#Automation testing classes

[analytiqlearning]

Exploring Data Structures with Java: A Comprehensive Guide

Data Structures with Java: A Comprehensive Guide

Understanding data structures is crucial for anyone looking to advance in software development. For those interested in mastering Java, data structures form a vital component of their learning journey. This guide dives into the fundamentals of data structures, how they work in Java, and why they’re essential in coding applications.

Whether you're a beginner or an experienced developer, exploring data structures with Java can unlock new opportunities, especially if you're considering a Java class in Pune or a Java course in Pune with placement. With hands-on experience in Java courses in Pune, you’ll develop practical skills that are highly valued by tech companies.

What Are Data Structures?

Data structures are ways of organizing and storing data efficiently so that it can be used effectively. Different data structures offer different ways to handle data, influencing aspects like processing speed and storage requirements. In Java, understanding the appropriate data structure for a specific problem is essential for building optimized and scalable applications.

Data structures are generally divided into:

Linear Data Structures: Arrays, linked lists, stacks, and queues.

Non-linear Data Structures: Trees, graphs, heaps, and hash tables.

With a structured Java course in Pune with placement, you'll dive deeper into each data structure, gaining hands-on experience with real-world scenarios.

Why Are Data Structures Important in Java?

Java is widely recognized for its platform independence, object-oriented features, and extensive libraries. In any Java class in Pune, you’ll learn how data structures enhance Java's capabilities by enabling efficient management of data. Key benefits include:

Faster Execution: Data structures help in reducing the execution time of programs by minimizing data access time.

Efficient Storage: They help in organizing data, allowing programs to function effectively even with large datasets.

Improved Code Quality: Using the right data structure simplifies code and reduces maintenance.

Commonly Used Data Structures in Java

Understanding the commonly used data structures is a fundamental aspect of any Java courses in Pune. Let's look at some widely used data structures in Java and their real-world applications.

1. Arrays

An array is a collection of elements stored in contiguous memory locations. It is one of the simplest data structures and is used to store fixed-size data collections. Arrays are great for storing data like a list of user names or numerical values. In a Java class in Pune, you’ll explore how arrays work and how they can be manipulated in Java.

Example:

int[] numbers = {1, 2, 3, 4, 5};

for (int i = 0; i < numbers.length; i++) {

    System.out.println(numbers[i]);

}

2. Linked Lists

Linked lists consist of nodes, where each node contains a data field and a reference to the next node in the sequence. They are flexible in size and allow for efficient insertion and deletion. Java course in Pune with placement programs often focus on linked lists because they form the backbone of more complex data structures.

Example:

class Node {

    int data;

    Node next;

    Node(int d) { data = d; next = null; }

}

3. Stack

A stack is a linear data structure that follows a Last In, First Out (LIFO) order. Java's Stack class offers methods like push and pop for adding and removing elements. Learning stacks in a Java class in Pune helps develop a fundamental understanding of memory management in applications.

Example:

Stack<Integer> stack = new Stack<>();

stack.push(10);

stack.push(20);

System.out.println(stack.pop()); // Output: 20

4. Queue

Queues follow a First In, First Out (FIFO) order. They are commonly used in applications such as customer service systems. In Java courses in Pune, you’ll see how queues help in processing data efficiently, making them ideal for order processing.

Example:

Queue<Integer> queue = new LinkedList<>();

queue.add(10);

queue.add(20);

System.out.println(queue.poll()); // Output: 10

5. Trees

Trees are non-linear data structures, with nodes arranged in a hierarchical manner. Binary trees, binary search trees, and AVL trees are different tree types. They are crucial in data organization, making them a staple topic in any Java course in Pune with placement.

Example:

class TreeNode {

    int data;

    TreeNode left, right;

    public TreeNode(int data) {

        this.data = data;

        left = right = null;

    }

}

6. Graphs

Graphs consist of nodes (vertices) connected by edges. They are useful in real-world applications like social networks, recommendation engines, and mapping. Graphs are often covered in Java classes in Pune, as they require an understanding of advanced data handling and traversal techniques.

7. Hash Tables

Hash tables store data in key-value pairs and offer constant-time data access. Java's HashMap class makes it easy to implement hash tables, which are used in caching, database indexing, and associative arrays. Through Java courses in Pune, you’ll understand hash tables’ critical role in managing large data sets effectively.

Advantages of Learning Data Structures in Java

With demand for skilled developers on the rise, Java courses in Pune have gained traction, especially for their focus on practical implementation and problem-solving skills. Here’s why learning data structures with Java is valuable:

Job Market Demand: Proficiency in data structures and Java opens up numerous job opportunities, particularly in software development, data science, and engineering.

Comprehensive Curriculum: A Java course in Pune with placement often includes in-depth modules on data structures, algorithms, and advanced Java topics. With placement assistance, it becomes easier to land a job right after completing the course.

Hands-On Projects: Many Java classes in Pune emphasize projects that allow students to apply their knowledge of data structures to real-world problems, enhancing practical understanding.

Enhanced Problem-Solving Skills: Data structures improve your ability to design solutions efficiently. This is highly valued in tech interviews, where companies test your logical and analytical skills.

Choosing the Right Java Course in Pune

Choosing the right Java course can make a significant difference in your career trajectory. When looking for a Java course in Pune with placement, consider factors like the course curriculum, industry relevance, and practical exposure. Java classes in Pune that cover comprehensive data structure modules help you stay competitive in the fast-evolving tech field.

Key Highlights of the Best Java Courses in Pune

Experienced Instructors: Learn from seasoned professionals who bring industry insights into the classroom.

Placement Support: Opt for a Java course in Pune with placement to secure career opportunities post-completion.

Project-Based Learning: Ensure the course includes hands-on projects on data structures.

Networking Opportunities: Join a network of peers and professionals, gaining insights and support as you advance in your career.

Conclusion

Data structures are an essential aspect of Java programming, shaping how data is stored, managed, and processed. A comprehensive Java class in Pune will equip you with the theoretical understanding and practical skills needed to apply data structures effectively. Enrolling in a Java course in Pune with placement offers the added advantage of hands-on experience and job assistance, making it an ideal choice for aspiring Java developers.

In summary, understanding data structures is crucial for efficient Java programming. With the right Java courses in Pune, you’ll build a strong foundation in data handling techniques that will serve you well in the software industry. Whether you’re just starting or looking to advance your skills, mastering data structures with Java will undoubtedly enhance your coding capabilities and employability.

[emexotechnologies]

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[communistkenobi]

(taken from a post about AI)

speaking as someone who has had to grade virtually every kind of undergraduate assignment you can think of for the past six years (essays, labs, multiple choice tests, oral presentations, class participation, quizzes, field work assignments, etc), it is wild how out-of-touch-with-reality people’s perceptions of university grading schemes are. they are a mass standardised measurement used to prove the legitimacy of your degree, not how much you’ve learned. Those things aren’t completely unrelated to one another of course, but they are very different targets to meet. It is standard practice for professors to have a very clear idea of what the grade distribution for their classes are before each semester begins, and tenure-track assessments (at least some of the ones I’ve seen) are partially judged on a professors classes’ grade distributions - handing out too many A’s is considered a bad thing because it inflates student GPAs relative to other departments, faculties, and universities, and makes classes “too easy,” ie, reduces the legitimate of the degree they earn. I have been instructed many times by professors to grade easier or harder throughout the term to meet those target averages, because those targets are the expected distribution of grades in a standardised educational setting. It is standard practice for teaching assistants to report their grade averages to one another to make sure grade distributions are consistent. there’s a reason profs sometimes curve grades if the class tanks an assignment or test, and it’s generally not because they’re being nice!

this is why AI and chatgpt so quickly expanded into academia - it’s not because this new generation is the laziest, stupidest, most illiterate batch of teenagers the world has ever seen (what an original observation you’ve made there!), it’s because education has a mass standard data format that is very easily replicable by programs trained on, yanno, large volumes of data. And sure the essays generated by chatgpt are vacuous, uncompelling, and full of factual errors, but again, speaking as someone who has graded thousands of essays written by undergrads, that’s not exactly a new phenomenon lol

I think if you want to be productively angry at ChatGPT/AI usage in academia (I saw a recent post complaining that people were using it to write emails of all things, as if emails are some sacred form of communication), your anger needs to be directed at how easily automated many undergraduate assignments are. Or maybe your professors calculating in advance that the class average will be 72% is the single best way to run a university! Who knows. But part of the emotional stakes in this that I think are hard for people to admit to, much less let go of, is that AI reveals how rote, meaningless, and silly a lot of university education is - you are not a special little genius who is better than everyone else for having a Bachelor’s degree, you have succeeded in moving through standardised post-secondary education. This is part of the reason why disabled people are systematically barred from education, because disability accommodations require a break from this standardised format, and that means disabled people are framed as lazy cheaters who “get more time and help than everyone else.” If an AI can spit out a C+ undergraduate essay, that of course threatens your sense of superiority, and we can’t have that, can we?

[avalontec]

Avalon is a company that offers PCB assembly services for various needs and applications.

Avalon has more than 20 years of experience in PCB assembly technology and has processes that save time and money for customers.

Avalon’s PCB assembly facilities can handle chip mounting for rapid prototyping or high/medium/low volume product manufacturing.

Avalon’s SMT lines can handle complex PCB assemblies with very high yields.

[youryessinfotechfan]

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[la-patrona-magdalena]

Synopsis:

You always wanted your family to look at you, even just once. At least with a bit of the affection they gave to the portraits of your mother. Too bad that when they finally did, you were looking at the pages of a comic that showed the cruel future.

Inspired by the manhwa: no place for the Fake Princess

Warnings: English is not my first language, so I used a translator. Yandere content, neglect, abandonment, angst (?), allusions to death, original character (not the reader), allusions to torture. I try to keep the gender neutral,but in part there are mostly feminine pronouns. If any warnings are missing here, please let me know.

Disclaimer: This fanfic is for personal reading only. The use of this text for AI model training, data mining, commercial purposes, or any automated reproduction is strictly prohibited without the explicit consent of the author. Translation or reposting to other platforms is also strictly prohibited without the author's permission

Thank you.

