⟢ 1.5k wc, tooth-rotting fluff, probably ooc, implied fem reader, fic // After a night of drinking, Zora takes it upon himself to take care of you.
Zora had no idea who’s bright idea it was to give you that much liquor. His first guess was Vanessa. But as he passed by a very much blacked out Magna, he was able to put the pieces together.
A Black Bulls celebration of any kind — most notably though, a birthday celebration — always led to heavy drinking.
Happy birthday, Magna. Enjoy your hangover.
Though that didn’t matter much, really. Not to Zora. No, what brought him back out of his room after hearing the festivities had quieted down, was your missing body that was usually pressed to his in bed at this time. An hour of silence had passed before Zora felt like he needed to find you.
With your luck — and his — you had probably gotten lost in the ever changing layout of the Black Bulls base. Or you could’ve happened to run into Henry and decided to have a chat with him, leaving you passed out for a different reason. The possibility he was hoping for was that you simply fell asleep on your barstool.
The moon smiled upon Zora. There you were in all of your glory — face smushed against the counter, arms laid haphazardly around your head, snoozing away next to an empty bottle.
Even still, Magna seemed in worse shape than you. Though, you wouldn’t be much better off. Zora sighed. Perhaps that’s best left as tomorrow’s problem; for now, he was just content that you seemed fine.
Zora placed a hand on your shoulder. The warmth of his palm seemed to stir you a bit, though your eyes remained closed.
“Oi,” Zora lightly shook you, “get up.”
You groaned. The furrow in your brow deepened with another shake.
“No, I just wan’ sleep…” You turned your head away from him.
Familiar hands pulled your shoulders back, forcing you to sit up. Your head lulled.
“Idiot. If you sleep like that, your back’s gonna hurt like hell tomorrow.” Zora pulled you up from your armpits. Loose limbs struggled to hold themselves upright, but with Zora’s support you had managed. He walked you slowly around the stool, cautiously guiding clumsy feet that seemed to drag easily against the stone floor. “And guess who you’ll come crying to?”
It was like teaching a toddler how to walk. Shoes caught on crooked cracks slowed Zora’s normally long strides — the ones that you’d complain about having to run to catch up with. They were not suitable for you when you were sober, and they sure as hell weren’t helping now that you were tripping over the mess of his feet and your own.
“I don’ cry. That’s you,” A hiccup. “Zora.”
Zora snickered, “Yeah, yeah.”
The walk — if you can call it that — down the main corridor felt never-ending. Something that took him a minute to pass through somehow ended up taking 7. Long arms remained hooked under yours, back pressed to a naked torso, and head rested against his chest. One step from him, a scraped step from you. It would’ve probably been faster if you balanced on his feet and he traversed that way. Though, Zora knew that journey was nothing compared to the stairs that stood ahead of you both.
Why did Henry have to give you stairs to your room tonight? Zora let out a small growl.
Careful arms released their hold, like trying to balance a coin vertically on a tabletop. He crouched down in front of you. A glance thrown back at your lightly swaying form.
With no arguments, two hands wrapped around his neck. Arms looped under your knees and you both rose from the ground. First step taken. The hot breath that danced across his cheek smelled faintly of the wine you had downed in the time Zora had retired to his room.
Zora had to admit, though, that he liked how red looked on you — not in the form of wine stains on white shirts, but cheeks dusted in intoxicating shades. That one he’d keep to himself. He could practically hear a raspy comment from Yami about stoic Zora being a lover boy deep down. Not to mention the annoying reactions from the other idiots.
It wasn’t hard to figure out. He didn’t keep it secret, he just never talked about it. Or showed it publicly. And yet, most of the members took notice of his closeness with you — or rather, your closeness with him — and came to the somewhat wrong conclusion. Stupid ones like Asta and Magna teased you for having a big ole crush on Zora. Smart ones like Noelle and Vanessa hit them upside the head and corrected them. Zora didn’t care either way.
Well, he did and he didn’t.
“You’re so nice to me, Zor’.”
