#barry berkman fanfiction

[storiesforallfandoms]

treat him better ~ barry berkman;barry

word count: 2615

request?: no

description: after his jealous ex makes a scene, his new girlfriend decides to tell her off for not treating him better

pairing: barry berkman x female!reader

warnings: swearing, lil bit of angst(?), use of y/n

masterlist (one, two, three)

Barry walked in with his arm around another woman, and that’s how everyone in the class knew that things were about to get a lot more interesting.

Barry and Sally had had a pretty messy breakup a few months before that had resulted in Barry considering quitting his acting class. Sally claimed she just couldn’t put in the same efforts into a relationship and her career, and she thought that Barry deserved better, but everyone in the class knew that she broke up with him in a moment of jealousy when an acting recruiter had taken interest in Barry after a play they had put off a few months before. Because of their breakup, Barry had gone into a stupor and missed the opportunity, and Sally seemed absolutely tickled by that.

Then, suddenly, Barry came into class after having missed more than a week and he was much happier than when they had all last seen him. After being prodded by his classmates for a while, he admitted that he had met someone and was going on a date with them after class that night. Everyone seemed happy for him, especially Gene who was glad that Barry was finally back in class. But Sally was very notably not sharing everyone else’s enthusiasm.

Judging by the PDA and the happiness that was absolutely radiating off of Barry, this was his new girlfriend.

“Hey, Mr. Cousineau,” Barry said, approaching the acting teacher. “This is my girlfriend, (Y/N). Is it alright if she sits in to watch today?”

Gene smiled at (Y/N). “Got an interest in acting, young lady?”

She shook her head. “No, sorry, but Barry talks up this class all the time. He swears he has the best acting teacher in all of Hollywood.”

Gene laughed. “Flattery gets you everywhere, sweetheart. You can sit with the others, I just ask you don’t disrupt us while we’re on class time.”

(Y/N) agreed and followed Barry to sit down. His classmates were quick to come sit next to them, all excitedly introducing themselves to (Y/N). She felt a little overwhelmed by all the attention, but she also knew what she was getting into when she came to the class. She had been asking Barry for weeks about coming to watch him during his acting class, but he kept saying he didn’t want to “scare her away” just yet. At first she had laughed at that, but now she was definitely seeing how that might’ve been something he was worried about.

Everyone was so engrossed in the new comer that no one noticed when Sally walked in, and she definitely did not like that.

“What’s going on?” she asked, trying to keep a light tone in her voice but anyone who was paying attention would notice the strain of it.

And that “anyone” was, of course, Barry, who knew Sally like no one else did.

(Y/N) smiled and stood to greet Sally. “Hi, I’m (Y/N). I’m Barry’s girlfriend.”

She held her hand out to Sally, who merely looked at it as if it was diseased. Noticing her expression, (Y/N) slowly and awkwardly lowered her hand again.

“Sally,” Sally responded. 

(Y/N) fought the urge to say “I figured”.

“Are you joining the class?” Sally asked.

“Oh, no. I can’t act for shit. I came to watch Barry.”

Sally made a fake sad face. “Oh, well Cousineau doesn’t allow people who aren’t in the class to stay.”

“She got my permission,” Gene said. “Sit down, Sally, now that you’re here we can start.”

The look on Sally’s face could only be described as annoyance. She marched up the stairs and sat as far away from everyone else as she could. (Y/N) sat down next to Barry again. He took her hand in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. She smiled up at him and leaned into him. She could feel the daggers that Sally was glaring into the back of her head, but as long as she was with Barry she didn’t really care too much. She felt safer with him by her side.

Gene started the class by handing out a script to everyone. He said they were going to do scene work, which meant they were going to assign roles and act out a scene. There were only a small handful of roles within the scene, so not everyone was going to get a chance, but Gene said they would switch and have other people do the roles in the following class. He passed (Y/N) a script just so she could follow along and went on to assign the roles. The big two went to Barry and Sally, while the two smaller roles went to two other male students, Nick and Eric.

“The scene is of two former love birds having a domestic dispute over the custody of their son, who will be played by Eric, and then Nick, you’ll be playing the brother to Sally’s character who is coming to try and defuse the whole situation,” Gene explained.

“Shouldn’t be hard for them,” someone behind (Y/N) muttered.

She tried not to be too upset over Sally getting the lead with Barry, conveniently when the scene was about two exes. It wasn’t like Barry was never going to act with Sally ever during class, and Barry had already told her how Sally was essentially the star of Gene’s class. But she couldn’t help but feel a little uncomfortable with what she was going to be witnessing. At least the scene was ex-lovers and not current.

They set up for the scene on stage, with Barry stood off to the side as he was meant to enter when the scene started. Sally and Eric were stood on the other side of the stage, with Eric on his knees to portray a young child. (Y/N) giggled to herself at how he looked, which earned her a quick glare from Sally. When they made eye contact, (Y/N) slowly sunk down into her seat.

“Okay, and...” Gene said, taking his seat in the front row. “Action!”

Barry walked on and mimed knocking at a door. Sally opened the “door” and asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for Mike. It’s my weekend with him.”

“Your weekend?!” Sally snapped, her voice sounding a bit more vicious than the words needed to be.

“Cut!” Gene said. “Sally, reel it in a little for now, okay? Your character isn’t lashing out at Barry yet.”

Sally huffed a sigh and nodded. Gene told them to take it from Sally’s line.

“Your weekend?” Sally asked, a lot less angry than before.

“Yeah, that’s how custody agreements work, Julie. You had him for the week, not I get him for the weekend, remember?”

“I told you he was staying with me this weekend. He has a birthday -” 

“‘It’s my dad’s birthday’,” Gene corrected.

“Right, sorry.” Sally quickly got back into character to try again. “I told you he was staying with me this weekend. It’s my dad’s birthday, he wants all of us to go spend the weekend at his cabin.”

“You certainly did not tell me that, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

Sally opened her mouth to say her line, but hesitated. She looked down at her script quickly. Everyone in the room looked at each other, and (Y/N) heard a few murmurs.

“Sally?” Gene prompted.

“Sorry, I lost my spot,” Sally said.

“Do you want to start from the top?” Gene asked.

“No, no, it’s fine. I’ll find it. Uh.”

She was looking at the page for so long that Barry tried to reach over to point out where they were. She jerked her paper away from him and muttered something along the lines of “I got it”.

“Say your line again, Barry,” Gene said, sounding somewhat exasperated.

“You certain did not tell me that, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

“It’s not my fault that you don’t listen, Sam. I definitely told you that Mike is staying with me this weekend. You can take him next week if you want, but I already agreed to these plans with dad.”

“I can’t take him next week, Julie, I have work. That’s why we agreed on weekend custody for the time being. Who’s going to look after him while I’m working in the evening.”

(Y/N) was engrossed in the scene. Well, in Barry acting the scene, anyways. He was doing really well, even with Sally’s screw ups. She had seen him rehearse at home before, but he did seem to be in his element here. It made her want to see him in an actual play even more than she did before.

At one point, when Sally had fumbled a line again, Barry turned to meet (Y/N)’s eye. She smiled at him and gave him a thumbs up. He smiled back and winked at her.

Sally scowled. “Hey, don’t break the scene!”

“Too late,” Eric said from the side of the stage.

“Really, Sally, maybe we take five to go over the scene alone,” Gene suggested.

“No, I’m fine. It’s her.”

Everyone followed Sally’s outstretched finger to look at (Y/N). She felt her face burn. “I-I’m just...watching.”

“You’re sitting there judging me,” Sally insisted. “I can see it. You’re judging me and it’s fucking me up.”

“Sally, I think you may be over exaggerating a little,” Barry said. “She’s just watching.”

“No. She’s judging me, and I want her out!”

Sally crossed her arms and looked to Gene. She seemed to be the only one in the room against (Y/N). Even Gene looked frustrated with the way Sally was acting. He ran a hand over his face and heaved a heavy sigh, but then surprised everyone by saying, “I’m sorry (Y/N), you’ll have to leave.”

If there was any way to feel even more embarrassed, (Y/N) was definitely feeling it in that moment. The blush in her face from Sally’s earlier claims deepened a lot.

“Mr. Cousineau, that’s not fair,” Barry argued.

“I’m sorry, Barry, but if it will get Sally to shut up and act better, then (Y/N) will just have to go.”

Everyone was still looking at her. She slowly rose from her seat, moving mainly on autopilot as she was too in shock to think about what she was doing. Suddenly, she felt like she was back in high school. Sally was like the mean girl who everyone loathed but followed out of fear of her wrath, including the teacher, apparently. She even looked so smug as (Y/N) started to leave, reveling in her win.

But, as she reached the door, (Y/N) remembered that they weren’t in high school anymore. They were adults, and she was about to act like an adult.

She turned back to say, “Sally, you’re a bitch.”

There was a collective gasp from the students.

Before Sally could respond, (Y/N) continued, “You are a cold hearted, selfish, self centered bitch. You think because you played a few lead roles in stage plays, and had a few five second cameos in whatever CSI is currently on air, that you run the world. But the truth is, you’re just a high school mean girl that peaked before you even graduated.”

(Y/N) glanced at Barry, who was watching her with a shocked look on his face. She wasn’t sure if he was upset at her outburst or just surprised by it. Either way, she couldn’t stop herself now. She was on a roll.

“You never deserved Barry,” she said. “You treated him like you treat everyone else: like a prop to get yourself ahead. When he was no longer useful to you, you dumped him and let him be broken for months. And now you can’t stand that he’s happy again with someone who genuinely cares for him, so you have to try to ruin that. Well, I’ll tell you something, you may have kicked me out, but I’m still the one who gets to have Barry come home to me. You go home to, what, your empty house and one page script for your next miniscule role?”

The room was silent. There was many emotions on everyone’s faces. No one made any move to speak or anything, so (Y/N) took it as her cue to leave. She hurried out the door, leaving the sound of it closing behind her to echo through the room.

The cool evening air cooled down her burning face as she crossed the parking lot to Barry’s car. Once she reached it, she felt the anger subsiding and a slight feeling of guilt crept into her. She didn’t regret what she said at all, but maybe she could’ve done it a better way. Like maybe not in front of Barry’s entire acting class and his acting teacher.

She went to open the car door, but realized Barry had the keys. Obviously, it was his car, but she had been so angry she had forgotten she didn’t have the key. She sighed and leaned against the car. In that moment, the building door opened again. (Y/N) looked up to see Barry was approaching her.

“I’m so sorry, Barry,” she said. “I know I shouldn’t have snapped like that in front of everyone. I was just angry and I refused to let her embarrass me before I left - ”

Barry cut her off by cupping her face and kissing her. She was taken by surprise and pulled away to ask, “You’re not mad?”

“I am the opposite of mad,” he said. “I haven’t loved you more than I did when you were calling out Sally in there.”

(Y/N) playfully raised an eyebrow at him. “Love?”

“You heard me.”

It was the first time Barry had said the big L word. (Y/N) was definitely not going to let him forget that the first time he said it was because she had called his ex-girlfriend down to the dirt in front of his whole class.

“You know I meant every word, right?” she asked. “She never deserved you. You deserve someone who will treat you so much better than she did.”

Barry wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him. “I know I do, and I have that now.”

