#I wanna wear my favorite white cardigan again and use my fluffy blanket that my cat also loves

[nekobinn]

August is the month where I feel braindead, where I feel like an asshole, where I’m borderline chronically online, where my sleeping and eating habits are actually healthy for once and I don’t have to force myself to try, I want to strangle myself until I pass out for a whole 5 weeks until the start of my college fall term, I want to literally destroy every single piece of furniture I can see when I enter my room and get rid of all my electronics because my eyes hurt after looking at my phone for more than 2 minutes.

My sketchbook is the only thing keeping me sane right now, I want to snap something in half.

[mymedicine]

Alocasia

or, 7.5k words of blushy harry and sassy y/n

moodboard/inspo tag + my masterlist

sum - y/n doesn’t like people, but she likes harry—even though he keeps fucking this up

warnings - language, alcohol, mentions of sex (not explicit), lots of banter, excessive use of parentheses, umm... veganism?

notes - hiii! for once i don’t really have anything to say other than welcome, to a very fluffy and kind of chaotic one shot. hope you give her a chance and a reblog if you enjoy! <3

Upon moving into his charming downtown apartment, Harry was feeling a lot of things.

He was excited at the prospect of living there, of waking up in his cozy new bedroom, of flipping pancakes in the kitchen with a stunning view of the city skyline, and of lounging on his soft gray couch while watching reruns of Criminal Minds. He was also anxious, and a little annoyed. There were groceries to be bought, chores to be done, bills to be paid (Fuckin’ landlord was an ass for refusing to include utilities in the rent). The cabinets in the bathroom were a little creaky (Do I need some WD-40? Can I afford WD-40?!) He even had to walk up four flights of stairs to get to his door, a task which Harry was keen to count as his daily exercise.

Above all, Harry was lonely. Living alone was a blessing and a curse, he reckoned. He could lounge about without any clothes, dance in the kitchen to the sounds of Folklore (a guilty pleasure), and watch creepypasta videos on YouTube until three am (and consequently stay up til dawn, for fear of nightmares) without worrying about anyone but himself.

But after just two days in the new place, he was concerned that the cost of privacy may not be worth it. Loneliness and boredom weighed heavily on his conscience as he laid on the couch and stared at the ceiling. Not only did he live alone, but he also didn’t have any friends in the city yet. No one to see, nothing to do. Lost, he decided. No direction, no purpose…Only four walls and a bunch of empty cabinets.

And yet it wasn’t even social interaction he craved necessarily—it was purpose, company, and…perhaps some cuddles. He briefly considered the idea of a pet. Maybe a friendly little French bulldog to chase around and be responsible for? Or a fluffy Maine Coon kitty to scratch behind the ear and snuggle at night?

But the bills…the responsibility…The prudent adult deep within Harry knew he was hardly ready to support himself, let alone a helpless animal. He’d have to feed it and walk it and make sure it didn’t shit all over the floor—not to mention the landlord would raise hell if he found out.

Meanwhile, the soft, gentle, maybe a little naive man who dominated Harry’s conscience was craving a friend. Pets were a no for now, so what’s the next best thing? He grappled with the question…Surely, a person was the obvious answer. He wouldn’t mind a pretty body to warm his heart—or, at least, his bed.

Harry stretched his legs out over the arm of the couch—the only furniture he had at the moment aside from his mattress on the floor of the bedroom—and snuggled into his cozy corduroy blanket, craving warmth in the cold apartment. A rainbow cardigan adorned his chest today, draped over a plain white turtleneck that warmed his neck. He liked to keep it cold so he could be snuggly wrapped in his sweaters without sweating bullets. He dug around in the pocket of his cardigan for his phone, eager to receive affection from something other than his clothes.

In retrospect, Tinder had given Harry far more unfortunate encounters with other people (lots of younger girls just looking for a plug and toxic guys who left him on read) than pleasurable ones. But hindsight was always 20/20 and isolation had already planted the seed in his head.

He quickly examined his own profile. It consisted of two photos of him smirking softly (not too serious, but not too eager either), one with his sister and his mum (to show he’s a family man), and a group one with his mates (because sure, he was lonely, but he didn’t want people to know that). There were also one or two shirtless photos (thirst traps, according to Niall) that he’d sprinkled in between the tame ones even though it made him feel kind of icky. Weighing the odds, he’d decided that desperation for matches outweighed the cringey-ness of it all.

His very last photo was the only one where he felt like himself. He was smiling wide in it, wearing a baby blue sweater with a little chick popping out of its egg on the front that Mitch had teased him for back home. His bio, too, showcased his wholesome values.

