ari🦇

Gotham was suffocating in its usual way, cloaked in darkness but pulsing with a quiet undercurrent of energy. In the apartment, though, time moved at its own pace—slower, drawn out, deliberate. The world beyond the thick windows might have been bustling, but in here, there was only the sound of steady breathing, the subtle rustle of clothing, and the intoxicating weight of his gaze.

Richard Grayson had always been a master of silence. He was confident—no, assured—so much so that his very presence seemed to fill every inch of space. His demeanor was calm, but there was something more underneath: a palpable intensity that never fully dissipated. Tonight, it felt more like a simmering volcano ready to erupt. He stood against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you as you paced the room. The tension between you was so thick it was almost a living thing, wrapping itself around your ribs, constricting your chest.

For a moment, you caught your reflection in the window: your tousled hair, the flush on your cheeks, the way your breath had quickened since you walked in. You knew you were being affected. But Dick—He was always so unreadable. Always so in control.

And that only made the pull between you stronger.

You could feel his eyes on you, steady, unwavering, like a hunter waiting for its prey. It was infuriating, almost, how easy it was for him to get under your skin. It wasn’t just physical. It was emotional, mental—he was a challenge. Always a challenge. And you were in the mood for one tonight.

You turned, meeting his gaze, offering him a little smile that felt more like a dare than anything else. “You know, you’ve been looking at me like that all night,” you said, your voice teasing but the underlying heat undeniable. “If you keep staring at me like that, you’ll make me think you actually want something.”

Dick’s lips quirked into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He pushed off from the doorframe, crossing the space between you two effortlessly, as if he was always in motion, always just a step ahead. He stopped just in front of you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off of him. “Oh, I want something,” he murmured, his voice rough with an undercurrent of something darker. “I just haven’t decided if I’m letting you have it yet.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the challenge in his words. He was good—so good—at playing with you, at keeping you on edge. But you weren’t going to back down. Not tonight.

You leaned in, just close enough to feel the heat of his breath against your skin. “And if I don’t let you decide?” you whispered, fingers lightly brushing the fabric of his shirt. “What happens then?”

His lips brushed against your ear as he spoke, his voice low and teasing. “Then we’ll find out.”

The words were like a match to kindling. Suddenly, everything between you two exploded into an inferno. The space between you was gone in a heartbeat. Dick’s lips captured yours in a kiss that was raw, primal—a storm that had been building between you for weeks. There was no tenderness here. No soft, slow approach. He kissed you with an intensity that spoke of everything he wanted but had never asked for, everything he had been holding back. His hands cupped your face with a possessiveness that sent a thrill through you, like he was marking his territory without saying a word.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, no longer holding back the flood of desire that had been building inside of you. His hands moved down your body, pulling you closer, until there was no air left between you. You could feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric of your clothes. The roughness of his touch sent sparks through you, igniting something deep inside that made you crave more.

It wasn’t just physical, though. You could feel it in the way he held you—like he wanted to consume you, like you were both part of the same fire. You pulled him closer, hands desperately trying to remove the barrier between you—the shirts, the pants, anything to make contact, to feel him against you. There was nothing that could have stopped this—no hesitation, no second thoughts. You were both lost in this moment.

When you pulled away just enough to look at him, your chest heaving, it was only to catch your breath. But you couldn’t tear your gaze away from him—his tousled hair, the way his eyes were dark, lit with an unspoken fire. His hands rested on your hips, gripping you tightly, as if anchoring you to him. The air between you was thick, heavy with need, and yet there was something else there too—a challenge. It wasn’t enough for him to just have you. He wanted to see how far you’d let him take you.

Richard’s voice broke through the haze of desire. “You know,” he said, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes, “I like when you fight back. Makes everything more interesting.”

You smirked, the rush of adrenaline only feeding your need for him. “Who said I’m fighting?”

Dick let out a low chuckle, but there was no humor in it. “I’m not one for guessing games, you know. You either give in… or you don’t.”

The weight of his words made your pulse race even faster. His hands moved, shifting down to your waist, his fingers grazing the edge of your shirt before lifting it up, inch by inch. Every movement was calculated, deliberate. You didn’t want to break eye contact. You didn’t want to lose this power struggle.

But Richard, always a step ahead, made the decision for you. With one swift motion, he pulled your shirt over your head, tossing it carelessly aside. Your breath caught as the cool air hit your exposed skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating from him. His gaze was sharp, studying every inch of you as if he were savoring the moment before he made his next move.

“You’re so damn perfect,” he murmured, his voice rougher than before, filled with something darker, something hungry. His fingers traced the curve of your collarbone, down the center of your chest, and you swore your heart stopped beating for a second.

You were lost in him, completely taken in by his touch, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the way his body pressed against yours. The fire was burning now, out of control, and there was no going back.

“You’re not going to make me beg,” you breathed, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath your fingertips. His breath hitched, but he didn’t say anything. His eyes held yours, searching for the answer to some unspoken question.

“I don’t need you to beg,” he replied quietly, but there was a certain edge to his voice—like he was holding back just enough, giving you just enough space to make your next move. “But I’m damn sure going to make you want it.”

You were barely able to process the words before Richard kissed you again, this time harder, deeper, as if trying to erase any distance that remained between you two. You couldn’t help but respond with the same fervor, pulling him closer, your hands sliding down his toned back, feeling the warmth of his skin. Every touch was electric, sparking more fire, more heat. There was no room for anything but the need to feel each other, to lose yourself completely in the moment.

His lips trailed down your neck, the sensation of his mouth against your skin sending jolts of pleasure racing through you. “I’ve waited so long for this,” he murmured, voice rough with hunger. “You have no idea how long.”

The admission sent a thrill down your spine, but it only made you more determined to keep pushing, to keep fighting this pull between you. You kissed him harder, if only to remind him that you were in this too, that you wanted this as much as he did. That you were just as much a part of the fire that had started between you both.

His hands moved once more, now pulling you closer, lifting you slightly to allow him to press deeper against you. It was a slow burn, but it was building to something that neither of you could hold back. There was no stopping now. No hesitation. Just the steady rhythm of your heartbeats, syncing together in the heat of the moment.

Dick, ever the master of control, let his hands slide lower, tracing the curve of your body, testing the limits of your patience. “You’re not getting away that easy,” he growled, his lips grazing your ear.

“No one’s trying to get away,” you whispered back, breathless, surrendering completely to the pull between you. You had never been more sure of anything in your life than you were in this moment, in this fire that neither of you could stop from burning brighter.

The room seemed to pulse with the thrum of your heartbeats, the silence between kisses louder than anything either of you could say. Every touch, every word, felt loaded with more meaning than the last. Dick’s hands were everywhere, exploring the curve of your back, the outline of your shoulders, the place where your neck met your collarbone. It was slow, agonizingly slow, the way he traced the path of his fingers as if savoring every inch of your skin.

But it wasn’t just physical—it was something deeper. Something that couldn’t be put into words.

There was a history between you two that stretched far beyond the walls of this apartment. There was the teasing, the tension that had been building for months, the stolen glances and the fleeting touches that left you both wondering what it would be like if you didn’t hold back. Tonight, it felt like everything had led to this. All the subtle moments, all the charged silences—it was all culminating in this single, undeniable need.

You pulled back slightly, breath coming in shallow gasps, looking at him, really looking at him. His eyes were dark, his pupils blown wide with desire, but there was still something behind them. Something deeper. A vulnerability, a rawness that made your chest tighten. You knew this wasn’t just about the physical. This was Richard Grayson, the boy who had spent his life hiding behind layers of jokes and smirks, afraid to let anyone see the cracks. But tonight, with you, all the walls were coming down.

“I think I might be losing control,” he murmured, his voice hoarse, raw. He had always been in control—of his body, his thoughts, his emotions. But right now, in this moment, that control was slipping. And that truth, coming from him, made your pulse spike.

“You’re not the only one,” you replied, your voice a breathless whisper, a challenge in the words. “But maybe it’s time to stop pretending we don’t want this.”

Dick leaned in, his forehead pressing gently against yours, the distance between your bodies nearly unbearable. His hands were still roaming, but now they were gentle, almost reverent, as if unsure whether you would pull away. His lips brushed against your skin, soft at first, then with more force, as if claiming you, taking what he had been craving for so long. The air was thick with desire, suffocating, but neither of you cared.

His lips were everywhere—on your neck, your jawline, your chest—and each kiss sent a jolt of warmth coursing through your veins. The way he moved against you was perfect—controlled yet demanding, like a dance you had both been practicing without realizing it. The way his hands found the curve of your hips, pulling you closer, reminding you that this wasn’t just a moment—it was the beginning of something far deeper.

You gasped when his lips found their way to the sensitive skin just below your ear, his breath warm against your flesh. His voice was low, barely above a whisper. “Do you want me to stop?”

You wanted to laugh—wanted to tease him, tell him that if he stopped now, it would only make everything worse. But the words didn’t come. Instead, you pulled him closer, your hands gripping the back of his neck, pushing him further into the kiss. “No,” you breathed, your voice trembling. “Keep going.”

And he did.

Dick’s hands were on your waist again, pulling you against him, lifting you effortlessly until you were pressed up against him fully, the hard line of his body grinding against yours. The feeling sent a wave of heat through your body, and you could feel the desire in every inch of him. The urgency, the need—he was just as consumed by this as you were.

The kiss deepened, and the world outside seemed to vanish entirely. There was only Dick—his lips, his hands, his body—everything else faded away. It was as though the universe had narrowed down to this single point in time, this moment where nothing mattered except the feeling of him against you, inside you.

And still, there was a push and pull, a tension between you both, like neither of you wanted to give in completely. Like neither of you wanted to be the first to lose yourself.

But he wasn’t backing down, and neither were you.

The coolness of the room seemed to disappear as the temperature between you soared. Dick’s hands roamed lower, and you couldn’t stop the soft gasp that escaped your lips as his fingers brushed against the waistband of your pants.

“You sure about this?” he asked again, the question more of a dare than a hesitation. He wasn’t asking for permission. He was testing boundaries, pushing to see just how far you’d let him take it. And that was part of the allure, the game you were playing with him.

You gave him no answer, just a kiss that was filled with the promise of everything you both wanted. Your body moved instinctively against his, hands working to undo the belt at his waist, eyes never leaving his. It was a game now—no words, just touch. Just the urgency of wanting more.

Dick let out a breath, a shaky exhale as you pushed his shirt off, feeling the coolness of the room meet the heat of his skin. His body was just as solid, just as sculpted as you had imagined. There was nothing between you now. No distance, no walls. Just skin against skin, breath against breath.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he muttered against your neck, his voice thick, almost pleading. There was nothing composed left in him, nothing calculated.

“Good,” you whispered back. “I like it when you’re lost.”

The words hung between you like a challenge. And this time, he didn’t hesitate. He didn’t pull back. Dick’s hands slid under your pants, pulling them down, the rough fabric brushing your skin before falling to the floor. The urgency in his movements mirrored your own, both of you so desperate to close the gap, to feel the friction, to feel something real.

His lips found yours again in a kiss that felt too good to be true, and yet here you were, tangled together, both of you burning with an intensity that could not be ignored. Every touch seemed to make the world outside fade further, until there was nothing left except this.

Dick’s hands explored your body, sending shivers down your spine, and you could feel the same heat rising in him. His breath was ragged now, his chest moving against yours with each shaky inhale.

“I want you,” he murmured, his lips tracing the outline of your jaw. “Now.”

And something inside you snapped. The control you had tried to maintain, the teasing, the back-and-forth—it was all gone. You were both past that point now, past the games. This was no longer a test, no longer a challenge. This was just raw, undeniable need.

