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barryallenis · 3 years

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The Other Side (Westallen fic)

AN: So I may have mentioned this before in passing. But I just posted chapter 4 so I thought maybe I’d actually post it here now! This all stems from my need for westallen to have their psychological torment addressed in season 7 ... and since it know it wont be like this I wrote it myself

SUMMARY: Following her escape from the Mirrorverse, Iris is confronted with a realization that the world she's returned to is not the same. Or perhaps, that she herself if not the same. With the help of her husband Barry, and those she trusts, she works to find a way back to a sense of normalcy. Which may mean facing some of the dark demons she thought she'd left on the other side. ~(S7 hopes) (Chap 2 is iris centric)

It didn't take much to wake Barry Allen these days. In fact, his restlessness the past few weeks hadn't been this bad since he was eleven years old. Back then, it was the image of his mother, reaching out for him as red and yellow lights swirled around her that he knew he would see when he closed his eyes that kept him up. And while the last few years had created countless horrific scenes to relive in nightmares, nothing had fostered the level of unease he now felt surrounding him with every breath.

Now, it wasn't fear of sleep that kept him up, but of everything around him in waking, and of the flashing watch on his wrist that reminded him he didn't have the power to fight them.

A few nights ago specifically, his restlessness couldn't even confine him to his bed. Instead, it drew him into a late night purge. It was well past 2am by the time he returned home to a space full of shattered mirrors. Between the energy used for speed healing and his late night rendezvous several county's over, everything in his body told him to sleep, to rest, to fight this battle tomorrow. But with every step he took deeper into the home he hadn't lived in for a week, so much felt foreign to him.

This is where we ate together. This is where we binged that new crappy reality show on Netflix. This is where we laughed, this is where we kissed, this is where she crumbled to pieces in his arms ...

Every space felt tainted with falsehoods. Moments he thought were something else entirely being rewritten with every glance around the loft.

It wasn't her. All that time it was someone … something else.

But as every place in the apartment felt damaged, each was equally matched with some of the very moments that were driving him forward.

This is where he and Iris held their first Thanksgiving. This is where they played scrabble with their daughter. This is where she fell asleep in the first movie of the Star Wars marathon. This is where she spilt an entire glass of red wine across all 3 rugs. This is where he told her he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. Twice. This is where she said yes. Twice. This is where they lived.

Though now, of course, it was only he who lived there.

With his mind more alert than ever, he shoved his tired body into motion. Not with speed, but with determination.

This was going to be their home again. And when it is, it will be theirs and only theirs.

He swept up all the glass shards he could find. He then carried the bagged up remains and all but one of the recently added mirrors down to the curb outside the apartment. He questioned throwing them all away, wondering what Eva could still do to them, with them, in such a close proximity to him. But she was not the only one connected to that mirror. He saw Eva step right through it. From the “world she left behind.” The world Iris was still in.

If there was even the slightest chance that Iris do the same. Or even if it had the unique ability that allowed her to hear him, see him, sense him in any way through it, he would string it across his back to keep it with him at all times if he could.

The 4am frenzy that followed was not planned or calculated. But as simply as Barry had put the piece of their apartment together 3 years ago, he found himself doing it again.

What if he moved the couch under the window? What if he changed the direction of the dinning table? What if he moved this art piece, this vase, this book, this glass, this -

It was nearly daybreak by the time Barry realized there was one room, one big room, he had missed.

As he crept up the stairs he found it harder than he had anticipated to enter the most intimate place in his home.

This was the only bed that had ever been theirs. From the moment it was delivered to the center of their cold cement floor living room to nearly every night since. That was the last place he had been with her. The last place he has seen her, through slits in his eyes as he drifted to sleep. Before she left to follow her lead. Before she got trapped in that place.

Before he knew it, he was stripping the bed clean. First sheet, then comforters, pillows, all haphazardly thrown to the floor. He caught a glimpse of the towels in the bathroom and threw them into the pile as well. Then he began pulling at the bare mattress and bed frame, turning them around in the opposite direction. This resulted in the movement of side tables, dressers, chairs, everything.

Everything needed a new place.

By full fledged morning nearly every moveable piece of furniture in the loft has been adjusted. Bed covering sat shoved into trash bags by the front door, the bed they had once covered still bare and unoccupied. The current sole resident of this loft had instead finally found slumber across the slim window seat that spanned the length of the apartment, the sparsely drawn curtains behind him pulled to hide the now bright morning sun.

