Prompt: People take advantage of others' kindness, Noelle doesn't ever want to do so, especially when it comes to Asta. She does her best to help him out.
—
The base was loud again.
Someone was yelling about stolen snacks. Another explosion went off in the hallway.
Noelle sat on the couch, book open, but she hadn't turned the page in ten minutes.
She was watching Asta.
He was in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, scrubbing something burnt off the bottom of a pot.
He looked focused. Not annoyed. Not tired. Just...normal.
Which was the problem.
Why is it always him?
"Oi, Asta! The toilet's clogged again!"
That was Magna.
"On it!" Asta called, already wiping his hands and jogging out.
No hesitation. No sigh. No, why me?
Noelle's grip on her book tightened.
He just got back from a mission.
She'd seen him return at dawn—soaked, bloodied, carrying three crates of supplies on his shoulders.
She'd also seen him sweeping the base an hour later.
Now it was nearly noon, and he'd prepared the bath for everyone, fixed the training ground fence, and was halfway through laundry.
The rest of the squad?
Some were asleep.
Some were drunk.
Some were arguing over who broke the couch last week.
Some were up and about and doing nothing. Just lazing around.
Noelle wasn't stupid.
She knew the Black Bulls were a disaster.
But this...
This was different.
They leaned on him. Too much. Too often.
Asta never said no.
And maybe that made it easy.
Does he even notice? Or has he gotten used to it?
The front door slammed open. Finral stumbled in with a bag of sweets.
"Asta! Mind unloading these for me?"
"Sure thing, Captain Delivery!" Asta grinned and jogged over.
Noelle watched his hands—rough and calloused, too worn for someone his age.
He hauled the bags in without blinking.
And no one else moved.
Noelle closed her book.
She stood and followed Asta into the kitchen, leaning against the doorway.
He was humming. Still smiling. Still unpacking.
"How long have you been up?" she asked.
Asta looked up. "Hmm? Since five or so. I wanted to get some reps in before breakfast."
Of course he did.
"You didn't sleep much, then."
He shrugged. "It's fine! I'll get a nap in later."
Liar.
He always said that.
And he never did.
She stepped away before he noticed her expression.
Later that night, she pretended to read again.
Pretended not to glance at the clock every hour.
It was past midnight when she heard footsteps.
She peeked out.
Asta was still awake—mopping the hallway now, shirt damp with sweat, eyes half-lidded.
He caught her watching.
"Ah, sorry! Didn't mean to wake you." He smiled. "I'll be done soon."
Noelle shut the door quietly.
She didn't sleep either.
—
The next day, she started counting.
Number of times someone asked Asta to do something: fourteen.
Number of times he refused: zero.
Number of times anyone offered to help: one. Vanessa. She immediately got distracted by a bottle of wine and wandered off.
The worst part?
Asta seemed happy.
He moved like he had energy to spare.
Like helping was second nature.
Like he didn't even think twice about it.
No one helped him.
Perhaps the only people in this squad being of use outside him, were Finral and Charmy.
Noelle was pretty sure Gordon lends a hand as well, but he's someone very easy to lose track of.
That all aside, Asta does more than anyone around the base, and acts utterly unbothered by the blatantly unfair arrangement.
But Noelle saw the little things.
The yawn he tried to hide.
The limp in his leg after training.
The way his hands trembled when he carried too many buckets.
How long can he keep this up?
She wasn't sure when her frustration turned into guilt.
Maybe it was when she walked into the kitchen and found him stitching holes in Luck's robe.
All the while their resident thread master, capable of handling such a thing in a mere moment, downed another bottle of wine on the couch.
Maybe it was when she noticed he'd fixed her cloak without saying a word. While Vanessa, yet again did nothing.
Or maybe it was when he fell asleep standing up.
Literally.
He'd nodded off against a broom.
She caught him just before he hit the floor.
He laughed, embarrassed. "Guess I went too hard today, huh?"
Noelle didn't laugh.
She helped him to the couch. Covered him with a blanket. Sat nearby.
Watched his chest rise and fall.
Why is it always him?
The realization came slowly.
They weren't just careless.
They were dependent.
