#re zero

The neon glow of the city streets always seemed a little softer whenever she was around.

For the past year, Reinhard van Astrea had encountered her in the most mundane, beautiful ways. A shared umbrella during a sudden July downpour, a mutual nod across the aisle of a cramped subway car, and eventually, regular coffee dates at the corner bistro where they’d talk about everything and nothing. To the rest of the world, Reinhard was the flawless, red-haired gentleman who excelled at everything he touched. But to her, he was just Reinhard.

And Reinhard was desperately, secretly in love with her. He kept it buried, terrified that confessing would shatter the delicate, wonderful acquaintance they had built.

Then came Valentine’s Day.

The local acoustic lounge was packed, buzzing with the low hum of chatter and the clinking of glasses. Reinhard sat at a small corner table, his eyes fixed on the small, dimly lit stage. When she stepped up to the microphone, an acoustic guitar slung over her shoulder, his breath hitched. She caught his eye in the crowd, gave a small, nervous smile, and adjusted the mic.

"Happy Valentine's Day, everyone," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "This next song... it's for someone very special in this room. Someone I've been falling for, even if I was too scared to admit it."

She struck a gentle, melancholic chord on the guitar. When she began to sing, Reinhard’s heart stopped.

Before I fall too fast

Kiss me quick

But make it last

So I can see how badly this will hurt me

When you say goodbye

Reinhard sat up a little straighter. Her voice was raw, stripping away the casual armor she usually wore around him. He listened, entirely captivated, as she moved into the pre-chorus, her eyes locking onto his.

But tonight I could fall too soon

Under this beautiful moonlight

But you're so hypnotizing

You've got me laughing while I sing

You've got me smiling in my sleep

And I can see this unraveling

Your love is where I'm falling

But please don't catch me

A shockwave of realization hit him. She’s singing to me. The casual encounters, the lingering glances over coffee—she had felt it too. But as the song transitioned into the second verse, he could hear the deep vulnerability and fear woven into her words.

See this heart

Won't settle down

Like a child running

Scared from a clown

I'm terrified of what you do

My stomach screams

Just when I look at you

Reinhard’s hands tightened around his glass. He knew what it was like to carry a burden, to feel too much, but hearing her admit her terror of getting hurt—of how much power he inadvertently held over her heart—made him want to cross the room right then and hold her.

Run far away

So I can breathe

Even though you're far from suffocating me

I can't set my hopes too high

'Cause every hello ends with a goodbye

The chorus hit again, bigger this time, filled with a beautiful, tragic yearning. The crowd in the lounge had gone entirely silent, mesmerized by the sheer honesty of her performance. Reinhard felt a warmth blooming in his chest, melting away months of his own doubts and hidden longing.

As the song reached its bridge, her voice grew steadier, shifting from fear to a profound sense of acceptance. She was laying it all on the line.

So now you see

Why I'm scared

I can't open up my heart without a care

But here I go

It's what I feel

And for the first time in my life, I know it's real

The guitar swelled, building up to the final, emotional climax of the song. Reinhard couldn't take his eyes off her. The modern world around them—the city traffic outside, the glowing string lights of the bar—all faded into background noise.

But you're so hypnotizing

You've got me laughing while I sing

You've got me smiling in my sleep

And I can see this unravelling

Your love is where I'm falling

So please don't catch me (oh-oh)

If this is love, please don't break me

She let out a soft, shaky breath, the final chords lingering in the air as she looked right at Reinhard, delivering the final, breathless plea:

I'm giving up

So just catch me

The lounge erupted into applause, but Reinhard didn't hear it. He was already on his feet. As she stepped off the stage, setting her guitar aside with trembling hands, he met her halfway in the dim lighting of the aisle.

"Did you mean it?" Reinhard asked, his voice softer than it had ever been, his blue eyes searching hers.

She offered a small, vulnerable smile, the nervous tension finally leaving her shoulders. "Every single word, Reinhard."

Warning: explicit material ahead.

SCENARIO 1

The pristine white cloak of the Sword Saint was a familiar sight across Lugnica, but to you, it had become the anchor to a series of seemingly impossible coincidences.

