#logan and black women 😍

[dorkszn]

when logan heard there was a new teacher at the institute, he didn’t even bother to introduce himself. he didn’t bother stepping by the classroom or anything. “i meet the jackass when i meet em’. if they even last.” he had said.

you don’t officially meet logan until the end of your second week at the institute. you’re not in your classroom, you’re getting a drink to wake yourself up for the day before the kids came to class.

you hear the door to the staff only room open as your back is turned to it. but just as the footsteps come, they stop. the person freezing in their tracks.

you look over your shoulder from where you stand, seeing the one and only staff member you had yet to meet. logan.

he’s standing at the door, slightly wide-eyed and frozen as he sees you standing there. a cigar between his teeth. his eyes wandering over you. your solid black pencil skirt that hugged your ass so perfectly, your brand-new looking white button up where your sleeves were pushed up to your elbows.

the few top buttons undone, displaying your soft skin and collarbone. the xavier institute sweater vest over it. your french curls braids pulled into a perfect half up, half down style that frames your face where your glasses sit low on your nose.

“good morning,” you greet him. and god, your voice is smooth as honey. how he would love to be in your class. listening to you talk for hours would be heaven. finally, he finds his words to stop gawking like an idiot.

“g’morning,” logan replies lowly, dropping his eyes to the floor as he pulls his cigar from his mouth. you finish up making your drink and grab your to-go cup, turning to face him completely.

“you’re logan, right?” you ask him as you step towards him, your shoes quietly clicking against the ground. he watches your every step and movement until you stop in front of him.

“yeah, that’s me. and im assuming you’re the new teacher.” logan responds, trying to hide the way you’re making his heart race as he looks down at you. you hold out a free hand out to him.

he takes your hand, feeling your warm, soft smaller hand in his. from this close he can smell your perfume and lotion and everything and it’s making his head spin. cocoa butter and vanilla. a scent he’ll never get away from now.

“in the flesh,” you reply with a smile. you shake his hand and give him your name which he immediately commits to memory. “guess the jackass lasted long enough to meet ya, huh?” you question, your mock-innocent gaze contrasting your words.

logan freezes for a moment before his eyes widen in realization. his cigar nearly falling from his lips as he parts them to speak. “i didn’t mean—��

“have a good day, mr. howlett,” you interject simply, your smile now having a sly, taunting undertone as you walk past him and out of the break room. he’s still in shock as he intently watches you leave.

he should’ve introduced himself so much sooner. or maybe not. it’d be pretty embarrassing if he caught a boner in front of you during your first week instead of your second.