#Private Islands Maldives

[flyingprivate]

Velaa Private Island

[michaelcerasofficial]

Rania Experience Private Island & Yacht, Maldives

[raayabyatmosphere]

Private Island Getaway in the Maldives: A Tropical Paradise for Couples

Dreaming of a private island getaway in the Maldives? Look no further than the stunning atolls, where tropical forests meet crystal-clear waters and white sandy beaches. Arriving in the Maldives is an adventure in itself. Most visitors land at Velana International Airport, followed by a scenic seaplane ride over the turquoise lagoons. Upon arrival at your resort, the tranquility and natural beauty of the surroundings will instantly put you at ease.

For couples seeking the ultimate romantic escape, the Maldives offers some of the best resorts designed with intimacy and luxury in mind. RAAYA by Atmosphere is one such gem, where personalized experiences and private overwater villas create a haven of serenity. Imagine relaxing together while gazing at vibrant coral reefs from your villa, or strolling through lush tropical forests that feel like a hidden world.

Fine dining in the Maldives is an unforgettable experience. Many resorts offer gourmet meals prepared by world-renowned chefs, served under the stars with the soothing sound of the ocean. Fresh seafood, tropical fruits, and international cuisine come together to offer a dining experience like no other.

Whether you're celebrating a honeymoon, anniversary, or simply seeking a romantic retreat, the Maldives' magical combination of natural beauty and luxurious indulgence ensures a private island escape you'll cherish forever.

[hotelbooking]

Kudadoo Maldives Private Island – Luxury All inclusive It's time for an adventure-filled holiday! Explore Maldive Islands with a stay at While lodging at this wonderful resort, the helpful staff at the front desk can assist you with multiple services that include concierge service, luggage storage and safety deposit boxes. If you want seats to city's best entertainment, you can get help through the resort's ticket service and tours. The resort even offers a fireplace for a warm atmosphere on chilly nights. The resort's on-site dry cleaning service and laundry service help you keep your favorite travel outfits clean so you can pack less. In-room conveniences include 24-hour room service, room service and daily housekeeping, so you can relax and enjoy your stay. The resort is entirely non-smoking, ensuring a clean air environment. Smoking is restricted to the designated smoking areas. Guestrooms are designed to provide an optimal level of comfort with welcoming decor and essential...

[cha-nis]

Rania Experience Private Island & Yacht, Maldives

[nozoya]

Rania Experience Private Island & Yacht, Maldives

[ereconda]

Rania Experience Private Island & Yacht, Maldives

[melphss]

@nessianweek | Day 05: Behind Closed Doors

Sarah J Maas was once asked during an interview, “What would be the perfect modern-day dates for the ACOMAF couples?”

Sarah said that, “Nesta and Cassian would go to a private island or the Maldives where they would have some quality time alone” 😉☺️

@/kotikomori nailed this perfectly, and showed the sweetness of their mate bond. Thank you @/kotikomori for this devastatingly beautiful artwork of Nesta and Cassian!

Art by: @kotikomori

Commissioned by: @amandapearls & @melphss

Characters belongs to: Sarah J. Maas

[vincentblackbearmediallc]

The Maldives is a chain of more than 1,100 islands that tiptoe their way across the Indian Ocean, around 500 miles off the coasts of Sri Lanka and India. If you’ve ever seen a picture of a dreamy overwater bungalow perched on the edge of a shining turquoise ocean, there’s a good chance that photograph was taken in the Maldives.More than two dozen intricate and ecologically distinct reef systems hug the islands that make up the Maldives, so many travelers spend their time under the water scuba diving or snorkeling when they visit. Of course, simply luxuriating in a private pool or on one of the beaches during your stay is also a wonderful way to spend your time.

[pursuitist]

5 Reasons to Visit Naladhu Private Island Resort

5 Reasons to Visit Naladhu Private Island Resort

Naladhu Private Island Resort is one of the most exclusive Maldivian resorts there is. With only 20 private residences, this is the kind of place you come to relax and see no one. Or get out and explore and see everyone, if you prefer. Naladhu shares its home with Anantara Dhigu Maldives Resort and Anantara Veli Maldives Resort (currently undergoing a renovation of its own). This means that…

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Anything for Toto Wolff with wife reader including their son, Jack!!! Fluff. Thanks!! :))

Hii I hope you enjoy my first request as a one-shot about Toto :)

The time you've been waiting for has arrived—summer break. Jack doesn't have school, and Toto can finally relax even though he always says his work never ends. Your family is together, and you couldn't be happier.

This year, you've decided to return to the Maldives, the paradise where you and Toto celebrated your honeymoon five years ago. Time has flown by so quickly. At first, people judged your relationship with Toto because of the age gap, but with time and Jack's presence, you've learned to ignore others' opinions and cherish every second of your love.

The gentle hum of the seaplane filled the air as it glided over the crystal-clear waters of the Indian Ocean, the endless expanse of blue dotted with the green jewels of the Maldives' islands. You glanced over at Jack, his eyes wide with wonder as he pressed his face against the window, marveling at the view below. Toto, sitting beside you, reached over and squeezed your hand, his touch warm and reassuring. The excitement was palpable, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness.

As the seaplane descended toward the private island resort where you had spent your honeymoon, memories flooded back. The island had been a sanctuary for you and Toto, a place where you could escape the world and revel in your love. Now, returning with Jack made the experience even more special, a testament to the life you had built together.

The moment you stepped off the seaplane, the familiar scent of saltwater and tropical flowers enveloped you. Jack let out a delighted laugh as he ran ahead, his feet kicking up sand. You and Toto followed hand in hand, savoring the warm sand beneath your toes.

The villa was just as you remembered, with its open-air design allowing the ocean breeze to flow through. Jack's eyes lit up at the sight of the infinity pool merging with the sea beyond. "Can we go swimming, Mommy? Please?" he begged, his excitement infectious.

"Of course, sweetheart," you replied, ruffling his hair. "But let's unpack first and get settled in."

As you and Toto unpacked, you couldn't help but steal glances at him. He looked as handsome as ever, his hair slightly tousled from the journey, a relaxed smile on his lips that seemed reserved just for you. He caught you staring and raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. "What are you thinking about, mein Liebchen?"

"Just how lucky I am," you replied, stepping closer to wrap your arms around his waist. "To be here with you and Jack. To have this life."

He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "I'm the lucky one," he murmured. "You've given me everything I could ever want."

Later that evening, after a long swim and a delicious dinner, the three of you settled on the beach to watch the sunset. Jack built sandcastles nearby, his laughter filling the air as the waves lapped at the shore. You leaned against Toto, his arm around your shoulders, drawing you close.

"Do you remember our first night here?" you asked, looking up at him.

He chuckled softly. "How could I forget? We danced under the stars, and later made love under them."

A blush covered your cheeks as you remembered that magical night and the years you've shared. "Through everything, you've been my rock."

"And you, mine," he replied, his gaze intense. "I love you more each day."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange, you felt a profound sense of contentment. Jack ran over, plopping down between you and Toto, a tired but happy smile on his face.

"This is the best day ever," he declared, snuggling against you.

You exchanged a look with Toto, your hearts swelling with love for this beautiful, perfect moment. The future stretched out before you, full of promise and joy. No matter what came your way, you knew you would face it together, as a family.

[bangtanhoneys]

BTS WEDDING SERIES: Honeymoon

SEOKJIN - LANDAA GIRAAVARU, MALDIVES

If there had been two things you both had wanted to do, it would have been eating and relaxing with a bit of fishing thrown in for Seokjin and privacy for you. It had been hard enough planning a wedding with a public figure but planning a honeymoon where all eyes would be on you if you even stepped outside your hotel room, it boiled down to the fact that it meant only a private island would do. 

Yoongi had stolen the idea from you when it came to his wedding but Seokjin being Seokjin, he had done his research and found an island in the Maldives which was home to the luxury Four Seasons resort where all your needs would be catered for. 

It had been an extremely long flight from Seoul and then another long trip from the airport to the actual island itself. By the time you even stepped into your hotel room, all you both wanted to do was sleep. 

However, you had two weeks of private beaches, Michelin-starred dining, snorkelling, fishing and enjoying a world-class wellness spa. 