(Y/N) smiled and leaned in to kiss Barry again. She was glad he wasn’t mad at her for her outburst, and she was especially glad she was the one to get to make him happy.

“You should go back and finish your scene,” she said after she reluctantly pulled away from their kiss. “I don’t want you to get in trouble for being gone so long.”

“I told Cousineau to give another classmate my role. And I told him I wouldn’t act with Sally ever again, not even during our big class productions.”

(Y/N) gasped and pulled away from him. “Barry you can’t do that!”

“I can, and I did.”

“But...why?”

“Because you were right about her. She’s selfish and self centered. I refuse to be used by her anymore, or risk having her try to sabotage my potential acting career again.”

She was stunned. She couldn’t believe he was being serious. But also, she felt overjoyed to hear that Barry was finally putting himself first. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him so tightly that she nearly knocked him over. Barry laughed and pried her off of him.

“Want to go to the diner?” he asked. “Then you can come back to my place for the night.”

She nodded. “Yeah, I’d love that.”

#barry berkman #barry berkman imagine #barry berkman x reader #bill hader #bill hader imagine #bill hader x reader #barry imagine #hbo #one shot #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

[tenitchyfingers]

still not over the end of Barry

#did anyone notice perhaps #i don't know what to do with my life #this shit is hitting harder than i thought it would #and i don't even know what to do about it #generally i'd write fanfiction but i don't have ships here #and i have no notes #i don't want the story to go in another direction #and the original is just perfect as it is #no need to add or change anything #but it also breaks my heart genuinely #fundamentally Barry Berkman is a flawed man who had so much potential to be a good person #and in multiple instances he showed he was always capable of actual love for another human being #hell the bit where he gets Sally after she killed that guy #and told her 'you didn't do this i did - say barry berkman did this' even though he didn't #because the reasoning is 'i'm already broken and a goner & i don't want you to become like me' #what is that if not selfless love #barry hbo #and in many ways i really relate to the feeling of being fundamentally broken #i'm not a murderer but i've felt broken and completely alone so often - matter of fact that's how i live my life #so i can't help it - i'll never resist empathizing with a broken soul #when the world's kicked the shit out of you enough you get it

[lethargix]

if anyone needs a silly nohobal pick-me-up before season 4 comes in and destroys it all i’ve just posted my first 5+1 !!

#because like yes i write barry fic but i haven’t written BARRY fic.. #because i think he’s annoying HOWEVER i am interested in him insofar as exploring other characters perceptions of him and his annoyingness #so i thought that could make for a funny barry hank and cristobal hijinks fic #ie cristobal hating his guts for 6 chapters because i’m a sucker for jealousy tropes #my fic #barry hbo #barry #nohobal #cristohank #noho hank #cristobal sifuentes #noho hank x cristobal sifuentes #barry berkman #fanfiction #ao3 link #ao3 #barry fanfiction #should i tag this bill hader? yeah #bill hader #Barry 2018 #hbo barry

[scintillatingshortgirl19]

I now have four (4) Barry fics I'm planning to try to finish and post by the end of this month, I'm sure this is doable

#i mean one of them might be finished #the other two are almost finished #and the fourth (the longer one i should be focusing on instead of giving into new oneshot ideas but OH WELL) #is getting close but it’s going to take more work #it's possible i don't need to do this in two weeks but #i can't be certain what will happen to my brain when the new Loki season comes out #and i want to make sure these barry fics get posted in case the hyperfixation shifts 😬 #barry hbo #barry berkman #fanfiction #em writes #op

[careless-with-your-heart]

The Air She Feeds Me is Damned (Barry AU - Original Female Character)

Chapter One is: HERE

It's been three years since Barry bolted, leaving LA after the breakup, disappearing before Moss started asking questions. Now, he's living on the East Coast, under a new name, working a string of shitty, under-the-radar jobs. Oh, he's still quietly falling apart, but at least his hands are clean. Barry Berkman's perfectly fine, thankyouverymuch, until he witnesses a murder - and he can't stop fantasizing about the woman who committed it.

Chapter Two:

The second time, she actually sees him first—technically, Barry never sees her at all.

Things haven’t been working out so great for him lately; the expense of living in this steel-and-neon anthill, the sheer number of hours that he needs to be bent over some menial task just to survive, the loneliness that does nothing but give him time to reflect on what happened in LA, it all weighs down on him, wears at him. Barry is startled to find that, sometimes, when he is just at the edge between asleep and awake, his right hand curls around an imaginary, crosshatched grip. His trigger finger physically itches.

He tries video games. He tries junk food. He tries target shooting. He even tries picking up a woman in a bar, as pathetic as it sounds, because he isn’t sure that the heavy pressure low in his gut isn’t just the result of almost three years of celibacy. A woman walks in, average in every aspect, but there is something in the way her dishwater hair falls just to her shoulder, and in the way her eyes crinkle at the corners when she laughs at something the bouncer says, that makes Barry’s stomach turn with acid. He slams down his vodka soda—his third in the past hour—and bolts from the bar.  

He knows what the itch is. And he knows what has caused it. All it had taken was locking eyes with her for the briefest flash, and here he was, everything in his body strung so tight that he feels he might snap. Barry wants to know who she is, why she killed the man at the bus stop, and what she tastes like in the dark. He doesn’t even care what she looks like under all that black, only that she knows how it feels to take a life with her own hands. He wants those hands on him.

But he’ll never have them. And, really, he shouldn’t. He knows that this fixation is ten toes over the edge, and advancing, and he knows that it’s unhealthy. As much as anything else, he knows that he won’t be able to stop. The universe is not that fair. If it were fair, then Sally, and Gene, and even Hank would have never crossed his path—and they would have been so much better for it. And so, Barry drudges on for as long as he can, emptying trash cans in the park, standing in a sandwich board in the hot, noisy stream of a million morning commuters, being led down that same dark, fateful street by a pack of dogs more financially stable than he is.

Rent is late for the second month in a row when Barry lets the excuse break the dam. He feels flushed, hot, out of breath as he lets the urge take over, and he feels the same tremble that he did that first night as he presses “send” on a text to the number listed in the Craigslist ad.

Three and a half hours later, he’s crouched in a copse of bushes outside a cheating COO’s upstate house, her husband’s measly six grand in his bank account and that same drugging buzz in his head that has always come before a kill.

The scent of vanilla and deep, heady spice fills his nose. The barrel of her gun presses, cold in the hot summer air, against the nape of his neck. Just as she does so, he feels a bead of sweat roll from his hairline, trickling down to meet the digging steel. Then, she’s in his ear, and he lets his eyes slip closed.

“Hey, dog guy. Keep your eyes ahead and keep your fucking hands where I can see them.” Her breath is warm, even warmer than the outside air. Still, Barry shivers. “You take money for this gig? Nod or shake your head.”

He nods. Maye she’ll end him. What a blessing that would be.

“Looks like Mister Mom wants to make sure his cash cow gets to the chopping block. He bought two of us.”

Barry nods.

She continues. “You have about twenty seconds to pack up your gear and go. Normally, I’d blow your fucking head off and leave your body here to be discovered by an insufferable suburban housewife, who’ll soak up all the attention she gets at her next MLM meeting when she describes how your face was caved in to her neighborhood friends, but…”

He laughs. It’s probably not what she expects, but she lets him.

She digs the gun in harder at his nape. Barry feels himself harden painfully behind his jeans zipper.

“But what?” he croaks. She didn’t say he wasn’t allowed to talk to her.

“But I kinda like your face,” she says. “And I can tell you’re out. So, stay out. Don’t be a fuckup.”

With that, she’s gone, and the only thing she leaves is a lingering trail of that distinctly heady scent.

#barry #barry hbo #hbo barry #barry berkman #bill hader #au #fanfiction #fanfic

[mirabilefuturum]

I finished the barryhank fic prompted by Zsasz's strip search joke, yay me

last chapter, entire work

#barry hbo #barry berkman #noho hank #barryhank #fanfiction #own #you guys want a strip search? #tee hee #might write one with Cristobal #meaning I should #like honestly

[berkmansimagines]

Hey Friend, what are some of your most favourite fanfictions about Barry/Bill Hader/etc.

Are there some classics a new fan just has to read?

Remember to stay hydrated!!

Hello lovely anon!

Ohhhh this is a fun question!! Barry/Bill Hader is such a small fandom and a little quiet at the moment, but there are some really amazing fics that I've loved over the years ❤️ A few I remember on the top of my head:

Dating Barry Berkman HCs, Falling For Bill Hader While Working At SNL HCs and Safe Now by @fangirl-imagines are all great! Her entire Barry masterlist is wonderful!

Every Measure by @justauthoring is super angsty and so well written

I Choose You by @foodcourtdetective is a fun soulmate au fic! I love AUs

I hope you check these fics out and enjoy! And thank you for the water reminder!! I really needed it 💧

#asks

[dogtheories]

WHICH IS WORSE 36 year old man with over 360 fanfictions posted what feels like daily with no hint of shame depicting among other things various b*ll h*der characters from different things fucking each other and barry berkman x latina woman oc OR 23 year old man who occasionally posts sparing amounts of weird sexual fanart hidden under 3 filters and labels of that hitman and his boss / family friend / father figure / pseudo uncle / whatever and feels massive amounts of shame whenever he does

#soda.txt

[starting-now]

Stitches

Summary: Barry hasn’t been responding to your texts and you decide to go check on him.

A/N: wow i haven’t posted in a hot minute but heres an old wip i finally finished! let me know what you think🥺 i miss writing

Word Count: 1642

Warnings: descriptions of wounds, mentions of death

------

You scanned Barry’s apartment building up and down, then looked back at your phone. Your fingers danced lightly over the screen, scrolling through the messages he had sent you earlier that day. 

‘I’m sorry.’

-then a minute later-

‘I don’t know what to say’

-another minute-

‘I love you. And I’m sorry.’

And since then, nothing. 

If it wasn’t for the rest of the cryptic bullshit, you would have been utterly caught up on those three little words in his last text...‘I love you’. To be honest, even despite your worry those words echoed in your mind. Still, even after all your responses, asking if he was okay, where he was, if he needed to talk, you hadn’t heard from him all day.

So here you were, staring at his apartment building, trying to gather the courage to approach  his door. You tucked your phone into your back pocket and twisted your hands nervously. You knew what he did for work. He had told you months ago and you knew how dangerous it could be. Every time you didn’t hear from him for a while, or he didn’t show up to acting class, you panicked. And today, with the addition of these cryptic messages, your anxiety was through the roof. You had a panic attack on the drive over, every horrible thing that could have happened running through your mind, leaving a burning sensation in their wake. 

You finally gained the courage to walk up the stairs, but as you approached the door, it was half open, the lights inside still off. Your panic spiked again. You placed a hand on the door and pushed it open slowly. As the hall light filtered in you saw Barry’s jacket on the floor, stained dark red, and a trail of thick red drops dotting the floor leading to his bedroom. 

“...Barry?” you called softly. You furrowed your brow when there was no response, tears pricking your eyes.

“Barry? It’s me.” you said a little louder as you slowly followed the trail of blood down the hall. You heard a soft groan in response. Your pace quickened as you rounded the corner to his bedroom, flicking on the light to see Barry sprawled across his bed on his stomach, his gray shirt stained red with blood that seeped out from his shoulder. You gasped and rushed over to him, kneeling in front of him so you could see his face. He was sweating profusely, his hair sticking to his forehead, his eyes were droopy and tired. You put a hand to his cheek softly.

