Alan Rickman x Plus-size Reader One-shots

Gone too Long

"I can't tell you how happy I am that you are back," (Y/N) breathes in a shaky voice as she releases Alan from her tight hug, wiping a stray tear from her cheek.

"I missed you immensely," he replies in a grumble, fighting a lump in his throat.

Alan has been in Tbilisi, Georgia for the past six months working on raising money to save the Rustaveli Theatre after the Russian-Georgian war of '08. He and his good friend Robert Sturua have been directing and performing Hamlet for the past months in the hopes to bring more recognition to the small but impactful theatre.

"You must be exhausted and I'm sure your clothes are in a state - why don't you give me your bag and I'll get started on your laundry," (Y/N) offers sweetly which gets her a thankful kiss in return.

There's nothing quite like (Y/N)'s home cooked meals, he thinks to himself after placing the nearly clean-licked plate in the sink, having just finished a plate of chicken pot pie, mash and veggies.

Even after experiencing all Georgia has to offer food wise, he sure has missed his wife's home cooking.

Fresh out of the shower, wrapped up in his plush navy nightgown, he makes his way downstairs looking for the nail clippers. It's been some time since he last had a trim. Not only his nails but his hair and beard, too.

Catching a glimpse of himself as he passes the mirror in the downstairs hallway he makes a mental note of having to make an appointment at the barber first thing tomorrow. Especially judging from the way his soft silver hair covers his ears nearly completely, the hairs in his neck now completely reaching the collars of his shirts.

It's been a rough couple of months.

Life in Tblisi wasn't all five-star hotels and driving around in rental cars. Anything but. Alan had been living like a local, sucking up the culture like a sponge. Not because he had to but because he wanted to.

"Do you perhaps know where the nail clippers are?" Alan grumbles lowly as he rummages through the gadget drawer in the kitchen.

"I think it's upstairs somewhere in my dresser, love," (Y/N) calls from the laundry room where she's busy separating about six months' worth of darks and whites.

With a sigh he shuts the gadget drawer and makes his way upstairs to their bedroom. Why do we have a gadget drawer if no one places gadgets back in the drawer?

No luck of finding the clippers after having searched the first three drawers of her dresser. Upon opening the fourth drawer - the underwear drawer - he cannot help but stare at the delicate pieces of fabric in amazement.

God, it's been too long since he's seen his wife in that way. What is he saying? It's been too long since he's seen a piece of underwear this delicate, period.

He gently runs his tubby fingers over all the various dainty pieces - ruby red, emerald green, black and lavender. He picks up the first piece - a delicate flesh coloured g-string with champagne lace covering the front, tiny pearls running all along the back of the string.

He shifts from one foot to the other after feeling something stir deep down within him.

Carefully he folds the piece to its former shape and places it back in its spot. He gently picks through each delicate piece of material and soon spots an odd device in the back of the drawer.

Careful not to disturb the materials, he takes the device in hand. As delicate as the underwear so delicate is the device: decorated in rose gold with beautiful calligraphy on the sides with dainty white buttons.

Out of curiosity Alan tests it out in his right hand. He weighs it before inspecting it closer. One button, which he presumes is a power button, and two other buttons with a plus and minus sign on each. A white silicone head with a circular hole in it rounds off the sleek design of the thick girth. And he does mean thick.