Barry Allen x Flash | imagines

chances

Warning: mature language and scenes
first person
word count: 3,600
11:56 am | the flash is Central City's
hero — and now he's yours

I was already late for work. I checked my watch as the train seemed to move slower. I had to be at work at 12, and I began to accept my fate.

I really wish I had a car.

I yawned as the train came to a stop. I fitted my apron around my waist as I prepared to run to make my shift. The doors opened, and I bolted for the stairs. As I emerged onto the bustling street, I bumped past so many people. I looked down at my watch again.

11:58 am

Shit! I will make it!

Just as I had to cross the street, the pedestrian light switched to the red hand. I squealed in disbelief. Suddenly, I went blind for a second, and I was standing in front of the coffee shop. I looked around, and suddenly I felt like I couldn't breathe.

What just happened?

I looked up and saw a face smiling at me from the roof. I recognized the suit from the news.

Flash.

I couldn't make out his face, but he waved and disappeared. I smiled to myself, walking into work by 12. He saved me—at least from my boss.

4:06 pm | a few weeks later

I poured a few cappuccinos, boxing them up and handing them to a customer. They threw a couple dollars in the tip jar and left quickly.

"Next!" I called, shutting the register. When I looked up, a guy flashed a wonderful smile at me.

"Just coffee," he said. I smiled at him.

"$3.75," I told him. He slid a couple bills to me, and I handed him a quarter. He was about to leave, but he reversed his steps.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" He asked. I shook my head, unable to take my eyes off of him.

"No, I'm sorry," I said. He scratched his head. He realized he was holding up the line.

"My name is Barry. Barry Allen."

"(y/n)," I replied. Barry grinned wider.

"You thinking of working here still?" He asked. My cheeks reddened.

"Now I am," I breathed. Barry winked at me before he moved to grab his coffee.

9:05 pm

I locked the door behind me, sighing after a long day serving coffee. When I turned, I saw a familiar face walking down the street, stacks of folders in his hand.

"Barry?" I asked. He looked up, meeting my gaze.

"Hey," he replied. "Wow, you've been working awhile."

I nodded.

"Can I walk you home, then? It's kinda late," Barry offered. I smiled and agreed, and he offered me his arm. I took it, and he put his folders and papers into his bag.