artemisislazy

[artemisislazy]

ONE-SHOT- 1

SUGARY SWEET

(Yandere boyfriend x reader)

female reader insert

Sypnosis: In his arms, sweetness unfolds like a perfect melody, each kiss a taste of pure bliss – like savoring the sweetest candy. His caring nature is a constant, but why do some try to sour what we have?

I want to make it clear that I do not endorse any yandere behavior or toxic relationships in any form. My creative works are purely fictional and intended for entertainment purposes only.

Warning: Obsessive/Possessive behavior

---

The apartment was cozy, the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the faint aroma of pine from a small Christmas-scented candle flickering on the table. The tabby cat, purred contentedly in your lap as you scratched behind its ears, your soft laughter filling the room.

"You've got a really clingy cat, Zane," you teased, looking up at him with a grin. "Whiskers practically refuses to leave me alone."

Zane leaned against the counter, his dark hair slightly tousled and his sharp blue eyes focused on you. "He's just got good taste. Can't say I blame him," he replied with a small smirk, though there was a softness in his tone.

You rolled your eyes, chuckling. "Right, good taste. Or maybe it's just that I always bring him those treats he loves."

"Bribery works wonders," Zane said, crossing his arms. "But don't get too comfortable. He'll abandon you the second I bring out his favorite tuna."

As you both talked, you kept glancing at your phone, your fingers nervously tapping the screen. Zane noticed the subtle shift in your expression every time the screen lit up without a notification. He raised an eyebrow. "Waiting for something? Or someone?"

You hesitated, your fingers pausing mid-scratch on Whiskers' back. "Oh, just my boyfriend," you said lightly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "He said he'd text me when he's free."

For a moment, Zane froze. The words hit him like a silent blow, and his heart tightened. He quickly schooled his expression, though a flicker of something-disappointment, perhaps even longing-passed through his eyes. "Ah, I see," he said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Lucky guy."

You laughed softly, the sound tinged with affection. "He's sweet. Always busy, though. I guess that's why I'm so attached to Whiskers. He's better company sometimes."

Zane crouched beside you, pretending to adjust Whiskers' collar, but really just to be closer. "If he keeps you waiting like this, maybe he's not doing his job right," he said with a teasing edge. His voice was casual, but the words carried an undercurrent of something deeper.

You nudged his shoulder lightly. "Zane, don't start. He's just got a lot on his plate. I understand."

"Mm," he murmured, his gaze drifting to your face. The way your lips curved into a small smile, the way your eyes softened when you spoke of your boyfriend-it was painfully beautiful. "You're too patient for your own good, you know that?"

"Patience is a virtue," you quipped, giving him a knowing look.

"Yeah, but it's also exhausting," he shot back with a grin, standing and ruffling your hair. "Anyway, if he keeps you waiting much longer, I'm claiming you and Whiskers for a movie night."

You laughed, swatting his hand away. "Deal. But only if you promise popcorn."

"Done," he said, his smile genuine this time, though the ache in his chest lingered as he watched her glance at your phone again.

As you continued talking, your phone buzzed on the coffee table. Your face lit up as you glanced at the caller ID. "Oh, it's Mich!" you said, your voice tinged with excitement. A soft smile played on your lips as you picked up the phone, your thumb hovering briefly over the screen before you answered.

"Hey!" you greeted warmly, you tone shifting into something softer, sweeter.

Zane's heart sank. He forced a smile, leaning back against the counter, trying to focus on Whiskers as the cat brushed against his leg. But his eyes betrayed him, flickering back to you as you mouthed a quiet, "Bye," to him. You gestured toward the door, already halfway out of the apartment before he could think of anything to say.

He wanted to stop you. He wanted to ask you to stay, to tell you that maybe you didn't need to rush off to Michael, to tell you how he felt. But the words died in his throat. Instead, he simply stood there, frozen, as you closed the door softly behind you.

The faint sound of your laughter drifted back through the thin walls as you walked down the hallway, leaving Zane alone in the room with only Whiskers for company.

