#i do have one sweater from my diana. however it is not very flattering and if i must be frank i am not a cable knit sweater girl

[thebirdandhersong]

it's sweater weather for YOU. for songbird, who doesn't own a single sweater--

[random-imagines-blog]

Battle for the Sun {Diana Prince x Reader Oneshot}

Requested by: @justarookiewriter​ Wordcount: 2768 Summary: Trips to the museum are always fantastic, but a certain curator makes it all the better. But what happens when you keep getting interrupted?

The display that the museum was putting on was absolutely spectacular. You turned up every single day that this exhibition was on, using your membership card to get through the long lines. Italian sculptures, men and women, all sorts of bodies from ones that would be shamed today to the ideal. You walked the long stone halls alone, your hands behind your back, taking in the art as it was rather than trying to take pictures of it. A photo on a phone was nothing compared to the majesty that you were seeing in front of you. You stopped in front of your favorite, a sculpture of a woman. She was kneeling on the ground, her face turned upwards, her dress revealing one breast. There was something delicate about it. The way that the artist made stone look like fabric. It was incredible. But you weren’t just here for the art - there was another reason that you came around, and that was for one of the curators. An astonishing woman named Diana Prince.

You were hoping to see her, but instead, the only person you saw was a security guard who tended to follow you around. Not because he thought that you were up to devious behavior, but because he enjoyed the sight of you. He told you so enough times, and each word out of his mouth made you gag. But the art and Diana were worth putting up with him, just for a little while.

“Oh, you’re here again!” The very wanted voice of the woman that you were hoping to see  came through the room, which cuts the creepy security guard right out of the picture. As it well should have.

“You found me already,” You said, turning the tall woman with a smile. “Usually you only catch me when I’m about to leave. I’ve only been here about an hour.”

“I can leave you to it,” She said, her accent being one that you couldn’t quite place.  There were a dozen or so places that you suspected she could have come from, but never felt that you could ask such a rude question. She was here now, in France, and that’s what really mattered.

“Oh,  no, only if you have other things to do. I never mind your company, Diana,” You said with a smile. The way that she looked today was breathtaking. How she managed to make a simple pair of jeans and a blouse look glamorous, you didn’t understand. You didn’t even have hope that you could emulate such a look. You probably looked horrible next to her, in your comfy University sweater to fight off the chill of the upcoming autumn months. “Not for a little while, no,” She said, smiling back. She stood next to you and looked up at the sculpture that you had been stopped in front of. “Is this one your favorite?” She asked you. You nodded in response, then started to speak, realizing the little gesture was not nearly enough.

“I wish that I knew what she was looking at,” You admitted, looking up into the face of the beautiful piece of artwork. “And how the marble looks like fabric, how you can see through it, it’s...”

“Breathtaking?” Diana responded. You nodded. That was the word that you had been struggling to find. It sounded more sincere coming from her lips. “Yes, I feel the same way. I’m often drawn to it as well.”

You both fell into a silence at that moment, looking at the sculpture. You wished that you could touch it, making sure that it really was stone. You didn’t even realize that you were leaning into the partition rope guarding it from people doing exactly that.

“Hey - stop-” The creepy security guard said, squeezing his way between you and Diana. “You know the rules, you can’t get close to the artwork.”

“I wasn’t going to do anything,” You started to argue back, but Diana interfered.

“You’re excused,” She said, lightly pushing the guard back. Still, it seemed to take him by surprise that he was being handled like that, and he stumbled backwards. He glared at her, and opened his mouth to retort, but she continued on. “And I will be speaking to your supervisor about this.”

“I was just trying to-”

“I’ve already put in a complaint about you,” You said, wanting to back up Diana, just as she was doing for you. “And I have the feeling that I am not the only person who did. I wasn’t going to touch it, especially not with the curator here. Please, do not touch me again.”

It was hard to keep in your temper, but he had been rather rude with you in the past. He once slid behind you in a crowd, his hand touching your bottom a little too roughly for it to have been an accident. You had put in the report, but as you had expected, not too much had happened. “As I said, you are excused,” Diana said, her eyes sharp as she stared the man down. He faltered, and walked away from his post, mumbling under his breath.

“Thank you. I’ve been a bit nervous to come back because of him,” You frowned at his retreating back.

“I’ll make sure that he never bothers you again,” Diana said, soothingly. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” You said, bringing the smile back onto your face. “And so ready to finally enjoy the museum without him breathing down my beck. What is your favorite sculpture here?”

You were getting a tour from the curator herself, walking in her footsteps, taking in all of the information that she was giving you which wasn’t in the placards. You found yourself wishing you had brought a notepad so you could write all of this information down. She gave a much better tour than any of the tourguides or online tours that the Louvre provided.

