alwaysthegeorges

[alwaysthegeorges]

between the heartbeats - ilona maher x alan bersten (5/?)

Summary - after a heart-shattering breakup, Ilona Maher was left to pick up what was left of her heart. just as she begins to feel like herself again, she runs into a ghost of her past at a party. angst ensues. (and maybe some smut. eventually.)

Warnings - fluff, swearing, a little angst.

Word Count - 2.5k

a/n - ok hey queens!! i've gotta stop promising stuff because this story literally goes where it wants. i just let the scenes play in my head and write everything down, so I'm not sure when this will end. you WILL get smut tho, and that's a promise. sorry i keep putting it off. for now here's more fluff. anyways ENJOY!! <3

The morning light drifted through Ilona’s pale lavender curtains, the soft rays of dawn kissing her face as she stirred awake. The room, filled with quiet stillness, embraced her in its gentle silence, allowing her to greet the day calm, relaxed. As her eyes remained closed, Ilona stretched, the fabric of her soft sheets brushing against her skin. The gentleness of the fabric caused her skin to tingle, still getting used to being conscious and moving. The world outside, hidden in the coolness of early morning, seemed distant, yet she could feel the pull of the day awaiting her, soft and full of promise.

Ilona flopped back onto the mattress, body stretched and ready to move. She finally opened her eyes, giving into the light’s call to begin the day. Her heart skipped a beat when the first thing they laid upon was Alan, shirtless and glowing in the morning air. Her stomach turned as her brain finally caught up to her, flashing memories of the night before behind her eyes. She immediately stilled, eyes locked on him. Her thoughts raced, wondering what came next. She definitely had not had enough time to process everything before she passed out from emotional and physical exhaustion, and she definitely was not ready to wake Alan and have that “what now?” conversation before she had her morning coffee.

Ever so quietly, Ilona snuck out of her bed and padded to the kitchen, wrapping her robe tighter against her frame. A sudden chill ran through the air as she silently closed her bedroom door behind her, but she wasn’t sure if it was from an open window, or something else entirely.

Ilona got to work slowly, relishing in the relaxed quiet of the morning. Most people weren’t awake at this hour, since it was the time she usually got up to work out and head to practice of some sort. You could feel the stillness in the air, the kind of stillness that felt like a secret shared only with the dawn. She loved this time of day, where the world felt suspended between dreaming and waking. As she moved with deliberate ease throughout her kitchen, her movements remained unhurried as she began to prepare breakfast. She worked on the island, facing the large sliding glass door that led to her balcony. Every so often, she could glance out and see the sun just starting to paint the sky in soft hues of gold and pink.

Today was a rare day, one that lacked a grueling schedule of training or rehearsals, thank god. After the emotional rollercoaster of the day before, she felt relieved she finally had a day to unwind. Instead of rushing to get dressed and out the door, she allowed herself to sink into this tranquil rhythm, focusing on the quiet joys of her craft. The faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the room, mingling with the hearty scent of the bacon she began to fry atop the stove.

Her hands moved deftly, the muscle memory of years guiding her as she worked. The faint hum of the world waking up outside—an occasional chirp of a bird, the distant murmur of a car engine—blended seamlessly with the soft rasp of her whisk inside the bowl. This was her time, stolen from the chaos of the day before her, a sanctuary she took great pride in creating and that protected fiercely.

It was a sanctuary she got lost in, and she could always rely on her body to guide her through the motions while she got lost in the abyss of her thoughts. Today, like any other, she let her mind run loose as she whisked and flipped. Only, she wasn’t alone like she usually was. Thoughts of Alan’s words from the night before slipped into her mind, swirling and flurrying around her other memories in a daze. She inspected them carefully, plucking each sentence out to inspect it before placing it in its rightful place on her timeline. This way, she was able to process what he had said, figure out what she thought of it. 

Alan was always someone she could rely on, just like her quiet morning routine. He coached her effortlessly through the season, crafting every twirl and dip to show off her beauty, her comfort in the craft. He caught her when she fell, every time. Even now. Even as she crumbled before him the night prior, he always took her in his arms and held her until she was whole again. He had a talent for it, and it was something her heart had painfully ached for in those months apart. He always knew what to say, what to do, and he was always, always sincere. Flattery was his third language, but he only spoke it in earnest. It was one of Ilona’s favorite things about him. 

As she swam in her thoughts, she jumped at the feeling of hands placed on her sides. It effectively snapped her out of the peaceful trance she was in, but wasn’t at all unwelcome. As her brain caught up to the fact that it was the man she was just thinking about, she sighed in relief, melting into his touch. Alan pecked her cheek with a calm smile and wrapped his arms around her, encasing her in a warm embrace and she continued to cook.

“Good morning,” he rasped in her ear, the low tone causing a shiver to run down her spine.

“Morning,” she hummed in response, trying her best to focus on the eggs before her instead of the feeling of the hot dancer’s morning scruff against her cheek. It wasn’t working.

“How’d you sleep?” he asked, his thumbs running up and down absentmindedly on her stomach.

“Better than usual.” She could feel a low chuckle rumble through him on her back, a gentle acknowledgment.

“Me too,” he whispered, letting the tension of the moment wrap around them like a warm blanket.

The sound of his voice and the gentle rhythm of his touch were like an anchor, pulling her into a comforting stillness she rarely allowed herself to indulge in. His breath was warm against her shoulder as he pressed a lazy kiss there, the kind that felt more like a quiet declaration than an action.

She turned her head slightly, catching his gaze. 

"Wanna talk about it?" she asked, her voice almost hesitant, as if the vulnerability might shatter the fragile peace between them.

His smile was slow and genuine, lighting up his face in a way that always caught her off guard. 

“Later,” he said simply, as if the word carried all the weight of his intentions.

The two of them remained cocooned in the lingering softness of the morning, unwilling to let it slip away too quickly.

-

As they finished up their breakfast, a soft rhythm followed. Their chatter had its ebbs and flows, like it goes, but it never halted. Awkwardness never chased them, never lingered throughout their conversation of good times, bad times, even old times. It was nice, being able to talk to Alan again. He really was her best friend, such an effortless fit into the puzzle of her life. 

They got ready together slowly, excitedly exchanging stories from his last season, about his partner. It turned out she had been a nightmare, getting so bad that Alan considered quitting the show. When he first told her, Ilona was taken aback. During the finale, she noticed he wasn’t touchy with her, and he only offered polite compliments towards her progress in their package. But she saw his partner, noticed how she tried to hang all over him, how her eyes sparkled when she looked at him. It was an odd pairing, now that she thought about it, and there was surely something off about the whole situation. The old Ilona had wracked it up to new love jitters, but as Alan went into detail about how she treated everyone around them on set and in rehearsals, the more it clicked. He was just trying to be polite. A professional.

The stories he took her through made her more and more sick to her stomach as he got closer to the finale. He described how she shouted at the crew, threw tantrums about not showing enough skin in the costuming trailer. When the lovely crew explained they designed the dress to show as much as was allowed, she had apparently spat insults in their faces and stormed out, not bothering to change. She was a terror, but was one of the most followed celebrities on the show, so as much as the producers tried, they couldn’t kick her off without a breach of contract. Alan expressed his frustration at her treatment of everyone, and even regaled stories of his partner taking a specific liking towards him. He was the only one she treated with any sort of respect, which was beneficial in a sense, but was also very much a problem. Because he could get through to her, everyone else used him as a scapegoat to get what they needed from her so they could continue to run the show. Costuming, makeup, hair, camera blocking. He had to handle it all, because if he didn’t, she wouldn’t allow it to get done.

By the time the semifinals came around, Alan was exhausted, in every meaning of the word. He could barely stumble through the door of his apartment before he’d pass out, not having time to do any sort of housework, let alone eat. He felt like he was suffocating, and barely had any time to fully grieve their relationship, even as it took over his thoughts, as he tried his best to keep his head above water. As rehearsals went on, he went through the motions, spacing out nearly every chance he got. His partner began to throw herself at him, and he had to use the last of his sanity to try to hold her off. It was bad enough that they were stuck in rehearsals all day together, but now that she was trying to make moves? Alan could barely breathe. He would lock her in hold, do a run of their dance, and his mind would escape elsewhere. He admitted that he would hide in memories of his and Ilona’s rehearsals, he would imagine it was her he was holding. His mind would ease when he saw her face, get lost in his mind where he could stare into her eyes. He longed to study her features, to twirl her across the floor effortlessly again. It brought him a sense of peace, right up until the music would end, snapping him out of it. He described it to her as a cartoon rain cloud above his head, only subsiding when he got lost in thoughts of her.

Ilona’s stomach dropped when he told her about his nights. Alan described stumbling home, barely able to stay awake as he changed and flopped onto the bed. It was his favorite time of day for all those months, he mentioned. He would crawl into his dark green sheets and immediately drift off, swirling in his dreams of her. No matter how bad his day was, or how awful his dance partner;s tantrums had been, he relished climbing into bed, because that’s where he’d find her. He’d close his eyes, and there were hers, staring back at him. He described dreaming so vividly it made Ilona want to throw up. She knew exactly how that felt, exactly how vivid the dreams could get. They were the same ones that haunted her after he left. The ones she barely escaped from alive.

When he finally saw her at the finale, his world opened. He told her that he thought he was dreaming at first, that he had to pinch himself when she looked away. 

“Then you looked at me again, and I swear I saw the angels. All I could think to myself was, ‘How the hell did I survive being away from you that long?’”

Ilona chuckled as she pulled up her hair, watching as his eyes shone as he replayed the memories of her in his mind.

Her heart beat a little faster as he described what it was like dancing with his partner after he saw her. All he wanted to do was cry, throw off his partner and go to her, he admitted. Dance the night away with her instead. It was the sweetest fucking thing she’d ever heard. 

When the party started, he saw her arrive from across the room. His eyes raked over her curves in that deep blue, and it almost did him in. He felt like falling to his knees in front of her, but then decided it would be too mortifying if she didn’t want to see him. When he finally got the courage to go over to her, it took everything in him to act cool. To restrain himself. 

“You smiled sadly at me, Lo, and I had to physically stop myself from kissing you. It was pathetic,” his eyes traveled to the ground, shoulders slumping. She knew exactly what was playing in his head, because it also played in hers. That goddamn breakup phone call. Those final words.

Ilona moved her hands to rest on his biceps, encouraging him to look back up at her. She pulled him into her slowly, chewing on her lip as she tried to decide what to say next. There were a million things she wanted to say to him, a million things she wanted to do after hearing the hell he went through this past year. She knew nothing she could say would fix the past, or change it, but she knew deep down that it didn’t matter what she said. All that mattered was that they were together, in the same place again, and willing to try.

He looked in her eyes, a plea lining his lips. He opened his mouth to speak, but paused, looking back down for a second. Ilona swore she could smell the gears turning in his head. 

Alan grasped her sides, pulling her closer to him, almost possessively. It lit something inside her, but she kept quiet, waiting for him to speak his mind.

“Jenna is throwing one last ‘end of the season’ celebration. I want you to come with me.”

Ilona paused for a moment, face surely shifting through everything she was feeling. Alan could tell she was hesitant, but gave her her moment to process before he spoke again.

“You don’t have to if it will make you uncomfortable. My partner will be there. But just know I want you there. I would give anything to twirl you around the dance floor again.” The glint in his eye told her he was putting it all out there, even if he wouldn’t say it himself. Her heart jumped at the chance to see all her friends in one place again, but her stupid insecurity whispered that she wouldn’t be welcome.

“Are you sure Jenna’s okay with that?”

"Positive. I just want to enjoy having you in my arms again.”

---

masterlist

[alwaysthegeorges]

between the heartbeats - ilona maher x alan bersten (4/?)

Summary - after a heart-shattering breakup, Ilona Maher was left to pick up what was left of her heart. just as she begins to feel like herself again, she runs into a ghost of her past at a party. angst ensues. (and maybe some smut. eventually.)

