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Hello! Glad to see your requests are open(⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠❤

May I ask a sebek x f!reader? This happens after the book 7 party, like where sebek dragged the reader for some alone time after all what happened (They're already dating). A fluff of where the two of them dances/waltz the night away—with nobody else around. Just the two of them(⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

P.S

-I'm really in love with your works hehe. Have a merry day/evening (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

Nocturne For Two

pair: sebek zigvolt x fem!reader

[twst masterlist] 🍨 [masterlist]

a/n 🍨: I might have accidentally made this way longer than I originally planned😭 But I genuinely had so much fun writing it that I just couldn't stop. There were multiple moments where I had to put my phone down because I was giggling and kicking my feet over Sebek being such a sweetheart. I hope you all end up smiling (or blushing) as much as I did while writing it!

If some of Sebek's memories felt familiar, that's because a few of them are callbacks to my older Sebek fics. Since they're already dating in this story, I wanted those little moments—the sandwich, the coat, the "emotional support alarm clock" nickname—to feel like shared memories they've built together over time. You don't need to have read those fics to understand this one, but if you have, hopefully those references make their relationship feel a little more lived-in.

As for the progression of the story, I wanted this to feel like Sebek finally allowing himself to breathe after everything that happened in Book 7. The opening is meant to show how everyone in Diasomnia notices he's been carrying the weight of recent events and quietly encourages him to step away from his duties for just one evening. From there, the picnic becomes a space where he can simply be Sebek instead of "Lord Malleus's retainer," and the final dance is his way of expressing everything he struggles to put into words. Sebek has always been someone whose actions speak louder than his feelings, so I thought ending the night with a waltz beneath the moon felt like the most natural confession he could offer without ever needing a grand speech.

Thank you to the you, lovely requester for trusting me with this prompt, and reading my humble and messy writing. I hope this little moonlit evening gave Sebek the happiness he deserves🩵💛🩷

The upheaval that had swallowed Diasomnia a month prior had, at last, settled into something resembling peace.

The jubilant peace of festivals and the triumphant peace sung by victorious knights, but the quieter sort—the kind that drifted over old castles after storms had exhausted themselves. The halls still bore faint reminders of frantic nights; students spoke softer than before, paperwork accumulated in neat towers upon ebony desks, and the lanterns seemed to burn with gentler flames, as though reluctant to disturb the silence they had earned.

Life, as it always insisted upon doing, continued.

Sebek continued with it.

He stood beside Malleus at every meeting. Organized reports before anyone requested them. Corrected mistakes before they reached his liege's attention. Completed errands with such unwavering precision that one might mistake him for a machine wound too tightly to falter.

Nonetheless something was... absent.

Lilia noticed it first.

There were pauses now.

Tiny invisible pauses between Sebek's words, where his beautiful gaze wandered toward some distant thought before snapping dutifully back into place. His declarations no longer shook the rafters. The dorm had grown so accustomed to his booming voice that the absence of it rang louder than any shout.

Silver noticed next.

During daily training and patrols, Sebek no longer filled the air with lectures about proper knightly conduct or enthusiastic praise of Lord Malleus. Instead, he simply worked. Efficiently and quiet enough that the rustle of leaves beneath their boots often became the loudest sound between them.

It was... unsettling.

Malleus, however, reached a different conclusion.

Had he burdened his retainer too greatly?

The thought lingered long enough that, on a quiet Friday evening, he summoned Sebek to his chambers.

Moonlight spilled through the arched windows in long silver ribbons, painting the polished floor with pale reflections. A fire crackled lazily in the hearth, its warmth unable to quite chase away the cool breath of the autumn night.

Sebek greet without hesitation.

"My lord."

Malleus regarded him for a moment before speaking.

"Sebek... you have seemed rather subdued these past weeks." His voice remained calm, though his eyes searched the young retainer’s face with quiet concern.

