#westallenpw

[westallenweek]

Sorry guys, apparently my tumblr app was malfunctioning without my awareness (ugh this software update made all my apps weird for some reason) and none of the posts I made or the posts reblogged this week actually ended up on this blog... 😓 Thanks to everyone who participated! Sorry it looked like I abandoned you/flaked on you 😢 I will go back through the tag and reblog everything again! (But not now because I have to work soon.) Sorry again 🙈

[unleashwithin-blog]

Going Down

NOTE: For Westallen Week 2 - Day 7-  Anything goes. A sequel of sorts to ‘Going Up’ for ishipit87, who’s been so awesome to me <3

NOTE 2: Late again, full of trash, more under the cut, you know the drill haha

It was a beautiful day, without a cloud in the sky—almost picture perfect, really—and though what Iris had planned to do that day wouldn’t have changed even if it was dreary and dark, it was nice to think that maybe the universe was giving her a sign, a little thumbs up and a good luck to push her forward. She was going to need it, because despite risking her life day in and day out as a detective, putting your heart out on the line took more bravery than she currently possessed.

Today was the day Iris West was going to confess her feelings to one Barry Allen.

They always say to fall in love with your best friend, but it’s not exactly something one can plan—hell, even their friendship took some people by surprise, because they were total opposites, with him being an awkward, geeky assistant CSI and her, an outgoing, outspoken officer straight out of the academy. She supposed that’s what made them work, though, the fact that their pieces fit together, that she had what he didn’t and vice versa.

And now here she was, unsure of when and where but not entirely caring how she was head over heels with the forensic scientist. Iris was fairly positive that Barry felt the same way—reading people was a big part of her job, after all—but she wouldn’t know for certain unless he told her. Thus, she planned her big reveal, unable to wait for him any longer and unwilling to keep it bottled inside for another second.

When there was some downtime while they were in the middle of paperwork for a case they had just closed, the detective offered to go on the daily coffee run, heading for Jitters. Asking the barista to name the cups ( because she had learned her co-workers all like their caffeine a certain way ), she makes a brief pit stop at one of the tables to write a note inside the cup sleeve of Barry’s coffee before heading back to headquarters.

What Iris didn’t factor into the equation was getting the refreshments upstairs if she happened to miss an elevator with her hands full, so when she saw one just about the close she hurried forward as fast as her little legs would carry her. “Hold the doors, please!” she called, happy when she saw a hand reach out to stop the doors from closing and ecstatic when she saw just who the appendage belonged to that she gave her best friend a stunning smile.

“Hey, Barry!” she returned his greeting, if just uttering her name counted as one. “Thanks for holding the doors for me! I’d have to pull out some crazy acrobatics to push that button with my foot if you didn’t.” He didn’t say anything, but she was used to his ramblings as much as his silences and she sort of needed the time to let her heart stop racing as she thought of her next move. She wasn’t expecting to see him this soon but she couldn’t exactly not give him his coffee after seeing her with it.

“Coffee run?” Barry eventually asked her, breaking her out of her reverie, and she takes a deep breath—there’s no turning back now—before putting the tray that had his cup in it in his hands.

“Caffeine, the nectar of heroes,” she jokes, her thanks for his help silent but written in between her words, and she knows he knows it’s there. “I got one for you, so feel free to take one.”

She almost stops breathing when he checks the cups for one with his name, hoping he doesn’t accidently read her secret message when she’s right there because honestly, she’s not that fearless, and it’d be all sorts of awkward if he actually didn’t feel the same way and she hasn’t been able to brace herself for that outcome yet and she opens her mouth to distract herself. “So, I’m not sure if anyone’s told you yet but we caught the guy from the Roxwell case yesterday. Doing all the paperwork today—the information you got from the scene really helped us find him.”

Unbeknownst to her, Iris’ eyes light up as she talks about work, because who wouldn’t feel great about getting a scumbag off the street, and her free hand starts moving around as she continues. “I actually missed with my shot but it ricocheted off the side mirror of the car and hit him in the arm. I know everyone knows it was a lucky shot but I like telling them I got ‘mad skills’ that they don’t.” She laughs then, because she actually stole line that from Barry himself, and she looked at him, expecting a witty remark but finds herself frozen because he had the fondest look at his face as he stared at her. The detective is pretty sure he didn’t hear a word she said but she couldn’t hide the grin on her face as she thought she didn’t really care so long as he continued gazing at her like that ( though she’d kill to know what was going on in his head at that exact moment ).

Just then the elevator bell chimed to notify the occupants that it arrived at the requested level at the same time Iris hears Barry say, “Oh, my god,” and she turned back towards him, half because it’s the first words he’s said in a while and half because she forgot she had given him a tray to hold and she should be taking it back from him. He’s looking like a light bulb had just gone off in his head and she raises an eyebrow at him as she approached and took the tray back, wishing she could stay and chat but knowing they couldn’t spend the entire day riding the elevator up and down, talking.

“Thanks again for your help, Bar,” Iris vocally thanks him this time, walking out of the elevator. She pauses, remembering her plan ( how could the very object of it all distract her from it at the same time? ) and how it could all go downhill if he ended up throwing his cup away when he was finished without ever seeing her message. Quickly, as the doors close, she spun back around to face him to say, “Don’t lose that cup sleeve okay?” before the doors close and he’s gone. Hoping she wasn’t glaringly obvious with that one ( though she has been told she lacks subtly before ), Iris distributed the rest of the coffee to their respective owners, before returning to her desk.

She’s in the middle of a conversation with her partner Eddie when the door to the stairwell opened to reveal Barry, who scanned the floor before locking on her. The forensic scientist makes a beeline towards Iris as if no one else in the room even existed, grabbing her by the hand and leading her towards the elevators again without so much a word. The door opened as soon as he pressed the button and soon Iris found herself in the same position she was just a short while ago, only minus all the stuff she was carrying.

It’s silent for a moment and only Barry’s light panting from running down the stairs filled the room. They stare hard at one another, and Iris wondered if he’d already seen what she wrote and was here to confront her about it but why isn’t he saying anything then? “Barry—” she started, but doesn’t get much farther than that as in a blink of an eye the space between them is closed and her back is against the wall with her best friend’s lips on hers.

She gasped, taken by surprise from both the force and the action itself, and Barry takes the opportunity to taste the inside of her mouth. As Iris’ mind shuts down her body eagerly takes over, and her eyes close and one hand wraps itself around Barry’s broad shoulders as the other finds purchase in his chestnut brown hair as his wrap around her waist and pull her closer towards him. His mouth was so warm, sending a current of electricity through her veins, and the caress of his lips was softer than anything she could’ve ever imagined that Iris almost wasn’t sure this wasn’t all just happening in her head.

As clichéd as it sounded, there were no words to describe it—it was like even if she combined all the descriptions anyone ever had about the best kiss of their life, it still wouldn’t even come close. It was like the sweet gentleness of a first kiss to the passionate, hungry kiss of two people who’ve deprived themselves for way too long to the desperate, ‘I can’t imagine my life without you’ all wrapped into one kind of kiss.

By the time they had to pull apart for air—who made that a necessity, by the way?—her eyes were still closed as she silently gasped for oxygen; Barry literally took her breath away. Slowly opening them again, Iris looked up at him lovingly and found her heart swell as his were looking at her the same way. “I love you,” he said softly as his nose nuzzled hers, and Iris lets out a light laugh, because if that kiss didn’t already tell her that she didn’t know what else could.

Still, a new plan found itself forming in her head, and the detective looked up at him coyly through her eyelashes. “Maybe you can remind me…” she said before pulling him down the short distance between them for another kiss. Somewhere along the way her legs wrapped themselves around his middle and the forensic scientist walked them backwards to press the emergency button because he would literally growl if someone not only interrupted them, but saw Iris as disheveled as he was about to make her as he one hand moved to take out the tie holding her hair up before reaching to un-tuck her dress shirt.

Iris didn’t have the heart—or have her mouth unoccupied long enough—to tell him that there was a camera in the elevator or that someone would surely come eventually with the elevator not moving and all.

Because hey, he wasn’t the only one who was thirsty.

