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The warm rays of the morning sun spilled through the massive glass windows of Johnny Cage’s Los Angeles mansion. Birds chirped somewhere beyond the stone walls, but the only sound inside was the gentle sizzle of bacon in the skillet and the faint humming of your tune as you flipped a pancake in a heart-shaped pan.
You wore your favorite set of pink, frilly pajamas, adorned with tiny bows at the cuffs and a ruffled hem. Over it, a heart-shaped apron with lace trim hugged your waist snugly. You glanced at the kitchen clock and smiled—it was still early. Johnny was likely sprawled across the massive California king bed upstairs, blissfully unaware of your quiet little breakfast surprise.
It was rare for you to wake up before him, but you wanted to do something special today. He always spoiled you with the best designer clothes, five-star dinners, a private screening room, and your own walk-in closet that rivaled most boutiques. But this morning, you wanted to be the one who gave.
You were plating the pancakes, eggs, and bacon when you heard footsteps padding down the stairs. A few seconds later, Johnny appeared in the doorway, shirtless, with tousled hair and half-lidded eyes still thick with sleep. He paused when he realizes that you are the culprit of the delightful smell.
Then a slow, soft smile spread across his face. “Babe… are you cooking?”
You turned, beaming while holding up the plate like a proud chef. “Surprise! I made breakfast.”
He walked closer, wrapping an arm lazily around your waist and eyeing the apron with a smirk. “Is that… a heart-shaped apron? I’m dying.”
You giggled, reaching up to kiss his cheek. “Only for you.”
Johnny shook his head in amused disbelief. “You know we have staff for this, right? The chef would’ve had this out in thirty minutes flat and you’d still be in bed, being pampered like the queen you are.”
“I know,” you said sweetly, setting the plate down on the marble island. “But I wanted to. I like doing little things for you.”
He looked at you for a moment longer—his usual cocky smirk softening into something tender. “You’re too good for me, you know that?”
You slid into the seat beside him and handed him his coffee just the way he liked it: extra strong, one sugar, a splash of oat milk. “That’s the idea.”
You placed his plate in front of him just as he opened his phone and tapped his banking app. “Speaking of scrolling…”
You arched a brow. “What are you doing?”
“Stocking the cart,” Johnny said casually, flipping his phone around to show you a page full of designer bags, accessories, jewelry, and a few ridiculously cute pajama sets in your size. “I may or may not have made a wishlist based on that little Pinterest board you thought I didn’t see.”
Your jaw dropped slightly. “Johnny…”
“I’m not done.” He turned his phone back around and tapped a few more times. A second later, your phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. You picked it up and gasped.
“You just transferred me ten grand?!”
“Psh. Light money. Consider it a thank you for making the best pancakes I’ve ever had.” He leaned forward, eyes twinkling. “And because you looked way too cute flipping them in that apron.”
You sat beside him, flustered and glowing. “You’re insane.”
“I’m generous,” he corrected. “There’s a difference. And I like seeing you spoiled.”
You tried to focus on your plate, but his attention felt like a warm blanket you didn’t want to peel away from.
Johnny took a bite and let out an exaggerated groan. “Okay, okay, I see you. This is delicious. You might’ve just cooked your way into an upgraded Bentley.”
You laughed, nudging his shoulder. “I don’t need a Bentley, Johnny. Just maybe…a sneak peek at Ninja Mime 3 before the premiere?”
His eyes twinkled. “You’re relentless. But no spoilers. However…” he leaned back in his chair dramatically, “…you will be the hottest woman on that red carpet tonight. I had a custom piece ordered for you. Silk diamond embroidery, it’s exclusive.”
Your eyes widened. “Wait, really? Johnny, that must’ve cost—”
“Ah-ah,” he interrupted, holding up a finger. “Sugar daddies don’t discuss prices, sweetheart. They just make their girls feel like goddesses.”
