Prompt: An AU where Asta and Noelle's attitudes are a bit different. Noelle, hateful for her abusive childhood and Asta, secretly so to the world for making him an outsider. They use one another to vent their grievances. There were supposed to be no strings attached.
—
I was three the first time Nebra called me a mistake.
Four, the first time Solid invaded my room and destroyed my most precious belongings.
Five, the first time they started starving me and interfering with my meals.
Six, when the servants started joining in on the abuse.
Seven when I started looking for places to hide to endure the days.
Nozel just looked away. He always looked away.
She's not one of us.
She'll never be one of us.
That was the start.
—
By twelve, I stopped crying in front of them.
By thirteen, I stopped speaking at all during meals.
By fourteen, I daydreamed of just letting all my magic explode and drown them in it.
A fantasy, obviously.
My control was garbage.
I'd only end up killing myself.
Not a bad thing, but I want to at least take them down with me.
So I endured.
—
You're an embarrassment to House Silva.
You'll get people killed.
Can't even control your own magic—what good are you?
My name meant nothing.
My blood meant nothing.
Not to them.
—
The capital whispered too.
That's the Silva girl?
Pity. She's pretty.
Shame about the magic.
I got used to walking like a ghost.
Head high, teeth clenched, every step rehearsed.
—
I trained in secret.
Cried into spellbooks.
Carved control out of chaos.
Not because I wanted their approval.
Because I wanted to destroy them with it.
—
And then the final insult.
She'll never be ready.
Send her to the Black Bulls. Maybe she won't die there. Or at least not shame us if she does.
The Black Bulls.
They might as well have spat in my face.
—
I laughed when I got the orders.
Right there in Nozel's office.
His face went stiff. Cold.
Finally, I thought, a reaction.
"You're all cowards," I said.
Not even a scream. Just… flat.
They let me go like trash on the wind.
—
The squad base smelled like sweat, booze, and unwashed clothes.
A pigsty full of degenerates.
Perfect.
They stared when I walked in.
Not in awe—just surprise.
A royal, here?
Let them stare.
Let them choke on it.
—
Then I saw him.
Messy hair. Muscles for days.
Wearing rags, grinning like an idiot.
No magic.
The others whispered it like a curse.
I didn't care.
He looked like a threat to everything they believed in.
That was enough.
—
The moment I saw Asta, I decided.
You'll do.
Not because I liked him.
Not because I wanted him.
Because he was the opposite of them.
Because kissing him in front of my siblings would kill them faster than a blade.
So I made a plan.
—
Flirt.
Cling.
Tease.
Corrupt.
Make him mine.
Make them watch.
—
The first time I sat next to him, I leaned too close.
He blushed.
I smiled.
Good. Stay sweet. I'm going to ruin you.
—
The first mission, I tripped into his arms.
He caught me like a hero.
"Sorry," I whispered.
I wasn't.
—
Every time he trained shirtless, I stared.
Openly.
Let the others notice.
Let the rumors start.
—
"You're really strong," I said once.
He scratched the back of his head. "Thanks!"
I stepped closer.
Real close.
"You're really hot," I added.
He choked on air.
I walked away smiling.
It's working.
—
I left my bedroom door cracked.
Asked him to walk me back after missions.
Laughed at everything he said.
My touch lingered.
My gaze burned.
He was confused.
Flattered.
Wary.
But he didn't pull away.
—
They heard about it.
Of course they did.
Nebra sent a letter.
How pathetic. Even a peasant won't want you.
I pinned it to my wall.
Right above my bed.
—
Solid tried to corner me in the capital.
Said I was making a fool of myself.
I spit in his drink and told him Asta was a better man than he'd ever be.
He raised a hand.
I raised my wand.
He backed off.
Coward.
—
Nozel didn't say anything.
He just looked at me with those eyes.
Not anger.
Not disgust.
Fear.
I loved it.
—
And Asta…
He started playing along.
—
"You look cold, Noelle."
I wasn't.
But I let him drape his cloak over my shoulders anyway.
—
"You're beautiful when you're pissed off."
Careful, I almost said. You're not supposed to mean it.
But I smiled instead.
—
He started teasing back.
Touching my waist.
Leaning in close.
Calling me princess in a voice that made my skin prickle.
—
It wasn't just an act anymore.
Not for him.
Not for me either, something whispered.
I stabbed that thought where it stood.
—
This was war.
Me against the Silvas.
Me against every noble who looked down on me.
And Asta?
He was my weapon.
My favorite weapon.
—
But something about the way he smiled…
Like he saw through it.
Like he was choosing to play along.
He hates them too, I realized.
Just quieter about it.