Warnings - angst, swearing, fluff. talks of alcohol and partying.

Word Count - 4k

a/n - i have about one more chapter cooking, filled to the brim with spice and fluff, so prepare yourselves! note that there's a little flashback in the very beginning of this chapter, but each time skip is marked by ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ to make it a bit easier to read! enjoy! <3

The agony tore through her chest harder than she was expecting. She was expecting to get some sort of closure, some extra piece to fit right back into place so she could finally move on and be free of this torment. What she wasn't expecting was that Alan was feeling the same as her, wracked with guilt and burning for her. The past few months had been a whirlwind of activity, shuffling from one event to another in hopes of burying her feelings in her schedule. She was doing better, all things considered, and was finally laughing and enjoying life to the fullest. She let herself hope. But as her brain quieted in the soft moments, relaxing from the day, her mind always yearned. She never allowed herself to dwell on the past for too long, never let herself take a real look at what she yearned for. She chalked it up to loneliness, wanting romance, her storybook ending. She never once allowed herself to look inward and see her heart craved Alan, so deeply and fully that it couldn't allow her to move on, no matter how hard she tried.

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She tried everything. He lingered in the back of her thoughts, so she ripped out journal pages about him. She burned them, hoping some comfort would glide out from the smoke and into her soul. Yet, there he lingered still.

She threw herself into going out every weekend with teammates, drinking probably more than she should've and allowing herself to feel beautiful and wanted when men made remarks. She let them slide their hands on her thigh, pointedly ignoring the churning in her stomach when they tried more. She let them kiss her up against bar hallways, let them have her number, let herself be entertained by the what-ifs. But that's all they were. What-ifs. Ilona would go home from those long nights, throw herself into bed dizzily and desperately try to lose herself in the memory of the night.

Drifting to sleep had never been easier, since her body was absolutely wrecked from going out, adding onto her fatigue of everyday rugby. The way her mind would so easily drift off was addicting, even more intoxicating than the alcohol itself. Night after night, she would pound back rummy and gin, letting her brain fog and her eyes cloud until she could stumble home to the sweet release of sleep. It was the easiest her life had ever been, and yet she felt so heavy. Ilona would wake in the mornings nauseated, but no amount of alcohol-induced illness would compare to the stomach-churning, abhorrent feeling that she was betraying the person she cared about most in this world. Her teammates would always cut her slack, seeing how hard she worked despite her pounding headaches. Her sisters would always forgive her for her late-night phone calls and voicemails rattling on about nothing. But the one person she feared would never forgive her lingered in the back of her mind, and she hated herself for it. She hated herself for putting him through the long distance, for causing him the strife of having to end things. She fueled her own fire of self-destruction, telling herself she lost the one person who knew her completely, and it was all her fault. Bottling up her emotions was something they had worked on when they were together in LA, and yet when she moved to Bristol, she reverted right back to her old ways. She pushed him out, even when she could see his pain, because she couldn't bear to see what she was doing to him. Her heart ached for him, but she never could bring herself to give him the mercy of leaving, even if it was for his own good. She hated herself for it every day.

When she would fall into her bed at god-knows-what-hour on a Wednesday evening, plastered out of her mind, she thought about calling. She thought about reaching out to him more than a hundred times throughout her stay in Bristol. Each time her thumb hovered over his name in her contacts, she'd feel the sting of guilt paralyze her, the weight of what she'd done and left undone pressing on her chest. The words she wanted to say tangled into a mess of apologies and confessions that never seemed enough. What if he didn't pick up? What if he didn't want to hear from her? The possibilities overwhelmed her, so she'd lock her phone and stare at the ceiling, fighting the ache in her chest. She convinced herself that silence was kinder, that reopening old wounds would only hurt them both. But even that rationalization couldn't drown out the gnawing regret or the deep, unrelenting pull of wanting to hear his voice again, wanting him to say her name. It was a cruel game her mind played, making her relive every moment, every mistake, until she was raw and aching all over again.

Once events on her schedule started piling up, her partying lessoned. She knew she needed to grow up and do things that were actually good for her, so she tried her best to snap out of her cycle. It didn't start off well, and she definitely made a fool of herself at a few venues that she doubted would ever ask her back. However, Olivia thankfully came to her rescue once again. She finally got Ilona to open up about what was going on, and one late night in May was marked as the first time Ilona had spoken Alan's name since their breakup. It shook her to her core to speak of him so casually, as if just his name didn't hold so many memories and desires she had buried deep inside. Yet, as they talked, the weight on her chest seemed to lighten. They reminisced about the good times, about him making her laugh and spinning her around the studio like there wasn't a care in the world. Olivia got her to talk about the breakup, finally, and they spent hours analyzing every detail of what went wrong. As much as it should have burned, and as much as she didn't want to talk about their downfall, there was something freeing about letting it all out. Something about talking out every what-if and exploring every different path they could have taken brought her some sense of ease. It would be especially soothing when they came to the conclusion that there was nothing more Ilona could have done to save their relationship. Pangs of guilt still flooded through her, but waves of relief would wash over her as every scenario they interpreted always seemed to share the same outcome.

Just like that one night out with her rugby team, something in Ilona's brain clicked. Her heart still held the familiar ache of Alan's absence, still held some guilt for feeling so relieved. But something in her brain finally fell into place and finally allowed her to sink into the realization that none of it was her fault, nor either of theirs. It was simply the right person, but the wrong time, and she had to be okay with that.

Nothing was fully healed, and the sting of not having Alan in her life lingered on, but it was better. Ilona let go of her self-destructive habits, and finally let herself dwell on Alan. Not too much, she acknowledged, because balance was everything. But when she saw a cute dog that looked like Jeff on the street, she'd let herself smile. When she heard someone order his coffee order at a café, she would imagine him curled up with the same order at their coffee shop. It made life a little easier, letting herself recognize the little bits of Alan in her world. It made her heart beat a little easier knowing she was carrying a piece of him wherever she went, and sometimes she let herself imagine he was doing the same.

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As Ilona tossed and turned in her bed that night, her mind replayed the scene at the café. The anguish in Alan's eyes stuck in her brain like a thorn lodged deep in her chest, sharp and unyielding. No matter how much she tried to distract herself, the memory pierced through her defenses, demanding her attention. She could still hear the quiet tremor in his voice, the way he said her name like it was a plea. The weight of his words pressed heavily on her, mingling with her own truths. It wasn't just his anguish that haunted her—it was her own reflection in his pain, a mirror of everything she'd been too afraid to confront.

Is it so hard to believe I've never stopped loving you?

It haunted her every thought, not shaking when she went to the gym, when she ran her errands, not even as she attended yet another sparkling soiree. Nothing she did shook the strain of his words on her heart, and her mind raced to try to think of what to do. She couldn't let herself fall right back into him. She wouldn't be able to pick herself back up again if it played out all the same. Yet, the idea of another chance pulled at her. It felt like a warm tug, the same tug that pulled her back to LA, that pulled her to that snack table. The same tug that made her call him last night. It was impossible to shake, like an odd twist of fate wasn't shoving her towards what she needed, rather gently guiding her along. How cruel was that? How dare it tug her right back to the one she was trying to escape. The one that broke her, the one that held her together all the same.

Ilona had never been necessarily religious, but there was no questioning fate. As cruel as it could be, as heavy as the burden of keeping someone in your present that haunted your future, she knew it wouldn't be tugging her this way if their story was over. There was a reason he showed back up in her life, and she had to know why.

Her hands shook as she extracted her phone from the nightstand, readying herself for yet another terrible idea. Her heart swelled as she stared back at the profile picture she had uploaded to his profile a year ago, when they first met. There he was, smiling brightly at her and hugging Jeff, just as spry and loving as ever. She knew he was still that person she had always laughed with, but deep down, she was scared that he changed. Scared that he would spit insults through the phone, scared he would put his walls up and they'd never come down. They both wracked with hurt, and she knew it was possible he wouldn't want to speak with her again. Yet that glimmer of hope, that bright-eyed dancer smiling back at her, reminded her that he would. He would want to speak to her in every lifetime, no matter what they had going on between them.

So, she pressed call.

"Hey," she heard from the other line, a word so simple, but so full of emotion she felt like she couldn't breathe.

"Have you eaten?"

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Ilona paced back and forth in her living room, anxiously awaiting the arrival of her favorite dancer.

Though it was already 9 p.m., Alan insisted he come over and cook for her. They got to talking over the phone, since most decent dinner places in their area were closed for the night, but when Ilona jokingly mentioned she hadn't eaten anything but a protein bar earlier that day, Alan freaked out in his normal fashion. After a small lecture about the importance of feeding your body the energy it needs and a quick menu rundown, Alan gathered up some ingredients and began heading over.

It was so like him to be so insistent on taking care of her, even if there was unspoken tension between them. He was so kind, and she could feel his care for her, even now. Even after she shattered his heart, and he shattered hers.

In her anxiety, Ilona quickly turned off Sabrina that was playing on her tv, and the shuffling of her feet became the only noise in the apartment, save for her pounding heartbeat. What came next was a mystery, even to her, and she spent the few minutes Alan-less trying to think of where she wanted this to go. Thoughts swirled in her head, overwhelming her with possibilities, fears, and hopes that she couldn't even begin to acknowledge. Could they begin to untangle the knot of their shared history? Every scenario played out in fragments, none of them complete, leaving her trapped in an endless cycle of what-ifs yet again. She desperately clung to the one known thing in her grasp, the fact that Alan was patient, considerate, and that he loved her.

Shit. He really did love her.

And try as she might, she loved him too. She loved him so much it hurt, so much that she almost self-destructed trying to tear that love away.

Her reflection in the darkened sliding door to her balcony caught her attention, her face pale and her eyes wide with uncertainty. "Get it together," she whispered to herself, though the words did little to calm the storm raging inside.

When the knock finally came, sharp and deliberate, her breath caught. Time seemed to slow as she crossed the room, her feet feeling heavier with each step. Reaching the door, she hesitated, her hand hovering over the handle. She knew once she opened it, there would be no turning back. With a deep, shaky breath, she steeled herself and pulled the door open, bracing for whatever was about to unfold.

What she was met with somehow instantly calmed her worry. There he was, arms full of groceries, with his classic goofy smile.

"You ready to eat?" he chuckled as she let him in, heading toward the kitchen.

"You know it. Want some help?" she asked as she trailed after him, giggling as she watched him wiggle to try not to drop a few stray lemons.

"I got dinner covered. You can just sit at the counter and be…" he paused.

"Moral support?"

"Moral support!"

They fell into an easy rhythm, Alan quickly rinsing and chopping while Ilona opened a bottle of wine. One drink wouldn't hurt , they both agreed, and she may have accidentally (purposely) overpoured. Alan gave her a cautionary look when she added the same amount to his glass as her own, but she could only smile back at him. It felt so normal, having him back in her apartment, cooking for her. It felt like old times, and the pair barely registered the tenseness of their conversation this morning as they recounted their days. She wasn't sure why it felt so right, but she definitely preferred it to the anguish of this morning.

They fell into a comfortable silence and Alan plated their food and set the table. As they shifted to their seats, forks in hand, Ilona couldn't help but stare at her dance partner. He dug into his hard-earned food, but Ilona couldn't rip her attention from him to do the same. He was her magnet, and now that he was here, she couldn't comprehend how they had ever fallen apart.

A few minutes into their meal, Alan noticed Ilona's plate untouched. He gave her a pointed look, then directed it to her plate, but all her eyes wanted to do was roam his soft features. She eyed the slope of his nose, the way his round cheeks met his eyes as he smiled, but what she really saw, regardless of his features, was him . How he cared. How he lit up the room. Her heart swelled with something, something she couldn't pinpoint, as she looked at the man she loved wholeheartedly.

When Alan realized her attention was not going to falter, he picked up her fork himself and started scooping food from her plate onto it. She took it as he led it to her mouth himself, watching as his eyes sparkled when she accepted. Acts of service, she recalled from their conversation many months ago. That was his love language.

