Prompt: A night of drunken revelry leaves Asta and Noelle waking up tangled together—naked, hungover, and horrified. With no clear evidence of what did or didn't happen, they embark on a frantic, covert investigation… only to realize that the real question isn't what happened, but what they want to happen next.
—
Noelle woke to a pounding headache and the distinct sensation of warmth against her bare skin. She groaned, pressing a hand to her forehead. Everything hurt. Her skull, her throat, her stomach—like she'd been wrung out and left to dry. Stupid party. Stupid Vanessa. Stupid alcohol.
She shifted, and something moved against her. What?
Her eyelids snapped open. Sunlight speared into her vision, blinding her for a moment. When her sight adjusted, she realized she wasn't in her own room. These walls were different. The air smelled like sweat and steel. There was a shelf in the corner stacked haphazardly with training manuals. A familiar sword leaned against the wall.
Noelle's breath caught.
Asta's room.
Her heart slammed against her ribs as she became painfully aware of several very alarming details at once.
She was naked.
Asta was naked.
They were tangled together in his bed, her leg slung over his waist, his arm resting heavily over her stomach. Skin against skin. Heat against heat.
What the hell.
Noelle went stiff, her mind blanking. Her pulse roared in her ears, drowning out all rational thought. Why—how—what?!
Asta shifted beside her, a sleepy groan leaving his lips. Then, as if the universe wanted her to suffer even more, his fingers twitched—brushing the curve of her hip.
I'm going to die.
Her entire body ignited with mortification. She didn't breathe. Didn't move. If she could have willed herself out of existence, she would have done it instantly.
Asta inhaled deeply, his arm tightening around her as he stretched. Then, with a sigh, his eyes fluttered open.
And locked onto hers.
For a second, there was nothing but groggy confusion in his gaze.
Then awareness hit.
His pupils shrank. His body jerked. His mouth opened—
Noelle screamed.
Asta yelled.
Both of them shot away from each other so fast that Noelle nearly tumbled off the bed. She yanked the covers up, clutching them against her chest like a lifeline. Asta had flailed so violently he ended up tangled in the sheets, half his body hanging off the bed, his expression an absolute horror show of panic.
They stared at each other, chests heaving, faces flushed with mortification.
Asta was the first to speak.
"W-WHAT—WHAT—WHY—NOELLE?!?!"
"I DON'T KNOW!!" she shrieked. "WHY ARE WE—?!? WHY AM I—?!?"
"I HAVE NO IDEA!!"
Noelle's breathing came in short, frantic bursts. Her brain scrambled, trying—desperately—to piece together how she had ended up naked in Asta's bed. But her memory was a haze, nothing but scattered fragments of last night's celebration. The Black Bulls had won another battle—something about wiping out a group of Spade Kingdom loyalists causing trouble at the border. Victory had meant drinks. Lots of drinks.
She hated alcohol. She never drank. But last night, Vanessa had been relentless, practically forcing a drink into her hand every time she tried to refuse. And Asta—
She swallowed.
Asta had been drinking too.
Asta, who was now frantically twisting in the sheets, grabbing a pillow to cover himself while avoiding looking at her. His face was scarlet, his eyes darting around like a cornered animal.
Noelle's stomach plummeted.
"Oh my god," she whispered. "Did we—"
Asta choked. "NO! I MEAN—I DON'T KNOW?! I—THERE'S NO WAY, RIGHT?!"
Noelle's breath hitched. No way? But they were naked. In the same bed. After a night of drinking.
Panic surged through her, cold and suffocating.
No. No no no no no.
This couldn't have happened. This CAN'T have happened.
If it did, she was ruined.
Her entire life would be over. The Silva name carried weight. She was a royal princess. Premarital—this—was unthinkable. Nozel would kill her. KillAsta. Kill everyone.
And Asta—
Her eyes flicked to him, watching as he swallowed hard, gripping his pillow like it was the last thing tethering him to sanity. His entire body was tense, his expression twisted in pure turmoil.
Asta, who had always dreamed of a perfect first time. Who had spent his whole life fawning over Sister Lily, believing in love and commitment.
What if—
What if I took that from him?
Noelle's hands clenched in the sheets. Her throat burned.
"We need to figure this out," she said, voice tight.
Asta snapped his gaze to her, eyes wide. "H-How?"
Noelle inhaled sharply, forcing herself to think.
No obvious signs. No aches, no soreness—though that wasn't definitive proof. Her hymen was long gone from combat, so there wouldn't be any bloodstains. And Asta—
Her gaze flickered down for a millisecond before she yanked her head back up, face burning. Nope. Not looking. Not looking.
She sucked in a sharp breath. "We'll have to ask."