[yalasyardeen]

Good Morning Sunshine

Written for Westallen week 2´s day 4 prompt: chores/domesticity. Not much else to say for this one really, except enjoy :)

“Morning,” Barry mumbles absentmindedly, as he sees she´s awake. He barely looks awake himself. Iris brushes her hand through his messy bed hair and glances at the alarm on the bedside table. It´s too early for a Sunday, Sundays are for sleeping in, but she´s awake anyway, so what´s the point? She yawned.

“It´s 8:15 how long do you think we´ve got?” she whispers softly, and kisses Barry´s temple. He gives her a sleepy smile in return, brushing his fingers against her cheek. His touch is so tentative and feather light that it´s almost like it´s not even there.

“10 minutes tops, until the cavalry arrives,” he mumbles and pulls her down towards him. They´re so used to mornings like this by now, so used to each other, that´s what happens when you´ve been together for more than 10 years, as they had now. But Iris still loves it, and loves him. But that´s nothing new. The earth is round, and Iris loves Barry Allen. Iris nuzzles her face against the crook of his neck, and breathes him in. Barry´s fingers are still on her cheek.

“That´s a bit mean, isn´t it?” she retorts teasingly, and he lets out a huff of laughter. The morning light plays on the window, and really Iris could just stay here forever, and not just because it´s Sunday and she´s still kind of tired.

“Accurate though,” he says and turns his head to kiss her forehead.

“Can´t argue with that logic,” she replies and leans into kissing him properly on the mouth. Barry lets out a small surprised noise, as his mouth opens and he cups her face. It´s always felt amazing to kiss him, she´s not sure how it took her so long to get around to doing it. She could have kissed him all the days, she´d debated whether she really felt that way about him or not. Iris pulls him a little bit closer. Barry abruptly stops after a few minutes of incredible kissing, and looked towards their bedroom door.

“Yep, that was definitely small kids feet,” Barry whispers, and Iris lets out a quiet laugh. Iris settled down next to him again, just closing her eyes before the two almost 5 year old twins collectively managed to open the door to the bedroom, and then launched themselves at them. Both Dawn and Don jumped up and down, and not for the first time Iris wondered how long the bed could stand that treatment. It wasn´t the first Sunday they´d done that though, and Iris was doubting it´d be the last. It had kind of become their tradition, since the twins discovered the joys of jumping on beds.

“Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!” Dawn yelled excitedly.

“Morning you two,” Barry said, and caught the two of them with super speed after they´d endured the jumping for a couple of minutes. They were both pretty fast too, not nearly as fast as Barry, not even close, but they´d definitely inherited the speed. Both of them giggled, and Iris was starting to have a sneaking suspicion that Barry catching them was a big part of the fun for them. Dawnie smiled at her, grabbing her arm.

“Hey kiddo,” Iris said and padded her hair. Don gave Dawn a look, clearly annoyed that she was getting more attention; Iris grinned and took his hand. Don grinned at her then, clearly happy with how things were working out. “And other kiddo.”

“Nobody wanna hug me?” Barry joked, practically wiggling his eyebrows at her, and Iris laughed. There was such a warmth in his gaze, and he was so beautiful. She´d even thought that warmth was beautiful before, before she´d realized just what she felt for him. But now it was easier to appreciate.

“Make breakfast, and I´ll think about it,” Iris teased him, sending him a soft smile. Both of the twins moved to hug Barry instead of her, and he gave both of them a wide grin, and stopped them before they clung onto him too tightly.

“Mom wants pancakes,” Barry told them. Iris smiled, she hadn´t even had to say it, but still he knew. He also knew Iris wanted to stay in bed for longer, because she unlike him hated being awake this early. Iris gave him a warm smile, which he happily returned, practically beaming at her. God, she loved her giant dork of a husband. “But you two can help me make them.”

“Yes!” Don exclaimed, jumping up and down again. Barry grabbed him again, and speeded into the kitchen carrying them both. Dawn´s giggle echoed through the silent apartment for the 2 seconds it took them to make it to the kitchen, and pull out the pans. Iris settled back into her pillows, and listened to the sounds of her family making food in the kitchen. Part of her crossed her fingers that nothing would blow up like last time. That had really been a mess to clean up, even if Barry´s 57 flustered apologies were adorable.

[jasongarricks]

westallen week day 1 - body swap

note: not exactly a traditional body swap, alas. i also kind of took liberties with a certain rogue’s abilities. because i can. also short, sorry~

As somone who believed in the possible, always had and always would, Iris supposed she should have expected the impossible to happen more than she did. A ‘new metahuman of the week’ with a mirror should have been easy enough to handle. They’d certainly faced worse than some mirrors but, no, they’d underestimated him or he had royally screwed up because even he had looked surprised when Iris had, somehow, managed to phase (that’s what Barry had called it, anyway, when she asked him to explain to her what the hell had just happened) herself and Barry.

Through the floor.

Oh.

And a bunch of overshots later and not quite hitting the mark later, they were back at her father’s house, Iris sitting on the couch on top of her hands and Barry pacing the floor. They hadn’t told Caitlin and Cisco what had happened just yet.

Iris felt antsy and uneasy and her legs bounced and she fidgeted slightly. She wanted to go here and there and be anywhere but sitting still. “How do you manage it?” She blinked up at him a few times. “Are you always this restless?” Iris asked after a pause, her voicing turning from ‘slightly pouty and whiny’ to more serious and concerned. Barry had never been good at being still, even before he gained powers. She could only imagine what it was like now. Or how he felt without them...

Barry stopped his own pacing, paused, and then shrugged his shoulders, a sheepish expression on his face and he shoved his hands into his pockets. Iris could see the tinge of red on his cheeks before he spook in a surprisingly confident, easy tone. “I think about you,” was his answer and Iris could feel her heart leap in her chest. It’s such a simple and easy answer and since he told her how he felt, statements like that came much more easiy from him and took on a much deeper, more intimate meaning.

Her legs were still bouncing and the laugh Barry had been suppressing tumbles from his lips. He crossed over to her and crouched, taking her hands in his, and giving them a squeeze. “Hey. We’ll get it fixed, okay? Untl then, focus on me, alright?” Iris can see the hesitation in his eyes before he reached up to tuck a loose lock of hair behind her ears. “You help me, Iris. Let me help you.”

And Iris knew her cheeks were getting ready and she swallowed hard. “Really, Barry. How?”

He shrugged again and sat next to her. “It’s a part of me, Iris. It feels -- it feels right,” Barry answered slowly, contemplating his words. “Like something’s calling to me. And I don’t know what it is. It’s not -- it’s not being a hero. That’s just a part of it. It’s something bigger. Something different. And I feel like I’m constantly running towards it, but it’s always just out of my reach. It’s there, I know it is. I just want to know what.” His brow tightened and he rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous tic. “I’m always learning, Iris. Always doing something.... well. Impossible,” he chuckled. “And I meant what I said. I couldn’t do it without you. You’re the reason I knew I could do any of it from the beginning and you inspired me, Iris. You. Your writing.”

Barry stopped and took a deep breath, a boyish smile on his face. “I can do anything with you, Iris. And you can do anything you want. You can handle this until we get it fixed. And I promise, we will.”

Something about the way he spoke let her fidgeting stop and for the first time all night, she felt calm and she smiled. “Thanks, Bear,” she said gently.

Her legs may have been calmed, but her heart still felt as if it was going to beat out of her chest.

[infallible-dreamers]

Fic: Whatever you do, don’t cry

Pairing: Westallen

Note: A short ficlet for westallen week day 1 with the prompt “Wedding Day Surprise”. I’m cheesy, sue me.

He's certain that he has never felt as happy as he does today. Barry had imagined Iris as his wife since even before he could remember. Well before they even started dating, but he's never told her that.

He had planned his proposal for the Jitters rooftop, their spot, but instead it had caught them both off guard. The lab was where he had ended up proposing. She found the ring in the clothes he left behind whilst speeding off in the Flash suit.

He can't believe it's finally happening. He's all nerves as the wedding march starts to play.

When she walks through the doors, he takes a deep breath taking in her presence. It's been far too long, Barry hasn't seen her since 6am that morning.

She grins and gives him a subtle wink as Joe walks her down the aisle. He smiles widely back, his heart pounding erratically in his chest. He tries his best not to cry. But it's difficult when he think about how truly amazing his life is.

