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a ball of sunshine

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o k a y

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DIANA / lassotruth

   it was a miracle.  A TRUE MIRACLE.  she had thought he was gone,  that she had lost him.  for good.  that steve trevor was  DEAD.  the heartache was too much for her to handle,  the pain deep in her chest,  the tears that stained her cheeks,  she wanted to punch and punch,  make her knuckles BLEED as she punched the nearest surface.  she could’ve done something.  ANYTHING.  there had to be something she could do to save him.  to bring him back.   it was then,  sameer’s voice through the smoke and fire,  called out to her.  barely able to make his sentence out in full.  but she heard enough.  ENOUGH to have her running.

   IT’S STEVE.   IT’S STEVE.  she heard,  over and over again.  like ringing alarms.  and she was running faster than she ever had before.  diana prince ran,  she ran.  until she saw him,  on the ground,  but he was there.  he was there and he was  ALIVE.   she falls to her knees, but scrambles towards him.  leaning over him like she had once done only a few days prior,  but expect a greeting smile upon her face.  there was a look of worry and relief.  worry that he wasn’t going to be  okay.  that she was about to lose him all over again.  but the relief that he was  HERE.  with the hope he may stay.

   a hand upon his cheek,  softly rubbing at the hurt skin.  his eyes opening was enough for her to sit up,  hoping to greet him as soon as he could see.   ❛ steve — ❜   and with his name escaping her lips,  diana sighed with relief,  dropping her head closer to his,  her breathing heavy,  using all her strength to hold back the tears that wanted to escape.   did he win? he asks.  yes we did.  because of you.  BECAUSE OF US.  she wanted to reply.   ❛ we won… ❜   her answer was soft,  but enough.   there was no need to get into details,  not when they could have all the TIME in the world.   ❛ we— we won. ❜ 

                        EVERYTHING ACHES  ---------  the past ten minutes a blur to a tired mind,  a mix of fire and noise and diana calling out his name.    the concept of being ALIVE is one he cannot quite grasp, not when moments before he was shooting through the sky, ready to blow up the whole damn plane to pieces and, regrettably, himself along with it.        it’s only in diana’s presence that he becomes viscerally aware of the fleeting nature of his mortalhood, oh the manner in which he can bend and break.     to be loved by a GODDESS  :  it is a gift,  holy ambrosia to the lips of the thirsty,   or is it a curse  ??  there is time for that line of thought yet  ;  for now, he only looks up into her eyes, DROWNS,  smiles. 

                                 “  can’t get rid of me so easily, darlin’  -------  ”   a quirk of his brow, he attempts to stand up but the jolt of pain through his side keeps him pinned to the rubble.   assuming he had fallen from such a grand height  (  ASSUMING DIVINE INTERVENTION  )  the fact that he probably has a couple fractured ribs and broken bones should be obvious, but it’s a sign that he is ALIVE,  that he is with her  &&  he would take a thousand broken bones for that.

                             so instead he raises one trembling hand to her cheek, brushes a calloused thumb down the prominent cheekbone.  there are so many things he wishes to tell her  ---  how he is glad she’s unharmed.  how he was terrified and hurt and HOPEFUL,  how he believed in her until the very end  ---  but he remains silent for a moment longer,  simply allowing himself to process the fact that the war is done and over and they have WON.           “  i love you, diana.  ”

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it was an accident. did he know that? she wasn't sure. but she had to keep telling herself that, over and over. IT WAS JUST AN ACCIDENT. she didn't mean to harm him, for a brief second she had lost control, her excitement and her strength got the better of her, hearing his sharp gasp of pain, left her trembling, she had moved back, left the room. sitting in the darkness of the makeshift 'living room' of steve trevor's apartment. knees up against her chest on the couch, head dug between her knees

           HER STRENGTH  is one thing he knows to never underestimate  ---  he has seen her jump over rooftops and unroot tanks from the ground, has seen her in battle and amidst diplomats.   he is aware, more than anything, of his own frail mortality,  one which places him always in the danger of either hospitalisation or imminent death.        how easy it is to end  !!  one step wrong, swallowed by flame  &  time, only to be spit out once more,  how easy can his breath turn to naught.

                    but he also trusts her.  he knows that she would never willingly harm him in any way, that she treasures his life  &  well-being  (  as odd as it is, to have a goddess,  AN ANGEL,  looking out for him when he doesn’t know what he did to deserve it  .  .  .  ),  so when, in the midst of playful fighting, she wraps her fingers around him too hard,  he is about to laugh it off when she stands and runs off, leaving behind a very confused man.

                 he is HESITANT to follow,   mindful of the bruises blooming upon scarred flesh,  but he does not linger for long  ---  and when he finds her not too far, trying to make herself as small as possible in the dark,   he knows he had made the right choice.        “  hey,  hey,  diana  --------  ”      bones groaning from the movement, he kneels next to her, so he may brush aside long hair & guide her chin upwards  ;  there is WORRY evident in his gaze, but he tempers it, offering a gentle, lopsided smile instead. 