You pulled him closer, your body arching into his as he leaned down to kiss you once more, this time with all the force of everything that had been building between you two. Your fingers worked quickly, pulling at the last of the clothing between you, and within seconds, there was nothing left but the heat of his skin against yours.

Dick groaned, a sound so low and rough that it vibrated through you, igniting something deep inside. He was all muscle and heat, his hands guiding you, pulling you closer as if trying to bury himself inside you completely. You didn’t want to fight anymore. You didn’t want to hold back. You just wanted to feel him. To lose yourself completely.

And just like that, there was no more space between you.

The rest of the world faded away. The chaos of Gotham, the noise, the pressure—it all disappeared into the background. There was only Richard, only the way his body felt against yours, the way his touch made your heart race, the way he moved inside you.

And it was everything you had imagined, everything you had wanted, and yet it still felt too much to handle. Every kiss, every touch, every movement was an endless spiral of pleasure, leaving you both gasping for more, always wanting more.

When you finally reached the peak, your bodies entwined, lost in each other, it was like the world had finally fallen into place. It wasn’t just about the physical release. It was about everything else—the desire, the tension, the emotions that neither of you had dared to acknowledge until now.

As your bodies slowly began to relax, Dick collapsed next to you, his hand gently brushing through your hair, his fingers caressing the skin of your shoulder.

“That…,” he murmured, his voice hoarse, “was insane.”

You smiled, your body still humming with energy, still alive from the fire he had sparked within you. “Yeah,” you breathed

His lips curved into a smile that was half amusement, half challenge. “I didn’t think you were the type to play fair.”

“Who said anything about playing fair?” you whispered, your hand brushing his chest.

And as you both lay there, entangled in the aftermath, the fire between you hadn’t burned out yet. The air between you two was still charged, as if every breath you took was laced with electricity. Richard’s chest rose and fell under your touch, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin. His touch, though gentle now, still felt like an anchor, holding you to the present. To him. His lips were slightly parted, his eyes half-lidded with exhaustion and satisfaction, but there was something in his gaze that didn’t quite fade. A hunger, still simmering beneath the surface, ready to ignite again at a moment’s notice.

You shifted, pressing closer into his side, your head resting against his shoulder. His arm wrapped around you instinctively, drawing you nearer. The space between you, that once-feared distance, was gone—replaced by something far more intoxicating.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook yet,” you whispered, a teasing lilt in your voice as you ran your fingers along his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your touch. “I’m not done with you.”

Dick chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated in his chest, sending a fresh wave of warmth through your body. His fingers trailed lazily up and down your spine, like he was marking every inch of you. “I’m starting to think I’ve unleashed a monster,” he said, a mix of amusement and something else in his tone—something darker, more playful.

“A monster?” You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “I was just getting started.”

He turned his head to look at you, his expression soft but with a wicked gleam in his eye. “I know,” he said, his voice a velvet whisper. “But don’t think you can win every round. You’ve got a lot to prove if you want me to keep up with you.”

That spark of competition flared between you two once more, this unspoken challenge hanging in the air, thick with anticipation. Neither of you was ever one to back down, especially when the stakes were so high. The adrenaline from your previous encounter hadn’t fully dissipated, and now, in the stillness of the room, it simmered beneath the surface, waiting for the next spark.

“I guess we’ll just have to see, won’t we?” you responded, your fingers trailing down his torso, feeling the tense muscles beneath his skin.

Dick’s hand gripped your wrist gently, but there was a hint of firmness to it, grounding you, forcing your attention to shift back to him. “You know I’m always up for a challenge,” he murmured, his lips barely brushing against yours, as if he was offering you an invitation, one he knew you wouldn’t refuse.

It was like you’d been waiting for this moment, for him to pull you back in, for the next round to begin. You could feel the shift in the energy between you, like a switch had been flipped. Everything about this—about him—was unpredictable, and that was part of what made him so intoxicating. Richard Grayson wasn’t someone who let you get too comfortable. He kept you on your toes, always.

Before you could respond, he was kissing you again, his lips pressing with a new intensity, his hands pushing you back against the pillows. The air around you both was thick with urgency, and this time, you didn’t bother with the teasing. You met him with the same fire, the same raw desire. There was no more waiting. No more holding back. You needed him, needed to feel the heat of him again, and he was right there, just as eager.

His hands roamed again, possessive but gentle, as if trying to memorize the curve of your body, each touch making you ache for more. His lips found your neck, and you couldn’t suppress the soft moan that escaped your lips, the sound only fueling the fire that was building between you two.

“You’re mine now,” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin as his lips grazed your collarbone. It wasn’t a demand, but a claim, a promise—one that wrapped itself around you, binding you to him in a way that felt like home and like a spark about to catch fire all at once.

You closed your eyes, letting the words wash over you, feeling the possessive edge in his tone go straight to your core. “I’m yours?” you asked, voice breathless, a little amused, a lot breathless.

His eyes met yours, and there was no joking in his gaze now—only something fierce, something raw, something that made your heart stutter. “You know it. And you’re not getting away anytime soon.”

You didn’t need to respond. You couldn’t. Words weren’t enough to explain the way your body responded to him, the way every inch of you burned with desire when he was close. Every breath, every touch, every second of this was more than you had imagined—more than you had hoped for.

The world outside the room didn’t exist anymore. There were no responsibilities. No distractions. There was only Richard Grayson and you, a connection that felt like it was unspoken but understood in every movement. You moved with him, against him, in perfect synchronization. The tension between you two didn’t let up. If anything, it intensified as he pressed you further into the bed, his body a weight above you, yet not oppressive, just right. The intensity of the moment made your pulse quicken. This was it. This was what you had both been craving, whether you’d admitted it to yourselves or not.

His lips were back on yours, soft, yet demanding, like he couldn’t get enough of you. His hands gripped your hips as he shifted his weight, sliding his body against yours with a fluid, practiced ease that made everything inside you tighten. His kiss deepened, more urgent this time, and you could feel his heartbeat matching yours, the rhythm of it like a drum, calling you to follow.

“Don’t stop,” you breathed against his lips, unable to stop yourself from pulling him closer.

And he didn’t. He kept going, every movement more desperate than the last, a steady push and pull between you two that was almost hypnotic. The heat between you two was unbearable now, and there was no way either of you could escape it. No way you’d ever want to.

Every inch of your body ached for him, every touch igniting a fire that could only be doused by him. His hands were everywhere, pressing you closer, lifting you just enough to feel the full length of him against you, driving you to madness with every movement.

You arched into him, your body a tangled mess of want and need, and the moment you felt him inside you again, it was like all the pieces finally clicked into place. He groaned against your lips, and the sound only made you more desperate, more hungry for him. The rhythm between you was perfect, like an unspoken dance that neither of you wanted to end.

It was no longer about teasing, no longer about waiting—it was just pure, unfiltered connection, every sensation heightened, every breath taken with a new sense of urgency. The tension that had been simmering for so long finally erupted in a wave of release, and the world outside ceased to matter once more.

As you both collapsed together, breathless and tangled in the sheets, Dick held you tightly, his arms wrapping around you like a shield, as if protecting you from the rest of the world. His lips brushed against your forehead, soft and tender now, the heat of your connection still lingering between you.

“I wasn’t lying,” he whispered, his voice low and soft. “You’re mine now. And I’m not letting go.”

Gotham was suffocating in its usual way, cloaked in darkness but pulsing with a quiet undercurrent of energy. In the apartment, though, time moved at its own pace—slower, drawn out, deliberate. The world beyond the thick windows might have been bustling, but in here, there was only the sound of steady breathing, the subtle rustle of clothing, and the intoxicating weight of his gaze.

Richard Grayson had always been a master of silence. He was confident—no, assured—so much so that his very presence seemed to fill every inch of space. His demeanor was calm, but there was something more underneath: a palpable intensity that never fully dissipated. Tonight, it felt more like a simmering volcano ready to erupt. He stood against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you as you paced the room. The tension between you was so thick it was almost a living thing, wrapping itself around your ribs, constricting your chest.

For a moment, you caught your reflection in the window: your tousled hair, the flush on your cheeks, the way your breath had quickened since you walked in. You knew you were being affected. But Dick—He was always so unreadable. Always so in control.

And that only made the pull between you stronger.

You could feel his eyes on you, steady, unwavering, like a hunter waiting for its prey. It was infuriating, almost, how easy it was for him to get under your skin. It wasn’t just physical. It was emotional, mental—he was a challenge. Always a challenge. And you were in the mood for one tonight.

You turned, meeting his gaze, offering him a little smile that felt more like a dare than anything else. “You know, you’ve been looking at me like that all night,” you said, your voice teasing but the underlying heat undeniable. “If you keep staring at me like that, you’ll make me think you actually want something.”

Dick’s lips quirked into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He pushed off from the doorframe, crossing the space between you two effortlessly, as if he was always in motion, always just a step ahead. He stopped just in front of you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off of him. “Oh, I want something,” he murmured, his voice rough with an undercurrent of something darker. “I just haven’t decided if I’m letting you have it yet.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the challenge in his words. He was good—so good—at playing with you, at keeping you on edge. But you weren’t going to back down. Not tonight.

You leaned in, just close enough to feel the heat of his breath against your skin. “And if I don’t let you decide?” you whispered, fingers lightly brushing the fabric of his shirt. “What happens then?”

His lips brushed against your ear as he spoke, his voice low and teasing. “Then we’ll find out.”

The words were like a match to kindling. Suddenly, everything between you two exploded into an inferno. The space between you was gone in a heartbeat. Dick’s lips captured yours in a kiss that was raw, primal—a storm that had been building between you for weeks. There was no tenderness here. No soft, slow approach. He kissed you with an intensity that spoke of everything he wanted but had never asked for, everything he had been holding back. His hands cupped your face with a possessiveness that sent a thrill through you, like he was marking his territory without saying a word.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, no longer holding back the flood of desire that had been building inside of you. His hands moved down your body, pulling you closer, until there was no air left between you. You could feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric of your clothes. The roughness of his touch sent sparks through you, igniting something deep inside that made you crave more.

It wasn’t just physical, though. You could feel it in the way he held you—like he wanted to consume you, like you were both part of the same fire. You pulled him closer, hands desperately trying to remove the barrier between you—the shirts, the pants, anything to make contact, to feel him against you. There was nothing that could have stopped this—no hesitation, no second thoughts. You were both lost in this moment.

When you pulled away just enough to look at him, your chest heaving, it was only to catch your breath. But you couldn’t tear your gaze away from him—his tousled hair, the way his eyes were dark, lit with an unspoken fire. His hands rested on your hips, gripping you tightly, as if anchoring you to him. The air between you was thick, heavy with need, and yet there was something else there too—a challenge. It wasn’t enough for him to just have you. He wanted to see how far you’d let him take you.

Richard’s voice broke through the haze of desire. “You know,” he said, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes, “I like when you fight back. Makes everything more interesting.”

You smirked, the rush of adrenaline only feeding your need for him. “Who said I’m fighting?”

Dick let out a low chuckle, but there was no humor in it. “I’m not one for guessing games, you know. You either give in… or you don’t.”

The weight of his words made your pulse race even faster. His hands moved, shifting down to your waist, his fingers grazing the edge of your shirt before lifting it up, inch by inch. Every movement was calculated, deliberate. You didn’t want to break eye contact. You didn’t want to lose this power struggle.

But Richard, always a step ahead, made the decision for you. With one swift motion, he pulled your shirt over your head, tossing it carelessly aside. Your breath caught as the cool air hit your exposed skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating from him. His gaze was sharp, studying every inch of you as if he were savoring the moment before he made his next move.

“You’re so damn perfect,” he murmured, his voice rougher than before, filled with something darker, something hungry. His fingers traced the curve of your collarbone, down the center of your chest, and you swore your heart stopped beating for a second.

