Just One of Those Days (Sebastian/Bucky x Reader)
“Y/N! You’re needed on set in ten!” someone calls outside of your trailer. You’ve had your cheek pressed against the couch arm for the past hour, feeling so low and sad. You must have woken up on the wrong side of the bed because you’ve been feeling moody and everything seems to be irritating you. It’s the last scene to shoot but thinking back over the scenes you shot earlier that day, you know this hasn’t been your best performance. Something is nagging at the back of your mind, telling you how you’ve let everybody down.
You sit up, slightly dizzy from the sudden shift in movement and hold your legs up close to your chest. You lean your forehead onto your knees as you run your hands through your hair with tight fists.
“Just one more scene,” you repeat over and over in a deep sigh, “Then you can go home and clear your head.” You slap yourself back into work mode just wanting to get the scene over and done with.
You show up to the set of your character’s bedroom, thinking about the lighting and the angles of the camera. Your last scene is with Sebastian as Bucky.
In this scene, his character comes into your room after passing by, to comfort you after he hears you sobbing from a nightmare that’s been haunting you every night. It’s just a short scene that you can get through quickly if you do it right.
Contrary to your characters’ dislike for Bucky, you and Sebastian are kinder to each other in real life. Since the first time you met, it was like you two had been friends all along.
“Hey,” Sebastian says, interrupting your thoughts.
“Hey,” you say back, forcing yourself to give him even a little smile.
His forehead slightly creases, and his expression turns worried, noticing that you’re not yourself. He hangs his head lower to inspect your face. “Are you okay? You don’t seem like yourself,” he asks in his low calming tone, only for your ears to hear.
You look up, smiling bigger, hoping to ease his mind. “I’m okay. I think I just woke up on the wrong side of the bed. It’s just been one those days,” you sigh, “But I promise I can handle it. You don’t have to worry about anything.”
“Okay, I trust your judgment, but you know I’m always here if you want to talk.” His arm wraps around your shoulder as he pulls you in for a quick peck on the top of your head.
While they’re making their last-minute touches and getting final reminders from the director, you lay on the bed, ready to shoot the scene, or so you think. While looking up at the ceiling lights, a sudden wave of sadness overcomes you and your chest feels tight. Your pulse picks up and tears are starting to prick your eyes, but everyone is pretty much ready to shoot the scene, forcing you to hold back.
“Everybody ready on set! One, two, three, action!”
Screams cloud your mind, as panic and destruction play around you. You twist and turn in bed, wanting the familiar voices of your loved ones to disappear.
“Y/C/N, this isn’t you! Please, don’t do this!” your mother screams.
Your body is heating up, as you stare daggers at the woman begging in front of you. You twist and bend your arm, producing a flickering ball of fire. Without any doubt or regret, you hurl it towards her, the last thing you hear is her painful screams, as you jolt awake, sitting up.
You gasp, throwing the covers off of you. The heat you felt in your nightmare, still tingles on your skin as you breathe quickly. You cover your mouth with both hands, staring into the darkness, trying to regulate your breathing, but it’s proving difficult to do.
This isn’t the first time you’ve had this nightmare, and you’re sure it isn’t the last time either. You can’t help but begin to sob, unable to shake the memory of your mother’s eyes as she pleaded for you to spare her.
You grab fistfuls of your hair at the roots, pulling until it hurts. Your head is down, tears dropping onto your lap, while your elbows dig into your thighs. You’d rather this sort of pain rather than the guilt and pain you feel every time you have to relive this memory.
You don’t realize, but your crying has gotten louder, grabbing Bucky’s attention outside your door. He gets nightmares too, and when he does, he walks around the Avengers’ Facility until he can manage to fall asleep again. You’ve always despised Bucky since your arrival, trying to avoid him at all costs. He’s noticed, deciding to just stay out of your way, but there’s something about hearing your muffled cries and seeing the way you’re deliberately hurting yourself, that urges him to do something, no matter what your reaction will be.
“Y/C/N?” he softly asks, his eyes already adjusted to the darkness.
You suddenly stop crying, letting go of your hair to look at the figure at your door. It takes a while for you to realize it’s Bucky, anger starting to form in the pit of your stomach.
“Leave me alone,” you harshly say, turning your head to wipe your eyes. Even if it wasn’t Bucky, you’d have the same reaction to anyone disturbing you right now.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” he says, ignoring your earlier remark.
Even though you’ve wiped your eyes, your body is still trembling, as more tears start to form again. “I said, leave me alone, Barnes.”
“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s wrong,” he says more firmly, making his way closer to you.
“I’m not going to tell you, so just leave me alone before I do something, we’ll both regret!” You shout, turning to face him, feeling fire forming at the tips of your fingers.
You can sense he’s close, your hand is at the ready with all intention to push him away, not caring about the damage you might inflict on him, but that power is lost when he takes you into a warm embrace. His whole body envelops yours as he sits on your bed. One arm soothingly rubs your back, while the other is wrapped tightly around your waist, his metal hand resting at the small of your back. Your head is leaning against his left shoulder, your body too shocked to respond at first, but as if a click snaps inside your head, you’re soon melting into his hug, gripping his shirt tightly, as you lower your head into his chest. He hugs you tighter, taking the force of your muffled cries into him, as you tremble more violently. You don’t know how long you’re sitting up for, but eventually, he leans the both of you back onto the bed, softly stroking your hair to calm you down. You both end up falling asleep, still wrapped together, your head unmoved from resting on his chest.