"Your enthusiasm has lessened. Even your voice no longer competes with thunder…Is something troubling your mind?"

Sebek's back straightened instinctively. "N-No, my lord! There is nothing of concern. As your retainer, I am merely striving to lessen your burdens after everything that has transpired. I failed to contribute as much as I ought to have, therefore I have sought greater efficiency in my duties."

His words were polished as usual.

"Hm." The soft hum belonged to neither agreement nor disbelief as it belonged to Lilia.

The older fae drifted into the room with effortless grace, balancing a steaming bowl whose contents shimmered with an alarming shade of violet. The fragrance was... ambitious.

Across the room, Malleus visibly stiffened.

"...Lilia."

"My, my." Lilia smiled with the innocence of someone who had absolutely not prepared culinary warfare. "You still make that face every time."

"...Experience has taught me caution."

"It builds character."

"I have sufficient character."

"It can always build more."

Before Malleus could formulate a diplomatic refusal, Lilia had already placed the bowl into his hands.

Sebek watched the exchange with disciplined composure. Only the faint twitch near his brow betrayed that he, too, silently prayed for his lord's survival.

"Now then." Lilia turned back toward him.

"Your answer wasn't particularly convincing." His crimson eyes softened as he looked at Sebek.

"My answer...?" Sebek echoed, a quiet crease touching his brow, as though the words themselves had stumbled upon unfamiliar ground.

"Mhm."

Lilia folded his arms with unhurried ease, the sort of patience only centuries could cultivate. His smile lingered—and knowing.

"Those are the words of a dutiful retainer."

His gaze rested gently upon the young knight.

"But they are not the words of Sebek."

The sentence settled between them like the last leaf surrendering to autumn.

No one spoke.

Only the hearth dared to break the silence, each crackle sending amber sparks sighing upward before they vanished into the chimney's dark throat. Beyond the stained-glass windows, the wind wandered through the ancient trees, coaxing their branches into a low, whispering hymn—as if the forest itself waited for the answer Sebek could not bring himself to give.

Malleus let the spoon hover only a breath from his lips before lowering it once more, untouched. Whether it was caution born from experience or the weight of the conversation before him, even he could not have said.

"Lilia is right."

His voice flowed through the room with the gentle certainty of moonlight spilling across still water—never demanding, never accusing, merely illuminating what had long been there.

"You have stood beside me with unwavering loyalty."

There was no distance in Malleus's gaze now, none of the quiet majesty reserved for a prince addressing his retainer. Instead, it softened with the familiar warmth of centuries-old oaks sheltering a weary traveler, steadfast and unspoken.

"As your liege..." He paused, the words settling with measured care. "...and as your friend, I wish to return even a fraction of the kindness and devotion you have so freely given me."

Silence answered first.

The hearth sighed, folding another log into amber and ash. Shadows stretched languidly along the stone walls while, beyond the tall windows, the wind wandered through the ancient dormitory, stirring the night into a hushed murmur that seemed almost reverent.

"Will you tell us?"

Sebek did not answer.

His fingers drew tighter against the fabric draped over his knees until the leather of his gloves creased faintly beneath the strain. It was such a minute movement that another might have missed it entirely.

"...It is nothing."

The words emerged scarcely above a murmur.

"I merely seek to improve my efficiency. Less noise. More work completed. That is a Lilia's smile did not so much widen as deepen, touched by the quiet certainty of someone who had already pieced together the answer long before the question was asked.

"Is that so?" he murmured, tilting his head ever so slightly. "Then perhaps you could explain why Silver keeps catching you staring at the little locket hidden inside your coat."

Before thought could outrun instinct, Sebek's gloved hand rose to his chest, his fingertips finding the familiar outline concealed beneath layers of dark fabric. The gesture lasted scarcely longer than a heartbeat before he caught himself and withdrew, but the damage had already been done.

There are habits the body betrays before pride can command otherwise, and that fleeting touch spoke more honestly than every careful denial he had offered that evening.

