#HII GUYS sorry for disappearing! the past two weeks have been so busy for me

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[wannawritefast]

Bonnie and Clyde

A/N: As you guys can tell, I suck at posting. I’m busy and still have a crappy laptop and ant to only post stuff that I am proud of. So my posting schedule is a bit few and far between and Im super sorry. Thank you, though, to those of you who have stuck around and read my stuff. And to those who are just reading this as your first time reading my fic. Thank you! All feedback is welcomed and encouraged. Xoxo- Mama Echo

Request- anon requested: “Hii!! Love angel! Could you possibly write a fic where you and digger meet and become crime partners and spend quite a bit of time robbing banks and end up falling in love.”

Pairing: Digger Harkness x Reader, Captain Boomerang x Reader

Warnings: Language, Mentions of blood, a little bit of kissing (does that count?), Violence

Robberies were an… unconventional way to make a living. To most. But hey… It’s not like you could do much else. No one wanted to hire you. McDonald’s didn't want you as a cashier. Walmart didn't hire you. Not even those cute little 50’s diners that are typically waitressed by either college students or older women wanted you working for them. You couldn't even find work as a mascot or a sign twirler.

You couldn't sing (that high school choir teacher kept you on out of pity alone). You couldn't dance (Dance Dance Revolution was the bane of your existence). Hell, you couldn't even draw a rabbit if your life depended on it. You were seriously lacking in arts department adequacy.

You were running out of options. So, you made use of the one thing you could use. Your street smarts. You were definitely cunning enough. Not everyone could talk their way out of being arrested not once, not twice, but four times.

The rooftops and underground tunnels had practically been your playground as a child. You got your fair share of watching things unfold with an eye in the sky. Gotham wasn’t exactly prone to producing the most caring parents anyways. You’d disappear for days, sometimes weeks, at a time. And no one cared! You honestly preferred it to the hellhole some of your siblings called “home.”

But where they picked up honorable professions like lawyers, doctors, teachers, and good respectable citizens of Gotham you reserved yourself to the path of thievery.

And you were so damn good at it. You learned the ins and outs of the basic and not-so-basic security systems. You found out through trial, error, and YouTube videos how to wield knives, guns, staffs, and basically anything you could use as a weapon. You learned how to make poisons, how to hit a vital point, how to take down someone with a gun, how to adjust to your environment, and how to frame someone else for a crime.

But most importantly, you worked alone.

Always.

Trust was too risky, in your humble opinion. It wasn't something that could be thrown about willy-nilly.

You had been planning this heist for weeks now. Months. You got the building floor plans. You found a way to access the main routes of the security guards. You even got your hands on disabling the alarms for a short amount of time.

Street smarts get you places. Not thousands of dollars’ worth of schooling to be a good person.

Pfft! Where’s the fun in that anyways?

After picking up a free taxi ride to the Gotham City Museum, (Don't ask…) you took in the scene before you. Your eyes fell on the front entrance of the closed building and found it surprisingly unguarded. And dark. Perfect… No one would notice if you cut the power. You snuck around the side of the monumental museum and found the power box.

The power box was already open and tampered with. Shit. Someone’s here.

A sense of dread filled you. The electricity from the sparking power box spat at you furiously. Someone's here already.

And it isn't a security guard. To hell with the plan.

You needed to get to that ‘Historic Jewelry’ exhibit and fast. You put your velvet gloves on, pulled your mask on, and checked your voice distorter as you ran back to the front entrance of the building.

Unlocked…Shit…

You sprinted down the main entrance hall. Maps and directories zoomed past you along with benches, tables, and closed fast food vendors. You took note of the poorly guarded ice cream shop. It wasn't your fault if they had terrible security.

You were about to turn the corner when you heard the crackling of a walkie-talkie and booted footsteps on the marble floors. Security guard!

You stopped so fast that you fell forward. Shit! Maybe you did need to follow your plan a little closer.

You scrambled to your feet and bolted to the circular concierge desk. Diving over the top of the counter, it was only at that moment that you realized the damn area was made of glass. Stupid rich people and their stupid interior decorating niches!

You silently cursed yourself for your recklessness. You had about 8 seconds before the security guard turned the corner and saw you. Quietly, you climbed up the sign that said ‘Resources’ and tucked yourself into the inverted nook of the other side.

Just as you secured yourself in your hiding spot, you heard a voice speak up, “Who’s there?” You winced quietly as your heart pounded. You slowly unzipped your pouch of poison and took out your favorite white cloth.

“I know there's someone there,” he called. You heard the click of a prepped gun echo through the cavernous hall. A beacon of light silhouetted the sign you were curled into on the floor in front of you. The shadow wobbled and became unfocused as he rounded the corner and appeared below you. He scanned his flashlight along the food court that lay before you.

