#flash!iris

[zaritarazi]

Imagine the iconic "what other girls" line, but with Iris and Linda.

THANK YOU FOR BRINGING UP THE EARTH WHERE IRIS IS THE FLASH. I LOVE THIS

[coldflasher]

You know what, i found it in my notes app so here is the scene i wrote of Flash!Iris and Caitlin talking about speedster periods/pregnancy!! disclaimer that it's an incomplete first draft so it's rough and not entirely cohesive etc. etc.

cw: discussion of pregnancy and abortion, and Iris gets her blood taken. (Iris isn't actually pregnant but believes she might be as her periods have stopped due to speedster stuff. She and Caitlin discuss her options. More fictional characters should talk about and/or have abortions cos why is it never even considered as an option? As an enjoyer of the accidental pregnancy trope I will stay mad about this cos they never ever address it).

"What's going on?" Caitlin asked. Iris swallowed. Saying it made it real. Not just a nagging thought in the back of her head. But not saying it wouldn't make it go away. She lifted her chin. "I think I'm pregnant."

Caitlin had the world's worst poker face. Her eyebrows flew up into her bangs before she regained some control of her face, her eyes round. "Are you telling me this as your friend or as your doctor?" "Both?" Iris said. "When was your last period?" "You'd know better than I would. The last one I remember was before the coma. I did still have them, right?" "Not regularly," Caitlin said. "It's not uncommon in coma patients," she explained in response to Iris's startled look. 

"Okay," Caitlin said. "Have you taken a test?" Iris shook her head.  "Okay. Well I can test your blood, or your urine. Both tests have a high accuracy rate, but blood tests can detect pregnancy in the earlier stages." Iris was already rolling up her sleeve. "I've had more blood drawn in the past two months than in the last twenty years," she said. "And I've drawn more blood than I have since med school," Caitlin said, wiping Iris's shoulder with an antiseptic wipe. 

Iris barely felt the sting of the needle, the slight pinch of blood being taken. Within moments, it was over, and Caitlin had set the blood aside for storage.

"I'll have the results with you in a couple of hours. But before we get to that point, I think we should talk about your options." She perched on the edge of the bed. "Have you thought about next steps?" she asked. "I'd want a termination," Iris said immediately. "I want kids, some day, but I'm not ready. Not right now." Not to mention that she had no idea what kind of baby might come out of her. Or how fast. She had visions of a Breaking Dawn-style nightmare pregnancy happening in the matter of weeks, followed by a baby shooting out of her at warp speed, like a cork from a bottle. The thought made every muscle in her body clench. And then the thought of a wrangling a toddler that not only got into everything, but got into it at two hundred miles an hour? She felt panicked just thinking about it.

Even before all of this, Iris would most likely have opted for an abortion if she fell pregnant at this age, but she wanted S.T.A.R Labs to do about a decade's worth of research on her powers and abilities before she'd even think about bringing a possible baby speedster into the world. 

Caitlin was already nodding. "Okay. Well depending on how far along you are, if you are, you might be able to take a pill. I can get that for you. If not, I have a friend from med school who's a gynaecologist. I can get you in touch with her."

Iris breathed out shakily, already feeling more in control of the situation.

[journalistiriswest]

hey if you have time I would love if you wrote an opposite flash/westallen kinda thing where Iris is the one who got struck by lightning and is the flash not Barry

She moved like a shadow into his lab, sliding through the open door in a matter of seconds and finding a place among the dark shadows in the corner. It was stupid, and reckless, and when Caitlin heard about what she was doing, she would be livid. But it was hard to resist a call out like the one he’d posted to his blog earlier that day, begging to meet her, to see her with his own two eyes. She had to come, after that. She nearly laughed when she read it, and it made her wonder if he really did know it was her under the mask, because it sounded like one of his challenges from when they were younger. I bet you won’t, Iris, he’d say, and that would light the fire in her eye. 

And if he figured it out, then he figured it out; her father may have made her promise not to tell Barry, not to give him even more reason to obsess over his mother’s death, but he couldn’t say anything if Barry figured it out on his own. It’s not like Iris was keen on keeping her identity secret, especially not from him. A promise was a promise, though, and Iris didn’t go back on her word. 

“Barry Allen,” she said finally, her modulated voice echoing around the ancient chamber of his lab. Barry’s head jerked up and he zeroed in on her almost immediately. “I hear you’ve been writing about me.”

It took him a second to register what was happening, to realize exactly who was standing in front of him. His eyes widened, and he nearly dropped the test tube he held. “Oh my god, you are real.” 

She smiled, then, angling her face toward the ground so all he would see was the red of her cowl. “So I am,” she said cryptically, looking up at him through her eye lashes. 

He smiled: slow and reserved and reverent, like he couldn’t actually believe this was happening, that any of this was happening, like he was looking into the face of an angel and seeing salvation. Iris’s heart beat faster in her chest, and she could feel every pulse dancing through her veins. 

Laughter drifted in from Barry’s open lab door, and he was shaken out of his reverie. She, too, was brought back to reality; she was in a building full of people who would just as soon arrest her as a vigilante as they would shake her hand for saving them so many times. “We should go somewhere more private,” he said, grabbing his jacket from his chair. “There’s a building not far from here that where we could talk-”

“Or you could meet me on the roof,” she said, whipping her head up to look at him. “I’ll even give you a head start.” 

She winked at him, and Barry grinned back at her, putting his coat on as he jogged toward the door. She counted to five before zipping out the room after him, easily overtaking his speed and settling on the roof of the police department with ease. 

