harsh > harry styles au

🅃🄷🅁🄴🄴

As Jetta stepped back into the house, the silence felt oppressive, weighed down by the unresolved arguments of the day. The tension that had been building seemed to thicken the air around her.

Before she could fully close the door behind her, Harry’s voice cut through the quiet like a knife. “Jetta! Where have you been? You didn’t even bother to let me know you were leaving. I’ve been worried sick.”

Jetta froze in the doorway, taken aback by his sudden outburst. “Oh, come on, Harry. I went out with my friend. I didn’t think I needed to check in with you like I’m a child.”

Harry’s face turned a shade darker, his anger evident. “This isn’t about treating you like a child. It’s about basic respect and communication. You’re living under this roof, and you should be keeping me informed.”

She crossed her arms defiantly, her frustration boiling over. “Respect? Communication? This is just you trying to control everything. I’m not here to play by your rules.”

Harry’s anger escalated. “It’s not about control. It’s about understanding that there are expectations. And right now, because you chose to ignore those expectations, there will be consequences.”

Jetta rolled her eyes, her patience wearing thin. “Consequences? Are you kidding me? You’re really going to punish me like I’m a kid?”

Harry’s expression hardened, his hands unbuckling his belt. “Yes, I am. You need to learn that your actions have repercussions. And right now, that means facing a punishment.”

Her eyes widened in shock and anger. “Punishment? What is this, the Dark Ages? You’re going to use that on me?" She pointed to his leather belt. "You’ve got to be out of your mind!”

Harry’s face remained stern. “You’re going to understand that there are rules and consequences. If you can’t see that, then this is what’s going to happen.”

Jetta was seething now, her face flushed with anger. “No way! I’m not going to let you treat me like this. I’m not afraid of you."

Harry’s frustration was palpable. “Get over here."

She stepped back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “You think this is going to solve anything? It's just going to make things worse! I can’t believe you’re actually serious about this.”

Harry’s jaw tightened as he glared at her. “It’s not about what you think is fair or not. It’s about you learning that actions have consequences. If you want to keep pushing boundaries, then you’ll have to face the consequences.”

Jetta let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “This is insane. You’re not my parent, and you have no right to dictate my life like this. I don’t need your twisted version of discipline.”

Harry’s frustration turned into cold resolve. “Fine. If you can’t accept that this is how things are, then you’ll just have to deal with it. But don’t think this is over. We’ll address this again soon.”

With that, Harry turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Jetta standing in the hallway, fuming and disbelieving. The house, once a refuge, now felt like a battleground. The anger and defiance inside her mixed with a lingering sense of injustice, leaving her to wrestle with the harsh reality of her new living situation.

♡

Jetta slammed the door hard behind her as she entered her bedroom, the sound echoing through the house with a finality that matched her mood. The walls, decorated with posters of Imagine Dragons and Fifth Harmony, seemed to close in around her as her anger simmered. Her mind raced, a chaotic whirl of fury and disbelief. Harry’s rigid, authoritarian stance felt like a betrayal, and the thought of him trying to control her life like this was infuriating.

She paced around her room, her steps heavy and erratic. The cat clock on the wall ticked loudly, each second stretching into an eternity of frustration. She glanced at her princess pink bed, where a few scattered clothes lay. The thought of being subjected to some twisted form of punishment made her blood boil. She was seventeen, not a child, and she refused to be treated like one.

As the anger built up, so did her resolve. She stormed over to her closet, yanking open the doors with such force that the hangers clattered against each other. Clothes, neatly organized, were hastily pulled from their hangers and shoved into her hot pink duffel bag. Shirts, jeans, and her favorite pink denim jacket were hastily packed with little regard for their condition. Her movements were frantic, fueled by a mix of defiance and desperation.

In the corner of her room, her small desk held a few personal items—a framed photo of her with Carly, a stack of notebooks, and a couple of mementos from high school. She grabbed the photo and carefully slipped it into the duffel bag, her fingers lingering on the frame for a moment. It was a reminder of a simpler time, a stark contrast to the chaotic present. The notebooks followed, their contents less important but symbolic of her need to escape.

She darted around the room, throwing random items into her bag—makeup, a pair of Nike sneakers, a few novels that she couldn’t bear to leave behind. With each item packed, her resolve grew stronger. The idea of running away seemed more like an act of liberation than a desperate measure. She was reclaiming her independence, or at least that’s what she told herself.

As she zipped up the duffle bag, she cast a last, bitter glance around her bedroom. It was meant to be her sanctuary, but now it felt severely tainted by Harry’s oppressive expectations. The room, once a space of comfort and security, now seemed like a cage. With her bag slung over her shoulder, she felt a pang of sadness at the thought of leaving it behind, but that emotion was quickly overshadowed by her determination to break free.

She tiptoed to the door, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and excitement. The house was eerily quiet, the silence a stark contrast to the argument that had just erupted. She cracked the door open and peeked into the hallway, ensuring that Harry was out of sight. The adrenaline made her movements almost silent as she made her way toward the front door.

Reaching the entrance, she hesitated for a moment, her hand on the doorknob. She could still hear the faint hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen and the occasional creak of the house settling. For a split second, she wondered if she was making a huge mistake, but the thought of Harry’s rigid control pushed her forward.

She pulled open the door and stepped out into the cool evening air. The night sky was a deep navy blue, speckled with stars, and the neighborhood was quiet, except for the distant hum of traffic. Jetta took a deep breath, feeling a sense of freedom mingled with the weight of uncertainty. She looked back one last time at the house, the place that had become a battleground for her independence.

With a final, resolute nod to herself, she turned and walked away, her duffel bag swinging at her side. Each step felt like a step toward reclaiming her life, though she knew the road ahead was uncertain. The cool night air was a stark contrast to the stifling atmosphere she had left behind, and as she walked down the street, she tried to quiet the nagging voice of doubt in her mind.

Jetta was on her own now, and while the future was a vast unknown, it was hers to navigate.

♡

Author's/Note:

Hi lovelies! Thanks for enjoying my story so far! I'll be rewriting the previous chapters in third-person perspective. I'm not really feeling the second-person perspective anymore.

Please comment/vote/enjoy ♡♡♡

Love, Lily ♡