#hospitalization

Hi. Thank you my friend .

I need new loose fitting clothing, and underwear, for my PICC line and surgical drain . I need help buying supplies for by bedroom when I go home to keep it clean, safe and have a sterile spot to do my infusions.

I would make a direct wishlist but heard they (Amazon) shares your address now which I am afraid of doing because of stalking.

I really appreciate every single one of you.

sorry for the wait. This is for you

You’re Stuck With Me by for_the_night

malachi barton x fem!bsf!reader

requested: no

warnings: Make A Wish participation, fluff, mild romance, secret crush tension, teen-friendly flirting, light physical comedy, brief mention of past illness/hospitalization, social media/viral content.

the ocean breeze is doing that thing where it makes everything feel softer — the colors, the air, even the sounds.

you step out of the car with a picnic basket, and malachi hops out behind you, sunglasses on like he thinks he’s in a music video.

“how do i look?” he asks, striking a dramatic pose.

you squint at him. “like you’re praying somebody takes your picture.”

“you. obviously,” he says, grinning like it’s the most obvious thing in the world

you pretend that doesn’t make your heart do several somersaults.

⸻

two teens are waiting with the coordinator: ayla (16) and nico (14).

ayla has that quiet-nervous energy, holding her tote bag like a shield.

nico is practically vibrating, holding a disposable camera like he’s ready to document every blade of grass.

they spot you two and freeze.

“omg it’s THEM—” nico whispers way too loudly.

ayla elbows him. “shut up shut up shut up— hi.”

you smile big. “hi, babes. we’re so happy you’re here.”

malachi waves like a golden retriever. “we ready to beach it up or WHAT?”

nico immediately points the camera at him. “can i take a picture?”

malachi kneels next to him. “only if you get my good side. actually… all my sides are good.”

you smack his shoulder. “be serious for two seconds.”

ayla laughs — soft but real.

⸻

you lay out a huge blanket while malachi 'helps' by absolutely not helping at all.

“hold this corner,” you say.

he holds the wrong corner.

“chi… the OTHER corner.”

“ohhhhhh. why didn’t you say so?”

ayla giggles quietly. nico films it dramatically like he’s making a documentary.

“subject #1 is struggling with basic instructions.” he says behind the camera.

malachi perks up, playfully glaring at the boy, “delete that.”

“keep it.” you smirk, giggling quietly.

ayla and nico start to relax instantly.

⸻

the teens want to play beach volleyball.

“prepare to lose.”

“malachi… we can’t beat them up. this is their day.”

“i would never. i’m just saying they look competitive.”

ayla absolutely destroys both of you with one serve.

malachi drops to his knees, hands over his face. “ayla… PLEASE. show mercy."

you’re doubled over laughing, hands on your knees.

nico films the entire meltdown.

⸻

you take a break sitting in the sand. the teens build a sandcastle.

the sun hits your face. malachi’s glance lingers a second too long.

ayla notices, eyebrows raised.

he immediately looks away, grabs a handful of sand, and throws it at nico. “ATTACK MODE.”

nico shrieks and starts a sand war.

you’re oblivious. ayla is NOT.

ayla whispers to you quietly, “he looks at you like… like… y’know.”

you blink. “like what?”

“like that,” she says, pointing as malachi keeps staring again before quickly pretending he wasn’t.

you pretend your heart didn’t just sprint a marathon.

⸻

you all sit on the huge blanket eating fruit, chips, everything.

nico points his camera at you two.

“can i take a pic of you guys together?”

both you and malachi go “uh— yeah— sure—” in the same weirdly nervous tone.

ayla snaps a pic on her phone too.

the sunset behind you. the way you’re both leaning slightly toward each other without noticing.

later, that pic goes viral.

⸻

you went quiet for a while, just enjoying the sun. ayla is editing clips for a mini vlog. nico is sipping on a slushie quietly.

malachi leans back, stretching, being dramatic.

his arms bend over his head and you see the bruise on his wrist from last week’s stunt rehearsal.

nico notices. “woah— does filming really do that?”

you nod. “it’s fun but intense. but we take care of each other.”

malachi shoots you a look like he felt that in his soul.

ayla perks up, “is it weird kissing someone on camera?? like… does it feel awkward if you’re not dating?”

you and malachi freeze like someone hit pause.

you choke on your drink.

malachi’s ears go red instantly.

you stutter, “i mean— it’s just acting— it’s normal, it’s—”

malachi interrupts fast, “yeah yeah super professional totally normal no biggie yep.”

nico raises a brow. “that was the least convincing answer ever.”

ayla smirks. “i ship it.”

you and malachi hit them with the same offended expression, which makes the teens wheeze laughing.