Harry’s eyes widened as he observed on the first person he saw upon opening the home page—Y/N. She only had two photos—a shot of her perched on a car hood and smiling wide and one far away one with her figure drowning in a sea of…plants. Fittingly, her bio read: “I love plants and I hate people.”

She was beautiful and every bit as anti-social as himself. It was perfect.

Harry laughed softly to himself and swiped right immediately. He was giddy when the familiar It’s a match! popped up on the screen immediately. His thumbs hovered over the keypad, brow furrowed as he frowned at the screen. Matching was one thing, but actually starting a conversation was another entirely.

Ultimately, he decided honesty was the best policy:

you had me at ‘i hate people’ :D

Now what? Matching was one thing, starting a conversation was another, but having a whole conversation was another thing entirely. He hated the waiting, especially when he had absolutely nothing to busy himself with in the mean time, aside from fiddling with his fingers and doing laps around his living room.

Seven minutes later (not that he’s counting), a ding came through on his phone.

y/n: you had me at ‘treat people with kindness,’ mon petit :)

Harry smiled wide. He was pleased she’d noticed not only his bio, but also the sweater he was wearing in his favorite photo of himself. It was the perfect response from a perfect girl.

harry: so what do you do?

y/n: i work at a plant shop on Main

Figures, he thought. He imagined her carrying a watering pitcher, tending to a plant with gentle fingers. She’d be surrounded by them like she was in the photo on her profile, green on all sides. God, he thought. What a beautiful scene with a beautiful star.

harry: wanna go for drinks tonight and talk about plants?

y/n: sure ;)

Nightfall brought a chill to the air that made Harry desperately want to curl up into his warm bed and snuggle into his pillow. But here he was, shuffling his feet outside the crowded bar and absently wearing another tiny hole in the sleeve of his striped sweater. It was a decent bar in town. They didn’t water down the drinks and they kept the lights dim so she wouldn’t have to see him flushed beet red after one drink. That is, if she would show up at all.

“Hey, you’re Harry?”

He turned quickly toward the sound of the voice, and there she was. And holy shit, he thought. That is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Her two profile photos did not even begin to do her justice. The idea of a mere photo on a screen couldn’t even compare to the real thing. He would never be keen to look at a photo again, he reckoned. It wouldn’t make his heart bloom and flutter like the vision of her in front of him did. Was this love at first sight?

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered, and not because the chilly night, “Y/N, right?”

Harry didn’t think he really believed in love—certainly not love at first sight, but this girl was throwing him into another world. Before, he couldn’t seem to stand still, but her presence in front him planted his feet firmly on the ground.

“Yep, that’s me!” She smiled wide, speaking cooly and confidently. It was obvious she knew how beautiful she was and, even more evident, how enamored Harry already was with her.

“I—you’re absolutely beautiful,” The words slipped out of his lips before he could catch them—not that he was really making any effort to hide his attraction for her. Still, he enjoyed the way her eyes brightened and teeth gently nibbled at her bottom lip in response to the compliment

And suddenly, the idea of merely kissing her soft flesh, tickling her sweet bud, and ultimately burying himself inside her tonight didn’t seem like enough. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to smell her hair and hear her laugh. He wanted to make her pancakes in the morning and kiss her lips, sweetened lightly with maple syrup. He wanted to love her.

No, he couldn’t possibly ruin his chance with a girl like this by fucking her on the couch in his cold, lonely apartment, never to see or hear from her again.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Of course.”

One hour and four and a half drinks later, (whiskey cokes for Y/N, vodka crans for Harry) the cramped bar was hot and they were floating on air. He’d learned that she worked at Main Street Nursery, usually by herself, sometimes with her cousin who owned the place. She was an avid vegan, but only because she hated meat and dairy made her sick. She’d learned that Harry was new in town and lived only a block away from Main. Also, Y/N managed to learn that Harry had no friends here and was very lonely in his new apartment, but only after his third vodka cran when the already weak filter in his throat began to crumble and embarrassing things spewed out of his lips like a spout.

“Let’s dance, H.” Y/N requested, gently caressing his bicep from where she sat beside him.

Oh god. No amount of alcohol would let him embarrass himself like that. “I don’t really… uh—“

But Y/N was having none of that. She thrust his half empty glass in his face, eyebrows raised in a pointed look. “Come on, baby!”