Your cheeks flushed with heat as you picked at your breakfast. “You really didn’t have to…”
“I wanted to,” he echoed your earlier words, smirking. “Besides, I can’t let Ninja Mime’s leading man show up without the most jaw-dropping date of the century. You’re part of the brand now.”
You chuckled. “So I’m your trophy girlfriend now?”
“No,” he said, leaning over and kissing your temple. “You’re the whole damn prize.”
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
The mansion buzzed quietly with the soft hum of anticipation.
Upstairs, the master suite was awash in golden light as you stood before the ornate mirror, adjusting the crimson silk gown Johnny had commissioned just for tonight. It fit like a dream—hugging all the right places, the diamond embroidery glinting with every soft movement. You added a subtle necklace he gifted you weeks ago, the heart-shaped ruby sparkling beneath your collarbone. A matching bracelet to make it a finishing touch, simple, elegant and deeply you.
Your makeup was soft and glowy—enough to turn heads, but still undeniably yours. You turned slightly, checking the slit of the dress, the way it teased just enough leg.
Tonight wasn’t just about Ninja Mime 3. It was about being at Johnny’s side. His arm. His muse.
Downstairs, Johnny adjusted the cuffs of his custom-fitted tuxedo. Black velvet jacket, silk lapels, diamond cufflinks shaped like little movie reels. His jawline was sharp, hair styled to perfection, and the scent of his signature cologne—clean spice, with a whisper of smoke lingered in the air.
He glanced at the grand staircase, waiting.
And then he saw you.
Descending slowly, one hand brushing the railing, your gown trailing behind like flowing wine and starlight. The chandelier above framed you like a spotlight. And for a moment, Johnny stopped breathing.
It was like watching a dream…no. A damn disney princess in real life.
His heart hitched in his chest. For a guy who made a living off bravado, who posed on posters and pulled off flying split kicks… nothing floored him quite like you.
You reached the final step, and he stepped forward, still stunned.
“Wow,” he breathed. “You look… beyond words, babe.”
You blushed, your eyes flickering to his tux. “And you look like every Hollywood fantasy wrapped into one.”
He took your hand and kissed it with mock flourish, but his voice turned soft as he added, “Seriously, you’re everything I ever wanted.“
As he led you toward the foyer, he glanced sideways, quiet for a moment. In his mind, memories swirled—past red carpets, past flings, past heartbreaks. Women who wanted him for his name, his money, the camera flashes. They were all spark and no soul.
And then he met you. The way you smiled. The way you didn’t care about all that surface stuff. The way you made him breakfast, just because.
That was when he knew you were truly the one.
The rumble of the limousine outside broke his thoughts as the driver stepped out and tipped his hat. “Mr. Cage, your ride awaits.”
“Oh,” Johnny added with a sly grin, “I had him grab your favorite café drink on the way here. Extra foam, caramel swirl, tiny little heart drawn on top.”
You gasped, eyes lighting up. “You didn’t!”
“I did. What kind of sugar daddy would I be if I didn’t know your order by heart?”
He opened the door like a gentleman, and you both slid into the luxury interior—black leather seats, glowing lights in the ceiling, soft jazz playing low.
You cradled the drink in your lap, sipping it happily. “It’s perfect.”
Johnny leaned back with a smile. “So are you.”
The limo pulled off, the city passing by in a blur of neon signs and golden lights. You gazed out the window, face bathed in the reflections of the skyline.
Johnny watched you, not the road. He memorized the way your lashes fluttered, how your lips curled into that quiet, content smile. No camera could capture it. No script could write it.
Just you, in his life… in his heart.
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
The red carpet stretched out like a river of velvet fire beneath your heels.
As the limo door opened, a hundred cameras flashed at once. Voices rang out from all directions—reporters, bloggers, paparazzi, influencers, fans all trying to get a glimpse of Hollywood royalty.
And Johnny Cage, ever the showman, stepped out first.
