Noel Noa X Reader - Tumblr Posts

Noel Noa would let his spouse do his eyeliner for him sometimes

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(It’s so canon that he wears eyeliner, I don’t care none of that ‘oh it’s natural’ bs my man is a cat-eye winged baddie)

I doubt he wore it when he was in the slums of France. He probably started using eyeliner regularly when he got recruited to a smaller team, his first real opportunity to change his life. Maybe he wears it because he likes the feeling of empowerment and belonging the dramatic flare the eyeliner brings to him. Maybe he wears it as a safety precaution, something to hide the flaws only he sees, and doesn’t realize it yet. Maybe he wanted to be remembered, to stand out. Not to be identified as the poor, improper, uneducated boy with potential, to be a beast of a football player that stands next to no one. A man that was worth more than the dirty slums. If they wouldn’t remember his name or his abilities, they would remember the cold, (desperate) hungry gleam in his amber eyes encased in a cut of harsh black liner.

Whatever the case, the eyeliner has stuck with him for years. Even you, his spouse that shares a home with him, hardly see Noel without it. Due to his profession, his training and competition often ensured that Noel would rise out of bed before you and sink back into bed after you. You don’t mind though, treasuring your time with Noel comes in small but rewarding moments.

Like this morning.

Noel was to be at the airport in a few hours to fly to Japan from Germany with his team, Bastard Munchen. Apparently their presence is required for the next phase of the ‘Blue Lock’ program. You heard of it, having one foot in the football world at all times because of Noel; however no one in the world would have expected the upset that was the U-20 game held in Japan a couple weeks ago.

You weren’t too fond of the idea of Noel staying at the Blue Lock facility for the foreseeable future, and you could tell by his attitude neither was he. This ‘Neo Egoist League’ he mentioned sounded like one big round robin experiment to find players for the U-20 World Cup. Something only weeks away. The whole thing was like a dream, you just couldn’t tell if it would be a good one or a bad one. Seems as though the whole world will have to figure out together as very few are privy to know what is happening inside Blue Lock as of now.

Despite his protests in favor of you sleeping in, you decided to accompany and see Noel off.

“Noel, I’m not able to come with you. This will be the last morning I get to spend with you for weeks.” You stress to the figure washing his face in your shared bathroom.

“You still have to go to work later today, you need to sleep. No one wants to deal with an employer that can’t keep their eyes open for five minutes.” Noel calls.

“I’ll be fine, I’m a grown woman who can handle a little sleepiness,” You groan and stride to the bathroom. “You’re one to talk on the matter in fact, I can see your eye bags from here.”

The two of you lock eyes and enter a silent competition. Noel refuses to admit his sleep has been plagued with thoughts about the Blue Lock situation and wishes for you to return to bed. You are unrelenting in your efforts of spending this time with him and do not want to lay in a bed getting colder by the minute.

Noel sighs. Victory. You 1, Noel 0.

“Perhaps then you should do my eyeliner today, to lessen the appearance of my eye bags to your satisfactory.” He mumbles and holds his hand out with the marker in tow. An olive branch. A gleaming smile breaks upon your face.

There was something very private, very intimate for Noel when he allowed for you to do his eyeliner. Him leaning against the counter facing you, you between his legs holding his face. It was about trust. It was about vulnerability. Even if Noel wouldn’t admit it to you, he was giving you access to that little boy covered in dirt and bruises all those years ago. You knew it too, the way his face would lean into the skin of your palm as you held him steady. The way his shoulders would relax and his posture would slack. The way his eyes would close and twitch ever so slightly when they felt the ink from the marker. You knew you were holding the boy right now, not the man.

You’ve seen the boy a good handful of times. In the crux of the night when Noel would hold your body closer to him. In the evening husk when you would massage his body and play with his thick tufts of white hair. In the middle of the day; when you could hear the smile in his voice even if it wasn’t present in his face as he called you on your lunch break. And in the morning, when you did his eyeliner.

And you were oh so fragile with him. He appreciated it greatly, the warm feeling that flowed through his veins. It complimented the confidence the eyeliner gave him perfectly.

Once you finished you pressed a chaste kiss to his nose, then one on his lips. He sighed slightly at the feeling of your lips touching. The momentary solace building his energy that the night had sapped away from him instead of rejuvenating home with. You rubbed your thumbs through his wispy white eyebrow hairs and waited. Noel slowly opened his eyes, and looked at the small smile adorning your face.

His eye bags were still present, he still carried that essence of tiredness. But there was more life in his eyes. They glowed brighter, more whimsical than before. It was the perfect blend of boy and man.