Over the past year, destiny itself seemed determined to push your paths together. There was the rainy afternoon in the capital when you had both reached for the same obscure history book, your fingers brushing as Reinhard offered his trademark, dazzling smile. Then came the evening at a crowded royal gala where, amidst a sea of noble dress, you had tripped over a misplaced rug, only to be caught flawlessly by a pair of strong, armored arms. Even during a casual stroll through the market, a sudden runaway merchant wagon had Reinhard instantly appearing at your side, pulling you safely onto the sidewalk with a breathy, "Are you alright?"

With each encounter, the lingering glances grew softer. Reinhard found himself captivated by your wit, your laugh, and the effortless way you treated him like a man rather than a living weapon. He had fallen deeply, completely in love with you.

The problem? He was Reinhard van Astrea. When it came to dragons and rogue archbishops, he was fearless. When it came to admitting his feelings, he was an absolute, stuttering mess, terrified that his overwhelming world would burden you.

Eventually, you decided you had waited long enough.

You cornered him in the secluded courtyard of the Astrea estate, just as the sun was dipping below the horizon.

"Reinhard," you said, crossing your arms and looking him dead in the eye. "We need to talk. Are you going to keep pretending there isn't something between us, or are you actually going to say it?"

Reinhard froze, his brilliant blue eyes widening in sudden, aristocratic panic. A bright pink hue instantly flooded his cheeks. Trying to regain a modicum of control, he cleared his throat and threw the question back to you, his voice betraying a hint of desperate curiosity. "I... [Name], why do you ask me that so directly? If I may turn the question back to you... what is it that you truly want from me?"

You didn't answer right away. Instead, a slow, incredibly wicked smirk played on your lips. You stepped closer, closing the distance between you until the warmth of his body radiated against yours. You didn't give him an explanation. Instead, you took a deep breath, looked right into his eyes, and began to sing Demi Lovato's Body Say.

"If I had it my way, I would take you down

If I had it my way, I would turn you out

And if my body had a say, I would come again

Scared of what I might say, 'cause I'm at the edge..."

Reinhard’s breath hitched. He stood perfectly still, his analytical mind instantly kicking into gear. Take me down? Turn me out? His knightly combat training reflexively wondered if you were describing a martial arts takedown or a tactical maneuver. But the sheer, sultry weight of your gaze told him this was an entirely different kind of battlefield.

You stepped even closer, your voice dropping into a low, hypnotic cadence as you hit the next verse, completely unbothered by his growing fluster:

"If I had it my way, I would take the lead

And if I had it my way, I would take you deep

If my body had a say, I'd get it off my chest

Show you all the red lace underneath this dress..."

The Sword Saint’s pristine composure shattered entirely. Red lace underneath this dress?! The explicit, undeniable visual and the raw demand of the lyric hit him like a physical blow. The Divine Protection of Mind Stabilization was completely useless against the absolute onslaught of your boldness. His face turned a shade of crimson that practically outshone his vibrant red hair. Steam felt as though it were evaporating from his ears.

You didn't stop. You held his gaze, your voice soaring beautifully into the chorus, pouring your true feelings into the melody:

"You can touch me with slow hands

Speed it up, baby, make me sweat

Dreamland, take me there 'cause I want your sex

If my body had a say, I wouldn't turn away

Touch, make love, taste you...

If my body told the truth, baby I would do

Just what I want to."

As the final notes of the song drifted into the quiet evening air, Reinhard stood paralyzed, the full weight of your confession—and your intense desire—reverberating through his entire being. There was no more room for misunderstanding or knightly hesitation. You weren't just asking for his feelings; you were demanding them.

The flustered panic in his eyes gradually began to shift, replaced by a deep, smoldering intensity. The initial shock of your song faded, leaving behind the profound, intoxicating realization that you wanted him just as badly as he wanted you.

Reinhard took a single, decisive step forward, completely erasing the remaining space between you. His large, calloused hands came up, gently but firmly cupping your face, his thumbs tracing your jawline. He leaned down, his breath warm against your lips, his blue eyes locking onto yours with absolute clarity.

