imagine spencer writing poems abt hotch in the margins of his books and forgetting about them until one day he lends a book to one of the team members. and yk. profilers.
Summary: Neighbour/Older!Harry. The aftermath of their argument sees the two lovers struggling in their own ways.
Warning: feelings of anxiety, panic attack, in-depth therapy session, car accident, loss of a child. There is a lot of talk about mental health in this one so please be mindful ❤️
This is an age-gap romance, do not read if you don’t like it.
Word count: 12k+
Author’s note: Part 12 is here and it's... a lot. This is a mostly Harry chapter which is nice for a change. You also get a huge insight into Harry's family issues and his thoughts and feelings after the fight... enjoy 👀
- Find Series Masterlist Here -
- Find my General Masterlist here -
As soon as Harry recovered from his panic attack, and his chest didn’t feel like it was going to explode, he got his phone out of his back pocket and called your dad.
He left Archie at your BBQ. He never would’ve done it in any other situation, and the guilt was sitting terribly on his heart and made his stomach ache. But he knew Archie was safe and happy, in a familiar environment with people Harry knew would take care of him.
That was the only reason he wasn’t rushing back after him. That and the fact that he couldn’t step foot in your front yard let alone your house.
“Harry! I thought I saw you rushing off mate, everything okay? Archie’s still here and managed to steal a sausage. I know the bastard can’t eat them so I took it away real quick” Tim responded, laughing in amusement. His voice was slightly slurred which was expected for someone who had a beer in hand since barely 10 am this morning.
Harry hadn’t really thought that far ahead. He should’ve, and usually, he would’ve already had a plan in place. But laying there on his grass, looking up at the stars with a spinning head and an aching heart completely messed with his sanity.
For the first time in his life, he had no plan. He had no ideas or methods to try and talk himself out of this situation. His mind was a mess.
“I…” Harry swallowed thickly, pushing his hair away from his sweaty forehead and closing his eyes. The grass was warm and prickly but wet from Harry’s sprinkler system. He grabbed onto it and started playing with it to ground him, trying to mask with confidence.
“My cousin. Stupid bugger got in an accident on his bike and landed in the emergency room” he laughed like it was funny, but his chest hurt at the lack of conviction in his own voice. He fisted the grass again, ripping the beautiful grass that he spent a lot of time getting green and healthy.
“He’s okay, just a broken arm but I had to rush out of there. I managed to say bye to y/n before I left, but Archie... If you wouldn’t mind, is there any chance you can drop him by later? Y/n has a key, and Archie will wander in by himself once the door’s open. I just won’t be home for a while.”
He winced at the sound of your name falling from his lips, body jolting like he had a physical as well as emotional reaction to you. He felt a lot of things, thought a lot of things. But he couldn’t put his finger on any singular thought.
Everything was jumbled… erratic.
“Oh yeah mate, of course. Archie’s a cute little dude. Y/n loves him, I’m sure she won’t mind bringing him over.”
“Oh, no don’t ask y/n.” Harry rushed, not wanting you any part of it. “I don’t want to bother her. I uh, asked her before I left. Think she still hasn’t finished packing yet” Harry forced another laugh, this time unable to hide the bitterness laced within it.
Luckily Tim was too tipsy to pick up on the many inconsistencies in Harry’s voice and agreed happily. “Of course she hasn’t” he laughed, “but no worries mate! I’ll see to it myself that young Archie is back in your house by the time you get back” his tone was joyful and if Harry wasn’t so torn up inside he may have relayed that same joy.
“Thanks Tim, I’ll owe you one”
“Just take care of your nephew mate, see you soon.”
The call ended after that, and Harry once again was forced to lay completely still and just stare up into the sky. He felt stupid and defeated lying there like that, fully clothed in soaked grass that most definitely ruined the light colours of one of his favourite shirts.
But he just couldn’t move. His body was still heavy, and that conversation left him exhausted.
It had been years since his last panic attack, one that was triggered by a phone call he had with his sister after he moved to Melbourne. They were debilitating and made you feel so fucking out of control and just bruised.
He liked to forget about the triggers of these attacks. He always forced himself to talk about it, to process it with his therapist then once he understood why it got him in a panic state he’d lock it in the basement of his brain.
He was good at compartmentalising. It was one of those habits that he still hadn’t really figured out how to stop doing.
Harry made significant progress in his mental health and coping with his emotions and problems. He didn’t lash out as much and had a better handle on his anger than ever, but there were still habits that he couldn’t seem to break.
Compartmentalisation was something he just couldn’t shake off.
It was because it actually helped. As unhealthy as it was, it helped him get through everyday life without constantly focusing on a certain issue or memory that was bothering him. He could go weeks, months even without thinking about these moments in his life and would be fine and happy.
Then something would trigger his memory, bringing him back to that memory and it was like it just happened. Everything was fine until it suddenly wasn’t.
Having a panic attack again was like opening fresh wounds and brought Harry back to that phone call he had many years ago. It was one he pushed to the back of his brain and ignored, which was easy since his sister hadn’t spoken to him since that very call.
“You are-God Harry you’re the fucking worst. Do you understand how this makes me-” her voice was broken through violent tears, sobbing ringing through the phone and making Harry’s heart beat in his ears. He could feel tension rise in his chest and behind his eyes, almost making them well up.
He hated when his sister cried. It broke his heart.
Ever since Harry was a young boy, he made it his mission to protect his sister. Gemma could hold her own and she was strong willed and smart, but every mean girl or stupid boy who broke her heart or even looked at her the wrong way was met with Harry’s fury. She didn’t need him to fight her battles because she was more than capable of fighting them herself, as was she capable of fighting his when she needed to.
But Harry felt the need to protect her. Even though he was younger, he felt like it was his duty to protect his sister. Always.
And now in her time of need, he couldn’t protect her. Nor could he fight the person who made her cry. Because he did it.
“How could you leave me like this!? After everything my baby went through and you still left and for what? More money? More useless one-night stands!? A life on the beach where you can ignore your problems!?”
He tried to interrupt, to get through to her and apologise. But she didn’t let him.
“Gem, I-”
“He is fucking dead Harry. My child is dead. His body still hasn’t decomposed in the casket we buried two fucking days ago and you weren’t there! Instead of being there, for me, for Andy, for Lola, who just lost her brother, you packed your bags and moved halfway across the world. He was your nephew Harry, my-my son and you couldn’t be there for me. I needed you and you weren’t there, you aren’t here. How…” her angry rampage broke again with more sobs, then she screeched through the phone loud enough for Harry to have to pull it away from his ear.
“How could you do this to me!?”
Harry didn’t have an answer. How could he tell her he just couldn’t stomach it? How he couldn’t stomach the little casket housing his nephew lowering into the ground? How he was a coward who changed his flight so he’d be mid-air and unavailable while his entire family was watching his nephew find his forever home in the ground?
He couldn’t, because it wasn’t a valid excuse. There was no excuse that could possibly make it okay for Harry to miss a funeral and not be there for his sister, his best friend.
Harry, his nephew, was named after him. It was an ode to Gemma’s best friend and brother and something Harry felt so incredibly honoured for. Growing up, Harry junior was like Harry’s twin. You know how some children take after an extended family member because the genes are that strong? Harry Jr. was like that.
Curly hair, a dimpled smile and full of humour and life. He was so much like Harry and the two of them fed into it. They dressed the same to prank Gemma and ganged up to get him an extra hour of bedtime or dessert before dinner. Harry Jr. was the brightest little 8-year-old Harry had ever met.
Then one day, he was hit by a car on his way home from school.
Gemma didn’t like Harry Jr. walking home by himself. He was only 8 and while he was a bright kid, she didn’t trust the world to keep him safe. But the walk was short, a mere 7 minute walk if you were specific and he walked with a couple friends who all lived in the same area.
It was on a main road with plenty foot traffic and a lot of other children who walked with parents. Gemma even stood at her front gate every afternoon and watched her little boy walk the last block all the way to her. It was safe.
Until a drunk driver, dosed with illicit substances at barely 4:00 in the afternoon lost control and swerved his car right into Harry Jr..
He was killed on impact. He had crouched down to tie his shoes and his friends kept walking ahead, teasing him and saying that he was slow just to joke around. That was the only reason they lived, because they were too far ahead of him and were missed.
Gemma turned away from the street for two seconds. Two seconds because Lola tripped in the front garden and started crying. She turned her back for two seconds and missed the erratic driver swerving in the street and the front of his car killing her son and smashing into a pole.
It was all luck and bad timing and Gemma had run it through her head dozens of times. If his shoelace didn’t become untied, would he still be alive? If he left school a minute earlier or a minute later would he be alive? If she didn’t take her eyes off him for those two fucking seconds, could she have saved him? Could she have spotted the car and yelled at him to run or move, or could she have run the distance and grabbed him before he was hit?