You took his bewilderment to advantage and pounced onto the ground behind him. The security guard noticed someone landed behind him when it was too late. You latched your arm around his neck as the ragged cloth in your other hand found its way to the man’s nose and mouth. After a few seconds of struggling, the heavy man went limp in your arms.

You slowly guided the unconscious man’s body to the ground. As soon as he was situated on his back, you took your gun out. You prepped the gun and pointed it at the man’s head hesitantly.

After a brief look back at the situation you decided that because he hadn't seen you, you would spare him… Besides the picture of kids in his wallet looked fairly recent…

And you didn't want to ruin your cover, right? You didn't kill unless the other guys shot first.

Knowing that another guard wouldn't make his way here in at least another half hour you bolted to the exhibit.

You finally arrived to the exhibit and stood still in the doorway. You holstered your gun and proceeded forward.

Until you heard voices. Goddammit! Was every security guard in Gotham City at this museum? No wonder crime is so high in Gotham. Every officer they have is here guarding the damn jewelry.

Cursing yourself mentally, you tucked yourself behind a display that held brooches that First Ladies had worn. From behind two layers of glass you looked where the voices had come from. To your slight relief, you found that the two who had been talking weren’t security guards. But they were guarding another person and he was right where you needed to be.

You inspected the two men a little closer. You almost groaned when you saw that they were young bar crawlers that would think that “no” means “convince me.”

You snuck back to the entrance that you had come through. You needed to lure at least two of three out.

Pulling your mask up so that your distortion wouldn’t affect your voice, you let out a light fake sneeze and listened to it echo through the mostly empty building.

“What was that?” a voice asked from the exhibit room. It sounded disgustingly like gravel and your skin crawled.

“What are you talking about? I didn’t hear anything. You must need to get your ears checked.” The second growled. His voice rattled with phlegm and you felt a bit of vomit bubble up from your stomach.

“I’m not stupid. I know I heard something.”

“Well, if you’re so worried about it, why don’t you check it out, Randy,” the second suggested.

“Maybe I will, Bill,” the first challenged. Men are so predictable…All you need to do is add testosterone and they just throw common sense out the window.

“No one’s stopping you,” exclaimed the second.

“Fine!” Ugh, they’re like children…but bigger and more gross.

“Fine!”

You rolled your eyes and pulled your mask back down. You quickly unhooked your garrote from its place on your hip with a metallic twang. Crossing your wrists, you leaned against the wall and awaited the man who had heard you. The silver wire glinted mischievously in the moonlight.

The lumbering man named Randy rounded the corner and when you were sure he was out of view of Bill, you attacked. You stepped behind him quietly and looped the garrote over his head, around his neck. The poor man didn’t even notice you had entrapped him.

You pulled the handles down a little harder than you had expected and Randy was yanked to the floor. Unfortunately, the weight of the man brought you down with him. You grunted with the sudden change in gravity but kept your grip on the handles.

Randy frantically scratched at the wire tightened around his throat but he wasn’t slowing down. You changed your position so that your feet were on his shoulders and you straightened your legs to get more power. The poor man was so desperate to be released that he brought his huge fist down right on your ankle. A sob of pain escaped your lips, a strange sound with your voice distorter. You pulled even harder. It was only a matter of time before his buddy got curious.

The man slowly struggled less and less. After three minutes of constant fighting the man lay deathly still. You cautiously felt his intensely marred throat for a pulse. Nothing.

You were still hot from the effort of taking down the first guard. Sweat soaked the crown of your head as you pulled the now sticky garrote from his neck and reattached it to its original spot. One down, you thought to yourself, two to go…

You took the mask off of your head as your heart beat fast at the adrenaline coursing through your veins and the mini workout you had just accomplished. You cracked your neck and stretched out to calm yourself.

This time you would use a different tactic that had never failed you. You tousled your hair and put on your red lipstick.

“Randy!” Bill called. “You ok over there?” You put on your best doe-eyed look and cleared your throat.

“Hello?” you called lightly, making sure your voice sounded as feminine as possible.

You peered around the corner at the middle-aged man. The man looked startled to see you. He was about to say something before you put your finger to your lips motioning for him to be quiet. Bill swallowed harshly and gaped at you. You curled your finger toward him in a gesture to beckon him to come to you.

He pointed to his chest and mouthed “Me?” You resisted your urge to both roll your eyes and throw up as you affirmed his question with a doe-eyed look and a wink.

This guy was seriously stupid. Here you were in the middle of a museum in the dark of night and he thought that some lost girl just sauntered into this exact exhibit looking for a good time? What an idiot… If it's this easy to get someone to do something, maybe henchmen weren’t a bad investment after all.

You walked back to the corner and waited for him to appear. As soon as he turned the corner you gave him a sweet smile. He smirked disgustingly and you roundhouse kicked him with your good ankle in response. He crumpled to the ground unconscious. It was your turn to smirk. You leaned over him as you poured fast-acting poison down his throat and forced him to swallow it. He convulsed briefly then lay still. Second down…Here comes the home stretch.