The words slid out in slippery succession. Zora’s lips curved up halfway. He stole a glance at your squished cheek against his shoulder.
“Don’t drool on me, stinkbug.”
A pout perched on plumped cheeks. You turned your head the other way, “I do not drool.”
The last step underneath his boots. His smile spread, mask molding to match. He turned right, heading towards two doors in particular.
“Tell that to your pillow.”
Long strides were taken down the new corridor, passing rooms that he knew belonged to his fellow magic knights. Room order did not typically change when Henry reorganized the hideout. Zora felt lucky for that; your room was always in between Asta and Charmy. Tonight, however, there was the added bonus of the washroom being within the same hall. It sat just a little ways past your door.
Zora didn’t usually go into the women’s washroom. Believe it or not, he was a gentleman. Tonight, though, it was unavoidable. It was late enough in the night that he knew — hoped — there wouldn’t be anyone in there.
The familiar feeling of lingering steam had your arms wrapping tighter around Zora’s neck, “No, Zor’… I don’ wan’ a bath. I wanna go to bed.”
He clicked his tongue. In one swift motion, he sat you down on the counter and placed one hand on either side of your thighs. His stance made you just about level with him.
“Stop being a baby. You’re not getting a bath,” Zora sighed, azure irises watching yours take slow blinks at him. “I’m just gonna clean your face. You’d kill me in the morning if I let you sleep in your makeup.”
Hazy eyes flitted away from him, jumping around the room before making their way up to the ceiling. Your head rested against the mirror on the wall. A dry gulp ran down your throat.
“The room is spinning,” You admitted.
Zora stepped back, placing his hands on his hips, “I bet.”
The steam — though not as heavy as when the bath was in use — was definitely not helping. He reckoned he would have a short amount of time before you’d vomit if you stayed in here for too much longer.
You showed no signs of moving — save for one hard blink. Zora had to make this quick.
“Oi, I need you to sit up."
A gentle tug on your hand was enough to lean you forward. Zora took a clean towel from the neatly folded pile on the counter and wet it. A cold swipe across your left eye coaxed your right one closed. His ministrations were careful and unpracticed. He's taken off his own eyeliner, sure, but it was different doing it for someone else.
The cool rag and his thoughtful touch had your head falling forward. He was quick to catch it, lifting your chin and continuing his circles on your eyelid.
Clean skin glistened under his fingertips. Zora pulled back just enough to inspect the area, and when he was satisfied, he moved onto the other side. One bleary eye scanned the upper half of his face — the part not covered by his mask. He tried ignoring it.
Your eyes crinkled in the corners.
"Have I ever told you how much I love you?"
He didn't think you were at the stage of love declarations yet. You've only been drunk around him a couple of times, and in every instance, you had started these proclamations at random times — more often than not when you two were alone in your room.
"An unwise choice," Zora joked, though he wasn't in the company of someone who would find that very funny. Especially not in this state.
Your mouth fell open. Crinkled eyes were replaced by furrowed brows.
"You're so mean! Don' say that, Zora." Your lips pushed into a pout. "I can tell you so many reasons why that's wrong."
The assurance in your tone tugged the corners of his mouth up. With the shake of his head and a small laugh, Zora finished wiping down your right eyelid.
Lips became moist with the swipe of the damp towel.
They were all wrong. No matter what conclusion the others came to, they were wrong. It wasn't you with the giant crush — the bigger feelings in this relationship. It was Zora.
Hidden behind his cool exterior was a lover boy. Someone who didn't express themselves easily but knew exactly how they felt. Unspoken words within little actions. Sacred love confessions that pool in the tides of ocean eyes.
I love you's that dab at the corners of your mouth and trace the curve of your cupid's bow.
And as long as you knew that — tasted it in each kiss and felt it in each breath, that was all that mattered to Zora.
note: this is my first time writing for black clover yippee!! sorry i turned such a mundane task into 1.5k words 😭 i’m pretty sure i got zora’s characterization wrong as well but fuck it we ball