-----

"Can I have this dance, Mrs West-Allen?"

A soft smile in response and Iris takes Barry's hand and as he leads her to the dance floor. "Bear, I really need to tell you something."

"Hmm?" He leans his forehead on Iris', gently swaying to the song.

"I'm pregnant." Iris murmurs. He moves back in surprise. Did he hear that right? She bites her lip and blinks up at him awaiting his response.

Barry hand is over his mouth as he tears start to fall. "Iris are you being serious?" Iris only nods in return.

He truly didn't think he could be any happier today, he was wrong. He's visibly moved and he wears a tender grin as he sweeps her into a hug.

When he finally pulls away, he stares at Iris lovingly. Before he turns his head and looks back at the guests and at then at Joe, still smiling yet embarrassed. "I think everyone's wondering why I'm crying during the first dance when I held it in so well at the alter." Iris laughs and places her hands on his face making him look back at her. And she kisses him.

[onthecyberseas]

Iris has an out of body experience and learns a few things about Barry that makes her question her feelings. Written for Westallen Week.

[journalistiriswest]

Westallen Week Day 7: Anything Goes

Title: this love came back to me Characters: Iris West, Barry Allen Pairing: Westallen Word Count: 2,450 Summary: “Who are you?” she asked, her voice stronger than her body, her voice betraying no hint of the fear that she felt building in her stomach. She wanted to run, but she knew it would be futile; he was fast, just like the Flash, and he wasn't going to let her go so easily.  “What are you doing here?”

The Reverse Flash comes for Iris. 

She knew something was wrong from the moment she heard the bell on the door of Jitters twinkle to let her know someone had come in. The air changed, and she felt like the breath was being sucked out of her lungs, pulling something from her that she didn’t want to give. There was a breeze behind her, the hair on her neck rose and her skin crawled and she went still, her hand clenched into a fist on the counter top. Everything was wrong, and she could feel it all around her, could feel how the air was tense and thick and dangerous, charged in a way that it never was when he was here.

“Iris West.”

The voice sent shivers of fear down her spine. It vibrated, moved around her like his voice did, but it was a cacophony circling her, enveloping her in the dissonant timbres. (Sometimes, when the Flash appeared behind her and spoke, it was like the vibration in his voice matched every quake of her body, like they were resonant in a way that she couldn’t explain, like they were meant to move together and be together and his voice moved her the way she wanted to be moved; a true harmony. This felt all wrong, like someone was trying to tear her apart with their bare hands, like they wanted to speak and watch her come apart at the seams. This voice choked her, disoriented her.)  Her body shook in response, and she could see the fingers of her unclenched hand quiver even though she was trying her best to keep them steady.

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice stronger than her body, her voice betraying no hint of the fear that she felt building in her stomach, that wrapped itself around her legs and kept her grounded, kept her still. She wanted to run, but she knew it would be futile; he was fast, just like the Flash, and he wasn’t going to let her go so easily. This man wanted to trap her, wanted to see her squirm. “What are you doing here?”

She was aware, very suddenly, of someone stepping toward her from behind, of a closeness that set every nerve aflame with panic and terror. Her body was telling her to run, telling her (even though she couldn’t move, couldn’t get anything to work like she wanted it to) that she couldn’t fight her way out of this one. But she was between the counter and his body and all of the doors were too far away to reach before he could reach them, too far for her to escape without him being able to stop her. She had no where to go. Iris was pinned between the counter and this stranger, this maniac, kept pressing up from behind her. She closed in on herself, crouching over the counter, her body reacting without conscious thought, trying to get as far away as possible.

“Who I am is of no importance right now.”

Another footstep echoed throughout Jitters, and she knew that the distance between them had reduced from a few feet into just inches. There was heat on her back, an electricity that stabbed into her skin over and over and over again. A hand was on her shoulder, was caressing her neck and then slipping down her back like he knew her, like he had any right at all to be touching her. He drew a sharp, pleased breath, and he muttered something she didn’t quite catch that sounded like nails on a chalkboard, and she reached out, her hand encircling a porcelain mug, and Iris spun around suddenly, her hand swinging in a beautiful arc straight to the side of his head. “Don’t you dare touch me,” she spat out, her anger seething through her teeth clenched with fear.

He was fast, too fast for her to see, and the mug flew to the other side of the room and shattered against the wall. Iris watched it explode into a cloud of white dust, watched the larger chunks fall into the puddle of porcelain. She didn’t care, though, didn’t care that her attack didn’t hit him, didn’t care that he evaded her with ease. He had moved back, away from her, and that was what she needed. She needed to have some claim to her own space. Room to breathe without him crowding over her, without the presence of his threat all over her.

Iris stared at him, trying to see through the vibrations on his face. But the man kept running, kept darting in and out of her line of sight, no matter how quickly she turned. He was a flash of yellow, a blur of color, always barely visible in her peripheral. “The police are on their way,” she shouted, finally standing still.

His voice was all around her. “Even if that were true, they would have to catch me first.”

She made a run for it. She knew it wasn’t going to work but she had to try anyway, and her legs finally wanted to move, finally could move and it took all of her courage to start moving. Iris dashed around the counter and could see the door, could feel herself pushing toward it with everything she had.

It wasn’t enough.

His arms circled her, wrapped themselves around her (his arms were anacondas trying to strangle her, forcing her lungs to shrink and crumble in on themselves; she coughed and heaved and he didn’t relax his grip) and she was going to be sick. He threw her over his shoulder and ran and ran and ran; the world blurred by with an intensity that scared her because she couldn’t make out anything, just the colors and sounds of brief splashes of nightlife in Central City, gone in seconds. Her head spun and her body burned, his speed building heat on her skin from the repetitive motion (back and forth and back and forth and she wanted to kick her legs but they were moving too fast, the wind pinning her against his body). Finally, he tossed her to the ground like a doll, and though her back arched up from the force of the slam, though her entire body reverberated against the ground, she was glad to be out of his grip.

Something, probably a rib, cracked. Iris didn’t care. She pushed herself up, unsteadily, and glared at him, her body weak but her hatred white hot. Her right hand was clutched to her left rib cage and she felt the break under her skin but kept herself from wincing. The stranger in yellow stared at her and then moved forward, his hand extended like he was worried, like he was sorry that he had hurt her. Under any other circumstances, the gesture might have been tender or caring, but whoever this was cared nothing about her.

“I told you not to touch me,” Iris growled, accenting her words to produce something she hoped sounded like a threat. Iris kept her focus on him, trying to take in what she could of the surrounding area without letting him out of her sight. They were in a meadow darkened by the night, the only source of light the red electricity sparking around his body that intensified whenever he moved. “What do you want with me?”

There was a chuckle, layered over a thousand frequencies, in the air. Long after it stopped she could still hear a dull buzz in her ears; his voice never quite left her alone. “The better question, Iris, is what are we doing here?”

“Fine,” she said. “What are we doing here?”

The man spun around and she saw a glimpse of pale skin before he dashed to her side. “We are fulfilling his destiny,” he whispered into her ear, his breath puffing out coldly over her. Iris turned away from him, disgusted; tendrils of fear crawled up her spin, like an army of spiders moving ever slowly up each vertebrae.

Iris didn’t have time to ask him what he meant before he was gone again, a trail of yellow with red lightning the only indication that he had ever been next to her. And then, in the distance, she saw another blur moving toward them faster and faster and faster still, and Iris felt her heart plummet into her stomach because he was here and suddenly, it all made sense. She was the bait. The witness to some destiny that this monster wanted to force onto her hero.

Her name echoed across the meadow, sweet and clear and worried, and Iris bit her lip. She took two steps forward, her body moving without conscious thought toward Barry, moving to meet him without hesitation. Her broken rib didn’t even throb; she could only think about him and getting to him, making sure he was okay, and then telling him to run. Because she would be fine. As long as he was okay, she would be fine.

But the other speedster intercepted him and the subsequent boom from two unstoppable forces colliding sent a shockwave that knocked her off of her feet. Iris laid still for a few seconds, hearing nothing but repeated slams, high frequency cracks of thunder, all over the open meadow. She got up again and looked for them, spotting only the occasional flash of blinding light to alert her to their presence.

