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#Clark Kent who’s hair is otherworldly
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Do you think Clark Kent had to be formula fed.
And do you think, for a moment, Martha Kent realized she was in over her head.
An alien baby, a canister of formula from the closest shop that she’s not even sure he can eat.
She’s just holding him in front of her with the bottle in one hand and his neck propped up in the other. He’s screaming his head off and she knows he’s hungry but she can’t bring herself to give it to him. She doesn’t know what he is, what will kill him. She may have met this baby maybe a couple hours ago but she’s already decided to protect him with her life.
Jonathan’s out in the shed trying to find any of the old baby clothes and pacifiers they were gifted while they were trying at least half a decade ago; Martha’s pretty sure she threw them all away the second the doctor broke the news.
She realizes that if they do actually do this it’s not going to be easy, and it’s actually going to be quite terrifying. They will always be waiting for that phone call, that knock on the door. From this point forward strangers and outsiders who come sniffin’ for one reason or another will terrify them.
She wonders if they’ll tell him how they actually came to be his parents, or let him live in blissful ignorance.
She counts down to three in her head. And gives him the bottle.
He drinks it happily; perfectly fine.
She can’t remember when she started holding her breath.
A loose curl of his blacker than black hair falls onto his forehead and covers his bluer than blue eyes. She brushes it away and he grabs her fingers with a grip stronger than she thought it’d be. It makes her bark out a laugh.
Something with those pudgy cheeks and that gummy smile can’t be all that terrifying.
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odilestory · 6 years
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please, can I call you her name? (tim drake x super!reader)
-this is the same timeline as my “Two Years” series, just much later :)- 
-also, inspired by Cornerstone by Arctic Monkeys-
...
Your death had been everything but easy for Tim.
It had come as a surprise to everyone; especially your family, and especially the Waynes.
It wasn’t at all difficult to figure out who did it: Luthor, of course. However, the world’s second greatest detective (and even the world’s first) was so blinded by your death, that Luthor slipped his mind. He immediately turned to aliens or some otherworldly force to explain your death, but ultimately it was your father who had to relay the message as to who your killer was.
The last thing Clark wanted to do was confront Tim. He knew how much you loved him, and he you, and seeing Tim made him think of your smile and laugh, the one you shared with Tim so often.
But, it had to be done. Tim was locked in his room and it was messier than usual. Papers everywhere, articles littering the floor, even one that your mother had to painfully write, for no one knew that “The Death of Supergirl” was actually “The Death of my Daughter.” Clark opened the door with force, as his eyes met the boy. Dark circles and tears evident. And one word made the boy go insane. 
“Luthor.”
Everything he had he pushed off his desk, even his computer and coffee. He groaned and screamed, angry at himself and Luthor, of course. Without another thought, he ran towards your father, who didn’t budge when the boy ran into him full force, hitting his chest, using him as a punching bag to get out his anger. When Clark had enough, he pulled the broken boy into a hug, both of them mourning a loved one lost.
---
No more than two months later, Tim was back to work but not back to himself. He had a team to keep up with, whether that meant you were on it or not. Everyone was hurt by your loss, of course, but none compare to him. 
That became evident when he mistook Miss Martian (yes, ridiculous of him) as you while she was piloting. M’gann, being so close to you, had picked up on a few of your mannerisms, including what you would say to Tim when you needed his help with tech on the jet. 
“Red, I could really use your hand right now!” There was a red warning light flashing and M’gann didn’t know what to do. Tim was simply sitting down, his head in space (a usual habit since your departure), but as he shot his head up because he thought he heard your voice, he tricked himself into thinking it was you. He and M’gann locked eyes for a few moments before she realized what was going on in his head.
She looked at him with a sincere gaze but firmly said his name again.
“Tim.”
He instantly stood up, snapping out of his daze, but he too realized what he was doing, and looked aside of M’gann, embarrassed. He walked over to her mumbling, “oh, right,” under his breath as he took controls from her and fixed the situation with ease.
Once it was smooth sailing again, without eye contact he asked her the question she knew was coming.
“Could I call you her name?” he already knew the answer, but he wanted to deny it.
She hesitated to say something, and almost put her hand on his shoulder, but decided it better to walk away.