He hesitated for only a moment. Her fingers were soft and warm and distracting against his arm and it was very dark in the crowded bar, but he could easily see her bright eyes and the mischief dancing around in them. Somehow, she looked just as beautiful after putting away five whiskey cokes. Ah fuck. How could he possibly say no to her?

Harry tipped the glass against his lips, downed the bitter beverage, and finally let her tug him to the middle of the room.

A few people were dancing raunchily to the loud music, and the combination of the alcohol and the darkness and Y/N’s effortless beauty gave Harry the confidence to join them. He placed his hands gingerly around her waist, nearly flinching at the warm feeling of her skin against his. Y/N flashed him a blissful, slightly drunken grin and squeezed his bicep more firmly, relaxing in his hold.

Y/N led them in a giggly dance, letting her hands wander Harry’s body and ultimately settle around his neck. Brain foggy with an alcohol induced haze, she swayed her hips against his.

Minutes turned into an hour or so and Y/N had grown quite comfortable in the circle of Harry’s arms, fronts flushed together impossibly close.

“Wanna get out of here?” Her whisper in the shell of his ear was alluring, seductive, sweet, and almost irresistible. But Harry was on a mission—one that only included seeing her again after tonight and, ultimately, making her his. Five vodka crans weren’t quite enough to outweigh his desire for something more. No, this plan didn’t include fucking her. (At least, not tonight).

“Um, I think we should…er—slow down…”

“You don’t...you don’t wanna hookup?” She looked up at him with something like disappointment (or maybe anxiety? insecurity? He wasn’t sure) in her eyes.

“No, it’s just… I—I wanted to get to know you?”

Y/N subtly stepped away from him, just an inch or so, but more than enough for him to notice and consequently panic. “Oh um, It’s okay...I just thought—well, I didn’t think we’d really be getting to know each other…”

Ouch. She obviously was not on the same page as he was with the whole I WANT TO LOVE YOU thing he had going on at the moment. The alcohol thickened his skin a little, easing the sting of her words.

“But if I’m like...not pretty enough or nice enough I—uh...” she was rambling a little—and oh god, she must be wasted if she’s questioning her beauty. Harry’s heart hurt. How could she not see that she was perfect inside and out?

“No, Y/N! You’re perfect…it’s just—“

“I get it, um...”

“I’m sorry, you don’t understand!

“I understand, Harry…I guess I’ll just—go home now.”

Well, fuck. In an effort to prolong his time with her, he’d managed to cut it short and blow his shot to see her again at all. He kicked himself for hoping. Hope for the best, expect the worst, he reminded himself. He was just fine at the hoping part, but the disappointment in the aftermath bit even deeper than his desperate loneliness.

Back to square one.

I’m going for a plant…if Y/N happens to be there then…Harry thought as he approached Main Street, then Y/N will be there. His heart skipped a beat at the thought. He tugged nervously at the sleeves of his sweater—this one white with a “my life is crap” graphic that he found quite funny—wearing another tiny hole in the fabric. He absently regretted not taking a shot or two before impulsively jogging across the block to the plant shop, but he pushed the thought out of his mind. I’m just here to get a plant.

Truthfully, he didn’t know shit about plants, but how hard could it be? Surely, all it took was a little water and a sunny spot. Optimistic, he wandered into the cute little shop. Upon entering, he found it wasn’t really indoors at all—just four walls of greenery with only a few wooden beams as a ceiling, allowing rays of mid-morning sunshine to illuminate the space quite beautifully. Harry couldn’t help but notice how one such ray shone directly on the most beautiful creature in the shop.

The scene was even more delightful than he’d imagined. She looked ethereal doing even the most mundane tasks, he thought. The way her skin glowed in the sunlight in front of a backdrop of lush greenery? Heavenly. He took a few more moments to absently admire her as she lifted a watering can above her head with skilled hands, squinting at the sun while reaching up to water a large, leafy looking plant that hung from one of the beams.

The plant was hanging just low enough to block her view of Harry, so when he gently cleared his throat to call her name, she leaped backward. A loud thud rang out and suddenly, the watering can was no longer grasped between her fingers and her pale pink apron was stained crimson—completely drenched.

“Oh my god!” they both screeched at the same time.

Harry felt the weight of the world on his shoulders as he ran over to her. “I’m so sorry angel,” he said, picking up the now leaking can from the floor. “I really didn’t mean to scare you, oh my god, are you okay?!”

She looked a mess, quite honestly. But even covered in water and sprawled out on the concrete floor, she was cute to him, like a little bud sprouting out of the pot. She looked up at him with a contemptuous stare.

“Harry!” She cried from the floor, “What are you doing?”

