harrysblues

[harrysblues]

Different Frequencies- Part II (Harry Styles!au x autistic!reader)

Synopsis- College heartthrob and football captain Harry Styles needs extra credit to survive the year. His only shot? Mentoring Y/N, a brilliant but blunt autistic student who couldn’t care less about his charm. What starts as an obligation soon sparks something neither of them expected.

A/N:- Thanks for the love on Part 1 guys! There will probably be another two parts to it. Here's Part 2, hope you enjoy!

Word count:- 5379

Warnings: Physical abuse, meltdowns, some angst and fluff.

____________________________

The library was nearly empty, bathed in golden sunlight slicing through the high windows. At a corner table near the art section, y/n sat hunched over her sketchbook, her headphones resting loosely around her neck. It wasn’t on, it was just there. A pencil danced between her fingers, making sharp, clean lines across textured paper.

Harry spotted her before she spotted him.

He hadn’t planned to look for her today. No mentor session. No extra credit.

He walked over quietly, stopping beside her table.

“Hey, Da Vinci,” he said lightly, tipping his head toward the sketchbook. “You drawin’ world domination or somethin’ prettier?”

Y/N didn’t jump. She glanced up, briefly made eye contact, then looked back down. “World domination would be pretty?”

Harry just smiled at her honest question, “You could make anything look pretty.”

Flirty. Harry could be flirty, Zayn had warned her. She chose to ignore him.

“It’s a city made of sound.”, she replies quietly.

Harry blinked. “A what?”

She turned the sketchbook toward him. A skyline spread across the page, but not made of buildings. It was composed of waveforms, musical notations, color-coded sections that resembled sound patterns. There was a rhythm in the way it rose and fell, like it pulsed.

“Each building is a sound. Red is warmth. Yellow is distraction. Blue is... quiet.”

Harry sat across from her slowly, eyes scanning the page.

“That’s insane,” he said, meaning it in the best way. “You think in colors like this all the time?”

She shrugged. “Not always. Sometimes. It helps make things less loud.”

He nodded, thoughtful. No jokes. No smug grin. Just awe.

Before he could say more, someone walked up behind her. Tall, dark-haired, with a backpack slung lazily over one shoulder.

“Hello,” Zayn said, voice casual, as he dropped a soft side hug onto Y/N’s shoulder. “Hi Zayn!”, she replies brightly.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t stiffen. She leaned into the hug, just for a second. 

Harry raised an eyebrow. “That’s rare,” he said, nodding toward the hug. “She usually threatens to stab me with a pencil if I get within a foot.”

Zayn laughed, sliding into the seat beside her. “She’s been threatening me since second grade. Took her a decade to allow a side hug.” Zayn looks sideways at his best friend. “You two are getting along pretty well too, aren’t ya?”

“Harry asks too many questions.”, she says, and Zayn chuckles. 

“Yeah, I can be annoying, but you haven’t told me to stop.” Harry wiggles his eyebrows. “Wouldn’t you say we’re great friends now?”

y/n was focusing on the drawing, but she was listening. She takes a minute to think before saying, “Friends, yeah.”

Zayn laughs as Harry’s face falls. “Oh well.”, he sighs and answers his phone as it rings. “Yeah, mate?”

Harry’s eyes furrow as he curses, “That dick. Yeah I’m coming.” He hangs up as he mutters, “Fucking asshole-”

“Harry! No cursing, and it’s the library! So shh!”, y/n glares at him. Harry gets up with his hands out, defensively. “I’m sorry, Cherry, I gotta go anyway. Something came up. Meet you tomorrow at 2.”

She lifted her head up to give him a small wave, that made him smile and give her one back. “See you around, Zayn.”

“Yup, see ya.”

 Zayn noticed the tiny flicker of her eyes tracking Harry until he disappeared through the main doors.

The moment he was gone, Zayn turned to her, smirking.

“Sooooo…” he started, drawing out the word.

y/n didn’t look up. “No.”

“You didn’t even let me ask.”

“It’s still no.”

“Come on. You like him.”

She finally glanced up. “I tolerate him..”

“Tolerate?” Zayn teased. “You didn’t even flinch when he sat across from you. You let him sit with you in class and ask you questions. You didn’t hit him with your sketchbook.”

“He’s good, he doesn’t make fun of me..,” she muttered, closing her book carefully.

“Well, he’s clearing your bar. With swagger, too.”

y/n sighed. “What bar?”

“What I mean is that, finally, it looks like my best friend has an interest in someone!”

“Nope.”, she said but there was the faintest smile there, reluctant and secret. She stood, tucking her sketchbook into her backpack.

Zayn slung an arm around her shoulders as they headed toward the parking lot.

“Let me hug you like a normal person.”

“No.”

“What if I promise to stop talking about Harry?”

“Double no.”

“You wound me.”

She snorted. He bumped her gently with his shoulder.

“It’s good, though,” he said after a pause. “You letting people in, even just a little.”

“Let’s not make it a speech.”

“Fine,” Zayn grinned. “But if he breaks your heart, I will break his knees.”

She didn’t answer, but she didn’t push him away either. That was anwer enough. “Movie night at my place?”, she offers, and Zayn grins happily. “Do you need to ask? I’m always down!”

________________________________

In the locker room across campus, the mood was different.

Shouting echoed off the tiled walls. Harry stepped into the room to see two players squared off. One red-faced and furious, the other smirking, arms crossed.

Darren.

“That’s enough!” Harry barked, shoving his way between them.

The younger player backed off immediately, still scowling. Darren didn’t move.

“You wanna act like a damn child?” Harry snapped. “Pick fights like we’re in a high school locker room?”

Darren just leaned against the wall, nonchalant. “He mouthed off.”

“You pushed him into the lockers.”

“Barely.”

Harry’s jaw clenched.

“This is the third time, Darren. Next one, you're benched. Fourth? You're off the team.”

Darren scoffed. “You’re not the coach.”

“No,” Harry said evenly, “but I’m the captain. And I’ve got enough pull to make sure you’re gone. Try me.”

Darren’s smirk widened, slow and mocking.

“You gonna cry about it to Coach? Or maybe that little pet project of yours, what’s her name? y/n the freak?”

Harry’s expression darkened instantly. He stepped closer.

“Watch it.”

“Relax,” Darren said with a snort, pushing off the wall. “Didn’t know she needed a bodyguard.”

He brushed past Harry and walked out, laughter echoing behind him, the kind that wasn’t amused, just cruel.

Harry stood there a beat longer, fists clenched. He didn't know yet just how deep Darren’s cruelty ran, but something told him this wasn’t the last time their paths would clash.

____________________________

It was quiet on the east side of campus, where the older buildings stood, all ivy-covered brick and rusted window frames. Y/N always came this way before her sessions with Harry. The walk was longer, but it was quieter. No one shouting across lawns. No earbuds blaring in passing ears. Just gravel crunching underfoot and the low hum of distant traffic.

She liked the stillness. She could think here.

Y/N rounded the corner of the building slowly, tucking her sketchbook under her arm. She had a new piece to show Harry, something calmer than yesterday’s city of sound. She’d used only blue this time. Layers of it. Textured. Like silence painted in water.

That’s when she heard it. It wasn’t loud, but sharp. A voice, cut off mid-sentence. Then a thud. Her head snapped toward the alley between the arts building and the storage annex.

A girl stumbled back against the wall.

y/n froze.

It was Leah, a girl from her design theory class. Always kind, always softly spoken. Her portfolio was filled with soft pastels and tiny, intricate patterns.

Leah’s back was pressed hard to the bricks, one hand raised like she was trying to make herself smaller.

Darren stood in front of her.

Even from a distance, y/n could tell it was him. Tall, broad, that ever-present tension in his shoulders like he was always one second away from snapping.

“Don’t talk to me like that again,” he hissed. “I don’t care who was watching.”

Leah said something, too quiet for y/n to hear and Darren stepped forward fast.

His hand didn’t hit her, not exactly. But it grabbed her wrist hard enough that she gasped. He yanked her forward, whispered something with a snarl in his voice, then shoved her back. Not enough to knock her down but enough that she staggered.

y/n’s fingers dug into her sketchbook. Her pulse roared in her ears. She even noticed a bruise forming on Leah’s right cheek, had he hit her before she stumbled upon them? She didn’t move. Didn’t speak. She just watched, locked in place by something cold and familiar.

Her father’s voice, sharp and sudden. Her mother’s stillness. The day the door closed, and no one came back.

Darren turned, storming off down the path, and y/n flinched as his footsteps pounded past her without even noticing she was there.

Leah stayed frozen against the wall for a second longer, then quickly wiped her face and walked the other way.

Y/N didn’t call out. She just stood there, sketchbook pressed against her chest like a shield, mouth open slightly. She had to get out of there.

y/n walked briskly, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, shoulders tight with tension. Her breathing was shallow, controlled, but barely. The image of Leah’s frightened eyes and Darren’s aggressive grip looped in her mind like a broken record.

She didn’t know how she got to the room. Only that she pushed open the door, her limbs stiff and cold, and stepped inside.

Harry was already there, which was rare as he always comes late. He looked up, smirking.

“Well, look who’s late for once,” he teased, tapping his watch. “I was starting to think you got abducted by the math department.”

Silence.

She didn’t smile. Didn’t roll her eyes or tuck her hair behind her ear like she usually did. She just stood there for a second, frozen near the door, eyes unfocused.

Harry’s smile dropped halfway. “Hey,” he said, more gently now. “You alright?”

Still nothing.

She moved to her seat, mechanically. Set her bag down too carefully. Sat without looking up. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for her pen, then changed her mind and placed it flat on the table instead.

Harry watched her. Really watched her.

y/n was quiet, yes. She often needed time to warm into a session, to speak, or even meet his gaze. But this was different. This stillness wasn’t peace. It was something else. Like she was somewhere else entirely.

