Hi everyone, I finally decided to make an introduction/masterlist, probably way too soon but I felt like things were getting messy on my page.
I've been using the username Raikagez since forever, but if it's funny looking or awkward to type out, especially when asking something, my name's Marley so you guys can call me that or anything similar lol. I'm a student, so I apologize if it takes me some time to write fics/requests. If you guys perhaps wanna know anything else just ask me or I'll remain mysterious and nonchalant (/j)
Requests are Open.
I write gender neutral self-insert fanfics. Female characters only, mostly the ones featured on my page - but honestly if you ask nicely enough I'll write for whoever you ask me to lol. MCU mostly! I do write a bunch of Lois Lane stuff too + some Naruto characters. I write Spider!Reader for Natasha Romanoff, but if you have a different request I'll be more than happy to write it - just give me good details (please). I don't write NSFW content so pls pls keep it PG-13. I'll try to respond as soon as I can to everything, so if you want to request something or just chat, I would love to see what you guys have to say.
Masterlist (updated 19.08.)
Natasha Romanoff
3 AM and Other Bad Decisions
When insomnia strikes Queens’ favorite web-slinger at 3 AM, they turn to video games for comfort-only to discover their deadly assassin girlfriend is inexplicably better at Spider-Man than the actual Spider-Man. Turns out the best cure for overthinking isn’t counting sheep- it’s being roasted by a Russian spy who somehow makes emotional vulnerability feel like the most natural thing in the world.
Undercover Operations
When Y/n gets their first undercover mission with the Black Widow, they think it'll be simple reconnaissance at a high-end art auction—until they realize "blending in" doesn't include accidentally sticking to priceless paintings or asking the arms dealer if his gun collection comes with a warranty. Good thing Natasha finds their chaos endearing, even if she has to resist the urge to disown them every five minutes.
Power Outage
When a city-wide blackout traps Y/n and Natasha in a broken elevator for hours, they discover that being stuck in a small metal box brings out both the best and worst in people—especially when one of them has claustrophobia and the other has an inexplicable need to narrate everything like a nature documentary. Sometimes the most dangerous missions happen in the most ordinary places.
Lois Lane
Not Enough
Lois Lane isn’t good at relationships. She’s terrified that she’s not enough. Not brave enough, not kind enough, not super enough. She’s spent her whole life being exceptional among humans, but next to Y/N, she feels ordinary. And Lois Lane has never been ordinary - she doesn’t know how to be loved for just being human.
Until Death Do Us Part (And Not Even Then)
When Doomsday comes to Metropolis, Lois faces the unthinkable—watching the person she loves die in her arms. But death has never stopped Lois Lane from getting what she wants, and she'll be damned if it's going to stop her from saving Y/N Kent.
The Ordinary Extraordinary
Three weeks after the Doomsday incident, Lois and Y/N are learning how to be engaged while navigating the complicated logistics of loving someone who can hear trouble from three states away. Featuring: one borrowed dog, one curious cousin, and the ongoing mystery of what exactly constitutes a proper proposal.
Miscellaneous
Barbecue and Butterflies
Ino Yamanaka x Uchiha!Reader
What starts as a simple dinner with the remnants of Team 7 turns into an emotional breakthrough when Y/N can no longer hide their feelings for the blonde they’ve been secretly pining after since childhood. Sometimes the biggest battles aren’t fought with jutsu - sometimes they’re fought in your own heart.
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That's all for now. Thank you guys for reading my stuff, it means the world to me.
Forever Starts Today - Lois Lane x Kryptonian!Reader
summary: The wedding day arrives with typical superhero family chaos, and newlyweds Y/N and Lois discover that being married doesn't make Y/N any less awkward—just more adorably so. Featuring: one very good ring bearer, nervous Kryptonian fumbling, and a beach honeymoon where the biggest threat really is sunburn.
Continuation of The Ordinary Extraordinary; you can read it here.
warnings: none. Pure fluff. Wedding emotions. Newlywed worries. We're literally Superman. Gender neutral reader. I apologize for any mistakes and errors.
notes: thank you guys once again for the request! So sorry it took me longer than usual to write this, I hope you enjoy it.
word count ~ 3.1k
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Y/N woke up on their wedding day to Krypto licking their face and the sound of their father burning breakfast downstairs.
"Morning," they mumbled, sitting up and immediately hitting their head on the low beam in their childhood bedroom. "Ow. Okay, that's not a good omen."
Krypto tilted his head, tail wagging, clearly disagreeing with this assessment.
The smell of smoke was getting stronger, so Y/N quickly pulled on clothes and headed downstairs, ducking under doorways out of habit. They found Jonathan Kent standing over a pan of what might have once been pancakes, looking sheepish.
"Morning, kiddo," Jonathan said, not looking up from his culinary disaster. "Thought I'd make your favorite breakfast, but..."
"But you got nervous and forgot that pancakes need to be flipped," Martha Kent finished, appearing with her own spatula and gently nudging her husband aside. "Go sit down, honey. I've got this."
"You nervous, bud?" Jonathan asked, settling at the kitchen table.
"Terrified," Y/N admitted, then immediately looked alarmed at their own honesty. "Not about marrying Lois! I'm definitely not nervous about that part. I'm nervous about... everything else. What if I trip? What if I accidentally use super strength on the ring and crush it? What if—"
"What if you take a deep breath," Martha interrupted gently, flipping a perfect pancake, "and remember that Lois is marrying you because she loves exactly who you are, including the part of you that overthinks everything?"
Y/N's phone buzzed with a text, and they fumbled with their glasses while checking it.
Lois: Morning, soon-to-be spouse. Please tell me you didn't accidentally break anything yet.
Y/N: Just my dignity. Hit my head on the ceiling beam.
Lois: It's 7 AM and you're already being a disaster. This is going to be a long day.
Y/N: Hey! I can be graceful when it matters.
Lois: Name one time.
Y/N: ...I'll get back to you on that.
Lois: I love you, you beautiful disaster.
Y/N: I love you too. See you at the altar?
Lois: Wouldn't miss it. Try not to fly there by accident.
Y/N pocketed their phone, grinning despite their nerves. Trust Lois to make them feel better with gentle teasing.
"That Lois?" Martha asked, setting a plate of perfect pancakes in front of them.
"Yeah. She's... she's perfect, Ma."
"She certainly is," Martha agreed, ruffling Y/N's hair like they were still twelve instead of in their twenties. "And she's lucky to have you."
The morning passed in a blur of last-minute preparations. Y/N tried on their outfit three times, convinced something was wrong with it, until Jonathan pointed out that they were just nervous and it fit perfectly. They practiced their vows in the mirror until Martha banned them from their own reflection, claiming they were going to psyche themselves out.
"I can lift trucks," Y/N muttered. "I can fly faster than sound. So why does this feel much more difficult than anything I’ve ever done in my life?“
"Because you're getting married to the love of your life," Jonathan said kindly. "It's normal."
"Superman-me doesn't get this nervous."
"Superman isn’t the one getting married today," Martha reminded them gently. "Y/N Kent is, and Y/N Kent gets nervous about important things. That's what makes you human."
Y/N looked at themselves in the mirror—tall and broad-shouldered, hair finally cooperating for once, glasses slightly askew because they'd been fidgeting with them. They looked like themselves, just... more formal.
"What if she changes her mind?" they asked quietly.
"She won't," both parents said simultaneously, with such conviction that Y/N felt their shoulders relax slightly.
"Besides," Jonathan added with a grin, "have you ever known Lois Lane to change her mind about anything once she's decided?"
"Point taken."
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The ceremony was being held at a small venue overlooking Metropolis Bay, intimate enough to feel personal but with enough space for Y/N to not worry about accidentally knocking anything over. As guests began to arrive, Y/N stood near the altar with Jonathan, trying not to fidget.
"You're vibrating," Jonathan observed.
"I am not—" Y/N paused, realizing they were indeed unconsciously vibrating at super speed. "Oh. Sorry."
"Just breathe, kiddo."
Perry White arrived with Jimmy Olsen in tow, the photographer already snapping pictures of everything. Kara appeared in a blur of red and blue, looking stunning in her bridesmaid dress but clearly having flown there at the last second.
"Sorry I'm late!" she announced, landing gracefully and immediately fussing with her hair. "There was a thing in National City, but I handled it, and I'm here now, and—Y/N, you look amazing!"
She hugged them enthusiastically, and Y/N had to brace themselves to avoid being knocked over by their Kryptonian cousin's excitement.
"Thanks, Kara. You clean up pretty good yourself."
"Where's the ring?" Kara asked suddenly, looking panicked.
"Krypto has it," Y/N said, gesturing to where their dog sat perfectly still near the altar, looking very serious about his ring bearer duties. "Don't worry, we practiced."
Diana arrived next, regal in a flowing blue dress, followed by what appeared to be half the Justice League in civilian clothes. Y/N was touched that so many of their friends had made time for this, especially when they knew how complicated secret identities made social events.
"Deep breaths," Jonathan murmured as the music began.
Y/N straightened, watching as the wedding party began their procession. Alex Danvers walked down the aisle first, looking elegant and composed. Then Kara, who had switched from super speed to careful human walking and was clearly concentrating very hard on not tripping.
Then the music changed, and Lois appeared.
Y/N forgot how to breathe.
She looked absolutely radiant in a flowing cream dress that caught the afternoon light, her hair swept up with small flowers woven through it. But it was her smile that stopped Y/N's heart—bright and confident and aimed directly at them, like they were the only person in the world who mattered.
Y/N was vaguely aware that they were probably grinning like an idiot, but they didn't care. Lois was walking toward them, actually going to marry them, and nothing else seemed important.
When she reached the altar, Y/N stepped forward slightly, offering their arm. "Hi," they whispered.
"Hi yourself, cutie," Lois whispered back, and Y/N felt their cheeks flush.
The officiant began the ceremony, but Y/N barely heard the opening words. They were too busy memorizing everything about this moment—the way Lois's hand felt in theirs, the proud tears in Martha's eyes, the way Krypto sat perfectly at attention despite clearly wanting to wag his tail.
"Y/N?" the officiant prompted gently.
Y/N blinked, realizing it was time for their vows. They'd practiced these a hundred times, but suddenly their mind went completely blank.
"I, um..." they started, then looked at Lois, who gave them an encouraging nod. "Right. Okay."
They took a deep breath, their nervousness fading as they focused on Lois's face.
"Lois, you walked into my life a few years ago and turned everything upside down. Not just because you figured out my secret—though that was terrifying—but because you saw me. Really saw me, not just the cape or the powers, but me."
Their voice grew steadier as they continued. "You make me want to be better, not just as a hero, but as a person. You make me braver and stronger and somehow more myself all at the same time. You put up with my awkwardness and my terrible jokes and the fact that I sometimes accidentally break coffee mugs when I'm nervous."
Lois laughed softly, tears threatening at the corners of her eyes.
"I promise to always come home to you," Y/N continued, their voice thick with emotion. "I promise to love you through every deadline, every crisis, every morning when you steal my hoodies. I promise to try very hard not to break any more kitchen appliances, though I can't make any guarantees about that one."
That got a bigger laugh from the assembled guests.
"Most importantly, I promise to choose you, every single day, for the rest of my life. However long that ends up being."
When it was Lois's turn, she spoke without notes, her voice clear and strong.
"Y/N Kent, you are the most genuinely good person I've ever met. You're also the most accidentally destructive person I've ever met, which is honestly impressive."
More laughter, and Y/N ducked their head slightly, grinning.
"You make me believe in heroes again," Lois continued, her voice softening. "Not because of what you can do, but because of who you are. You're kind and loyal and you somehow make saving the world look effortless while still managing to trip over your own feet in our apartment."
"You care about everyone, but somehow you chose me. You make me feel protected and powerful at the same time, which shouldn't be possible but you've never been great with impossible anyway."
Y/N felt their eyes getting misty.
"I promise to love every part of you—the hero who saves the world and the person who gets excited about really good pizza. I promise to be your safe place to land when the world gets too heavy. And I promise to only make fun of you a reasonable amount when you accidentally walk into glass doors."
"That happened one time," Y/N protested softly, making everyone laugh again.
The ring exchange went smoothly, thanks to Krypto's perfect performance. Y/N's hands only shook slightly as they slipped the ring onto Lois's finger, and they managed not to accidentally crush anything.
"By the power vested in me by the state of New York," the officiant announced, "I now pronounce you married. You may kiss your spouse."
Y/N cupped Lois's face gently in their large hands, still amazed that they were allowed to do this, that she was theirs now. "I love you, Mrs. Kent," they whispered.
"I love you too," Lois replied, then stood on her toes to close the distance between them.
The kiss was soft and sweet and perfect, and when they broke apart to thunderous applause, Y/N rested their forehead against Lois's, grinning widely.
"We did it," they said, still sounding slightly amazed.
"We did it," Lois agreed. "Now try not to accidentally fly us down the aisle."
"I make no promises."
The reception was a blur of congratulations, terrible dancing (Y/N stepped on Lois's feet twice, despite their enhanced reflexes), and Jimmy taking approximately a million photos. Y/N spent most of it slightly overwhelmed by all the attention but blissfully happy, especially during their first dance as a married couple.
"You're glowing," Lois observed as they swayed together to some slow song Martha had picked out.
"That's just happiness," Y/N said, spinning her carefully. "Though I should probably check that I'm not actually glowing. That would be hard to explain to the photographer."
"Just regular human happiness glow," Lois confirmed, reaching up to fix their hair. "You ready to get out of here?"
"More than ready. Where are we going again?"
"It's a surprise. I told you that."
"But—"
"No buts. Trust me."
Y/N looked down at their new spouse—brilliant, beautiful, stubborn Lois Lane-Kent—and felt their heart skip a beat. "Always."
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"The Maldives?" Y/N stared out the window of their overwater bungalow at the crystal-clear turquoise lagoon below. "Lois, this is incredible."
"Figured you deserved somewhere actually relaxing for once," Lois said, appearing from the bedroom in a sundress that made Y/N's brain temporarily stop working. "Somewhere with no emergencies, no alien invasions, and no one who needs saving."
"What if—"
"The League promised to handle anything short of the apocalypse. Diana was very specific about that."
Y/N was quiet for a moment, taking in the view. Their bungalow was surrounded by nothing but ocean and sky, with a private deck that extended right over the water. It was paradise, and more importantly, it was completely isolated.
"I can take these off," they said suddenly, reaching for their glasses.
"What?"
"My glasses. The hypno-tech. There's no one around to see, so I can just... be myself." Y/N removed the glasses carefully, blinking as their vision adjusted. Without the subtle disguise technology, their features were more defined, more striking.
Lois stared at them for a moment. "I love how different you look without those.“
"Different?"
"Still you. Just... more you, somehow." She crossed the room to stand in front of them, reaching up to touch their face gently. "I like it."
Y/N leaned into the touch, closing their eyes. "I love you."
"I love you too." Lois paused, then grinned mischievously. "Now, want to see if you can swim without accidentally creating a tsunami?"
The first few days of their honeymoon were blissful. Y/N discovered that swimming in the ocean without having to hold back was incredibly liberating, though they did have to be careful not to move too fast and create waves that would swamp other resorts nearby.
"You're like a overgrown golden retriever," Lois observed on their third day, watching Y/N play fetch with themselves by throwing a piece of driftwood incredibly far and then swimming after it at super speed.
"I am not!" Y/N protested, swimming back to their deck where Lois was lounging in the sun.
"You literally just played fetch. With yourself."
"That was... exercise."
"Uh-huh." Lois reached over to help them up onto the deck, admiring the way water droplets ran down their broad shoulders. "Come here, you ridiculous person."
Y/N settled on the lounge chair next to her, trying to be careful with their still-wet hair. "Better?"
"Much." Lois shifted closer, resting her head on Y/N's shoulder. "This is nice."
"Mmm." Y/N wrapped an arm around her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I could get used to this."
"What, lounging around in paradise?"
"Being married to you."
Lois lifted her head to look at them, expression soft. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." Y/N's smile was radiant. "I keep waiting for someone to tell me I'm dreaming, or that there's been some mistake. Like, surely Lois Lane didn't actually agree to marry the awkward farm kid who breaks coffee mugs."
"First of all, you're not awkward. You're charmingly clumsy, which is different. Second of all, I didn't marry the awkward farm kid." Lois shifted to straddle Y/N's lap, ignoring their surprised squeak. "I married the person who saves the world because it's the right thing to do, who cries during dog commercials, and who somehow makes me feel like the most important person in the universe."
"Lois..."
"I married my best friend," she continued, leaning down to kiss them softly. "Who happens to be incredibly hot and can lift cars, which doesn't hurt."
Y/N laughed against her lips. "I love your priorities."
"My priorities are excellent. Speaking of which..." Lois glanced back toward their bungalow, then back at Y/N with a look that made their breath catch.
"Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"
"I'm suggesting that we're on our honeymoon, we have complete privacy, and my spouse is sitting here looking like a Greek god who just emerged from the ocean."
Y/N's cheeks flushed red. "I, um. Yes. Okay. Good suggestion."
They stood up carefully, lifting Lois with them, and she wrapped her legs around their waist with a laugh.
"Show off," she accused.
"You married Superman," Y/N pointed out, carrying her toward the bedroom. "I'm pretty sure showing off comes with the territory."
"Fair point."
Later, much later, they lay tangled together on the bed, the ocean breeze drifting through the open windows. Y/N was tracing lazy patterns on Lois's bare shoulder, their touch feather-light despite their strength.
"Hey Y/N?" Lois said softly.
"Mmm?"
"Thank you for this. All of it. The wedding, the honeymoon, just... everything."
Y/N shifted to look at her properly, their expression tender. "Thank you for saying yes. For taking a chance on me."
"It wasn't really a chance," Lois said, reaching up to brush their hair out of their eyes. "I knew what I was getting into. Well, mostly."
"Mostly?"
"I didn't know about the unconscious flying."
Y/N looked confused. "What unconscious flying?"
Lois pointed upward, and Y/N followed her gaze to realize they were hovering about three feet above the bed, Lois still in their arms.
"Oh! Sorry!" Y/N quickly settled them back down on the mattress, looking mortified. "I didn't realize—I don't usually—"
"It's okay," Lois laughed, pulling them down for a kiss. "It's kind of sweet, actually. You're so happy you're literally floating."
"That's embarrassing."
"That's adorable." Lois curled into their side, resting her head on their chest. "My spouse defies gravity when content. I can live with that."
"Good, because I have a feeling it's going to happen a lot around you."
The rest of their honeymoon passed in a perfect blur of lazy mornings, long swims, and the kind of intimate conversations that come when two people have nowhere else to be and all the time in the world. Y/N learned that Lois is apparently an amazing surfer, and Lois discovered that Y/N talked to the fish when they thought she wasn't listening.