That made me like him more.
Too much.
—
One night, we kissed in the middle of a tavern.
I pulled him in by the collar, pressed my lips to his with everyone watching.
His hands found my back.
The crowd went still.
Then someone gasped.
"I-isn't that the Silva girl?!"
"Isn't he the magicless peasant?"
—
I smiled into his mouth.
Good.
Let them see.
Let them talk.
Let them burn.
—
I was born with nothing.
Not just poor—empty.
No mana. No spark. Not even a flicker.
They called it a curse. Me a curse.
A punishment.
A defect.
—
I trained anyway.
Every day. Every night.
Screaming through torn muscles and cracked knuckles.
If I couldn't have magic, I'd make strength my spell.
—
But it wasn't enough.
The other kids still laughed.
The nobles spat.
Even my fellow peasants and commoners spat.
Magicless trash.
No future.
Why even try?
—
Yuno never said it, but I could see it in his eyes.
Why don't you give up already?
—
But I couldn't.
Because if I stopped, then what was left?
Just a boy too stubborn to die quietly.
—
I prayed once.
Not some half-hearted plea, but a real prayer, with some incense, a bible, holding Father's cross tight to my chest, and so much more.
I prayed.
Begged the gods for magic.
Anything. A spark.
Nothing.
No response.
No heavenly sign of even being acknowledged or seen.
Not even an echo.
—
So I stopped praying.
And started lifting.
Started running.
Started fighting the world with my bare hands.
—
The grimoire ceremony came.
Yuno got a four-leaf.
Typical.
I got nothing.
Typical.
Everyone laughed.
—
Then the book came crashing down.
Black. Violent. Wrong.
Torn and tattered, a mockery of me.
Perfect.
—
I joined the exam.
Fought with no spells.
No safety.
Just fists, a sword, and a chip on my shoulder.
—
Nobles sneered.
Captains whispered.
But one man grinned.
—
Yami Sukehiro.
Smelled like cigars and murder.
"You got guts, kid."
He clapped a hand on my shoulder.
Hard.
"You're one of us now."
—
I didn't know what that meant.
But I followed him anyway.
He seemed pretty cool.
—
The Black Bulls were chaos.
A foreigner.
A drunk witch.
A street-punk yankee.
A homicidal berserker.
A siscon.
A creepy gothic dude.
A large, round guy who breathes heavily.
A lazy pervert.
A cow in the kitchen.
It wasn't a squad.
It was a bomb.
But for the first time, no one looked at me like I didn't belong.
I fit right in.
—
They didn't care that I had no mana.
Didn't mock my sword.
Didn't whisper behind my back.
They just… let me be.
It should've felt like peace.
It didn't.
—
I still heard their voices.
The nobles.
The royals.
The crowds.
All of them laughing.
—
So I kept smiling.
Kept yelling.
Kept being the cheerful idiot they expected.
But deep down, there was rage.
—
Why them?
Why did they get magic, castles, respect—everything?
And I got the dirt.
I wasn't some saint, but I'm pretty sure I was a nicer guy than them.
Doesn't someone like me deserve even a fraction of what they have?
Don't I?
—
I hated them.
The royals.
The nobles.
Their smug pride and fake politeness.
They'd never admit it, but they thought I was filth.
And maybe I was.
But I was their filth now.
A weapon with a grin.
—
Then she arrived.
Silver hair.
Arrogant pink eyes.
Dressed like nobility.
No, royalty.
I braced for another snake.
—
But Noelle Silva surprised me.
She was cold.
Sharp-tongued.
Angry.
But not at me.
To those who I hate most.
Those with the most magic and worst attitudes.
The nobles.
The royals.
She was furious with them.
Especially her own blood.
—
At first, she ignored me.
Then she watched.
Then she pounced.
—
She started sitting beside me.
Too close.
Started touching my arm when she talked.
Started calling me strong. Handsome.
Started smirking when I got flustered.
—
I didn't get it.
Not at first.
She was a royal.
Beautiful. Gorgeous. Magical. Deadly.
And yet…
She wanted me?
—
The others whispered.
Finral raised eyebrows.
Magna made jokes.
Vanessa grinned.
I laughed it off.
But something about it felt off.
Too fast.
Too intentional.
—
Then one night, she kissed my cheek during a mission.
Out of nowhere.
I dropped my sword.
—
Later, I caught her staring.
Not at my face.
Not even at my muscles.
At my rage.
She knew.
—
I didn't ask questions.
Didn't push.
But next time she sat in my lap during a team meeting, I didn't move.
Next time she called me "her peasant," I smirked.
—
Something unspoken passed between us.