He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Cherry?”

She couldn’t form words. Harry gasps softly when he notices that her eyes are welling up. “Did something happen?”

The walls were closing in.

Y/N’s breath hitched as her fingers dug into the sleeve of her sweater, knuckles white. The air felt too loud, the ticking of the clock, the faint hum of the lights, even Harry’s quiet breathing across from her. It all pressed in.

“I-” she croaked, then stopped.

Harry was concerned now, but he didn’t want to rush her. “Take your time. You’re safe, yeah?”

But her body didn’t believe him.

She shook her head. “It… it reminded me-” Her voice broke. “I can’t-I don’t wanna be here, I can’t be here-”

“Okay,” Harry said quickly, pushing back his chair just a bit to give her space. “Okay, no problem. You don’t have to stay. You can leave, if that’s what you want-”

“Call Zayn,” she gasped out. “Please. Call Zayn. I need Zayn to take me home.”

Harry was already reaching for his phone. “Yeah, yeah-of course. I’ll call him.”

She was rocking now, ever so slightly, her hands over her ears, not pressing hard, but enough to dim the world.

Harry found Zayn’s contact, the only reason he had it was because Zayn had given it to him telling him he might need it for emergencies. This qualified as an emergency, didn’t it?

One ring. Two. Straight to voicemail.

“C’mon, c’mon,” Harry muttered. He tried again. Nothing.

He looked up. “y/n… I can’t reach him. He’s not picking up.”

Her eyes widened, panic flickering across her face. “No. No, he was-he said he’d-he’s supposed to-”

“I know,” Harry said gently. “He probably thought the session would run longer. He’ll be here soon. But until then, I can-”

“No,” she snapped, too loud for her own ears, flinching. “No, I don’t want- I need Zayn.”

Harry swallowed hard. This wasn’t about him. He knew that.

But it was about being there. About doing something. Anything.

“I’m not trying to replace him,” he said carefully, voice softer than ever. “I just… I don’t want you to be alone while you’re feeling like this.”

Tears were streaming down her face now, but she wasn’t sobbing. Just shaking, as though the world inside her was coming apart in slow motion.

Harry pulled his hoodie off and held it out gently. “Here. Just while we wait. You don’t have to talk. Or look at me. Just, here.”

She stared at it. Then, after a long moment, reached out and took it with trembling hands, pulling it over her own. It was warm. It smelled faintly of him- something clean, earthy, familiar.

Harry sat back down, not too close, not too far.

He kept his phone on the table, screen facing up, so she could see it.

“I’ll keep calling,” he said quietly. “I promise. I could drive you home, Cherry, I don’t mind.”, he adds, eyes going to her trembling hands. Harry gently slid his hand over hers, warm and steady. He didn’t squeeze. Didn’t shift. Just held it, his thumb brushing the back of her hand lightly, not to soothe, but to say I’m here.

And to his surprise… she didn’t flinch.

Her breath hitched again, but this time, a little less like panic and more like relief. The shaking didn’t stop entirely, but it slowed, like her body was listening to something her mind hadn’t caught up to yet.

Harry swallowed.

He had held hands a hundred times before. With girls he’d dated, friends, strangers at parties who needed help down stairs. But this? This wasn’t like that.

This was delicate. Like holding a bird that might fly away the second you tried too hard.

“H-Harry.”

 His phone was ringing. Still holding one of her hands, he answers the phone with the other. 

“Is everything okay?”, Zayn asks him on the other side.

“Uh, something happened. y/n wants to go home, could you come pick her up?”

“Of course! I’ll be there in two minutes, what do you mean something happened? What did you do? Is she okay?”

Harry takes a deep breath, swallowing his urge to snap back at Zayn for assuming the worst from him. “Just get here, okay?”

Zayn was there in less than 2 minutes. His gaze landed on his best friend, and he rushed to her side, “y/n, god I’m so sorry I should have been here. Are you okay?” He sits on the seat right next to her and she lets go of Harry’s hand to hug Zayn as his arms wrap around her, pulling her into his embrace. She let herself melt into his arms, the tension in her back easing only slightly. Her hands gripped the fabric of his shirt like an anchor.

“Zayn..”

“I’m here, shh..”, Zayn soothes, and Harry watches. Zayn narrowed his eyes at him. “The fuck did you do?”

“Nothing. I-”

“You were the only one with her. Did you say something to her? She-”

“-Zayn. No, no..Harry helped.”, y/n manages to get out. “Stop, please. Wanna go home.”

“Okay.”, he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Let’s get out of here.”

Then she left with Zayn, his arm tight around her shoulders as they disappeared down the hallway.

Harry sat back down in the empty room, wishing he could go with them. But he also could not stop wondering what had made her feel so horrible.

___________________________________

The ride home was quiet.

Zayn glanced at her now and then from the driver’s seat, his hand resting on the gearshift near hers, not touching, just there. She hadn’t said a word since leaving the college. She just curled into the passenger seat, Harry’s oversized hoodie still wrapped around her, face turned to the window.

He wanted to ask. God, he wanted to ask.

But he didn’t.

She was safe now. That had to be enough.

When they pulled into the driveway, he helped her out of the car without a word. y/n walked slowly, like she wasn’t fully in her body yet. Zayn opened the door with the key her mom had given him long ago and guided her inside.

“y/n?” her mother called from the kitchen, footsteps approaching. “Sweetheart, you’re-”

She stopped when she saw her daughter.

y/n didn’t speak. Didn’t explain. Just walked forward until she reached her mother, burying her face into her chest, arms wrapping tightly around her waist.

“Oh, baby,” her mom whispered, immediately holding her close. “It’s alright. I’ve got you.”

y/n didn’t cry this time. She was past the peak of the wave now, just exhausted. Her knees buckled slightly, and her mom led her gently to the couch.y/n curled up beside her, resting her head in her mother’s lap like she used to as a child. Her mother ran fingers through her hair, slow and rhythmic, not asking a thing.

Zayn stood off to the side for a moment, arms crossed tightly over his chest.

He wanted answers.

But y/n’s face was soft now, her eyes already slipping closed, comforted by the only two people in the world she’d let see her undone.

So he just said, “She didn’t say what happened. But she was shaking. Panicked. I think… she saw something.”

Her mom nodded, expression serious, but not surprised. “She’ll talk when she’s ready.”

Zayn lingered for a moment more, then nodded and sat nearby, close enough to be there, far enough to give her space.

And y/n, wrapped in silence and soft hands, finally let sleep take her.

______________________________

y/n sat on the low stone ledge outside the library, her notebook open in her lap but untouched. The page was blank, just like her mind.

Well, not blank. Crowded. With thoughts. With guilt. With her.

Leah’s smile in class that morning had been bright, too bright, wrapped around Darren’s arm like nothing had ever happened. Like he hadn’t grabbed her. Like she hadn’t flinched.

Maybe it wasn’t what she thought. Maybe it was just a fight. Maybe Leah wanted to stay. Maybe it wasn’t her place to interfere.But then again… her father had smiled in front of people too. That hadn’t stopped what happened when the doors closed.

She glanced around, eyes scanning for Zayn like she always did. But he wasn’t there today. She was alone.

Or… so she thought.

“Hey.”

She flinched slightly at the familiar voice.

Harry.

Of course.

She kept her head down, tried to focus on her notebook like she was busy, like nothing had happened. But her hands gave her away, stiff, tight around the pen.

He walked over slowly, giving her room. “Hey,” he said again, softer this time. “Can we talk?”

She shook her head, almost immediately. “I’m fine.”

Harry sat beside her anyway, not close enough to overwhelm, but close enough that she’d know he wasn’t leaving.

“You don’t have to pretend with me.”

y/n didn’t answer. Her eyes stayed on the page.

He waited for a beat. “You think I see you differently now.”

She looked up, startled.

“You think because I saw you upset, or scared, or hurting… I see you as broken,” Harry said, his voice calm but clear. “Or weird. Or… whatever other word you’ve been called before.”

She didn’t deny it.

Her fingers curled into the edge of her hoodie sleeve. “I don’t… I don’t want you to think I’m… like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like a freak.”

The word hit the air like a dropped glass.

Harry turned fully toward her then, eyebrows drawn together. “You’re not.”

She scoffed and looked away.

“I mean it,” he said firmly. “You’re not. And I’m not like them.”

Her eyes flicked back to his, cautious.

He wasn’t saying it to make her feel better. He meant it. That was the difference. He wasn’t talking to her like she was fragile, just like someone who mattered.

“You don’t have to tell me what happened, but if somebody hurt you..I-” Harry took a breath, thinking of the right words. “I would like to have a word with them.”

y/n cracked a small smile. “Why?”

“Cause you’re my friend, duh? Friends stand up for each other, Cherry.” Her smile widens when she hears that. From the time she can remember, she only had Zayn as a friend. y/n hadn’t had the time to discuss with Zayn or her mom about what had happened, so she was hesitant to tell Harry. But then she remembers how sweet he was yesterday, giving her his hoodie and holding her hand.

“I saw Darren and Leah fighting.”, she says, motioning for Harry to come closer and listen. He does, already about to make a comment about Darren but he thinks it’s better to let her complete. 

“He grabbed her wrist and spoke to her very rudely. Very rude. Mean. She was holding a hand to her cheek..so maybe he hit her? I don’t know. But it wasn’t right.”

Harry runs a hand through his hair. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he did. Darren’s not a good guy, always picking up fights and being mean. I thought he was good with Leah though..I mean, the way they make it seem..anyway, what are you going to do about it?”

“I think I should talk to Leah.”

Harry nodded in agreement. “Then we can confront Darren. He’s in the football team, you know, always upto no good. He acts like he’s better than everyone and doesn’t really gel with the team. One more strike and the coach will throw him out of the team.”