While he did appreciate how adorable she looked, Harry was horrified. He hadn’t known her long, but he’d never heard her stutter or seen her blush like that. Even in their brief text exchanges and one night together, she’d always seemed so confident, so effortlessly graceful and calm. “I’m so sorry love, I really didn’t mean to—“

“Why are you here?”

“I-I just...I just wanted a plant and—and… I know you love them, and I thought there wouldn’t be anywhere better to go...”

Y/N’s expression softened as he rambled. “Okay, well, feel free to look around,” She stumbled to her feet, murmuring as she went. She wiped her hands on her soaked apron, trying to clean them but actually just spreading the wetness. “And um…Let me know if you need anything.”

She pressed a tight lipped grin on and her voice went a tinge too high pitched. She was clearly putting herself in customer service mode, but Harry caught a playful glint behind her bright eyes.

Harry flushed red and turned away from her, kicking himself for being so clumsy. He craned his head around the shop, feeling hopelessly overwhelmed. He wanted to ask her for help or at least a gentle push in right direction, but he figured he’d already bothered her enough.

Even with his back to her, Y/N’s presence was distracting. He could hear her feet shuffling around softly, the light clang of the metal watering can against the counter, even the pinging sound from her phone as he wandered the store.

Harry made a few aimless circles around before particular plant caught his eye. It was a modest looking plant, no where near as big as some of the hanging vines and rubber trees that littered the store. It had large, dark green leaves with jagged looking edges and sat pretty in a terra cotta pot near the front of the store.

He decided this plant would suit his needs perfectly (what are those needs again? He asked himself, company? responsibility?). He ultimately ignored his thoughts and the fact that he wasn’t even himself clear on what he wanted and picked up the plant in both arms. He shivered upon realizing that Y/N was probably watching him the whole time as he brought the plant to the counter where she was waiting. Watching him struggle and make a fool out of himself, that is.

“Did you find everything okay?” she asked cordially.

Harry nodded stiffly, unsure what to say. “Mmhm.”

“Have you got others?” Y/N continued making conversation while punching some numbers into the cash register, smiling and avoiding his gaze.

Harry looked up at the same time she looked away from the register. He was a little startled by her question, not expecting her to actually speak to him after what he’d done earlier. “Uh, no. I just moved here, remember?”

“Oh, right—well, you know this is an alocasia?” she said it very gently, with a patient smile. He didn’t like that she was avoiding his gaze before, but now that she was staring at him unwaveringly, he felt like he was under a microscope. Heat rose is Harry’s cheeks. Did the name of the plant matter?

“Uh, yeah? I mean, uh—I had a few back in my old place…” Why Harry? Why is your first instinct to lie?

“So you know what to do with this kind of plant?’

“Um…yeah?” He stammered, speech as rushed and clumsy as the beating of his heart. His sweaty palms further confirmed the obvious—Y/N made him nervous. She wasn’t just beautiful, she was perfect. He felt desperately out of place in front of her here. How could he possibly impress her? After he’d already fucked up more than once?

“I, well—nevermind,” Y/N replied finally, shaking her head. She was still smiling, but now he felt like she was giggling to herself because she knew something he didn’t.

“Did you want to add some Miracle Potion to your purchase today?” she asked, back in customer service mode once again.

Harry did not know what the fuck Miracle Potion was, but it sounded like a rehearsed line she was required to say during every transaction. She was looking at him so pointedly though, and the brightness of her eyes was distracting. How could he say no when she was looking at him like that?

“Yeah, why not.”

And seeing her beam at him with that lovely smile was so worth the extra eight dollars.

Harry cradled his new plant—Franklin, he’d decided—in both arms, awkwardly body-slamming his apartment door to get it open without his hands. First order of business after setting Franklin down on the coffee table was to quench his thirst. He still hadn’t gone on a real grocery trip for the new place, so he’s been living off of trail mix and kombucha. Harry craved kombucha like plants craved water.

Which brought him to the second order of business: research. He sat on the couch with his trail mix, kombucha, and laptop, quickly opening up a search for “alocasia plant care”

And suddenly Y/N’s behavior made sense.

Of course, of every plant he could have chosen at random, Harry’d gone for one of the most difficult, demanding, and definitely-not-for-beginners house plants in the shop.

He had a funny feeling it wasn’t the last time his optimism would get him in trouble.

Harry was frustrated.

It’d been less than twenty four hours since he became a father, and his once green-leafed baby was already browning at the edges. He frowned, peering at Franklin’s crisp leaves as he meticulously sprayed the Miracle Potion into the soil. The once dry dirt was starting to look a little better, but—holy shit!

