Fantasea Friday Week 3
A/N: Been reading Ghost fanfictions (1) (2) lately
Simon "Ghost" Riley x non-native speaker!/international student!/asian!Reader (You)
Been thinking of a specific scene where you speak English but not understanding some subtle differences/words/meanings.
Blink twice in confusion, before saying "Huh?" is your response everytime when Simon mumbles something that you didn't understand.
For example, the first time he calls you "love." It's not an endearment, not really, not in the way that you interpret. It's just a random thing Simon says because he's Manchester lad born and bred.
It is very obvious that your brain.exe stops functioning for a moment, and then blink, once, twice, "Huh?"
"I said the food, the dish from your country? It tastes good." Simon explains the word "delicious."
"No I get that part, delicious part, but - um, the um... the last word?"
"Wha- oh. Love?" It dawns on him.
You visibly flinch from the word.
Simon laughs, "Manchester thing. We say 'love' as a way of ... same as 'bro', 'bruv', or 'mate', but less masculine."
"Cringe. That word makes me cringe." You manage a smile, "Mate sounds good, really, thumbs up for the term 'mate'." Even put up both of your thumbs for good measure.
"Okay, sorry for scaring you, mate." Simon laughs again, laughing so hard that his stomach hurts.
Your eyes dart everywhere but this big bulk of a man in front of you, murmuring a "Thanks".
Or the time that you get stuck in your essays for three days straight and feeling guilty about not cooking anything although it's almost a habit that you provide food for him.
Making sure that he steps into the bathroom that's when you sneak out of your bedroom and try to cook the instant spagetti in under five minutes using the microwave and disappear before Simon finishes showering.
You are anxiously waiting for the spagetti to heat up when Simon steps out of the bathroom.
"I was just planning to check your vital signs, matey. Three days straight in that cot? Aren't you couped up?" Simon jokes, popping a can of Bud from the fridge.
"'s fine, I guess. Just trying to finish my essay. It's due tomorrow at eight." You offer weakly. You look terrible, you are well aware. Unwashed hair for three days, same pjs for the week, and dark circles under your eyes - three out of the four reasons why you avoid him for the last seventy-two hours.
Dripping. Golden strands. Grey T clings to him like second skin. Smells like a fucking Armani model.
The insecurity is gnawling you like an ugly goblin.
"Y'know, I can cook for both of us if your finals is getting out of hand." Simon shrugs as if he isn't offering you the most considerate, the best thing you've heard all month. He might not think of it this way, but you are close to tears. "Beats this shite instant Italian noodles, anyway." He casually drinks from the tin can in his hand.
But - "I'm sorry. I'm supposed to cook -"
"Says who?" Simon scratches the end of his eyebrow like he had heard that you said you are an alien from outerspace.
"But we ... you handle the grocery, and I -"
"Look," He sighs, throwing the empty can into the bin, "you don't have to do anything, besides taking care of yourself in a foreign nation, okay? I'm not totally blind to the fact that you are struggling with this task right now."
"No buts ifs or ands," Simon tskes, "I'm taking over the kitchen for the next week. And before you ask, no, you are not dealing with groceries besides putting a sticker on the fridge."
You almost cry. You nearly cry. You cry. Ugly crying. Nodding and crying and smiling.
Simon awkwardly offers you tissues.
"Jesus you crackpot." He murmurs under his breath, patting your shoulder three times for good measure.
You hug him, suddenly. Letting go just as sudden.
"Thank you." You whisper, grabbing your plate of instant spagetti and retreating to your room before shooting him a wavery watery smile.
He feels ... odd. The way you emotions burst at the smallest gestures, while taking up all the burdens and keeping everything inside. In the end, he picks up his phone and calls his mum.
"Hey, mum. I'm learning how to cook. Do I put the mince or the sauce in the pan first when I'm trying to make the ... bolognese?"
"No, you don't have to -"
"... yes mum. Thank you mum. I'll be there in twenty."
Half of what you eat in the next week is the handiwork of Mrs. Riley.
a/n2: I always think the woman who raised simon riley would be someone very similar to Mrs. Weasley.