“Mean.”, y/n repeats, and Harry smiles, watching her lips press in a small pout, expressing her displeasure. Her hair wasn’t in her usual braid today, it was pulled back in a pony, the gentle wind making her repeatedly push the loose strands away from her face. Harry found it really cute.

Her watch beeped, and she started packing her things. “Which class do you have now?”, Harry asks.

“No class. I have nothing until noon. I’m gonna take a walk.”, she tells him, standing up.”Lake behind the library, I like it there.”

“Oh the hook up spot?”, Harry smirks and she rolls her eyes. “There won’t be many at this time..I hope.”

Harry chuckled and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Can I come along? I’ll stay quiet.”

y/n shrugged, she was starting to feel like he wasn’t so annoying after all. She walked beside Harry, her hands tucked in the sleeves of her cardigan, eyes lighting up every time she spotted a familiar plant poking through the underbrush.

"That's mugwort," she said, pointing to a patch of tall, silvery-green leaves. "People used to believe it protected travelers from getting lost. And nightmares, too, if you put it under your pillow."

Harry glanced at her, the corners of his mouth tugging into a smile. "Maybe I should start carrying some around. I get lost in the campus parking lot at least twice a week."

She smiled, a small huff of amusement escaping her. Harry kept pace with her, not rushing, just... listening. He liked how her voice changed when she talked about things she cared about. He liked how she noticed the tiny details no one else seemed to.

They rounded a bend in the path, where rain from the day before had left a muddy puddle stretching across the trail. y/n tried to step around it, but her foot caught the edge of a slippery rock. She gasped, arms flailing slightly as she tipped sideways.

Harry reacted instantly, catching her by the waist before she could fall. "Whoa! I got you," he said, steadying her easily.

For a second, they just looked at each other. Her breath shallow from the near-miss, his hands still holding her carefully like she might shatter if he let go too fast. Then, slowly, their fingers slid together. He didn’t pull away, and neither did she.

The path continued, but now they walked hand in hand.

Y/N’s heart beat a little faster, not from the fall, but from the warmth of his palm in hers. She wasn’t used to this kind of touch. But it didn’t feel overwhelming. It felt... grounding.

Harry noticed the way her eyes darted occasionally, like she was still carrying yesterday’s stormclouds. So he squeezed her hand lightly. “Hey, want to hear something kind of dumb?” he offered, his voice playful.

She looked up at him cautiously. “Okay.”

“So, my freshman year, I thought the ‘honors’ lounge was just, like... a really fancy bathroom. I went in there with shampoo and a towel because I thought it had showers or something. Walked in on two people studying thermodynamics while I was holding a loofah.”

She blinked. Then snorted.

Harry grinned. “Yeah. I ran. Fast. Left the loofah behind. I think someone still uses it as a paperweight.”

A soft laugh escaped her, and she covered her mouth, shaking her head.

“That’s... ridiculous,” she said, a little shyly. She realized slowly that Harry shared a piece of information so that she doesn’t have to feel embarrassed. She stole a glance at him, his curls bouncing a little as he walked, his eyes scanning the path ahead but occasionally flicking down to where their hands met. Every time he did, the corner of his mouth quirked, like he couldn’t help but smile at it.

“Um, do you like board games?”, she asked quickly, before she could take back what she was going to ask him.

“Board games? Yeah, sure, why?”, Harry was a little surprised but her answers nevertheless.

“There’s a thing we do on Fridays, Zayn and I. We go to a club for board games, like you know, book clubs. Mostly we go there for snacks. They’re really good.”, she rambles. “Would you, um like to join?”

Harry grinned. He couldn’t imagine how in the beginning he just wanted to get the mentorship classes done as soon as he could to get his extra credit and now he was getting happy the quiet girl is inviting him to something.

“I’m in, you had me at snacks. Are you sure Zayn will be alright with it though? He doesn’t like me very much.”

“Don’t worry about him.”, y/n assures, sitting down on one of the benches near the lake and taking a deep breath as she looks at the still water. It always made her calm. Harry sat next to her quietly until he had to run off for football practice.

_____________________________

Y/N’s stomach twisted.

She wasn’t someone who confronted people. Conflict made her skin buzz with static. But the image wouldn’t leave her. Leah flinching, Darren’s fingers digging into her wrist, the mark on her cheek.

Y/N stepped forward before she could overthink it.

“Leah,” she said, voice a little higher than normal.

Leah turned, pleasantly surprised. She was walking with her friends to the canteen.

“Can we talk?” y/n asked.

Leah’s smile faltered just a fraction. But she nodded.

Once they were out of earshot, y/n fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve.

“I saw what happened,” she said plainly. “Yesterday. With Darren.”

Leah froze. “W-What, what do you mean?”

y/n continued before she could back out. “You don’t have to explain. Or say anything you’re not ready to. But I just want you to know… I noticed. And I believe you. Even if you’re not ready to say it out loud.”

Leah’s throat moved like she was trying to swallow a stone.

“You saw him?” she whispered. “But… it’s not usually like that. He just-he gets stressed. And sometimes I push his buttons and-”

“No one deserves to be hurt,” y/n said softly, her voice trembling but steady. “Even when it looks like love on the outside.”

Leah’s eyes welled up, and she turned away quickly, brushing at her face. “H-He loves me, you don’t know us. I have to go now.”

“Leah-”

“It’s none of your business, okay? Just stay out of it.”, she said harshly, and then added a quiet, “Please.”

Then she went. y/n sighed watching her go. She couldn’t just leave it like that, knowing that someone is being hurt. Leah trusts Darren too much, she’s blindly in love. y/n thought about what she could do but couldn’t come up with anything. Maybe she’ll ask Zayn and Harry for suggestions. 

__________________________

Harry wiped sweat from his forehead with the hem of his shirt, catching sight of Zayn near the vending machines. He almost didn’t say anything, but something gnawed at him.

The way y/n’s breathing had hitched like her whole system had short-circuited.

He walked over.

“Hey.”

Zayn turned, expression neutral. “Hey, Styles.”

Harry glanced around. No one was close enough to hear.

“Can I ask you something?” he said, quieter now.

Zayn folded his arms. “About y/n?”

Harry nodded.

“She told me what she saw, but I felt like there was more to it. I didn’t ask her. I figured if she wanted to tell me, she would. But… I’ve been thinking about it. It wasn’t just sensory overload, was it?”

Zayn studied him for a long moment. Not suspicious, more like measuring how much truth Harry could hold.

“You’re right,” he said finally. “What she saw reminded her of… stuff.”

Harry tilted his head. “What kind of stuff?”

Zayn exhaled through his nose, jaw tightening.

“Her dad used to hurt her mum. Bad. Like hospital bad. When he found out Y/N was autistic, he blamed her for everything, said she was the reason their lives were hard. He left not long after, but not before doing damage that stuck.”

Harry felt his stomach drop.

“He told her she was broken,” Zayn added, voice thick now. “That no one would ever love her ‘the way she is.’”

Harry’s grip on the edge of the vending machine tightened. “Jesus.”

Zayn shrugged, but there was no casualness in it. “She doesn’t talk about it much. But sometimes, when she sees something that reminds her of it, someone hurting someone they claim to love, she freezes. It’s not just memory. It’s her whole nervous system going into lockdown.”

Harry nodded slowly, feeling like he’d just been handed something fragile and sacred.

“I want to help,” he said quietly.

Zayn’s eyes softened. “Then don’t rush her. Let her come to you. And when she does… mean it.”

Harry met his gaze. “I do.”

Zayn gave a short nod, like he’d come to a decision. “She trusts you. I don’t know how fast that happened, but… it means something. Don’t screw it up.”

Then he turned and walked off, leaving Harry alone by the vending machine, the hum of the gym dull in his ears.

He stood there for a moment, hands braced against the metal, heart thudding a little too hard.

He had known there was something more to her, not in a fragile way, but in a layered way. y/n moved through the world like someone who’d had to build her own armor. Not hard-edged, just precise. Measured. Honest in a way that most people weren’t brave enough to be.

And now he understood a little more of why.

She’d let him see the cracks. Not all of them. But enough.

Enough to make him feel the weight of it in his chest, not in a way that scared him off, but in the way you feel when someone trusts you with something real. Something that matters.

Harry pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and let out a breath. God. He really liked her

______________________________

Please let me know if there are any changes to be made to the tag list.

Taglist: -@livypops12352568 @harrydeary, @harryswifee, @harrysbxtchh, @gracelovesethan, @kiwitsayedsugar, @angeldavis777,@madstyles3204, @youngpastafanmug, @fruity-harry, @wannaliveinparadise@hermionelove@mayalove014 @vikiii07@ell0ra-br3kk3r @thelooneytoon @charlesleclercwifey, @stylesftcher @mads3502 @somewiseguy @huhidontknowstuff

[harrysblues]

Different Frequencies- Part I (Harry Styles! au x autistic!reader)

A/N:- Hey guys, know it's been a while but I'm back with a short series for you all! This is my first time writing about autism, and I've done quite some research before writing about a particular scene. Just wanted to try something different and push my own personal boundaries and style of writing. Hope you love this, do let me know what you think!

Word count: 6,068

Synopsis- College heartthrob and football captain Harry Styles needs extra credit to survive the year. His only shot? Mentoring Y/N, a brilliant but blunt autistic student who couldn’t care less about his charm. What starts as an obligation soon sparks something neither of them expected. ________________________________

Harry Styles slumped further into the chair, arms crossed, jaw clenched. He hated meetings like this. Academic probation. Extra credit. Assigned tutoring. It all sounded like a punishment for being a guy who just wanted to play ball and mind his own business.

Professor Langley adjusted her glasses and gave him a look that made him feel twelve again. "Harry, you're two percentage points from failing this course. I’m giving you a chance. This assignment could save your season."

"What kind of assignment?" Harry asked, already knowing he wouldn't like the answer.

She slid a form across the desk. "Communication mentorship. You’ll be helping a student with presentation skills. One-on-one. Weekly sessions."