While the following night he did get replacements for all his discarded linens, he did not use them for the next several days. Instead, he slept on the just-too-short couch he had just moved from the center of the apartment and tried his hardest not to think of all the nights Iris did the exact same thing when he was in the unknown …

Tonight, however, was different. Tonight he sunk deeply into his mattress as if it were the most comfortable place in the world. And to him, in fact, it was, leading to the soundest sleep he had since his all began.

And that was entirely because he had fallen asleep with his wife safely and tightly enveloped in his arms.

-> CHAPTER 2-4 ON AO3 <-

#the flash #westallen #barry allen #iris west #iris westallen #westallenfic #fics #mywriting #myfic #s7 #i forgot how to share fics on here honestly #and i was apprehensive to do this #idk maybe ill post the other 3 chapters on here separately too #tho theyre all much longer #so idk

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afangirlsplaylist · 6 years

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Curse Of The Moon

Author: @afangirlsplaylist

Rating: Teens and Up

Warnings: Blood, description of human and animal injuries (not too graphic)

Word count: 3,514

Summary: Link doesn’t make it home after work on one night that changes both of their lives forever. (Terrible summary and title, I’m open to suggestions)

Happy (late) Halloween! ( @scarystoriestotellintherhink )

Unlike most of the world Rhett didn’t look forward to when the moon was high and full in the night sky. It was a curse more than something to be admired, and if it was a curse for him that wasn’t anything to what it was like for his best friend.

Link grew quiet and cold the closer the days drew to a full moon. He never faltered on camera but when the crew went home and they were the only ones there, it was normal for Rhett to find him brooding alone, drinking a beer on the couch.

Talking was useless. That was the hardest part for Rhett to get used to. Link was usually the one person he could talk through anything with, had been for decades. It was probably the reason they’d been able to hold onto their friendship in the first place. But the Link in the days before an impending full moon - was not that man.

He’d stare into the beer like he was planning on falling into it - hardly acknowledging Rhett’s footsteps. They didn't drink much anymore - between the demands of family and work there was little time for it. But all it took was a glance at the high windows - where the blinds were shut tight to block out the view of the taunting moon, for Rhett to figure it out. If Link did take notice of him it was to cast a dark look in his direction, a look Rhett had only ever seen when Link was truly upset. Back off. I don’t want to talk.

He knew it was the night of a full moon (not that he could ever forget) when he’d walk in and find Link without a beer in his hand. Instead, he’d be staring blankly at the opposite wall with sweat pouring off his face - His hands and body shaking with slight tremors. It was as if he was cold, even though they were in the middle of the late afternoon L.A heat and the AC was off. It wasn’t until the sun had almost fallen completely that Link took notice of Rhett, as the taller man moved to lift him up.

Link stirred to attention groggily when Rhett had pulled him off the couch and got an arm around his waist, easily guiding him to the loft stairs. In such a state Link wasn’t much help, and Rhett was thankful, every time, that Link was so light.

One step up - Link could feel the tall body gripping his waist and pressing tightly to his side, a soft beard brushing against his cheek.

Two steps up - he inhales air sharply, grogginess and confusion giving way to keen wolf-ish senses. He's overwhelmingly aware of Rhett’s smell now, something that haunted him when he'd first turned. It's something like sandalwood and petrichor, and he worried, whenever he caught Rhett’s scent across the office in the days after - whether the familiar smell would spark the wolf in him and send him rushing to attack his friend. It took three moons before he felt safe that it wouldn't.

Six steps up - feral anger and survival instinct rises up within him. He tries to throw Rhett off but Rhett knows it’s coming and doubles his grip, used to it from years of childhood wrestling.

By the time Rhett throws open the loft door Link is almost gone.

He’d learned how to tune out the way Link would cry, scream and shake as he chained him to the specially installed steel post in their loft - his forehead now shiny with sweat. The only thing that kept Rhett going was a desire to keep Link and everyone in the vicinity of the studio safe. He reminded himself, as he pulled the chain tight around the post - that the desperate pleas were just the wolf talking. That every second Link begged for him to stop, or spat rage at him for doing this, wasn’t real. But it was hard, as the lock of the chain clicked into place, to ignore it. The whimpers escaping Link’s lips already had a wolffish edge to them, but the sad, broken and betrayed look in his watery eyes was all Link.

Don't leave me alone

How could you?