Neither Lilia nor Malleus commented on it. They merely watched, allowing the silence to settle over the room with unexpected kindness, until Lilia finally broke it with a voice gentler than before.

"You've been carrying it everywhere lately. More often than not, your thumb finds it whenever you believe no one's paying attention."

Sebek lowered his gaze. The loud confidence that usually shone so fiercely within his eyes dulled beneath the weight of being understood, for there was little use in denying what his own heart had already confessed on his behalf.

"Everything has finally returned to order." Lilia stepped closer, resting a hand upon the younger fae's shoulder. "The dorm isn't crumbling, Malleus is recovering, and the paperwork can survive a single day without you terrifying it into submission."

"So..." Lilia's smile softened into something unmistakably fond, touched by the quiet affection reserved for children who had long since grown yet never ceased being children in one's eyes. "Why don't you take tomorrow off?"

The refusal came almost before the invitation had finished reaching him.

"N—No, Sir Lilia. I do not believe that would be appropriate."

A faint chuckle escaped the older fae, light as the rustling of leaves beneath an evening breeze. "Is that so? I certainly don't recall raising a young man who would keep a lady waiting for this long."

The words struck with far greater accuracy than any reprimand could have. Color rose swiftly across Sebek's ears, creeping toward his cheeks despite every effort to maintain the rigid composure expected of a knight.

"I—I have seen her," he answered, stumbling over the insistence as though it were a shield hastily raised. "We speak every day. She understands my responsibilities and has never once complained. She knows that Lord Malleus and Diasomnia must come first, and she has always respected that."

"Hm."

Lilia regarded him with the thoughtful hum of someone inspecting a particularly transparent excuse.

"That sounds remarkably like the sort of denial young lovers convince themselves is selflessness."

"...Sir."

There was no indignation in the protest—only quiet embarrassment.

"Sebek."

Lilia stepped forward, resting a weathered hand upon the younger knight's shoulder. The gesture was light, almost fatherly, carrying neither authority nor obligation, only the warmth of someone wishing to remind him that devotion need not always be measured in sacrifice.

"Tomorrow," he said with a smile that left little room for argument, "go and spend the day with her."

The following evening arrived draped in velvet.

True to Lilia's insistence—however impossible it had seemed to refuse—Sebek had sent you a handwritten invitation, asking if you would meet him in Diasomnia's secluded garden after sunset. Weekends left the castle grounds unusually tranquil, and after consulting the weather more times than he cared to admit, he had concluded that the night would be far kinder than the morning. Dawn belonged to bustling students and the chatter of birds; the evening, beneath an open sky and the quiet blessing of moonlight, belonged only to the two of you.

He had prepared everything himself.

Several neatly cut sandwiches rested inside a borrowed tupperware so they would not lose their shape on the journey, accompanied by butter cookies still carrying the faint warmth of the oven and bottles of chilled fruit tea nestled carefully within a wicker basket. Every corner of the cloth had been folded with almost ceremonial precision, as though each careful movement could somehow express what words so often failed to.

Lilia had, of course, offered to help.

The offer had been declined with remarkable speed.

Silver, with the weariness of someone preventing an inevitable catastrophe, had gently redirected Lilia elsewhere, while Malleus—whose recovery remained everyone's greatest concern—became the older fae's newest culinary audience instead. It was, Sebek silently admitted, a sacrifice worthy of admiration.

Left alone with the quiet of the kitchen, his thoughts wandered despite every attempt to discipline them.

He remembered the first sandwich he had ever made for you. You had stared at it with such sincere astonishment before asking which café he had purchased it from, utterly convinced no one capable of shouting battle cries with such conviction could possess hands gentle enough to prepare something so delicate. The bewilderment on your face had lingered with him far longer than the recipe itself.