And then his arms were around her, looped underneath her knees and her back, and she leaned into his solid torso. Barry set her down, gently, miles away from their original location, and stroked her face lightly (his fingers left a warmth that was so familiar to her, and though her heart beat faster, a feeling of calm flooded her system) before turning around and heading back.

She took out her phone and called her father. “Not so fast,” a voice said in her other ear, and he wrenched the phone from her grip and dropped it on the ground before grabbing her and speeding off, back to the fight, back to the meadow. “You have to be here to watch this,” the man said, his voice delirious and words spilling out of his mouth in quick succession. He set her down on the ground and then ran. “She has to be here to watch me win, Barry!”

It was her own personal nightmare unfolding in front of her. Two flashes of light spinning around her, lightning mixing with thunder, booms rebounding. Every time she tried to get closer, Barry would appear next to her and pull her back, begging her to stay away, telling her to be safe. And every time she tried to run, the other man would grab her and drag her back, shouting that she had to stay, that she was going to witness his victory once and for all.

She was useless, defenseless; all Iris could do was watch the battle unfold in front of her. She wanted to help Barry but couldn’t do anything other than stand and occasionally distract the stranger by running in the opposite direction. But even that didn’t do what she wanted; Barry was too afraid of her getting hurt to take advantage of these respites. They kept fighting and Iris kept watching, her muffled cries of hysteria overwhelmed by the loud echoes of their fighting. And the stranger, the other man, kept ringing around her, drawing Barry closer and closer to Iris, bringing their fight closer to her so she could see everything.

“Leave her out of this!” Barry shouted, finally. Iris could see him, doubled over and breathing heavy. “Let her go. She has nothing to do us or with any of this.”

The man ran forward, and all Iris could see was his hand around Barry’s throat. She started running, ignoring Barry’s earlier warnings. “She has everything to do with us, Barry,” the man said. “She is as much a part of this story as we are.”

Barry’s body was lifted up into the air and slammed down onto the ground. Iris screamed and dove for him just as the stranger in yellow pulled back his fist for one final hit. She landed in between the two of them, her back to Barry and her face staring right into the other man’s. His fist changed and suddenly she could feel his gloved hand around her throat. He was lifting her to her feet, slowly, his palm closing her windpipe.

Iris looked into his eyes.

“Eddie, please,” she said weakly, tears falling down her cheeks. “Don’t do this. Please don’t hurt him anymore.”

He released her and Iris fell on top of Barry, coughing as she recovered her breath. Her breaths were shallow and labored and she was still crying, but it didn’t matter. He was okay. Barry was safe. Eddie ran off, a blur of yellow visible only for a few seconds before it was only Barry and Iris, alone, in the meadow.

Barry wrapped his arms around her and cradled her body close to his. She let herself be enveloped by him and cried onto his shoulder, both overcome with relief and finally feeling the full effects of Eddie’s attack.

He was also crying, though why, she didn’t know. “I’m sorry, Iris,” he said, finally, his whole body wracked with sobs. “I’m so sorry for dragging you into this. And now you’re hurt. God, you could have died.”

She lifted a hand cautiously to his face and slid the mask up so she could see his face. Barry looked back at her, pale and visibly shaken. Here were cuts all over his skin and bruises blossoming over his bones, but the more she looked at them the less severe they seemed. He really could heal fast. “I’m okay,” she told him. She turned toward him and put her hands on either side of his face. “I’m okay and it’s not your fault. Do you hear me? It’s not your fault.”

He didn’t say anything back to her; he just leaned his forehead onto hers and closed his eyes.

She could barely even feel the throbbing pain from her rib as she wrapped her arms around him, her knees planted firmly on the ground.

She pressed her lips against his and kissed him, trying to let him know exactly how she felt. His lips were warm against hers, and the kiss sent shivers of pleasure down her spine. His mouth moved against hers and she smiled at his desperation, at his outpour of love.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Iris,” Barry whispered when they pulled apart.

“Let’s hope you’ll never have to find out,” she said breathlessly, and kissed him again.

A/N:: So this was originally going to be for the Time prompt but this weekend was pretty busy.  Sorry! This is kind of my prediction for the finale - a showdown between Barry and Eddie that involves Iris, and she is the one who saves Barry. 

[eaglesforthecup]

WestAllen Week Day 4: One Significant Change

Iris West and Bernice 'Barrie' Allen

(Disclaimer: Gifs not mine. They were found through a gifhunter)

[westallenweek]

WestAllen Week 2 

Friendly reminder that WestAllen Week 2 starts September 28 - October 4 (aka tomorrow)

Day 1: Wedding Day Surprise or Body Swap Day 2: Sleepovers or Leaving for College Day 3: Comics/Newsflash or Favorite Fanfic Tropes (fake dating, truth spells, amnesia, etc) Day 4: Caught in the Act or Household Chores/Domesticity  Day 5: Road Trip or Dance Lessons Day 6: Thirst (check out some great prompts if you need ideas​) or Myth AU Day 7: Anything goes

You may create fanfic, fanart, graphics, gifsets, etc based on the prompts listed above. And all prompts can be crossovers/AUs/smut.

Also The Flash Production Office holds weekly Fan Art Fridays and they hang up a lot of their favorite pieces on their walls! I’ve seen a lot of lovely WestAllen fanart on their walls and the cast & crew have seen it too, so consider that incentive to create more art ;)

Tagging system: You must tag everything as #westallenweek and #westallen and #westallenpw and tag any smut - beyond that you can tag however you like

If you have any questions, feel free to send an ask here or at eaglesforthecup 

[unleashwithin-blog]

Going Up

NOTE: For Westallen Week 2 - Day 6- Prompt ‘Thirst or Myth AU’, specifically “Iris and Barry work together and Iris hops into the elevator and starts going up with Barry and she starts talking to him about something or other and he falls in love with her in the time the elevator takes and when she leaves he’s like, ‘Oh my god.’ and she totally hears him.”

NOTE 2: Yeah I’m like 22 minutes late and I have no idea what trash I just wrote but please find more under the cut xD

“Hold the doors, please!”

Although he hears the voice but doesn’t see the body that went with it, Barry holds his hand out to stop the door as it begins to close anyway, forcing them to reopen automatically, revealing…

“Iris,” he said in an almost-whisper, as his breath caught in his throat from the dazzling smile she gives him for keeping the elevator there as she requested.

“Hey, Barry!” the detective greeted him cheerfully. “Thanks for holding the doors for me! I’d have to pull out some crazy acrobatics to push that button with my foot if you didn’t.”

The forensic scientist tries and fails not to imagine her doing exactly that, because he knows she’s fit and flexible—hell, she could’ve been a gymnast if she wanted to—and holy crap he begins to picture her in a whole different position and he needs to concentrate on something else before things really go south—both literally and figuratively. He’s not usually like this, honest, but with Iris it was a whole other story—they started on the force at the same time as rookies and they just clicked automatically as if they’d known each other their entire lives. She was hands down his favourite cop to work with.

Lately, though, he’s realized something has changed—he’s not sure what it is, and as a scientist it extremely bothered him, but he recently concluded that it wasn’t so much the dynamic between them but him specifically that transformed, with his mind wandering to unsavoury places being exhibit A evidence.

Finding something new to steer his brain towards, Barry wondered why her feet was even a topic to begin with, and fern green eyes moved to glance at her hands, where they’re both full with trays of coffee and a bag of what he assumes to be donuts under one of her arms. “Coffee run?” Barry dumbly asks as offers a hand towards her to help her carry the load.

“Caffeine, the nectar of heroes,” Iris jokes as she gives him one the trays, though not merely to hold. “I got one for you, so feel free to take one.”

And indeed when he looks, one of the cups has his name on it, and he feels warm inside before the hot liquid even goes down his throat. It’s little things like this that touch him, yet at the same time it’s something he never found himself focusing on until late. Like how her eyes sparkle when she’s talking about something she’s really passionate about like they’re doing right now ( whoever said brown was such a basic eye colour has clearly never looked into Iris West’s eyes before ), or how cute he finds it when she speaks with her whole body, or how he worries every time she gets called out on a case or how his heart aches whenever he finds her curled up in the locker room, eye shiny with unshed tears after a particularly hard assignment.