---
A few days later, Tim was walking aimlessly around the manor, simply searching for something that would take his mind off of you. He wandered into the library and found Barbara and Dick sitting across from each other on opposite couches. Babs was deep in a book while Dick was looking over what looked like case files, occasionally checking his phone.
Tim pictured you sitting on that couch, reading just like Babs. He stood looking intently at her, as if it were you, eyebrows scrunching with focus, chewing on the inside of your lip, or twirling your hair while you read. Just like you always did. 
He started to tear up without realizing it, and when he sniffled was when Dick noticed his presence, prompting Barbara to look up as well.
Dick knew what his brother was going through, and his heart hurt for him; knowing he couldn’t do anything to help, for all Tim wanted was you.
Tim dragged his feet over to the couch and sat close to Barbara, laying his forehead on her shoulder so that his face was hidden. Babs ran her fingers through his hair ( she was one of your best friends, and it hadn’t been easy for her either).
In between sniffs, Tim asked the burning question.
“Please...can I call you her name?” 
“Oh, Tim...” Dick stood up upon hearing his brother’s comment and seeing Barbara’s sad gaze. He sat down next to Tim and pulled him into his chest, letting him sob as Barbara left the room, tears now forming in her eyes as well.
---
Tim, Damian, and Bruce often went to the Kent’s house to visit. Usually, Lois would make coffee or tea and everyone would just sit and talk about what was going on. It was hard for Tim, as he felt like he didn’t belong anymore.
It seemed Damian had Jon to talk to (the kids), Bruce had Clark and Lois (the adults), but Tim didn’t have you. So, he either watched from afar as Damian and Jon did whatever, or jumped in and out of conversations between the adults. He didn’t enjoy it as much as he wanted to, seeing as your family was the closest thing to you he had left.
During a certain trip, Clark mentioned something about your car sitting in the barn. Tim didn’t hear it at first, staring into his coffee cup, off into space. But it was Bruce who brought him out of the trance.
“Well, if its ok with you, we’d be happy to take it off your hands. I’m sure Tim could find a use for it; maybe, use some parts for new tools, or reverse engineer it. Right, Tim?”
His head shot up, nodding without knowing what was going on. Clark laughed.
“I’m sure she wouldn’t have had a problem with it,” he stood up, knowing it was about time for everyone to leave and got the keys for your car to give to Tim. “You know how to drive it?”
Tim understood what Bruce got him into, and he was fine with it. “I’ll figure it out...Thank you.
Clark tossed him the keys and then he and Lois both gave Tim a hug goodbye, waving the three of them out the door. 
Once they were in the driveway, Tim turned to his adopted family.
“I’ll meet you guys at home, I’m gonna take her car.”
He turned to head towards the barn as Damian got a slap on the arm for commenting: “Why would you want to drive that old thing home?”
It only irked Tim, and he walked faster away from Bruce and Damian as his adopted father said he’d see him later.
Tim took the long road home. He drove through mountains and fields enjoying memories of you. Picturing you driving, one hand on the wheel and one hand in his. He could smell your perfume on the seatbelt, and tears once again started to fall from his eyes (an activity becoming more and more normal).
Now, whenever he drives your car, he chooses to take the long way to wherever he’s going. Kids at his school started noticed his change, as the rich kid went from driving an Audi to driving an old Jeep. He didn’t let it get to him; he knew it wouldn’t have gotten to you.
---
It wasn’t until a year later, with Tim still broken, that M’gann thought of a solution. She called him in, along with a few other friends (friends who were supportive of her decision and wanted to make sure Tim went through with it), to the shared living space. 
“Listen, Tim, you need to spill. You need to tell her everything you wish you had told her before she...died. We need you. The real you, not the broken you.”
“M’gann, I would if I could! You of all people should be able to tell.” He turned to walk away as she shifted her form and voice. 
“Tim, come on. Try.” He stopped and turned at her voice. It was you. M’gann was you, and Tim wasn’t even angry, because deep down he wanted to tell you everything. Slowly, he approached her. She was the closest thing he could ever get to having you back, and he realized that. 
With her next words, he broke down.
“...and yes. You can call me anything you want.”
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