You limped back to the exhibit and pulled the mask on. The man still had his back to you as you approached. Many of the cases were already open and empty. You estimated that he had cleaned out about $10 million dollars-worth of stuff already. His gloved fingers plucked the massive diamond from its display. That diamond alone was worth $4 million and you could practically see yourself signing the check for your own house. He stuck it in his bag that held other jewelry pieces from the museum cases you had passed.

You unsheathed one of your knives as he turned and pressed it to his throat. You shoved him into the display case he had just stolen from. He looked at you with surprise.

You examined him for a moment. Your arm was pressed against his chest and you could feel his muscles along your forearm as he breathed. The man had dark blue eyes that looked almost green and his face was riddled with cuts, a bruise, and scars. You were taken aback by how handsome the bearded man was and decided to let him know.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t cut your throat this second,” your distorted voice threatened. His green orbs flickered down to the blade pressed to his windpipe before he stared you right in the eyes.

With one swift movement, he pulled out a gun and pressed it to your jaw. “That reason enough for you,” he questioned. You gulped at the feeling of the barrel of the pistol held against the base of your jaw and slightly in realization that he had an accent. Australian… Damn, if he wasn’t holding your income for the next 30 years…

You suddenly disarmed him like you had done so many times before and smirked at him as his gun clattered to the floor. He put his hands up in surrender.

“You were saying,” you goaded.

“Ok, mate,” the Aussie began, “First of all, what the fuck. Secondly- Oh my god, look!”

He pointed behind you exaggeratedly and you deadpanned. “What was the point in that,” your distorted voice asked.

“Worth a shot,” he shrugged.

“I’m still waiting for that reason,” you reminded him.

“Ok, seriously, how did you get past my guards.” He asked with his gorgeous accent. He would’ve been more gorgeous if he wasn’t holding your bag of jewels. What the fuck am I thinking?! He furrowed his brows in confusion at my ability to get to him.

“I strangled the first and poisoned the second.”

“Damn, you’re hardcore.”

“Well, they were stupid so… Not my fault.”

“I was going to kill them, anyways. They actually thought that I was going to split it with them,” he laughed a little bit.

“That’s really funny! Yeah,” you laughed with him then turned serious, “Hand me the bag.”

“What? No!”

“Um, yes,” you protested. You reminded him just how sharp your knife was.

“Oi, why do you have the little voice changing thingy, anyways” he asked suddenly. You swallowed harshly.

“Why- why not? It’s good for my cover,” you stammered with your voice still robotic sounding.

“That’s what a mask is for,” he stated, “You don’t need a voice changing thingy for that.”

“It’s called a voice distortion box,” you corrected.

“I don’t care what it’s called! You’re hiding something,” he accused.

“I'm the one hiding something? We're both thieves. Why don't you read the fucking room, bud?”

His eyes burned into yours and you had to look away for a moment. You turned your head to look at the display cases over his shoulder when something caught your eye.

There, back against the glass of a display case, was a security guard. And he had his eyes set right at the man you were pressed against. He hadn’t seen you yet but if he shot he would soon enough.

You looked at the tall muscular man in front of you with a sudden change in demeanor. He looked at you the same way.

You whispered, “There’s a security guard on the other side of a glass case behind you.”

He looked to you with fear in his eyes and the strange feeling of wanting to comfort him arose in your chest. He responded, “Yeah, there’s one there behind you too.”

Your heart leapt in terror. “Ok, grab your gun,” you whispered to him.

“I can’t. It’s on the floor, remember?” he explained. You cursed yourself for what seemed like the millionth time this night.

Then you realized how loud your distortion box was. Quickly making a choice, you yanked your mask off and stuffed it into your bra. You looked to the Aussie in front of you and he stared at you in shock. “Y-you’re a girl,” he marveled quietly.

“Yes, I’m a girl. You better get over it quickly or we’re both going to have bullets in our heads. Now, in my back pockets are two extra pistols. Grab them,” you elaborated.

“You’re kinda hot,” he commented with a handsomely crooked smile. You gave him a look as you blushed furiously. You hoped that the darkness was hiding the redness tickling your face.

“Now’s not the time for that,” you quipped, “I need you to grab the pistols. I can't grab them because the movement would be too sudden and we would, again, end up with bullets in our brains. For the second time, the guns are in the back pockets of my pants.”

“Right,” he nodded obediently. You sheathed your knife and raised your eyebrows in a go-ahead type of cue.

His green eyes stayed on yours as his rough hands slowly smoothed over your waist. There was something pleasant about having his hands on you. Not the time, not the time… Eye contact still maintained, you felt his fingers move down your back and graze a patch of exposed skin.