All those questions were useless to ask when he was dead and nothing could change that.
It was devastating.
The accident happened the week before Harry was meant to leave for Melbourne. It was a job he was excited for, a change of scenery much needed. The money was better, the position higher and Harry was utterly excited to have a life by the beach.
The move took months to plan and everything was organised. He was meant to leave a week after the funeral on a flight that was booked months before, but he changed that flight last minute and flew out the day of, because he just couldn’t stomach it.
When the news broke to Harry he felt his whole life crash before his eyes. He loved Harry Jr. and still loves Lola like they were his own children, like extensions of himself. Watching someone he loved so much go into the ground was just unbearable, and he couldn’t do it.
It was fucked up and Harry knew it, and he knew that nothing he said would ever make up for what he did. But Harry had spent nights sobbing and days he dissociated from work where he just imagined false narratives of going over to Gemma’s house for dinner and seeing his nephew healthy and happy at the table like nothing happened.
And he just couldn’t face it.
His phone had been blowing up since before the funeral, but he was still up in the air. When he landed he turned it off to have a day of just bliss in his new home. There were still boxes everywhere, and deliveries coming through of all the furniture Harry had ordered but he was happy.
He loved his house and had big plans for renovations and extensions even if the house didn’t need it. It was like he was living a fantasy, away from his family and the ugly reminders his ex-girlfriend left when she was parading around his neighbourhood with her fiance.
Then he turned his phone back on and found tens of calls, all from various family members. Most of them were from Gemma.
He ignored them at first, his phone buzzing and buzzing non-stop. So he allowed himself to have a cry, to break down in the privacy and quiet of his garden. It was a cry of guilt and of mourning, and he did it so he wouldn’t break down over the phone when he finally answered Gemma’s call.
“I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry” Harry finally responded, his voice barely audible over Gemma’s wailing. “I-”
“I hate you, Harry. And I will never forgive you.”
The line went dead and there was a sudden shrilling in his ears. Harry felt it coming when Gemma was yelling at him. The guilt, the sadness, the grief and it was all getting too much.
Tears were streaming down his face but Harry couldn’t even feel his limbs any longer, let alone force the dead weights to move and rub them away.
That was one of the biggest panic attacks he ever had.
Harry’s body shivered at the memory and he pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes, rubbing the itch and welled up tears away. He felt severe loss when he thought about his family, shame too.
He was too ashamed and guilty to make it to Christmas that year, even when his mum invited him so he could make amends. She was angry at Harry for what he did, which he understood because he held that same anger to himself.
But she couldn’t stay mad at him forever and started building back their broken relationship without Gemma knowing at first. She tried to get them to speak, and even when Harry pushed through his guilt and was up for it, Gemma was adamant she never wanted anything to do with him again. Anne still hoped that a reunion would help patch things over, even just a little bit.
But he couldn’t do it. It was the same the year after, and the year after that. And now it’s been nearly five years since he saw his sister in person.
He had gone back to visit his parents and friends, and even once cowardly stopped in front of their new home just to get a glimpse of his sister. Lola had grown a lot too, and he made sure to send her a gift and card every year on her birthday and Christmas.
He attempted contact, many times. When he processed what he had done and why he did it with Max, he started to reach out to Gemma again. His first attempt was a letter where he explained himself, as best as he could. Then he texted and called. He never put pressure on her to respond, just checked up on her and called her sometimes so she knew he was thinking of her.
She never picked up. Even his friends had divided because of what he did. His childhood ones and his family friends. Most took Gemma’s side, which Harry understood but some pitied him and caught up with him the few times he visited home.
Michael, Will and Ethan were some of the friends who took his side, who supported him. But now the idea of Ethan ever supporting him made Harry rile up in pure rage. He was there for Harry during some of his darkest moments, where he mourned his nephew and his family and yet years later Ethan turned around and betrayed him like this.
The thought of him had Harry riling up again, forcing himself to shake those memories away and focus on his current situation.
He got up from the grass, the pace of his actions making his head spin a little. He knew he’d get a migraine soon, he always did after a panic attack. So he had to leave quickly to get to his next destination before it kicked in.
Harry had no idea what to do about Ethan. He knew he’d come up with something, he always did. But before that could happen he had to take time to think and process everything that just happened. His brain was still spinning and all the events of today were mushing into something that just caused him immense anxiety.
He couldn’t make sense of anything, but he knew that he’d be able to once he spoke about it.
One night. He’d give himself tonight to come to terms with the situation, then tomorrow he’d start plotting his revenge.
So, he got in his car, reversed out of the driveway and called the one person he could talk things through without it backfiring.
“Harry? Is everything okay? Do you know what time it is?”
He felt guilty calling her this late, past 8 pm on a Sunday when he was about 13 hours too early for her to be working her actual hours. But he was desperate, and his mind kept relaying all the things you said to him in a jumbled mess.
“I know… and I know this is unprofessional and it’s late. Max, I’m sorry. But I need you, I-I had a panic attack and everything is fucked and I just… I just need to talk. I’ll pay double, triple. Whatever just-”
“Okay, okay of course. It’s okay Harry, just breathe okay?” She tried to calm him down, hearing the quickening in his voice and breathing as he spoke. Max could tell that she was the first person he had spoken to about his panic attack since it happened just in the way he spoke.
She had a good read on Harry. They had been working together for years and by now she knew him probably better than he knew himself. When he was in denial she could tell and she could also tell when he was lying, not to her, but to himself.
Phone calls like this were rare. Harry was so aware of her health and well-being, and her time. He was never late to appointments and rarely changed his weekly visit unless it was an emergency. He always rang her during business hours only and never on her days off (which were rare) because he didn’t want to overwork her or interrupt her needed rest.
The only times he ever called her were during a panic attack that he couldn’t come out of. A call like that hasn’t happened for years because they worked through ways that he could help get through them himself, then he stopped having them all together. So this… this call was alarming to her.
“Where would you like to meet?” She asked, giving him the opportunity to dictate where he felt safest talking to her about this.
“Your office… is that, is that okay?”
“Of course, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She was already up and out of bed, getting dressed in whatever was modest but comfortable.
“Thank you… thank you so much”
//
“Tell me what’s going on, Harry… You said you had a panic attack. Would you like to speak about that?” Max asked, her notebook on her lap as she looked over at Harry.
He sat across her on her plush couch, elbows to his knees and face smushed in one hand. The other was caressing Princess mindlessly, like his hand was on autopilot. His stare was focused to the floor and his knee was bobbing up and down rapidly.
Harry looked like a wreck. Grass stained shirt, one of his favourites which Max knew because he showed her a photo of it the week he bought it. His legs were dirty too, and his face was red and eyes puffy.
He had been crying. He had to pull over on the way here just to let it out because he couldn’t force it away any longer and the tears were blurring his vision and making it hard to drive.
Harry wasn’t a cryer. He was stoic and liked to keep his face neutral so people didn’t know how he was feeling. Max had seen him cry, a lot actually. But only in the beginning when they were working through his family issues. Since then, Max hadn’t seen even a tear run down his face.
So she was worried, extremely worried about what had happened. But she couldn’t show it, nor could she act surprised when he started talking.
“I had a fight…” his voice was shaky and he still refused to look at her, eyes trained on the floor.
“Okay… with who?”
“Y/n. It was bad, like really bad.” Max stayed silent, sensing that Harry was about to unload everything that had happened. And she was right.
“She… I don’t-I don’t even know how it started.” He took a deep breath in and started to fiddle with the rings on his hands, keeping his eyes between his feet. But once he started talking, he couldn’t stop. “I went to her room to break things off with her, for good and she was already upset when I got there. I asked what happened and she just blew up on me. Started saying that I lied to her about everything and that I never cared for her and just used her to sleep with her.” He looked up at Max, pleading with her to believe him.
Harry just needed her to believe him, for someone to believe that he didn’t use you. “I didn’t, god you’ve got to believe me Max. I didn’t use her, not once.”
“I know Harry… I know.”
“And I did… I-I do. I do care. And then she said something about baby trapping and I was so… confused because I’ve never said that to her. I never told her anything about that because it didn’t apply to her and I’ve got no idea where she got it from.”
Now that he had a bit of time to process the argument, he found himself so fuckint confused about so much that you said. He was still trying to wrap his head around it. You two had talked about children before, something brief that came up after a couple glasses of wine. It was long before you two started sleeping together, just one of the deeper conversations you had.
You told him specifically that you could see yourself happy with or without children and that you were undecided. At this point in your life, your career and other experiences were more important. If you decided you wanted them, it would only be after graduating and settling into your career.