Harry stared at the paper like it might bite. "You’re kidding. That’s not extra credit, that’s babysitting."

Professor Langley raised an eyebrow. “It’s mentoring. And it counts toward your final grade. Besides, she could use someone with confidence. You’ve got that in spades, Mr. Styles.”

He stood, shoving the chair back with a screech. “This is bullsh—” He stopped himself. "Whatever. Fine."

“Her name is y/n y/l/n.” Langley called as he grabbed the door handle. “She’s in your sociology class. You’ll start tomorrow. Try not to scare her off.”

Harry didn't answer. He was already gone.

The locker room was a sanctuary of noise and sweat. The scent of muscle rub and cheap deodorant hit him the second he walked in. His teammates were already tossing towels and talking trash when he dropped his bag by his locker and dropped himself onto the bench with a groan.

“Yo, Styles,” called Jamal, grinning. “You look like someone just told you no more carbs.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair, still annoyed. “I just got assigned to tutor someone for extra credit.”

“Pfft, easy points,” said Nate, slapping on his studs. “Who is it? Hot and dumb? Or just dumb?”

“Neither,” Harry muttered. “Some girl named y/n.. She can’t do presentations or something.”

Jamal leaned around the row of lockers. “Wait. y/n y/l/n? The one who sits in the front row and never talks?”

“I don’t know, man. I guess?” Harry sighed. “Langley said she needs help communicating.’ I don’t even know what that means. I'm not a damn therapist.”

“Dude,” Nate snorted. “Maybe she’s just shy. Help her say a few words, get your credit, move on. Could be worse.”

Harry didn’t answer. He stared at the floor, jaw working. This wasn’t part of the plan. He had enough to worry about with playoffs, scouts, and barely passing classes as it was.

“Come on, let’s hit the field. You can worry about your little assignment later.”, Nate brings him out of his thoughts. The boys hit the field for their practice drills. Harry kicked the ball into goals like it didn’t take any effort. The crowd of students lounging on the bleachers erupted into cheers, mostly girls, mostly there for him.

“Harry!” someone shrieked. He didn’t need to look to know who it was, or at least what type. Makeup thick, smiles plastic, phones pointed at him like he was a zoo animal doing tricks.

He gave a wink, then jogged backward with a smirk, tossing the ball lazily to the sideline.

“Styles!” Coach barked. “Focus up. We’re not out here to show off for your little fan club.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said, though the grin never left his face. He didn’t need to try. The attention just happened, always had. He’d always been the guy. Campus darling. Locker room legend.

The girls in the stands giggled again when he peeled off his sweat-soaked shirt during water break. He flexed without meaning to, or maybe he did. 

Nate bumped his shoulder. “You ever get tired of being the main character?”

Harry chuckled, wiping his face with his shirt. “Not even a little.”

But the thought of that meeting with Professor Langley poked at the edge of his mind again. Extra credit. y/n. Some awkward girl who probably hated crowds and wouldn’t survive a minute on this field.

He glanced back toward the stands. The noise. The attention. The weight of always being watched. It was exhausting, sometimes. But it was all he knew.

A nerdy girl who didn’t speak much? Probably afraid of her own shadow?

No way she’d survive a day in his world. And no way she belonged in it.Still... if it kept him on the field, he’d do it. How hard could it be?

__________________________________________

The art room smelled like pencil shavings, old paper, and something faintly metallic, maybe the broken sink in the back again. It was quiet, except for the scratch of graphite against textured paper and the distant hum of a fan that had been dying for weeks.

Y/N sat curled over her sketchpad, fingers steady, her pencil dancing in clean, deliberate lines. She had been working on the shading for twenty-two minutes and forty-eight seconds. Her reference photo, a raven mid-flight, was clipped to the corner of her clipboard, but she didn’t need it anymore. The image lived behind her eyes now. What mattered was getting the wings just right.

Light on the top edge. Darker where the feathers tucked under.

One line. Then a pause to smudge with the side of her thumb.

She didn’t blink much when she was like this, didn't notice the fluorescent light flickering above or the scrape of a chair leg from across the room.

Zayn was talking again.

“…and then she said it’s not a date if we’re just studying, but like, we both know she brought two iced coffees, so that is a date, right? I mean, who brings someone iced coffee unless they’re into them?”

Y/N blinked once, just enough to wet her eyes, then continued shading.

He was sitting on the table next to hers, legs swinging, half-laughing at his own ramble. She didn’t need to respond. He didn’t expect her to. That was why he was safe.

The smudge on the raven’s wing was too sharp. She reached for the kneaded eraser and pressed gently to lift the graphite, shaping the light.

Zayn leaned sideways to peek at her drawing. “Yo, that’s creepy good. Like, museum-level bird vibes. You sure you’re not secretly famous on Instagram?”

“Instagram compresses resolution,” she said quietly, eyes never leaving the paper.

Zayn snorted. “Okay, nerd. Still though, you should post it. People like birds. Birds are, like, emotionally safe or whatever.”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t want to think about people looking at her art. Looking at her, period. In here, it was just the bird. The sweep of the wing. The pressure of the pencil. She knew how hard to press for light, medium, or dark. It made sense. Unlike faces. Or voices. Or—

“Did you hear me?” Zayn asked, nudging her arm lightly.

“Mm.” She blinked again, and the bird’s eye looked back at her, perfectly round, perfectly sharp. Alive.

“I asked if you’re gonna go to the art show next month. You know, the show? The one you always skip?”

“No.” She moved to the feathers on the tail. “I don’t know how to answer..questions that people ask. They will ask questions, right? Cannot..cannot explain art.”

Zayn stretched out on the table like a cat. “You don’t have to say anything. I’ll be your bodyguard. Scowl at anyone who talks too loud or smells like Axe.”

Y/N’s lip twitched. Barely a smile, but close.

The bird was almost done. She reached for her thin mechanical pencil, the one with the perfect .3mm tip, and started adding the linework on the beak.

Every line she drew quieted the rest of the world. 

______________________________________________

y/n was called to Professor’s Langley’s cabin. She very well knew what for and it was already making her mind spiral. The hallway outside Professor Langley’s cabin-style office was always too bright. The glass walls caught the noon sun and bounced it everywhere, on the floor, on her face, into her eyes. Y/N kept her gaze low, counting her steps, feeling the seams of her jeans scratch against her skin in that way she hated but tolerated.

Her sketchbook was clutched to her chest. Inside: her latest unfinished work, a fox curled in tall grass. Next to it, a small pouch of pencils, a folded note from Zayn, and a lined index card with questions she’d prepared in case she forgot what to say.

Just a few more steps. Just make it to the door.

She didn’t see the trio of girls until it was too late.

“Watch it, weirdo,” one of them said as she bumped into Y/N’s shoulder,  not by accident.

The sketchbook slipped. The pouch hit the floor and exploded. Pencils scattering in every direction.

Y/N froze.

The hallway felt louder all of a sudden. Too loud. Laughter spiked behind her, sharp and bright and jagged.

“Oh my God, is that like, art?” one of the girls snickered, nudging the open sketchbook with the toe of her boot.

Y/N dropped to her knees, not speaking. If she opened her mouth, she wasn’t sure what would come out. Her hands trembled as she reached for her pencils, fingertips fumbling as she tried to sort them by hardness: 4B, HB, 2H, mechanical...

Breathe. Count. Don’t cry here. Don’t.

From the far end of the hall, Harry leaned against the wall, sipping from a sports drink and half-watching the scene. He hadn’t really noticed Y/N before. Just a quiet girl from sociology. But now, with her on the ground, clutching pencils like lifelines while three smug girls mocked her, he felt... something off.

“She’s not bothering anyone,” he muttered under his breath.

Nate was beside him, chewing gum, unimpressed. “That’s y/n y/l/n.” he said, popping a bubble. “Girl you’re paired with.”

Harry blinked. “That’s her?”

“Yep. She’s kind of… different. Smart, though. Professor Langley’s, like, protective of her or whatever.”

Harry watched her gather the last of her things. She didn’t yell. Didn’t snap back. Just moved with quiet, practiced urgency, like she’d done this before. Been knocked down, cleaned it up, said nothing.

He felt a twist in his stomach. Guilt, maybe. Or just the unsettling realization that not everyone was built to survive this place the way he was.

Y/N pressed the sketchbook tightly to her chest again and stood, her breath catching. The lights were buzzing. Her palms were sweaty. Her pencil pouch didn’t zip right anymore.

But she made it to the office door and hurried inside.

Inside, the lights were softer, the air still. Langley sat behind her desk, glasses low on her nose.

“Y/N, I’m glad you came.”

Y/N nodded once, lips pressed into a line.

Langley gestured to the chair. “I won’t keep you long. I wanted to let you know that your communication mentorship is starting this week.”

Y/N’s stomach dropped.

“I already heard,” she said, voice barely audible.

Langley folded her hands. “Then you know it’s Harry Styles.”

Y/N looked at her hands in her lap. They were still shaking.

“I don’t..I don’t think he’ll take it seriously.”

Langley’s expression softened. “I think you might be surprised. And I think he might be, too.”

Y/N didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Her brain was still back in the hallway, on the sound of mocking voices and pencils hitting tile.

Langley didn’t push. “You’re not alone in this, Y/N. And you don’t have to change who you are. Just try. That’s all I’m asking.”

Y/N nodded again. She wasn’t sure if it meant “yes” or “I don’t know what else to do.”

Outside, Harry was still leaning against the wall, watching the closed door.

For the first time, he wasn’t thinking about himself.

_____________________________________________

The classroom was too quiet, too echoey, too wrong. Y/N sat in the far-left corner of the room, her usual spot, back against the wall, nearest the window, away from the center of things. Zayn was beside her, sprawled out in the neighboring chair, legs stretched under the table, chewing the edge of his hoodie sleeve like he always did when he was tense.