⸻

nico begs everyone to go into the water.

malachi goes full lifeguard mode for no reason.

“everyone stay within this area. no running. no drowning. drowning is banned.”

ayla rolls her eyes playfully, “wow. revolutionary.”

you flick water at him.

he flicks it back, smirking like it’s personal.

nico films, “parents are fighting again 🙄”

you instantly turn to him, “we are NOT—”

“she started—”

ayla raised her eyebrow, not convinced, “sure you’re not.”

⸻

after swimming, everyone chills on the blanket again.

ayla picks at her bracelet and says quietly,

“i was really sick last year. hospital stuff. being here today… it feels like the first normal day in forever.”

nico nods. “me too. like… we forgot what regular fun even felt like.”

you instantly put an arm around both of them. “you deserve all the fun in the world.”

malachi sits in front of them, elbows on his knees, voice soft, “and we’re sooo glad you spent your day with us.”

they both smile — tiny but so real.

⸻

nico wants 'aesthetic pics.' ayla wants 'candid ones.'

malachi grabs your hand dramatically.

“come on, let’s give the people a show.”

you accidentally blush.

he drags you into the golden light.

you pose normally. he poses dramatically. nico loses his mind laughing.

ayla snaps a photo that looks stupidly intimate — the sun lighting up your hair, malachi looking at you mid-laugh.

this pic?

yeah it hits 5M likes by the next morning.

⸻

ayla hugs you first, “thank you for making me feel normal today.”

you squeeze her tight. “anytime. seriously.”

nico hugs malachi then you.

“best. day. ever.”

malachi gives nico his sunglasses.

“they’re goofy. you’ll rock ’em more than me.”

nico screams.

you give ayla your beach anklet.

“so you don’t forget today.”

she tears up.

the coordinator leads them away slowly. they wave like ten times.

⸻

on the way back, you’re both wiped. soft music plays. the sky is all pink and orange.

malachi looks out the window for a bit, then murmurs, “i didn’t know we could make someone’s life better like that.”

you glance at him. “yeah… kinda changes you.”

he nods slowly. “i wanna do this again. a lot. like… not just for the cameras. for real.”

you smile at him, tired but glowing.

“me too, chi. me too.”

then he turns to you with that stupid charming half-grin.

“also… we did look like a couple today.”

you roll your eyes, laughing. “shut up.”

“you didn’t deny it though.”

“chi.”

“i’m just saying—”

“malachi.”

he snickers. “okay okay.”

but he’s smiling.

and so are you.

malachibartonsangel speaks!

i kinda wanted to write this for a while now and finally had the time to sit down and actually do it for once. more fics to come! aswell as the requests i recieved. they're in the making.

not proof read!!

requests are open.

feel free to request anything, no matter how short, long or specific!

thank you for reading, i hope you liked it.

Yandere! Albert Shaw x Sickly!Reader

The hospital room always smelled like something trying too hard to be clean.

Antiseptic. Bleach. Plastic. The faint metallic tang that clung to the back of your throat when she woke up from shallow naps and the ceiling tiles swam into focus.

But some days..on the days Albert visited…it smelled like sugar cookies.

Not the kind from the cafeteria. Not the powdery, stale ones that turned to sand on your tongue.

Real cookies.

Warm, butter-sweet, wrapped in foil like a secret.

You counted time by him.

By the way the sun shifted across the blind slats. By the daily shuffle of nurses switching out their lanyards and their smiles. By the beep of machines that never slept.

And by Albert—always at the same time, always in the same calm, deliberate way—appearing in the doorway like the only person in the world who knew where he belonged.

He never rushed. Never lingered awkwardly. Never acted like a visitor who didn’t know what to do with his hands.

Albert Shaw walked in like the room had been made for him.

Like you had been.

“Afternoon, darlin’,” he said softly, and even that simple word made something in your chest loosen.

