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storibambino · 6 years

Text

Too Late

A/N: This was supposed to be a cute fluffy thing inspired by this post but certain people decided to be asshats. Basically Seb sees a black woman at a party and she gathers him. on Ao3

Warning: None

Words: 1.8k

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tagging anyone who I thought would be interested: @silkandscarlet @maya-leche @ovoxosavage @heeeeres-rams @ixazaluoh @therevolution-willbelive @chefjessypooh

Too late. You wanna make it right but now it’s too late. My peanut butter chocolate cake with Kool-Aid.

The music was loud but not overbearing, just right to make intimate conversations private. Privacy was something to be cherished in this environment. Outside the reporters were still swarming and inside the party guest included several writers, journalists, and media personnel. Over a decade in a half in the industry and events like this, but still Sebastian was anxious. Too many people, too many questions, too much to keep track of. Another premier another after party another occasion to pretend to mingle and anticipate leaving. However, the music was good tonight. He was swaying and singing along to his new fave when he saw her, by the bar singing along too.

She was beautiful, or interesting, both, yeah both. Wait was interesting the right word? She was definitely something. Her skin, like melted chocolate. Her lips, full and they looked absolutely sweet. Her figure, full and inviting. Or so he thought but ignorance is bliss. The dress she was wearing was unique compared to the other guest, bright colors in several different patterns that reminded him of the Wakandan set. Nothing to lose, he downed his cup and approached.

I’m trying not to waste my time.

“I really like this song too.” He smiled, it was indeed devilishly handsome and just this side of smug.

“It’s one of my favorites but I like all his music.” She returned the smile it was small but still warm.

“I recently became a ‘stan’, I think that’s what they call it.”

“That is what they call it, if you mean you’re a fan.” Giving him a glance over her drink. Her lips were definitely sweet judging by way the drops clung gently there.

“You could say I’m a stan squared.”

“Oh, and what do you mean by that?”

“Well I’m a stan for Donald Glover and I’m a Stan. It’s my last name.” Smiling big, crinkling his eyes at the corners.

“Either you stan Donald Glover OR you’re a Donald Glover stan.” Her tone was flat but her eyes were deceitfully playful.

“Huh?”

Stay woke.

“If you’re going to use AAVE bare minimum use it correctly.”

“AAVE?”

Finishing her drink quickly, she place the glass and a $5 down on the bar. She side-eyes him but doesn’t move to leave. “African American Vernacular English. It’s a dialect of American English that Black people created. Your people might call it slang or Ebonics, if they wanna be cute.” She paused but when just stood there gaping she continued. “Listen either keep up or walk away darling.” He closed his mouth quickly then nervously rubbed the back of his neck.

“Can we start over? I’m Seb…”

“Bastian Stan. I know who you are. You’re the white boy that’s been blowing up my timeline today.” He let out a nervous chuckle. “What’s funny?”

“Nothing..I just don’t know what to say.” She eyed him for a moment, then turned to walk to a booth in the corner. He wasn’t sure why he got two drinks. He wasn’t sure why he followed her. If he was being honest with himself he knew why followed her because her hips moved like the music. He wasn’t sure why he sat down in the booth with her. But when he pushed the drink toward her she accepted it. “So what’s your name?”

“Kristina. With a ‘K’. “

“Are you enjoying your evening?”

“You know what I’m going to stop you right there. First of all, fuck you colonizer and the horse you road in on. Second, how dare you? Third, is this Jose? I drink Patron.” He begins to sputter and fidget and she just lets him dangle for a bit longer than necessary before she places a hand on his face and make him look at her. “Use your words.”

“Wh-what did I do?” Finally able to form a complete sentence.

“Where do you wanna start darling? I got about 45 minutes to kill.” Tossing back his drink with an eye roll. “I know let’s start with that fucked up interview you put on Al Gore’s internet. You know the one where you sexualized a black child.”

“That was not my intention. I think people took that the wrong way.”

“Stop. We took it the only acceptable way but you wouldn’t understand that. Why? Because you’ve never had to critically think about black bodies. Especially, black female bodies. In essence, your privileged ass don’t give a flying fuck about us.”

“Now wait a minute. I never..”

“No, mommy is talking. You are listening.” She paused for a moment to take another drink from her own cup this time. Sebastian didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was again gaping at her this time. He couldn’t understand why he was even more attracted to her. Maybe it was the way her eyes were so intense, her voice was low but full of fury. “You’re not listening to me Seb.”

