Prompt: Request from Fanfic_Rater_1_to_5. After Charlotte directly confronts Yami about her feelings, Noelle has a realization.
—
The Black Bulls' base had seen its fair share of destruction. Explosions from failed experiments, brawls between squad members, random magical incidents courtesy of Henry's absorption ability—at this point, structural damage was a fact of life.
But this?
This was something new.
The massive front doors exploded inward, sending splinters and dust flying as a towering, armored figure strode into the room with the force of an imperial invasion.
"YAMI SUKEHIRO!"
Silence.
Even the ever-chaotic Black Bulls froze, mid-action. Gauche, who had been polishing his latest framed photo of Marie, stopped rubbing the glass. Magna and Luck, who had been engaged in a friendly fistfight, lowered their fists. Vanessa, wine glass in hand, blinked blearily at the source of the commotion.
Henry tilted his head at a fractionally different angle.
At the very center of the wreckage stood Charlotte Roselei, her blonde hair whipping behind her, her eyes sharp as a blade's edge.
"What the hell?" Magna muttered, wiping his face. "What's Captain Charlotte doin' here?"
More importantly, why did she look like she was about to kill someone?
Yami, as usual, remained completely unfazed.
Seated in his usual spot on the couch, he took a lazy drag of his cigarette and exhaled, glancing at her through the smoke.
"Oh. Hey, Charlotte." He blinked. "What's up?"
Charlotte stomped across the room, each step heavy with purpose.
"What's up?" she echoed. "What's up?" Her face was red, her jaw tight, her fists clenched like she was barely containing something violent. "I'll tell you what's up, you absolute—" She cut herself off, inhaled sharply, then exhaled through gritted teeth.
Charlotte Roselei had been a blushing mess when she poured her heart out to Yami as he layed on the Spade battlefield dying.
She waited days, turned weeks, then months, for a response to her confession but none came.
Charlotte Roselei then had a baffling realization that one Yami hadn't heard her correctly, or two he just didn't understand her words the way she had intended.
Either one pissed her off greatly.
So she now decided to take a more direct approach.
She would leave no room for ambiguity or glossing over the topic.
The entire room watched, enthralled.
Asta, sitting cross-legged on the floor with Noelle, whispered, "Is this normal?"
Noelle, equally wide-eyed, shook her head. "Not this normal."
They'd seen Charlotte flustered before, but this—this was different. She wasn't stumbling over her words or trying to run away.
She looked furious.
And determined.
Like she was about to break through a wall and someone was about to die.
Before Yami could respond, Charlotte grabbed the front of his shirt, yanking him forward with surprising force.
Yami arched a brow. "Whoa there, Princess. I usually prefer a drink before—"
"Shut up and answer me," she snapped.
The room held its breath.
Charlotte Roselei never talked like that to Yami Sukehiro.
She was trembling—whether from frustration or nerves, no one could tell—but she pressed forward anyway, standing her ground, refusing to let go.
"Do you like me?" she demanded.
Yami scratched his head with his free hand. "I mean, yeah, sure, you're a solid Magic Knight."
"No." She yanked him closer. "As a woman, Yami. Do you like me as a woman?"
A pin could've dropped, and everyone would've heard it.
Magna slowly leaned towards Zora. "My man, are we about to witness a public execution?"
"No idea," Zora whispered back. "But I ain't missing this."
After a moment Zora clicked his tongue. "I'm not your man."
Yami just stared at Charlotte, his expression unreadable. He chewed on the end of his cigarette, as if considering her words.
Then he shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."
The squad braced for impact.
Charlotte's entire body twitched. Her blush deepened. Her hands gripped his shirt tighter.
Then—
Before anyone could even process what was happening, Charlotte smashed her lips against his.
The Black Bulls lost their minds.
Asta choked on air. Finral dropped his teacup. Gauche, for the first time in his life, forgot about Marie.
Yami froze.
It wasn't a quick peck. It wasn't soft or hesitant.
It was firm. Deliberate. A statement.
Charlotte Roselei, the same woman who had spent years avoiding Yami like he was a deadly disease, had just walked into his base, demanded an answer, and stolen a kiss—all within the span of a few minutes.
By the time Yami's brain caught up with reality, Charlotte was already pulling away, face still burning, but her expression—
Her expression was satisfied.
She let go of his shirt, brushing it back into place with casual precision. "Good," she murmured.
Then, with the same unstoppable force with which she had entered, she turned on her heel and walked away, her cape billowing behind her like a victorious knight leaving a battlefield.
Nobody spoke.
Nobody could speak.
The only sound was the faint click of Charlotte's boots against the floor as she exited through the same destroyed doorway she had come through.
Yami remained rooted in place.
He lifted a hand to his lips, as if checking to make sure they were still attached to his face.
"…Huh."
That was all he said.
That was all he could say.
The rest of the Black Bulls erupted into chaos.
"Did that actually just happen?!" Finral shrieked.
"I knew she liked him!" Luck cackled.
"She kissed him," Noelle whispered, still in shock.
"I need a drink," Vanessa muttered, downing the rest of her wine, to drown out her heartbreak.
Through it all, Yami just sat there, looking vaguely perplexed, but otherwise unbothered.
Noelle, however, was having an internal meltdown.
Charlotte Roselei—who had spent years fumbling and avoiding Yami—had finally snapped, marched up to him, demanded what she wanted, took it, and walked away with her head held high.