Then there had been that chilly rainy afternoon before either of you had gathered the courage to call the other beloved. Without thinking, he had draped his coat over your shoulders, only to spend the remainder of the walk insisting that he was merely preventing you from catching a cold—that your health was important to Lord Malleus's peace of mind, and nothing more. Looking back now, he almost wished the earth had swallowed him whole before allowing such transparent excuses to escape his lips.

A quiet laugh slipped from him before he realized it.

His gloved hands paused over the basket.

There was also the nickname.

"My emotional support alarm clock," you had once declared with a sleepy grin after the two of you had crossed paths every morning for at the hallway without fail. Somehow, what had begun as coincidence became routine, and routine became the brightest part of his mornings before he ever understood why.

The memory lingered upon his lips in the shape of an unconscious smile.

"So this is where your thoughts have wandered." Your voice, soft as the evening breeze threading through the ivy, drew him gently back to the present.

Sebek looked up.

There you stood at the entrance to the secluded garden, where moonlight pooled between flowering hedges and silver lilies bowed beneath the weight of dew. You wore a smile that seemed almost unfair in its ability to quiet every restless corner of his heart.

For the briefest moment, he simply stared.

"...Beautiful."

The word escaped before he could stop it.

Heat gathered instantly beneath the tips of his ears, but retreat was no longer possible.

"I mean..." His throat tightened with familiar embarrassment before he surrendered with a small cough. "...Hello."

Closing the distance between you, Sebek slowed, as though afraid that even the gentlest movement might disturb the fragile peace the evening had woven around the two of you. Before reaching for your hand, his fingers paused at the fastening of his glove. With practiced care, he tugged at the leather until it slipped free, revealing the warmth of his bare hand beneath the moonlight.

It was a small gesture—one few would have noticed—but to Sebek, it felt strangely significant, gloves belonged to knights and retainers, while bare hands belonged only to those they trusted.

Only then did his fingers find yours.

His touch was warm, calloused from years of swordsmanship, yet astonishingly careful as his hand folded around yours. Their fingers intertwined with effortless familiarity, fitting together as though countless partings and reunions had quietly taught them the shape of one another. Holding your hand both precious and grounding, Sebek raised it before leaning down, as he pressed a lingering, feather-light kiss against your forehead—a gesture so reverent it bordered on a silent vow.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice scarcely louder than the rustling leaves overhead. "For spending your evening with me."

His thumb traced a small, absent circle across the back of your hand.

"I... have been looking forward to this."

Your smile softened into something impossibly warmer.

"So have I."

He exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and, with a shy nod toward the neatly arranged blanket waiting beneath the moonlit arbor, offered, "Come. Please... sit with me."

Conversation came as easily as breathing.

Perhaps it was because there was no audience to perform for, no duties demanding Sebek's unwavering attention, nor any expectations beyond simply existing beside one another. Time, usually so rigid beneath the weight of obligations, unraveled gently between shared stories, quiet laughter, and the comfortable rhythm of voices that had long since memorized each other's cadence.

Sebek listened far more than he spoke.

It was a side of him few ever witnessed. The boisterous knight whose declarations could shake castle walls became remarkably quiet in your company, content to watch your expressions shift as you recounted your week, occasionally nodding, occasionally asking a thoughtful question, but most often listening with the sort of attentiveness that made every word feel cherished.

The moon climbed steadily above the garden, its pale light spilling across the blanket in silvery pools.

You glanced upward before a smile tugged at your lips.

"The moon seems brighter tonight. Did someone make sure Malleus didn't... accidentally do anything?"

A cough escaped Sebek before the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

"I believe Lord Malleus is currently occupied ensuring Sir Lilia does not invite himself to our evening."

"So your entire family's conspiring to make sure this date actually happens?"

"You could certainly put it that way, dearest."

"...The tupperware?" Your gaze drifted toward the neatly packed basket before settling on the container resting carefully beside it.

"Lilia insisted I return it afterward. It is, apparently, one of his most treasured possessions." Sebek followed your eyes and gave a small, almost embarrassed nod.