You loved babies, and the knowledge that you could form such a bond with your own child was amazing. But you weren’t sure if it was what you wanted. You saw the impact being a young parent had on your own, and even though they were amazing parents, you wanted your own kids to be raised in a house prepared for them. You didn’t mind being an older mum if it meant your career was set up and you were mentally able and ready and had already achieved all you wanted.
You had a plan and that didn’t include having a child at 22 and trying to use a rich guy for his money. Harry knew this but even if he didn’t, he knew just by your character and the wonderful person you were that you’d never babytrap him. You’d never be selfish enough to put a child through that, or Harry through that.
So the fact that you suddenly came to this conclusion when it was so far off Harry’s radar it wasn’t even on the same planet as you, was fucking confusing. If you asked him straight up if it was a fear he had, he’d say yes. He didn’t want some random woman trapping him with a child just to use him for his money.
But it was also because Harry couldn’t even bear the thought of going through the pain of losing a child again. He had always thought about it, pre Harry Jr’s death, what it would be like to be a father. Harry rather liked the idea… as an idea. But he didn’t want to do it without a partner. And for years he didn’t want a partner.
It didn’t matter anyway. Because he’d rather give up that little smidge of a want for kids than suffer through the loss of a child again. Harry Jr destroyed him and he wasn’t even his own son. He couldn’t imagine what would happen if he lost his own flesh and blood.
“She thinks I don’t trust her or even consider her a friend and I- I don’t get it. Is that how I came across to her? Because I thought… no I knew that I treated her right, and now I’m just second guessing everything because I don’t understand why she said all that!”
Harry knew he treated you well. He treated you better than any of his previous partners because he actually cared for you and always made sure you felt comfortable and safe. You were never just a hookup to him and he made sure you knew that.
So why? How?
His mouth was moving faster than his brain could process, like he was just speaking without thinking. He was relaying what he remembered without thought and the words just kept tumbling out.
Harry was just so upset. He was so hurt that every new thing he remembered or said felt like an extra stab in the heart. You were so angry with him and so convinced with everything you spewed at him that he was trying to figure out if any of it was true.
“And she just kept going, Max!” His voice strained, looking up at Max with stinging eyes. “She said that I just thought she was a notch on my fucking belt and had all these red flags and said I was an asshole and egotistical and that I’d be lonely and pitiful forever and then she… she…” his eyes landed back on the floor and he tugged at his hair, rubbing his hands down the back of his neck.
“She what?” Max prompted.
He heard it in the heat of the moment. That one line that gave him a beat of happiness. A singular beat of happiness that disappeared as soon as it existed. Like the sound of a car horn or the whiff of a flower when you walk past. Brief but so fucking painful.
“She said she fell for me.”
He didn’t expect it. This whole time you had him convinced that you didn’t want anything more than sex, and that your relationship was good as is. He thought that you were happy just sleeping together and spending time together.
After hearing that you did have feelings though, he felt like a bit of a fucking idiot for not noticing it earlier. Looking back on your time together, there were so many signs that he should’ve picked up on.
He wondered why you acted so weird about Valentine’s Day. It was on his mind all week and he still hadn’t figured out why you stormed in his house and reacted the way you did.
But now that he knew you had feelings for him, it made sense. It all made fucking sense and Harry felt like a bit of an asshole for not noticing it sooner. If he had known… he never would’ve taken you out like that because it was unfair.
It was an attempt at self-preservation on his part, but he would’ve wallowed in his loneliness and gone through a bottle of whiskey instead of using you to make himself feel better.
He felt awful about it. Unfortunately, that awful feeling was just piled onto the other sick and overwhelmed feelings he had circling his body.
Harry always thought he could tell when women liked him. He figured it out time after time with his previous partners and could always predict when they wanted to take the next step or just wanted more from him.
But with you… he was completely shocked. Harry seemed to be too lost in the fantasy of it all to notice what was right in front of him. Because you made him feel good and he liked it… no, he loved it. He was able to lose himself in you, in a good way.
In that single moment of happiness when you confessed, before he realised that you spat your admission in hatred rather than something positive, he had a million thoughts running through his head. He pictured what it would be like if you weren’t fighting, or if that admission was one brought up by genuine want for him. He pictured what it would be like to be together.
But that was delusional thinking.
“She admitted she had feelings for you?” Max clarified.
“Yes… I think she did.”
“How did that make you feel?” It was a classic therapist question, one he expected to hear multiple times during this session.
“I don’t know. She… she threw it at me like she hated herself for it.” He swallowed harshly, “but for a second, just a second I was… happy. Then she just kept yelling and it was like my brain couldn’t keep up with what she was saying.”
Having you yell at him was something he wasn’t prepared for. It was such a shock to his system that he could barely keep up with you.
Harry knew it had something to do with what happened with Ethan, and how everything was jumbling together and giving him great anxiety. But he was usually good at staying calm during arguments.
During yours… he was completely at a loss. He didn’t want to explode with anger or yell at your accusations. Instead he just felt so utterly hopeless because you had so much conviction in everything you were saying.
He was overwhelmed. Defeated… broken almost. His heart ached.
The fact that he couldn’t defend himself in that situation only made him feel worse. Because there was nothing he could do except accept how you were feeling and just use it to protect you.
He kept wondering what would’ve happened if Ethan never blackmailed him… if he could defend himself.
“That’s understandable. Arguments can be hard to make sense of when you’re in them, especially since this is your first fight with y/n. What’s important is how you react in the moment… How did you respond to all this? During the fight.” Max looked at Harry with curiosity, her eyes flicking down to where Princess had draped himself across Harry’s lap.
“I couldn’t even get a word in. It just kept going and going. But eventually, I agreed with her.”
“You agreed with her?” Max was surprised, but kept her cool.
“I had to” he stressed, eyes closing as the conversation he had with Ethan flashed through his head. He fisted Princess’ fur a little harder. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt or even tug at her soft fur, just enough to feel it between his fingers.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Can we go back to what she said please, I don’t want to talk about how I responded.” He didn’t want to explain what happened with Ethan, not until he got the rest of his head sorted.
“Harry, how you responded to her is integral to your healing. You had a panic attack because of this fight so I think it’s important we talk about it.” She finished writing her notes then out her pen down, just wanting to listen to what he was saying instead of noting anything.
Harry knew she was right, Max was usually right.
“I didn’t want to agree, Max. I wanted to defend myself because she was just so wrong about everything. But then I-I thought about it and I realised that it was just easier to agree.” Princess purred on his lap and the sound comforted him, the slight vibration giving him something to feel other than the slight pulsing that was building up in his brain.
“Harry, why was it easier? You said it yourself that she was wrong, so why agree when you could’ve rectified the situation?”
Harry wasn’t one to let others dictate his decisions nor did he let others believe misconceptions about him unless it benefited him. This didn’t benefit him. You made him happy and having you hate him was possibly one of the worst things to happen in his life and Max knew it even if Harry didn’t want to acknowledge it.
“I didn’t agree because I don’t care for her Max. I agreed because it was the only way to protect her. It’s because I care for her that I had to agree.” He swallowed harshly again, looking down at the floor as his jaw tensed at the thought of today's events. “Earlier today Ethan blackmailed me”
“He blackmailed you?” Max couldn’t hide her surprise. She was meant to stay neutral and see all sides of a story so she could give practical advice. But hearing that Harry was being blackmailed was too much of a surprise for her to hide.
“Yes. He’s been having a PI or one of his buddies or someone following us and taking photos. He… knows I care about her so he’s using them to blackmail me for money otherwise he’ll spread them to everyone.” Harry looked at her briefly, “The photos are intimate, Max. Porn. If they get out, y/n’s reputation is ruined and she’d… she’d never recover. I couldn’t let that happen. So while I deal with it it’s easier if she stayed away from me... If I’m the narcissistic asshole who used her for sex that she thinks I am, she won’t want to be anywhere near me.”
“Harry that’s-that’s illegal. You should go to the police about this, this is serious. You shouldn’t have to entertain any of this!” Now Max was upset and if patient confidentiality wasn’t a thing she’d call on his behalf.
Harry had experienced many people trying to take down his success or business but never this. This… blackmail? If it weren’t for Max’s trust in Harry’s ability to be honest, the story sounded completely fake.
“No. That’s not happening. He doesn’t want anyone to know and I can deal with this myself. I will deal with this myself. But first I need to talk about this fucking panic attack and fight because-god I’m getting a migraine” he pressed his fingers to his temples, groaning a little at intensified pulsing and pain starting to ripple through his head. He needed to sleep, as soon as possible.
“Would you like some Panadol?” Max offered, standing up in preparation.
“Um, yes please. If that’s okay?”
She left the room for barely two minutes to grab a glass of water, then returned and passed it along with a packet of Panadol from her bag.
