Notes: Hey! I know i havenât written in a while but I guess Iâm back now!
The plastic blades of the box fan are spinning so fast theyâre rattling against the cage but all theyâre doing is pushing the same stagnant, ninety five degree air around your bedroom.
Ani is flat on her back on your hardwood floor, her legs draped over the edge of your mattress. She hasnât moved in 20 minutes.
âIâm dying,â she announces to the ceiling, her voice dripping with pure exhaustion. âThis is it. My obituary is gonna say i suffocated in a box in Brooklyn because my partner was too cheap to call the landlord.â
âThe landlord is in Queens, Ani, heâs not fixing the AC at midnight,â you sigh, wiping a bead of sweat from your forehead.
She shoots you a lethal glare through the messy strands of her black hair. âThen get some ice pops for us,â she pleads while rolling her head over to look at you with wide, dramatic eyes while she blows a strand of her tinsel out of her face. âPlease? Get those cheap ones in the plastic tubes. The blue ones. If i dont get something frozen right now, im literally gonna turn into fucking liquid on your floor.â
When you actually stand up and jingle your keys, she blinks and looks up, totally caught off guard. A soft smile immediately forms through her tired face.
âWait, youâre really going?â She asks, sitting up a little and leaning on her elbows. âOh mg god, youâre an angel. Get the whole box, okay?â
You roll your eyes playfully, pausing at the front door with your hand on the knob. You look back at your girlfriend, taking in the sight of her flushed cheeks and messy tinsel, and you canât help but smile.
âI willâ you promise, fiddling with the keys one last time. âBut since I'm buying the whole box, you owe me the red ones. Deal?â
Ani lets out a soft laugh and flops back onto the cold floor with a dramatic sigh of relief. âDeal! Just hurry up before I actually die!â
Scorching heat hits you like a wall the second you push your apartment door back open, but the frost radiating through the cardboard box in your hands makes up for it.
Anora hasnât moved an inch from her spot on the hard ground though her eyes instantly light up when she hears the plastic grocery bag crinkle.
âTell me you got them,â she demands, sitting up so fast her hair falls into her eyes.
You walk over and dump the box right into her lap. âYup, standard twenty four pack. Every flavour. Oh! and i also might have gotten some snacks.â
She lets out a genuine, happy squeal, completely dropping her tough act as she rips the box open. She digs through the colorful plastic tubes until she finds a blue one, holding the freezing plastic cylinder against her pink cheeks with a calm expression.
âOh my godâ she murmurs and closes her eyes. âYou are officially my favourite person in the entire world.â
She snaps the ice pop in half, grabbing another from the box and hands it to you (red of course). âHere. Take your red one. We need to get out before we both suffocate in here.â
You canât help but laught at how fast her mood flipped the second sugar and ice were involved. âI thought you said i wasnât allowed to touch you because i was a furnace,â you tease, picking up the tons of snacks you bought.
âThat was before you saved my life,â Ani shoots back, giving you a peck on the cheek on the way out. She grabs you by the back of your shirt, steering you toward the open window like a shield. âNow move, move, move before the air evaporates.
The iron gates of the fire escape are still red hot and still holding onto the dayâs heat, so you grab a couple of throw pillows from the bed and toss them out onto the metal slats first so you donât burn yourselves. You step out into the heavy Brooklyn night air, sitting down and leaning your back against the brick wall.
Ani climbs out straight after you, her knees tucked into her chest as she settles onto the pillow next to yours. The street below is loud, distant cars, sirens, music filtering out of a bodega down the block, and the steady hum of New York summer.
She takes a bite of her blue pop, then looks over at you in the dim light of the streetlamps. âSee?â She says, nudging your shoulder with hers, completely ignoring her no touching rule from earlier. âWay better out here.â
You look down and realise a bright blue drop of melted syrup is about to drip directly onto her shirt. âAni, watch out, youâre melting.â
âI told you i was!â She defends, but before she can react, you reach over with your thumb and catch the sticky blue drop right from the corner of her lip.
Ani freezes. Her witty comeback dies instantly on her tongue. In the dim amber glow of the lamps, you can see her flush a deeper pink that has absolutely nothing to do with the summer heat. She stares at you, completely mesmerised by how effortlessly gentle you are with her.
âYouâre sticky,â you tease softly, wiping your thumb on a napkin.
Anora lets out a breathy, quiet laugh, her defensive guard dropping completely. She leans her head on your shoulder, her hair soft against your neck and takes your free hand in hers. Her fingers are a little tacky from the sugar, but neither of you cares.
