It Autocorrected To 'problematic Wage Gap Warning' And I Almost Cried Story Of My Life - Tumblr Posts
Professor Logan x College Student Wade (problematic age gap warning)
Sister Margaret’s was a shithole.
Logan’s boot slipped in a sticky pile of something the moment he stepped inside. It smelled of unwashed man, cheap alcohol and possibly all of life’s regrets. A noxious cocktail he’d been intimately familiar with during the late 70’s before Charles came into his life. He was better now that he’d retired from the X-Men and was teaching full time. Logan had even quit drinking.
“Who the fuck are you?” It was a mountain of a man, bald, shaggy unkempt beard trailing all the way down to his sagging waistband and covered in tattoos.
“Nobody,” Logan stood his ground and didn’t budge when the guy shoved him, “I’m not looking for trouble, just here to find a student of mine.”
Neckbeard swept his gaze down Logan’s gray cardigan and wool slacks, lips curling back in a mocking smile. “What do you teach, grandpa? Art history?”
“Didn’t know you knew what art history was,” He lifted an eyebrow, trying not to let the insult about his age get to him. That had never been an issue in the past until Wade walked in mid-lecture a few months back and all of a sudden made Logan feel a thousand years old and, well, like a bit of a creep.
He was practically a fossil, and a fossil shouldn’t be interacting with a twenty-year-old thing like Wade outside the classroom. It was inappropriate. Charles had even offhandedly said as much during one of their weekly breakfast conversations.
And yet, here he was, on a Friday evening, definitively outside school hours, looking for Wade. Making sure one of his students was safe, Logan reminded himself as he sidestepped the giant man standing in his way.
“Hey, I wasn’t done talkin’ to you.”
The guy grabbed Logan’s shirt collar with a fist the size of a toddler’s head and whatever was left of Logan’s remaining patience finally ran out. He punched the guy in the temple. It was a quick jab, meant to incapacitate really. Neckbeard went down like a pile of rocks, thick hairy arms grazing a metal tray of empty drink glasses and causing a crashing bang that reverberated throughout the poorly lit bar. The deafening young people's music screeched to a halt. All eyes turned to Logan. Hands went to weapons. The gangly bartender in the baggy hoodie pulled out a sawed off shotgun from behind the bar.
Fuck.
He hadn’t had to whisk out the adamantium claws in years, but Logan seriously considered it now facing a whole bar of angry drunk men with guns. He still hadn’t spotted Wade.
“Weasel.”
It was a woman who spoke, the only woman Logan had seen in the filthy establishment so far. She leaned in and whispered something in the bartender’s ear. He blinked, mouth parting slightly as he swept his gaze down Logan’s body. The shotgun was placed back in its hiding spot behind the bar.
“Guys, it’s all cool. This is the hot daddy dilf Wade was ranting about. Go back to your regularly scheduled slow descent into alcohol poisoning.”
The grating Gen Z music returned. Logan’s face burned.