“It’s going to be hard to go back to Seoul after this,” Seokjin commented as you both sat outside on the terrace, designed to look like you were in Marrakech rather than the Maldives. There were two more nights before you left the most magical place on earth that would soon disappear due to climate change. 

“I know, being wined and dined and looked after for two weeks under the sun with nothing to do other than relax,” you sighed as you dined on traditional Arabic food. 

“But back to Seoul as husband and wife though.”

YOONGI - BALI, INDONESIA

When you had sat down with Yoongi, amid all your wedding planning, to discuss the honeymoon there were only a few things he wanted: privacy, a place where the two of you could escape if it all got too much, relaxation and a bit of adventure. 

Maldives had been on top of the list but Seokjin had already claimed that (as he helpfully pointed out) but Bali was also another contender. Private villas but still on a resort, waited on hand and foot, but in the traditional setting of Indonesia where you still could go and explore. It would be warm but not too warm. 

The presidential villa had been booked within seconds of Yoongi looking at it, with two bedrooms (god knows why but you knew he’d escape into that room if he got too hot), two bathrooms and a huge outdoor lounge with a large heated pool and absolute privacy.

That’s what it had advertised and that’s what you got when you were led to your private village by a member of the resort who unlocked the door for you, handed over the key and left you to it.

“Holy shit,” you whispered as you walked down the steps onto the grass, and admired the pool for a moment but it was the view that took your breath away. Palm trees, jungle, and unbothered trees that swayed in the breeze.

“They even stocked up the mini bar,” Yoongi commented as he joined you on the small lawn, obviously not having seen what had taken your breath away.

“What? What?” he asked, holding up his hands in defence as you excitedly slapped his arm. “Oh.”

The two of you stood there in complete silence, the only sound was the breeze and a bird off in the distance.

“Okay, this was a good choice if I do say so myself.”

HOSEOK - BARCELONA

It had been pretty easy picking a honeymoon destination - you both had wanted a place filled with history, somewhere warm, somewhere you could do a bit of shopping, somewhere that wasn’t Dubai or Hawaii or Paris. Something different.

Which is how you found yourself stepping off the plane to sunny Barcelona, a private car to take you to your fancy hotel in the middle of the city and the keys to your suite in your hand before you could even think that you were actually on your honeymoon.

“Wow, jagiya, come and take a look at this!”

Hobi’s voice distracted you from where you were unpacking your two large suitcases that contained enough clothes for a month (even though you were only here for two weeks). He stood on the balcony and as you joined him, you could see the famous Passeig de Gracia, one of the major avenues in Barcelona and one of the most expensive ones.

“It has everything we wanted to see,” he carried on about the list you two had made before you had left, detailing everything you wanted to see in Barcelona from the art to the history to the architecture to the fashion. It seemed if not all of it, most of it was one this one particular avenue. 

“And the beach is a half an hour walk or a 20-minute train ride as well,” you commented after pulling out your phone to check where on the map in Barcelona you actually were.

“Before we do any sightseeing, let’s go and get something to eat. That flight was too long.”

NAMJOON - ROME

Of course, it was easy to plan a honeymoon around Namjoon’s interest. There were so many cities and countries to pick from, whether he had been there or not, and it all came down to one place in the end - Rome. It had the history, the art, the galleries, everything the two of you wanted to see while you were on your two-week honeymoon and if you fancied going to the beach, there was a beach which was an hour away. 

He had planned a detailed itinerary for the two weeks and had researched everything from the places you wanted to go, to the hotel, to the food, to even the public transport. If there was one thing he had full control over in any aspect of the wedding planning, the honeymoon had been in his hands.

You just had to look after the passports. You weren’t making that mistake again. 

You weren’t sure if it was the time difference, the sound of Rome waking up or the fact that Namjoon had woken you up by walking into the door to the bathroom, but you rolled over in the softest bed you had ever laid in and stretched. 

Today would be the first full day in Rome and you had VIP passes for the Vatican, Namjoon pulling his BTS card to make sure you get into all the places that the public could very rarely access. You needed to pack a bag with your ID, wallets, sunglasses, sunscreen, your passes and your phone to take plenty of pictures. 

But before all that, you could hear Namjoon’s stomach rumble from the bathroom in time with your own stomach reminding you that you hadn’t eaten since the plane. 

“Breakfast?” Namjoon asked, poking his head around the doorway with his toothbrush in his mouth.

“Breakfast,” you sighed as you got out of bed and joined him in the bathroom. “Is it too early to eat gelato?”

JIMIN - CALIFORNIA

How Jimin managed to blag a three-week honeymoon was beyond you. Somehow Jimin managed to pull his charm when he had discussed the details with the rest of the guys as well as the team. But you shouldn’t be surprised when it came to Jimin and his skills, especially when he pulled out the honeymoon of a lifetime out of his bag. 

Starting in San Francisco, you’d have three days there to visit the famous sights of the Golden Gate Bridge and Alcatraz. Driving down the coast would be the Big Sur where you’d spend a day enjoying the beach and the small towns that the coast had to offer before arriving in Los Angeles where Jimin had booked a two-day trip to Disneyland.

After Los Angeles, it would be San Diego and then onto the amazing Joshua Tree National Park and then onto the Sequoia National Park and the Yosemite National Park and finally onto the Napa Valley where Jimin had booked a wine tasting experience for you.

And you’d be back in San Francisco to go back to Seoul and reality.

It sounded amazing as you read through the itinerary again and you couldn’t wait to spend every moment with your husband, who was currently fast asleep in his chair with his legs stretched out. The two of you had a late night of packing, getting the last-minute bits and finalising the trip, it had left with you two with two hours of sleep before your alarm had woken you up to get to the airport.

Tucking the papers away into your bag, you slipped your eye mask over your eyes and made yourself comfortable against Jimin’s chest. You’d have access to Jimin 24/7 as husband and wife, so you’d need all the sleep you could get.

TAEHYUNG - PARIS, FRANCE 

The City of Love - glamourised by artists, playwrights, poets and served as the setting for some of the greatest love stories of all time. So it hadn’t come as a surprise when Taehyung had booked a week in Paris for your honeymoon, knowing it had been a city on your bucket list for a long time and Taehyung had never really got to experience it with someone who he loved as much as he did you. 

He had planned the week to the detail with visits to Versailles, cocktails at the Hemingway at the Ritz, a private tour of Lourve (because if Beyonce could do it, so you could you) and dinner at some of the most expensive top end restaurants the city had to offer. 

There was no need to take any clothes because you’d be spending the first day in Paris buying your wardrobe on his card. 

And as you woke up on your second day in Paris, with a wardrobe designed by Celine, and breakfast on the balcony that overlooked the Eiffel Tower and your husband ruffling his fluffy hair as he came out of the bathroom and stumbled through the living area to where you were waiting.

“Happy?” he asked, already pouring the complimentary champagne that came with the breakfast into the crystal glasses.

“We could be in Daegu and I’d still be the happiest person in the world.”

JUNGKOOK - AUSTRALIA

Jungkook wasn’t afraid to admit that he was a bit of a homeboy. While he loved the fact his career allowed him to go to some amazing places such as the United States, United Kingdom, Saudi Arabia, South America and even New Zealand - he loved nothing more than being home in South Korea. 

So when it came to figuring out where the two of you wanted to go for your honeymoon, the answer had been in front of you the entire time. Jungkook was known for just going with the flow but needed somewhere with adventure and somewhere where he could flex his photography and videography skills. You, on the other hand, didn’t care where you went or what you did. 

A road trip was going to be the answer and after many many many weeks of being indecisive, you finally decided Australia was going to be the place. It took a week of planning the route, booking the campervan and the flights and soon you were flying into Darwin, to start your two-week road trip down the spine of Australia’s outback known as the Explorer’s Way.

“It’s been awhile,” Jungkook commented as he loaded up the campervan with the two suitcases and the bags of food you had bought at the local store near to where you got your campervan.

“At least you only have to share the bed with one person,” You laughed as you closed up the doors and settled into the passenger seat, the rough itinerary the two of you had planned in your lap.

“So where to first? Kakadu National Park wasn’t it?” Jungkook asked, already plugging in the name of the park into the navigation.

“Three hours away,” you said as you got your playlist started.

“Let the honeymoon begin!”