“We have a lot to cover, and we won’t get to it all tonight. It’ll take time” Settling into her chair once again, she looked down at the various notes she had made. There was a lot to cover, and Max knew this was going to be something that would have to be discussed over weeks.
“I know. It’s fine just… help me”
“We’re going to work through this together, okay. I promise” she flashed a kind smile. She looked down at her notes again then back up at him. “When did you start to feel the beginning of your panic attack?”
“I think it was… when I realised that she hated me. And I-I had to accept it and act like an asshole to her. It just… I think it got too much.” Harry didn’t bring up the fact that his guilt reminded him of the guilt he had for Gemma and Harry Jr. He didn’t want to talk about it.
“Would you say there was a particular trigger?”
“No. I don’t think so… I was just so angry at Ethan. All day I was fucking pissed and betrayed.” Harry’s hands started to shake a little. Maybe in anger, frustration? “Then I realised what it meant and that I’d have to hurt her and I-I wasn’t angry anymore. I was guilty. I felt so fucking guilty and it hurt, it hurt just thinking about hurting her. Is that normal?”
“It’s normal to feel guilt and remorse when you hurt others, Harry. It shows you have empathy”
“This is more than hurt, Max. I feel… I feel dirty, no, sick. I feel so fucking sick and in pain. And it still hurts. Aside from this fucking migraine, it’s like my chest is on fire. That’s not normal is it? Could I be having heart problems?” He pressed his hand to his chest, his heart beating so fast and aching. He hated the feeling. Hated it.
Harry knew he wasn’t having heart problems because he had felt like this before, twice. There were only two situations in his life where he felt such… such… distress. His first love where he experienced heartbreak for the first time, and that last phone call he had with his sister where he realised she would never forgive him for what he did.
“Do you think you might have cared more about y/n than you thought?” She asked the question slowly, cautiously because she knew he had gotten agitated in the past when she pressed on it too much.
He knew what he was feeling. He had been denying it for weeks, pushing back his feelings and failing miserably at keeping his distance from you. Now that you hated him, that you professed your love and hatred within a two-minute window and that he had no chance of fixing things with you, he realised what he was feeling for you.
Harry realised why he had been unable to breathe properly since the fight and why his chest physically hurt… like his heart was broken.
“ I think I might be in love with her”
//
The rest of the BBQ was torture.
You were drained and angry and all you wanted to do was curl up in your bed and cry. But with a whole house full of people that were celebrating you and saying goodbye to you, that wasn’t really an option.
It felt like hours of sitting there just sobbing over everything that happened. Over what Harry said to you and how he acted towards you. That switch in his eyes and face, even the coldness that took over his usually sweet and buttery voice. It was like you were speaking and looking at someone you had never met before.
Like he was a stranger.
Even though you knew you’d never believe a thing that asshole said to you again, you were still surprised that he didn’t try and deny it or lie more to cover it up. You knew he liked you on rotation, or even as just a presence in his life. That was made clear by him trying to and succeeding in convincing you to keep seeing him only a couple days ago.
So the fact that he just… admitted it, and gave in to your yelling and name-calling was honestly a shock. It seemed so out of character to who he was, because he always defended himself and went after what he wanted.
That Harry, the one on his knees trying to get you to spend weekends with him and see him again during uni wasn’t the same Harry who belittled you and had nothing but coldness in his eyes. That’s what made it hurt more, the fact that it took months for his true colours to show.
You also just felt so fucking stupid, because you never saw it. You saw the lying and the wall he built around himself, but you never saw the manipulation and cruelty that he displayed. It was jarring and like a punch to the face.
The fact that he stood there, with a dead smirk on his face and insulted your age and belittled you was something you couldn’t forget.
Before that look on his face, the switch in his demeanour and posture, you had hope. A tiny sliver of hope that it wasn’t true and that Tracey lied and that all the things she said was just a coincidence to his behaviour. Your heart was cracking, bleeding with every new line that she delivered but it hadn’t broken yet.
But then he changed and his words completely tore your heart in two. You were heartbroken, utterly destroyed in heart and mind and in physical pain at the betrayal.
And it was all your fault.
If you didn’t sleep with him, if you stopped when you could feel yourself growing feelings for him this all could be avoided. Maybe if you had just been honest in his pool all those weeks ago and told him you were growing feelings you wouldn’t be here, heartbroken and sobbing over someone who didn’t care about you.
Harry would always be the lying, conniving asshole who tricked you, but at least you wouldn’t have experienced love and heartbreak all within the same week.
“Y/n? Are you-oh my god. What happened!?” Lucy exclaimed, rushing over to where you were curled up on your bed. Your head was buried in your knees and you just couldn’t stop crying. “Y/n?”
She came and sat beside you, rubbing her hand over your shoulder. Lucy was a bit tipsy, a lot tipsy actually and she still had a half finished frozen margarita in hand. She decided to take another big sip, guessing that this was probably Harry related and that she’d have to prepare herself for whatever you said.
“Come on babe, what’s going on? I can’t help if you don’t tell me” she soothed, nursing her cocktail and you at the same time.
“H-Harry” you blubbered, looking up from your knees and sniffling the snot back into your nose.
Seeing your face made Lucy incredibly upset, in more ways than once. She was pissed the fuck off and seriously wanted to give him a piece of her mind in person.
“What did the fucker do, huh? How hard do I need to kick his balls?” She asked, handing you her drink to finish. You sniffled, calming a little and struggling a little to chug the rest of her cocktail.
“He-he lied to me. It was all a lie Lucy. He just u-used me” you stuttered, the tears building back up again until you were wailing again. Lucy grabbed the empty glass from you as you just couldn’t stop the tears from flowing, even when you pressed your palms to your eyes to try and shut them off somehow.
“What do you mean, y/n? Just two days ago he was literally on his knees for you to keep seeing him. That’s obsessed behaviour right there”
“Yeah, and you said it was a red flag and manipulative” you cried, remembering her words when you called and updated her about your morning walk with him.
“Okay, yes. Yes I did because he has the emotional maturity of an 18 year old in his first relationship” she shrugged but her words only made you cry harder and glare at her. “Okay okay, I’m sorry.” She corrected herself, wrapping her arm around your shoulder and pulling you close to her chest. “So what happened exactly?”
“He was just acting the entire fucking time, Lucy. He should’ve been paid or cast in a m-movie or something. He was just being nice and pretending to care to sleep with me and he a-admitted it to my face! He was pretending to care the whole time. God, I did fucking anal with him. He took my anal virginity!” You didn’t know why that made you more upset, but knowing you gave that part of yourself was making you even more worked up.
Something about what you said just didn’t make sense to her. If Harry was pretending to be interested in you the whole time, he wouldn’t have known you for years without making a move. If his endgame was really just getting you to do whatever kinky things he desired, he would’ve done that when he first met you.
No man would plan something like this over years and years unless he was psychotic and he didn’t seem like the psychotic type. He had you dog sitting Archie for months before even making a move and that didn’t align with what you were telling him.
Harry Styles could fuck whoever he wanted and he did fuck whoever he wanted. If he wanted to be a creep and go after an 18 year old, he could sleep with one easily. Putting in all this effort just to sleep with you when he could have quite literally whoever he wanted didn’t make sense.
Not that you weren’t special, because you were and you were one of the most amazing people Lucy ever met. But manipulating someone like this just didn’t align with everything she knew about him. He didn’t even sleep with anyone else while you two were hooking up. That wasn’t player behaviour.
You told her about all your dates and conversations and how sweet and caring he was. He walked you through every intimate moment and bought you flowers just because. He gifted you lingerie and dinners and spent so much time with you.
To Lucy, Harry was in love with you and in denial. Or at the very least he was romantically interested. He had severely fucked up and played with you, yes, and he was going to answer for that. But she just couldn’t believe that he was lying about the entire thing. Men don’t do all that for no reason.
So she was suspicious, heavily. But she couldn’t say that, and he was still the motherfucker who made her best friend cry and she wasn’t going to stand for that. He could claim that you were the love of his life and she still would’ve hated him for making you cry.
“I’m going to key his car that fucking asshole! Where is he? Because I’m about to kick him in his balls so hard he won’t be able to have children” Lucy stood up suddenly, swaying a little from being tipsy, but determined nonetheless. You let out a little laugh, but her mention of children got you upset again.
“No. No. Just please, stay with me” you begged, pulling her arm to stop her from storming off to find him.
“Okay… okay of course” She sighed but eventually relaxed her shoulders and climbed onto the bed next to you, pulling you into her.
“I feel so stupid” you whispered after a little while of just holding onto her. You cried for a little longer and once it settled to a sniffle, you felt ready to talk again.