"They're very good listeners," Y/N defended when she called them out on it.
"Do they talk back?"
"Not... exactly. But they seem interested."
"You're ridiculous," Lois said fondly, watching Y/N feed bits of fruit to a small school of tropical fish from their deck.
"But you love me anyway."
"But I love you anyway," she confirmed.
On their last night, they sat on their deck watching the sunset paint the sky in impossible shades of orange and pink. Y/N had their arm around Lois, who was curled against their side, both of them reluctant to let this perfect week end.
"Ready to go back to real life?" Lois asked.
"With you? I'm ready for anything." Y/N paused. "Though I should probably practice not unconsciously floating before I go back to work. Might be hard to explain to Perry."
"We'll work on it," Lois promised. "Maybe I can help you practice staying grounded."
"Yeah?"
"I seem to have that effect on you."
Y/N looked down at their wife—beautiful, brilliant Lois Lane-Kent, who had somehow chosen to build a life with them despite all their complications—and felt that familiar flutter of amazement that this was their life now.
"You definitely do," they agreed, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "You definitely do."
As the sun set over the Maldives, casting everything in golden light, Y/N allowed themselves to float just a little—not enough for Lois to notice, but enough to feel like they were exactly where they belonged.
Which, with Lois in their arms and their whole future stretching out ahead of them, they absolutely were.
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Thanks for reading! I might be a little inactive for a few days, but I will be responding to any of your messages. Thank you guys for your love and support once again.
I just want to say that I absolutely love your work! Your writing is amazing! I’m in love with you Lois x Superman! Reader series. And also, if it’s not too much, can I request a part 2 of “Barbecue and Butterflies”?
Hi, thank you so much for your kind words! I haven't been active for a long while, so sorry about that💔. I have a Lois Lane fanfic coming out hopefully tomorrow (ik I've taken my sweet time, I had a bunch of moving and work to do), BUT I will definitely write part 2 for the Ino story! It got so much love so suddenly lol I'm so happy you guys liked it.
Hello, same anon who requested the Doomsday follow up, absolutely loved it, seeing the interactions between Reader, Kara, Lois and Krypto were great.
Feel like this is kinda a no brainer request but do you think you could do the wedding and the honeymoon?
Regardless I love the work you’ve put into your Lois and Kryptonian!Reader works, can’t wait to see more and keep up the good work!
Hi again!!
Thank you so much for your requests and ideas, I love writing them and I'm so happy to see that you like them too. I already started writing and hopefullyy will be done soon. I have some stuff to take care of but I definitely haven't forgotten and will finish writing!
Omg just read the new part to Lois lane x kryptonian reader and I LOVED IT!!!
Adding Kara was so interesting and I loved their cousin relationship. Especially the necklace part that was so sweet. Also her telling Lois she’ll throw her to the sun if she hurts her😂
I NEED MORE PARTS!!!
The wedding planning,telling everyone, Kara throwing a bachelorette party, the wedding, their marriage, them talking about having kids and whether or not they want to have any so perhaps some angst there, them having kids, and reader managing family life and super hero duties.
I JUST WANT TO READ ABOUT IT ALL I NEED THIS TO BE A WHOLE SERIES PLS🙏😆
I'm so happy you liked it!! I haven't been active for a few days and seeing you guys love the series so much makes me the happiest. I have started writing the next chapter, but if you guys want to see this develop into a full series, please let me know!!
The Ordinary Extraordinary - Lois Lane x Kryptonian!Reader
summary: Three weeks after the Doomsday incident, Lois and Y/N are learning how to be engaged while navigating the complicated logistics of loving someone who can hear trouble from three states away. Featuring: one borrowed dog, one curious cousin, and the ongoing mystery of what exactly constitutes a proper proposal.
Continuation of Until Death Do Us Part (And Not Even Then); you can read it here.
warnings: none. like I genuinely couldn't find any lol. Marriage talks; Fluff; Kara Danvers; Mentions of Justice League. We're literally Superman. Gender neutral reader. I apologize for any mistakes and errors.
notes: thank you Anon for your request! I really enjoyed writing this and I hope you like it too, I tried to include everything you asked for. For any requests, please shoot me a dm! Happy reading!
word count - 3.4k
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Lois woke up to the sound of someone very quietly trying to make coffee and failing spectacularly.
She kept her eyes closed, listening to the careful clink of ceramic and the soft curse words Y/N thought they were whispering. There was something endearing about the way they tried to be stealthy in the kitchen—as if someone with super hearing couldn't gauge exactly how much noise a coffee grinder made at six in the morning.
"I can hear you thinking," Y/N's voice came from the doorway, warm with amusement.
"I can hear you swearing at the espresso machine," Lois replied, finally opening her eyes. Y/N stood in the doorway wearing rumpled pajama pants and one of their old Planet t-shirts, hair sticking up at impossible angles. They looked wonderfully, perfectly ordinary.
"It's a complicated machine."
"It's a Keurig, Y/N. You put the pod in and press the button."
"The pod got stuck."
Lois sat up, pushing hair out of her face. "Did you try using your super strength to unstick it?"
"That's how I broke the last one."
"Right." She swung her legs out of bed, feet finding the hardwood floor. "Coffee emergency. I'm on it."
Y/N stepped aside to let her pass, dropping a kiss on top of her head as she went by. "Good morning, by the way."
"Morning." She paused, looking back at them. "Any overnight catastrophes I should know about?"
It had become their routine in the three weeks since Doomsday—a casual check-in to make sure the world hadn't ended while she was sleeping. Y/N usually monitored emergency frequencies even when they were off duty, and Lois had learned to read the subtle signs that indicated whether they'd had to slip out during the night.
"Quiet night," Y/N said, following her to the kitchen. "Well, except for the thing in Coast City, but Hal handled it."
Lois paused in her coffee-making to stare at them. "You consider giant robots Tuesday level threats?"
"After Doomsday? Yeah, pretty much."
She supposed that was fair. Her own threat assessment had gotten significantly recalibrated lately. Getting a parking ticket now felt like a minor inconvenience rather than a reason to ruin someone's day.
The coffee maker cooperated for her—probably because she didn't have super strength and the accompanying impulse control issues, and soon they were both settled at the kitchen counter with steaming mugs. Y/N had retrieved the Saturday crossword from where it lay abandoned on the counter, pen poised over the grid.
"Fifteen across," they said. "Seven letters. 'Gemstone engagement tradition.'"
"Diamond," Lois said without thinking, then paused. "Wait, are we talking about this now?"
"Talking about what?"
"The proposal thing. The engagement thing. The fact that you haven't actually asked me to marry you, I just informed you that we were getting married."
Y/N set down their pen, looking thoughtful. "Do you want me to ask?"
"I don't know. Maybe? I've never been engaged before."
"Neither have I."
"But you must have some opinion about how it's supposed to work."
"I think," Y/N said carefully, "that when Lois Lane decides she wants to marry someone, the details of how it happens are probably less important than the fact that it's happening."
Lois considered this. "So you're okay with me just... declaring our engagement?"
"I'm okay with whatever makes you happy." Y/N reached across the counter to touch her hand. "Though for the record, if anyone asks, I'm going to tell them I was the one who proposed."
"Why?"
"Because otherwise they'll think I'm not romantic enough for you."
Lois laughed. "Y/N, you once flew me to Paris for lunch because I mentioned wanting good croissants. I think your romantic credentials are secure."
"That was practical. Paris has the best croissants."
"It was a Tuesday."
"An important Tuesday."
She was about to respond when a blur of red and blue crashed through their living room window, accompanied by a familiar voice shouting, "COUSIN!"
Kara Danvers—Supergirl to the rest of the world, but perpetually seventeen in Lois's mind regardless of her actual age—stood in their living room brushing glass off her cape, grinning widely.
"Kara," Y/N said mildly, "we've talked about the window thing."
"I knocked!"
"On the window. While flying. At supersonic speed."
"Details." Kara waved a dismissive hand. "I brought breakfast!" She held up a bag from a bakery that Lois was pretty sure was in National City. "Also, I need to borrow Krypto."
"He’s your dog."
"Technically, but people know him as Superman's dog."
"Technically, he's his own dog who chooses to live with me," Y/N corrected. "And why do you need to borrow him?"
Kara's expression shifted to something that was trying very hard to look innocent and failing completely. "No reason. Just cousin bonding with the family pet."
"Kara."
"Okay, fine. There's this guy at work who doesn't believe I know Superman personally, and I may have told him I could prove it by bringing Superman's dog to the office on Monday."
Y/N and Lois exchanged a look.
"You could just transform into Supergirl in front of him," Lois pointed out reasonably.
"That would blow my secret identity."
"So would bringing Krypto to work."
"But if I bring Krypto to work, he'll think I'm just someone who knows Superman, not someone who is Supergirl. It's completely different."
Lois rubbed her temples, feeling the beginning of a headache. She'd thought dating someone with a secret identity was complicated until she'd met their cousin. "Kara, that logic makes no sense."
"It makes perfect sense! James thinks I'm just a regular reporter who happens to be friends with Supergirl. If I show up with Superman's dog, it proves I have connections but doesn't reveal anything about my own identity."
"Who's James?" Y/N asked.
"New photographer at CatCo. Very cute. Very skeptical about my superhero connections."
"Ah." Y/N nodded sagely. "You're trying to impress a boy."
"I am not—okay, yes, maybe a little. But also it's about journalistic credibility!"
"Right," Lois said dryly. "Journalistic credibility. That's definitely what this is about."
Before Kara could defend herself further, a white streak shot through the broken window, circled the living room twice, and came to a stop at Y/N's feet. Krypto the Superdog sat at attention, tail wagging, cape somehow perfectly arranged despite having just flown across the city.
"Hey, boy," Y/N said, scratching behind the dog's ears. "Did you have a good morning patrol?"
Krypto barked once, which Lois had learned meant either "yes" or "I saw seventeen squirrels and wanted to chase all of them but didn't because I'm a very good dog."
"So can I take him?" Kara asked hopefully.
"I don't know," Y/N said slowly. "Krypto, do you want to go help Kara impress a photographer?"
The dog tilted his head, considering, then walked over to Kara and sat down next to her.
"I think that's a yes," Y/N said. "But you have to promise to bring him back by dinner time. And no stopping for hot dogs from street vendors. He gets enough sodium as it is."
"Deal!" Kara bent down to pet Krypto, who immediately rolled over for belly rubs. "You're the best cousin ever."
"I'm your only cousin."
"Details."
Lois watched this exchange with the warm feeling she always got when she saw Y/N interact with their family. It was one of the things she loved most about them—how they could go from stopping alien invasions to worrying about their dog's sodium intake without missing a beat.
"So," Kara said, still rubbing Krypto's belly, "I heard you two got engaged."
Lois nearly choked on her coffee. "How did you—who told you that?"
"Diana mentioned it when I ran into her yesterday. Something about Y/N being 'radiantly happy' and 'glowing with the joy of newfound love.'"
Y/N buried their face in their hands. "I'm going to kill Diana."
"How does Diana even know?" Lois demanded.
"Because someone," Y/N said, giving her a pointed look, "may have mentioned it during yesterday's League meeting."
"I did not mention it during the meeting. I mentioned it after the meeting. To one person. Who I specifically asked to keep it quiet."
"You told Diana Prince a secret and expected her to keep it quiet?"
"I told Wonder Woman classified information and expected her to treat it as classified!"
"Wonder Woman, yes. Diana Prince is basically an ancient Greek gossip columnist with a lasso of truth."
As if on cue, Y/N's phone rang. They looked at the caller ID and paled.
"It's Diana."
"Don't answer it," Lois said quickly.
"I have to answer it. She's Wonder Woman."
"So? I'm Lois Lane."
"That's... actually a fair point." Y/N declined the call and immediately put their phone on do not disturb. "There. Crisis averted."
"For now," Kara said ominously, going back to the original conversation. "Anyways, this is so exciting! When's the wedding? Do I get to be in it? Can Krypto be the ring bearer?"
"We haven't actually discussed any of that yet," Lois said.
"What have you discussed?"
Y/N and Lois looked at each other.
"That we're engaged," Y/N said slowly.
"And that Y/N is going to tell people they proposed," Lois added.
"But they didn't actually propose."
"No."
"And you didn't actually propose either."
"Technically, no."
Kara blinked. "So you're engaged, but nobody proposed."
"I informed them we were getting married," Lois explained. "It's different."
"How is it different?"
"It just is."
Kara looked between them for a moment, then shrugged. "You know what? Sure. That sounds like exactly the kind of proposal Lois Lane would give. Congratulations!"
She hugged them both enthusiastically, then collected Krypto and headed for the broken window.
"I'll fix that when I bring him back!" she called over her shoulder, and then they were both gone, leaving Y/N and Lois alone with their coffee and the slowly growing pile of glass on their living room floor.
"I should probably clean that up," Y/N said.
"Or we could just move."
"We just renewed the lease."
"Details."
Y/N laughed, getting up to find a dustpan. "So, that was my cousin."
"I like her," Lois said honestly. "She's... enthusiastic."
"That's one word for it." Y/N began carefully sweeping up glass. "She's also not wrong about the proposal thing."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, maybe we should talk about it. The actual details of being engaged. What it means, what we want, how we want to do this."
Lois watched them work, noting the careful way they handled the glass shards, making sure each piece was accounted for. It was such a small thing, but somehow perfectly representative of who Y/N was—someone who could level buildings but chose to be gentle, someone who could reshape the world but preferred to clean up messes one piece at a time.
"What do you want?" she asked.
Y/N paused in their sweeping. "Honestly?"
"Always."
"I want to wake up next to you every morning for the rest of my life. I want to fight about whose turn it is to take out the trash and whether we can afford the good coffee. I want to grow old with you, if Kryptonian biology allows for that, and I want to love you through whatever comes next."
They set down the dustpan and looked at her directly. "I want ordinary things with you, Lois. I want a life that's ours, not Superman's or Lois Lane's, but ours."
"What about the big wedding? The dress, the flowers, the whole traditional thing?"
"Do you want those things?"
Lois considered this. She'd never been the kind of girl who planned her wedding in detail, never spent time imagining herself in a white dress walking down an aisle. But the idea of celebrating their love, of making promises in front of the people who mattered to them...
"Maybe some of it," she said. "I want your parents there. And Kara, obviously. And maybe a few people from work."
"That sounds perfect."
"What about you? Is there anything you want?"
Y/N smiled, that soft, crooked smile she loved so much. "I want you to keep your name."
"Really?"
"Really. You're Lois Lane. That means something. I don't want to change that."
"And I want you to actually propose," she said, surprising herself.
Y/N's eyebrows shot up. "I thought you said the details didn't matter."
"They don't. But I want to know what it sounds like when you ask me to marry you."
"You want me to propose even though we're already engaged."
"Yes."
"And you want me to do it now."
"Yes."
Y/N set the dustpan aside and walked back over to her, taking her hands in theirs. For a moment, they just looked at her, and Lois could see them gathering their thoughts the way they did before interviews or difficult conversations.
"Lois Lane," they said finally, their voice soft and serious, "you are the most extraordinary person I've ever met. You're brave and brilliant and stubborn as hell, and you make me want to be worthy of the way you see me."
"Y/N..."
"I'm not finished." They squeezed her hands gently. "You've shown me what it means to be human, what it means to choose love even when it's scary, what it means to build something together. You've made me better than I was, and you've made me believe that maybe I deserve to be happy."
They took a deep breath. "So will you marry me? Will you keep arguing with me about stupid things and stealing my hoodies and making me laugh even when the world feels too heavy? Will you let me love you for the rest of whatever life we get together?"
Lois felt tears threatening—good tears, the kind that came with overwhelming happiness rather than fear.
"Yes," she said simply. "Yes to all of it."
Y/N kissed her then, soft and sweet and full of promise, and for a moment the world narrowed down to just this: coffee and Saturday morning light and the taste of forever on their lips.
When they broke apart, Y/N rested their forehead against hers. "So now we're really engaged."
"Now we're really engaged," she agreed.
"Good. Because I was starting to worry about the technicalities."
"You realize we're going to have to tell people eventually."
"People like Perry?"
"People like Perry."
Y/N groaned. "He's going to want to throw us a party."
"He's going to want to assign Jimmy to photograph the whole thing."
"He's going to want exclusive coverage rights."
"We could elope," Lois suggested. "Fly to Vegas right now, get married by an Elvis impersonator, be back before lunch."
Y/N looked tempted. "That does sound appealing."
"But?"
"But then we'd miss out on seeing Kara plan a bachelorette party. And I have a feeling that would be... memorable."
"In the best possible way or the worst possible way?"
"Probably both."
Lois laughed, settling back against the counter. "Okay, so we do the traditional thing. Small wedding, close friends and family, minimal superhero drama."
"Can we include Krypto in the ceremony?"
"He can absolutely be the ring bearer."
"And can we honeymoon somewhere normal? Like a beach resort where the biggest threat is sunburn?"
"As long as you promise not to fly us there."
"Deal. Commercial airlines only."
"Even if there's an emergency?"
Y/N paused, considering this. "Okay, commercial airlines unless someone's about to die. How's that?"
"I can live with that."
They spent the rest of the morning planning—or rather, talking around planning while finding excuses to touch each other and steal kisses and marvel at the fact that they were actually doing this. By the time Kara returned with a very satisfied-looking Krypto, they had the basic framework of a wedding that felt like them: small, simple, and focused on the important things.
"How did it go with the photographer?" Y/N asked as Kara set Krypto down on the living room floor.
"Perfect! James was completely impressed. I think he might ask me out."
"And if he does?"
"Then I'll have to figure out how to date someone without mentioning that I can bench press a city bus."
"The struggles of superhero dating," Lois said sympathetically.
"Speaking of which," Kara said, pulling a small wrapped package out of her cape, "I brought you an engagement present."
"Kara, you didn't have to—"
"I wanted to." She handed the package to Lois, bouncing slightly on her toes. "Open it!"
Lois unwrapped the package carefully, revealing a small crystal sculpture that looked like it was made of the same material as the Fortress of Solitude. It was abstract but somehow clearly recognizable as two figures embracing.
"It's beautiful," Lois said, turning it over in her hands. "Where did you get it?"
"I made it," Kara said, suddenly shy. "It's a Kryptonian tradition—when someone in your family gets engaged, you create something to represent their bond. I know it's probably not very good, but—"
"It's perfect," Y/N said, their voice thick with emotion. "Kara, this is... thank you."
"Really?"
"Really." Y/N pulled their cousin into a hug. "I love it. We both do."
"Good," Kara said, returning the hug enthusiastically. "Because I was worried it might be too weird or too alien or—"
"It's not weird," Lois interrupted. "It's family. And that's exactly what I want more of."