You can read the fanfic in its original language (Spanish) on my AO3

Big thanks to @seleneprince for being the English beta reader

previous chapter - Next chapter

Masterlist

Chapter Three - Seeing into the void

Studying today was hard. At first, as your teacher began the class, you thought the best thing would be to study, sake advantage of the high‑level education being part of this family can offer you for now, but you were still too overwhelmed by last night and this morning. Halfway through, you thought about going to tell your da-… Bruce, if he could let you skip your classes today.

He probably would have agreed, even though you… even though Bruce doesn’t hug you, pay attention to you, or look at you, he never refused your requests—so long as they weren’t about giving you attention.

Which is equivalent to nothing, because you don’t even speak to him when you need something. Almost every time you needed anything, if not every single time, you went through Alfred.

Sometimes you wondered if Bruce even listened to what Alfred told him, or if he just agreed to get you out of his hair. One of these days you’ll ask for something ridiculous just to test your theory.

Though, with what you now know, his attitude toward you makes sense.

In the end, you decided not to say anything because, first, it would be very odd to suddenly skip classes; you already had Tim worried about you after last night, and you didn’t want to worsen his strange behavior. And second, you thought that once your last class ended, you’d feel more relieved.

But you didn’t.

Somehow—though you have no idea how—you made it through today’s lessons until you reached your knitting workshop.

You stared at the balls of yarn in front of you with no enthusiasm. Yarn is the only thing you know that truly belongs to you in this house; neither your family nor your place in this mansion are yours. You never should’ve been here in the first place.

Your room is empty because you wanted to save space for the gifts you hoped they’d give you…after all, you have like five siblings! You have five… five people who live so close to you… and the rest… and… You don't know how to refer to such a large family where you steal someone's place.

Part of you is relieved those spaces remain vacant, if they’d given you anything, you’d feel it didn’t belong to you.

Instead, there are only your basic things, plus decorations, cushions, and blankets you made yourself from yarn you knitted. Some were ugly, but you still loved them. And now, you love them even more, because they’re the only things truly yours in this empty mansion.

Despite that, you haven't started knitting, you haven't picked up the needles, you've already received instructions from your teacher, but you don't have the spirit to start anything.

—Sweetheart, is something wrong?— she asked, noticing your distant gaze. You felt a slight chill run through you when her voice pulled you from your trance. — No… It’s just me… — You didn’t know what to say. Mrs. Sophia had always been so kind to you, and you wanted to tell her everything. But you’d decided not to tell anyone… and now you didn’t know who to trust. What if she was only nice because of the money Mr. Bruce paid her? — We can end the class now, if you’d like. — Her tone was gentle. She approached, as if to place her hand on your shoulder, but stopped herself and lowered her arm. “Today’s work will be your homework, okay?”

Honestly, you have no energy to continue—even though this was your favorite workshop, the one you’d requested yourself. — I’d really appreciate that… — you managed your best smile.

A few minutes later, the room was empty.

You walked through the hallways, feeling even more distant because of what you’d discovered. You had to set a plan in motion to escape this place, and erase every trace proving you’d ever been a Wayne, before the Joker learned of your existence, if he doesn’t already know and hasn’t used that information against you.

You have five years, counting this one, to plan how to flee a clown with a record for breaking out of a maximum‑security prison, and to wipe your identity from the world’s greatest detective.

You returned to your room, left your unfinished assignments from every class on your desk, and instead of beginning them as you normally would, you went straight to look under your bed for the three comics.

Thank goodness Alfred hadn’t tidied up today; with everything that happened, you’d forgotten to hide your daily pill, You saved yourself that trouble and the trouble of explaining everything.

You sat on the bed holding the two comics. Having them back in your hands and in front of you made your body feel heavy and your breathing quicken, you hadn’t touched these comics since before you discovered Tim’s double life.

You took your small Bluey wool plush and squeezed it, breathing as Tim had taught you to the night before.

You have to calm down. You can't panic every time you see the future on some pages. Your crisis will be worse if you let what you saw there happen.

Your heart steadies as air fills your lungs more normally. The poor blue plush in your hands is a little damaged by the force of your grip, you’re sure your nails could have pierced the fabric.

You’ll fix it later. For now, your priority is to think about what you’ll do with your life in the years you have left to plan.

What would someone as brilliant as Bruce or Tim do in your situation?

This isn’t a case, unless you consider your escape and disappearance one.

Well, the first thing you’d do if you were a vigilante hunting a criminal would be… investigate. Gather information.

Exactly. First, you’d compile every detail from the comics you thought might be useful, and with that, you’d figure out your best options for getting away.

Alfred was slightly surprised.

— Since class began, I’ve noticed her distant. I should check that her health is all right… though perhaps she didn’t sleep well. — all your teachers told him. It wasn’t a big deal, until Mrs. Sophia, your favorite teacher from your favorite workshop, said the same thing as she bade him goodbye, leaving much earlier than usual.

He, more than anyone, knew you were behaving out of the ordinary. He wanted to ask young Tim what happened last night, but Tim had already rushed off to solve the case Bruce assigned him. Although Alfred already knew that your strange behavior had begun long before Tim accompanied you to bed, after all, you’d skipped lunch and taken refuge in your room hours earlier.

Dinner’s aroma began to fill the kitchen. Alfred silently replayed your reaction when Tim led you into the study and how you spent the rest of the day isolated. He granted you the space you needed, though it weighed on him to see you so alone.

He rested a hand on the phone, waiting for the pot to start boiling, intending to call Tim just to ask if anything else had happened… but in that moment he received a message from Tim: reserve a plate for dinner and “I'll be there in a while.”

Alfred smiled softly to himself. At least you wouldn’t be alone with him and Damian. Even if you appreciate your silence, a little company never hurts.

He called young Damian, who’d returned from the academy a while ago, then welcomed Tim back, and finally came for you. Knowing you, You yourself would tell him what was happening to you.

When you opened the door to your room, despite looking clearly tired and somewhat sad, you seemed a little more determined. The smile you gave him when he saw him, though forced, had a hint of sincerity. Although he was somewhat relieved that you seemed better than you had this morning, a part of him knew something wasn't right with you.

—Young lady, has it been your stomach or your spirits that decided to go on strike today?— You shook your head, your signature smile still in place—so different from Bruce’s, yet one he cherished like a child’s.

— I’m sorry, Alfred… it’s just that today…— The sentence was left unfinished, just like your energy after investigating. You didn't want to cause more problems. You had enough with Tim. You didn't want to worry the only one who had the decency to look at you in this family.

You gathered information and jotted it down on the back of your knitting-pattern notebook: the things you noticed at first glance—like the Joker’s plan, the day and how he carried out the kidnapping. The location. Simple details, instead of digging deeper or analyzing everything thoroughly. You noticed that, in part, Mr. Wayne seemed a little worried when Serelith first came into their lives. Perhaps you could worry him as a person rather than a family member. It wasn't the best, but you could understand.

—You don’t need to tell me if it makes you uncomfortable, however, you do need to eat some real food at least.

Alfred's voice brought you out of your thoughts. You laughed and walked beside Alfred toward the table. You thought it best to give him an excuse for your attitude. Even if Alfred wasn't the type of person to pressure you, that strange tension in the air that had been there since yesterday might disappear.

If you were a night watchman… What lie would you tell? Maybe something that's already happened before?

— The truth is… some kids at the store recognized me from an old photo. — It was a harmless lie, no one had actually recognized you, not even the clerk. But Alfred hadn’t gone into the store with you, so he wouldn’t know the truth.

— Is that so? — he asked, now giving you his full attention. — Yeah… They… They… — you stammered nervously, thinking about how to continue. Which Alfred interpreted as you having trouble saying what happened. — It’s okay — he tried to comfort you, placing his hand on your back, though it had the opposite effect.

— They told me I was my mother’s murderer! — you suddenly blurted out. It was the most logical thing you could come up with. You remembered a few times when some people had blamed you for your mother’s death… Serelith’s mother. It hurt you, but not so much now, although for some reason it's been a while since you heard those hurtful words from others. It's not like you went out much, but still…

Alfred sighed, partly relieved that you had told him what happened on your own. He knew how sad you got whenever someone brought up her death. The first time he had taken you out had been some time after a teacher posted a picture with you, bragging about teaching a Wayne. The image spread quickly, making you recognizable. He still winced at the memory of how you cried that day after a fan of your mother insulted you.

He stopped for a few moments. Aware that you were close enough to the main dining room for both Damian and Tim to have heard your conversation. He just hoped they wouldn’t react the way young Todd did years ago. Although he wouldn't mind if the kid who insulted you was taught a lesson. Alfred looked at you, knowing there was more to the story, something you were hiding—but for now, what you’d told him would be enough.

— Young one, whatever anyone says about you, adult or child, it will never change who you are. — he consoled you, still with his hand on your back. You stayed silent for a few seconds, his words sinking deeper than you expected them to. You reflected for a moment, it was true, what others said didn’t change anything about you—and before Alfred could react, you bolted down the hallway toward your father’s office.

— Give me a second and I’ll go to dinner! — you shouted excitedly, as Alfred watched you with a smile, seeing you return to your usual energy.

Maybe, just maybe, even with everything you saw. The comics, what you know, it might not be who you are, you're not his family, you're not Serelith, you're not capable enough to be another vigilante, but… Maybe, just maybe he cares enough for you, at least he'd keep you in a safe place. He'd look after you like any other normal civilian.

The little bit of hope you had from that short scene in the comics grew stronger thanks to Alfred’s words, even if they said all those things. It wouldn’t change the small but important things Mr. Wayne had done for you.

If he didn’t care, if you didn’t matter, he wouldn’t take care of you, right? He wouldn’t accept everything you say or even pay your tutors, would he? He might look at you even if not as family, just… just as a human…

— Dick, no. We’ve already talked about this. — Bruce, please.

You stop in front of his office, listening to an argument—and you clearly hear your father’s voice. — It’s what’s best for her. — For her or for you? It’s been so long—we even forgot she existed, for God’s sake! If Tim hadn’t called me this afternoon, I wouldn’t think of her at all…

Ouch….was that Dick? Wait, had they forgotten you? Did you matter so little?. You lean against the wall, curiosity and fear curling up inside you as you listen to what they’re arguing about. — He took a risk, he didn’t even know that she… — That she what? What fault does a little girl have? Why does she deserve this treatment? — Because she’s the reason Avery is dead!