"I suppose there really is only one thing left for us to do, then," Reinhard murmured, his voice dropping to a low, velvety register that made your own heart skip a beat. He tilted your face up slightly, a rare, breathtakingly confident smile touching his lips. 

SCENARIO 2

The tavern was lively, filled with the clinking of ale mugs and the hearty laughter of friends. Julius sat poised as ever, while Subaru leaned back aggressively in his chair, gesturing wildly as he complained about his latest antics with Emilia. Felix was busy nursing a drink, a sly grin plastered across his face.

The conversation eventually drifted from royal guard duties and world-ending threats to the simpler, lighter aspects of life. Specifically, love.

"So, Julius has his knightly devotions, and I obviously only have eyes for my EMT," Subaru said, crossing his arms proudly. "What about you, Reinhard? Found a lovely lady to sweep off her feet yet, or are you still married to the sword?"

Reinhard went quiet. He stared down at his untouched drink, a soft, uncharacteristic melancholy washing over his striking features. He had found someone. Over the past year, a series of completely fortuitous accidents had kept bringing you into his life. But it wasn't the coincidence that captured him; it was the way you looked at him. You didn't see the monstrously powerful Sword Saint, a living weapon to be feared or revered. You saw right past the title. You treated him as a human being—nothing more, nothing less. And for a man burdened by the weight of the world, that was everything. He had fallen completely, irrevocably in love with you.

"Oho~? Look at that reaction, Subaru-kyun!" Felix teased, leaning across the table with an eager twitch of his cat ears. "The Sword Saint is blushing! Who is she, Reinhard? Tell us, tell us!"

"Come on, man, don't leave us hanging!" Subaru grinned, nudging Reinhard’s shoulder. "Go make a move! A guy like you? You’re a catch!"

Reinhard sighed, a rare look of vulnerability entering his brilliant blue eyes. "It is not that simple," he admitted softly, his voice tight. "I... I am terrified of getting rejected. Right now, what we have is precious. If I ask for something more, I risk ruining everything. I could lose her forever, and I do not think I could bear that."

"Reinhard," Julius spoke up, his tone gentler but firm. "A knight faces many fears, but letting true love pass by out of hesitation is a regret that lasts a lifetime. You must tell her."

"Yeah! Don't let overthinking ruin a good thing!" Subaru cheered.

With his friends' relentless encouragement echoing in his mind, Reinhard finally gathered the courage. The very next evening, he invited you to the Astrea mansion, guiding you all the way into the quiet sanctity of his personal quarters.

The atmosphere was thick with a nervous, electric tension. Reinhard stood before you, his posture rigid but his expression incredibly tender. He took a deep breath, dropping to one knee in the flawless, knightly manner expected of him. He took your hand in his large, calloused one, looking up at you with absolute devotion.

"I have brought you here because I can no longer silence my heart," Reinhard spoke, his voice rich and steady despite the racing of his pulse. "Through every unexpected moment we have shared, you have given me something I never thought I would find—someone who sees me, just Reinhard. I am deeply, entirely in love with you. If you would allow it, I wish to cherish you for the rest of my days."

He paused, his eyes searching yours with a delicate plea. "Do you... do you happen to feel the same?"

You looked down at the legendary knight, a soft, incredibly wicked smirk playing on your lips. You didn't give him a conventional answer. Instead, you gently pulled your hand from his grasp, stepped back slightly, and began to sing, your voice carrying beautifully through the quiet room.

"I'm so into you, I can barely breathe

And all I wanna do is to fall in deep

But close ain't close enough 'til we cross the line, hey, yeah

So name a game to play and I'll roll the dice, hey..."

Reinhard’s breath hitched. He stood up from his knee, blinking in sheer, innocent confusion. Barely breathe?His protective instincts flared slightly, wondering if there was a sudden drop in the room's oxygen, but the sultry, intense lock of your gaze quickly derailed his analytical train of thought.

You stepped closer, swaying slightly to an invisible rhythm, the lyrics cutting through his knightly defenses with sharp, undeniable clarity:

"Oh, baby, look what you started

The temperature's rising in here

Is this gonna happen?