As the afternoon wore on, they settled into the kind of lazy Saturday routine that Lois was still getting used to. Y/N finished the crossword while she read through the week's news, Krypto napped in a patch of sunlight, and Kara regaled them with stories from her job at CatCo.
It was ordinary in the best possible way—the kind of day that might have seemed boring to someone who didn't understand how precious normal could be when you loved someone who regularly saved the world.
"I should probably head back," Kara said eventually, glancing at the time. "I promised Alex I'd help her move furniture today."
"Give her our love," Y/N said. "And tell her we'll have her over for dinner soon."
"Will do." Kara hugged them both goodbye, then paused at the window. "Oh, and Y/N? I'm really happy for you. Both of you."
"Thanks, Kara."
"Also, if you hurt her, I will throw you into the sun."
"Noted."
"Good." Kara grinned and launched herself out the window, leaving them alone again.
"Your cousin is terrifying," Lois said fondly.
"I know."
"Should I be worried?"
"Only if you're planning to hurt me."
"Never." Lois settled against Y/N's side on the couch, Krypto immediately claiming her lap. "Although I might occasionally want to shake some sense into you."
"That's acceptable."
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching dust motes dance in the afternoon light. Outside, Metropolis hummed with its usual energy, but inside their apartment, everything felt peaceful and right.
"So," Lois said eventually, "what do we do now?"
"Now we order pizza and argue about what movie to watch."
"I meant about the engagement, dummy."
"Oh." Y/N considered this. "Now we figure out how to plan a wedding while keeping it secret from the press, coordinate schedules with people who fight crime for a living, and somehow convince your editor that you're not losing your objectivity by marrying Superman."
"When you put it like that, it sounds complicated."
"Everything about us is complicated," Y/N said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "But that's never stopped us before."
"No," Lois agreed, thinking of everything they'd already survived together—secret identities and alien invasions and literal death. "It hasn't."
"Besides," Y/N added, reaching for their phone to order dinner, "we have Kara helping us plan. How complicated could it be?"
Lois looked at the broken window that still needed to be fixed, at the crystal sculpture that represented a tradition from a dead planet, at the dog who could probably fly them to their wedding if necessary.
"You're right," she said, laughing. "What could possibly go wrong?"
Y/N paused in their pizza ordering to look at her suspiciously. "Why do I feel like you just jinxed us?"
"Because you know me very well."
"Too well, apparently."
"Never too well," Lois said, stealing the phone to add extra cheese to their order. "That's what forever means."
"Forever," Y/N agreed, and settled in to argue about toppings—the first of many perfectly ordinary arguments they'd have as an engaged couple.
Outside, the sun set over Metropolis, painting their living room in shades of gold and pink. Tomorrow there would be work and responsibilities and probably some crisis that required Superman's attention. But tonight there was just this: pizza and bad movies and the comfortable certainty that whatever came next, they'd face it together.
It was, Lois thought as Y/N successfully argued for pineapple on half the pizza, exactly the kind of ordinary miracle she'd been hoping for.
-------
Thanks for reading! If you guys want to see more of the series, please let me know - I love writing for them. Thank you Anon once again for your lovely request. Also, should I make an introduction/Masterlist post? Pls let me know.
Power Outage - Natasha Romanoff x Spider-Man!Reader
summary: When a city-wide blackout traps Y/n and Natasha in a broken elevator for hours, they discover that being stuck in a small metal box brings out both the best and worst in people—especially when one of them has claustrophobia and the other has an inexplicable need to narrate everything like a nature documentary. Sometimes the most dangerous missions happen in the most ordinary places.
warnings: none. Just two people stuck in an elevator; mentions of a scene in the movie "The Shining"; Established relationship.
notes: Gender neutral reader; We're literally Spider-Man; Timeline not specified. Part 3 of the series. I apologize for any mistakes or errors. Happy reading!
word count - 3.6k
------------
The Stark Industries elevator had always been Y/n's least favorite part of the tower. Not because it was unreliable—Tony's engineering was annoyingly perfect—but because something about small, enclosed spaces made their spider-sense go haywire for no apparent reason.
"You're doing the thing again," Natasha observed from beside them, not looking up from her tablet where she was reviewing mission reports.
"What thing?" Y/n asked, though they already knew what she meant.
"The thing where you shift your weight every three seconds like you're preparing to web-swing out of here."
"I'm not doing any thing. I'm just… standing. Very normally. Like a normal person who definitely isn't thinking about how we're currently suspended sixty floors above ground in a metal death trap."
Natasha finally looked up, one eyebrow raised in that particular way that meant she was equal parts amused and exasperated. "It's an elevator, паучок, not a medieval torture device."
"Tell that to my spider-sense," Y/n muttered, pressing the button for the forty-second floor again even though it was already lit up. "Besides, statistically speaking, elevator accidents—"
The lights went out.
For a moment, they stood in perfect darkness, the gentle hum of the elevator's machinery cutting off with an ominous finality. Then the emergency lighting kicked in, bathing everything in an eerie red glow that made Natasha look like something out of a horror movie.
"You were saying?" she said dryly.
The elevator shuddered once and then stopped completely, leaving them suspended somewhere between the thirty-fifth and fortieth floors. Y/n's enhanced hearing immediately picked up the sound of their own rapidly increasing heartbeat, along with various mechanical sounds from the building's infrastructure.
"Okay," they said, trying to keep their voice steady. "This is fine. This is totally fine. FRIDAY will have us out in no time."
They pressed the emergency call button. Nothing happened.
They pressed it again. Still nothing.
"FRIDAY?" Y/n called out to the empty air. "Hey, FRIDAY, we're kind of stuck in here."
Silence.
"The power's out," Natasha said, tucking her now-useless tablet into her jacket. "Building-wide, from the looks of it. FRIDAY's probably running on backup systems and prioritizing life support over elevator rescues."
"How can you be so calm about this?" Y/n asked, beginning to pace the small confines of the elevator. Which was difficult, considering the space was roughly the size of a broom closet. "We're trapped in a metal box with no power, no communication, and no idea when we're getting out!"
"Because panicking won't change our situation," Natasha replied reasonably. "And because I've been in much worse places than a luxury elevator."
"This isn't luxury! There's no mini-bar, no comfortable seating, and the lighting makes you look like a vampire!"
"I make a very attractive vampire."
Despite their growing anxiety, Y/n couldn't help but crack a smile. "You really do. It's unfair how good you look in emergency lighting."
"One of my many talents," she said, settling down on the floor with her back against the wall. "Come here."
"I'm fine standing."
"Y/n."
"Really, I'm good. Standing is good. Standing means I'm ready for action if something happens."
"What exactly do you think is going to happen? Are we going to be attacked by a rogue elevator button?"
"You never know! This is New York! Weird stuff happens all the time!"
Natasha patted the floor beside her. "Sit down before you wear a hole in Tony's expensive elevator floor."
Y/n reluctantly settled down next to her, immediately feeling slightly better with the solid warmth of her presence. "How long do you think we'll be stuck?"
"Could be a few minutes, could be a few hours," Natasha said with a shrug. "Depends on what caused the outage and how long it takes them to restore power."
"Hours?" Y/n's voice cracked slightly.
"Possibly."
"In here? In this tiny metal box with no air circulation?"
"There's air circulation. See?" Natasha pointed to a small vent near the ceiling. "We're not going to suffocate."
"But what if the cables snap? Or the emergency brakes fail? Or there's a fire? Or—"
"Y/n," Natasha interrupted, her voice gentle but firm. "Look at me."
Y/n turned to face her, trying to ignore the way the red emergency lighting made everything feel like a scene from a thriller movie.
"We're going to be fine," she said simply. "I promise."
"You can't promise that. You don't know what's going to happen."
"I know that this elevator is built to withstand earthquakes, terrorist attacks, and whatever other paranoid scenarios Tony dreamed up when he designed it," Natasha said. "I know that even if the power stays out for hours, someone will eventually notice that two Avengers are missing and come looking for us. And I know that you're much braver than you think you are."
"I don't feel brave right now," Y/n admitted quietly. "I feel like a scared kid who wants to web-swing out of here."
"That's okay. Being scared doesn't make you less brave. It just makes you human."
Y/n leaned back against the wall, trying to slow their breathing. "This is so embarrassing. Spider-Man, afraid of elevators. The tabloids would have a field day."
"Spider-Man isn't afraid of elevators," Natasha corrected. "Y/n Parker is uncomfortable in small spaces. There's a difference."
"Is there?"
"Of course. Spider-Man swings from buildings and fights monsters. Y/n Parker gets nervous in crowded elevators and always checks for exit signs when entering new buildings. They're two different people who happen to share the same body."
Y/n considered this. "So which one are you dating?"
"Both," Natasha said without hesitation. "I fell in love with the someone who brings me coffee every morning and remembers how I like my eggs. The fact that they also happen to have superpowers and an impressive collection of spandex suits is just a bonus."
Despite their anxiety, Y/n felt their heart do that little flip it always did when Natasha said things like that. "You're really good at this whole reassurance thing."
"I've had practice. You worry about everything."
"I do not worry about everything!"
"Last week you spent forty minutes researching whether it was safe to use expired vanilla extract in cookies."
"That was for Aunt May's birthday! I wanted them to be perfect!"
"The expiration date was two days past."
"Food safety is important, Nat!"
"It's vanilla extract, паучок. It's basically alcohol and sugar. It doesn't go bad."
Y/n was about to argue when they heard a strange noise from somewhere above them. A creaking, groaning sound that definitely didn't seem normal.
"What was that?" they whispered, their enhanced hearing picking up more subtle sounds from the elevator shaft.
"Probably just the building settling," Natasha said, but Y/n noticed she was listening more intently now too.
The noise came again, louder this time, followed by what sounded like something scraping against metal.
"Okay, that's definitely not the building settling," Y/n said, getting to their feet. "That sounds like—"
The elevator suddenly dropped about six inches before jerking to a stop, throwing them both off balance. Y/n's spider-reflexes kicked in automatically, and they found themselves stuck to the ceiling, looking down at Natasha who had managed to catch herself against the wall.
"Well," she said calmly, "that was interesting."
"Interesting?" Y/n squeaked from their position on the ceiling. "We just fell! In a broken elevator! This is the opposite of interesting! This is terrifying!"
"Can you get down from there, or are you planning to spend the rest of our imprisonment doing your best Spider-Man impression?"
Y/n carefully unstuck themselves and dropped back to the floor, their heart racing. "Something's wrong with the elevator. Those sounds, the sudden drop… I think we might actually be in trouble."
Natasha's expression grew more serious. "What exactly are you hearing?"
Y/n closed their eyes and concentrated, filtering out their own heartbeat and breathing to focus on the sounds from the shaft above them. "Metal straining. Something grinding against the cable housing. And…" They paused, listening harder. "Water. I think there's water somewhere above us."
"Water?"
"Yeah, like… dripping. But getting heavier." Y/n's eyes snapped open. "Nat, what if a pipe burst? What if the power outage affected the building's water systems and now there's flooding in the elevator shaft?"
"That's…" Natasha paused, clearly running through the implications. "Actually, that's not impossible. Old buildings, infrastructure strain, power fluctuations affecting pump systems…"
As if summoned by their conversation, a single drop of water fell from the ceiling and landed on Y/n's forehead.
"Okay," Y/n said, wiping the water away with the back of their hand. "Now I'm officially freaking out."
More water began to drip from various points in the ceiling, and Y/n could hear the sound of it pooling somewhere above them.
"Right," Natasha said, standing up and brushing off her pants. "Change of plans. We're not waiting for rescue."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean we're getting ourselves out of here." She looked up at the ceiling panels. "Can you get us up to the top of the elevator car?"
"Probably, but Nat, if there's flooding in the shaft—"
"Then sitting here waiting isn't going to help anyone." She reached into her jacket and pulled out a small flashlight. "Besides, I'd rather take our chances climbing than wait to see if this elevator decides to take another unscheduled drop."
Y/n had to admit she had a point. And now that they had a plan of action, their anxiety was starting to transform into something more familiar – the focused determination that kicked in during spider-missions.
"Okay," they said, looking up at the ceiling. "I can probably get the panel open and boost you up, but you'll have to be careful. If there's water coming down…"
"I'll be careful," Natasha promised. "Just get us out of this metal coffin."
Y/n stuck their hands to the ceiling and carefully pushed up one of the panels, sliding it aside to reveal the dark elevator shaft above. The sound of dripping water was much louder now, and they could see the gleam of moisture on the cables.
"Ladies first?" Y/n said, crouching down to give Natasha a boost.
"Such a gentleman," she said with a smile, stepping onto their interlaced fingers.
"I learned from the best. Aunt May always said—" Y/n lifted her up toward the opening, "—that a Parker never lets a lady climb through a potentially dangerous elevator shaft without offering assistance first."
"Did she really say that?"
"I'm paraphrasing," Y/n admitted, steadying her as she grabbed the edge of the opening. "The actual quote was 'don't be rude, dummy.'"
Natasha laughed despite their precarious situation. "That sounds more like May."
She pulled herself up through the opening with practiced grace, and Y/n heard her moving around on top of the elevator car.
"How does it look up there?" they called.
"Wet," came her voice from above. "And there's definitely water coming from somewhere higher up. We need to move."
Y/n spider-climbed up through the opening, emerging onto the top of the elevator car. The shaft was a maze of cables, pulleys, and mechanical equipment, all of it gleaming with moisture in the beam of Natasha's flashlight.
"There," she said, pointing upward. "Emergency ladder on the wall. If we can get to the next floor up, we should be able to force the doors open."
"Should be able to?"
"Well, it's either that or wait here and see if we end up recreating the elevator scene from The Shining."
Y/n looked up at the ladder, which was about ten feet away across the shaft. "I can get us there, but you'll have to trust me."
"I always trust you," Natasha said simply.
"Even when I'm about to do something that would definitely violate several safety regulations?"
"Especially then."
Y/n grinned, feeling their confidence return. "In that case, you might want to hold on tight. I'm about to channel my inner John Cena and deliver some serious aerial assistance."
"Did you just make a wrestling reference while we're trapped in an elevator shaft?"
"Nat, if I'm going to die in a elevator shaft, I'm going out with my dignity intact and my pop culture references on point."
"You're ridiculous," she said fondly.
"You love it."
"Against my better judgment, yes."
Y/n wrapped their arms around her waist, feeling her arms circle their neck in response. "Ready?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"Not really."
Y/n shot a web line toward the ladder, testing it to make sure it would hold their combined weight. Then, with a deep breath, they swung them both across the shaft, landing on the narrow platform beside the emergency ladder with only a slight wobble.
"Okay," Natasha said, her arms still around Y/n's neck. "That was actually pretty smooth."
"Don't sound so surprised. I've been practicing."
"On what?"
"The obstacle course in the training room. Clint bet me I couldn't do a web-swing while carrying a person without dropping them."
"Please tell me you didn't use Clint as a test subject."
"Of course not," Y/n said innocently. "I used one of Tony's Iron Man suits. Much heavier, better training."
"And Tony was okay with this?"
"Tony doesn't know about this."
Natasha shook her head but was smiling. "You're going to give me gray hair."
"You'd look distinguished with gray hair," Y/n said, starting to climb the ladder. "Very sophisticated spy lady."
"I'm already sophisticated."
"True. But imagine how sophisticated you'd be with silver highlights."
They climbed in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the sound of dripping water growing fainter as they got farther from the source. Y/n's enhanced strength made the climb easy, even with the slippery conditions, and soon they reached the doors for the fortieth floor.
"Now what?" Y/n asked, examining the sealed doors.
"Now we do this the old-fashioned way," Natasha said, pulling what looked like a crowbar from her jacket.
"You just carry a crowbar around?"
"It's a multi-tool. Crowbar, lockpick, weapon, conversation starter."
"How is a crowbar a conversation starter?"
"You'd be surprised how many people want to know why you're carrying a crowbar."
Y/n wedged their fingers into the slight gap between the doors, using their enhanced strength to create enough space for Natasha to insert her crowbar. Together, they managed to force the doors open just enough to squeeze through.
They emerged into a darkened hallway lit only by emergency lighting, both of them dripping wet and looking like they'd just survived a disaster movie.
"Well," Y/n said, wringing water out of their shirt. "That was fun."
"Your definition of fun is deeply concerning," Natasha replied, but she was smiling.
"Says the woman who thinks a good date involves infiltrating arms dealers."
"That was one time!"
"It was three times, and I'm not complaining. I'm just saying your idea of entertainment isn't exactly conventional either."
They made their way down the hallway toward the emergency stairwell, their footsteps echoing in the unusual quiet of the powerless building.
"So," Y/n said as they started down the stairs. "Scale of one to ten, how impressed were you by my elevator shaft heroics?"
"Honestly? About an eight," Natasha said. "Points deducted for the wrestling reference, but points added for not dropping me."
"I would never drop you."
"I know," she said softly. "That's why I trust you to swing me across elevator shafts in the first place."
They continued down the stairs in comfortable silence, and Y/n found themselves thinking about how different this felt from their panic in the elevator. Having something to do, a problem to solve, a way to help – it all made their anxiety transform into focus and determination.
"Hey Nat?" they said as they reached the twentieth floor.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for not making me feel stupid about the whole claustrophobia thing."
"You're not stupid," she said firmly. "Everyone has things they're afraid of. You just happen to be afraid of small spaces and I happen to be afraid of—"
"What?" Y/n asked when she trailed off.
"Nothing."
"Come on, what are you afraid of?"
Natasha was quiet for a long moment. "Losing people I care about," she said finally. "Which is why I was actually more worried about you than the elevator situation back there."
Y/n stopped walking. "What do you mean?"
"I mean you were having a panic attack, and there was nothing I could do to fix it except talk you through it. That's… not a feeling I'm comfortable with."
"Nat…" Y/n reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together. "You did fix it. You kept me calm, you made a plan, and you got us out of there. You're always fixing things."
"I can't fix your anxiety."
"I don't need you to fix it," Y/n said gently. "I just need you to be there while I figure out how to handle it myself. Which you always are."
Natasha squeezed their hand. "Even when you're making wrestling references in life-threatening situations?"
"Especially then. Someone has to appreciate my comedic timing."
"Your comedic timing is terrible."
"But my delivery is excellent."
"Your delivery is adequate at best."
"I'll take adequate," Y/n said with a grin. "From you, adequate is basically a standing ovation."
They reached the ground floor and pushed through the emergency exit into the lobby, where they found chaos. People were milling around in confusion, security guards were trying to direct traffic with flashlights, and someone was arguing loudly about being trapped in the parking garage.
"Looks like we weren't the only ones having elevator problems," Natasha observed.
"At least no one else had to climb through an elevator shaft," Y/n said. "We're definitely winning the 'most dramatic rescue' contest."