[w2soneshots]

Honeymoon -W2S

words: 0.5k+

warnings: light smut, swearing.

summary: you and Harry enjoy your romantic honeymoon in the Maldives.

notes: this is my 100th one shot!!💌 Thank you to everyone who interacts with my posts and also my silent viewers💞. I hope you enjoy this part two to the wedding fic🫶🏼. Love ya!🤗

Me and Harry got married yesterday. Today we're leaving for our honeymoon and I'm so excited. We decided on the Maldives. It's private, beautiful and has great food. We spent the night in a nice airbnb then grabbed our pre packed bags and left for the airport. Some people don't immediately go on their honeymoon but since we had a small wedding we wanted to get straight into the holiday.

When we arrived (after a very long flight) the warm air hit my face and I savoured it. Luckily the British weather had blessed us with sun for our outdoor wedding but it definitely wasn't the warmest. We had to get a sea plane to actually get to the island where we'll be staying. When it landed we were taken to our villa and given a quick tour by one of the staff.

"This place is beautiful! I can't believe we have an entire week here." I turned to Harry once the man had left. He pulled me into him. "I know, I can't wait." He smirked at me. I raised my eyebrows. "I need to get ready for dinner." I pulled away from him. "Just a quickie?" He proposed. I ran back towards him. "Five minutes." I told him. "Mhm." He hummed as he yanked my shirt over my head.

Ten minutes later we hopped into the shower then I began getting ready for dinner. I blow dried my hair, put on a little bit of makeup then picked out a pretty white sundress. I slipped on some matching white sandals then went to find Harry. I found him stood outside looking at the view. I smiled. He turned then his eyes widened. "Oh wow." He looked me up and down.

We walked to the restaurant hand in hand. It felt amazing to have no work, fans or proper responsibilities to worry about. We're just in our own little world. When we sat down to eat (at one of the cute outdoor tables) we ordered some drinks. We'd both already decided that we weren't going to drink loads during this week since we didn't want to wake up every morning with a headache so I ordered a fancy mock tail.

By the time we'd eaten our food it was already getting dark. Harry payed then we walked back to the villa. He unlocked the door and I went inside. Immediately his hands were roaming my body from behind. I turned around in his grip. Then I cocked my head to the side. He smirked at me once again. I gently kissed his lips. Suddenly the kiss turned desperate. Harry pressed me up against the wall, his hands either side of my head. I held onto his face.

Quickly he removed his shirt. Then he broke the kiss and turned his attention to my dress. Gently his hands pulled the thin straps from my shoulders. The dress fell to the floor with a light thump, pooling around my feet. I kicked it away. He admired my body, now only wearing a small white thong. "I'll never get bored of you. You're so fucking incredible." He breathed out. I smiled then lightly kissed his lips. "Then fuck me." I whispered into his mouth. Harry flung me over his shoulder in one swift swoop. I giggled as he dropped me onto the massive bed. "Don't you worry mrs Lewis, I will."

[trentlife]

JET SKI'S AND PAPS

summary: end of season vacation, one day you both go on a jet ski, & can't keep your hands off each other until the half expected appears behind you both

warnings: fluff, adult language

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the sun gazing down on your half covered skin, whilst you laid down in your cream beige bikini on the soft white hammock, in the middle of the bora bora island, living your best life.

yours and trent's relationship was rather private, you didn't like the idea of the whole situation of having to deal with the publicity and also the amount of social media following.

you where happy, probably the happiest you'd felt in months, meeting trent nearly 2 years ago changed you for the better. it was like he was your soulmate and god made you both coincidentally meet at your best friends boyfriends party. he was everything you wanted in a man, how kind and generous he was to you and your own family all the time.

the time was now 4pm and you heard the sound of a camera click which caught your attention. you opened your eyes to see a rather tall, handsome man hovering over you with his polaroid in his hand. the camera went literally everywhere with him on this holiday, him and his best friend jude have a strange obsession.

"what are you doing?" you asked, with the sun blinding your eyes.

"have you seen how fire you look? that bikini compliments you so well, and even the tits and ass." he mumbled so you wouldn't hear him.

"sorry what was that at the end?" you heard what he said, but hearing him say it turned you on.

"you heard me" he giggled kneeling down to come and join you on hammock.

his soft, smooth hands wrapped around your waist as his half naked body laid beside you with his head tucking into your neck.

"im so in love with it here, i feel like i may even like it more than the maldives" you looked over the crystal blue ocean and shared your thoughts.

"wow i thought you where going to say your so in love with me" trent rolled his eyes being sarcastic.

"trent, i literally tell you every single day, might actually even be hour, how much i love you." you curled your arm around his neck while his head laid on your chest. he looked up to you and you cupped his cheeks and gave him 3 pecks.

he laughed and placed his hand on your boob and closed his eyes and he slowly drifted off into a nap, and not long after, you did the same.

30 minutes later, you where woken up by the feeling of trent fiddling with your hair, while he admired you while you slept peacefully.

you opened your eyes, and the first thing you saw was your boyfriend giving you a beaming smile with them perfect teeth of his, which made you pull him to you and give him the tightest hug.

"can we go on the jet ski?" you seen people in the distance, and you couldn't resist not going on one.

"yeh we may as well," you both agreed and trent pulled you up and gave you bum a little smack whilst you walked in the villa to just grab more sun cream.

you both began walking to the main beach of the hotel, where all the jet ski's where lined up. trent took your hand in his and helped you onto it.

you wrapped your arms around his bare chest and held onto him.

"i beg you please don't go fast until i get used to it love" you informed him politely and he nodded his head.

the ride began and the cool breeze blew your hair in the wind, as you kept tight hold onto your boyfriend.

you then approached a shallow part in the water and trent hopped off the jet ski and pulled something out of his pocket. his polaroid.

"t-trent why do you love this thing more than me?" you joked to him and his laughed.

"your just looking to good today okay? now pose hotty" he hyped you up and you leant over on the jet ski posing.

"now they are fit" he said looking at them through the camera, and you sarcastically rolled your eyes.

you wobbled yourself to the front of the jet ski and now you where the driver, you just wanted to annoy him basically.

"let me get one of the both of us, get on behind me" you fidgeted with the small camera trying to get it on the setting.

as he sat behind you he put his arms over your shoulders and placed his hands on your chest as you both posed for the camera.

"smiling one" 📸

"silly one" 📸

"tongues out" 📸

"kissing one! 📸

you turned your head around and locked your lips together and took the pic. trent got a little to carried away and started winding you up by licking your lips, and you accidentally took a picture.

"that's my favourite one!" he informed you.

"your so annoying" you shoved him jokingly.

random sounds of flickering in the distance caught your attention, you had no idea what it was until your head turned around, and the hotel beach was bombarded with, paparazzi.

"fuck" where the only words to leave your mouth.

your boyfriend followed your head in the same direction, and came to realise what you where on about.

"for fuck sake, cant they just fucking leave me alone" he said in an angrily manor.

"y/n i know your not going to want this but we are going to have to head in that direction, other wise they'll be here until all hours and we may as well just get back."

his words would of bothered you 5 months ago, but now you just came to the conclusion that most places you would go together they would be the third person.

"trent" you tapped him, but he didn't acknowledge you.

"trent" you finally got his attention and his just lifted his eyebrows.

"honestly, at this point, i don't give a shit, let the world know your mine and mine only."

he looked at you in utter shock.

"yeh?" he questioned.

"fuck yes" you raised your arms in the air, and threw them over your boyfriends shoulders, you placed your lips onto his lips and just stayed there until you both let go.

"my girl and my girl only" you both giggled, and headed back to your villa, and boy he proved that to you.

themirror

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55,385 likes

themirror liverpool and england superstar trent alexander arnold seen in bora bora spending time with gorgeous girlfriend y/n.

the couple have supposedly been dating for nearly 2 years, but keep their relationship away from social media and behind cameras.

the pair were spotted roaming around together on jet skis taking pictures of one another with each other and sharing plenty of kisses on top of that, definition of summer love!

is this finally the perfect girl for trent?

we will have to wait and see... 👩🏽‍❤️‍👨🏽

view comments

user1 i wish they where public there so cute

user2 y/n is glowing!!!!!!!

user3 i wish i was her

user4 jealous

trentarnold66

⚫️○

liked by judebellingham, jordanhederson and 2,139,283 others

trentarnold66 definition of summer love? @youruser

View comments

judebellingham caption 🫣🤣

jordanhenderson ❤️‍🔥

alexoxladechamerlain my boyyyy

philfoden roaming around on jet skis together

the end.

