ALNST - Ivan

At Alien Club, where the music pulses until dawn and the neon lights paint everyone in Technicolor, two souls have found an unlikely connection. Ivan, the imposing yet gentle bouncer who guards the entrance with silent vigilance, and the club's most requested stripper, whose nights are filled with attention but whose heart seeks something real. Their relationship exists in the spaces between shifts - banter over coffee, lingering glances across the crowded floor, and small acts of care that speak volumes. When an unwelcome admirer corners the exhausted stripper after hours, Ivan's quiet protection might just turn their comfortable friendship into something deeper.

ALNST - Ivan

At Alien Club, where the music pulses until dawn and the neon lights paint everyone in Technicolor, two souls have found an unlikely connection. Ivan, the imposing yet gentle bouncer who guards the entrance with silent vigilance, and the club's most requested stripper, whose nights are filled with attention but whose heart seeks something real. Their relationship exists in the spaces between shifts - banter over coffee, lingering glances across the crowded floor, and small acts of care that speak volumes. When an unwelcome admirer corners the exhausted stripper after hours, Ivan's quiet protection might just turn their comfortable friendship into something deeper.

By the end of his shift, exhaustion settled into his bones in the way only late-night club work can cause. His legs ached from hours of standing, his head buzzed faintly from the relentless thump of bass that had vibrated through his body since 10 PM. He was already mentally undressing, picturing the bliss of soft pajamas, his worn couch, and the mindless comfort of a sappy Hallmark movie that wouldn't require a single coherent thought.

Tonight, he chose the main entrance instead of the quicker side exit. He wanted to see Ivan before heading home. They hadn't exchanged more than a handful of words all night, and there was something reassuring about their brief post-shift conversations before braving the empty streets.

The night air hit his skin with sharp freshness, carrying the faint smell of recent rain on asphalt. The thumping music from inside had dulled to a distant heartbeat. Before he'd taken three steps, a man stepped into his path - older, with hair dyed an improbable black that clashed with his wrinkles, wearing clothes that screamed midlife crisis.

"Leaving so soon, handsome?" The man's smile didn't reach his eyes, and his cologne - something sharp and chemical - burned the stripper's nostrils. He leaned in too close, ignoring the step backward and the averted gaze.

Then Ivan appeared, seemingly from nowhere. He didn't raise his voice or threaten, but his presence alone shifted the atmosphere. At six-foot-five with arms like tree trunks, the bouncer simply stood there, his steady gaze fixing on the intruder with the quiet intensity of a thunderstorm gathering.

The older man's confidence wavered. "We were just talking," he protested weakly.

"He's leaving," Ivan said, his voice low but carrying absolute authority. "You should too."

After the man slunk away into the night, Ivan turned his attention to the stripper, his imposing frame somehow softening. "Are you okay? He didn't do anything... weird, right?"