You were lost in him, completely taken in by his touch, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the way his body pressed against yours. The fire was burning now, out of control, and there was no going back.

“You’re not going to make me beg,” you breathed, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath your fingertips. His breath hitched, but he didn’t say anything. His eyes held yours, searching for the answer to some unspoken question.

“I don’t need you to beg,” he replied quietly, but there was a certain edge to his voice—like he was holding back just enough, giving you just enough space to make your next move. “But I’m damn sure going to make you want it.”

You were barely able to process the words before Richard kissed you again, this time harder, deeper, as if trying to erase any distance that remained between you two. You couldn’t help but respond with the same fervor, pulling him closer, your hands sliding down his toned back, feeling the warmth of his skin. Every touch was electric, sparking more fire, more heat. There was no room for anything but the need to feel each other, to lose yourself completely in the moment.

His lips trailed down your neck, the sensation of his mouth against your skin sending jolts of pleasure racing through you. “I’ve waited so long for this,” he murmured, voice rough with hunger. “You have no idea how long.”

The admission sent a thrill down your spine, but it only made you more determined to keep pushing, to keep fighting this pull between you. You kissed him harder, if only to remind him that you were in this too, that you wanted this as much as he did. That you were just as much a part of the fire that had started between you both.

His hands moved once more, now pulling you closer, lifting you slightly to allow him to press deeper against you. It was a slow burn, but it was building to something that neither of you could hold back. There was no stopping now. No hesitation. Just the steady rhythm of your heartbeats, syncing together in the heat of the moment.

Dick, ever the master of control, let his hands slide lower, tracing the curve of your body, testing the limits of your patience. “You’re not getting away that easy,” he growled, his lips grazing your ear.

“No one’s trying to get away,” you whispered back, breathless, surrendering completely to the pull between you. You had never been more sure of anything in your life than you were in this moment, in this fire that neither of you could stop from burning brighter.

The room seemed to pulse with the thrum of your heartbeats, the silence between kisses louder than anything either of you could say. Every touch, every word, felt loaded with more meaning than the last. Dick’s hands were everywhere, exploring the curve of your back, the outline of your shoulders, the place where your neck met your collarbone. It was slow, agonizingly slow, the way he traced the path of his fingers as if savoring every inch of your skin.

But it wasn’t just physical—it was something deeper. Something that couldn’t be put into words.

There was a history between you two that stretched far beyond the walls of this apartment. There was the teasing, the tension that had been building for months, the stolen glances and the fleeting touches that left you both wondering what it would be like if you didn’t hold back. Tonight, it felt like everything had led to this. All the subtle moments, all the charged silences—it was all culminating in this single, undeniable need.

You pulled back slightly, breath coming in shallow gasps, looking at him, really looking at him. His eyes were dark, his pupils blown wide with desire, but there was still something behind them. Something deeper. A vulnerability, a rawness that made your chest tighten. You knew this wasn’t just about the physical. This was Richard Grayson, the boy who had spent his life hiding behind layers of jokes and smirks, afraid to let anyone see the cracks. But tonight, with you, all the walls were coming down.

“I think I might be losing control,” he murmured, his voice hoarse, raw. He had always been in control—of his body, his thoughts, his emotions. But right now, in this moment, that control was slipping. And that truth, coming from him, made your pulse spike.

“You’re not the only one,” you replied, your voice a breathless whisper, a challenge in the words. “But maybe it’s time to stop pretending we don’t want this.”

Dick leaned in, his forehead pressing gently against yours, the distance between your bodies nearly unbearable. His hands were still roaming, but now they were gentle, almost reverent, as if unsure whether you would pull away. His lips brushed against your skin, soft at first, then with more force, as if claiming you, taking what he had been craving for so long. The air was thick with desire, suffocating, but neither of you cared.

His lips were everywhere—on your neck, your jawline, your chest—and each kiss sent a jolt of warmth coursing through your veins. The way he moved against you was perfect—controlled yet demanding, like a dance you had both been practicing without realizing it. The way his hands found the curve of your hips, pulling you closer, reminding you that this wasn’t just a moment—it was the beginning of something far deeper.

You gasped when his lips found their way to the sensitive skin just below your ear, his breath warm against your flesh. His voice was low, barely above a whisper. “Do you want me to stop?”

You wanted to laugh—wanted to tease him, tell him that if he stopped now, it would only make everything worse. But the words didn’t come. Instead, you pulled him closer, your hands gripping the back of his neck, pushing him further into the kiss. “No,” you breathed, your voice trembling. “Keep going.”

And he did.

Dick’s hands were on your waist again, pulling you against him, lifting you effortlessly until you were pressed up against him fully, the hard line of his body grinding against yours. The feeling sent a wave of heat through your body, and you could feel the desire in every inch of him. The urgency, the need—he was just as consumed by this as you were.

The kiss deepened, and the world outside seemed to vanish entirely. There was only Dick—his lips, his hands, his body—everything else faded away. It was as though the universe had narrowed down to this single point in time, this moment where nothing mattered except the feeling of him against you, inside you.

And still, there was a push and pull, a tension between you both, like neither of you wanted to give in completely. Like neither of you wanted to be the first to lose yourself.

But he wasn’t backing down, and neither were you.

The coolness of the room seemed to disappear as the temperature between you soared. Dick’s hands roamed lower, and you couldn’t stop the soft gasp that escaped your lips as his fingers brushed against the waistband of your pants.

“You sure about this?” he asked again, the question more of a dare than a hesitation. He wasn’t asking for permission. He was testing boundaries, pushing to see just how far you’d let him take it. And that was part of the allure, the game you were playing with him.

You gave him no answer, just a kiss that was filled with the promise of everything you both wanted. Your body moved instinctively against his, hands working to undo the belt at his waist, eyes never leaving his. It was a game now—no words, just touch. Just the urgency of wanting more.

Dick let out a breath, a shaky exhale as you pushed his shirt off, feeling the coolness of the room meet the heat of his skin. His body was just as solid, just as sculpted as you had imagined. There was nothing between you now. No distance, no walls. Just skin against skin, breath against breath.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he muttered against your neck, his voice thick, almost pleading. There was nothing composed left in him, nothing calculated.

“Good,” you whispered back. “I like it when you’re lost.”

The words hung between you like a challenge. And this time, he didn’t hesitate. He didn’t pull back. Dick’s hands slid under your pants, pulling them down, the rough fabric brushing your skin before falling to the floor. The urgency in his movements mirrored your own, both of you so desperate to close the gap, to feel the friction, to feel something real.

His lips found yours again in a kiss that felt too good to be true, and yet here you were, tangled together, both of you burning with an intensity that could not be ignored. Every touch seemed to make the world outside fade further, until there was nothing left except this.

Dick’s hands explored your body, sending shivers down your spine, and you could feel the same heat rising in him. His breath was ragged now, his chest moving against yours with each shaky inhale.

“I want you,” he murmured, his lips tracing the outline of your jaw. “Now.”

And something inside you snapped. The control you had tried to maintain, the teasing, the back-and-forth—it was all gone. You were both past that point now, past the games. This was no longer a test, no longer a challenge. This was just raw, undeniable need.

You pulled him closer, your body arching into his as he leaned down to kiss you once more, this time with all the force of everything that had been building between you two. Your fingers worked quickly, pulling at the last of the clothing between you, and within seconds, there was nothing left but the heat of his skin against yours.

Dick groaned, a sound so low and rough that it vibrated through you, igniting something deep inside. He was all muscle and heat, his hands guiding you, pulling you closer as if trying to bury himself inside you completely. You didn’t want to fight anymore. You didn’t want to hold back. You just wanted to feel him. To lose yourself completely.

And just like that, there was no more space between you.

The rest of the world faded away. The chaos of Gotham, the noise, the pressure—it all disappeared into the background. There was only Richard, only the way his body felt against yours, the way his touch made your heart race, the way he moved inside you.

And it was everything you had imagined, everything you had wanted, and yet it still felt too much to handle. Every kiss, every touch, every movement was an endless spiral of pleasure, leaving you both gasping for more, always wanting more.

When you finally reached the peak, your bodies entwined, lost in each other, it was like the world had finally fallen into place. It wasn’t just about the physical release. It was about everything else—the desire, the tension, the emotions that neither of you had dared to acknowledge until now.

As your bodies slowly began to relax, Dick collapsed next to you, his hand gently brushing through your hair, his fingers caressing the skin of your shoulder.

“That…,” he murmured, his voice hoarse, “was insane.”

You smiled, your body still humming with energy, still alive from the fire he had sparked within you. “Yeah,” you breathed

His lips curved into a smile that was half amusement, half challenge. “I didn’t think you were the type to play fair.”

“Who said anything about playing fair?” you whispered, your hand brushing his chest.

And as you both lay there, entangled in the aftermath, the fire between you hadn’t burned out yet. The air between you two was still charged, as if every breath you took was laced with electricity. Richard’s chest rose and fell under your touch, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin. His touch, though gentle now, still felt like an anchor, holding you to the present. To him. His lips were slightly parted, his eyes half-lidded with exhaustion and satisfaction, but there was something in his gaze that didn’t quite fade. A hunger, still simmering beneath the surface, ready to ignite again at a moment’s notice.

You shifted, pressing closer into his side, your head resting against his shoulder. His arm wrapped around you instinctively, drawing you nearer. The space between you, that once-feared distance, was gone—replaced by something far more intoxicating.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook yet,” you whispered, a teasing lilt in your voice as you ran your fingers along his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your touch. “I’m not done with you.”

Dick chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated in his chest, sending a fresh wave of warmth through your body. His fingers trailed lazily up and down your spine, like he was marking every inch of you. “I’m starting to think I’ve unleashed a monster,” he said, a mix of amusement and something else in his tone—something darker, more playful.

“A monster?” You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “I was just getting started.”

He turned his head to look at you, his expression soft but with a wicked gleam in his eye. “I know,” he said, his voice a velvet whisper. “But don’t think you can win every round. You’ve got a lot to prove if you want me to keep up with you.”

That spark of competition flared between you two once more, this unspoken challenge hanging in the air, thick with anticipation. Neither of you was ever one to back down, especially when the stakes were so high. The adrenaline from your previous encounter hadn’t fully dissipated, and now, in the stillness of the room, it simmered beneath the surface, waiting for the next spark.

“I guess we’ll just have to see, won’t we?” you responded, your fingers trailing down his torso, feeling the tense muscles beneath his skin.

Dick’s hand gripped your wrist gently, but there was a hint of firmness to it, grounding you, forcing your attention to shift back to him. “You know I’m always up for a challenge,” he murmured, his lips barely brushing against yours, as if he was offering you an invitation, one he knew you wouldn’t refuse.

It was like you’d been waiting for this moment, for him to pull you back in, for the next round to begin. You could feel the shift in the energy between you, like a switch had been flipped. Everything about this—about him—was unpredictable, and that was part of what made him so intoxicating. Richard Grayson wasn’t someone who let you get too comfortable. He kept you on your toes, always.

Before you could respond, he was kissing you again, his lips pressing with a new intensity, his hands pushing you back against the pillows. The air around you both was thick with urgency, and this time, you didn’t bother with the teasing. You met him with the same fire, the same raw desire. There was no more waiting. No more holding back. You needed him, needed to feel the heat of him again, and he was right there, just as eager.

His hands roamed again, possessive but gentle, as if trying to memorize the curve of your body, each touch making you ache for more. His lips found your neck, and you couldn’t suppress the soft moan that escaped your lips, the sound only fueling the fire that was building between you two.

“You’re mine now,” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin as his lips grazed your collarbone. It wasn’t a demand, but a claim, a promise—one that wrapped itself around you, binding you to him in a way that felt like home and like a spark about to catch fire all at once.