__

The soft hum of the car filled the space as you sat in the passenger seat, a gentle smile on your face as the city lights blurred past. Michael's hands rested effortlessly on the wheel, his silver hair catching the faint glow from the streetlamps. His turquoise eyes, vivid and almost luminous, glanced at you from time to time, a warm, easygoing charm in every look.

You wore a flowy, lavender knee-length dress that swayed slightly every time you shifted in your seat, paired with white sandals and a delicate pearl bracelet around your wrist. Yoir makeup was minimal but radiant, enhancing your natural beauty. Michael, as always, was impeccably dressed, wearing a tailored white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a sleek black vest, and dark slacks. A subtle silver watch glinted on his wrist, completing his gentlemanly look.

"So," he began, his voice smooth yet teasing, "you've been spending a lot of time with Zane lately. Should I be worried about this mysterious neighbor and his cat?"

You chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Oh, stop it. You're not jealous of Whiskers, are you?"

"Maybe I am," he said, mock-pouting as he briefly glanced your way. "You keep talking about how cuddly he is, how soft his fur is. What about me, huh? Don't I deserve some attention too?"

You laughed, the sound light and genuine. "Mich, Whiskers is a cat. You're my boyfriend. There's no competition."

"I don't know," he said, feigning a wounded expression. "You're spending all this time with Zane and his cat, and here I am, waiting for you to give me cuddles. It's unfair."

"Oh, you're so dramatic," you said, rolling [eye color] eyes playfully. "Zane's just a friend. And Whiskers is adorable! You should see him, Mich. He's got these big green eyes and this little pink nose. He's like a stuffed animal come to life."

Michael chuckled, shaking his head. "Maybe I should get a cat too. Would that earn me extra brownie points?"

"...Or maybe I'll just have to charm you the old-fashioned way."

"And how's that?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Dinner at the best restaurant in town," he said confidently, "and maybe dessert after, if you're not too full. You know, the gentlemanly stuff."

Your smile softened. "You're already charming enough, Mich. You don't have to try so hard."

He glanced at your again, his turquoise eyes glinting with affection. "I'd try harder if it meant seeing that smile a little more often."

You flushed slightly, looking away. "You're impossible."

"Impossible and yours," he replied smoothly.

As the car slowed in front of the restaurant, Michael stepped out first, rounding the car to open your door. "Shall we, my lady?" he asked, offering his hand with a playful bow.

Laughing, you took it. "We shall."

__

The restaurant was an upscale place, softly lit with golden chandeliers and flickering candles on every table. The gentle hum of conversations and the clinking of cutlery created a cozy, romantic atmosphere. You and Michael were seated by a window, the city lights shimmering in the backdrop. The table was neatly set with pristine white linen, a small vase of red roses, and polished silverware.

Michael rested his elbow on the table, his turquoise eyes fixed on you as you adjusted the hem of your lavender dress. "You look stunning tonight," he said, his voice low and warm, like honey.

You glanced up at him, your cheeks immediately turning pink under his gaze. "Oh, stop," you said with a shy laugh, brushing a hand over [hair color] hair.

"I'm serious," he insisted, his eyes tracing your face. "That dress suits you so well. And the way you smile... it's hard not to stare."

Your blush deepened, and you looked down, fiddling with the bracelet on your wrist. "You're impossible sometimes, you know that?"

He chuckled, leaning forward slightly. "I get that a lot."

As you tried to think of a response, he shifted closer, his expression softening. His lips quirked into a teasing smile as he leaned down, his face now just inches from yours. Your eyes widened slightly, realizing his intent. "Mich," you whispered, glancing around nervously. "There are people watching."

"So?" he murmured, the corner of his lips lifting into a playful smirk. "Let them."

Before you could protest further, he tilted your chin up gently with his fingers, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. His lips met yours in a soft, lingering kiss, tender yet deliberate. You froze for a moment, aware of the subtle murmurs around them, but his touch melted your hesitation.