A fire. A dare.
Let's burn the world that burned us first.
—
I started teasing her back.
Started flexing on purpose.
Started calling her princess in that voice that made her eyes darken.
She wasn't just flirting.
She was fighting.
So I fought back.
—
I wasn't stupid.
I knew it started as a game. A rebellion.
But it felt good.
She felt good.
Too good.
—
I didn't need her affection.
Didn't need her looks, her praise, her stolen kisses.
But I wanted them.
Because with her, I wasn't just a powerless kid anymore.
I was something dangerous.
Something wrong in the eyes of the world.
A magicless peasant, the lowest of the lowest, getting cozy and touching with bonafide royalty was unthinkable.
An insult to the class system and standards of our society.
Noelle was supposed to step on me. Insult me. Be disgusted by my mere presence, not act like she worshipped me.
I got even more stares.
Not just hate-filled ones, but jealous ones. Perplexed ones.
Ones trying to figure out how I managed to pull this off.
And I liked it.
—
She leaned on me like I was her sword.
So I let her.
I pushed back when she mocked the nobles.
So she leaned harder.
—
We weren't a couple.
Not yet.
We were allies.
Two broken things using each other to strike back.
—
And I was okay with that.
More than okay.
Because for once, I wasn't smiling to hide the pain.
I was smiling because I wanted to be seen.
Let the world watch.
Let the royals sneer.
I'd kiss their precious princess in the middle of the street if I wanted to.
—
It started with a dare.
A look.
A smirk.
"Kiss me."
"Here?"
"Why not?"
Asta didn't hesitate.
Didn't ask why.
He just grabbed her waist and did it.
Right there.
In front of Finral.
In front of Vanessa.
In front of everyone.
Vanessa dropped her wine glass.
Finral choked on air.
Yami didn't look up from his newspaper.
—
Noelle tasted like control shattering.
Like a fuse catching flame.
Her fingers clutched his collar.
His hand slid low on her hip.
They kissed like they were trying to hurt someone else with it.
The moment ended.
The silence didn't.
Then she laughed.
"Did that shock them?" she whispered.
He nodded.
"I hope so."
—
That was the deal.
No rules.
No shame.
Make them all watch.
Make them all suffer.
And relish in it.
Burn it all and grin.
Destroy it all and laugh.
Let everything crumble to dust.
Their beliefs.
Their rules.
Their society.
Upturn it all, and bask in the carnage.
And hopefully come out happy.
—
Noelle pressed herself into his lap during missions.
Whispered filthy things in his ear just to see him flinch.
Called him her peasant in front of royals like it was a threat.
Looked like a devoted wife and lover at 15.
A very scandalous and infatuated one.
—
Asta played along.
Louder, dirtier, bolder.
With words and actions.
With mouth and tongue.
With nods and hands.
He smirked when nobles passed by.
Squeezed her thigh under banquet tables.
Squeezed her butt as they walked down the street.
Wrapped an arm around her waist like he owned her.
He didn't.
But she wanted him to pretend.
—
Sometimes he wondered what the hell they were doing.
But she'd look at him like fire itself and ask:
"You still with me, Asta?"
And he'd always say yes.
She lit the fire, always looking for a chance to burn in his soul.
And only she would be allowed to put it out.
He'd play as long as she wanted him to.
As long as she needed him to.
He'd play her games.
Any game.
—
They started holding hands in public just to spite Nozel.
Once, during a conference, Noelle leaned in and kissed Asta mid-sentence—while Julius was speaking.
He dropped his paperwork.
Marx dropped his clipboard.
Yami didn't blink.
—
The nobles started whispering.
Scandalous.
She's out of control.
How could a Silva—
How could Acier's daughter-
She smiled through every insult.
He grinned through every glare.
They were poison to polite society.
And they loved it.
—
Nozel confronted her once.
Dragged her into an empty hall.
Voice cold. Eyes furious.
"You're disgracing our name."
Noelle tilted her head.
"Good."
Then she shoved Asta's tongue down her throat right in front of him.
—
Solid tried to insult Asta.
Got knocked to the ground for it.
Asta didn't throw the punch.
Noelle did.
Nebra tried to yank her hair.
Asta grabbed her wrist.
He bent it until a crack sounded out.
Noelle looked in love.
—
They weren't pretending anymore.
Not completely.
The kisses lasted too long.
The touches lingered.
The insults turned protective.
—
Noelle watched Asta laugh at dinner one night—genuine, unguarded.
Her chest ached.
Asta saw her sleeping on the couch after a mission, curled around his coat.
He felt something terrifying bloom in his ribs.
—
They never talked about it.
Never labeled it.