"It's not a contest."
"Everything's a contest if you're competitive enough."
"You're impossible," Natasha said, but she was smiling again.
They made their way through the crowd toward the main entrance, both of them still dripping and looking like they'd been through a disaster. Y/n was just starting to relax when they heard a familiar voice.
"Parker! Romanoff! There you are!"
They turned to see Tony Stark pushing through the crowd, looking harried and slightly panicked. "Where the hell have you been? FRIDAY lost track of you when the power went out, and when we couldn't find you…" He trailed off, taking in their bedraggled appearance. "Why are you both soaking wet?"
"Elevator got stuck," Y/n explained. "Had to climb out through the shaft."
"You climbed through the elevator shaft?" Tony stared at them in horror. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? The cables could have snapped, or the emergency brakes could have failed, or—"
"We're fine, Tony," Natasha interrupted. "Although you might want to have someone check the water lines on floors thirty-five through forty. I think there's a leak."
"A leak? In my building?" Tony looked personally offended. "That's impossible. I designed the plumbing systems myself."
"Well, unless there's supposed to be water raining down in the elevator shaft, something's definitely leaking," Y/n said.
Tony was already pulling out his phone, presumably to call maintenance. "This is why I hate power outages," he muttered. "Everything falls apart without electricity."
"Not everything," Y/n said, glancing at Natasha. "Some things actually work better when you have to figure them out the old-fashioned way."
"Speak for yourself," Tony said, already walking away while barking orders into his phone. "I'm installing backup generators for the backup generators!"
Y/n and Natasha watched him go, then looked at each other and burst into laughter.
"Think he's going to redesign the entire building now?" Y/n asked.
"Definitely," Natasha said. "By next week, every elevator will probably have its own arc reactor."
"As long as they have better emergency lighting. That red glow was very ominous."
"I thought it was atmospheric."
"You would."
They walked out into the New York evening, where the streetlights were flickering back on as power was restored to the city block by block. Y/n took a deep breath of the cool air, feeling their last bit of anxiety fade away.
"So," they said, falling into step beside Natasha. "Want to grab dinner? I'm thinking somewhere with really good ventilation and no elevators."
"I know just the place," she said. "But we're walking. I've had enough mechanical transportation for one day."
"Walking sounds perfect," Y/n agreed. "Besides, after today, I think I could use the exercise."
"You climbed thirty floors worth of emergency ladder and swung us both across an elevator shaft. How much more exercise do you need?"
"Fair point. Maybe we'll just walk very slowly."
"Now you're talking sense."
As they walked down the sidewalk, Y/n couldn't help but think about how the evening had started with them trapped and panicking, and ended with them walking through the city together, both of them safe and somehow closer than before.
"Hey Nat?"
"Yeah?"
"Today was actually kind of perfect."
"We were trapped in a broken elevator for two hours."
"Yeah, but I was trapped with you," Y/n said simply. "That makes all the difference."
Natasha stopped walking and turned to face them, her expression soft in the glow of the returning streetlights. "You know what?"
"What?"
"You're right. It was kind of perfect."
And as they continued down the street, Y/n realized that sometimes the best moments weren't the ones you planned for – they were the ones that happened when everything went wrong, but you had the right person there to go wrong with you.
Even if that person did make fun of your wrestling references during emergency situations.
Some things never changed.
But some things, Y/n thought as Natasha slipped her hand into theirs, were perfect exactly as they were.
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Thanks for reading! Haven't uploaded in a few days, hope you guys liked it. I've had this in my drafts for a while now and wasn't sure how to give it a final look. As you can tell Spider reader is my favorite to write lol. Thank you for your support once again!
Hi, I absolutely loved the Lois and Kryptonian!Reader with Doomsday, do you think you could do a follow up to that? Just domestic day to day life for Lois and Reader, maybe some interactions with Kara, Krypto and the Justice Gang, and maybe a follow up on the pseudo marriage proposal? It would be greatly appreciated!
Hi Anon!
Thank you for your request. I haven't forgotten about it, I promise! I'm going to have it out tomorrow or perhapss just a little later. I finished up editing another fanfic I had in my drafts that's coming out today, and will get right into finishing the continuation. Thank you for the wonderful idea!
Until Death Do Us Part (And Not Even Then) - Lois Lane x Kryptonian!Reader
summary: When Doomsday comes to Metropolis, Lois faces the unthinkable—watching the person she loves die in her arms. But death has never stopped Lois Lane from getting what she wants, and she'll be damned if it's going to stop her from saving Y/N Kent.
warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence, temporary character death, medical trauma, Angst with Happy Ending, Near Death Experience.
notes: Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Gender Neutral reader, We're literally Superman, Mr. Terrific comes in clutch yet again.
Thank you anon for an amazing request! I loved writing this and I hope you enjoy it too. If you guys have any requests shoot me a dm. Happy reading!
word count - 5.6k
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The first thing Lois noticed wasn't the screaming.
It wasn't the way Metropolis General Hospital's emergency broadcast cut through her Tuesday morning coffee, or how Jimmy's face went white as he turned up the newsroom's television. It wasn't even the way Perry's voice cracked when he shouted for every available reporter to get downtown immediately.
No, the first thing Lois noticed was the sudden absence of warmth against her back where Y/N had been reading over her shoulder just moments before.
She turned to find empty space and an open window, Y/N's coffee mug still steaming on her desk next to their abandoned crossword puzzle. Seven across: What lovers promise each other. Y/N had written forever in their careful handwriting.
"Lois!" Perry's voice cut through her paralysis. "Lane! Get down there now!"
But she was already moving, grabbing her press badge and recorder, muscle memory carrying her toward the stairwell while her mind tried to process what the reporter on TV was saying: "...creature of unknown origin... downtown destruction... Superman engaged..."
The elevator couldn't move fast enough. By the time Lois reached street level, she could hear it-the sound of a city under siege. Concrete cracking like thunder. Car alarms wailing like funeral dirges. And underneath it all, a roar that seemed to come from the earth itself.
She commandeered the first taxi she saw, throwing a hundred dollar bill at the driver and demanding he get as close to the destruction as possible. The man took one look at her press badge and her expression and hit the gas.
"Lady, you sure about this?" he asked as they rounded a corner and saw the devastation ahead. "That thing's been throwing cars around like footballs."
That thing. Lois got her first real look at Doomsday through the taxi's windshield and felt something cold settle in her stomach. It was massive, eight feet of gray skin and bone spikes, moving with a violence that seemed almost joyful. She'd seen Y/N face down Brainiac, Lex Luthor, even Darkseid, but this was different. This creature didn't want to conquer or control.
It just wanted to destroy.
And somewhere in that chaos of rubble and screaming civilians, Y/N was fighting it alone.
"Stop here," Lois said, already reaching for the door handle.
"Ma'am, I really don't think—"
"Stop the car."
She was out before he'd fully braked, running toward the sound of battle in heels that weren't designed for sprinting over debris. Behind her, she could hear the taxi's tires screech as the driver fled in the opposite direction.
Smart man.
The scene that greeted her when she rounded the corner onto Fifth Avenue would haunt her for the rest of her life. Half the street had been reduced to rubble, storefronts collapsed, a city bus folded in half like origami. And in the center of it all, two figures locked in combat that looked less like a fight and more like a natural disaster.
Y/N moved with all the grace and power Lois had come to associate with Superman, but she could see the strain in their movements. They'd been fighting for twenty minutes—an eternity in superhero time-and Doomsday showed no signs of slowing down. If anything, the creature seemed to be getting stronger, adapting to Y/N's attacks with each exchange.
Lois pulled out her phone and dialed Michael Holt's number. Mr. Terrific answered on the first ring, his voice tight with concern.
"Lois? Please tell me you're not where I think you are."
"I need your ship," she said without preamble, ducking behind an overturned car as a chunk of concrete sailed over her head. "The invisible one. How fast can you get it here?"
"Why would you...? Lois, no. Whatever you're thinking, no."
"Michael." Her voice was sharp enough to cut glass. "How fast?"
A pause. In the background, she could hear him already moving, could practically see him running calculations in his head. "Eight minutes if I break several FAA regulations. Lois, what are you planning?"
"Something stupid," she admitted, watching Y/N take a hit that sent them crashing through a storefront window. They emerged seconds later, blood on their lip, uniform torn. "But maybe stupid enough to work."
"The Fortress?"
Trust Michael Holt to figure it out immediately. "The Fortress," she confirmed.
"Lois, even if we could get Superman there, the healing matrix might not—"
"It will work." She said it with the kind of absolute certainty that had gotten her through every impossible story, every closed door, every source who'd sworn they'd never talk. "It has to work."
"Six minutes," Michael said, and she could hear the whine of T-Sphere engines spinning up in the background. "Try not to die before I get there."
The line went dead. Lois pocketed her phone and moved closer to the fight, staying low, using the scattered debris as cover. She needed to be ready. Whatever happened next, she needed to be close enough to—
The sound Y/N made when Doomsday's fist connected with their chest wasn't quite human. It was the sound of breaking, of something vital giving way. They hit the side of a building hard enough to leave a crater in the brick, then slumped to the ground and didn't immediately get up.
Lois was moving before she'd consciously decided to, her body acting on pure instinct. She scrambled over chunks of concrete and twisted metal, ignoring the cuts on her hands, the runs in her stockings, the way her heart felt like it was trying to claw its way out of her chest.
"Y/N!" She reached them just as they were struggling to their feet, blood trickling from the corner of their mouth. Up close, she could see how much the fight had cost them. Their hands were shaking—barely noticeable unless you knew what to look for, but Lois knew every tell, every micro-expression, every sign that Y/N was in trouble.
"Lois?" Y/N's voice was thick with surprise and something that might have been fear. "What are you..? You need to get out of here. Now."
"Not without you."
"This thing, it's not like anything I've fought before. It's learning, adapting. Every time I hit it, it comes back stronger." Y/N wiped blood from their lip with the back of their hand. "It's going to kill me, and I can't—I won't let you watch that happen."
The casual way they said it—it's going to kill me—like they were discussing the weather, broke something inside Lois's chest. But before she could respond, Doomsday's roar echoed off the surrounding buildings, and they both turned to see the creature pulling itself out of the rubble where Y/N had left it.
"Go," Y/N said urgently, their hands on Lois's shoulders. "Please. I need to know you're safe."
Lois looked into the eyes she loved so much-eyes that had seen the birth of stars and the heat death of galaxies, but still got soft when they looked at her-and made a choice.
"I love you," she said, rising up on her toes to kiss them, quick and fierce and desperate. "And I am not losing you today."
Before Y/N could respond, she was running again, not away from the fight but parallel to it, positioning herself where she could see everything. Her phone showed three minutes until Michael arrived. Three minutes to watch the person she loved face down certain death.
Three minutes too long.
The next few minutes played out like a fever dream. Y/N threw everything they had at Doomsday-heat vision that should have cut through steel, punches that should have shattered mountains, speed that should have made them untouchable. But the creature adapted to each attack, grew stronger, more vicious.
And Y/N grew slower.
Lois watched her partner, her love, her future, her forever-get beaten down by degrees. A punch that sent them skidding across asphalt. A backhand that cracked their ribs audibly. A grab that lifted them off their feet and hurled them into the ground hard enough to crater the street.
Each impact felt like a physical blow to Lois's own body. She found herself gasping in sympathy, her hands clenched into fists so tight her nails drew blood from her palms. This was torture-watching and being unable to help, knowing that her presence here was probably making things worse by giving Y/N something to worry about.
But she couldn't leave. Even if it meant watching Y/N die, she couldn't leave them to face this alone.
The end, when it came, was almost anticlimactic.
Doomsday caught Y/N in a bear hug, those massive arms wrapping around their torso like a vise. Lois could see Y/N struggling, could see the way their face contorted in pain as the creature squeezed. Then Doomsday's bone spikes began to extend, and Lois realized with crystalline clarity what was about to happen.
"NO!" The scream tore from her throat before she could stop it.
Y/N's head snapped toward her, and for one perfect, terrible moment, their eyes met across the chaos. Y/N smiled—actually smiled, as if seeing her face was worth dying for-and then did something that would replay in Lois's nightmares for years to come.
They grabbed Doomsday's spikes with both hands and pulled them deeper into their own chest.
The creature roared in surprise and pain as Y/N's heat vision, activated at point-blank range, finally found its mark. Superheated energy tore through Doomsday from the inside out, and both combatants collapsed in a tangle of limbs and smoke.
Neither of them moved.
Lois was running before her mind caught up with her legs, screaming Y/N's name, no longer caring about her own safety. She reached them at the same time the T-Sphere materialized overhead, Michael Holt's ship shimmering into visibility like a mirage resolving into reality.
Y/N lay on their back in a pool of blood that was spreading too fast, their uniform torn open to reveal the puncture wounds in their chest. Their breathing was shallow, labored, each exhale accompanied by a wet sound that meant internal bleeding.
"Hey," Lois whispered, dropping to her knees beside them and cradling their head in her lap. "Hey, look at me."
Y/N's eyes fluttered open, unfocused but aware. "Lo? Are you...Are you hurt?"
Even dying, they were worried about her. Lois felt tears she hadn't realized she was crying drip onto Y/N's face. "I'm fine. You're going to be fine too, okay? We're going to get you help."
"Doomsday?"
Lois glanced over at the creature's motionless form. "Dead. You killed it. You saved everyone."
Y/N tried to smile, but it came out more like a grimace. "Good. That's...that's good." Their hand found hers, fingers cold and weak. "Lois, I need you to know-"
"Don't." She squeezed their hand tighter. "Don't you dare say goodbye to me."
"I love you," Y/N continued as if she hadn't spoken. "More than I've ever loved anything. You made me feel human, and that was...that was the best gift anyone ever gave me."
"Y/N, stop talking and save your strength." The ship was landing now, its loading ramp extending toward them. Michael Holt appeared at the top, medical kit in hand.
"Promise me something," Y/N whispered, their voice getting weaker. "Promise me you'll be happy. After. Promise me you'll find someone who-"
"No." Lois's voice was sharp with panic and fury. "No, I will not promise you that because you are not dying. Do you hear me? I am not letting you die."
Michael reached them, scanner already out and beeping urgently. "Vitals are crashing," he reported, all business. "Massive internal bleeding, possible cardiac trauma. We need to move now."
Together, they lifted Y/N onto a stretcher Michael had produced from somewhere. Y/N groaned, the sound weak and pained, but they were still conscious, still breathing.
"The Fortress?" Michael asked as they secured Y/N in the ship's medical bay.
"The Fortress," Lois confirmed, strapping herself into the seat next to Y/N's stretcher. "How long?"
"At maximum speed? Fifteen minutes."
Lois looked down at Y/N, whose eyes had drifted closed, their breathing becoming more labored by the second. Fifteen minutes suddenly felt like fifteen years.
"Make it ten," she said.
The flight to the Arctic was the longest ten minutes of Lois's life. She spent every second of it talking to Y/N, whether they could hear her or not, her voice a steady stream of memories and promises and desperate pleas.
"Remember our first real date?" she said, her hand stroking their hair. "You were so nervous you forgot you could fly and took the subway to pick me up. Forty-five minutes late because of track work on the R Line."
Y/N's lips twitched, almost like they were trying to smile.
"And you brought me those terrible gas station flowers because you'd read somewhere that women liked roses, but you didn't know there was a difference between actual roses and those sad wilted things from the corner store." Lois felt herself smile despite the tears. "I kept them until they fell apart because you'd picked them out yourself."
"Blood pressure dropping," Michael called from the pilot's seat. "Whatever you're doing, keep doing it."
So Lois kept talking. About their first fight—a stupid argument about aliens and metahumans. About the first time Y/N had stayed over, how they'd hovered three inches off the bed all night because they were afraid of crushing her in their sleep. About lazy Sunday mornings and terrible cooking experiments and the way Y/N always hummed off-key in the shower.
"I love that you can't carry a tune to save your life," she whispered, leaning down to press her forehead against theirs. "I love that you still get excited about dogs even though Krypto drives you absolutely nuts. I love that you read my articles even when they're about municipal water policy and pretend to be interested."
Y/N's eyes opened again, just for a moment, and their mouth moved soundlessly.
"What?" Lois leaned closer. "What are you trying to say?"
"...not...pretending..." Y/N managed, their voice barely a whisper. "Municipal...water policy...fascinating..."
Despite everything, Lois laughed. A sound somewhere between joy and hysteria. "You're such a nerd."
"Your...nerd..."
"Mine," she agreed fiercely. "My nerd. And you're not allowed to leave me, you understand? I just figured out how to love someone without completely losing my mind about it, and I'll be damned if you check out on me now."
The Fortress of Solitude rose from the Arctic ice like a crystal cathedral, beautiful and alien and completely wrong for Kansas farmers who should have grown up building hay forts instead of ice palaces. But as Michael's ship approached the structure, Lois had never been more grateful for Kryptonian technology in her life.
"The entrance should recognize Y/N's biometric signature," she told Michael as they prepared to land.
"What if it doesn't?"
Lois looked down at Y/N, whose breathing had become so shallow she had to watch carefully to see their chest rise and fall. "Then I'll find another way in. I always do."
The Fortress doors opened for them without hesitation, recognizing Y/N even in their current state. Michael guided the ship into the central chamber, where holographic displays and floating crystals created an environment that looked more like the inside of a star than any place humans were meant to be.
"Where's the healing matrix?" Michael asked, powering down the ship's engines.
"This way." Lois had only been here a handful of times-Y/N was protective of their Kryptonian heritage, careful about sharing too much too fast—but she remembered the route to the med bay. They'd taken a tour during one of their early visits, back when everything between them was still new and careful and full of possibility.
The healing matrix looked exactly like what it was-alien technology designed for a dead race, all crystal formations and energy fields that hummed with barely contained power. Lois had seen it work on minor injuries before, had watched it repair cuts and bruises with efficiency that made human medicine look like applying band-aids to severed arteries.
But this was different. This was massive trauma, the kind of damage that might be beyond even Kryptonian science.
"Help me get them onto the platform," she said, and together she and Michael lifted Y/N from the stretcher onto the crystal surface at the center of the matrix.
"Lois," Michael said gently, "you need to prepare yourself for the possibility that this might not—"
"It will work," she cut him off. "It has to work."
The matrix activated as soon as Y/N's body made contact with the crystal, energy fields springing to life around them like ethereal medical equipment. Holographic displays showed vital signs, cellular damage, the intricate network of injuries that Doomsday had inflicted.
And they were bad. Very bad.
"Cardiac rupture," Michael read from the displays, his voice clinical. "Massive hemorrhaging. Multiple organ failure. Lois..."
"How long?" she asked, ignoring the way her voice shook.