Been waiting and waiting for you to make a move...

So, baby, come light me up and maybe I'll let you on it

A little bit dangerous, but, baby, that's how I want it..."

A bright, furious crimson rushed across Reinhard’s cheeks, shooting straight to the tips of his ears. He gripped the edge of his desk just to ground himself. The Divine Protection of Mind Stabilization was doing absolutely nothing against the raw, weaponized audacity of your confession. You had been waiting for him to make a move?

You didn't give him a single moment to recover, leaning in closer as you delivered the chorus with absolute, unwavering intent:

"A little less conversation and a little more touch my body

'Cause I'm so into you, into you, into you

Got everyone watchin' us, so, baby, let's keep it secret

A little bit scandalous, but, baby, don't let them see it

A little less conversation and a little more touch my body

'Cause I'm so into you..."

As your voice faded into a soft, breathy finish, the room fell dead silent. Reinhard stood paralyzed, the pristine composure he usually wore like armor completely shattered into a million pieces. But as he looked at the playful, burning desire in your eyes, the flustered panic within him began to melt, replaced by a deep, smoldering heat. You weren't just returning his feelings; you were utterly, completely consuming them. You really meant every single word.

Reinhard took a single, decisive stride forward, completely erasing the space between you. His large hands came up, gently but firmly cupping your face, his thumbs tracing your burning cheeks. He leaned down, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke in a low, velvety growl that sent a shiver straight down your spine.

"A little less conversation, then," Reinhard murmured, his blue eyes flashing with a rare, intoxicating intensity. "If that is your answer, I must ask you to be absolutely certain. Are you truly down for everything you just said you desired? Because I must remind you, my love..."

He tilted your face up just a fraction more, a breathtakingly confident smirk finally breaking across his lips.

"...I am the Sword Saint. My stamina is completely boundless, and if it is just me you are waiting for, no amount of lovemaking can ever tire me out. Are you quite sure you can handle crossing that line?"

SCENARIO 3

The grand halls of the Astrea mansion had never felt colder to Reinhard than they did during his months away. Sent on a grueling, long-term peacekeeping mission across the borders of Lugnica, his thoughts had rarely strayed from home. Specifically, from you. The Divine Protections he carried could shield his body from any blade, but they did nothing to soothe the persistent, aching longing in his chest.

When he finally stepped through the grand front doors, he bypassed the staff with a polite but hurried nod, shedding his formal traveling cloak on the move. He wanted nothing more than to hold you.

As he approached your shared quarters, the heavy silence of the manor was broken by a soft, melodic sound. Reinhard paused outside the door, his breath catching. It was your voice, carrying a sorrowful, beautiful melody he had never heard before.

"My world is an empty place, like I've been wandering the desert for a thousand days... Don't know if it's a mirage, but I always see your face, baby..."

Reinhard’s hand hovered over the brass doorknob. The sheer emotion in your voice struck him like a physical blow. He had always known his absences were hard on you, but hearing the raw vulnerability of your confession—that you felt lost in a wasteland without him—made his heart ache with a profound sense of guilt, instantly followed by an overwhelming surge of tenderness.

"My heart is yearning, like the ocean that's running dry... There's gonna be a monsoon when you get back to me..."

A monsoon. A sudden, overwhelming downpour of rain. Reinhard’s face flushed slightly at the intensity of the imagery, his pulse quickening.

"So let this drought come to an end, and make this desert flower again..."

Without waiting another second, Reinhard pushed the door open.

You were standing by the window, the afternoon light catching the contours of your face. As the door clicked, you spun around, the final notes of the song dying on your lips. Your eyes widened in disbelief. "Reinhard...?"

"I am home, my love," he murmured, his voice thicker and rougher than usual.

He didn't wait for you to cross the room. In three long, effortless strides, the Sword Saint closed the distance between you. He caught you in his arms, pulling you flush against his chest with a desperate, uncharacteristic tightness. His face buried itself into the crook of your neck, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent of you that he had starved for during those long months.