The realization hit her like a truck. There, in that moment, seeing him for all he was and all he could be, she knew. He was it for her. It hit her hard and fast, like getting smacked in the face with a kickball. Sudden, but not that painful. As much as she tried to deny it, there was no question that when she looked in his eyes, she was it for him, too. It was there, in his soul, plain as day. A fact, just as much as blue was the color of the sky, or the grass grew from the earth. Alan was it.

She didn't even register the tears until Alan wiped them from her cheeks. His beautiful face contorted in concern as he brushed his fingers against her skin.

"Don't cry. Please. I can't see you like this."

She shook her head and looked down at her lap, finally tearing her gaze from his own in embarrassment. More tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She'd told herself she didn't need closure, that she was fine on her own. But now, sitting across from him, she realized how much she'd been holding onto. How much she'd wanted to hear his voice, to see his love shine back at her like a million suns. This is exactly what she had been longing for this past year. To be here, with him, in LA. Nothing could ever compare.

Alan shifted from his seat and knelt at her side, taking her face in his hands like it was the most precious thing on earth.

"Tell me how to hate you," she choked out, no louder than a whisper. "Tell me how not to love you."

"Ilona," he whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of her words. His thumbs gently wiped away the tears streaming down her cheeks, even as they kept falling.

He brought his chest to hers for the first time in so long, and though Ilona tried with all her might to not, she immediately melted into his embrace. The tears came faster, harder, as he wrapped her whole body with his own. The smell of his earthy cologne enveloped her, bringing her a sense of comfort she never thought she'd feel again. It was as though the world outside ceased to exist, and all the pain, all the longing, was muffled by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her own. She clung to him like he was the only thing keeping her afloat, her fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as if letting go would shatter the fragile peace they had found in each other's arms.

Alan's hand gently stroked her back, his touch grounding her even as the flood of emotions threatened to drown her.

"You think I haven't spent every day trying to forget you? Trying to move on?" he muffled into her shoulder. "It's impossible. You're in my every thought. Every moment. You're a part of me, Ilona."

Her breath hitched as he continued, his words breaking down the walls she had so carefully constructed over the past year. "I've tried everything to let you go, but you're the one thing I can't. I don't want to."

A sob escaped her lips, and she buried her face deeper into his shoulder, unable to hold back the flood of emotions any longer. "I don't deserve this. I don't deserve you," she sobbed, her voice trembling.

"You deserve everything, Ilona. Even if we're broken, even if we don't have it all figured out, we can try. I never stopped loving you for a second. Just tell me you still want this. Tell me you still want me."

His pleading tone tore apart what very little was left of her. Her heart felt like it was being torn apart and stitched back together all at once. In that moment, she realized there was no more running, no more hiding—she wanted him more than she had ever wanted anything. She always had.

The words broke her all over again, yet somehow they also pieced her back together. For the first time in so long, she allowed herself to believe it—to believe that maybe, just maybe, they could find their way back to each other. The weight she'd been carrying, the guilt, the regret, began to lift ever so slightly. In his arms, she wasn't just the Ilona who had made mistakes or pushed him away; she was the Ilona he still loved, the Ilona who could try again.

"I missed you," she whispered into his shoulder, the words spilling out before she could stop them.

"I missed you too," Alan replied, his voice thick with emotion. "Every single day."

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Once they calmed, Ilona finally made the effort to eat her plate. He let her eat in silence as he scrubbed the dishes, knowing she needed to sort through all her swarming thoughts. He let her rest in the peace of the moment, giving her space to breathe without the pressure of words hanging between them. The soft clink of dishes being washed filled the apartment, a quiet rhythm that seemed to mirror the calm settling in her chest. As she took each bite, the simple act felt like a small victory, a quiet reminder that she was still capable of taking care of herself, even if she'd lost sight of that for a while.

Alan's presence, steady and familiar, surrounded her like a protective shield, allowing her to exist in the silence without the weight of expectation she had come to know far too well. She could feel his gaze on her now and then, but it wasn't heavy or judgmental. It was the kind of gaze that told her he was there, not to pressure her or take something from her, but simply to be with her. Admire her.

Once her plate was empty, she sighed softly, feeling more grounded than she had in months. Alan finally set down the last dish and turned to her, his eyes soft with understanding. "Feeling better?" he asked gently.

She nodded, though the words felt too small to express everything she was feeling at once. There was still so much to sort through, so many questions and regrets to face, but for the first time in a long time, she didn't feel like she had to do it alone.

Alan drew her a warm bath, proceeding with all her favorite lavender salts and soapy bubbles. Once he settled her in and turned to leave, she caught his wrist. As she looked up at him, a question hung in the air. He smiled a gentle, knowing smile, and began stripping off his own clothes to join her.

He ran his hands through her hair soothingly as she sank into him, letting the warmth wrap around her like a cozy blanket. Each minute that ticked by seemed to smooth over the cracks left in her heart she had been carrying, and with every passing second, the weight on her chest seemed to ease, just a little. The sharp edges of her pain, once so raw and overwhelming, began to dull as she sat there, wrapped in the quiet comfort of his presence. It wasn't instant—healing never was—but there was a sense of something softening, something mending in the space between them. She found herself breathing a little deeper, her body relaxing in ways she hadn't realized it had been holding on.

"It's been so long since I've touched you," he sighed into her hair, his fingers lazily running over her soft thighs.

"Far too long," she murmured, her voice thick with the desire she hadn't allowed herself to feel in months.

---

masterlist

[alwaysthegeorges]

this.

I've been thinking about the type of attractive each of the boys is and I can't get it out of my head so here's this:

Draco Malfoy: Devastatingly beautiful. The kind of old world beauty that makes you feel a little wrecked when you look at him. Just sharp enough to catch your attention and just subtle enough to keep you watching.

George Weasley: Hot in the heart of gold, openly soft kind of way. The kind that makes you feel a little more gooey than you'd like to admit when he smiles at you a little too long. Sorta subtle at first, but it creeps up on you. One second he's just cute and the next he's warming every room he walks into.

Fred Weasley: Charminly cocky. Bold to a fault. The kind of hot where you can't tell how much of it is that he's really that hot and how much is confidence. He's definitely attractive all by himself but he also radiates attractiveness from somewhere within him in a way that’s just unfair.

Harry Potter: Dreamy and fantasy like. The kind of attractive that you typically only find in dreams. There's something about him that's always a touch familiar in a hazy way and unfamiliar in almost every other. It’s the kind of look that makes you want to reach out and touch him just to make sure he's real.

Neville Longbottom: Beautiful in the boy next door sort of way. The kind that’s disarming, familiar, and so subtle that makes your chest ache a little bit. He's the soft kind of beautiful that makes you stare without meaning to.

Ron Weasley: Hot in the friend’s sweet older bother way. The kind with a crooked smile, messy hair, and the general feeling that he might be teasing you a little. It’s an easy kind of attractive that you notice immediately and can't ever escape. He just gets hotter the longer you look at him even when he's being goofy. Especially then.

Oliver Wood: Hot in the kind jock from an 80’s movie way. He's so sweet and looks at you like you might solve all his problems if he can just figure out how to ask.

[alwaysthegeorges]

ok but if were talkin lilfakeplant……..that one shot took me all the way out, so good

It was so. good. I love their writing so much and I absolutely can’t wait for more

[alwaysthegeorges]

between the heartbeats - ilona maher x alan bersten (3/?)

Summary - after a heart-shattering breakup, Ilona Maher was left to pick up what was left of her heart. just as she begins to feel like herself again, she runs into a ghost of her past at a party. angst ensues. (and maybe some smut. eventually.)

Warnings - more angst and swearing in this one (i'm not sorry)

Word Count - 1.1k

The next morning, Ilona stood outside the cafe, her breath fogging in the crisp autumn air. The cold air nipped at her nose as she shifted nervously, anxiously waiting on Alan. She’d dressed simply, a dark green sweater and jeans, trying to convince herself this was casual. Just two old friends catching up. No hidden meanings. No expectations.

But her hands fidgeted with the strap of her purse, betraying her nerves.

She heard his footsteps before she saw him, knowing the familiar drag of his heels and jingle of Jeff’s collar anywhere. There, even at the early hour, he looked as put together and handsome as ever. His dark hair had grown out a bit, his posture a little more stooped, but his eyes—those deep, loving eyes—were exactly the same. They even softened when they landed on her, just like they would back then.

“Hi,” he said, his voice warm but tentative.

“Hi,” she replied, forcing a smile. How the hell was she going to get through this without having a heart attack?

They stepped inside, the smell of freshly brewed coffee wrapping around them like a comforting blanket. They ordered—a cappuccino for him, a latte for her—and found a small corner booth by the window.

For a while, the conversation was light, polite. They talked about the tour, how the last season went, mutual friends. But there was an undercurrent, a tension neither of them could ignore for long.

Finally, Alan broke their game of conversational chicken. “I’m sorry.”

Ilona’s heart skipped. She looked up from her cup, meeting his soft gaze. “For what?”

“For everything,” he said, his voice low but steady. “For leaving the way I did. For not being there when you needed me. For…” He trailed off, running a hand through his hair. “For being a coward.”

Her throat tightened. She’d spent so long trying to bury the hurt, to tell herself it didn’t matter anymore. But hearing him say it… it brought everything rushing back.

“You were,” he said quietly. “But I wasn’t perfect either. I… I pushed you away.”

“You had every right to,” he said. “I gave up too easily. I should have fought for us.”

“Alan,” she said warningly, her voice trembling. "I begged you to stay."

The light in his eyes dimmed at the words, and she could tell she hurt him. She didn’t mean to, but it was the truth. They were never going to get anywhere if they danced around it, pun not intended. She knew it was time for them to be honest, to put everything out on the table. After all, this was probably the last time they’d ever see each other. She needed him to know exactly how she had felt, exactly what she knew to be true now.

“I know, Lo. There won’t be a day when I don’t regret letting you go. We were incredible together. You know that. I just… drifted away. I don’t know what happened.”

Having to stare at the top of her latte to stop herself from crying, she let slip another inside thought. A stupid insecurity, but one that had been digging at the back of her brain ever since the breakup. 

"Did you even love me?"

Alan paused, being physically taken aback by her question. She glanced up at him, seeing the hurt on his face play out as obviously as a movie on the big screen. She watched as he went from hurt, to anger, back to sadness. Why did she have to be able to read him like a book? 

After a beat of silence that felt like it stretched on for years, Alan finally met her gaze, his eyes filled with pain and regret. He reached over the table and placed his hand on her own, sending sparks through her skin just as strong as the day they met. It was overwhelming, how one touch could spin her whole world off its axis. Her brain whipped through memories, feelings of his hands sliding off her shoulders, to her back, lower…

She blinked away the reminiscence, begging her mind to stay present.

“Loving you is the only thing I’ve been truly sure of. It’s something that’s so ingrained in my heart, it’s like it’s been there my whole life. Is it so hard to believe I've never stopped loving you?"

His eyes pleaded with her for so many things as he confessed. They begged for forgiveness, for her smile, for her love. She tried to swallow, but her heart caught in her throat. Her lips parted, but no words came. The weight of his confession pressed against her chest, making it hard for her to breathe. She looked down at their joined hands, her fingers trembling beneath his, as if her body couldn’t decide whether to hold on or pull away.

“I don’t know if I can do this again,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the thundering of her heart. “You broke me, Alan. You left when I needed you most. How do I trust that you won’t do it again?”

His grip tightened ever so slightly, anchoring her to the moment, as if letting her know he would always anchor her. “I’ll be trying to make up for it for the rest of my life, Lo. I thought I was doing what was best for you, but all I did was hurt us both. I’ve regretted it every day since.”

Her heart wavered, caught between the ache of the past and the fragile hope blooming in his eyes. It would be so easy to fall into his arms again, to let herself believe in the love that had once felt unshakable. But the scars he left were still there, faint but ever-present, a reminder of the pain she had worked so hard to survive.