If Asta stopped moving, the whole squad would unravel.
And he'd never let that happen.
Even if it broke him.
Noelle seriously wondered how the hell this squad got anything done around the base before Asta joined them.
She'd like to think they were a hopeless mess before him, but a dark part of her thought otherwise.
That they were capable, they were just lazy, and took advantage of their much too enthusiastic and dependable newbie.
If that was the truth…
Noelle hated how normal it had become.
How invisible his exhaustion was to everyone else.
Even her.
Until now.
She clenched her fists.
I can't just sit here.
The idea was small at first.
Ridiculous.
Embarrassing.
But it wouldn't leave her alone.
Help him.
She'd never cleaned anything in her life.
Never cooked.
Never folded clothes.
Didn't even know where they kept the brooms.
But none of that mattered anymore.
Because Asta needed help.
And no one else was stepping up.
If no one else would change—then she would.
For him.
—
The next morning, Noelle stared at the mop like it was a cursed relic.
It dripped water onto her boots. She didn't know how much was too much.
How hard can it be?
She shoved it into the bucket, sloshed it around, and slapped it onto the hallway floor.
It squeaked. Smelled like old potatoes.
"Gross," she muttered.
Ten seconds in and she already hated this.
But she didn't stop.
Because Asta wasn't awake yet.
Because he'd done this same chore the night before.
Because she'd watched him do it, and done nothing.
Not anymore.
The hallway was longer than she remembered.
Her arms ached halfway through.
She slipped once. Landed on her side. Swore loudly.
Graceful.
By the time she reached the end, she was sweaty, red-faced, and ready to burn the mop to ash.
Still. She'd done it.
One chore.
Out of a thousand.
—
Later, she stood in front of the laundry pile like it had insulted her.
It was enormous. Clothes from every member, dumped in tangled heaps.
Asta usually did this in under an hour.
She knew because she'd timed him before.
She picked up a shirt. Sniffed it. Nearly gagged.
"By the gods—who is this filthy?"
Luck. Definitely Luck.
She wished she were a Vermillion so she could light a flame in her palm. Tempted to incinerate the entire pile.
No. Calm down. You're doing this for Asta.
Washing was easier than she expected.
Folding was not.
Her first attempt looked like she'd crumpled it on purpose.
She refolded it. Then again. Then again.
She was still on the same shirt fifteen minutes later.
When Asta walked into the room, eyes wide, mouth already open to ask what she was doing, she panicked.
"I—It's not like I wanted to do this, idiot! I just—there was a mess, and no one else was around, so—shut up!"
Asta blinked.
Then smiled.
A real one. Warm and wide.
"Thanks, Noelle. That means a lot."
She nearly dropped the shirt.
He didn't tease her.
Didn't ask why.
Just nodded and grabbed a basket to help.
Side by side, they worked in silence.
And for the first time, she didn't mind the smell.
—
Her third attempt at cooking was a disaster.
The rice caught fire.
The eggs exploded.
The pot melted.
Asta ran in, eyes frantic. "Is someone attacking the base?!"
Noelle stood in the smoke, red-faced, arms crossed.
"I was trying to make breakfast!"
He laughed.
Actually laughed.
"I've fought magical beasts less dangerous than your omelets."
She threw a spoon at his head. He ducked.
But when she turned away, she smiled.
He was still smiling too.
They left the cooking to Charmy.
—
Each day, she took on something new.
Sweeping. Organizing supplies. Grocery shopping.
Which was hell.
The marketplace was loud. People stared. She hated it.
She overpaid three times.
Dropped a basket in the mud.
Got lost and had to ask directions—twice.
But she came back with everything.
Even the weird peppers Asta liked.
When she handed him the bag, he looked stunned.
"You went shopping?"
"Don't make a big deal out of it."
"I'm not! It's just—thank you."
His smile was softer this time. Like he was seeing her differently.
She hated how warm it made her feel.
This isn't about that. I'm doing this because he deserves better.
But she still caught herself checking her hair in the mirror later.
Fixing any loose strands.
Straightening out any glaring curls.
Just once.
Definitely just once.
—
The rest of the squad noticed eventually.
