Alan Rickman x Plus-size Reader One-shots

One Lucky Man

*** MATURE CONTENT
*** I don't own the picture, Alan or any other places/things mentioned.
____________________________________

Alan Rickman and James Bateman exit through the backstage door of Seminar together, a small crowd already waiting; loud screaming can be heard coming from fangirls.

"Good luck," James says to Alan and pulls the hood from his jacket over his head, trying to disguise himself.

"Wait, you're not..." Alan starts, but James cuts him off with a wave.

"G'night, Alan."

Alan sighs inwardly. 

It's not that he doesn't want to sign autographs, it's just that the fans sometimes get too much. 

Alan is a very reserved and mellow person and standing in front of a screaming crowd, each person trying to get his attention by shouting his name or asking for a photo can be quite overwhelming.

It's ten pm, it's cold and all Alan wants to do is find his wife, go home and cuddle in front of the fireplace, but alas, he takes out his trusted Sharpie and heads toward the rowdy crowd.

He knows his wife, (Y/N), will be okay. She usually sits in the crowd with friends of theirs instead of being backstage with Alan. She respects his pre-show rituals and knows he likes to be alone in his thoughts before a stage performance.

Security will escort her out through the front doors, away from the crowd. (Y/N) isn't shy and crowds don't usually bother her, but screaming fans and flashing cameras are enough to unnerve even the best of people. She'll either be in the awaiting rental car already or she'll stand a few steps away from the crowd, always making sure Alan returns to her safely.

After about seven minutes of selfies and signed playbills, Alan's hand starts to cramp and he tells the last few fans this will be his last for tonight. While looking down and not paying much attention to faces, Alan moves to the last fan against the metal railing.

"May I have an autograph, please... sir," the person says seductively in a low whisper.

Alan's chestnut eyes shoot up only to be met with the mischievous pair of chocolate brown orbs belonging to his wife.

He smirks devilishly and replies in his deep velvety voice, "with pleasure."

He signs her playbill and waves goodbye to the crowd. The crowd gives a final cheer as Alan laces his fingers with (Y/N)'s as they stroll towards the awaiting car.

Once the driver of the Jaguar pulls up in front of the spacious, two-story townhouse, Alan opens the car door for (Y/N). 

As she steps out of the car he leans down and whispers close to her ear, "It's about time I get you out of that dress."

A cold, sensual shiver runs down (Y/N)'s spine before she stands on her tiptoes and presses a soft kiss on Alan's cheek.

"Agreed," she replies low and huskily.

The house is still dark. Alan shuts the door as (Y/N) is about to reach for the light switch.

"Leave it," he growls and crashes his lips against hers in the dark, claiming his dominance.

She stumbles backwards and Alan presses her firmly against the wall of the foyer, lifting her thigh to encircle his waist. He leaves a burning trail of kisses down her neck and (Y/N) hums in hot pleasure.

She can already feel his bulge growing harder against her core. Alan is usually the perfect gentleman - polite and calm - but he's very passionate when it comes to matters of the bedroom.