Ilona felt more tears welling up in her eyes as the hurt and longing burns in her chest, wanting more than anything to go to him. To let him hold her again. But her brain took over, reminding her of all she did to pick herself back up. Reminding her of all the sleepless nights wishing he was there with her in Bristol. She knew nothing had changed, and going down this road again would only cause more pain. She couldn’t put either of them through that again.

"I need time, okay? I can't do this right now." 

Ilona quickly pulled her hand out from under Alan’s, grabbing her bag and rushing out of the coffee shop without another word. She tried to make it back to her apartment before she let her tears fall, but her heart got the better of her this time. She let them fall and sink into her skin as she fled to her bed, not knowing how to even start comprehending what Alan had just dropped on her.

---

masterlist

[alwaysthegeorges]

between the heartbeats - ilona maher x alan bersten (2/?)

Summary - after a heart-shattering breakup, Ilona Maher was left to pick up what was left of her heart. just as she begins to feel like herself again, she runs into a ghost of her past at a party. angst ensues. (and maybe some smut. eventually.)

Warnings - just angst and swearing in this one

Word Count - 1.9k

a/n - smut to come in the next chapter?? lmk if you have any more ideas! i love writing this pair.

If there was one thing the DWTS execs knew how to do, it was throw a party. The room bustled with laughter and movement, glittering lights bouncing off sequined dresses and polished floors. The finale party was always a spectacle, something to be jealous of, but this year they’d outdone themselves. Crystal chandeliers cast a golden glow over the crowd, and the walls draped in shimmering gold and silver fabric. A dj played upbeat tunes in one corner, their rhythm perfectly matched to the energy of the dancers who couldn’t help but turn the floor into an impromptu stage. Contestants, pros, and guests mingled effortlessly, their shared excitement creating a contagious buzz that spread throughout the venue.

“Did you see that final routine?” a voice near her chimed, cutting through the hum of conversation. It belonged to one of the contestants’ parents, gushing in awe of their child’s performance. “I swear, they’ve never danced like that before! The chemistry, the energy—it was like they were floating!” 

Across the room, a cluster of contestants erupted in laughter, clearly reliving their own moments of triumph and near disasters. It was the kind of night where memories were etched into the fabric of the show’s legacy. For every dazzling smile and heartfelt hug, the unspoken truth remained—this wasn’t just a celebration; it was a farewell to the season’s shared journey.

Something about the night felt final, finite. Ilona couldn’t place her finger on it, but she moved through the crowds and conversed excitedly ever the same. The first thing she did when she arrived at the venue was congratulate the new Mirrorball Champions, gushing to them about their incredible footwork and dedication throughout the season. The celebrity was all smiles, and Rylee thanked Ilona for her kindness, noting how wonderful it was to see her after such a long time. The two women caught up eagerly, wanting to be filled in on all the latest gossip in each others’ lives. They talked so animatedly that they didn’t even realize when Rylee’s partner wandered off to continue mingling. 

The air of the venue was filled with a crackling exuberance, an energy Ilona longed for so badly in her day-to-day. During her time in Bristol, she had tried out new clubs and bars with her teammates, but none of them seemed to capture the sparking magic of nights like this. She was surrounded by so many supportive and energetic friends, most of whom she considered family now, and it made her heart sing in a way sweaty dance clubs never could. 

Ilona easily disappeared into the crowd, searching for someone to chat up from her past season. Her body seemed to be tugged in the direction of the snack table, but she definitely wasn’t complaining. As she wandered over and plucked a few pieces of fruit from the fruit bowl, she turned to survey the room, wondering if she could catch any glimpses of familiar faces. The party was a kaleidoscope of sparkling dresses, sharp suits, and lively expressions, making it easy to get lost in the sheer vibrancy of it all. Still, Ilona’s practiced eye scanned the room with ease, searching for anyone she’d shared a rehearsal room, stage, or laugh with during her season. 

She popped a grape into her mouth, savoring its sweetness as she leaned casually against the edge of the table. Her eyes were immediately drawn to Brooks and Gleb, viciously making out in the middle of the dance floor. Go figure , she thought to herself.

“They really know how to party,” a husky voice beside her chortled, sending her body into shock. She would recognize that voice anywhere. Somehow, as her brain wandered, he had managed to sneak up on her.

Ilona hesitantly turned her eyes to him, catching his gaze. He wore a soft smile as he peered at her, and all of a sudden, she felt very exposed. She felt a blush creep on her face, and hoped to god he wouldn’t notice. Something about the way his eyes sparkled at her ignited a familiar feeling in her, one she couldn’t quite explain.

“Alan,” was all she managed to choke out, suddenly feeling very restricted in her tight blue dress.

“You look better than ever, Lo,” he said with a grin, his eyes raking over her form slowly. Her body felt like it was lighting on fire, every nerve tingling under the intensity of his stare. She swallowed, feeling the weight of his attention in a way that made her heart race. 

“You don’t look too bad, yourself,” she forced out, head reeling at the fact he was even here , right next to her. “You guys did a great job tonight,” she continued, not quite ready to let the conversation shift quite yet.

“Thanks. I’m glad you’re here.”

A silence fell over them, thick and heavy. Neither felt sure how to continue on like this, each uncertain of the next words, the next move. The air seemed to hum with unvoiced tension, leaving them both suspended in a moment they didn’t quite know how to navigate.

“I’m surprised you even noticed I was here,” she accidentally blurted out. Damnit, Lo. That was an inside thought.

Alan paused for a moment, eyes snapping to her.

“How the hell could I not when you look like that??”

Her eyes cast to the floor, not knowing where to look. If she allowed herself to look at him, she knew exactly what she’d find, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready for that. Her stomach churned at the familiar compliment, flashing her brain back to memories of when they danced. 

“You seem plenty occupied by your new partner, is all,” she uttered, short and curt. Her tone laced with ice, unintentional, but got her point across all the same. “I have eyes. I can see the way she looks at you."

“Is that jealousy, I hear?” Alan asked, trying to keep his tone light and joking. Still, she could feel the weight of his question.

“No, I just think you could do better than that.” She let her gaze roam around the room again, needing to look anywhere but him. If she saw him staring at his new partner, eyes full of the love he once had for her, she feared she might implode. So much for this being her night.

“Ilona,” Alan said, his tone laced with sadness. His voice remained soft, but she could tell he was carrying the weight of all the unspoken emotions between them. “It’s not like that.”

She could feel his eyes burning into the side of her head, begging her to look at him. Her heart wouldn’t allow it.

Ilona took a deep breath, her lungs filling with the woody musk of his cologne. Something in her chest tugged at the familiar scent, and she let her eyes flutter closed. She took it in slowly, knowing that this is as close as she’ll get to how it used to be. How they used to be. 

A crash sounded to their left, efficiently snapping Ilona out of her daydreaming. The pair’s heads snapped in the direction, worry painted on their features. Alan looked back at Ilona, eyes finally meeting again, and she was suddenly hit with the overwhelming feeling to run. Panic began to rise in her chest at the tenderness of his expression, so she quickly gathered her things and began leaving. Alan caught her arm right as she turned to flee, his face posing a clear question.

“I shouldn’t have come. It’s not fair on either of us. I’m sorry.”

With that, she rushed from the venue, retreating as quickly as possible before anyone could see her tears fall.

Back at her apartment, Ilona finally let herself fall apart. She had done so well these past few months, pushing through the pain of everything that had happened with Alan. As much as she wanted to reach out, to undo the silence between them, she never did. Hell, she even went on dates . Sure, they didn’t ever go anywhere, but she always chalked it up to them simply not being a match. It didn’t matter that her stomach churned every time a man placed his hand on her lower back, or that she constantly got the urge to cancel plans at the last minute, unable to shake the feeling that she wasn’t ready to move on. 

Tonight, all of it came crashing down. She let out a shaky breath through her sobs, her hands trembling as she sank into her hotel room couch. The weight of everything she'd been carrying finally was coming to the surface, not allowing itself to be ignored any longer. The image of Alan with his new partner replayed in her mind, a haunting reminder of everything she had lost. She wiped at the tear that had escaped, her mind spinning with frustration, grief, and something else she couldn’t name. The past few months had been a blur of pretending to be okay, but now, alone, she allowed herself to feel everything she had been burying for so long.

As she finally calmed down enough to sleep, Alan’s words echoed in her ears.

It’s not like that.

What the fuck does that even mean? 

The phrase swirled in her mind, a puzzle she couldn’t quite piece together. What had he meant by it? Is this how he had felt when they were together? Was it all for show to him? She’d been left hanging, the ambiguity of his statement gnawing at her as she desperately squeezed her eyes shut. With any luck, the memory would squeeze out of her brain just as easily. Yet, there it was, haunting her as she begged for silence. Why hadn’t he been clearer? Why couldn’t he just say what he meant?

She rolled over, pulling the blanket tighter around her, but sleep was a long way off. Every time she closed her eyes, the question surfaced again, sharper than before, demanding an answer she wasn’t sure would ever come.

As she tossed and turned, an idea popped in her head. Sure, it was a bad one, but that definitely didn’t stop her from eyeing her phone.

Honestly, she kind of blacked out. Before she knew it, she was on his contact, and pressed call .

“Ilona?” she heard his rasp, quiet, like he had just pulled from sleep.

“Sorry, I– were you asleep?” she asked, immediately feeling a guilty ping in her stomach. 

“No, no,” he muttered, definitely lying. “What’s up?”

“What did you mean when you said it wasn’t like that with your partner?” Blunt, but got the point across. It works.

“What did I mean?” Alan asked, sounding more confused than ever.

“Yeah. What did you mean?”

A beat. She could feel him take a deep breath on the other line.

“I meant that I don’t feel anything for her. She doesn’t make me feel the way you do.”

Now it was her turn to catch her breath.

“Oh.”

“Ilona?”

“Yeah?”

More silence. This had definitely been a bad idea.

“Will you get coffee with me tomorrow?” he asked. She wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but she swore she could hear a bit of yearning in his voice.

“Alan–” she started, but he cut her off before she could continue.

“Please? For old time’s sake.”

And how could she say no to that.

She knew she should say no, knew that seeing him again would only reopen wounds she wasn’t sure she was ready to face. But something in the way he said it, the vulnerability in his tone, made it impossible for her to walk away just yet. One more coffee date.

“Okay,” she whispered, the word slipping from her lips before she could stop it.

A breath of relief seemed to escape him on the other end of the line.

---

masterlist

[alwaysthegeorges]

between the heartbeats - ilona maher x alan bersten (1/?)

Summary - after a heart-shattering breakup, Ilona Maher was left to pick up what was left of her heart. just as she begins to feel like herself again, she runs into a ghost of her past at a party. angst ensues. (and maybe some smut. eventually.)

Warnings - angst, swearing, fluff

Word Count - 2.2k

a/n - feeding our little fandom since mom and dad haven't been 💔

Moving to Bristol and away from Alan had proven to be too hard. 

The pair made it work for a few months, carefully crafting a strict Facetime and texting routine. But it quickly unraveled when tour rehearsals were abruptly pushed up, throwing their plans into disarray. Alan repeatedly apologized when he had to break the news, like he had anything to do with the schedule changes. Still, it was sweet and reassuring to know he would change it if he could. His thoughts on them moving up rehearsal times were comforting, reminding her how much he longed for her as she did him. In truth, Alan would do almost anything for her, and she knew it.

After weeks of not being able to see each other’s faces outside of tired after-practice selfies and model pictures posted on Instagram, it began to really take a toll on their relationship. They still managed to talk every once in a while, but not nearly enough to try to keep the flame of a budding relationship alive. Ilona couldn’t fault either of them, knowing that even a strong friendship would falter under these conditions. It was just hard. Ilona had begun to cry herself to sleep at night, her chest aching for the warm embrace of her cherished dance partner. Once she’d finally blink awake, eyes crusty with salt from the night before’s tears, she would turn over to the other side, fully expecting Alan to be sleeping peacefully next to her. For some reason, her subconscious could not accept the fact that she was in Bristol, and he was 5,000 miles away in LA. Every time she’d wake and feel the cold bedding next to her rub against her skin, a piece of her heart would break. Every. Damn. Time.