The crowd roared.
“JOHNNY! OVER HERE!”
“CAGE! TURN LEFT!”
“POSE FOR US, BABY!”
He adjusted his tux, flashed his signature grin, and offered his hand back into the limo.
Then you stepped out.
A wave of gasps rippled down the line of photographers. The gown shimmered under the floodlights, hugging your silhouette like liquid art. Your hair, your jewelry, your glow—it was all breathtaking.
You slipped your hand into Johnny’s, nerves fluttering like birds in your chest. But when you saw the way he looked at you, like the crowd, the carpet, the cameras didn’t exist, you relaxed.
The two of you walked together, posing briefly for the flashing bulbs. He kept one hand on the small of your back, always mindful of you, guiding you gently through the chaos.
Then came the reporters.
“Johnny! Johnny Cage! Over here!”
“Mr. Cage, will this be your biggest movie yet?”
“Tell us, are all your stunts really done by you?”
“Who’s the beautiful lady? Is she your latest fling or something real?”
The questions came faster, sharper—like sharks smelling blood. One reporter pushed his camera inches from your face, snapping photos rapidly.
Before you could react, Johnny’s expression changed in an instant.
He stepped in front of you, hand raised.
“Hey—back off,” he snapped, his voice low and serious. “She’s with me. And you don’t shove cameras in her face like that.”
The reporter stammered. “W-We’re just trying to—”
Johnny pushed the camera back gently but firmly, eyes narrowed. “I don’t care. Show some damn respect.”
Security moved in, clearing space. The reporter backed off, red-faced and muttering. The crowd hushed for a second—just enough for you to hear your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.
You placed a hand on Johnny’s arm. “Johnny… are you okay?”
He turned back to you immediately, face softening. “Yeah. I’m good. You alright?”
“I’m fine,” you whispered, touched by how quick he was to protect you. “You didn’t have to—”
“Yes I did,” he said, stepping closer and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “This isn’t just about a movie. This is about us. And I don’t let anyone make you feel like you don’t belong here. You’re not my accessory. You’re my girl.”
You smiled, eyes watering just a little.
The photographers had caught the whole exchange—Johnny’s defense, his gentle touch, your smile. The headlines tomorrow would probably explode.
As the chaos settled, another interviewer approached—more respectful this time, mic in hand. “Mr. Cage, mind if we ask just one thing?”
Johnny glanced at you. You nodded, giving him a small okay.
The interviewer smiled. “You’ve done it all—fame, action, stardom. But tonight, it seems like you’re focused on more than just the film. What’s different?”
Johnny slipped his arm around you and pulled you close.
“Simple,” he said, with a grin that was genuine for once. “Tonight, I’m not just the star of Ninja Mime 3—I’m the luckiest guy alive because I’ve got her on my arm.”
The interviewer melted along with half the onlookers, and you couldn’t stop smiling at that sweet comment.
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
After a few more photos and brief interviews (which was much tamer thankfully), the two of you finally made it to the entrance of the premiere. The lights dimmed behind, the theater glowed ahead.
Johnny leaned over and whispered in your ear, “You still up for popcorn after this?”
You giggled. “Only if you let me pick the toppings.”
“Deal,” he smirked, kissing your temple. “Now let’s go show ‘em what a real power couple looks like.”
Inside the theater fans buzzed in their seats, the projector lit up the screen with bold trailers, and Johnny had just finished signing a few autographs in the lobby with his usual charm. He wore a relaxed smirk, one hand full of popcorn and the other texting you.
‘Miss U already ♡ Bring that pretty face back soon.’
You had excused yourself just moments earlier, promising you’d be right back after a quick trip to the restroom.
You pushed open the door to the luxurious theater bathroom—marble counters, scented soaps, and gleaming lights. It was quiet, almost too quiet, but you didn’t think much of it.