“I’m sorry. I was just blindsided by the conversation. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“That’s the problem with not meaning to offend someone, apologizing isn’t ever part of the plan.” She pushed a breath between her teeth and leaned back in the booth. Eyes closed, it looked like she was collecting herself. Not wanting to make matters worse he just waited for her to continue. “Why did you come talk to me? Room full of elites and skinny white hoes and you over here with me.”

“Uh. Well I thought that maybe..”

“Let me stop you again sweetie. You saw a black woman by herself, took one look at my locs and all this ass in this dress and thought ‘She’s exotic and I have new rapport with the black community let’s try this out. I’ll buy her a drink and we will talk about music and she’ll love me’ Stop me when I get close.” By this time his cheeks had begun to flush but he still sat there quietly. “I have been nothing but hostile toward you and here you sit, next to me in this booth. Why is that?”

“Because…Well I…I don’t know.” He knitted his eyebrows together but still made no movement to leave the table.

“Is it because you think you have a right to my time, my conversation, my space? Is it because you want me to like you and you’re trying to win me over? Or maybe because like your MCU counterpart and gay icon Bucky Barnes you, my dear, are a bottom and you need someone to give you direct orders to fuck off.”

She punctuated the statement by finishing her drink and turning to face him in the booth. Quite the contradiction sat before him. If you ignored the glare in her chocolate-brown eyes, her face was almost soft. Her head cocked slightly to the side with one eyebrow raised, almost, playfully and her skin the softest looking thing he’d ever seen. He was ever so tempted to touch her but he wasn’t an idiot.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Excuse me?”

“I see the way you’re looking at me, like you’re hungry and I’m a large pizza. You’re proving my point about being a privileged, uninformed asshat.”

“How do I make it better? I’m so confused.” He sighed.

“Don’t shrug at me. You ain’t confused you’re un-invested, not that you have any reason to be. “

What does that mean?” He was at the point of pleading. He didn’t know why he needed her to like him or why he kept asking questions or even why he was still sitting there but he couldn’t move.

“It means you need re-education.” She took out her phone suddenly no longer interested in the conversation.

“I’m guessing you can’t help me with that?”

“No honey, I can but it is going to cost you. I don’t give any labor to white men for free. My ancestors wouldn’t allow it. Yep I’m gonna help you learn the errors of you white ways and you’re going to take me out to dinner and dancing, preferably somewhere I can throw this ass in a circle. Gimme your phone.”

Without hesitation he unlocks his phone and passes it to her. Nimble fingers quickly add her number and save it under her name, then pass the phone back.

“So what, everything is ok now?”

“Not by a long shot but I never miss an opportunity to pimp the patriarchy, which you are a poster child for by the way. You call me, we go out, I teach you how to correct you ignorant whiteness. Simple.”

“Ok? What just happened here?”

“You allowed me to berate you for over 20 minutes and you enjoyed it. Then I gave you my number to call me so you can take me out and berate you some more while you learn some things that will hopefully make you a better person. Any questions?”

“No, I think I’m good.” They sat back in the booth together, looking out at the rest of the party. “I actually do have one.” She throws him a side-long glance. “Does this mean you’re not mad at me?”

“I am disappointed but not surprised. Honestly, I like you, which is why I want you to be accountable for your actions but not that much. You’re not some perpetual child that isn’t grown up enough to know what you’re doing. You’re a grown man and it’s not the first time you’ve said something out of pocket.” He raised his eyebrows and she sighed. “Out of pocket is AAVE, moving on. You can no longer cry ignorance and you shouldn’t if you respect your craft and position. That is why I’m going to help you but again not for free.”

“Ok, yeah I guess I can see where you’re going with this.” He nods.

“Good boy. My time is up so I’m gonna get out of here.” She moves to leave and he rises with her. She’s checking her phone again while he begins to shift his weight back and forth. “Did you need something Sebby?”

“Can I hug you?”

“I guess that’s acceptable.” Pulling him into a hug, a proper hug, she rests her face on his chest while he snakes his hands around her waist. They sway slightly kinda to the music kinda just living in the moment they’re in. After about a minute she pulls away and walks off without a backward glance, leaving him standing and gaping, yet again, at her walking away.

When he was able to collect himself and pick his mouth up off the floor. He did the only thing he could think of.

“Hey Mackie. Hey Winston. I met this woman and I think I need some help.”

#StoriesbyStori #sebastian stan #Black OFC #fan fic #too late fic

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