You closed your eyes, letting the words wash over you, feeling the possessive edge in his tone go straight to your core. “I’m yours?” you asked, voice breathless, a little amused, a lot breathless.

His eyes met yours, and there was no joking in his gaze now—only something fierce, something raw, something that made your heart stutter. “You know it. And you’re not getting away anytime soon.”

You didn’t need to respond. You couldn’t. Words weren’t enough to explain the way your body responded to him, the way every inch of you burned with desire when he was close. Every breath, every touch, every second of this was more than you had imagined—more than you had hoped for.

The world outside the room didn’t exist anymore. There were no responsibilities. No distractions. There was only Richard Grayson and you, a connection that felt like it was unspoken but understood in every movement. You moved with him, against him, in perfect synchronization. The tension between you two didn’t let up. If anything, it intensified as he pressed you further into the bed, his body a weight above you, yet not oppressive, just right. The intensity of the moment made your pulse quicken. This was it. This was what you had both been craving, whether you’d admitted it to yourselves or not.

His lips were back on yours, soft, yet demanding, like he couldn’t get enough of you. His hands gripped your hips as he shifted his weight, sliding his body against yours with a fluid, practiced ease that made everything inside you tighten. His kiss deepened, more urgent this time, and you could feel his heartbeat matching yours, the rhythm of it like a drum, calling you to follow.

“Don’t stop,” you breathed against his lips, unable to stop yourself from pulling him closer.

And he didn’t. He kept going, every movement more desperate than the last, a steady push and pull between you two that was almost hypnotic. The heat between you two was unbearable now, and there was no way either of you could escape it. No way you’d ever want to.

Every inch of your body ached for him, every touch igniting a fire that could only be doused by him. His hands were everywhere, pressing you closer, lifting you just enough to feel the full length of him against you, driving you to madness with every movement.

You arched into him, your body a tangled mess of want and need, and the moment you felt him inside you again, it was like all the pieces finally clicked into place. He groaned against your lips, and the sound only made you more desperate, more hungry for him. The rhythm between you was perfect, like an unspoken dance that neither of you wanted to end.

It was no longer about teasing, no longer about waiting—it was just pure, unfiltered connection, every sensation heightened, every breath taken with a new sense of urgency. The tension that had been simmering for so long finally erupted in a wave of release, and the world outside ceased to matter once more.

As you both collapsed together, breathless and tangled in the sheets, Dick held you tightly, his arms wrapping around you like a shield, as if protecting you from the rest of the world. His lips brushed against your forehead, soft and tender now, the heat of your connection still lingering between you.

“I wasn’t lying,” he whispered, his voice low and soft. “You’re mine now. And I’m not letting go.”

To his defense, you were actually really sweet. The type of person who helps others without asking for something in return, even if you had quite your own character. You weren’t afraid to say what was wrong, and if you had to fight, then you would never step back. You were everything Dick could dream of, even if your friends saw you as a pitbull sometimes. 

Dick didn’t have the bravery to ask you out on a real date. Yes, the Nightwing himself was scared of rejection from the girl he could have died for. So he kept on inviting you to go out together but always as friends and nothing more. Sometimes, he even told you to bring other people to not make it too weird ; even if he only had eyes for you. 

This time, it was only the two of you. You were sitting in front of him in the coffee shop, your hot drink between your hands as you were talking. He wasn’t sure if he was still listening to what you were saying or if the sound of your voice was simply soothing his mind ; but his gaze didn’t leave your face for a second. His cheek was resting in the palm of his hand and his eyes were observing every detail of your face. 

Suddenly, you stopped talking and it got him out of his thoughts almost immediately. “Is something wrong?” He asked you the second after, a hint of worry in his eyes. You sighed slowly as you looked away. “Sorry, I talk too much.” You told him and he swore he never saw you like this before. Who ever told you that? Not him, that was for sure, because he could have listened to you talking forever. Dick grabbed your hand in a gentle move, stroking the back of it. 

You met his eyes again, and you felt your heart skipping a beat at the look he was giving you. Since when did he look at you with so much adoration? You were sure you never noticed it before, but you couldn’t ignore it now. “It’s never too much. Please, talk all you want. I’ll listen anyway.” The soft smile that appeared on his lips after his words could have brought the tears to your eyes if you weren’t fighting them. Your grip on his hand slightly tightened before you nodded softly. 

“Thanks Dick,” you told him, and he left a kiss on the back of your hand as an answer. It caught you off guard, and you had some trouble going back to what you were saying after that. If one thing was sure, you wouldn’t be able to forget this look in his eyes for a while. 

After that day, you noticed all the little things that Dick was doing toward you, and you felt dumb for not noticing what was going on earlier. How he was always complimenting you on what you were doing, or how he always made sure that you were feeling comfortable about everything. He kept on taking care of you without being too intrusive and it broke your heart to think that he was probably sure that his feelings weren’t mutual. 

This is why you decided to talk to him. You asked him to come over at your place, and this is how you ended up sitting on your couch together. Dick looked at you, a bit worried. He could feel that something was off, but he didn’t know what it was. “You wanted to tell me something?” He asked, and you quickly nodded, turning around to face him. 

“Listen, I’ve thought a lot. About everything, but mostly about us, and we can’t…” He didn’t let you finish, his voice going out a bit more desperate than what he thought. “Did I go too far? I’m sorry, I’ll stop. But please, please don’t leave.” He took your hands between his and you didn’t expect this reaction from him. You slowly put your hand on his cheek, stroking it gently. 

“Hey, hey. Calm down, okay? I’m not going anywhere.” Your voice was so soft, like sweet music to his ears. He melted onto your touch, looking in your eyes as he waited for you to keep going with what you wanted to say. “I wanted to say that we can’t keep going like that, because I can’t stay your friend.” His grip on your hand got a little tighter but your gentle smile calmed all his worries. 

“I like more than that, Dick. And if you let me, I’d love to be more than your friend.” He was sure that he felt his heart stopping into his chest when you stopped talking. It was a dream, it couldn’t be otherwise. There was no way you were really saying those words to him. “Really..? You really want to be… my girlfriend?” He asked, and you only answered with a nod. 

You didn’t have the chance to say anything because Dick cupped your face with his hands so his lips could meet yours. It was so sweet, your lips feeling like honey against his own. When he let you go, you were quickly stuck into his embrace. He was holding you tightly, nose in your hair. “I’ll make you the happiest girl on Earth, just like you’re making me the happiest man alive.” His eyes met yours right after that, and the smile on his lips made your stomach do a flip. He really seemed to be the happiest right now. 

You sure took your sweet time to realize your own feelings, but now, you knew that nothing could make them disappear.

~ But he finds out that they’re trying to shut down the damn theater company because some rich asshole wants to buy it and make it completely private. The problem is that the theater group just doesn’t have enough people on the crew to even get the show going.

~ Logan sees the heartbroken faces of these kids and he sighs. Knowing he can’t just let them fail. So he signs up to help.

~ It’s mostly set work which he can do just fine and without pay. The show goes off without a hitch and Logan finds himself helping out the next show and the next until eventually they just hire the man. At one point he becomes stage manager after their current one leaves and Logan does not wanna do it.

~ Turns out he’s a natural. I mean he makes people listen and they don’t ignore his orders when he talks in his gruff angry voice.

~ One day he’s there for auditions and that’s where he sees you for the first time. You’re a fresh face and very nervous but you absolutely kill your auditions. Like he doesn't write a single thing down because he's just so enchanted by your voice.

~ Of course Mr. Grumpy refuses to admit he has a crush. I mean anyone can see he's clearly smitten with you. I mean he's much nicer to you than anyone else, never yelling at you when he corrects you even if its the 10th time.

~ He cracks a few jokes and Jubilee and Rogue swear they've seen him smile on multiple occasions. A rare sight for Logan. You're equally as smitten with the buff and hot stage manager. I mean he yells and he can get people in line with the snap of his fingers but you see how the younger kids just love him and how much he truly cares.

~ Okay but the drama comes when you get cast as the lead and some other guy (Maybe Viktor 👀) is the romantic lead and he has to watch the two of you kiss in rehearsal and this guy flirt with you endlessly. Logan wants to punch his stupid flirty face. He feels a little better when he realizes that its just a stage kiss. But he does get grumpier and its very noticeable.

~ Now picture this. Opening night and the leading man is no where to be found so Logan has to step in at the last second. He's nervous as hell and he's fully convinced he's going to ruin it for everyone but with a small pep talk from you he just relaxes.

You looked up from the microscope, examining the broken down elements of a particular Rice Krispie cereal, the cereal box sitting nearby- the cartoon character on it seemingly staring at you in a mocking manner. Hank stood there with a stack papers in hand, looking at you questioningly past his glasses.

You took a deep breath, pushing yourself from the table, you reached your hand out for the papers, taking them gently from his hand. A deep sigh as you glanced over the papers, words forming in your head in what to say- how to explain it. You understood it completely, you wrote the paper.

Just, talking about it went a little differently. 

You let out a breath, “Okay…” You paused, as you read the results again. Hank waited patiently. Then you dropped the papers in your lap and you looked up at Hank with a raised eyebrow. “There's no way that you don’t understand this, Hank.” You point at him. “You are a doctor after all” You say. 

“I just want to hear your interpretation, not the science. I don’t quite understand the section regarding biological functions. That is your specialty you know…”

You looked up at him, with a displeased expression, before taking the papers back in your hand, flipping through to find the section Hank is talking about. “Okay.” you reread them for the third time. “Um, S..s..so, this is basically just an explanation about how drugs affect the system.” You begin. 

“Right.” Hank nods, he turns grabbing a chair nearby, and pulls it up to sit next to you. “You write about how it binds to DNA cells, which then affect the hormone cycle.”

You nodded. 

“How?” Hank asks, a small shake of his head indicating he didn’t understand. 

“It’s…It’s the same way alcohol affects hormones.” You explain. “It…affects the um, the levels of testosterone, in a man’s body. The oestrogen, in a woman’s. Except with this- it doesn’t reduce the fertility. It c-c-lings to the spermatozoa or ovum of the individual, and…” You pause to take a breath, sitting straighter in your chair. Hank was staring at you, listening intently. While you appreciate the fact that he wanted to hear your explanation….

All the research is. Right. There!

“It attacks the cells that uh, have the potential to include or actually, form a mutation.”

“Fascinating and terrible.” Hank shook his head. “This is an amazing discovery on your part dear.” 

“I wish it was for something better.” You force a smile to him, as you look back down at the papers. “Is that all you want to know?”

“Actually-” Hank sat up, leaning over to the papers as he began to point at various sections, he began to talk about different points in your paper, asking for clarification as you stare at him with silent dread. 

After that grueling conversation, you were finally left alone in your lab. Thankfully. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy talking to Hank, you were both like-minded people, who enjoyed hardcore science, and drama-ridden soap operas. You just weren’t a talker, which is why you preferred pursuing research over medicine. 

With research, you’re sitting in a quiet room, focused on your own tasks, and writing your notes to type up a paper later. Occasionally quiet small talk over the water cooler, a little;

“How's your day?”

“Fine, yours?” 

A goodbye and back to work. 

Hank pushed you to explain and explain. Which was fine, totally fine, at least he wanted to make sure he understood everything before he brought the papers up to Congress, your papers, evidence, and commentary of the genetically modified food you have discovered. You rather not have your research being mistaken, especially since it was dire that things change, and fast.

It’s just the more you talked, the more you paused, the more you stuttered, the more you misused a word, or went “um” for the 4th time in a sentence; and the more anxious you got as you began to wonder if Hank was getting annoyed. Not once did his expression change as he listened to you attempt to explain your research in more casual wording, patience was always a virtue of Hanks. 

It still left you overthinking.