"I heard you singing," Reinhard whispered, his strong arms wrapping around your waist, holding you as if you might vanish if he loosened his grip. "A thousand days in the desert... I am so sorry I left you for so long."

He pulled back just enough to look down at you, his brilliant blue eyes no longer carrying the guarded, polite restraint of a knight. Instead, they burned with a deep, consuming intensity. His gaze flicked down to your lips before locking back onto your eyes. The months of separation, the longing, and the beautiful promise of your song had stripped away his usual cautious hesitation.

"You said you wanted this drought to end," Reinhard whispered softly, a rare, breathtakingly intense smile tugging at the corner of his lips as his gloved thumb gently traced your jawline. "And I intend to make sure your desert flowers again."

Before you could even catch your breath, he leaned down and captured your lips in a deep, passionate kiss, pulling you impossibly closer to show you exactly how much he had missed you.

SCENARIO 3: most explicit

The fluorescent lights of the university lecture hall always felt a bit too bright, but for Reinhard van Astrea, the elective course on Classical Literature had become the absolute highlight of his week. As a model student and an athlete, he was used to standing out, yet his attention was entirely captured by his project partner: a quiet, incredibly shy choir singer named Y/N.

She was undeniably pretty, though she routinely tried to hide it behind oversized knit sweaters and thick-rimmed glasses, her nose constantly buried in fantasy novels or sheet music.

Over the past few weeks, their university assignment had turned into a routine of late-night study sessions. They frequently rotated between her small studio and Reinhard’s spacious two-bedroom apartment, surrounded by stacks of reference books and half-empty coffee mugs. As they worked side by side, Reinhard found himself falling hard. He loved the passionate spark in her eyes when she spoke about her favorite niche topics, and the soft, melodic hum that escaped her lips when she was thinking.

Yet, Y/N seemed completely oblivious to his subtle advances. Whenever he offered a lingering smile or tried to steer the conversation to something more personal, she would simply adjust her glasses and steer them right back to the project rubric. Reinhard, despite all his confidence, began to quietly accept that she simply didn't view him in a romantic light.

Until a rainy Friday afternoon.

The stress of midterm week finally caught up to Y/N. Halfway through their elective lecture, Reinhard noticed her face draining of color. Before the professor even finished a sentence, she swayed in her seat and collapsed forward.

Reacting with his characteristic protective instinct, Reinhard caught her before she hit the floor. The professor anxiously suggested calling the campus clinic, but Reinhard, knowing how overwhelming the crowded clinic could be, offered a gentler alternative.

"My apartment is just a block away," Reinhard said softly, lifting her easily into his arms. "I can take her there to recover properly. She just needs quiet and rest."

He brought her back to his place, gently laying her down in the guest bedroom and tucking her in under a warm duvet. Y/N ended up sleeping deeply through the entire night.

The next morning brought the quiet calm of the weekend. When Y/N finally woke up, looking small and flustered in the guest bed, Reinhard greeted her with a warm, home-cooked breakfast.

"You need to replenish your energy," Reinhard chided gently, placing a plate of eggs and toast on the nightstand. "Today is Saturday, so you don't have to rush back. I actually need to head out and restock my groceries for the week."

Y/N flushed a deep crimson, nodding shyly. "Thank you, Reinhard. I'm sorry for being a burden."

"Never a burden," he replied warmly, resting a hand briefly on the doorframe. "Please, just sleep and rest while you wait for me."

She nodded obediently, burying her face slightly in the blankets as he left.

Hours later, Reinhard returned, carrying several heavy grocery bags. He spent twenty minutes quietly sorting the items into the pantry and refrigerator, trying his best not to make too much noise. Once the kitchen was clean, he decided to check on Y/N to see if she was awake.

As he neared the guest bedroom door, however, a strange sound caught his attention. He froze.

It was Y/N's voice—but she wasn't just talking. She was singing. The shy, reserved choir singer was using her beautiful, melodic vocals, but the lyrics flowing through the wooden door were completely shocking. Her voice was breathy, low, and laced with an intense, sultry heat as she sang:

"Hmm... You might think I'm crazy, the way I've been cravin'... If I put it quite plainly, just gimme them babies... I don't wanna keep you up, but show me, can you keep it up? 'Cause then I'll have to keep you up... Baby, you might need a seatbelt when I ride it... Even though I'm wifey, you can hit it like a side chick..."

