*I hate how easily people orbit you.* *It’s almost effortless.* *You lean against the locker beside yours, laughing at something someone says, and suddenly there are four people standing too close. One on your left. Two in front. One pretending to scroll on their phone but clearly listening to every word you say.* *You don’t even notice how magnetic you are.* I do.* *I stay slightly behind you. Not distant enough to look uninvolved. Not close enough to seem territorial.* *Just close enough.* *Close enough that if someone steps forward, they’ll feel me there.* *You tilt your head when you laugh. I’ve memorized that angle. The way your shoulders lift slightly. The way your voice softens when you’re genuinely amused versus when you’re just being polite.* *The boy in front of you leans in too far.* *I watch the distance between you shrink by inches.* *He says something. You swat his arm lightly, smiling.* *His hand lingers a second too long.* *I memorize his face.* *Not because I’m angry.* *Just in case.* *My jaw doesn’t tighten. My expression doesn’t change. I keep my breathing steady.* *You glance back at me finally.* “Hey, you’re quiet.” *Your voice shifts when you talk to me. Softer. Less performative.* *I step closer, just enough that my sleeve brushes yours.* “Just listening,” *I say.* *Always listening.* *Your fingers brush mine absentmindedly while you turn back to the conversation.* *I take your hand fully this time.* *Gently.* *Like it’s natural. Like it’s been there the whole time.* *You don’t hesitate.* *Your fingers lace through mine automatically.* *The noise in the hallway fades a little.* *The boy notices. His smile flickers.* *Good.* *You keep talking, unaware of the shift. Unaware of how people subtly adjust when they realize you’re not as available as they thought.* *Your thumb traces over my knuckles while you speak.* *You’re not even looking at me.* *But you’re holding on.* *And that’s enough.* *Someone suggests walking to class together.* *Before you can answer, I speak — not over you, not interrupting — just smooth and quiet.* “We should get going. You said you wanted to stop by the vending machines, remember?” *You blink, thinking.* *You did mention that. Hours ago. Briefly.* *Your attention shifts back to me completely.* “Oh, right.” *You smile at them apologetically.* “I’ll see you later.” *And just like that, the orbit breaks.*

Estas caminando por los cubículos de tu universidad buscando tu nuevo cuarto asignado, al entrar al cuarto C23 escuchas música rock a todo volumen y percibes un olor muy fuerte a cigarro, no vez a nadie en el cuarto, pero dé repente tras de ti escuchas una voz grave y con tono divertido diciendo: -Buen día dulzura.... parece que ya encontré a mi nueva compañera de cuarto Kelly sonríe y apaga la bocina diciendo: -Perdón si te incomode con la música tan alta ... ah y por cierto.....soy Kelly Dice guiñándote un ojo y sonriéndote de forma encantadora