You attempted to go back to your work, resting in the silence that filled the room. Your nerves settled as you forced yourself to ignore your anxiety over the conversation with Hank. Just as you were getting ready to peer back into the microscope, to finish taking your notes on the most recent discovery of yet another popular food, genetically modified to attack mutant cells. 

It’s too bad, this type of cereal were yours and Marie's favorite and now you can’t be bothered to eat them. It makes you cringe to even have to buy the damn things just so you can confirm that yes, this major brand is also poisoning mutants and damning your futures. 

What a bunch of dicks

Just as you placed your eyes over the ocular lens of the microscope, Charles voice appeared in your head- scaring the hell out of you and making you jump. 

“Jesus!” You yelped, jumping out of your chair and tipping over the box of the cereal. You heard Charles apologize sympathetically for startling you, then requesting you to come to his study. 

You sighed, standing there as you watched the cereal pour out onto the floor, creating a mess. You watched the grains form a small pile, a conceding expression on your face as your shoulders slump. 

Deciding to clean it up later, you left the lab to go to Charles study, and find out what he needs you for. 

“I think you should present this research.” 

Your face fell at Charles words. “Ex..Excuse me?” You ask, your blood running cold at the sound of presenting. You let out a small nervous laugh. “No…No way.” You shook your head. 

Charles smiled sympathetically, “Now I know you don’t like doing it, but you’re the one who discovered this. You deserve the credit.” 

“That’s why my name is on the p-p-paper!” You exclaimed. “Besides no one, is-is going to want to listen to me.” 

“Now that’s not true.” Charles says, straightening his shoulders, clasping his hands together on top his desk. 

“There’s no reason for me to present!” You hands flew out. “Hank- can do it just fine. I…cannot do it Professor. You know I hate t-talking a lot, much less in front of people.” You attempt to keep your voice steady, not allowing much emotion to fall through but you were unfortunately failing terribly. 

Not that it mattered anyway, Charles could easily read your mind and see how you felt about it. You enjoyed the telepathy Charles and Jean both had, which allowed you to not always have to talk out loud with them. Nonetheless it become a tad bit awkward eventually when Jean and you are in a lab together in complete silence, and she randomly blurts out responses to things you were thinking about. 

“Think about it.” Charles says gently, and you purse your lips together, and force yourself to nod. 

You knew Charles had good intentions. He was always trying to get you out of your shell, especially ever since you came here. You just can’t do it. It’s hard enough on your own, talking to people you considered family. You found yourself embarrassed at your own voice most of the time, preferring to just stay quiet. Talking in front of strangers? Congress?

Absolutely. Not.

You were now at your desk, your chin resting on your clasped hands; staring down at your papers with a frown. You weren’t reading the papers, you weren’t even seeing the papers. Looking past them, as you obsessed over the conversation with Hank, and Charles earlier in the morning. 

Why can’t you just do it? 

You hadn’t noticed Logan slipping inside. A big goofy smile on his face as he walks up to your desk, slowly fading as he notices the intense look in your expression, the way you were glaring down at your papers. He recognized the grumpy look, the look that tells him you were having a bad day - and was gonna need some TLC. 

He came up from your side, standing behind your chair as he leaned over you, a hand pressing to your desk to brace himself. 

You still hadn’t noticed his looming figure yet, until your eyes just happened to flip over to his hand, in which you lifted your head up in confusion, before turning to look up, scanning the familiar and muscular arm, and landing on Logan's face. He quirked a brow, a small smile spread across it, as he leaned down to press a soft greeting kiss to your lips. 

You returned it, eventually melting into it as a smile formed on your face. He parted from you, a loud smooch echoed in the room. 

“What’s it take for a guy to get noticed by ya, huh bub?” He teases. 

“Sorry...” You mutter bashfully looking away. He moved to lean against your desk, crossing his arms. 

“Still working?”

“Uh, no.” You shook your head, not looking up at him. 

“You were glaring at these papers pretty hard like they said something to offend you.” 

You fiddled with some of the papers, not saying anything. He observed your body language, the way you were closed in on yourself, avoiding looking at him, and not speaking much. Meant that you were having a really bad day.

“Hey.” His voice low, as his hand reaches over to tip your chin up at him. His brows creased together in focus, but his expression was lighthearted. “You okay?”

“M’fine.” You mutter. 

“Something happen?” 

Your eyes finally reached his. You waited a moment, “Lo?” 

“Hm?”

“Does…Do how I t-talk..Bother you?” 

He blinks, his chin tipping back a bit, as if he were baffled by your question. Then he tilts his head, brows creasing as he examines you. “How you talk?” He shook his head, “What do you mean?” 

You sigh looking down, removing yourself from his hand. Chewing on your lip, you began to pick at your nails - already thinned down from your encounters this morning. “You know what…I mean.” You glance back up at him. “I s-s- stutter, a lot. I can never just…Say what I want to say.” 

His brows creased, he tilted his head, examining your face. “I….Don’t get it. I mean, is there stuff you want to say?” 

“No I mean- When I talk, I…. have trouble getting it out and I start to s.s..stutter- Like that!” Your hands went in the air in frustration. 

“Woah, woah, settle down.” His hands went to your arms. “I don’t notice it, and I don’t think anyone else does, and if they do, who gives a shit?” 

You sigh in frustration, a little embarrassment overcoming you. You never really talked about this with Logan before, only mentioning in passing during the timing of your friendship. When you got together, you really couldn’t bring yourself to talk about it to him. You were afraid of pointing it out, that he would notice it more if you did. Maybe he would get sick of it. Especially when the other ladies here, like Ororo, or Jean, seems to speak perfectly clear with no hesitation in their words. 

You didn’t want the way you spoke noticed, or to be compared in anyway to your peers. So you simply chose not speaking much. When asked for your opinions, inputs, etc, you simply opted for the easy answer, or simply redirecting the conversation to someone else.

Your conversation with Charles put you on edge though. On one hand, you don’t want to turn him down. You knew he meant well and has high hopes for you but that merely filled you with more anxiety that if you really went up on that podium and spoke in front of congress- representing X-men and mutants alike, you were going to be an embarrassment. You certainly held a passion for this research, and want to contribute to protecting your fellow mutants, but this…

“Hey-” Logans voice cut through your thoughts again. “What is it?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Stop that.” He says firmly, then moving to kneel in front of you, his hands on your knees. “We talked about this before.” He says, referring to your conversations from the past, about opening up to each other more. You weren’t the only one who didn’t like to talk much, yet Logan’s “talking” was more about his feelings, rather than physical speaking. You let out a small sigh.

“The way I t-talk. It’s like I…swallow my words. It doesn’t annoy you?”

“Of course not.” Logan says. “Did I…Ever act like it did?”

You shook your head, and a small bit of relief came across his face. “So what’s this about bub?”

“Charles…Asked me to p-p-present my findings to Congress, instead of Hank.” You look down at where your hands were on your lap, Logans hands resting over yours. “I…don’t want to.” 

“Then don’t.” Logan replies with a small shrug. 

“But Charles-” 

“You don’t gotta do a damn thing just cause Chuck asked you to.” He says with a shake of his head. “If you want to do it, do it, if you don’t want to, don’t. You don’t need to prove anything.”

“It’s just with this…This..The way I talk…” You forced yourself to look up at him. “I, I’m c-c-constantly wondering when people are going to snap at me.”

“Fuck em.” 

You blinked in surprise, and a small laugh escaped you. “Lo!” 

“I’m serious.” He raised a brow, his expression and tone evident that he was indeed serious. “Someone’s gonna be a dick, fuck em. Tell em that to their face. In fact I’ll do it for you. Don’t need to waste your time on someone like that.” 

You giggled, shaking your head and closing your eyes as you tipped your chin downwards. A faint smile appeared on Logans lips as he watched you. You opened your eyes and looked back up at him, and for a moment he felt his breath taken away. His hands squeezed yours, as he leaned up to capture your lips in a soft but urgent kiss. Parting from you, he rested his forehead against yours, your noses bumping into each other. 

“You sure it…doesn’t bother you?” You ask softly. 

“It’s you baby. Everything about you.” He replies, “There ain’t a single thing I don’t like about you. Don’t hide yourself from me. Got it?” 

You let out a small hum and nodded. 

“So…About this presentation Chuck wants ya to do…” He leans back a bit. “What worries you?”

“Making a fool of myself.” You mutter softly, as you felt a heat in your cheeks from admitting it. 

“You?” Logan raised a brow. “The only people making themselves out to be fools is the assholes who created the whole…food…thing.” He waved his hand in annoyance. “..and everyone with those damn suits but that’s another story.” 

You laughed. “You’d look g-great in that.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Focus.” He says in a warning tone, before pausing and winking at you. “Look, if you really don’t want to do it. Don’t. You don’t need to. Beastie will be fine. Just, don’t do it just because you’re worried about others judging you.” He reaches out, brushing some of your hair back. “Guarantee you’re 10 times smarter than all the assholes in Congress anyway. Don’t let others scare you from being yourself, and speaking up for yourself. Got it?” he adjusted himself on his knee. “Whatever you do, wherever you go, I got your back.”

Just when you thought you couldn’t love the man more. 

You bit your lip, and nodded. A genuine smile came across his face. He brought your hand up to his lips, kissing the back of it, and then the other. 

She fainted in the yard. You were only a child, your mother wouldn't wake up. You rushed to get your father and the next thing you knew you were sitting outside of her room being told it was time to say goodbye.

The light seemed to dim that day. Your father, he did his best. He loved you and tried to make you smile but things grew tougher and tougher for the two of you. He remarried to a woman who was cold at best. Distant and uncaring towards you with two daughters, Cassandra and Raven, who never gave you the time of day. But your father cared. But sometimes life was just too much.

The day your father died was the day the light truly left your world. Kindness. How could the world be so cruel to a family that only showed the best to everyone around them? Your stepmother grew cold and mean, your step sisters even crueler. You became the maid for the house. You cooked and cleaned and did the laundry.

The attic became your home. But even after it all, you could never forget your mothers words. So even when it was hard, you smiled. For it was all you could do.

The clock tower wakes you up just like it does every morning. The sun shines through the window and you sit up. You sigh as you try and hold on to the wisps of your dreams. It was of your mother this time. You loved those dreams. But there was no time to dilly dally. Getting up you open the window to let the fresh air in. A few little robins land on the window sill.

"Hello little ones, it's a lovely morning isn't it." You reach down into the small sack of bird seed and place a some in front of their feet. You hold out your finger and one of them hops onto it.

"Time to start another day," You hum.

Once they had eaten you watch them fly away, a part of you wishing you could join them. Wondering what it was like to be free. But there was no time to wonder. You did your chores like clockwork. Making the morning tea and breakfast for your step mother and sisters. Gather their laundry, feed the animals, tend to the garden.

"Hello mister, what are you doing here?" As you pulled fresh carrots from the ground you found a little field mouse hiding between the greens.

"Are you hungry?" You don't reach out, not wanting to scare him.

His big eyes looked up at you and his nose twitched. Sometimes you wondered if they could understand you, your animal friends were lovely company. Reaching into your pocket you pull out some left over chicken feed.

"I know it's not much but I hope it will do." The mouse gathers it in his little paws and scurries away. You smile as you bring back the veggies.

"Perhaps we'll do soup for dinner, how does that sound?" You ask Bruno the family dog who was sitting at your feet.

He lets out a low huff and you chuckle. A loud ring echoes through the kitchen. The bell on the wall signals you were needed at the front door. You hurried up the stairs to the door.

"Hello sir, how can I help you?" The man wordlessly hands you a letter and leaves.

You turn the letter over in your hands. You could just tell this was no ordinary letter. The envelope was cream colored with beautiful gold lettering. On the back rested a solid red wax seal with the royal crest pressed into it. At once you hurried to the study where your sisters were practicing music. You weren't supposed to interrupt but this was a letter from the castle. You cautiously open the door and three sets of eyes rest on you.

