Welcome To Serenity

Pairing: Jack Abbot x fem!reader

Summary: You get your period just before two-week long vacation and you worry you just ruined it (0.7k)

Warnings: talks about period, pet names, Jack being the sweetest boyfriend as always, banter

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

Jack finds you weeping softly on the bed as you fold your bikinis and put them in the suitcase. You look so unbelievably sad that Jack immediately drops everything in his hands, keeps his scrubs on and comes to sit next to you.

"Hey, hey, hey, angel. What's wrong?" Jack takes the clothes out of your hands and cups your hands in one of his. The other one sneaks up to your face, wiping away the salty tears.

"I got my period." You whisper so unhappily. 

Jack's eyes soften with the realisation. "Are you in pain?"

You shake your head. "I just ruined our vacation."

Oh. That's why you are so upset. "No, angel. It's okay. Nothing is ruined. As long as you aren't in pain, we're gonna enjoy our vacation."

　 jack　abbot　　&.　　hyper fem ! reader

⠀𓊈 ♰ 𓊉 ⠀݁⠀⠀⠀˖⠀⠀ 𓃭 ⠀゛⠀ 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐀 𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐑, his rugged hands firmly closed around your hips. You’re on top of him, his back is pressed against the ivory velvet of his dispensable couch. when you pull back he watches you, hooded lids framing his hazel irises. His tongue dark over his lips, tasting the gloss you left on him; His brows knitted. He didn’t recognize that one . Was that a new gloss ?

youruser made a post

liked by abbot.jack, drj_official and 178 others

youruser i <3 my friends

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samira_mohan not the soft launch as if we don't already know who it is

⤷ youruser but we've been so subtle :(

⤷ trinsantos as subtle as bulls in china shops

drj_official did you kill him in slide 5??

⤷ youruser it was robby's fault not mine

⤷ abbot.jack (It was her fault)

abbot.jack made a post

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abbot.jack Life outside the hospital.

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youruser omg you know how to use instagram??

⤷ abbot.jack I know how to delete posts

⤷ youruser no wait stop, i didn't mean it :(

⤷ youruser your technological failures endear me

youruser made a post

liked by samira_mohan, trinsantos and 257 others

youruser happy happy girl :)

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trinsantos UHMMMM WHAT?

⤷ youruser my response exactly when he pulled out the ring

danaevans68 Congrats, you two!

⤷ youruser thank you dana <3 love you lots

samira_mohan you've literally brought the pitt to a halt i hope you know that ♥︎ by author

abbot.jack made a post

liked by youruser, danaevans68 and 57 others

abbot.jack She's marrying me for my money.

view all 11 comments

youruser not funny

⤷ youruser i'm also marrying you for your abs

m.robinavitch Congratulations, brother.

abbot.jack made a post

liked by parkerellis91, shenshen3 and 71 others

abbot.jack 3rd of June. Added an Abbot.

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youruser i love you mr abbot <3

⤷ trinsantos ew pda

⤷ youruser you've seen far worse from us

⤷ trinsantos true. comment rescinded

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liked by mellyking, trinsantos and 301 others

youruser baby girl abbot joining us this april :) feeling v blessed (and mildly terrified)

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samira_mohan can't wait to meet my goddaughter samira abbot

⤷ trinsantos um i think you mean *my* goddaughter

⤷ youruser who says she can't have all the godmothers?

abbot.jack Love you endlessly

Up to you if he tries harder with her / puts up with it or gets tired of her since it wears him out and he breaks up with her.

If that’s okay and if you like the idea. Thank you!

love you less

summary: loving jack is the closest you’ve ever come to feeling safe. but safety is a terrifying concept for someone who expects the floor to collapse at any moment, and your defenses are running him ragged. (1.8k)

pairing: jack abbot x reader

content: heavy angst, emotional exhaustion, brief mention of vomiting, severe anxiety, fear of abandonment, verbal confrontation.

authors note: anon i hope this is kind of what you were hoping for!! this is for my avoidant girlies :)

the first time you realized you loved jack abbot, you had went straight home and threw up.

it wasn't a romantic epiphany in the slightest.

it was a violent, full-body rejection of the fact that another person now had some form of control over your nervous system.

you had barely made it through your front door before the cold sweat broke out, your chest tightening so hard you couldn't draw a clean breath.

the realization hadn't felt like warmth.

it felt like an invasion, a hostile takeover of your carefully guarded independence.