Reinhard's jaw dropped. His heart began to hammer violently against his ribs as he listened to her sing about making the bed shake, staying up until the sunrise, and taking it from the top. The pure contrast of his quiet, nerdy classmate singing such incredibly explicit, scandalous lyrics made his head spin. And then, her singing voice melted away, replaced by the rustle of bedsheets and a heavy, hitched breath.

Following the song, a low, unmistakable moan echoed from the room.

Reinhard’s breath hitched completely. He leaned slightly closer to the door, trying to make out what exactly the sound was, his mind racing. The muffled sound crystallized into desperate, broken words.

"Reinhard... ah... please..."

Hearing her beautiful choir voice sing those filthy lyrics had already set his blood on fire, but hearing her touch herself while moaning his name sent a violent jolt of heat straight to Reinhard’s core. He felt an instant, heavy erection stretching tightly against his trousers. His initial instinct, born from his strict moral compass, was to turn away, to walk back to the living room and ignore his body's intense reaction to preserve her privacy.

He took a step back, but right then, Y/N let out a fractured, desperate cry through the wood.

"Reinhard... fuck me... please..."

Any semblance of restraint evaporated. Reinhard turned back, gripped the handle, and barged into the room.

The door swung open to reveal Y/N, her hand frozen beneath the sheets, her cheeks flushed a violent, burning red, and her eyes wide with absolute, mortified shock. She looked like a deer caught in headlights, scrambling to pull the duvet up to her chin.

"R-Reinhard!" she stammered, her voice trembling violently as tears of embarrassment pricked her eyes. "I—I can explain! It’s not—I was just—I’m so sorry, I—"

"Y/N," Reinhard interrupted, his voice dropping to a low, commanding register she had never heard from him before. He closed the door behind him and walked slowly toward the edge of the bed. His blue eyes were burning with an intensity that locked her in place. "Look at me."

She swallowed hard, looking up at him through her messy hair.

"Tell me the truth," Reinhard said softly, stopping right beside the mattress. "No excuses. I need you to confess exactly how you feel right now."

Tears spilled over her cheeks as the weight of her hidden feelings finally broke through her shyness. "I... I’ve been crazy about you since the day we became partners," she sobbed softly, hiding her face in her hands. "But you’re so perfect, and I’m just... me. I thought you only saw me as a classmate. I sing those songs and fantasize about you because I thought it was the only way I'd ever have you."

Reinhard let out a long, heavy breath, the tension leaving his shoulders as a profound sense of relief and warmth washed over him. He reached out, gently pulling her hands away from her face.

"You completely misread me, Y/N," Reinhard murmured, a tender smile breaking across his face. "I've been falling in love with you for weeks. I thought you were the one who had no interest in me."

Y/N’s jaw dropped, her eyes shining with disbelief. "You... you feel the same?"

"I do," he replied softly.

The air in the room remained thick with the lingering heat of her arousal and the sudden confession of their mutual feelings. Y/N looked up at him, her heart hammering against her ribs. Lowering the blanket slightly, she gave a small, hesitant nod toward the space beside her.

"Then... do you want to? Right now?" she whispered, her voice trembling but hopeful.

Reinhard looked down at her, his gaze dropping briefly to her lips, his own desire still pulsing fiercely. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into that bed and lose himself in her. But Reinhard was, above all things, a man of profound respect and devotion.

He leaned down, gently taking her hands in his, and shook his head. "Even though I want you more than you can possibly imagine, Y/N... I want to preserve that lovemaking for when we are already married. I want our first time to be a celebration of a lifetime promise."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a teasing, intensely hot whisper right against her ear, mirroring the very words she had sung. "But if it’s just about staying up all night and fucking you 'til broad daylight... I promise you, my love, you will find out exactly what that feels like during our honeymoon after we get married. I won't let you sleep a wink."