Barry had thought that those were all things that friends had thought about each other, and that his dog-in-heat attraction to her was puberty hitting him twice or something, but it couldn’t have been normal to want to be the only one who she allowed herself to be vulnerable with, or want to be the first one she called when things were great, and he knows only female dogs can be in heat and puberty only happens once but there’s no other way to describe it because no other girl, from Becky Cooper to Linda Park to even Patty Spivot has made him feel the way Iris does and—

He distantly recalls hearing a bell chime at the exact time he reaches an epiphany and  thinks, oh, my god, he’s pretty sure he might be in love with Iris West. Barry freezes when she turns around ( because the elevator has stopped and the doors have opened and she’s poised to leave ), and while part of him is freaking out, wondering if he said that aloud and if she heard him, the other part of him is a small movement away from pushing her against the elevator wall and kissing her senseless until she forgets her name, because hey, it worked for that Christian fellow.

The forensic scientist tenses when she approaches him, so acutely aware of the gun-carrying woman’s every movement—his brain just remembered she could easily kick his ass to next Sunday—and he’s almost disappointed when she takes the coffee tray off his hands. Right, he was carrying that.

“Thanks again for your help, Bar,” Iris says ( and against his better judgment his gaze falls to her lips and if he just leaned down a fraction he could capture them ) and she’s on her way out again. Just as the doors begin to close, though, she spins around to face him again to add, “Don’t lose that cup sleeve, okay?” And then she’s gone.

Confused, Barry removes said sleeve from his coffee cup and ripped it gently down the seam, opening it up to reveal a note written in handwriting he knows by heart.

‘I love you, too, dork.’

So quickly he was lucky he didn’t get whiplash, he snaps his head back up even though the elevator is already moving and she’s no longer there. His mind is going a hundred miles an hour, wondering how she even knew what he was thinking, was he that obvious the entire time that she knew how he felt before he even did, and he rushes forward to impatiently push the button for the next floor. His mind is already calculating how long it’d take him to take the stairs two—maybe even three—at a time back down a floor, back to her, as the elevator wouldn’t take him around fast enough.

Because he had a thirst the coffee in his hand just wouldn’t be able to quench.

[ronniespearls]

Westallen week: One Significant Change- Criminal!Iris

When bank robber Iris West start robbing banks all cross Central City its up to The Flash to take her down. But for some reason Barry can't bring himself to do so.

[iriswestallenn]

Westallenweek Day 2: Pacific Rim Au

You felt it right? We are drift compatible.

The former pilot Barry Allen, who lost his mother Nora Allen in a battle against a Kaiju, is summoned by Marshall Joe West to fight again together with the rookie Iris West in the last hope of mankind.

[bariswestallen-blog]

WestAllen Week Prompt #2: Crossover

WestAllen: Pokemon Edition

As soon as they both turned eleven, best friends Barry Allen and Iris West visited the lab of Pokemon Professor Wells to begin their journey as Pokemon Trainers. Professor Wells detected something special in both Barry and Iris. Instead of giving them one of the traditional starter Pokemon, Professor Wells gave Barry and Iris an Eevee each, requesting that they experiment with different types of evolution. 

Rather than going their separate ways or becoming rivals, Iris and Barry decided to cultivate their friendship and share the adventure of catching, raising, training, and battling.

As they grew older, Barry and Iris fell in love, married, and settled in Central City, a bustling town in the vast Midwest region.The couple opened a rather unorthodox gym in their new home. In order to earn a badge, a trainer must defeat both Iris and Barry--both formidable trainers--while exhibiting strong bonds and friendships with their Pokemon. 

Due to an incident involving lightning, Barry chose to study and specialize in Electric types.

Team Barry:

Jolteon

Pikachu

Heliolisk

Electrike

Magneton

Emolga 

Iris' fun, inquisitive nature and interest in the supernatural attracted her to both Psychic and Fairy types.

Team Iris:

Sylveon

Jigglypuff

Jynx

Meowstic

Flabebe

Gardevoir 

[inkykate]

WestAllen Week, Day 1: Holidays

Title: Glancing Blow

Rating: T 

Pairing: Barry Allen/Iris West

Warning: Angst. Mentions of alcohol use. Features some canon-based Eddie/Iris. (Appropriate to the timeline of the story, but not intended as end game.) Also, no beta - so any mistakes are my own.

Summary: It may be the cruelest thing Iris West has ever done, kissing Barry Allen on New Year’s.

Barry Allen slipped into the New Year’s Eve party at Jitters ten minutes after midnight, nodding at familiar faces in the crowd before settling in besides Caitlyn and Cisco at a table in the back.

From across the room, Iris West watched as Caitlyn and Cisco each bussed one of Barry’s cheeks before falling over each other in rather drunken giggles. Barry looked bemused by it all, had probably not gotten the memo on the rather heavily Irish coffee that was being served, and looked only vaguely resigned to the fact that he was going to be the one tucking them into cabs sooner rather than later.

Then their eyes met and his entire demeanor flickered, as though someone had turned the sheer wattage of Barry Allen down, before he caught himself and smiled, mouthed ‘Happy New Year.’ At her. His best friend. From across the room.

She smiled back, let herself be pulled back into conversation with Eddie and his friends, but she knew that it didn’t reach her eyes. Knew too that, for once, Barry hadn’t been late at all and had arrived exactly when he wanted.

God this was going to hurt for a while.

Iris drifted a little in the conversation, lulled by the spiked coffee and the solid warmth of Eddie at her side, arm around her shoulder. His friend Mike - from the gym by Eddie’s apartment - and Mike’s girlfriend Abby seemed… nice. Abby was going to loose 10 pounds; Mike wanted a promotion or a new job; Eddie wanted to be sure his task force made a difference. (There was something interesting in the way Eddie said that, without any mention of the Flash, that Iris wanted to pick apart later.)

Iris wanted, well, to give the people of Central City something to believe in. She wanted to turn her blog into something hard hitting, more than just a hobby or some school project after-thought. She wanted to know more about the Burning Man, about the Flash, about all the weird that was around every corner now. She wanted to get her Masters. She wanted Jitters to be a place she visited. She wanted to move in with Eddie and see what they could build together - no more secrets, no more hiding.

She wanted her best friend Barry back. Just like last year.

Iris West would never give up on Barry Allen. She wouldn’t lose him. It would be hard, but they could get Iris-and-Barry-Best-Friends-Forever back. And next year, Barry would show up late, but in time for midnight, and he’d be right here with her, with all their friends.

Which is why, when she saw Barry head upstairs … “Hey babe, I’m going to go and wish everyone a happy new year, ok?”

Eddie pressed a kiss to her forehead, a gesture that was normally sweet and now was a bit sloppy. “Want me to come with?”

“Nah,” And she had to smile, because Eddie was a cheerful drunk for the most part and not a very subtle one. Talking football with Mike was absolutely what he wanted to be doing right then, but he’d come with her if she asked and never once begrudge her for it. “You guys catch up. I’ll be back soon.”

She stops by a couple people on her way to the stairs - Cisco, who is not as drunk as he seemed a moment ago; Caitlyn, who is not as happy - before pausing to look back. Eddie and Mike are laughing, loud, making wide gestures between them, coffee in hand. Abby is slowly curling in on herself, sinking towards sleep against the arm of Mike’s she’d claimed for herself as the evening wound down. They look happy, and maybe even optimistic and secure, and she really will be right back down to end the evening.

When Iris finally makes it to the roof, Barry is leaning on the railing, backlit by the city lights that only emphasize how tall and lanky he is. For a brief moment, Iris thinks of the Flash always in shadows, a tall dark stranger whose silhouette stretched out over the past few months.

Here, now, on the rooftop with Barry, where they would have their clandestine rendezvous, the Flash feels more like a specter. An idea, a heroic idea even, but one with no history, no anchor and an uncertain future.

“Hey Bear,” someone says, and she doesn’t recognize her own voice. She tries not to notice the way he stiffens, but then it’s there in every line of his body as her turns towards her.

“Hey Iris,” and she imagines she hears heartbreak in his voice, in the subdued, measured beat of words, in the way he barely manages a smile.