"Ma'am I'm sorry to-"

"What have I told you about interrupting us? You insolent child." Your step mother berates. You hold out the letter and lower your head.

"I know but a letter from the castle came and-" Once again your cut off as your step mother rips the letter from your hands. Your step sisters squealed so loud you swore the glass would break.

"A ball is to be held for all the the eligible maidens of the Kingdom." Your step mother announces to your step sisters. Cassandra grabs the letter from her mother and continues to read.

"The prince will take a wife!" Raven rips it from her sisters hands.

"The ball is to be held in two weeks! That's not enough time, we need new dresses and make up." The two girls are sent into frenzy at the news.

Meanwhile you were still processing the news. All the eligible maidens, well that meant you too! Oh your mother used to tell stories of going to balls. Dressing up and dancing to the music.

"Go to the village at once! Place an order with the seamstress for three dresses. And get the girls whatever they need." Your step mother commands and hands you the money. Your step sisters were busy writing down all the things they needed.

"Three dresses Ma'am?" She stops and looks at you in confusion.

"Yes three, for me and your sisters obviously."

"But the invitation says all eligible maidens...may...go." Your voice trails off as the three of them stare at you.

A moment of silence passes before all three of them burst out in laughter. You want nothing more than to disappear. Shame creeping up as they laugh like the idea of you going anywhere was just so amusing.

"You? Go to the ball in those rags?" Raven cackles. You smooth down your dress, trying to get rid of the wrinkles.

"What prince would ever want a peasant girl for a wife?" Cassandra adds on.

"Girls please, it's not her fault she's so...imaginative." Your step mother walks up to you. You feel so small under her gaze.

"Look at you, be serious. You are not worthy of a prince my dear." You feel tears pool in your eyes but you refuse to let them fall in front of them.

"I just want to go to the ball, What if I made my own dress?" You ask quietly. Your step mother thinks for a moment before a smirk crosses her face.

"Perhaps if you find your own dress and finish all the chores, you can go." Protests erupt from your step sisters but one look quiets them down. She takes their list and hands it to you.

"Now run along now, only the best for me and my girls." Without another word you turn on your heel and leave.

Your step mothers words replay over and over in your head. Worthy of a prince, you don't care about the prince. All you want is one night away, to enjoy yourself and forget about the hardships. The fabric for a dress would cost a pretty penny that you don't have. Not to mention the chores. But it wasn't impossible.

There's a dress hidden in the attic, it was your mothers. It wasn't anything impressive but it was a dress and it held a lot of special memories. The town was bustling with excitement from the news. The castle hasn't held a ball in years, ever since the Queen had passed unexpectedly one night the King had shut the doors of the castle. No one had even seen the prince. They knew not his face, only a name. James.

"Hello Eden, It's lovely to see you again." You greet the town seamstress with a smile.

"I assume you've gotten a plethora of orders since the announcement." Eden was the best seamstress in a hundred miles of here. She was older but her skills never wavered. She used to patch up your dresses when you came with your mother.

"Yes my dear, thank goodness for my daughters or I'd never finish it all in time."

"I'm afraid I'm here to add to your list. My step mother wishes to order three dresses for the ball." You hand Eden the money and she sighs. Your family was not easy clients. Always nitpicking her work and treating her like dirt.

"Only three?" You smile sadly as she adds the order to her stack.

"It's alright, I have an old dress of my mothers somewhere. It just needs to be fixed up and It's ready to go." Eden smiles softly and places her hands on top of yours.

She was always kind to you since your parents passed. She was like the grandmother you never had. "Here my dear, perhaps you can use some of these." She reaches down beneath the counter and hands you a box filled with scrap fabric and some jewels.

"Oh Eden thank you, this is perfect." You take the items and place them in your satchel.

You leave Eden's and begin on the list of things your step sisters have asked for. You bounced from shop to shop buying all of their strange requests. Your bag grew heavy as the sun moved through the sky.

"Hey! Get back here!" You turn your head to see the baker yelling at a little girl. She was dressed in rags, dirt on her face with a loaf of bread in her hands. He has her by her wrist and she was trying to get free. Without thinking you storm over.

"You little brat! I'll show you what happens to thieves like you!" The baker hisses and before he can do anything else you get between them.

"Stop that! She's a child!"

"She's a thief." His grip tightens on her little wrist and you feel yourself growing angry.

"She's hungry, can't you spare her some kindness." You plead.

While the baker is distracted the little girl bites his hand making him yelp in pain. He lets go of her and she runs away. With the girl gone the baker's anger turns to you.

"You stupid girl! You owe me for that bread and more. I hope that little girl was worth it!" You don't have any money left and the baker was growing more and more upset.

"I don't have the money sir but I can pay you back tomorrow." You tell him but he doesn't like that answer. You gasp as he grabs your arm tightly.

"You aren't leaving until that bread is paid for!" Before you can say anything else a large hand grabs the bakers.

You look to the side and see a man glaring at the baker. You don't recognize him but from the looks of his clothes he was most likely a nobleman visiting.

"Unhand the lady immediately." His voice is stern as the baker does what he says.

"That girl cost me a loaf of bread!" The man steps between the two of you, almost like he's acting as a guard.

"So? Are you that desperate for money that you can't spare a loaf of bread for a needy child?" The man asks.

The baker begins to stutter but the stranger seems to not care at all. The stranger relishing him to a nervous mess. You wonder just who this man was.

"You're embarrassing yourself sir, I would go back to your shop if I were you." The baker does as told, mumbling to himself as he retreats back into his shop. The man suddenly turns to you.

"Are you alright?" He stands so tall as he looks down at your arm. The man before you was unlike anyone you've seen. A handsome face but a stern aura. His clothes were woven with intricate detail and he was well kept.

"Yes, thank you sir." You bow your head to the man in thanks.

"That man was out of line, you were only trying to help." He states. You grew nervous under his intense eyes.

Out of the corner of your eye you see a pair of eyes watching you. It was the little girl, she quickly ducks behind a wall and you follow her. The man following you.

"Hello sweetheart, It's okay I won't hurt you." You say gently as you kneel down. She looks at you and then at the man with cautious eyes. You reach into your bag and pull out a few apples you had bought for a pie.

"Here, take them." She quickly grabs them from your hands and hides them away.

"Thank you." She says quietly.

"What's your name?" The man asks, he kneels down just like you. For some reason she doesn't seem afraid of him.

"Laura."

"That's a pretty name, where do you live?" He offers her a kind smile and she seems to relax a little bit.

"The orphanage." She replies.

Your heart breaks as you watch her small figure devour one of the apples. The orphanage was filled with too many kids and not enough money to help. The kids were often left starving and lonely. She must have snuck out to get food.

"Want to go back." She looks at the two of you and you reach out your hand.

"Come along then." Her tiny hand fits in yours as you walk her back to the orphanage.

The man comes with the two of you, his presence enough to deter any stares or rude comments. When you bring her to the front gates she rushes into the yard, pulling out the bread and breaking it apart to give to the other children. She looks back at the two of you and waves.

"That was a very kind thing you did back there." The man says, watching Laura with a frown.

"I just wanted to help her." You adjust the bag on your shoulder, its heavy weight taking a toll.

"Allow me." Before you can protest the man takes your bag and effortlessly puts it on his own shoulder.

"Oh it's okay sir, the walk back is far and I don't want to burden you." You try and reach for the bag but he doesn't let you.

"I don't mind. I would like to walk you back if that's alright with you. A gesture of kindness for earlier." You want to accept but you're hesitant, you don't even know who this man is. But he seems kind and you could use the help. It's been a long time since a stranger has shown you such kindness.

"Okay, but before you go I must ask your name." He begins to speak but stops himself, his eyebrows furrowing for a moment.

"Logan, my name is Logan."

"Are you from here Logan? Or are you only here for the ball?" "I grew up here." His answers are short but you don't mind. It's nice being able to talk to someone who doesn't stand on four legs.

"Are all these things for the ball, a little excessive don't you think?" He's very straightforward but you appreciate that.

"It's not for me, it's for my step sisters. They wanted all new make up and a new dress and anything they could think of." Logan chuckles and looks fondly at you.

"I don't understand the appeal of a ball to be honest, it seems like a place for obnoxious people to be around other obnoxious people." Logan states plainly.

"Perhaps, but for people like me it's exciting. My mother used to love to dress up and this is my chance to do the same."

"Used to?" Logan asks, his gaze softening as he notices your eyes flicker with sadness.

"She passed some time ago." You say sadly.

"My apologies." He looks at you and then looks forward at the path.

"My mother passed too."

"Oh Logan I'm so sorry." You place your hand on his arm in a moment of comfort.

"It’s okay, that’s just how life goes sometimes.” You wanted the talk to last forever.

But far too soon you reached the edge of town. You didn’t want him to know where you lived, if he walked you all the way back your stepmother might see him. It's better to keep him away from your mess.

“This is good. I can walk the rest of the way.” You tell him. He frowns as you stop dead in your tracks.

“Are you certain?” He asks in a confused tone.

“Yes, thank you so much Logan but I really must be going.” You take the bag and hurry off, leaving him standing alone in the road.

You were scolded for returning so late but you could care less. You had a dress to make. For the next two weeks every spare moment you had was dedicated to fixing your mothers dress. The spare fabric was perfect to patch up holes and add a satin neckline while the jewels made the whole dress shine. You powered through the chores and the lack of sleep for this.

Every now and again your thoughts would drift to Logan. Wondering if you’d see him at the ball, if you could get to dance with the man who came to your rescue. He was a very handsome man that you couldn’t deny. Would he even be interested in dancing with you? Would he care that you were nothing more than a peasant girl? He might take one look at you at home and run for the hills. But a girl can dream can’t she.

The day of the ball you were buzzing with excitement. Your chores were all done and all that’s left was to get ready. You hear the stomping of the horses outside and you hurried down the stairs.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Your step mother asks. Eyeing your dress with a disgusted look. The smile on your face drops.

“I finished my chores and I have a dress…you said I could go if I did all those things.”

“You call that a dress?” Raven scoffs. She circles you like a predator.

“This is nothing but a disaster. Imagine you dancing with the prince. Tripping over your own two feet and then oops,” She grabs a piece of your dress and rips it apart.

“Stop!” You cry as you try and grab the piece in her hand. Cassandra grabs the newly sewn neckline and rips it off.

“See? Nothing but a cheap imitation of real class.” You beg them to stop as they tear apart your dress.

Your mothers dress. All your hard work, your hope was gone. Tears stream down your face as you grab the scraps from their hands.

“Oh dear, it appears you don’t have a dress anymore. What a shame. Come along girls.” You watch through blurry vision as they leave.

Cackling with joy as they board the carriage. You don’t understand. Why do they hate you so much? What did you ever do to you? You’ve tried your whole life to be kind, to make your mother proud but it feels like the world is punishing you for it.

Your mother is gone. Your father is gone. The only family, if you can even call them that, hates you. They treat you like dirt. You race through the house. Running to the backyard and collapsing onto the ground. You sob into the scraps of fabric as you mourn the life you’ve missed. The hurt bubbling to the service.

“I’m sorry mother, I can’t do this anymore. I’m trying to be like you but I just can’t.”

“My dear, please don’t cry.” You scream as an unfamiliar voice speaks into your ear. You scramble back as a man in a red mask and a poofy white dress stands before you.

“W-Who are you?” You ask in disbelief.

“Well I’m Wade, your fairy godmother of course!” He says happily, pulling out a wand and sending sparks into the air. You watch in awe as the color bursts into the air.

“My what?”

“Fairy godmother! Corset and all sweetheart. My organs are all touching.” He whispers that last part to you.

“I don’t understand, You can do magic?”

