Happiness Series - Tumblr Posts
Don’t talk to me, I’m crying. I love dad! Ghost 😭😭😭
Raindrops | Simon “Ghost” Riley
a/n: 🫶
summary: It’s the first night home with his little one, and he’s trying to remember every moment.
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It’s raining outside and for once in his life, Simon Riley is grateful for it.
It rained almost every day he was tortured by Roba, it rained the day he dug himself out of the grave. It rained when his family was killed; it rained when he buried them - and himself. And it rained the day he lost Grace.
He stood in his bedroom of his stuffy studio apartment in Manchester, curtains opened to watch the cold rain patter against the old glass. It created a soft melody, calming and soothing - because in his large arms sat Winter Grace Riley.
She was a little bigger now, a lot less red than when she was born. Almost a month and a half of hospital visits had gone by since she had came into this world, now his baby got to sleep in his cozy arms instead of an incubator. The mask was discarded at the door, his shirt somewhere in the room because all of the nurse spoke about how skin to skin helped premature babies keep warm and helped him bond with her. So now, in her elephant onesie, she slept soundly to the melody of the rain instead of the steady thrum of machines.
The only light in the room was a far off street light, his studio kept dark for a multitude of reasons. He had tried to clean before she came home with him, but it slipped his mind. The second she passed with flying colors, all he thought about was getting her home in the pretty pink bassinet he had bought, dressing her in all of the animal onesies he thought were nice, and the best of all, Winter sleeping in his arms. She was a little thing, could barely fit in newborn clothes as a seven week old premie, but Winter was his. She was finally home in his shitty apartment, and that made his world turn upside down.
It was scary for Simon. He found it terrifying that such a little thing could sway his view on the world, but he would never change having that little girl.
He pressed a kiss to her head, the baby softly hummed in her slumber. Both arms holding her and he never took his eyes off of her, even as the thunder barreled through Manchester. He memorized her eyelashes, her nose, her mouth, her ears… everything. Because if he were to lose her, he would be destroyed.
It was bedtime for them now. He was meant to put her down in her bassinet, the one with the pink polka dots and pastel stars, but he couldn’t. The rain that finally soothed her came down harder, shouting at him to let her rest, let her be, take her out of his arms so she could sleep.
All he could do was memorize his daughter’s face because he knew that one day… one day she wouldn’t be this little anymore.
Copyright © 2023 lethalchiralium. All rights reserved.
I missed this series so much and it’s as heartwarming as always 🥹
White Carnations | Simon “Ghost” Riley x Wife!Reader
a/n: HNNNGGG THE BRAINROT IS BACK ITS REAL. (thanks to @as-is-above-so-below for help with this and to @halfmoth-halfman for the lovely missus art they made 🥹)
warnings: mentions of doctor’s offices, hospitals. mentions of intense grieving, mentions of miscarriage and pregnancy.
summary: Two more days until Simon has to leave his home, and he wants to spend as much time as he can with his oldest daughter.
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Rain in England is normal.
To Simon, it makes him feel safe. The rain means calm, the rain means cover, the rain means his daughter sleeps through the night. He doesn’t ever go outside when it’s raining and he’s home, he’s usually inside with a squirrely Winnie, wanting to play and have fun - but today was different.
The forecast said a chance of rain, it had rained for a few days straight - the sun was shining when he walked out of the house, Winnie holding his hand, chirping about her pretty blue dress. She wanted to wear her ladybug rain boots, and Simon could never say no to her. They walked to the tram, he picked her up so she didn’t run off as they waited.
It was warming up, Winnie begged and begged to wear her dress and her boots, and now she was happy. She watched as little bugs flew around while her father gazed at her little face, brushing away a curl that failed to remain in her ponytail. She didn’t even notice, it was an infinitely small detail in her grand scheme of her little world, but it was important to Simon that she could see everything his world had to offer - so he pushed the strand behind her ear. He would never shy her away from telling her the truth about what really happens, but he wanted to keep her like this - wide eyed with a toothy smile that only admired the beauty in his ugly world.
Two days. He had two days until he tucks his five year old into bed, kisses her good night, and leaves her for the hundredth time. Two days until he puts down his almost one year old, kisses her little head, and leaves her for the first time. People needed saving, the world needs people to shove their hands into the bloodbath of war to wash the rest of humanity of their sins. He has to put on the mask his oldest never feared but his youngest will, he has to pick up the rifle that has killed men with daughters like his own. He may pretend the blood doesn’t stain, but it leaves burns underneath his skin when he checks their wallets; when he sees a picture all too similar to one he’s taken of his own children.