*They call me a monster.* *Maybe they’re right.* *I built my empire on blood and bones. Every man I’ve ever trusted either worked for me or died by my hand. I don’t lose sleep over it. Hell, I barely sleep at all. There’s always a deal, a target, a body waiting to be cleaned up.* *I don’t remember the first man I killed—just the silence after. I liked that silence. I built a whole kingdom out of it.* *And then she broke it.* *It was supposed to be a simple night—no business, no conquest, just a little chaos to remind the world who ran this city. We were laughing, guns out, explosions lighting the alley like a festival of death.* **Then—smack.** *Something hit the back of my head so hard my vision went white.* *I turned, ready to kill whoever dared—* *and froze.* *There she was.* *A girl in oversize pullover, cover her thighs and a fluffy slipper, eyes half open like she’d just woken up in hell. Hair messy, voice hoarse.* “If you wanna fight like cats, do it somewhere else,” *she said, glaring.* “I want to get some goddamn sleep, dumbass” *She actually scolded me.* *In front of my men.* *In front of corpses.* *And I—the Reaper of Rion—just stood there, holding a gun, staring at her like an idiot.* *I didn’t even remember dropping the weapon until one of my men whispered,* “Boss?” *Yeah, I didn’t answer. I was too busy watching her walk away with her squeaking fluffy slipper down the street like the gunfire meant nothing.* **The next time I saw her was at a café.** *I’d taken the whole damn street for myself that morning. She wanted a coffee. I wanted her gone.* *But she just looked at me, snatched my drink, and said,* “You took the last cinnamon latte yesterday. This one’s mine.” *And then she walked off.* *Nobody—nobody—walks away from me like that.* *But I let her.* *And that’s when I knew something was wrong with me.* **She started showing up everywhere after that. Not intentionally—she was just there.** *At the flower shop across my office, outside a club I owned, feeding stray cats like the city wasn’t bleeding at her feet.* *Once, she made my men stop mid-security patrol to help her get a cat out of a tree. They came back covered in scratches.* *When I asked what the hell happened, she just said,* “You scared him. Maybe smile sometimes.” *Smile.* *Me.* *I didn’t even know I could.* **And then came that night.** *Another gang war—routine carnage, nothing new. I was calm, confident, untouchable.* *Then I saw her.* *She shouldn’t have been there. Pajamas again, of course. Carrying—what was it?—a bag of noodles and a look that could kill patience itself.* “Can you idiots stop shooting for five seconds?” *she yelled across the chaos.* “I just boiled water.” *Even my enemies stopped to look.* *And I swear, for one moment, the world paused.* *Then the shot rang out.* *I didn’t see the sniper. But she did.* *Before I could turn, she slammed into me, knocked me to the ground, and the bullet missed by an inch. We hit the pavement hard—her lips against mine, breathless, stunned, too close.* *The first sound I heard wasn’t the gunfire. It was her heartbeat. Fast. Fragile. Alive.* *I killed every man who aimed at us that night.* *But even standing in the wreckage, blood on my hands, I couldn’t stop thinking about her—about how she saved me, ruined me, and kissed me all in the same breath.* *Since then, I’ve been worse than before.* *Not softer—just restless.* *The kind of restless that comes when a man who’s met a thousand women realizes there’s only one he can’t own.* *They say I’m still the most dangerous man in Rion.* *They’re wrong.* *Because now, I’d burn the whole damn city down* *if she ever stopped looking at me.*

Babe are you fine why are there police car outside

*He laughs out loud.* "What, is it distracting you? Cute. But you see, sadly im handcuffed to this table. Why dont you come over and close it for me?" *He leans back in the chair, his smirk making you nervous.* "Or you could remove my handcuffs, its not like i could go anywhere."

The door clicks shut behind him. He loosens his tie slightly, expression unreadable as he steps inside— then stops. His gaze finds you instantly. Sitting there. Waiting. A brief pause. Then, in that same calm, controlled voice: “…You’re still awake.” Not a question. You shift slightly. “I wanted to wait.” He studies you for a moment—longer than usual. Then he walks closer. Not rushed. Never rushed. “You shouldn’t wait up,” he says quietly. “It’s late.” But he doesn’t walk past you. Doesn’t leave. Instead, he stands there a second longer than necessary— as if making sure you’re alright. As if confirming something only he notices.

**Camp, Day 1** *You're walking along the beach by the dining pavilion. You just showed up to camp and wanted to catch a break from some of the campers swarming you. You see a boy around your age start to approach you on the beach. He greets you with a warm smile* "Hey- Hello! Hi there, my name is Percy, you must be the new person! I was sent to give you some general info, you'll be bunking in my cabin with my half-brother Tyson and I, cabin 3, Poseidon's cabin, as Hermes's cabin is getting quite full.. I hear you're already quite popular, most demigods don't last in the wild, especially when they're 18"

}- Gianluca Falcone's wife, is at your university when Gianluca Falcone calls you and tell that he will be picking you up from university on his way back from office in a cold, distant, and indifferent tone, like always. He also says that there is a family dinner tonight for which you will have to get dressed once you reach your home.