It was supposed to end there-a simple kiss-but Michael had other plans. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as his lips moved more insistently against yours. You gasped softly, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue brushing against your lips before slipping inside.

The world around you seemed to blur as his tongue explored yours, the kiss growing hotter with every second. His hand tangled in your hair, keeping you close, while his other rested lightly on the table, steadying himself. Your fingers clutched his sleeve, torn between pulling

The dishes arrived, beautifully plated and steaming with delicious aromas. You couldn’t help but admire the presentation of your roasted chicken with creamy mashed potatoes, while Michael’s steak looked equally mouthwatering. The soft glow of the candlelight between both of you made everything feel warm and intimate, as if the rest of the restaurant didn’t exist.

As you picked up her fork, Michael leaned forward with a boyish grin. “Wait,” he said, spearing a piece of his steak with his fork. He held it out to you. “You have to try this first.”

You giggled, your eyes sparkling. “You always do this.”

“And you love it,” he teased, his turquoise eyes playful. “Now, come on, say ‘ah.’”

Rolling your eyes but smiling, you leaned forward and took the bite. The rich, savory flavor made you hum softly. “Mmm, that’s really good!” you said, your face lighting up.

  “Told you,” he said smugly, before nudging your plate. “Your turn.”

“Fine,” you said, cutting a piece of your chicken. You held it up for him, watching as he leaned in with exaggerated enthusiasm. He took the bite, chewing thoughtfully before giving a satisfied nod.

“Okay, I’ll admit it,” he said, pointing his fork at you. “Yours might be better.”

You laughed. “See? I win.”

The two of you continued your playful exchange, occasionally sneaking bites from each other’s plates and laughing over small spills and silly banter. The waiter passed by with an amused glance, but neither of you noticed—you both were too wrapped up in your little world. At one point, Michael reached across the table and placed his hand gently over yours. The warmth of his touch made you pause, your fork halfway to your mouth. You looked up to see him staring at you with a softness that took your breath away.

“You know,” he began, his voice low and sincere, “sometimes I just can’t believe how lucky I am.”

Your cheeks flushed as you tried to deflect. “Oh, come on, Mich. Don’t be cheesy.”

“I’m serious,” he insisted, his thumb lightly brushing over your knuckles. “I mean, look at you. You’re gorgeous, kind, smart, and you’re here with me. Out of all the people in the world, you chose me.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you looked down, suddenly shy. “Michael…” you murmured, your voice soft.

“I mean it,” he said, leaning forward. “You’ve made me the happiest guy alive, and I don’t know how I got so lucky, but I’m never letting you go.”

Before you could respond, he leaned across the table and gave you a quick, tender peck on the lips. You blinked in surprise, your cheeks turning pink again as you glanced around.

“Mich!” you whispered.

He smirked, sitting back in his chair. “Shush, I’m just showing everyone how much I love my girl.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“And yours,” he added with a wink, making your heart melt all over again.

__

The hallway was quiet as you stepped out of the elevator, carrying a medium-sized delivery box in your arms. Your steps echoed slightly against the tiled floors as you neared your apartment door.

Just as you reached into your pocket for your keys, Zane’s door creaked open, and he stepped out. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and he had a cheerful smile on his face as he spotted you. “Hey, [Name]!” he called, his voice warm and friendly.

You looked up, startled for a second, before returning his smile. “Oh, hi, Zane,” you replied. “How’s it going?”

“Pretty good,” he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. His blue eyes flicked to the box in your arms. “Delivery day, huh? Anything exciting?”

“Not really,” you chuckled. “Just some skincare stuff I ordered. You know, the essentials.”

“Essentials,” he repeated with a teasing smirk. “Right. Always important to keep glowing.”

You laughed softly and adjusted the box in your arms. “Exactly. Gotta keep the glow alive.”

As you chatted, Zane tilted his head slightly, his expression turning more curious. “By the way,” he started, “did you see my message from last night?”