“Barry? Hey are you with me? Say something.” you said, concern lacing your voice. Barry struggled to keep his eyes open, and he groaned in response.

“(Y/N)?” he mumbled in confusion. He tried to sit up, but hissed in pain and collapsed back on the bed.

“God, Barry you’re hurt, I need to get you to the hospital.”  you said, but before you could grab your phone, Barry’s hand was on yours, his grip weak on your wrist but enough to get your attention.

“No hospital. I’ll...I’ll be fine.” he mumbled. You shook your head.

“You need help.” you said simply. You got up and walked into his bathroom, searching for a first aid kit. You finally found one under the sink, and propped it up on the bed.

“I just need to rest.” Barry muttered and you shook your head.

“No, Barry. I need you to stay awake. You’ve lost a lot of blood. Can you sit up for me?” you asked, mustering a calm voice despite the panic. Barry shifted slowly until he sat weakly on the edge of the bed next to you.

“Okay good. Hurt your shoulder?” you asked, gesturing to it as you opened the disinfectant.

“Not me it was the little karate girl.” he said and you did a double take at him before deciding that  ‘what the fuck does little karate girl mean’ was a question you’d file under ‘ask later’. You tugged lightly at the hem of his shirt until Barry got the message, maneuvering himself carefully so you were able to remove the fabric. He winced as he moved the muscles surrounding his wound.

You soaked a rag in warm water and carefully cleaned most of the blood away from the wounds on his shoulder, which you could now see were two gaping stab wounds right above his shoulder blade. You winced at the sight of them and quickly doused a clean rag in disinfectant. 

Barry hissed in pain as you cleaned the wound and you mumbled a quiet apology as you continued working. Once the area was disinfected you threaded a needle and got to work on the stitches. You clenched your teeth in sympathy as you worked the needle into his skin. Barry was mostly silent through the whole affair apart from a few small low groans, his eyes shut tight and his fists clenched so hard his knuckles were white.

“Alright, last one.” you said quietly as you threaded the last stitch and tied off the end. You disinfected the wound once again and placed some large bandages over the area. Your hands left Barry’s back and folded in your lap as you sat on the edge of the bed, your leg brushing his. A thick silence fell over the room.

“So...are we going to talk about those messages?” you asked quietly as if the moment would shatter at any sudden action. 

Barry was silent for a moment. His hands worked over his bruised knuckles in contemplation, his jaw clenching and releasing. But after a few seconds, his back heaved and a shaky breath came out of his mouth, tears falling freely from his eyes. He put his head in his hands and pressed the heels of his palms into his forehead.

You furrowed your brow and placed a hand softly on his arm.

“Hey hey, what’s wrong?” you said soothingly, running a hand up and down his skin. Barry shook his head and dug his fingers into his scalp, anxiously tugging on the roots of his hair.  

“...I’m sorry,” he choked out in a weak voice between sobs. “I shouldn’t have dragged you into all this.” 

“Barry I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care about you. You’re not dragging me into anything.” you said meaningfully, racking your brain for anything you could say to make him feel better. You hated seeing him in pain, whether physical or mental and in this case, it was both. Your heart was breaking for him.

You sat in silence for a few minutes as his breathing evened out, your hand still resting reassuringly on his arm. Barry let out a deep sigh.

“I’m...I’m sorry I worried you. Those messages...I don’t know what to say.” he said, tears slowing and turning into regret.

“It’s...okay. At least they got me here to help you.. Who knows what would have happened.” you said, trying to shake the hypotheticals. 

“I know what would have happened.. I would have died.” he said with a humorless laugh.

“Come on I’m sure you would have-”

“No, (Y/N), I mean it. I would have died. That’s...why I sent you those messages.” he confessed in a more serious tone and sat up, keeping his eyes glued to the floor in front of him and his hands folded in his lap.

You didn’t know what to say. For what seemed like the hundredth time tonight you were at a loss for words. 

“I do, by the way.” he said simply, finally meeting your gaze. You furrowed your brow in confusion and Barry noticed you hadn’t connected the dots.

“Love you, I mean. I always have.” he clarified, losing what little confidence he had as he heard the words leave his mouth. You felt tears prick at your eyes.

“Oh, Barry, I-”

“No I know. I-I shouldn’t have said it. I shouldn’t have messaged it to you and I definitely shouldn’t have said it again just now. I just figured you should know.” he rambled.

You placed a gentle hand under his chin and tilted his head so he met your eyes.

“Barry, I love you too.” you said, giving him a soft smile. Barry resisted the urge to lean into your touch, a simple question on his mind. He furrowed his brow as tears threatened to fall once again. 

“...Why?” he asked emphatically. It wasn’t a plea to hear his good attributes. This was a complete and total disbelief that he was worthy of anyone’s love, let alone yours.

“Maybe we both have self destructive tendencies.” you said jokingly, shrugging and earning a small frown from Barry. 

“Or...maybe I just know you. It’s not often you meet someone and really know them. Really see them. But I know you. I see you. And you see me. And maybe...maybe that’s enough.” you finished thoughtfully. 

“Do you really mean that?” he asked, searching your eyes hopefully.

“Of course, Barry,  I-” you started but were cut off by the feeling of Barry’s lips on yours.

It was a quick kiss before he made himself pull away. He shut his eyes tightly and shook his head.

“Sorry, I should have-”

You cut him off by gently tugging on the collar of his shirt and pulling him in for another kiss.

“It’s okay. Don’t apologize.” you said with a smile. Barry’s expression softened and he leaned his forehead against yours.

“...Can you stay?” he asked quietly.

“Of course.” you responded, bringing your hand up to rest on his cheek and running your thumb across his cheekbone. Barry leaned into your touch, a soft smile on his face.

“But you gotta tell me about this little karate girl.” you said, earning a small laugh from Barry.

“Deal.”

#barry #barry hbo #Barry Berkman #barry block #barry fanfiction #barry berkman x reader #barry berkman fanfiction #barry x reader #im sorry bill hader

[fangirl-imagines]

Let Me Show You (How Much I Love You)//Barry Berkman Smut

A/N: This was my first time ever writing smut so please be gentle. This is a very soft smut so if you’re looking for kink this is probably not for you. 

I’m so sorry Bill. 

Warnings: Unprotected sex, top reader

Prompt: After another hit, Barry finds himself questioning if he’s really a bad person. You decide to prove to him how wonderful you really think he is. 

You had been having a good day. You didn’t want to jinx it but you were almost positive you had nailed that audition today for a short part on a soap opera, you’d stopped and treated yourself to your favorite coffee to celebrate, and Barry was supposed to get off work early today so the two of you could spend the rest of the day together. You couldn’t wait.

You were grinning and humming to yourself when you turned your key in the lock to your apartment and stepped inside. Your smile dropped though when you stepped into the living room and saw Barry sitting on the couch, head buried in his hands and sniffling. Your heart jumped into your throat, immediately worrying that something terrible had happened.

“Barry?” You breathed, dropping your purse into a nearby chair and rushing over to the tall man, hunched over on your shared couch, and dropped to your knees in front of him. “Barry, what’s wrong?”

He looked up at you and shook his head, running his hands through his hair and tugging harshly at the roots. His lips were pursed and without his hands in the way you could clearly see how red and glassy his beautiful green eyes were.

“Did something happen? Are you hurt?” You rushed out anxiously. Your hands squeezing his knees where your hands rested to keep your balance. At your last question he laughs a humorless, wet laugh and his bottom lip trembles again.

“Oh Barry.”

Your chest squeezed painfully at the sight of him so upset. Slowly you crawled up onto the couch beside him and gently untangled his hands from his hair and brought them up to your lips, kissing the rough skin gently. He looked at you and smiled weakly.

“What happened?” You ask gently after a while. Barry closed his eyes, the tears weren’t coming as harshly now, coming in slow, stray drops now instead of in a steady stream.

“Do you think I’m a bad person?”

You froze, sitting up straighter and looking at him curiously. He slowly withdrew his hands from yours and brushed away his tears, gazing at you pleadingly. You knew your answer immediately but were careful with your words.

“Barry, I can honestly tell you that in the time I’ve gotten to know you, you have proven yourself to be one of the best people I know. You’re caring and passionate and you are probably the strongest person I’ve ever met! You’re fucking amazing, Barry!”

You tilted your head to make sure you were looking in his eyes when you spoke so he’d understand how sincere your words were. There was a glimmer of hope in his eyes when he looked back at you.

“You really think so?”

“Yeah, yeah of course I do!” You stopped and drug your bottom lip through your teeth, still carefully considering how to articulate to this wonderful man in front of you just how you felt about him. “Barry, you-, you’re human. Sometimes that means making mistakes and doing things you regret but that doesn’t make you a bad person.”

You assured, referring to his time in the marines but not knowing how close to home your words struck for Barry. He sniffled and nodded at you. You could tell he still didn’t quite believe you.

“Hey,” You pleaded, reaching up and cupping his face in your hands. “I mean it okay? You’re wonderful.”

His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his hand coming up to cover yours. He stroked thumb in small circles over your skin. He smiled at you gently and you felt a familiar flutter in your chest you often felt around Barry coupled with a deep yearning to push the sadness from his eyes. You couldn’t help yourself but to lean forward and press your lips to his. He stilled in surprise but quickly kissed you back, his thumb continuing to rub soothing circles on your hand until you deepened the kiss, slipping your tongue into his mouth.

He moaned against your lips. His hands traveled down your arms to your waist, pulling you in closer until you were pressed together. When air became a necessity you pulled away, still staying flushed against Barry, both of you gasping for breath.

“Are you sure-?” Barry asked before you cut him off with a quick peck on the lips and a nod.

“Let me show you how wonderful you are.”

You had never seen Barry blush before but it was a sight you would never forget.

His cheeks were tinged pink but he grinned shyly at you, “I love you.” He spoke bringing that fluttering feeling in your chest back.

You lifted up on your knees on the couch to get a better angle and kissed him again, shivering when he worked his hands under your shirt and glided them gently up your ribs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their path. You grabbed onto Barry’s shoulders and threw your other leg over his side, straddling his lap. You shuddered when his hands cupped your breast under your shirt and shook your head, trying to keep your composure. You wanted to make this about him today.

You weren’t sure what had happened to him but he needed whatever affection you could offer him. You wanted him to know you were here for him, that you loved him no matter what.

Barry’s hands squeezed your chest when you began to kiss from the corner of his mouth, down his chin, and across his jaw. Gently nipping his skin as you kissed and sucked across his jaw to his ear, you felt something stir inside of you at the breathy moan his released.

“Arms up.” You whispered in his ear.

He did as he was told, pulling his hands out from under your shirt and lifting his arms for you to drag his shirt up and over his head, tossing it into the floor. You didn’t give him a chance to recover before you placed your mouth back on his neck and wound your fingers in his hair to tilt his head to the side enough to give you better access; careful to keep your touches gentle. He groaned deeply from the back of his throat making your heart race.