Its an ache by her heart, this distance between them. It lingers as she crosses to stand beside him at the railing, watching some of the revelry bleed out of the new year and into the streets, into people walking home and hailing cabs, holding hands with loved ones and thinking of warm beds and new beginnings.

She tries not to think about how many times they had done just that - curled up in PJs on the couch as children, stumbling home intertwined as buzzed adults. If he hadn’t hidden how he felt so well, she would have noticed, and maybe then they wouldn’t be here. Maybe if she had seen it sooner, she would have known what to do, so they wouldn’t be together but so far apart.

But god, how many times had he hidden ‘I Love You’ behind being genuinely happy for her? How many little things had hurt him because she hadn’t realized what he was really feeling? 

She would give anything to have the Barry that she thought she had back.

“Any resolutions this year?” Was he that uncomfortable with the silence between them?

“No, I mean,” Her mind stuttered, because bringing up resolutions like ‘be more involved in Eddie’s life’ seemed purposefully painful. “I have more of a goal. This is the year I decide what I’m going to be when I grow up.”

His face was tilted towards her, his eyes in shadow, so she was dependent on the wry quirk of his lips for hints. Never condescending, just curious. Because she had always been good at pinpointing what she wanted. “Have you narrowed it down? Any leads on who grown up Iris West will be?”

There is a shadow of movement, as if any other time he may have bumped her shoulder with his in solidarity. And there’s something in the way he says ‘grown up’ that makes her realize that a couple weeks ago she would have said that she already was - that she was her own woman, who made her own decisions and didn’t need to be coddled, that made her own money and paid her own way, and that could move in with her boyfriend if she wanted to. That could make the tough calls and could be ok.

She’s still that Iris. She’s 25; of course, she’s an adult. She’s just off balance, that’s all; not lost, just not exactly where she thought she was.

“Someone who makes a difference,” she says into the gap between them. She thinks about bringing people hope, showing people the truth. She thinks about believing in something better in humanity, not always looking for it at its worst.

If she didn’t get out of her own head, she’d go crazy. She’d never had such a failure of a conversation with Barry before. “How about you? Any resolutions? Goals?”

She stops herself from reaching out, looping her arm through his.

“I think I need to think about my future,” the words come slowly, but not reluctantly. Barry isn’t looking at her now, but gazing off as if he can see to the edge of the world. “Make decisions that aren’t based in fear.”

It’s vague, and it’s ominous. Between the lines, she hears him say ‘I love you’ and she could hear him say ‘goodbye’ as he leaves Central City behind. She can hear the weight of his mother’s death and his father’s incarceration, can see how it shaped him right until this moment.

“Maybe I should just be glad to be awake for most of it,” he teases, and its not funny, but he lists to his left brushing her arm.

She doesn’t even think about it before finding his hand and linking their fingers. Barry goes absolutely still - and she wants to scream. And maybe she is tired, and maybe she is a little bit drunk, but she can almost see the bruises her touch leaves behind.

“I hope you have a wonderful year, Barry,” she exhales. She should leave, because it is too soon to bridge their emotional divide. She should leave, because Eddie is downstairs and he loves her. She should leave, because Barry is right here and he loves her and right now that’s hurting both of them. She should leave, and it’s New Year’s Day, and she has probably had a bit too much to drink.

And she goes to. And it is an empty, habitual gesture, but she leans in to brush a quick kiss on his cheek, happy new year, and Barry turns his head, breathing in to wish her well. And she sees it coming, in slow motion, but she can’t stop herself in time - and in the space of a heartbeat, her lips glance over his.

If it had just been this, an accidental brush, she thinks later, it would have been ok. 

Iris isn’t sure how, but, between one heartbeat and the next breath, her lips find his again. They are warm and soft, and they slide smooth beneath hers, clinging at the edges. And she sinks in, tasting cinnamon and nutmeg from his coffee downstairs, and feeling an elastic friction that bubbles through her and fizzes down her spine. 

Her head tilts, and his mouth follows, and in the next moment they are on the precipice of a truly dirty kiss. They both breath in, or they both gasp, and their lips part and their mouths come together. There are tongues, a sharp frisson of tension and heat, and a delicious pressure that fills her up and sends tingles down to her toes.

And she is kissing Barry Allen. Oh god.

They pull back at the same time, in sync as they hadn’t been before. The space between them has more weight now, and she cannot believe that that just happened. She cannot articulate what it even was, except now there is something like horror in Barry’s face and she can see his heart, broken, in his eyes. 

He steps back, putting space between them and stumbling over himself, and she is cold and her lips tingle. And, “Oh god, Iris. I’m so sorry.” Barry trips over the words, disjointed and graceless. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t. I didn’t mean, oh god. I’m so sorry. I…”

She can see where he is falling apart by how he pulls himself back together. “I’m just… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, and I’m sorry if I made you uncomftable. And, just… Happy New Year.”

He’s gone before she can even think to say, “But I think I kissed you.”

It may be the cruelest thing she has ever done, kissing Barry Allen on New Year’s.

[journalistiriswest]

Westallen Weeks Day 4: One Significant Change

Title: say you'll remember me standing in a nice dress Pairing: Westallen  Characters: Iris West, Barry Allen Word Count: 2575 Summary: He was eleven when it happened. There was tornado of light in the living room, surrounding his mother, and then - in a flash - it was gone. His mom fell to the floor, unconscious but breathing, barely breathing.  What if Nora Allen had never died? 

He was eleven when it happened. There was tornado of light in the living room, surrounding his mother, and then - in a flash - it was gone. His mom fell to the floor, unconscious but breathing, barely breathing. Barry grabbed the phone off the of wall like he had always been taught to do if there was an emergency and he dialed 9-1-1 numbly, his eyes always watching his mom. To make sure that her chest was still rising.

“9-1-1. What is your emergency?”

“My mother was attacked and is unconscious.”

“Is she still breathing?”

“Yes,” he said, his eyes taking in the rise and fall of her chest. “Yeah, she’s still breathing.”

“Emergency responders have been dispatched. Is there anyone else in the house with you?”

“No,” he said, shaking his even though she couldn’t see. “No, it’s just me and my mom.”

“Will you stay on the line with me until the paramedics arrive?”

He said yes, and stayed on the line with the woman for the next two minutes to keep her updated about his mother’s condition. Yes, she was still breathing. No, it wasn’t a person, more like a tornado. Yes, he said tornado. In the house. The operator kept him talking about what was going on until the paramedics came into the house and she said goodbye and called him smart.

He rode in the ambulance with his mom.

At some point in the two days after his mother was attacked, Iris and her dad came by the hospital. Henry and Joe sent Iris and Barry to the cafeteria in the hospital so they could talk in peace about the on-going investigation without Barry piping up about the mysterious light in the room, or how it was like the air was being sucked from her lungs.

“I’m glad your mom is gonna be okay,” Iris said as they ate ice cream out of two tiny containers.

Barry nodded and ate another tiny spoonful of chocolate ice cream. “Me too,” he said. “I don’t know how my dad and I would get along without her.”

Iris shrugged. She was staring pretty intently into her treat, stabbing the spoon into the soft surface over and over again. “You learn to manage,” she said quietly, and Barry frowned. Iris didn’t talk about her mom that much, but he knew that she thought about her a lot. About what they would have done together if she were still alive, whether or not she would like to take Iris shopping or would have disapproved of the frozen food that Joe stocked in the freezer because Iris could make all of that on her own when he had to work. Iris looked through her eyelashes at him, and then she smiled. “But, you know, even if something did happen, you would always have me. I’ll always be here for you, Barry.”

Even at the tender age of eleven, Iris’ smile changed his world. He couldn’t help but smile back at her, and then, for the rest of her visit to the hospital, things were easier. Fun, almost. And, she was right; even if something happened to his parents, at least he would always have his best friend.

In middle school, they drifted apart. It wasn’t a conscious decision; they were in different classes and just hung out in different crowds. He was interested in history and mathematics, and joined the band with a few of his friends in seventh grade. Iris had easily become on of the most popular girls in school, and being popular, apparently, meant that she couldn’t like the nerdy things that they used to talk about constantly. She still said hi to him in the hallways, and he liked her from afar, but being a teenager was difficult. And the more time they spent away from each other, the easier it was to imagine a life where she wasn’t always there.