Husband!Jack abbot x wife!fem!reader

Authors note 💌- I’ve missed seeing this man on my screen so here you go!!

Emma Nolan, not showing off her knowledge but rather be open to learn

Emma Nolan, trying to stay calm during unexpected happenings

Emma Nolan, holding Louie's hand during the debrief

Emma Nolan, taking care of the SA victim and encouraging her to finish the rape kit

Emma Nolan, finding the kid of the water slide victim in minutes

Emma Nolan, getting up after being in a headlock and continue to finish her shift

Emma Nolan, reassuring Digby that his family will still recognise him

Emma Nolan, coming back to tell people about Ogilive

Emma Nolan, still smiling and being sweet to everyone she meets

a/n - just a lil bit more fluff I’ve been working on. I literally write and edit things while I’m at work (yay for wfh) lmao so it takes me FOREVER to get stuff out. Kind of a reference to my lil short on Jack loving capable women. Never really done fluff before but I’m down bad for this man so I’ve got a lot of feelings ok!!!!

———-

The night had started completely normally, you’d gone out with friends. Nothing wild, just drinks, food, and the sort of night that seemed to get harder to recover from the older you got. By eleven o’clock, your friends were ordering another round while you found yourself staring at your half-finished cocktail.

Not because you weren’t having fun, it was fun but you were just tired.

Jack was working nights this week and somewhere along the way your body had adapted to his schedule. Late nights weren’t nearly as appealing as they used to be. So after promising you’d text when you got home, you hugged everyone goodbye and headed towards your car.

But you didn’t make it home, you were in the back of an uber, the sound of tyres squealing and metal crashing together pulling you away from your phone.

The first thing you noticed was the smoke. The second was that traffic had stopped completely.

Cars sat at strange angles across three lanes of the freeway. Hazard lights flashed red and amber through the darkness. A pickup truck rested against the central barrier, two vehicles had somehow ended up facing the wrong direction entirely.

For a second you just sat there, staring at the blur of brake lights. Then somebody started screaming. Everything after that happened so quickly, you clicked your seatbelt free, opened the door and suddenly you were running.

The smell hit you first. Burning rubber, fuel, hot metal.

People were climbing from vehicles looking dazed and confused, some were crying, some were shouting names. Others simply stood there staring at the wreckage in shock.

You remembered thinking: Jack would already know what to do.

Then another thought arrived immediately afterwards.

Well he’s not here.

So you did it.

The first patient you reached was unconscious. Middle-aged, grey hair, no visible injuries, no pulse, not breathing. Fuck.

The guy who pulled him from the wreckage had his hands on the man’s shoulders, shaking and trying to wake him.

“Has anybody called 911?”

Several people nodded, you immediately started compressions. Hard, fast, just like Jack had described a hundred times while telling stories over dinner. Push hard, push fast and don’t stop. You heard his voice repeating in your head like a mantra.

You kept going until your arms burned and your knees ached against the asphalt. The world narrowed to the rhythm beneath your hands. Cars burned somewhere behind you as sirens wailed in the distance. Eventually another bystander found you and took over.

Then someone screamed for help, a woman sat against the barrier clutching her leg, blood was soaking through her jeans and pooling on the rough concrete below her.

So much blood.

You remembered another conversation. Tourniquets. Jack explaining why belts weren’t ideal. Improvised alternatives. You ripped the strap from your handbag and wrapped it above the wound. The woman cried out, you appologised but then tightened it anyway. The bleeding slowed. Good.

Next patient.

A young man sat on the shoulder holding his arm awkwardly against his chest. Dislocated shoulder. Maybe broken? You grabbed the scarf hanging around his neck and borrowed a handful of hair ties from another woman nearby. Not perfect but enough. The sling held and the kid nearly cried with relief. By the time the ambulance arrived you were exhausted. Covered in blood, thankfully just not yours.

Then someone shouted. A car further up the freeway had caught fire. Your stomach dropped, there was still someone inside. You didn’t really remember making the decision. One second you were running. The next you were yanking open a damaged door while people shouted at you to get back. The heat was unbearable. The smoke stung your eyes. The woman inside was conscious but trapped. You grabbed her beneath the arms and pulled. Hard. Metal scraped. Glass shattered somewhere nearby. And finally she came free. You dragged her away from the vehicle moments before flames erupted through the engine compartment. Somewhere in the process, something sliced your calf, it stung but it wasn’t even top ten on your list of problems at that moment.