Iris had been up here once or twice before, but she knew that Barry often came up here to think or to stare out at the city when he was stressed. It was his place, and she felt a little weird encroaching on it, turning it into something both of them shared. She settled on an overhang above the door to the roof, waiting for him to finally make it up.

Barry shot through the door and looked around wildly, his chest heaving with the effort of running up two flights of stairs. Poor guy. “I need to know why you wanted to meet,” she said, her voice floating through the chasm between them. He spun around and looked up at her, still giddy with amazement. “Is it on orders from the CCPD?”

“No,” he said quickly. “No, I wanted to talk. I have so many questions. Questions about you, and what you can do.”

She stood up and in a matter of seconds was standing feet behind him. Barry jumped and turned, his eyes focusing on her. “Who are you?” he asked. 

“I can’t tell you that,” she said, her voice light with laughter despite the modulation. “Secret identity and all.”

“Right, duh. You’re a superhero.” He shook his head and shoved his hands into his pockets, still looking at her. “I had so many things I wanted to ask you, but now that you’re here all I can get out are the dumb questions.”

He stepped toward her and she ran around him, sitting down on the thick concrete edge railing of the building, her back to the city. He tried to follow her that time, spinning in a circle. “That is so fascinating,” he muttered. “And the trail of lightning, too. Where does that come from? How can you do what you do?”

Iris shrugged. “I’m special, I guess. Gifted.”

“That I can see for myself,” Barry said, and Iris nearly gasped. “Your speed is incredible. It’s… it’s almost unbelievable. And that suit you wear? It’s specially designed to fit your needs. It’s reinforced tri-polymer, right? It’s got to be friction resistant, with the speed you run at. How did you come up with it?”

She smiled. “You sure do ask a lot of questions that I can’t answer.” He was always too smart for his own good; how her dad thought that they would be able to keep this secret from Barry for too much longer, she had no idea. 

“Why can’t you answer?” he asked. “Do you work for some kind of government organization? Or are you a one-woman show? I would say that you work for some kind of agency, if your fighting style is anything to go by. When I saw you take down that man with the cold gun, your form was exactly what they teach in basic hand to hand combat training in the academy.”

Of course he would recognize the stance and attacks she used. They had both been trained by her father to fight, after all, to defend themselves. And Barry had to go through the academy to get his certification as a CSI. “Speaking of that, you need to stop coming after me,” she said. “You’re going to get hurt, again. And I can’t always be there to save you. Or take you to a hospital.”

He smiled again, the edges of his mouth quirking upward. “That happened one time,” he said. “How was I supposed to know that Mardon had a gun on him? And the bullet only grazed my arm.” 

“You shouldn’t have been out there in the first place.” Iris ran around the perimeter of the building, enjoying how the lightning lit up Barry’s face behind her. “And maybe I can’t answer because I don’t want the specifics of my suit ending up on your blog,” she said. “It would be too big of a help to any potential enemies or criminals.”  

Barry was still watching her run. “I’m not asking for my blog. I’m asking for me. I find you fascinating,” he told her. “But while we’re on the subject of my blog… Is there anything you want to say to me? Anything you want the world to know? I’m not a journalist, or anything, but people follow me. People who are interested in the unexplained stuff that’s been happening in Central City.”

She jumped up and ran to him, skidding to a halt two feet behind him. “This isn’t an interview, Mr. Allen,” she said. “I didn’t come here to speak to the world. I came to talk to you. You said you wanted to meet me.”

He glanced over his shoulder, and frowned slightly. “Look,” he said, his voice breathy, and Iris stared at the ground as he attempted to make eye contact with her. “I had something horrible happen to me when I was a kid. Something impossible. And for my whole life, every time I’ve tried to tell someone about it, to tell someone what really happened that night, they laughed at me. I’ve had shrinks analyze me. Despite all of that, I’ve still searched for an explanation.” He was backing up slowly, inching toward her, but she didn’t move. He never quite looked at her, his eyes always landing on her feet, never her face. “You,” he said, not only inches from her, “you are proof that I’m not crazy. That the impossible really is out there.”

Barry turned to look at her finally, and Iris dropped her gaze immediately. “Help me find out who killed my mother,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Please. Help me prove to the world that my dad is innocent.”

She started vibrating her face, and then looked up at him, finally fully meeting his eyes. Even in the dim light of the roof, she could see his unshed tears. “I believe you,” she said, reaffirming something that she’d told him over and over again growing up. “And I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

His eyes widened and in a split second, she was gone, a gust of wind following in her wake.

[journalistiriswest]

infallible-dreamers reblogged your post okay okay okay and added:

How about westallen + snooping or curious?

Lately, she had been acting weird. Avoiding certain topics when they came up. Telling Barry that she didn’t want to talk about it. Making it very clear that she wasn’t being totally and completely honest.

So, really, he had to do this. Because she was his best friend, and if she was in trouble or needed help, then he wasn’t just going to leave her alone. If she wasn’t going to be honest, then he was going to have to figure it out on his own.

Barry opened to door to Iris’s apartment and stilled, making sure that she wasn’t inside, cooking or reading or watching TV. 

He took a deep breath, and tiptoed through the living room, making his way toward her bedroom, and then to her dresser. He opened up her sock drawer, and started fishing around, praying that her hiding place hadn’t changed since they were 12 years old. 

His fingers brushed up against something thin and flimsy, and he grabbed the edge and pulled it out. It was a photo, and in the middle, situated between her new friends, was Iris West. In a crimson leather suit. A lightning bolt emblem on her chest. 

The Flash suit.

He dropped the photo on the floor.