Your stomach did a gymnastics routine as he blinked at you with his long dark lashes. His hands started down the curve of your butt and something changed in his pretty forest-colored eyes. You prayed to whoever your maker was that you would be alive to explore it more in the future. You felt his hands grab onto the handles of the pistols.

The right side of your pants got lighter as he slid the gun along your hip and held it to you at stomach level. You grabbed it and prepped the barrel.

You were a little more than stunned when he wrapped both arms around you again. Still maintaining the staring match the two of you had, he grabbed the remaining pistol and pushed you into his chest. You looked at him with wide eyes, questioning why he did so. He returned a look that unmistakably said, trust me.

The scary thing was, that even though you vowed to never trust anyone else, you did trust him.

You nodded tentatively at him and he gave you a mischievous smile.

Before you knew what was happening, he had wrapped his arm around your waist and fired his gun that was in his other hand. You heard a body hit floor after the gunshot rang through the building. You saw the guard behind your human shield aim his weapon and you rapidly pushed the Aussie to the floor straddling his waist so he was underneath you. Safe. The case shattered above you and a shower of glass rained down on the two of you. You curled into his chest and waited for the glass to settle before sitting up and firing your pistol at the remaining guard. You got him in the first shot but he had fired his gun milliseconds before you fired yours. His bullet grazed your shoulder.

“Mother fucker!” you fumed. Your hand shot to grasp your shoulder. The Aussie sat up surprised by how quickly you had taken action.

“You alright there, love?” he asked with genuine concern. With a sour expression, you nodded.

He held out his hand, “I’m Digger, by the way.”

You clutched at your shoulder as it throbbed. You calmed yourself enough to speak up again.

“Y/n,” you offered in response and he smiled that devilishly attractive smirk. “Let’s get out of here, yeah?” He smiled at your suggestion. You stood up and he followed suit. “Which way,” you questioned.

You caught a glimpse of the bag of jewels lying mockingly by the case. You glared at it but not before grabbing it. Digger put his hand on your waist suddenly.

“Whoa, hey,” you pushed his hand away. “Let's not get handsy.”

“As much as I'd love to, you are in no position to walk. So I'm just going to-” he reached for your waist again and you swatted his hand away again.

“I can walk. Thank you very much,” you crossed your arms and whimpered at the pain it caused to your bullet wound. You remembered your ankle when you shifted your weight painfully. But you kept a tough face.

“Y/n,” he crooned lowly with his hypnotizing accent. Oh baby Jesus… You forgot that you were supposed to respond for a moment.

“Digger,” you replied in the same tone.

“You gonna walk or what?”

“Yeah, of course. I was just waiting for you to go first. Chivalry isn't dead, you know,” you said flatly. The pain in your arm was reeling.

“You're in pain,” he stated. He rolled his green eyes humorously.

“I'm in pain,” you agreed embarrassed.

“Let me help you out,” he offered, “you saved my life.”

“You saved mine.” You fired back.

Without another word, he handed you the bag of priceless jewelry and scooped you up in his arms. Digger only gave you a funny look and walked toward the exit of the museum.

After guiding him to your way home, you arrived at your apartment. You hopped lightly out of his arms careful to not put weight on your ankle.

Your apartment wasn't anything special. Unlocking the door you limped into your living room: your favorite spot in the apartment. It was simple but cozy. It had a couch, a cheap TV, and a plethora of blankets. Soft lighting from your old lamp helped sooth you despite your eventful day.

Digger locked the door behind you as you hurled the bag of expensive jewelry on your stained armchair. You lugged your first aid kit from under your couch and popped the latches open. You grabbed an Ace Wrap out and took off your shoe gingerly or attempted to as Digger sat down next to you. The TV was still on from earlier in the day. It was perpetually on the news channel for obvious reasons.

With difficulty from both the pain in your ankle and the throbbing from your shoulder you fiddled unsuccessfully with your laces. Wordlessly Digger grabbed your legs and pulled them toward him as he gently went to work on your shoe laces. Something about the gesture felt strangely kind and you didn't feel at all unsafe as he did so. Nervous in fact.

You watched as he pulled your boot off of your foot and tossed it unceremoniously to the floor. He gently rolled the ankle around testing its range of motion. As it was turned toward your other foot, a sharp pain shot up through your leg and stabbed at your hip. A scream of pain ripped through the air of your apartment and Digger jumped at sound.

You yanked your leg up to your chest but Digger wrapped his hand around your knee and pulled it back. A tear involuntarily rolled itself down your cheek. You turned your face away and handed him the Ace wrap. You felt the cloth slowly wrapped itself around your ankle. The pain throbbed as it got tighter and you winced as another tear silently fell. This hurt like a bitch.

You had clenched your eyes so tight that you didn't even notice that Digger had finished wrapping your ankle. You didn't even notice that he had seen you cry until his finger caught a third tear escaping your eye. Stunned again by his kindness, your eyes snapped open and saw how close he was. Less than a foot away, you gazed into the Aussie’s gorgeous green eyes. Your eyes darted down to his lips momentarily. Was he going to kiss you? He leaned forward and reached for your zipper.