"Since when do you clean, Princess?" Magna asked, smirking.
Noelle nearly punched him.
But Asta answered first.
"She's been helping out a lot! Honestly, it's been a huge relief."
He sounded proud.
Noelle flushed.
Vanessa raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Charmy tried to bribe her with food to keep doing laundry.
Gauche ignored her entirely unless Asta was nearby.
But the most important thing was this:
No one stopped her.
No one offered to help either.
But Asta did.
Every time.
And not just with chores.
He started watching her during training. Offering tips.
Asking if she'd eaten.
Carrying the heavier bags when they traveled.
He didn't say it out loud, but she knew.
He'd noticed.
—
The days blurred.
Her hands blistered. Her back ached.
But she got better.
She folded faster. Swept straighter.
Could carry three buckets without spilling.
She hated how smug Asta looked when he said, "Told you manual labor was good training."
She dumped water on his shoes.
He just laughed.
Idiot.
But her heart wasn't in the insult anymore.
She looked forward to seeing him.
To hearing him laugh.
To catching his surprised expression when she finished something without burning it.
This wasn't just about chores anymore.
It was about him.
How he moved.
How he smiled.
How much he gave without asking anything in return.
And maybe...
How she felt when he looked at her like she was more than a loudmouthed or haughty royal.
Don't get ahead of yourself.
Just keep helping.
She wasn't ready to say it.
But her actions spoke louder than anything else.
And Asta?
He was listening.
—
Asta was hard to read sometimes.
He smiled so much you'd think he never got tired. Never got upset.
But Noelle started noticing the little things.
How he rubbed his shoulders after hanging the laundry too long.
How he cracked his knuckles before carrying heavy crates.
How he flinched—just slightly—when someone called for help and he was already doing three other things.
He never said no.
Not once.
Not when Gauche needed someone to deliver a letter.
Not when Charmy needed more ingredients for her dishes.
Not when Yami told him to do something ridiculous like "find a better door."
Asta never complained.
But Noelle saw the toll.
And now, she was part of the balance.
Not just watching. Helping.
She thought that was the end of it.
But then he started watching her.
—
It began with a glance.
Asta looked up from scrubbing the courtyard and found Noelle elbow-deep in mop water, hair tied back messily, sweat on her brow.
She scowled when she caught him staring.
"What?"
"Nothing," he said quickly. "Just... you've been working really hard."
"Tch. Obviously."
She turned away, but her face was burning.
And he didn't stop watching.
—
He caught her training one night.
No one else around.
Just her and the dark sky, grunting through spell after spell.
Her form was messy. Her aim off.
But she didn't stop.
Even when her knees buckled.
Even when her hands shook.
He stood in the doorway, silent.
She didn't know he was there.
And for the first time, he didn't just think she's strong.
He thought she's trying so damn hard.
And that hit him somewhere deep.
—
After that, his eyes lingered more.
Not in the way people looked at her because she was pretty.
It was different.
He watched her scrub dishes like she was slaying dragons.
Watched her shout at the mop like it was talking back.
Watched her fold his shirt wrong three times and keep trying anyway.
He started training near her. Just to be close.
Started offering to help her help him. Which was dumb, but he didn't care.
He started noticing how she muttered to herself when she was nervous.
How she bit the inside of her cheek when she was focused.
How she always looked proud when she got something right, even if she pretended not to care.
And it hit him.
He liked her.
He really liked her.
Not like he liked everyone. Not like friendship.
Noelle was different.
When she glared at him, it made him laugh.
When she smiled—really smiled—it knocked the wind out of him.
He remembered every time she defended him.
Every time she fought beside him.
Every time she believed in him, even when he was reckless.
But now it was more than that.
She wasn't just beautiful.
She was real.
And maybe... he was falling for her.
—
He didn't tell her.
Didn't know how.
But it changed how he looked at her.
He started noticing how her fingers trembled when she asked if he needed anything.
How she never asked for credit, just quietly picked up his slack.
How she fought through the nausea of cleaning the toilets without complaint.
And every time, he wanted to thank her properly.
Every time, he wanted to hold her hand.
But he didn't.
