TikTok
So I'm branching out some more on writing, but I got inspo for a fic, and I thought I'd give in a try- Ar
Summary: Inspired by @alnilaem post about TikToker reader and grumpy-looking Simon Riley. Reader is described using fem pronouns.
Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader
Length: 1130
You gained a following on TikTok due to making easy meals and baking cakes. You also always wore dresses and handmade embroidered aprons while making your videos, giving all your videos a warm, homey vibe. That was why some of your viewers called your aesthetic “housewife.” You didn’t mind it too much, given you were a stay-at-home wife. Your husband Simon worked construction, and that brought in enough to pay for everything, and the little you got from your videos helped cushion whatever else you wanted. Simon never showed up in your videos, either letting you have a reign of the kitchen or him being at work while you filmed.
You decided for today’s video to hop on the “pack my husband’s lunch with me” trend. So you began the video as you always do, “Hey everyone, I am doing something new today. So, we are going to be packing my husband’s lunch today.” You smile at the camera as you start making Simon two roast beef and cheese sandwiches. “He’s not very picky when it comes to food, but he certainly doesn’t like anything super fancy like soup, just something easy to eat while he is working,” you say as you continue to pack his lunch.
“Got to get him to eat fruit and he always needs his coffee,” You say as you add a small container filled with grapes and grab a small thermos to fill with coffee. You finish it off by grabbing a bag of chips and a sweet treat of leftover cupcakes. You then grab a small notebook and pen and write a note. “And there it is, my husband’s lunch.” The camera pans over the lunchbox showing all the contents before the video ends.
You posted the video without watching it fully. If you had, you would have noticed Simon in the background. You knew your husband looked mean. Being over 6 feet and over 200 pounds of muscle would do that. He was also wearing one of his work shirts that was covered in paint splatters. You had tried your hardest to get most of the stains out when you washed them, but you never truly succeeded. Simon was handsome, but always had a resting mad face. So, when you looked at the comments and noticed a bunch of people asking you if you were okay, you knew that your rough-looking husband had made an appearance.
The comments kept coming long after you posted the video.
Your phone buzzed against the couch cushion as you leaned into Simon’s side, his arm heavy and warm around your shoulders. The TV played something neither of you were watching.
You scroll, your lips twitching. “Someone says, ‘Close your fist with your thumb inside if you’re not safe.’”
Simon lets out a short laugh. “They really think I’ve got you locked up somewhere?”
“They think you’re forcing me to stay home,” you say, glancing up at him.
He freezes for half a second, then looks genuinely offended. “Excuse me? I begged you to quit that job.”
You smile, because it’s true. Because you remember the late nights, the exhaustion, the way he’d listen to you vent while rubbing circles into your back. How you cried about some bullshit that happened with one of your coworkers.
“They just see your face,” you say gently. “And the size difference.”
Simon snorts and pulls you closer. “Tragic. Born six foot two with resting murder face.”
You laugh, burying your face against his chest. “Maybe I should make a video with you in it. Clear things up.”
He tilts your chin up, expression softening despite the permanent scowl. “If it stops people thinking I’m some kind of villain, sure.”
Then, quieter, meant only for you: “You know I’d never cage you.”
“I know,” you say easily, because you do. You always have.
He presses a kiss to your forehead, solid and sure. “Good.”
The video starts with you standing in your kitchen, dressed up in one of your many dresses with a hand embroidered apron on. You smile at the camera, looking pretty in your quaint kitchen as you begin to speak. “Hey everybody! It’s me again,” you greeted your phone camera, “today I’m making a special cake for my husband. It’s one of his favorites, so I thought I’d share it with you.”
Simon can be seen sitting across the kitchen counter, reading a novel and occasionally glancing up in the background of the video.
“He likes them very rich, so we are making a dark chocolate cake with caramel filling and white chocolate flakes on top,” you state as you begin to prepare that batter. “So, I also wanted to address the very nice and worried comments about me. My husband may look mean, but I can assure you all that he is just a big ol’ teddy bear.”
You started to stir the batter together. “He doesn’t keep me at home, I like making videos and baking for all of you. So, I have made it my full-time job. I used to work in an office, but now that there are so many of you who enjoy watching me bake and cook, well it allows me to do this full time instead.”
Simon watched with amusement as you made the cake and defended him from strangers on the internet who were convinced he was keeping his wife chained to a stove. He chuckled and then added a remark.
“You always said you hated that job anyway,” Simon said, finally pulling his gaze away from his book to glance in your direction.
“I did,” you said, addressing the audience in the video, “I can finally do something that I love.” You pause the video so you could cut to when the cake was baked and cool before decorating.
“Do you think that will go over well? That they’ll believe me?” You place the cake batter in the oven.
Simon closes his book and gets up from his seat, coming up behind you to wrap his arms around you. “They better believe us,” he mutters into your ear, “don’t want people thinking that I abuse my poor wife.” He gently kisses your neck.
“I’m sure some will still think so, but I’m just glad to have you around, Mr. Riley,” you tell him.
“As am I, my little housewife,” he says, pulling you close.
You finish the cake and the video before posting it to your viewers to see. There’s a couple of worried comments, but most of the comments range from “Aw, that’s adorable,” to “See? Told you guys he wasn’t such a brute.”
Simon leans over your shoulder, looking at the comments. “Told you they would believe us,” he says with a teasing smirk.
“I know,” you smile.