âThanks,â she murmurs, her voice dropping its usual loud, fast paced shield. She squeezes your hand tightly, looking out over the bustling street below. âFor the ice pops. And⌠just for being here. Seriously.â
You press a soft kiss into her hair, the steady hum of the city fading into the background as she holds onto you like youâre the safest place in New York.
my masterlist, to check out my other works, is here
notes: what up, happy valentines. this was requested here
anora mikheeva (anora)
giving: acts of service
Anora would never call them acts of service. It sounds transactional and strange, to say she's doing them to service you. And she knows you're not like that. Not like the clients and johns or whatever else they'd be called. She'd say that all she's doing is showing up for you. And she's always doing them before you ask, too. She brings food to your place without announcing it, texts you reminders, waits up even when she's exhausted from work because she knows you're nervous. Anora doesn't let you thank her for these things either. She shakes her head and says "it's fuckin' whatever, you'd do it for me too".
To Ani, love is usefulness without obligation. She knows you'd stick around even if she didn't take out your trash, or take home milk without asking. She likes doing things for you not because she has to, but to choose to. Likes that you don't ask. Don't boss her around like everyone else in her life. Her exes who thought she owed them something, her clients that act like they own her, that she should do exactly as they say. Anora feels free, in a love that is completely her choice.Â
Sheâs protective in quiet ways. If someone talks over you, sheâll cut in. If a landlord tries to bullshit you, sheâll clock it immediately and tell you afterward, not wanting you to take that disrespect. Ani doesnât soften the world, but sheâll stand between you and the worst parts of it. If she notices youâre running late, sheâll already be pulling on her shoes to walk with you, even if it means cutting her own rare sleep short. If your phone screen is cracked, sheâll quietly look up repair places, send you the cheapest option, then pretend she was âjust scrolling.â
receiving: touch
This was hard to pin down. Physical touch, but there are caveats.
Like the ending of Anora, Ani would break down if she was kissed gently when she felt she couldn't handle it. Ani needs it, hates that she needs it. Each bit of casual affection (holding hands, leaning into you, falling asleep tangled up) makes her realise how she's never had it. Not really. They were all people who wanted her body. Wanted what she could do for them, the pleasure and thrill she could make them feel.
Considering all she's ever known, it's hard for her to separate intimacy from obligation. Physical touch as a way of receiving love has to be relearned almost from scratch. She's still learning day by day. But you help her. Each time you give her touch that asks nothing of her. And most importantly, every time you move away and give her time to process when she hesitates. You sit with her, holding her hand, not pulling her in for another kiss. Her wellbeing and safety matters more than you getting off. To you, it's the bare minimum, and yet it's more than anyone else has done for her. To remember that her body isn't just something to give, but something to be cherished. If she stiffens, pulls back slightly, or goes quiet, you stop without comment, without frustration, without asking her to explain herself. It tells her that her boundaries donât inconvenience you. That sheâs allowed to change her mind mid-moment and still be wanted.
A hand on her knee that doesn't slide up between her thighs. Fingers that lace against hers. An arm around her waist that doesn't tighten with possessiveness. These moments tell her something radical: she can be loved just for the sake of it. Not for fun.
She opens up. Initiates more often. She's always been comfortable in her body, how she wields attraction like a weapon to get money from suckers. But she becomes comfortable with your body. Trusts it like her own. Knows that it'd never hurt her.
max fox (better things)
giving: words of affirmation
Words of affirmation, but not necessarily in terms of simply praising you. Max defends you in rooms you're not in. It'd be common for you to walk into her room and she's already singing your praises to Paisley about how sweet you are, recounting your last date. You'd notice Max's siblings making jokes and realising that Max has told them all about you. Like Max just can't keep her mouth shut with how happy she is. Secure, maybe for the first time.
Of course, she is very complimentary as well. You can just be chilling, lounging in comfy clothes and she'll blindside you. Gushing about how attractive you are, rattling off the features she likes, little details you don't even notice. Max says it like she's teasing you, but you know she's sincere.
receiving: quality time
She's a sucker for quality time. Being in the same room while she's on her phone goes a long way, not needing to talk or do anything to feel like you're together. There's not many people she feels comfortable sitting in silence with. She's always been a social butterfly, the type of person who'd jump in with a story in case there's tension brewing. She's found the one person she doesn't have to worry about if you secretly hate her. Like her self doubt isn't spiraling for once.
And you stay. Stay and sit with her even when she's being pissy, fuming about another fight with her mom. Her friends would probably let her rant, fuel Max's irritation and let the rage burn for days longer than it has to. But you do what she actually needs, letting her cry it out without judgement.
For Max, attention without pressure = love. She doesn't have to be anything but herself for you to choose to stick around. Considering her dad's nonexistent presence in her life, and her mom's attention having to be juggled with her younger siblings, Max thrills at the fact that your time is solely hers.
(Second would probably be words of affirmation, because Max would love some compliments and assurance.)
amber freeman (scream)
giving: touch
Touch is Amber screaming don't leave without saying it out loud. Our girl is touchstarved, and whenever you're around, her hands are all over you. Not necessarily in a sexual way, just... like she has to know that you know she's obsessed with you. Has to make sure you're aware of her presence. Amber runs her hand along your spine, rubs your back when she's proud of you. (Sorry to bring up R*chie but I'm thinking specifically of when she rubbed his back).