“Not even gonna wait for the first date? Someone's impatient,” you smirked. He chuckled lightly.

“Definitely not gonna wait to get your shoulder cleaned,” he bemused, "but I'm flattered.”

“Oh. In that case,” you pulled the gloves off your hands and unzipped the top. You gingerly pulled it off your injured shoulder and tossed it to the side with your shoe. You grabbed the medical alcohol and sauntered to the bathroom in just your bra and pants. Digger followed with an amused smirk on his face.

You sat on the counter and leaned your shoulder over the sink. Or at least attempted to. Every time you put pressure on your arm it stung like no other. You cursed at your lack of coordination.

“Having trouble,” Digger asked as he leaned in the doorway. You only answered him with a look. No matter what you seemed to do it only ended in an awkward position.

“No,” you answered defiantly. He raised an eyebrow at you. You did need a little bit of help. “Fine. Yes. I need help,” you sighed relenting. “But only because you offered.” You eyed him warily as he grabbed the alcohol and took the cap off. “This is gonna hurt. Isn't it?”

“Only a little, love. I'll do it when you're not expecting it.”

“How could I not be expecting it when you literally have the bottle in your ha- OW!” Digger did do it when you didn't expect him to. You just didn't expect it so soon. A sharp sting raced up your neck and arm. Strings of creative curses escaped your mouth and filled the bathroom. “MOTHERFUCKER!”

He curtly set the bottle back on the counter. “All done.”

“‘All done.’” You mocked his accent. “You dump alcohol on my wounded shoulder while I scream in pain and the only thing you have to say is ‘all done’. I have half a mind to kick you out ri-”

But Digger didn't let you finish. He covered his lips over your angry ones. Your resolve melted into his kiss. You momentarily forgot about what had just happened when he pulled away. Mild disappointment washed over you. “Sorry about that,” you whispered. Your noses were still almost touching. “I’ve got a bit of a temper if you haven’t noticed.”

“I noticed,” he commented as he leaned his face forward to capture your lips again. You closed your eyes and sighed as he worked his mouth against yours. Somehow his hands slid down your hips and around your ass eventually finding the back of your thighs and lifting you to on top of the bathroom counter. Your hands instinctively made their way to his unruly light brown hair and his beanie fell to the floor haphazardly.

The intensity in the small bathroom only increased. Digger pushed the small of your back closer to him, the already close proximity not close enough evidently. You nipped at his lips teasingly and a chuckle hummed against his mouth and yours.

“Mrow.”

“What the hell was that,” Digger asked pulling away, just as startled as you were.

You looked to the source of the sound and found one of your cats rubbing Digger’s ankles.

“That’s Clyde.” You giggled. A second one, Bonnie, hopped up onto the counter next to you. The ginger tabby walked into your lap and began sniffing your face not even minding the awkward position that you were in.

“I should have known you were a cat person,” Digger crouched down next to Clyde as your third and final cat trotted into the bathroom. Capone, your tuxedo cat, sat right at the doorframe and observed the situation in the bathroom with a cool reserve.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No. I rather like cats,” he beckoned to Capone, rubbing his fingers together. Capone blinked at him, took a few strides forward, and sat again this time just out of Digger’s reach. Somehow Clyde had made his way onto Digger’s shoulders and Bonnie was seriously contemplating joining him. Digger scooted closer to your tuxedo cat.

“It’s ok, Dig. Capone usually doesn’t take to…” You trailed off when your usually stoic feline laid down in front of Digger. “...strangers.”

The Australian shot you a cocky look as Capone basked in the attention of his new friend. Bonnie and Clyde took turns yelling at Digger for some of his attention as well. You laughed at how fast Digger had charmed your furry children.

“What?” He asked with a smile on his face. It wasn’t a flirty smirk though. It wasn’t ingenuine either. But it was a smile that you felt had been reserved for you. And only you. It was happy and warm and it was yours. Somehow, in that soft bathroom lighting with two noisy cats and the stench of medical alcohol after a successful heist Digger had wormed his way into your heart too.

You shook off your moment of introspection. “You really give a new meaning to cat burglar, you know that, right?” Digger threw his head back in laughter. “You’ve stolen their hearts in a mere matter of minutes.”

“Have I stolen yours?” There was that cheeky lilt in his voice that you would never admit was actually quite attractive.

“Now, now. Let’s not get cocky, casanova…”

“That wasn’t an answer.”

“Oh, shut up!”

“You like me!”

“What are you five?”

“You didn’t deny it either,” you rolled your eyes and picked up Capone as you walked out of the bathroom. You slung him over your shoulder like a baby and he sat there. He kneaded the air with his white mitts contentedly. “Here me out though. I-”

“Wait, do you hear that?” You shushed him for a moment as you rushed to the remote and turned up the volume on the TV.

