he sighed, voice lowering into a teasing murmur.
Johnny nudged your knee lightly with his.
"Now… a kind, beautiful girlfriend of mine wouldn’t let her poor, starvin’ boyfriend suffer right in front of her, would she?"
His eyes sparkled with mischief as he tilted his head.
"Just one bite. Tiny one. I’m a humble man."
He leaned closer, grinning.
"Or do I need to start sweet-talkin’ properly to earn it?"
"Nope, sorry johnny I can't give you my-"
You said taking another scoop. Johnny licked his lips
Johnny raised a brow the moment you said no He straightened slowly, placing a hand over his chest like you’d just wounded him deeply.
“Ye cannae give me your—?” he echoed dramatically, eyes widening before he peeked down at the takeout box again.
He leaned closer, squinting at it like it personally betrayed him.
“Lass… that’s cold.”
Johnny sighed heavily and dragged a chair over, dropping into it beside you like a man accepting his fate.
“So this is how it is, aye?” he muttered. “All day runnin’ drills, savin’ the world, lookin’ handsome… and me own girlfriend leaves me to starve.”
His blue eyes slid back to you, a slow grin forming.
Then he suddenly leaned in, lowering his voice like he was sharing a secret.
“Alright… new strategy.”
Johnny pointed at the box with his chin.
“How about a trade?” he said smoothly.
He flashed that shameless flirt smile.
“One bite for a kiss.”
He tapped the table.
“Fair deal, I’d say.”
"Just one bite? You asked making sure.
Johnny blinked when you asked “Just one bite?” He lifted both hands innocently, nodding like the most trustworthy man in the world.
“Aye, cross my heart, bonnie. Just one bite.”
But the moment you leaned in, Johnny’s grin softened. He kissed you back—warm, slow, like he’d missed you all day. One hand cupped your cheek while the other rested casually on the table beside the takeout box.
For a second it actually felt sweet.
Then—
SNATCH.
Johnny grabbed the entire box in one swift motion and bolted from the chair.
Johnny was already halfway down the hall, laughing loudly, noodles dangling from his chopsticks as he ate while running.
“THANKS FOR LUNCH, BONNIE!” he called over his shoulder.
A few soldiers in the room burst out laughing. Johnny jogged backwards for a second, still chewing.
“Worth the kiss!” he teased with a wink before turning and disappearing down the corridor your voice echoed through the corridor.
“JOHNNY!!!! YOU ARSE!!!!”
Johnny had just turned the corner down the hallway, still shoveling noodles into his mouth like a man who hadn’t seen food in days.
Johnny slowed for a second, glancing over his shoulder with a grin that said he absolutely deserved it. He walked backward a few steps, lifting the box like a trophy while chewing.
Then he cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled back down the hall—
“I LOVE YOU!!!”
[I'm sorry it's so short but I'll make it up to you guys soon when I get more free time, let me know if you guys wanna be added on the taglist]
𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: Simon Riley 𝙭 Reader
Su𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: he wonders what Fanfic is to you.
𝙶e𝚗𝚛𝚎: Fluff
𝚆o𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 1k
A/n: this is just a practice fic, im not so proud of... so I can get back to writing simon, sorry it's a bit rusty I guess... writing half asleep too
Worlds in Words
Simon quietly stepped into the bedroom, boots soft against the floor, the faint hum of the city outside the window barely reaching them. The dim light from the bedside lamp cast long shadows across the room. You were curled up under the covers, phone in hand, eyes glued to the screen, fingers flying over the keyboard.
Simon approached the bed, kneeling beside you. He gently rested a hand on your wrist, letting your phone slip from your grasp onto the blanket.
His other hand rested lightly on the bed near your shoulder as he leaned in just slightly, voice low and teasing, yet soft.
“What are you doing over there?” he asked, eyes scanning yours with quiet curiosity, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
"nothing" you said but simon laid his head on your pillow
Simon’s brow quirked as he leaned closer, letting his head rest lightly on her pillow. The scent of your shampoo mixed with the faint warmth of the blankets made him pause for a moment quiet, domestic, safe. He glanced at the screen, seeing only a blank notepad, fingers hovering like you'd been typing but hadn’t written anything yet.
“Nothing, huh?” he murmured, his tone teasing but soft, the edge of a smile playing at his lips. “You’ve got a very suspicious-looking ‘nothing’ over here.” He nudged the notepad gently with his nose, just enough to make you look up at him. “Come on… what are you really doing at this hour?”
His hand drifted to rest over hers, the warmth of his touch a gentle insistence. “You’re not trying to hide secrets from me, are you?”
You sighed. "I know you said I shouldn't write anymore....but I can't help it" you said referring to his deal about you would take a break from reading and writing about Fanfiction
Simon let out a low, almost reluctant sigh, running a hand through his hair. His eyes softened as he watched you fidget under the covers, caught between mischief and guilt. “It’s just… stories, right? People making up stuff?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. “Why does it matter so much to you?”