She stares and traces your face sometimes. Fingers brushing against the bridge of your nose, your lips, your chin. Lingering on your jaw before she finally remembers to kiss you silly. It's hard to know what she's thinking when Amber gets in that mood. You don't think she's afraid you'll run, though sometimes she does cling like she is. You asked her once, and she just told you that she was happy you were alive. But these sweet, gentle kind of touches are few and far between. Amber isn't the type to offer love gently - she gives it fiercely and expects the same in return. Biting your lip to make you bleed, leaving hickeys all over your neck and chest, nails digging into your arms, your hips. You need to mirror that intensity to make her feel secure. Whenever you donât, her affection curdles quickly into suspicion.
Amber hates people who do PDA, rolls her eyes and scoffs at it, but also doesn't give a shit about making out in front of people. In Amber's words, other people who do it are attention-seeking, but when it's you and her, she can't help it. Touch is a marker of possession that she thrives on, needs.
receiving: words of affirmation
Amber has this need to be seen as special, irreplaceable, understood on a level that others don't reach. Giving her compliments, little bits of praise, have her clinging to you with giddiness. She adores the idea of being your favourite person. That you're the one person who "gets it". Anything about how she's different to other people, smarter, more beautiful, cooler, they're words she lives on. Her mind and her love relies on an us-against-them mentality, where it's you and her against the world. Your love and attention being the one thing she needs.
Speaking of that suspicion, the sole way to make her jealousy abate is to affirm her with your words. Telling her she's the best thing you've ever had, your one and only, they make her melt into your arms. Amber needs constant reassurance. Her mind races all the time about it. You with anyone else, your eyes wandering, she hates it she hates it she hates it. She needs to hear that she's wanted now, that you choose her every single day. She worries all the time that she's too much, too intense. To really prove that you see her and accept her, still find her worthy of praise.
Amber is the type who tests you. The type of girlfriend who drops comments to provoke reassurance, like implying you were looking at another girl, or acting mad for no reason. She needs to see you chase, see you willing to correct the imagined slight. It's up to you, because in her mind, love should be enough to drown out doubt.
river (all souls)
giving: gifts
River doesn't have the luxury of much uninterrupted time with you. Juggling all of her responsibilities is already a feat. Mushy words don't come naturally, she knows all too well how they can be barbed with manipulation or expectation. Besides snarky insults, she doesn't think she's good with words.
But what she does do, almost without thinking, is picking up little things for you all the time. At the corner store, it's always Monster for her, candy for Jade, and now? Your favourite chips, little trinkets and chocolates. A drink you mentioned offhandedly. Like it's a reflex to include you. Provide. Like you're already family.
Money is tight, even for these minute indulgences, so these gifts are often pocketed. It doubles the thrill to steal something just because it'd make you smile. She thinks a lot of material things are silly, but loves to see that look on your face. It's like how River is paycheck to paycheck, struggling to make ends meet, but Jade still has all the toys she could ever want. River will never let you go without.
receiving: physical touch
Whether she realises it or not, you can feel how River untense and melt into your arms every time. It's like you're a grounding force, your hands reminding her that she's safe, she's here. No dangers in sight. And if there were? You'd protect her. You'd protect each other.
Words won't do. If someone is too sweet, too complimentary, they want something from her. Big gestures make her suspicious. When she gives you things, River doesn't feel like she deserves gifts in return. Acts of service make her uncomfortable, as if you're implying she can't do things on her own when she's been independent for years.
But if you touch her? You're present, which is a lot more than she can say about anyone else. Your hands give her the warmth she's always needed but been too afraid to ask for. You let her be vulnerable for once, rather than the untouchable single mother she has to be.
River swears she sleeps better when you're cuddling her. After a fight, it's all she wants to do to shut you up and dig her face into your neck. Needs a little less talk and a lot more touch. Everything else, the world, is overwhelming sometimes. You provide her safe space, maybe the first she's ever had. You're the one person she can admit to that she's tired, she's lonely, and she's had enough. Her inner softness comes out when your two hands are on her, keeping her steady.
It had been two weeks since you last saw Shauna. Two weeks of silence that stretched longer than you expected. You kept telling yourself it was for the best, that space would settle the weird current humming beneath your skin, but every time the cafĂŠ door opened, your head snapped up before you could stop it.
She hadnât come in. Not once.
Until today.
You were stacking lids by the register when the bell above the cafĂŠ door jingled. And you didnât have to look. The air shifted the way it always did with her, just slightly too warm, too still. You turned, slow, already bracing for it.
There she was. Shauna.
Same worn leather bag slung over her shoulder, same half tucked hair, same presence that made the room feel just a bit too narrow. She didnât glance around like someone returning after time away. She walked straight to her usual seat, sat, and stared out the window like nothing had changed.
Your first instinct was to duck.
You moved quickly into the back, heart drumming too fast. You didnât want her to see you, not yet. You werenât ready for whatever her eyes might say. Not after the last time. Not after that note.
