Random One Shots

Random one shots with actors, musicians/bands and characters.

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136. Sebastian Stan 5

~“Seriously, though! He’s such an ass. I’ve never been anything but nice to him, and he’s just a dick,” you griped to your make-up artist, Kelly. She sighed and gave you a stern look.
“Christ, girl. You need to quit movin’! You’re wigglin’ more than a chick in an LMFAO video!”
You give her a small laugh as she directs your eyes up to the ceiling. Your chin stays at her level. She pulls the outer corner of your eye tight and runs her angled brush along your lower lash line.
“Really, Kel. How does someone who seems so sweet turn out to be such a douche?” Kelly shakes her head, tossing her pale pink waves around.
“You’re the only person I’ve ever heard complain about him, doll. He’s never been any trouble to me or nothin’.” She pulls away, allowing you to redirect your gaze back to her hazel eyes. Her back turns for only a mere moment, and she reels back around, draping a large white sheet over your wardrobe. In her hands were a large kabuki brush and a small plastic pot. She ordered you to close your eyes, and you complied. She dusted the translucent powder from the jar across your face, sealing in her flawless application.
“He’s just an ass,” you mutter to her as she pulls the sheet off. Hurriedly, she folds it back up and drops it on the counter.
“Relax, darlin’. You’ve only got another month of filmin’, a short press tour, and the premiere left. You don’t gotta see him much longer.” Her smile is reassuring, but you scoff.
“Kelly, please… Another month of filming, which consists of being here at five in the morning and not leaving until around ten or eleven at night, six weeks of press promos, and people are bound to want us to post together for pictures as the premiere. I’m nowhere near done with this son of a bitch. If he keeps this up, he’ll be lucky to still be alive at the end of this.”
It was Kelly’s turn to laugh now. Her eyes roamed your outfit as she spoke, looking for any hint of loose powder on your clothes.
“Listen, hun, you can do this. Don’t speak to him unless you have to; pretend you don’t hate him for interviews, give ‘em a handful of pictures, and get on with your life. Simple as that! If you don’t think you can handle him anymore, call me. If you’re gonna kill him, call me.”
“God, Kelly… What would I do without a saint like you?” you asked with a smirk. She wrapped you in a quick, tight hug, giving you a little squeeze.
“Dunno, dear. Might just lie down and die!” She winked, nudging you towards the door. “Get outta here. Filmin’ starts in fifteen and you can’t be late!”
Your fingers curled in a slight wave and she blew you a kiss as you exited the make-up trailer, heading to your filming lot.
It was a decent walk, considering make-up was on Lot 7, wardrobe and costuming was on Lot 5, and you had to make your way over to Lot 2.
Once you made it across Lot 4, you looked at your watch. 5:51 am. The coffee clutched in your hand was heating up your palm through the cup with ease, reminding you just how hot it was. The sun was still hidden below the horizon, and you didn’t see anyone around until you were halfway across Lot 3. A lone man was crossing the wide open lane down the center of the lot, pulling a large cart of props behind him. You felt your phone buzz in your back pocket, and you stopped momentarily to see what it was.
1 Unread Text Message
You tapped the ‘view’ button.
From: Kelly
Wanna have lunch tomorrow? xx
You hit ‘reply’ and began to compose your message. You’d barely typed out the first word when someone shoulder checked you. The lid popped off the top of your drink, sending scalding hot coffee cascading down the front of your shirt. A mild shriek of both pain and surprise escaped your throat, and the man who bumped you stopped less than three steps ahead of you. Strings of profuse apologies poured from his mouth, but it stopped as soon as he saw who he’d hit.
The haughty bastard in front of you had a hand tangled in his unruly dark mop. The black core of his pale blue eyes was dilated wide in panic and surprise. A trio of creases formed across his forehead as he furrowed his brows. His hands came out in front of him, palms facing towards you.
You pulled the soaked shirt away from your body as fast as you could, but the damage was already done.
And, as if things weren’t bad enough, you hear Sebastian start laughing. He only spits out your last name and a half-assed apology.
“Looks like you may need a new shirt! Might wanna run, since we only have four minutes before we start,” he managed. Your lack of patience skyrocketed, your blood boiled, and for a minute, you completely lost it. The now empty cup flew from your hand in his general direction. You furiously pulled the coffee stained shirt of over your head and chucked that at him too.
“What the fuck is your problem, Stan?” You yelled, arms spread wide like you were daring him to answer you. His face went blank, and then shifted to a slight frown. “Is this fucking funny to you? Jesus Chris! What the fuck did I do to you?” He stayed silent, his eyes trailing across the top hem of your bra before meeting the cement under your feet.