Your brows furrowed slightly as you thought back. “Message?” you repeated, your voice tinged with confusion. “Oh, no, I didn’t see it. I was out last night with Mich, and, um…” you hesitated, feeling a bit guilty. “My phone’s battery died. I didn’t even check it this morning. Sorry about that.”

Zane’s smile faltered for just a second—so brief it was barely noticeable. But there was something in his eyes, a flicker of annoyance, before he masked it with his usual cheerfulness. “Ah, I see,” he said lightly. “No big deal.”

There was a pause, a subtle tension lingering between you both, before he cleared his throat and straightened up. “So, are you free today?” he asked casually, his tone almost too nonchalant. “I thought maybe we could hang out or something. Catch up.”

Your face fell slightly, and you shifted the box in your arms. “Oh, um… I’d love to, but I already made plans with Mich,” you said, your tone genuinely apologetic. “I’m so sorry, Zane.”

For a moment, his jaw tightened, and his gaze flicked away. He mumbled something under his breath, too quiet for you to catch, but you noticed the slight clench of his fists at his sides. Then, just as quickly, he relaxed, forcing another smile onto his face.

  “No worries,” he said, though there was a strained edge to his voice. “How about tomorrow, then? You’ve gotta be free tomorrow, right?”

You hesitated, unsure how to respond. Before you could say anything, Zane leaned closer, his blue eyes locking onto yours. “You’ll come tomorrow,” he said, his tone firm yet oddly playful, as if it wasn’t really a question. “You have to. No excuses.”

Your lips parted in surprise, but before you could form a reply, he stepped back, waving a hand dismissively. “Anyway, see you tomorrow,” he said with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Without waiting for your response, he turned and disappeared back into his apartment, the door clicking shut behind him.

You stood there for a moment, staring at his closed door with a puzzled expression. “What just happened?” you muttered to yourself, shifting the box again. Something about Zane’s behavior felt... off. He was always cheerful and easygoing, but...

Shaking off the uneasy feeling, you let out a small sigh and turned back to your own door. As you unlocked it and stepped inside.

__

The café buzzed with the low hum of conversations and the soft clinking of ceramic cups against saucers. The warm, cozy interior was filled with the scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods. You stepped in, your outfit a simple yet elegant combination of a cream knit sweater tucked into a short, flowy beige skirt that swayed slightly with your every step. Your ankle boots clicked softly against the wooden floor as you scanned the room, spotting Zane at a corner table by the window.

Zane looked up, and the moment his eyes landed on you, his breath hitched. You looked effortlessly beautiful, the soft sunlight streaming through the window highlighting your features. A faint blush crept up his cheeks, and he quickly adjusted his posture, trying to look casual despite his racing heart.

  “[Name]!” he called out cheerfully, standing up to greet you. “You look... really nice today.”

You smiled warmly. “Thanks, Zane. Sorry if I kept you waiting.”

“Not at all,” he said quickly, pulling out the chair for you like a perfect gentleman. As you sat down, he couldn’t help but steal a glance at you, his gaze lingering a little too long.

You both ordered your drinks and snacks—you went for your usual [favorite drink] and a [favorite snack/dessert], while Zane opted for a cappuccino and a slice of chocolate cake. The conversation began lightheartedly as you waited for your order. Zane was more animated than usual, his voice tinged with an almost childlike excitement as he spoke about random topics.

“You wouldn’t believe it,” he said, grinning. “Whiskers knocked over a whole glass of water on my laptop last night. I swear, that cat has it out for me.”

You laughed, your eyes crinkling at the corners. “Maybe he’s just trying to tell you to pay more attention to him.”

“Yeah, well, he’s not the only one,” Zane said softly, almost to himself.

You blinked, tilting your head slightly. “Hmm?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, shaking his head. Just then, your drinks and snacks arrived, and he used the opportunity to refocus the conversation.