The Link that was still in there was practically screaming for him. The same Link he'd kept secrets for over three decades. The same Link he’d let come over to his house and cry out his heartbreak on his shoulder when he was broken enough to let go of his pride. He needed him. Just like the first time Link had needed him and he'd failed. When some... thing had sunk its teeth into Link’s arm in the first place. He was meant to be there to protect him, and he hadn't been.

It’d been a rare occasion where they drove into work separately. He could hear a sick and fussy Lando through the phone when Link had called, saying something about running late. So Rhett drove to work ahead of him. He’d wondered, when he was brave enough to think about it - what might have happened if they’d carpooled, or if Link had made it into his car and drove home that night.

But he didn’t like to think about that.

Link had seemed so absorbed in his work that evening, his eyes fixated on his laptop - that Rhett left before him. He knew Link well enough not to disturb him, so he’d made the mistake of leaving Link alone to close the studio.

It was nothing he hadn't done plenty of times before, and it was easy enough to pretend he could never have seen it coming. But if he HAD been there…. he could've fought it off. He could've talked Link into going home early. He could've taken the bite himself.

He felt sick to his stomach at himself just thinking about it.

In fact, he hadn't known anything was wrong until hours later, when he was woken by a call from a panicked Christy.

Link hadn't come home.

Rhett’s eyes widened when he cast a sleepy glance at his alarm clock. 4am. A whole ten hours since he'd left Link at the office.

There was no way Link wouldn't be home by now without an explanation or call. He knew it even as he muttered useless assurances to Christy.

Unfortunately for him, Christy was far from a stupid woman and it didn't help at all.

“I’ll head back to the studio, call me if he comes home.” Rhett urged.

His hands fumbled for his clothes on the floor by his bed while Jessie stirred with concern at the sound of his voice.

“It's Link.” He told her, and there was no need for him to say anything more.

Shoving his clothes on he hurried to his car, barely holding the speed limit as he peeled out of the drive. His knee bounced and his fingers tapped at the wheel, relaxing only when he turned the final bend.

He hoped to see lights on at the studio. To find Link slumped asleep in his chair with his phone dead on the desk. But as the studio came into view it was completely dark inside.

His heart sunk the moment he pulled into the lot and found Link’s car still in its spot with the door wide open. The man, Rhett knew, was a paranoid creature of habit, so it didn’t take long for the sight to flood him with panic like ice water.

“Link! LINK!”

He screamed his name into the air but was answered by nothing but crickets.

Looking over the car in a frenzy - his fear only heightened when he found Link’s phone on the ground by the door; then graduated into sheer terror when he spotted a few drops of blood feet from the phone.

“Shit.” He muttered, slamming the door shut and following the trail of droplets with his eyes. “Link!”

His fingers itched over his own phone for a moment, half tempted to dial 911. But the sight of the blood stopped him. Just the thought of waiting for the police, tapping his foot while Link might be bleeding out there in the dark - was enough to drive him crazy. So he pocketed his phone and went on alone.

The blood, still staining the ground in blessedly tiny drops, trailed out of the carpark and ended at the edge of the woods across the road. From there it was too dark to see anything more than leaves on the ground ahead, and Rhett’s mind raced with thoughts and explanations.

What if he'd been dragged here?

What if he was hurt or dead?

Resisting the urge to call out again in case there was more than Link in there - Rhett stumbled deeper into the woods in search of him. He wished, too late, that he had water, a flashlight or even some kind of weapon - suddenly feeling incredibly vulnerable.

He’d been walking for close to fifteen minutes, growing more anxious by the second - when he saw it. A pair of bright yellow eyes peering out from a bush. Startled, he stumbled and tripped, crawling backwards on his elbows as fast as they could carry him. When he looked up the eyes had gone as quickly as they’d appeared, but he could still sense something there. He was just about to turn heel when he heard a sob that made him pause, a howl-ish whimper that sounded almost human. Almost…. familiar.

Getting to his feet, Rhett stood up and picked up the nearest, thick branch - walking slowly toward where the eyes had been.

“Link?” He called tentatively.

Another sob - louder and more obvious this time, broke the night air, and Rhett was sure, this time, that it was human. Still clutching the branch tight, he pushed the bush aside and raised the branch above his head in instinct.

It was Link.

Groaning with relief, Rhett dropped the branch at his feet but immediately realized something was wrong.

