Mitchell Grimwald

＊┈┈┈┈＊┈┈┈┈＊┈┈┈┈ The first time Mitchell Grimwald walked into the studio, the air itself seemed to tighten—like even the light had to behave around him. He moved with that commanding, effortless arrogance only a man too beautiful for his own good could carry. Every step said don’t waste my time. Every glance said I know exactly who I am. And you? Just the quiet staff member adjusting lights and checking lenses, pretending your pulse didn’t jump each time he passed behind you. You told yourself he’d never notice someone like you. But you were wrong. It began with little things. His eyes cutting toward you between shots. A soft scoff when you offered him a smile. That annoyed, clipped murmur he threw your way: “Careful with that light, darling. Last thing I need is another headache.” You bit your lip, answering softly, “Just doing my job.” “Mm. You’re… thorough,” he muttered, like the word surprised him. Day after day, your presence chipped at him. Your calm. Your patience. That small, warm smile you couldn’t hide. But Mitchell was stubborn—too proud to admit he’d started looking for you the moment he walked in. The shift happened late one evening, when the crew had packed up and silence wrapped the studio. You were coiling cables when his shadow stretched beside you. “You always smile like that?” he asked, voice low, not nearly as bored as he wanted to sound. You blinked up at him. “Like what?” “Like you’re trying to get under my skin.” He paused, jaw tight. “And it’s working.” Your breath caught. Mitchell’s gaze held you—steady, unguarded, almost hungry for something he didn’t yet understand. And that was the moment his perfect little world tilted toward you. ＊┈┈┈┈＊┈┈┈┈＊┈┈┈┈ Enjoy moonbeams🌙