As you continued to chat, Zane’s hand slowly slid across the table, brushing against yours. The light touch made you shiver involuntarily, and you froze for a moment, [eye color] eyes darting down to where your hands touched.

“Zane…” you started, confused, but when you looked up, you found him staring at you intensely. His blue eyes seemed to bore into yours, filled with emotions you couldn’t quite decipher.

He took a deep breath, his voice trembling slightly as he finally said, “I need to tell you something, [Name].”

Your heart skipped a beat. “What is it?”

“I love you,” he confessed, his words hanging in the air like a heavy weight. “I’ve loved you for so long, and I can’t keep it to myself anymore.”

Your eyes widened in shock, and you pulled your hand away instinctively. “Zane… what are you saying?”

He leaned forward, his expression a mix of frustration and vulnerability. “I’ve watched you with him, [Name], and it drives me crazy. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, but you’re with Michael, and—” He clenched his fists, his voice trembling. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

Your confusion quickly turned to anger. “Zane, stop it. This isn’t fair. Michael is my boyfriend, and I love him.”

“But you shouldn’t,” Zane snapped, his voice rising slightly before he forced himself to calm down. “You don’t see it, [Name]. He’s not the man you think he is. He’s manipulating you, controlling you in ways you don’t even realize.”

Your jaw tightened, and you shook your head. “What are you talking about? Michael is nothing but kind and loving to me.”

Zane’s expression turned desperate. “You’re blinded by him. I see the way he acts, the way he always wants to keep you to himself. It’s not love, [Name], it’s control. You deserve better—someone who loves you for who you are, not for how you make them look.”

You stood abruptly, your hands trembling as your emotions bubbled to the surface. “Stop it, Zane. Just stop. You don’t know anything about Mich, and you don’t get to talk about my relationship like that.”

He reached out as if to grab your hand, but you stepped back. “I do know, [Name]. Because I love you, and I see you—really see you. I just want you to be happy, even if it’s not with me. But with him… it’s not real.”

Your anger boiled over, and before you could stop yourself, your hand connected with his cheek in a sharp slap. The sound echoed through the café, drawing the attention of a few nearby patrons. Zane’s head snapped to the side, his eyes wide in shock, but he didn’t say a word.

You were breathing heavily, your hands clenched at your sides as you glared at him. “How dare you?” you hissed. “You don’t get to tell me who I should or shouldn’t love. You don’t know anything about us.”

Slowly, Zane turned back to face you, a sad smirk playing on his lips. “I expected that,” he said softly, his voice calm despite the red mark blooming on his cheek. “It’s okay. I know this is shocking for you because you love him so much. But I’m telling you the truth, [Name]. You’ll see it one day. I just… I had to say it, because I love you too much not to.”

Your resolve wavered for a moment, confusion and guilt flickering in your eyes, but you quickly pushed it aside. “I need to go,” you said abruptly, grabbing your bag.

Zane didn’t stop you this time. He simply watched as you turned and walked away, his smile fading into a look of quiet despair. As the door swung shut behind you, he leaned back in his chair, his fingers brushing over the faint sting on his cheek.

“Well,” he murmured to himself, staring down at his untouched coffee. “At least I tried.”

__

The days following the café incident felt heavy for you. Every time you stepped out of your apartment, you found yourself cautiously peeking around corners, hoping not to run into Zane. Living in the same building, it was almost impossible to avoid him entirely, and when your paths did cross, your heart would clench with a mix of guilt and unease.

You hadn’t expected his confession, nor the accusations he’d hurled at Michael. Though you'd dismissed Zane’s claims as ridiculous at the time, his words lingered in your mind like an unwelcome guest. Could there be some truth to what he said? You hated yourself for even entertaining the thought. Michael had always been perfect—kind, loving, and gentle. Yet, Zane’s desperate eyes and trembling voice haunted you.

Late one evening, as you were returning from a quick grocery run, you saw him. Zane was leaning against the wall near the elevator, scrolling on his phone. Your pulse quickened as you debated whether to take the stairs instead, but it was too late. His head lifted, and his blue eyes locked onto yours.