Your heart stops cold. You feel your temperature spike… Avery was the name of…of Serelith’s mother, your supposed mother. Were they talking about you? You should have known when he mentioned Tim… You listen more intently, though your vision is blurring.

— But we could try; maybe she turns out different, maybe with enough effort we can change her… — She’ll never change, Dick.

Your legs start to tremble. Are you mishearing them? Maybe not… they aren’t talking about you—just a coincidence… A coincidence that they mention how Avery died on the day you were born, Serelith’s day… Why is your body sweating so much? And why do you feel so nauseous? Is it because you haven’t been eating properly? — If we don’t try… — It’s not safe, it never will be. It’s the best for everyone, and for her. It’s better if we don’t even look at her, if we treat her like she's been dead since the day she was born.

Move. You try to move, but everything… everything you see turns into black spots.

You can’t afford to doubt now. That's what you told yourself, lying down without sheets and with your legs elevated on some pillows, waking up in your room, with Tim and Damian, both looking worried, and giving each other death glares. Meanwhile, in the distance, you heard two voices.

— Vasovagal syncope, fainting from stress. Aggravated by poor nutrition. It’s harmless, but we should call Dr. Leslie, just in case. — Thank God… When I found her lying in the hallway, I thought…

You cover your ears with your hands, your brow furrowed with stress, you don’t want to hear anything more from Dick or anyone… You just… you just want to plan how to leave…

As you try to silence the noise, ignoring it in your head, you think about what you could do with your life. You should study twice as hard, maybe get a scholarship at some university and then leave the city, no, the country, the farther from that crazy clown the better. You’ll open a small craft shop and live like a civilian, free of the Wayne name. When Serelith appears, it would be all you could do to be removed from the family. You had no idea what kind of paperwork you'd have to do; you just knew you couldn't afford to keep falling like this, even with Alfred's words still on your mind.

At least now you’re free of doubts above all else. You’re going to push yourself to fulfill what Mr. Wayne said: not only not to be seen by the Joker, not to be looked at as a Wayne daughter, but not to be seen by anyone. As if you were dead.

Three weeks weren’t enough for me, aaaaaaaaah. On the other hand, changing the update schedule to Saturdays, Eastern South America Time (UTC-5), was a good idea for my rhythm. For now, updates every three weeks will continue.

I think some tags might be wrong... I apologize for that.

With this, we can more or less say that we’re closing the reader’s arc, taking it all in. In the next chapters, there will probably be more time skips and more focus on the other members of the Batfam. I wanted to wrap this up first. I hope it turned out better than I think it did. 😔

Anyway, thank you again for the lovely messages you leave on each chapter. Even if I don’t reply to all of them or take until the next update to respond, please know that I really appreciate them and I read each and every one of you. Have a great da

Taglist

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[krishna99667]

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[georgemaries]

Selenium classes online

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[analytiqlearning]

Exploring Data Structures with Java: A Comprehensive Guide

Understanding data structures is crucial for anyone looking to advance in software development. For those interested in mastering Java, data structures form a vital component of their learning journey. This guide dives into the fundamentals of data structures, how they work in Java, and why they’re essential in coding applications. Whether you’re a beginner or an experienced developer, exploring…

[th3mrskory]

Lessons in Desire

Pairing: fem!Reader x Professor!Logan

Warning: 18+ MDNI, SMUT, explicit language, coercion, power play, handjob, fingering.

Summary: In the classroom, their power dynamics shift, drawing them closer to the edge of what’s acceptable. Caught between desire and the threat of scandal, they push past boundaries, each unable to deny the magnetic pull between them. But with stakes this high, the real question is: how much will they sacrifice for a forbidden passion they can’t control?

Word count: 7.7 k

A/N:For those that know me know that I love history (it was almost my major but life happened), so this was me basically thirsting over this pictures of Hugh and imagining him as my history teacher. Yes I’m exposing myself, anyways I hope you guys like it. If you guys have ideas that you would like to share with me, please let me know, and maybe we can create something. I’m rambling … please enjoy!

© th3mrskory. don’t copy, translate, or use my works in any form with AI, ChatGPT or any other automated tools. I only share my stories here, so if you see them posted elsewhere, i’d appreciate it if you let me know.

"Power is not always obvious," Professor Logan said, his eyes scanning the room, catching the attention of his students. "It doesn’t always come with a crown or a title. Sometimes it comes with a whisper, a glance, a gesture. And sometimes—sometimes it comes when you least expect it."

The lecture hall was a quiet hum, a symphony of the mundane—pens scratching against paper, the rustle of pages turning. Logan’s voice carried through the room, steady and calm, but beneath it ran an undercurrent of something else. He spoke of empires, of power, of rulers who bent the world to their will. His words were sharp, his delivery precise, but always with an edge of something darker, something more elusive.

His eyes lingered a moment longer on Y/N, sitting at the front, her pen poised over her notes. She was one of the best in the class, her focus unwavering, her understanding evident in the way she took in every word. He could see the intellect in her eyes, but there was something else too—a quiet defiance, a knowing. She met his gaze for just a fraction of a second before looking back down at her notes, but in that brief exchange, the air between them shifted.

"History," Logan continued, his voice low and resonant, "is full of those who understood this—those who knew how to wield influence without ever raising a sword." He let the words linger in the air, letting the students process, but his eyes were already searching, narrowing as they locked onto a figure in the front row—Y/N.

She sat with her chin propped in one hand, a look of quiet disinterest in her eyes as she scribbled down a few notes. Her friends, a small cluster of chatterboxes seated next to her, whispered among themselves, the occasional giggle slipping through the otherwise hushed atmosphere. Y/N didn’t seem to mind; her eyes drifted lazily over Logan, then back to her friends, her attention more drawn to the familiar cadence of their conversation than to the lecture itself.

Logan could feel her presence, could sense the way she seemed to float above his words. She was too intelligent to be completely consumed by his lecture, and perhaps that was the greatest challenge—how to captivate someone who had already mastered the material long before it was ever spoken aloud. And yet, every now and then, she would glance back at him, those eyes meeting his with a flicker of something unspoken. It was the same each class—brief, fleeting, but enough to remind him of the subtle power they held in each other's gaze.

"But what happens," Logan’s voice dipped lower, growing more intense, "when the power shifts? When authority is tested?" He paused, holding her attention a moment longer, the words weighing more heavily now. "We’ll see that today."

A student in the back row raised a hand, his voice eager. "Professor, are you suggesting that power is always a matter of perception? That someone can be in control without others even knowing?"

Logan glanced at the student, a brief flicker of amusement crossing his features. "Exactly," he replied, his eyes shifting back to Y/N, even though he answered the question. "Power often hides itself in plain sight—subtle, insidious. True power doesn’t need to announce its presence."

Another student chimed in, this time from the middle row. "So, like—manipulation?"

Logan paused, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Manipulation," he said, eyes narrowing with a trace of something dangerous, "can be a tool, if wielded wisely." His gaze, though, remained fixed on Y/N. "But power, true power, is about controlling the game without ever touching the pieces."

The students exchanged murmurs, their intrigue growing, but Logan’s focus never fully left Y/N. She wasn’t engaged in the discussion—not like the others—yet there was something about the way she let his words wash over her that made her more dangerous to him than any of the others. 

"Take the rulers of ancient Rome," Logan continued, seamlessly drawing the class back in, his tone now lighter, almost conversational. "They understood this very well. The true power wasn’t in the Senate or the legions, but in the whispers of the people. In the alliances made not on the battlefield, but in the shadows."

Y/N’s eyes flicked back to him, a moment of acknowledgment passing between them. She was listening now, more intently than before, but only just. Logan could feel it—how her mind moved faster than his words, how she already knew the direction he was going. And yet, something about the way she looked at him—something in that moment—made him pause, made the tension between them swell, palpable and thick.

Before he could finish his thought, Y/N interrupted him, her voice cutting through the air, the usual quiet of the room briefly shattered. "You’re going to tell us that real power isn’t in war or force, but in control, right?" Her words hung in the air, bold and playful, a challenge and a tease all at once.

Logan blinked, momentarily taken aback, but his gaze sharpened. His lips curled, not into a smile, but something more dangerous—acknowledgment, maybe even respect. "Control?" He leaned forward, his voice lowering, drawing her in. "Yes, it’s about control. But it’s not just any control. It’s the kind that’s invisible, the kind that makes others think they’re in charge while you hold the strings."

A flicker of something passed through Y/N’s eyes, a sharpness that matched his own. "Manipulation," she replied, her tone low but deliberate, her gaze never leaving his.

The words hung between them, charged. Logan’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. She’s onto me, he thought, and that thought sent a current through him, an unfamiliar thrill. "If you want to call it that," he said, his voice low and smooth. "But manipulation only works if you understand who you’re manipulating—and why. It’s about knowing how to move, when to act, and when to let things fall into place."

Y/N didn’t flinch, her eyes never wavering. She leaned back slightly in her chair, arms crossed, as though she were more an observer than a student. "And when does the power shift?" she asked, tilting her head. "What happens then?"

Logan’s gaze shifted, a slight pause before he answered. He had expected her to be sharp, but this was something different. "When the power shifts," he said slowly, his voice turning almost wistful, "you learn who really holds it."

The room settled into a quiet anticipation, the kind that only arose when the lecture strayed from the script. Logan turned to the chalkboard, picking up a piece of chalk and scrawling a name in bold strokes: Julius Caesar. The classroom watched, but Y/N’s eyes followed the movement with an almost lazy attentiveness, her focus as sharp as it was disinterested.

"Take Caesar," Logan began, his back to the room. "Brilliant general. Unstoppable conqueror. But what truly made him dangerous wasn’t his victories on the battlefield." He underlined the name, his strokes precise. "It was the way he made himself indispensable to Rome—how he turned loyalty into a weapon."

He turned back to face the class, letting his eyes drift again to Y/N, who hadn’t moved, her expression inscrutable. "He didn’t just seize power. He made them give it to him. The Senate, the people—they thought they were in control. But every step they took to restrain him only tightened his hold on them."

A hand shot up near the back of the room. "Wasn’t that what got him killed, though? Didn’t the Senate turn on him because they felt he had too much power?"