After a while, it became exhausting. Missing him took up most of her day-to-day life, consuming her thoughts almost completely. Yet, she couldn’t allow herself to mourn him like she would if they broke up. He was still there, his love for her lingering in the back of her mind, but he was still so out of reach. Her mood became sharp, ice-cold to the teammates that she was supposed to be putting her time into supporting. She wound up right back in her bed by 6pm every night, desperately clinging onto one of Alan’s sweatshirts, the fabric now lacking the woody scent of his cologne that once brought her comfort.

Their unfortunate end came near the end of February, having only spent four months together– only one being completely in person. The two were exhausted, complete shells of who they once were. The spark that had once pulled them together was now shattered at their feet, completely drained of life by the distance. One of them had to pull the plug, for their own sanities, but it didn’t make that last phone call any less devastating. 

As the tone of the ending phone call cried out into the silence of her cold Bristol apartment, she felt the last piece of her heart crack, finally allowing it to break completely in two. Those next 6 weeks turned her more into a shell of a person, if that was even possible. She barely ate, slept most of her days away in agony. Her subconscious still never caught up to reality, so she chased Alan’s company in her dreams. In her wonderful dreamland, they were together– thriving and beautiful. In the same place. It tore her apart every time she awoke to the brutal reality of her empty bed, the gloomy English days stretched endlessly ahead.

Her life was so shattered that when her sister hadn’t heard from her in a week, she fully packed a bag and got on a plane. It was Olivia’s lifeline that helped her pull it together, that saved her from reaching the demise her heart and mind secretly begged for. Olivia made her shower, made her eat. After a week, she made her go to the gym with her. She never spoke of Alan as she picked her sister up bit by bit.

Her life began to piece back together, the fractures and rifts finally healing over. She went back to rugby practices, her teammates welcoming her with open arms. They could visibly see the difference in her, the wave of relief over her features as she stiff-armed her way back into the game. They were all eternally grateful for whatever power had finally split the two apart, even if they’d never admit it. Ilona was finally getting back to being herself, back to enjoying her time.

The saying "time heals all wounds" is, for the most part, entirely true. Ilona came to this realization on one random Wednesday, sitting and eating with her teammates. She had finally accepted a dinner invitation from them, wanting to push herself to participate in more team-building since she missed out on so many months of it. A part of her still longed to be curled in her bed covered in blankets, but as she looked around her table at all the amazing women who continued to support her through it all, she smiled. She found herself laughing genuinely, laughing hard. It was a feeling she hadn’t felt in months, the warm spark in her chest finally returning to its rightful place. She went home that night, went to sleep, and when she woke, she felt an overwhelming sense of peace. Something had clicked that night, and she no longer suffered through her psyche's longing for her past partner. She no longer stared at his handsome face in her dreams, wishing it was all real, or at least wishing she could just float away with him forever. Instead, she woke with a spring in her step, a new excitement for the day. It was refreshing, to say the least, not just to herself, but to everyone who had to watch as she picked herself back up.

The one-year mark quickly came and went, and Ilona was as spry as ever. She bounced from event to event, lighting up the room with her presence and having the time of her life inspiring others. Her career had completely taken off, and she was so packed and busy that she barely registered the location of one of the parties she was attending on her itinerary. She sat in the airport, sipping her latte peacefully and scanning through her to-do list for the week, when there it was, outlined in a deep red. Dancing with the Stars Finale Afterparty. Of course, they requested her to be there.

Her heart jumped at the idea of getting to see all of her DWTS family again, of being all in one place for the first time in what felt like forever. She routinely spoke to many of her past competitors and their pros, but something about the energy in the room when they all were together filled her chest with an unshakeable excitement. She was so elated at the idea of catching up with everyone that her brain completely skipped over the fact that Alan was, undoubtedly, going to be in attendance.

The night of the finale, Ilona got primped and preened in her very best. Deep blue dress with a completely open back fitting her figure flawlessly, cheeks blushed, and lips painted with their signature red, she felt absolutely stunning. As she turned to review the final product in the mirror, a sense of pride washed over her. Less than a year ago, she was in the lowest state of her life, constantly insecure and hard on herself. Now, she was looking like a goddess, and feeling as powerful as one too. This was her night, a night to prove to herself that she can do whatever she wanted, be as powerful as she knew she could be. 

When Ilona stepped into the ballroom, she immediately felt a rush of adrenaline. The last time she was in this ballroom, she was competing for a mirrorball. Maybe it was leftover from the thrill of being in the competition, but something in her stomach tightened as she moved with her sister to find their assigned seats. They were sat with some of the pros' family and friends, all of whom she had met before, during her season. Ilona and her sister took full advantage of the situation, having her neighbors catch them up to what had happened during the season. A year ago, Ilona had vowed to herself not to watch it, partly because she didn’t want to get jealous of Alan spinning his dainty partner around the floor like she weighed nothing, and partly because the sting of not getting to perform again was still fresh. As her company filled her in, her eyes inadvertently scanned the ballroom. To her surprise, she locked eyes with Alan’s mother, who quickly made it a point to come over and say hello. Heart dropping into her stomach, Ilona stood to greet her, quietly excusing herself from her seat and accepting a warm embrace from Mrs. Bersten. Alan’s mother had always been such a lovely presence and deep supporter of Ilona, and the two had created quite a bond during her season. Ilona was glad to see her, of course, but a small bit of anxiety balled up in her stomach knowing Alan could be anywhere, watching her embrace his mother like nothing had gone down between the two of them. Ilona entertained conversation with a polite smile plastered on her face until the producers finally called for everyone to take their seats. As they said their goodbyes, a wave of relief washed over her, and she retreated to the comfort of her sister's company.

The night seemed to zip by as couple after couple danced their hearts out on the ballroom floor. Each dance was equally as inspiring, each freestyle as creative and personalized as the rest. Ilona greatly enjoyed getting to watch them all without the insecurity and doubt whispering in the back of her mind, and she even began to tear up at the performance that had just begun to wrap up. Once the pair's scores were called and the network went to commercial, what she had been silently dreading finally reared its ugly head. Alan and his new partner, who was significantly smaller than her just as she once feared, stepped out of the wings, hand in hand. Bile began to make its way up her throat as she uncomfortably watched them move into position. They stood face to face, so close they could probably feel each other’s breath. The sight made her stomach turn in ways she didn't even want to think about. Her mind begged her to tear away from the scene, feeling bubbles of jealousy and past emotions rising to the surface, but there was something about his presence that attracted her like a magnet. After months of not allowing herself to think about him, forcing herself to stop checking his socials, finding distraction after distraction to keep her mind and heart away from the one person who had ever truly held them, there he was. In the flesh, looking as tanned, fit, and beautiful as ever.

When she noticed Ilona’s staring, Olivia’s hand slid to her knee, silently begging her to look away. It worked for just a second, letting Ilona turn to reassure her sister everything was fine. But, of course, as soon as her gaze began to wander back to him, Alan’s eyes locked with hers. She watched as the subtle shock played on his face, followed by a look she couldn’t decipher. In the end, it was she who ripped her gaze away, reasoning to herself that it wasn’t polite to distract the dancers right before they went on. As Ilona conversed with her sister and laughed with her neighbors, she could still feel the heat of Alan’s gaze on her. 

“He hasn’t looked away since he saw you,” Olivia whispered into her ear, her tone carrying an edge she couldn’t quite read. “Please be careful without me tonight.”

All Ilona could do was nod, her brain shifting into overdrive at the new information. It made her body go cold, knowing he was watching her every move. Did he want her to say something? To look back at him? Was he appalled she was there? Her thoughts swirled, the jealousy she felt mixing and intertwining with confusion and regret in ways she couldn’t even begin to comprehend before the intro music played, efficiently snapping her out of her trance.

Before she could shake off the daze that settled over her mind, Alan and his stunning partner had finished their dance and were making their way up to the skybox. With her luck, Ilona had been placed to sit right near the stairs leading up there. As the pairing ran to get their scores, Alan’s gaze naturally fell on Ilona, locking his deep brown eyes with her own once again.

For a moment, time seemed to slow. The music of the show was drowned out by the sound of Ilona’s heartbeat, thudding loudly in her ears. Her breath hitched, and she couldn’t bring herself to look away. Alan’s intense gaze held her captive, as if he were silently asking a question she couldn’t answer.

The spell broke when his partner led him up the stairs, and he turned away with a casual smile, leaving Ilona feeling as though the air had been knocked out of her lungs. She blinked rapidly, finally shaking off the daze, but the moment lingered in her mind like the echo of a fading song.

She was completely and utterly fucked.

---

masterlist

[alwaysthegeorges]

wait!! tell us more about ur fave Alona fics I need a good place to start (urs are amazing bee tee dubs)

thank you! it means the world to me that people actually like what I write! i'm so stoked to give well-deserved shoutouts too so here goes! don't touch me, I'm a real live wire is such a good one!! literally hooked. Mirrorball is a classic obviously, and we just got fed with a brand new update for Sentitive! if you have any recs you should drop them in the comments 🤭🤭

[alwaysthegeorges]

can you write a story about ilona x alan after their halloween dance? maybe something like them noticing the fans starting to ship them together?

oo this is good!! i'll start cookin >:)

[alwaysthegeorges]

ur Alan/Ilona stuff is SOOOOOOO effin good!!!! are u planning on writing more???? what are ur fave Alona fics/writers????

omg thank you!! i am planning on writing more, I just don't have a lot of ideas yet (feel free to give me some if you're dying to see any lol)! right now, my absolute fav alona writers are @/lilfakeplant on ao3, @/peachesandpumpkin on ao3, @/blurredoutline on wattpad, and @/notalotgoingon on wattpad as well! <3

[alwaysthegeorges]

desire in the dark - ilona maher x alan bersten (2/2)

Summary - the pair gets spicyyy

Warnings - smut (fingering, eating out, piv, multiple orgasms, praise), accidental (and purposeful) love confession, making out, consent, swearing.

Word Count - 1.6k

Song Inspo - secret love song, pt. II

a/n - minors dni! note that this is all fictionalized and does not accurately represent any of these real people. if they want me to take it down, i will. this is just for fun! enjoy, sinners <33

She was finally getting exactly what she wanted. There, with Alan’s hand tangled in her hair, pressing her against the door of his bedroom, she was finally fulfilling the ache in her chest that had been burning for months. Something about the way his lips moved on hers made her positively melt, so captured by the way his body rises and falls with hers.

“How’s this feel?” he whispered against her lips, using his hand on her lower back to pull her body flush against his.

“Amazing,” she panted, eager to have more of him. All her brain screamed for was more. More kisses, more touches, more of the man she had been so enraptured by. Thankfully, without her having to say another word, he seemed to listen to her silent pleas. His hands roamed, caressing her body like it was the most precious thing in the world as he led her towards his bed. 

“You're so fucking perfect," he whispered, a near-growl escaping from his throat as he moved to press fiery kisses against her collarbone. She shivered at the sensation, her breath hitching as his lips burned against her skin. Every kiss sent waves of electricity coursing through her skin, her body responding without thought, without hesitation. 

Alan moved down her body to sit comfortably between her thighs, holding onto her like she’d slip away if he let go. 

“Is this ok?” he asked, peeking up at her from in between her legs. All she could do was nod, words completely escaping her when she met his dark brown eyes. 

“Use your words, baby,” he prompted, his voice low and soothing. A softness remained in his gaze as he waited for her response, his fingertips tracing the inside of her knee absentmindedly.

“It’s more than okay,” she breathed out, eager to have his tongue where she had been imagining it for months. 