Michael studied the readouts, running calculations in his head. "If the matrix can stabilize the bleeding... maybe six hours for basic repairs. Another twelve for full cellular regeneration."
Eighteen hours. Eighteen hours of not knowing if the person she loved would live or die, eighteen hours of watching energy fields work on damage that should have been fatal, eighteen hours of the most helpless feeling she'd ever experienced.
"Okay," she said, sinking into a chair someone had placed near the matrix. "Okay. We wait."
Michael hesitated. "I should call the League, let them know—"
"No." The word came out sharper than she'd intended. "Not yet. Please. I just... I need some time. Just us."
Michael nodded, understanding more than she'd expected. "I'll monitor from the ship, give you some privacy. Call if anything changes."
And then she was alone with Y/N and the soft hum of alien technology, watching energy fields work to repair the person she loved more than her own life.
The first hour was the worst. Y/N's vital signs fluctuated wildly as the matrix worked to stabilize the immediate damage, and twice Lois was sure she was about to watch them die despite every effort to save them. She found herself talking again, a constant stream of words aimed at keeping them anchored to the world of the living.
"The first time I knew I loved you," she said during one particularly scary dip in their heart rate, "was three weeks after you told me who you really were. You'd had a bad day-some natural disaster you couldn't prevent, I think—and you came to my apartment still in the suit, just sat on my couch and cried."
The memory was crystalline in its clarity. Y/N had looked so small despite their size, so human despite everything that made them alien.
"I made you tea and you fell asleep with your head in my lap, and I realized that this person who could move mountains trusted me enough to be vulnerable with me. That's when I knew I was completely gone for you."
Y/N's heart rate stabilized.
By the third hour, the immediate crisis had passed, but the real work was just beginning. The matrix had stopped the bleeding and stabilized their organs, but now came the delicate process of cellular repair. Lois watched fields of energy weave through Y/N's body, fixing damage on a molecular level, rebuilding what Doomsday had destroyed.
"I'm scared," she admitted to the unconscious figure on the crystal platform. "I've never been this scared in my life, and that includes the time I was kidnapped by Intergang and the time I accidentally walked into that Kryptonite smuggling ring."
She stood up, pacing around the matrix, needing to move. "I don't know how to do this without you. I don't know how to be brave without knowing you're out there somewhere, keeping the world safe. I don't know how to write stories about hope if the thing that taught me what hope looks like is gone."
The matrix hummed in response, as if the Fortress itself was listening.
"I know that's selfish," she continued. "I know the world needs Superman more than Lois Lane needs her partner. But I can't help it. I'm selfish about you. I want you to come home to me every night and complain about your day and help me with the crossword puzzle and laugh at my terrible jokes."
She sat back down, reaching out to touch the energy field around Y/N's hand. It felt warm, almost alive.
"I want forever with you," she whispered. "I want to fight about whose turn it is to do laundry and whether we can afford the good coffee and what movie to watch on Friday nights. I want ordinary things, human things, with someone who's anything but ordinary or human."
Hours passed. The matrix worked with patient efficiency, repairing damage that should have taken weeks to heal. Lois dozed fitfully in her chair, waking every few minutes to check the displays, to make sure Y/N was still breathing, still fighting.
Sometime around hour fifteen, she woke to find Y/N's eyes open, staring at the crystalline ceiling above them.
"Hey," she said softly, afraid to move too quickly, afraid to hope too much.
Y/N turned their head toward her, and their smile was weak but real. "Hey yourself."
"How do you feel?"
"Like I got hit by a truck." Y/N's voice was hoarse, rough from hours of unconsciousness. "A very large, very angry truck with bone spikes."
"That's pretty accurate, actually." Lois felt tears threatening again, but these were different-relief instead of fear, joy instead of desperation. "The matrix says you need another few hours, but the worst is over."
Y/N tried to sit up, winced, and settled back onto the platform. "Doomsday?"
"Dead. You killed it. Saved the whole city."
"How many casualties?"
Trust Y/N to ask about everyone else before asking about their own condition. "Seventeen injured, mostly minor. No deaths except yours, and that didn't take."
Y/N looked confused. "Mine?"
"You died," Lois said simply. "For about three minutes, according to Michael's readings. Clinically dead. I've never been so angry at anyone in my life."
"I'm sorry," Y/N said, and they sounded like they meant it. "I didn't mean to—"
"Die protecting the people you love?" Lois reached through the energy field to touch their hand, relief flooding through her when their fingers squeezed back. "Yeah, that's exactly the kind of thing you'd do."
They lay in comfortable silence for a while, watching the matrix complete its work. Y/N's color was returning, the terrible pallor of blood loss fading as Kryptonian technology rebuilt them from the inside out.
"Lois," Y/N said eventually, "what you did today...getting me here, making this happen—"
"Don't." She shook her head. "Don't thank me for refusing to let you die. That's not heroic, that's just selfish. I need you too much to let you go."
"I need you too." Y/N's voice was soft, thoughtful. "When I was fighting Doomsday, when I realized I might not make it... the only thing I could think about was that I'd never see you again. Never get to tell you how much you mean to me."
"You told me," Lois reminded them. "Right before you decided to martyr yourself like an idiot."
"I told you I loved you. But I never told you..." Y/N paused, seeming to gather their thoughts. "I never told you that you saved me first."
Lois frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Before you, I was just going through the motions. Flying around, stopping disasters, being Superman because that's what I was supposed to do. But I wasn't really living. I was just... existing."
Y/N turned onto their side, facing her fully despite the discomfort it obviously caused. "You taught me what it meant to be human. Not the biology of it, but the emotional reality. You taught me that being vulnerable isn't weakness, that letting someone see all of you-the good parts and the broken parts—is the bravest thing you can do."
"Y/N..."
"I'm not finished." Their smile was soft, fond. "You taught me that saving the world means nothing if you don't have someone to come home to at the end of the day. You taught me that love isn't about being perfect for someone, it's about being yourself and trusting them to love that person."
Lois felt tears sliding down her cheeks again, but these were good tears, clean tears.
"So when I say you saved me," Y/N continued, "I don't mean from Doomsday. I mean from a life without meaning, without connection, without love. You saved me from being Superman and helped me become Y/N."
"I love Y/N," Lois said, leaning forward to press her forehead against the energy field. "I love Superman too, but Y/N is who I fell for. The person who gets excited about stupid things and worries about whether their tie matches their shoes and leaves coffee rings on my table."
"I'll try to be more careful with the coffee rings."
"Don't you dare. I like having proof that you were there."
The matrix chimed softly, and the energy fields began to fade. According to the displays, Y/N's cellular regeneration was complete, all major trauma repaired. They were, for all intents and purposes, as good as new.
"How do you feel?" Lois asked as Y/N sat up slowly, testing their range of motion.
"Like myself again." Y/N stood, stretching, and Lois could see the exact moment they realized they were whole. The relief in their expression was overwhelming. "Like I'm going to live to see tomorrow."
"Good," Lois said, standing as well. "Because I have plans for tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that."
"Oh?" Y/N moved closer, and despite everything they'd been through, their smile was pure mischief. "What kind of plans?"
"The kind that involve you being alive for them."
Y/N laughed-a sound Lois had thought she might never hear again—and pulled her into their arms. They were warm and solid and real, and when they kissed her, Lois could taste forever on their lips.
"I love you," Y/N murmured against her mouth. "Forever, remember?"
"Forever," Lois agreed, thinking of the crossword puzzle they'd left unfinished on her desk. Seven across: What lovers promise each other.
Forever seemed like a good place to start.
The flight back to Metropolis was different from the journey to the Fortress. Y/N sat beside her in the ship's passenger area, color returned to their cheeks, uniform repaired by helpful Kryptonian technology. They looked like themselves again, like the person who'd been reading over her shoulder that morning, who'd written "forever" in careful handwriting.
"What happens now?" Lois asked as the city skyline came into view.
"Now we go home," Y/N said simply. "We finish the crossword. We argue about what to have for dinner. We pretend this was just another Tuesday."
"Is that what you want? To pretend?"
Y/N considered this, their hand finding hers and squeezing gently. "I want to live like today taught me something important about how precious this is. But I also want to live like we have time to figure it out as we go."
"What did it teach you?"
"That I don't want to waste another second being afraid of how much I love you." Y/N's smile was soft, certain. "That life's too short to hold back, even when you're functionally immortal."
"Good," Lois said, settling against their side as Metropolis grew larger below them. "Because I'm done holding back too."
"What does that mean?"
Lois looked up at them, at this person who'd died for the world and lived for her, and made a decision that felt as natural as breathing.
"It means when people ask what we are to each other, I'm not going to say 'it's complicated' anymore."
"What are you going to say?"
"That you're the person I'm going to marry," she said, and watched Y/N's eyes go wide with surprise and delight. "If you'll have me."
"Lois Lane," Y/N said, their voice full of wonder, "are you proposing to me?"
"I'm Lois Lane," she replied with a grin. "I don't propose. I inform."
Y/N laughed, the sound bright and joyful and alive, and kissed her as Metropolis spread out below them-a city full of people who would sleep safely tonight because Superman had kept his promise to protect them, and because Lois Lane had refused to let love die without a fight.
"Yes," Y/N said against her lips. "To all of it. To forever. To you."
"Good," Lois said, and settled in to enjoy the flight home.
After all, they had a crossword to finish.
---
Three hours later, they were home.
The apartment felt different somehow-smaller, more precious. Y/N had changed out of the Superman suit into soft pajama pants and one of Lois's old Planet t-shirts that was too small for them but that they wore anyway because it smelled like her perfume. Lois had ordered Thai food and opened a bottle of wine, and now they were sprawled on the couch with cartons of pad thai cooling on the coffee table and some mindless sitcom playing in the background.
Y/N was stretched out with their head in Lois's lap, looking more relaxed than they had in weeks.
"This is nice," Y/N murmured, eyes drifting closed as Lois's fingers combed gently through their hair. "Quiet."
"Mmm." Lois traced the line of Y/N's jaw with her free hand, marveling at the fact that she could touch them, that they were here and whole and safe. "No explosions, no alien invasions, no disasters that need immediate Superman intervention."
"Don't jinx it," Y/N said with a sleepy smile. "The universe has a twisted sense of humor." On the TV, someone was getting into an argument about a wedding cake. Lois wasn't really watching-she was too busy studying Y/N's face, cataloging every detail like she was seeing them for the first time. The small scar above their left eyebrow from a childhood accident in Smallville. The way their eyelashes cast shadows on their cheeks. The tiny freckle just below their ear that she'd kissed a hundred times but somehow never stopped noticing.
"What are you thinking about?" Y/N asked without opening their eyes, because of course they could sense her staring.
"You," Lois said honestly. "How different you look when you're not carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders."
"I always carry it. That's the job."
"Not right now you don't." Her fingers found that sensitive spot behind Y/N's ear, and they practically purred. "Right now you're just mine."
Y/N's eyes opened at that, soft and warm and slightly unfocused. "Yours, huh?"
"Mine," Lois confirmed, leaning down to kiss their forehead. "My partner who almost died today and scared me half to death and is never, ever allowed to do that again."
"I can't promise I won't—"
"Shh." Lois pressed a finger to their lips. "Tonight you can. Tonight we're just two people on a couch, eating terrible takeout and watching bad television. Superman doesn't exist tonight."
Y/N caught her finger between their lips and kissed it, the gesture so tender it made Lois's chest ache.
"Just Y/N and Lois?"
"Just Y/N and Lois."
They settled back into comfortable silence, Y/N's breathing gradually evening out as they dozed against her. Lois let herself be soft in a way she rarely allowed-stroking Y/N's hair, tracing patterns on their shoulder, pressing little kisses to the top of their head whenever she felt like it.
"Lo?" Y/N's voice was thick with sleep.
"Yeah?"
"When I was dying... what you said about municipal water policy..."
Lois laughed softly. "You were literally bleeding out and that's what you focused on?"
"It was important." Y/N shifted slightly, nuzzling closer. "I need you to know I really do find your articles fascinating. Even the boring ones. Especially the boring ones."
"Why especially those?"
"Because they're yours. Because your brain works in ways that amaze me. Because you can make me care about sewer systems and city budgets and zoning laws just by explaining why they matter." Y/N's voice was getting softer, more distant. "I love watching you get excited about things other people think are mundane."
Lois felt something warm and liquid spread through her chest. This was why she'd fallen for them-not the cape or the powers or the world-saving, but moments like this. Y/N seeing beauty in her passion for the ordinary, for the unglamorous stories that actually shaped people's lives.
"I love you too," she whispered, but Y/N was already asleep, their breathing deep and even.
On the TV, the wedding cake argument had resolved and moved on to someone's relationship drama. Lois reached for the remote and turned the volume down, not wanting to wake Y/N but not quite ready to end this perfect, ordinary moment. Her phone buzzed with a text from Perry asking for a follow-up story on the Doomsday attack, but she ignored it. For once, the story could wait until tomorrow. Tonight was for this-for soft touches and quiet breathing and the simple miracle of Y/N alive and safe in her arms. She thought about the crossword puzzle still sitting unfinished on her desk at work.
Seven across: What lovers promise each other. Forever. But sitting here with Y/N's weight warm against her legs, their face peaceful in sleep, Lois realized forever wasn't something you promised. It was something you chose, again and again, in a thousand small moments like this one. She pressed another kiss to Y/N's hair and settled in for a long night of bad television and the best company she'd ever had.
After all, they had forever to figure out the rest.
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Thanks for reading! I really hope you guys enjoyed it. Once again, thank you for your overwhelming support!
Loved the Lois Lane one with the Superman!Reader! Ugh, it was everything I wanted in a Lois Lane fic like that, just so good! Would be willing to write a Doomsday one with the death of Superman/maybe not really die by having Lois take them to the Fortress of Solitude via Mr. Terrific’s ship and they heal them just barely in time? Idk you don’t have to but I love something angsty with a happy ending, ya know? But also idk if you do requests but I just look forward to your writing no matter what though!
Hi Anon!
Thank you so much for your love and support, I’m so happy you liked it! I can totally write that for you, I’ll try to research stuff and get it done as soon as I can 🫡 I also love me some angst with happy ending. Also, I do take requests! I just didn’t think people would actually read my stuff lol and I haven’t really written a masterlist or introduction or anything😭 really love your idea and I’m looking forward to writing it.
Undercover Operations - Natasha Romanoff x Spider-Man!Reader
summary: When Y/n gets their first undercover mission with the Black Widow, they think it'll be simple reconnaissance at a high-end art auction—until they realize "blending in" doesn't include accidentally sticking to priceless paintings or asking the arms dealer if his gun collection comes with a warranty. Good thing Natasha finds their chaos endearing, even if she has to resist the urge to disown them every five minutes.
warnings: none. Established Relationship; Some talks about arms deal; Fake identities(?); just fluff.
notes: Gender neutral reader; We're (again), literally Spider-Man. Timeline not specified. I apologize for any mistakes or errors. I've had these fics in my drafts forever lol. Thank you for your overwhelming support on the first story of this series. If you'd like to see more of them, please let me know! Happy reading!
Word Count - 4k.
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The Metropolitan Museum of Art's annual charity gala was the kind of event that made Y/n break out in a cold sweat just thinking about it. Fancy people in fancy clothes talking about fancy things they couldn't pronounce, while Y/n tried not to accidentally web themselves to a priceless sculpture.
"Remember," Natasha said for the third time as they adjusted Y/n's bow tie in the back of their rented Audi, "we're art collectors from Boston. You're my eccentric partner who inherited daddy's fortune and has more money than sense."
"Why can't I be the sophisticated one?" Y/n complained, fidgeting with their cufflinks. The tuxedo felt like a straightjacket, and they were pretty sure they were going to sweat through it before they even made it inside.
"Because last week during mission prep, you asked if Renaissance meant 'fancy old stuff' and whether Monet was 'the guy who painted the soup cans,'" Natasha replied, her voice dripping with fond exasperation. She looked absolutely stunning in her emerald green evening gown, every inch the elegant socialite. "Also, you're physically incapable of lying convincingly about anything that isn't spider-related."
"That's not true," Y/n protested weakly.
"You told Stark that his new coffee maker was 'nice' and your eye twitched for ten minutes straight."
"It was a really ugly coffee maker, Nat. It looked like it belonged in a spaceship."
"It was a fifteen-thousand-dollar Italian espresso machine."
"See? Spaceship."
Natasha shook her head, but Y/n caught the small smile she was trying to hide. "Just... try to let me do most of the talking tonight, okay? Our target is sophisticated, dangerous, and definitely not the type to be charmed by your 'aw shucks' routine."
Viktor Kozlov was a high-end arms dealer who used art auctions to launder money and make deals with some very unsavory characters. Tonight's mission was simple reconnaissance – get close, gather intel, don't blow their cover. Easy enough, in theory.
"I can do sophisticated," Y/n said, straightening their shoulders. "I took AP Art History in high school."
"You got a C-minus."
"That's still passing!"
"паучок," Natasha said, turning to face them fully. "I need you to promise me something."
"Anything."
"Promise me you won't try to be helpful."
Y/n blinked. "What? Why would I promise that? Being helpful is like, my whole thing."
"Because your version of helpful and my version of successful mission completion are usually mutually exclusive," Natasha explained patiently. "Remember the Hammer Industries infiltration?"
"That wasn't my fault! How was I supposed to know that guy was wearing a toupee?"
"You webbed it to the ceiling, Y/n. In front of forty witnesses."
"I was aiming for his gun!"
"His gun was in a holster. On his hip. The toupee was on his head."
Y/n slumped in their seat. "Okay, fine, maybe I'm not great at the whole stealth thing."
"You once yelled, and I repeat, 'watch out, watch out, watch out' and RKO'd our target from the top of the Empire State Building," Natasha said flatly. "That doesn't count as professional."
"In my defense, it was really cool," Y/n mumbled. "And effective! We got the intel."
"We also got a viral video, and I’m pretty sure you’re not allowed to set foot on that building ever again."
"That video was actually pretty flattering. The comments were mostly positive."
Natasha stared at them for a long moment, then leaned over and kissed their cheek softly. "I love you, you absolute disaster. But tonight, please just follow my lead and try not to accidentally reveal any superpowers."
"I can do that," Y/n said, their confidence returning at the casual affection. "Easy. No powers, no webs, no enhanced strength. I'll be the most normal rich person you've ever seen."
"Famous last words," Natasha muttered, but she was smiling again.
The museum was a maze of marble and gold, filled with the kind of people who looked like they stepped out of a fashion magazine. Y/n immediately felt out of place, despite the expensive tuxedo and Natasha's coaching. Everyone seemed to glide across the floor with practiced ease, while Y/n walked like they were afraid the ground might collapse beneath them.