Harry leaped away from the table, dropping the spray and nearly knocking himself onto his ass. His eyes were wide and his heart was pounding. He felt betrayed and horrified. Y/N never mentioned that there’d be bugs crawling in the soil! But Harry could not unsee the tiny worm-ish looking guy slithering up from the depths of the pot and onto the base of Franklin’s stem.

This was a mistake. A huge mistake. Who has he kidding?

He couldn’t help himself. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone, dialing the plant shop’s number without a second thought.

“Hello, you’ve reached Main Street Nursery! We’re not available right now, please leave a message and we’ll call back as soon as possible.”

“Y/N! S’Harry and, oh my god there’s a bug in Franklin! I was sprayin’ the potion stuff on the soil like ya said to but then there was a big worm thing and I dunno what to do now? I’m scared Y/N, why didn’t ya tell me there’d be bugs?! Holy shit, Franklin’s gonna die, what the fu—“

A beep interrupted his ramblings, which Harry would later be grateful for. He was always a sort of ramble-y type, but adding a pretty girl and a bug-induced panic was more than enough to make him insufferably talkative.

He begrudgingly opened the Tinder app, his only other means of communicating with her. He typed out a lengthy message with rapid fingers, explaining the bug situation in between a series of colorful emojis.

thought you knew what you were doing? Y/N’s reply came in three and a half minutes later.

harry: I lied :(

(No use in lying now).

y/n: that’s alright bub. just relax, I’ll bring you some bug stickers

Bug stickers? What the fuck? He’d already made a fool of himself, so he might as well ask, he reasoned.

harry: why would I want a bug sticker?!!

y/n: just send me your address

He did as she asked, blushing profusely at the thought of her being in his apartment. Oh shit, he realized. She’s gonna be in my apartment. Realistically, he knew she probably wouldn’t even come past the front door. She’d just give him the damn stickers and then go off to whatever better things she had to do. But if Harry has any dominant personality trait, it’s optimism.

So he quickly started to tidy the living space—careful to avoid the coffee table where Franklin and his new worm-ish adversary sat. The plant aside, it’s a cute little place that screamed an unemployed single man lives here. Once the kombucha bottles and gum wrappers are thrown out, he puts way too much effort into swiping the trail mix crumbs off the couch and carefully arranging a throw blanket across the arm of it—she won’t even be coming near the couch, Harry, chill out.

When would she be coming? She hadn’t given him a time. She’d asked for his address…did that mean she was coming immediately? Maybe she’d asked for it to come by later? Or tomorrow?—

A loud knocking at the door interrupted his thoughts.

He should have expected this. Even after only meeting twice, he should’ve known she’d barge right into his living room, skirting right past him to find Franklin. The first thing he learned about her was that she owed plants and hated people.

“Um, hello love,” he said awkwardly, trailing behind her. “Thanks for coming over.”

Y/N looked up from where she was examining the plant’s leaves as if she’d just noticed him lurking behind her (very on brand for her, Harry noted to himself). He was taken with her sudden eye contact. Her eyes had that same sparkly glow as they did in the shop—they got that way when she talked about her veganism and her cousin and her plants.

“I’ve got a bone to pick with you, mister Harry Styles. You’re a liar.” she said plainly. She was frowning at him (Is that a playful frown? He hoped so) “You’re a liar and it almost cost Franklin’s life.”

Harry was, once again, horrified. If he hadn’t proper fucked it up the first two times they met, he’d surely done it now. Y/N loved plants more than she loved breathing, and he’d almost killed one. And he lied to her! Fuck you’re such an idiot Harry...get it together.

Y/N must’ve seen his turmoil, (how could she not? He always did wear his heart on his sleeve) for she cracked a happy grin and smacked him playfully on the arm. “I’m just kidding Harry, for gods sake!”

“But...but the plant—“

“—will be fine.”

“And the...the bug?”

Y/N turned back to the plant and squinted into the soil. She put her hands on her hips over the fabric of her wide pants (Palazzo? Harry wondered absently. They were like those gypsy looking pants that looked super comfy—like, one step above pajamas...and damn where could I get some of those?)

“Is the bug on my ass, H?”

“W-what?” He replied, snapping out of his reverie with wide eyes. No! He blubbered, tearing his eyes away from the yellow fabric to her face, where her lips were pursed and her eyebrows were raised accusingly. He didn’t even mean to be staring at her ass (though it did look cute and peachy in the palazzo pants, he couldn’t help but notice now), but, feeling caught, he blushed sheepishly anyway.

