━━━ ⸝⸝ ━ ⟡ ━ ⸝⸝ ━━━

” ( ; _ ; ) “

━━━ ⸝⸝ ━ ⟡ ━ ⸝⸝ ━━━

You and your boyfriend had finally carved out a rare night off—Mafioso had actually given his goons a whole week’s break (miracle), and Contractee wasted no time dragging you out to celebrate.

His idea of a good time?

Hitting one of Robloxia’s more hyped-up bars, the kind that practically pulsed with neon and bad decisions.

So here you were, tucked into a sticky booth that smelled like citrus-flavored vodka and regret, watching as Contractee elbowed his way through the crowd toward the bar.

The music thumped like a heartbeat—some remixed pop hit you couldn’t name but had definitely heard a hundred times—and the lights cut through the haze like candy-colored lightning.

Your gaze wandered lazily across the room.

A couple was making out against a pillar like they were auditioning for a drama club. A group of overdressed Robloxian’s laughed a little too loudly in the corner. A guy in a fish costume walked by and nobody even blinked.

Typical Friday night chaos.

That’s when he showed up. A robloxian who held too much confidence and ego.

“What’s a good looking thing like you sitting here alone for? Need some company?”

His voice was syrupy-smooth, like he thought that line had a shot at working.

He tilted his head with an easy grin, sliding into the booth without an invite like this was his regular haunt and not yours.

He leaned in close, a little too close, like he didn’t understand personal space—or just didn’t care.

You were about to respond before, from the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of Contractee just a few feet away.

His cap was slightly askew, but his expression was unmistakable—tight-jawed, tense, and holding two drinks with a grip like they might shatter.

He hadn’t moved yet, just stood there, eyes locked on the scene like he was weighing whether to walk over and calmly negotiate or throw the drinks he held at the man.