In the spring semester of their senior year of high school, they had a class together. It wasn’t the first time they had been in the same class, but it was unusual for them; somehow, even for their required classes, they ended up with different teachers at different times. Even when they were in the same class, though, they barely spoke. They were friendly, but not friends. An acquaintance that he had known especially well as a child.

They were taking an advanced placement psychology course. The teacher, a fresh face right out of a dual master’s program in psychology and education, tried to be creative when making the seating chart. So she put the person with the first name on her roster (Allen, Bartholomew) next to the last person on the list (West, Iris) in an effort to “force you to talk to people to whom you can go your whole high school career without speaking.”

Barry didn’t mind, of course, but it was weird to be sitting right in front of Iris after so many years of being so far from her. His crush on her had long since disappeared, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t still beautiful, so there were moments where he would find himself thinking about her when he really should have been sleeping or taking notes or really, anything else. And Iris was still funny, too; during class, she would make witty commentary about the things that “Grace” wanted them to do (because the teacher insisted that they call her by her first name).

It was nice to be able to spend this time with her before they went on their separate paths. Barry was going to a prestigious university to study medicine and follow in his dad’s footsteps, though sometimes he thought about becoming a surgeon instead of a general practitioner. Iris was heading over to Starling University to major in law or criminal justice or even economics, she wasn’t quite sure. But he did know she wanted to get out of Central City and never look back.

She gave him a hug the day they graduated from high school, and his mom insisted they take a picture together. She obliged, and his mom put the photo on the photo table because, as she said, they looked lovely together.

He didn’t see her again for over six years.

It was his third year of med school, and he was on his third 12 hour shift in three days. He had heard that the third year was killer for med students, and he believed it; he was pretty much the whipping boy for any resident that walked by, and he was constantly checking on patients and making sure everything was fine. Twelve straight hours of fielding questions from family members and testing blood and listening to patients describe their different levels of pain on a scale of one to ten.

He didn’t even notice the name on the door when he walked into the room of a new patient, one that had just been assigned to him. The nurses had called it a sad case, a man who didn’t have that much longer to live; it was cancer, they said. And he had opted to stop the chemo treatments. He was just in for end of life care.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said when he noticed that the patient was awake and he had a visitor. “Unless you have any questions, I can come back-”

“Barry?”

He blinked, and then the faces in front of him sunk it. The patient, he realized, was Joe West. And sitting next to him was none other than Iris, her hair pulled up into a messy ponytail and her eyes rimmed in red.

Joe smiled. “Barry Allen, as I live and breathe,” he said. “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been well, thanks,” Barry said. “How’ve… how’ve you been?” He felt stupid saying it, and once it came out of his mouth Barry instantly wished he could take it back. Obviously, Joe and Iris had not been well. Obviously, that was not what he should be asking.

“Been better,” Joe said, and then he laughed.

Iris hit him on the shoulder with a laugh of her own. Her eyes were still watering, Barry saw, but she was smiling. “Dad,” she reprimanded. Barry saw them smile at each other and he felt so bad for Iris; losing both of her parents before she was thirty.

They chatted with him for a while before he left to continue his rounds, and Iris told him that he was welcome to visit whenever he wanted.

He asked for Joe to be removed from his list, saying that he knew the man and, anyways, he wasn’t interested in studying oncology.

Joe died.

Barry went to the funeral with his parents. Iris, dressed in black and standing with her cousin Wally in the reception line, thanked them all for coming. She gave them each a hug, and thanked his parents profusely for not only helping with the medical bills but coming to see Joe so often in his last month. He had no idea they had gone to the hospital. He stayed for a little while longer, just long enough to catch Iris beg away and break down behind a fake plant. He thought about going to her, but he wasn’t sure how much comfort he could offer her. He had never lost a parent, never had to suffer through this tragedy once much less twice. Barry left without saying goodbye.

After he finished his residency, he saw her again. 

It was at a party for a friend of a friend of a friend, some large gathering for people under the age of 35 who were making a difference in Central City. He had been invited because he was a surgeon starting to make waves in the medical community and had recently received a grant and job offer from STAR Labs, a behemoth behind cutting edge medical innovation. She was a writer and well known political activist, someone who made a point to stand up to the injustices and corruption that was well documented.

He kept up with her that way, he thought; he always read her think-pieces and articles, always heard her calls to action.

They found each other at the party, and started talking, and before he knew it she was prying into the practices at STAR labs, asking questions about the research some of his colleagues were doing. She kept referencing Dr. Wells, one of his mentors, and then asking questions about Caitlin and her husband, Ronnie. Asking about the experimental treatment her father had received, the legality of it all. They had cut corners with things in an effort to get positive results.

Barry realized, then, that her next target was his workplace. He responded to the rest of her questions with ‘no comment’ and then told her that if she was looking for corruption at STAR, she was barking up the wrong tree.

A month later she saw him again and apologized for her questions at the dinner party. He accepted her apology and her invitation to dinner, just the two of them, to catch up.

For hours and hours they talked and laughed and he found himself falling in love with her all over again. The way she smiled, the way she laughed, how she always seemed to know what was on his mind. He had forgotten, in those years apart, what it was like to talk to Iris. What it was like to have her look into his eyes and be able to read him so easily.

They talked about his mom and the night she was almost murdered, how he had told her about the light. Iris said she never forgot about that, which surprised Barry, because he certainly had. It was the product of a child’s overactive imagination, trying to make sense of something as terrible as a break-in gone wrong. Iris wasn’t so sure.

She didn’t say it, but he had the feeling that she wasn’t sure because of the research she had done into STAR Labs. About those practices she had drilled him about earlier. But that topic slid away into easier ones, and he was caught up in her eyes, her beauty, her heart.

At the end of the night, they kissed.

Barry swore he saw his life with Iris stretch out in front of him, saw the possibilities of the two of them living together and getting married and having children. He promised to call her.

A few days later, she left town to track down another lead for another story in Starling.

He never called her.

He was 36 and married to a CSI named Patty with two little girls and a house in the suburbs of the city.

She was engaged to world-famous journalist Lois Lane.

Barry heard about their engagement and thought about that day when he and Iris kissed, about the future he had imagined. He always chalked it up to just being enamoured with her beauty, being overtaken by her energy and zeal. He got an invitation in the mail for the wedding, and he declined; she didn’t really want him there, he reasoned, only invited him because they were childhood friends.

Patty looked at the invitation on the table and asked if he really knew Iris West, if they really had been friends at some point. Barry said yes, they had; once, a long time ago, they had known each other. Once, they had been best friends. The best of friends, he amended. His wife asked him what had changed and Barry confided that they had just grown apart, that Iris has always been destined for great things. Patty hugged him and said that he, too, had been destined for great things.

He never spoke to Iris West again. He would see her name in the paper, hear her talking on TV; she once even gave a TEDTalk on how she uncovered the corruption in STAR Labs where they had been researching and attempting to exploit what they called the metahuman gene. He, luckily, had left STAR for a job at an actual hospital before the scandal went public.

He heard of her relationship with Lane, and saw her first articles on the Green Lantern Corps that let the world know humans were not alone in the universe. He even heard that the US government had been keeping some sort of superhuman alien in their custody that she had fought to be released. She wrote about superheroes and legislation, explored in depth what being a hero meant in today's world.

Her name, often right next to Lois Lane’s, had become a household phrase; people knew her, know who she was and what she thought. Lane and West were the dream team of journalism, he heard, finally bring truth and justice to the American Way.

Some days, he imagined what his life would have been life if he and Iris remained friends. Sometimes, he wondered who they would have been and how he would have been different.

But he knows he can’t turn back time. He can’t go back to the days when he and Iris were friends and hold on to her, he can’t go back to the time her father was sick and be there for her. He can’t change her life, nor could he change his own.

Barry Allen and Iris West were just never meant to be, it seemed. At least, not in this universe.