This was so far out of the realm of anything you had ever done before, but you tried to keep your nerves in check and focus on Barry. You continued to press open mouth kisses up the side of his throat, savoring the feel of his warm skin under your lips and the closeness of him against you.

The pads of your fingers massaged his scalp gently in slow circular motions. Barry bucked his hips up against you suddenly, taking you by surprise and eliciting a breathy moan from you at the friction. Your fingers tighten in his short, dark locks and he bucks against your core again with slightly more precision this time making you cry out again and close your eyes. You grabbed onto his shoulder with one hand to steady yourself while your other hand left his hair and settled against the base of his neck, resting at the curve of where his shoulder met his neck.

“Y/N, please-“ He gasped, “Stop teasing me, sweetheart.” Barry asked, the husky, thickness to his voice and his soft pleading making you smile, knowing the affect you were having on him.

You felt your confidence grow slightly with the knowledge that Barry was enjoying this. You smiled and leaned back to look at him. His hair was messy from your tugging, his neck was red and patchy where you had worked your way up his throat, and his pupils were blown wide. You smiled gently, leaning forward and kissing him softly and slowly. He slipped his tongue into your mouth making you groan.

His hands that had rested on your waist, moved up your sides then down to the hem of your shirt. You pulled back, panting slightly and shook your head. You lifted your hand and brushed your fingertips over his cheek bone in a feather light touch, memorizing the way his eye’s fluttered shut at your gentle touch and smiled when they opened back up.

“I love you so much.” You whispered, pressing a chaste kiss against his lips again. “So much.”

Pulling back, you lifted your arms and let him pull your shirt off over your head. He tossed your shirt carelessly into the floor, your eyes following its path. You took a deep breath, feeling a bit more vulnerable now without anything to cover you but when you met Barry’s gaze you were surprised by the awe that you saw there. His eyes were glued to you, all traces of green gone except for the thinnest of rims around the edges of his wide pupils. You shrugged sheepishly. He tilted his head up and kissed you again.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He mumbled against your lips.

You almost laughed but instead kissed him back, running your hands up his chest and cupping his jaw in your hands.

“Hey, let me take care of you okay?” you asked gently.

He stared at you for a moment, he wasn’t used to anyone ever wanting to take care of him. You smiled at him warmly, like he was the best thing you’d ever seen and coupled with the softness of your touch and the soft warmth that your lips left over his body was overwhelming. He could do nothing but nod at you and watched your every move carefully as you slipped out of his lap and onto your knees in front of him. His breath hitched. You tried to keep your fingers from trembling as you unbuckled his belt. You had to move slowly to keep from fumbling but with the sound of clinking metal undid the belt and pulled it from his waist, Barry leaning forward slightly to help you.

You smiled up at him trying to keep your nerves at bay as he helped you work his jeans down his legs and off into the floor. Your breath caught at the sight of the tent in his boxers staring back at you. Your stomach tightened with anxiety and excitement knowing what was about to happen.

You hooked your fingers under the waist band of his underwear, feeling the soft material under your fingertips and taking a deep breath. Barry opened his mouth but all coherent thoughts cleared from his head when you pulled down his boxers in one fluid motion and the cold air of the apartment hit him.

You swallowed your nerves harshly and looked up at Barry who was watching your every move with careful concentration. You ran your hands up his thighs and then raked your fingernails back down them in a feather light gesture. You smiled at the way his breath hitched and he gasped needily when you moved your hand back up his thigh and over, stroking him slowly.

“Y/N…” He moaned out in a gravely voice.

You stroked him slowly and gently, keeping your touch lighter than he needed earning a gasp and a moan from him each time. Suddenly you pulled your hand back and stood up. Barry whimpered at the loss of contact until he saw you were working your way out of your pants and underwear. He leaned forward and roughly helped you to yank them down before settling his large hands under your knees and yanking you forward, back into his lap.

“Wow!” You laughed when you landed back on top of him, grabbing onto his shoulders again to keep from toppling.

Barry kissed you again though, much more roughly this time. You moaned against him and ground yourself down on him. You could feel him pressed against you and couldn’t wait anymore. You pulled back from the kiss, stroking Barry’s face gently and kissing the tip of his nose. His hands were trembling against your thighs. Biting your bottom lip between your teeth harshly to keep quiet you rocked your hips forward and back slowly, dragging your slit over him.

“Baby-“Barry groaned cut off by you pressing your lips against his and reaching between you to line yourselves up and sunk down onto him.

You gasped against his lips, pulling back and leaning your forehead against his for a moment as you adjusted to this new feeling of being fitted so closely together. You closed your eyes tight breathing deeply but they fluttered open when Barry kissed over your cheekbone without separating your foreheads, keeping you in the moment with him.

“Are you okay? Is this-,” He cleared his throat sounding slightly pained, his grip on your waist tightening, “Is this okay?”

You could only nod, kissing him again a little messier this time.

“This is very okay.” You joked weakly, shuttering and smiling at him.

“I love you.” He whispered to you adding to the growing feeling of warmth in your body.

You settled your hands on his shoulders for leverage and began to slowly and steadily rock up and down in his lap. Barry moaned harshly, tossing his head forward and settling it into the crook of your neck as you moved. His breath was hot against your skin, intensifying the closeness you felt to him in that moment if that was even possible. His hands slid up from your waist around your back where his arms locked you between them. You could feel them tightening when your fingernails dug into his shoulders as you began to bounce faster.

Remembering something you’d read once; you rolled your hips in a circle earning a moan from Barry that was more like a sob against your shoulder.

“Fuck!” He groaned making you smirk gently.

You ran your hands down his shoulders, smoothing gently over the small, crescent moon shaped ridges your nails had left and repeated the action again. But you were caught off guard when Barry suddenly snapped his hips up and into you.

“Oh!” You gasped, at the sudden movement. Barry quickly thrust back up into you, creating an uneven but needy pace. “God, Barry.”

You moaned at his movements, grasping onto his forearms for support from falling against him as you were jostled by his thrust. His lips worked purposely at the base of your neck, working a bruise there. You gasped as you felt a warm coil in the bottom of your stomach, growing tighter but still not quite enough.

“Barry,” Your voice shook, breathlessly. Barry pulled back from your neck and looked you in the eyes. You felt the clenching in your stomach intensify. “I-, I just need, need a little more. Just a little more.” You choked out brokenly, but Barry knew what you were asking.

He slipped one hand from your back and down between you, rubbing his thumb with a gentle but firm pressure, giving you what needed. It was only a few short seconds before you felt the coil in your stomach unravel and the warmth of your orgasm washing over you leaving you breathless. You fell forward against Barry for support, panting for breath. Barry’s thrust became sloppier and needier beneath you as he got closer to his own release. You pressed a kiss against the red marks you’d left on his shoulders and heard him moan in your ear.

“Y/N, I’m-,” he groaned, “I’m almost-,” He bucked roughly against you with another rough moan.

You wound your fingers into his hair and shushed him reassuringly, “Just let go sweetheart. Let go.”

With one last push Barry came hard with a cry, his body tensing and then going slack beneath you. He was panting for breath, coming down from his high when you tilted your head up to face him. He seemed completely relaxed, his eyes half closed, the worry lines in his forehead smoothed out, and lips parted as he tried to catch his breath, pulling up in the corners when he looked down and saw you smiling at him. Your heart already racing felt practically bursting at the overwhelming intimate closeness and love you felt in that moment.

You rested your forehead against his shoulder, catching your breath. Barry let his head lull to the side and rest in your hair, placing a chaste kiss there, stroking his hand up and down your back lazily. You stayed like that in a comfortable silence, not sure nor caring how much time had passed. Neither of you were in any hurry to separate from each other.

Eventually you could feel him start to go soft inside of you and had to move before you both became too uncomfortable in the same position. Barry held your hands and helped you to climb off of him onto shaky legs. Everything felt shaky and light now, warm pin pricks from your nerves traveling all over your body.

Reaching around in the floor, you grasped Barry’s shirt and pulled it on. You brushed your hair back out of your eyes and felt Barry’s arms wrap around your waist and tug you back down onto the couch.

He had laid down on his back, a throw pillow under his neck and pulled you to lay across his chest. His arms wrapped firmly around your back, he held you close. His eyelids dropped in the tell-tale sign that he was fighting off sleep. You couldn’t believe how adorable he looked in these rare, vulnerable moments. Blindly, you grabbed the blanket you keep folded over the back of the couch and haphazardly covered you both with it.

You pressed a soft, open mouthed kiss over his chest then laid your head down over the same spot. You could hear his heart beating in his chest and under your fingertips.

“I love you, Barry Berkman.” You whispered against his skin and heard the way his heart beat quickened.

You missed the tears welling in the corner of his eyes, stinging as he blinked them away but felt the kiss he pressed in your hair as he tangled his fingers there and massaged your scalp gently. He still wasn’t sure that he deserved you or any of this really. But what he did know was that you loved him and that,

“I love you too.” 

#barry berkman #barry berkman imagine #barry berkman x reader #barry berkman smut #barry berkman fanfiction #barry block #barry block imagine #barry block x reader #barry block smut #barry block fanfiction #bill hader #bill hader imagine #bill hader x reader #bill hader fanfiction #bill hader smut #barry hbo #barry hbo imagine #barry hbo x reader #barry hbo smut #smut #top reader #comfort sex #soft smut

[bowieandqueen11]

Anything / Barry Berkman Imagine

Request: Could I possibly request an imagine where the reader leaves Barry having found out she was pregnant, but she has the baby months later, intending to never tell Barry until she accidentally runs into him. He then begs her to give him another chance as he swears he's changed. Sorry if it's too specific. 

It’s been waaaay too long since I wrote for Barry! Also, everyone loved dad!barry so much last time, and all the comments were incredible, thank you so much! <3

Comments are always appreciated and welcomed!

Warning, some strong language!

‘Shit. You have got to be fucking kidding me. Why the fuck is he here?!’

The audition had already gone horribly. The guys sitting at the table in that drab, soulless room had huddled as soon as you had finished your monologue, their faces hiding from your view. You tried to shoosh your baby, waddling him to your chest and tucking his little blue bobble hat further down his tiny head, but you could still see the raised eyebrows and displeased sideyes from the panel.

Storming out without even leaving down your details, all you wanted was to get home and cry for a little bit, putting little Ryan down for a nap and enjoying just a little bit of alone time before Mr Cousineau’s class began. Walking through the grey offices, the dim lights casting your face in shadows, you headed out towards the main road. Stopping by the front door to rustle in your bag for the keys, you shuffle Ryan slightly over to your hip, balancing haphazardly on your foot for a few moments before finding solace by staring out of the window of the high-rise. Ryan, however, hadn’t appreciated the movement, and as you made to go, his cries started ringing out through the entry hall. 

You hadn’t fully noticed, but the man sitting behind you had. The one whose hands were almost shaking as he held his paper, looking over his lines. The one who felt like he was sitting in a morgue, the air-conditioning so strong he could feel it on his forehead and on the palms of his hands, fast-freezing his sweat. The one with the dreadful, bleary bloodshot eyes, the one who hadn’t slept in weeks, not properly, not since you had left.

Barry had noticed.

‘Shit. Shit! Y/n? Y/n, is that you?’

‘Shit. You have got to be fucking kidding me. Why the fuck is he here?! You cannot seriously still be trying to be an actor. What, after what you’ve done? Are you kidding me!?’