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[abibliophobiaa]

Beyond - s.h. x f!reader

Chapter Four: All By Myself

a/n: here’s chapter four of my purely self-indulgent fun, which shouldn’t be taken very seriously, if at all fic. haha. wanted to play around with one of my favorite tropes, so here we are with modern day!rich!fake husband!steve harrington x afab!reader. 

warnings/tags: hugely unedited (6k words); mention of pet loss; mentions of alcohol; parent loss, both parties; r has a sister and father; smut in later chapters, so 18+, minors dni; additional tags to be added.

masterlist

- 

Unfortunately, all good things come to an end. Movies, your favorite songs, vacations, the “wedded bliss” away in the Maldives with your husband. 

Since then, time seems to move faster than you can keep track of. Days slip into weeks, and before long you’re starting clinical rotations and the endless piles of schoolwork you’re certain your professors enjoy assigning every week. 

The desk in your bedroom becomes a host for countless textbooks and notebooks, full to the brim with diagrams you copied, definitions, scribbled up notes. 

Mornings are spent there, afternoons too. It’s fine, and it works, because most days Steve’s gone anyway. The company is working on some new property development. Another hotel on some private island, millions of dollars worth of work, but something has gone awry and Steve’s needed at all hours of the day. 

At least that’s what he reassures you when you perk up at the kitchen island, trying to catch him before he leaves. When you huff out a sigh as he slips his sunglasses on and says to not wait up. 

You never do. 

By the time you’re done with your own rotations, your feet are aching and sleep—albeit often disrupted sleep these days, sleeping in an unfamiliar home still—is the only thing on your mind. That and another massage like the one you had back on your honeymoon, where every inch of your body had been tended to. 

In the time since returning from your honeymoon, you’ve also begun adding things here and there to the penthouse. Pops of color in the form of new couch cushions in a pastel blue, new curtains to cover the ample windows at night. In the halls and on various surfaces you’ve already put some of your new wedding photos up, giving the illusion of a happily married couple for anyone who may pay a visit. 

You’re scheduled for a get together with Steve’s cousin, Theobald Cletus, and his wife, Cami, next weekend. A thought that has you slightly panicked solely because it’s thanks to Steve’s cousin you’re married anyway. Deciding not to dawdle on thoughts of the future, you cast a glance at the oven light in the kitchen, glowing red neon stark against your white walls. Another Saturday by your lonesome, with Steve off to work until who knows when. 

With a huff, you walk over to throw your bowl of cereal into the sink, letting the water run for a moment before shutting it and ripping a paper towel to wipe your hands with. Knowing you’re to pick up your client’s dogs in thirty minutes, you set to work cleaning up the place for when Steve gets home. Not that it takes long, given Steve's words on your honeymoon proved true. 

He’s often not home for most hours of the day and therefore there’s hardly ever any mess, and the few nights you’ve spent time together since you married, it’s usually food ordered to the suite or dinners with his coworkers. Dinners where you sit at his side, nodding and smiling along as they talk about things you don’t really understand, fake fawning over a husband who you don’t understand most of the time. 

There were moments, small ones, that week spent in the Maldives where you thought maybe an attraction ran both ways. And now, his conversation isn’t frequent. You text here and there throughout the day. Questions as to if you’re okay, if your clinicals were running late, if you wanted him to grab you a coffee on his way home. Or on the nights when he stayed at the office until nighttime, you texted him to ask what he might want to eat, if he needed a coffee delivery, if he needed anything. But that’s the extent of it. 

It’s almost as if a wall has fallen down since you touched back down in the city. A wall that divides the two of you, stark as the hall that separates your bedrooms. Neither of you seems keen on pushing those barriers, the parameters of your relationship unspoken and yet written in the sands. 

Pushing the thoughts to the side, you toss the paper towel you use to wipe the counters down into the garbage and shoot Steve a quick message that you’ll be leaving for a bit to walk around the neighborhood. 

He responds quickly. Be safe. 

At least you know he cares enough to worry for your safety. The thought has your lip twitching upward, typing back a simple, Ball and chain, remember? You have three more years of me. 

He doesn’t respond. You don’t expect him to. It’s been more or less that way for a couple weeks now. Broken conversation, fleeting glances, lowered expectations. Wedded bliss is a dream—a dream you don’t allow yourself. Can’t afford to. 

Not now, not as you grab your crossbody bag and shove your phone into the pocket on your leggings, and take to the elevator. 

Your dog walking business, if you could call it that as you only had three clients so far, started on a whim. Over the span of a few weeks, and your constant walks through the main floor of your building on your way to meet Hopper, your husband’s personal driver, you bumped into Mrs. Lowell often. The older woman, likely in her sixties by your estimation, waved every morning as she walked her golden retriever, Mimsy, around the neighborhood. 

It just so happened that one morning you stumbled upon her in the main floor of your apartment building, cradling her ankle as workers scrambled to call the medical concierge on standby. As any good neighbor would, you brought her flowers when you heard she’d arrived home from the hospital. Long stems in varying pretty shades that brought tears to her eyes. She’d requested you come inside, Mimsy leaping up as you entered, clearly adoring endless affection. 

Talking turned into offering to walk her dog as she got better, and conversation about how you were recently married, still getting accustomed to your new life, and juggling school—but that you were looking to help if she needed it. Luckily, she offered to pay, and after a few days, asked if it would be okay to pass your number out to those who might also use a little assistance. 

It brought your grand total of dogs to be walked to  a measly three; however, people in this neighborhood, you found, were willing to pay generously for said services. With the three clients you’ve secured already, you were able to send your father nearly all of what you’d been earning at your restaurant previously. A few more clients, and you’d be able to cover a good portion of his mortgage, if only to help him while searching for a new job position. 

That morning, you were to walk Mimsy, Luca and Jacque. Mimsy, your chipper new golden retriever friend, and Luca and Jacque, two excitable Boston Terriers. The new morning routine gives you a new appreciation for your neighborhood. 

Even if Hopper trails by in his car on the sidewalk, in the event you need him. You never do, and you remind him as such, but he’s been there nevertheless. 

Hopper’s lovely. Over the course of the weeks since you’ve been back from your honeymoon, you’ve become fast friends with the man. From what you’ve learned, he’s been recently married as well to his wonderful wife, Joyce. He talks about her fondly, all bashful smiles hidden behind the mustache that spills over his top lip. 

However, as much as he talks about Joyce, he talks about his daughter, El, all the more. El, his teenager who he’d adopted a few years ago now. Spoke of her like she was a literal sunshine incarnate. He’d also mentioned his step sons, Will and Jonathan. Jonathan, who you remembered, had been your head photographer at your wedding and responsible for all the gorgeous shots now littered through your home that made Steve and you look like a couple deeply in love. Magic, he was literal magic. 

All that in mind, you’d suggested you all get together for dinner—even despite Hopper’s protests that “Mr. Harrington is always busy.” Knowing that, you’d still all managed to get together at your home for dinner one night, minus Jonathan. He apparently had gone on some trip to California with one of his good friends named Argyle, if you’d remembered correctly. But the rest of the Hopper-Byers family arrived for dinner and you watched, with a sinking feeling in your gut, as Steve charmed both of the teenagers. Wondered what it was about him that made people gravitate toward him, and if he even noticed he carried that around with him everywhere. 

You supposed it made sense, given the burgeoning attraction you held toward the man who spoke to children with a kindness that shocked you, and yet spared you fleeting glances at the door before he left each morning. 

Sighing, you stroll down the busy city streets, waving to neighbors in passing, thanking Hopper when he eventually leaves your side long enough to stop and get himself coffee. Or at least you assume it’s just for him, until he pulls out a second drink from his car when you take a moment to stop on a bench, numerous pairs of eyes peering up at you, expectant for a treat. 

“Oh, how did you know what I usually order?” You grasp the cup in your free hand, curling the rest of the leashes around your other forearm. 