Your gaze dragged from your blanket to his face. Clean jacket. Hair combed back. The kind of polite expression that nurses liked, the kind doctors respected—the kind of man people instinctively trusted.

He carried a small paper bag tucked under one arm and a bouquet of flowers in the other. Not expensive, not showy. Simple, pale flowers with soft green stems. A choice that made him look thoughtful instead of flashy.

He stepped into the room and waited, hands still, posture relaxed, until the nurse doing her rounds finished checking Eve’s IV line.

The nurse—Shelly, according to her badge—didn’t hide her little smile.

“Your boyfriend’s consistent,” Shelly teased, adjusting a monitor. “You’re lucky.”

Your cheeks warmed. “He just… cares.”

Albert’s eyes flicked to the nurse’s hand on your tubing.

It was a small movement. So small you didn’t really register it.

But Shelly did.

Albert’s smile didn’t change, didn’t crack, didn’t sharpen.

Still, the nurse’s fingers suddenly moved quicker, like she remembered somewhere else she was supposed to be.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” Shelly said, and she left with a cheerful wave that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

The door clicked shut.

The room exhaled.

Albert’s shoulders softened like he’d been holding his breath the whole time.

“There,” he murmured, coming closer. “Now it’s just us.”

You smiled into your pillow, a warmth blooming under your ribs.

He set the flowers in the little plastic pitcher by your bed. He placed the paper bag carefully on the tray table, folding the top like it mattered. Like everything he did around you mattered.

Then he sat.

Not on the visitor chair against the wall. Not on the edge of the room like he was afraid of taking up space.

He sat close, right beside her bed, knee angled toward her like a promise.

“How’s my little canary today?” he asked, voice low, affectionate he said as he lifted his rough calloused hand too caress the cheek of your face

You swallowed. Hard. “Just…tired.”

Albert’s gaze softened immediately. He removed his hand from your face and reached for your hand and held it like it was something fragile that could crack if he squeezed too hard.

His thumb traced a slow circle over your knuckles…you’re so fragile. Half of him wants to keep you locked in his bedroom. Take you away from the world, Ruin all the innocence that’s behind your shimmering eyes.

The other half wanted to put you on a shelf in his house.

“That place works you too hard,” he said gently.

You blinked. “I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re surviving,” Albert corrected, the word spoken like devotion. “That’s work.”

Your throat tightened unexpectedly.

No one ever said things like that. Not without an edge. Not without conditions.

Your mother had called you dramatic.

Your ex had called you exhausting.

Doctors spoke to you like she was a puzzle with missing pieces, and nurses spoke to you like she was a list of tasks that had to get done before lunch.

Albert spoke to you like you were… a person.

A person he liked.

A person he wanted.

“How was work?” you asked, because it felt normal to ask, because you wanted him to feel like this was real and ordinary even though nothing about hospital rooms was.

Albert’s smile returned, small and careful. “Boring without you.”

You laughed softly. “That’s corny.”

“Mm,” he hummed, leaning closer. “You like corny.” He wraps his arms around you as he began to kiss you

You tried to roll your eyes, but your smile betrayed you’re.

You slowly kissed back, your body’s melting into each-other as he pulled you onto his lap

He suddenly broke off the kiss and leaned back licking his lips, tasting the sweetness of your lips on his

He lifted a paper bag and opened it. The smell hit you instantly, warm and sweet, like the world outside these walls.

“Snuck you somethin’,” he said.

“You’re not supposed to—”

Albert’s eyebrows lifted, gentle reproach. “I know. I know. But you were sad last time when they served you that awful pudding.”

Your chest fluttered. “You remembered.”

“I remember everything about you,” Albert said, so casually it almost sounded like a joke.

But he looked at her like it wasn’t.

He pulled out two cookies wrapped in foil. The edges were slightly browned, the tops cracked with sugar.

You stared like he’d brought you something sacred.

“You made them?”

“Mhm,” he said, watching you face. “Did them just the way you like. Extra soft. Little bit of cinnamon.”

Your fingers trembled when she reached for one. The foil was warm, like it had been held against him all the way here.

You took a bite and nearly cried.

It tasted like a home you didn’t have.

He slowly reaches over and gently caresses your thighs..slowly moving up to your stomach. Specifically your stretch marks

You made a small sound without meaning to. A soft, helpless little noise and cover your face in embarrassment.

