dreamy | harry styles one-shots

cheatrry check-in

Harry's not an oblivious man.

More often than not, he considers himself to be an empath, easily picking up on mood changes pertaining to those around him. With his ex-wife, he could tell if she'd had a bad day at work just by the way she walked through the front door. With Y/N, it's much, much easier, because, for the first time ever, she's clearly avoiding him.

When he texted for their weekly hookup, she churned out some bullshit excuse about landscapers being at the house all day. (There weren't. Call him insane, but he drove by on her lunch break, and her front and back yards were so quiet, you'd be able to hear the sound of leaves falling.)

And while they normally don't interact much at school pickup — usually Harry's being swarmed by hungry MILFs who he politely rejects each and every time — she's taken to wearing a large pair of sunglasses over her eyes, almost as if she's physically attempting to hide from him. It's odd and it makes him concerned, even if he's the one that's repeated the same sentiment regarding their situation a million times over ("no feelings, just sex").

His brain launches itself into the worst places it could possibly go, so on Thursday afternoon, exactly one week and a day since they last slept together, Harry tries to casually mosey over to her car as she stands there, waiting for her kids to leave school. He watches as she visibly clenches her jaw and he clears his throat, standing next to her but refusing to give her eye contact. There's a reason they don't ever speak too much at pickup time, and it's always to make sure no one suspects anything.

"You're avoiding me." he says through gritted teeth. She inhales through her nose and he peers down from the corner of his eye to see her expression. It's difficult to tell when she's wearing those ridiculously oversized sunglasses.

"I'm not avoiding you." she mutters, leaning her hip against the bumper of her black SUV.

"Then why haven't I seen you?"

Her nostrils flare as she runs her tongue over her teeth.

"It's barely been two weeks, Harry. Don't be dramatic."

He resists the urge to snort and crosses his arms over his chest. "Well fuck me for wanting to make sure you're alright."

"Keep your voice down," she grumbles, flashing a forced smile to a mom who passes by them. She clears her throat and pushes her sunglasses into her hair. Harry's relieved to finally be able to see her eyes. "I might be... pregnant."

Despite the drop in his stomach, he's able to maintain a stoic expression. He's no longer the foolish teenager he once was — he and Y/N are both fully capable adults and would know how to approach an unwanted pregnancy, need be. What scares him more is the prospect of her wanting to keep the baby.

His mind is whirring at a million miles per hour when she grits out his name, bringing him back down to earth. He coughs.

"My period is late but I haven't had a chance to pick up a test yet, so don't get your panties in a twist." she replies lowly. They hear the school bell ring, signaling the official end to the day. They have about four minutes before the kids come running out through the front.

"I'll pick you up tonight at 9. Tell your husband you're having a baking emergency or some shit."

Y/N doesn't have a chance to fight him before he's walking away, headed back in the direction of his car to wait for his twins.

...

Harry parks down the road from Y/N's house at 9 pm on the dot.

He feels like some sort of shitty spy with the way he's turned his car lights off as he waits for Y/N to get in. He texted her as soon as he got there — they used to have a secret code word for their rendezvouses but it's been months since they started, and Harry thinks they could fuck right in front of her husband and he wouldn't even notice.