Primrose Path (A Harry Wells x Reader Insert)

Chapter 1

You had heard about Central City and their metahuman phenomenon, but seeing a person's abilities with your own two eyes is the most amazing thing you've ever witnessed.

When you'd watched the reports on the news before moving here, they only ever showed the dangers of metahumans and the ones who decided to try and bring this city to its knees.

But your first encounter is nothing like that.

You almost drench your poor flower pot stationed outside your flower shop, Primrose Path, when you see your first metahuman. The man is rugged and dirty with tattered clothes. You assume he's homeless, and offer a kind smile. He returns it, then takes notice of the begonia display drooping - a cause of the relentless summer sun. The man reaches for a petal, and instantly at the contact, the flower blooms back to life in full colour. You stand there mesmerized. It's an utterly incredible gift, the power of restoration, right there at this man's fingertips.

"My goodness, thank you, Sir-"

"-Stand back, Miss!" hollers an authoritative voice. When you turn, you see a tall, blond, and well-groomed police officer, who is taking cautious steps towards the man, acting as though he's just threatened your life rather than give assistance to your flowers. His hand is readily on his gun in his holster. You start to panic.

"No, no, really officer! I'm fine, he-"

"Get inside to safety, now!" he shouts. You drop your watering can and the contents spill all across the sidewalk. There's no reason to be afraid, but the tone of the officer's words themselves is what's most frightening. You heed his orders and run into your flower shop. The very second you close the door, the officer clamps a pair of rather heavy duty handcuffs on the man, who is now hanging his head, and reads him his rights.

But even though muffled behind the glass, it sounds as if this metahuman, this man who did no wrong, has none.

***

Harry ends his call, sighing heavily as he sinks back down at his desk. Papers litter the glass plane, all regarding new projects and current ones to be approved for Scientific and Technological Advanced Research Laboratories - or S.T.A.R. Labs - utilization.

Tossing his own phone aside, his hand smooths over one of the documents in front of him. He presses his lips into a thin line, anger culminating inside him from the phone call. He takes a small gadget from the corner of his desk and hurls it to the other side of the room. The device shatters when it smashes against the wall.

Frustrated, that's what he is. Annoyed, about to go ballistic - a volcano preparing to erupt and spread fiery lava at any second.

There's a brief, firm knock at his office door.

"What?" he snaps, one hand rubbing his temple while his other hand grips the arm of his chair. The door opens and a man puts his head around it, looking a little anxious at the tone of his boss' voice.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Sir, but we've just had news that one of the vacant shops has been occupied by someone no one seems to have heard of. Apparently they're from out of town. It's only two blocks away and... Well, we thought you should know."

Harry's eyes narrow at the lower-rank man, adjusting his posture so that an elbow is propped on the armrest of his chair while his chin sits in the middle of his palm. He looks at the timid employee for a few seconds, with a dangerous storm brewing in his glare. The younger man swallows, palms sweaty as he avoids doing any sort of action to piss off the dark-haired scientist.

"I'll deal with it," Harry grumbles through gritted teeth, bitter rage still boiling within him from the previous and unsuccessful phone conversation. The brown-haired goon senses that his boss is feeling extremely prickly at the moment and simply moves forward, placing a piece of paper with the address of the new tenant on the edge of the desk. Turning, he leaves in a hurry without any further words so as to not poke the bear.