Y/N’s fingers tapped a rhythm against her thigh. one-two-three, one-two-three. matching the pattern of her heartbeat. Her brain wouldn’t stop.

He’s late. He was supposed to be here ten minutes ago. Eleven now. Twelve.

“Still no show,” Zayn muttered, glancing at the clock. “Big surprise.”

Y/N didn’t answer. Her thoughts were looping. She had rehearsed the opening of their session, written it down three times in case she forgot. But now she couldn’t even remember the first line.

He won’t take this seriously. What if he makes fun of me? What if he laughs when I try to speak? What if I shut down? What if I say nothing and he tells the professor I’m wasting his time?

“Hey.” Zayn nudged her ankle lightly under the table. “You’re not a problem. You hear me?”

She nodded, eyes locked on the blank page of the notebook in front of her. She’d brought a few prompts, safe topics, simple answers. All neatly organized in a pocket folder. Just in case she couldn't find her words.

Zayn sighed. “Honestly, I don’t even know why Langley thought he was the right person for this. The guy’s a walking ego in cleats.”

The door opened mid-sentence.

Harry Styles stepped in like he’d just rolled off a magazine cover. Wind in his curly brown hair, athletic jacket slung over his shoulder, like he hadn’t kept them waiting fifteen whole minutes.

“Hey,” he said casually, dropping his bag near the door. “Sorry, had practice.”

Zayn stood, instantly.

“So you couldn’t text?” he asked, tone sharp. “You just let her sit here and spiral for a quarter of an hour?”

Harry blinked, caught off guard. “Okay, who are you, exactly?”

“I’m the guy who gives a damn when she’s treated like she doesn’t matter,” Zayn shot back. “You’re just some jock who probably thinks this is a charity project.”

Harry’s posture shifted, eyebrows pulling together. “You don’t know me. Don’t act like you do.”

Zayn took a step forward. “I know enough.”

Y/N stood up too fast.

“Zayn, it’s okay,” she said, voice thinner than usual, like it had been folded too many times. “Please. You don’t have to stay.”

He looked at her, jaw tight, clearly unhappy. But her eyes weren’t angry, just overwhelmed. That look he’d seen a thousand times since they were kids. The one that meant: If you stay, I’ll break.

He exhaled through his nose. “Fine. But I’ll be right outside.”

She nodded.

Zayn gave Harry one last look. Not threatening, but not friendly, then walked out, the door clicking shut behind him.

The silence that followed felt like a dropped plate.

Harry glanced around, then scratched the back of his neck. “That your boyfriend or something?”

Y/N didn’t look at him. “No. Friend.”

Harry sat down in Zayn’s empty chair and leaned back like this was just another lecture. “He’s got a hell of a chip on his shoulder.”

Y/N didn’t respond. She was reading the first line that she wrote. Hello. My name is Y/N. Thank you for helping me. I am autistic. I do not communicate the same way as everyone else, but I want to try.

Harry sighed and checked the time, mentally preparing himself to sit through an hour. “Right. I’m Harry. I guess Langley’s already told you things?”

She nodded, still not bringing her eyes up to meet his. “y-y/n.”, she says.

“y/n,look,  I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do. I just need to do this so I can continue playing football, okay? I won’t get in your hair, you don’t get in mine, and we both can go back happy-”

“-Get in my hair?”, she wonders out loud. How could someone get in someone’s hair?

Harry blinks, then thinks she didn’t hear him well so he leans closer and explains. “Yes. You can do your thing during our sessions, I won’t bother you. When all our sessions are over, you can tell Langley I did a good job, yeah?”

“No, nope.” She shakes her head and lets out a chuckle.

“Um, no? And what’s funny about this?”, Harry furrows his eyebrows. 

“I need this, um, these sessions. Cannot lie for Harry.”

Harry groans. He thought he could just convince her to get through this somehow but it seems like she actually cares about the session.

“I really thought you’d agree, y/n. Why make it harder for both of us?”

“I told you, I need this. And you need to work for extra credit.”

Harry couldn’t help but smirk at her disapproving tone. “Alright. Then tell me what you want from me.”

Harry’s voice hit her like warm static, low, rough around the edges, too loud even when he wasn’t trying to be. It had that casual, careless rhythm people used when they expected to be listened to. Confident. Unfiltered. Like he’d never once worried about saying the wrong thing.

To Y/N, it wasn’t just a voice. It was texture.

Every syllable scraped against her thoughts like gravel under bare feet. Not painful, exactly but jarring. Distracting. Unpredictable

“Communication. It’s..it’s not easy for me. I’m autistic.”, she tells him, staring at her desk.

Harry sits quietly, then nods because it makes sense how she has not made eye contact with him all this while and how she’s always quiet and in her own world.

“I want to change, come out of my..my comfort uh box?”

“Your comfort zone.”, Harry corrects, a slight smile forming on his face. This was going to be interesting. 

“Oh! This is for you, please..please read.” She pushes a neatly folded piece of paper towards him. He unfolds it and reads through it.

How You Can Help Me:

Please don’t raise your voice, even if you’re not angry.

I need extra time to think before I talk.

If I go quiet, I’m not ignoring you.

Don’t interrupt when I’m speaking. Let me finish.

I use written words when I can’t speak. That’s okay.

Please tell me what we’re doing before we do it.

Ask direct questions. Not vague ones.

Eye contact is hard. I’m still listening.

Harry read it all without saying anything, and that was good. Y/N couldn’t handle talking and being watched at the same time.

When he finally looked up, something in his face had changed. Just slightly.

“Okay,” he said, voice low again. “I can do that.”

He looked like he meant it.

y/n gives him a small nod. 

“So? You like sketching?”

y/n looks up at him for the first time, eyes briefly meeting his. His eyes were green. Not the flat, predictable green of a leaf or a chalkboard, but layered. They reminded her of moss under water, or the kind of glass that looked cracked without actually breaking. There were flecks of gold near the center, like someone had spilled sunlight there and it never quite dried.

She looked away quickly. “How..how do you know?”

“I know a lot of things.”, he replies, smiling wider, happy with the small moment of eye contact. He couldn’t figure out the color.They had that curious look. Wide, but not naïve. Clear, but not soft. Like she was seeing everything at once.

 This was already different from conversations he’s had with other people. He suddenly wanted to know more about her. He couldn’t deny the fact that she was beautiful. 

She had her hair in a braid, not the messy, flirty kind he was used to seeing at parties, but a neat, practical one, the kind someone did because they needed their hair out of the way. No nonsense. No drama. But something about it pulled his eyes.

Maybe it was the way the braid curved over her shoulder like it belonged there, dark against the pale green of her sweater. Maybe it was how a few strands had slipped free near her temple and caught the light like silk thread.

“Cocky. Zayn thinks Harry’s cocky.”, she blurts out, nodding in agreement to herself and Harry laughs. “Does he now? What else did he tell you about me?”

y/n smiles slyly, and shakes her head. She isn’t supposed to tell him, is she? Instead, she slides her laptop towards him. “My presentation.”

“Okay..and what do you want me to do with it?” He obviously knew what to do, he had to help her speak about it. He starts going through the slides as she frowns. “Uh, help? Help, duh?”

“I got that, but I don’t have the patience to go through all this content, so I need you to brief me.”

y/n’s eyes widen. “B-Brief you? Not prepared, I’m not prepared. Just..just read!”

Harry raises his eyebrows, looking at her. “And I don’t like reading! You don’t have to be prepared for this, cherry, I’m asking you to tell me a summary of the content you already know about. Less of reading, more of talking, that’s what we’ll do, alright?”

y/n fiddles with her fingers uneasily, the Harry boy already getting on her nerves, but something else grabs her attention. “Cherry?” Did he call her Cherry?

“Yeah, cherry. Your top. And your cheeks, they’re red.”, he explains so casually. She doesn’t understand if he has a flirty tone or if he is just teasing her. She did wear a white top with cherries printed on them.

“You said you wanted to get out of your comfort zone. This is how we’re gonna do that, okay?”, he feels like he’s speaking to a small child. He remembers the helpless look she had on her face when those girls made her fall that day, and he feels a little sorry for her now, knowing her condition. “Take your time, and tell me about your slides. Then we’ll make a speech, sounds good?”

It didn’t sound good. She was sure she would stutter a million times and test his patience. But like he said, if this was going to help her get out of her comfort zone, she would try.

“I can try.”, she tells him, not promising anything, and he brings up a fist, wanting a fist bump. Zayn sometimes does it with her. She slowly makes a fist, looking at her palm while doing so quickly touches it to Harry’s.

“That has to be the softest fist bump in history. Anyway..”

Harry didn’t know why he suddenly wanted to take this seriously. He didn’t want to push it away like another project. He didn’t understand, or get her, yet. But he wanted to.

____________________________________________________

Y/N was vibrating with energy.

“I didn’t freeze,” she said, eyes wide, hands moving fast as she spoke. “Not once. He read the note and..and actually listened! I thought he’d make fun of it,you know, the list,but he didn’t. He just said ‘Okay’ and didn’t even talk over me.”

Zayn glanced at her, eyebrows raised. She was smiling,a real one. Not the polite, uncertain kind she gave in class. Her fingers were fluttering in her lap, tapping her jeans in a rhythmic pattern he knew well: processing, but happy.

“Oh! And he called me Cherry.”

“Cherry?” Zayn repeated, blinking.

“Because of my top.” She left out the part where he mentioned her cheeks were as red as cherries.

Y/N stared out the window for a second, biting her lip to hold back a grin. 

That should have made him smile too.

But it didn’t.

Instead, his grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly.

“I’m glad it went okay,” he said carefully. “You were really anxious this morning.”

“I know,” she said, nodding. “But it wasn’t bad. He didn’t talk down to me.”

Zayn exhaled slowly through his nose, watching the red light ahead blink to yellow.

