Sdv Fic - Tumblr Posts
cliff talk | sebastian x reader
word count: 2.1k
summary: sebastian brings you on a ride.
tags: emotional hurt/comfort, slight angst, dialogue heavy, sebastian and reader have a heart to heart
a/n: i never thought i'd be writing for the emo boy but here i am. hope you guys liked this as much as i liked writing this! :D
Like the green rain phenomenon or the cute little junimo creatures that live in the community center, there’s always something new to experience in the valley. As odd as it might be.
Hunched over, tending to your crops—is like living in wait, the calm before the storm, the thrum of anticipation as you await the next exciting thing.
Like today—now.
“Ah, there you are.”
The garden shears in your hands are dropped into the thick down crawl of growing fruit. You look up, squinting your eyes due to the warm beat of dying sunlight.
“Sebastian?” you pause, looking up at him from your spot amongst growing melon vines. Your overalls smeared with dirt and damp with sweat—this is the last state you’d want to be seen in.
“Hey farmer,” The keys dangling from his index finger jingle as he gives you a close-lipped smile. “Wanna go for a ride?”
—
The place Sebastian stops at is quiet.
But not in the way most people think—the valley is never quiet, birds chirping, the breeze singing through tall grass and the rustle of branches swaying slowly. You’re aware of the sounds in the recesses of your mind.
The view is breath-taking.
The sun set long before you arrived on Sebastian’s cliff side spot. It’s cool and grassy, ticking your ankles as you walk through the field. The air, no longer warm but a cool breeze that you greedily inhale.
You stop right before the edge, there’s a big drop that you'd rather not slip and fall into. Zuzu city lay just under the horizon, a smatter of light in the otherwise now-dark forest. A cluster of flashing lights that remind you of stars—that have fallen and gathered from the night sky.
“Amazing, I know.” Sebastian says, a few steps behind you. He’s leaning against his bike, staring at the same view as you. “Zuzu city is miles from here, but there’s so much light—you can see it even from high up.”
You fold your arms, turning your back at the view—facing him. “Well, it is nicer from afar.”
Sebastian gives you a look, then nods his head to the grassy patch behind him. “Mhm. Let’s sit?”
You settle down together, side by side. You, him, and his motorbike beside him—there’s barely any space between your legs. You feel the warmth of proximity—so close. What you’d give to bridge that gap once and for all.
“Want a drink?” he asks, pulling out a beer bottle from his hoodie pocket—your brow raises, a miracle it didn’t break on the way. “Only got one though.”
You shrug, taking the bottle. It’s warm—warmed by his body heat. “S’okay with me. We’ll just have’ta share.”
He looks at you, eyes momentarily flickering to your lips as you use your teeth to pop the bottle cap off. “I guess we do.”
—
The beer is settling warmly low in your stomach, loosening every tightly wound muscle in your body. You feel weightless, the edges of your mind made fuzzy.
“I’ve been savin’ up a lot,” he suddenly says, picking absentmindedly at the blades of grass underneath him. “Almost have enough too. Once I do, I’m skipping outta this town on my bike.”
You nod your head. “It is a pretty cool bike.”
“Mhm,” he drawls, patting the side of his motorcycle—almost lovingly. “It’s gonna take me all the way to Zuzu city.”
“Zuzu city,” you repeat slowly, feeling the sound of the words in your mouth. It’s unpleasant, Zuzu city is a place you’d rather leave behind. You look down at the view of it, squinting. “Why go there?”
He pauses, inhaling the cool night air deeply. His fingers itch—like they’re searching for the comforting hold of cigarettes he so enjoys.
A part of you wishes you didn’t ask. Difficult conversations and cliff sides don’t mesh well together, you think. You don’t dare move a muscle as you wait for him, your eyes drifting back to the glittering light-filled view of Zuzu city.
“It’s suffocating here—everything about the valley,” he replies mirthlessly. “I live in the basement of my mom’s house for fuck’s sake. I know how she looks at me, like she could’ve done so much more to make me less of a shitbag. Maybe she could’ve, I don’t care. It’s way too late now.”