He ignores you, mostly, as he stands up, patting down his jeans and walking slowly over to you. His eyes, wide and alert, are trained on the baby hiding his face into the side of your stomach, and he can’t stop his hand from shaking a little as he asks, ‘is, is that him? Is that our son?’

You don’t give him an answer. In fact, before you know it, you’re feet are out past the sliding door and hitting the sidewalk, car completely forgotten from your mind. The only thing rattling, screaming in your mind, is how you have to get away, far away from the man who kills people for a living. The iron-railings of the closest park, all but invisible in the inkiness of the dipping sun, are soon behind you and the tall concrete buildings loom in the distance. It takes you a moment to hear slight panting beside you, and as you slow down your jog, you nearly go weak at the knees to see the shocked face of Barry only slightly beside you,

‘Look, just leave us the fuck alone, okay Barry? I don’t want any trouble. Just leave us alone.’

Barry doesn’t stop following you though, his face smoldering underneath his stony expression as you glance back at him with eyebrows furrowed in worry. His feet fall in step behind you, glancing around with squinted eyes to make sure no one was watching the three of you, feet tripping slightly against the uneven pavement as his shoulder bumps into a streetlight. It’s only when you reach the next intersection, forced to stop at the red light that he finally dares to speak.

Grabbing onto your shoulder tightly, almost without meaning to, his whisper rushes out like a puff of wind. ‘Please, Y/n, just let me see him. Or her. Just let me see them, please, that’s all I care about. The last few weeks have been torture, literal torture. Please-’

He stopped when bright green eyes found his, like pieces of bottled glass, and Ryan laughed, as only a baby can laugh: a sweet sound unblemished by the hurts of life as he stuck his thumb into his mouth, hand grasping onto your shirt in a tight fist. His little face glowed from a light within, and he stared up at Barry, surveying him with his inquisitive eyes as if he knew. He knew! 

Barry’s heartache was was like a wolf eating at his chest, tearing it's way to his trembling heart. It threatened to devour him, eat him whole and leave nothing but scraps behind. The ache of longing to be with the little bundle in front of him echoed through the very marrow of his bones, and he couldn’t help the cry that escaped his mouth. He never knew, never knew that missing someone he had never met could take over every fibre of your being. It felt like a torment even he was unprepared for.

Then it started. The shaking. He didn’t care about the curious onlookers, he didn’t care what people would think, would say about him. He didn’t care about Fuches, about Gene, about the acting class, about himself. Only the laughing child giggling in front of him. All he can do to stop himself from breaking, is whisper a soft ‘please, please’, over and over and over again with an ever increasing fervour. When the sound finally hits his own ears, he falls to his knees.

‘If getting past the pain means forgetting you, then I choose suffer my entire life, Y/n. Please, I’ll do anything. Starting now, I’ll do anything.’ 

#bill hader #bill hader imagine #bill hader x reader #bill hader fanfiction #bill hader fanfic #barry #barry berkman #barry block #barry imagine #barry x reader #barry fluff #barry hbo #barry angst #barry berkman imagine #barry berkman x reader #barry berkman fluff #barry berkman angst #barry berkman fanfic #barry berkman fanfiction #barry block imagine #barry block x reader #barry block fanfiction #barry block fanfic #barry fanfic #barry fanfiction #barry hbo imagine #barry hbo fanfic #barry hbo fanfiction #hbo barry

[storiesforallfandoms]

attraction ~ barry berkman;barry

word count: 2767

request?: yes!

“If requests are open, can you do a Barry Berkman x demisexual!reader? Idk you can choose how they meet but I don't really want her to be affiliated with the acting class or as a hitwoman and that. But all I know is I want Barry fluff and some representation”

description: when his friends try to make fun of his “sexless relationship”, he stands up for his girlfriend

pairing: barry berkman x female!reader

warnings: swearing, barry’s “friends” are disrespectful towards the reader’s sexuality before barry puts them in their place

masterlist (one, two, three)

The last place he expected to meet someone was at the flower shop while looking for a bouquet for Sally.

Both Barry and Sally knew that their relationship was coming to an end. That original spark had died out long ago, and Sally seemed more focused on her career than on trying to make it work. But she refused to end the relationship just yet. She claimed that it looked good for her image if she was in a long running and stable relationship, so they continued the ruse, much to Barry’s chagrin.

Sally had asked him to bring her flowers yet again to the set of Joplin. It pissed him off when she asked because the flowers always ended up in the garbage, which meant Barry was spending all that money for nothing. He wished he could buy her some cheap, shitty flowers just to spite her, but he also knew she’d fly off the handle if he did.

So there he was, starring at the various bouquet of flowers, trying to figure out which ones would be Sally approved while also not going to cost him a fortune, when someone asked, “Do you need help with anything?”

Barry turned to see a beautiful woman smiling up at him. He felt at a loss for words, but he couldn’t understand why at first. It wasn’t until he was driving to the set that he realized it was the same way he had felt about Sally when they first met.

When he realized that she had asked him a question and he was just starring at her like an idiot, he quickly snapped out of his trance and said, “Uh, yeah. I-I’m looking for some flowers.”

She giggled. “I can see that. Anything sort of occasion you’re looking for? For anyone special?”

“Yeah. For my, uh, for my girlfriend.”

He could’ve swore he saw something in the woman’s eyes when he said that, but he couldn’t tell for sure.

“But something...not expensive,” he added. “Maybe that makes me a cheap asshole, but she doesn’t even keep the flowers most of the time so I don’t want to waste my money.”

Her eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. “She doesn’t keep the flowers, but you keep buying them? Sorry if I’m stepping out of line by saying this, but that sounds really shitty and like she doesn’t appreciate your kind gestures.”

Barry was stunned into silence again. That’s exactly what Sally was doing. Actually, it wasn’t even that she wasn’t appreciating his kind gestures; she wasn’t appreciating the kind gestures that she was insisting he do.

“I guess not,” he responded. “But, uh, I’m just trying to make her happy, and she keeps asking for flowers to make her happy.”

The woman looked skeptical, but she kept any comments to herself. “Well, in that case, let me help you get something pretty but won’t break the bank.”

She took him around the flower shop, picking out pieces from different bouquets to make one small but beautiful bouquet of flowers. When she rang him in, it barely even came to $20.

“Did you want a special card with it or anything?” she asked as she rang him in.

“Uh...no, that’s okay. I’ll be giving these to her in person,” he responded. “Thanks for your help...”

“(Y/N),” she finished for him. “I hope she appreciates these the way they deserve to be appreciated.”

On his way to set, Barry kept glancing at the flowers and thinking of what (Y/N) had said. He knew long ago that Sally no longer appreciated his gestures, whether they were his own or the ones she insisted on. In fact, she didn’t appreciate him period. Like everything else in her life, he was just a pawn to make her look better in her career. She very rarely ever gave him the time of day unless it was in front of other people and he was more than over being treated that way.

When he arrived on set, he brought Sally her flowers. She feigned excitement to see him and surprise at the flowers. She kissed his cheek, gushed to her co-stars, and then turned back to him to ask, “Will you be coming to dinner with us tonight?”

The usual answer was, “No, I’m a bit busy tonight” because Sally never wanted Barry at her work dinners. She said that he would ruin her image if he was there because of the endless list of faults she always seemed to find with him.

But this time after she asked, he responded with, “Actually, I’m breaking up with you Sally.”

He shouldn’t have felt joy after seeing the shocked look on her face, but he couldn’t help it. It felt like a weight was finally being lifted from his shoulders after carrying this loveless relationship way beyond its expiry date. He was finally free.

The next day, he went back to the flower shop and found (Y/N) at the counter again. When she saw him, she smiled. “Hey! How did the flowers go over?”

“A lot better than the break up did,” Barry responded.

The look on her face was almost better than the look on Sally’s face. “What? You gave them to her, then you broke up with her?”

“In front of her co-workers, too.”

(Y/N) started laughing in shock. “Holy shit! That’s incredible. Well, good for you. You deserve so much better.”

“Thank you,” he said. He suddenly felt himself becoming nervous as he added, “Actually...that’s part of why I’m here. I was wondering...would you want to go out for drinks sometime?”

All the possibilities ran through his head of how the question could’ve been taken, but when she smiled in response Barry felt his heart lift in happiness. “I’d love to. Here, let me give you my number.”

And that’s how he found himself in the early stages of a relationship with the beautiful flower shop worker. They had gone on a handful of dates. For the fourth one (Y/N) had invited Barry to her place so she could cook for him and they could have a relaxing night in. There was just one thing she needed him to know first.

“Don’t get any ideas regarding sex,” she had told him. “I...I should’ve said this sooner, I guess, but it hasn’t been taken well before. I, um...I’m demisexual.”

Barry looked at her in confusion. “What does that mean?”

“It basically means that I don’t have meaningless sex. I prefer to form a connection with someone before we sleep together for the first time. I understand if that’s a dealbreaker to you, and I understand if you feel like I’ve wasted your time by not telling you this before, but things have been going so well between us and I was afraid that I would scare you off once you found out. I probably should’ve made that clear before we went on the first date so you could get out while you could - ”

Barry had cut her off by taking her face in his hands and kissing her. It was far from being their first kiss, but the feeling it gave Barry when he kissed her reminded him of that first time over and over again.

When he pulled away, he assured her, “I don’t mind waiting until you feel that connection. And if you never feel it, then that’s okay, too. We can decide where to go from there if we ever get there.”

The look of happiness on (Y/N)’s face made the entire world feel a little bit brighter for Barry.

Some weeks later, Barry was dragged out to a “guys night” with some of his acting class buddies. In truth, he didn’t want to go at all. He could barely stand these people anymore. They had always been more of Sally’s friends than his own, but since breaking up with Sally, Barry hadn’t exactly had anyone to socialize with besides (Y/N). As much as he didn’t want to be there, he figured it would be good for him to try and regain some friendships of his own.

If only he could get past how incredibly annoying these people were.

“Man, I cannot believe you did that to Sally,” Jermaine was saying after Barry told them about their breakup. “That’s actually hilarious. She deserves that embarrassment after the way she treated you.”

“As much as I loved Sally, she became so full of herself after that on stage change up she did of her play,” Nick added. “She acts like she’s all high and mighty and her show hasn’t even aired yet. She might crash and burn after episode one for all she knows.”

“Listen, I don’t want to dwell on that,” Barry said. “It was weeks ago and I’ve already moved on.”

The guys looked at him with shock and curiosity.

“Well,” Nick said, “don’t just leave it there. Spill! Who is this new girl? Or new guy?”

Barry chuckled and shook his head. “Very much a new girl. Her name is (Y/N). I met her at the flower store buying flowers for Sally, actually.”

He relayed the story of meeting (Y/N) and how she helped him realize his worth in a relationship. He told them all about their first date and how well things had been going since that first day. Talking about her brought up his mood so much that, suddenly, hanging out with these people didn’t seem like such a dreadful chore to him. He had so much happiness bubbling inside of him, all because of this one woman.

“Man, look at you!” Eric said. “You’re basically glowing just talking about her. She must be good, dude.”

“She is,” Barry said, still smiling. “She’s really good.”

