dreamy | harry styles one-shots

another cheatrry check-in

Y/N is sweating.

She swallows tightly as she feels a bead of sweat sliver its way down the back of her neck. Normally, she's the only one who cares about attending the monthly parent meetings at her kids' school. Normally, her husband couldn't care less, and normally, Harry stays as far away as humanly possible from her.

But of course, tonight isn't normal.

Why would it be?

Because tonight, Y/N's husband showed up to his first school event in months. And when Harry walked in, his eyes zeroed in on the woman he's been secretly hooking up with and instantly noticed the empty seat next to her.

So now, Y/N is wedged between the man she's married to, who hardly even acknowledges her presence half the time, and the man she's having an affair with, who offers her too much attention, only on his terms.

She knows Harry won't say anything too obvious in front of everyone, but the fact that he even chose the seat next to her is enough to have her stomach swarming with nerves. So much so that she can't focus on what the principal is droning on about — was it a new school lunch initiative, or had they moved on from that 20 minutes ago? — and instead is entirely too fixated on the way Harry's flexing his ring-clad fingers over the fabric of his plaid trousers.

She takes a quiet breath in an attempt to recenter herself. She shouldn't be having flashbacks to a few days ago, when those very fingers were knuckle-deep in her pussy. Or the week prior, when he took her from behind in the bed that she and her husband slept in (albeit feet apart), moaning and writhing as he circled the rim of her asshole with his thumb.

She begins to wonder if he's intentionally trying to distract her. On her other side, her husband is essentially dead weight, and she ponders why he even decided to tag along tonight anyway. He rarely shows care towards their children's education, instead opting for showcases of opulence and wealth as his preferred love language. It had gotten old for Y/N years ago — hence why she sought out other... opportunities.

Crossing her legs, she rotates her ankle as she, yet again, adjusts her focus to the speaker in front of them. They've moved onto the topic of the school's annual end-of-year fundraiser — this year, they're raising money for a new front garden (why a school needs one of those is a mystery to her) and parents are eagerly offering ways to help. Hardly anyone ever wants to volunteer to actually work the event, instead sending a donation or something to bid on.

"Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N, will you two be donating anything to the fundraiser this year?"

Principal Baker's question rips her out of her hamster wheel of thinking and she swallows thickly, her lips parting nervously. Harry must sense that she's floundering because ever so smoothly, he crosses a leg over the other and leans forward to speak up.

"I believe Mrs. Y/L/N was talking about volunteering for the event," he says, never once even darting a glance her way. "I would like to as well. The twins have been begging me to get move involved."

The crowd chuckles at Harry's effortless charm and Principal Baker claps his hands excitedly. From beside her, Y/N's husband leans over to catch her ear.

"I have a golf trip that weekend. I won't be in town." he mutters. Y/N tries her hardest not to roll her eyes. It was a rather predictable move on his part.

When the meeting finally comes to an end, Y/N's eager to get as far away from both Harry and her husband. She's not upset that he tossed her name in to volunteer (she's a stay-at-home mom who sucks at baking, crafting, and cooking, so she really has nothing else to offer), but the mere position of being between the duo has pushed her far over the cusp of discomfort. As her husband rises to predictably tend to the snack table, she immediately darts away to rush to the bathroom.

She allows herself a few minutes of privacy in one of the stalls, breathing slowly and deeply. She knows Harry sat next to her to fuck with her. She knows her husband doesn't have a golf trip that weekend, but now he's probably scheduling one as she stands here (either that, or he's texting his mistress — she wouldn't be surprised if he had one, and she couldn't blame him, either).

Her eyes only flutter open when she hears the door swing open, and she hopes it's not one of the nosy moms asking when she and Harry became friends.

But then, she hears an all-too familiar voice, followed by the click of a lock.

"Y/N?"

She freezes, her eyes widening.

"I know you're in here," Harry continues, his tone bored, "You couldn't get away from there sooner."

Swallowing tightly, she unlocks the stall and sends a glare his way. She steps forward to the sink to wash her hands.

"You shouldn't have sat next to me. That was mortifying."

"Why?"

"Because," she huffs, ripping a piece of paper towel to dry the moisture away, "It just was."

"If you can't handle sitting next to me, you should figure out another way to volunteer your time for the fundraiser."

Y/N narrows her eyes at him. "I didn't need you to do that, either."

He shrugs.

"Are you really that angry?" he asks, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his pants.

"No. I just didn't like being in that situation."

"Sooner or later, you have to admit to yourself that you're cheating on him."

"I know I am," she says through grit teeth, "We don't have to fucking parade it, though."

Harry hums, an irritating and noncommittal sound, and she reaches for her phone in her purse to make sure her husband isn't looking for her.

"Rumor has it, he's whisking Theresa DeSorbo away that weekend anyway."

For the second time, her movements stall. A smirk curves at the edges of Harry's lips.

"Don't tell me you didn't know he was fucking her."

"I didn't," she admits, a bit forcefully, "I mean, I'm not surprised he has someone. I just didn't know it."

Again, Harry shrugs. "We've been sleeping together longer."

"It's not a competition." she mumbles as she lifts her palm to her forehead. She feels a bit dizzy; the actualization that her husband is seeing someone else still not fully processing.

"Don't get upset," he murmurs, walking towards her. Slowly, backs her up against the sink until her bum is pressed up against the cool marble. She swallows, blinking at him. "You know you deserve better than him anyway. Your pussy deserves better."

"I have nothing to be upset about." she mutters.

"Exactly."

When he sees that her mind is still whirring, he cups her chin in his palm, bringing it up to face him. His thumb plucks at her bottom lip, allowing himself to pull it before watching it snap back into place.

"You're a good girl, Y/N. He never deserved you. Not for a second."

Y/N scoffs. "You don't mean that."

Harry's mouth curves into a slight frown.

"I do," he says. He takes a step back before checking the watch around his wrist. "The twins have soccer practice tomorrow at 4. Let me know if you want to come by."

And with that, he's gone.

When Y/N finally musters the energy to check her phone, her husband still hasn't texted or called.