“Uh, the magic wand here isn’t just for show.” He says while waving it around. A burst of magic shoots from the tip accidently and goes right through the attic window. He makes a noise and looks back at you.

“Whoopsie. Still working out the kinks.” He says while slamming the wand against his hand. You can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all.

“Anyways, It is my job to get you to the ball and to get you to the hot prince who’s waiting for you.” He leans in and nudges your shoulder.

“You’ll have to tell me if he really does have hair, everywhere.” You squeak at the implication and Wade just skips off. He points his wand at the pumpkin patch.

“I’ve always wanted to do this!” He says excitedly. He speaks the magic words and before your very eyes a pumpkin grows and grows until he becomes a carriage. You gasp in amazement. Rushing over admiring the gorgeous white carriage.

“Okay now we need some horses!” Wade looks around the garden and sees a few field mice watching in the grass.

“Okay I haven’t done mice yet but what could go wrong right?” He shoots his magic at the mice and misses, causing a carrot to crawl out of the ground and run away.

“Will you just stay still! The cartoon mice were much more cooperative.” It takes him a few tries but he eventually gets them all.

Four beautiful stallions at the front of your carriage. A goose sitting by the fountain finds himself victim to Wade’s magic. Becoming a footman in an instant.

“Now we need to fix. All of this.” He gestures to your dress.

"Yeesh, would not say yes to this dress.” He mumbles as he starts to wave his wand.

“Oh! Please be gentle with this. It was my mothers.” You ask. You don’t want a full replacement. Just a little touch up.

“Don’t worry. I know what to do!” He cracks his knuckles and neck.

“Okay, maximum effort.” Magic surrounds you as you feel the dress change.

Your jaw drops as the torn rags turn into a beautiful blue ball gown. It was the prettiest dress you had ever seen. The way it swished and sparkled in the moonlight. It was beyond your wildest dreams. You lift your dress only to find crystal glass slippers adorned on your feet.

“I never understood glass slippers. As if heels weren’t hard enough to walk in. Trust me. These are killing me.” He lifts his own dress to show you heels taller than you’ve ever seen.

“It makes my butt look amazing though.” You laugh as you twirl around.

“Oh thank you Wade. How can I ever repay you for this?”

“Aw don’t worry child, You deserve this.” He pats your head and takes your hand, helping you into the carriage.

“First things first, I will hide your identity to your family for plot convenience so they won’t recognize you.” He taps his wand on your cheek and you wince as it pokes your skin.

“Second, to keep things interesting, this only lasts until midnight. Once the clock strikes 12 everything will revert back to the way it was. Except for the glass slippers. For some reason.” You nod, you don’t need this to last forever. This was enough. Just one night was enough.

“Thank you Wade. For everything.” You lean over and kiss his cheek.

“Awe, you really know how to make a guy blush. Now hurry! You don’t have much time. Mush horsies mush!” The horses take off and you watch Wade disappear in the distance.

You can barely contain your joy as you head to the castle. You couldn’t stop touching the dress or the plush seats of the carriage. It was unbelievable. A part of you was afraid if you blinked it would all go away or that this was just a dream and you were still back home. But as you near the castle it feels all too real. As you reach the steps of the castle your footman helps you out onto the ground. You turn and curtsy to the horses and to your footman.

“Thank you all.” Your heels clack on the marble stairs as you race up to the grand hall.

You’re awestruck at the beauty of the castle. Before the ballroom you stop in front of a large portrait of who you assume to be the royal family. The King sits regal as ever with the Queen standing by his side. A kind smile on her face as her hands rest on the Prince’s shoulder. The prince is only a child but you see he had his mothers hazel eyes. You bow to the portrait and then move to the ballroom.

The doors open and suddenly everyone's eyes are on you. A hush falls over the crowd as you walk up to the balcony. You see the King sitting at the front of the room, bowing in respect. You effortlessly glide down the stairs to the main floor. Whispers are shared throughout the guests but you pay them no mind. You were truly here. The music starts up again and the party slowly goes back to normal. You weaved your way through the crowd. Sneaking a chocolate covered strawberry from the dessert table. It was the sweetest thing you had ever tasted.

“That was quite an entrance.” You feel a hand on your shoulder and you turn around, your dress moving with you.

“Logan! You came.” You say with a smile. You weren’t sure you’d ever see him again. He’s dressed in white with accents of blue. His clothes are crisp and fitted perfectly.

“I thought you didn’t care for these.” He shrugs and looks around the room.

“I don’t, but I was hoping to find a familiar face.” Your breath catches in your throat as he reaches up and wipes chocolate from your lips. A half smile on his lips.

“I love chocolate too,” He says with an amused look.

“You know I never caught your name.” He remarks and you smile.

“You never asked.” You reply. Logan raises an eyebrow but chuckles at your response. The music dies down as the song comes to an end.

“Dance with me.” He holds out his hand but you shake your head.

“Oh I don’t dance Logan.”

“You can’t come to a ball and not dance love.” Your heart flutters at the pet name. It just sounds so sweet coming from him.

“The last time I danced I was a little girl standing on my fathers toes.” You admit shyly. Logan hums and tilts your chin up with his hand. The distance between the two of you closing in.

“Just trust me my love, I won’t let you fall.” He takes your hand and you follow him. He glances at the band and subtly nods his head. They start to play a new song as Logan positions your hands.

“Don’t look at anyone else but me.” He whispers in your ear.

You’re horribly nervous as the music starts. Just don’t step on his toes and you’ll be fine. Your feet move clumsily at first but with an encouraging smile from Logan you find your footing. The two of you glide across the ballroom. Capturing the attention of everyone in the room. You barely even noticed as you found yourself getting lost in his hazel eyes.

True to his word he never lets you fall. You don’t know how you’re dancing like this but you don't care. The two of you dance like you’ve been partners for years. Matching each other's movements effortlessly.

“You’re a natural my love.” He says with a grin.

“Only because I have you.” You say with a smile.

Happiness threatens to burst through your heart as the music comes to an end. Applause fills the room but you only pay attention to Logan. More couples join the dance floor as the music starts back up but you and Logan stay still in the middle of the dance floor.

“Prince James!” You hear a voice call. You pay no mind but Logan seems to tense.

“It’s far too crowded here, let's go somewhere quieter.” He takes your hand and guides you through the room. Weaving between people until you’re out of the grand ballroom.

“Logan, are we supposed to be here?” You ask worriedly.

“Don’t worry, trust me.” He says with a wink.

You admire the portraits and paintings on the wall. Logan brings you through the castle until you find yourself outside in the royal gardens. Colorful flowers fill the courtyard along with a marble fountain. You can’t help yourself as you admire every plant and flower.

Logan watched you with a smile on his face. You really are something special. But there's something he needs to confess. He wishes he didn’t have to but he cannot hide it any longer.

“My love, there’s something I need to tell you.” He says cautiously.

“Yes Logan?”

“I haven’t been completely honest with you about my identity. The truth is…” He trails off. Unsure of how to tell you.

“You’re the crowned Prince. Aren’t you?” There’s no anger in your voice. Only amusement. Logan’s jaw falls as he tries to gather his words.

“Did you know the moment we met?” He asks in disbelief. You shake your head, eyes turning back to the roses in the garden.

“I didn’t know until right now. Well a couple minutes ago. You led me through the castle without a second thought, you’re wearing the royal crest, and there are paintings of you and your family in every hall of the castle.” You explain with a giggle. Logan groans, of course you’d notice all of that.

“But most of all, you have your mothers eyes.” You reach up and cup his face, staring into those enchanting hazel eyes.

“Are you not angry with me for lying about my true identity?”

“No my prince, I understand why you did so. It must be so hard sometimes. So lonely.” He sighs and covers your hand with his.

“It can be yes, no siblings and a father who has shut you out since your mother passed.”

Logan’s life wasn't what all his subjects thought it to be. Perhaps when he was a child it was. His father was a cold man. Only caring about ruling his kingdom and nothing more. The only time he would talk to Logan was to berate him or remind him of his future responsibilities. No rough housing, no crying, no coddling. He will be the future king which means he must act like it.

It didn’t matter that he was only a child. His mother was much kinder. She stayed with him when he was sick or when he had a nightmare. She taught him everything he knows. Gardening, cooking, reading, dancing. All his mother. She would tell him stories of brave soldiers who slayed dragons and tales of prince’s meeting their princesses.

When she died, he was only a teenager. His father who was already a cold man grew even colder. His heart was frozen by the loss of his wife. Since then Logan had to become the model King his father wished him to be. Locked in the castle walls with no one. It didn’t take long for him to learn how to sneak out from under his fathers rule. He swore one day he’d leave and never look back. But that day never came.

The day his father got sick. He knows what’s coming. There’s no doctor in the world who can cure what his father has. It’s why his father planned the whole ball. Logan was to become King soon and he needed a wife. But this wasn’t how Logan wanted things to go. He doesn’t want to marry out of obligation. But despite being the prince, he’s utterly helpless.

“I’m so sorry, my prince.”

“Logan, please call me Logan.” He begs, he’s not your prince out here. Not when it’s just the two of you. You nod and he leads you through the gardens.

“Why Logan? We were told the Prince’s name was James.” You ask.

“James is my fathers name. But my mother gave me the name Logan. I prefer it to my given name.” Logan explains, his hand reaching down to pluck a white rose from one of the bushes. He carefully picks the thorns off the stem and holds it out to you.

“A pretty flower for a beautiful woman.” You bite your lip as he gently places the flower into your hair.

“Perfect.” He whispers. The falling vines shield you from the prying eyes of the walkway.

“Logan, aren’t you supposed to find a wife tonight?” You ask and his face hardens.

“My fathers idea. He wants me to be married for the good of the kingdom.” Logan huffs as he rolls his eyes.

“It doesn't matter what I wish for myself.”

“What do you wish for?” He looks at you with a look you can’t quite place. His hands cup your face and he brings himself closer to you.

“I want to marry for love, to find someone who cares for me and not just my title.”

“I see,” You squeak out. Your heart pounds in your chest as Logan edges ever closer. His gloved hands hold your face with such care. His lips just ghosting over yours.

“I believe I’ve found it.” He mumbles. Your eyes flutter closed as Logan closes the gap. You can barely feel his lips when the clock tower chimes through the courtyard. You gasp as you look at the time.

Midnight. You have to leave.

“Logan I, I’m sorry.” You turn and run as fast as you can. Through the garden back into the castle to the front doors.

“Wait, please don’t leave!” Logan calls after you. He’s running after you with all his might.

The carriage is waiting for you at the foot of the steps. You rush carelessly down the stairs. You feel your shoe fly off and you stop to grab it but Logan is close behind you. You can’t risk it. Before you can get into your carriage you hear him call for you again.

“Your name, I never got your name.” You turn back to see him on the steps.

He’s silently begging you not to leave. You almost tell him, almost. But reality has come crashing down on you. He’s the prince. He must marry someone important. Someone who can become queen one day. Someone who isn’t you.

“I’m sorry Logan.” You jump in the carriage and before Logan can do anything you’re off.

Logan bends down and picks up the glass shoe. He kicks himself for never asking your name. From the moment he saw you he felt a connection. You didn’t know who he was but you were so nice. Protecting that little girl without a second thought. Logan is normally a stoic man but you were easy to talk to. He wanted to talk to you.

The doors open as the guests start to file out. He feels a hand grab his arm and drag him back into the castle where his angry father awaits him.

“James! Where on earth did you go?! Do you know what a ruckuss you caused? Dancing with a mystery woman just to disappear for the rest of the night?!” His father yells but Logan could care less.

“She is my future wife. I know it. You wished for me to marry well I found a wife.”

“Well where is she?” His father asks. Logan looks down at the slipper and then back to his father.

“She ran. But I will find her. That’s a promise.” He says but his father just sighs. 