You thought maybe sheâd leave. That it was a fluke. A one time thing. But when you peeked through the gap in the supply closet door ten minutes later, she was still there.
Waiting.
Not for coffee. She hadnât approached the counter. She didnât even have a drink in front of her.
Just sitting. Staring. Like she had all the time in the world.
And that yellow post it beside her hand. Folded. Exactly the way the others had been.
You stayed hidden.
Eventually, she left.
She didnât glance toward the counter, didnât hesitate. She just rose slowly, tucked the note beneath the napkin holder at her table like it had always been there, and walked out.
You waited another five minutes before you moved.
There it was, tucked neatly under the edge of the dispenser like something delicate. Another square of soft, folded paper.
You stared at it for a long time before finally slipping it into your pocket.
You didnât read it until after your shift.
Your apartment felt colder than usual that night. Lights too bright. Silence too heavy. You stood by your kitchen counter, fingers brushing the edge of the folded note again and again before finally opening it.
This one had no message. Just a location. An address you didnât recognize. Written in that same slow, careful handwriting.
You checked it twice, then a third time. No explanation. Just a place.
You sat down. Stared at the slip of paper until your eyes burned.
You didnât sleep that night.
The next day passed in a strange blur. You opened the cafĂŠ. You served customers. You kept your head down.
Shauna didnât come in.
But the address stayed in your pocket. Heavy. Unavoidable.
You tried looking it up, maps, photos, anything but the search turned up next to nothing. Just coordinates and a stretch of unnamed road. No website. No reviews. No signs of life.
You told yourself you werenât going.
But that evening, after your shift ended and the sky dipped into a soft bruised pink, you found yourself on a quiet highway, hands gripping the wheel tighter than necessary.
It was outside the city. A little over an hourâs drive, according to your phone. The kind of route that required turns with no signs. Just instinct.
The longer you drove, the worse the reception got. First your music cut out. Then your GPS. Finally, your phone went completely dark, blinking to black like it had given up.
You nearly turned around twice. But the road, winding and narrow, made that difficult. And something, curiosity, or something deeper, kept your foot on the gas.
The air changed before the trees did. You didnât notice at first. Just a shift in pressure, or maybe temperature. But your ears popped slightly, and the hairs on the back of your neck stood up.
When the road narrowed again and the trees thickened, you saw it.
A small, gravel pull off. A hand-painted wooden sign, leaning slightly to the left. No words. Just a shape. A triangle, maybe. Or an eye. You werenât sure. It was faded with weather and time.
You parked, engine ticking quietly in the silence.
There was a path.
Not paved. Not marked.
Just dirt and pine needles and the faintest sign of footprints ahead of you, like someone else had come this way, but not recently.
You stood there for a long time, staring into the tree line.
You could still turn around.
But the note was still in your pocket. And Shaunaâs voice was still in your head.
Hello!! I hope youâre all doing well, I just came on to say that Iâll be changing my Masterlist to hopefully make it more easier to navigate and Iâll be adding some more characters :D
This should probably not take long to do as well so it will be ready soon!!
Hey! Could I request something where the reader is friends with Ani and they work at the same club? One night a customerâs being a creep to the reader and Ani notices and steps in?
Notes: Hello! Thank you for the request, I kept this one from getting too intense, but it is still uncomfortable moments donât worry though, Aniâs got your back, as always. Hope you like it!
The club buzzed with pulsing lights and a steady, low thrum of music that hummed through the floor. You were halfway through your shift, weaving between tables with practiced ease, the tray in your hand loaded with half empty glasses. The neon lit up your skin in streaks of red and blue, casting everyone in dramatic shadows. You liked the rush, the way the lights flickered, the beat vibrating through your chest, and the constant hum of conversations and laughter around you. It was chaotic, loud, and sometimes exhausting, but it was familiar.
You were used to the noise. The crowds. Even the occasional sleaze.
But tonight? Tonight, one of them was being a little too persistent.
You felt it before you saw it, his eyes tracking you, following you from bar to booth, like a vulture with a wallet. The way he leaned back in his chair, eyeing your every move, made your skin crawl. You ignored him at first. Eye contact was invitation, and you werenât about to offer one.
You took a deep breath and reminded yourself to stay professional. You had a job to do.
But he didnât need an invite, apparently.
âBuy you a drink?â he asked as you passed by, his arm brushing your side to get your attention. His voice was a low snarl, oily and unwelcome.
You shifted your tray slightly, voice tight but polite. âIâm working.â
He laughed, like it was a joke. âDoesnât mean we canât have some fun.â
You forced a polite smile, stepping back half a pace. âIâm just here to serve drinks, thatâs all.â
Still, he leaned in closer, alcohol heavy on his breath. âCome on, just one drink. Iâm buying.â
Your spine tensed. You knew this was the kind of night that could spiral. Youâd dealt with guys like this before those who thought a little persistence would break you down. But it wouldnât, but that didnât stop it from making your skin crawl.
âI said Iâm working,â you said again, firmer this time.