Link’s eyes weren't bright yellow anymore, more a dull bronze that - as Rhett watched in amazement, were already turning navy. Link’s clothes were in tatters and matted blood covered his chest between the rips. He was a shadow of his best friend, but the shaggy dark hair was unmistakable.

It was a few seconds before Link noticed he was there, but his eyes were at last bright blue again when he threw himself at Rhett - almost knocking him to the ground. He continued to sob as he wrapped his bloody, dirt covered arms around Rhett’s shoulders, gripping almost too tight.

It was then, when Rhett turned his head and held him close - that he noticed the large wound on Link’s arm. It was so long and gash like that he guessed something had sunk its teeth into Link’s arm and drawn them downwards, like nails on a chalkboard.

“Gosh Link. What the heck happened?”

But Link couldn't speak to give an answer. He shook and desperately clawed for grip at Rhett’s back between sobs. Clawing with, for just a moment - nails that felt sharper than he knew Link’s to be before they eased up again.

“Help me out here brother.” Rhett pleaded, holding Link at arm's length and beginning to tear off a piece of the brunette’s ruined shirt.

The best Link could do was throw one arm over Rhett’s shoulder for balance, leaving Rhett to tend to his other arm.

It was still wet to the touch and mangled, the stretch of fabric in Rhett’s hand no where near enough to truly cover it. He could only hope it would do for now as he knotted it tight, assured that the worst of the bleeding was over at least. It wasn’t until he was satisfied Link wasn’t about to die that he turned his attention to the blood on his chest.

“Where’s this blood from?” Rhett asked, but the question seemed to be beyond Link - who could hardly stand.

“Link, where's the blood from?” He tried again.

“Not mine.” Link muttered weakly. “Not mine.”

Frightened now, Rhett pressed a hand to it. “Whose is it? Do you know?”

Link merely shook his head. “Dunno.”

“Shit.” Rhett cursed under his brief again, pressing his free hand to his forehead. “Okay, hold on.”

He took a moment to send one brief text to Christy before shoving his phone back into his pants, tugging Link’s arm tighter around his shoulder. Explanations could come later. Now he had to get Link to safety.

He had no idea if Link had any idea what was happening but the brunette made no objection when Rhett started walking him back the way he’d come. On the way he peered around them even more closely than he had on the way there - and it wasn't long before they found the source of the blood.

Just off the path were the remains of what must have been a beautiful adult doe, strewn across the ground of the woods. They could only guess a coyote had got to the rest of it (Link, already dry heaving as he slowly gathered himself, didn’t like to think of the alternative.)

Gritting his teeth, Rhett dragged Link away from the sight and further down the path quickly, breathing easier only when the emerged at the roadside. Rhett considered them lucky, as they ambled across the road - that there were no cars passing to see them.

Sunshine was beginning to filter into the studio when Rhett set Link down on the couch, before turning and promptly collapsing into his own chair.

But he didn’t dare close his eyes. Even as Link gave into exhaustion Rhett didn’t so much as blink. It was as if he was worried Link would be gone again when he opened them.

So he waited.

He made calls, raided the first aid supplies and tended to Link. But mostly he sat, his chair facing the couch - until Link woke up.

When he finally talked Link hardly remembered anything.

He remembered leaving the studio and setting their alarm. He remembered walking across the parking lot, and he remembered sharp pains the moment he opened his car door. Beyond that his memories were foggy, up until they’d left the woods.

“But what was it?” Rhett asked. “A coyote?”

Link’s brow furrowed in thought. “No.”

“Dog? Bear?” Rhett suggested, but Link shook his head to both.

“Crazy person?” Rhett pressed, teeth gritting at the thought. “Wolf?”

“Yes.” Link answered.

Rhett raised an eyebrow. “It was a crazy person?”

“Yes.” Link said, and then shook his head. “No. Not really”

“Wolf?”

Link nodded, his expression more sure now. “Yes.”

Thoroughly confused, Rhett looked at him in interest. “Which one is it?”

Link paused, looking at Rhett as if scared of what he was about to say.

“It… kind of looked like both.”

That was when Rhett recalled the sharp nails digging into his back, the yellow eyes and the small howl he heard in the woods. As if looking for something his gaze travelled to Link’s fingers, which were still slightly red and pointed - then to Link’s arm, which was already mostly healed.

By the end of the hour and some intensive googling they knew. They said the word.

Werewolf.