⸻

Back at The Pitt, nobody was having a particularly good night. The pile-up had hit the department like a bomb. Trauma bays filled almost immediately, stretchers lined hallways. Staff moved at a sprint. Lena was already reorganising assignments. Whitaker was helping move patients and Santos looked annoyingly excited for somebody dealing with mass casualties. Jack barely had time to think, patient after patient rolled through the doors. The woman with the leg injury arrived first.

“Improvised tourniquet on scene,” the paramedic reported.

Jack looked down. The application wasn’t perfect. But it was good. Really good. The woman winced as Jack did his exams and looked over the strange wrapped around her thigh.

“Some girl did it.”

“What girl? A nurse?”

The patient shook her head “No idea. Just appeared out of nowhere.”

Jack moved onto the next patient, it was the young guy with the sling.

“Heard somebody made this for you?”

The kid laughed weakly.

“Yeah.”

“You catch who it was? Nurse? Doctor?”

“No clue.”

Same storA woman. Nobody knew her name. Nobody knew where she’d gone. Just that she’d helped. Then came the CPR patient, the one everyone had been worried about.

The paramedics reported early bystander CPR. Immediate intervention. Good compressions. Enough to keep blood running until they arrived. Again, the mystery woman. Jack registered it. Then immediately forgot about it. There were too many patients and far too much happening.

And as far as he knew, you were still drinking cocktails with your friends.

⸻

An hour later you limped in with the help of the paramedics, you’d refused to be wheeled in, you’d rather hobble in than be laid on a stretcher. Your newest friend, EMT Mike kindly announced your arrival.

“Got a bystander from the freeway accident. Cut her calf helping people before we got there. Refused transport twice, so if she tries to leave that’s on you.”

Jack glanced over automatically then froze. For a second his brain simply stopped working. You stood near the nurses’ station. Hair messy. Dress stained. Blood on your arms. A cut running down your calf.

“What in the fuck?” He yelled, not angry just shocked and concerned.

Your eyes widened. Immediately regretting coming here. Jack crossed the department in seconds.

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“It’s not mine-.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

His hands were already checking your arms. Your shoulders. Your face. Looking for injuries. Looking for proof you were actually okay. The entire nurses’ station had gone suspiciously quiet. Lena looked deeply confused. Santos looked confused and delighted. You looked trapped.

“Jack.”

“Sit.”

“Why?”

“Just sit.”

The attending voice had appeared. The scary one. You sat immediately.Jack pointed at the chair. Then pointed at Lena.

“Don’t let her leave.”

Lena raised an eyebrow.

“Seriously?”

“Do not let her out of your sight.”

Then he disappeared back into a trauma bay before you could argue. Leaving everyone watching utterly bewildered.

⸻

Fifteen minutes later, the woman with the tourniquet spotted you. Her eyes widened immediately.

“That’s her!”

Half the department looked up. You immediately knew this wasn’t going to end well.

“Her?” Whitaker asked.

The woman pointed directly at you.

“The girl from the freeway.”

Silence.

“The one who did my tourniquet.”

Now everybody was staring. Wonderful. A second patient overheard.

“The CPR girl?”

You closed your eyes. Santos practically levitated from her chair “The what?”

Before you could answer, another voice spoke. A woman, older, shaky. Everyone turned. The wife of the CPR patient stood near the hallway entrance. Her eyes immediately locked onto you. Then filled with tears.

“Oh my God.”

The entire department fell silent. The woman crossed the room quickly. You of pure instinct you stood, nervous and slightly confused.She reached you and grabbed both of your hands tightly, like she was afraid you might disappear.

“It was you.”

You blinked.

“You helped my husband, they told me you helped”

Her voice cracked. Realisation hit.

“Oh- yes I tried my best”

The woman’s eyes overflowed “They told me somebody started CPR before the ambulance arrived.”

The room was completely silent now. Even Santos stopped talking. The woman sniffled through her tears.

“They said if nobody had started when they did…” She couldn’t finish. Her hand squeezed yours.

