#readerpop!star

His world was made up of reports, investigations and horrendous crimes, always keeping the focus on what was real, on what needed to be solved. The idea of ​​following the pop universe and celebrities in general seemed distant – even superfluous.

He liked movies, he could appreciate paintings, but music? It wasn't something he cared about, music was like background noise that fulfilled its purpose, filling the environment creating a pleasant atmosphere without standing out completely.

But watching your creative process in your documentary,– he wasn't joking, he almost called Garcia to get more information – he wished he could get inside your mind and see music the way you do. Renowned and new artists citing you as a reference.

It was fascinating.

You are fascinating.

He took the card with your number out of his pocket. And for a moment, he actually considered sending a message.

He knew that if he took this step, there would be no going back. The weight of real life was falling on his shoulders again, the pressure of his profession was like a bee buzzing in his ear, a reminder that things weren't so easy.

You on stage, in the spotlight, were an easy target.

The thought paralyzed him.

Someone like you should never get involved with someone like him.

It's better to live with the thought of what could have been than to live with the guilt of having brought danger into your life. He can deal with it, maybe in a few years he'll tell Jack that he met a famous singer.

He can deal with it.

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What he didn’t know was that you were extremely stubborn.

You waited patiently for a week for any sign. A text, a call – even a smoke signal would do, but you received nothing.

Great, if he wasn’t going to look for you then you would find a way to find him. All you had was your first name and a dream.

But you like a challenge.

Your first thought was to type his name into Google, but there are too many Aaron’s in the area, that wouldn’t work. You sighed, without a last name the search would be useless – Aaron was a very common name.

But you have something in your favor – influence.

“Hey, I need a favor.”

“This smells like trouble.” Chris – your security guard – stopped near the door, crossing his arms. “What is it?”

You smiled, this poor guy really deserved a raise.

“I met a guy and I wanted to find him, but all I have is his first name, Aaron.” You paused, trying to remember the details. “He was tall, had black hair, wore a nice suit, his posture was firm and he had a serious look, he probably has a position of authority, a lawyer perhaps?”

He looked at you as if he were seeing a unicorn, the crease between his eyebrows deepened as his mouth opened in disbelief.

“Let me get this straight, you want me to find someone you saw once in your life, and you don’t even know their damn last name?”

“Well, that’s basically it.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“I don’t know either.”

He sighed, running his hands through his hair in a clear sign of frustration.

“I should be immortalized as a saint.” He rolled his eyes and picked up his phone to make a call. You watched as he muttered something under his breath to someone on the other end, his expression hardened, he sighed and hung up right after.

“This will take a while but maybe we can get something done”

You smiled, he always found a way.

“Thanks, you’re awesome.”

“I know, next time maybe you can remember that when you decide to go out alone”

“I already apologized, it was stupid, I know”

“What did you want? If you intended to die, couldn’t you kill yourself like a normal artist? Drugs, alcoholism or something?”

You snorted in amusement.

“Shut up.”

He just rolled his eyes, returning to his attentive posture.

While Chris dealt with the impossible mission of finding Aaron, you focused on work, with the tour approaching there were many details to be worked on. You spent the entire afternoon making adjustments to the sequence of songs, the position of the dancers, the light show. The worst part of being a perfectionist was this: everything had to go through you.

At the end of the day, when you were finishing up with the team, your cell phone vibrated on the table. Picking up the phone, you answered quickly when you saw it was Chris.

“Peaceful house, who’s disturbing you?”

“Ha ha, funny girl, are you done? I’m waiting in the parking lot.”

“I’m going, did you get anything?” Holding your phone with your shoulder, you said goodbye to some people who were still in the warehouse before heading towards the parking lot.

“You’re going to sing at my wedding, for free.” He expected a protest, but you just nodded in agreement, so he continued. “Your mystery man’s name is Aaron Hotchner, he’s been the leader of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit for the past 5 years. He used to be a lawyer – congratulations, you guessed right, maybe you should ask him for a job. I’ll send you his office number.”

You walked into the house in silence, absorbing the new information. Now you had a full name and a profession.

Aaron Hotchner, FBI agent.

You chuckled to yourself, you had just stalked an FBI agent – ​​that didn’t get you arrested, did it? The idea of ​​looking for him again – this time in a more direct way – seemed like a crime you were willing to pay for.

But how? You couldn’t just show up at his work – that would be too weird. It was time to plan calmly, you didn’t want to scare him.

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Aaron Hotchner was a man of routine.

He liked predictability when he had the chance to experience it, which was why he tried to keep his mornings calm; any unexpected element was viewed with suspicion.

So when he walked into his office that morning and found a huge bouquet of flowers on his desk, he stopped. His brow furrowed automatically, studying the bouquet as if it were a crime scene.

Flowers. For him.

He began to run through all the holidays quickly in his head; it wasn't his birthday or Father's Day. What was this?

Silently, he closed the door and approached the desk, finally noticing the card carefully placed among the flowers. He picked up the card and opened it calmly – almost as if he were defusing a bomb.

“Aaron

I appreciate the way you tried to inspire me artistically by not texting me and breaking my heart – it was innovative, to say the least. I would almost say poetic – but sad songs are not my thing, I prefer romantic ones.

Before you think it's weird that I know where you work, let me clarify two things:

First, I'm not dangerous – unless you consider smash as a threat.

Second, this is your fault.

If you had texted me like a normal person would, I wouldn't have to do this.

I'm joking (or not).

Anyway, when you receive these flowers, take it as a thank you for saving my skin that day.

Note: I loved your last name, did you know that you can't spell Hotchner without Hot?

With love, Q Honey.”

He finished reading and couldn't help but smile, you're definitely crazy, he thought. He didn't know exactly what he expected when he opened the card, but it certainly wasn't this.

Before he could decide what to do with the flowers, the door opened without warning.

“Hotch, could you reconsider a new chair, the leg of mine is wobbly and I almost fell again today. Just letting you know that what kills old people is a fall-” Rossi stopped talking as soon as he saw the flowers on the table.

“Is there something you want to share?” he asked, his tone full of amusement. “Wait, is that a card in your hand? Did you get that?”

He could have ignored it and gone back to work until he had a good enough excuse, but the shock prevented him from thinking straight, how the hell did you find out his name?

“I..um, I guess so..?” His voice came out more like a question than a statement.

“Who’s the secret admirer?”

“Someone with a lot of determination.”

Rossi laughed, clearly interested in his friend’s reaction.

“That’s one of mine, whoever it is I think you should give her a chance since she’s so determined.”

Yeah, maybe he should.

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English is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes

If you have any ideas to contribute to the sequel, I'll be happy to hear them :)

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