“You’re not stupid. He’s stupid. He could’ve had you in his life but he fucked up and that’s on him not you. You didn’t do anything wrong” Lucy soothed, much calmer now.
“But I did. I fell in love with him and that’s my fault not his” you looked at your wall opposite your bed, your head resting on her shoulder.
“No. No. Don’t you dare say that!” She deadpanned, turning her body to make you do the same and look at her. You looked at her with a little frown on your face but she was quick to cup it and wipe away your tears. “Do not apologise for falling in love, y/n. He made you feel special and cared for and he gave you damn good sex, how could you not fall in love? You’re human and it’s perfectly normal to fall for someone like Harry.”
She was right. Harry provided the perfect environment for you to fall in love with him.
But that only started the waterworks again because he didn’t have to do that. He chose to because he wanted to manipulate you so you’d keep sleeping with him and fulfilling all his dirty fantasies.
You didn’t even respond to Lucy, but she was quick to notice your watering eyes again. “No! Don’t cry!” she urged, pressing her thumbs underneath your eyes to try and stop the tears. “You’re done crying. Now it’s time to drink”
Lucy got you downstairs afterwards and made you two the strongest cocktail she could. You spent the rest of the night drunk, making sure to leave enough time between your last drink and when you had to leave the next morning.
Archie was hanging around until late, trying to steal food and cuddles from anyone who seemed nice enough to give it to him. The fact that Harry left Archie at your house angered you to no end, even more so when your dad told you Harry called him and asked him to drop Archie over later on.
It was something about Harry’s ‘nephew breaking an arm’ or some other lie that just made you angry, which in turn made you haul Archie up to your room so you could cry in his fur for a bit more. You just wanted to take him with you so you’d have his support and company, but he was forced to go home to a lying son of a bitch who was probably sipping on whiskey with that fucking smirk of satisfaction on his face.
Fucker even left his dog here. A damn good dog who you were going to miss terribly.
Your loss of Archie and the other mountain of things that made you upset couldn’t be pushed in a locked box in your brain like you usually liked to do with your problems.
You ugly cried when you said goodbye to your parents. Just looking over to the house next door where you spent so much time in and made so many memories and lived so many new experiences in was just heartbreaking.
You were upset to leave your home and your parents, but you were also so utterly broken inside at how fast everything had crashed and burned. You never expected leaving for university to be like this and to be in his position with Harry. It was meant to be different. Bittersweet yes, but not a burning and crashing building that had you trapped inside.
You also cried eating your McDonald’s hash brown when you stopped on the way for breakfast. It was embarrassing when you were caught by someone who got in their car beside you and looked directly at you as you wiped away the snot from your nose.
Could say it was one of the more humbling moments of your life.
When you got back to your beloved student accommodation after listening to classic breakup music and sniffling the whole way, your little two room open planned apartment was clean and bare, ready for you to redecorate again. It had been deep cleaned by the building management before you moved back in but it lacked your personal touch.
Apartments changed tenants each year. You could request the same one year after year and it was usually accepted, but you were still required to move out over summer and move back in unless you requested otherwise. You’d get settled in over the next week before classes started, you always did, but for today you were barely able to unpack your car before you were throwing yourself on the bare bed and burying your face in your pillow.
You had never cried so much in your life, not since the death of your grandparents and it was making you so damn exhausted you could barely keep your eyes open. All you wanted to do was crawl up in a ball and sleep or cry, or cry then sleep or better yet cry yourself to sleep.
The crying was frustrating you to no end, but when every sob ended you felt… calm. It was releasing all your built up frustration and hurt and making you feel better. Then when the crying started again you just felt sick and tired of crying and more upset than before.
It was a never ending cycle.
Unfortunately, you weren’t allowed the time to process everything on your own. When the sun had set, the halls started to get loud outside your door. You had the same neighbours since last year, all who attended the same university and many who were in your course.
Fine Arts wasn’t exactly a unique course, nor was marketing so with such a big pool of people to choose from, there were bound to be crossovers with those who lived on your floor.
You were lucky to have a really good apartment floor. There were a few annoying people, just like in any setting but everyone was generally friendly and helped keep community areas clean. It was sociable too, and while you preferred to stick to your small friend group, there were always opportunities to socialise with other people. Study groups, weekly pub crawls, etc.
It was nice, and by the noise outside your door it was clear a lot of people decided to move back in today. It was the first day that people were able to move in. Your university was terrible at time management and actually thinking things through for students, so you were only allowed back into the student accommodation a week before most classes started.
It was fucked, but you never had an issue with it until this year. You were usually right on it and got most things unpacked the first day so you could at least sleep well the first night. This time though… you were too busy crying and wanting to sleep your week away to even get your sheet on the bed properly.
That didn’t stop your friends knocking at your door after you missed all their calls and texts from having your phone on silent.
“Y/n! I know you’re in there, the lights on and I saw your car in the carpark! Get your cute ass out here” Maeve yelled through the door, hitting it a little harder.
Maeve was one of your closest friends, someone who lived next to you for years and spent countless nights with you doing assignment after assignment. You were in different courses but spent virtually all your free time together.
You both worked at the campus coffee shop together too, so your friendship was one that you cherished dearly. Unfortunately, she lived interstate so you hadn’t seen her all Summer because she was back home with her family.
You were actually really excited to see her. Key word being ‘were’. Now she was the last person you wanted to see because you knew she’d take one look at your tear stained cheeks and need to know exactly what happened.
That wasn’t an unreasonable request, and you always told each other every dirty detail about your love lives. But it was just so fresh and you already spent all last night talking about it with Lucy. Still… she knew you were home and it felt too rude to ignore her knocking.
So you got up sluggishly and rubbed your eyes with your palms to itch your sore eyes and get rid of the residual tears. Pushing your hair away from your face, you plastered the fakest and definitely weakest smile you could muster and opened the door.
Maeve was standing there with a big smile on her face, already in her plaid pyjama set and holding a bag of chips and a bottle of wine. She was here for a debrief and overdue catch-up. You two spoke plenty over the break, but it didn’t compare to actually speaking in real life.
When she took in your state though, her smile dropped. “What the- are you okay!?” She barged in and wrapped her arms tightly around you, the chip packet crinkling against your back. “First day and you’re already crying. Is it your parents?”
“No, no not my parents” you mumbled, holding her back tightly and sniffling a little. She pulled back quickly, the wine and chips against your shoulders as she looked at you with concern.
“Is it a boy?”
You could only nod before the tears formed again. Her eyes widened in sadness for you and she was quick to close your door and lock it. “Looks like we’re starting with the shit we’ve been through, huh? Lucky I brought wine then. Perfect for a happy catch-up and a sad catch-up”
Her tone was positive, but by the time you explained the entire story between you and Harry, she was ready to set fire to his entire world. Maeve was a gentle person, soft spoken and positive and kind. Some took advantage of that kindness, but they always regretted it because when she was pushed to her limit she was prepared to do anything to protect the people she loves.
She wasn’t afraid to stand up for herself, or her loved ones. And if looks could kill, Harry was dead ten times over.
“Oooh, I’m gonna punch him. I’m gonna punch him right in his snotty rich man child nose.” She was pacing back and forth in front of your bed, sipping aggressively on her glass of wine as you just watched her. “He’s just a pathetic, asshole of a human being. Ugh! Who could do such a thing to another person, especially you.”
“Especially me?” You asked, sipping your wine.
Having two friends, one who knew Harry and one who didn’t even know what he looked like be on your side and affirm your feelings made you feel a lot better about the situation. It still hurt, a fuck ton and there was no healing just yet. But it actually felt nice to talk it out and express how hurt you felt.
No one knew about Harry this entire time, and now you had two friends who did. It felt freeing to have people you could actually speak to about it, especially when they were both on your side.
It felt less lonely and you felt less guilty for falling in love with him.
“Yes! You are one of the sweetest, most genuine people I know and he stole your first love. He had no right to do that when he knew he was never going to reciprocate it. He’s probably fucked over hundreds of women and taken so many firsts that it means nothing to him!” She exclaimed.
You never thought about it like that. It never even crossed your mind that he stole your first experience of love and heartbreak when he had no intention of actually being with you.
That realisation was brutal and had your eyes watering again. “God I just want to stop crying” you groaned, putting your wine down before pressing your palms to your eyes.
She climbed onto the bed and kneeled beside you. “It’s okay, y/n. Crying is good and healthy. You cry all you need to, okay? Because once the crying is over you’re going to be the baddest bitch I know and Harry will regret ever fucking with you” her comment had you laughing and removing your hands to look at her.
“Okay” you laughed, doubting her entirely. You didn’t feel like a bad bitch. You weren’t sure you’d ever feel like that again.
