Celebrities Imagines

Sebastian Stan 2# Part 3

Maybe it was a silly dream, but you couldn't help yourself. You sat there at your desk, looking up, staring at the man who was only a few feet away. Sebastian Stan. You knew it was him from the two bodyguards at the corners of the room, but you couldn't understand why. The man was famous, what was he even doing in a beginners writing class?

Still, you shrugged and forced yourself to look down and scribble some form of comprehensible words. Slowly you found yourself doodling hearts instead of words.

"Uh, excuse me?"

You looked up and your cheeks began to redden. "I-Uh-Y-Yes?" You stammered out, holding your pencil tightly.

His blue eyes stared into yours and he smiled beautifully, tilting his head the way he did in photos. "Do you have an eraser I could borrow? My pencil just ran out."

You nodded rapidly and turned swiftly to tug your bag onto the desk. Except it was caught on the corner of the table and when you pulled harder, the strap snapped and all your things spilled on the ground with loud clacks and slams. Your whole body sat rigid and you flustered a scarlet red. The entire writing class must have been staring, including the instructor who seemed to have stopped his lesson.

"Oh crap, uh, hold on." Sebastian's voice came in and he stood, kneeling down beside you to help you pick up your things. It was already terrible, so when you stood and dropped to the ground with the loud scrape of the chair, you figured you would die at home later that day anyway. Slowly, the instructor went back to talking about the difference between fantasy and fiction.

"I'm Sebastian." He said, as if you didn't know who your favorite actor was.

You nodded, biting your lip slightly. "I-I'm Y/N..."

He smiled, "That's beautiful..." He cleared his throat and finished picking up your things, helping you pack them away. He stopped momentarily and chuckled, "You're going to con?" He asked, holding up a ticket that had fallen out of your purse. Sure, it was last year's ticket, but you had already bought this year's.

"Oh! Um, yeah..." You stammered out, smiling nervously.

"Well uh," he picked up a pen from your things and a scrap of paper, scribbling something in it. He moved a little faster when he noticed everyone from the class was starting to leave. "Here."

You took the paper and internally squealed. It was his phone number. "I-"

"Call me when you get there, I'll get you a backstage pass or whatever they're called. Kind of an apology for making you drop your things." He smiled and helped you to your feet, handing you your bag.

"O-Okay! I will!"

"Sir?" One of the suited men came up to his side.

Sebastian nodded, "I gotta go. See you next class, Y/N?"

You nodded, clutching onto your bag. He flashed you a bright smile and turned, grabbing his own things. When he glanced at you one last time before he stepped through the door, you blushed and couldn't help a laugh. You just met Sebastian Stan, he gave you his number, and he wanted to see you again. You would have to thank your best friend later for insisting on this writing class.