He shifted closer, resting his arm across her waist, careful not to crowd you, just enough to feel connected. “I get it… I just… don’t want you putting yourself in a weird spot over something,” he admitted quietly, his voice low in the dim light.
Then, after a pause, he smirked faintly, a teasing edge creeping in despite the softness. “But I gotta admit… I’m curious now. What’s got you so hooked that you can’t just put the phone down?”
"I have spent almost all my life in books, movies, and Fanfiction because I'm a lonely person with no friends because I don't know....maybe they just don't like me or maybe I'm hard to get...i dont know...and the only people who truly accept me are in the stories I read or write and unfortunately I can't jump in and be there. Because if I could I would...In different universes... it's still the same person with different costumes...and i still love him as I love you, My world is fucking terrible and i make up stuff because I want someone to understand me and be there...like you did... As tiring, and all the late nights I have been writing about it. In the end it's still worth it. I got Mutuals I never spoke to but...I felt like they have been my friends even we never spoke a bloody word."
Simon scoffs a laugh "why didnt you?"
You shrugged "I don't know what to say or if they even wanna talk..."
"Maybe try?" He asked
"I don't have the guts and i don't wanna sound needy...or too much but hey I got you."
Simon’s eyes softened immediately, the hard edges he usually carried melting in the dim glow of the bedside lamp. He stayed silent for a moment, just listening, letting your words sink in. The usual sarcasm and teasing he carried around faded completely; in its place was something rare for him raw, unguarded attention.
He shifted closer, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Hey…” he said gently, his voice low and steady. “I… I didn’t know it felt that heavy for you.” His thumb lightly traced small circles on your hand, grounding you. “You don’t have to jump into those worlds to be seen. I… I see you. I get you, even if it’s messy and complicated. That’s enough for me.”
He let out a quiet sigh, resting his forehead against yours. “Look… I don’t want to stop you from writing. I just… I worry about you, that’s all. But if it’s how you cope, how you make sense of things… then I’ll try to understand. I promise.”
His eyes searched yours, sincere, soft, and steady Simon Riley, stripped of armor, trying to meet you where you were...
You looked at him and smiled sadly. "You don't think it's foolish that I write characters aren't mine? Writing crazy stories?"
Simon shook his head slowly, a small, soft smile tugging at his lips. “No,” he said quietly, brushing a finger along your cheek. “Not foolish… not at all. You’re just… trying to make sense of the world, in your own way. Everyone has their thing some people draw, some play music, some… get lost in stories. You? You write. That’s not foolish. That’s…Art..thats life.”
He leaned back just slightly, resting on his elbows, his gaze unwavering. “And besides…” he added, a hint of teasing slipping in despite the seriousness, “if anyone ever calls it foolish, I’ll personally tell them they don’t get it.”
His hand found yours again, squeezing gently. “You create worlds because it helps you survive this one. That’s… strong, not stupid.”
"even I read sick and too fluff unrealistic ones?" You smiled looking at him as he leaned in
Simon chuckled softly, a low, rumbling sound that made the corners of the room feel warmer. “Especially the fluff ones,” he said, grinning. “Those make sense too… everyone needs a little escape, even if it’s ridiculous sometimes. Hell, I’d read one if you made me.”
He leaned in a little closer, his forehead brushing yours, eyes glinting with quiet amusement. “The sick ones… well, I don’t think I could handle all that drama,” he teased lightly, “but the fluff? Yeah… I get it. And I get you.”
He let out a small sigh, resting his hand over yours, thumb brushing gently in a steady rhythm. “You’re allowed to make these worlds. You’re allowed to love them, even if they’re… too much sometimes. That doesn’t make you foolish it makes you you.”
You smiled and pecked his lips "god I love you"
Simon’s chest tightened in that familiar, grounding way, the weight of your words sinking in. He stayed still for a heartbeat, letting the warmth of your kiss linger before slowly returning it, careful, soft, like he didn’t want to break the moment.
“I love you too,” he murmured against her lips, his voice low and earnest. His hand tightened gently around yours, fingers threading together. “More than I probably deserve.”
He rested his forehead against yours, letting the quiet settle between them. “You… you make this messy world worth it. You really do.”
You cupped his face gently before you accidentally kicked off your phone and bounced off the bed. "Shoot….." you muttered, scrambling to grab it.
When you stood back up and checked for cracks, the room suddenly felt quieter, emptier Simon wasn’t there. The blankets were warm, but something was missing.
You sank back onto the bed, hugging the pillow close, and for a moment, you imagined him scooting closer, wrapping her to his chest. That would make it sweeter… if only you were here.
You let out a small, wistful sigh and picked up your phone, opening the notepad and tumblr again. The words flowed easily now, as if he really were there beside you, the world outside forgotten. the warmth of his presence it had been all in words But somehow, that made it just as real to make you continue living.