“Don’t laugh.” She hit your arm jokingly while shifting on her knees. “Trust me, I’ve had my heart broken and you always have a post heartbreak glow up. I’ll even make sure you don’t spontaneously cut a fringe or bleach your hair in the bathroom.” She smiled, bright and toothy.
“Thank you” you smiled, hugging her tight. “I love you a lot”
“I’ll always be here for you. Always”
//
Harry naively thought that he could get over this argument in one night. He should’ve known better, considering his last panic attack took him months to get over, and hours and hours of detailed discussion about his actions and how they impacted other people.
But he thought… he thought if he just spoke about it once that he’d be able to move onto getting sweet sweet revenge on Ethan. He was wrong.
The very same night he had that argument with you, he was in Max’s office until 11pm. They both agreed to increase their sessions to twice a week for the time being, but Harry found himself calling Max during his lunch breaks for virtual sessions when it got particularly bad.
And it got bad.
Most of it was still feeling anxious about what he did to you and severe loss and loneliness over the relationship he formed with you. Even though he knew that what he did was right, it didn’t stop the sick feeling he had all over his body just at the thought of hurting you. He had your face tattooed in his brain, that look on your face when he was forced to act like the man you thought he was.
The rest was rage.
Every fucking day he saw Ethan’s smug face, that cocky smirk and nauseating laugh of his. He flashed the ugly watch he decided to buy himself from Harry’s first payment around like he proudly bought it himself. It made Harry sick.
And he had the audacity to act like nothing happened between him and Harry, like they were still buddies who had lunch together and went out for beers sometimes after work.
Harry was good at pretending, and he forced himself to pretend that everything was fine when other people were around. But every time he saw Ethan’s face, he saw those photos of you. He saw your half naked body on his in the pool, and your head in his lap at that red light. He thought about Ethan and whoever fucking else he had recruited seeing those same images and it made Harry blind with rage.
The first day seeing him after their meeting at Pleasing, Harry had to go on an extended lunch to hit the gym and take his aggression out on an innocent punching bag. His emotional rawness from his therapy session the day before morphed into anger and he just couldn’t control it.
Harry almost felt bad for the turn his sessions had taken with Max. He was in a good place for months, and it only took one day to turn everything to shit. But he wouldn’t let himself feel guilty for talking about his problems with his therapist.
He had another copying mechanism though, aside from Max recommending another breathing exercise or anger management tool and his more frequent visits to the boxing ring. That mechanism was actually a person, someone who happened to be Harry’s co-conspirator in ruining Ethan’s life.
And it didn’t take long for Harry to start finding out more about Ethan’s life.
“Ohhh, mate! You’ve got to see this H. This might be something to finally get the blackmailing bastard” Niall laughed like it was hilarious and entered the room with his laptop tucked under his arm, a whiskey in one hand and a beer in the other.
“What have I told you about drinking on the job?” Harry glared at his friend, still accepting the stiff drink as he looked at the papers in front of him.
“What have I told you about drinking on the job?” Niall mocked, “I’m not a cop dickhead, drinking actually makes me better at my job anyway” he grinned, patting Harry’s back and sliding into the chair across from Harry.
Niall Horan is a slick son of a bitch.
Financial advisor, PI, yes-man, Jack of all trades. Niall Horan is a man of many talents and skills, but above all, he’s a friend. A very good one at that.
Niall had been in Harry’s life since he moved to Australia. When looking for someone to protect Harry’s finances and assets, there was no one more highly recommended than Niall. Everyone Harry asked, as well as the information he looked for himself, brought up Niall’s name.
So Harry just had to meet him.
He never expected Niall to be anything more than just his financial advisor, yet Niall quickly turned into someone so much more. He was witty, intelligent and dealt with a lot more than just yearly taxes and stock portfolios. If you needed something; information, a spy, a bag of coke for a party, anything, Niall could get it.
More than that though, he became Harry’s good friend and confidant.
They didn’t spend a lot of time together aside from their monthly meeting to reevaluate Harry’s finances. But when either men needed a good laugh or just something easy they turned to each other. It was one of those friendships where months could pass, where life got in the way and they’d still come together and it would be like they never parted.
And now, since Harry turned to Niall about this Ethan shit, they had seen each other almost every night for the last two weeks.
Harry knew he couldn’t figure this Ethan situation out alone. Well, he could’ve. Harry is smart and witty and has a lot of money, three things that can get him anywhere he needs to go. But time was against him, and he knew that Niall’s expertise was essential to getting this done as soon as possible.
Plus, Harry didn’t exactly want to follow Ethan around himself. He didn’t have the time or restraint to do that.
So he turned to Niall immediately. Aside from Max, he was the only person he told about this situation and he was quick to get right on it.
The first step was to look into Ethan’s financial situation in depth and find out who else knew about the photos. One of those, Niall could do himself and the other involved hiring a trusted PI to spy on not only Ethan, but Ethan’s PI (who Niall was adamant had to have existed given the range of locations the pictures took place).
Harry’s security was getting debugged and analysed for hackers as well as that was something Niall knew had to be done as well. And as for Harry… all he could do was observe Ethan and brainstorm how to get these photos back before paying out more money.
Once that was done, Harry also wanted to ensure that Ethan’s life was ruined. He wanted him blacklisted from all the top business and banking firms and he wanted his little wealth stripped from him. Harry wanted Ethan to pay.
He was getting impatient, he couldn’t lie. In two weeks, all they’ve done is manage to get their hands on Ethan’s bank statements which really told them fuck all. There were no transfers to a PI or anything that could’ve actually helped Harry.
Aside from the fact that Ethan lived far beyond his means; expensive purchases, jewellery and designer bag gifts for who Harry guessed was his girlfriend and the debts on debts from gambling loans and credit cards, nothing seemed suspicious. Which was fucking irritating.
Niall promised he’d keep combing through Ethan’s statements and general online activity alongside Harry to see if they could find something that could hint at who Ethan may have been involving in his plan, but the most obvious answer was that he was paying cash to do his bidding.
They hoped that something would come from the security cameras. Not only was Niall’s tech guy, Jonah, going through the system for whoever hacked into it, he was also going through the footage to try and find something useful. The idea was that there’d be a reoccurring car or person lurking around Harry’s house that he didn’t know which could give them a lead.
But everything took time, so much fucking time and it was killing Harry. His mind was still frazzled from his panic attack and losing you and his heart was in a perpetual state of hurt. He was barely concentrating at work and if it weren’t for Niall and his anger fuelling him, he’d be cooped up at home instead of trying to investigate Ethan.
You had royally screwed with his head and this whole situation was giving him immense anxiety. There were times he almost caught himself in another panic attack, or rather he feared that that’s what it was leading to. He found it hard to breathe for a moment or two, but was able to calm himself down before it went further.
He had never been this heartbroken and dizzy in his adult life and he was trying everything in his power to shove it down and out of the way. That wasn’t working… at all. He was speaking about it with Max a lot more than he usually did about his emotions, but with his extra session a week and the phone calls he’s been having, there were a lot more opportunities.
It made him realise that what he had been doing all these years was infinitely better than experiencing heartbreak after a relationship not working out. Keeping his distance and keeping things casual with his hookups or previous partners was so much easier and it didn’t suck the air out his lungs like this thing with you did.
Harry was still relaying that whole conversation, well, fight more like it, in his head. And he was still drawing blanks. He knew that what he did was the right move and the further away you were from him the better. But he still couldn’t figure out where all those ideas you got came from.
There was more to this, Harry knew it. If only everyone would actually find something fucking useful for once.
While Jonah went through security footage, he needed pictures of all of Harry’s neighbours as well as their cars so he’d know which ones actually belonged on the street. If there was a car that seemed out of place, he’d ask Harry who pretty much every single time explained that it belonged to a family friend or cousin of someone who lived there.
So then Jonah would go back to the footage and keep combing through. The cars who visited repeatedly that Harry didn’t know ended up being a friend or delivery driver, or someone that had a reason for being on the street. It was a lot of back and forth that went nowhere.
And the PI was only pissing Harry off even more. Niall warned Harry that this particular PI was good, one of the very best, but he had his own methods and for the first good two to even three weeks, he didn’t contact the client at all. If he found a lead, he wouldn’t disclose it until he fully investigated it himself and determined whether it was something useful or just a dead end.
Harry liked that when Niall explained it, because he was the type who wanted every stone unturned until he knew everything. But he underestimated how impatient he’d be waiting for that information. It was brutal, honestly.
Harry needed answers, because until he had something he couldn’t plan or brainstorm or anything. He felt stuck and useless.
“Does it make you so good at your job that you find something useful?” Harry asked dryly, sculling his whiskey and putting the glass down onto his dining table with a little slam.