Asta stiffened. "Ask?! ASK WHO?!"
"Not directly!" Noelle snapped. "Just—subtly. We need to retrace our steps. See what everyone remembers about last night."
Asta swallowed. Then, slowly, he nodded. "O-Okay."
Silence stretched between them. Awkward. Heavy. Neither moved.
Finally, Asta cleared his throat. "Uhm… Noelle?"
"What?"
"Can you, uh… turn around? So I can… y'know… get my pants?"
Noelle threw a pillow at his face.
—
Asta and Noelle crept through the Black Bulls' hideout like fugitives. Every step felt like they were walking through a minefield, each glance from a squadmate a potential death sentence. They had managed to get dressed—Asta in his usual sleeveless top and pants, Noelle in fresh clothes she had very quickly retrieved from her room—but the tension between them was suffocating.
They had to figure out what happened last night. But they had to do it without making it obvious.
The common room was a disaster. Bottles, overturned furniture, and unconscious squadmates littered the space. Charmy was face-down in a pile of crumbs, Magna was snoring on the floor with a beer still in hand, and Luck had somehow ended up hanging from the ceiling beams.
Asta swallowed. "Okay. We just need to, you know… ask questions casually."
Noelle shot him a glare. "We are the opposite of casual right now."
Before he could argue, Vanessa strolled in, stretching her arms. She looked far too relaxed for someone who had, without a doubt, been one of the biggest instigators of last night's drinking. Her gaze flicked to them, and she smirked.
"Well, well. You two look awfully tense this morning."
Noelle went rigid. "Wh-what?! No, we don't!"
Vanessa raised an eyebrow.
Asta forced a laugh. "Haha, yeah! We're totally fine! Just, uh, you know… recovering."
Vanessa's smirk widened. "Uh-huh. You sure you're recovering?"
Noelle choked. Does she know?!
"Because," Vanessa continued, leaning against the counter, "you both were acting pretty close last night."
Asta and Noelle exchanged a look.
Noelle cleared her throat, gripping the edge of a chair. "Define close."
Vanessa chuckled. "Dancing together, for one. And not just any dancing—handsy dancing."
Asta blinked. "...Hands where?"
Vanessa tilted her head, clearly enjoying this. "Everywhere."
Noelle nearly collapsed.
Asta's face turned the color of his Anti-Magic form. "W-we wouldn't do that!"
"Oh? You don't remember?" Vanessa tapped her chin. "Well, I suppose you did have a few drinks…"
Noelle's stomach dropped.
Vanessa laughed. "Relax, prude. It was nothing too scandalous. But you were clinging to each other a lot."
Asta grabbed Noelle's sleeve and dragged her away before Vanessa could say anything else. They ducked into a side hallway, barely holding it together.
Asta ran a hand through his hair. "Okay. So we definitely got way too close last night."
Noelle clenched her fists. "But that doesn't mean we… you know!"
Asta nodded, looking equally panicked.
They needed more information.
Their next target was Finral, who was slumped over the bar, looking like death itself. Asta shook him awake. "Finral! Hey, wake up!"
Finral groaned, rubbing his face. "Ugh… what do you want…"
Asta forced a casual tone. "We were just wondering… uh… how did the party end last night?"
Finral yawned. "Well, I don't remember everything, but… oh yeah! You two left together."
Noelle seized his collar. "Where?!"
Finral flinched. "T-to Asta's room, I think—hey, what's with the death grip?!"
Noelle released him, barely breathing.
Asta's voice cracked. "And? What happened after that?"
Finral rubbed his head. "I dunno. You guys were… giggling. Looked real close. Then you disappeared."
Silence.
Asta swallowed. "That's… that's it?"
Finral nodded, yawning again. "Pretty much. Looked like you two were having fun, though."
Noelle felt like she was going to vomit.
They stumbled away, minds spinning. They had left together. Gone to Asta's room. Giggling. Close.
Noelle pressed a hand to her forehead. "This isn't enough. It's all vague!"
Asta exhaled sharply. "We need to talk to someone who stayed sober."
They both turned at the same time.
There was only one person in the Black Bulls responsible enough to stay sober during a party.
Gordon.
Asta and Noelle rushed to find him, eventually discovering him sitting quietly in the courtyard, whispering to himself.
Asta leaned forward. "Gordon, buddy, please—please tell us what happened to us last night."
Gordon blinked. "...You fell asleep."
Noelle stiffened. "That's it?"
Gordon nodded slowly. "You two… fell asleep… together."
Asta and Noelle exchanged stunned looks.
Gordon continued in his whispery voice. "You were both drunk… but not too drunk. Laughing a lot… Noelle kept mumbling something about how soft you were…"
Noelle's soul left her body.
