Alan Rickman x Plus-size Reader One-shots

In Sickness and In Health

On my way to you. Have door open already.

(Y/N)

(Y/N) shoots her boyfriend a nervous text as she and Toby round the corner of Dukes Lane onto Pitt Street.

Only eight more flats. Eight more flats, she keeps telling herself as her running shoes hit the tarmac step after step.

"Come on boy, keep up," she gently yanks on Toby's leash as he tries to stop them in their tracks once again.

Her stomach is doing that weird turning thing again, her lower back cramping like crazy. Something doesn't feel right.

Even the wind blowing past her face and through her hair isn't enough to stop her from breaking out in a cold sweat.

Hornton Street. Finally.

She sprints towards flat number 27, Toby right on her heels as they run up the steps.

"Can you hurry up and open the door?" She knocks incessantly on the door of Alan's London flat.

Tea towel in hand, he quickly scuffles across to the front door before opening it.

"Where's the fire?" He asks in his usual dry, joking tone with one raised eyebrow before taking in his girlfriend's pale and clammy complexion.

"I feel si--" she mumbles before doubling over and spilling the contents of her stomach.

A look of utter shock and horror contorts Alan's features as he feels the warm liquid running off his shoes.

"I am... so... sorry," (Y/N) comes upright, timidly touching her lips with her trembling fingers.

A part of her knows just how angry Alan will be about his Italian designer shoes but another part of her finds the look of pure disgust evident on his face just a tad funny.

"Oh, dear god, dog. Don't do that," he limply flings the tea towel in Toby's direction, shooing him away from his attempt at licking the mess.

Before he can react in anger, his protective side takes over as he sees his longtime girlfriend starting to gag.

"NOT on my doorstep. Bathroom!" He says in panic and quickly steps aside for her to hurry past him, the gush of wind that accompanies her grazing past his cheek.

"What are you looking at?" He mumbles at Toby in discontent before removing his bile-soaked shoes and carefully carrying them to the back patio.

After rinsing the shoes off with the garden hose, he leads (Y/N)'s furry - and hyperactive - companion through to the patio where he unleashes him before filling a bowl with cool water.

"You look awful," Alan says sincerely upon re-entering the flat and spotting her emerging from the bathroom.

Her face is white as a sheet and the perspiration near her hairline glistens in the morning light.

"I feel awful," she admits, bundling a tissue in her hand before wiping her mouth.

"Have a lie-down on the sofa. I'll make you some tea," he says softly while taking in her frail state.

Her stomach starts to protest as she lies down on her back, so she moves to her side on the tan leather sofa. She slowly drifts in and out of sleep before startling awake, feeling the sofa dip next to her.

"Here, take these. It will help with the nausea," Alan hands her a cup of steaming hot English tea and a Valoid.

She slowly sits upright, relishing the way the tea soothes her throat, especially after the burn from the bile she just brought up multiple times moments ago.

"Where's Toby?" She asks concerned after not seeing her fellow running companion.

"Outside patio. He's got plenty of shade and water, don't worry," he says while soothingly rubbing her upper leg.

"We better make a start if we want to get home before noon," she makes to stand from the sofa.

"Nonsense," Alan protests. "You aren't in any state to continue your run--"

"Oh, Al," she tuts annoyed.

"Besides, you know the Valiod makes you drowsy. Stay here, rest, recover, and I'll take you two home later this evening."

His assertiveness stirs things inside her.

Either that or she's about to be sick again.

She smiles lovingly at him over the top of her cup before finishing off the last of her tea.

He takes the cup from her and places it on the coffee table before helping her lie down on her side again.

"I'm genuinely sorry about your shoes," she admits with sleepy eyes, her hands tucked beneath the side of her head. "Will you be able to rescue them?"

Alan looks off into the distance with a contemplative look on his face before exhaling a heavy breath.

"Nothing the dry-cleaners won't be able to fix," he finally says down at her with a wink.

Silence falls over the living room as he gently strokes the top of her head, (Y/N)'s breathing pattern becoming calmer by the second.

"You overdo it with your runs."

His words force her sleepy eyes open.

"I'm in full support of your health journey but I don't want to see you overdo it. I don't want to see you get hurt, my darling."

(Y/N) smiles softly upon hearing his words.

"Al, as much as I appreciate your concern for me," she starts in a sleepy voice, her eyes fluttering open and closed. "I probably just had a bad curry last night, is all."

Alan tuts before rolling his eyes, his hand stopping its delightful stroking of her hair before he gets up off the sofa.

"Noo," she weakly protests. "That doesn't mean I don't enjoy it when you take care of me."

After a moment of silence, he gives in and resumes his place on the sofa next to her.

"The things I do for love," he grunts softly, picking up the television remote and turning on a movie for them to watch before continuing to stroke her hair until she falls asleep.