“Heyyy, I’m useful all the time thank you very much” Niall defended, putting his laptop on the table and sitting down opposite Harry. “Besides, this isn’t from me, this is from Jed. He’s got a lead and it must be good if he’s actually telling us. I’ve begged on my knees for him to give me something on an old case and he never did. He’s a crazy fucker not gonna lie”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me? You getting on your knees for a bit of information?” Harry smirked, chuckling and fiddling with his bottom lip. He then stood up and grabbed his glass, walking to the kitchen to fill it with whiskey.
“Ay, don’t knock it till you try it first of all.” Niall held a finger up, “and second of all, whatever gets the information moving faster I say… I wonder if Jed actually does swing that way” Niall spoke to himself in a little hum, thinking out loud.
Harry just snorted and smiled to himself, shaking his head as he filled his glass all the way to the brim so it would last longer. Niall opened the files from the email Jed sent and found a series all from the same night, from the same conversation.
At first, Niall was sure it was a mistake and a little disgusting to be honest. There was nothing significant about Ethan making out with some chick in front of his house, at least Niall didn’t think so.
“Interesting…” Niall hummer, swigging his beer and sitting back in his chair with his arms crossed.
“What?” Harry sipped his whiskey and pressed his bum to the island bench. He took another swig instantly, closing his eyes at the cool relief of the spiced whiskey down his throat. It was blissful, the slight bite of burn with the cinnamon and cloves. Then the after effect was warm, hearing his chest and soothing the ache of his heart.
“I’m just a bit confused that’s all. Jed must think this bird is important for some reason but I can’t figure out why… she does have good tits though, I’ll give her that” he turned his head on the side, getting a different angle of the picture of Ethan pressing the woman up against the fence. “Nah… I take it back. This is feral.”
“What are you going on about?” Harry scoffed, walking over to Niall’s side of the table, and pressing his hand on the back of his chair for balance. “Sometimes you talk utter shit mat-oh fuck”
Harry’s eyes widened at the sight in front of him and suddenly… suddenly, the world felt a little clearer and his lungs a little lighter. Rage was simmering low in his belly, but on top of that was a plan and finally a solid lead that Harry could work with. And there was a fuck ton to work with.
“Oh?” Niall asked, perking up at Harry’s reaction. “Oh what!? Do you know her?”
“I do…” he trailed off, clicking the mouse to flick between the photos. “Get Jed on the phone, I need to speak to him.” Harry then stood up and walked a couple steps away, looking outside to his deck and where his pool was brightly illuminated in the dark of the night.
Ethan and Tracey, huh? What an unexpected surprise.
summary: femme!reader brings her new boyfriend to meet the team for drinks, but she doesn't know why Spencer keeps acting up and presses him for answers.
pairing: femme!reader x spencer
word count: 1.9k
content warnings: casual drinking, lots of angst.
a/n: this is based on this ask i got a while ago that i really loved! i didn't make it long enough to include all the parts of the request, but i really loved writing this and i'd be super down to write more parts if y'all like it.
masterlist
you're immediately enveloped in a sweet-scented hug as soon as you enter the door of Penelope's apartment. she's hosting drinks tonight for the team, and you've been looking forward to it all week. although after-work plans are usually very tenuous due to the demanding nature of your jobs, you've been craving some bonding time with everyone.
moreover, you're hoping for a chance to talk to Spencer. he's been incredibly stand-offish for the past week. every time you try to have a conversation, he either makes an excuse or the two of you get called in for work. a few days back, you were supposed to go to the international cinema downtown to see a film, but he texted you last minute claiming he was catching a cold. it feels like he's avoiding you.
"welcome, welcome!" Penelope grins as she steps to the side to let you into her home. it looks like it usually does, purple walls with twinkling lights and knick-knacks in every corner. a throw blanket tossed over the couch that reminds you of a hallucinogenic trip. some of the team members are already here, gathered around Garcia's counter with drinks in their hands.
Spencer isn't here, though, and you frown until Garcia clears her throat loudly. "Y/N? aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?"
you're jolted out of your thoughts when you remember that you brought a date tonight. "oh, sorry. Pen, this is my boyfriend, Wren."
Wren reaches out a hand to your smiling colleague, but she waves it away and immediately hugs him too. "we've heard so much, Wren. it's so great to meet you!"
Wren gives you an optimistic smile over Pen's shoulder and, when he's finally disentangled himself from her friendly embrace, offers up the Tupperware he's carrying. "I brought candied oranges. I thought they might go nicely as a dessert."
Garcia's jaw drops, her pink-glossed lips catching the light. "you are an angel--" she turns to you. "he is an angel, Y/N."
you let out a satisfied laugh, happy that he's already made a positive impression on one of your friends. granted, Penelope tends to like everybody, but you don't care. you've been seeing Wren for a few weeks now, and it's been nice to have someone to make plans with. even if you end up rescheduling more dates than you actually go on because of cases.
"come meet everyone!" Garcia gestures for the two of you to follow her to the kitchen, where the team looks up. they're so different when they're not wrapped up with files and evidence. much friendlier faces.
"this is Wren, guys." you thread your fingers with his.
"Wren!" JJ grins enthusiastically and comes forward to shake Wren's free hand. Garcia takes the top of the Tupperware off and sets it in the middle of the counter.
"and he brought us snacks." Penelope points to the small treats. people reach for the candied oranges at once, all of them biting down and making noises of approval.
there's a flurry of activity as each member of the team introduces themselves to Wren, but he looks incredibly at peace with the attention, and his eyes sparkle when he's quickly brought into the circle of chattering friends. naturally, he charms them with his dimples and quick jokes.
you're on your second glass of wine when Spencer arrives, his hair wet from the unexpected rain outside. Garcia hangs up his raincoat and brings him into the kitchen to join the festivities.
the first thing he notices is you, your eyes meeting across the island as Prentiss hands him a glass of lemonade. he's later than he usually is to group events, and part of you wonders what he's been doing. but then he catches sight of the arm that is casually snaked around your waist, and the person attached to that arm.
it could be a flickering kitchen light, but you swear his jaw tightens for a millisecond. his gaze bores into Wren's face, then neutralizes when he notices him. of course, because Wren is the life of the party, he immediately approaches Spencer with an outstretched hand.
"you must be Spencer. I'm Wren. Y/N talks about you all the time."
you forgot to warn him that Reid isn't one for physical contact, so you go with your boyfriend and push his hand down. Spencer's gaze flickers between you, Wren, and the hand that now rests at his side.
"Spencer doesn't really shake hands." you murmur in his ear. Wren is fast to replace his guilty expression with a more jovial one.
"you're the genius, right?" he starts a conversation that you know Spencer will hate. the profiler is constantly getting questioned on the job about his intellect and age.
part of you doesn't care, though. Reid has been an ass all week, and this newly sour attitude with your boyfriend really pisses you off. you were already nervous about Wren meeting such important people in your life, and Spencer possibly lashing out at him will send you over the edge.
"technically speaking, yes." the profiler responds with a clipped tone.
"Wren is a graphic designer." you insert yourself into the conversation. Wren looks at you affectionately, then at your colleague.
"yeah, I actually just moved here from LA."
"from LA to DC for graphic design?" Reid's words have an edge to them. he's already trying to piece together your boyfriend like a puzzle, the gears behind those hazel eyes working swiftly. something tugs in your stomach.
"weird, right?" Wren chuckles good-naturedly. "I just started at a non-profit that's based here."
"ah." Reid replies. he eyes Wren sharply, as though to cut him down to size. he makes no effort to continue the conversation.
before you can watch more of your coworker behaving like a petulant child, you clear your throat. "hey, Wren, can I talk to Spence for a second? I just remembered I have a question about one of our cases."
it's a bullshit excuse, but it works. Wren knows virtually nothing about your job, so he returns to the rest of the group after planting a kiss on your forehead and leaves the two of you alone.
the energy between you shifts immediately. for a second, you can't figure out what to say; you're angry, sure, but you're more hurt than anything. there are so many words crammed unintelligibly together in your mind. all of them are inappropriate for a kitchen conversation. instead of saying something, you grab his wrist and yank him into the hallway so the others can't hear.
"what the hell was that about?"
"what are you talking about?" he feigns confusion.
"you're being an ass to Wren."
"how? we've only talked for a minute."
"and that minute was you being unwelcoming. he's just trying to be nice and you can't even spare, like, five minutes of pleasantness."
Spencer doesn't respond to this at first, instead pursing his lips and looking down at his feet. you roll your eyes.
"look, Spence, I don't know what's going on with you. you can be mad at me for whatever reason, but don't take it out on him. he didn't do anything."
Reid's expression changes several times in the dark hallway, the silence thick. it becomes even more clear that this was the wrong place to confront him. you just want him to say something. this game he's playing is childish.