You fixed a loose strand of hair, smoothed down the sides of your stunning red dress, and leaned in to check your lipstick in the mirror. Just as you reached into your bag to reapply—
The door creaked open.
Three men stepped inside and you blinked in confusion. “Uh—excuse me? This is the women’s—”
They didn’t answer.
Their presence was cold, heavy. Two of them moved closer, while the third casually locked the door behind them with a loud click.
You froze.
“Johnny Cage’s girl, huh?” one of them said with a sneer. “Didn’t think we’d catch you alone.”
You took a shaky step back. “I—I don’t know what you want, but—please—”
Another man lunged forward. You tried to scream, but his hand clamped over your mouth, muffling your cry. Your heels scraped the floor as they dragged you toward the back exit near the cleaning supply closet. Panic flooded your chest. You kicked, flailed—but they were stronger.
Your heart pounded. Where was Johnny? He couldn’t be far…
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
Meanwhile, Johnny is still standing in the theater lobby as he is sipping from a large soda, scanning the crowd for you.
He checked his phone again.
No reply….five minutes.
Then eight…
Now ten.
His easygoing vibe slowly slipped into unease.
He flagged down a theater staff member, a polite older woman in uniform. “Hey, sorry, would you mind checking the women’s restroom for me? My girl went in there and she’s kinda taking a minute.”
The woman nodded kindly. “Of course, sir. Be right back.”
Johnny waited…
And waited…
The woman returned shortly after, frowning. “No one’s in there. It’s completely empty.”
Johnny’s chest tightened. “What?”
“She’s not in there.”
A chill rushed through him.
He turned back toward the restroom, instincts screaming. That’s when he stepped on something—a tiny, heart-shaped charm from your keychain. It had popped loose from your bag and now lay on the polished marble floor.
Johnny crouched, picking it up as recognition hit him like a punch to the gut.
His face hardened. “Oh hell no.”
Without another word, he shoved the popcorn into the nearest trash can and stormed out of the theater. His mind raced, adrenaline spiking as he replayed every second since you left. Who saw you go? Who followed you? Why didn’t he walk with you?
He cursed himself under his breath.
No one messes with Johnny Cage’s girl and lives to tell about it.
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
You kicked. You thrashed. You bit.
But the three men dragged you like dead weight through the narrow employee hallway behind the theater, heading for a back exit marked ‘EMERGENCY ONLY.’ The door creaked open to reveal a shadowy alley, cool night air rushing across your skin as your captor clamped a hand harder over your mouth.
The city lights felt far away now.
“Keep her quiet,” one hissed. “The van’s ready.”
Your heart thundered in your chest. The sequins on your dress scraped against the rough concrete as they half-dragged, half-carried you toward a black van waiting near a dumpster. The back door slid open.
You couldn’t scream—not with a leather-gloved hand crushing your mouth. But your eyes locked on the sky, on the stars above, on anything familiar.
Suddenly, the sound of fast, heavy and deliberate footsteps was heard. A voice growled from the alley’s entrance like thunder.
“Let. Her. Go.”
It was him. Johnny Cage stood at the alleyway, his tuxedo disheveled, green light faintly glowing at his fists.
The goons froze, startled.
“Back the hell off,” Johnny snarled, eyes locked on the man shoving you into the van.
One of them reacted too fast—grabbing you tighter, dragging you toward the vehicle while flashing a knife at your throat. You whimpered beneath the gag, tears prickling your eyes.
Johnny’s eyes narrowed into something primal. “Wrong move, asshole.”
The second goon, the burliest of the three, charged forward with a metal pipe raised.
Johnny didn’t flinch.
With perfect timing, he ducked under the swing, pivoted on one foot, and launched upward—right between the guy’s legs.
“NUTCRACKER!”
The man collapsed with a grotesque wheeze, eyes rolling back, pipe clattering to the ground.
The third man pulled a gun. “Should’ve stayed retired, movie star!”