The plastic-looking woman reported from her futuristic looking conference table, “We have some breaking news from Gotham City Museum. An armed robbery occurred about an hour ago and famous jewelry from the travelling ‘First Ladies and Royalty’ exhibit, amongst other priceless artifacts, is gone. Let’s send it over to Kaye.”

Your gaze met Digger’s in shock. You had been thorough… What went wrong?

“Thanks, Wanda. We are at the scene of the crime here at Gotham City Museum. This felony has left 2 security guards and 2 criminal accomplices dead as well. There is one surviving security guard but he seems to be suffering from amnesia. As of right now, there is no security footage of the crime as the main power grid and the back-up generator were hijacked during the robbery. There are two suspects as to who it could be.”

You gulped heavily, the suspense killing you.

“The first suspect is Catwoman who frequents jewelry heists and the level of mastery leads many to believe that this handiwork is of the feline femme fatale felon.”

You rolled your eyes at the fluffy wording.

“The second, more surprising, suspicion is not one but two criminals. Police suspect a Bonnie and Clyde copycat situation. There is no eyewitness account to go off of but a man on the street claims to have seen a couple, a man and woman, exiting the premises. Sir, can you tell us what you saw?”

The camera suddenly shifted to footage of what looked like a homeless drug addict. He eyed the camera warily. “Yeah, I saw a man and woman. Looked like they were married. Cute couple if you ask me. From where I was standing, it looked like the husband was carrying his pregnant wife.”

Pregnant? You looked to Digger suddenly. Why on earth… The man thought the bag of jewels was a belly with a bun in the oven! This was perfect! You burst out laughing victoriously. You had never been more thankful for the homeless and reminded yourself to do some community outreach in the following months.

“Thank you, sir. And is there anything else noteworthy to say?”

He turned to the camera dramatically. “I need to take a piss right now.”

You burst out laughing again as the reporter frantically told the camera to switch as the man proceeded to begin working on his pant’s zipper. Grabbing the remote again, you turned the TV off.

Digger just smiled at you mirthfully with a look on his face.

“What?” You questioned with a smile that matched his.

“A couple, huh?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And pregnant?!” He shouted in mock excitement.

“Oh, calm down. You’ll wake the baby,” you teased while giggling.

“I’m not hearing a denial,” he said. You knew that he was only half-joking.

“You’re not getting a ‘yes’ immediately either,” you ushered him to the door.

“What?! Oh, this is just cruel!”

The two of you stood in the doorway of your apartment. “Next Friday at 7. Pick me up. Take me out to dinner then we’ll talk.”

“Maybe a little more,” he asked, waggling his eyebrows playfully. This man…

“Good night, Digger,” You laughed as you began to close the door.

Before you could shut it though, he pushed the door open a little more with his hand. You were a little bewildered until Digger pressed his lips against yours quickly. He pulled away just as fast and gauged your reaction.

You grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him in for one more kiss. He enthusiastically kissed back. As you finished the kiss, you half-heartedly pushed him back into the hallway. You broke away with a smile and told him ‘goodnight’ for the second time.

You shut the door and the last thing you saw before closing it was his green eyes.

And you genuinely looked forward to Friday.

[x-men-x-imagines]

Imagine #10 Charles Xavier (Logan Howlett?) - Part 2

Requested by Anon: Hi love I just found your tumblr and its amazing, and I was wondering if you’re planning to write a part two of the Charles Xavier imagine where the reader has siren powers? 💗

 Requested by Anon: Hii could you do an imagine where you have the ability to make everyone horny who touches here (like Alisha in Misfits if you have seen it) and she is barraly 18. she has a thing for for Charles and Logan and yeah… I love your blog ❤ 

 Not my gif

Words: 2181

Warnings: Swears, fem!reader, angst-ish, typos

A/N: Well, both these requests are from months ago and I am really sorry! I’m also sorry for not uploading in weeks. I’m really busy right now with my brother moving in and my other brother behaving like a twat, uni is killing me and I have a date tomorrow, which is probably going to be a fucking disaster, since I have neither confidence nor social skills. Also, I have no idea, why every Part 2 to whatever I write turns into angst. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! xoxo

Part 1

You could see the mansion from all the way down the street, its roof peaking through the scanty green of the early April trees. You hadn’t been here in a long time. And if you were completely honest, you had to admit that the way you had left hadn’t exactly been the behaviour of a young, well-mannered lady. The past years you had been trying to blame it on your mutation, but at least saying goodbye wouldn’t have hurt anyone, that you couldn’t argue with.

Seriously though, you thought, as your reluctant steps brought you closer and closer to the last place you wanted to be, what were you doing here again? You had always hated confrontation, nothing had changed about that after you had left Charles and the others. But you had also never in your life felt as bad as the months after you had disappeared without notice.