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, a shiver running down her spine at the sheer promise in his words. But as the initial shock settled, a sudden wave of intense shame washing over her. She pulled her hands back, looking down at the sheets. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Do you... do you think lowly of me now? For being so shameless?"

"Hey, look at me," Reinhard urged gently, reaching out to cup her chin and lifting her gaze back to his. He shook his head firmly, his eyes overflowing with reassurance. "Never. You have absolutely no reason to feel ashamed."

A soft, slightly wicked smirk crossed his lips as he leaned closer. "If it makes you feel any better... you are definitely not the only one who has fantasized about us having sex. I've had the exact same thoughts about you, Y/N. There is no need to worry."

Y/N's eyes widened, her blush returning, but this time it was accompanied by a small, breathless laugh of relief. The crushing weight of her embarrassment melted away, replaced by the incredible certainty that she was loved.

"So," Reinhard murmured, his face now inches from hers, his thumb softly tracing her lower lip. "Perhaps one kiss is enough for us for now?"

Y/N smiled, closing her eyes as she leaned forward. "Yes. That's more than enough."

When their lips finally met, it was a sweet, lingering promise of everything that was yet to come.

last SCENARIO: absolutely hilarious but hyperexplicit

The legendary Sword Saint, the pinnacle of chivalry, and the most polite man in the entire Kingdom of Lugnica, sat completely frozen at his desk. Y/N had left a pair of strange, modern "headphones" on the table, promising him it contained a very energetic style of music from another world.

Always curious about Y/N's interests, Reinhard had placed them over his ears and pressed play.

He was currently listening to a track by an artist named CupcakKe called Deepthroat.

The Anatomy of a Collapse

0:05 (The Intro): Reinhard nods politely to the heavy, synthesized electronic beat. The rhythm is quite lively. He smiles, thinking how eclectic Y/N's tastes are.

0:15 (The First Verse): The smile completely vanishes. His bright blue eyes widen to the size of dinner plates. Reinhard’s posture, usually impeccably straight, goes rigid as a board.

0:30 (The Chorus): A deep, violent crimson flush climbs from the collar of his white tunic all the way to the tips of his ears. The blatant command to mouth wide open, mouth wide open—followed by an incredibly graphic, unfiltered structural breakdown of what the artist intends to do to a certain part of the male anatomy—shatters his pristine moral compass into microscopic dust.

The Internal Short-Circuit

For a man who possesses the Divine Protection of Mind Diagnostics and can sense incoming danger, nothing could have prepared him for the raw, unyielding lyrical onslaught of this specific song. He looks around the empty room as if he is committing high treason just by perceiving the audio waves.

"By the Dragon..." Reinhard mutters under his breath, his voice cracking slightly as the song details a very specific, aggressive use of a throat. “Is... is she allowed to say that? Is the law in Y/N's world truly this... permissive?”

He wants to take the headphones off. His strict upbringing dictates that he should immediately sanitize his ears. But he is also paralyzed by sheer, unadulterated shock. He listens to the lyrics about making a man's pockets jingle, followed by a series of incredibly loud, wet, rhythmic gulp and slurp noises, and his brain temporarily short-circuits.

The Confrontation

Just then, the door clicks open. Y/N walks in, holding two mugs of tea, and spots the intense, bright red flush covering Reinhard’s face.

"Hey, Reinhard! Did you listen to the—" Y/N pauses, noticing the wide, shell-shocked expression in his eyes.

Reinhard slowly raises his hands, gently lifting the headphones off his ears as if they are a highly volatile explosive device. He sets them on the desk with extreme care. He swallows hard, looking up at Y/N with a mix of profound confusion, embarrassment, and a tiny, buried hint of sheer amazement.

"Y/N," Reinhard says, his voice remarkably soft but slightly trembling as he tries to maintain his signature courtly manners. "The artist... Miss CupcakKe... she possesses an incredibly powerful vocal delivery. However..."

He clears his throat, looking down at his lap, utterly unable to hold eye contact.

"I did not know it was physically possible to use those specific swallowing sound effects in the middle of a musical composition. And I am... deeply concerned about the throat capacity she is claiming to have."