“You know what? Fuck you, Sebastian. I’m done with this shit…” His mouth dropped slightly, parting his lips. You hadn’t called him by his first name since you sat down at the first table read and tried to introduce yourself. He talked to you about as much that first day as he was at that current moment.
You shook your head, already feeling minor blisters beginning to form down the middle portion of your torso. Turning on your heel, you stormed off, heading all the way back to Lot 5. Annoyed, almost in angry tears, and wearing a soaking wet bra, you can feel his eyes on you until you’re too far away from him.
*
Following the coffee incident, which left you with mild second degree burns, you were slathered up with silvadene to combat the pain and wrapped in gauze to prevent any possible infection. Your scenes for the day were cancelled, seeming as half the shots they wanted involved you being topless. So the director called it a day around nine in the evening and sent you home.
You were exhausted, sore, hungry, and frankly, still pissed.
Your phone buzzed in one hand, and you set down the small pint of ice cream in your other.
1 Unread Text Message
From: Unknown Number
Hey. It’s Sebastian. I got your number from Kelly. Creepy, I know, but I wanted to apologize for everything.
You rolled your eyes and prodded the ‘reply’ box.
To: Unknown Number
Don’t worry about it.
It only took him a minute to reply.
From: Unknown Number
I’m trying to say I’m sorry. Not just for the incident this morning, but for everything. It’d be a lot easier for me to apologize right if you’d just open the door.
You raised an eyebrow, reading and rereading the text. What is he talking about?
The sudden sound of sturdy knuckles rapping on your front door drew your eyes from your phone. You ambled to it, sliding the chain lock out of its place. Outside stood Sebastian. Sebastian, a huge bouquet of flowers, and a plastic sack. He gave you a small smile, letting the tip of his tongue dart out over his lower lip. He retracted it and caught his lower lip between his teeth. You stepped aside, gesturing for him to come in. He complied and you closed the door behind him, sliding the lock back into place.
Without a word, he guided himself into the kitchen. You followed, confused.
“You got a vase?” he called over his shoulder, setting the bag down on the counter.
“Yeah. Should be one under the sink.” Your response was stiff and curt. He sighed and crouched down, opening the cabinet. Sebastian grabbed the biggest vase he could find. Filling it halfway with water from the tap, he set it down, the glass making a light clink against the marble countertop.
“Scissors?” His voice was friendly. You reached for the silverware drawer and pulled out a pair, offering them to him by the handle. He gave you a soft smile.
“Thanks for not stabbing me with them… Even though I probably deserve it.” This pulled a small smile out of you. He cut the loose plastic off the flowers and trimmed the stems at an angle, which, you assumed, he learned from his mother. Every single flower was put in the vase individually, and Sebastian took care to arrange them perfectly for you. You leaned against the counter, watching him.
He looked over at you and a small laugh got stuck in his throat. You tilted your head slightly, shooting him a quizzical look.
“Nothing,” he said, smile growing. He reached for the bag beside you on the counter, and when he grabbed it, his calloused fingertips brushed your arm. A sharp chill ran up your spine, setting a raised texture across your skin.
The top of the bag crinkled when he opened it, pulling out something fluffy. He placed it in your hands, and it was an absolutely adorable teddy bear, with white fur and a pink bow tied around its neck.
“Sebastian…” you finally mumbled, looking up. He was standing less than a foot away from you. He put a finger to his lips, hushing you.
“Don’t… Please, just listen.” You nodded, keeping eye contact.
“Îmi pare atât de rău1.” His Romanian accent was coming through strong, though you’d never heard it in his voice before. “I’m such an idiot. I just… You make me nervous. You make me anxious as hell. I’ve never met a woman who’s had that kinda effect on me. I guess I just didn’t know how to handle it, and everything I said came out wrong, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. And this…” He ran his fingers over the outside of your shirt, touching the bandages. “I was in such a hurry this morning, and I didn’t see you. I wasn’t looking and, oh, doamne2, I felt so bad. I still feel bad. I didn’t mean to, I just-“
You silenced him by pressing your lips to his, softly and slowly. His mouth twisted into a Cheshire cat grin, and you mimicked it, pressing your forehead to his.
“Can we start over?” you wondered aloud. He chuckled softly, giving you another quick, small kiss.
“Absolutely. Let me make this up to you.”
 

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