With her admission, he finally allowed himself to not hold back. His tongue flicked and teased, working her up, just for him to pause with a smirk and peck kisses on the insides of her thighs while she calmed back down. He did this a few times, licking and sucking exactly where she wanted him to, letting her teeter right along the edge and squirm harshly against the mattress before abruptly removing his touch. He left her breathless and frustrated, wanting nothing more but to grab his head and hold it down there, letting her reach her peak. After the third time he lifted himself from her core, she finally gasped out in exasperation.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asked teasingly, eyeing her through heavy eyelids as he continued marking her sensuous thighs.

“You know what’s wrong,” she said breathlessly, her words laced with desperation. She let her head fall back onto the pillows in defeat once again. If he wasn’t so goddamn sexy…

“Mm, I don’t think I do. Tell me what you want, love.”

“Please, baby,” she pleaded desperately, meeting his eyes once again. Her stomach dropped when she caught a glimpse of humiliating fire in his eye, promising something more sinister than she was expecting. Boy, was she in for a long night.

“You’re such a pretty mess for me,” was his reply, completely ignoring her plea and going back to nipping at her soft skin. 

Torturously slowly, he began running his fingers along her core, gathering her wetness. While locking eyes with her, he dipped each finger inside her, continuing his excruciating pace as she whined out for him.

“What do you want, Ilona?” he asked simply, pumping two fingers in and out of her easily using the slickness he left over from his previous activity. 

Squeezing her eyes shut, she knew exactly what he wanted to hear. Begrudgingly, she let the words slip from her lips, her voice barely a whisper, but thick with desire. “Please let me cum, baby.”

Without another word, Alan focused on pumping in and out of her faster, making sure to hit the spot that drove her wild every time. He leaned down and added his tongue back to the mix, and within mere seconds, he had her arching her back and grasping at the sheets with pleasure. 

He crawled back up to her face as she came down from her high, not being able to keep the smile off his face. Alan kissed her cheek and neck gently, allowing for her to return to Earth before speaking again.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he whispered in her ear, allowing his hands to roam her body once again.

Ilona pulled him into a fiery kiss, not wanting to break their connection quite yet. Her hands grasped the sides of his face, feeling the heat between them surge even more. She deepened the kiss, hungry for more. More of him. Every touch made her heart race, and she couldn't stop herself from pulling him closer, needing him to understand just how much she wanted him.

Alan shifted and aligned himself with her core before giving her one last yearning look.

“Are you sure about this?” he whispered, not wanting to break the moment. Ilona nodded, swallowing in anticipation. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure. I’ve never been more sure about something.”

Without breaking eye contact, Alan slowly pushed all the way in until he was fully bottomed out. His face flushed as he watched her eyes roll back, his body setting on fire at how she responded to him. His pace was brutally slow at first, making her insides stir with need. She pulled him close, dragging her nails along his back and shoulders as she involuntarily let out small whimpers into his ear. 

“God, you feel so fucking good,” he sobbed, feeling every inch of her body beneath him. His brain went into overdrive, barely being able to handle how fucking well she took him.

Something sparked in Alan, a rush of heat flooding through him at the sound of her breathless mewls. His grip tightened on her, pulling her even closer as the tension between them became palpable. He could feel her body responding to him, making him lose himself in the moment, his mind clouded with nothing but desire for her. His pace quickened, causing her grasps at his body to become more and more desperate. Watching her body tense and her head bury into the pillows beneath her sent him into a spiral. If this was attraction, he had certainly never felt it for anyone else before. Watching the way her eyes squeezed shut and her back arched, he could tell she was close. Alan dropped a hand to trace where they met, and was met with a very sexy and very strained groan. 

 “Do that again- Shit, just like that, right there,” Ilona whined, her body setting ablaze as he worked some sort of magic on her.

“You’re being so good for me,” he gasped in her ear, trying his best not to teeter off the edge right there and then by listening to her raspy pleas and shaky breaths. “God, fuckin love you. Love your body.”

A wave of tension broke inside her at his confession, not being able to handle the building pressure coming from her lower abdomen.

“I don’t— I don’t think I can last any longer, fuck, please—” she sobbed out, grasping desperately at his back.

“Cum with me,” he begged, giving her one more passionate kiss as both of their releases crashed down on them in a wave of ecstasy. All at once, it felt like their bodies became one in their throws of blazed euphoria.

As they calmed, he pulled her close. Though they were around the same size, he somehow made her feel so dainty and small. They laid there together in the quiet, the world outside slipping away as they shared this beautiful moment of intimacy. His warmth enveloped her, his steadying heartbeat calming her racing thoughts. It felt like time had slowed, and all that mattered was the feeling of being held, safe, and cherished in his arms.

“I love you, Alan,” she admitted, feeling the pressure of those words lift off her chest almost immediately. The relief of it all finally being out in the open flooded her, and for the first time in what felt like forever, her heart felt light. She waited, breathlessly, for his response, her chest tight with hope and fear, unsure of what to expect but knowing she couldn't take back what she had just said. The logic part of her brain wanted to scream at her, telling her he only said it because of the heat of the moment. Her heart, however, silenced it, letting Alan himself decide how he wanted to respond.

“I love you so much it hurts, Ilona.”

Her breath caught in her throat, the weight of his words sinking into her chest like a promise she had been waiting for her entire life. She met his gaze, her heart racing as he cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing over her cheek tenderly. The vulnerability in his eyes mirrored her own, and for a fleeting moment, she could see what the rest of her life looked like.

The tension between them melted away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of understanding, of two people finally finding what they had been searching for their whole lives. Alan leaned in, his lips finding hers with the same intensity that had always been there, only now, it was laced with certainty. There were no doubts, no hesitations, just the raw, undeniable connection between them.

As they kissed, everything that had been left unsaid seemed to fall into place, a silent promise that this was just the beginning of something beautiful. In that moment, with her heart in his hands, Ilona knew that the love they shared wasn’t a fleeting feeling. It was real, and it was all theirs.

---

masterlist

[alwaysthegeorges]

desire in the dark - ilona maher x alan bersten (1/2)

Summary - a game of hide and seek makes the pair finally act on their feelings for each other.

Warnings - HARD pining, mostly fluff in this part!

Word Count - 1.7k

Song Inspo - secret love song, pt. II

a/n - smut is in the next part! enjoy <33

If you had told Ilona that a simple game of hide and seek would give her everything she’d ever wanted, she wouldn’t have believed you.

Alan and Ilona had an extremely stressful week at the studio, just like everyone else. However, unlike everyone else, their stress was heightened by a very thick desire for each other—a secret they both guarded fiercely. At the start of the season, when others teased that they’d make a great couple, they laughed it off, brushing aside the comments as if the idea were absurd. Their friendship grew naturally, a steady rhythm and a constant amidst the chaos of rehearsals. But somewhere along the way, the dynamic shifted. The lines blurred. They began to fall for each other, slowly and imperceptibly at first, until the weight of their feelings became impossible to ignore. Every touch between them lit sparks on their skin, every dance feeling like a whirlwind of fire and passion.

Ilona felt like she was rapidly losing her grip on reality every time Alan caressed her leg, or even casually unbuttoned a few buttons on his shirt. She constantly had to rip her eyes from him and remind herself to keep her composure, which was, in fact, not working as well as she wanted. It wasn’t her fault he was built like a Greek god with biceps she desperately wanted to sink her teeth into. And on top of being incredibly sexy, of course he had to be an amazing dancer and an incredible friend. He was thoughtful, kind, caring. He took care of her like no one else did, not even having to be asked. He would bring her favorite snacks to rehearsals when he knew she was running low. He would go out of his way to carry her purses, jackets, or whatever she needed when he could tell she was getting annoyed with them. He really went out of his way to make her life easier, and blended so well into her daily life that she wasn’t sure what she was going to do once she went to Bristol without him. Alan really was the whole fucking package, and something in her itched to lock him down and never let him go. But, this was a job, and she had a contract to fulfill. She knew what would happen if she acted on her desires, and she would be risking everything just to see if he possibly would want her too. It was too much to risk, so pushing down her eagerness to rip his clothes off was painfully necessary. So, no matter how badly she wanted to run her hands down that ridiculously perfect chest—or rip his shirt off entirely—she had to push those thoughts down, hard. If there was one thing Ilona had learned in life, it was how to survive a dry spell. And if enduring the rest of the season without ripping Alan’s clothes off was what it took to keep her career on track, she’d find a way. Probably.

Alan, on the other hand, was not doing as well at keeping his desire at bay. The dances they were assigned as the weeks went on did get increasingly more sexy, but he definitely did not have to add as many caresses and close holds as he had been. Yet every time they moved together, something about being so close to Ilona—feeling the warmth of her skin, the softness of her breath against his face—set his body on fire. The pull between them was magnetic, and he found himself fighting the overwhelming urge to lose control. As much as he knew he should be holding back, the pain of not being able to touch her, hold her close, to treat her right, was creating a consistent ache in his chest. He had to get his sexual energy out somewhere, and it definitely was not going to be with someone else. Since the moment he laid his eyes on her, he knew no one could possibly compare to her. They wouldn’t even come close. So, he added an extra sensual move or two to their routines. After all, it wasn’t killing anyone, right?

Before they knew it, the semi finals had arrived, and the pressure was becoming unbearable. Tensions were running high, tempers flaring more often as everyone was on edge. After some brainstorming one Wednesday night, the team agreed to move up the annual DWTS hide-and-seek competition, hoping it would help ease the stress for at least one night. There was something so special about the tradition, being able to reconnect with their carefree sides. The game had always been a chance to unwind, a break from the intensity of the competition and the stress of being on camera. The pros were more than eager to introduce it to their new friends. The contestants were equally ecstatic to participate in something so fun and silly with their pairs, especially since the last few weeks had been so difficult.

As Derek began the countdown, each pro eagerly grabbed their contestant and darted off in different directions, their laughter echoing through the chaos. Alan and Ilona, caught up in the frenzy, clutched each other's hands and took off down a random hallway. Unfortunately, the hallway they had picked was unprofound, only having a few practice rooms and a closet in it. It was definitely not ideal for hide-and-seek, but it would have to do. Panic began to set in as Derek got closer to 0. With only a few seconds left, they exchanged a quick glance, their eyes coming to an unspoken agreement. Without hesitation, they both sprinted towards the closet, making it with barely a second to spare.

As the room went dark, Alan and Ilona couldn’t help but dissolve into a fit of giggles, both fighting for breath and trying to remain quiet at the same time. For professional athletes, they really shouldn’t have been so winded, and something about that fact made the pair laugh even harder. When they finally regained their composure, their eyes began to adjust to the sudden darkness. It was then that they realized this closet was, in fact, very cramped, and the pair was basically chest to chest. Ilona took a step back and looked away, face heating at the close contact. No matter how many times they touched during their rehearsals, part of her would always get a little dizzy being so close in proximity to Alan.

As time stretched on, Alan and Ilona fell into a quiet rhythm, talking in hushed tones to pass the time. Even though they were missing out on rehearsal time, the definite upside was still getting to hang out with each other. The pair had undeniable chemistry, that was for sure, something electric and one-of-a-kind. Yet throughout their teasing and flirting, they never faltered in their strong friendship. It was a delicate balance, one that made their connection feel all the more special.

What felt like only minutes later, Ilona checked her phone and blinked in surprise when she saw an entire hour had passed. She pressed her ear to the door, Alan following suit curiously, but all they could hear was silence. No shoes shuffling, no whispers or muffled voices from found couples. Everyone had clearly found some great hiding spots. They were not messing around this year.

The two’s laughter faded into comfortable silence, leaving only their smiles lingering. The tiny space suddenly felt even smaller, the air warmer, as they took this time in close proximity to study each other. Alan found his eyes roaming from Ilona’s mesmerizing eyes to the slope of her nose. He traveled to the way her lips pursed slightly, suddenly finding himself wondering for the zillionth time how they must taste. He allowed his mind to wander, imagining running his fingers through her hair, the silky strands slipping through his fingers. Gently tilting her chin up so their eyes would meet. The idea of pulling her closer, feeling her breath against his, sent a shiver through him. The silence between them felt charged now, each breath heavier, as if the world outside the closet had disappeared entirely.