Something by the side of the road caught your eye and you kneeled down in front of the weather-worn plate that was laying in the grass a few steps away from the familiar gate. ‘Xavier’s school for gifted youngsters’, it read in big, clear letters and a strange mixture of pride and sadness took hold of you. So he had actually done it, you thought, Charles had managed to make this place an actual school. You knew that it had been his biggest dream, the thing he had been working for the hardest and the longest. Which made it even worse, that the times of Xavier’s school evidently were over already. Charles would never have something of his lying around like that, you thought and got back on your feet.

The closer you got to the mansion, the clearer it became to you, that the school itself wasn’t the only thing about this place that wasn’t going well. The windows were dirty from rain and nature; the driveway was covered in last fall’s leaves. The garden hadn’t been looked after at all and, the most peculiar detail, the front door was standing far open, opening the view to the dark and more than messy foyer.

Suddenly, you were all too sure that you didn’t want to see, what was going on here, and at the same time knew, that this was the moment, in which you had to take the steps that you’d been dreading for years. Dammit, you thought, as your feet carried you towards the few steps in front of the main portal.

You stepped over the threshold, just in time to see something fly across the staircase and land on the other side, just slightly out of your sight. It – him, as you realized – groaned and tried to get up, just in time to be hit by another flying… person? You didn’t know what to do, surreally, you felt like laughing, but something stopped you. Maybe it was the fact that the man was being thrown across the room once again. You made a step back and furrowed and kneaded your hands nervously, as the second person/creature jumped into the chandelier, whilst continuing his indescribable screaming and roaring.

“Hank, what’s going on here?”, you heard a very familiar voice and felt your breath catch in your chest, as a third man stepped into the picture. You couldn’t see him properly in the dimmed light of the foyer, but oh, you recognized him immediately. This, you thought, was the definition of bad timing.

“Professor.”, the first stranger said. “Wait, you know this guy?”, the chandelier-dangling… person added. “Ugh, he looks slightly familiar. Get off the bloody chandelier, Hank!”

It took you a moment to notice, because you hadn’t at all been expecting it, but once you realized, you couldn’t unhear it: The professor was mumbling, his words more like a stream of indefinable noises. Which could be explained with the glass of whiskey in his hand. Oh no, you thought, not being able to suppress your disappointed groan. What the hell was going on here?

Three pairs of eyes met yours and for a second nobody said a word. “I’m sorry, were you expecting someone, professor?”, the first stranger asked, his voice sarcastic. You didn’t like his tone, but the scurrility of the situation still made you laugh uncomfortably.

“Looks like this is gonna be a hell of a tea party.”, you mumbled and immediately regretted it, seeing the familiar spark in the three men’s eyes, even in the dimmed light of the foyer. “I take that as a ‘no’, then.”, the first man replied. The professor didn’t say a word, but after a moment, he tumbled forward and dropped down on the stairs in a way, that would have had the Charles you knew complain about everything, from his manners to his getup. What had happened to him?

Your eyes fell on the third person in the room and as you noticed the familiar face structure beneath the bizarre, blue fur that was covering his body from head to toe, you recalled the name that Charles had called him by. “Hank?”, you asked, your voice high in confusion. “Hank McCoy?”

“The one and only.”, he replied, suddenly sounding tired, as his face started to return back to a human colour. Did I miss out on something, you wanted to ask, but you already knew the answer. Of course, you had, and it was your own fault. Your guilt hit you with the force of a rhino. “Long time no see.”, you murmured, lowering your gaze towards your gloved hands.

“So, this is what? A family reunion?”, the first man asked. “If it were a family reunion, what would you be doing here?”, Charles asked. You hadn’t expected him to say a word and your eyes met with his immediately. You tried to smile, but you weren’t sure, if his sharp words were directed at you or the stranger. Probably both.

“Well, I’m here to ask for your help.”, the stranger replied, before interrupting himself. “Wait, you can walk?” Silence.

“Wait, what?” You stepped towards the three men, not knowing where to look. Right now, the stranger seemed the safest bet, which was something you had never thought before. You didn’t dare to look at Charles, and Hank… well, he obviously didn’t dare to look at you. “What do you mean, he can walk?”, you repeated, ignoring the stranger’s eyes looking you up and down. You knew it wasn’t his fault. It was your mutation, your… gift.

“So, you don’t know him that well, then?” It hurt, it hurt like a bitch. But the man couldn’t possibly know that and you sure as hell weren’t going to tell anyone. No, obviously, you thought, you didn’t know him that well, not any more. “No.”, was all you said.

“What are you doing here, y/n?” It was Hank, now looking like his human self again, stepping towards you. You could tell that he wasn’t sure whether to hug you or to kick you out. You had been friends. Once, years ago, you reminded yourself.