“They said he would’ve died right there, alone..”

Your throat tightened immediately. Across the nurses’ station, Lena looked away. Whitaker suddenly became very interested in a computer screen. The woman smiled through tears.

“You gave him a chance to come home. I’ll never be able to tell you how thankful I am for that”

Nobody spoke. The weight of it settled over the room, heavy and real.

The woman’s shoulders shook as she hugged you. You wrapped your arms around her automatically. For a second she simply held on.

Then whispered:

“Thank you.”

When she finally stepped away, your own eyes looked suspiciously glassy.

“I’m really glad I could help .”

The woman nodded ad she gave your hands a final squeeze.

“So am I.”

⸻

Jack was watching the whole time, arms folded, his face a mix of pure terror, utterly enamoured and gobsmacked. His brief break was cut short by monitors beeping as he swung back into the trauma room.

The woman finally stepped away, wiping tears from her face. Her husband was alive, not out of the woods but alive. The reality of it all seemed to settle over the department at once. For a moment nobody spoke. Then Santos ruined it.

“Okay.”

Everyone looked over. She pointed directly at you.

“The CPR thing is insane.”

“Yeah” you winced.

“The tourniquet thing is insane.”

“That’s fair.”

“The sling thing?”

“It worked.”You shrugged.

Whitaker stared.

“You’re saying that like it’s normal.”

“It felt normal at the time.” You defended.

“It is absolutely normal for us, are you a nurse?”

“No I work in IT” you answered.

Santos folded her arms.

“So how’d you even know how to do any of that?”

You blinked, the answer seemed obvious.

“Jack talks about work stuff all the time.” Your finger pointing in his direction.

A small silence followed.

Whitaker frowned.

“Jack Abbott?”

“Yeah.” You nodded.

Santos looked confused.

“How do you know Abbott? Why would he be telling you stories about work?”

You looked around the nurses’ station. Then laughed “Ohhh.”

Suddenly everybody was staring. Lena had stopped typing. Whitaker had stopped pretending to chart. Even Shen looked up from his computer.

“Because he’s my boyfriend.”

The silence that followed was genuinely impressive, You frowned “What? He’s my boyfriend?”

Whitaker looked personally offended.

“YOU’RE JACK ABBOTT’S GIRLFRIEND?”

You laughed.

“Well yeah, it’s not a big deal, we’ve been together over a year.”

“A year?” Santos repeated, eyes wide “A YEAR?”

You nodded.

Lena pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Oh my God.”

Poor Whitaker looked like he might pass out. Garcia appeared carrying coffee, took one look at the scene and sighed.

“I knew.”

“Of course you did,” Whitaker muttered.

Questions immediately started flying.

“How did you meet?” “Do you live together?” “How long have you lived together?” “Is he always grumpy?” “Does he really do naked yoga?”

That one made you laugh. Across the room, the trauma bay doors opened and Jack stepped out.

The laughter immediately caught his attention. Then he saw you. Still sitting exactly where he’d left you. Surrounded by half the department. Immediately suspicious.

“What’s goin’ on now?”

Nobody answered. Which was so much worse. Jack looked at Lena. Lena looked at Jack. Then pointed at you.

“Your secret’s out.”

Jack closed his eyes, once and slow before rubbing his hands over his face.

“Oh for fucks sake.”

Santos looked delighted. Whitaker looked betrayed. Garcia looked unsurprised. You just looked confused.

“What?”

Jack opened his eyes and immediately pointed toward an empty treatment room.

“Come on.”

“What?”

“Now.”

You blinked.

“Jack—”

“You’re bleeding.”

“It’s barely a scratch.”

“Baby, you pulled someone out of a burning car.”

The entire nurses’ station fell silent again. Jack looked around. Realised what he’d just said. Everyone looked at you. Then back at him, then back at you. Santos gasped and right then Jack immediately regretted everything.

“Room. Now.”

You couldn’t stop giggling as he steered you away by the shoulder, ignoring the chorus of questions following behind.

The door shut the second you stepped inside. Silence. Finally. Jack grabbed supplies while muttering under his breath. You sat on the edge of the stretcher. Trying not to smile. He turned around holding saline, gauze and steri-strips. Then looked at you. Really looked at you. The blood. The torn dress. The cut on your leg. The soot smeared across your arms. The reality of what could have happened finally catching up with him. His shoulders dropped. Some of the adrenaline leaving him.