But the space between them changed.
It wasn't just rebellion anymore.
It was trust.
It was comfort.
It was safety.
It was warmth.
It was home.
It was dangerously close to something real.
—
She curled against him after sparring.
Sweaty, breathless, radiant.
"You don't belong at the bottom," she whispered.
He looked at her like she'd said the sun was his.
—
He called her "princess" with sarcasm.
She called him "peasant" with affection.
Every dear "royal pain" was met with an equally endearing "lowly insect".
Too much magic had a place to let loose and fill in the magicless.
Two opposite extremes, failures and defects of equal magnitude.
They reached for one another.
The lines blurred.
The act crumbled.
They didn't stop.
—
Finral asked once, "So, are you two dating or just constantly on fire?"
Noelle threw a pillow at him.
Asta just smiled. Softly.
—
Late at night, they stopped joking.
Stopped teasing.
She lay on his chest.
He traced her back.
They didn't say a word.
But it felt honest.
Genuine.
Deep.
Important.
It had potential.
—
Noelle wanted to tell him.
That he made her feel safe.
Wanted. Alive.
But pride stopped her tongue.
—
Asta wanted to tell her.
That he wasn't just playing along.
That he needed her more than she'd ever know.
That he was down for forever.
But fear closed his throat.
—
So they kissed harder.
Held tighter.
Mocked louder.
Because love was too scary to name.
But defiance?
That was easy.
That was them.
—
They weren't healed.
Not yet.
Still bleeding.
Still bitter.
But now they bled together.
—
Their pact was forged in spite.
But it was evolving.
Into something sharp.
And terrifying.
And real.
—
Let the world scream.
Let the nobles rage.
They'd burn the script, kiss in the ashes, and dare anyone to stop them.
For 15 years they did as the world wanted of them.
As society dictated them.
And now it was time for payback.
—
They didn't mean to start falling.
It just happened.
Not with fireworks.
Not with confessions.
With small things.
—
Asta got injured on a mission.
A slash across the ribs.
He laughed it off. Said he'd had worse.
Noelle didn't laugh.
She was silent the whole way home.
And then she screamed at him.
"You're not invincible, you idiot!"
"You think I care if I die?" he snapped back.
They stared at each other, trembling.
Something unspoken shattered in the air.
—
She didn't storm off.
She sat beside him.
Cleaned the blood from his skin.
Her hands shook.
He caught her wrist.
"You okay?"
She looked away.
"No."
—
Later that night, she curled against him.
Didn't kiss him.
Didn't tease.
Just rested her head on his chest like it was the only place she trusted.
Asta lay awake long after she fell asleep.
She's more than this game.
More than a Silva.
More than my partner in crime.
—
They had another mission the next week.
Remote village. Bandits. Good odds.
They fought side by side like always.
They acted reckless and shameless like always.
And they paid for it, this time.
Another attack came Asta's way.
But this time, she shielded him.
Took a hit meant for him.
Collapsed into his arms.
—
He panicked.
Didn't care who was watching.
Held her like she'd disappear.
"Noelle—Noelle—Noelle—"
She groaned, weak but alive.
"You're heavy," she muttered.
He laughed through tears.
—
When they got back, he didn't let her go.
He sat by her bed all night.
Watched her breathe.
Counted every rise and fall.
She woke once.
Reached out.
Gripped his hand like she needed it.
—
They didn't talk about the fear.
But it lingered.
Every time she winced.
Every time he flinched when she got too close to danger.
—
He stopped calling her "princess" as a joke.
Started saying it softer.
Like a promise.
She kissed him less to prove a point now.
More because she wanted to.
Long, slow kisses.
Kisses that whispered stay.
—
They still mocked nobles.
Still kissed in hallways.
Still made Solid cry.
Still made Nebra scream.
Still made Nozel furious.
But there was a new silence between them.
Warm.
Unspoken.
Safe.
—
One night, Noelle caught him staring.
"What?"
He shrugged.
"You're beautiful when you're not trying to be."
She went still.
He didn't take it back.
She didn't deflect.
She just leaned in.
Pressed her forehead to his.
And whispered, "Don't lie."
"I'm not."
—
She didn't sleep in her own room anymore.
Not since the second time she almost lost him.
Occasional times together, became permanent.
Until they only knew each other.
Until they couldn't remember life before one another, any longer.
—
Asta started training harder.
Not to prove himself.
To survive.
For her.
—
She stopped wearing armor around him.
Started letting herself feel things.
She told him about her mother.
About the way Solid used to lock her in closets.
About the way Nebra used to soil her wardrobe.
The way Nozel looked through her like she wasn't there.
