Ewan McGregor imagines and one-shots

Imagine #11 (Ewan McGregor)

While Ewan was waiting to take his next photo for Vogue, I walked into the small room and wrapped my arms around his neck from behind. "Hi," I greeted with a smile.

"Hello, my darling," he greeted back, turning his head to face me.

"You look handsome," I commented. "They never fail to make you radiant for these photos."

Ewan chuckled and said, "I thought I was always radiant."

I sighed dramatically. "You are. I was trying to give you a compliment."

"I know," he smiled, leaning up to kiss my cheek. "I just like toying with you."

Rolling my eyes playfully, I broke the embrace and fixed his hair, wanting to make sure he didn't appear disheveled. I slid my fingers down his beard, loving the way it tickled against my skin. "You're an old man," I snorted. "Look at all of this gray."

Ewan laughed. "I know, I know," he said. "But I still look good, right?"

"Of course you do," I replied, pressing a kiss to his head. "I think you'll be the handsomest guy until you reach your eighties."

"Eighties?" he asked with mock fear. "I have some serious work to do."

I shook my head and kneeled down beside him. "You'll always be the most attractive man I have ever met," I smiled softly, taking his larger hand in mine. "And I am saying that without any exaggeration."

Ewan stroked the back of my hand with his thumb and kissed my knuckles gently. "I'm lucky to have you, darling."

"I can say the same for you," I said, reveling in his touch.

Eventually, the lead camera man called out for me to leave so they could begin, and I obliged, but not before I kissed Ewan ever so sweetly.

"See you later?" I mumbled against his lips.

"You have my word."