Before he could say another word, another voice cut in, sharp and familiar.
âBack the fuck off,â Ani said, striding over like sheâd been watching the whole time. Her presence hit like thunder. Heels clicking, eyes hard and dangerous. She was the kind of person you wanted on your side, fierce and fearless.
The guy blinked at her, mouth opening, some sleazy reply forming.
Ani didnât give him the chance.
âSheâs working, not your fucking plaything. If you want a good time, take your sorry ass somewhere else.â
He held up his hands, smirking like he thought it was all funny, but the edge in Aniâs voice made him take a step back.
âI was just talkingââ
âYeah?â She tilted her head. âThen walk and talk somewhere elseâ.
He mumbled something under his breath and turned, vanishing into the haze of smoke and low light.
You let out a breath you hadnât realized youâd been holding. Your heart was still pounding a bit, but Aniâs intervention had diffused the situation. You glanced at her, grateful but still a little shaken.
Ani turned to you, still sharp at the edges, but her expression softened the moment her eyes met yours. âYou good?â
You nodded. âYeah. Thanks.â
She waved it off casually, but you saw the tightness in her shoulders. âCreeps like that are a dime a dozen in here. Doesnât mean you gotta deal with them alone.â
There was a beat of quiet between you, the bass still thumping around you like a heartbeat. Then, her lip curled in the faintest grin.
âYou owe me a drink after your shift, though. Club rules.â
You laughed, tension finally breaking. âDeal.â
The rest of your shift went by in a blur of orders, drinks, and flashing lights, but something felt lighter. Ani stayed close, her presence a shield between you and the darker side of the clubâs crowd. You both slipped into a rhythm, checking on each other, subtle glances and quiet encouragements between the chaos.
When the night finally wound down, and the last patrons trickled out, the air smelled of spilled beer and smoke. The music was turned low, the staff gathering in the back room to unwind.
Ani tossed a cold bottle your way, and you caught it with a grateful smile. âClub rules,â she reminded you with a wink.
You sat back on the worn couch, the soft leather creaking beneath you. âThanks for stepping in tonight,â you said quietly.
Ani shrugged, but her eyes were warm. âIâve got your back. Always.â
You realized in that moment just how much that meant. The club could be a rough place, but having someone like Ani by your side made it feel a little less daunting. You werenât just coworkers; you were friends.
âSame time tomorrow?â you teased.
She smirked. âWouldnât miss it.â
The night ended with the two of you sitting in comfortable silence, the hum of the city outside a distant murmur.
Hey! Could I request something where the reader is friends with Ani and they work at the same club? One night a customerâs being a creep to the reader and Ani notices and steps in?
Notes: Hello! Thank you for the request, I kept this one from getting too intense, but it is still uncomfortable moments donât worry though, Aniâs got your back, as always. Hope you like it!
The club buzzed with pulsing lights and a steady, low thrum of music that hummed through the floor. You were halfway through your shift, weaving between tables with practiced ease, the tray in your hand loaded with half empty glasses. The neon lit up your skin in streaks of red and blue, casting everyone in dramatic shadows. You liked the rush, the way the lights flickered, the beat vibrating through your chest, and the constant hum of conversations and laughter around you. It was chaotic, loud, and sometimes exhausting, but it was familiar.
You were used to the noise. The crowds. Even the occasional sleaze.
But tonight? Tonight, one of them was being a little too persistent.
You felt it before you saw it, his eyes tracking you, following you from bar to booth, like a vulture with a wallet. The way he leaned back in his chair, eyeing your every move, made your skin crawl. You ignored him at first. Eye contact was invitation, and you werenât about to offer one.
You took a deep breath and reminded yourself to stay professional. You had a job to do.
But he didnât need an invite, apparently.
âBuy you a drink?â he asked as you passed by, his arm brushing your side to get your attention. His voice was a low snarl, oily and unwelcome.
You shifted your tray slightly, voice tight but polite. âIâm working.â
He laughed, like it was a joke. âDoesnât mean we canât have some fun.â
You forced a polite smile, stepping back half a pace. âIâm just here to serve drinks, thatâs all.â
Still, he leaned in closer, alcohol heavy on his breath. âCome on, just one drink. Iâm buying.â
Your spine tensed. You knew this was the kind of night that could spiral. Youâd dealt with guys like this before those who thought a little persistence would break you down. But it wouldnât, but that didnât stop it from making your skin crawl.
âI said Iâm working,â you said again, firmer this time.
Before he could say another word, another voice cut in, sharp and familiar.
âBack the fuck off,â Ani said, striding over like sheâd been watching the whole time. Her presence hit like thunder. Heels clicking, eyes hard and dangerous. She was the kind of person you wanted on your side, fierce and fearless.
The guy blinked at her, mouth opening, some sleazy reply forming.
Ani didnât give him the chance.
âSheâs working, not your fucking plaything. If you want a good time, take your sorry ass somewhere else.â
He held up his hands, smirking like he thought it was all funny, but the edge in Aniâs voice made him take a step back.