It took all the hot water the building had, and two pots of coffee, to rid themselves of the physical and mental dirtiness. After a trip to the dressing room Link’s tattered clothes were trashed. “I don't want to see those again.” Link had said firmly.

Link didn't leave the studio for three days.

Rhett had told him everything he’d seen in the woods, and it was enough for Link to make up his mind.

Rhett argued that he was fine and Christy had to be worried, but Link started listing off, in a hysterical panic - everyone that doe could have been. Lincoln… Lilly… Lando… Christy… Jessie… Locke… Shepherd… a simple cop doing a search… or Rhett himself. It was too much for either to ignore.

So they rearranged their schedule and set up quarters. Taking three days until Link felt safe to leave until the next moon. Rhett had flat out refused to buy chains or a pole but Link insisted, allowing him no option.

“Besides.” Link had snickered, as he attempted to lighten the mood. “It’s funny to imagine their faces while you’re buying those.”

“Ha. Ha.” Rhett retorted dryly.

If Rhett had his way he'd lock Link in the warmth and safety of his own bedroom, but Link didn't want to be anywhere near his family when he turned so they had no choice but to use the isolation of their loft.

It hurt Rhett’s soul to walk away with Link so distraught, crying for him to stay - and every full moon he hesitated with his finger on the light switch. The cries soon devolved into whines and howls in the darkness as Rhett determinedly flipped the light switch and turned to leave, unwilling to watch the wolf take over.

He hates that the last thing he usually sees before he turns out the lights is the yellow tinge to Link’s eyes - tainting the blue. Something about it made him feel scared, yet also made the corners of his eyes prickle with near tears. Somewhere in the yellowing iris’ he could see Link dying behind his eyes, until he wasn’t there at all. Only the wolf. Even if there was no danger in staying Rhett didn't think he could - it was too much to sit in the loft and watch his friend die inside.

But coming back to him was worse.

Rhett usually ascended the stairs and unlocked the door of the loft to silence, dawn illuminating Link in the corner of the room. Link wouldn’t say a word for several minutes, sitting against the pole with his head on his knees. Rhett knew better, after the first few moons - than to immediately release and comfort him, as much as he wanted to. Instead he slid carefully down the wall next to Link and sat beside him, waiting until Link would let him touch him without snarling or jerking out of his touch.

When Link relaxed, Rhett gently released Link’s hands and feet from the chains. He winced in sympathy and was careful of Link’s wrists, which were red and scarred from straining against the bonds all night - before laying the chains aside.

Rhett would get up without a word - returning with a warm, damp, rag. It was just long enough for Link’s eyes to turn and it was a relief to see the familiar blue as he pressed the rag against Link’s forehead.

“Hey, man.” Rhett said with a small smile.

“Hey.” Link said weakly, leaning his head back against the post. “Did I do anything last night?”

Instantly he sat up, looking around the room for any signs. When all he found were some fresh scratches to the pole and some welts to his wrists he sighed in relief.

“You’re fine.” Rhett assured him.

Pressing a hand against Link’s face he felt it before he reapplied the rag, immediately wiping his hand on his pants.

“Urgh.” Rhett said with comedic exaggeration. “You're so clammy.”

Link laughed. “Shut up.”

Rhett kept the mood light as he pressed the rag all over the wet, damp spots of Link’s face again, wiping away the signs of the night. When he felt Link sleepily leaning into the cool material, he slowly tugged it away and threw it into another corner.

No matter how many times he did this he never knew what to say at this point, so he racked his mind for a story.

“You remember that night you got hungover?” Rhett asked. “And you had to pretend to be sober at my house?”

Link grinned weakly. “I couldn't even walk straight, your mom had to be playing along.”

“She had a soft spot for you,” Rhett said. “I couldn't get away with any of that.”

“Well, you were a little troublemaker.” Link teased.

Rhett shrugged and punched Link lightly on the arm. “At least I didn’t get slapped in a library.”

Link tried to respond but it came out as a small hum, his eyes fluttering closed a little in exhaustion. He tried once more to say something but his head just lulled to the side, landing on Rhett’s shoulder.

Used to this after so many times, Rhett grasped Link under the arm and tugged him to his feet - leaving his shoulder at the perfect height for Link’s head to rest on.

As much as he teased at poked fun at Link for the quirk, the moment Link’s mouth went slack in the midst of sleep would always make Rhett smile. He had his friend again.

At least until the next moon.

#rhink #rhink fanfiction #my stuff #sims attempts writing

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