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PULSE [H.S]

PULSE [H.S]

Reads 400,138
Votes 9,801
Parts 125

MatureComplete Sat, Aug 24, 202422h 9m

Fanfic

1Direction

Tags1d 1dboys 1directionfanfic 1dsmut boxing

[COMPLETED] Kizalyn Reeves has fiercely fought to establish stability after a turbulent upbringing. While opening her tattoo parlor offered hope, an abusive relationship cast a shadow over her newfound independence. Determined to defend herself, she turns to boxing at Knockout Arena, only to encounter an arrogant instructor. Despite his hot-tempered attitude, she finds herself drawn to his circle of friends. However, a late-night visit uncovers the gym's sinister secrets, plunging Kizalyn into a dangerous world she didn't know existed. Her world is shattered by a single gunshot, forcing her to place trust in an unlikely ally-the very person that pulled the trigger. -- "115," he says, his breath hitting my face. I stammer, "What?" "That's how high your pulse is right now," he says as he presses his body further against mine, closing any gap that existed between us. His thumb grazes over my lips, his eyes dark. His hands are off of me abruptly, and he walks away, heading for the stairs. I stare after him, unable to move from my position against the wall. He looks back at me, a coy smirk forming on his face. He says, "I'm dying to find out how high I can make it go." -- **WARNING This story contains heavy use of violence, drug abuse, domestic abuse, sexual content, drug addiction, and illegal activities. Read at your own discretion. Disclaimer: The characters depicted in this story share names with famous individuals, but they are entirely fictional and do not represent or depict any real-life personalities.

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Deceptive {H.S}

"Why do you care?" he asks. But it's not soft. It's sharp, defensive, like he's already bracing for the answer. I want to tell him the truth. Because you saved me. Because you're the only one who makes me feel real. Because if you fall apart, I don't know what happens to the rest of us. Instead, I just say, "Maybe I want to understand." He scoffs, no humor in it. "You don't. Trust me." Silence stretches between us. Then he steps forward, close enough that I can see the way his hands won't stop shaking. "You already know too much," he says, voice low. "More than you ever should've." I don't look away. "Then tell me the rest." He shakes his head. "It's not your place. You don't get to ask." "But I am asking." He exhales sharply. "Jesus, Lily. This isn't a story with a clean ending. I'm not a mystery. I'm a goddamn warning sign. I'm dangerous." I flinch, but I don't move. And that pisses him off more. He takes a step back like he's going to leave, then pauses. His eyes flick to my jacket. In one quick motion, he reaches in and pulls out the burner phone. "I think this belongs to me," he says, tone sharp but quiet. No accusation. Just fact. I don't respond. Just watch as he slips it into his pocket, like closing a door I wasn't supposed to open. He looks at me for one long second, jaw clenched. "Go home," he says again, this time like a warning. And this time, I believe him. He crushes the cigarette under his boot, turns his back, and walks down the alley, leaving me standing in the dark. - Lily didn't ask to be assigned to him. Harry Styles is a name whispered like a warning, famous for his ink, infamous for everything else. Brooding. Untouchable. But Lily has a habit of looking too closely. And when she finds something she shouldn't, the line between curiosity and consequence begins to blur. He told her to stay away. She should've listened. - TW: emotional abuse, manipulation, drugs, sex, violence, trauma.

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