[eaglesforthecup]

WestAllen Week Day 4: One Significant Change

Title: i pray the lord my soul to take Fandom: The Flash Characters: Iris West, Barry Allen Relationship: WestAllen 
Rating: General Audiences Warning: Angsty. Character death. Word Count: 1756
 Summary: Barry never wakes up from his coma

It’s like any other normal night. She and Barry had gone to his nerdy science thing. They had talked and laughed and Barry had grinned the whole time and she had gotten her laptop stolen. Okay, maybe that last part hadn’t been normal, but everything up to that point and after they had left the station had been normal.

She’s home now, snuggled in a blanket and drinking hot cocoa for the warmth. She should really be working on her dissertation but she’s kind of exhausted and she’s had a long day, so she’s putting it off just for tonight. Instead, she watches Netflix and lets herself relax.

She’s in the middle of laughing at a particularly funny line when an odd chill runs through her spine and a terrible feeling settles in her gut.

———

She finds Barry collapsed on the floor of his lab and it feels like all the air has been sucked out of her lungs.

Oh god.

Oh god.

Not Barry.

No.

Her stomach churns and everything she had eaten that day spills out of her mouth.

———

He’s rushed into the ER for surgery and she has to be restrained by one of the nurses even though she’s his family and oh god, he was the one struck by lightning but her whole body hurts all over and she can’t breathe.

The nurse explains it all–his condition, the surgery–to her and her dad but the words enter her ear and exit the other and she can’t make sense of any of it. It’s all gibberish. She’s not a science person. That’s Barry. Only he isn’t here to explain it all to her and the thought wrenches and twists her heart painfully.

The only word that she can make out is “critical” – Barry’s condition is critical. Barry’s condition is critical and his heart had stopped and he’s dying and–

Oh god. What was the last thing she had said to him? Was it something nice? Something about how amazing he is? Was it something teasing? She can’t remember. She can’t remember at all. She hopes it was meaningful. She hopes the last thing she had told him was something about how much she loved him and not something stupid. But she can’t remember.

Oh god. He can’t die. He can’t die without him knowing just how much he means to her.

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

———

The doctor approaches them and Iris is trying not to cry so loudly because she needs to hear this–she needs to hear that Barry is okay.

"How is he, doc?" her dad asks hoarsely, his eyes bloodshot.

"He’s stable," the doctor says. And Iris lets out a huge breath that she didn’t even know she had been holding.

Stable. Stable is good. Barry is stable.

More tears well and pool in her eyes but these are different tears. Stable. Barry is stable.

"Th-thank you, doctor," she says, uttering her first words since Barry had been pulled into surgery.

———

A coma. He’s in a coma. He’s not responsive and he won’t wake up and he’s in a coma.

A coma. An invisible hand takes hold of her heart and squeezes and twists and oh god. But at least he’s not dead, she tells herself. It’s okay because at least he’s alive.

But god, the sight of him in that hospital bed is enough to make her sick. It’s wrong. It’s so wrong.

Barry’s always been this adorable puppy that she’s always tried to protect and now he just looks so tiny and fragile with wires connected to all of his body and how could she have let this happen?

Why hadn’t she made sure he had gotten home safe that night instead of letting him do god knows what in his lab? How could she have let this happen?

———

She takes a week off of school and work to stay by Barry’s side. She knows he’ll wake up soon and she wants to be the first person he sees when he does.

She brings books to read and schoolwork to work on and she groans and complains to Barry like it were any other day and he wasn’t in a coma.

She tries to imagine his responses, pictures the way his eyes would roll as the corner of his mouth lifted into that exasperated grin or the way his mouth would curve into his wide smile as the corners of his eyes crinkled. She can see it all so clearly, can hear his voice so perfectly.

The contrast to the still face and the relative silence is painful.

———

She pretends he is Sleeping Beauty under Maleficent’s spell, awaiting his princess charming to awaken him from his slumber.

She’s his fairy godmother, watching over him until his princess beats the dragon and rescues him.

Or maybe she’s Maleficent because this is all her fault and why isn’t he awake and it’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair.

———

She brushes his hair away from his forehead and stares at his tragically handsome face, willing him to wake up.

He looks so peaceful, like he really is just asleep and god, where is his princess charming come to save him? Doesn’t she know that he’s waiting for her to break the spell?

———

If she’s Maleficent that means she could break it, right? It worked for Angelina Jolie and Iris is one hundred percent sure that she loves Barry more than Angelina Jolie loved Elle Fanning. One hundred percent sure.

Her eyes fall on his lips and linger there for a moment, but her lips press against his forehead and she waits for that burst of magic, waits for his eyes to flutter open.

She holds her breath and… Nothing happens.

She’s always believed in miracles and the impossible, but this breaks her faith and crumbles it into dust.

———

This is the longest she’s seen Barry without a smile. This is the longest she’s ever been without a smile too.

———

A month. His living will says he wants to only be on life support for a month and then the doctors should pull the plug.

And she wants to scream at him. She wants to shout and yell and ask him what the hell is wrong with him for putting that in his will. How could he do that to her?

She tries to argue with the doctors. She tries to tell them that she knows Barry better than she knows anyone. She tries to tell them it has to be some mistake. That he wouldn’t want his plug to be pulled. That if he knew how much pain she was in, he’d change his mind.

Their hands are tied, they tell her. It’s in his living will and that’s what they have to follow. They’re so sorry.

Iris has never hated Barry more than in this moment.

But then her heart twists and she takes it back because he’s in a coma and she can’t hate him. Her last thoughts can’t be of hating him.

Oh god. Why can’t he just wake up?

———

"Please wake up," she says hoarsely, squeezing his hand hard in hopes it might do something but still he does not stir. "Barry, please. Please wake up. I need you. Please."

"Barry. Please wake up," she begs, shaking him gently. "Please. You have to wake up."

"Bear, please," she says, tears welling in her eyes as she shakes him harder. "You can’t do this to me. You can’t leave me. Please."

"What am I supposed to do without you? Barry. Barry. Please. Just wake up. Please. Wake up for me. Do it for me. I will never tease you again. I won’t ever steal your fries. I–I–Please. Just please wake up. Please."

———

A month passes just like that and it’s both the longest and shortest month she’s ever experienced.

———

All of his loved ones get a moment or two with him before they pull the machine.

She’s the last one, which seems right because she had been his first friend.

She takes a seat next to him, eyes already brimming with tears, and splays her hand over his heart one last time. It’s beating fast, much too fast, but she finds the beat steady and reassuring.

"My dad told me you love me," she starts quietly. "He said he’s watched you be in love with me since you were old enough to know what love is."

She pauses, half-hoping he’ll wake and finish this confession but he lies as still and unresponsive as every other day.

"You should have been the one to tell me," she says, a single tear slipping down her face. "You should have been the one to tell me."

And god, she wants to know how he would’ve told her. Would he have stammered and blushed? Would he have boldly kissed her? She’ll never know and it utterly breaks her heart.

"It’s not fair," she says as more and more tears spill from her eyes. "This isn’t what’s supposed to happen."

Her tears fall on his handsome face and a part of her that still believes in miracles hopes that the tears will wake him, but he remains as unresponsive as ever.

"I–I love you," she admits, squeezing her eyes shut. "Do you hear me? I love you, Barry Allen."

But Barry doesn’t reply and what’s little left of her her heart shatters.

"It isn’t fair. Y-you’re s-supposed to t-tell me you l-l-love me a-and I’m s-s-supposed t-to a-ask you why it t-t-took so long a-and we’re s-supposed to k-kiss a-a-and b-be h-happy. W-we’re s-supposed to g-get m-m-married and h-have k-k-kids and g-grow o-old together. Barry… B-Bear… p-please wake up. P-p-please don’t leave me. P-please."

And even though she’s cried enough times to dry up her tear ducts, the tears continue to stream down her face with the force of a flood and no promise of ever stopping.

"I l-l-love you, B-Barry A-Allen," she says, laying her head on his chest. "I l-love you."

———

She’s going through his stuff when she finds a ring–the ring, her mother’s ring–and she curls up into a ball, her body wracking with massive sobs.

She doesn’t know how she’ll get over this. She doesn’t know how she’s supposed to get over this. Not when it feels like half of her heart, half of her soul has been torn from her. Barry Allen is–was, she reminds herself painfully–the love of her life. He wasn’t supposed to die.

No. Barry Allen was not supposed to die.