The tram slowed to a stop, it was packed full of people, just like it always was. He stepped on, Winnie settled her head on his shoulder as he found a place to stand - against the window, watching everyone on the train and making sure he had enough space between himself and the three people around him. There has never been such a thing as being too careful.
Winnie’s leg was digging the pack of cigarettes in his pocket into his side, a habit he’s been trying to quit since Winnie was born. He was close to finally being done with it, but sometimes he needed to clear his head - even with all of the anxiety settling into his stomach, he wouldn’t dare light one once he stepped off the tram. His daughter’s health was much more important than a stupid Marlboro.
“Dad,” She murmured, he moved his head a little to hear her better.
“What’s up, duckling?”
“Can we get Mummy something?”
He settled his cheek against her head, a small chuckle leaving his lips. “What would we get her?”
His daughter shrugged a little. “Pretty flowers.”
“Pretty flowers.” He echoed, a smirk tugged at his lips underneath his medical face mask. “We can get Mum pretty flowers once we’re done with the doctors and with our ice cream, okay?”
She nodded, he patted her back. No matter how old she gets, he hoped she would still let him hold her - even when she’s got little ones of her own, she’s always going to be that little baby he stood by the window with, watching the rain and letting her be soothed by the sound of it. She will always be that little pink baby in the NICU, when her cries finally silenced as soon as her father held her. She will always be the girl Simon Riley had changed his life for.
“Pink flowers an’ red flowers an’ blue ones too, Dad.” Winnie whispered, her fingers curled around the collar of his leather jacket. He nodded, moving his head from hers as the tram alerted to their stop. He moved forwards a little, free hand held onto the rail next to the door as the tram began to slow down. “Are you getting strawberry ice cream?”
“Yes, baby.” He chuckled a little, stepping out of the tram as soon as the doors opened. People rushed past and into the crowded transportation, he didn’t have much care about it. All he was focused on was his daughter and potential threats to her safety. He held her a little closer as he crossed the street when every other person did, he was speed walking to make it to the hospital. Maybe he was a little late, it didn’t matter to him but it did to you. I’m trying to keep her healthy, you said. Get my baby to her appointment.
Winnie didn’t speak much when he entered the hospital, even when they were alone in the elevator. He was half convinced she had fallen asleep, but he dismissed it when she raised her head at the reception desk.
The lady behind the desk was one he’d seen before. She was always nice, she looked young. Isn’t a threat. Shut up. “How can I help you?”
“Winter Riley, appointment at 10 with Dr. Hughes.” Simon spoke with a calm tone, much quieter than his normal voice. Winnie buried her little face into his neck again as the receptionist typed away on her computer.
She cleared her throat before speaking again. “She’ll be right out if you want to take a seat.”
Two exits. Stop.
“Dad.”
Before he knew it, he was sitting on an exam room guest chair, Winnie still curled up in his hold. He had tried to get her to sit on the exam table, but he understood why she didn’t want to. Simon couldn’t sit up there with her, so Winnie decided that being poked and prodded while cuddled in her father’s everlasting safety was much better than a cold padded table.
“Yeah, Win?”
“I want you to stay.”
Simon’s been stabbed before, shot, waterboarded, burned - but nothing had ever felt so painful as his daughter wanting him to stay home. He looked down at her head, her hands still clinging to him. She picked at the metal zipper teeth, head down like she was avoiding his gaze. He kissed her head and patted her leg with his hand.
“Just one more trip, lovie.”
“You say that every time.”
A hot knife slammed into his chest, the cold blood that thrummed through his heart as it began to sizzle, causing him pain. His entire chest filled with agonizing pain like the knife had stabbed him repeatedly. All he could do was force a smile, push her stubborn curl away from her face, and softly speak to her,
“I know.”
Simon went through the motions of pretending to be a human being. Speaking with the doctor, listening to her advice and her notes. He held his five year old as she got two immunization shots, let her scream and cry into his neck as he spoke to her in a soothing tone. She made him kiss her bandaid before the doctor put it on, listening to her as she babbles on about it being good luck. He memorizes his daughter’s face as she talks and talks, memorizes how heavy she is as he carries her out of the office, out of the hospital, and to the ice cream shop. Simon memorizes how little his daughter’s hand is as she stands on her toes, reading the ice cream flavors out loud so he can know what they are too.