A low whistle escapes past your lips. You swirl the beer bottle loosely in your grip. “I see…”
Sebastian narrows his eyes at you, scoffing. “You’re pretty shit at comforting words, y’know that?”
“Harsh,” you look at him quizzically, shoving the beer bottle into his hands. He accepts it immediately. “What do you want me to say, Seb?”
“Nothing,” he smirks, downing a generous gulp of beer, the bottle is a little less than half full now. “‘m just teasing. Don’t gimme that look. I didn’t want comfort anyway, I’ve had enough of that. I want you to tell me the stone cold truth.”
“Promise not to get pissed off?”
Sebastian clicks his tongue against his teeth, then smiles. “Depends on what you say.”
“Wow, guess I’ll have to lie.” you joke.
“Hey—”
“Kidding.” You laugh softly at his pinched expression. His eyes narrowed—lacking any real aggression—at you as you poke harmless fun.
You grin, slowly turning back to the view. “You won’t find yourself there,” you say simply, taking a slow sip of beer, the smoothness of it running smoothly down your throat. “Believe me, I’d know.”
Sebastian turns to face you, irritation spelled out in every feature of his face.
“Smartass…”
“Hey, you asked for the stone cold truth,” you lift your fingers into air quotations to emphasize your point.
“Tch. Tell me this then. If I can’t find myself there, or here in the valley. Where the hell do I go?”
You pause, clicking the bottle with your nails idly. He’s irritated obviously. But you think more frustrated and confused than anything.
You sigh, then smile. The valley hasn’t been the kindest to its resident shut-in.
“Mid-life crisis at 24,” you tease gently, poking at his side. Sebastian shoots you a heatless glare. “Don’t worry too much Seb, your hair is gonna turn gray.”
“Ha-ha,” he replies sourly. “You talk as if that isn’t the same reason you moved to the valley.”
“Hey, I gave a generous amount of my life to Joja,” you snort, shifting your feet into a better resting position. “I paid my dues over there before I found some semblance of peace here.”
“I can’t just sit around and wait my whole life.”
“Then don’t,” you reply simply. “God knows I wish I followed my dear old gramps’ footsteps sooner.”
“It isn’t that simple.”
“Yep. It isn’t. It does get easier though.”
“You say it so easily.”
“Sometimes, it just is.” you reply. “Only sometimes, though.”
For all you remember, your grandfather absolutely adored the valley, though he couldn’t convince you in the height of your angsty teenage phase to do the same. You’re long past that now, life didn’t go as planned and you ended up right where your grandfather said you would be.
Funny, how fate works so mysteriously, so weirdly.
You shake that thought away, turning to Sebastian—who has the same contemplative expression as you.
He’s silent, thinking. His fingers grasping and twirling the drawstrings of his hoodie. “You never told me the story.”
“Well,” you purse your lips, handing him the bottle. He drops the drawstrings to grab it. A wordless agreement between the two of you to share what remains of the liquid. “You n’ver asked.”
“I wanna hear it,” he says, looking at you at the corner of his glittering obsidian eyes. “please?”
“How polite,” you laugh, he lightly hits you on the back of your head with his palm. “Ouch. No need to be rough w’me, I’ll tell you.”
You clear your throat with an obnoxious ahem. “Once upon a time…”
“—C’mon farmer, stop messing around. I wanna know your story,” he interjects, and it almost sounds like a plea. “No theatrics.”
Your lips flatten into a grim line. He’s being unusually insistent on the topic. But now that you think about it, you haven’t told anyone why you moved into the farm. Not your mother, not your father, and definitely not anyone else in Pelican Town.
Sebastian may be your first, you think to yourself—innuendo unintended.
You hug your arms closer to your chest, the cool draft sliding over your skin—making you shiver. No better way to battle the uncomfortable situation with an even more uncomfortable conversation. You take a deep breath.
