ˢⁱⁿᶠᵘˡ ⁱⁿᶠᵃᵗᵘᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ

໒꒰ྀི'🐍‧｡⋆

[ stupid memories ]

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐰. His presence was relatively soothing, given the earlier encounter, however, as much as you tried to ignore it, the deep, rhythmic pounding of your heart gave away your true feelings.

You knew you felt some type of way for Rick. Although it had only been a short amount of time since you'd known him, and up until about three hours ago, you were plotting his murder, it didn't mean you were lusting after him. 

But you couldn't. You wouldn't. Not after what happened. You had fallen in love with a man just like that and look where you ended up; beaten up in a cement cage in Belle Reve.

You weren't stupid. You knew that nothing would come out of anything happening between you and Flag. After this mythical mission, you would be back in prison and he would be out in the world, completing commissions for the government and Waller. If she survived.

Your eyes closed, a brief yet shuddering breath escaping your lips...

"Y/N, stop, please," Clark begged, standing in front of the couch. He was so tired, rubbing his eyes from both the gathering tears of the news you just spitted out and the long hours of his 'job'.

"Clark, I have to," you sighed. "I have to get out this place. I can't live like this anymore! Soon, very soon, they will find me."

"You're acting crazy!" he exclaimed. "No one will find you, I promise. I'll be here, every damn second if I have too if it means I can protect you!"

"No," you mumbled, shaking your head. "Clark, you can't. You're Superman for fuck sakes!"

"Jesus..."

Clark's words were croaky and short, and he dropped to the couch, his shoulders sinking. His head found homage in his large, callous-covered palms, fingers streaking through the tousled brown curls.

Sniffing, you slowly made your way towards him and bent down on your knees. Your movements were slow, your hands wrapping themselves around his own, your lips grazing over the skin for just a moment.

"Clark, baby..." you whispered softly in a silent request for him to reveal those ocean blue eyes you had grown to love. He didn't. "I need to leave... okay? Look, I love you. You are the most important person in my life, Clark... But I'm not safe. And if they know you had any part in this, you... God, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if they did anything to you."

"I can protect myself," he muttered. "And I can protect you."

Yes, there was no doubt in your mind that Clark would protect you if necessary. He would fight against a thousand men, extraterrestrial forces, his own superhero companions if he needed to... but if those men were soldiers... You knew it, and Clark knew it; He wouldn't go rogue. 

"Hey... Hey, look at me. Look at me." You softly grasped his jaw, your hands inching closer to his face and cupping the stubbled skin of his cheeks. "This is bigger than us, Clark. It is. And I am not safe here. And I need to leave... I need to leave." You sniffled again, and he finally raised his gaze, locking eyes with your own which had a wobbly smile curling at your lips. "And I'm gonna be fine. I have the world out there, and it doesn't matter if my heart breaks in two because I know you'll be okay."

"But I need you," he whispered.

You let out a breath, that burning agony aching deeply in your chest. Of course, you hated that you would have to leave Clark. It physically pained you to see the pure anguish painting his features and it was because of you. 

But what else was there for you to do? You were quickly becoming one of the most sought out villains in Metropolis, and there were terrifyingly true rumors that the Bat looking for you. As flattering as it was to know your exploits had reached Gotham and the interest of Batman, it was still frightening to know the vigilante was after you.

"I need you too, baby," you murmured, lifting a hand to his cheek and brushing against the skin. "But... Please... Please, please, please, I need to go... You need to let me go."

Your pleads were quiet, and you were hoping to God that Clark would agree. You couldn't endanger him; not like you had endangered Evie. She was dead because of you, and you would be damned if anything remotely similar happened to Clark.

He captured your hands in his own grip, his lips pressing against your skin in numerous soft, little kisses, his nose brushing along your knuckles as he heaved a shaky breath.

"...Okay."

Your eyes widened as you stared at him, your mouth hanging open in a slight gape. "Okay?" you repeated in question.

He nodded. "Okay."

The smile that unfurled across your lips was small and pained. You were thankful that Clark understood just how important it was for you to disappear. No one would get hurt... No one would get hurt.

You pressed your lips to his, and he was quick to grasp your neck in a soft hold, keeping you close. This would probably be the last time you ever kissed Clark, and you had to savor it. 

Softly, you let go, your hands brushing the tiny curls that flitted over his forehead before you placed a single kiss there. He inhaled the scent emitting from your neck, and he almost pulled you back when you stood up, rushing towards you bedroom to start packing.

You were going to miss this house. You had bought it only six months ago; a small home on the outskirts of the city, where you could hide away for days on end with your stolen money and await a new target. 

You took about half an hour to packing, stuffing basic shirts, pants and jumpers into a massive duffle bag. Your car was full on gas, you had refilled it today. You wouldn't have to fill it up again for another three days so your journey wouldn't have many prolonged stops. You had no idea where the hell you were going to go, but all you knew was that you would have to disappear. Lie low for a few months before you returned to Metropolis to continue your work. 

To return to him.

You had guessed Clark had been in the living room the entire time, however you had brushed off his existence for a couple minutes as you packed up any last-minute things. In the boot of your car was all your saved money; you didn't believe in bank accounts.