“Alan?” Ilona whispered.

“Yeah?” he replied absentmindedly, still lost in his thoughts of her. 

“Your grip’s a little tight.”

Alan snapped back to reality, immediately noticing his hand had somehow made its way to her back. They were chest to chest now, and he promptly let her go, stumbling backward as if he’d been burned from the touch.

“I’m so sorry. I got… lost,” he muttered, running a hand along the top of his head.

Ilona’s lips curved into a soft smile, her head tilting just enough to catch his gaze.

“It’s okay. I didn’t…” she stopped, the words catching in her throat. If she said it aloud, there would be no taking it back. The fragile balance they’d maintained could shatter in an instant.

Alan leaned closer, his eyes searching hers. “Didn’t what?” he prompted, his voice low. His heart pounded in his chest, so loud he was certain she could hear it too. All she did was shake her head, suddenly finding the concrete beneath them a worthy distraction. 

“Lona,” he pleaded. His hands seemed to move on their own accord, placing themselves delicately on her waist. It was his soft touch that finally made her meet his eyes. The gentle contact sent a jolt through her, and she looked up, her breath catching when she saw the way he was looking at her—like she was the only thing that mattered. The intensity almost made her lose her breath for the second time that night.

“I didn’t mind,” she admitted hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Alan froze, her words sinking in. Slowly, he let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “You didn’t?”

She shook her head, her cheeks flushing red. It was a good thing this closet was so dark. 

“No. Not at all.”

Their faces were close now, the world outside the tiny space disappearing entirely. Alan hesitated, his gaze flicking to her lips before meeting her eyes again, silently asking for permission. Ilona gave the faintest nod, and that was all he needed.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against hers tentatively, like he was asking a question. Let me? Ilona answered by pressing closer, her arms reaching up to wrap around his shoulders. 

In that moment, there were no words needed—only the warmth of their kiss and the realization that the line they’d danced around for so long had finally vanished.

---

masterlist

[alwaysthegeorges]

Ilona Maher and Alan Bersten Dancing With The Stars Season 33 Episode 7

[alwaysthegeorges]

Father reading to us and his other children will never get old

YouTube trying to suggest to me all these other videos of random people or AI voices reading Reddit stories, please stop. I only get my reddit stories read to me by Shayne Topp, the way god intended

[alwaysthegeorges]

Tilda Swinton risked arrest waving a rainbow flag in front of the Kremlin in violation of Russia’s new homosexual propaganda bill. And she wants everyone who can to reblog it in solidarity.

Guys please reblog this, it won’t ruin your blog, this is important

[alwaysthegeorges]

What Dreams Are Made Of - Peter Parker x Reader (1/2)

Summary - You and Peter are friends. Except when he looks at you like that.

Warnings - Fluff, pining, talks of sex

Word Count - 4.4k

a/n - this went so far from what I had originally imagined. part 2 will be hardcore smut so stay tuned

!gif not mine!

You and Peter Parker were friends. That was all. At least that's what you told yourselves.

As a neighborhood hero yourself, you spent a lot of time with Peter. Being at the "bottom of the food chain" at the Avengers tower had its perks, of course, but it also meant that whenever anyone was too lazy to go get what they needed, you and Peter were tasked with the errands. Thor wanted a sandwich from the deli across town? Whatever. Natasha craved a chocolate cupcake from the bakery right across the street? No problem. Except when they made you take the friendly neighborhood Spiderman with you to get him out of the house.

Peter had the tendency to hole himself up in his room for days when he wasn't saving the city or doing patrols. Legos and whatever online forums he was browsing took up most of his time, which was frustrating to the entire tower, especially you. Totally not because you liked him, but because it wasn't healthy. So, every few days you had gone solo, Tony would drag his young protégé out of his room (sometimes by physical force) and force him to accompany you.

Being one of the few young women living at the tower and working with the team, they all treated you like a younger sister, just like they treated Peter as their younger brother. They all knew you could both hold your own on the battlefield, but they also knew sometimes you needed big sibling advice, needed to be told which side of the wrench to use, or even to be pushed together with your crush so you guys would just kiss already and stop pining. Steve's words, not yours.

What you loved about the team is that they always looked out for the two of you. What you hated was having to go around like their assistants to get them coffee from the 24-hour gas station at 4 a.m. so they could plan for whatever major fundraising event was coming up. If they were up, so were you and Peter, just in case they needed something. It may have been annoying sometimes, but they did so much for you that it only felt right to give that back in the ways you could. So, when coffee was requested for the second time in four hours, and the idea of buying a coffee pot for the tower was waved off, you and Peter headed out to the gas station.

The ding of the bell sounded as the two of you groggily shuffled in, the clerk side-eyeing you like you had just ruined his night by showing up for the second time in a night. As you browsed the aisles separately to shoot the shit, occasionally calling to one another to grab a certain snack, you could feel the long night getting to your brain. Of course, when you got groggy and tired, your brain started to tell you Peter was sending you signs that he liked you more than a friend, which was preposterous. Peter was dating MJ, and it was going well. However, you couldn't shake the fact that his glances at you felt longer, his arm around your shoulder felt less platonic, and the air felt thicker when you were alone together. But of course, that was all in your head, as you tried to remind yourself as he tossed you your favorite snack before heading to the checkout counter.

"Put your stuff up there too, and I'll just put it on the business card. Tony really shouldn't trust me with this thing when I'm near candy," Peter joked, smiling back at you as you came up behind him to put your items on the counter.

"I don't know why he keeps giving it to you instead of me. I'm clearly the more responsible one," you quip, eyeing the 3 different packs of candy you had grabbed along with the coffee cups.

The two of you shared a stare, chuckling at the haul as Peter shoved the card into the reader. His head whipped around as the card reader started beeping rapidly, taking it out with confusion.

"Sorry man, you shoved it in too hard. Sometimes the reader can get sensitive with that stuff," drawled the clerk, and Peter gently put the card back in with a chuckle.

"Jeez, Parker. Hope you don't treat MJ like that card reader," you joked, shoving your elbow into his arm. His face went red and he laughed, but then suddenly found the reader to be super interesting.

As the two of you carried your bags and drinks back to the tower, the air felt tight, and he hadn't spoken a word since he wasn't able to take his eyes off the reader. You had a feeling it had to do with your joke about MJ, so you piped up.

"Hey, sorry if the card reader joke was weird."

"No, no, it's fine. It just took me off guard," he said, not taking his eyes off the pavement.

"I didn't mean to imply that you were.." you trailed off. That he was what? Rough? You couldn't imagine Peter being rough. Sexually at least.

"No, seriously, you're fine. It's just- we haven't exactly-" he coughed.

"You two haven't had sex?"

"It's not that she doesn't want to, I just haven't-"

The conversation got cut off by the elevator opening, causing a stampede of tired and overworked heroes jonesing for their liquid sleep. After distributing the goods, the two of you made your way into the main living room and sat on the couch, finally digging into your haul of sugar. After a beat of silence, you sat back on the plush couch and looked at him.

"So?" you asked innocently.

He finally looked at you instead of the floor.

"What?"

"Why haven't you guys done it yet? I thought you were in love or something."

"That's a long story," he started, shifting in his seat. He suddenly found the floor more interesting again.

"If you don't want to talk about sex, that's fine. But you're always raving about MJ to me, and you've been quiet all night. You can tell me if something's going on, you know. We're friends," you said, shifting forward and placing a hand on his forearm.

Peter looked at you, and a beat passed as he searched your face. You were worried you had upset him or pushed too hard, but just as you rescinded your hand and opened your mouth to apologize, he spoke.

"She told me she loved me and I just... I couldn't say it back."

Your mind immediately reeled. Why couldn't he say it back? Did he like someone else? Was he lying to protect her from people coming after them?

He must have seen the look on your face, because he pretty quickly launched into an explanation so your mind wouldn't work too hard.

"I wanted to say it back," he started, taking a deep breath. "Something just told me that if I did, then she'd want to have sex, and I know we've been dating for 4 months, but I'm just not ready for that. It's too important and I don't want to waste it on-" he stopped. His face immediately reddened as you sat up quickly.

"Too important? Why?" you asked curiously, not being able to contain your thoughts.

"Just, never mind. I'll talk to you later."

With that, Peter got up and stalked away, leaving a trail of confusion behind him. Your mind raced for answers but came up short, and you ultimately gave up and shuffled back into the meeting room. There was some large map on the table, so you ended up near the end, where Steve was watching, looking bored.

"What was that all about?" Steve asked, apparently in a mood to talk about anything else than a charity event.

"Nosy much?" you joked, giving him a look.

"Indulge me. It's not that often we get a gloomy Peter."

"I think I pushed too hard when he told me he and MJ haven't had sex yet," you admitted with a sigh. Steve looked at you with surprise at the answer.

"Really? I thought they were madly in love~" he replied, wiggling his eyebrows.

"I know, I was surprised too. But apparently, it's 'too special' to do with her yet. But I can't figure out why. He's being weird about it, like he's never done it before-"

The realization hit the two of you like bricks.

"Oh my god, little Petey hasn't had sex yet? Isn't he like 21?" Steve asked, a bit too gleefully.

"Yeah, we're only a few days apart. That makes so much sense now! But I wonder why he feels like it wouldn't be special enough with MJ."

"Why don't you go ask him? Sounds more interesting in this stuff, anyway."

You nodded and cupped Steve on the shoulder before heading to the hallway with both your and Peter's rooms. You slowed as you came up to his door, bringing your hand up to knock, but stopping. He's probably had enough sex talk for the night. Instead, you dropped your hand and went to your own room, sleeping a little more peacefully with the knowledge that maybe Peter and MJ weren't as solid as you thought.

˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

A pounding at your door woke you up with a jump.

"C'mon, we're gonna be late!" A voice called from the other side.

You rolled over to look at your alarm clock. 11:30 a.m. With a groan, you got up and started to get dressed.

You had been distracted all day. The whole team had to be at this too-large banquet hall to set up for the charity event that night, but your mind was definitely not on fancy curtains and chocolate fountains. As much as you didn't want to admit it, a part of you was relieved that Peter and MJ weren't as serious as you thought. A part of you wanted to know why he was so adamant that MJ wasn't the one he wanted to lose his virginity to, but the other part told you to leave it alone and keep it in your pants. As much as you wanted to fantasize, Peter had in no way made a pass at you, nor should he. He was your teammate. It didn't matter that his eyes gleamed when the two of you stood a little too close, or that his hand seemed to linger when you accidentally touched hands at meetings. He had a girlfriend, and that was that.

You had just started to accept this fact when you glanced at him across the room, and he ducked his head like he had just been caught staring. You brushed it off, trying to convince yourself that it was just a coincidence and that he was probably just thinking about your conversation last night. You had hauled yourself into focusing on the decorating so much that you didn't even notice at first when he showed up at your side with a coffee and your favorite dessert. You jumped a little when he said your name, but thanked him sweetly for the gesture. Peter brought you the combination a lot when he could tell you were tired or stressed. He was just a good friend like that, and you had forbidden yourself from thinking about it any other way years ago.

"I'm sorry about last night," he offered, sipping his own coffee.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. I overstepped," you said, placing a hand on his arm. So muscular from training, yet so soft- nope. Not thinking about that. You removed your arm and tried really hard to focus in on the conversation. His eyes seemed to wander anywhere but yours, which wasn't like him, but you were trying not to push too hard again.

"You didn't. I'm just a little sensitive about sex. I just want it to be perfect, you know? And I know that it probably won't be because it rarely is, but I just have this picture in my head of what it should be. And I'm not ready to give that up just yet. Even if I do like MJ."

You felt a ping in your heart at the last sentence, but you soldiered on.

"That's okay. You shouldn't have to settle for something that's not what you want."