Johnny’s hands surged with green energy as he rolled sideways—barely dodging a bullet—before springing forward in a blur. He twisted mid-air and high-kicked the guy straight across the jaw. The gun clattered across the pavement as the man hit the wall and slumped.
Now it’s only the one holding you hostage.
Johnny’s jaw clenched. His voice dropped to a growl. “I wouldn’t do anything if I were you.”
The last goon, sweaty and desperate, hesitated—then shoved you away to run.
Too slow.
Johnny lunged forward, grabbed him by the collar, and slammed him against the van door. One punch. Two. A green-glowing elbow straight to the ribs.
The man crumpled.
Silence returned to the alley, save for your rapid, panicked breaths.
You stumbled to your feet just as Johnny rushed over and pulled you into his arms.
“Babe—hey, hey, I got you,” he whispered, cupping your face. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”
Your legs buckled, but he held you firmly, gently wiping the tears from your cheek with his thumb. “Did they hurt you?”
You shook your head, sobbing softly. “I—I was so scared…”
“I know, I know. I’m so sorry. I should’ve walked with you.” His voice cracked ever so slightly. “Never again. I swear it.”
He pulled out his phone and immediately called his private security. “Yeah, I’ve got three scumbags tied up at the back entrance. Come now. Quietly.”
Then he scooped you into his arms.
“Let’s go home,” he said firmly.
But you looked up at him with teary, defiant eyes. “Johnny… I don’t want to ruin the night. I still want to see your movie.”
He blinked, surprised. “What?”
You tried to laugh through your trembling. “I’ve been waiting for this forever. I don’t want it to end like… this.”
Johnny stared at you for a long moment, then shook his head with a soft, almost heartbroken smile.
“You… you’re too good for this world, you know that?”
He kissed your forehead gently, wrapping his jacket around you.
“But no movie—no premiere—is worth more than you. You matter more. Your safety, your peace of mind… that’s what matters most to me.”
You leaned into him, your cheek pressed against his chest as the city finally began to calm.
“I love you,” you whispered.
“I love you too, sweetheart,” he murmured. “And I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
The limo pulled into the private drive of Johnny Cage’s Beverly Hills mansion, quiet now under the moonlight. The red carpet, the flashing cameras, the movie—it all felt like a distant dream after what had happened.
Johnny held you in his arms as the chauffeur opened the door. You didn’t need to walk. You didn’t have to say a word. He carried you like something precious, something fragile, something his. His tuxedo was torn at the sleeve, speckled with ash from a scuffle in the alley. But his grip on you? Unshaken.
The moment the front doors closed behind you both, the silence of the mansion settled like a soft blanket.
You sniffled softly, clutching the edges of the jacket he’d wrapped around your shoulders. It still smelled like his cologne—warm, citrusy, safe.
Johnny leaned close, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Let’s get you cleaned up baby girl.”
He led you upstairs to the master bathroom—lavish and marble-lined, the kind of luxury you never quite got used to. He didn’t make a show of anything this time. There were no cheeky winks or bragging about his bathtub being featured on Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.
Instead, he turned on the water, testing the warmth before plugging the tub. He added a generous splash of bubble bath, vanilla and coconut, which is your favorite, and lit a couple of soft candles from the edge of the counter. He even dimmed the lights to make you more comfortable.
The glow of it all reflected off the mirror. You looked pale and rattled.
But Johnny’s eyes were steady.
He gently reached for the zipper of your dress. “Can I?”
You nodded.
He peeled the dress off carefully, not like a man undressing a lover, but like someone helping a glass doll out of something too heavy to wear anymore. You were now purely nude, but Johnny didn’t flirt or get touchy. Instead, he softly guide you into the warm water.
You sank into the tub, the heat chasing away the tremors in your limbs. The bubbles kissed your skin like clouds and you closed your eyes.
Johnny sat beside the tub on a plush stool, one hand brushing through your hair slowly, over and over again.