She dropped the accusatory glare, replacing it with a wide smile. “Only joking,” she interrupted his ramblings. “Still reckon you were lyin’ about the bug jus’ to get me over here, though.”

Harry sighed exasperatedly, heart racing as he meandered around the couch toward the table where she was leaning. She kept him on his toes and it was as exhausting as it was enticing.

He got right up behind her and peered over her shoulder at the soil. “There!” He cried, almost having another heart attack at the sight of the little black bug. In a rushed attempt to show her the worm so she could get rid of it, he’d probably put himself way closer to her than necessary. He could feel the fabric of her long pants brushing his toes and her sharp breath hitch against his chest.

“Oh Harry,” she laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls of his apartment like beams of light. Looking away from the danger, he focused his attention on her instead. He couldn’t help but notice how her hair smelled like flowers and freshly mowed grass and ...honey? Something sweet and enticing and natural, like the earth. Like a sprawling meadow or rose garden or—

He’d been effectively distracted by her that he’d almost forgot the reason for his fear, the reason she was even here. That is, until the little bugger was out of the soil and crawling on her finger.

Harry screeched and leaped backward, and this time, he did fall on his ass. Right in front of the couch he’d cleaned for her while she giggled profusely. The gentle melody of her laughter and sweet little coos at the bug softened the sting of embarrassment—a little.

“Aw he’s so cute!” She prodded her other finger at the creature, which really was no bigger than her fingernail, but horrified Harry anyways. “Can’t believe Harry wanted me to come and kill you, sweet little thing.”

He was once again struck by how gentle and nurturing and sickened-sweet she got with plants and animals. Meanwhile she laughed at him and teased him ruthlessly for his dramatics.

“Here,” she said “Hold him.”

She thrust her finger into his hands from where she stood above him. Harry flinched away, but couldn’t move far enough from where he sat with his legs folded and feet planted on the ground. The worm fell into his palm. The tiny impact of it on his skin ignited an explosion of fear through him.

A millisecond passed and it crawled through the hole in the wrist of his sweater, causing his panic to quadruple.

He screamed out loud while Y/N continued laughing at him. “AH!” Harry screamed and flapped his wrists violently, throwing himself against the couch with wide eyes as he felt the horrible tickling of the creature crawling on his skin.

“Stop! Stop Harry, let me!” Y/N stepped closer, ducking between his outstretched legs. She shielded her face with one hand and desperately groped around for Harry’s wrist with the other. Finally, he paused to breathe and Y/N caught his arm in both of hers.

She wrestled his arm to still and calmly plucked the creature from his skin. “Thank God,” she sighed dramatically in relief, holding it on her finger between them. “The little fighter survived your temper tantrum!”

“No!” Harry cried, now shielding his own face from the wrath of the worm.

He watched her get up and drop the bug back into Franklin’s soil, all the while laughing at him.

“You’re such a baby, Harry,” she cooed as she turned back to where he was still sat on the floor, “And no wonder you’re so cold in here. You’ve got holes all in your sweater!”

“I’ve got holes in all my sweaters. My mum used to fix them f’me.” He frowned, missing her and his friends suddenly. Living alone was hard.

“You’re hopeless,” Y/N shook her head as she bent down to sit on the coffee table next to Franklin and sent him endeared smile. “I could fix them for you?”

Harry reeled back and blushed, “You—you could do that for me?”

Yes, living alone was hard and lonely and boring. Harry had been shamefully making excuses to see her for several days now, and yet he was completely oblivious to her doing the exact same thing.

“Sure! Come over tomorrow and bring all your sweaters.”

Harry saw absolutely no reason to object. He could never say no to her, anyways. “Okay, then.”

“In the meantime, take these…” She reached into her pocket and fished out four yellow squares of what looked like...tape?

“These are bug stickers,” she explained. “You tape them around Franklin’s stem and it’ll catch the gnats and aphids and stuff. Won’t kill your new little friend though.”

Despite her teasing tone and his lingering fear, Harry couldn’t help but smile at her while she demonstrated how to tape the bug sticker on. He’d deal with all the goddamn bugs in the world if it meant she’d be pleased with him.

She finished taping it on and turned back to him with an adorable little flourish, as if to say ta-da!

“Can I offer you some kombucha for your trouble?” Harry suddenly blurted.

What the fuck Harry? Who the fuck says ‘can I offer you—‘

“Ew, no!” She interrupted his self-loathing, face twisting in disgust, “Kombucha tastes like dish soap.”