Logan’s mouth curved into a faint smile. "Exactly. But even in his death, Caesar proved his point. The Republic collapsed soon after, and the empire he had envisioned took its place. His name—his legacy—became synonymous with authority. Even those who conspired against him couldn’t escape his influence."

He leaned back against his desk, arms folding loosely across his chest. "So, the question isn’t whether power shifts. It always does. The question is—" his gaze swept over the class, settling on Y/N once more, "—who has prepared for the moment when it does?"

Her friends exchanged murmurs beside her, but Y/N stayed silent. Her fingers tapped idly on the edge of her notebook, her posture casual, but there was something coiled beneath it, something deliberate. She tilted her head, her lips parting as though to speak, but then she stopped, a ghost of a smile brushing her face as she leaned back again.

Logan noticed the hesitation. His jaw tightened, just for a moment, before he turned his attention back to the broader audience. "In Rome," he continued, voice steady, "Caesar’s power wasn’t in the Senate or the legions. It was in his ability to command the loyalty of others. He made them believe in him, even as he dismantled everything they held sacred."

The room buzzed faintly with whispers, but Logan didn’t silence them. He allowed the undercurrent to fill the space, his words sinking in slowly. He glanced at the clock—five minutes until the hour.

"All right," he said, his tone shifting to something lighter, "we’ll stop there for today. Read the chapters on Rome’s transition from Republic to Empire. And," he added, his gaze briefly flitting to Y/N, "consider what it takes to hold power without ever appearing to grasp it."

The students began to shuffle their things, the noise of zippers and chair legs scraping against the floor filling the room. Y/N stood, slipping her notebook into her bag as her friends chatted beside her. But as she made her way toward the door, Logan’s voice cut through the hum.

"Y/N," he called, his tone neutral but firm. "Do you have a minute?"

Her friends shot her curious glances, but she waved them off. "I’ll catch up," she said, her voice easy, almost careless. She turned back toward Logan, stepping away from the others.

He waited until the room had cleared, the door clicking shut behind the last student, before he spoke. "I need some help with grading," he said, his words measured. "“I could use some extra hands this evening—are you available?”

Y/N raised a brow, her lips quirking in faint amusement. "Grading? Or a lesson in subtlety?"

Logan’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t smile. "We’ll see," he replied, his tone low, charged.

She considered him for a moment, then nodded. "Fine. When and where?"

"My office," he said simply. "Six o’clock."

Y/N didn’t respond, but the glance she gave him was answer enough before she turned and walked away, leaving him alone in the empty classroom.

Logan remained seated on the edge of his desk as the classroom door swung shut behind her. The faint click of her heels against the hallway floor lingered in his ears, each step an echo, a countdown. He exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair, his fingers catching briefly before dropping back to his side. The room, now empty, felt larger somehow, its silence almost accusatory.

Grading. The excuse had come so easily, almost too easily, but it was better than nothing. He couldn’t very well say what was really on his mind—hell, even he wasn’t sure what that was. All he knew was that when she spoke, when her gaze pinned him in place, the careful structure he maintained in his world started to shift, brick by brick.

He pushed himself off the desk, straightening his tie as he crossed the room to gather his notes. His handwriting, normally steady, seemed slightly uneven today. He glanced at the last page, where his lecture had trailed off into a cluster of jagged phrases—power, perception, control. He closed the notebook sharply, the sound satisfying in the empty space.

By the time six o’clock rolled around, Logan was in his office. The space was small but personal—bookshelves crammed with volumes of history and philosophy, their spines worn from years of abuse. A map of the ancient world hung on one wall, dotted with small push pins marking significant events. His desk, a heavy wooden piece with years of scratches and scars, was cluttered with papers, a half-empty coffee cup, and a small brass figurine of a Roman eagle.

The knock on his door was soft, but deliberate. He glanced up, already knowing who it would be. "Come in," he said, his voice steady, betraying none of the anticipation simmering beneath the surface.

Y/N stepped inside, her expression calm, almost detached, but her eyes gave her away—bright, alert, scanning the room in a single sweep before settling on him. She carried her bag over one shoulder, her free hand resting casually on the strap.

"You’re early," he remarked, leaning back in his chair.

She shrugged, letting the door click shut behind her. "Figured I’d get this over with."

Logan smirked, gesturing toward the chair opposite him. "Glad to know I’m such a burden."

Y/N didn’t sit immediately. Instead, she wandered a few steps, her fingers lightly grazing the edge of one of the bookshelves as she glanced over the titles. "You’ve got a lot of books about power," she noted, her tone light but probing.

"Comes with the territory," he replied. "History is about power—who has it, who wants it, and what they’ll do to keep it."

She turned then, meeting his gaze. "And you? Are you one of those who want it?"

Logan’s smirk faded, replaced by something quieter, more guarded. "You don’t get to ask questions like that without sitting down first."

Y/N tilted her head, amused, but she complied, settling into the chair across from him. She crossed one leg over the other.

"So," she said, breaking the silence, "grading. What’s the plan?"

Logan slid a small stack of papers across the desk, his fingers brushing hers briefly as she reached for them. "Freshman essays on Rome’s decline. Half of them won’t even spell Caesar right."

Y/N flipped through the stack, her expression unreadable. "Sounds riveting."

"Welcome to my world," he said dryly.

For a while, they worked in near silence, the occasional rustle of papers or scratch of pen filling the air. But Logan couldn’t help watching her, the way her brow furrowed slightly as she read, the way her fingers tapped absently against the desk when she paused to think.

"You're good at this," he said after a while, his voice breaking the quiet.

She glanced up, raising an eyebrow. "At grading?"

"At analysis," he clarified. "You see things most people don’t."

Y/N set the paper she’d been holding back on the desk, leaning forward slightly. "And what do you see, Professor?"

Logan met her gaze, and for a moment, the room felt smaller, the air heavier. "Someone who doesn’t like being underestimated," he said simply.

Her lips twitched, not quite a smile, but something close. "Good," she said softly. "Because you’d be wrong if you did."

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the weight of the unspoken hanging between them. Then, Y/N leaned back, breaking the tension. "So, what’s the verdict on these essays? Anyone worth saving?"

Logan blinked, the spell broken, and glanced at the stack. "A couple, maybe. But how is it possible,” he muttered, “to spend weeks discussing the rise and fall of empires, only for them to write that Julius Caesar’s greatest achievement was dying?”

Y/N burst out laughing, the sound breaking the otherwise quiet room. She set down her pen, shaking her head. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

Logan picked up the offending essay and held it out to her. “See for yourself. Apparently, his second-greatest achievement was ‘Romeo and Juliet.’”

She snorted, her eyes scanning the page as she leaned over the desk. “This is tragic. This one essay could single-handedly set the entire field of history back by centuries.”

“Well, at least they’re consistent,” Logan said dryly, tossing another essay into the reject pile. “This one thought the ‘divine right of kings’ was God handing out crowns like participation trophies.”

Y/N laughed again, the sound warm and unguarded, and Logan found himself watching her for a beat longer than necessary. Her shoulders shook as she leaned back in her chair, an easy confidence radiating off her.

“So, what about you?” he asked, shifting the focus. “How��s your thesis coming along?”

“Slowly,” she admitted, crossing her arms. “I’ve narrowed it down to the influence of religion on political systems, but it’s like peeling back an onion. Every time I think I’m getting somewhere, there’s another layer waiting.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “You’re taking on a beast of a topic. What angle are you focusing on?”

“The shift from divine justification to secular authority,” Y/N replied, her tone more serious now. “How religion was weaponized to maintain control, and how that control evolved when religion started losing its grip.”

A flicker of respect passed through his eyes, though he kept his tone light. “Ambitious. Let me guess—you’re arguing it’s all manipulation in the end?”

She smiled, tilting her head. “What else would it be? Power is power, whether it’s cloaked in faith or reason. It’s still about controlling people.”

Logan leaned back slightly in his chair, his pen tapping idly against the desk. His gaze lingered on her, thoughtful yet laced with curiosity. “You’ve got your thesis to worry about, and still, you’re helping me out. I appreciate it. I just hope I’m not keeping you from anything—or anyone—important. A boyfriend waiting for you, perhaps?”

Y/N snorted softly, her lips curling into a wry smile. “Hardly. He’s low-maintenance.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her answer. “Low-maintenance? What does that mean?”

Y/N’s gaze flicked to him, mischief dancing in her eyes. “It means he’s rechargeable. Silent. Never argues. And he always knows when to stop.”

Logan’s smirk deepened, his voice smooth as he leaned forward just slightly. “So, he’s an easy out? No strings attached?”

“Exactly,” she replied, her tone playful. “No messy complications. Just... straight to the point.”

Logan chuckled, the sound low and rich, almost predatory. “Hmm, sounds like you’ve found the perfect solution. Clean, uncomplicated.”

Y/N’s eyes twinkled with amusement, but there was a steel edge beneath her teasing tone. “I like things simple. No mind games. No drama. Just... what I need, when I need it.”

Logan leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharpening, intrigued by the calm confidence she wore. “Control. You’ve got that down to an art, haven’t you? Even in your... choice of company.”

She met his gaze, a sly smile curving her lips. “I learned from the best.”

Logan paused, his breath caught for just a moment, before he let out a quiet chuckle. “Flattery. That’s a dangerous game.”

Y/N’s smile deepened, her voice low but unwavering. “Maybe. But I’m not the one playing it.”

The brief silence between them felt charged, the space between words crackling with unspoken thoughts. Y/N allowed a small, almost imperceptible smile to form as she leaned back slightly in her chair, her gaze steady on him. She tilted her head, her expression one of quiet challenge. “And what about you, Professor?” she asked casually, her voice laced with a hint of mischief. “Anyone waiting for you back home?”

Logan’s eyes darkened briefly, his expression shifting as he leaned back in his chair. The pen in his hand tapped against the desk, a rhythmic, deliberate motion that betrayed his otherwise calm demeanor. “No,” he said after a beat, his voice carrying an edge sharper than intended. “Commitment’s not really my style. I’m more of a... here-and-now kind of guy.”

Y/N’s brow lifted, her lips curling into a teasing smirk. “‘A here-and-now kind of guy,’” she repeated softly, the words brushing the air between them like a challenge. Her smile deepened, almost wistful. “That’s... disappointing.”