“You scared the hell outta me.”

The words came out quieter than you’d expected. You softened immediately.

“I’m sorry.”

Jack shook his head. Then crouched in front of you to clean the wound. The antiseptic hit. You hissed at the cold sting. For a moment neither of you spoke. Then Jack glanced up.

“You did CPR on a freeway?”

“Yeah.”

“Then made a tourniquet?”

“Mmhm.”

“And a sling?”

You nodded.

“Then pulled somebody out of a burning car?”

“Well when you say it like that…”

Jack just stared at you. Half proudc kind of horrified yet completely in love. Before interrupting.

“How the hell did you know what to do?”

The question was genuine. You smiled softly.

“You tell a lot of stories.”

Jack paused.

“Oh.”

“You talk about patients all the time and explain what you’ve done, or usually what people haven’t done”

“I do.” His hands slowed as he looked up at you.

“And you listened to all that?”

“Jack, I listen to it all” You laughed.

For a second he just looked at you. Then shook his head. A disbelieving smile appearing despite himself.

“Unbelievable.”

You grinned.

“That’s what everyone else said.”

Jack rolled his eyes and pressed a kiss against your forehead before going back to fixing your leg.

Outside the room, Santos was almost certainly telling everyone she knew that Abbott’s mysterious girlfriend had accidentally become a trauma nurse for the evening.

word count: 1165

summary: after weeks of back-to-back cases, exhaustion is written all over you— and Aaron Hotchner notices. When a relaxing dinner at Rossi’s confirms his fears, your husband takes matters into his to his own hands with a surprise getaway designed to remind you how it feels to simply breathe and relax again

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

authors note: haven’t updated in daysss.. because writers block sucks and I’ve also been really busy with work. So if there’s anyone out there with any ideas, please help me 🙏 alsoo, I hope you enjoy reading this one! 💗💗

The first thing Aaron notices is that you’re rubbing the back of your neck again.

Not absentmindedly, either.

It’s the slow, exhausted kind of movement that comes from days of too little sleep, too much coffee, and one case bleeding straight into the next before you’ve had time to breathe.

The BAU has been running nonstop for almost three weeks.

A kidnapping in Ohio.

A spree killer in Colorado.

A family annihilator in Virginia.

By the time the jet touches down after the latest case, everyone is running on fumes.

Even you.

Especially you.

Aaron watches from across the aisle as you stare blankly out the window, your FBI jacket folded in your lap. Your eyes are heavy. Your shoulders are tight.

You don’t even notice him looking.

His chest aches.

Because he knows you.

He knows every version of you.

The one who laughs so hard you snort when Garcia sends ridiculous memes to the team.

The one who steals fries from his plate and pretends you didn’t.

The one who curls up beside him on the couch with a book after a long week.

And right now?

You’re none of those things.

You’re exhausted.

“Sweetheart.”

You blink and turn toward him.

“Hm?”

Aaron offers a small smile.

“We’re home.”

You glance around as if you’ve forgotten where you are.

“Right.”

The concern settles deeper in his chest.

—

Two nights later, Rossi insists on hosting dinner.

“Nobody is allowed to talk about serial killers,” he announces as everyone arrives. “Or paperwork. Or psychological profiling.”

Garcia points dramatically toward him.

“You’re taking away eighty percent of our personalities.”

Rossi laughs.

“Then discover the other twenty.”

The evening turns out exactly how everyone needs it to.

Wine flows.

Music plays softly through the house.

Emily and Morgan argue over some ridiculous story from years ago.

Garcia keeps stealing food from everyone’s plates.

JJ laughs harder than you’ve heard her laugh in months.

For a while, the tension eases.

For everyone except Aaron.

Because even as you’re smiling, he notices the little things.

The way you lean heavily against the kitchen counter.

The tired shadows beneath your eyes.

The way your smile fades whenever you think nobody is watching.

And Aaron is always watching.

Not in a profiler way.

In a husband way.

A deeply, hopelessly in-love husband way.

Later, while everyone is gathered around Rossi’s patio table, you sit beside him with a glass of wine cradled between your hands.

The evening air is cool.

Comfortable.

You seem calmer.