"Relax," Natasha murmured, slipping her arm through theirs. "You look like you're about to face a firing squad."
"I kind of am," Y/n whispered back. "Do you see how these people are looking at me? It's like they can smell the Queens on me."
"That's just your imagination. Now smile and try to look like you belong here."
Y/n attempted a smile, which felt more like a grimace. A waiter passed by with a tray of champagne, and they grabbed two glasses, immediately downing one.
"Slow down there, Gatsby," Natasha said, plucking the second glass from their hand. "We need to stay sharp."
"Right, sorry. I'm just... this is really fancy, Nat. Look at that painting over there. It probably costs more than Aunt May's apartment."
"It's a Monet," she said, following their gaze. "Water Lilies series. Estimated value around forty million."
Y/n choked on air. "Forty million? For flowers in a pond?"
"Impressionist masterpiece," Natasha corrected. "And keep your voice down. You're supposed to be familiar with this world, remember?"
"Right, right. Totally familiar with forty-million-dollar pond flowers." Y/n straightened their shoulders and tried to look sophisticated. "Very... impressionistic. Really captures the, uh, essence of... water."
"Stop talking," Natasha said pleasantly, her smile never wavering even as her grip on their arm tightened slightly.
They made their way through the crowd, Natasha working the room like the professional she was. She laughed at the right moments, asked insightful questions about the art, and somehow managed to gather information about three different potential leads while discussing the merits of abstract expressionism.
Y/n, meanwhile, was trying their best not to accidentally crush any champagne flutes or stick to any surfaces. The enhanced strength was always tricky to control when they were nervous, and the spider-abilities had a tendency to kick in at the worst possible moments.
"And this is my partner," Natasha was saying to a distinguished older woman with diamonds the size of golf balls. "They're very passionate about... contemporary installations."
"Oh, how wonderful!" the woman gushed. "What's your favorite piece in tonight's collection?"
Y/n's mind went completely blank. They looked around desperately, their gaze landing on a twisted metal sculpture that looked like someone had put a car through a blender.
"That one," they said, pointing. "It's very... metal-y."
Natasha's smile became slightly strained. "What they mean is that they appreciate the raw industrial aesthetic."
"Yes!" Y/n said, relieved. "Very raw. Much industrial. Such aesthetic."
The woman looked confused but nodded politely before excusing herself to find someone who could speak in complete sentences.
"Metal-y?" Natasha hissed under her breath.
"I panicked! It was the first thing that came to mind!"
"You sound like a caveman discovering fire."
"Hey, cavemen were very advanced for their time. They invented art, you know. Cave paintings and stuff."
"Please stop talking about cavemen at an art gala."
"Right, sorry. No more cavemen. Got it."
They continued mingling, and Y/n was actually starting to relax a little when disaster struck. They were standing near a glass case containing an ancient Greek vase when someone bumped into them from behind. Y/n's spider-reflexes kicked in automatically, and they spun around with enhanced speed, accidentally knocking into the case.
Time seemed to slow as the priceless vase teetered on its pedestal. Y/n's hand shot out instinctively, fingers sticking to the ceramic surface just enough to steady it without anyone noticing.
"Smooth," Natasha murmured, appearing at their side with a fresh glass of champagne. "Very subtle."
"Did anyone see?" Y/n whispered, carefully releasing their grip on the vase.
"Just me, and I'm used to your particular brand of chaos." She handed them the champagne. "Although I have to admit, that was actually decent reflexes for you."
"Thanks?" Y/n said, unsure if that was a compliment or not.
"Don't let it go to your head. You're still banned from the Met gift shop after this."
"What? Why?"
"Preventative measure."
Before Y/n could argue, a tall man in an expensive suit approached them. He had the kind of sharp features and cold eyes that screamed 'villain' so loudly that Y/n was surprised he wasn't wearing a name tag.
"Viktor Kozlov," he said, extending a hand to Natasha. "I don't believe we've been introduced."
"Natasha Volkov," she replied smoothly, accepting the handshake. "And this is my partner, Y/n Parker."
Kozlov turned his attention to Y/n, who was trying very hard to look like a normal, non-superpowered art enthusiast. "Parker... as in Parker Industries?"
Y/n's mind raced. They had no idea if there was a Parker Industries, but Natasha's slight nod suggested they should play along. "Uh, yes. That's... that's us. Very industrial. Much business."
Natasha's eye twitched almost imperceptibly.
"How fascinating," Kozlov said, his smile not reaching his eyes. "I wasn't aware the Parkers were interested in art collection."
"We're... diversifying," Y/n said, proud of themselves for using a business word. "You know, expanding our... portfolio... things."
"Indeed." Kozlov's gaze was calculating. "Perhaps we should discuss some mutual interests. I deal in... rare acquisitions."
Y/n's spider-sense started tingling, but they couldn't tell if it was because of danger or because they were about to say something incredibly stupid. Probably both.
"What kind of acquisitions?" they asked, and Natasha's grip on their arm tightened in warning.
"The kind that require... discretion," Kozlov replied. "Perhaps we could continue this conversation somewhere more private?"
"That sounds-" Y/n started, but Natasha cut them off smoothly.
"Unfortunately, we have another engagement this evening," she said with perfect regret. "But perhaps we could arrange a meeting later this week?"
Kozlov looked disappointed but handed Natasha an elegant business card. "I look forward to it. It's so rare to meet... like-minded individuals."
After he walked away, Y/n turned to Natasha with excitement. "Did you hear that? He totally took the bait! We're in!"
"We're in because I salvaged your train wreck of a conversation," Natasha replied. "Portfolio things? Really?"
"I was improvising! Besides, he bought it."
"He bought it because I'm good at my job, not because you're secretly a business genius."
They found a quiet corner near a particularly hideous modern sculpture that looked like someone had sneezed on a canvas and called it art.
"Okay, so what's the plan?" Y/n asked, trying to look casual while scanning the room for potential threats.
"The plan is that we set up a meeting, wear wires, and get him to incriminate himself on tape," Natasha explained. "Simple, straightforward, no acrobatics required."
"Aw, come on. Not even a little bit of acrobatics?"
"No."
"What if someone tries to shoot us?"
"Then we duck like normal people."
"But what if—"
"Y/n," Natasha said, her voice taking on that particular tone that meant she was reaching the end of her patience. "I love you. I love your enthusiasm, your good heart, and your complete inability to let injustice slide. But if you so much as think about web-slinging during this mission, I will personally make sure you spend the next month doing nothing but paperwork."
"You wouldn't."
"Try me."
Y/n looked into her eyes and saw that she was absolutely serious. "Fine. No web-slinging. But if things go sideways—"
"If things go sideways, you follow my lead. No heroics, no improvisation, no yelling wrestling moves while launching yourself off tall buildings."
"That was one time!"
"It was three times, and one of them was last week."
Y/n was about to argue when their enhanced hearing picked up a conversation from across the room. Two men in expensive suits were talking in low voices about a shipment coming in tomorrow night, something about weapons and a warehouse in Brooklyn.
"Nat," they whispered urgently. "Two o'clock, guys in the gray suits. They're talking about a weapons shipment."
Natasha's expression sharpened immediately. "What exactly are they saying?"
Y/n concentrated, filtering out the background noise of the gala. "Something about pier seventeen, tomorrow at midnight. They're expecting a big delivery from overseas."
"Can you get closer?"
"I can try, but—"
"No buts. Just walk over there and pretend to be interested in the art nearby. Don't engage with them, just listen."
Y/n nodded and started to make their way across the room, weaving between clusters of socialites and trying to look natural. They positioned themselves near a large abstract painting that looked like someone had thrown paint at a wall and hoped for the best.
The two men were still talking, their voices just low enough that a normal person wouldn't be able to hear them. But Y/n's enhanced senses picked up every word.
"—confirmed the shipment will be there. Kozlov wants the transaction completed before dawn."
"What about security?"
"Minimal. A few guards, nothing we can't handle. The real problem is if the feds show up."
"They won't. Our contact at the docks assured us-"
Y/n leaned in slightly, trying to catch more details, when their elbow bumped into the painting behind them. They spun around to steady it, their fingers automatically sticking to the frame to keep it from falling.
That's when they realized their mistake.
The painting was an original Jackson Pollock. Worth approximately fifty million dollars. And Y/n's fingers were now firmly adhered to the priceless canvas.
"Oh, no no no no no," they whispered, trying to gently unstick themselves without damaging the artwork. But the harder they tried to pull away, the more their spider-abilities seemed to activate.
"Excuse me," said a stern voice behind them.
Y/n froze, still attached to the painting, and slowly turned to see a security guard staring at them with suspicion.
"Is there a problem here?" the guard asked.
"No problem!" Y/n said, their voice climbing an octave. "Just... admiring the... artistic... technique... things."
The guard's eyes narrowed. "Are you touching the artwork?"
"Touching? Me? No, no touching. Just... standing very close. Appreciating the... brushstrokes."
Across the room, Natasha noticed the commotion and started making her way over, but she was trapped behind a group of elderly patrons discussing the merits of postmodern sculpture.
"Listen, I need you to step away from the painting," the guard said firmly.
"I would love to step away," Y/n said, panic creeping into their voice. "Stepping away is actually my favorite thing to do. It's just that..."
"Just what?"
Y/n's mind raced. They couldn't explain that their genetically-enhanced spider-powers had kicked in and they were now basically glued to a fifty-million-dollar painting. But they also couldn't stay stuck there forever.
"I'm having a... spiritual moment?" they tried weakly.
"A what?"
"This painting... it speaks to me. On a deep, artistic level. I can't... I can't tear myself away from its beauty."
The guard looked skeptical, but before he could respond, Natasha appeared at Y/n's side like a guardian angel in designer shoes.
"Darling," she said smoothly, slipping her arm around Y/n's waist. "I've been looking everywhere for you."
"Natasha! Hi! I was just... having a spiritual moment with this painting."
"Of course you were," she said, her smile bright enough to power a small city. She turned to the security guard with the kind of charm that could disarm a nuclear weapon. "I'm so sorry about my partner. They're incredibly passionate about art. Sometimes they get a bit... overwhelmed."
"Ma'am, I need them to step away from the artwork."
"Absolutely," Natasha agreed. She leaned in close to Y/n, pretending to whisper sweet nothings while actually hissing, "Unstick yourself right now or I'm telling Stark about the time you got your web-shooters tangled in the Christmas tree."
The threat of Tony Stark's mockery was enough to snap Y/n out of their panic. They concentrated hard, willing their spider-powers to release their grip on the painting. After a few tense seconds, they managed to unstick themselves without anyone noticing.
"There we go," Natasha said brightly, guiding Y/n away from the painting. "Sometimes they just need a gentle reminder that we have other art to see."
The security guard watched them go with obvious suspicion, but Natasha's performance had been flawless enough that he couldn't really justify stopping them.
"Nice save," Y/n whispered as they made their way back toward the crowd.
"That was the opposite of subtle," Natasha replied under her breath. "What happened to blending in?"
"I got distracted! Those guys were talking about the weapons shipment, and I wanted to hear more, and then I bumped into the painting and-"
"And your spider-powers kicked in and you nearly blew our cover over a Jackson Pollock."
"In my defense, it's a really ugly painting. It looks like someone sneezed paint onto a canvas."
"It's worth fifty million dollars."
"That's a very expensive sneeze."
Natasha stopped walking and turned to face them, her expression a mixture of exasperation and fondness. "You're impossible."
"But you love me anyway," Y/n said hopefully.
"Against all logic and reason, yes." She straightened their bow tie, which had somehow gotten crooked during the painting incident. "Did you at least get useful information before you decided to redecorate priceless artwork?"
"Actually, yeah. Pier seventeen, tomorrow at midnight. Big weapons shipment from overseas, Kozlov's involved, and they're worried about federal interference."
Natasha's eyes lit up. "That's good intel. Really good intel."
"So my almost-art-vandalism was worth it?"
"Let's not go that far," she said, but Y/n could tell she was pleased. "Come on, let's mingle a bit more and then get out of here before you accidentally destroy anything else."
They spent another hour at the gala, with Natasha working her magic on various suspects while Y/n tried their best to look sophisticated and not touch anything. By the time they made it back to the car, Y/n felt like they'd run a marathon.
"How do you do it?" they asked as Natasha started the engine. "All that small talk and fake laughing and pretending to care about art you probably hate?"
"Practice," she said simply. "And it's part of the job. Although I have to admit, having you there made it more... interesting."
"Interesting good or interesting bad?"
"Interesting like watching a car crash in slow motion, but somehow it works out in the end."
Y/n grinned. "I'll take that as a compliment."
"You would."
They drove in comfortable silence for a while, the lights of the city streaming past the windows. Y/n found themselves relaxing for the first time all evening, the familiar weight of Natasha's presence beside them easing the last of their anxiety.
"Hey Nat?" they said eventually.
"Thanks for having my back in there. I know I'm not exactly... smooth when it comes to this stuff."
"You're many things, паучок, but smooth isn't one of them," she agreed. "But you got us valuable intelligence, and you didn't actually break anything, so I'd call tonight a success."
"Even though I almost got us kicked out for molesting a painting?"
"Especially because of that. It was the most entertainment I've had at one of these things in years."
Y/n laughed, feeling the last of their tension drain away. "So what's next? Do we call in the tip about the pier?"
"We do surveillance first, confirm the intel, then coordinate with the team for the takedown," Natasha explained. "But tomorrow night, you're staying home."
"What? Why?"
"Because pier operations involve boats, water, and probably gunfire. That's three of your least favorite things."
"I don't mind boats!"
"You get seasick watching Finding Nemo."
"That's... that's not the same thing."
"Y/n," Natasha said gently, reaching over to take their hand. "You did good tonight. You got us the information we needed, and despite your best efforts to cause chaos, you didn't blow our cover. But tomorrow is going to be a different kind of operation. The kind where your particular skillset might be more liability than asset."
Y/n wanted to argue, but they knew she was right. Stealth operations weren't exactly their strong suit, and the last thing they wanted was to put Natasha or the team in danger because they couldn't resist the urge to web-swing into action.
"Fine," they said eventually. "But I want a full debrief afterward. And if anyone gets hurt—"
"If anyone gets hurt, it won't be because you weren't there," Natasha said firmly. "It'll be because sometimes this job is dangerous, and we all know the risks."
Y/n squeezed her hand. "Just... be careful, okay? I know you're basically invincible, but you're not actually invincible."
"I'll be careful if you promise not to spend the entire evening anxiety-pacing around the compound."
"I make no such promises."
"At least try to keep it to a minimum. You're going to wear a hole in the floor."
They pulled into the compound's garage, and Y/n was already dreading the next evening. It wasn't that they didn't trust Natasha and the team – they were all incredibly capable. It was just that sitting on the sidelines while people they cared about walked into danger went against every instinct they had.
"I can hear you overthinking from here," Natasha said as they walked toward the elevator.
"I'm not overthinking. I'm just... thinking thoroughly."
"Same thing." She hit the button for their floor. "You know, for someone with spider-powers, you worry like a grandma who watches the news too much."
"Hey, Aunt May is a grandma who watches the news too much, and her worrying kept me alive for this many years."
"I’m going to tell Aunt May you called her a grandma."
"Hey!"
The elevator doors opened onto their floor, and they walked toward their room in comfortable silence. Y/n was already mentally preparing for tomorrow's anxiety marathon when Natasha stopped suddenly.
"Actually," she said, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Maybe you should come tomorrow night."
Y/n blinked. "Really? But you just said-"
"I said pier operations aren't your strong suit, and they're not. But having someone with enhanced senses as backup might be useful. And..." She hesitated, which was unusual for her.
"And?"
"And I've gotten used to having you watch my six. It feels weird doing missions without you now."
Y/n's heart did a little flip. "Are you saying you'd miss me?"
"I'm saying I work better when I know you're there," she said simply. "Even if you are a walking disaster."
"I'm your walking disaster."
"Yes," she said, and the fondness in her voice made Y/n's chest tight with affection. "You are."
They reached their room, and as Natasha began the complicated process of getting out of her evening gown, Y/n flopped onto the bed still in their tuxedo.
"So," they said, staring at the ceiling. "Scale of one to ten, how badly did I embarrass myself tonight?"
"Honestly? About a six," Natasha said, unzipping her dress. "The painting incident was bad, but your cover story about having a spiritual moment was actually kind of brilliant."
"I was panicking."
"I know. That's what made it brilliant. No one expects a panicking person to be a spy."
Y/n turned their head to watch her change into pajamas, marveling again at how lucky they were. "I love you, you know that?"
"I know," she said, pulling on one of Y/n's old college t-shirts. "I love you too, even if you do have the subtlety of a brick through a window."
"The most charming brick through a window you've ever met."
"The only brick through a window I've ever dated," she corrected, climbing into bed beside them.
Y/n rolled over to face her, still in their formal wear. "Tomorrow's going to be fine, right?"
"Tomorrow's going to be fine," she confirmed. "We'll go in, get the evidence we need, arrest some bad guys, and be home in time for you to stress-eat ice cream while watching Netflix."
"That sounds perfect."
"It will be," Natasha said, pressing a soft kiss to their forehead. "Now get out of that tux before you wrinkle it beyond repair."
As Y/n reluctantly got up to change clothes, they couldn't help but smile. Tomorrow might bring danger and uncertainty, but tonight they had this – Natasha's quiet confidence, her dry humor, and the comfortable intimacy of sharing space with someone who somehow found their chaos endearing rather than exhausting.
Not bad for a kid from Queens who still sometimes walked into glass doors.
Not bad at all.
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So, what do we think? I actually had a lot of fun writing this. Thank you so much for reading. Again, shoot me a message if you have any ideas! I'm on a break rn and have way too much time on my hands. (Also, check out my Lois Lane fanfic if you want? Writing that gave me a massive headache lol, sorry for a self-plug here.)
summary: Lois Lane isn’t good at relationships. She’s terrified that she’s not enough. Not brave enough, not kind enough, not super enough. She’s spent her whole life being exceptional among humans, but next to Y/N, she feels ordinary. And Lois Lane has never been ordinary - she doesn’t know how to be loved for just being human.
warnings: none. Established Relationship, Angst with Happy Ending, Identity Issues.
notes: saw Superman a few days ago and wanted to write something special. I feel like I'm ranting a lot in this one, but I wanted this to be some kind of a start for more to come? I'd love to hear your suggestions and requests if you have any. Thank you for so much love on my previous fic! Anyways, I'll stop rambling. Happy reading!
Word Count - 3.4k
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The coffee maker hissed in the pre-dawn quiet of Y/N’s apartment, a sound that should have been comforting but instead felt like an accusation. Lois sat at the kitchen counter, laptop open, fingers hovering over keys that might as well have been a confession booth. The cursor blinked mockingly at her in the empty document.
