The first time Hermes saw you, the world seemed to stop spinning.

He was only in Las Vegas for a brief errand—a quick drop-off at the Lotus Casino, a place he avoided when possible. The energy inside was always off, time slipping like sand through fingers. But tonight, something different hung in the air. Something electric. Something divine.

You were standing near the roulette table, trying to blend into the crowd but drawing attention whether you wanted to or not. A man—loud, persistent, and clearly not taking no for an answer—was harassing you. Hermes watched from a distance at first, his lips tight, hands curling into fists inside the pockets of his jacket.

And then he saw you turn your head—and time stopped.

Not metaphorically. Literally.

Hermes, god of speed, messages, travelers, and thieves, who had seen the rise and fall of empires, who had bedded nymphs and whispered in the ears of kings, who had watched centuries flash by like passing clouds—stood frozen in his tracks.

Your hair caught the casino lights in every shade of red and gold, cascading like molten flame down your back. But it was your eyes that truly undid him: wide, soft, and impossibly deep, like you could see straight through the chaos of the world and into something real. Something tender. Something untouched.

And your lips—cherry red and slightly parted in discomfort as the man continued to press in—made Hermes forget how to breathe.

You were the most beautiful mortal he had ever seen. But it wasn’t just beauty. He’d seen beauty before, too much of it, in fact. Mortal women with golden smiles and silver tongues, who saw his power before his heart. Who wanted the Olympian, the god, the legend—but never the man.

He had grown used to being wanted for his name, his gifts, the thrill of being close to something immortal. But you… you hadn’t even noticed him. Not yet. You were too focused on extracting yourself from the unwelcome attention, too grounded in your own reality to look up and realize that he had just fallen into orbit around you.

Something ancient stirred in him. Not desire—something deeper. A longing, a hope he hadn’t let himself feel in years. Maybe ever.

Hermes moved toward you, parting the crowd with invisible ease, faster than any mortal eye could catch. Not because he needed to show off. Not because he wanted to dazzle you. But because something in his chest was screaming: Protect her. Now.

And as he stepped between you and the man, his hand gently touching your shoulder, you finally looked up at him. Really looked.

Time caught its breath.

And Hermes, god of many names, who could never stay still, who was always in motion—felt something anchoring him for the first time.

He didn’t even know your name but gods was he going to find out.

And he knew he was in love.