“I didn’t,” he says gruffly, coming to settle down beside you on your bench in the middle of the park you wander into most mornings now. “Your husband sent me the order.”

“My husband,” you say, taking a slow sip. “He’s just…so thoughtful sometimes.”

The lie slips out easily, smiling when Jacque hops up onto the bench beside you, nudging your elbow with his snout. You hold out your bare palm, showing him there are no secret treats on your person, and exhale loudly. 

“He thought you might have a long day ahead of you. Think of it as a…gesture. I’m sure he feels bad about spending so much time away now that you two just got back.”

“Oh, I'm sure of it.”

“But he’s a good kid. A good man now. I’ve known him for a few years now, and he means well.”

You take another sip of your drink, nodding. “I know.” A deep exhale falls from your lips, left hand raising in the air. Both your rings sparkle in the early morning light, still heavy around the base of your knuckle. “I married him.”

“That you did.” Hopper chuckles, nodding to your new, furry friends around town. “I think it’s about time we get back home. These three look ready to call it in.” 

And he’s right. Hopper is always right. In a new home, so far from your own father, Hopper’s been nothing short of spectacular. A constant support, even on the days when your clinicals have drained you dry. Even when you want nothing more than to go home and curl up in your pajamas and eat ice cream out of a carton. There with a kind word, a gruff response, a joke. 

So it comes as a surprise to you when you’re walking out of your late evening class, and see your husband waiting on the curb with the car windows rolled down. 

Your friend Daniel, chatting idly beside you, pauses, taking in your husband’s expensive car, before shifting his gaze back to you. Amber, another friend from class, does a double take as well, before settling on the rings on your left hand. 

“Mrs. Harrington. Good j—” Your elbow nudges her ribs. Hard. “Ow!”

“Danny, Amber…this is my husband, Steve.” 

Steve waves. Or rather, unfurls the fingers on his left hand from around the steering wheel, head dipping slightly in introduction. “Sorry to be rude, but we actually have somewhere to be. It was nice meeting you both.”

They wave as you hike your bag up further over your shoulders, opening the door on the passenger side. Your cellphone clatters into his center console when you drop down, his body jerking from the sound, before he seemingly remembers you have an audience. 

It never occurs to you he might touch you, since he hasn’t in weeks, and you can’t really hide as you flinch when he kisses you. A small brush on the corner of your lips, but it jolts you all the same. His lips tug downward as you both wave and pull away from the parking lot, his fingers moving to lower the dial on the music playing from the car speakers. 

“Don’t think it sends a ‘we’re happily married’ message if you do that every time I kiss you,” he says numbly, left hand curling tighter around the steering wheel. 

“Wasn’t expecting it,” you say, shrugging. 

“I’m your husband. Husbands kiss their wives hello.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, training your gaze ahead. “Where’s Hopper?”

“Something came up and he couldn’t make it.” 

“And the ‘somewhere we have to be?’” you ask softly. 

“I’m meeting with someone over video chat tonight. Different time zones.”

“Work meeting.” At his nod, you lean further into your seat. “How was—”

“I’m picking you up the rest of the week.”

Nose wrinkling, you turn to look at him. “You realize today is my only day in class? I have clinicals at the animal hospital every other day.”

He dips his head, though you don’t think he really knows your schedule. “That’s fine. I’m still picking you up.”

“Okay…”

“Danny seemed nice.”

“If this is because you’re jealous, Steve, it’s really not an issue.” Raising your left hand in the air for emphasis, you give your fingers a little wiggle. “I’m married. To you. Till death do us part, or the end of three years in our case.”

The remainder of your trip is spent in silence. Some love song seeps from his Spotify playlist, a crooning voice you recognize, as it’s the same singer for your choice of first dance as a married couple. It’s only been weeks, and yet your wedding, now nearly two months old, feels like a long distant memory. Steve’s dark tuxedo, your flowing gown, endless dancing, twirling feet, lingering kisses. 

Eyes trailing up your husband’s forearm, you sigh, moving to unbuckle yourself when he pulls up and the valet accepts the car keys from him. His hand lingers against your lower back as you walk through the main entrance together, greeting workers as you pass, calls of “Hello Mr. and Mrs. Harrington” meeting your ears. 

That hand, the warmth of his palm drops when you enter the private elevator taking you up to your home, and you’re left with the quiet and the four walls of that silver chamber. Your eyes meet your distorted reflection, catch on the downturn of your lips. 

You want things to change. Need them to, especially if you’ll be married to this man for the next three years, but questions of how rattle around in your brain. Thoughts come up empty as the doors open and you’re home once more, Steve moving to enter the kitchen, and you drop down against the couch in the living room. 

“Maybe we could, I don’t know, watch a movie or something before your meeting?” you suggest airily, grasping the remote from your coffee table, head turned over your shoulder to watch as Steve grabs a bottle of water from the fridge. 

Steve pauses near the island, fingers moving to rub along the hair lining his jaw. He rolls his neck slowly, shoulders audibly cracking, smiling softly. “I’m actually about to head into the gym, and then I have that meeting. Do you mind ordering from that Italian place we got from the other night?”

“Do you want what you usually get?”

Chicken Marsala. He’s gotten it the past three times you ordered. You usually opt for the Penne Alla Vodka, the place you found near your new home fantastic for dinners. You’d know, because it’s often where his work friends eat as well, during those dinners where you’re Steve’s doting wife, arm around his, leaning in close, trying to stay afloat. 

“That would be great,” he says softly, moving out from behind the island. He enters the living area and comes up behind you, giving your shoulder a quick squeeze. You hear the gentle fumble of his pocket, and you know he’s handing you his credit card before you even have a moment to protest. “Here.”

“I’ve got it tonight,” you tell him, glancing up his forearm, locking your eyes with his hazel ones. “I’ve been…working a little here and there.”

“You know you don’t have to do that.”

“But I want to, there’s a difference.” 

You haven’t told him everything about your small business. Haven’t mentioned why most of your pay received from it disappears as quickly as you have it. Him paying for school is one thing; you’re not willing to tell him about your father’s situation, about the fact you’ve been supporting Caroline for a few years now, pushing yourself to work endless hours if only to scrape by so she doesn’t have to some day when she’s older. If there’s one thing you know about your new husband, it’s his desire to go above and beyond for those around him. Highly affluent, but you wouldn’t know it from the way he holds himself. Humble, kind, and caring. Doesn’t matter if your relationship is…barely existent, the truth is the truth that even you can’t deny. He’d offer to help your family and you can’t accept that. 

Hopper’s words ring true: at his core, in every fiber of his being, Steve Harrington is a good man. 

And as much as the strain on your relationship burdens you, life has looked up since you married. A reality that plagues your heart. Because, no, money didn’t make you happy. But having it, the suddenness of your new wealth—it has lightened the weight on your shoulders, given you a chance to breathe, to merely exist without worrying how you’ll manage to cover rent, student loans, Caroline’s necessities, your father’s struggles. 

“Just let me take care of it tonight?” Steve pleads, giving your shoulder another squeeze. “And…if I finish my meeting early, we can rent a movie.”

“Really?” 

He frowns. It’s a subtle downturn of his lips, and yet it’s there all the same. “I hate the way you just said that. I know I’ve been busy. It’s just—I’m just—”

“It’s fine,” you pat his hand gently, giving him a small smile. “Go. Get to your workout and your meeting. I’ll look for a potential movie…if you can make it.”

He nods and slips from the room, leaving you to pick up where you left off on a rewatch of Gilmore Girls. You’re a few episodes in, head propped up in your hand, elbow resting on the armrest of the couch when Steve slips into the living room. 

The sun has long set, the moon bright through the floor to ceiling windows of your home. You catch the freshly washed hair on his head, the thin white tee stretched over the broad expanse of his chest, and swallow at the gray sweats hanging low on his waist as he pads across the plush carpet. 

There’s little time to ogle your husband, as his phone pings and he tells you the doorman said the food arrived. Once Steve’s retrieved it, the two of you eat in comfortable silence, starting a movie you’d managed to find on one of his streaming services. Bellies full, he only manages to make it a half hour into the movie before he’s curling on his side on the couch opposite of yours and falling asleep. 

You can’t even be mad, because he tried. You’ll give him that. 

This time. 