—
Asta didn't say sorry.
He just held her.
Let her cry into his shirt until it dried stiff.
—
He told her about the orphanage.
About the kids who got adopted because they had magic.
About Sister Lily's kindness.
About Father Orsi's love.
About the way people looked at him like dirt.
—
She didn't say sorry either.
She just kissed his scars.
Every single one.
—
They still had moments.
Still shoved each other against walls just to feel in control.
But now it ended in whispers.
In hands threading through hair.
In tangled limbs and hearts beating too fast.
—
One night, she whispered, "I don't hate them anymore."
He blinked. "Your siblings?"
"No. The world."
He didn't answer.
But he kissed her like he understood.
They weren't healed.
Not yet.
Still carried knives in their hearts.
But they were learning to pull them out together.
—
The pact was changing.
It wasn't about spite anymore.
It was about survival.
And something scarier.
Hope.
—
The world still judged them.
Still whispered.
Still waited for them to fall apart.
But they didn't.
They held on.
Tighter than ever.
—
Noelle found strength in his touch.
Asta found peace in her arms.
And somewhere in the wreckage of what they used to be...
They found love.
—
It wasn't loud when they realized it.
Wasn't a speech.
Wasn't a kiss.
Wasn't revenge.
It was quiet.
A glance.
A breath.
A choice.
And they chose yes.
—
Noelle stood in front of the Silva estate.
Cold wind brushing her cheeks.
Armor tight around her chest.
Asta was beside her.
He didn't say a word.
Just waited.
She asked him to come, so he came.
—
Nozel opened the door.
Stared her down like always.
Arrogant. Cold.
Nebra sneered.
Solid laughed.
"You've embarrassed us long enough," Nozel said.
—
Noelle stepped forward.
Didn't flinch.
"I didn't come to beg."
Her voice didn't shake.
"I came to say I'm done carrying your shame."
Solid spat, "You're still a disgrace."
Asta spoke up.
Calm. Clear.
"She's stronger than all of you combined."
Nebra rolled her eyes.
"You think you matter, peasant?"
He smiled.
"I do. To her."
Noelle didn't raise her voice.
Didn't insult them.
She just looked them in the eyes.
"I used to want your love. Your approval."
"I used to want to destroy all of you, and all you stand for."
Pause.
"I don't anymore."
She turned her back on them.
Walked away without hesitation.
Didn't cry.
Didn't look back.
Asta followed.
—
They didn't speak on the way back.
But their hands stayed locked.
Tight.
Warm.
That night, she kissed him differently.
No teasing. No edge.
Just truth.
I love you.
Without saying it.
—
He whispered it first.
After.
Breathless.
Heart exposed.
"I love you."
She froze.
Then smiled.
"Finally."
—
Their love wasn't delicate.
It wasn't soft music and candlelight.
It was forged in fire.
Rough. Wild. Messy.
Perhaps wrong.
Perhaps an utter affront to love and romance itself.
But it was real.
And it was theirs.
The world never gave them anything.
So they made something for themselves.
—
The Bulls didn't question it anymore.
Finral made bets.
Vanessa winked.
Yami grunted and told them not to get too loud.
—
They stopped hiding.
Didn't care who saw.
They danced at festivals.
Sat together during meetings.
Stole kisses in broad daylight.
All for one another, no longer just to rub someone the wrong way.
It was softer. Much softer.
Less erotic.
Less scandalous.
But more vibrant and explosive than ever.
—
People whispered.
Nobles seethed.
Let them.
They'd already survived worse.
—
Asta called her "his queen" once.
She blushed for hours.
Hit him for it.
Then kissed him anyway.
—
Noelle didn't need revenge anymore.
She had peace.
Not from silence.
Not from acceptance.
From him.
—
Asta still carried bitterness.
But it didn't rot him now.
She lit up the corners he'd kept hidden.
—
He called her resilient.
She called them inspirational.
He called her brave.
She called him hers.
—
The world hadn't changed.
But they had.
Together.
—
Two people the world tried to break.
Too poor. Too hated. Too wrong.
Disdained and insulted for things far outside of their control.
Now standing tall.
Hand in hand.
Defiantly happy.
—
Let them judge.
Let them scream.
They weren't doing this for applause.
Or for the boos and indignation.
They loved each other for real.
And that was enough.
—
Noelle laid on Asta's chest.
His hand in her hair.
Sunlight across their skin.
No armor.
No walls.
No clothes.
Just them.
She looked up at him.
"Still think kissing a royal is corruption?"
He grinned.
"Only if you do it like that."
She laughed.
He pulled her closer.
And for the first time in their lives—
They felt free.