Superman saves the day again, she could write. Local hero prevents catastrophe.
But how do you write about someone you love when you’re not sure you deserve to love them?
Outside, Metropolis slept under a blanket of stars that Y/N could probably count if they wanted to. Hell, they could probably fly up and touch them, bring one back as a souvenir if Lois asked. The thought should have been romantic. Instead, it felt like another reminder of the impossible distance between them - not in space, but in worth.
“You’re up early.” Y/N’s voice was soft with sleep, careful not to startle her. They always did that - moved with deliberate gentleness around her, as if she were made of something more fragile than the steel beams they bent with their bare hands.
Lois didn’t look up from her screen. “Perry’s being Perry.”
It wasn’t entirely a lie. Their editor had been breathing down her neck about the Superman piece, but that wasn’t why she’d been staring at a blank page for two hours. The real story—the one she couldn’t write, couldn’t speak, could barely think - was sitting right behind her, probably seeing the tension in her shoulders with those impossibly perfect eyes.
Y/N moved around the kitchen with practiced quiet, and Lois found herself cataloging every movement. The way they reached for the coffee filters without looking, muscle memory guiding hands that could crush diamonds. The slight tilt of their head as they listened to something she couldn’t hear - probably a cat stuck in a tree three neighborhoods over, or a car accident downtown, or a child crying for their mother in a language Y/N had learned in an afternoon because learning came as easily to them as breathing.
“Mhm.” Y/N set her coffee down, black no sugar, still too hot. They always got the temperature wrong - trying so hard to be normal when they were anything but.
“Thanks.” Another lie about sleeping. She’d spent most of the night watching Y/N, looking for proof they were as human as they claimed. Even unconscious, they were perfect - no snoring, no drooling. Just that faint warmth that always radiated from their skin.
The worst part was that Y/N didn’t even seem to realize how extraordinary they were. They worried about being late to work (as if they couldn’t fly there in seconds). They agonized over which tie to wear (as if anyone would dare criticize Superman’s fashion choices). They asked Lois if she thought they were putting on weight (as if their Kryptonian metabolism would ever allow such a thing).
It was endearing and heartbreaking and completely maddening all at once.
Y/N settled beside her, close enough that she could smell sleep and ozone. “Talk to me.”
“I’m fine.”
“Lois.” That tone - patient but firm, the same one they used with jumpers and hostage takers. “You’ve been weird for weeks.”
Pulling away. What a clinical way to describe the slow-motion disaster of her heart. Because that’s what this was, wasn’t it? The inevitable conclusion to every relationship she’d ever attempted, except this time the stakes weren’t just her pride or her comfort. This time, the person she was going to hurt was literally the best person in the world.
The thought made her stomach clench. She’d broken up with good people before - decent, kind, normal partners who deserved better than her sharp edges and trust issues. But Y/N wasn’t just good. They were good good. They were the person children drew pictures of, the person who made hardened cynics believe in heroes again, the person who had never once used their godlike power for personal gain.
And they were going to let her break their heart because they thought she was worth it.
“I’m not-“ She started to deny it, but Y/N’s expression stopped her. Not disappointed, not angry. Just…understanding. That was somehow worse.
“I know you,” Y/N said quietly. “I know when you’re building walls.”
The problem was, they did know her. Better than anyone had ever bothered to try. Y/N knew that she took her coffee black because she’d grown up poor and sugar was a luxury. They knew she checked the locks twice because her father had drilled paranoia into her bones. They knew she worked late because stillness felt too much like giving up.
Y/N knew all of this and somehow still chose to love her. It defied logic.
“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.” The words came out sharper than intended.
Lois stared into her coffee, watching the surface ripple with each breath. The apartment was so quiet she could hear the hum of the refrigerator, the distant sound of traffic beginning to build as the city woke up. Normal sounds for a normal morning, except nothing about this was normal.
How do you explain to someone who saves the world before breakfast that you feel like a fraud sitting next to them? How do you tell someone who chose to love humanity that you’re not sure you deserve to be part of it?
“You saved a cat yesterday.”
“…Okay?”
“From a burning building. Without thinking about it.”
Y/N frowned. “So?”
“I wouldn’t have.” The admission scraped her throat raw. “I would’ve thought about the risk, about whether it was worth it, about what people would say if Superman died saving a cat.”
“Lois-“
“I’m not good at this. At us. I’m selfish and I think too much and I-” She stood, needing space. “I’m ordinary.”
The word hung between them like a confession.
She walked to the window. “While you were stopping that tsunami in Japan, I wrote about mayoral corruption. And I was proud of it. Proud of my little exposé while you were saving thousands.”
“That’s not-“
“It is.” Her breath fogged the glass. “I used to be special. The reporter who got impossible stories. But next to you? I’m just another person who needs saving.”
She pressed her forehead against the cool window. “I can’t even help you. When you’re hurt, I can’t heal you. When you’re sad, I can’t fly you somewhere better. I bring you tea and rub your shoulders like some… like a pet trying to comfort its owner. Well-meaning but ultimately useless.”
The silence stretched between them, and Lois closed her eyes, waiting for Y/N to finally realize what she’d been trying to tell them. That she wasn’t worth this. That they deserved someone as extraordinary as they were, someone who could stand beside them as an equal rather than always looking up from the ground.
“Remember when we first met? At that construction site?”
She did. She’d been investigating safety violations when the scaffolding collapsed. Y/N had caught the falling steel, but instead of flying away, they’d stayed. Helped workers gather tools, listened to concerns, asked good questions.
Later, they’d approached her. “You’re Lois Lane. I read your water contamination series.”
She’d been surprised. “You read my stuff?” Lois had been surprised. Superman reading her articles seemed as likely as the Pope following her on Twitter.
“Brilliant work. You probably saved more lives than I do most weeks.”
“Right.” She’d laughed, thinking they were being polite.
But Y/N had been serious. “I catch falling planes, but I can’t fix systemic problems. I can’t change minds or give people information to make better choices. I save someone from a building, but you? You prevent the fire.”
“Nice thought. But people still get sick. Workers still get hurt. I write about problems, I don’t solve them.”
“Neither do I.” Something raw in Y/N’s voice made her turn. They looked smaller somehow, shoulders slumped. “You know how many disasters I prevent that were caused by stuff you wrote about? How many accidents I stop that your reporting could’ve prevented?”
They moved closer. “You think I save people? I catch them after they fall. You try to fix the ground before they slip.”
“But I fail. All the time. Stories I can’t break, sources who won’t talk, editors killing pieces. When you fail, it’s because something was impossible. When I fail, it’s because I’m not good enough.”
“You think I don’t fail?” Y/N sounded incredulous. “Every person I don’t save, every disaster I can’t prevent, every problem too big for punching. I fail every day. The difference is mine make the news.”
They took another step closer. “Do you know what I was doing before I met you? Just… existing. Flying around, stopping the obvious disasters, then going home to an empty apartment to feel guilty about everything I wasn’t doing. I was Superman, but I wasn’t really living.”
Lois wanted to argue, to point out that Y/N had been saving lives and giving people hope, but they continued before she could speak.
“You taught me how to see the stories behind the headlines. How to understand that the building collapse wasn’t just an accident - it was part of a pattern of negligence and greed. You taught me that catching the falling debris was just the beginning, that the real work was understanding why it fell in the first place.”
“Y/N-”
“Not done.” Gentle but firm. “You want ordinary? Ordinary walks past suffering because it’s not their job. Ordinary accepts corruption because fighting’s too hard. Ordinary gives up when it gets complicated.”
They were close enough to touch now. “You’ve never done any of that. You see injustice and you fight it with just your brain and your stubbornness and your complete refusal to let bad people win. No powers, no heat vision, no flying. But you have something I’ll never have - you chose to be good.”
Tears threatened. “That’s just being human.”
Exactly." Y/N's voice was so soft, so certain. "Do you have any idea what it's like to be me? To know you could solve most of the world's problems with enough time and effort, but also know that doing so would rob humanity of the chance to solve them themselves? To love people but never be sure if they love you back or just the idea of what you represent?
Y/N touched her hand, fingers warm and slightly calloused. “You love me when I’m clumsy with coffee. When I get excited about dogs. When I spend forever picking identical shirts because I don’t want to accidentally influence someone’s day. You love who I am when I take off the cape.”
“But I can’t save people. Can’t fly or-”
“You save me. Every day.”
“I don’t understand.”
Y/N was quiet for a moment, and Lois could practically see them searching for the right words. They did this sometimes - paused to consider their response with the same care they used when defusing bombs or talking down hostage situations.
“Remember when I told you who I really was?” Y/N asked.
Of course she remembered. Six weeks in. She’d been getting suspicious - Y/N’s weird hours, convenient excuses, never getting sick. She’d been prepared for cheating or witness protection. Not for them to take off their glasses and suddenly look exactly like Superman.
“I was terrified. Not of telling you, but of what happened after. Everyone else treated me differently. Like I was glass, or too important for normal things, or like I owed them something.”
Y/N squeezed her hand. “But you looked at me and said, ‘Well, that explains the bad lying.’ Then asked if I wanted more wine.”
She remembered. Shocked, but mostly relieved. All Y/N’s weird behavior finally made sense.
“You treated me exactly the same. Still argued about movies, still stole my fries, still made fun of my jokes. You saw Superman and chose to love me.”
“Because that’s who you are. The suit doesn’t change your personality.”
“Exactly.” Y/N’s smile was crooked, uncertain, wonderfully human. “Everyone sees powers first, person second. You’ve always seen it backwards.”
“That’s just-”
“Love. Real love. Not based on what someone can do for you or how they make you look. You love me for who I am, not what I am. You know how rare that is?”
The tears spilled over. “But I’m not enough. Can’t keep up, can’t contribute. I’m just normal.”
“Oh, Lois.” So gentle. “You don’t get it.”
“Get what?”
“You’re not dating Superman. You’re dating me, Y/N Kent.”
The words hit like a punch. She stared.
“Superman’s what I do, not who I am. Who I am is someone from Kansas who calls their parents every Sunday, cries at dog movies, gets nervous before interviews at the Planet. Who I am loves a brilliant reporter who sees the best in people when they can’t see it in themselves.”
Y/N cupped her face, thumbs wiping tears. “Superman dates Lois Lane, famous reporter, award winner. But Y/N Kent loves Lois - just Lois - who leaves coffee rings on my table and steals my hoodies and yells at cooking shows.”
“I do steal your hoodies.”
“I know. I buy them in colors you’ll like.”
She laughed despite the tears. “Manipulative.”
“Learned from the best. You manipulate sources into truth, I manipulate my girlfriend into wearing my clothes.”
“I’m not your girlfriend.” The words slipped out, and she immediately regretted them.
Y/N’s face flickered with hurt. “What are we then?”
Fair question. Three months, keys to apartments, meeting parents. Martha Kent had definitely not bought the “friend from work” thing.
“I don’t know. Something more. Something scarier.”
“Good. If it wasn’t scary, it wouldn’t be worth it.”
They leaned forward, foreheads touching. Close enough to count eyelashes, to feel their heartbeat.
“I don’t know how to do this. How to love someone who could have anyone.”
“You think I could have anyone?”
“You’re Superman.”
“Superman could have anyone. But Superman isn’t real. People love the symbol, the idea. They don’t love Superman’s bad movie taste or how Superman leaves dishes in the sink.”
Y/N pulled back slightly. “You’re the only person who’s ever loved all of me. The world-saving parts and the forget-to-take-out-trash parts. You make me feel like I don’t have to choose between being Superman and being myself.”
“But what if I mess this up?” The words tumbled out before Lois could stop them. “What if I get jealous of your work, or tired of sharing you with the world, or resentful that I can’t help you the way you deserve? What if I hurt you the way everyone else has?”
“Then we’ll figure it out,” Y/N said simply. “Together. That’s what people do when they love each other-they figure it out.”
“People, yes. But I’m not sure this counts as a normal relationship.”
“Good thing I’m not looking for normal.” Y/N’s smile was soft, almost shy. “I’m looking for you. Stubborn, brilliant, impossible you, who argues with me about everything and makes me laugh and sees through all my careful disguises.”
Outside, Metropolis was fully awake now-car horns and construction noise and the endless bustle of eight million people starting their day. Soon, the city would need Superman. The police scanner on Y/N’s kitchen counter would crackle to life with reports of accidents and emergencies and disasters that required superhuman intervention.
But right now, in the quiet of their kitchen, Y/N Kent was exactly where they wanted to be.
And maybe, Lois thought as she leaned into their warmth, that was enough. Maybe she was enough.
Maybe ordinary was exactly what a hero needed to come home to.
“I love you,” she said, the words feeling both enormous and inevitable. “I love you, and it terrifies me, and I’m probably going to be terrible at this, but I love you.”
“I love you too,” Y/N replied, and their voice was steady, certain. “All of you. The parts that shine and the parts that doubt themselves and everything in between.”
“Even when I’m being neurotic and insecure?”
“Especially then. Because that’s when you need love the most.”
Lois felt something settle in her chest, a knot of tension she’d been carrying for weeks finally beginning to loosen. She wasn’t fixed - the insecurities were still there, the fear that she wasn’t enough would probably always lurk in the corners of her mind. But for the first time, she could imagine learning to live with those feelings instead of being ruled by them.
“I have to go soon,” Y/N said reluctantly, nodding toward the police scanner. “There’s a situation developing downtown.”
“I know.” And she did know. She could see it in the subtle shift of Y/N’s posture, the way their head tilted slightly as they listened to something only they could hear. “Go save the world. I’ll be here when you get back.”
“Promise?”
The question was casual, but Lois heard the real worry underneath it. Y/N had been abandoned before, had come home to empty apartments and Dear John letters and the kind of betrayal that left scars.
“Promise,” she said firmly. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Y/N kissed her then, soft and sweet and full of relief. When they pulled away, Lois could see Y/N Kent fading as Superman took their place - subtle changes in posture and expression that transformed her awkward, coffee-making partner into the symbol of hope the world needed.
But underneath it all, they were still Y/N. Still the person who worried about getting her coffee temperature right, who left little notes in her lunch bag, who had learned to love her exactly as she was.
“Be careful,” Lois said, straightening Y/N’s tie with practiced ease.
“Always am.”
“Liar.”
Y/N grinned, and for a moment they were just themselves again. “I love you too, Lois Lane.”
And then they were gone, a blur of red and blue disappearing through the window toward whatever crisis awaited them. Lois watched until they were just a speck against the morning sky, then turned back to her laptop.
The cursor was still blinking in the empty document, but now she knew what to write. Not about Superman’s latest rescue or the city’s gratitude, but about the courage it takes to be human in a world that demands heroes. About learning to love yourself through someone else’s eyes. About being enough, exactly as you are.
She began to type:
Superman saves the day again. But this isn’t a story about Superman - it’s a story about the rest of us. About what it means to be ordinary in an extraordinary world, and why that might be the most super thing of all…
The words flowed easily now, her fingers flying across the keys as she wrote about heroism and humanity, about the power of choosing to care in a world that often rewarded indifference. She wrote about love that transcended power and status, about finding worth in being rather than doing.
She wrote about learning that sometimes the most extraordinary thing you can do is simply be yourself.
Hours later, when Y/N returned home with soot in their hair and gratitude in their eyes, they found Lois exactly where they’d left her-at the kitchen counter, typing furiously, completely absorbed in her work.
“How did it go?” she asked without looking up.
“Good. Everyone’s safe.” Y/N moved behind her, reading over her shoulder. “What are you working on?”
“A love story,” Lois said, finally meeting their eyes. “About a reporter who learns that being human is enough.”
Y/N smiled, that perfect imperfect smile that was entirely their own. “Sounds like a hell of a story.”
“It is,” Lois agreed, reaching up to touch their face. “Want to help me write the ending?”
“I thought you said you weren’t good at relationships.”
“I’m not,” Lois admitted. “But I’m good at learning. And I have an excellent teacher.”
Outside, Metropolis hummed with life and possibility, a city full of ordinary people doing extraordinary things in small, human ways. And in a kitchen filled with morning light and the promise of forever, two people who had found each other across impossible odds settled in to figure out what came next.
Together.
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This was inspired by the idea that sometimes the hardest person to save is yourself, and sometimes the most super thing you can do is just be human. The real strength isn't in powers or abilities, but in choosing to love and be loved despite all our fears and insecurities.
Thank you for reading! Again, I'm sorry if this came off more as a ramble rather than a self-insert fanfic, but as I already said, if you have any specific requests, please shoot me a message! I'd love to interact with you guys.
3 AM and Other Bad Decisions - Natasha Romanoff x Spider-Man!Reader
summary: When insomnia strikes Queens’ favorite web-slinger at 3 AM, they turn to video games for comfort-only to discover their deadly assassin girlfriend is inexplicably better at Spider-Man than the actual Spider-Man. Turns out the best cure for overthinking isn’t counting sheep- it’s being roasted by a Russian spy who somehow makes emotional vulnerability feel like the most natural thing in the world.
warnings: none. Reader is an insomniac; just fluff; maybe(?) hurt/comfort but not really; 3 AM conversations.
notes: We’re literally Spider-Man(!); Not set in a specific timeline. Gender Neutral reader. I apologize for any mistakes or errors. Happy reading!
Word Count-2.3k
-•-•-•-•-•-
The compound was eerily quiet at 2:47 AM, save for the distant hum of FRIDAY’s systems and the occasional creak of the building settling. Y/n Parker stared at the ceiling of their shared room, counting the faint patterns in the shadows cast by the moonlight filtering through the blinds. One sheep, two sheep, three sheep… nope, still wide awake.
It had been three years since the spider bite changed everything, and yet insomnia still hit them like a freight train some nights. Tonight was one of those nights where their enhanced senses seemed to pick up every little sound, every shift in air pressure, every distant car horn from the city below. Their mind raced with tomorrow’s training schedule, the physics assignment they’d forgotten about (again), and whether Aunt May would remember to take her vitamins.
Beside them, Natasha Romanoff slept with the practiced stillness of a trained assassin – which, of course, she was. Even in sleep, she looked poised and elegant, her red hair spread across the pillow like spilled wine. It still amazed Y/n that this incredible, terrifying, beautiful woman had somehow chosen to be with them. The awkward person from Queens who still got tongue-tied ordering pizza over the phone.
After another twenty minutes of unsuccessful sheep-counting, Y/n carefully extracted themselves from the bed with spider-enhanced stealth. They grabbed their PS5 controller from the nightstand, moving with the fluid grace that came naturally now, though they still occasionally walked into glass doors when distracted.
Settling cross-legged on the floor at the foot of the bed, Y/n powered on the console, immediately diving into the settings to mute everything. The last thing they wanted was to wake up their girlfriend with the sounds of Miles Morales: Spider-Man. The irony wasn’t lost on them.
