Daydreams | Harry Styles One Shots

Thrill Of The Hunt.

Part Two of Thrill Of The Chase.

Hi, little devils!

Here we are again. You've been asking for part two of Thrillrry for a while, and I've had most of this written for a year so.... Happy Harryween.

This is a continuation of Thrill Of The Chase. Make sure you've read that first!

There's a bit more of a backstory with him and you get closure with this one so this will be the very end of Thrillrry.

CONTENT WARNINGS:
blood, violence, death, descriptive violence, language.

SEXUAL CONTENT:
-group sex, blood play, knife play, collar play, anal play, bondage, consensual non-consent (kind of), spanking, squirting, toys, mask kink, pain kink, pain kink, pain. kink.

Word count: 12.4k

Come and find me, little devils.

***

1995.

One year before the Haunted House.

The first time had been an accident.

A horrible, nightmarish accident.

He had been driven by a red, blinding rage that rendered him uncontrollable. Taking control of his mind, not releasing him until it was too late and the damage was done.

In the back of what remained of his mind, he knew he couldn't salvage it. He'd been pushed to the brink of animalistic anger by someone who knew his triggers. Someone he had once considered a friend.

As he came to, covered in splatters of blood, he felt something ignite inside of him. The sticky warmth of the crimson on his hands enticed a tingling heat that he had never felt before. As if defrosting the icy pain in his soul, the streams of it sharp and frigid.

The body underneath him, seeping into a lifeless state, fearful eyes leaving earth side.

He didn't feel panic. He felt... relief.

There was this... ringing in his ears. As if every sense was honing in on the knife in his hand and the life he'd taken with it.

Smeared in red serenity, the divinity of fatality.

The fury of being pushed too far subsided with the ultimate control. But the taking of someone's life also solidified the loss of the last shred of sanity he had. He wasn't the same after that. He couldn't be.

Every time after that had been purely impulsive.

He could say his life was mundane. The tame beast inside of him was sheltered by the concern of control. Wrath he unleashed when he knew he really needed to. He worked most days, a relaxed job at his local pub where he'd pretend he didn't have blood on his hands.

But that's not to say that he didn't think about it. He'd be out for his weekly grocery shop and spot a pretty girl browsing the aisle. He'd imagine following her to her car. Following her home. Sneaking into her house and hiding somewhere. Make sure she knew she was being watched. Witness her paranoia kick in, and strike when the fear paralysed her.

Or if he saw a man who was eagerly trying to capture his attention. Throwing him flirtatious gazes and subtle hints. And he'd smile back, entice him in and trap him. Charm him and spin a web that was inescapable.