He wanted to believe it. He really did.

But he also knew Harry Styles.

Knew how he flirted with anyone who looked in his direction. Knew the trail of rumors. Hookups, half-truths, one-time girls left on read by morning. And Y/N, with her quiet brilliance and straightforward honesty, wasn’t built to play games.

She didn’t see the signs. And if she did, she wouldn’t understand why someone would flirt just to pass the time.

Zayn glanced at her again, her eyes wide, braid a little messy now, cheeks flushed from excitement.

Innocent.

And way too trusting.

“Just…” he said slowly, “be careful, okay?”

Y/N frowned, not understanding. “Careful of what?”

Zayn didn’t answer right away. The light turned green, and he pressed the gas, more gently than usual.

“Just don’t let him make you think he’s something he’s not.”

She looked down at her hands, smile fading just a little. “You think..you think he’s lying?”

“I think he’s used to getting what he wants,” Zayn said quietly. “And I think you deserve better than someone who’s just looking for extra credit.”

Y/N didn’t argue.

But she also didn’t agree.

__________________________________________________

Y/N was already in her usual seat, second row, third from the left, close enough to hear the professor clearly but not so close that she’d be called on. Her notebook was open, her pen uncapped, and her highlighters laid out in a neat line. The class buzzed around her: idle chatter, squeaking chairs, someone’s pen tapping too fast behind her.

She didn’t look up when the door slammed open. She hated the noise.

Late.

Again.

She knew it was him without having to glance. Harry Styles had a specific kind of presence: loud without trying, confident without needing permission. Normally, he sat in the back with his usual crew, too cool to pretend he cared about lectures.

But then-

He was walking toward her row.

He was in her row.

And-

“Hey,” Harry said, casual as ever, standing right beside her. “Can I sit here?”

Y/N blinked.

He was pointing to the empty chair next to her. Her bag was on it. Her sketchbook was resting half-open on top. No one ever sat next to her in this class.

She stared at him, then at the chair, then back at him, fingers hovering mid-air above her notebook.

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Cherry. Your stuff.”

Oh.

Right.

She moved slowly, startled. Her fingers weren’t working right. She fumbled the bag as she pulled it into her lap, closed the sketchbook too quickly and creased the corner. Her heart was beating faster than she liked.

He dropped into the chair beside her with that same easy energy, one arm flung across the back of it, like he’d sat there a thousand times.

People were watching. She could feel them watching.

Y/N stared straight ahead, trying to ground herself. One-two-three, one-two-three, deep breath.

Harry leaned slightly closer. Not enough to touch her but just enough so she could hear him.

“I figured if I’m your partner, I should probably sit like it.”

She didn’t answer, but she could feel the heat crawling up her neck. He wasn’t teasing. He wasn’t mocking her. Just… sitting.

It didn’t make sense.

Harry Styles never sat at the front. He never sat with her.

But today, he did.

And even though her routine was disrupted, and her chest felt too tight, and everyone was probably looking at her. She could feel it.

Eyes.

All around her.

A few turned heads. A few not-so-subtle whispers. The girl who usually chewed gum too loudly two rows over had stopped chewing, which was somehow worse. One of Harry’s football friends sitting in the back nudged the guy beside him with a grin that wasn’t friendly. Someone near the door actually took a photo. She heard the soft click.

Her fingers clenched around her pen.

Harry didn’t seem to notice  or he did and didn’t care. He slouched in the chair like it was his personal throne, one leg stretched out, arms relaxed, like none of it meant anything.

But to Y/N, it meant everything.

This wasn’t part of the plan. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Not in this class. Not in this seat.

She didn’t do unannounced changes. She didn’t do people this close. She didn’t do rumors, or eyes, or questions she couldn’t answer.

She flinched slightly when he leaned in.

“Are they always like this?” he whispered, eyes flicking to the side.

Y/N kept her eyes forward, voice barely audible. “No one’s ever sat here before.”

Harry paused.

“Well… they’ll get used to it.”

She looked at him then,  just briefly and he was already facing the front, smirking faintly, like this was just another game to him.

But it didn’t feel like a game.It felt like he chose to sit beside her.

And that was scarier than the stares.

_______________________________________________

A week went by quickly and it was time for their session again. Harry, surprisingly, wasn’t late this time. He had snatched a paper y/n was reading from, about conversational tone.

“So, according to this, I’m apparently a communication expert now. Might as well open a clinic. Dr. Styles, speech therapist extraordinaire.”

y/n was still pretty displeased about the fact that he had snatched the sheet from her, but she mumbles, “You can’t open a clinic..no. You don’t have a license.”

“Right. I was being sarcastic, Cherry.”, Harry smirks, putting the paper away so he can look at her. He liked observing her facial expressions and reactions. 

y/n’s confused now. “So..you don’t want to open a clinic?”

Harry laughs lightly. “No, I can barely keep a plant alive, let alone run a clinic.”

She blinks, then says earnestly. “Plantopedia, page number 436. Cactus requires the least emotional labor. You should start with that, yeah.” She smiles, pleased with herself for giving him the right information.

Harry’s jaw drops open and he stares at her for a second before he laughs, uncontrollably. y/n looks at him strangely, wondering what she said wrong. Even the page number was surely right.

“God, you’re brilliant. That was gold, seriously.”, Harry says, leaning forward, now chuckling.

“I wasn’t joking. I don’t know how to crack jokes. Don’t get them either.”, she tells him.

“Even better.”, he said quietly, and for a minute they were both silent. 

“B-But..cacti do need a little emotional labor. Just..not often.”

Harry grins. “Noted. I’ll talk to them once a week.”

She looks at him, then closes her mouth slowly as he continues to laugh. “Right. Harry’s not actually going to talk to it. That’s funny.” 

“See? You get it!” 

y/n lets out a small giggle, before going back to her task. She had to tell Harry the first few lines of her speech by the end of this session. Mid way between her speech, she got distracted.

Her gaze drifted to the window beside their study table. A butterfly had landed on the sill, its wings a fragile kaleidoscope of blues and black, gently pulsing in the golden afternoon light.

Y/N didn’t say anything. She just watched.

Her hands, which had been fiddling, stilled completely. Even her breathing seemed to slow, as if matching the rhythm of the butterfly’s wings. Harry followed her gaze wondering what made her stop talking, then looked back at her. And stayed there.

He meant to say something. A joke, maybe. Something to pull her attention back to him. But the words caught in his throat.

She looked... peaceful. Not the kind of calm people fake when they’re trying to seem composed, but the genuine sort that came from being fully present. Like she wasn’t thinking about how she looked or what he might be thinking. The light made her skin glow soft at the edges, and the faint furrow in her brow, curiosity, not worry, gave her a kind of depth that made Harry feel like everything else in the room had faded away.

He’d always been drawn to noise, to people who sparkled loud and fast.

But this… this was different.

“y/n?” he said softly.

She didn’t answer, still watching the butterfly like it was telling her a secret.

Harry leaned his arms on the table, his gaze not on the window, but on her. The soft slope of her nose, the faint press of her lips, the quiet steadiness in her posture. She wasn’t trying to charm him. Wasn’t even aware of him in that moment. And for reasons he didn’t fully understand, he liked that even more.

Finally, the butterfly flickered its wings once more and took off. Y/N blinked like she was coming back from somewhere far away.

She turned to him. “Sorry. I was watching it.”

Harry cleared his throat, suddenly aware that he’d been staring. “Yeah. No, don’t apologize.”

She smiled, brief but genuine. “I like butterflies. Easy to understand.”

He found himself smiling too. “Wish I could say the same about you.”

She didn’t catch the flirtation in his tone. Harry tapped her hand softly, which made her look up at him with a start. She usually didn’t even like small touches like that, but strangely, she didn’t pull her hand back immediately. 

“Do I have your attention now, Cherry? We have got just 10 minutes more.” 

She blinks, still getting used to the nickname. “Over? Speech is over right?”

“Nope, you only said the first two lines. Just two more. Start from the beginning, please.”

She groaned and he laughed, “Hey, no complaining.”

They wrapped up in another ten minutes. Y/N closed her notebook with a sharp snap and began organizing her pens into color-coded rows, her signal that their session was done. Predictable, precise. It shouldn’t have caught him off guard.

“You heading out?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

She nodded without looking up. “Zayn is waiting for me.”

Harry hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “Right. Yeah, makes sense.”

He almost didn’t say it, but something nudged him forward.

“You know, if you ever wanted to, uh… watch football practice or something, you could. I mean, I’d wait with you after, or Zayn could meet you later or-”

“I don’t like watching sports,” Y/N said bluntly, slipping her planner into her bag. “And if there is a change in my routine, it makes me anxious. Uh..thank you, though.”

She said it kindly, earnestly. 

Still, Harry nodded a little too quickly, swallowing the unexpected pang in his chest. “Cool. Yeah. No worries.”

Before she leaves, she turns back. “Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Uh..thank you, for helping me..this actually helps, I think.” 

Harry beams. “Not a problem, love, I need the extra credit, might as well do it seriously.”

She nods, her watch telling her it’s time to leave. “Okay. Bye Harry.”

“See you, Cherry.”

________________________________

Harry tossed his duffel bag onto the bench beside the practice field, but his heart wasn’t in the drills. Coach had already yelled at him twice for missing passes. He kept thinking about the way she’d looked at him, like she saw right through the sarcasm and flash, straight into the bare, unpolished bits he didn’t usually let anyone see.

“She’s got you in a chokehold already, huh?”

Harry turned to find Nate grinning, water bottle in hand, eyes sharp.

“Shut up,” Harry muttered, kicking a stray ball toward the sideline.

“I’m just saying,” Nate continued, unfazed. “You’ve been weird lately. You, skipping post-practice hangs? You live for an audience.”

Harry shrugged, wiping sweat from his brow. “It’s nothing. She’s just… different.”