The sheer boldness.
The sheer effectiveness.
And Yami—he hadn't even rejected her. If anything, he looked pleasantly surprised.
Noelle felt her stomach drop.
She had to do the same.
If she wanted Asta to see her, to understand her, she couldn't keep hiding behind pride and hesitation.
She had to make him notice.
Properly.
No more excuses.
And thus, the gears in Noelle's mind began to turn.
Charlotte had set the example.
Now, it was her turn.
—
The realization hit Noelle like a Magic Knight Captain's full-powered spell.
Charlotte walked in, asked what she wanted, and took it.
If she could do it, why couldn't Noelle?
For years, she'd danced around her feelings for Asta—denying them, fighting them, burying them beneath layers of pride and deflection. But he never got it. The boy was dense. She could blush, sputter, and insult him all day, and he'd still turn around and say, "Wow, Noelle! You're really nice!" like a complete idiot.
She needed a different approach.
Something bigger.
Something he couldn't ignore.
Noelle clenched her fists, determination blazing in her eyes. If subtlety didn't work, she'd do what Charlotte did.
Unlike Yami, Asta was a bit different as he had already had a special someone in his heart.
So Noelle would have to try a slightly more gradual approach.
But she'd somehow manage.
She'd make him see her.
And only her.
—
Step One: Physical Contact
Asta was in the courtyard, shirtless, training like usual. Sweat dripped down his toned arms as he swung his swords, grinning as he pushed himself harder. Noelle tried very hard not to stare.
"Hey, Asta," she said, walking up.
"Noelle! Hey!" He beamed at her, wiping his forehead. "What's up?"
Alright. No backing down.
She stepped closer. Asta, ever oblivious, didn't seem to think anything of it.
Until she reached out and ran her fingers down his arm.
Asta froze.
"Noelle?"
"Your muscles," she said, trying to keep her voice casual. "They're… impressive."
What am I saying?!
But she committed.
Her fingers traced over his biceps, feeling the warmth of his skin. Asta stiffened, his face turning as red as his headband.
"I-I train a lot!" he squeaked. "Y-you know, gotta keep up with my anti-magic and all!"
"Mm." Noelle nodded like this was the most normal thing in the world. "It shows."
Then she walked away, leaving him standing there, utterly stunned.
Step one? Success.
—
Step Two: Compliments
Noelle rarely praised Asta outright. Whenever she did, she wrapped it in insults or yelled it at the top of her lungs.
Not this time.
Asta was eating in the dining hall when Noelle sat down beside him.
"You did great today."
Asta blinked. "Huh?"
"The training mission." She rested her chin on her hand, gazing at him. "You fought well."
Asta turned pink. "Oh, uh—thanks, Noelle! That means a lot!"
She smiled, letting the moment linger before turning back to her food.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him sitting there, looking like he didn't know what to do with himself.
Good.
—
Step Three: Weaponized Femininity
Noelle never put effort into looking nice for Asta. She always assumed he wouldn't notice.
But what if he did?
For the next squad meeting, she chose a more form-fitting outfit than usual, styling her hair with extra care. The reaction was immediate.
"Whoa, Noelle!" Asta blurted. "You look… really pretty today!"
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
She tilted her head. "Oh? Today?"
Asta's face went up in flames. "N-not that you don't always look nice! I mean, you—uh—"
She smirked. Very good.
—
Step Four: The Killing Blow
Days passed, and Noelle escalated her tactics. Lingering touches. Long stares. Sudden, direct compliments. Every time, Asta's reactions got more flustered, more confused, more aware.
But he still wasn't getting it.
Time for the final move.
—
Asta was training alone in the evening, the setting sun casting golden light across the base.
Perfect.
Noelle approached, hands behind her back, her heart pounding. No more waiting. No more games.
"Asta."
He turned, smiling. "Oh, hey, Noe—"
She grabbed his collar, yanked him down, and kissed him.
Asta froze.
His body locked up, completely unresponsive, as Noelle pressed her lips against his, holding him in place for several heartbeats. Then, slowly, she pulled away, staring into his wide, shell-shocked eyes.
"I like you." Her voice was steady. Certain. "As a man."
Asta made a noise. A strangled, unintelligible noise.
"I've liked you for years," she continued, because hell, she'd come this far. "I'm done pretending. I want you. Do you want me?"
Asta's mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again, like a fish drowning on land.
"I—"
She narrowed her eyes. "Asta."
"I do! I—I mean, of course I do!" He stumbled back, gripping his head. "You're amazing, and strong, and beautiful, and I—oh my god, did you just kiss me?!"
Noelle sighed. "Yes, Asta."
"You—" His eyes were still huge. "You kissed me."
"That's usually how confessing works."
Asta made another helpless noise, face burning, arms flailing. Noelle almost felt bad for him. Almost.
Then he grinned.
It was soft. Dazed.
But real.
"You like me," he whispered, almost in disbelief.
Noelle's ears turned red. "I just said that—"
Asta didn't let her finish.
Because he was suddenly kissing her back, arms wrapping around her, pulling her in, laughing against her lips.
Noelle's thoughts scattered.
The boy who never noticed, the idiot who never understood—was finally holding her, kissing her, the way she'd always wanted.
The sunset burned around them.
And Noelle knew—
Charlotte had the right idea.