“What happened here?”, you asked. “The place, it’s…” “Wrecked? Thank you for your input.”, Charles interrupted. You didn’t know why you weren’t expecting to hear his voice. Maybe it was less about his voice than about his tone. You deserved it, but it hurt. Which you probably also deserved. “Charles, I’m…” “You’re overstepping your boundaries. This is private property.” “Charles, I…” “As for you.”, Charles spit towards the stranger. “Why should I help you with anything? I don’t know you and I don’t care.”

“Because I was sent here for you and I’m sure, you’ll want to help me in this matter.” “Well, it’s a shame that I’m busy right now, I would have loved to hear the story behind some Canadian punk breaking into my house and telling me…” “Technically, Beast let me in.” “Technically, he entered against my…” “Hank!”

“Stop it!”, you interrupted and to your enormous surprise, the men actually listened. What was going on here? Charles never hesitated to help anyone, neither friend, nor stranger. And Charles never had to ask anyone about their stories. Their stories came to him and often he had a hard time keeping them out, or at least that’s what he had told you. And Charles definitely wouldn’t leave this place rotting like that. He loved this house! This wasn’t the Charles you knew. Or had known. “What happened to the school, Charles?”

He groaned and took another sip from his whiskey, before getting up on his feet and turning away from you. “You can both piss off.”, he shouted over his shoulder, tumbling up the stairs. “Hank, show them the door.” But that wasn’t necessary, at least not for you.

“Y/n, wait!” It was Hank, but you ignored him, if anything, you increased the pace with which you left the mansion behind you. God, was this your fault? You didn’t even want to hear the answer to that. “Y/n!”

You were roughly four steps away from the gate, when a hand got hold of your arm and you froze for a split-second. Panic flooded your system and you ripped your arm free before realizing that you were wearing a jacket. He hadn’t touched your skin. You turned around to look at Hank. “He didn’t mean it like that.”, he insisted, the same caring expression in his eyes, that they had always worn years ago. “Didn’t he? I would have.”, you managed to say, before tears started running down your cheeks. “I came here to apologize and I… I was prepared for his disappointment, his anger, but… but this? What happened here, Hank? What…?”

“Shhhh.”, Hank hissed, obviously not knowing what to do, but wanting to do something, anything to help you. He started to awkwardly stroke your arm and you jumped once again, a reflex to what could have happened. What had happened in the past. “It’ll be fine.”

“Will it, really?”, you howled, not able to contain yourself. “He used to help people. No matter, who they were. And now he won’t even talk to the guy? He won’t even listen to me?”

“Why don’t you come back inside?” You didn’t argue with that. This place had been your home, even if just for a few weeks. You had never felt more at home, than in your time with Charles. And all that was left of that time was your guilt and the run down house in front of you.

The stranger was still sitting in the foyer and he didn’t look particularly happy either. “This went well.”, he said and looked at you accusingly. “Who are you?”, he asked.

“An old friend. My name is y/n.”, you replied tiredly. “Define friend.”, the stranger murmured, eyeing your undoubtedly red and puffy face. You didn’t care. “You’re one to talk.” He grinned and shook his head. “I’m Logan. So, what did you do to piss off the professor? I mean, the way I know him, it’s practically impossible to get on his bad side.” “It didn’t sound like you knew him very well, if you ask me.”, you countered. Who was this guy, anyway?

“That’s a matter of perspective. And a very long story.” “Must be your lucky day, Charles didn’t even seem willing to listen to a short story.” “Your story doesn’t seem to be of his concern either.”

“Could you stop that, guys?”, Hank asked, rubbing his forehead tiredly. “Let’s just agree, that he isn’t in a position to talk to either of you.”

“Really? Most people find it easier to talk to me after they had a few drinks. And he seems to be far ahead of that, so…” “Do you think this is a joke?”, you growled at him angrily. “Oh, not at all, sweetheart, but I’m on a schedule and he is the only person, who can help me.” “So you behave like a dick? Amazing strategy, how has it been working out for you in the past?”

Silence. Then: “I like you.”, Logan said, eyeing you once again and you knew that your mutation was at it again.

“What do you need his help for?”, Hank asked. He looked exhausted, only now you realized the dark circles under his eyes. “I need to prevent something from happening, or many people will die. And for that I need the professor’s help. And Magneto’s.”

“Mag… Erik? Where is he? When I… when I left, he was here, what happened?” “You missed out on quite a lot, y/n. And you,”, he looked at Logan and his expression changed from sad to sceptical, “you can forget about your plan. There is no way to get a hold of Erik.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say it’s impossible. We might just need a little help.” “Do you know where he is?”, Hank asked, furrowing his brows. “Yes. Like I said, we might need some help. And since Charles doesn’t have his powers, I guess, we’ll…”

“Charles doesn’t what?”, you interrupted, just as Hank asked: “How do you know about that?” “Well, it’s time for my long story, then.”