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.
Warm, butter-sweet, wrapped in foil like a secret.
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.
“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.
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.
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.
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.
“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.
“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.”
“What did they put you on?”
“I don’t know. Something new.”
“That’s not right,” he says softly.
“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.”
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.
Albert’s smile didn’t move, but his eyes sharpened just a fraction.
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.
“Please,” he murmured. “I need to hear it.”
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.
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.
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.
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