“Thank you, Y/N.” The man said. For everything. The boy thought.

He couldn’t verbalize it, not now. His emotions would over take him, and he can’t afford that at this moment. Not when he’s about to part from you for so long. He had to be the man.

You understood though, you always do.

“Always, my love.”

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AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

I HOPE WHOEVER READS THIS EATS THIS UP BC I PUT MY WHOLE SOUL INTO COOKING THIS

8.02.24

𝒿𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒹𝑒𝓊𝓍. 𝓂𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓁𝑒𝓉𝑜𝑒.

✿ summary: getting stranded at a party might not be the best thing ever, but meeting the famous french striker under mistletoe is definitely a plus

✿ ft. noel noa

sitting alone at the bar at a christmas party you weren't invited to wasn't the best feeling in the world. your best friend, who used you as her work partner's plus one, had left you, preferring to "work." the poor athletes were almost running from her if they saw her, leaving her to wallow in the corner without you.

the non-alcoholic drinks you were forced to consume as the designated driver weren't exactly helping you pass the time, only making your bladder feel smaller and smaller. getting up from the bar, you ventured deeper into the party to find the bathroom.

as you walked, your eyes couldn't help but wander around, trying to find your friend, but to no avail. you slowly remembered what happened right before you entered the party.

"[y/n]! you have to keep your eyes open!"

"what? take a breath-"

"i can't! not when noel noa is here!" she frantically flicked her head from side to side, scanning the empty streets like he was going to appear like magic. 

“that’s the famous striker, right?”

"only the number one striker in the world! you have to find him and call me. if i see him here and interview him, i could get that promotion." she sounded hopeful, a smile on her face, but it dropped, her rbf shining through her happy persona when she saw your skeptical expression.

"pwease [y/n]~" she grabbed your hands and begged, almost getting down on her knees. 

“ok, ok! i’ll help you find this guy. just please get off the floor. someone could have puked on that.”

"thank you, [y/n]!" her bone-crushing hug knocked the wind out of you. once that bodyguard let you in, she ran around like a chicken without a head, trying to find the mystery man. too bad you didn't know what the famous striker looked like. you didn't know his nationality or team; you just knew his name and the position he played. not very helpful.

the tinkling of martini glasses and the sound of heels across the marble floors echoed across the room. popping champagne bottles, squeals, screams, and forced laughter would occasionally pipe up, always sounding the same. a massive christmas tree filled with tinsel, ornaments, lights, and anything else you could imagine decorated the room perfectly, lighting up the space and almost brushing the towering ceilings. you felt like an ant in the room, as if the room knew you didn't belong here.

the bathroom line felt like eternity, like when you were younger and had a nightmare, that stupid clock ticking every second going on until you finally fell asleep under your blankets. soon the line dwindled and dwindled down until you finally could get in and out. you dried your hands on the air dryer and shook your hands to get any remaining water off as you walked out the door.

now, you have nothing to do. you didn't work for this company, hell, you didn't even know what they did. everyone here looked rich and reeked of money. at least when you were in line for the bathroom, you had a purpose. but now you were just standing there. you felt like a ghost, people passing through you, not even acknowledging your existence.

you just wanted to go back to the bar; who cared what look that bartender would give you. so that's what you did, walking past women with candy cane red lips and men who smelled like more than you would ever make in a lifetime. suits and dresses that seemed so foreign to you.

but out of the corner of your eye, you saw your friend in that velvet low-cut tight dress on the second-floor mezzanine. she was talking to some expensive-looking man with a girl probably half his age on his arm; she was putting on that fake smile and laugh.

she had left you for a solid two and a half hours; you were going to hang out with someone. and that someone was going to be her.

so you made your way to the luxurious stairs, cascading velvety carpets that could rival the British monarchs. you excused yourself when you bumped into someone and finally reached the stairs, some men coming down them.

while passing a rather tall and muscular man, one of his friends whistled and laughed at the man who paused, along with you. both of you turned to see his friends; the one whistling and giggling looked way too drunk to be going anywhere near stairs. the man was holding onto a bland-looking one with blue eyes who looked rather nervous, trying to steady the swaying one.

you shot him a confused glance, your eyebrows raising in confusion, before turning your attention to the man standing beside you. his head was tilted upward, his gaze fixated on an arrangement of ferns- mistletoe, delicately suspended above. the soft glow from twinkling fairy lights adorned the surroundings.

in that moment, realization dawned upon you, and your eyes widened with a mixture of surprise and understanding. the air around you felt harder to inhale. you instinctively took a step back, caught off guard by the situation. however, the man beside you moved quicker than you’ve ever seen, his eyes widening in concern.

time seemed to slow as his arms encircled you, preventing any further descent down the stairs. the touch was both reassuring and electrifying. as you looked up into his eyes, you couldn't help but notice the subtle warmth that lingered. it felt so cliche. 