Hurt, Harry reeled back again and a shocked expression graced his face, “You don’t like kombucha?! Don’t vegans like, live for that shit?!”

“This vegan has taste,” she replied with a snarky smirk. “And besides, I’ve got to get back to the shop for work like, now.”

“Oh, okay no problem.” Harry stuttered, “Thanks again.”

“Sure thing!”

And as quickly as she’d busted in, she was gone, leaving the apartment as cold and lonely as ever. Harry frowned, feeling as if he’d blown it once again. No ‘see you tomorrow’ or ‘thanks for having me.’ Chance after chance and still he made a fool out of himself. She hadn’t even told him where she lived! Maybe the offer to come over and get his sweaters fixed had been a pity invite and she actually wanted nothing to do with him ever again. The thought made his stomach churn. Where was his customary optimism when he needed it?

Grumbling, he grabbed a fresh kombucha from the fridge, wishing it was something stronger.

Franklin and his little worm friend’s (Harry didn’t think the bugger deserved a sweet name like the alocasia did—it was still a disgusting creature that made his skin crawl) company did little to satiate the aching loneliness he was feeling throughout the following day.

Finally, a message came through his phone from an unknown number.

unknown: hey harry, it’s y/n! did you still want to come over today?

harry: howd you get my number

Even through a screen, Harry managed to blurt out the first thing that popped into his head. Fuck. Shit. She’s gonna think he’s avoiding the question! He rapidly began composing a second message, but the three little dots appeared and interrupted his flying thumbs.

y/n: your message on the answering machine at work.

by the way, that was hilarious

harry: right, well. sorry for that

and yes, id love to come over.

y/n: no worries, i saved it to listen to when i need a laugh.

haha cool here’s my address

harry: should i bring food or wine or something?

A new wave of anxiety washed over him as he looked at the address she’d sent. Now what? What would they do? Would he just drop off his sweaters and leave? Or would she invite him in? What would he say then?

y/n: just bring yourself and your sweaters, mon petit!

Harry was speechless. Much like the shop she worked at, Y/N’s apartment could rival an actual jungle. Greenery of all different shapes and shades and sizes lined the walls, and while they had the exact same floor plan, it was an entirely different world than the one Harry was living in.

Y/N, meanwhile, effortlessly sauntered deeper into her space. She looked like she belonged there, obviously, but Harry felt like a fish out of water.

“They won’t bite, you know,” Y/N giggled, noticing his apprehension. She was watching him patiently with something like fondness in her eyes. Harry felt her careful gaze on him, but the magnificent green scene around him claimed his attention—but not for long.

Gently, Y/N took his fingers between hers and pulled him deeper into her space. Harry stumbled over his feet, craning his head to look at the plants hanging from the ceiling. How the hell did she even water those?

Y/N couldn’t help but smile. He looked adorable, like a child at Disneyland. She swore his eyes were actually twinkling as the greenery in the room made the color pop against his skin even more than usual.

“This is…incredible,” He said, finally turning back to meet her eyes with his own. “You’re incredible.” He set down his bag of sweaters on the floor by his feet. They could certainly wait.

Something about the praise and the way he was looking at her like she hung the moon was making Y/N absolutely swoon for the man. It was impossible not to notice how much he adored her. He looked at her the same way she looked at Delilah, at all the things she loved. Things. She wasn’t sure she’d ever actually loved a person before. But this man with the holes in his sweaters and the permanent flush in his cheeks was planting himself deep in her heart.

But she’d never let him see that.

“…I make lots of my clothes myself…” She was talking about how she learned to sew from where she was sitting on her couch. Harry noticed that she’d arranged her living room differently than he had. While he had a single gray couch in the middle of the room, her sofa was against the window, inviting the evening sunset to gently warm the pale pink cushions.

“Did ya make those pants you were wearing the other day?” He asked with genuine curiosity, continuing to poke around the plants and knitted blankets and woven fruit baskets that littered the entire space.

Harry turned to face her just in time to catch her flashing a knowing smile. “Yes. Should I make a pair for you as well?”

“Yes, please.”

“I’m sure your ass will look great in them, too.”

“Ah—shut up!” Harry laughed, fiddling with the leaves of one of her hanging plants. He recognized this one.

An easy smile still graced his lips as he murmured “It’s a philodendron,” half to her and half to himself. Now that some of the extensive plant research he’d been doing over the past few days had indeed stuck, it was easy for him to identify by its telltale heart shaped leaves.

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up, “That’s right,” she said, sounding impressed. “She’s called Delilah.”

