Prompt: Request from KenosDC1 on FanFiction.
People say Asta is an oblivious meathead. Noelle would argue that's true—for everyone except him. Asta knows what he likes, knows what he wants, so for once, Noelle tries that angle to win his heart.
It works much better than she expects.
—
Noelle Silva had never claimed to be the most patient woman alive.
Sure, she tried to play it cool, to act like she didn't care when Asta, her Asta, continued to be hopelessly devoted to that nun. That woman. That Sister Lily.
It was infuriating. She was beautiful, strong, a princess, for heaven's sake! She could reduce entire battlefields to nothing but flooded wastelands with a flick of her wrist. She had royal blood, refined features, curves that turned heads whether she wanted to or not, and a natural grace most women envied.
And yet… she was losing to a nun.
A nun!
A woman sworn to a life of chastity, in a modest dress, who rejected Asta time and time again with the same patient, motherly smile.
It drove her insane.
Noelle had spent years convincing herself that Asta's crush on Sister Lily was just a childish, fleeting thing. That one day he'd grow out of it. That he'd notice the girl who had been by his side through blood, sweat, and tears, who had risked her life for him again and again, who had trained with him, fought for him, cared about him.
But no.
He still looked at Sister Lily with stars in his eyes, the same way he used to when they were kids, as if the very idea of her was some unattainable dream.
That realization hit Noelle like a Magic Bullet spell to the chest.
Asta wasn't just infatuated with Sister Lily. He had a type.
Asta liked nuns.
And if that's what it took to get him to notice her, then so be it.
—
The plan started forming almost immediately. Noelle had seen Sister Lily countless times before, observing the way she dressed, the way she moved, the way she spoke.
She had to get it just right.
First, the outfit.
She scoured the Black Bulls hideout for anything resembling a nun's habit, but the closest thing she found was a black cloak of questionable origin and an old sheet she could repurpose into a head covering. With some stitching (and some reluctant help from Vanessa, who found the whole thing hilarious), she managed to put together something passable.
Second, the mannerisms.
Noelle practiced in front of a mirror, forcing herself to adopt a serene, almost saintly expression. It was harder than she thought—her natural state was more exasperated royalty than gentle, nurturing nun.
She had to soften her gaze.
She had to smile like she forgave all sins.
She had to radiate purity.
…This was going to be harder than she thought.
And finally, the voice.
Sister Lily's voice was soft yet firm, kind but unwavering. Noelle tried to replicate it, lowering her usual sharp tone into something gentler, more soothing.
"Asta, you're such a wonderful young man, but—"
She scowled. That was wrong.
"Asta, I'm proud of you."
She nearly gagged.
"Asta, you've grown so strong."
That was… better?
Noelle coughed, shaking off the embarrassment creeping up her neck.
It doesn't matter. If Asta wants a nun, I'll give him a nun.
And tomorrow, she would put her plan into action.
—
The Next Day
Noelle stood outside Asta's room, heart pounding, fingers clutching the front of her hastily assembled habit.
This was it.
She had faced deadly foes, monstrous creatures, and impossible odds—but nothing had ever felt as nerve-wracking as this.
She took a deep breath, steeled herself, and then—
Knocked.
"Asta, can we talk?"
Silence. Then, footsteps—quick and eager. The door swung open, and there he was, bright-eyed and grinning, shirtless because he had probably been training again, muscles practically glistening.
Noelle swallowed hard.
And then—his eyes landed on her outfit.
His grin faded.
His expression shifted—confusion first, then something else. Something unreadable. Something that made Noelle's stomach twist into knots.
His gaze lingered.
"Noelle…?" His voice was hesitant, as if he wasn't sure it was really her. "W-What are you wearing?"
Noelle straightened her posture, clasped her hands together, and did her best imitation of a holy woman.
"Asta, I—"
His breath hitched.
His pupils dilated.
A realization hit Noelle like a tidal wave—Oh my god, it's working.