You can basically feel his smirk burning into you..You feel him shift down and lift your hospital gown. Confused you prepare to open your eyes then let out a startled yelp as you felt his warm lips press against the marks

You moan softly at the feeling. His hands edge up a bit as if asking for permission, you nodded eagerly and he kissed down to your thighs, kissing more of your stretch marks.

“Nervous?” He says with that sweet and fake innocent voice

You shake your head quickly. “No. It’s just… really good.”

“Good,” he murmurs. “My honey deserves good.”

Honey. Sweet-kin. Fawn. Doe-eyes.

Each nickname feels like being wrapped in something soft.

He sits up and helps you flatten your gown back down and kisses your cheek lovingly

“Doc bother you today?” he asks.

“They changed my meds again.”

His thumb stills.

“What did they put you on?”

“I don’t know. Something new.”

“That’s not right,” he says softly.

“It’s fine.”

“No,” he murmurs. “It isn’t.”

His voice makes the word feel final.

“You don’t deserve to be handled like paperwork,” he says. “You’re not a diagnosis. You’re my sweetie.”

My….His…

Your heart stutters.

He presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“Your too good too me..” you say almost saddened

Albert’s expression warmed. “Because I love you, doe-eyes.”

The words came smooth and easy, like he’d been saying them for years.

You stared at him, breath caught in your throat.

your mind tried to protest—it’s been months, not years—but your heart didn’t care.

Nobody ever loved you like this.

Nobody ever made you feel like you were worth showing up for.

“Say it back,” Albert said quietly.

You blinked. “What?”

Albert’s smile didn’t move, but his eyes sharpened just a fraction.

Not angry.

Not threatening.

Just… intent.

Like he’d set a hook in the water and was waiting for the bite.

“Say it back,” he repeated gently. “Just once, sweetie.”

Your cheeks flushed. You looked away, embarrassed. “Albert…”

His hand tightened around yours. Still careful. Still gentle.

But it was firmer.

Anchoring.

“Please,” he murmured. “I need to hear it.”

Need.

That word made your stomach did a little flip. you wanted to give you what he needed. You wanted to be the kind of person someone could need.

“I…” you swallowed. “I love you too.”

Albert’s face softened like you had unlocked something.

There—gone in a heartbeat—was that strange intensity again, like he’d been starving and you finally fed him after an eternity.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to you forehead.

“Good,” he whispered, and for a moment it sounded like relief.

Then his voice dipped lower, almost playful.

“That’s my girl.”

You smile was dizzy.

You didn’t notice how his gaze flicked to the hallway again.

Didn’t see him listening—not for nurses, not for doctors—but for anyone.

As if the world outside the door was full of hands reaching for what belonged to him.

Later, when he stands to leave, the panic hits your chest before you can stop it.

You hate when he goes.

Albert sees it immediately.

“Awh,” he murmurs. “Don’t look at me like that, hun.” He says in that gruff voice

“I hate when you leave,” you whisper.

“I’ll be back,” he promises. “Same time tomorrow.”

He walks out into the hallway then he pulls a small velvet box from his pocket.

“Not yet,” he says softly, slipping it away again. “It’s not time. But I need somethin’…

Somethin’ that says you’re not going anywhere,” he whispers.

“My sweet-kin,” he murmurs.

“My fawn.”

His voice drops lower.

“Mine.”

He starts walking to the elevator

You don’t see the way his gaze sharpens at the hallway.

You don’t see the way his fingers press into his pocket.

And you don’t hear him whisper to himself once he turns the corner

You know, I couldn't figure out why my brother ignoring my consent and having me hospitalized (story to come when I can mentally handle it) bothers me so much (because people around me view it or whatever as a positive thing) and how to explain it to people around me not active in the Disability community. It wasn't just that I'm a human being whose consent was violated, it's that I'm a physically disabled person whose consent was violated.

And I think I've really started to figure it out. I've realized being hospitalized is a form of institutionalization. The two things are often talked about very differently and like they're two different things (yay ableism - sarcasm) so it took me a while. I pictured institutionalization as always being how it's shown and described in "Crip Camp": no windows and no contact with the public, awful and very little food, being left in your own filth, and some things I now realize were my experience in the hospital.

Now to figure out how to explain that harm to people who don't understand.