"My, my." You tilted your head, amusement dancing in your eyes. "Borrowing Lilia's precious tupperware? You're going to such lengths for me, sweetheart."

A faint blush crept across Sebek's cheeks, though he cleared his throat as if professionalism alone might banish it.

"It is merely the bare minimum," he replied with practiced dignity. "Your favorite sandwiches and cookies would have suffered considerably during the walk here had I carried them less carefully. Proper storage was simply... the most logical solution."

"Mhm." You leaned just a little closer, your smile softening with unmistakable fondness.

"I like that."

His ears flushed a deeper shade of crimson.

"...You do?"

"I do."

All the discipline Sebek possessed, he had yet to discover any defense against being praised by the person he loved.

The night continued to slip quietly onward, unnoticed by either of you.

The basket gradually emptied between laughter and stories, half-finished conversations wandering into comfortable silences before finding their way back again. Somewhere beyond the hedges, crickets carried the evening upon their tiny wings while the moon climbed higher still, pouring silver over the gardens until every flower seemed dusted with starlight.

Neither of you noticed how close midnight had become.

Sebek gaze drifted toward a pocket watch just as its hands neared twelve. Soon, he would have to escort you back to your dorm before the night surrendered itself to morning.

...Already?

The thought lingered with surprising disappointment.

For a long moment, he simply looked at you.

The moon adored you.

He could think of no other explanation for the way its pale light gathered upon your features so tenderly, softening every curve of your smile until you seemed less like someone standing before him and more like a dream the night itself feared to awaken from.

"...My dear."

His voice came barely above a whisper.

"If..."

He cleared his throat, suddenly discovering that asking this was somehow more frightening than facing an army.

"If you would indulge me..."

Sebek rose to his feet before extending his bare hand toward you, palm open, waiting with the same patience he had always offered whenever the choice belonged to you.

"I haven't practiced in quite some time," he admitted with a sheepish smile that scarcely anyone else was ever privileged to witness. "But... I thought it would be a fitting way to end our evening."

A pause.

"...May I have this dance?"

You looked at his waiting hand before lifting your eyes to meet his.

There, standing beneath the moon, was not Diasomnia's loudest knight, nor Lord Malleus's ever-vigilant retainer.

There was simply Sebek. A young man asking the person he loved to dance.

"I suppose," you murmured, unable to hide the smile tugging at your lips, "but I'll be the judge of that, my sweet."

You stole one last bite of your sandwich.

Sebek laughed—a quiet, startled sound that escaped him before he could stop it.

"My dear..."

Before you could answer, his thumb brushed gently across the corner of your mouth, sweeping away the tiny breadcrumb that had stubbornly remained upon your lips. The touch was featherlight, lingering for only a heartbeat before he withdrew, his ears already blooming crimson as though he'd only just realized what he'd done.

"There."

His eyes darted away for the briefest moment.

"...Much better."

You slipped your hand into his.

His fingers closed instinctively around yours.

Slowly, he stepped closer with his other hand settling with almost reverent care against your waist, afraid that holding you too tightly might shatter the miracle of having you there at all. Your free hand found his shoulder, and for one suspended moment neither of you moved.

The world seemed content to wait.

Then Sebek began to hum.

It was a melody you recognized immediately, one he had absentmindedly hummed during walks across campus or while waiting outside your classes—a simple waltz carried not by perfection but by familiarity.

"I want to lead." You spoke as you starting the foot position to lead the dance.

His expression betrayed the faintest hint of panic before melting into helpless affection.

"...As you wish."

The two of you drifted across the garden.

Paired with flawless elegance with a mix of the easy grace from two people who had long since learned to trust one another more than their own feet. Every gentle turn drew another laugh from you, bright enough to rival the stars overhead, and every time your eyes met his, Sebek forgot the next step entirely.