—
Asta was staring.
Not in the usual, casual way he looked at people. Not in the way he looked at Sister Lily with admiration, or at his comrades with determination. No—this was something else.
His mouth had parted slightly, his hands twitched at his sides, and his eyes—those wild, burning eyes—were locked onto her with an intensity Noelle had never seen before.
She had expected him to laugh. To ask her why she was dressed like a nun. Maybe even tease her about it.
She had not expected this.
Asta swallowed. Hard.
"Noelle… why are you—" His voice was rougher than usual, his usual loud energy muted, as if he was fighting something inside himself.
Noelle laced her fingers together, trying to maintain the serene, holy presence she had practiced. "I… I just thought I'd try something different."
Asta's throat bobbed again. He seemed to be processing something—something deep, something confusing.
Noelle, emboldened by his reaction, tilted her head and gave him the softest smile she could manage.
"Do you like it?"
The way Asta tensed—shoulders locked, hands clenched at his sides, as if physically restraining himself—sent a thrill down Noelle's spine.
Oh my god.
He does have a thing for nuns.
Asta finally sucked in a breath, as if realizing he had forgotten how to breathe. He turned away, gripping his forehead. "I—uh—this is—Noelle, what's happening right now?"
Noelle fought back a smirk, stepping closer, deliberately letting the fabric of her makeshift habit sway with her movements.
"Nothing's happening, Asta." She kept her voice soft, feigning innocence. "Why? Are you feeling something?"
Asta's hands fisted at his sides. His entire body was tense, like a bowstring pulled too tight. "I don't know." He exhaled sharply. "I don't—Noelle, I've never seen you like this before."
Good.
That meant it was working.
That meant he was finally, finally looking at her the way he looked at Sister Lily.
Maybe even… more than that.
Noelle took another step forward, so close now that she could see the nervous flicker in his eyes, the beads of sweat forming along his temple.
He was flustered.
The unstoppable, unshakable Asta was actually losing his composure just from seeing her like this.
So she went for the kill.
Lifting a hand, she lightly brushed her fingers against his chest.
Asta jerked back as if she had burned him.
"Noelle." His voice was hoarse. "What are you doing?"
She blinked up at him, tilting her head. "What do you think I'm doing?"
Asta gawked at her, as if she had just rewritten the very laws of magic. "This—this isn't like you!"
Noelle arched a brow. "Is it so strange that I'd want to try something different?"
Asta's hands flexed at his sides. His breathing was uneven now. "It's not that, it's just—" He hesitated, eyes raking over her again, his face turning impossibly red. "You look…"
He didn't finish.
He couldn't.
But Noelle saw it.
The way he was looking at her now—not as his loud, tsundere teammate, not as just another magic knight—
But as a woman.
A woman he wanted.
Noelle smiled. A slow, knowing smile.
"Asta," she whispered, voice gentle, teasing. "Do you have a thing for nuns?"
Asta choked.
His entire soul visibly left his body.
"I—No!" He looked horrified, as if she had just uncovered his darkest secret. "I mean—! It's not—! I don't—!"
His arms flailed wildly, his entire body practically combusting from sheer panic.
Noelle just watched, delighted.
So that was it.
Asta did have a thing for nuns.
And right now, he was struggling—torn between whatever deeply buried desires he was only just now realizing he had… and the absolute catastrophe of that realization hitting him all at once.
It was, without question, the best moment of Noelle's life.
She leaned in, just enough to watch his breath hitch, just enough to let the soft scent of her hair reach him.
"If you want me to take it off…" she murmured, voice dripping with amusement, "just say so."
Asta froze.
His eyes darkened.
For a split second, something inside him snapped.
Noelle barely had time to register the shift before Asta—her dorky, always respectful, dense-as-a-rock Asta—grabbed her wrist.
His grip was firm.
His expression was dangerous.
"Noelle." His voice had dropped—low, rough, raw.
Noelle's breath hitched.