“Son. Why can’t you just pick someone else? Princess Jean from the Grey family of the neighboring kingdom is interested and your marriage would be great for both our kingdoms.” His father says like its a matter of fact. Knowing his father Logan wouldn’t be surprised if he had already agreed to the marriage without even speaking to him.

“Because I love her father!” Logan roars. He is sick of being controlled by his father. He will rule the kingdom. He will be king one day and he will do it his way.

“Love doesn’t matter! Look what love got you son. She left you. She’s gone.” His father shouts.

“How could you say that? Did mother mean nothing to you? Did you not love her?!” Logan challenges. His eyes burn with intensity as he marches right up to his father. Logan’s chest heaves as his father sinks into his throne.

“Your mother was the love of my life.” He starts.

“But she died. My love could not heal her and now she’s gone. Please, I am doing this for your own good.” King James pleads. For the first time in the last 20 years Logan saw a hint of vulnerability break through his fathers hard shell.

“I love her. It may end in heartbreak, she may not want me. But all I know is I love her. Give me one week to find her. That’s all I ask. One week and if I fail then I will marry Princess Jean.” Logan drops to his knees.

His one last desperate effort to appeal to his father. His mother would want him to marry for love and he’s found it. He can’t give up on it now.

“Deal. One week James.”

True to what Wade had said, everything turned back to normal. Your dress, the carriage, the horses, and the footman. The gooses waddled by your side as the mice sat inside of your glass shoe as you walked back to your house. That night was something out of your wildest dreams.

Dancing with the prince, with Logan. The smile wouldn’t leave your face. How could it? You hummed the song that was playing as you danced to yourself. It didn’t matter how much your feet hurt, you were happy. The glass slipper sparkled in the moonlight.

You’re glad you have something to remember the night by, to prove it wasn’t just a dream. After letting the mice free you ran back to your room, just as you heard the carriage pull up. Prying the loose floorboard up you place the shoe gently inside, a keepsake you’ll hold dear forever.

The next morning you went back to your old life, being treated like dirt once again but it was okay. For when you had the chance you would daydream of the night before. Your sisters would not stop talking about the ball. Angry that they never got to speak to the prince and that some mystery woman stole him away. They’ll never know that was you. That the prince had chosen you to spend his night with.

No matter how cruel your family was, how much work they gave you, you were still happy. News had traveled quickly that the prince was looking for the mystery girl, a single glass shoe his only way of finding her. Your step mother had alerted your sisters this morning. A week to find his true love, how romantic.

You tried to balance your feelings. Could he really find you all the way out here? Would he even look past the town? He didn’t even know your name. What if he saw the true nature of your life, that you were not the woman he thought you were? What if he thought you were a princess or a noblewoman? That day in the town you had spent a lot of coins. Would he want you as just a peasant maid girl?

”I expect the house to be spotless for the prince’s visit.” Your step mother demands.

Not a single speck of dirt is allowed. You worked tirelessly day and night. Even when your step sisters would spill something on purpose or tip over your water bucket, you managed to get it done. The prince was to travel to the outskirts of the town by mid afternoon. You were absolutely exhausted. You trudged up the stairs to your room. To your shock your step mother was sitting on your bed, your glass slipper dangling from her finger.

“Where did you find that?” Your voice quivering with fear. You hid that away, you only brought it out in the dead of night. How could she have found it?

“Do you think me a fool, my dear?” Her voice is cold, void of any emotion as she swings the slipper back and forth.

“Please don’t!” You reach forward but she pulls it back. Your steps falter, her stare grounding you to the spot you’re standing in.

“It’s fragile.” You whisper.

“You really are dreadful at keeping secrets. Humming a tune, swaying to the imaginary music when you think no one is looking. And this.” She holds out the slipper.

“The mystery girl at the ball had shoes made of crystal, my dear. I wonder just how fragile it really is.”

“Please, I don’t want anything from you. I've done the chores I’ve kept quiet…” Your step mother stands up and marches over to you. She leers down at you in utter discontent.

“Silence! You insolent girl. You have ruined everything! I knew I should have thrown you out the minute your father died. All he cared about was you, I was his wife but he gave you all his attention. Probably because he was still in love with that wretched woman.”

“Don’t talk about my mother like that! You know nothing of who she was. She was kind, strong and loving. Everything you aren’t!” You shout back.

Your step mothers faced into shock and then to anger. But you couldn’t stop, once the gates had been opened it’s all flooding out.

“Why are you so cruel to me? What could I possibly have done to you? I was a child! A child who had lost both her parents and you couldn’t find an ounce of sympathy. Not one.” You fall to your knees, years of built up emotions flooding out of you. You wince as your stepmother grabs your arm, her nails digging into your skin.

“Don’t you dare speak to me like that.” She snarled.

“You are nothing but a worthless little girl and you will never be anything more than that. Do you understand me?” Her eyes are burning with rage. She tightens her grip on the heel of your slipper. Your eyes widen as you realize what she’s going to do.

“No!” You scream as she slams the slipper to the ground.

It shatters into pieces before your eyes. Scattering across your floor. You sob as you grab at the pieces you can still hold. You look up at your step mother with tearful eyes.

For a second, perhaps it is your imagination, you see a flicker of regret. But it disappears just as quickly as it came. The sound of horses comes rumbling in the distance. Your stepmother walks past you. The heel of the slipper is still in her hands.

“Make a sound and you’ll never step foot outside again.” She slams your door shut and you hear the click of the lock.

You cry and cry your heart out. Holding the broken pieces of crystal to your chest. The one happy moment in your heart has been shattered just like everything else. Why couldn’t they just let you be happy for once? You spent your whole life trying to live through kindness and you thought that maybe the world would show you a little too.

But it’s done the worst thing. It gave you a sliver of hope, a sliver of happiness and then it crushed it. Crushed it until there’s nothing left.

Maybe this is just the life you’re meant to have, perhaps the happiness wasn’t meant to be. Logan was too good to be true, he’ll find a new wife after this week. He’ll become King and forget all about you. Even when he’ll be all you dream about for the rest of your life.

You gently place the broken pieces on top of a piece of fabric, bundling them up and placing them under your bed. The tears have slowly stopped falling. You rest your arms on the window sill. A light breeze comes through to dry your tears. You stare at the castle in the distance.

Replaying the night over in your head in hopes that it brings you some peace. 

“Hello Prince James.” Logan stands at the door of the house. Your stepmother and stepsisters bow in his presence.

“These are my daughters Cassandra and Raven.” Logan nods as the two girls eye him shamelessly.

“Let's get this over with.” Logan mumbles to the guards who were standing beside him.

He’s searched through the whole kingdom. Today marks a week since that night of the ball. Today was his last chance to find you and he’s almost given up hope. The shoe hasn’t fit anyone, he knows if he sees you he won’t even need the shoe but it was a way to make sure in his fathers eyes.

“My aren’t you handsome.” Raven purrs, reaching out to touch his chest. He steps back and lets the guards step in front of him. Holding the shoe out to Raven. Raven sits down and holds out her foot. The guard tries to put the shoe on but it’s too small.

“Must have shrunk since last week.” Raven says with gritted teeth.

“It doesn’t fit Raven, now move over.” Cassandra pulls her sister out of the chair and sits down instead.

Gloating at the way Raven pouts. Once again the shoe is placed on Cassandra’s foot and once again it doesn’t fit. Logan holds back the urge to roll his eyes as Cassandra tries to fit her foot in through force.

“Thank you for your time.” He starts to leave but he’s stopped by your stepmother.

“Wait! My prince, I promise you the shoe belongs to one of my daughters.” She pulls the heel of the slipper out of her pocket. Logan’s eyes widen as he sees the familiar glass slipper.

“Where did you find this?” He demands.

“As I said before, it belongs to one of my daughters.” Logan doesn’t believe her for a second. He knows who he danced with and it wasn’t the two girls standing before him.

“My prince, listen!” One of the guards says. Your stepmother opens her mouth to protest but one look from Logan silences her. His ears strain to hear what the guard was talking about. There’s nothing but silence at first, but then he hears it. A soft hum of a familiar song. He knows that song, that’s the song he danced to at the ball.

“Where is she?” He growls, his polite front dropping in an instant.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. There is no one else here.” Your stepmother tries to argue but Logan pushes past her.

Running up the stairs to the attic. Stopping every now and then to hear you sing. At the very top of the stairs sits an old wooden door. Without thinking he slams his shoulder into it. The wood shakes and creaks under his force.

“Logan?” You ask in disbelief, your voice muffled through the wall.

“Stand back!” Logan says before ramming his shoulder against the door again. It splinters with ease. You stare in shock as Logan stands before you.

“It’s you.” He says breathlessly, uncaring of the dust and grime that now stains his perfect suit.

“You found me.” You whisper.

“I haven't stopped looking for you since the ball.” Logan walks over to you, striding across the room in need. His arms wrapping around your waist pulling you close.

“I have fallen madly in love with you.” He confesses.

You reach up and wrap your hands in his hair, pulling him in for the kiss you didn’t get to have in the gardens. His hands squeeze your waist softly as he groans into the kiss. You’re both desperate and passionate. Trying to speak a thousand words with only your lips.

“Do I finally get to know your name?” He asks with amusement. A smile on his face as he cups your face. You laugh and tell him. He repeats you, your name rolling off his tongue with ease.

“What a perfect name.” He hums, his thumb brushing your cheek softly. Logan takes a step back and drops to one knee, pulling out a gorgeous ring from his pocket.

“Marry me my love.” He holds out the ring and you feel your heart jump.

“Of course I will.” You cry. He places the ring on your finger and spins you around. You laugh with pure joy as he pulls you in for another kiss.

“Your stepmother is an awful woman.” He mumbles, if he could he’d kick them out of his kingdom for treating you like this. Locking you away like a prisoner in your own home.

The two of you hand in hand head back downstairs. All eyes are on you as Logan leads you through your house. The house that was once filled with happy memories of your parents, now tainted by years of abuse and cruelty from your stepmother. Logan stands at your side, blocking their view of you as you walk out the door.

“Wait! Please you can’t just leave us. I won’t allow it!” Your stepmother hisses as she follows you out the door.

The guards step forward but you call them off. Logan looks at you, silently asking if you’re sure and you nod. Reluctantly he lets go of your hand, letting you walk up to your step mother. You hold your head high, a feeling of complete freedom.

“You don’t control me anymore.” You stand tall, watching as your stepmother's face morphs through different emotions. Your whole body is shaking. But she can’t hurt you anymore, she doesn’t get to destroy your life. Logan laces his hand with yours and gently pulls you back to the royal carriage.

“Are you alright?” Logan asks as he sees the tears in your eyes. He reaches up and brushes the stray tears away.

“Yes Logan, I’m perfect.” 

In an instant your life changed. Your wedding was a grand affair. The whole town was thrilled to have a new princess and the celebration was amazing. Logan was a model prince, using his power and status to help the town orphanage so that all the children could live happy and comfortable lives. He wasn’t afraid to roll up his sleeves and work to help his kingdom.

After years of being locked away he was discovering what it meant to be free just like you were. The two of you were beloved. Praised for being kind, fair, and happy rulers. You spread kindness through everything the two of you did together. He’s everything to you and you are his whole world.

The view of the kingdom from your bedroom window was nothing short of breathtaking. You place birdseed on the window sill and a few birds fly up to the castle window. They chirp happily and you watch them with a smile on your face.

“What are you thinking about my love?” Logan asks as he wraps his arms around you from behind. His chin resting on your shoulder.

You look back at his handsome face, seeing the man you love with nothing but content on his face. He brought the light back into your life and it shines brighter than ever before. Then you look back at the kingdom, your kingdom. For once your heart does not ache watching from the window. Now you feel only love and peace.