-

You’re mad. And, quite frankly, upset at Steve Harrington. 

It’s pouring in the city. Endless rain droplets splattering across busy streets. Dark clouds flash with lightning up above, the rumble of thunder echoing soon thereafter. People move in and out of puddles on sidewalks, bodies bumping, shoulders brushing, buzzing like the traffic on gridlocked roads. 

Ironic, given the state of the day. 

Ironic, given your mood. 

Your heart aches. Every inch of your body is still reeling over your day of clinicals—over what you witnessed for the first time. Pain of loss first hand, up close and personal, shaking you to your very core. 

You’d been texting Steve. Short quips here and there throughout the day. More mindful than he has been in the past few weeks. Motivated by the silly jealousy he’d felt over Danny, you’re not sure, but if it prompted him to try harder you weren’t going to complain. 

But now he was late. And not even by a few minutes, but an hour. 

Steve. They’re not going to let me stay here much longer to keep dry. The practice closes soon. Am I just taking a train home?

No response. 

None. 

Unanswered like your last few messages. 

Steve?

Dearest Husband?

EARTH TO DINGUS.

Nothing. 

One of the veterinary technicians calls your name where you stand near the front door, her voice high and tight over the light music streaming from a speaker in the distance. Head turning, you tuck your phone into your pocket, walking back down the hall from whence you came, fingers tapping along the countertop. 

“We’re heading out soon,” Valerie says, putting away the last of her things in her pocketbook. “Are you sure you have a ride?” 

“Yeah.” But there’s no vibration of a text in your pocket. A fact that makes your stomach sink further in your belly. “My husband will be here any minute. I’m sure of it.”

Only he’s not. You watch as the veterinarians and technicians leave. As the lights flicker off in the building. As they all wave you goodbye as you sit outside on that bench, clothes plastered to your skin, rain chilling you to the bone. 

There’s no text. No explanation. Only the silence of a message unanswered. Frustrated, and increasingly tired, you thumb at the rings on your hand. Watch as the diamonds twirl around and around, as droplets of rain slash against your scrubs, your backpack, and likely your books as well. 

Then finally, a car pulls up on the sidewalk. Blacked out windows, dark vehicle, and an older man behind the wheel, rolling down the window and waving your way. 

Hopper. 

Not…Steve. 

“Sorry, Mrs. Harrington,” he says, and it’s only then you realize you must have outwardly expressed your disappointment. “Traffic was endless today.”

“I just…” Your voice trails off as you clamber into the passenger seat, eyes locked on the road ahead, drops of rain gliding down the windshield capturing your attention. Staving off the hurt bubbling in your chest. “Today wasn’t a good day. And you’re always a welcomed sight, but I—”

“You don’t have to explain, kid.”

Uncertainty wells, and disappointment grows. It’s hard to pinpoint why. There’s no presently romantic nature to your relationship, but you can’t help but to recall those moments before your wedding, when you’d been overcome with fear and anticipation of what you were about to do. Can’t help but remember his hands within your own, the gentle cadence of his voice, the way his fingers had dragged along the back of your palm. How he’d held your gaze as you walked down the aisle, and never once strayed until you were both ready. Now it’s the realization that he’d told you he’d be there. And, in a sense, you wanted him to be. Wanted to see him, if for nothing at all than to be present. A solid form in a day that has felt like being swept up in a storm and tossed out into unknown territory. Yet you’re left, sitting in a vehicle with a man who you love and adore, and the stone that sinks to the pit of your stomach over the fact that Steve had told you one thing, and done another. 

Said he’d be there and wasn’t. 

That part—that’s the part that hurts the most. 

-

Steve’s neck deep in another issue with work when you come barreling in, scrubs soaked, stethoscope swinging around your neck, eyes reddened and puffy. He’s about to say something from where he sits at the kitchen island when you open the refrigerator door and pull out a bottle of wine left to chill, tossing your things on the counter before pulling a glass out of the cabinet. 

He winces as you slam it down onto the counter, pouring yourself a glass of rosé. “Those are the nice glasses we got from our party!” he complains, watching as you down the first glass and pour a second. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing. Long day,” you mumble, flipping through mail. You pause in the middle of ripping an envelope open, eyes darting to his laptop, and then to his face. “Guess you’ve been busy.” 

“I’m always busy.”

“I know.” 

The way you say it. The coldness in your tone. He doesn’t know why, but he doesn’t like it. Hates the bite that’s there behind your words. Hates how you won’t even look at him at this moment. And it’s in that he knows something is wrong. 

“What’s wrong?” he tries again, shutting the laptop. 

Your head shakes slowly and he watches as you maneuver around him, making your way toward the hallway leading to your bedroom. A chair squeals along the tile as he follows you, shoulder thumping the corner in his hastiness, fingers curling around your shoulder just as your fingers touch the door handle of your bedroom and start to turn. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, Harrington.”

Harrington. 

It’s not said in your normal, teasing tone. No—there’s only hurt there. A wobbly attempt. 

“Something is wrong, and I can’t fix it if you don’t talk to me.”

“Steve…just stop.”

“No, you’re angry and I want to know why.”

“I told you, I had a long day.” Lie. Or not. Regardless, it’s not the full truth, and it grates on his nerves. “I just want to go to bed.”

He groans. “Then why won’t you look at me?” 

Your eyes flicker in the darkness. Sorrow settles across your features. Brows furrow in the middle of your forehead, lips downturn, shoulders slouch. A low exhale spills from your lips, fingers brushing along one of the many new photo frames lining the walls. He follows the line of your forearm and glances at the picture displayed there; he’s holding you close, arm around your waist, forehead against yours. Your dress trails behind you, bouquet behind your back, the bend of your spine elegant and striking. Beautiful. And happy. 

You don’t look happy right now, though. 

“Do you know what time my clinicals end?” 

The question catches him off guard. “Five thirty. Unless you text me that you’re running late.”

“What time is it now?” 

He looks down at his watch and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Seven thirty. Look, I’m sorry okay? I had a meeting that ran late so I sent Hopper. I don’t see the problem here.”

An empty laugh falls from you, the heel of your palm pressing to your forehead. “I have to study.” 

“We’re not done here.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” 

“I think there is—”

“I have to study, Steve.”

“Fine,” he says, dipping his head. He turns to walk back down the hall, glancing over his shoulder when the creak of your bedroom door greets his ears. “Guess we’re already fighting like an old married couple. I didn’t sign up for this.”

“You’re an asshole, Steve Harrington.” 

Your bedroom door slams, and he flinches, because he knows your words are true. He regrets what he said as soon as you disappear from his sight, and the sound of you crying drowns out the hard beat of his racing heart. 

Guilt seeps into his veins as a half hour passes. Then another. And another. All of which is spent with him sitting in your kitchen contemplating what he can do to rectify the situation. Sighing, he calls his mother and asks for her suggestions. Her resounding laugh on the other end makes him feel like an even bigger idiot, but he’s left with the idea of a “grand gesture” apology. Something to make up for the fact he had, in fact, been an asshole. 

It’s been quite some time since he’s made a home cooked meal, though he knows you tend to shop a bit here and there as of late. Luckily, there are enough things around the kitchen to make your penne dish, and he sets to work. Turns on the radio as he gets everything together and starts. Hums along to Al Green when the song switches and one of his begins. 

Before long, the smell of sauce filters throughout the home, seemingly coaxing you from your hiding. He pauses when he hears you. Hears the soft sounds of your slippers hitting the tile, reddened eyes coming up to meet him where he’s cooking away at the stovetop. 

Whirling around, his fingers slide along the apron around his waist—your waist—muttering, “I’m sorry I’m using your apron. I just—”

“You cook?” 

He chuckles, nervously kneading the back of his neck with a palm. “I used to. Before…my dad. When I had a little more free time.”

“Oh.”

“I made your favorite,” he says, trying to not be too overly chipper. Seemingly to prove his point, he lifts the cover to the pot. You lean in closer, shoulder barely touching his. Shudder as he lifts a hand and brushes at the curve of your shoulder. “I’m sorry. I was an asshole and you’re right and I’m sorry. I’ve just been under a lot of pressure with the company and—”

“It’s fine,” you say softly, shrugging. “I know what our marriage is and isn’t.”