“I hope she’s as good in bed, then,” Jermaine said. He laughed and did that stupid “bro high five” with Eric and Antonia, but Nick gave him a disgusted look when Jermaine tried to high five him.

The sour feeling of having to spend time with the guys returned as Barry glared at Jermaine. “What are you, a teenager? It’s not all about sex.��

Jermaine gave him a look. “So you guys haven’t fucked? Why not? You’ve been together like a month now?”

“Oh my God, Jermaine, you’re disgusting,” Nick said. “Sex is not the only thing in a relationship. If they’re not ready to have sex yet, then they’re not ready. You’re acting like he just said she eats puppies or something.”

“And you’re acting like they’re two high schoolers that haven’t lost their virginities yet,” Antonio argued. “At this age, sex is not that big of a deal. Just fuck and get it over with, man.”

“She doesn’t want to!” Barry snapped, finally having enough of the disrespect towards (Y/N).

Eric furrowed his brows together. “Why not?”

Barry took a deep breath to calm himself down. “She’s demisexual. That means she would prefer there to be an emotional connection between us before we have sex. I am respecting her boundaries and, whenever she feels that connection is strong enough, then we’ll do whatever she feels comfortable with.”

The three other straight men of the table shared a look while Nick, who Barry was slowly starting to like more than the rest, gave him respecting look.

“So, you’re just in a sexless relationship?” Antonio asked. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“And y’all have been together nearly a month and she doesn’t feel a connection? Just sounds like she’s not interested in the dick, man. Maybe you should just move on,” Jermaine added.

This was the end for Barry. He had reached the limit on his patience and he couldn’t hold back anymore. “You know what, Jermaine? Maybe you should go choke on a fucking dick.”

The outburst took all of them back. Barry grabbed his things, threw down a $20 bill to pay for his drinks, and started to leave. Before getting too far, he turned back to them, deciding he wasn’t finished telling them his feelings.

“You’re all a bunch of fucking assholes,” he said. “No wonder you’re all single. You only see women are your property; as sex dolls that are of no used to you if they don’t take their clothes off the minute they meet you. Have you ever stopped to think that maybe the women you date have feelings? That they want to have conversations and build connections, and not just let every single guy that thinks they’re attractive have sex with them then leave the next day? No wonder the only friends you guys have are one another, because you’re all despicable and, frankly, fucking annoying.” He took a breath before adding, “Not you, Nick. If you wanna keep hanging out, let me know.”

Nick winked at him before Barry turned on his heel and stormed out. All eyes were on him, but he ignored all of them and went to his car. He started the engine and started to drive, but it took him some time to realize he wasn’t driving home; he had been driving to (Y/N)’s place.

He wanted to see her after the events of the night, but he knew he couldn’t just show up unannounced. He decided to call her first to make sure she was okay with him coming over.

“Hey honey!” she said when she answered the phone. The sound of her voice was enough to cause any of the anger left in his body to happily melt away. “How’s your guys night?”

“Over,” he responded. “I realized I started instinctively driving towards your place. Is it okay if I come over?”

“Yeah, of course! I’ll leave the door unlocked, you can let yourself in.”

When he got there, (Y/N) was on her couch watching one of her favorite shows on TV. She was wearing one of Barry’s shirts that he had left there and a pair of PJ shorts underneath, with a blanket pulled over her legs and a glass of wine on the table next to her. Barry practically fell onto the couch next to her, taking her in his arms and burying his face in her neck. She giggled and pat him on the back.

“What’s this about?” she asked. “Did the guys say something horrible?”

“Many horrible things,” he said, his voice semi-muffled. He lifted his head to look at her. “They were saying shit about you.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “They don’t even know me.”

“I know. I was telling them about you, and they were all on board until they started talking about sex and started saying shit because I said we hadn’t had sex yet.” He shook his head, feeling his anger coming back. “I fucking swear, guys like them only care about one fucking thing.”

“Most guys do, honey,” she said. “I’m not surprised anymore. I’ve had a number of relationships end before they even began once I told them my sexuality. Most guys don’t want a sexless relationship.”

“Don’t say that. That’s what one of those fuckers said. That’s just a normal relationship. A relationship can survive without sex.”

“Not to a lot of people,” (Y/N) said. “Most people expect their partners to want to have sex with them. That’s why a lot of people cheat if there’s no sex happening, or why relationships end sometimes.”

Barry sighed and leaned into (Y/N) again. “I hate people.”

She chuckled. “Yeah, me too.”

She ran her fingers through his hair as they both laid there in silence. She kissed the top of his head and broke the silence to say, “I’m really happy you’re not one of those people, though.”

He looked up at her. “I could never let lack of sex be the reason I lose someone as amazing as you. I’d kick myself every day if we broke up over something so stupid.”

(Y/N) smiled. “You inflate my ego too much. You should be careful with that, or else one day I might become a cocky bitch.”

“I’ll tell you every single day how amazing you are, regardless of the consequences it has.”

Barry leaned up to kiss her gently. She pulled away and they shifted there position so that she was laying on his chest, both of them facing the TV so they could watch the show together.

How could I need anything else when I have this beautiful woman in my arms, and the ability to call her mine? Barry thought to himself

#barry berkman #barry berkman imagine #barry berkman x reader #bill hader #bill hader imagine #bill hader x reader #barry imagine #barry hbo #barry #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

[hornsandthings]

vices i admire;

pairing: barry berkman x reader

summary: reader accidentally finds barry’s stash of weapons, and barry is forced to come clean. 

tags: fluff, angst // word count: 2.3k 

a soft muttering woke you, the low grumbles and frustrated huffs stirring your hair.

           “he don’t bolt—put a bolt into—to a nut; he don’t bolt a nut—fuck—”

           lazy and lethargic, you nuzzled closer to barry’s neck as your hand came to rest on his chest. he was much warmer than the light comforter, and holding him close at night was the only way to keep the chill at bay. he responded just as languidly, arm curling around your waist tighter. you knew, however, that this was due to distraction, not fatigue.

           “runnin’ lines?” you mumbled into his skin, voice thick and heavy with sleep. it was nice to wake up with barry, to have him close like this. he had always been a very nice and generous man, but often you thought he was somewhat unknowable, too. at times when he thought you were asleep, you saw how hard his mind worked, those thick brows betraying a deep frown. barry was approachable, but seldom open.

           “—then you get yourself a couple of shots—spots, goddamn it; spots on your hat—”

           a smile pulled at your mouth, a giggle trapped in your throat. you could only imagine barry’s expression – flat on his back, glaring at the ceiling, looking harsh while he accommodated your nuzzling with soft touches.

           “barry,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his clavicle. you had to blink the sleep away, but there he was, looking down at you.

            “—a salesman is got to dream?” he finished, eyes saying how did you sleep? while his words ended that speech. you laughed, cupping his jaw as you pulled him in for a kiss. it was easy and gentle, but you could still feel the soft intensity he managed to place behind it. again and again did he mould his lips to yours, carefully nudging you so that he was hovering above now, cradling your cheek in a way that always hinted at caution.

           shuffling steps in the next room, a heavy sigh that dragged in a way only a performer could manage. “barry!” someone called, “you forgot the milk! goddammit, man, you know it’s just an aisle away from the gatorade—”

            barry deflated, mouth already working up an annoyed mumble but you kissed the tip of his nose, warding away the whispered “fuck!” that was on the tip of his tongue. you jumped as the roommate pounded on the door, offering up another weary sigh.

           “please, man. breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

           “your cereal is eighty percent sugar. you know that, right?” he retorted back while still looking at you, eyes flickering to your grin. you bit your lip during the pause, trying to smother your laugh. barry only looked put out.

           the doorknob turned, letting out a tell-tell squeak and now barry jolted. “fine, fine!” he quickly shouted, hurriedly pulling the covers up to his shoulders as you gripped him closer like a shield. your briefly eyed the nearest article of clothing – in the corner, a few feet away – and burst into a big belly laugh at barry’s alarmed face, quite comical with those expressive brows as he swallowed thickly.

           he grumbled a little, disentangling himself from you between quick, chaste kisses. “i’m sorry,” he sighed, shaking his head as he shrugged on a hoodie, fumbled with a pair of pants. “i’ll be back soon, alright? thirty minutes.”

           “no worries, baby,” you mused, wrapping the comforter all around you as he left. daylight crept in beneath the blinds, and you allowed yourself to just sit a while, taking in barry’s room. there was little to indicate he’d been a marine, most of it packed away into a box stored in the closet. instead, things that told of his aspirations to acting dotted the room: gene’s book on the bedside table, a pile of old scripts in the corner, spare props peeking out from beneath the bed. you’d only seen him perform onstage twice so far; while his delivery couldn’t quite communicate the amount of effort he always put into it, you supported his desires wholeheartedly.

            this thing with barry – it was only a few months old, but the dedication throughout had felt pure and strong. the care between you two was genuine, and there was more than just simple attraction; the way he touched you, held you – it was laced with adoration. huffing a chuckle, you stepped out of the bed and wriggled into your underthings. muffled sounds from the television filtered through the door as you searched for your socks, tuned to some morning soap.

           this – you wouldn’t mind a life like this. to spend the nights with barry, wake up in his arms, coming to also know his lines from the sheer amount of times he went over them; to become part of his life in a way that meant more mornings like this. perhaps you two weren’t quite there yet, but sometimes – just from the way this particular happiness felt – you could tell that you, at least, were close.

           resolving to tidy up, you reached for the comforter to disentangle the knot you’d made of it. the material snagged, and with a frown you tried pulling to no avail. kneeling at the foot of the bed, you realised it had caught in the mattress’ zipper. jerking the quilt hard, it finally ripped free, tugging the zip right open with it.

           your heart stopped, skin crawling as goosebumps developed. with a trembling hand, you uncovered the array of firearms so expertly displayed within the mattress fibre. there were pistols, barrels, bullets and silencers; black, menacing things with an express purpose. to hurt. to kill.

           the door swung open and barry jerked to a halt, mimicking you as he went very still. those wide eyes and thick brows were no longer comical or endearing; no, they were alarming, frightening, intimidating. right now, he was a stranger.

           “i—i didn’t mean to—,” you stuttered, throat closing and jaw hurting as fear began its slow asphyxiation. barry was breathing just as hard as you, horroron his face as that stash of guns glinted dully in the space between.

           “listen, i—”

           a shout of laughter rang from the kitchen, and barry’s jaw clenched as your gaze flickered to the door behind him. both reminded of the presence of other people – help for you, trouble for him – barry moved slow, nudging the door closed.

           “listen,” he said again, low and deliberate, “i can explain.”

           you scrambled back as he stepped forward, sliding until your back hit the wall. a soft whimper fell from your mouth as he continued to near, but as soon as the sound hit him, he lowered to his knee a few feet away.

           “after afghanistan—i didn’t have anything else to be good at,” he started, desperation replacing the alarm on his face. “someone took advantage of that. i—i had to do things…”

           barry’s breath hitched in a way that forewarned tears, and your own eyes stung.

           “i tried—i’m trying—to get out of it, but i’m in so deep, sweetheart, it just won’t—fuck!”

           he gasped for breath, shaking his head as if trying to straighten his thoughts. you were shivering, reading the subtext that was simply terrifying. incomprehensible. those odd hours when he’d show up at your door, distraught and in need of comfort; he’d always blamed it on his acting process, the result of getting into character, but now – now you knew better. you couldn’t even look at him anymore, those red and tearful eyes just too much.