                                            “  you can’t keep runnin’ off whenever something like this happens, love.  ”       blue eyes twinkle with mirth, despite the situation  &  he leans forward until he can brush a kiss onto her forehead, down her cheek.  “  ---  besides, i’m not gonna break. i may not have been sculpted from clay, but i’m made from stronger stuff.  i’m pretty sure i’ve been through stuff more life-threatening than you squeezing a little too hard.  ”

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    WHAT ARE YOU SAYING  ??        //         I WISH WE HAD MORE TIME

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DIANA / A THOUSAND STARS IN THE SKY AND I’LL BE WATCHING YOU

         charcoal down his throat,  CHOKING,  lungs screaming from exhaustion  ---  there is not a part of his body that does not ache, not an inch of his skin untouched, unblemished  ;  he feels like a NEWBORN fresh out of the mother’s womb,  SPITTING FIRE and unfamiliar with anything but the sound of a heartbeat thrumming in his left ear.             (  he does not PRAY,  absentee gods turned the backs on mortals, the PLEADS falling to deaf ears,  but he hopes beyond hope that she is safe that she is fine that she  -------  )

                          a hand on his cheek.  the heartbeat gets louder  &  louder  until heavy eyes open within the darkness of the night to find her watching,  his ANGEL,  his SALVATION,  the cough expelling blood and breath alike,   but he is SMILING.  he’s either dead or dreaming, or  .  .  .        “  ---  did we win  ??  ”

@lassotruth

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no offense but the soft uncertain kiss followed by a pause where the people look each other in the eyes and then fucking pull eachother back into a more passionate kiss will always be the most soul destroying trope , catch me lying on the fucking ground sobbing and rewatching The Scene™✌🏼✌🏼✌🏼

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                                            I wish we had more time. I love you. 

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WALKS AROUND WEARING ONLY HIS SHIRT ( !! IM SCREAMING !! ARE YOU SCREAMING !?!? )

              HIS SHIRTS KEEP GOING MISSING  ---  in the beginning, he thinks it’s because he somehow  (  always  )  misplaces them before doing laundry, which, in retrospective, ought to raise a couple questions,  but he blames it on being forgetful and, well  .  .  .  busy in the evenings, so he lets it go.     that is, until he catches the culprit in the act.

                         weather in america is much hotter than gloomy old britain  &&  somehow he is thankful for the change of pace  ---  there is still a chill within his bones that cannot thaw, an ice shard through his heart when death ought to have taken him away but didn’t  &&  really, the war is won and the front isn’t calling out his name anymore.    instead, he gets happiness.  instead, he gets softness, a touch of scarred fingers down one smooth shoulder, long digits playing into hair as dark as night, lips touching and exploring  ;  love, he had learned soon enough,  is both drug and antidote.    love is love.   love is diana.

                 so when he walks into the living room, sleep still clinging to his lashes  &&  hair in disarray,  the fact that he finds her wearing one of his  --- STOLEN  !!  ---  shirts gives him a pause. not only because it all makes sense now, but because, well  .  .  .  it’s DIANA wearing HIS shirt. and that alone does something to his heart and ability to breathe.  a moment passes.  then one more, before two large strides find him closer to her, one hand finding home in the valley of her side, the other brushing against her cheek.       “  well  ---  ”  quirk of his lips, foreheads touching, no words are needed right now,  only the golden glow of morning sun, only her warmth and his.              “  been wonderin’ where they keep disappearing, but i can’t say that i mind.  go ahead, do a little spin for me, won’t you?  ”

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can you believe that @lassotruth is the love of steve's life and that he's so proud of her kicking ass because I can

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- Benjamin Alire Sáenz

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Diana: [pulls back curtain while Steve is showering]

Diana: are we - stop screaming, its me - are we out of ice-cream??

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We made a deal, Steve Trevor. And a deal is a promise. And a promise is unbreakable.

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TAG DROP 2/??

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TAG DROP 1/??