“I was a fresh graduate when I started working at Joja—worked my way up from customer service to marketing. Crazy, right?” you chuckle, though it sounds hollow even to you. “All the pretentious proposals I would write and those useless meetings that’d take forever. There wasn’t a day where I didn’t hate my 20 year old self for starting at Joja. 5 years down the fucking drain when I quit. Let me tell you, it’s the best decision I made in my stupid corporate slave life.”
Sebastian says nothing, he hands the bottle back to you, which you take a generous swig of. You grip the bottle tightly around its neck, the warm feeling of alcohol loosening your tongue.
You exhale deeply through your nose. “I was in my cubicle when I just ‘bout had enough—by the way, I hate that they’re called cubicles, I felt like a number in some executive’s spreadsheets instead of a living breathing person.” all that talking and your throat itches for more of the sweet burn of alcohol—you oblige it with another weighty gulp. “Grandpa left me this letter, told lil’ old me not to open it until I really, really needed to. Now that I think of it, he knew.”
Your voice cracks by the end of it. Your tongue feels way too thick for your mouth. And your eyes blur—there seems to be twice as many stars as usual.
Sebastian stays quiet, reflective even. Though his hands have stilled, and he feels closer than he was earlier. It’s warmer, you think.
If he asks, you’ve decided you’ll blame it on the alcohol.
—
You and Sebastian talk for hours after, the bottle of beer being passed between the both of you too often. You feel a tad tipsy—having drank the lion’s share of beer. Your head lolls onto your arms as you talk about everything then nothing.
There’s a fair moment of silence that blankets the two of you after—certainly not uncomfortable. You feel Sebastain knows the fact more than anyone. He seems to thrive in the quiet moments.
“I don’t think I’m leaving the valley any time soon, though,” he says softly, breaking the tranquil silence.
So he’s been thinking. “Why so?”
He shrugs his shoulders, taking the final sip of beer that finishes the bottle. “Something’s makin’ it worth staying a little longer.” His eyes meet yours, albeit for a second—before he refocuses on the cliff side view.
Ah, you understand.
Suddenly, alcohol isn’t the only thing making you feel so warm. You thank the stars for the dark, for hiding any warm pinkness in your expression. You smile, more to yourself than anything. Taking the bottle from him, brushing your fingers over his perpetually cold ones.
The bottle is lighter than it was at the beginning of the night—your shoulders too, less achy, less stiff. With all that weight off of them, you can afford to be less wound up.
You tip the bottle over the grass, nothing but a single drop comes out. You watch it fall and drop into the grass. “Good. This something thinks you’ll come to like it even.”
Sebastian tilts his head, a tentative smile playing on his lips. “That’s presumptive.”
You shrug, smirking. “I have a sense for this type of stuff.”
“Really now?”
“Mhm. I don’t just lie for no reason. And my senses are telling me you’ll be alright.”
You hear the silent hitch of his breath, the momental widening of his eyes and the tremble in his jaw. It saddens you slightly, no one has probably reassured him of it before.
God knows you needed some while working at Joja, you’re just returning your dues to the universe—and to him.
He laughs softly, and bitterly. His fingers twitch again—for that darn cigarette. “God, I sure hope so.”
Sebastian will be just fine, you know that. And it’s about time he knew it too.
contains ; suggestive conversation (pillow talk typa stuff). sappy sappy cheesy & corny fluff! just the way i like it! established relationship — dating. two ppl in love blah blah blah. gender non specified reader. he is all i ever think about.
note ; hello! didn’t wanna look at this in my drafts anymore. boo!
“what’s the wildest thing you’ve done in bed?” you ask, smiling over the rim of your near-empty glass of wine.
your lips are well past stained at this point, dazed eyes holding a curiously eager gaze with the man sitting similarly before you.
“the wildest thing?” harvey repeats, eyebrows raised, looking around as if to search for his answer.