The familiar web-slinging mechanics were oddly soothing, even if the game’s version of spider-powers was laughably inaccurate. Y/n found themselves unconsciously mimicking the hand movements, their enhanced reflexes making the virtual web-slinging look effortless.
“Your form is terrible,” came a low, amused voice from behind them.
Y/n’s entire body went rigid, the controller nearly flying from their hands as they felt warm fingers touch their bare shoulder. Their spider-sense hadn’t even twitched – a testament to how comfortable they’d become around Natasha, even when she was in full stealth mode.
“Jesus, Nat,” Y/n whispered, their voice cracking slightly. “How long have you been awake?”
“Since you started your impression of a baby giraffe trying to get out of bed,” Natasha replied, her voice thick with sleep but tinged with amusement. She slid down from the bed to sit beside them, wearing one of Y/n’s oversized MIT t-shirts that somehow looked better on her than it ever had on them.
Y/n paused the game, turning to face her with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I tried to be quiet. I know you need your sleep and—”
“Паучок,” Natasha interrupted, using the Russian pet name that never failed to make Y/n’s heart skip. “I’m a light sleeper by training, not choice. You breathing differently is enough to wake me up.”
“That’s… actually kind of concerning from a relationship standpoint,” Y/n said, attempting humor to deflect from their embarrassment. “What happens when I develop a deviated septum? Will you dump me?”
Natasha’s lips quirked upward – not quite a smile, but close enough to count as a victory in Y/n’s book. “I’ll consider it,” she deadpanned, then added more softly, “How long have you been up?”
Y/n glanced at the clock on the console. “About an hour? Maybe more. I couldn’t turn my brain off.” They gestured vaguely at their head, as if their thoughts were visible. “You know how it gets.”
Natasha did know. She’d been there through enough of these episodes to recognize the signs: the subtle tension in Y/n’s shoulders, the way their enhanced hearing seemed to pick up every tiny sound, the restless energy that came from a body that was designed to move but forced to be still.
“Scoot over,” she said, settling beside them on the floor.
“Nat, you should go back to bed. You have that meeting with Fury in the morning, and I know how cranky you get when you don’t get enough sleep. Remember last week when you threatened to poison Stark’s coffee because he made a joke about your hair?”
“I wasn’t going to actually poison it,” Natasha said, though her tone suggested she’d at least considered it. “Maybe just add some mild laxatives.”
“See? Cranky,” Y/n said, but they were smiling now. “Besides, this is probably boring for you. It’s just me being terrible at a video game.”
Natasha raised an eyebrow. “You’re playing a Spider-Man game while being Spider-Man. That’s not boring, that’s recursive.”
“Is that what we’re calling it?” Natasha leaned against their shoulder, and Y/n felt some of the tension leave their body at the contact. “Show me what you’re doing wrong.”
“Hey!” Y/n protested, but they unpaused the game. “I’m not doing anything wrong. The game just has unrealistic expectations for web-slinging physics.”
They launched Miles into a swing, the character arcing gracefully between buildings. Natasha watched with the same intense focus she brought to mission briefings.
“You don’t move like that,” she observed.
“What do you mean?”
“When you’re actually web-slinging, you’re more…” She gestured with her hands, trying to find the words. “Chaotic. Like you’re always slightly surprised that it’s working.”
Y/n paused the game to stare at her. “I am not chaotic. I’m… improvisational.”
“Last week you got so excited about a ‘sick trick’ that you forgot to let go of the web and swung straight into a billboard.”
“That billboard came out of nowhere!”
“It was advertising the new Spider-Man movie. It had your picture on it.”
Y/n groaned, hiding their face in their hands. “Don’t remind me. Do you know how weird it is to accidentally swing into your own face?”
Natasha’s quiet laughter was like music. It was rare and precious, these moments when her carefully constructed walls came down and she was just… herself. Not the Black Widow, not the world’s most dangerous assassin, just Natasha, sitting on the floor in an oversized t-shirt, making fun of her partner’s superhero mishaps.
“Here,” she said, taking the controller from their hands. “Let me try.”
“You want to play Spider-Man?” Y/n asked, surprised. Natasha wasn’t much of a gamer, preferring more… physical activities.
“I want to see if I can do better than someone with actual spider-powers.”
“Oh, it’s on,” Y/n said, their competitive streak flaring to life. “But fair warning, I’ve beaten this game like six times.”
“And yet you’re still terrible at it,” Natasha replied sweetly.
Y/n watched as she took control, her fingers moving over the buttons with the same precise efficiency she brought to everything else. Within minutes, she had Miles performing combos that Y/n hadn’t even known were possible.
“Okay, that’s just showing off,” Y/n muttered.
“I don’t show off,” Natasha said, executing a perfect aerial takedown. “I simply excel.”
“Same thing.”
“No, showing off implies I’m trying to impress someone.” She glanced at them sideways. “I don’t need to try to impress you, паучок. You’re already stupidly in love with me.”
Y/n felt their cheeks burn. Even after all this time, Natasha’s casual confidence still made their brain short-circuit. “I… that’s… you can’t just say things like that.”
“Why not? It’s true.” She paused the game and turned to face them fully. “You get this little crease right here when you’re trying not to smile,” she said, touching the spot between Y/n’s eyebrows. “And your heart rate just increased by approximately fifteen beats per minute.”
“Enhanced hearing is so unfair,” Y/n grumbled. “I can’t hide anything from you.”
“Good,” Natasha said simply. “I don’t want you to hide from me.”
The weight of that statement settled between them. Y/n knew what she meant – in Natasha’s world, hiding was survival. The fact that she wanted transparency with them, that she felt safe enough to sleep next to someone who could wake up to every shift and sigh, was bigger than any grand romantic gesture.
“Can’t sleep?” Natasha asked, her voice gentler now.
Y/n shook their head. “Brain won’t shut up. I keep thinking about… everything. Tomorrow’s training with Cap, whether I remembered to submit that lab report, if I said something weird to MJ earlier…” They trailed off, realizing how ridiculous it sounded.
“You spent twenty minutes last week convinced that Aunt May was mad at you because she signed a text message with ‘Love, Aunt May’ instead of just ‘Love you.’”
“The comma placement was very formal!” Y/n protested. “It implied emotional distance!”
Natasha looked at them with fond exasperation. “Your brain is exhausting. How do you live with it?”
“Lots of video games and anxiety, apparently.”
“Come here,” Natasha said, setting the controller aside.
“We’re already sitting next to each other.”
“Closer.”
Y/n shifted until they were pressed against her side, automatically relaxing into the familiar warmth. Natasha’s fingers found their hair, beginning to card through the dark strands with practiced ease.
“Better?” she asked.
“Mmm.” Y/n’s eyes were already starting to droop. There was something about Natasha’s touch that seemed to flip a switch in their brain, quieting the endless chatter of thoughts and worries.
“You know,” Natasha said quietly, “when I first met you, I thought you were going to get yourself killed within a week.”
“Gee, thanks. Really building up my confidence here.”
“I’m serious. You were so… earnest. Throwing yourself into danger without a second thought, just because it was the right thing to do. It was either admirable or suicidal, and I hadn’t decided which.”
Y/n tilted their head to look at her. “And now?”
“Now I know it’s both,” she said with a slight smile. “But that’s what makes you… you. You care about everyone, sometimes to your own detriment. You see the good in people, even when they can’t see it themselves.”
“Is this your way of telling me I’m naive?”
“No,” Natasha said, her voice serious. “It’s my way of telling you why I…” She paused, and Y/n could practically see her wrestling with the words. Emotional vulnerability wasn’t exactly in the Black Widow handbook.
“Why you what?” Y/n pressed gently.
“Why I don’t want to imagine a world without you in it,” she finished quietly.
Y/n’s breath caught. They’d been together for over a year, but Natasha’s expressions of affection were usually more subtle – a hand on their shoulder during a mission brief, remembering how they liked their coffee, staying awake to make sure they got home safe after patrol.
“Nat…” they started, but she shook her head.
“Don’t make it weird, Parker.”
“I wasn’t going to make it weird! I was going to say something equally sappy and heartfelt.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“I was going to tell you that you’re the reason I don’t feel like I’m drowning in all of this anymore,” Y/n said, ignoring her protest. “That having you here makes everything feel… manageable.”
Natasha’s fingers stilled in their hair. “I told you not to make it weird.”
“Too late. We’re in full weird territory now.” Y/n grinned up at her. “Face it, Romanoff, you’re stuck with Queens’ most emotionally available superhero.”
“Lucky me,” she said dryly, but Y/n caught the fond smile she was trying to hide.
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, Y/n’s head resting against Natasha’s shoulder as she continued playing the game one-handed, her other hand still stroking their hair. The familiar sounds of the game mixed with the steady rhythm of her breathing, creating a oddly soothing soundtrack.
“Nat?” Y/n said eventually, their voice muffled against her shoulder.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For not making me feel broken when stuff like this happens. For just… being here.”
Natasha’s hand paused in their hair for a moment before resuming its gentle movement. “We’re all a little broken, паучок. The trick is finding someone whose broken pieces fit with yours.”
“That’s surprisingly philosophical for 3 AM.”
“I’m full of surprises.”
“Yeah, you are,” Y/n said, and they meant it. Every day with Natasha brought some new revelation – that she secretly enjoyed terrible reality TV, that she made excellent pancakes, that she hummed old Russian lullabies when she thought no one was listening.
Y/n’s eyes were getting heavy now, the combination of Natasha’s warmth, her fingers in their hair, and the late hour finally winning the battle against their overactive mind.
“Feeling sleepy?” Natasha asked, noticing their breathing had evened out.
“Maybe a little,” Y/n admitted.
“Come on then.” She set the controller aside and stood, offering them a hand up.
“We should probably save the game first,” Y/n said, but they were already reaching for her hand.
“FRIDAY can handle it,” Natasha said, pulling them to their feet.
They climbed back into bed, Y/n immediately gravitating toward Natasha’s side of the mattress like a moth to a flame. She rolled her eyes but lifted her arm, allowing them to curl up against her chest.
“Love you too, you ridiculous spider,” she replied softly, pressing a kiss to the top of their head.
As Y/n drifted off to sleep, they could hear Natasha’s heartbeat steady and strong beneath their ear, and for the first time in days, their mind finally went quiet. Whatever tomorrow brought – training sessions, homework, superhero duties, or Fury’s impossible missions – they’d face it together.
And if Y/n had another sleepless night, well, at least they knew Natasha would be there to sit on the floor and be inexplicably better at their video games than them.
Some things never changed.
But some things, Y/n thought drowsily, were perfect exactly as they were.
-•-•-•-•-•-
Thanks for reading! If you guys have any suggestions or requests, shoot me a message. (Second part of the series is also out!)
summary: What starts as a simple dinner with the remnants of Team 7 turns into an emotional breakthrough when Y/N can no longer hide their feelings for the blonde they’ve been secretly pining after since childhood. Sometimes the biggest battles aren’t fought with jutsu - sometimes they’re fought in your own heart.
notes: Reader is Sasuke’s twin, member of Team 7, and a Police Force captain. Gender Neutral reader. I apologize for any mistakes or errors.
Word Count: 1,4k
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The familiar sizzle of meat on the grill filled the air at Yakiniku Q, accompanied by the comfortable chatter of old teammates catching up. Y/N sat rigidly in their seat, dark eyes focused intently on the grilling meat as if it held the secrets of the universe. Across from them, Naruto was animatedly recounting a mission gone wrong, complete with exaggerated hand gestures that nearly knocked over his drink.
“—and then the cat literally launched itself at my face! I’m telling you, that thing had it out for me specifically!” Naruto laughed, his blue eyes sparkling with mirth.
Sakura giggled, skillfully flipping the meat with practiced ease. “That’s what you get for trying to use shadow clones to catch it, you idiot. Cats can sense these things.”
Y/N allowed themselves a small smile at their teammates’ banter. It felt good to be here like this, almost like the old days when they were just kids with impossible dreams. Almost. The empty space where Sasuke should have been sitting was a constant reminder that some things had changed irrevocably.
“Hey, Y/N,” Naruto suddenly turned their attention to the quiet Uchiha. “You’re being even more mysterious than usual. What’s eating at you?”
Before Y/N could deflect with their usual non-answer, the restaurant door chimed, and their blood froze. That laugh—light and melodious—cut through the ambient noise like a kunai through silk. They didn’t need to look up to know who had just entered.
“Oh, look who’s here!” Sakura’s voice held a note of barely contained glee.
Y/N’s grip tightened imperceptibly on their chopsticks as Ino Yamanaka made her way over to their table, her platinum blonde hair catching the warm light of the restaurant. She moved with the confidence of someone who owned every room they entered, and Y/N found themselves helplessly tracking every step.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Team Seven!” Ino’s voice was warm honey, and Y/N felt their resolve crumbling already. “Mind if I join you guys? I just finished a brutal day at the shop.”
“Of course! Sit, sit!” Naruto practically bounced in his seat, shooting a not-so-subtle glance at Y/N, who had suddenly become very interested in the grain of the wooden table.
Ino slid into the booth next to Y/N, close enough that they could smell her perfume—something floral and intoxicating that made their head spin. “Hey there, stranger,” she said softly, bumping their shoulder with hers. “Long time no see.”
Y/N’s throat felt like sandpaper. “Ino.” The greeting came out rougher than intended, almost a whisper.
“Aww, what’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” Ino teased, leaning slightly closer. “You know, you’ve been avoiding me lately. I’m starting to think I did something wrong.”
The accusation, though playful, hit too close to home. Y/N had been avoiding her—desperately so. Ever since they’d all grown up, ever since Ino had somehow become even more beautiful, more confident, more everything that made Y/N’s carefully constructed walls crumble.
“I haven’t been—” Y/N started, but the words died as Ino’s azure eyes met theirs directly. Those eyes that had haunted their dreams since they were children, now filled with something Y/N was too terrified to name.
“Oh, this is getting good,” Naruto whispered to Sakura, not nearly as quietly as he thought.
Sakura kicked him under the table but couldn’t hide her own amused smile. “So, Ino, how’s the flower shop been? And the T&I department?”
“Busy as always,” Ino replied, though her attention remained fixed on Y/N. “Though I have to say, police work must be exhausting. Y/N looks like they haven’t slept in days.”
Without warning, Ino reached up and gently traced the stress lines under Y/N’s eyes—the ones that had deepened over the years, making them look so much like Itachi it sometimes hurt to look in the mirror. The touch was feather-light, but it might as well have been lightning for how it affected Y/N.
“You need to take better care of yourself,” Ino murmured, her voice taking on that gentle, caring tone that always undid Y/N completely.
Y/N jerked back as if burned, their chair scraping against the floor. “I’m fine,” they managed, voice strained. “Just… work.”
The hurt that flashed across Ino’s features was quickly masked, but Y/N caught it. They always caught everything about her—it was part of the problem.
“Right,” Ino said, her tone carefully neutral now. “Work.”
An uncomfortable silence fell over the table, broken only by the continued sizzling of the forgotten meat. Naruto and Sakura exchanged glances, both clearly torn between amusement and concern for their obviously struggling teammate.
“So!” Naruto said with forced cheer, “Ino, are you dating anyone these days?”
If Y/N’s grip on their chopsticks got any tighter, they were going to snap. Ino noticed—of course she noticed—and something calculating flickered in her eyes.
“Not at the moment,” she said casually, though there was something pointed about the way she said it. “I’ve had my eye on someone for a while, but they’re being frustratingly dense about it.”
Y/N’s heart hammered against their ribs. They could feel Ino’s gaze on them like a physical thing, but they couldn’t bring themselves to look up from their plate.
“Oh really?” Sakura leaned forward, playing along with whatever game Ino was starting. “Anyone we know?”
“Mmm, maybe,” Ino hummed, and Y/N could hear the smile in her voice. “Tall, dark, and brooding. Has a tendency to run away when things get emotional. Ring any bells?”
Y/N’s face felt like it was on fire. They stood abruptly, nearly knocking over their chair in the process. “I should go. Early shift tomorrow.”
“Y/N, wait—” Ino started, but they were already walking away, leaving money on the table without looking back.
They made it three blocks before Ino caught up to them, slightly out of breath but determined.
“Okay, enough,” she said, grabbing Y/N’s arm and forcing them to stop. “What is going on with you? And don’t you dare say ‘nothing’ because we both know that’s bullshit.”
Y/N stared down at her, taking in her flushed cheeks and determined expression. In the soft light of the street lamps, she looked almost ethereal, and Y/N felt their carefully maintained composure finally crack.
“You want to know what’s wrong?” The words came out harsher than intended. “You are. You’re what’s wrong.”
Ino’s eyes widened, but before she could respond, Y/N continued, the words tumbling out like a dam had burst.
“You walk into a room and suddenly I can’t think straight. You touch me and I forget how to breathe. You smile at me and I want to give you everything I have, everything I am, and that terrifies me because I can’t—” They stopped abruptly, horrified by how much they’d revealed.
Y/N looked away, jaw clenched. “I can’t lose someone else I care about. I won’t survive it.”
The admission hung in the air between them, heavy with years of unspoken truth. Ino was quiet for a long moment, and Y/N prepared themselves for rejection, for her to finally understand why they’d been pulling away.
Instead, she laughed—not mockingly, but with something like relief.
“You absolute idiot,” she said fondly, reaching up to cup their face and force them to meet her eyes. “Do you really think I’m going anywhere? Do you think I’ve spent all these years waiting for you to notice me just to give up now?”
Y/N’s breath caught. “Waiting for me?”
“Since we were kids,” Ino confirmed, her thumb stroking along their cheekbone. “Since you defended me from those bullies when we were eight. Since you stayed with me when my father died. Since you’ve been quietly taking care of everyone around you while thinking no one notices.”
“Ino…” Y/N’s voice was barely a whisper.
“I love you, you gorgeous, emotionally constipated disaster,” she said with a watery laugh. “And if you think I’m letting you run away from this, from us, you’re even denser than Naruto.”
For a moment, Y/N just stared at her, unable to process that this was really happening. Then, slowly, carefully, as if she might disappear if they moved too quickly, they leaned down and kissed her.
It was soft and tentative at first, years of longing condensed into the gentle press of lips. But when Ino responded, threading her fingers through their dark hair and pulling them closer, Y/N felt something inside them finally click into place.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Ino smiled up at them with that radiant expression that had been haunting Y/N’s dreams for years.
“There’s my Uchiha,” she whispered. “Welcome back.”
And for the first time in longer than they could remember, Y/N felt like they were truly home.
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Thanks for reading! If anyone perhaps wants a part 2? More details? Flashbacks? Let me know! If you have any other requests, I’ll try to write them too.