"And Asta kept saying…" Gordon paused, then gave them a rare smile. "...That he thought you were beautiful."
Asta froze.
Noelle's heart nearly stopped.
A long silence stretched between them before Gordon added, "Then you both passed out."
Another beat of silence.
Asta let out a breath so deep it was almost spiritual.
Noelle slumped against the wall. Relief washed over her, so intense that she nearly collapsed.
They hadn't done anything.
Noelle covered her face. "I thought I was going to die."
Asta laughed—an actual, genuine laugh of pure relief. "Same. Holy crap."
They stood there for a moment, breathing, absorbing the fact that they weren't ruined.
But then, slowly, Noelle glanced at Asta. He was smiling, looking utterly at ease. Yet… something about the way his eyes lingered on her made her stomach flip.
She turned away quickly. "This never happened. We never speak of this again."
Asta hesitated. Then, softly, "Yeah… sure."
And for some reason, that didn't feel like the end of it.
—
They had their answer.
Nothing had happened.
Noelle should have felt relieved. She was relieved. Her honor, her reputation—everything was intact. There was no scandal, no irreversible mistake. They had simply fallen asleep together.
So why did she feel so restless?
It had been hours since their frantic investigation ended. Noelle had tried to go about her day as usual, throwing herself into training, avoiding Asta at all costs. But her mind kept replaying Gordon's words.
You kept mumbling about how soft he was…
And Asta kept saying… that he thought you were beautiful.
Every time she thought about it, her face burned.
She wasn't used to this. Emotions this intense, this unpredictable. She had spent years suppressing them, denying them. But now, it felt like something had cracked open inside her, and she didn't know how to close it.
Asta hadn't tried to talk to her since. Not until now.
She had just finished her evening training, the night air cool against her flushed skin, when she heard footsteps behind her.
"Noelle."
She stiffened, turning. Asta stood a few feet away, hands clenched at his sides. His face was serious—too serious.
"What?" she asked, folding her arms.
Asta hesitated. Then, quietly, "Can we talk?"
Something in his tone made her pulse quicken. She glanced around, making sure no one was nearby, then nodded stiffly. "…Fine."
They moved to a secluded spot near the cliffs, where the stars stretched endlessly above them. The only sound was the distant rustling of leaves.
Asta exhaled. "I've been thinking a lot about what happened."
Noelle tensed. "We agreed not to talk about it."
"I know," he said. "But… I can't stop thinking about it."
She swallowed. "What's there to think about? We didn't do anything."
Asta's gaze flickered, uncertain. "Yeah. And that's… kind of the problem."
Noelle frowned. "What?"
Asta took a deep breath. "Noelle. When I woke up next to you, I panicked. I freaked out. Because I thought I might've… you know… without remembering."
She nodded stiffly. "Same."
"But after we figured out nothing happened… I realized something." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I wasn't… relieved."
Noelle's breath caught.
Asta looked at her, eyes searching. "You were relieved. I get that. But me? I just… kept thinking. What if we had done something? Would that really be so bad?"
She stared at him, her mind struggling to process his words. "Of course it would have been bad! We were drunk! That's not how it's supposed to happen!"
Asta nodded slowly. "Yeah. Not drunk. Not by accident."
Something about the way he said it made her stomach tighten. "What are you getting at?"
Asta took a step closer. "If we're both this… messed up over not knowing, then maybe we should just… make it real."
Noelle froze.
The night air felt suddenly too warm. "You're insane."
"Am I?" Asta's voice was steady, his gaze unwavering. "Noelle, I like you. I've liked you for a long time."
Her heart pounded.
"I didn't think about Sister Lily once this morning. Heck I haven't thought of her the way I used to, since I got exiled. Not once," he admitted, voice quiet but firm. "All I could think about was you."
Noelle clenched her fists. "That's just because of what happened. It—it messed with your head."
"Maybe," he said. "But if that's true, then why do I want it to have happened?"
Her breath hitched.
Asta stepped even closer, his presence overwhelming. "You told me to forget about this. To pretend it didn't matter. But it does matter. And if we're both this torn up about it, then maybe we should stop pretending."
Silence.
Noelle's entire body was trembling. Not from fear—but from something far more dangerous.
Asta lifted a hand, fingers brushing her cheek. "I don't want to regret not knowing."
Noelle swallowed hard. "You're asking me to—"
"To stop running," he interrupted gently. "To stop being scared."
Her throat tightened. "I'm not scared."
Asta gave her a small, knowing smile. "Then prove it."
Noelle hated how well he knew her. Hated how easily he saw through her walls.
But most of all—she hated that he was right.