"I'm not mad at you." he keeps a level tone, though you can feel the undercurrent of frustration beneath it. his eyes are darting from the quirky paintings on Penelope's wall to your face, as though weighing his options.
you realize how well you know each of his facial expressions, his body language, even in the dark.
"that's even worse, Reid. we used to tell each other everything, and now you won't even be in the same room as me." as you say the words, they pierce you in a way you've been trying to avoid.
there were nights when the two of you would just walk and talk, your first days at the BAU when it seemed like everything was happening too quickly and you considered quitting. amidst all the chaos, you craved the free moments because he was there. a page break in every ceaselessly violent chapter.
you knew you loved him then, but loving Spencer is like looking at Saturn through a telescope. you could stare forever and never have enough, but you'll never be able to touch. the proximity is a delusion. especially when he pulls away like this.
"I just..." he seems affected by your words, those slender fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides.
"you just what, Spencer? I'm really getting sick of chasing you after your tantrums. I've got enough to worry about." you hope your eyes aren't as shiny as they feel, but you need to go. you can't have a breakdown at one of Garcia's parties, and you certainly can't keep spending time in a dark hallway with Reid when your boyfriend is in the next room.
you push past him, shoulders brushing as you blink back your frustrated tears. until you feel his fingers wrap around your wrist with a surprisingly iron grip, pulling you back to him.
you stumble a bit, free hand steadying yourself on his chest. angry words are in your throat, though they get stuck. instead, your mouth is open in surprise. he's never touched you like this, like he needs you to stay. it sends a shiver down your spine.
you think about one time a few weeks ago, when the two of you were heading home late and he bought you a croissant from a café. you sat at a tiny table and talked, played tic tac toe on a napkin. it was stupid, but you didn't want to be anywhere else. you liked how he laughed and held a pen.
his face is so close to yours, you can see the light gleaming in his eyes. his lips are parted. you know what's coming next, feel it in your bones.
"I'm in love with you." the words seem to fill up the entire hallway, pressing on the walls. your heart is hammering in your chest, the weight of it all seemingly coming down all at once.
you know you can't. you've never cheated, and you never will. but something inside you crumbles to ancient ruin, some rational part that would remind you that Wren is kind, and funny, and likes you a lot.
Spencer loves you; it repeats itself in your head like a mantra, burning through every cell in your body. he's still holding onto you, his skin bleeding warmth into yours as you hold his gaze. you love his eyelashes and the shape of his mouth. you can feel his breath on your lips, the magnitude of a possible kiss resting between you.
you inhale sharply, trying to remember every curve and slope of this moment.
"I can't," you whisper. your eyes flicker to his lips. how easy it would be. "I'm with someone else."
the fire in his eyes flares. he drops your wrist, defeated. you stay for a moment. it's the last shred you can keep.
"Y/N?" the sound of your name jerks you out of this stupor. you turn to see JJ at the end of the hallway, a half-bitten candied orange in her fingers. "is everything okay?"
"everything's fine." you straighten and put a false smile on, walking over to her. your limbs feel like lead, even as she links your arm with hers.
"I really like Wren. he's so funny." she laughs.
"isn't he?" you chance a look behind your shoulder, at Spencer in the dark. he doesn't look away this time. he knows just as well as you do that you aren't finished.
Can you do a blurb or a fic where Spencer always wants to have some kind of physical contact with the reader because it gives him peace of mind that shes safe and with him. Maybe one day in a briefing, there's a case where the victims are similar to the reader and Spencer, without thinking, moves to hug her but the way he hugs her (maybe he buries his head in his shoulder or kisses her shoulder absentmindedly) outs their relationship to the rest of the bau??
Sorry its so long, its my first request!!
ofc! dont worry about the length of your request, its okay! its a super cute request <3
you would already be sat at the briefing table, jj projecting the latest images of victims from your next case onto the screen. you'd probably already make a small connection in your head that they look similar to you, facial structure, body, and all. everyone already at the table would notice it too. it's nothing you haven't seen before, but that doesn't mean you wouldn't be a little on edge.
spencer would walk through the door, mumbling a little "sorry i'm late!" though, really, the rest of you were just early. he'd stop in his tracks slightly on his path to the chair beside you, glancing up at the photos, then to you.
with no thoughts about who may be watching, he'd lean down a little to place a soft kiss on one of your shoulders, his hand resting on the other. "jeez, you okay? 'm glad he can't get to you." he'd mutter, before pulling out his chair and taking a seat.
you'd nod at his question, though your eyes would widen ever so slightly, heat rising to your cheeks. you knew he liked to be physically affectionate whenever he was worried, but never around the team. spencer still wouldn't think anything of it, flicking through his copy of the case files.
"i think the unsub may have—what? why are you all looking at me? do i have something on my face?"
"what was that?" morgan would ask, pointing an accusing finger in your direction.
"what was what?" he'd pause, looking around at the team. "wait, you guys didn't know we were dating?" spencer's face would be laced with genuine confusion, making you giggle and place your face in your hands.
"no, spence, they didn't."
"how? it's been like...a month?"
you'd both watch as the entire team's jaws dropped, letting out a very synchronised: "what?!"
i've been wanting to do this for a long time in case someone is looking for some hotch recs and doesn't know where to start!!
i'll start with my favorite series:
Seeing Him by @arsonhotchner is one of my favorite series ever. there is just so much longing and i love all the tension and some of the lines in this story are stuck in my brain forever <3
Fidelity, Bravery, Integrity by @maybege ahhhh <333 i love when fics start with the reader thinking that hotch doesn't like them. there's one bed and protective hotch and just all the good stuff...
Life Changes by @wilbur-rabbit !!! falling in love with aaron...this series has all my favorite tropes and so much protective hotch...
Yes, Mr. President by @doctorstethoscope okay so i have just started reading this so i haven't even been able to reblog it with my comments yet but i couldn't not include it because it's SO GOOD? these two are soulmates. (nsfw)
To Have and To Hold by @ssahotchswife comfort series <3333 getting married with aaron when you're drunk and then continuing a fake marriage <333333333333 (nsfw)
Irresistible by @fatherhotchner oh goddddd...i don't even know what to say about this one. so hot and the writing is sooooo good. the parts from aaron's pov make me go feral <333 (nsfw)
Breaking Up Slowly by @hotchs-bitch if you want to experience some real fucking pain read this <333 the angst is so well written i felt like i was actually going through a breakup.
As it Seems by @ladylibby !! as it seems my beloved <333 it's so SWEET!!! aaron falls in love so hard in this and his thoughts about the reader always make me melt and i just ahhhh i love it.
Come Back Home by @hotched tolerate it by taylor swift makes me think of this fic :( it hurts a lot it's such a favorite.
Lifelong by @arsonhotchner it will break your heart but it will glue it back together <33 unrequited love hurts me like nothing else so this series is so close to my heart.
Enough For Now by @cconstant-ccraving this is only two parts but omfg. i love it so much. hotch is really mean to the reader but then something happens. i think about this every day.
and now for one shots:
Little Things by @shyhotch it's so sweet and cute and fluffy and it's what aaron deserves!!! that's exactly the life he should be living and i always get butterflies in my stomach when i think about this fic.
Everything Worthy by @shyhotch aaron in this..............pls...how can one man be this hot and this sweet at the same time. it's about having your first time with hotch and omg it's just perfect. (nsfw)
An awful lot like goodbye by @kryptonitejelly hurts SO GOOD!! i loved loved loved it. (nsfw)
baby by @needinghotch this is so fucking cute i can't!! hotch accidentally calls you baby in front of the team aaahhhhhhhhhh
Spider-Man Lunchbox by @hotched the life he DESERVES. bringing him lunch at work with little jack <333
Meet the Hotchners by @ssahotchswife I LOVE THIS FIC. the way aaron acts in this is so dreamy...and it's going undercover as a couple trope ahhh <33 (nsfw)
More by @arsonhotchner i can't even begin to explain how hot this is. like aaron's words make me go insane. (nsfw)
anytime by @heliotropehotch this just hits different when you're constantly worried if you're good enough at your job. i'd give anything to have hotch comfort me about it like this.
Book Club by @ssahotchswife this is just soooo fluffy and cute and i want to read and talk about books with aaron so bad.
Big Dick Energy by @maybege this is soooo hotttt <3333 god i wish that were me. (nsfw)
new beginnings by @gxtitobxby the softest thing 🥺 if this was my life i'd never complain about anything ever again.
i'll probably make a p2 of this post bc i know i'll remember fics that i love and that i forgot to include here!! <33
jacobvanloon
kianamaiart
pixelskylines
germansingergirl
izzy806
baratheonpilled
dededos