"are you alright?" his voice was filled with genuine concern, and you could feel yourself relax into his arms with those words.

but even with his words, your mind trailed off, going to admire him. what was he? a model? his cologne smells expensive, like every other perfume and cologne here, but at the same time it was distinct. there was an underlying uniqueness, a grounding minimalism that set it apart. you couldn't quite pinpoint it, but it held an allure that was nothing like you ever felt before.

you felt gross, disgusted even at what you were doing, taking him in like this, memorizing the details- his scent, the curve of his lips. god, you felt like a pervert. you chided yourself, feeling a twinge of discomfort at your own actions.

"i'm fine... sorry about that," you stammered, breaking the spell of your silent observations. awkwardness settled in, magnified by the awareness that his friends, the blonde one with a sly smirk and the black-haired one appearing uneasy, were keenly observing the exchange. your gaze flickered between them, questioning the dynamics of the trio.

"it’s fine. as long as you’re alright." the moment ended with him helping you back onto your feet, looking you over to double-check if you weren't lying.

"it's fine. as long as you're alright," he reassured, gracefully helping you back onto your feet. his lingering concern painted a genuine sincerity across his features, and you couldn't help but feel a flutter of gratitude. as the moment concluded, his eyes scanned over you once more, ensuring your well-being. 

“don’t forget-” hick “to kiss you two,” the drunk man laughed hard, almost falling off of the bland one's shoulder who grabbed him quickly.

"don't forget-" a hiccup interrupted the drunken man's proclamation, “to kiss you two,” he abruptly erupted into laughter, teetering dangerously on the edge of his bland companion's shoulder. 

who the hell was this guy? your life wasn't some circus to watch, forcing you to kiss this random stranger.

"i'm sorry about him," the boy apologized, his eyes reflecting a mix of embarrassment and genuine remorse. "come on, let's go." he attempted to drag the blonde one down the stairs, who continued to whine about wanting to witness some "action." eventually, the duo disappeared, leaving you and the intriguing white-haired man alone on the stairs.

the silence that followed carried a unique tension, the remnants of an awkward encounter mingling with the loud ambiance of the surroundings. The mistletoe above seemed to cast a soft glow, as if nature itself was conspiring against you two.

"that guy’s something," you remarked, breaking the quietude with a light-hearted tone, attempting to diffuse the lingering discomfort. The white-haired man offered a wry smile, his eyes holding a subtle amusement that hinted at shared bemusement.

“so… why are you here?” you ask him to try to prolonged the conversation for as long as possible.

"They're organizing this celebration for my team."

“you’re team?” you ask a little confused.

“Bastard München” he responds curtley.

Realization finally dawns on you, and you recognize the man in front of you.

“are you- are you noel noa?” you stammered, feeling like some teenage girl. you didn’t even know much about this guy, but your friend went on and on about him. you always tuned her out, but she seemed so passionate about him.

“kiss! smoochie smoochie time~!”

“kaiser!” 

"get-" a loud grunting noise left the blonde, and a squawking noise left the other, "off of me, isagi!" they struggled against each other, arms reaching out to try and push them off each other.

“i thought they left,” you tried to laugh but when you looked back at the famous man in front of you, you stopped. his face almost seemed blank with a tinge of surprise if you could even call it that.

“it can’t be helped,” he sighed, his voice carrying a gentle undertone that resonated with unspoken emotions. as he reached up, his fingers delicately traced the outline of your face, tenderly tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. his eyes, a reflection of emotions too deep for words, held yours in a silent conversation.

a quiet pause lingered in the air, building anticipation, before he slowly leaned in. in that moment, time seemed to suspend, and the world around you faded away. 

his breath, warm against your skin, and as he closed the distance between you, his lips met yours in a soft, lingering kiss starting with a tender press of lips. both of your arms remained at your sides not wanting to overstep the invisible boundary. even without hands, it was as if each touch was a gentle caress, a delicate deliberate pressure. the sensation was feather-light, a sweet brush of affection that spoke volumes in its subtlety. each movement was a caress, as if exploring the contours of your lips in a sweet, unhurried dance. it was the opposite of forceful, a slow, deliberate exploration, leaving a lingering warmth.

even when he pulled away, cheeks dusted pink, promising his manager would send you tickets to the next match, you could still smell that expensive cologne after he left.