And he hates that too. The fact you only look at him with disdain at present, hoodie you must have pulled on too big on your frame, shoulders slouching, sadness in your eyes. Hates that he’s to blame for putting it there. Placing the cover back on the pot, he turns fully to you. Grasps your palm in his, tests the weight of it against his skin. Watches your face for any reaction. 

When you don’t flinch or pull away he says, “I’m sorry. I didn’t think and I should have texted you. You’re still my friend and I’m sorry that I just assumed that would be okay.”

You nod slowly. Exhale shakily, brushing at your eyes. “I just…today was really hard. And I don’t know—I know it’s silly but…”

You wanted him there. He knows exactly what you’re trying to say, because he’s often felt it too. The awareness of your presence, even when he can’t spend time with you or offer you more than a fleeting look to keep you at a distance and protect his heart, is still a comfort he can’t quite place. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, looping an arm around your shoulders. Your face presses into his chest, one of your arms coming to curl around his waist. “I’m really sorry.”

“I watched a family say goodbye to their best friend today,” you mumble out against his skin, and the brokenness in your voice as you try to keep the tears at bay has him holding you tighter. “Fifteen years and all those memories. They held him as he crossed the rainbow bridge and I just—”

“Shhh.” His palm comes up to slide along the middle of your back as you start to cry into him. “And I was an asshole,” he adds, chest tightening in his sorrow over seeing you hurt this way. Over the top of your head, he wipes at his burning eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to do that today, and I’m sorry I pushed you. 

You pull back a little in his arms. Back of your hands wiping your tears away, you inhale deeply, then exhale the same. “I can’t live the next three years like this. Like two people who just…exist in the same space together but don’t interact.”

“I know,” he agrees. 

“Something needs to change.”

“I know.” You’re back against his chest, both arms now snug around his waist, keeping him close. “I’m open to any suggestions, because…I think at the very least we need to be friends.”

“You are my friend, Steve. I just wish you were more present.”

“I will be,” he promises, cradling the back of your head with a broad palm. 

“Okay…then I think we have weekly nights in. Like this, where one of us cooks,” you suggest against his shirt, voice muffled by fabric. 

“Done.”

“Phone and laptop need to be away completely on those days.”

“…Done.” He can do that. “And on other days?”

“If you can be off the phone at a certain time, maybe we could actually, I don’t know, spend some nights together? Even if it’s just watching Gilmore Girls or a movie with me.” 

He snorts, knowing you’ve been rewatching the show lately on the nights you’re not holed up studying. “I’ll tell the office after I pick up my wife from school I’m off for the evening. Anything else?”

“No.” You shake your head, slipping free from his grasp. “I think that’s a good start. And I think you groveling by making me my favorite dinner is another good start.”

He barks out a laugh at that and languishes in the smile that tips your lips upward, knowing he, to some degree, put it there. “I called my mom and everything.”

“Oh no! You were scared I was going to murder you in your sleep,” you chuckle, lifting the cover to the pot and taking a deep breath. 

“Can you blame me?” 

“Guess not,” you tease, hopping up onto the countertop. “Hey, Steve?” 

He steps closer to where you’re sitting, his thigh brushing against your bare kneecap. Your fingers reach for his left hand, dragging it to rest it against your lap, thumb running along his wedding ring. He’s not sure why, but the very act itself has him a little breathless, eyes trailing where your thumb brushes against the metal. Then higher, toward your face, the way your eyelashes gently kiss the tops of your cheeks as you glance down to where the two of you are connected. 

“I also think we need to…do things like this more.” Your palm squeezes around him for emphasis. “Define the parameters of touch, so it’s not so jarring when we’re out in the real world and trying to look like a real couple. Kind of like how it was in front of Amber and Danny the other day. If people are going to believe us, we can’t have more of those situations popping up.”

“Okay…” He takes another step closer. “What might that look like to you? I want whatever you feel comfortable with.”

“When we’re out in public in front of your coworkers, I wouldn’t mind if you…I don’t know? Hold me against you. Maybe a kiss on the forehead. A peck. I feel like those are good starts.” 

“I can do that,” he says, giving your hand another squeeze for reassurance. “In front of friends, like your classmates, what I did the other day was fine?”

“Yeah,” you say, eyes meeting his hazel ones. “What about when we’re home?”

“I think at the very least a hug when we’re both home,” he suggests. “Friends hug, don’t they?”

“They do.” You nod. 

He cards his fingers through his hair, sighing deeply. “Again, I’m really sorry. I know I’ve been…distant since we got home, and I understand that the next three years won’t work if I keep doing that. You don’t deserve that, and I never, ever intended to make you cry.”

You glance down at your intertwined hands, and Steve feels the breath in his lungs hitch, until you tip your head up again and murmur, “Can I cash in on another hug? For practice, naturally.”

He’s already slipping between the space you’ve made for him with your thighs, drawing you flush against him, cradling the back of your head. Hopes you can feel the breadth and depth of his words through touch. 

“For practice.”

He can feel you smile against his shoulder and suddenly his chest tightens with a feeling he has no name for. Just knows it sparks something warm, like sweet honey, in his blood. 

“But do it again and you might not see the morning.”

“I don’t doubt it.” 

There, in that kitchen, with dinner simmering and his arms around you, Steve exhales. Because he’s given a new start, a turning page on a hard day in your short marriage. A new start.

And he doesn’t know why, but something shifts. 

The mere thought terrifies him. 

-

-

[bellysoupset]

For the 🏳️ anon, who asked for Airsick Bella.... Here we go, with LOADS of fluff and sexy talk.

-------------

"Have you seen my bikinis?" Bella asked, rummaging through her messy side of their wardrobe. Luke was sprawled on the bed watching the replay of last Sunday’s football game, having already finished packing, since his side was neatly folded and he could get a bag done in under 30 minutes.

"You really don't need those," he smirked and Bella rolled her eyes, crouching down to open a drawer.

"Oh yeah, you're gonna be real happy when I'm flashing strangers- Aha!" She held up a bunch of bikinis strung together and didn't bother untangling them, throwing the items on her side of their suitcase, "now I need a hat."

Lucas smiled fondly at her, Bella wasn't even bothering to hide just how excited she was with them finally leaving for a honeymoon. After nearly ten months since they had gotten married, Luke had been over the moon to slip her the tickets, three weeks before. 

She had even requested time off work, something Bella never did, normally insisting she could work from anywhere. Luke had seen her work from the hospital waiting room far too many times to count.

Their flight was Friday morning and it was only Wednesday night, but Lucas had everything ready already, from his suitcase, to their documentation, to their travel guide, hotel... Everything he could think of, he had managed and micromanaged, except for Bell.

Just glancing at her messy process of packing made his skin crawl, so he opted for not saying anything and waited until she finally zipped it up, taking far more shoes than he even thought possible for her to wear.

"You know we're going to a tropical island, right?" Lucas grabbed Bella's waist when she circled the bed in order to grab her jewelry, "I don't think you're gonna get any use out of the combat boots."

"You never know, it rains a lot in tropical places," Bella shrugged, falling against him on the bed, but keeping to the task at hand, sorting through the bunch of silver rings she had, "I'm taking it."

"Okay," Luke rolled his eyes, closing her jewelry box, "I want attention-"

"You're gonna have tons of attention, once we're there," Bella scoffed, squirming when he rolled them on the bed and pinned her down, "skull or snakes?" she raised the rings in front of him.

"Skulls, they're cuter," Luke pushed her hand away from his face, busying himself with kissing her neck, "so we’re taking a chastity vow until we land in Malé?"

Bella snorted at that, picking her earrings, moving her head slightly so he could continue to kiss her, "chastity is a strong word, I've always wanted to be a part of the mile high club."

Lucas laughed, pressing his mouth to her collarbone, "oh yeah, so we can get barred at the customs," he nibbled on her earlobe, "my wife the genius."

"Tonto," Bella scoffed, finally putting away all the items and planting a hand in the middle of his face, pushing him off of her, “help me pack, Luke.” 

By the time Friday finally rolled on, Luke was feeling nearly sick with nerves. They had driven to Portland the night before, in order to avoid the maximum amount of fatigue possible, given the trip ahead of them was stupidly long. Their flight went to Philadelphia, where they caught a 10 hours long flight to London, stayed over the night and then in the morning caught another flight, this one 20 hours long, to the Maldives. 

