Harry Styles Smut

{5} Stepbrother

five: step siblings aren't related so that makes it okay... right?

~•~

Harry is the most annoying person in the world!

Here I am, the night before my first date with Dan, trying to get a good night sleep so I don't have visible bags under my eyes and he's decided to play guitar at full volume. I groan and roll over to check the time on the digital clock sat on my desk, counting down the minutes of my slumber without a care; 00:47 am.

You're joking.

I have to get up in just over 7 hours and he's making such a racket my head is literally throbbing. I huff again and whip the covers from off my body, stepping my feet into the fluffy slippers by the side of my bed and standing up - my head spinning slightly from the abrupt change in position.

I blindly make my way through the pitch black room, trodding towards the dim yellow light shining through the door frame from the top floor landing. It's only Harry and I that sleep on the attic floor, taking up the two medium sized bedrooms and sharing a bathroom (ew).

I wasn't too pleased when I got removed from my en suit bedroom on the second floor when the Styles family moved in. Gemma, Harry's older sister, got my old room while I was shoved up here with the smelly, less liked Styles sibling.

I roll my eyes as I open the door, not happy with this recurring issue I seem to face every time I go to sleep with plans to meet someone the next day. Squinting my eyes from the sudden invasion of bright light, I reach for the switch and dim the bulb to make it more bearable, Harry's door slightly ajar and a low melody flowing across the corridor.

I shuffle towards his room, knuckles grazing the door in attempt to seem like I'm actually polite. I hear his deep english accent mutter a "come in" and push the wooden threshold open, he's sat - legs wide - on the edge of his bed closest to the door with the light brown guitar his jolly Irish friend Niall taught him to play perched on his lap.

His features are relaxed and unbothered as he strums a low melody on the guituar. "Could you maybe not play your guitar at 1 am? You've had all day to practice and I'm trying get some sleep, you may not know this bu-"

"...but you're going on a date tomorrow and need beauty sleep because if you don't there's no way Dan will like you with cracked skin and dark, puffy eyes," he says with a monotone voice.

I furrow my eyebrows, "So you know?"

He finally looks up at me, his eyes not missing my exposed legs due to my pyjama shorts being fairly... short? "Yes, I know. You haven't stopped banging on about it since he asked you out last Tuesday."

I roll my eyes in annoyance, "then you know how excited I am. So, please, stop playing your guitar!"

He shrugs and continues to strum the melody, "why should I? Just put headphones in."

"Stop playing, oh my god, it's not that hard to put the guitar down and sleep!"

"Why are you so annoyed?" He asks while shaking his head, a smirk gracing his lips like he's happy he's irking me.

"Beacuse... ugh, just shut up!" I demand, crossing my arms to seem more intimidating.

His eyebrows raise at my attitude and he grabs the guitar by it's neck, setting it on the bed to his left and standing up. He stalks towards me like a predator to it's prey, eyes filled with iritation as his jaw locks and he swallows harshly, "make me"

The words he growls are definetly the last response I expected, something said in some sort of porno movie not between fighting step-siblings. I scoff and shove him back by placing my hands on his chest, throughly surprised when he doesn't budge an inch and instead steps closer.