He snapped back into his headspace like a freshly broken rubber band as he put down five quid on the counter, he took his bowl of strawberry ice cream as Winnie took her cotton candy swirl with both of her hands. He opened the door for her, the little girl stepped out onto the street and looked up to him, waiting for him to tell her where to go. Simon looked around before nodding his head to a bench only a few feet away. She instantly scampered away, jumping up to sit on it as Simon sat down beside her. Winnie instantly dug into her ice cream, completely unbothered by the cold breeze that breathed through the city streets.
He was quick when he took the picture of Winnie, knowing she doesn’t like to have her picture taken. He sent it to you, then slipped his phone back into his pocket before he softly spoke, “I’ll be home soon this time, I promise.”
Winnie paused in her eating, eyes not moving from her paper bowl and spoon. “I know.”
“Dad has to go away to work, duckling, you know that.” The pain in his chest hadn’t subsided yet, he hoped trying to get her to understand would help ease his mind. “Dad has to go be a hero.”
“I don’t want you to be a hero.” She murmured, sticking her spoon in her ice cream before scooping out a large portion of it. “I want you to be home with me and Mummy and Melsie.”
“Baby, you know Daddy loves you, yeah?”
She nodded.
His cup of ice cream settled in his lap as he gently pet his daughter’s head, she didn’t dare move. “And I’d do anything in the world for you. You know that too, right?”
“Mama tells me that.” She sniffled a little before shoving the spoon of ice cream in her mouth.
“Whatever Mum says, it’s true. But duckling, Daddy has to go. Do you know why?”
The girl shook her head as she pulled the spoon from her mouth, shoving it back into her ice cream.
“Because there are many little kids like you who don’t have a Mummy or Daddy to care for them. And big scary men make the world not safe, which means those kids aren’t safe either. That’s why I go.” He fixed her ponytail, one of her hands swatted his away. “The faster I get rid of the bad guys means the faster the world is safe, which means you’re safe. And when you’re safe, Daddy gets to come home. Does that make sense?”
Winnie shrugged, he grabbed his own ice cream.
“I promise that I’m gonna be gone on trips less, I’ll be home for a long time in a few months.”
“Why?”
After taking a bite of the ice cream flavor he hated, he responded. “Aunt Kate said so. I have a question for you, duck.”
She nodded, finally looking up to Simon, which made his cold heart full of sizzling pain suddenly become calm. There would never be a day where he wouldn’t love his daughter.
“How do you feel if Mum has another baby?”
The girl looked away, digging back into her ice cream. “I dunno.”
His shoulders slumped a little, worry settled deep into his bones like a curse. “Would you be…happy? Sad? Angry?”
She shrugged, spoon stirring the melting delicacy. “Happy, I guess.”
“You guess?”
His daughter looked up to him, a sad look on her face that hurt Simon deeper than he’s even known. “I don’t want Mummy to be sad again.”
Nevermind. That’s worse. Oh god, that’s worse.
Simon’s lips were pulled into a tight line as he took his daughter’s ice cream, setting both his and her cups beside him on the bench before he picked up Winnie. He placed her on his lap so he can look at her face, his hands then held her little ones, squeezing them gently.
“That’s true, little love. We were very sad for a bit, you remember, right?”
The little girl with dark hazel eyes looked up at her father with a hopeful look.
“Does Mummy have a baby in her belly?”
Simon Riley’s chest tightened, but his hands did not. He gently brushed his thumbs on the backs of his daughter’s hands.
“…She might. We’re not sure yet. Mummy needs to go to the doctors, just like you did today.”
“A different baby?”
He nodded. “Right. S’not the same baby as before.”
“Will this one go away too?”
“Plea-Please, please…” Sobs wrecked your body as Simon held you to his chest, you fought him. You fought his comfort, you fought his love because how could you do this? How could you break his heart?
“Baby, it’s okay,” He spoke into your ear, your nails dug crescents into his scarred skin. “It was just a bad dream, you’re okay.”
“I want my baby.” Those were the words you spoke almost every night for days and Simon never understood how those four words could keep shattering his heart. You kept dreaming of your son, your beautiful son who loved to play in the water, who loved to run and squeal and play fire truck with his sisters. The boy that you’ve wanted all your life, now that you have the two daughters you’ve dreamed of when you were little. You were in mental and emotional agony, Simon could feel it. And God, did he wish that pain could be given to him. He would do anything to make your pain subside, to take it away; but he knew he couldn’t. So he has laid beside you, for days on end, holding you and putting pressure on where it hurt like it was an oozing wound. His forehead in your shoulder, holding where his son used to be. He imagined pressing a dressing to a wound, trying to take himself out of the equation to neutralize the pain of it all. He was sure that son of his left a gaping wound in your chest and Simon had to choose which wound was worse - where his son was warm and loved oozed like a deep gash from a knife, or where his wife’s grief was gushing blood from a gunshot wound she didn’t even inflict.