“Different how?”

Harry didn’t answer right away. He flopped onto the grass, staring up at the sky, the clouds too still for how fast his thoughts were spinning.

“She doesn’t pretend,” he said finally. “She’s not trying to impress anyone. Doesn’t care that I’m… me.”

“That sounds kind of great, actually.”

Harry looked over. “It’s not like that. She’s just a project.”

Nate raised a brow. “Right. And that’s why you’ve brought her up every day this week?”

Harry didn’t respond. Because maybe it had started as extra credit. Just a requirement. But the disappointment when she left today? The stupid hope that she might’ve said yes? That hadn’t felt like schoolwork.

Not even close.

_________________________________________

Like it up and reblog so I can get Part 2 out sooner! Please let me know if there are any changes to be made to the tag list.

Taglist: -@livypops12352568 @harrydeary, @harryswifee, @harrysbxtchh, @gracelovesethan, @kiwitsayedsugar, @angeldavis777,@madstyles3204, @youngpastafanmug, @fruity-harry, @wannaliveinparadise@hermionelove@mayalove014 @vikiii07@ell0ra-br3kk3r @thelooneytoon @charlesleclercwifey, @stylesftcher

[harrysblues]

i still can’t believe i was at this show OMG i miss love on tour

[harrysblues]

Hi! Do you take requests?

yes! you can request anything and I'll try my very best :))

[harrysblues]

Eye Patch

The one in which Harry's kids get scared when their father gets hurt on stage.

.....................................................................................………

When Harry and Y/N's twins started to grow into toddlers, the couple quickly noticed that their youngest struggled to control her eye. That's why they didn't waste any time, and sooner rather than later, three-year-old Lena was wearing an eye patch to try to fix her strabismus.

The process of getting her used to wearing it was long and exhausting for Harry and Y/N, and they tried very hard to make it fun, buying eye patches with different shapes and designs. Their other twin, Harvey, was the most supportive of his sister, and he offered to wear matching eye patches with her whenever she was self-conscious about wearing it in public.

Harry and Y/N's twins might be toddlers, but they love and understand each other like no one else, and that fascinates their parents. Besides, the couple has tried so hard to make them understand that they are loved and supported no matter what, and it is very important to express their feelings with each other.

"Daddy do we have good seats for your concert tomorrow?" Harvey asks suddenly during their daily family dinner.

"Of course, my boy. The best in the house, always!" Harry answers, furrowing his brows. "Why do you ask, baby? You know you always get the best".

"I know, daddy!" His son answers playfully. "But it's the first time sissy is going to the concert with her eye patch, and I want her to have the best time".

Harry and Y/N can swear that their hearts melted when those words left their son's mouth.

"Oh," says Lena. "Daddy, I'm going to see you singing, right? You are going to be so far away, I need to see you".

Lena has always been a very anxious baby, and the family had, and still is, dealing with some heavy separation anxiety from her. The eye issue only added to this, and it has been hard for the couple to manage.

"Don't get nervous, my best girl" Harry tried to comfort her. "You three will have the best seats in the venue, and the important thing is to have fun! You see me every day, and I'm available always".

This seems to cheer her up, and the family moves on from this topic to talk about school. Sudden changes in conversation subjects are very common in the house, and Harry and Y/N can't lie and say they don't love it when their kids bring up things they want to tell their parents. Seeing them interact is one of their favorite things ever since they started to talk.

Dinner finished, and the kids were put to bed with a story read by Y/N and their song, Love of my life, sung by their father. It was not an easy thing to do like it usually is because they were too excited about their concert the next day. Even though Harry has toured for a while after they were born, this is the first time his twins are in the audience, watching him perform. Before this second leg of Love On Tour, they stayed backstage with Y/N and whoever would watch over them while Harry was putting on a show.

However, not long ago the twins started to feel more curious and understand more about their parent's, especially Harry's, lifestyle. That is the reason why they have let them watch the concerts whenever they show any interest about it.

The next day came by very quickly, and now the kids are getting ready with Y/N while Harry is rehearsing and putting together the outfit for tonight.

Lena has decided to wear a silver sparkly skirt that matches her cowboy hat paired with a t-shirt with a red heart in the middle, and Harvey is wearing bell jeans paired with a matching t-shirt with her sister and a royal blue boa. Y/N has let them choose their outfits, wanting them to have the most freedom possible, and she has to say she is quite proud of what they have come up with.

Unfortunately, the family didn't have enough time to wish Harry good luck like they usually would have, seeing that there had been an outfit malfunction, according to Harry Lambert, and the whole band was running late. This upset the kids for two minutes, and then Y/N suggested a face time call with Harry.

"Hi, my babies. I'm so sorry I can't see you before the show" He says with a pout on his face. "I promise I'll blow you a kiss from the stage, and give you lots of cuddles when I finish" Y/N can see the sadness on his face, knowing that he is upset he is not going to be able to get his good luck kiss and cuddle from his two favorite people.

"Don't worry daddy", says Lena. "Harvs and I just wanted to show you our outfits that mummy let us choose by ourselves!".

"Oh, isn't that right baby girl? Can you do a little twirl for daddy?" he says getting his face as close to the screen as possible, squinting his eyes to try to see his precious daughter in the most detail possible. "Daddy really wants to see your outfits".

The family spent the next thirty minutes following Harry around, from the make up chair to his changing room and everything, through his phone, until the moment it was time for him to change into his chosen outfit and get in the box.

"Okay babies, I need to go get ready", he tells them sounding way too devastated for him to be seeing them in less than fifteen minutes. "I'll see you on stage okay? Try to raise your hands the highest, sing the loudest, and have the most fun for me".

The kids promised to do all of that before blowing him multiple kisses and hanging up. They needed to get to their seats right now if they wanted to avoid getting swarmed by some fans. They are usually very polite and nice to Y/N, and especially the kids, but Y/N doesn't want to risk it without Harry there to help her.

They got there safely, and the twins, who are seated on each side of you, are happy to see that their father was right and that they have extremely good seats. They will be able to see their father without a problem.

"Mummy it's starting!" Harvey shrieks when the lights go out and the intro visuals start playing. "Oh my god mummy, I'm so excited!" Y/N never gets tired of how excited he gets every time he sees his dad in concert, it is always as if it was the first time.

Lena clings to your arm from the other side of you, her excitement for the concert to start being silent compared to her brother's. Y/N starts shouting and jumping with excitement as well, making her children copy her and start singing the songs. They also notice that Harry's outfit matches his children's, so that makes them shout even louder.

Harry doesn't take long to find them and when he sends a kiss to his family, the "Muah" that goes with his kiss is heard in the whole arena, making everyone aww.

"Mummy daddy can see us!" Both of the twins exclaim, shocked their father can see them from the stage. "If I send him a kiss will he see me?" Lena asks, genuinely curious.

You don't know how to answer because Harry is constantly moving on stage, so it would be very easy for him to miss his daughter trying to blow him a kiss. Nonetheless, Lena doesn't wait for her mothers approval and blows a kiss towards the stage.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, Harry had been watching the whole interaction, and he didn't hesitate to take her daughter's kiss in the air and put it in his back pocket, making Lena squeal.

The concert goes as expected, and Y/N and the twins are having so much fun. Besides, Y/N is quick to notice that, distracted from the excitement, Lena hasn't once complained about the eye patch she has been in fact wearing in public. That is a huge achievement.

Y/N had planned to leave the seats and go backstage right before kiwi so they wouldn't have trouble getting there later. Nevertheless, a gasp distracts her from dancing carefree to one of the last songs of the concert.

"Mummy something happened to daddy", Lena says with concern in her voice. "Mummy someone threw something at daddy" She repeated, starting to tear up.

This makes Harvey notice how his father is rubbing his eye, and keeping it closed for way too long, making him worry and start clinging to his mum as well.

Both kids start full-on sobbing when they see their father unable to open his eye on stage, constantly rubbing it and trying to block the light from his eyes. Y/N hadn't seen the object, and she definitely doesn't want to ask her kids, so she is unable to assess the gravity of the situation. The only thing she is able to do is to take both of her kids in her arms and carry them backstage.

Once they get there she sits the kids on the sofa and dries their tears, trying to comfort them. "My babies don't cry"; she coos. "Daddy is the strongest person in the world, I'm sure he is fine. It just took him by surprise!"

This last sentence seems to calm the three-year-old twins, and they end up cuddling their mother, soft whines coming from them from time to time, sleepy eyes from all the tears getting hard for them to open.

The kids jump when they hear the door open, and when Harry goes straight to the bathroom instead of greeting them, they immediately start sobbing again. Harry hears them from the inside, and he is quick to open the door once he has checked his eye, and get to his babies as soon as possible.

"Oh my, sweet things", he says, quickly kneeling next to them and being almost pushed to the floor by the force his kids hugged him with. "What's happened? Did you not enjoy the show? Was it too loud?"

The kids don't respond, and Harry keeps rubbing their backs and kissing their tears away, unaware and completely clueless about what has made his sweethearts so upset.

"Daddy, someone hurt your eye!" Harvey exclaims with anger. "You are hurt, daddy". Harry's heart breaks with how upset he is.

"There is nothing to worry about, sunshine", he explains. "Daddy got hurt for a moment, but now I just need an ice eye patch to make the sting go away. I'll be perfect again in an hour".

"Eye patch?", his daughter perks up at the comment. "We match again?"

"Yeah baby, I'm going to match with the prettiest princess in the world", he tells her soflty.

"But mummy is the prettiest princess in the world", she fights back playfully.

"No no no, mummy is a queen", he clarifies turning to his wife. "Your mummy is the prettiest and most gorgeous queen in the entire planet".

"I agree", both of their kids say at the same time. "And then Harvey is the prettiest prince, and you are the prettiest king", finishes Lena, making Harry give her the biggest kiss on the cheek.