“And that is all,” Diana said, after explaining the last statue. You had done a large lap, ending in front of your favorite once more. You clapped and felt very fortunate to have gotten such a personal tour.

And, well, very flattered as well that she had taken time out of her busy day to lead you around an exhibit you knew like the back of your hand. This woman was as beautiful as the sculptures themselves, so fine in form, so elegant in her movements. But there were a lot of differences between you and her that made you a little wary of getting rejected, if you did gather up the courage to ask her out.

You two turned to look at each other, both of you smiling. Her painted-red lips opened to say something. They formed your name when there came a loud announcement through the speakers around the museum. ‘Miss Prince, please return to your office, Miss Prince, please return to your office.”

“I’ve kept you for too long,” You said, realizing how much time exactly had flown by. At least two hours! You were just your average guest in the museum but you had taken up far too much of the curator’s time. Diana laughed, shook her head and lightly touched your shoulder. Her hand was well-manicured, warm. Exactly as you thought it would be. Her skin matched her laugh - sunshine.

“No, you haven’t,” She insisted. “I like your perspective on this art. On history. It is refreshing. We should talk more about this.”

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” You offered with a smile. She nodded enthusiastically, before waving her fingers at you and headed towards her office to get back to work.

-

And you did return, catching sight of Diana immediately. She was standing in front of the statue that was your favorite, which also now became your favorite meeting place. It was going to be a huge shame when the exhibit moves onto the next location. Diana had told you that it was Germany. The memories you had with these statues were almost enough for you to move along with it.

She was wearing an all white outfit, clean and completely pristine. She fit in wonderfully with all of the statues. “Good afternoon,” You said, walking up to her and stood next to her tall frame. The look that she gave you, the large smile, almost gave you a thought that maybe, just maybe, she admires you as much as you admire her. It gave you a sense of confidence, made your shoulders straighter, your chin a little higher.

“Hello!” She said, surprising you with a hug that you eagerly returned. “I had hoped you knew this was where I wanted to meet you!”

“Right in front of my favorite, I’m surprised that you remembered.”

“There is no way that I could have forgotten,” She said, ponytail swaying behind her back. “The many times that I saw you looking at it - I wish I could gift it to you.”

“Oh,” You said, eyes wide at the very thought. “No, something like this should be appreciated by everyone. That is the artist’s intention. And I would never want to mess with that.” You smiled, though, very flattered that she thought of something like that. “But I don’t wish to take up too much of your time today, you must have work to do.”

“I do,” She admitted, looking over shoulder. It was as if she was looking to make sure that there was no one around. Though of course there was. The Louvre was one of the most famous attractions in Europe, not just in France. There were plenty of people about. It was hard for you to notice most of them however, next to this very striking woman. “So I was going to ask you-”

“Excuse me,” A gruff man said, pushing his way past you. Despite the rule about no food or drinks in any of the halls, he must have snuck something in, since you felt a liquid go across your chest. The smell that rose from it told you that it was coffee. You gasped, as it was still hot, and immediately tried to stretch the fabric away from your chest.

“Security,” Diana said, holding her arm out to stop the man from going further. Two security guards, neither of them being the creepy man, came up and escorted the man to the security office, probably to fine him for bringing in drinks. But you were more focused on your shirt. At least it was warm, not scalding, you might be a little tender where it splashed but it didn’t look like any real burns.

“I guess this is a good excuse as any to buy something from the gift shop,” You said, trying to make it into a joke.

“Are you sure?” Diana said, examining your shirt with a frown. “I don’t know if those stains are going to come out - come with me.”

Rather than take you to the gift shop, she lead you past the restricted areas, to what was apparently her office. There were many books in here, many artifacts. It smelled of her perfume, delicate but enough to wrap around your senses.

She also had a closet, which she opened up and went through. You looked in awe at the amount of gowns that she had in there; there must be a thousand euros worth, at least! She went through them before picking out a blouse of her own, and holding it in front of you. “This may fit you,” She said, sizing it by eye then handed it to you.

“Oh, um, thank you,” You said, looking around, feeling slightly embarrassed. She pointed towards a door that blended in with a row of bookcases.

“You can use my bathroom,” She said, kindly. You thanked her once more, then ducked into it, closing the door gently behind you. It was a standard half-bath - just a toilet and a sink and a mirror. But it seemed to be well stocked with lavish perfumes. Like she highly separated her home life from her work life. You snorted to yourself as you took off your wet shirt, trying to imagine her in sweat pants. She would look like someone out of a gym commercial if she were to try to wear those.

But what you were thinking was she kept her dresses here, her fancy things here. Maybe she only went to extravagant events for work, but did something else in her down time? Did curators even have down time?

You wanted to know everything about her, especially what she was like when she wasn’t around the museum. You buttoned up the blouse that she was loaning you after drying yourself off with some toilet tissue, then set about trying to get the worst of the stain out in the sink. You managed to get most of the brown liquid off but it would still need a run or two through the wash, with real cleaning liquid and not hand soap.