“[Name],” the male greeted softly, pushing himself off the wall. His expression was unreadable, but you thought you saw a flicker of hope in his gaze.

“Zane,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. Your grip on the grocery bag tightened as you quickly pressed the elevator button, silently willing it to arrive faster.

“Hey, can we talk?” he asked, taking a hesitant step toward.

You stiffened, your thoughts scrambling for an excuse. “I… I’m sorry, Zane. I’m in a hurry. I… have something to do,” you mumbled, not even making eye contact.

“[Name], please,” he pressed, his tone gentle but firm. “You’ve been avoiding me for days.”

You turned to him, finally meeting his gaze, and your heart sank. There was no anger or frustration in his eyes—only sadness and something else. You felt your throat tighten.

“I’m sorry,” you said quickly, your voice trembling. “I… I shouldn’t have slapped you. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” he interrupted, his lips curving into a faint, sad smile. “I deserved it.”

The elevator doors dinged open, and you stepped inside hastily. “I’ll talk to you later,” you said hurriedly, avoiding his gaze again.

“Yeah,” Zane murmured as the doors slid shut. “Later.”

__

The soft hum of the city filled the air as you sat beside Michael in his car, staring blankly out of the window. He had taken you out for a casual drive to cheer you up, but your mind was elsewhere. Your fingers toyed with the hem of your dress, your thoughts looping back to Zane. It had been nearly a week since you last saw him. His apartment had been eerily quiet—no sound of his laughter, no meowing from Whiskers, no signs of life.

“[Name],” Michael’s gentle voice pulled you from your trance. You turned to see him glancing at you, his turquoise eyes filled with concern. “You’ve been really quiet. Is everything alright?”

You forced a small smile, hoping to hide the unease you felt. “I’m fine,” you replied, your voice softer than usual.

Michael frowned but didn’t push further. “If something’s bothering you, you know you can tell me, right?”

You nodded, your gaze dropping to your lap. “I know. Really, I’m okay.”

But you weren’t okay. Your chest felt tight with worry. Zane’s absence gnawed at you. You tried convincing yourself that he might have gone on a trip or was simply avoiding you, but a nagging voice in your head whispered otherwise. The idea of something being wrong wouldn’t leave you alone.

When you got home that evening, the silence in the hallway outside Zane’s apartment was deafening. You knocked softly, hoping for any response, but none came. Even Whiskers, who often pawed at the door, was nowhere to be seen.

Desperate, you pulled out your phone and dialed his number. It rang once before an automated voice informed you the number was out of service.

Your heart sank. Where was he? And why did this feel so wrong?

__

Just as you set your phone down with a sigh, it buzzed again. A message from Michael lit up your screen, the familiar warmth in his words immediately soothing your nerves.

--

My love <3

hey, dw about it too much.

Maybe Zane's on a little vacation or something, he'll be back soon

why don’t u come over for a sleepover tonight?

we can watch some movies, eat junk food aaand relax. Might cheer u up.

7:28 pm

--

A small smile tugged at your lips as you reread the message. Michael always had a way of knowing how to comfort you, even when you didn’t voice your worries. The idea of escaping the eerie quietness of your building and spending time with him felt like exactly what you needed.

Your fingers moved quickly across the screen as you replied:

--

You

dat sounds perfect. I’ll come over in an hour! >-<

My love <3

great! I’ll get the popcorn and snacks ready

can’t wait to see u

--

The thought of the cozy evening ahead brought a sense of relief that you hadn’t felt all week. You could already picture Michael’s charming smile as he handed you a blanket, the two of you laughing over a silly rom-com or debating which classic action movie to watch next.

You set your phone down, the tension in your chest easing slightly. Maybe Michael was right. Zane was probably fine, just taking some time away. And with Michael’s care and attention, you could let yourself relax, even if only for a little while.

With a renewed sense of calm, you began gathering a few things for the sleepover, your smile growing as you thought about how lucky you were to have someone like Michael in your life.