Logan’s gaze flickered for a moment, though his expression remained controlled, as if weighing her words, testing the waters. “Maybe,” he said, his voice quieter, almost nonchalant. “But complications have a way of unraveling things you don’t want to lose. Simpler’s safer.” He let the words hang in the air, deliberately guiding the conversation.

Y/N tilted her head, her eyes never leaving his. “Uncomplicated, sure,” she murmured, her voice soft but threaded with a quiet challenge. “But sometimes, don’t you think... what you’re missing is worth the complication?” Her words lingered in the air, but there was an almost imperceptible softness to her tone—a fleeting crack in her otherwise cool demeanor. Logan noted it, watching her with a careful, calculated look.

Logan smiled, just slightly, letting the moment breathe. “Maybe,” he replied, his voice now cooler, as though he were drawing back, pulling her deeper into the web without her fully realizing it. “But I’ve found that sometimes, it’s easier to avoid the... complications. Keeps things from getting messy.”

He let that hang in the air too, deliberately creating space, knowing the pause would make her respond. He met her gaze again, just long enough for her to sense his scrutiny. “You wouldn’t want that, right? Complications?”

Her lips curled into a soft smile, one that was almost... understanding, but it wasn’t quite enough to give away what she was thinking. “Maybe I don’t mind a little ‘complication’ every now and then,” she replied, her voice calm but her eyes locking onto his with quiet intensity. “After all, some things are worth the risk.”

Logan didn’t let the moment slip. He leaned forward slightly, maintaining just enough distance to keep the tension taut but still under his control. The words between them had reached a tipping point, and he could see it in her eyes—there was curiosity, but it was laced with something more.

For a brief second, Logan allowed his gaze to soften. This wasn’t just about testing her; it was about controlling the situation, manipulating it into the direction he wanted. “You sure you want to go down that road?” he murmured, his voice quiet, almost intimate. He was close enough now that the question felt like a warning, though Y/N couldn’t know it was a game he’d already planned out.

Y/N’s lips parted, her breath hitching slightly as she met his gaze. There was a faint hesitation in her eyes—one that she quickly masked, but it was there. “Maybe it’s just... curiosity,” she said, the words slipping out with an almost vulnerable undertone. She was playing along, but Logan knew she was being careful, trying to keep her emotions in check.

He smiled, watching her carefully, knowing exactly how to push without breaking the illusion. “Curiosity,” he repeated softly, his voice low but laced with something almost indulgent. He leaned in a fraction closer, just enough to close the space without crossing that line completely.

“You know,” he said quietly, his breath warm against her skin, “curiosity has a way of leading people to places they didn’t expect.”

Her heart rate quickened, but she held her ground, her lips barely moving as she whispered, “And sometimes, that’s exactly where you want to go.”

Logan’s breath hitched for the slightest moment, but he masked it instantly, his focus shifting to the game at hand. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against hers in a tentative kiss. Soft. Calculated. His lips barely touched hers, enough to send the message, enough to make her feel something deeper.

It wasn’t a kiss of passion. It was a kiss of deliberate provocation.

When they finally broke apart, the air between them hummed with a charged silence, like the crackle of electricity in the aftermath of an intentional spark. Their breaths were shallow, their eyes locked, as if neither could move, both caught in the weight of what had just passed between them.

Logan was the first to speak, his voice lower than before, with just the slightest edge of something darker—more guarded. “This... we shouldn’t have done that,” he said, his words meant to sound like a regret he didn’t quite feel, the weight of the moment a tool in his hands. He wasn’t sorry—not truly. He wanted to see how she would react, whether she would flinch, show any sign of vulnerability, or challenge him. The flicker of desire was still there in his gaze, but it was buried under layers of calculation.

Y/N didn’t react the way he expected. Her lips curled into a wry smile, but her eyes stayed locked on his, steady, almost daring him to push further. “You don’t sound convinced,” she observed softly, her voice a careful blend of playfulness and something more—an understanding of the game they were both playing. It was a challenge, yes, but also a recognition of the unspoken truth between them.

Logan scoffed, his laugh a low, almost bitter sound. “I’m not,” he admitted, but his words weren’t filled with regret—they were loaded, deliberately dismissive. He wasn’t retreating; he was testing the waters, watching for a reaction. His gaze flicked away from her, then back to the desk in front of him, as if trying to avoid her unyielding gaze. “But it doesn’t change what just happened, does it?”

Y/N’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second—was it doubt? Or something softer?—but it was gone before it could fully surface. Her expression returned to its calm, controlled mask, as if the whole moment had been anticipated. “No,” she answered quietly, her voice steady, distant. “It doesn’t.”

Logan’s posture shifted as he leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair, a gesture that made him seem a little more disarmed than he’d intended. “Y/N... we can’t—” He started, but she cut him off, her tone decisive and calm, as though she had already moved past the tension he was still dwelling in.

“We don’t have to say anything,” she interrupted smoothly, the words hanging in the air between them like a challenge. “Not yet.”

The certainty in her voice gave him pause, something in her demeanor catching him off guard. She wasn’t flinching. She wasn’t retreating into regret. There was something about the way she held her ground that intrigued him—something that suggested she understood exactly what was happening and wasn’t going to let him dictate the narrative.

Logan studied her closely now, his arms crossed, his expression thoughtful but guarded. His gaze never wavered, though there was a flicker of something else there—something more complicated than simple curiosity. “You’re not exactly... conflicted about this, are you?” he asked, the words almost slipping out too easily, the hint of a challenge in his tone.

Y/N met his gaze head-on, her eyes sharp with unspoken challenge. “Not in the way you think,” she replied, her voice quiet but resolute. "I know the risks, Logan. I know exactly what this means." She leaned forward, just slightly, her posture relaxed but full of intent, a subtle power radiating from her. "But sometimes... the things we want the most come with the heaviest consequences."

Her words weren’t a warning, they were an invitation. She was offering him something, but it was still unclear whether she understood just how deep the game they were playing could go. 

"Maybe I'm willing to deal with those consequences," she added, her voice low, the challenge unmistakable. Her eyes stayed steady on his, unwavering. She was daring him to take the next step.

Logan’s breath hitched, his gaze flickering just briefly. He saw it then—the confidence, the control. It made him pause, just for a moment, before he masked it behind the careful composure he always maintained. But this wasn’t how he expected her to play this. He'd thought he’d be the one to make the move, to pull her in. Yet here she was, letting him know exactly what she was willing to risk.

“And what happens now?” His voice remained steady, but there was something in it now—something that betrayed the tension between them, an undercurrent of desire buried beneath the layers of control.

Y/N didn’t answer with words. She didn’t need to. She grabbed the front of his shirt, her fingers curling into the fabric with a boldness that surprised him—pulling him toward her without hesitation, without doubt.

A calculated move in this dance they were engaged in. Logan’s breath caught in his throat, a sharp intake as he felt the force of her pull, the heat of her body so close to his. This wasn’t what he planned—this wasn’t the distance he had wanted—but he wasn’t backing down now. Her boldness wasn’t a weakness; it was part of the game.

Their lips crashed together, urgent and raw, a kiss filled with all the unspoken tension that had been building between them. This wasn’t soft or teasing—it was the culmination of everything they’d avoided saying, everything they’d skirted around. The heat of it was overwhelming, and it swept away the logic, the control. This was about need.

Her fingers gripped his tie, pulling at it as though she wanted to tear down every barrier between them—every piece of control he’d set in place. She wanted him, but this wasn’t just about physical desire. It was about the power struggle between them, the unspoken understanding that they were playing with fire and knew it.

Logan’s hands moved to her hips, pulling her even closer, the urgency mirrored in his movements. His mind raced with the implications, but he couldn’t stop himself. She was pushing him, but he was in control. He always had been.

Her lips parted slightly, and he felt the shift in her kiss, felt the hunger in the way she responded. This wasn’t just an act of passion—it was a statement. A declaration that she was willing to go there, even if it meant everything else unraveled in the process. She wanted more, and now, Logan wanted to see just how far she was willing to go.

Breaking the kiss for a brief moment, Y/N’s voice came out shaky, but her words were sharp with need. “I don’t want to finish grading,” she breathed, the teasing edge in her tone now thick with desire. “Not when there’s something else I want more.”

Logan’s chest tightened, his grip on her waist instinctively tightening as he absorbed her words. The pulse of desire in her voice triggered something inside him, something he’d carefully cultivated, and without hesitation, his lips found hers once more. This kiss wasn’t tentative; it was frantic, hungry, and more driven than the one before, as if they were both racing toward a precipice neither had ever dared approach before.

Her fingers tugged at his tie, pulling it free and discarding it like the insignificant obstacle it was. The classroom, the grading, the rules—everything that had once stood between them shattered into nothing. There was only the burning need they couldn’t contain any longer. Logan’s hands roamed her body, pulling her closer, and with each touch, the world outside of that classroom faded further. There was no right or wrong anymore—only this.

Her breath was quick, her lips leaving his only to trail across his neck, her hands moving over his chest, exploring the heat of his body beneath the fabric. It was like a spark had ignited inside her, and she needed more of him—more than the stolen glances, the moments of tension.

Logan’s hands slid lower, finding the curve of her hips as he lifted her onto the desk, papers scattering in their wake. She felt the rush of blood in her veins, the heat of his touch, and the magnetic pull that had been drawing them together from the very start. The kiss deepened, more urgent now, as if their bodies were trying to communicate what their words hadn’t. Each movement, each shift, brought them closer to the inevitable.

Y/N moaned against his lips, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him in closer, as if she needed him to fill every space inside her. Every caress was an electric shock, a wave of heat that seemed to surge through her, leaving her breathless and craving more.

Logan’s hand slid under the hem of her skirt, his touch firm but gentle, as though testing her response. The shock of his touch sent a shiver down her spine, and she gasped, her pulse racing with the rush of adrenaline and need.

“Logan,” she whispered, pulling back just enough to speak, her voice ragged with desire. “I don’t care anymore… about the rules, about anything. I just want this.”

He didn’t need to answer with words. His mouth claimed hers again, slower this time, but with an intensity that suggested he was savoring the taste of her, the feel of her beneath his hands. He was in control, but it didn’t feel like control—it felt like something more dangerous, something they were both choosing to step into.