"That is right", Y/N answers while sitting down close to her family. "We are all beautiful and special in our own ways, isn't that right?".

"This deserves a big family hug for daddy to heal his eye, don't you think?", Harvey suggests, making Harry smile and hug his kids even closer. Y/N gets in the hug, giving Harry a passionate kiss and a knowing smile, she is sure that they are both thinking the same thing.

Their family is perfect, and they are the happiest they have ever been.

................................................................................................

I really hope you like this one guys! The response I have gotten with my first post has been insane, and now I feel very inspired to post my work. You can send requests for me to write, and don't forget to like and reblog! THANK YOU SO MUCH <3

[harrysblues]

THAT FIRST POST OF YOURS IS SO CUTE IM LITERALLY SOOOOO AHHHHHHH - 🎀

Thank you so much! I have an exam tomorrow, but i’ll try to post on Tuesday :)

[harrysblues]

Clean Baby

The one in which Harry comes back from work, and the only thing he wants to do is have a shower with his newborn.

············································································································

After spending so much time working on his upcoming album Harry's House, the only thing Harry wants to do is get home to cuddle with his wife and his newborn. Y/N had given birth three months ago to a precious baby girl, Kennedy Gem, that Harry completely adores. He still doesn't believe how much he loves the little thing.

All he had wished to do since his sunshine had been born was to stay home with his family. Unfortunately, Kenny came three weeks early, and all Harry could do was rush through the last couple of things he had yet to arrange for his album release next month.

Even though he had been touring in America, Y/N's pregnancy had been kept a secret to the public. This means that not many people know what Harry has waiting for him at home, and how much he hates being away from home lately. The couple knows that they are going to need to start telling people soon, due to Harry going on tour to the UK and Europe during the summer, and Y/N and Kenny are going with him. However, they want to enjoy the most out of her without being bothered about how things are going, or people wanting to get their hands on pictures of their baby.

Harry got out of a meeting with Jeff and rushed home to be with both of his girls that he absolutely adores with his whole entire heart. They are literally the center of his universe, and the purpose that pushes him to be the best version of him everyday.

"Oh my baby, weren't you so hungry?" He heard Y/N coo right after he enters through the door. "You're the cutest thing I've seen in my entire life".

Harry is fast to lock the door and get to his family in the living room, and when he sees both of his girls on the sofa, wrapped in blankets because it is still chilly out, and Y/N breastfeeding Kenny while looking at her lovingly, he knows he made it. He has been dreaming about this his whole life.

"Hello my angels" He says while quickly sitting down in the sofa right by their side. "How has your day been? I hope fantastic. I've missed you both so so much".

He gives Y/N a passionate kiss, and they separate when they hear their baby make the cutest noise ever. "Yeah, sunshine. Do you also want a kiss?" Harry coos, and immediately kisses his baby's forehead. He is mesmerised with the way she's bonding with her mum right now.

"She's almost done, but she needs a bath. Your mum called and I got distracted" Y/N informs Harry. "She invited us to go to her house this weekend for a family get together. Gemma is also going".

"I'll call her tomorrow to let her know we are going" Harry answers. "But can I please be in charge of bath time tonight? I've missed my little ray of sunshine so much today, you have no idea".

"Oh, is that so? What about your wife?" Y/N says in a playful manner. "Did you forget about your wife when your daughter was born, or what?"

"Of course not, my love. We are soulmates, and I'm yours forever and ever" He says while burying his face on her neck. "You're the muse of all my songs, and the best thing to ever happen in my entire life".

Y/N looks at him, sees the way he is literally drooling over his daughter, and decides to agree to Harry being in charge of bath time. "Okay, I'll let you. However, you have to promise me that this won't be a recurring thing. Kenny is already so attached to you, if she starts getting used to showering with you she won't have it any other way ever again".

"Perfect, perfect, perfect" Harry celebrates. "C'mon Kenny baby, let's go get ourselves clean. Do you want to be a clean baby? Yes?" Harry takes his daughter from her mum's arms and burps her before cradling her in his arms and standing up to get to the bathroom.

"I'll be back in a bit, my love" He tells his wife. "Rest for a bit, put on your favourite show, but please don't worry about anything. You have been working so hard these last couple of months without me here, it's your turn to relax".

Y/N knows that Harry is doing the best he can to balance everything that's going on in his life right now. Nonetheless, her heart melts a little at how sweet he is being about everything. He is all she's ever asked for.

The couple shares a sweet kiss, and Y/N watches Harry and her daughter leave the room to go have a bath, so she doesn't hesitate to take up Harry's offer, and put on her favourite show.

Harry walks with Kenny in his arms to the bathroom, where he starts the shower, so that the water warms up to the perfect temperature for his baby girl, and he prepares the towels for when they get out. Then, he carefully undresses Kenny, as well as himself down to his boxers, and they both get in the shower.

Harry has his back to the shower stream, careful so it doesn't bother his little angel, while he holds her close to his chest. He did this for her first bath, because he was very scared of anything happening to her while in the water and he knew she was the safest in her daddy's arms. Ever since then, he does this as much as his wife lets him. He bonds with Kenny the best during bath times like this one, and he is determined to do this as long as his daughter lets him.

Once they are both completely wet, Harry takes a soft cloth, and with a little drop of baby soap, he starts washing his baby. She is sleepy in her father's chest, seeing as she loves listening to his heartbeat whenever she lays there. So when she notices her sleep being disrupted, she starts whimpering.

"Oh no, sunshine. Don't cry" He says softly to her. "It's just daddy cleaning you up, isn't that right? Didn't you want to be a clean baby?" Kenny stops the moment she hears her fathers voice, and looks up to him with the cutest smile ever.

"Hello, Kenny baby" He coos down at her. "It's bath time with daddy! We love bath time with daddy!" Harry exclaims while bouncing her a little and tickling her stomach. She lets out the most beautiful giggle Harry has ever heard, and he is completely sure he'll never get tired of it.

"How has your day been? Did you have fun with mummy?" He asks her softly while cleaning her body and shampooing the little curls she has started growing. "I'm very jealous that you get to spend so much time with her, especially cuddling. I love cuddles, you know that?" Kenny sees her father talking, and decides to start mumbling and making noises, as if she was answering all of his questions. Harry doesn't doubt it for a second, and he immediately starts talking to her as if she knew what he was saying.

"You love mummy's milk? Is that what you are saying?" The smile could be heard in his voice, as he was looking down at his precious daughter. Kenny squeals and slaps her little hands softly on her daddy's chest, making him chuckle. "We are so grateful for what she is doing for us, isn't that right? She is the most wonderful woman ever, and you are so lucky that you get to learn form her. You are going to be just like her".

The conversation carries on, Harry not once getting bored with the cute interaction, and he finishes giving her a bath and also, washing his body and hair. He would lie and tell Y/N that washing himself with only one arm wasn't difficult, but he would do it every day for his baby girl. It was very difficult for him to explain the bond he had with his daughter during these showers. The idea of her being completely dependent on him was something he thought about every single day. And he obviously loved every single minute of it.

Once both of them are clean, they get out of the shower and Harry carefully wraps Kenny in a very fluffy baby towel with a hood and bear ears on top. It was a gift from Mitch and Sarah for when she was born, and it is the cutest thing ever. Harry can't help but take pictures of her and send them to the love band's group chat every single time she uses it.

He creadles her in his arms again and wraps another towel around his waist. He obviously struggles, and he notices Kenny is watching him in the mirror when she lets out a very loud laugh, seeing her daddy drop his towel many times until he manages to wrap it in place.

"Oh my, Kenny baby! Are you laughing at y'daddy?" He jokingly reprimands her. "Does daddy make you laugh? Yeah?" He only gets more belly laughs from her, and he smiles so big, both of his dimples very prominent on his face, that he swears his cheeks are going to fall off. He is even trying to make her laugh harder, making weird faces at her while they both look at each other through the mirror.

When Kenny starts shivering a little, Harry knows it's time to get her dressed in a very cute pijama and put her to sleep. She was about to fall asleep on his chest after all, so he carries her to her bedroom and dresses her in his favourite pijamas of hers, decorated with little cherries, right after putting lotion on her with a very long massage. He loved pampering his girls, and he wasn't embarrassed to show it.

When she has her hair brushed, and she is ready for bed, with her pacifier on her mouth, Harry brings her to his bedroom so he can get ready.

"I know you're sleepy, sunshine. Let me get dressed and we'll go say goodnight to mummy, alright?" He tells her, while laying her in the middle of his king sized bed. He surrounds her with pillows so she won't roll and fall, although she is too tired to even move.

Harry goes inside his wardrobe to get into his pijamas really quick, and he looks at her playing with her hands at the top of her head while he is in his bathroom, doing his skincare and styling his hair.

"Let's go, angel" He kisses Kenny on the forehead, while picking her up and laying her against his chest. "We have to wish mummy a very good night, isn't that right?" Kenny softly coos, and Harry melts at the sound of her little voice. He can't wait for when she's able to tell him how she feels, or what she thinks.

When they get to the living room, Y/N is asleep on the couch. Harry quickly notices, and without wanting to wake her up, he gets down on his knees right next to her to give her a kiss on the forehead. "C'mon Kenny, give mummy a kissy so we can go to sleep" He whispers.

Right when he is about to get up from the floor to put Kenny to sleep, Y/N stirs awake. "Harry, cuddles please" His wife's demand earns a chuckle from Harry, but he doesn't think twice. He hands Kenny to Y/N, and he gets on the couch besides her to cuddle with the love of his life and his baby.

With the TV playing softly, the warmth of the blankets the three of them are wrapped up in, the feeling of his wife breathing, and the peaceful noises coming from his baby, Harry is in heaven. This is the best life he could have ever wished for, and he could never be happier.

············································································································

First post! Please let me know if you like it and want more! Alsooo, don't forget to reblog :)