âI was just talkingââ
âYeah?â She tilted her head. âThen walk and talk somewhere elseâ.
He mumbled something under his breath and turned, vanishing into the haze of smoke and low light.
You let out a breath you hadnât realized youâd been holding. Your heart was still pounding a bit, but Aniâs intervention had diffused the situation. You glanced at her, grateful but still a little shaken.
Ani turned to you, still sharp at the edges, but her expression softened the moment her eyes met yours. âYou good?â
You nodded. âYeah. Thanks.â
She waved it off casually, but you saw the tightness in her shoulders. âCreeps like that are a dime a dozen in here. Doesnât mean you gotta deal with them alone.â
There was a beat of quiet between you, the bass still thumping around you like a heartbeat. Then, her lip curled in the faintest grin.
âYou owe me a drink after your shift, though. Club rules.â
You laughed, tension finally breaking. âDeal.â
The rest of your shift went by in a blur of orders, drinks, and flashing lights, but something felt lighter. Ani stayed close, her presence a shield between you and the darker side of the clubâs crowd. You both slipped into a rhythm, checking on each other, subtle glances and quiet encouragements between the chaos.
When the night finally wound down, and the last patrons trickled out, the air smelled of spilled beer and smoke. The music was turned low, the staff gathering in the back room to unwind.
Ani tossed a cold bottle your way, and you caught it with a grateful smile. âClub rules,â she reminded you with a wink.
You sat back on the worn couch, the soft leather creaking beneath you. âThanks for stepping in tonight,â you said quietly.
Ani shrugged, but her eyes were warm. âIâve got your back. Always.â
You realized in that moment just how much that meant. The club could be a rough place, but having someone like Ani by your side made it feel a little less daunting. You werenât just coworkers; you were friends.
âSame time tomorrow?â you teased.
She smirked. âWouldnât miss it.â
The night ended with the two of you sitting in comfortable silence, the hum of the city outside a distant murmur.
Summary: She says sheâs just looking out for you. You almost believe her, until you realize sheâs already inside. Read part 1 here!
Warnings: Heads up: Shaunaâs watching and sheâs not exactly subtle about it. Implied home invasion ahead.
Notes: Back for more sweetness? Or something like that⌠Hereâs Part 2. Shaunaâs just keeping an eye on you. Nothing to worry about, right?
You stared at the folded square of paper for hours before you opened it.
At first, you thought it would be something normal. A thank you. A phone number. Something simple you could laugh off. But it wasnât.
Inside, written in that same careful, delicate hand, was a single line.
I like how you leave your window cracked at night. It smells like you.
You read it once. Twice. Three times. The words crawled under your skin like warm syrup. Your mind tried to reason it away, maybe she was just guessing, maybe she didnât mean it like that. But the vanilla scent clinging to your pillow the night before told you otherwise.
You crumpled the paper and buried it deep in the trash. But you still felt it. Like her voice was pressed up against your ear. Like she was still there.
The next day, she didnât come in at 10:32. She didnât come in at all.
You told yourself you were relieved. You tried to believe it as you wiped down the counters and took orders like nothing was wrong. But you caught yourself glancing at the door every few minutes, stomach twisting every time the bell above it rang and it wasnât her.
You closed up that night later than usual. The sky outside was bruised purple, the streetlights flickering on in the soft hush of the empty street. You were halfway to the dumpster behind the cafĂŠ when you felt it the sense you werenât alone after all.
When you turned around, she was there. Leaning against the brick wall, arms folded loosely like sheâd been waiting for you forever. Her smile was small but it felt sharp somehow.
âHey,â she said, voice soft like always. âYou left late tonight.â
You stared at her. âWhat are you doing back here?â
Shauna tilted her head, a lock of hair slipping from behind her ear. âI just wanted to see you. You seemed⌠distant yesterday.â
You forced a small laugh, your fingers tightening around the trash bag you were holding. âI didnât even see you yesterday.â
Her eyes flicked down to your hands, then back to your face. âYou didnât open my note.â
It wasnât a question. You didnât answer.
She stepped forward, close enough that you could see the edge of something in her pocket, a glint of metal on a keyring. She didnât take her eyes off you as she reached in and pulled it out, letting it swing between her fingers.
âI thought youâd want this back,â she said, her voice warm as ever. She held up the keychain, dangling it by the ring like it was just a harmless little thing.
You frowned. âI didnât have that at work.â
She tilted her head, smile still soft but her eyes sharp. âNo. You didnât.â
The silence stretched. She didnât offer it. Didnât drop it in your hand. Just turned it over between her fingers, studying it like sheâd never seen it before.
âYou really shouldnât sleep with your window open,â she said, light as a joke. âYou never know who might slip in.â
Your chest went tight. âDid youââ
But Shauna stepped closer, cutting you off, slipping the keychain into her coat pocket. âDonât worry. Iâm just looking out for you.â
She reached up, brushed a thumb over your sleeve, like she was dusting you off. The touch lingered too long. Her eyes stayed on yours, unblinking.
