hi! for the wednesday writing event can I please have
“is that my shirt?” from prompt list b
with boxer!barry
Boxer!Barry x Reader
wc: 482
A/N: sorry this took so long!!I haven't written for boxer!barry in a hot minute! I did have a plus-size reader in mind for this
Everyone has their favorite piece of clothing; a comfortable sweater, a pair of jeans you rarely wash so that they fit you perfectly forever. Barry's was a t-shirt that he used to keep in the back of his closet, wondering how it always seemed to evade the dotation box.
He picked up the t-shirt from one of his first fights after randomly grabbing it off one of the guys handing them out. Not bothering to check the size. Even with his muscles, Barry drowned in a sea of black fabric.
It gathered dust in his closet until one night, after a long night of traveling home from a fight, he found you in it. Your body swimming in the black piece of fabric, your chest gently rising and falling as you slept peacefully on the couch. Is that my shirt, he thought to himself, stretching his neck to search for the obnoxious logo on the front.
His lips formed a soft smile, blue eyes gazing upon you lovingly. He'd never seen you wear something of his before, even when he offered to pick out something a size or two bigger. You'd always dismiss him and nonchalantly tell him that it was fine and he didn't need to. Barry knew better than that though.
Barry ignored the sting of his freshly cut knuckles and took his hand to drag his palm along your exposed thigh. "Wake up, m'love," he whispered as his hand disappeared into the fabric, gently squeezing the soft flesh of your hip.
"Did you win?" you yawned as you stirred awake.
"I did. Let's get to bed now, yeah?"
As he took his spot next to you on the bed, he draped his arm around you to pull your body close to him. "I like you in my clothes," he muttered happily with his lips pressed on your clothed shoulder blade. He couldn't see it, but it was like he could feel the smile that adored your face. It was the feeling of joy, pride perhaps.
Since that night, he wore the shirt often before he left for fights in neighboring towns. He put it on right after showering so the fragrance of his body wash could linger on the shirt. He sprayed it with his cologne the night before he left, folding it nicely and placing a small note on top for you to find in the morning after he had left.
Whenever he'd come back, he'd find you wearing it every time without fail. After coming through the door, Barry was met with your chest against his own, arms wrapped tightly around each other. Barry would drop his nose to your shoulder, and the smell of his cologne on the collar had faded. The dark color had faded with wear, it looked worn, and he couldn't be happier about it.
It became his favorite... because it was yours.
