She's Bad News- Simon Riley x reader

Forty four

a/n: our pops ^^^ Also, two updates for you all ♥

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{y/n}

"How are you feeling? Better?" My father asks again, and this time I manage a weak smile.

"Better." I say, before scoffing back a bar of chocolate, courtesy of the broken vending machine I spend most my days in office with.

"We should get moving, we need to get that arm of yours looked at." He says, his tone gentle yet firm.

"Soon... I'm just a little tired." I respond, my voice soft and weary as I lean back against the wall. My head droops, my eyes falling shut as I struggle to stay awake.

"Y/n..."

"Soon..." I say again, my words trailing off as exhaustion takes over.

He lets out an exasperated sigh. "I know, I know but we can't stay here. I need to get you to the hospital. You're starting to look a little pale there sweetheart." The worry in his voice pulls at my heart, and I don't have the strength to resist him yet alone argue.

"Okay." I finally say, with a sigh.

"Come on." He says, pulling me up to a stand.

My good arm is draped around his shoulder as I lean on him for support, my body feeling weak and my head dizzy. He speaks gently, encouraging me to take my time. "One foot in front of the other." He says, leading me slowly toward the stairs. I focus on putting one foot in front of the other, taking deep breaths to stay grounded as the world starts spiraling around me.

"Reminds me of when you were a baby." He chuckles. "Teaching you how to walk." He says with a smile, his words bringing a faint memory to the front of my mind. "Now look at you. All grown up and still relying on your father." He chuckles.

"Says the man who cried when I started high school..."

"Hey." He grumbles. "I'll have you know, I only shed a few tears. And it's perfectly normal to be sad when your little girl's growing up too fast." He shakes his head and lets out a sigh. "How time flies huh? Soon you'll be helping my walk when I'm old."

"You are old, dad..."

"I prefer the term 'seasoned veteran." He replies with a smirk.

I follow my father's lead, placing one foot in front of the other as we make our way down the stairs. The adrenaline from the chaos we just escaped is still flowing through my veins, but my father's gentle guidance and support helps me to steady myself and focus on the task at hand: getting out of here. As we descend, I look around, taking in the aftermath of the fight. The hallways look like a ghost town, debris and broken glass littering the floor. But the fact that we have a clear path out gives me some relief.

"You see," my father begins, his tone becoming stern and serious as he looks at me. "This is why I told you to bring your gun." He gestures to the destruction around us, the wreckage of the attack still fresh and present. "You never know what could happen," he adds, his words carrying a distinct tone of lecture. I know he's trying to teach me a lesson, but I can't help but chuckle a little.