His hands slid under her blouse, his fingertips brushing over her skin, sending a rush of heat through her veins. She moaned softly against his lips, her body arching toward him, urging him on. She wanted more. She needed more.

Everything else, every rule, every boundary, seemed insignificant compared to the way they were consumed by each other. This moment—this connection—had been building for far too long, and now that they were here, there was no retreating, no second-guessing. Only the fire between them, only the pull that neither of them could resist any longer.

Logan’s lips trailed down her neck, leaving a trail of heat that made Y/N’s breath hitch. His rough hands moved to the hem of her blouse, his fingers brushing against her bare skin as he lifted the fabric slowly, deliberately. She shivered at the sensation, her own hands not idle—they slid along his chest, tracing the defined muscle beneath his skin, her touch both curious and confident.

"Do you always move this slow?" she teased, her voice breathless yet playful as her eyes met his.

Logan chuckled, his smirk equal parts charm and challenge. "You in a hurry, princess?" he murmured, his voice thick as honey.

Instead of answering, she took matters into her own hands, tugging at his belt with deft fingers. The clink of metal echoed in the room, sharp against the background of their heavy breathing. Logan growled low in his throat, the sound sending a thrill straight through her as he captured her lips again, more fervent this time, as if her boldness had spurred him on.

The blouse slipped from her shoulders, pooling on the floor alongside the papers and books that had already been scattered. Logan’s hands roamed her now-bare skin, his touch reverent despite the urgency building between them. His calloused palms brushed over her ribs, his thumbs tracing the edges of her bra before sliding beneath the straps and slowly tugging them down her arms.

Her own fingers worked quickly to rid him of his shirt, pushing it back until it joined her blouse on the floor. She took a moment to drink in the sight of him—broad shoulders, a chest covered in hair, and a strength that had always been hinted at but now stood fully revealed before her.

"You’ve been hiding this under those button-ups?" she asked, her voice low and teasing as her nails grazed his skin from his chest and down his abdomen.

Logan chuckled again, a rich, gravelly sound that sent a rush of warmth through her. 

His hands slid to the waistband of her skirt, his fingers dipping beneath the fabric as he pulled it down slowly, letting it fall to the floor. She stood before him now, clad in just her bra and panties, her confidence unshaken as his eyes roamed over her, lingering on every curve.

"You're beautiful," he muttered, almost to himself, as he reached out to trace the line of her hip.

Y/N smiled, stepping closer to him, her hands moving to the waistband of his trousers. "So are you," she whispered, her voice softer now, almost tender, as she undid the button and slid the zipper down.

The clothing between them quickly became an afterthought, discarded piece by piece until there was nothing left but bare skin and the electric tension that had built between them. Logan’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her flush against him, the heat of his body making her gasp softly.

Her hand slipped between their bodies, the heat of her palm pressing against him with an aching precision. She wrapped her fingers around his length, her touch firm and deliberate, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from him.

Logan’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, the intensity of her touch forcing him to steady himself. He leaned into her, his forehead resting against hers as she began to move, her hand stroking him with a rhythm that was both torturously slow and utterly consuming.

A low growl rumbled deep in his chest, and his hands tightened on her hips, pulling her closer until there was nothing between them but the slick heat of skin against skin. “Y/N,” he murmured, his voice a strained rasp, thick with desire.

Her lips curved into a faint smile, though her breath came in short, quick bursts as her movements grew bolder. “You’re awfully quiet for someone who’s supposed to have all the control.”she whispered, her tone teasing yet tinged with her own need. 

He chuckled, a deep, gravelly sound that sent a shiver down her spine. “Don’t push me, darlin,” he warned, though the way his hips moved into her touch betrayed just how much power she held in that moment.

“Oh, I plan to,” she shot back, her voice playful, her fingers tracing deliberate paths that made his entire body tense beneath her touch.

Logan’s hands slid up her back, his fingertips digging into her skin with a restrained urgency. He caught her mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing her soft gasp as he shifted their positions, guiding her back against the desk. The wood was cool against her bare skin, but the heat radiating from him made it impossible to focus on anything else.

His lips left hers to trail down her jaw, then lower, nipping at the curve of her neck. “You think you’ve got me figured out, don’t you?” he murmured against her skin, his voice a low growl.

Y/N’s laughter was breathless, her hand never pausing in its steady rhythm. “I think you like it,” she countered, her tone light, though her body betrayed her own rising need.

Logan pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his smirk dangerous and full of promise. “I think you’re about to find out just how wrong you are.”

His hand moved with deliberate slowness, tracing the curve of her thigh with rough fingertips, the contrast against her softness making her tremble. He leaned in, his lips ghosting over hers as he whispered, “It’s only fair, don’t you think?”

Y/N barely had time to reply before his lips descended to her neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses that made her arch beneath him. His hand slid between her thighs, his touch light but purposeful as he explored her heat, teasing and testing her resolve.

A soft gasp escaped her lips, her head tilting back as his fingers moved with skill, parting her gently. Her breathing quickened, her body instinctively shifting closer to him, seeking more of his touch.

“You’re so sensitive,” Logan murmured against her collarbone, his voice a low growl filled with a mixture of admiration and intent. He pressed his thumb to her clit in a slow, deliberate circle, his movements calculated and unrelenting.

Y/N’s fingers tangled in his hair, her nails scraping lightly against his scalp as she struggled to form coherent thoughts. “Logan…” she breathed, her voice catching on his name, both a plea and a warning.

He smirked against her skin, the trace of something darker in his eyes as he planted soft, deliberate kisses along her neck. His lips brushed over her shoulder, sending a shiver through her, before he whispered in her ear, his voice thick with desire. “No, not Logan, darlin’.”

She froze for a second, the weight of his words hanging in the air between them. The tension crackled with unspoken authority. Logan’s breath was warm against her skin as he continued, his lips brushing the sensitive spot beneath her ear. “You know what I want you to call me.”

Her pulse quickened, a flicker of resistance sparking within her, but she couldn’t deny the way his voice, low and commanding, made her heart race. She met his gaze, the challenge still alive in her eyes. “Professor,” she whispered, the word feeling foreign yet somehow right on her tongue.

A low chuckle rumbled from him, and he pulled her closer, the grin on his face both triumphant and dangerous. “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice now a gravelly whisper that sent a fresh wave of heat crashing over her. “Just let me take care of you.”

Her body arched as he pressed deeper, his fingers finding a rhythm that had her gasping, her thighs trembling against his forearm. Logan watched her intently, his gaze dark and hungry, taking in every reaction as though it fueled him.

Her breaths came in ragged bursts, her head falling back against the desk as her body succumbed to the pleasure he built within her. Logan didn’t relent, his movements growing more insistent, his free hand gripping her hip to steady her as she began to fall apart beneath him.

“Look at me,” he murmured, his voice a rough command, and when her eyes fluttered open to meet his, the raw intensity in his gaze sent her spiraling.

Her release came like a tidal wave, her body tensing and then shuddering as a broken cry escaped her lips. Logan didn’t stop until the last tremor left her, his touch slowing but never fully leaving her, grounding her in the aftermath.

As her breathing steadied, Y/N met his gaze, her lips curling into a lazy smile. “Fuck Professor.”

“You’re dangerous,” he murmured, his lips brushing the corner of her mouth, his words a mix of accusation and surrender.

“And you’re stalling,” she replied, her tone daring as she tilted her head to meet his lips fully, capturing them in a kiss that was fierce and demanding.

Logan groaned against her mouth, his self-control shattering as his hands roamed over her body, claiming every inch he could reach. 

Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, the heat between them building with every stolen touch. Logan’s lips left hers, trailing down the line of her neck, his stubble scraping her sensitive skin in a way that made her gasp.

“Y/N,” he rasped against her throat, his voice thick with desire and restraint, his hands tightening on her hips.

Her answer was to arch into him, her breath hitching as her body pressed against his. “No more talking,” she whispered, her voice firm but breathless, her fingers tugging him back to her.

The cool edge of the desk met her back, but the warmth of his body was all she could focus on as he leaned into her.

She could feel his hands roaming gently, tracing the contours of her body, but it was the way he moved—intentional, slow, and purposeful—that had her pulse quickening. His lips ghosted over her skin, just enough to leave her shivering in anticipation.

Logan’s hands were firm on her hips, his grip possessive as he pressed her back against the desk. His mouth was everywhere—her jaw, her throat, the dip of her collarbone—hot and unrelenting, like he was making up for all the time they’d spent pretending this wasn’t inevitable.

But Y/N wasn’t in the mood to just take whatever he gave her.

With a smirk, she pushed at his chest, catching him just off guard enough to make him step back. His brows furrowed in confusion, lips parted like he was about to argue, but she didn’t give him the chance. Instead, she grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and shoved him into his chair.

Logan let out a low, breathy chuckle, eyes dark and sharp as they flicked up to meet hers. “That so?” he murmured, his voice all gravel and challenge.

Y/N just smiled, swinging a leg over his lap and settling onto him like she belonged there. Like she was claiming him the way he always tried to claim her.

Logan’s hands immediately found her thighs, sliding up with slow, dangerous intent. His gaze was locked onto hers, heavy-lidded and unreadable, but his fingers dug into her skin like he was daring her to keep going.

And she was going to.

She rolled her hips against him just enough to feel the sharp hitch of his breath, the way his fingers tightened in response. He groaned low in his throat, his control cracking, his grip guiding her just a little rougher, a little more desperate—

Knock.

They both froze.

A heartbeat. Then another.

Knock.

“Professor Howlett?”

Y/N stiffened. Logan’s jaw locked, his grip on her waist iron tight as if he was physically restraining himself from losing his goddamn mind.

The voice was muffled through the door, but the words were clear. “I just had a question about the midterm—are you in there?”

Silence.

Y/N barely breathed, her body still pressed against his, her heart pounding so hard she swore Logan could feel it.

His hands didn’t move. His eyes didn’t move. He was staring at her, exhaling slow and steady through his nose, and fuck, he looked like he was about to ruin something.

Instead, he leaned in, his lips barely brushing against her ear as he muttered, voice thick with frustration, “This isn’t over.”