Harry hummed, unable to focus on words when she was giving him her full attention like that.

“She’d be cute next to Franklin, don’t ya think?” She continued, tiptoeing closer to him. She stood behind him, peering over his shoulder at the plant much like she’d done to Franklin a few days earlier. The fabric of his brown sweater was soft against her fingers as she wrapped her arms around him. Harry tensed. He had longed to do the same thing to her when their positions had been reversed a few days ago, but chickened out. But as always, Y/N’s actions were confident and smooth. The thought of her face against his knit-clad back and the feeling of her soft hands around his middle made his head spin.

Yes, he thought, she’s cute next to everything. She’s fucking adorable…

And again, Harry was struck with the thought that he should have seen this coming. It was such a Y/N move—the way she confidently pressed on his shoulders to sit him on the couch and proceeded to smoothly kneel over his thighs. His heart raced as she sank to his eye level, straddling his lap.

“You’ve got pretty eyes,” Harry said almost absently, as if lost in them. Y/N looked kind of surprised that the words came out of his mouth. She’s sort of confused by him, by the way he makes her feel. He had this nervous, chaotic energy surrounding him, as if his mind was going a mile a minute at all times. It didn’t make any difference to him though—a racing heart didn’t stop him from enjoying the feeling of the insides of her thighs against his.

Y/N suddenly grabbed one of his flushed cheeks in her palm and turned his face to hers, letting him get a good look at her eyes. “Think so?” She grinned with a hint of her customary cockiness.

Harry nodded in response to the playful question, caught up in her smirk. He reckoned it was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. Once again, she proved him wrong when she licked her lip. She studied him seductively while his own eyes, of course, flicked down to where her tongue was swiping over her lips. Her tongue was pillowy, gentle, and…distracting…In the next instant, she’d pulled his face to hers and met his lips with her own.

Despite having been mentally begging for her to kiss him since the moment they’d met, he was still a little caught off guard. Quickly, he began to relish in the feeling of her warm hand holding his cheek and soft lips pressing tenderly on his. He kissed her back gently, but with urgency—as if he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He let his hands wander slowly from her knees up her thighs, her hips, settling comfortably on her waist. His heart skipped a beat when she pulled back a millimeter.

“Is this okay?” Harry let out a concerned whisper.

Y/N smiled effortlessly and nodded. Of course it was okay, it was better than okay.

“Thought I’d proper fucked up my chance with you ages ago,” he murmured against her lips. Now that he’d gotten a taste of her sweet lips, he was truly a fucking goner.

“I thought so too, frankly,” she laughed fondly at him, “But you reeled me in with your charm and wit...” She shook her head and furrowed her brows sarcastically, “...Your true gift for horticulture, your brilliant sewing skills, your excellent taste in beverages...” she continued lecturing him in between sweet pecks on the lips.

Harry giggled at her mock-compliments, tugging her impossibly closer by the waist. She relaxed her chest into his and easily wrapped her own arms around his neck.

“You’re an absolute pest you know?” Harry teased her, confidence growing as she caressed his skin, “I oughta get a buncha those damn bug stickers to catch you!”

“You sure about that?” She smiled bigger, eyes wide and innocent as sat back on his legs. She continued to feed him sweet words as she trailed her fingers down his sweater, the mock compliments melting into sincere ones. Harry’s own smile grew as she mumbled how she adored his soft hands and blushy cheeks and gentle disposition…

Her words were innocent, but her fingers began tracking a sinful course downward, and he twitched in his sweatpants as she cheekily palmed him through the fabric. He was putty in her hands, reduced to a pile of mush by her eyes that twinkled with playful innocence and mischief and unmistakeable lust. The soft hands and gentle, innocent praises falling from her lips were making his cock bloat and head spin. Just as he was getting into it—moaning and whimpering for her to please don’t stop…she shoved her arms between his body and the couch cushion and delivered a firm squeeze to his ass.

“That’s for calling me a pest, you pest!”

She roared with laughter and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tight to her chest.

Harry’s desperate, high pitched whine quickly melted into joyous laughter. He couldn’t help it—she was so lovely and beautiful and playful and cheeky and of course, he should’ve seen a stunt like this coming. She was a pest indeed, but Harry had already decided to love her. Perhaps decided wasn’t the word—no, his love for her sprouted and grew like a strong and beautiful vine holding them together.

“Now how about I make you come for real and then fix the holes in those sweaters like you fixed the holes in my heart?”

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

thank you for reading <3

talk to me about harry and y/n and franklin and delilah!