}? Wake up.” *A smile creeps up on my face as I bring my head back to see you completely. The way your mouth was slightly opened, your messy hair scattered around you, everything. Everything about you was beautiful. I would stare forever, if I could.*

Rain shimmered against the pavement in silver streaks as Grimm stood silently at the edge of a crowded intersection, hidden beneath the heavy shadow of his black hood. The city moved around him in ignorance — headlights passing through mist, people hurrying home with collars turned against the cold, phones glowing in distracted hands. He barely noticed any of it anymore. His attention remained fixed on the man standing at the curb across the street. Middle-aged. Exhausted. Late for something. Soul thinning around the edges already. Grimm could see death before it happened. It gathered around people moments before the end, wrapping itself around their bodies like invisible frost. The man stepped into the street without looking up from his phone. A car tore through the red light. Grimm exhaled quietly beneath the hood. Right on time. He took one step forward, preparing to collect the soul the instant metal met flesh-Then suddenly, someone slammed into the man from the side. Both of them hit the wet pavement hard as the car screamed past, missing them by inches. The man shouted in shock. People nearby gasped. Tires screeched somewhere in the distance. Grimm froze. That wasn’t supposed to happen. The thread had already been cut. He had seen it. Felt it. Death had been certain. Slowly, his gaze lifted toward the woman kneeling beside the shaken man. Long brown hair clung damply to her shoulders from the rain. Pale green eyes searched the man frantically, asking if he was hurt, completely unaware of the crowd staring at her. Even from across the street Grimm caught the faint scent of jasmine and honey drifting through the cold air, impossibly warm against the smell of rain and exhaust. Then, for one brief second, your eyes lifted. Straight toward him. Grimm went still beneath the hood. People never looked at him. Not unless they were dying. Yet your gaze snagged on the darkness where he stood as if you could see him standing there among the living. The moment lasted barely a heartbeat before someone pulled your attention away and the connection broke. But Grimm remained motionless long after the ambulance lights painted the street red and blue. For the first time in centuries, death had been interrupted. A few months later, Grimm saw you again. This time, the river below the bridge churned black beneath the midnight sky. Wind roared through the steel supports, carrying the scent of rain and city smoke. Grimm stood near the edge beside a young woman whose trembling hands gripped the railing. Tears streamed down her face as she stared down into the freezing water below. He had seen this scene too many times. Despair had a familiar shape. The girl’s soul flickered weakly around her body, close to surrendering. Grimm waited silently beside her, unseen by the passing traffic overhead. He did not rush people at the end. He never had. The girl shifted forward slightly. One more movement and she would fall. Then footsteps echoed across the bridge. Grimm turned sharply. You. Breathless from running, clearly on a jog, hair tangled by the wind, eyes bright with panic and determination. “Hey!” you called carefully, slowing your approach. “Hey, don’t do this. Please.” The girl startled violently, tears spilling harder now. Grimm watched in silence as you spoke to her for nearly twenty minutes in the freezing cold. You talked her down inch by inch, your voice gentle but stubborn, refusing to let her disappear into the dark water below. You spoke like someone who understood pain intimately. Like someone who knew exactly how heavy loneliness could become. And eventually, the girl collapsed into your arms sobbing instead of stepping off the bridge. Alive. Again. Impossible. Grimm stared at you from beneath his hood as you held the shaking woman close. Then you looked up. Directly at him. Pale green eyes locking onto the darkness where he stood. This time, he knew it wasn’t coincidence. The wind moved through his cloak as something unfamiliar crawled beneath his ribs. Unease. Curiosity. Fear. Because for the second time, you looked at him like you could actually see him. The third time happened in a burning apartment building. Smoke poured from shattered windows while people screamed below. Firefighters fought through the chaos as flames consumed the upper floors. Grimm stood in the hallway of the sixth floor apartment, staring at the unconscious man trapped beneath a collapsed beam. The ceiling groaned overhead. Too late. The soul was already loosening. Then the apartment door burst open. You stumbled inside coughing violently against the smoke, wrapping your sleeve over your mouth before dropping to your knees beside the man. I shake his shoulders “Hey, James. Wake up!” Grimm watched in disbelief as you strained desperately against the collapsed beam, trying to free him. “You are going to get yourself killed,” Grimm muttered automatically, though you couldn’t possibly hear him. But somehow your head turned slightly at the sound of his voice. Not fully. Just enough. Enough to make his chest tighten beneath the weight of his scars. Your pale green eyes meet his for a moment before, with a cry of effort, you finally dragged the man free moments before part of the ceiling collapsed where he’d been trapped. The firefighters found you both barely conscious near the stairwell. Alive. Again. Grimm remained standing inside the burning apartment as flames curled around his boots harmlessly. Three times now. Three souls that should have belonged to death. Three moments where your eyes found his.