Y/N smirked, her lips ghosting over his jaw as she whispered, "I wouldn’t dream of it."

Logan exhaled sharply, a low, frustrated sound rumbling in his chest. His hands flexed against her thighs like he was this close to dragging her right back down, to make sure she regretted every ounce of that teasing bravado. 

And with painful reluctance, he lifted her off his lap.

The second her feet hit the floor, she felt the loss of him—the heat, the weight, the way he’d held onto her like he wasn’t ready to let go.

She met his gaze one last time, taking in the way his jaw was tight, the way his knuckles were white against the arms of his chair.

And she already knew—when this moment finally came back around?

It was going to be worse.

© th3mrskory 2025 — all rights reserved.

[twilightofthesandwiches]

Okay, so, for the longest time the Tallests’ behavior toward Zim in ‘Battle of the Planets’ has always struck me as… odd.

 I mean, of course the idea that they mock him publicly behind his back makes sense in general. That is a very Tallests Thing to Do. But the specific ways they mock him…

I dunno...maybe the intention is supposed to be like 'haha you're saying 'unstoppable death machine like it's a good thing but it's not!!' or something but... with the delivery and the general characterization of the Irken army it comes off as more of 'haha! it's funny because he's NOT an unstoppable death machine hahaha" and...

Like, yes. Zim is correct. He is, in fact, an ‘unstoppable death machine’. That is absolutely an accurate statement to be taken seriously. The only problem was that he’s an unstoppable death machine that’s too uncontrollable to prevent him from Death Machining his own people as well. That’s literally why you banished him, remember?

But then I took a moment to think about that.... It does actually makes sense that the Tallests, despite getting literal first-class seats to his rampage of destruction - might still have a problem with actually internalizing why Zim is so Bad.

Because Zim is basically the Irkenest Irken to ever Irk. He might be considered ‘Defective’, yes, but all of his defects manifest as the logical extremes of Irken ideology. He has, on paper, all of the skills and personality traits and ideals that the Irken Empire value - just exaggerated and twisted in a way that makes him the biggest milestone around the Empire's neck.

Zim is a pretty good fighter, infiltrator, pilot and scientist. Remember, he’s a Fast-Food Drone Play-Acting Alien Invasion to get him out of the Armada’s antennas now, but he was a legitimate actual Invader back during ‘Impending Doom 1’. And that’s with all the social barriers and prejudice that a short Irken like him is going to face. I’m guessing a lot of the selection process for Invaders is done by automated systems or extremely-detached Control Brains. And only looking at, like, Zim’s practice or test results - he should be an exceptional Invader on-par with Skoodge.

But we all know the truth is more complicated then that. Zim’s talents and training are hampered by his own massive ego, absolute inability to accurately assess threats and his impulsive desires for destruction and death. He’s unable to judge when he’s punching above his weight or tackling an endeavor beyond his abilities. He cannot admit when he has made an error, even just to fix or improve an invention/plan. And he always allocates his resources in the dumbest way possible. 

And that’s all, like, emergent from Irken Ideology - or at least from Zim’s logical extreme of it. Confidence and selfishness are rewarded on Irk - Zim is mostly unusual in terms of sheer volume (or maybe he’s too Short to be allowed to have such a high opinion of himself.) 

His inability to proportionally handle threats is emergent from the Empire’s ideals of Irken Supremacy. Zim is supposed to see all other species in the universe as stupid and inferior and worthy only of servitude and so logically they can’t be a serious threat to him, an Elite Irken Soldier. But he also needs to internally justify why all of these Clearly Inferior Beings are even a problem to the Irken Empire in general and for him in specific. Especially when he fails to conquer them as easily as a ‘Superior Being’ is supposed to. And so his ego and his insistence on Irkens being Superior has to elevate them into fearsome enemies. 

That Speciesism is also why his disguise is so bad! We directly see it in the first episode. He had the option of picking a more realistic human disguises but he just found it too gross. And that actually seems to be a trend, considering every Actual Invader we see on the show has a disguise that is just as bad if not worse.

And Zim’s tendency towards delusions is also born, at least partially, from his devotion to Irken Ideology. Not just from the obvious insistence of the superiority of himself and his Empire despite his constant failures. But also… how do you balance out the Irken values of selfishness with the also-Irken values of loyalty and absolute obedience to the Empire and the Tallests? For Zim, the obvious answer seems to be ‘delude himself into believing whatever selfish personal whim he has is actually for the good of the Empire and the true will of the Tallest’. That’s how he can break All of the Rules All of the Time and still act like he’s just another obedient and loyal vessel of the Tallest. 

And then there’s the value of destruction and cruelty. This is absolutely not a Zim-only thing - that is a value he got from Irken society in general. After all, it’s pretty clear they don’t even have, like, a token excuse for their universe-conquering aspirations. They’re just doing this shit because destroying and subjecting the universe seems Fun and Cool. I mean, ‘Battle of the Planets’ demonstrates that better than anything. 

The Tallests have no idea of what to do with the planets they conquer. They don’t need them for anything. They decided Blorch's new purpose as a spur-of-the-moment decision and it was a Parking Structure Planet. Most of Irk’s single-use planets are pretty silly but this one especially so. Parking Structures only have value based on them being near a Place People Want to Go To, so a whole planet of them really defeats the whole idea. The Tallests only conquered Blorch and wiped out the Rat People because they want to conquer planets and wipe out sapient species.

And that is… exactly the same sort of meaningless cruelty Zim demonstrates. I mean… What Zim did with Prisoner 777 is literally just a smaller-scale recreation of what the whole Irken Empire did to the Vortians. And honestly, Zim actually has a slightly-better track record of actually getting ‘his’ Vortian to do what he wants. While the Irken Empire in general has basically shot themselves in the foot and assured all of their best technology is going to come with some sort of Stupid Hidden Flaw and all because they wanted to be the Conquerors rather than ‘just’ allies. 

The difference is really just that Zim values destruction so much he has problem processing that directing the destruction at his own people is still a very bad thing in the eyes of the empire.

And that’s… kind of the ideological blind spot the Tallests fall into during ‘Battle of the Planets’, I think. They should know that Zim is very much an Unstoppable Death Machine, just one that they can’t control and thus should be kept as far away from the Empire and Operation Impending Doom 2 as possible. But in their little Irken-Ideology-Poisoned minds - being an “Unstoppable Death Machine” is a Good Thing and Zim is obviously Bad - so, obviously logically he cannot be an Unstoppable Death Machine. 

And throughout this entire episode, the Tallest mock the idea that Zim is even capable of… not just achieving his and the Empire’s goals (obviously, yeah, he is incapable of doing that), but that he's even capable of properly causing destruction? Which they should know he is very capable of. And this is probably the closest he ever came in the show to legitimately destroying the human race. Only being foiled due to a huge stroke of luck on Dib’s part that nobody saw coming. And yet the Tallests were so certain that Zim, of all the Irkens in the galaxy, is somehow incapable of destroying a planet???

And at the end, Zim does prove himself as an Unstoppable Death Machine by, once again, managing to kill a fuckload of his own people while the Tallests laugh about how inaccurate that descriptor is for him. 

This is extra ironic with the Tallests throwing that one guy out of the airlock at the start of the episode

They punish others just for not remembering Zim’s rampage, but they clearly have not internalized what it Means themselves.

The fact that a guy like that even managed to reach the most prestigious not-height-based position in the Irken military in the first place should be a cause of some serious introspection of how Irken Military training and evaluation is handled. Especially when you consider much more competent would-be-Invaders like Tak got dismissed and punished for things totally outside of their control.

But… It seems like the only lesson anyone in the Irken Empire learned was just “Zim is awful”. Which is true, but isn’t really getting to the root of the matter. 

You can see another example of that mindset from the Tallests in ‘Hobo 13’. Because those two were so sure Zim was going to lose, and lose painfully. Because he is Incompetent, obviously that means he can’t do it. Totally forgetting that Zim actually totally has the athletic, combat and - most importantly, technological skills and out-of-the-box thinking that allowed him to survive and thrive. 

I mean, yeah, that means he cheated and threw his entire squad to the dogs for his own personal gain and petty sadistic amusement but… that is absolutely not something the Irken Empire frowns upon. The Tallests especially love to torment and even kill off their subordinates for the pettiest of reasons. Skoodge, featured in both of these episodes, is a great example.

And like, ‘being bad leaders and tormenting their own underlings’ is basically what the Tallests spend the entirety of that episode doing.

That Sergeant had ideological problems with Zim being such a horrible and callous leader, but that’s clearly not a representation of the Irken Empire’s stance. Quite the opposite really. Zim might be a disgrace to Hobo 13, but he was an exemplary Irken. The only reason why him winning was a problem is because he’s Zim and they all hate him.

And speaking of the Tallests’ own behavior reflecting Zim’s… let’s talk a bit about ‘Enter the Florpus’.

Because the downfall of the Irken Armada in that story is not just Zim’s fault. I mean, it is partly Zim’s fault. Without him there wouldn’t be a Florpus in the first place. But the narrative makes it constantly very very clear that this is Not Actually a Threat for the Armada… if not for the Tallests adamantly and childishly refusing to change course. 

The Tallests hate Zim, and they make it clear at every possible opportunity. And they hate him because he’s so damn incompetent and such a threat to the Empire’s safety. And yet they constantly demonstrate they possess the exact same core personality issues as Zim - they’re just slightly better having, like, a veneer of reasonability and being able to perceive reality (and also they are tall, which helps them get away with more.) And nowhere is it more obvious than ‘Enter the Florpus’...

Where the Tallests prove that they can be just as childish and single-minded -

And just as destruction-hungry - 

And just as quick to deny reality -

And just as disrespectful of their underlings. 

This recurring bit with the navigator is especially striking to me, because more than anything it makes me remember… Operation Impending Doom 1.

Two times the Irken Empire has been brought to the brink of collapse. And both of these times it is because a powerful high-ranking Irken (one time an Invader, the other time the Tallests themselves), refused to listen to the warnings and concerns of a lower-ranking expert Navigator - continuing with a course of destruction for their own people. 