"Thanks. I'm trying to keep my expectations down, anyway. It's not like I have the means for a candlelit rooftop," he laughed, shoulders seeming to ease a bit. You chuckled, trying very hard to not notice the cute blush donning his cheeks.

"Oo, candlelit rooftop, eh? What other fancy plans do you have in mind, mister romantic?"

His blush deepened, and he hung his head to the floor with a sultry chuckle before bringing it back up with a look you couldn't decipher.

"Let's just say that when it happens, we won't leave until the sun comes up."

With that, Peter sauntered away with an air of confidence, leaving you to pick your jaw up off the floor all by yourself.

˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

The alarm set on your phone went off with an annoying ring just as you were putting on your second earring. Fortunately, a lot of important people were going to be showing up to this fancy event, so Tony had instructed the entire team to put on their best. For you, that meant your old-that-doesn't-look-old prom dress you were surprised still fit. You peered into the mirror, giving one final look at the glittering navy that hugged your body so well it was sinful. Your hair cascaded down one shoulder, the other side pinned with silver and diamond pins. It was safe to say you cleaned up well.

You grabbed your phone to shut the alarm off just as Peter opened your door. You stumbled back from your bed in surprise, and as Peter opened his mouth to apologize, he stopped. Like a deer in headlights, the man looked you up and down with his mouth quite literally hanging open.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," you said, chuckling at his gawking.

Before you could even register what he was doing, Peter ripped his phone out of his pocket and took a picture. He lowered it after the shutter sound, smiling the biggest you had seen in months.

"Did you really just-?" you asked in disbelief, not being able to control the laughter that spilled out. This man.

Proudly, like a kid showing his parent the artwork he just created, he showed you the picture he took. It was half blurry and the lighting was terrible, but he seemed so pleased with himself that you couldn't help but laugh.

After you got ahold of yourself, you grabbed your clutch purse, sliding your phone in. You walked out of your room, grabbing Peter's hand and pulling him along with you to the elevator like an excited puppy.

"We have a banquet to endure."

˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

The banquet was roaring with people, laughing echoing off the walls, and too-drunk women reaching for more champagne. The few people you had talked to didn't have much to say, and only really wanted to talk about their boats and mansions. You decided to steer clear of them for now, going to grab yourself a second flute of champagne from the bar instead. You sipped your glass as you surveyed the scene, and caught the eye of a curly-haired, golden retriever of a man, already staring back at you. You noticed him politely excuse himself from the people he was talking to and saunter over to you, a half-empty glass in a hand of his own.

"Come to bore me with details about your boat, Parker?" you asked jokingly as he reached you and set his glass on the bar.

"Oh, of course. But my glass was also getting empty," he quipped, winking at you before turning to watch the bartender fill his drink.

"You weren't coming over here to tell me how exquisite I look tonight like the other old men looking for a sugar baby, were you?"

Peter picked up his glass and took a long sip before pausing to answer.

"I would describe you as ravishing, darling. And that's not exactly the kind of baby I'm looking for," he said in a jokingly I-am-rich-and-serious tone, going to sip his drink again. You choked on the hair, shaking your head at him. In the background, you noticed a band start to play a slow melody.

"You're lucky you're cute, Parker," you chuckled, taking the time to look him up and down like he had done earlier. Man, did he clean up nice.

"Don't think I don't see you checking me out. If you're going to gawk, at least make it subtle!"

You gasped out a laugh, looking back up at his face to see a cocky look on his face.

"May I remind you that you basically tripped over yourself to get a picture of me earlier?"

"Mm, I don't recall. Shall we dance?" he asked, brushing past the question with one of those goddamn smiles. He sat down his drink, now empty, and held out his hand for you to take.

You shook your head at him with a smile, but ultimately put your cup down and took his hand. He grasped it gently, but like you would slip away if he let go. You could feel the suaveness in his steps as he pulled you onto the dancefloor and into him, chest to chest. As you swayed to the music, hand in hand, so close all you could smell was his cologne, a soft silence fell between you. The music tumbled through the air as he held you, and for once, you let your mind wander. Your gaze drifted all over his face, taking in his freckles, his dimples. The way his mouth curved just so. It was overwhelming, how sudden you felt it. You had known Peter for so long, and your friendship was so solid. You didn't let yourself think about him the way you truly wanted to because you couldn't give that up. You wouldn't trade it for the world. He was so good, and soft, and caring. He sometimes cared more about your well-being than you did, especially when the nightmares would come and the depression would take over. The nights you woke up screaming, he would rush in and hold you for hours, getting you a snack once you had calmed and staying with you until morning. He would go out of his way to run errands with you sometimes, even if it was just getting toilet paper from the corner store. He was everything to you, and you couldn't risk that just to have him not feel the same. It would be the loss of your life. So, you hid it. You didn't allow it to swallow you whole, until now. Here, in this sparkling ballroom, dressed to the nines and bathing in Peter's scent, all you wanted to do was scream that you loved this man. It took everything in you to hold him so close, and yet keep the biggest secret from him. It was too risky.

You thought, at least. In the time you were lost in your head, your faces had gotten close. Too close. You looked up through your eyelashes into Peter's beautiful brown eyes and tried not to drown in your thoughts as you felt his breath on your cheek. As you felt his lips brush yours, your eyes fluttered closed-

A crash. You both jumped back as the music abruptly ended, and everyone turned to see the too-drunk wife of a very rich guy you had spoken with earlier in the middle of broken glass and champagne on the floor. Of course, she ran into the champagne fountain. There's your life.

You and Peter shuffled off the floor now that the mood was sufficiently ruined. You ended up settling at one of the standing tables nearby. The silence as some waiters cleaned up the broken glass slowly began to kill you. Doubt crept into your mind because Peter was your friend. He didn't like you like that. He surely felt you shift and didn't want to ruin the moment. Stupid, letting you feel for him. You knew it would ruin everything.

Peter shifted uncomfortably from side to side, and though the band had picked up again, you could tell something was off. He wasn't as chatty as usual, and he wore a solemn expression you couldn't place, solidifying the fact that you had fucked up.

"What's wrong?" you asked gently, breaking the silence.

"I broke up with MJ," he answered, almost a whisper.

"Oh, Peter, I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. I had to. She's not the one I can't stop thinking about," he admitted, eyes shifting back to yours.

You reeled back, confused. Your heart dropped to your stomach.

"Who is she, then?" You tried not to let the hurt infiltrate your voice. Of course, he met someone.

Peter's face shifted.

"What?"

"Who is she?" you gulped, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. You couldn't look him in the eye.

"Are you fucking with me? If you are, it's not funny," he said flatly. Your world was spinning. The warmth in your chest was gone now, leaving a gaping hole of emptiness in its place.

"Surprise, I don't watch your dating life with a microscope. Just tell me."

"You are unbelievable," he said, stepping back and shaking his head. You could see the hurt on his face.

"Peter-"

"I have to go," he said flatly, and rushed off without saying another word.

You felt the emptiness in your chest rise again, and even though the champagne tower was ruined, the bar sure wasn't. You stalked over to the bar and ordered the strongest drink they had.

˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

Come to the roof read the text you received from Peter. This had better not be some superhero emergency.

You shoved your phone back into your bag and headed towards the elevator, pushing the highest button when you got in. Peter had been gone for about 30 minutes, which gave you plenty of time to sulk over whatever the fuck had happened. Oh, and gave you time to shoot down a couple shots. To your dismay, you were only tipsy. Stark apparently didn't allow too hard of liquor in case, well, what happened with the champagne tower.

As the elevator reached the rooftop, you took a deep breath, trying to soothe the nerves in your stomach. Fucking anxiety.

As soon as the door opened to the crisp night, you saw him. Peter, standing at the end of an aisle of candles. You stepped off the elevator, now officially confused. You walked towards him up the aisle of candles slowly, as if to not startle a deer. He was quiet as you approached, but you still couldn't read his face. You had been friends for years, and yet he still baffled you sometimes.

"Sorry, I uh, I'll leave you be," you pushed out.

"What?" Peter asked, pulling his hands from his pockets.

"You meant this for someone else? Wrong number, I guess. I'll let you get to it."

As you turned to walk away, Peter snagged your hand, pulling you back toward him.

"What do you see?" he asked plainly.

"What?"

"Describe what you see."

Still confused, you obliged, scanning the area.

"Candles. A blanket. The skyline. You," you answered, meeting his gaze once again.

"What does this look like?"

"A date? I guess?"

"And I texted you to come up here," he said, a small smile returning to his face. He grabbed your other hand, which was now apparently free. When did you set that down?

"You meant to text someone else," you replied confidently.

"I did not mean to text someone else. I meant to text you."

"But that means-" you stopped.

"I set this up for you. Us." His smile widened, and he began to pull you closer. Your cheeks reddened. It suddenly was very hot on this roof.

"Why?"

"You are so beautiful. Fast. Strong. Smart. You can be a little daft sometimes, though."

And with that, he brought his hands to your face and kissed you. Not too hard, but definitely not soft. He kissed you like he needed you, like you were oxygen and he was drowning. He put everything he had into that kiss, and it sent you soaring. You wrapped your hands around his wrist and waist, pulling him closer to you and kissing him back. You didn't realize how much you needed this until this moment. It was everything. Spring breezes, crunchy fall leaves, the stars twinkling at midnight. It was the glowing sun and the shining moon, the waves crashing on beaches, and birds singing in the morning. You never realized how much you were missing out on until this moment, when he was kissing you and you were kissing him. It was the moment you burst. There was no hiding anymore.

The kiss slowed, and you pulled away just enough to look him in his big, beautiful eyes. Breathless, the two of you sighed into soft laughter, unbelieving that it finally happened.

"So this is why you couldn't have sex with MJ?"

"You have had my heart since we met. I just didn't realize it yet."

He kissed you until your lips were swollen, until you felt there was no more air in the atmosphere. It was so perfect, and sweet, and him.

You moved to lay on the blanket he had set out, legs getting tired and weak after finally getting to feel everything you had suppressed for years. He held you, and you softly exchanged stories and sweet nothings. You told him everything, he told you. It was nothing short of perfect. The two of you lazily made out on the blanket under the stars and relished in the feeling of finally. Peter didn't even care when the sun rose over the skyline, because even though it was his first time having sex, it was deeper. It was his first time fully loving. Reveling in this happiness and the full extent of what it is to love and be loved. It was what dreams were made of.

[alwaysthegeorges]

FlightlessAngelWings Kinkotber 2023 Prompt List!

Here it is, the Kinktober Prompt List!!

Compiled by myself and edited/peer reviewed/approved by my bestie @the-purity-pen who had made fantastic prompt lists in the past (and who also made the beautiful graphics for me)!! This list has a little bit of everything from more vanilla to more hardcore prompts so there’s a little something for everyone, or to branch out and try something new if you feel like it!

Write fics, make art, graphics, gifs, moodboards, whatever your heart desires!! Any type of creations are welcome too: reader insert, oc, ships, original works, anything!

Have fun and be creative!!

Below the cut are 31 days of prompts for the month of October! Each day has 3 choices with a free space day on the 31st!

Because of the nature of the event, this is 18+ ONLY! Minors interacting or participating will be blocked!

Please tag me @flightlessangelwings and use the hastag #fawktober2023 and I’ll share your works!

Please use proper warnings in your posts with this event as some of the prompts may not be for everyone. And if you’re doing a reader insert, please work to be inclusive of your writing/art!

No kinkshaming please! I made this list to be varied so there may be things on here you hate. That’s ok! There’s things here that even I don’t like but I designed it that way so there’s something for everyone! But that’s also why tags and warnings are so important!!

Reblog this post so others and find this list and to share the fun!! And don’t forget to reblog other people’s work too throughout October and support each other!!

If none of the prompts for the day speak to you, feel free to pull from another day if you want! Don’t feel pressured at all! Have fun with it!!

List under the cut in graphic and text format!

Banner free to use for your posts with credit to @the-purity-pen 💖

Both dividers by the lovely @saradika ❤️

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