You squeezed his hand, sobbing so hard you could barely breathe.
Simon watched as your tears fill the ocean that was drowning him. He can fix anything, he has fixed many problems in his life and he was begging somebody, anybody, to allow him to fix you. But he can’t; he hated that he couldn’t place a kiss to your cheek and have everything become right - that’s not how any of this works.
He pressed his lips to your shoulder blade as you stilled, his arms hot from the nightly hours he spent under the covers with you, his stomach curled with hunger. Your cries had stopped, your young and bashful heart causing you more pain as it flickered with life every second. The hand that had sat on your heart since he got back into bed after putting his daughters to sleep moved, ever so slowly, towards your cheek - resting on your hairline before gently moving, petting your head ever so carefully.
You bobbed in the ocean with him, breaching the waves and taking in greedy breaths of oxygen before being pulled under again. His hands always so desperate to hold onto you, to help you, could only reach so far before he had to take a breath of his own to dive deep, deeper, and to the deepest point of his core. He would force your head above water, even if it meant he would drown. He’s always been sure you could be better off without him.
Simon spent six days taking care of his grief-stricken wife, navigating the sea of mourning, trying to pull your head above the inky waves. With every crest of the waves of tears in his body, his strength would dwindle. But with every slow descent of Simon, came the rising phoenix that was you.
“I don’t know, love.” Simon bit his tongue for only a moment, just to rid his mind of the dark ocean he found his soul in for a moment.
He shouldn’t have to explain this to his child, he should be explaining about which room will change into her big girl room so he can switch the kids around. He should be talking with his daughter about how he is going to stay home after these next few missions. Explain that she will lose a little sleep too. But he isn’t. He’s sat on an old bench in front of an ice cream shop, eating his least favorite flavor of ice cream to please his daughter, and having to tell her that not every baby dies. He has to explain that her beautiful mother won’t have to be sad again.
“Sometimes that happens. Babies go away and there isn’t anything we can do about it.”
“Do we get to keep this one?”
He smiled at his daughter, even when he didn’t have the answer. Even when he felt a drop of rain on his head, reminding him how close he was to going beneath the waves in his mind. “I hope so. Do you want to keep this one?”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
“Do you want a brother or sister?” He whispered, his hand grabbed her ice cream and settled it on her lap. Her hands instantly grabbed it, holding the small cup and spoon before whispering back.
“I want a brother like before.”
“Okay.” He nodded at his daughter before taking his ice cream cup back in his own hands. “Will you like the baby if it’s a girl?”
“Yeah. I just want a brother.” She shrugged, now more interested in her ice cream. He leaned forwards, placing a kiss on the top of her head.
“Well, the baby decides that, okay? They’ll tell us when Mum gets a bit bigger.”
Winnie nodded again, before looking up at her dad again. “I love you, Daddy.”
His heart swelled, his smile didn’t falter as he spoke, “I love you too, my darling girl.” He set his most hated ice cream flavor down on the bench before picking Winnie up, placing her on her feet on the ground. “You ready to go home?”
He tossed two half empty cups into the trash next to the bench, making sure it made it into the food waste slot. He picked up his darling girl in her raincoat and rain boots, then made his way towards the tram as specks of rain dotted his head.
He watched the rain as it splattered against the tram windows, he helped his daughter into her blue raincoat he had kept in his own jacket, he huddled with the crowd of people under the station shelter when he had to change trams. Winnie hummed to herself, little fingers curled around the collar of his jacket.
“Daddy.”
He kissed her head. “Yes, my love?”
“Are we still getting flowers for Mummy?”
He sighed a little, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet before he muttered, “We can’t be in the rain for too long, you will get sick. I don’t think we should go today.”
The girl in his arms practically deflated. “But… But her flowers, Daddy… I want to get her flowers…”
“Flowers aren’t as important as you, my darling girl.” His large hand patted her back, hearing the squeak of her raincoat as the rain fell harder. He was under the shelter just enough, but the mist still coated his daughter’s hair and his face. “I want you to be home and healthy, not bundled up with me and poorly.”
“But… I want the flowers so I can tell Mama she’s pretty like you do.”