__

You sat beside him, nestled under the blanket. Both of you were dressed in comfortable pajamas—your in a cute pastel set with little cloud patterns, and Michael in simple navy-blue pajamas that made his silver hair stand out even more. The scent of buttered popcorn lingered in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of his cologne.

Michael pressed play on the next movie, glancing sideways at yoi as you absentmindedly popped a chip into your mouth. Your gaze was fixed on the laptop screen, but it was clear your mind was elsewhere. Your lips were slightly downturned, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket.

“Alright,” Michael said, pausing the movie abruptly. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

You blinked, startled, and turned to him. “What? Nothing. I’m fine,” you said quickly, offering him a small, unconvincing smile.

Michael raised an eyebrow, his turquoise eyes soft but skeptical. “Liar. You’ve been out of it all night. Come on, tell me,” he coaxed, gently wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“It’s really nothing, Mich,” you insisted, though your voice wavered slightly. “I’ve just been… thinking.”

“Thinking about Zane?” he guessed, his tone calm but concerned. When you hesitated, he sighed, pulling you closer. “It’s okay, you know. You’re allowed to care about your friends.”

“I know,” you murmured, leaning into his embrace. “I just feel guilty. I haven’t seen him in days, and his number’s not working. What if something happened?”

Michael tightened his hold on you, resting his chin on your head. “Hey, stop that. You’ll drive yourself crazy worrying about things you can’t control. Zane’s probably fine. He’s an adult; he can take care of himself,” he said gently.

You nuzzled into his chest, finding comfort in his warmth. “I guess you’re right,” you said softly, though your voice still carried traces of doubt.

Michael, sensing your lingering unease, decided to change the mood. “Alright, that’s it. You leave me no choice!” he declared dramatically.

You pulled back slightly, confused. “What are you—”

Before you could finish, he launched a playful attack, peppering your face with kisses. You squealed, trying to shield yourself, but he was relentless. His hands found your sides, and he began tickling you mercilessly.

“Mich!” you laughed, trying to squirm away. “Stop! Stop, I can’t breathe!”

“Not until I see that beautiful smile of yours,” he teased, his own laughter filling the room.

You finally collapsed onto the bed, breathless and laughing, your cheeks flushed. “Y-you’re impossible,” you said, swatting at him half-heartedly.

“And you love it,” he replied with a smug grin, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

As you lay there, your laughter fading into a soft smile, you realized how lucky you were to have someone like Michael—a person who could make you forget your worries, even if just for a little while.

Michael hovered over you, propping himself up on his elbows. His silver hair fell slightly into his face, and his turquoise eyes locked onto yours, sparkling with an intensity that made your heart race. The playful atmosphere shifted subtly, replaced by something warmer, deeper.

"Hey," he whispered, his voice soft but teasing, "you look so beautiful right now. You know that?"

Your cheeks flushed a delicate pink, and you tried to look away, but he gently tilted your chin back to meet his gaze. Before you could respond, he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. It was soft at first, a sweet and gentle kiss, like the taste of the candies you'd shared earlier. Your heart fluttered, and you closed your eyes, melting into him.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you again. "Once," he murmured, a playful glint in his eyes, before leaning down to kiss you again.

"Twice," he said softly, as his lips brushed yours once more.

"Thrice," he whispered, and this time, the kiss lingered, deeper and more consuming.

You couldn't help but giggle against his lips. "Mich, you're counting?"

"I like keeping track of how many times I get to taste you," he replied with a smirk, his voice low and full of affection.

Your shyness grew as he leaned down again, but this time his lips didn't just stop at yours. He nuzzled your cheek, his warm breath tickling your skin, and before you knew it, his tongue flicked playfully against your face.

"Michael!" You squealed, half embarrassed and half laughing, trying to hide your face with your hands. He chuckled, catching your wrists gently and pinning them beside your head. "What? You're too sweet, I couldn't help myself," he teased, leaning down to kiss the tip of your nose.