Luke had genuinely considered talking with Kit about the private jet, but just the off hand mention of his father’s name had Bella shutting down in a way he didn’t like. It didn’t used to be like that before Christmas and he wasn’t entirely sure what had changed since Bell promptly shut down any attempt of bringing up the topic.

Besides, as Jonah had pointed out to him while they chatted in gym, the private jet would need to do all the stops for fuel too, it’d only cut about five hours of their schedule. 

“What’s in your mind?” Bell asked, as they strapped in for the first, shorter flight. Only two hours for Philly. 

“Control freak bs,” Luke scoffed, leaning in to plant a kiss on her cheek, “my brain won’t stop.”

“I thought therapy was helping,” she teased him, turning her face for a proper kiss, “nothing is going to go wrong, it’s just plane trips. Very long, very tiring, but just plane trips.”

“Uhum,” Luke leaned in to plant his lips on her temple. 

Since they’d be bored out of their minds, Bella had brought an old ipad, filled with movies. Luke leaned back his chair, frowning as he recognized the opening shot of the movie. 

“Jaws? We’re going to a tropical island and you want to watch Jaws?”

“I like to be prepared,” Bella grinned, snuggling against his shoulder, “you did say we could swim in the ocean and that there’s a shark dive.”

“And you want to watch Jaws before swimming with the sharks?” He raised his eyebrows, clicking on the screen and then going back to the list of movies, “you only brought deadly animals movies… Tsunami movie… Isabella, what the fuck!”

Bell slapped his hand away, putting the movie back on, “it's good for you, builds character.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it does,” he said sourly, focusing on the movie. 

The connection to the London flight was uneventful, Luke spending it updating their friends about their current location and taking his own paparazzi pictures of Bell, as she sprawled on the first class lounge, not a thought given to the dirty looks thrown her way. 

He loved her. 

“This is bigger than our house,” Bella snorted as they got in the plane and to their seats. For this flight Luke had splurged with first class tickets instead of regular ones and a private suite, since it was 10 hours long. Bell dropped her carry on in the large space between their seats, which were large like single beds, “really. Honest to God, bigger than my childhood room.”

Lucas knew for a fact this was pretty much true. He rolled his eyes, kissing the top of her head, “and private too, didn’t you want to be a part of the mile high club?”

“Now where’s the fun if it’s all private?” Bella teased him, falling sit and letting out a sigh, “I bet they have cameras everywhere here… Oh man, champagne? I feel like a princess.”

He couldn’t help but smile at her antics, sitting down as well and indulging Bell as she sat criss crossed next to him and continued to talk non stop. 

Three hours into the trip and at least three glasses of champagne each, the instructions of “stay in your seats” were out of the window. Bella had climbed on his lap and she had her arms wrapped around his neck, kissing him and letting out a happy sigh as Luke squeezed her ass over the jeans, when suddenly the plane lurched.

It was so sudden that Bella bit on his lip with force enough to draw blood and Luke pulled back with a shout.

“Bell!” 

“Oh my God-” Bella whined, grabbing his shoulders, big blue eyes wide in her face, “what the fuck was that!?”

“Just a drop, Bella,” Luke glared at her, wiping the blood with his thumb, “it’s fine, relax…”

“Don’t tell me to relax,” she scoffed, but leaned in to kiss him again, bumping her nose with his, “sorry about your lip…”

“Uhm, kiss it better?” Lucas grinned, leaning further into his seat and planting a hand on her nape, pulling her in. He felt her smile against his lips and Luke was starting to feel suffocatingly warm, face tingling with how horny he was, when the plane lurched once more, this time around continuing to shake violently. 

Bella let out a sound he wasn’t sure he had ever heard her do before, a whimper-cry, and hid her face on his neck, “Luke!”

“It’s okay, baby, it’s just turbulence…” He hugged her close and Bella squeezed him with all her force as the plane shook again.

“We’re getting nerfed down from the sky because of these stupid, expensive, gigantic cabins,” Bella whined, getting out of his lap and putting the seat belt on, a couple seconds before the red sign popped on the opposite wall. 

The plane lowered once more, before going up, and even with the private cabin, they could hear the other passengers squeal. Bella’s face had gone from healthy tan to olive white and she was clutching the arm rests of her seat. 

“I don’t wanna die on my honeymoon,” she whimpered, closing her eyes, “Luke-”

“It’s just turbulence,” Lucas planted his hand over hers, “I promise you we’ll not fall from the sky, this is fine…” 

“It doesn’t feel fine!” Bella squealed as the plane kept shaking. She moved their hands, so she could squeeze his fingers and Luke cringed, Bell had quite the strong grip. 

He leaned in, completely ignoring the shaking and going up and down that was causing his stomach to freeze, “talk with me, baby.”

“I- I can’t, we’re going to di-die…” Her voice shook under the weight of tears and Lucas scoffed, planting a kiss on her temple and squeezing Bella to him with his free hand. Over their heads, the lights went out.

“No, we’re not. Have I ever told you about our flight to Hong Kong when I was fifteen?” he leaned in and Bell shook her head, staying quiet to indicate she was listening, but still not opening her eyes. 

“Dad was touring there and it was my birthday, so mom packed us both to Hong Kong,” Luke smoothed over the important stuff, leaving out the details. He hadn’t wanted to go to Hong Kong and his mom was actually going there for a business trip, not for his birthday. In fact, he wasn’t sure they had remembered it was his birthday until two days had passed, “and the flight was terrible, let me tell you. But we landed without any trouble, it was just clouds-” without any trouble because his mom had been knocked the fuck out by the wine, “we all got there in one piece. We’re gonna get to London perfectly safe too.”

“And- and your birthday?” Bella asked in a small voice. Luke wiped the tears off her face. 

“I got to watch dad play, it was great,” he lied smoothly. He had spent it in the hotel room just outside the stadium his father was playing, puking his guts up after such a horrid flight, while his mother bossed her entire staff around. 

Bella nodded, letting out a shuddery breath and the plane eased up the shaking. She sat up straight, leaning back on her seat and wiped at her face, while the overhead lights turned back on. 

Lucas smiled at her, “see?”

“I’m gonna puke,” Bella groaned, ignoring his soft smile and Luke snorted, before realizing her lips had gone a terrible shade of white. 

“Oh, you’re serious?”

“Yeah-” Bella cupped her mouth, “Lu-”

Luke scrambled to find an airsickness bag, but in first class these were hidden somewhere – it was not pleasing to imply rich people puked – so he settled for the champagne bucket, removing the bottle and holding it under Bell’s chin just in time to catch the first mouthful of sickly champagne vomit.

She hugged the bucket like a pro, so Lucas abandoned it, in order to hold her hair back with a hand, planting the other one on her forehead to help her support it. Bella let out a loud moan, echoing in the metal bucket, and he kissed the top of her head. 

“You’re fine, it’s a lot of ups and downs…” 

Bella sighed, pulling back and resting her forehead to the rim of the bucket, while Luke waited a second to pull back, “you good?”

“Think so…” she rasped, so he got her a water bottle from the huge dispenser under their seats. She took it with shaky hands, sniffling once more and took a small gulp, as Luke ignored the sign to stay with their seat belts and got up, to reach for his own carry on.

“Wendy told me to bring these-” he went through the contents in order to find the sea wristbands and Bella frowned, seeming exhausted as she turned to look at him… Only for the plane to drop once more.

“Fuck,” Bell groaned, lurching for the bucket, while Luke fell flat on his back on the ground, his backpack hitting his chest. He hugged it tightly, waiting until the plane stopped shaking in order to get back to his seat, and once he did he realized Bella was fully crying.

“Stay-” she let out a little burp, forcing up a pathetic gush of liquid, “in your fucking seat, Lucas.”

“Sorry,” he rubbed her back, “sorry. You don’t have to worry, I’m fine.”

Bella raised her head from the bucket in order to send him a bleary glare, her blue eyes even more blue due to the tears and the fact they were red rimmed, “I fucking hate flying,” she declared, turning back to the bucket once more and Luke cringed in sympathy. 

“I know, I know, next time we travel we’ll go somewhere closer,” he promised, pushing the curls away from her mouth and rubbing back.