Your laughter blossomed once more beneath the sleeping garden, bright enough that it seemed to coax the flowers into swaying along with the waltz. It unraveled every careful thought Sebek had tried so desperately to keep in order, until the measured rhythm of the dance dissolved beneath the far louder cadence of his own heart.

He had meant to count each step, to follow your guide with the composure expected of a knight, yet every graceful turn stole another fragment of that resolve. The moon caught upon your smile, silver threading through your hair as you laughed again, and Sebek realized—with no small amount of despair—that he had forgotten where his feet were supposed to go.

"My apologies..."

"You've stepped on me again, dear."

"I... have?"

"You have."

The laugh that escaped you was so warm, so utterly unrestrained, that it robbed him of every defense he possessed.

"I fear," he murmured, the corners of his lips lifting despite his embarrassment, "that my greatest adversary this evening is not the dance..."

His voice trailed away. It was you.

Or rather, the impossible way you looked at him.

The music existed only as a quiet hum upon his lips now. The garden, the moon, the castle beyond the hedges—everything receded into a distant blur until there was only your hand resting in his. Your breath mingling with his own, and the gentle rise and fall of your steps as though the two of you had become part of the same heartbeat.

Almost without thinking, Sebek slowed.

His bare hand remained firm intertwined around yours, but the gloved hand at your waist drifted upward with hesitant reverence, pausing for the briefest instant silently asking permission before his fingertips brushed against your cheek. His thumb traced the soft curve beneath your eye with impossible tenderness, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear before lingering there, warm against your skin.

You leaned ever so slightly into the touch with a smiled, the triumphant smile that followed one of your victories over his stubbornness.

This one was softer and quieter.

It bloomed upon your face with such effortless affection that your eyes curved into crescents, another laugh escaping you like the first note of a song only the night was privileged enough to hear.

Sebek simply... stared.

The world had surely made a mistake.

How could anyone be permitted to look so breathtaking?

His lips parted, but every eloquent sentence he had rehearsed during lonely evenings abandoned him without mercy. The knight who could proclaim his loyalty before an entire assembly now found himself incapable of uttering anything more sophisticated than the truth laid bare before him.

"...You're..."

"Hmm?"

His voice caught.

"...so breathtaking."

The confession escaped in scarcely more than a breath.

"I..." A helpless laugh left him, equal parts wonder and surrender. "Forgive me, my dear... I cannot seem to stop looking at you."

His cheeks had long surrendered to crimson, yet he made no effort to hide it.

"When you smile..." His thumb caressed your cheek once more, almost absentmindedly reassuring himself that this moment truly existed. "...everything else disappears."

At some point, the dance simply ceased, though neither of you could have said who had stopped first. Perhaps it had been you. Perhaps it had been him. Or perhaps the waltz had merely surrendered, finding itself hopelessly outmatched by the quiet gravity that drew the two of you together.

Sebek remained where he was, his hand still cupping your cheek as though it had forgotten any other purpose. His thumb wandered in slow, absent circles against your skin, savoring the warmth beneath his fingertips with the careful reverence of someone committing a miracle to memory.

You answered him with nothing more than another laugh and that unbearably gentle smile—a smile so luminous that the moonlight itself seemed pale beside it—and he could only gaze back in helpless silence, wondering how something so simple could leave his heart so utterly defenseless.

He had devoted his life to becoming a knight worthy of Malleus. He had spent years perfecting his swordsmanship until every strike became instinct, every lesson etched into muscle and bone, every oath carried with unwavering conviction. Now standing before you, with your fingers still laced between his and your face resting so trustingly in his palm, all those triumphs seemed to drift quietly into the distance, like stars fading before the coming dawn.

For no accolade, no honor bestowed upon him had ever compared to this single, fragile moment—the indescribable privilege of being close enough to watch you smile because of him, to hear your laughter carried upon the night air, and to realize with a tenderness so profound it almost frightened him that if happiness possessed a face, it had always looked exactly like yours.

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