She had been in control this entire time. She had been teasing him.
But now…
Now she wasn't so sure who was playing who anymore.
Asta took a step forward.
Noelle took one back.
Then another.
Then another—until her back hit the wall.
Her heart pounded.
"A-Asta—"
"You did this on purpose," he murmured, eyes boring into hers.
Noelle's entire soul nearly left her body.
Since when did Asta sound like that?
Since when did he look at her like that?
"I—" She tried to speak, but her throat was suddenly dry.
Asta leaned in, his forehead nearly touching hers, his breath warm against her lips.
"Why, Noelle?" His voice was hushed, dangerous. "Why dress up like this?"
Noelle gulped.
She wanted to say it was a joke.
She wanted to say she was just messing with him.
But the way he was looking at her now…
The way her entire body was reacting to him…
She knew she couldn't.
So instead, she whispered—
"…Because I wanted you to look at me the way you look at her."
Silence.
Asta inhaled sharply, his fingers twitching against her wrist.
Then—
"…Noelle."
Something in the way he said her name sent a shiver down her spine.
She barely had a second to react before Asta closed the distance, his hands suddenly everywhere—her waist, her back, pulling her in, gripping her like he never wanted to let go.
And then—
Then his lips were on hers.
And for once—
Sister Lily was the furthest thing from his mind.
—
Noelle barely had time to process it.
One second, she was pressed against the wall, her heart pounding, her breath shallow. The next—
Asta's lips crashed against hers.
It wasn't hesitant. It wasn't cautious.
It was hungry.
Noelle gasped into the kiss, but Asta didn't give her a chance to recover. His hands were firm—one gripping her waist, the other sliding up her back, pulling her impossibly closer.
He wasn't holding back.
Not anymore.
Noelle's fingers clenched around the fabric of his open shirt, her mind spinning from the sheer intensity of it all. This was Asta. Her Asta. The boy who had spent years chasing after Sister Lily, who had never once truly looked at her like this—
And now he was.
And she never wanted it to stop.
She kissed him back, fiercely, desperately, pouring every ounce of her frustration, her longing, her years of pent-up feelings into it. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him even closer, as if she could burn the memory of this moment into her very soul.
Asta groaned against her lips, pressing her flush against the wall, the force of it sending another thrill through her body. His grip tightened on her waist, fingertips pressing into her skin like he was afraid she'd disappear if he let go.
Noelle shuddered, gasping when Asta's lips left hers, trailing downward—along her jaw, her neck, his breath hot and ragged against her skin.
"Asta—" She barely managed to say his name before he claimed her lips again, rougher this time, more needy.
Noelle melted.
She never thought Asta—sweet, oblivious, loud-mouthed Asta—could be like this.
But now she knew.
Now she felt it.
This wasn't some passing crush. This wasn't a childhood infatuation.
This was real.
And she wanted all of it.
Her fingers tangled into his hair, nails lightly scraping against his scalp as she let herself completely sink into him. Asta growled—actually growled—before lifting her with ease, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.
Noelle gasped, but Asta swallowed the sound, deepening the kiss until her entire body was trembling.
She didn't care that they were in the Black Bulls hideout.
She didn't care if someone walked in.
She didn't care about anything else except the fact that Asta was finally, finally hers.
When they finally broke apart, gasping for air, Asta rested his forehead against hers, his eyes dark and burning.
"Noelle." His voice was rough, filled with something she had never heard before. "I don't want this to be a joke. I don't want this to be something you regret."
Noelle laughed. Breathless, exhilarated, completely dazed.
"Asta." She cupped his face, forcing him to look at her. "Do I look like I regret this?"
Asta stared at her for a long moment, like he was trying to burn her expression into his mind.
Then he grinned.
Wild. Fierce.
Like a man who had finally found what he had been searching for.
"…Good," he murmured, before pulling her into another searing kiss.
Because Noelle was his now.
And he had no intention of letting her go.