They Invented The Definition Of “being Soft”.

They invented the definition of “being soft”.

➥ “He never thought he’d be this guy, but then he met Pepper. A woman who loved him despite…well, him being him. A woman who cared about him long before he declared he was Iron Man. A woman who had saved him as many times as he had saved the world. There were so many different ways to be a superhero to someone”. - Destiny Arrives by Liza Palmer

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.”

92 notes View Post

bloodyknucklestiredeyes

6 years ago

Peter Parker; Strangers in the night

This is my very first imagine that I wrote months ago for my friend and just found it LOL but I wanna share it here so im sorry if theres errors or smth but yeah hope y’all like it.

_______

Word count: 1221

Warnings: none just FLUFF

The wind roared with fury over the towers of Queens, New York. A shadow figure loomed onto a high skyscraper. The small frame of the mysterious figure got the attention of a nearby red and blue boy. With catlike silence, the red and blue suit was behind the dark figure. “If you wanted to sneak up on me it didn’t work.” The sarcastic and dry voice came from the small figured preached on the building. An awkward chuckle escaped the boy and within 30 seconds, the small female was standing up, standing on the ledge. “Bye spider-boy.” And without missing a beat, the female saluted her departure and jumped. Spider-man’s eyes widened at the sudden movements and he instantly leaps into action, ready to save the young woman who jumped. But to his disbelief, there was so body in the air, nor on the ground. the young woman simply, vanished.

It’s been a week since Peter Parker’s strange encounter with the black figured woman. Every night on patrol he would keep his eyes out for her, wanting them to cross paths again.

The noisy and crowded halls of midtown high made my ears want to burst. I pushed through the many teenagers, desperate to get to my locker. With a final push through the crowd my small body collided with my blue locker and I gave a sigh of relief before putting in my locker combination. “YO Y/L/N” the booming voice echoes the halls. “Crap.” i whisper, leaning my head against the cool locker. “Yes, Flash?” I sweetly ask the male. “So I was, Uh, wondering. I gotta party this weekend, wanna come? it’ll be fun baby girl.” Half way through Flash Thompson’s sentence, he winks and grabs at his junk. My nose crinkles in disgust at the teenage boy and say, “No thanks Flash. I have family plans. Maybe next time!” I smile sweetly before grabbing the books i need from my locker, and walk to first period.

When I get home to my small apartment in Queens that afternoon, I immediately run to my room and grab my skin tight black uniform. I smile while i run my hands down the soft fabric, mixed with leather. Most people have some life changing moment to want to become a “superhero” but I had always wanted to help people. I took various fighting skill classes from age 4 to age 15. I knew how to take care of myself, and when the infamous “Spider-man” took on the streets of Queens, New York, i knew I could too. So i made this costume and my other gadgets and started around 3 months ago. I go mostly unnoticed, which means Spider-man gets my credit for the job, but it doesn’t bother me. I would rather help people than be on the front page news. But i can admit I chuckle when I think about how confused spider-man must be when he gets credit for the job he didn’t do.

After the sun goes down i walk into my room and put on my suit. the fabric and leather are perfect. Soft but sturdy fabric reaches around my chest and abdomen, and runs down my legs. Patches of leather are on my back, knees, elbows, and around my breasts. The boots I wear have a tiny heel, it doesn’t get in the way but it does give me some style. My hair in a pin straight high ponytail and a black mask covers my eyes and cheekbones. The burgundy lipstick i wear makes my teeth look whiter than normal and makes me eyes pop. I smile in the mirror and get to my balcony window. With a small push, i’m out the window and jumping through the night.

I sit on a ledge, my feet dangling, off a building and scan the streets below. The sound of cars driving by has become a constant and I slightly smile at the noise. “Funny meeting you here.” A boyish voice breaks the almost silent air. I give a dramatic sigh and stand up. “What do you want spidey?” I put my hand on my hip and give him my best ‘annoyed’ look. “Who are you?”

The question only mildly surprised me. He had never seen me before last week so of course he had questions. I only hoped he would give something a little more original off for out first official meeting. “I’m helping.” My statement had a ‘duh’ factor to it and it made him frown slightly. “But i’m spider-man. I don’t need help.” I furrow my brows and frown at his whining behavior. “Chill. I don’t want to steal the spotlight. Just want to take some of the load off you.” I put my hands up in mock surrender and lift my eyes to meet his. When I looked into his mask I had the urge to take it off and see the color of his eyes. Were they bright and blue? or dark and brown? Would they hold secrets and built up anger or an innocence in them? The thoughts of wanting to see my fellow “superheroes” eyes made my cheeks flame up. The sounds of sirens broke our trance and we darted our heads to the noise. “That’s my cue!” I yelled and began running towards the ledge. “Not if I get there first!” said spider-man and he shot his webs into the air, swinging off.

These strange encounters became more frequent over the next few weeks. He would find me on some ledge, we would talk and then some crime or emergency would bring us back to reality. I was beginning to become more and more curious to this boys identity. He was obviously well built, not super tall but not the shortest either. He had a voice that sounded like he just finished puberty but then he also had that vibe that he was maybe older? The curiosity was killing me. So one night i asked, “Will we ever show each other who we are?” I had my head rested upon his shoulder, so my question made my head joint at his sudden surprise. “Would you like to know who I am?” he answered my question with a question. “Very much yes.” I stated. “Then we should reveal ourselves.” His proclamation made me lift my head up with admiration. “really?” The question came out small and high pitched. He nodded and we both re adjusted ourselves to where we were sitting criss cross in front of each other. We put our hands on each others masks and take deep breaths. “Wait.” I say. his hands drop to his sides, thinking we weren’t going to reveal ourselves. I lift his mask up just above his lips and breath nervously. “Can I kiss you?” my words don’t seem to surprise him. He nods and I smile. I place my lips onto his and he begins to move our lips together in sync. I place my hands on his mask and pull it up more. He does the same with mine. When we pull apart, out masks are off. His brown, curly locks are messy and his eyes are a chocolate brown. I look into them and smile. innocence. I smile and place my hands in his hair, kissing him again.

REQUESTS???

hey y’all so imma start writing on here, if you wanna read some of my wattpad stories you can find that here: https://my.w.tt/xKdtCKmXmM

BUT ANYWAYS!! I will list down below who i will write for, keep in mind, these are who i feel most comfortable writing ? i will end up changing them probs in the future but for rn it’s what i got :)

MARVEL:

- Bucky Barnes

- Steve Rogers

- Natasha Romanoff

- Wanda Maximoff

- Thor

- Peter Quill

- Shuri

- Peter Parker

DC:

- Damian Wayne

- Jason Todd