“I should’ve been there,” he murmured. “I should’ve stayed by your side every second.”
You shook your head. “You saved me, Johnny. You showed up when I needed you the most.”
His fingers paused. “You really scared me, baby.”
You opened your eyes again to see the way he looked at you. Not like a trophy. Not like a pretty thing to hang on his arm. But like someone he truly loved.
“I never wanted you to feel like a bodyguard,” you whispered.
“Too bad,” he said gently, voice thick with emotion. “You’re getting one for life. Name’s Johnny Cage. Actor. Producer. Stuntman. And now full-time boyfriend/security detail. Deal with it.”
You smiled weakly, leaning your head back against the porcelain edge. “Guess I’m stuck with you then.”
He winked. “Better believe it.”
Once the bath was over, he dried you off with a thick, warm towel, kissed your shoulders, and guided you to bed. The room smelled like clean linen and vanilla candles.
You sat at the edge of Johnny’s king-sized bed, legs still wobbling a bit from the adrenaline crash.
Johnny opened his walk-in closet, dug through a few hangers, and pulled out a black t-shirt that looked comically large in his hands. You caught a glimpse of the words printed in bold green across the chest: “CAGE KICKS ASS” — probably merch from one of his older films.
“Alright, sweetheart,” Johnny said, turning toward you with a warm grin, “uniform of champions coming up.”
You raised a brow, playfully. “Is that supposed to be pajamas?”
He walked toward you and held it out. “Better. It’s vintage Johnny. Only issued to elite-level girlfriends who survived kidnapping attempts and still managed to look cute doing it.”
You laughed softly, letting him pull it over your head. It draped over your frame, swallowing you in soft cotton and the faint smell of his cologne.
“There,” he said, tugging the hem into place and brushing a strand of hair from your cheek. “Perfect. Honestly, this might be your best red carpet look.”
You rolled your eyes. “I’ll be sure to thank the Academy.”
Johnny leaned down and kissed your forehead, lingering just a little longer this time. “Now… I owe you a movie premiere.”
You blinked. “Wait, what?”
Ten minutes later, he’d transformed his home theater into something magical.
Blankets were layered across the plush velvet seats. He lit a few more candles around the room, dimming the overhead lights to a gentle amber glow. A big bowl of fresh popcorn sat in your lap, and he’d even made you your favorite warm drink—complete with whipped cream and a cute stirrer shaped like a heart.
You looked up at the massive screen. “This is Ninja Mime 3, isn’t it?”
Johnny flopped beside you, still in his half-wrecked tuxedo pants and now shirtless, arms casually behind his head. “You better believe it. World premiere—exclusive access for my girl only.”
You glanced sideways at him. “How’d you get a copy before release?”
He gave you that signature grin. “Babe. I wrote it. Produced it. Starred in it. Did most of my own stunts, too—except for that fire barrel roll in Tokyo. My insurance guy nearly had a stroke.”
You laughed and settled against his chest. “You’re unbelievable.”
He pressed a kiss into your hair. “Yeah, but I’m your unbelievable.”
The movie started. The screen flickered to life with over-the-top explosions, masked assassins, dramatic slow-mo flips, and Johnny kicking a katana clean out of a villain’s hand with one glowing green foot. It was ridiculous, loud, so Johnny… yet you loved every minute of it.
About halfway through, he glanced down to check on you—and found your eyes on him instead of the screen.
“What?” he asked, teasing. “Too much Cage for you?”
You shook your head slowly, a soft smile on your lips. “No. I just… I love you.”
His expression shifted. Johnny went quiet and was a little stunned.
“I love you too,” he said softly, cupping your cheek. “More than you’ll ever know.”
You leaned up and kissed him gently, popcorn long forgotten. Outside the theater room, the city sparkled behind tinted windows. But inside, wrapped in his arms, in his shirt, with your heart full… everything felt perfect.
Because you were his favorite premiere.