Zoé x Bad! Tomboy! Reader Part 2

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"Zoé, I don't think this is a good idea, and I do bad shit all the time so this has to be bad if I'm saying something about it."

We stand in front of my house. Dad is inside. He always is unless he goes out to buy more alcohol.

Zoé smiles at me.

"He can't be that bad, (Y/N). You've told me he's an alcoholic, but really nothing else, so I thought it would be a good idea for me to meet him."

I hesitate, but open the door anyway.

The musty smell that's always there immediately hits my nose. Zoé recoils a bit just from the smell before she looks around.

We see my dad sitting on the couch with a half empty bottle of whiskey. He looks over at us and smiles before looking back to the TV.

I look at Zoé with a concerned expression. She mirrors it but still nods toward my dad.

"H-Hey dad. This is Zoé, my girlfriend."

Might I remind you, we still haven't moved from the front door. My dad literally jumps up and stomps over to me, or well, stumbles over since he's drunk.

"Excoose meee? Wat the fok do ya mean girlfriend?"

Zoé takes a step back at the strong smell of alcohol, as well as when my dad glares at her.

I step in front of her and cross my arms.

"At leasht when yer brother ran away, he wasn't a faggot."

This time I recoil, but glare and take a few steps toward him.

"Why do you think he ran away?! It's because he has an alcoholic for a father who drinks so much that his wife left him, leaving his children without a mother and a father who doesn't help his children one bit! You're even more worthless than I am, and I'm failing at nearly everything in life!"

My dad steps forward and clocks me in the jaw.

"(Y/N)!"

I stumble back a bit while holding my jaw before charging at him. I dodge his second punch, which was sloppy in the first place because he is drunk, and throw a punch of my own.

It hits him in the throat, causing him to cough and try to catch his breath.

He steps back and grabs an empty beer bottle. I throw my arms up to block and the bottle shatters on my elbow.

I close my eyes just in case some glass gets through and I hear my dad grunt.

At the same time I see his hand bleeding, I feel a stinging sensation on my cheek.

Fuck. A stray piece of glass got through.

Punch after punch, my dad slowly wears down my arms. I don't know how much longer I can keep blocking.

He punches me in the stomach, causing me to hunch over. Before he can slam my face into his knee, I wrap my arms around his waist and force him to the ground.

"You fucking asshole."

Punch.

"Rot."

Punch.

"In."

Punch.

"Hell!"

Punch, punch, oh yeah, another punch.

My hands feel like they are on fire by the time I stop. God, his face looks like I went at it with a meat tenderizer.

Zoé pulls me out of there as quick as she can.

"You're hurt. Let's get to the hotel as quick as we can."

I don't bother putting my gloves on before we ride off. A few drops of blood are being lost in the wind as I speed down the streets.

A few people turn their heads, especially when I nearly miss hitting someone.

Zoé practically drags me up to her room and into the bathroom as soon as we reach Le Grand Paris.

"Zoé, I assure you, I've been hurt much worse than this."

She immediately wipes my cut cheek with an alcohol wipe while glaring at me.

"You are still injured regardless."

I close my eyes as she checks my head and neck for other injuries.

"Take off your jacket."

I smile as a blush rises to my cheeks. I like this demanding side of Zoé.

Still, I remove my jacket quickly as I see the expression on her face.

That expression softens when she sees the bruises on my arms.

"There's nothing we can do to help that, Zoé. All we can do it let time heal these wounds."

Zoé nods, but gently runs her hand over all the bruises, before lifting up my shirt somewhat.

As she thought, there's a large bruise right where I was hit earlier. Her cool fingers brush against that one too, making me tilt my head back.

Zoé backs away and I frantically wave my hands back and forth.

"No, no! You didn't hurt me. It was just the sensation."

Zoé grabs my bloody hands. I'm surprised she didn't start with those first.

After the blood is washed off, we can see that my middle knuckle has been dislocated. It's located about one inch lower than where it's supposed to be.

"Oh yeah. That happens a lot when you put full force into a punch with someone's jaw. We usually just force the knuckle back into place by slowly but forcefully pushing it back up."

Zoé looks like she just went through a warzone with the look on her face.

"If you're not comfortable with that, I'm sure hotel doctors would-"

Zoé grabs my hand and places her thumbs below the dislocated knuckle. She looks at me with a concerned expression.

"Is this going to hurt you?"

I smile to try to reassure her.

"Oh definitely. This would hurt anyone, but I can't exactly go around with a dislocated knuckle on my dominant hand."

As I am in the middle of saying something else, Zoé begins pushing on the knuckle forcefully.

I grunt and groan as Zoé slowly pushes the knuckle back into place. She even stops a few times because she thinks it hurting me too much.

When she's done, I'm breathing heavily as if I just ran a marathon.

I flex my hand, specifically the middle finger. It still hurts, but it works as if it was never dislocated in the first place.

I kiss Zoé as she's cleaning up, causing her to knock a few things over.

I giggle but help her pick everything up.

I'm so grateful to have her in my life.

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