❨ 𝑽𝑰𝑹𝑨𝑮𝑶                 . . .                  𝑏𝘰𝘰𝑘 𝑖𝑖 ❩
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
━━━ 𝙱. 𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙽𝙴𝚂 / ❛ i will 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙛𝙖𝙡𝙡,
𝙨𝙝𝙚'𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙡 of 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 ❜

━━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘༄⋅°
𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄,                                          𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒆

𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙿𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙴 !

HE STARED AT Diana with a death glare, slightly scaring the Amazon. He never looked at her like this, even when he was under the control of HYDRA, which was he looked at her like he was calculating her every move, silent, face clear of any emotions. Now, he looked at her like she was his next meal and it scared her almost. "What's wrong Bucky?" She took a small step towards him, extending her hand.

"Nothing," he growled, turning to look at the photo on her nightstand once again.

"Don't 'nothing' me," she replied, "I know something's up by that look on your face. C'mon, tell me." He didn't reply. Diana worried that he would do something irrational, like hurt his hand by punching a wall or something. But what he did was unexpected and malicious towards Diana. He took her photo, looking at it with a sneer, and threw it on the ground. The frame cracked open like an egg from the force, tears stinging in Diana's brown eyes. Bucky decided it was not enough.

He took the paper, places it between his thighs - Diana named them the God of Thighs - and tore it into little pieces.

"Bucky!" She gasped and ran to him, grabbing him by the arm strongly. He swung his body, swinging his arm and Diana in the process, throwing Diana across the room and into the wall. Since she was tall and strong, her body went straight through the wall and into the living room. Steve shot up, grabbing his shield that sat against his chair. Diana waved him off. "No, it's a fight between him and I, please don't get involved. You just got him back."

Steve looked at her sceptically, but nodded nonetheless, sitting back down with alertness. "Call me if you need help."

Diana nodded and calmly walked back inside the room through the broken wall. Though Bucky did lose his metal arm, he still was strong from the experiments HYDRA did on him. Diana had no intentions to fight; she just wanted to grab some clothes and the torn photo and leave for Paris. She took a deep breath and looked at Bucky in the eyes, her own glazed over, his a mixture of sadness, guilt, and anger. He didn't care at that moment if she left, he wanted her to leave. "Bye," he seethed, walking out of the room. Diana set her jaw, grabbing her still-packed bags and the pieces of old paper - it was the original copy - and glared at Bucky as she stalked out of the room and out of the HQ. She didn't hate Bucky, no, she still liked him but less than she did before. He showed her a different side that wasn't caused by the Winter Soldier, this was the real him, the one who didn't have any factual explanation to put into words over what he did. What he did was unforgivable, and if Diana did forgive, she sure as hell wouldn't forget.

Most women would use the information of the last time their man did something wrong to prove their point, but Diana didn't work that way. She never brought it up. She would raise an eyebrow and look at them seriously.

Her phone rang in her pocket - she grabbed it on her way out - and saw Steve's name pop up on the small screen. She hit decline and put it back in her pocket, turning the sound off and walking to her car, a dark grey Lotus Evora, and drove away from the HQ. Hey, even goddesses need cars now and then!

She bit back her tears. She was strong and she wouldn't cry for a man she has only slept with once. Looking at the photo pieces, she thought about her closest friend, Bruce Wayne. A billionaire that lived in a glass house in a beautiful part of a forest in Mount Airy Forest in Cincinnati, Ohio. He had the flash drive with a copy of the photo, he could possibly send her an attachment so she can print a new one.

She drove from the streets of rural Albany to JFK Airport by the urban New York, New York. She wasn't going to go to Wayne's house, she made up her mind to go back to Paris. She wanted to go back to work and live in the small apartment she had rented by the small café with the nice old lady and two walls stacked high with fragile books that were possibly even older than Diana. She loved going there, from its fresh brewed coffee and old paper fragrance to the couches with comfortable fluffy pillows and its welcoming colour scheme; a beautiful burgundy, gold and a dark black. She could stay in there for hours if she could, but there was a thing called work and sleep, ruining Diana's dream state and forcing her to go home and into her queen-sized bed.

Driving into the parking lot of JFK, she called one of her most trusted friends, Clark Kent, and asked him if he could pick up her car. He, being the kind man he is, said yes and told her to wait for a few minutes. He walked to the airport since he lived ten minutes away from the loud and busy building.

"Hello, Diana," he gave her a kind smile and pulled her into a warm embrace.

She returned the smile, wrapping her arms tightly around Clark's waist, breathing in his distinctive orange and firewood scent. No matter how far he was from a farm, he still managed to smell like he came out of an Old Spice commercial. "Hi," she uttered.

"I'm guessing you're going back to Paris for work?"

She nods, "Yeah, I am. We have nothing to do at the moment, so I'm just going to leave for a while... up until another mission comes up, of course." Clark chuckles into Diana's neck, his hot breath moving upwards as he pulls away from the hug. "That's a thing you guys seem to avoid: violence."

Her smile falters a little, but Diana quickly puts up a happy front. "Yeah, it's part of the job. How come you won't join us? I think we need another superhuman around to help." "No, thank you," he shook his head, "I'm happy just where I am at the moment." Diana's heart drops a little, but she just lets out a little laugh. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

An awkward silence passes between them, the two friends looking at their shoes. "So, you gonna go or not?"

"Yeah," Diana nods, "see you later."

She tugs on her suitcases, the obnoxious sound of plastic rolling on asphalt filling Diana's ears and sending vibrations through her arms. She walks into the bright white, large main terminal of the airport, sighing as she walked up to a ticket booth and ordering one that was about to leave in an hour. She was lucky; not many people were going to Paris, only about two-thirds of the plane was filled up.

She walked to gate 32B, sitting down on the uncomfortable plastic chairs. She starts counting down the minutes until the flight leaves, tapping her finger lightly on her thigh, having a beat that went along with the seconds.

Soon, after a long time of waiting, Diana hears the all-too-familiar sound of Bucky's voice calling out to her. "Diana! Diana!" But at the same time as he saw her, her back was turned to him, ignoring his calls and pleads, and walks straight into the passenger loading bridge. He runs to catch up to her but security stops him; recognizing him as the Winter Soldier.

Diana sits in her designated seat, staring out the window and watching the commotion happening inside, her heart aching for Bucky and his freedom from security, but all the while never moves. She doesn't want to seem weak; he earned this, this is what he deserved, to watch her walk out - well, fly out - of his life.

And though her heart ached, she had a small triumphant smile on her face as the plane departed from the landing strip.