Because it wasn't the right time.
Not yet.
—
One morning, she handed him a meal she'd cooked herself.
It was burnt. Over-salted. Some weird pink rice.
But he ate every bite. Smiling.
Because she had made it.
For him.
Noelle didn't cook for the squad. That was Charmy's job.
She made it for him and him alone.
She tried to act indifferent or haughty about it, but Asta could feel it.
Finishing this meal in front of her, meant so much more to her than he could fathom.
And her eyes—nervous, flicking between his face and the plate—told him everything.
She cared.
More than she let on.
Maybe even as much as he did.
—
Later, during a mission, she blocked a spell meant for him.
Took the hit like it was nothing.
He carried her back, furious, heart pounding.
"You idiot," he hissed. "Why would you do that?!"
She groaned. "You'd have done the same."
He stared at her, soaked in blood and rain and stubbornness.
And realized—
She wasn't just fighting to get stronger.
She was fighting for him.
—
That night, he couldn't sleep.
He thought about her laugh. Her stubborn pride. Her terrible cooking and crooked folding and how damn hard she tried.
He thought about the way she'd looked at him after that mission.
Like she trusted him more than anyone.
And in that moment, he knew.
He didn't want to imagine a future without her.
Not just as a teammate.
As his person.
Even if he couldn't say it yet.
He would stay close.
Protect her.
Match her effort.
Maybe one day... confess.
But for now, he'd just keep watching.
And maybe she'd keep watching too.
—
Something changed.
Noelle wasn't sure when it happened.
Maybe the day Asta refused to let her carry the heavier crates alone.
Maybe when he quietly started finishing the chores with her, even when she told him not to.
Maybe when he laughed—really laughed—when she accidentally knocked over the mop bucket and fell on her ass.
That laugh stuck with her.
Not because it was loud or bright or boyish.
But because he looked at her like she mattered.
Like she wasn't just helping.
Like she was his favorite part of the day.
—
Asta started resting more.
Noelle noticed first.
He stopped waking up before sunrise.
Stopped running straight from missions to laundry duty.
Stopped skipping meals just to get everything done.
And when she asked if he felt lazy, he smiled and said, "Nope. You were right. I needed the break."
She blinked.
He listened to me?
It felt... huge.
—
They started spending time together. Real time.
Not missions. Not chores.
Just... time.
He'd linger in the kitchen while she struggled with tea.
She'd sit outside while he sharpened Yami's katana.
Sometimes they didn't talk at all.
But it was never awkward.
Just quiet. Easy.
The kind of silence that made her chest feel warm.
—
One afternoon, she caught him watching her again.
She was sweeping the entrance, sweaty and annoyed.
A single leaf kept flying back.
She was about to explode.
But then she looked up—and there he was.
Leaning against the doorway. Grinning.
"What?"
He shook his head. "Nothing. Just... you've gotten really good at that."
She threw the broom at him. Missed.
He laughed so hard he fell over.
She smiled without meaning to.
—
He started showing her things.
How to clean a blade properly.
How to tell good vegetables from bad ones.
How to stack firewood so it wouldn't fall over and kill someone (after she nearly caused a minor avalanche).
She learned.
Slowly.
Not because she wanted to be perfect.
But because it made him proud.
And when Asta was proud of her, it felt... different.
Not like winning a duel. Not like earning praise from Fuegoleon or Lady Mereoleona.
It felt personal.
—
They trained together more now.
Sometimes she asked.
Sometimes he did.
He didn't hold back as much anymore.
And she didn't need him to.
She could match his pace—almost.
Every bruise was worth it. Every scratch.
He'd grin at her afterward and say, "You're seriously amazing, Noelle."
And every time, her heart stuttered like a fool.
—
One night, she collapsed beside him in the common room.
Mission done. Chores finished. Rain pouring outside.
They didn't talk.
He passed her a blanket. She shared her snack.
His knee bumped hers. She didn't move.
And somehow, that meant everything.
—
She didn't know how it had happened.
But he wasn't just Asta anymore.
He was the person she looked for first in the morning.
The one she stayed near during group meals.
The reason she didn't mind mopping anymore.