Then she laughed, quiet and bright, like it was all perfectly normal. âI should go,â she said. âItâs late.â
She turned to leave, then paused, glancing back over her shoulder.
âLock up tight tonight, okay?â she said sweetly. âIt makes me feel better.â
And just like that, she was gone. The echo of her steps in the alley the only thing left behind.
You stood there for a long moment, watching the dark where sheâd disappeared. Then you reached for your pocket out of habit but of course it wasnât there.
Summary: Every day, the same smile. The same seat. Too polite. Too sweet. Thereâs something under it. You just donât know what yet.
Warnings: Some mild obsession vibes, a little stalking behaviour, Nothing too intense but a bit unsettling
Notes: This is just chapter one! This ideaâs been stuck in my head forever and I finally wrote it down. Hope you like it. let me know if youâd like to see where this goes!
The bell over the cafĂŠ door jingled softly. Again. You didnât even have to look up to know it was her.
She always came in at exactly 10:32am, Every single day.
âHi,â came her voice, soft, a little breathy. Always polite. Always with that small smile, like sheâd been waiting just to see you. âThe usual, please.â
You forced a smile back, already moving toward the espresso machine. âOf course. Same as always.â
Her eyes lit up like youâd remembered something sacred. She touched the counter gently, fingertips brushing the spot where your hand had just been. âYou always get it right.â
You smiled again, trying not to sound weird about it. âYou always order the same thing.â
She laughed, quiet, like it was just for you. âI guess Iâm predictable.â
She wasnât, though. Not really. She always came in the same way, ordered the same thing, sat at the same window seat. But there were little things. Too many little things.
The bell above the cafĂŠ door jingles at the same time it always does. That same soft warmth hit you the second she stepped in. Vanilla, rich and a little musky, like the air after someoneâs been baking all day. Too warm. It always clung to her clothes, stuck in your throat like a secret.
Your eyes found her instantly, like muscle memory. The way she walked in, calm, almost dreamlike. Hair tucked back just so. That worn leather bag slung over one shoulder.
She smiled. You couldnât help it, you stared.
There was something about her today. Or maybe every day. You didnât even notice your hand hovering uselessly near the espresso machine. You didnât hear her step closer.
âHey.â
Her voice pulled you back like a thread snapping tight. You blinked. She was right there now, leaning slightly over the counter, eyes watching you. There was a flicker of amusement, maybe, but something else too. Curiosity.
âYou alright?â she asked, lips twitching up in that too soft smile. âYou looked a little⌠gone for a sec.â
You opened your mouth, then shut it again, heat blooming up your neck. âYeah. Yeah, Iâm good. Just⌠tired.â
âMmhmm,â she said, not convinced.
Then, gentle, teasing, âOr was I that distracting?â
You laughed, a little too quickly and turned back to the espresso machine, grateful for the hiss of steam to cover the sudden flush on your face.
Shauna didnât move. You could feel her still standing there, watching.
âIâm just kidding,â she said lightly.
You turned your focus back to the milk frothing. The steam curled around your fingers. You almost jumped when you felt her breath, closer than you thought she was.
âYou know,â she said, voice soft, almost a whisper, âI think youâre the only one who notices the little things here.â
You blinked, heart skipping. âWhat do you mean?â
Her hand slid lightly across the counter, stopping just short of yours. Close enough to feel the warmth coming off her skin. âLike how you never rush, even when itâs busy. Like how you remember my order without writing it down.â
You swallowed. âItâs just routine.â
She smiled, a little crooked, like she was sharing a secret. âRoutineâs nice. But noticing, thatâs better.â
When you handed her the drink, your fingers brushed. Hers lingered a second too long, warm against yours. You pretended not to feel it but you knew she could tell.
âThanks.â She held your gaze for a moment. âSee you tomorrow.â
It wasnât a question.
You watched her walk back to her usual seat, sunlight catching on the edge of her hair. She didnât look back.
But later, when you closed up for the night, hours after sheâd gone, you found something tucked beneath the napkin dispenser where sheâd been sitting. A small square of folded paper with clearly something inside. You chose not to open it and left
That night, you got ready for bed but you couldnât shake the feeling. It wasnât fear, not exactly. Just a strange kind of tightness in your chest, like something was off. Familiar, but not in a comforting way. Like dĂŠjĂ vu with its edges sharpened.
You moved through your routine. You brushed your teeth, checked the locks, turned off the lights, though everything felt a second too slow. Like you were being watched through a pane of glass. And when you slid under the covers, it was still and quiet, there it was again. That scent. Vanilla. Faint but heavy, warm in a way that shouldnât be there. You hadnât lit any candles.
The next morning, there was a red car parked across the street from your house. Same one from last week. Nondescript. No one inside. At least, no one you could see.
You stared at it from your front window a moment longer than necessary, then shook it off. Just a neighbor or Just someone visiting Probably.
By the time you got to work, Shauna was already there. At her window seat.