But still tired.

Aaron slides a hand onto your knee beneath the table.

Your fingers immediately find his.

A habit.

An instinct.

His favourite one.

“You okay?” he asks quietly.

You smile.

“Just tired.”

“That’s what you’ve been saying for weeks.”

Your expression softens.

“I know.”

Neither of you speaks for a moment.

The conversation around the table continues.

Morgan is teasing Reid.

Garcia is threatening violence.

Rossi is pretending not to enjoy the chaos.

Aaron squeezes your hand.

Then he says casually,

“Take next week off.”

You nearly choke on your wine.

“What?”

“Take next week off.”

“Aaron—”

“I’m serious.”

You stare at him.

“We have paperwork.”

“It’ll survive.”

“Cases.”

“We have a team.”

You narrow your eyes.

“What are you planning?”

The corner of his mouth twitches.

A dangerous sign.

For you, anyway.

Because whenever Aaron Hotchner gets that look, he’s already made up his mind.

“A vacation.”

You blink.

“A vacation?”

“Yes.”

“Those are real?”

He actually laughs.

A genuine laugh.

And the sound makes your heart do embarrassing things.

“Apparently.”

You stare.

Aaron simply sips his wine.

Calm

Collected.

As if he hasn’t just suggested something completely insane.

“Aaron.”

“Hm?”

“You hate vacations.”

“I don’t hate vacations.”

“You brought case files on our honeymoon.”

“I brought one case file.”

“You brought three.”

Aaron wisely decides not to argue.

—

Three days later, you’re standing beside him at a small lakeside cabin several states away from Virginia.

No phones ringing.

No briefing room.

No crime scenes.

No paperwork.

Just trees.

Water.

Quiet.

The kind of quiet you forgot existed.

You stand on the porch staring out across the lake.

A breeze brushes against your skin.

Somewhere nearby, birds chirp.

The water glitters beneath the afternoon sun.

And for the first time in weeks…

You feel your shoulders relax.

Aaron appears beside you carrying two mugs of coffee.

“Still think this was a bad idea?”

You take the mug.

“Ask me tomorrow.”

He smirks.

“Fair.”

The next few days pass slowly.

Wonderfully slowly.

You sleep in.

You read books.

You take long walks along the shoreline.

You spend entire afternoons doing absolutely nothing.

At first it feels strange.

Your brain keeps waiting for a phone call.

A case.

A crisis.

Something.

But nothing comes.

And gradually, you stop waiting.

Aaron notices before you do.

The tension leaves your shoulders.

The crease between your eyebrows disappears.

Your laughter comes easier.

Your smile becomes genuine again.

One evening you’re sitting together on the dock as the sun begins to set.

Your legs dangle over the edge.

The lake reflects streaks of gold and orange.

Beautiful.

Peaceful.

You lean your head against Aaron’s shoulder.

His arm settles around your waist.

For a long time, neither of you says anything.

You simply watch the sunset.

Eventually you glance up at him.

“Thank you.”

Aaron kisses the top of your head.

“For what?”

“For this.”

His gaze remains fixed on the water.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“I do.”

Aaron is quiet for a moment.

Then he turns slightly toward you.

The setting sun catches the softness in his eyes.

The expression only a handful of people ever get to see.

You.

Jack.

His family.

“Honey,” he says gently, “I don’t like seeing you exhausted.”

Your heart melts instantly.

“You worry too much.”

“I do.”

“At least you’re honest.”

Aaron smiles.

Then he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear.

A touch so tender it steals your breath.

“I like seeing you like this.”

You tilt your head.

“Like what?”

“Happy.”

The answer comes so quickly that you know he didn’t have to think about it.

Not even for a second.

Aaron presses a kiss against your forehead.

Then another.

And another.

Until you’re laughing.

A real laugh.

Light and carefree.

The kind he hasn’t heard in weeks.

Aaron smiles against your skin.

Because that’s exactly why he brought you here.

Not for the lake.

Not for the cabin.

Not even for the vacation.

But for this.

For the sound of your laughter.

For the sight of you relaxed and smiling in his arms.

For the reminder that the world can wait for a little while.

And as the sun disappears beneath the horizon and Aaron pulls you closer against his side, you realize something.

Maybe rest isn’t a luxury.

Maybe it’s necessary.