He made everything feel lighter.
Not easier—lighter.
Like the weight she carried didn't crush her as long as he was close.
—
They didn't flirt. Not really.
But something passed between them sometimes.
A look. A silence. A grin that lingered too long.
One time she tripped on a stair. He caught her.
Held her a second too long. Didn't say a word.
Another time, she brushed his hair out of his eyes without thinking.
He blinked like she'd just hit him with a spell.
Neither of them said anything.
But the air between them shifted.
—
Vanessa teased.
Finral winked.
Even Charmy raised her brows once when they were caught doing the dishes side by side.
Noelle denied everything.
Asta just laughed.
But her cheeks burned too fast.
And his eyes lingered too long.
—
They never talked about it.
But they stopped sitting across from each other.
They started sitting next to each other.
She started leaning into him when she was tired.
He started handing her things before she asked.
Their hands brushed too often to be coincidence.
And neither of them pulled away anymore.
—
He still trained harder than anyone.
Still pushed himself to the edge.
But now, when he rested...
He rested with her.
She started calling it their quiet hour.
He just called it nice.
No teasing. No noise. Just them.
Side by side.
—
They were becoming inseparable.
And maybe people noticed.
Maybe the squad joked.
But she didn't care.
Not when he smiled at her like that.
Not when she realized how safe he made her feel.
Not when he chose her company every time.
—
She didn't need him to say anything.
And she wasn't ready to say it either.
But she felt it in the way he looked at her now.
Like she wasn't just a teammate.
Wasn't just royalty.
Wasn't just strong.
She was his Noelle.
And that was enough.
—
No one said it out loud.
But everyone knew.
She and Asta had changed.
Noelle wasn't sure when exactly.
Maybe it was gradual. Quiet.
But she felt it.
In the way he saved her a seat before meals.
In the way she waited for him after missions—no matter how tired.
In the way they always ended up beside each other without trying.
—
He looked for her first now.
She knew it.
She'd walk into a room and feel it.
That little flicker of warmth.
The soft shift in his eyes, like finally, there you are.
And she always noticed him first too.
Even when she pretended not to.
—
They didn't hold hands.
Didn't kiss.
Didn't need to.
There was a kind of closeness in the silence between them.
Stronger than any love spell.
—
She caught herself staring sometimes.
At the curve of his back while he trained.
At his hands when he repaired torn cloaks with careful stitching.
At his jaw when he was focused, quiet, unreadable.
When did I fall this deep?
She didn't know.
But she wasn't afraid of it anymore.
—
He didn't hide his gaze either.
Not when she practiced late and her magic faltered.
Not when she yawned mid-sentence during cleaning duty.
Not when she laughed at something dumb and forgot to act proper.
He looked at her like she was precious.
And it made her want to be even better.
For him.
—
They still didn't talk about it.
No confessions. No dramatic moments.
But the feelings were there.
Loud in the quiet. Heavy in the light touches.
So obvious that even Luck once asked, "Wait, are you two dating?"
Noelle had turned red. Asta had choked on his water.
They both denied it at the same time.
But neither of them laughed afterward.
—
It was easier this way, maybe.
No pressure. No labels.
Just... them.
Training partners. Teammates. Friends.
Something more.
Something steady.
—
She became his calm.
He became her strength.
Not because they fixed each other.
But because they never let each other fall.
—
Noelle used to think love would be dramatic. Explosive. Loud.
But this...?
This quiet devotion?
The way Asta waited for her without needing to ask.
The way she cleaned his headband after missions before he could.
The way he leaned his head on her shoulder when no one was looking.
This was deeper than words.
—
They were each other's constant now.
His presence steadied her hands during magic.
Her voice brought him back from reckless edges.
Even when she snapped at him, even when he teased her too much—
They never left each other.
—
One day, maybe she'd tell him.
She'd say the words she'd rehearsed so many times.
But not yet.
Not today.
She was still learning how to hold this.
How to protect what they had without rushing it.
—
For now, being his was enough.
His person. His peace. His favorite company.
And he was hers.
Even if they never said it out loud.
—
They walked side by side.
Always.
Not holding hands.
But never letting go.