She didnât usually beat you there.
âMorning,â she said, like it was the most natural thing in the world. âThought Iâd switch it up today.â
She already had a drink in front of her. Not from your cafĂŠ. You hadnât even unlocked the register yet. You forced a smile, awkward. âGot tired of the usual?â
Shaunaâs smile didnât reach her eyes. âSometimes itâs nice to surprise people.â
She sipped slowly, gaze steady. You tried not to feel like she was waiting for something.
Later, in the back room, you found another note. Folded neatly on top of your backpack. Not signed. Just your name, written in soft, almost delicate cursive. Like sheâd taken her time with it.
hcs of going to the pride parade with mikey characters (you can pick only one character if it helps you)
Mikey Madison characters at a pride parade
Characters: Amber Freeman, Anora Mikheeva, Max Fox, River (All souls)
Notes: This was meant to be posted sooner but then life got in the way so I do apologise for that. As always I hope you enjoy and thank you for the request!
Amber Freeman
⢠Amber tries really hard to play it cool like sheâs not that hyped, but honestly she spent like ages picking her outfit (she wonât admit it though).
⢠She probably wears something casual like a dress and boots or maybe a top that says âDead inside but still gayâ plus a cheeky little pin that says âLesbi honest.â
⢠Acts like sheâs just there for moral support but ends up cheering loudly for the drag queens more than once.
⢠Has a little pride flag to wave around, also has heart shaped sunglasses because it matches.
⢠Keeps wandering off to check out all the stalls. Comes back with a bunch of random little things, maybe a pair of quirky earrings for you, some pins for the group, and snacks she swears you âneed.â Acts like itâs no big deal but itâs clear sheâs trying to make sure everyoneâs having a good time.
⢠Pays close attention to everything, especially the people around her. She notices the little things most donât, quietly staying aware and making sure things feel right without making it obvious.
⢠When someone compliments her, she just awkwardly shrugs it off or makes a joke instead of really reacting.
Anora Mikheeva
⢠Tells everyone sheâs going days in advance. Talks it up like itâs just a fun little outing, but sheâs clearly looking forward to it.
⢠Gets her nails done the day before. Something bold and bright. She shows them off without saying much, but she definitely expects you to notice.
⢠Picks out something stylish that stands out just enough. Nothing over the top. She looks amazing and she knows it.
⢠Loves the crowd. She fits right in, laughing with people, complimenting outfits, handing you a free sticker someone gave her like it was meant for you all along.
⢠Buys something from a booth that she absolutely did not need. Probably something funny, like a mug that says âQueer Chaosâ or a fan with glittery lettering.
⢠Keeps glancing at the schedule and casually suggesting where to go next. Somehow she leads you to the best parts without ever acting bossy.
⢠Waves a little pride flag she picked up and keeps it in her back pocket when sheâs not using it. Occasionally she fans herself with it and smirks.
⢠Gets you dancing when the right song comes on. Tugs at your hand and goes, âCome on, itâs this one.â
⢠Takes tons of photos, but only posts the two that look effortless. The rest are for her camera roll and for teasing you later.
⢠After the parade ends she kicks off her shoes and sighs with a small smile, feeling quietly happy.
Max Fox
⢠Says yes right away. She acts chill about it, but itâs clear sheâs actually kind of excited.
⢠Wears something bright and cute. Not too loud, but definitely thoughtful.
⢠Does her makeup to match, maybe some shimmer, maybe a small flag somewhere. Just enough to show sheâs in the spirit.
⢠Makes a little sign the night before. Nothing flashy. Just something simple that means something to her.
⢠Loves the energy. Sheâs smiling more than usual and definitely taking it all in.
⢠Knows the history. Talks about it with you in passing, like itâs obvious everyone should care.
⢠Takes a few photos but mostly stays present.
⢠At some point she leans in and says, âIâm glad we came.â And you know she really means it.
River
⢠Says she doesnât really âdo stuff like this.â Still shows up anyway. Sharp eyeliner. Hair tied back. Calm and collected like sheâs done it all before.
⢠Keeps close to you in the crowd. Doesnât flinch at the noise or the energy, but watches everything with quiet eyes. Sheâs taking it all in, doesnât say much.
⢠Wears something simple. But thereâs one bold detail. A pin or a bracelet, something her daughter helped her pick out. She doesnât mention it, but it matters.
⢠Doesnât smile at first, just nods, watching. But when she sees families together or a group of kids dancing in glitter, she looks down. Smirks a little.
⢠Thereâs a sign under her arm. Itâs not flashy. Just a piece of cardboard with words she scribbled out and rewrote twice. It says something simple. Honest.
⢠Doesnât join in every cheer but when something hits like a chant or a speaker that says something real she says it too. Not loud, but it means something.
⢠Later, she says âIt felt important to be here.â Itâs quiet but itâs real, and you can tell it means more than just the words.
gummygunk
stormborns
pixelskylines
vaporwave
jacobvanloon