A breath escaped you as you realized you were finished. Picking up the bag, you walked outside of the room, taking a glance at the living room as if to try and remember all the little things you loved about it until your attention was drawn elsewhere.

Where is Clark?

The house seemed empty due to the devoid sound. Your breathing slowed as you looked around, and you were quick to slither past the walls, ducking a head out the door which revealed to be wide open.

Rushing outside, your eyes locked onto Clark, and you almost sighed out in relief, slowing your pace with a tiny smile until you realized...

"Why are you wearing your suit?" Clark watched you with a clenched jaw, and you tilted your head to the side, eyes closing as you gulped down. "Clark... Why are you wearing your suit?"

I'm sorry.

That's what you saw in his eyes when a series of black-clad soldiers erupted from all around you. Your screams came out hoarse and strained, and it felt like you had been screeching for days on end with the itchy, dry feeling creeping up your throat.

You felt the piercing throb in your neck a moment later, and with your last strength, your croaky mumbles reached Clark as he clenched his hands into tight, boney fists.

"You promised... You said it was okay..." you cried out, the corners of your mind starting to go black with dizziness. "You said it was okay."

Superman looked away, eyes casting towards the road as your unconscious body was dragged away.

You were wrong. Somebody did get hurt.

"You good?"

You let out a harsh breath, flinching at the feeling of a hand on your shoulder. Snapping your gaze to the side, you found Floyd, his dark eyes watching you with the smallest hint of concern tainting the brown.

"Yeah..." you breathed out, shrugging your shoulder. "I'm fine."

"You were kinda spacing out, that's all," Deadshot muttered. 

"I'm okay," you nodded, sending the man a small smile before a figure on his side caught your attention. "Desperate isn't a good look, Boomerang."

Harkness looked over at you with a glare. "I wanna try this 'good guy' thing."

"And the perks it comes with," you retorted. 

He grumbled, sending you another scowl as yourself and the others walked towards the constant white beam of light that was pulsing with power. 

When you had come closer to it, you had to hold a hand up due to the waves of energy it was sending out every minute or so. 

Stationing yourself against the brick wall of a decimated building, you looked over at Boomerang as he swung one of his counter-parting contraptions towards the light.

You found yourself beside Rick, casting him a side-long glance before returning yourself to the man in front of you. Harkness watched the screen of his phone where a screening of the live footage of the boomerang was displayed.

"We think that thing's a weapon," Flag stated as he analyzed the white structuring light with hundreds of rubble floating around it in a constant orbit. "Here. Lower."

Harkness swiped the pad of his finger against the screen, which caused the current camera to submerge to view the witch.

Suddenly, a large figure in the corner of screen appeared and before he struck at the camera with an elongating arm, you had a moment to inspect the specimen; it looked male, its body massive and made of imposing compiles of metal and an inner core of orange flames. Atop his head, a thin, long crescent made a figurine of horns.

The camera cut off and Harkness sighed in annoyance, tossing the phone away completely.

"We gotta take out the big one," Deadshot concluded.

Rick's jaw ticked as he thought to himself before voicing his notion, "I left a big ass demo charge down there in that subway. There's a flooded tunnel, leads right underneath that building. SEALs, they can recover the charge, swim in underneath that thing's feet. We get in its face and distract the hell out of that son of a bitch so the swimmers can blow the bomb... That's how we take it out."

About ten minutes had passed as the SEALs went to gather their equipment. You and the others waited in the tunnel entry by an escalator whilst GQ and his team walked into the adjacent entry where the stairway downwards was completely flooded.

K.C entered the subway and the group of soldiers were busy zipping up their wetsuits when they noticed the crocodile stepping forward.

"I'm going with ya," he grumbled, shrugging off his jumper.

"We got this," GQ declined with a nod.

"I'm not asking, bro." Ripping off the brown velvet jacket, he smirked widely, displaying the small yet sharp row of teeth in his grey gums. "I live underground. Y'all are just tourists."

Shoving himself between the group, he crawled down the steps before his figure could be seen in the murky green water as he swam away.

Back in the first tunnel, you fished out a new set of bullets, filling them up with your venom. Your teeth sharpened upon your command, and you lodged the cartridge against your canine tooth, slotting it into place. In a second, you felt the feeling of the poison emitting. 

"I like that," Harley grinned, tapping her tooth as she watched you. You chuckled, pulling the bullet back out once it had been filled and placed it into one of the guns.

Each of you were preparing your weapons in your own way, and you glanced away from your pistol towards Katana. She was kneeling against the wall, her sword pulled out only a quarter way of its scabbard.

"My dear husband. If I die in battle, we will finally be together."

She was crying, and you let out an exhale through your nose before glancing away. Rick watched you for a moment before speaking softly, "The man who killed her husband used that sword. His soul's trapped inside of it... She talks to him."

"Hey, well... You know what they say about the crazy ones," Harkness muttered in a leer, causing your eyes to roll.

"Huh?" Harley wondered, glancing up.

"Pig," you spat, sneering at Boomerang who simply grinned at you.

Rick leaned forward off the wall, and placed a hand on your arm for only a moment to gather your attention. You glanced between the appendage and his face, and his eyes traced your own.

"Let's do this."