“And cut!” the director calls out. “That was great, you guys. We’ll just shoot a couple more takes, then we can pack it up for the day.”
You shoot the scene over and over, taking into account the director’s notes each time you start up again, but by the fifth time you’re running through it again, your personal feelings become overwhelming. When she shouts ‘cut’, you don’t immediately get up, trying to keep your face hidden, but Sebastian can feel your slight trembling, knowing that something is wrong.
“Y/N. Hey, look at me,” he whispers, trying to get you to look up, but you won’t budge.
A muffled noise escapes your lips, and your hands immediately fly up to cover your mouth. Why now? Your body denies your requests to keep your composure, as tears continuously stream down your face.
Sebastian keeps you in his embrace, his lips pressed against your hair, soothingly patting your back. “Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay. Shh.”
You suddenly panic, thinking about how you’re wasting everybody’s time and money. They probably want to go home just as much as you do, but they can’t because you can’t keep yourself together long enough to finish these takes.
“Stop. Please let go. We have to finish filming. Please,” you beg, wiping your eyes, trying to get up and take control over your feelings again.
“No, you need to breathe and relax first. Please stop pushing your feelings down like this,” Sebastian says, holding your head back into the crook of his neck.
“It’s just one more take. I can handle it,” you say unconvincingly, as more tears slide down your cheeks.
The director rushes over to see what’s happening. Her expression immediately turns to worry, reading the situation. She sits in front of you and Sebastian, running her hand across your back, to help.
“Y/N, sweetie. It’s okay. You need the rest. You’ve done amazing today. The last three takes for that scene were perfect. I promise. Please, just look after yourself okay.” She looks up at Sebastian mouthing to take care of you, as she leaves.
After hearing her calming words, your mind quietens enough for Sebastian to help you back to your trailer. Two hours later, your whole body feels numb. You don't know what to say or do until you get to your apartment building. Sebastian looks over at you from the driver's seat, waiting for your next move.
“Please don’t go,” you croakily say, looking into his gentle eyes. You don’t feel like you can be alone just yet, and you like having Sebastian around to comfort you.
“If that’s what you want, then I’m not going anywhere,” he smiles, caressing your cheek before leading you inside your building.
A few flights of stairs later, you open the door for the both of you. “Make yourself at home, I’ll be right back,” you say almost monotonously.
You go to your room to change into sweats and a pajama shirt, also removing your half-smudged makeup in the process. You walk back into the living room, holding one of your oversized shirts for Sebastian to change into, but he’s not around. Suddenly, you hear the front door shut and Sebastian is there, holding takeout food.
“I hope you’re hungry. Either way, I’m going to make you eat, even just a bit,” he shrugs, placing the food on your coffee table.
It brings a small smile to your lips, and you pass him the shirt to change into, while you get a couple of drinks.
He doesn’t force you to say or do anything throughout dinner, allowing a random Netflix show to fill in the silences. He wraps the grey throw on your couch, around you, pulling your back into his torso, with your head placed under his chin.
You end up falling asleep somewhere in the middle of an episode, only waking up to the faint light coming through the window curtains. You’ve both sunk down into the couch, Sebastian’s right arm, outstretched under your head, acting as a pillow, while his left arm is on your waist, over the throw. His head is nestled against your left ear, and if it wasn’t for the throw still wrapped around you, his soft breathing would be tickling your neck. You take a few minutes to just enjoy his company, feeling a lot more relaxed and calmer from your sudden outburst yesterday. It’s only when you take your hand out from under the throw to place it on his right arm, is when you realize how cold it is. You try not to wake him, but he stirs from the movement.
“Sorry, I was trying not to wake you,” you say.
He hums, rearranging your position back to how it was the night before. He stretches his arms up, dropping them back down around your waist, his head still against your ear, lazily draped over your left shoulder. You try your best to wrap the throw around the both of you, laying your arms over his.
“Good sleep?” he asks, voice still laden with sleep, eyes shut.
“Yeah, I’m feeling a lot better,” you reply, nudging your head against his with subtlety. “How about you?”
“The best I’ve had in a while,” he smiles, kissing your temple. It’s quiet for a moment. “What’s on your mind?” he asks, eyes opening to try and read your facial expression.
You sigh before you answer, drawing light patterns on his arm with a finger. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin shooting yesterday. I know that’s probably not how you wanted to end your tiring day.”
“No, no, no. Shh. You don’t need to apologize. Everybody goes through days like that,” he says in a hushed tone. His hand is now running smoothly through your hair, lips still on your skin. “I’m just glad that you’re feeling better.”
You’ve always had a platonic relationship with Sebastian, but at this moment, you can’t help but want more, hoping he feels the same, too. You intertwine your fingers with him, leaning closer into his chest.
“Thank you, for always looking out for me,” you whisper, turning your head to place a soft kiss on his cheek.
His hand that’s running through your hair stops at your nape, and his breath hitches, leaning forward to press his forehead against yours.
“I like being there for you, and if you’ll let me, I want to be here for you, all the time,” he sighs.
The moment is slow, and you’re both scared to cross that boundary, but your hand is just itching to reach out and cup his jaw.
“I’d like that,” you say, taking the leap as your lips touch.