           “i know it’s wrong. i know. it’s not who i am—not anymore. i realised it when i came to LA, but i knew it before. deep down. but—but i’m good at it, and they won’t just let me be—”

           “barry,” you pleaded, “barry—”

           “please, please believe me,” he begged, even clasping his hands together. nausea roiled in your gut, mind sticky as reality slurred. barry – this… this man – was frantic; instability and guns didn’t make for a good combination. “i can’t let it happen again—i need you to just figure this out with me, alright? please.”

           “i w-won’t tell a-anyone,” you rushed, thoughts racing. you wanted to believe him – god, you’d wanted to love him – but this… this was horrifying. “i promise, just—please don’t h-hurt me.” you were curled into yourself, knees and hands drawn up to your chest.

           barry flinched in disbelief. “i won’t ever hurt you,” he promised, no fumbling to be heard; it was clear despite the dishevelment that threatened to undo him. barry’s distress tugged at your heart, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to that line yet. your eyes drifted to those weapons again, torn between sympathy and repulsion. barry winced, covering up the flap as he risked moving closer.

           “the war is over, barry,” you whispered. a sad, simple truth laid bare, barely making its way to him. you should’ve known that such integration after serving was too good and too soon; a life without violence may not ever be enough for him.

           barry’s voice failed, giving a mournful nod instead. “i’m sorry,” he said, voice filled with unadulterated sorrow for himself, for you, for what had happened, for everything. “i’m so sorry.”

           it was quiet for a time. he was crying softly in front of you while you just stared at the door beyond him, shutting down breath by breath. eventually barry realised, moving away.

           “i’m not holding you hostage,” he murmured, a hollowness to his voice that sent a dull spike of fear within you. “you can… you can go,” he said, jaw feathering as he probably weighed the consequences.

           nodding mutely, you grabbed your jeans and the first shirt you found, not even noticing that it was actually barry’s. breathing deep, you eyed him as prey would eye a predator; wary, distrustful, afraid. he slouched, seeming to fold into himself as he allowed you a wide berth.

           and so you left, putting one step in front of the other and keeping your head down, pulse still thundering in your ears. his roommates greeted you but all you heard was a series of discordant sounds, including your own vague reply before the apartment door shut behind you.

+++

two weeks. it had been two weeks of no contact, and barry had barrelled through the days thinking his world was imploding again. he tried to keep up a sense of normalcy by going to work, to acting class, to the grocery store, to the bar with his friends. routine. routine was all that could save him now.

           he’d wanted to be selfish, to keep you there until he was sure you wouldn’t eventually resort to the police, but unfriendly memories had come unbidden – of chris, of janice. he couldn’t fuck up this one – it was you, goddammit, he couldn’t even think of laying a hand on you. so he had let you go with the shred of hope that you’d see the truth of barry berkman. there were times he’d wanted to come and visit you, but he couldn’t risk scaring you even further. god, just the look on your face, the tremble to your lip – it sickened him to know that he was the cause of it. you’d been cowering from him, so vulnerable and exposed; caught in a twisted caricature of more intimate scenes you two would share. he hated himself for it. every time he loaded another shot, he could taste the spilled blood in his mouth, see the betrayal in your eyes. even now, as he watched some movie trying to be mindless for just one hour, the guilt nagged at the back of his mind.

           a knock on the door. looking around, he met the raised brows of his roommates and acquiesced. with a sigh, he trudged over, expecting another lost missionary—

           but it was you.

           it was you, eyes bruised and face gaunt with the knowledge that had troubled you for days. his fingers twitched with the urge to reach out, but he stepped into the corridor instead, shutting the door behind him.

            “what—,” he croaked, voice breaking. “you—”

           you let out a shuddering breath, and barry shifted on his feet as he saw tears glistening in your eyes. “i believe you, barry.” it was a low, breathy sentence, drenched in dread and regret. it seemed like you were going to say something more, but you just shook your head.

           despite this, barry’s heart lifted in a desperate sense of relief. a hitched, breathy laugh fell from his mouth. it was instinct to reach for you, and although you tensed, you fell into his embrace with a muffled sob, hands fisted in his shirt. barry swallowed his own tears, holding you close, pressing his lips to your forehead.

           “you’re important to me,” he confessed. “you’re part of this good life – the one that i want, the one with happiness and love – and i don’t wanna give it up. i promise i’m not a monster… i, uh, don’t think i am? i—i don’t wanna be.”

           with a sharp inhale, you looked up at him as you cupped his jaw. your brows were furrowed, corners of your mouth turned down, but you were holding him. you were here.

           “i don’t know where we go from here,” you admitted, “but i care for you, barry. i want you to be okay.”

           he nodded, face crumpling as he did so. hands cradling your neck, barry kissed you with all the longing he had in him, all the yearning and pining for things that were always so close to slipping from his hold.

           starting now, he told himself. the mantra that always failed him, but the one that he tried – always tried – to live by. perhaps this time.

           starting… now.

#barry berkman x reader #barry berkman imagine #barry berkman fanfiction #i love bill hader :( #his lines are from a. miller's death of a salesman

[jessiewritesthings]

Querencia

Barry Berkman x Reader

Hello I love Bill Hader and I love Barry and so this happened! Enjoy! x

---

You blinked twice, taken aback by the sight in front of you. The lights in your apartment were out, but you knew it was him. The lingering scent of his cologne mixed with what seemed to be sweat and blood met you as your eyes traced his outline, highlighted by the streetlamp outside.

“Barry… what the fuck?” you asked, unable to move or do anything more than stare at his figure heaped on the floor.

Stumbling over to the wall, you flicked on the lamp, wincing as your eyes adjusted to the light. Barry grunted at you as he shielded his eyes, adjusting himself so he was propped up against your sofa.

You crouched down, slowly shuffling closer to him. How on earth had he found his way here, his shirt torn through the middle, covered in disarrayed spatters of blood? His hand trembled as he softly touched the tear in his shirt.

“Barry, oh shit! Oh shit, shit, shit!” you gasped, only now realising that the blood that stained him was coming from his chest. “I have to get you to a hospital,” you muttered, more to yourself than him. Panic crept through you and beads of sweat started to drip down your neck.

“No, y/n, you can’t. Please, I can’t go,” he whispered, moaning slightly. His face was pale, and his tired eyes pleaded with you. He reached out to you, his hand clasping on to your bare knee. His hand was clammy against you, his fingertips rough as he gripped you slightly.

Inching closer, you peeled his shirt off, revealing a long scrape across his torso. Biting your lip in an attempt to keep quiet, you ripped his shirt in half, knowing he would be unable to get it over his head.

Barry’s eyes looked for you, and as you glanced at him he softened slightly. A sharp cough caught him off guard, and he groaned loudly as his stomach clenched. Wiping your stained hands on your skirt, you leapt up and ran straight for anything that might help clean and mend his wounds.

Your heart was pounding, and you were so afraid of what had happened to Barry that you weren’t entirely sure that you wanted him to indulge you. You were shaky as you made your way through your apartment, filling your favourite mixing bowl with water and disinfectant and grabbing the nearest towel before rummaging around to find your old sewing kit.

A loud groan and thumping sound came from the living room, and you darted back in to find Barry slumped on his side, hand cradling his stomach.

Your brows furrowed as you returned to your knees, water at your side. Gently you ran the damp cloth across his face, clearing him of the dirt and grime he was smattered in. Gulping, you ran your thumb along his chin as he turned to look at you. His nerves were radiating from him, and you leaned in closer to press a quick kiss to his lips, before diverting your full attention to his wound. He shuffled himself along, lying on the rug you’d bought back from Morocco, hands itching to touch you and feel you and remind him that he was still alive.

“y/n, I need to tell you –,” he started, but a quick look from you stopped him.

“Are you in trouble?” you asked as you began to rinse his chest with water. Goosebumps appeared on his skin, and his foot twitched, almost as if the sensation was making him ticklish.

“Depends who you ask,” he responded with a grimace, knowing that he had to tell you the truth even if it meant you might walk away.

“Don’t tell me now,” you whispered as you washed the blood away. It trickled down and across his chest, reminding you of the watercolours you did when you were a child. “Let me fix you up first.”

Barry reached for you, his calloused hand once again finding its place on your knee. His jaw was clenched, and he lay with his eyes closed as you washed the wound, his eyes creasing as the disinfectant stung him. Leaning in closer, you inspected the wound using your fingers to softly pry his skin apart, making sure there was no dirt left before you started to stitch the wound.

“Barry, I don’t have anything to sterilise this with,” you said, gesturing to the sewing needle that was neatly arranged in your sewing kit.

“Just wash it and put it over the gas until it’s red,” he replied, biting his lip as another bout of pain washed through him.

You headed back to the kitchen, following Barry’s instructions as you tried to keep yourself calm. ‘What is going on?’ you thought. You knew about Barry’s past in the Marines, and you figured that there were some things that happened that he might never share, and you were fine with that. But this? This was wild, not something you’d ever expect. You stood over your stove, tweezers gripping the needle. You’d expected to come home from work and cook the both of you dinner – you’d bought a special bottle of red wine that was way out of your budget, but you had every intention of asking Barry to move in with you tonight until you’d found him crumpled on your apartment floor. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath in and held it. You could hear Barry coughing, and your stomach flipped. You knew how much he loved you – knew it with every fibre of your being – but your hands trembled slightly as your mind raced through scenarios that would result in him here, on your floor, staining your rug.

The needle turned red and you flicked the gas off, carefully carrying it back to his side before threading the cotton through it. You’d stitched people up before – namely your brother whose endless cycle of stupid stunts had earnt you the title of ‘Honorary Nurse’ before you turned eight. Placing a hand on his stomach, you followed the steps you certainly knew well enough by now, breathing carefully and avoiding his eyes.

Sweat was dripping sweetly down your back and you could feel it pooling at your knees as you stitched up your lover, still completely in the dark about what had put him there. His hand was on your knee again, gripping tightly in order to cope with the constant pricking of his already sensitive skin. Barry breathed in sharply, thumb pressing into your skin, leaving a bruise.

After some time – seemingly forever – you finished the stitching. You’d done a good job, all things considering, though you knew he’d have to get it dressed by a professional sooner rather than later. Letting out a sigh you weren’t aware you’d been holding in, you placed your hand over his, lacing his fingers with yours.

“I need to get a bandage for this,” you said, nodding at his chest. Barry glanced at you with soft eyes, squeezing your fingers quickly before you headed for the bathroom, certain you’d thrown a pack of bandages in the cupboard.

A shrill noise rang through your apartment, and you heard Barry groan and shuffle, before the noise stopped.

“Fuches.”

Bandages in one hand, you gingerly left the bathroom, nerves kicking through you. You could hear Barry, but his voice was so strained and severe that you couldn’t make out the words – except anger. You knew there was anger.

As you got closer, you could hear him clearly, and although you weren’t sure why, you felt oddly like you were disturbing him.

“No. No. Fuck off Fuches, I told you,” he retorted through the phone. “Do not bring her into this. I will fucking kill you.”

You watched from the doorway as Barry screamed in frustration, throwing his phone against the wall, shattering.