“yeah, like, the craziest thing you’ve done while having sex.”
you’ve been playing this little question game for hours now, concept of time nothing but a distant thought after you both downed even more glasses of wine a single bottle could fill. it’s been a while since you’ve been able to relax like this, which is well in agreeance with your boyfriend.
you’re quite tipsy at this point. facing him on your living room couch, legs crossed and arm propping your head that’s perched against the back of the couch.
he purses his lips, shaking his head in deep thought. “i dunno…i guess um,” he presses a knuckle to the upper rim of his glasses, adjusting them, “i guess the kitchen—having sex in the kitchen, probably.”
you furrow your brows, giving him a long look. “in the kitchen?” it’s your turn to repeat, this time confused.
he shrugs and nods.
“with me?” you ask, more clarification than uncertainty in your tone.
“of course with you.”
“no, i’m speaking in general, like out of everyone you’ve ever had sex with—what was the craziest thing you did?”
“i know the question. i said have sex in the kitchen.”
you stare, unwavering eye contact glued to his. you know him, you know he’s definitely telling the truth, yet somehow you were shocked. “that was your craziest sexual experience?”
“i take it wasn’t yours, huh?” he snorts, giving the contents in his glass one small swirl before he leans over and places it on the coffee table.
you laugh airily, “i mean i…told you about the ferris wheel—“
“—ah,” he cuts you off, shivering, “yes, not my thing.”
“so let me get this straight,” you mimic his previous gesture—placing the glass on the table—, using both of your now-free hands to hold out in front of you. “your craziest, absolutely wildest sexual experience was on that kitchen table?”
he flicks his gaze past your head to where you’re pointing your thumb behind you. he suppresses a quirked up lip from the recollection.
“well, i didn’t say it was absolutely wild. but if i had to pick, that would be my answer.” he murmurs, and despite the topic, he’s managing his typical flushed cheeks and nervous lip-nibble well.
“wow,” you lean back with a light laugh. “i’m honored.”
“i’m glad.” he smiles.
he reaches back for the last sip of his wine, taking a short whiff of the glass before savoring the last drop. maybe he’s biased, but your wine will always be his favorite. he never allows it to go to waste.
it’s late. his eyelids rest heavily over his pupils, contrasting your wide-awake gaze. you’re eager to move around, emphasizing most of your words with hand gestures while he’s remained put for the last couple hours. despite his tiredness, he soaks every minute he has with you just as he does with your wine.
you clear your throat. “okay, so now i have a new question.”
“alright.” he nods, leaning into his hand.
“what was the best sex you’ve ever had? it’s okay if it wasn’t with me.”
he exhales from his nose at that, smile to accompany his cheeks.
“well, it was,” he confirms, once again looking off to the side. although, he doesn’t pause long, seemingly prepared with his answer. “i would say, after you told me you loved me.”
you beam immediately. “i knew it. you’re such a sentimentalist.” you tease, reaching over to pinch his thigh. but you soften, laying your hand flat and gently soothing your thumb over his pants. “that’s mine too.”
“really? even more than the ferris wheel?”
you scoff. “oh, absolutely. a million times better.” you wave a hand dismissively, and he tries not to let the comment go to his head. “that was purely just to say i’ve done it. at least you can make me finish.”
of course his cheeks set aflame, due to the ego boost and vulgarity. you smile as he purses his lips after murmuring an awkward thank you. it’s always so amusing to make him flustered, given such an easy task.
you sigh, rolling your head back against the couch. your fingers lightly tap at your t-shirt clad stomach, eyes wandering each crease and ridge in your ceiling during a moment of peaceful silence you’ll always relax into when you’re with harvey.
it’s only then do your eyes feel heavy, and it finally dawns on you just what time it is, and how early you have to wake up tomorrow.
“it’s late,” you conquer, staying put, “do you wanna stay—“
“i’ve got a question.” he hums. you turn your head, remaining relaxed against the cushions, to find him looking off towards the dimming fireplace in front of you.
“yeah?”