You could say the Irken Empire was doomed from the start because of their own philosophy of cruelty and selfishness. Eventually, it was bound to create someone like Zim - who takes the Irken Ideology to its logical extreme in the most destructive way possible. Or you can say the Irken Empire was doomed from the start because of their asinine height-based class system. Which basically inevitably assures that at some point the reigns of the Empire will be at the hands of someone buffoonish and incompetent enough to drag the whole Empire down with them. And both of these viewpoints are true in their own way but also…

The Irken Empire was also doomed from the start cause, whatever this is a result of a culture that highly values obedience to your superiors over common sense, or because punishments for disobedience are just so terribly severe - these two Navigators continued to push those knobs and drive that ship even as they knew their commanders were mad and their actions were just driving their own Empire towards oblivion. 

Perhaps the Irken Military could use some sort of protocol of what to do when your superior is being clearly unreasonable and endangering not only the mission but literally the fate of your entire civilization? No, of course not. Yet another lesson not learned from Zim’s actions in ‘Impending Doom 1’. The only important lesson Irk needed to learn from that was just ‘Fuck This One Guy in Particular’.

Zim’s whole existence is like a twisted parody of the Irken Empire and all of its values. It’s really no wonder that the Tallest never got the joke. 

[bambisnc]

     killing me softly [ft. p.hn]

-> recap : but when you call hanni a little later, you’re met with an automated response. the number you have dialed is currently busy. please try again.

GENRE : angst uwu CW/TW : THERES A LOT OF MISUNDERSTANDINGS JUSTICE FOR MY BBG MOKA + swearing + uneditted + hints of reader being possessive/jealous + surprise iroha/moka/nwjns members appearance! <3 WC : 0.7k XOXO : um so u guys best be praying for me and bsf to work things out or else no happy endinf 🤷🤷 + [series m.list]

over the days following the new girl incident as your friend group refers to it, you’ve found yours and hanni’s relationship having … become a little strange. 

maybe it’s just that you don’t reach out to her as often; texting her only when absolutely necessary and spending recess holed up in your own classroom instead of near the school roof where the two of you used to meet earlier.

obviously you do realize how your actions can somewhat be compared to a stereotypical toxic manhwa boyfriend. 

but does that mean you’ll try to be better?

no.

it isn’t too much to expect her to be the one to approach you, right?

granted it’s not like she’s stopped trying to hang out completely (it’s more you who’s been rejecting her ideas..) but the little time you spent with her at school is now being taken up by her. moka.

the last you remember having visited her class, she greeted you with a signature, disarming hanni smile. 

“y/n! i’ve been meaning to go to your section – um, moka actually needed a lab coat for chemistry; you know how strict professor bae is… so could you-”

“yeah sure,” you had replied back with all the ease in the world, “drop by whenever. i’ll need it by 7th period though so..”

moka had held out 2 thumbs up towards you then, “of course! i’ll make sure to give it back to you by then!”

…

she, in fact, did not give it back to you by then.

“you’re so lucky i had my old one in my locker…” minji reprimands you, “what were you thinking when you just gave yours away?? yeah sure professor bae may be strict; but he’d never have said a thing to a new student.

you, on the other hand, very well would end up DEAD if he caught you without one. Again.”

really, how could you even defend your decision? the one time you remembered to bring your own lab coat, you decided to let someone borrow it, who, coincidentally ended up never getting it back to you.

more importantly, this only farther distanced you and hanni. 

she still texts you of course, but you have noticed how less frequent the ping! of the notification sound you set for her has become.

-

then one lunch break, she shows up. right outside your classroom. 

you go out to meet her, of course, but you make sure to drag minji out with you .. for emotional support.

but the second she sees kang haerin she’s quick to slip away shouting out a “best of luck btw! <3”

oh she’s so in for it later.

“y/n! how was your biology test today?” 

you respond to hanni as neutrally as you possibly can because at that moment you can only think about how neither of them have yet returned your lab coat.

“… hey.” she takes one of your hands into her own, “is everything okay? um. do you want to tag along with me to the cafeteria?”

you huff out a laugh, “have you just met me hanni?” because she knows how much you don’t like the cafeteria. 

she’s silent for a little. 

“yeah. 

it feels like i have just met you y/n...”

you pull away your hand from hers and stand with your back pressed against the wall.

a fresh sound of pleasant chatters brings you back to reality. 

minji’s here! praise all the gods. 

as she and the others she’s brought with her, haerin, danielle and hyein, entangle both of you into conversation, you find yourself sliding down until you’re sat down on the cold floor.

you close your eyes letting the harsh sunlight wash over your skin. 

.. something knocks against your arm, then. and there’s a sudden rush of cool air.

opening your eyes shows you none other than hanni, sitting next to you, fanning you with her (chemistry) notebook. 

when your eyes meet hers, both of you burst into peals of laughter. 

-

you walk hanni back to her class when the bell signaling the end of your time together (recess) rings. 

moka and … iroha? greet her at right at the door. 

“hanniii,” iroha says, throwing an arm around your best friend’s shoulder, “i can’t believe you left your ~girlfriend~ moka here all alone… she’s been pining after you for ages now~”

you quietly slip out before you can hear her response.

𐙚 . regulars : none yet! ⋆

[@bambisnc] 2k24

[drrden]

‘Study’ Leon Kennedy x Gender Neutral! Reader

I headcanon Leon was smart in highschool - in History majorly. So...

There's always bound to be that one student who pays attention to a hundred percent of the lessons taught, not letting their attention falter for even a brief moment. As if missing out on a split second's worth of information could tarnish their grades and ruin their entire future. In the majority of your classes, this is none other than Leon Kennedy himself, a friendly guy who's typically on the quieter side. Predominantly during lessons though, that is, since he refuses to let any of his friends distract him from achieving the best results in the exams that he can possibly get. Perhaps it's the desire to distance himself from his past, the one he's buried deep within himself, limiting to it a certain degree of obscurity. Figuring that, if he's academically successful enough, then he won't get roped up into some shady side of society; someone from his biological family's past might catch up to him one day. No way is Leon letting him continue the legacy of the family he admittedly misses more than anything, despite having lived with his adoptive parents for the majority of his life by now. All of this could be the reasoning, some twisted sense of inferiority to his classmates who had normal childhoods. Or maybe, just maybe, he's smart. Could just be as simple as that, he's just a guy wanting to do well in life - but it just appears to come unnaturally easily.

The class that he's most successful in at the moment is History, having a profound interest for events of the past, and how they've shaped modern society. And it just so happens to be one of the lessons you share with Leon, despite your enthusiasm not being as evident or intense as his. As any student with a desire to pursue other things than being shoved into a cramped yet quiet classroom would, you're not always in tip-top shape to be paying attention to every little detail. That's where a certain well-mannered American of Italian descent comes into the picture, being your study pal. Not that he exactly volunteered for the position for himself, but he didn't exactly have it in him to deny you of the privilege - being far too polite to let you fail any of the tests due to having no clue about some of the course content. Though it was imposed upon him suddenly a few months ago, he still puts effort into your weekly sessions; bringing flashcards for you to keep, with summaries neatly filling up the rectangular cardboard pieces. Which are all color coded by the way. For once, the topic you're studying is at least mildly interesting, since it's from a period spanning between just before World War One to a while after it. Despite this, the weekly meet ups between you and Leon persist.

Which is where the two of you find yourselves once again, nestled away in a quiet corner of the school's library - away from all the jocks throwing crumpled up balls of paper as if they're still in middle school. Leon flinches a little when he hears them in the distance, still having a sense of anxiety that they're going to come over here and disturb the one time he gets to talk to you. "So. Uhm. The Treaty of Versailles." The words not exactly tumbling from his lips, instead he speaks stiffly - like English isn't even his mother tongue, as if he's reading from an automated speech. Offering an encouraging nod, you urge him to continue, accustomed to the pattern of his timidness easing up the further you get into studying together. "Yeah, that's what we said you were going to go over today." A gentle reminder, and that's all it takes for him to straighten up, clearing his throat and glancing round; as if searching for the information on the cracked walls of the building. Snapping out of it after a short moment, his attention flicks back to you, nodding. "Ah, right. So...Germany were expected to face repercussions for starting the war in the first place." For a while, he rambles on about the reparations bill and how their army was limited to 100,000 men, all the basics as he gives you a rundown.

Reaching into his bag, he pulls out designated flashcards, decorated with little doodles and smiley faces, complimenting his endearingly messy handwriting. Leon passes them over to yours and you accept, fingers brushing against his momentarily - and you can almost swear you notice his unblemished cheeks redden partially. "You, uhm, seem to know a lot more about this than you do with other topics we've covered together." Though the sentence is more of a declarative, there's a tinge of a compliment within there, however he's much too unsure of himself to outwardly praise you. Not thinking much of it, you sheug, brushing the notion off with nonchalance. "Anything's better than learning about those art guys, Leonardo DiCaprio or whatev-" "Da Vinci." He corrects, eyes widening as he seems more caught off guard at his interruption than you are, having not meant to come across as rude. You him in response, not finding it not really offensive or anything, but Leon gets the wrong end of the stick. "Yeah-" "I'msorryIdidn'tmeantointerrupt." Being totally honest, you didn't really catch a word of that, but you've gotten the general gist that Leon's apologetic over one small interruption, but it's sweet in a way. Essentially panting over the exertion from speaking so quickly and letting his thoughts tumble out in an effort to soothe your nonexistent frustration.

It's like that awkward stage as a relationship is brewing, two people desperate to avoid any awkward silence when they're with the person who it's most enjoyable to talk to. But these introverted qualities only apply to Leon, and you offer him a blank stare - not deterred by his anticts in the slightest. Just continuing on as if nothing had happened. "Leon, it's fine." Though you brush it off, you can't help but notice there's a certain nagging feeling in you, sensing that his jitteriness is more prevalent than usual. "...Are you okay?" Following a quick glance around, you lean in and lower your voice; wearying over if someone else is around to hear. The answer is given, plain and simple, biting on the tip of his thumb and sharing his head frantically. "It's fine. Just the Literature test is coming up and I'm not exactly confident." Literature. You're actually decent at that, maybe he knows this already. Well, thinking of it now, there's not exactly been anything you've done to repay him. "I guess we could make our little rendezvous two times a week." A playful tease from you, but the suggestion is genuine. "And I do owe you a dinner, I guess." Looks like you'll be seeing a lot more of each other.

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