Sebastian Stan Imagines

Tommy Lee - Cut

Summary: You were supposed to be filming, but the directors cut your monologue.

Enjoy <3

'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'

Swinging the door open to your mansion, you dropped your backpack on the ground in frustration.

"WHO'S THERE?" Tommy called out.

"It's me," You grumbled.

Tommy stepped out from the kitchen, an apron on, a bright smile on. His smile instantly disappeared when he saw your frown. 

"And why is my baby frowning?" He asked.

You shook your head, trying to walk past him, but he grabbed your waist, dragging you to the couch, and plopping you on your back. He crawled on top of you, resting his body on top of you, his face hovering over yours.

You lightly traced the tattoos on his arms, and you sighed.

"Tell me," He whispered, the smell of alcohol filling your nose.

"They cut my monologue," You said.

"What?!" He said.

"They said it'd be better if I was...quiet," You said. "But it's okay."

"Uhm...that was your big part!" Tommy said. "You were gonna be a star!"

You tucked a piece of hair behind his ear, pulling his neck down and kissing him.

"It's okay," You said, pulling away. 

Tommy frowned, kissing your neck. 

"Do you want dinner?" He said. "I cooked!"

"Tommy Lee cooks?" You said, smirking. "I had no idea."

Tommy smiled brightly, kissing your lips. 

He got off of you, pulling you up, and pulling you to the kitchen.

Candles were lit, plates of salad, steak, and vegetables.

"Holy fuck," You said. "Tommy, this is amazing!"

"Eat," Tommy said, placing you in a chair. "You deserve it."

You smiled at him, cutting a piece of steak and eating it.

"Holy shiiiit," You said. "I have the best husband in the world."

"That's me," Tommy said, having you laugh.

You both ate, talking quietly about the stupid directors, and then you both tossed the dishes in the sink, not caring to clean them.

You both went to your guy's room, playing 1940's music, and slow dancing around the room, the only light in the room from the next door apartments.

"I love you, Tommy Lee," You said, quietly, resting against his chest. He rested his chin on your head, kissing your head.

"I love you too, Y/n L/n," He said. "You are my movie star. No directors need you."

You both continued dancing, before he pulled you into bed.

You traced the large tattoos on his chest, and he admired you. 

You rested yourself on top of him, kissing him.

He returned the kiss, holding you close to him.