Velvet Knives

He watched her from the back corner of the library - sleeves tugged over his hands, eyes soft enough to make her forget the shadows behind them.

Until the night the shadows stepped out.

Y/N was never the girl who screamed. She scoffed. She broke bones. She walked away - even when her legs shook.

Now the boy with soft eyes has blood on his gloves, a quiet claim on her name, and a file she was never meant to burn.

This isn't a love story with cages and chains. It's a story about knives hidden in velvet - and the choice to cut free, again and again.

Slow-burn. No smut. Just fire under skin, secrets in the dark, and a girl who'd rather ruin everything than be owned.