“Oh fuck,” he muttered, bringing his hands to his face.

“Barry, baby. I got the bandages,” you said, kneeling at his side once again.

His hands were still covering his face as you applied the bandages, his body tensing at the touch of your cold fingers.

“Can you move? We should get you off the floor… my rug,” you exclaimed, gesturing to the stains it had accumulated.

His hands fell from his face, a smile spread across his face as he began to laugh.

“You come home to find me bleeding on your floor,” Barry starts, taking a deep breath, “and overhear me telling someone I’ll kill them, and you’re worried about your rug?” You smile at him, the softness in his voice, his hands tracing your arm.

“Something I can have some semblance of control over,” you replied with a smile. “Come on, help me move you to the bed.”

The two of you worked together to reach your bed, Barry leaning on you for support. You removed the rest of his clothes, washing him down some more to finally remove all the dirt and blood that stained his skin.

“Are you hungry?” you asked as your own stomach rumbled. Barry nodded in agreement, and you went into the kitchen to throw a frozen pizza and fries in the oven, before pouring yourself a glass of wine. You absolutely needed it now. Returning to your bedroom, you climbed onto your bed, wine in hand.

“So, you wanna tell me about it? Who was on the phone?”

Barry turned to look at you, and you noticed him tearing up. Settling your wine on the bedside table, you curled yourself into him, taking his hands in yours.

“Barry, it’s okay. I love you. It’s okay.”

He took a deep breath. “I’ve done some pretty shitty things. Really bad things. Things that you won’t love me for, after I tell you.”

Brushing his hair from his forehead, you leaned in to kiss him.

“I’m not an idiot, Barry. I heard you on the phone. I don’t know what you do, but I do know you turn up here smelling like blood and sweat… and something else. And I always ignore it. Because I love you.”

“I love you, y/n. And I don’t deserve you. Fuches… that guy on the phone. He’s like, my manager – or he was. He uh, well, he gets me jobs. Jobs like what I did in the Marines, kind of,” he explains, looking at you with trepidation.

You remain silent, waiting for him to finish.

“I kill people for money. Like, you know, a hitman. And well, Fuches just won’t leave me the fuck alone. I don’t want to do it. He makes me feel like it’s the only thing I’m good at. But, I’ve stopped, y/n, I don’t want to live like that. I never did.”

Barry felt the shift in your demeanour immediately, although he knew it was coming. Your hands went cold, and you pulled yourself away from him. Barry lay in silence, cursing himself. He knew he had to tell you the truth, but that didn’t make it any easier.

Your head was running wild. Barry, a killer? No way. He was so soft, and loving, and gentle with his caresses. He couldn’t possibly take a life?

He didn’t try to reach you, to touch you. He didn’t even talk. He knew he’d ruined it – you were the only good thing in his life, and he ruined everything he touched. You left him on your bed, thinking only about the pizza in the oven. Yanking the oven door open, you reached in for the pizza tray without thinking.

“Oh fuck!” you yelled, an angry red welt already appearing across your palm.

Rushing to the sink, you ran the tap and submersed your hand in the cool water. Your mind started to slow, your thoughts clearing as you relaxed and enjoyed the water trickling over your hands and forearms. Your eyes focussed on a photo, smiling fondly at the memory. It was at one of Barry’s acting classes, his first big performance with Sally. You were so proud of him, so in love with him that night. The photo was the first you two took together, and Sally had snapped it proudly, exclaiming to the whole class that she was sure you two would be married one day soon. In the photo Barry was smiling, his big, beautiful infectious smile. His eyes were crinkled, and they glistened – he had been laughing at Sally’s declaration, and his hand on your waist had gripped you closer. You were gazing up at Barry, a similar smile on your face. Tears threatened your eyes as you let your heart swell at that feeling – that almost impossible feeling of being so hopelessly in love with someone that you would quite literally follow them to hell and back, to the ends of the earth, to battle all their demons no matter how terrifying. Flicking off the tap, you took a deep breath before returning to your bedroom.

Barry had shuffled himself up, so his back was resting against the wall. His eyes searched for yours as soon as you returned, and you marched up to the bed before clambering on, as close as you could get to him without hurting his wound.

“I don’t like it. Okay, I don’t like it. I don’t know what else I’m supposed to say.”

His face fell, even though he’d expected this response. He opened his mouth to speak, before you started again.

“I’m not finished. I don’t like it. In fact, I hate it. But I love you. I love you, I love you, and I will say it until I run out of breath. I’m not going to run away from this, from you,” you said as you gripped his hands, talking rapidly.

He opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t find the words. How he’d ever been so blessed to have you he did not know. Gently you leaned in to kiss him, savouring him and letting your fingers caress his face.

“I love you,” he murmured, tears quietly rolling down his face. “I don’t deserve you, but I’ll love you every day for the rest of my life,” he whispered as you both lay down, facing one another.

You closed your eyes and smiled softly. He could tell you more another day, but for now this was enough.

#mywriting #barry #barry berkman #barry berkman x reader #barry hbo #bill hader #barry berkman imagines #barry berkman fanfiction #barry block #barry imagine #barry x reader

[scintillatingshortgirl19]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Barry (TV 2018) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Barry Berkman, Barry Berkman's Parents, Barry's unnamed dad Additional Tags: Child Abuse, Dissociation, Unreliable Narrator, Self-Harm, Therapy, bill hader hasn't delved into barry's daddy issues yet so i guess i'll have to do it myself, Barry Berkman Needs a Hug, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, anger issues, Angst, Denial Summary:

It isn’t as if Barry hated his dad or anything. In fact, he’s always gone back and forth with himself in regards to whether it would somehow have been better to have hated him than to have felt nothing for him at all.

In which Barry goes to therapy and delves into his past (read: his daddy issues).

-

So it's arguably not the best idea to choose an already small fandom (which is currently mostly dormant) in which to post one's first fanfic, but that is the path I've chosen. If, like me, you are desperate to see Barry's childhood explored, ship Barry Berkman/Therapy, and enjoy a healthy serving of Angst with a side of Daddy Issues, then this may be the fic for you!

#barry hbo #barry berkman #barry fanfic #barry fanfiction #fanfic

[careless-with-your-heart]

The Air She Feeds Me Is Damned - Chapter 5 (a Barry/HBO AU Fanfic)

It's been three years since Barry bolted, leaving LA after the breakup, disappearing before Moss started asking questions. Now, he's living on the East Coast, under a new name, working a string of shitty, under-the-radar jobs. Oh, he's still quietly falling apart, but at least his hands are clean. Barry Berkman's perfectly fine, thankyouverymuch, until he witnesses a murder - and he can't stop fantasizing about the woman who committed it.

If you haven't been here from the jump (and you wanna), the story starts here at AO3: Clickity Click Click

Otherwise, so-far readers, read on.

Chapter 5

He’s in her car when he passes out. Well, he isn’t quite sure it’s her car—there’s a stone-silent driver in the front seat of the white compact who is heavyset and bald and wearing sunglasses (at night…Barry sings in his addled head)—but Barry makes it about five minutes after being shoved into the cramped backseat before his adrenaline drops and he starts slurring. 

The streets outside his window swim past in a frantic, blurry haze, and he grips the empty passenger’s seat in front of him with his uninjured side, to steady himself.

“Where are we goin?”

His tongue feels thick, and his arm feels as though it’s been set on fire. He smiles stupidly, bitterly, thinking—you sleep in the anthill, Barry. You got the fire ants.

Blood runs from his now-soaked sleeve, down the center of his palm, dripping off of his index and pointer fingers and onto the seat beside him—the empty seat between them. He watches it collect from a single drop, to another, and another, until a small puddle forms. He can’t tear his eyes away from the spreading crimson, touches his finger to the pool every time a new drop trembles at the tip of his fingernail, releasing just a little more of what is left of him. Funny, funny, funny. What is there, really, that’s left of him? Barry watches as his blood spreads in minute degrees across the cheap vinyl, soaking down the fabric front of the upholstery. 

She hasn’t answered him, so he swivels his head toward her, swallowing against the dizziness that comes along with the movement. He wishes she hadn’t put the mask back up. He wants to see her here, up close. But she’s covered up, as always, and she’s staring out the window opposite him, her hand on a 9mm that’s holstered at her near hip.

“Ssssorry ’bout your sssseat,” he whispers. Darkness edges his vision as she turns toward him.

“No worries,” she says, as though he is apologizing for spilling soda, and not an alarmingly increasing amount of plasma that would be better kept inside of him. “This car’s seen more blood than just yours.”

He wants to laugh, but the pain in his shoulder is tightening his chest muscles, making it hard to draw even the shallow breaths he’s managing. “Not, um”—he winces—“exactly a mobster’s typical getaway car.”

Her eyes, the only thing that he can see, flash with something like anger, but the muted amber depths cool quickly. Oh, she has more than one mask, he croons in his head.

“Movies ruined the black SUV for bad guys,” she says with a shrug, her lashes fluttering as she drops her gaze to where her bullet had pierced him. She leans over, reaches across the seat and over him, and pulls the seatbelt across his chest, clicking it into place once she’s pulled it down diagonally to where the receptacle peeks from beside his own hip. “It’s a shame. Those things were like apartments on wheels. Now, you drive one, everyone thinks you’re The Family or The Feds.”

Barry stares at the seat belt buckle. “You can get in trouble for impersonating a Fed,” he deadpans.

“The Family was sick of getting mistaken for them,” she quips. “Plus, do you know the gas mileage on those giant motherfuckers? Astronomical. Costs a fucking fortune to park them, if you can find a decent spot in the city. The whole thing was a logistical nightmare. My father’s solution was this.” She waves a gloved hand at the compact.

Barry’s breath is getting quicker, shallower. His angel leans over again, whispers conspiratorially. “But, you see, he doesn’t exactly know that I borrow the cars. These little run-ins we’ve had are just because you have an uncanny way of being around for my extracurriculars.”

Her hand is flat on the seat, an inch from the puddle of his blood. As the seat cushion dips, the new incline makes a tiny rivulet of red run down, kissing the tip of her gloved ring finger. Barry’s mouth runs dry—but that could be the blood loss.

“Princess,” Barry says, realization dawning. “Not an angel. You’re a princess.”

He wishes he could see her smile, but all he gets is the suggestion of it in her eyes. “You could say,” she agrees. “And I’m taking you back to my tower. Dig that lead out of you. Talk about how you can be useful, since you’re too stubborn to keep to ground. Sound good?”

Three more lines of red streak down the vinyl to wet her fingers. Barry inches his own hand closer to hers, heedless of the blood, aching to lace his fingers with hers.

The compact hits a particularly egregious pothole. Barry snaps forward, and the seatbelt locks, catching him.

Pain lances through his shoulder like wildfire, and the same seatbelt keeps him from slumping sideways as the blackness that has been threatening makes good, and Barry succumbs.

#barry #hbo barry #barry hbo #barry berkman #bill hader #fanfiction #fanfic #in this au i will demonstrate... #everyone needs therapy #and a good night's sleep #and some therapy #did I say therapy? yes. #badass oc #barry is back in deep shit #kinda toxic oc x barry but I like it #everyone is damaged but the broken pieces fit together ifyouknowwhatImeanandIthinkyoudo