Slowly, hesitantly, she lifted her hand, resting it over his. Their fingers intertwined.
She made her choice.
And when their lips met, there was no doubt left between them.
—
Noelle had always imagined her first time would be… different.
Not in Asta's bed, in the middle of the Black Bulls' hideout, where a single stray knock on the door could shatter the moment. Not like this—hearts pounding, breaths shallow, bodies pressed together as if letting go would break the fragile spell between them.
But maybe this was exactly how it was supposed to be.
No uncertainty. No regrets.
She could still hear Asta's words from earlier, Then prove it, echoing in her mind.
So she did.
It wasn't perfect. It wasn't a grand romantic fantasy. It was them—messy, clumsy, full of nervous laughter and quiet, whispered confessions. And when it was over, when they lay tangled together in the dim moonlight filtering through the window, Noelle realized something terrifying.
She didn't feel ruined. She didn't feel ashamed.
She felt happy.
Asta turned his head slightly, looking at her. "You okay?"
She met his gaze, the warmth in his eyes making her chest ache.
"…Yeah."
A slow smile spread across his face, and she had to look away before she did something pathetic, like smile back too easily.
Asta chuckled. "You're blushing."
She smacked his arm. "Shut up."
He just laughed again, and somehow, the sound of it made everything feel lighter.
Then reality crashed in.
Her family.
The kingdom.
Noelle bolted upright, clutching the blanket to her chest.
Asta blinked, startled. "What's wrong?"
She stared at him, her stomach twisting. "Asta. Do you have any idea what we just did?"
He propped himself up on one elbow, confused. "Uh… yeah?"
Noelle groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "I'm a Silva. A noble. A royal. If this gets out, I—" She swallowed. "This isn't just about us."
Asta's expression softened. He sat up, wrapping an arm around her before she could push him away. "Noelle."
She stiffened.
"I know." His voice was calm, steady. "And that's why we're going to do this right."
She turned to him, wary. "What do you mean?"
Asta exhaled, then smiled. Not his usual, carefree grin—something quieter, but just as sure.
"Let's get married."
Noelle forgot how to breathe.
She stared at him, her heart slamming against her ribs. "You—"
Asta scratched his cheek. "I mean, I was already planning to someday, but, uh, guess we kinda sped things up."
She smacked his chest. "You absolute idiot!"
"Hey, ow!"
She grabbed his face, eyes wild. "You cannot just drop a marriage proposal like that!"
He grinned sheepishly. "I thought it was pretty good."
Noelle wanted to die.
But then Asta took her hands, his expression turning serious. "I meant it, Noelle. I want this. If we're going to deal with all the fallout anyway… let's do it together."
Something in his voice—unshakable, unwavering—made her pulse stutter.
She should have been horrified. But instead, a quiet sort of warmth settled in her chest.
"…You're really serious about this, aren't you?" she murmured.
Asta nodded. "Completely."
Noelle swallowed hard.
Then, before she could think too much, before she could find an excuse to run—she grabbed his face and kissed him.
When they pulled apart, Asta was grinning so wide it was ridiculous. "So… is that a yes?"
Noelle huffed. "I hate you."
He laughed. "I'll take that as a yes."
—
The next morning, all hell broke loose.
The Black Bulls found out first.
Asta, being Asta, had gathered everyone for an announcement. Noelle had tried to stop him—had tried to drag him away and come up with a more sensible approach—but he had just beamed at her and said, "Nope! If we're doing this, we're doing it together!"
So now she was standing in the middle of the hideout, arms crossed, face burning, as Asta cheerfully declared,
"Noelle and I are getting married!"
Silence.
Then—
"WHAT?!"
Magna choked on his drink. Luck exploded into laughter. Gordon whispered something that sounded like a blessing.
Vanessa grinned like she had seen this coming from a mile away.
Finral—poor, poor Finral—looked like he might actually pass out.
"You—you can't be serious!" he wheezed.
Asta nodded. "Super serious!"
Noelle groaned.
Then, before she could suffer any further—
The hideout doors slammed open.
A wave of mana flooded the room, suffocating and heavy, cold as ice.
Noelle's blood ran cold.
Standing in the doorway, expression unreadable, was Nozel Silva.
The entire room froze.
Asta blinked. "Oh. Hey, Nozel! We were just—"
Noelle kicked him. "Shut up!"
Nozel stepped forward, his silver hair gleaming in the light. His gaze locked onto Noelle, then flickered to Asta.
"…Explain."
Asta, bless his absolute lack of self-preservation,grinned. "We're getting married!"
Nozel's aura darkened.
Noelle had never wanted to disappear more in her entire life.
This was going to be a long day.