You folded up your shirt and held it in your hands as you left the bathroom, returning to the office. Diana stood there, waiting for you while leaning back against her desk. The way that the sun filtered in through the windows, reflected off the white walls onto her face - magnificent. She straightened up when she saw you come out. “It fits, wonderful!”

“It does, thank you,” You said. “Do you have a bag that I could put this in?” You brought up the shirt that you had been wearing. “Oh, let me take care of that. I’ll get it cleaned, then return it to you. It’s the least that I could do.”

“You didn’t spill the coffee on me, Diana, it’s quite alright.”

“No really. I want to. Because then I can see you-”

There was a knock on the door and two seconds later, it opened to reveal a man with dark hair and brooding features. You recognized him from somewhere. It hit you within a moment though. Bruce Wayne, of American fame.

You also noticed the dark look that went over Diana’s face, and how her smile seemed to drop when she saw who it was. “Diana,” Bruce said, stepping inside.

“Bruce,” She said, in the same low voice.

“Am I interrupting?” He asked, looking over at you. You glanced between the two of them then smiled your best and brightest smile to try to bring light into the room again.

“Not at all,” You said, setting your folded shirt on top of one of Diana’s chairs. “But one more thing, Diana,” You felt a bit nervous about this part but if you didn’t sputter it out before you left, you knew that you were going to regret it. “I was wondering if you maybe wanted to get dinner sometime next week. To return shirts. If you’re not too busy, that is. If you are, I can just come back and-”

“Dinner sounds great,” Diana said, looking like someone had just turned on the lightbulb inside of her once more. That alone was more flattering than her acceptance, because you had done that. You turned around what Bruce’s visit was, though you still weren’t sure why he was here. “I’ve been trying to ask you for a while but everything just kept getting in the way.”

“I know what that’s like,” You said with a nod. You found a package of post it notes on her desk and scrawled down your name and number on the top sheet. “Call me?”

“Yes, yes I will,” She said with a nod. You bowed your head, gave a respectful smile to THE Bruce Wayne, then headed out of the door, closing it behind you. You didn’t walk away immediately but took in the smell of the shirt that you had borrowed. It had a hint of perfume to it, but it wasn’t strong. It had been washed since she had last worn it perhaps. But it was still faintly there.

The rest of your walk around the museum was not nearly as uneventful as it had been earlier, but as you walked home, your phone began to buzz in your pocket. Unknown number. Only one person that could be and it was a call you were very eager to take.

[fyeahsupermanandloislane]

WONDER WOMAN IN CONVERSATION by Lois Lane (featured in Wonder Woman 75th Anniversary Special)

     It's October in Manhattan, the kind of fall day where the sweaters have emerged and the scarves are starting to be wrapped instead of draped. I'm in town covering another story entirely, and in the middle of the press conference I get a text. "Coffee?" The text is from Diana of Themyscira. The text is from Wonder Woman.      Some context. I've known Diana for the better part of a decade, at first professionally and then -- I'd like to think -- as a friend. Roughly once a year she'll reach out to get together socially, just to catch up, and from the beginning (and with her consent) I've recorded our conversations. One day, in my dotage, I'll compile the whole mass of them and put out a book, a la Tuesdays with Morrie. [Interview excerpts follow: Lois in bold. Diana in italics]

I've never known you to make a friend that wouldn't do their best. [laughs] That is very flattering. I can say the same about you. I think, if we are fortunate, we surround ourselves with the people who inspire us and lift us, and when they slip up we catch them, and when we slip they catch us. And perhaps our judgment is not always flawless, but I would like to think that experience hones that, perhaps? [...] The happiness issue is an interesting one to me. Are you happy? I think so. Though I think you'll agree that when a person is busy, it's often very easy to forget to notice. To move from one thing to the next thing and not really take note. I know that when I'm not working, I'm unhappy. Well, that is an answer in and of itself, is it not? When you are doing good work. I believe very strongly that doing good work is a source of happiness. Having a purpose to the days, and having goals, short-term and long-term. I do not think either of us defines our ability to meet these goals as much as the aspiration to reach them. It just suddenly occurs to me to wonder what you think of when you think of doing something for fun. Are you asking right now? Or are you asking then? Maybe both. Maybe, is there a connection between now and then? This is fun. This is fun, spending time with a friend is fun. Having a conversation with a friend, that is fun.

     And she wouldn't let me pay -- and the management insisted the drinks and the cookies be comped, and she insisted just as gently that she pay -- and she went on her way, I went back to mine. And here's the thing. Every conversation we've had, it's always ended with me saying, "Let me know if you need me," and every time I've known that she would reach out if she ever did, however unlikely that might be. Same as I've known she would be there for me if I needed her.