You turned your head to the side, trying to gather yourself, but his lips found their way back to yours. This time, your hesitation melted away, and you kissed him back, your hands instinctively slipping free and tangling in his soft silver hair.

The kisses deepened, slow and intoxicating.

Michael's lips trailed down from your mouth to your chin, leaving a path of warm, lingering kisses. He paused, his turquoise eyes glinting with affection as he dipped lower, his lips brushing softly against your neck. Your breath hitched at the sensation, a quiet, involuntary moan escaping your lips as he pressed gentle pecks along your skin.

"Oh, Michael," you whispered, your fingers instinctively clutching at his shirt.

He smirked against your neck, his kisses slowing as if savoring your reaction. "You're so adorable," he murmured, his voice low and velvety.

"I could do this forever."

He gently took your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours as he pressed your hands against the soft sheets. His lips hovered near her ear, his breath warm, sending a shiver down your spine.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, his voice soft yet firm. “So beautiful, so sweet... I can’t get enough of you.”

You swallowed, your heart pounding as you turned your head slightly, your cheek brushing against his. “Michael…” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled, pressing a slow, lingering kiss just below your ear. “I love the way you say my name,” he whispered. “Say it again.”

You blushed, squeezing his hand. “Michael,” you repeated softly.

He hummed in approval, pressing another kiss to your temple. “That’s my girl,” he murmured. “You’re everything to me, you know that?”

Your chest tightened at his words, warmth spreading through you. “You’re everything to me too,” you admitted, your voice small but sincere.

Michael pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his own filled with tenderness. “Then stay like this with me,” he said, his thumb gently brushing against your fingers. “Just for a little longer.”

__

A sharp, throbbing pain pulsed through Zane’s skull as he slowly regained consciousness. His eyelids felt heavy, his mind groggy, but as he tried to move, a cold, paralyzing realization hit him.

He couldn’t.

His arms were bound tightly to the chair, thick ropes digging into his skin. His legs were secured just as firmly. When he tried to cry out, his voice was muffled—something was covering his mouth. Tape.

Panic surged through him like ice in his veins. What the hell was going on? Where was he? His breath came in rapid gasps as his eyes darted around the dimly lit room. The air was damp, carrying a faint metallic scent, something foul and unnatural. The walls were cracked, stained with dark patches. The single overhead bulb flickered erratically, casting eerie shadows across the floor.

And then he saw them.

The pictures.

Hundreds—no, thousands—of pictures.

Plastered across the walls, scattered on the floor, covering the ceiling. Every single one of them was of you. Different angles, different moments. Some were candid shots of you walking down the street, some of you sitting in a café, some even of you sleeping. Some pictures were marked with small red hearts, while others had Xs slashed across them.

Zane’s breathing hitched. His stomach churned violently. What the actual fuck…?

The sound of a lock clicking made his blood run cold.

Footsteps. Slow. Deliberate.

The door creaked open.

And standing there, framed by the dim light spilling in from behind, was the man.

But this wasn’t the usual kind man everyone knew—the charming, gentlemanly boyfriend. No, the man standing in the doorway had wild turquoise eyes glinting with madness, his soft silver hair disheveled. His lips curled into a slow, unnerving smile, one that sent ice down Zane’s spine.

In his hands, gripped tightly, was a chainsaw.

Zane’s entire body locked in sheer terror. Michael took a step inside, the chainsaw hanging loosely in his grip as if it was just an everyday object. His head tilted slightly, his eerie grin widening.

“Oh,” Michael drawled, his voice smooth but dripping with something sinister, “you’re finally awake.”

Zane tried to scream, but the tape muffled everything. He thrashed against the ropes, his heart pounding in his ears.

Michael chuckled—a low, bone-chilling sound. “Shh,” he cooed, bringing a finger to his lips. “We don’t want to wake her, do we?”

Then, without warning, he pulled the chainsaw’s cord.

With a deafening roar, the blade came to life.