𝘽𝘼𝘿 𝘿𝙀𝙎𝙄𝙍𝙀 aron Hotchner x Reader]

prologue

Songs

Sex by The 1975

Daddy issues by The Neighbourhood 

(We all saw this one coming)

Author's note:

Hi bestiesssss this is the prologue and I just wanted to say two things:
1. there will be smut
2. I believe in Hotch's hand supremacy
That is, hope you enjoy the prologue!

Prologue

I

You thought you had everything you needed.

You made sure to pack just the essentials; a medium suitcase with clothes and two brown boxes full of memories you didn't have the heart to throw off. You said to your family it was because of the distance, the long trip, and the stupid airline rules but deep down you know it's because you needed a new start. Something fresh, something clean. Something far away from all the misery.

It sounded good, really. Almost inspirational. But now you're stuck in an empty apartment without anything but easily buildable furniture and without a fucking screwdriver.

You leave the knife on the floor, looking at the sad pieces of your unfinished bookshelf. You are tired, angry and honestly a little humiliated at the thought of being defeated by a piece of plastic, so you decide to stand up and ask for help.

You knock on the first door you can find. The only apartment on your way to the elevator. The real estate agent who rented you the place said the neighborhood was, in her words, safe and refined. The best place for a young professional like you to live in, especially if you travel a lot! She was a little annoying and way too cheerful but the apartment was cute, the windows were big, and you really wanted to believe her and her promise of safety. She also talked a lot about how great and kind the neighbors were. But now, on your third knock on the brown door, you're starting to doubt the veracity of that statement.

You hear a couple of steps behind the closed door and fix your posture. You know there's someone on the other side, and by the sounds of the second chain, you assume it's probably an old lady with a growing fear of burglars or a freaking serial killer.

But then the door opens and your already practiced friendly smile fades away. One pair of brown eyes look down at you, with eyebrows way too frowned to convey kindness.

"Can I help you with something?". His voice is deep, kinda harsh, and he's already looking at you like you gave him all the reasons in the world to hate you.

For a moment you forget how to talk, and breath, and move, and you feel like a fucking idiot. His eyes lay on your shirt for a moment, almost infimum, then your face again, expecting an answer.