The tram rolled to a stop as his mental state was yanked above the waves it had been drowning in, his feet could barely touch the water as he felt his heart soar.
Kind. His mind sung, his heart singing along. My daughter is kind.
He quickly walked onto the tram, he grabbed an empty standing place as the tram became more full by the second. Winnie moved her head from his shoulder, eyes gazing at his face.
“What’s wrong, Daddy?”
The medical mask had sat in his pocket, so his daughter could watch how his lips grew a smile so wide. “You don’t need flowers to tell Mummy she’s pretty.”
He had counted the amount of people in the tram by that point, and without failure, he noticed the small crowd of people around him staring at him and his daughter. Even though he knew it wasn’t safe, he ignored them all. He focused on his daughter’s button nose, those hazel eyes that are glazed over with fatigue.
“I don’t?”
“No, my love,” He whispered, hand gently petting her head. “You tell her every time you think so, just for me. Can you do that?”
She nodded vigorously, his heart beat with such golden pride for his wonderful Winter.
“We’ll go get her flowers, my love. Just so you can tell your mummy she’s very, very, very pretty.”
The five year old giggled as he pushed the button for the next stop.
Winnie demanded to hold the bouquet on the way home. The flower shop with many options for the colors his daughter chose was a tram ride in the opposite direction of home, so now that the public transportation journey was over, all Simon had to do was walk home.
Much easier said than done.
The thunder was loud, lightning glimmered in the sky as the rain poured, but Winnie barely cared. Her little hood up, her ladybug boots squeaked with every step. His phone was strapped somewhere dry on the inside of his coat, the flowers Winnie was so excited to hold were clutched against her chest as he held her other hand, hurrying along his daughter as their home came into view. The porch light on, soft lighting casted upon his windows from inside his warm home. He squeezed Winnie’s hand. She squealed with laughter as she squeezed back, jumping into a puddle and drenching his jeans.
Simon used to be an angry man. Every little thing that went wrong would turn him into a ball of rage, everything that used to get him punched by his father made him angry. He ignored help, shunned people who wanted nothing more to help him feel okay. He remembered the days when he used to play in the rain and drench his father’s pants in muddy water. Those nights ended with four year old Simon in tears in his closet, blood oozing down his face from a cut on his forehead from his father’s rings. Simon remembered those moments with perfect detail. Every age, every time he hid himself under his bed, in his closet, in the fox hole behind the house, Simon was nursing wounds that should have had him in the hospital since he was two years old.
Simon Riley looked at his daughter and the sky blue hood over her head, the large bouquet of flowers clutched to her chest as her ladybug boots stomped in the puddle, splashing his jeans more and more.
He doesn’t feel anger. He doesn’t feel upset. He held his daughter’s hand as they finally walk up the lane to their home, helping her up the stairs to their porch and into the dry house his true family called home. He didn’t feel upset that she didn’t put away her shoes like he had taught her for months on end, he isn’t angry that she left her sopping wet raincoat on the carpet. He toed off his own shoes, taking off his jacket while he watched her fly into the living room, where you sat on the recliner with his ten month old baby. Your arms cradled your baby Mellie, holding her head up to feed from your breast as you turned your head to see Winnie in her pretty blue dress.
His heart felt warm as he walked into the living room, smiling as Winnie began to speak.
“Mummy.”
Your smile lit up the room, he has always told you that but you never believed him. If he could show you through his eyes how he saw you, you would never doubt him again.
“Yes, my love?”
“Daddy bought me flowers so I can give them to you.” The five year old placed both of her hands on the plastic outside of the bouquet, rain dropped off of the side of it as your eyes widened.
“For me?” You looked up to your husband, whose heart jumped to his throat. “Daddy thought to buy me flowers?” He has bought you flowers almost every two weeks, the bouquet of roses he brought home a couple days ago sat on the kitchen counter in your favorite vase.
“No no!” Winnie giggled, dropping the sopping wet bouquet onto your lap as she cheerfully said, “I wanted to buy you flowers so I can tell you how pretty you are, Mama.”
You looked back at your beautiful five year old daughter, tears instantly falling down your face as you removed an arm from underneath Mellie to reach for Winnie. Mellie made a grunt of disapproval as Winnie laughed, climbing onto the recliner to be held by her mother.
Simon could never lie and say that he could try and put himself in his father’s shoes, not when Simon witnessed moments of true love like this.
He had two days. But with how you were laughing and pressing kisses to both of his daughters, he felt a pang for warmth in his belly. Simon knew you would be alright.
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