“who was the…if you had to rank everyone, uhm,” he presses his knuckles into the cushion beside his thighs, readjusting himself but not without a clear of his throat. “who’s the best sex you’ve ever had?”
you allow a smile to creep onto your face. it seems purposeful he’s avoiding your eyes, the golden hue of the crackling fire causing his warm skin to glow. his lips look a little pinker due to the light—or maybe the wine—and from your angle you can see his dark brown eyelashes clearly from the space between his glasses.
you let out a faux sigh, almost taunting.
“hm, that’s a toughie.” you snicker, now readjusting to sit sideways on the cushion with one leg crossed and the other dangling over the couch. “out of the whopping four?”
he gives you a peek, subconsciously wiping his palms across his pants wordlessly.
you almost want to tease him a little longer—the shy purse of his lips making it just so easy. yet you give up quick, leaning in to snake your arm around his neck and press a hand to his cheek.
“without a doubt, it’s you. don’t even have to think about it.” you giggle, pressing a soft kiss to his warm lips.
“really?” there he goes, yet again doubting himself.
“harvey, i’ve never been in love like i am with you. i’ve never been with someone and started picturing marriage after the second date.” you croon, so close you can nearly press your forehead against his. you look down at his lips. “it’s not just because of the sex—but believe me, that plays a good part. no one has known how to love me like you can.”
he swallows, mimicking your gaze and fixates on your lips as you continue, “you make me feel so comfortable, and so appreciated. you’re so sweet, and caring, and reliable. i can tell you anything.”
his fingers are warm from the fire, and he delicately uses them to push pieces of your hair that have fallen in front of your face, blocking his view of you.
just as you’re about to go on, he stops you. both of his hands finding purchase at the crevice of your neck, while his lips meet yours. not just a peck, a deep and meaningful kiss that forms all of your praises into the action. the same kind of kiss that takes your breath away, even before it started when you quietly gasp as he tugged you close. he ignores the way his nose bumps into yours, instead tilting his head to the side once you melt into him, pressing a flat hand against his chest for balance.
it’s deep and needy. the wine somehow tastes even better off your lips, his tongue selfishly stealing some of the sweetness. in some ways you think you could genuinely go stupid just from the way he kisses you.
he takes a moment to pull away, the exact way that has him sucking all of the air out of your lungs and leaves you chasing the feeling and making your brain grow fuzzy.
letting you go, he licks his lips and drops his quick gaze down to yours before looking back in your lidded eyes. he’s so impossibly skilled at taking your breath away, literally and figuratively.
“like a starved man,” you tease, masking your faint whimper with a chuckle.
“i know,” he swallows. “i love you.”
“i love you more.”
he shakes his head, padded thumb softly pressing against your bottom lip where his gaze sits.
“not possible.”
I know you say in your request rules that requesting for our own ocs is okay, but how specific do you need us to be? is there specific info you want on an oc before you write for them?
I probably should've made a guide for how to request for your ocs, huh? Oh well, better late than never.
Here's a list of things I'd probably need to know beforehand:
Name
General age-range, or you can be specific
Height *comparative to other characters*
Scars, if any, and how they got them
Religion? (agnostic, athiest, anti-theist, etc.)
Eye shape and color(s)
Hair color/cut/style/bald
Skin tone
Body type (blocky, lanky, athletic, fat, curvy, skinny, etc. etc.)
Hand shape (veiny? thin fingers? soft and chubby?)
Any disabilities, and how those disabilities work in your character's day-to-day routines
Clothing style
How they respond to conflict
Hobbies
What kind of farmer are they? (animal, crop, or mining oriented)
Highest skill level (foraging, mining, farming, fishing, and combat)
Which farm type do they live on?
How many siblings, if any?
How is their relationship with their parents?
Which characters do they get along with best, outside of their potential spouse?
Backstory summary (or you can go in detail, because god knows I'm always happy to have more characters to obsess over)
Any other relevant info you think I should know
And I think that's it. Also, you can always come to me through my messages to go more in detail about your ocs, and I'll probably end up asking more questions as I need. Thanks for the ask, anon! I hope you send me a request for your blorbo! :)