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Insomnia - Barry Berkman Blurb

Summary: You call Barry with a case on insomnia.

Warnings: fluff, insomnia, self deprecation, swearing, platonic relationship

Pairing: Barry Berkman x Reader

A/N: I just finished the entire show of Barry in one week and I already love Bill Hader so I just HAD to write this.

“You can call me whenever you want.” “Is this okay?” “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Barry groaned as he heard his cell-phone ring just as his head hit the pillow. He’d just gotten back from another dispute with Fuches, icing his hand on the way back in the car as he sped away from his hotel. He was definitely about to hang up on whoever was calling him at this ungodly hour, but he saw a number that wasn’t already in his contacts - but it was the same area code.

“Hello?” He greeted with caution after he pressed the accept button, sitting up in the bed slightly.

“Hey, is this Barry?” Came a soft yet scratchy voice over the phone, he could tell he recognized it though.

“Uh... can I ask who’s speaking?”

#barry berkman #barry block #barry #hbo barry #bill hader #barry berkman fanfic #barry berkman x reader #barry berkman fluff #barry block fluff #barry block fanfic #barry block x reader #bill hader fanfic #bill hader x reader #bill hader fluff

Touch Starved / Barry Berkman Imagine

Request: hey love!! could you maybe write something about barry being touch-starved and the reader picking up on it and giving him tons of physical affection? hugs, playing with his hair, etc? maybe during a good cuddle session, reader finds out he’s ticklish and he’s never been tickled before so reader decides that’s another form of mandatory affection he’s gotta experience?? i love your fics, tysm in advance if you decide to write this xoxoxo

Thank you so much love, I am in need of as much Bill Hader fluff at the moment as possible <3

All comments and requests are much appreciated!

It was just that sort of place in L.A. The sort of small, tucked away unaware place where nobody really pays any heeds to the daily going-ons, seeing them as a usual cycle of muted nothingness in the blur of the big city. But there’s a certain darkness that lurks in the hearts of the residents, a kind of chill that makes the adults tug their children a little bit closer to their chests as they walk home from yet another uneventful day of school, a kind of paranoia that some things have not yet come to pass. That some things had been done, that nobody could erase.

Luckily for you, you didn’t have to think about that just yet. What was to come. What has already happened. Instead, you brush your feet against the light carpet of Barry’s bedroom, leaning back against his desk chair and pretending you don’t hear the slight shouts of the theatre group guys he’s sharing with from next door. Your head thumps against his cream walls as a sigh tumbles out your lips, your pyjama shorts rising up your thighs as you watch Barry asleep on the bed, his head face down and squished unflattering into the pillow, his gangly limb spread starfish against the whole mattress. You nearly knock his pill bottle off his desk as you sit up, glancing over at him. His back trembles as he breathes, his hair fanned out over his thin pillow as you walk over to him with a small smile gracing your lips at the set of your boyfriend, happy to see that he hadn’t woken up as you pull his lumpy blue mattress up to his shoulders, your fingers resting for a moment, splaying against the expanse of his back as he whines in his sleep. He had been exhausted last night when you had been watching the movie, his legs entangled with yours, still blushing and shy and all pink cheeks and sparkling eyes as he glanced down at you, his hand clamping down tight against your shoulder as you lay upon his chest, still so unused to this intimacy.

‘Y/n, are you sure this is okay? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable’, he would whisper, as you snuggle further into his chest.

‘Barry, we’ve been dating for six months, don’t forget that I want to snuggle with you.’

He smiles at that, a rare smile that usually only lights his face in your presence. As the night went on, you could feel the fringes of his hair tickling your cheek, his chin bumping against your forehead as he began nodding off to sleep, despite the fact he would furiously deny it every time you would gently tap against his chest to wake him up again.

You walk slowly away from his sleeping frame, pushing the plastic windowpane until it flies open into the soft gold rays of the morning light, a grateful smile bursting onto your face as your eyes squeeze shut against the gentle spring breeze that caresses your sleepy face like the warm tide of a deep azure ocean, the sounds of tweeting robins jumping from branch to branch like a couple of childish lovers filling your heart with peace. A peace you hadn’t felt in the longest time, and feared you never would again. Tumbling back over, you sit on the corner of his bed, your hip smacking into the side as you thank everything you could think of for letting it now only be the start of the weekend, and for allowing Barry to get the rest he deserves. You place your hands on his hips, sighing gently into the silent morning as his arm still rests dead across the bottom edge of the pillow, his fingers reaching and clasping in his sleep over onto your side, searching for you against the cold cotton, a small tic he would never allow himself to do when he was awake.

He looks so young, so peaceful in his sleep, you think, as you lean down to rub your hands down the bare naked skin of his shoulders, chuckling lightly to yourself as your soft massages that dig into to the tensed muscles earn you a low, sleepy groan. A deep, thankful groan you hadn’t heard before. You smirk, leaning down to press your chest firm against his back as he tenses slightly, his eyes beginning to flicker behind his eyelids as you trace a path from his thin dimples down to the plush fullness of his lips. He wakes up with a loud grunt, with you facing him. He’s always surprised when you wrap your arms around him, always stiffens with wide eyes when you gently stroke the curls of his hair away from his eyes, but over time you had managed to get him familiarised with the normality of tenderness. He flops hid head down further onto your side of the pillow with a sick thud, his forehead coming to rest gingerly but tenderly against your own as he breathes out deeply, your familiar smell comforting as his arm finds its way around your waist again.

‘Good morning’, you whisper, your finger coming up to lean against his chin, tracing over the dip of his lip, brushing softly over his stubble as his eyes blink open again, burning as they gaze into yours desperately. Slowly, he manages to shuffle his naked thighs further along until you’re completely chest to chest, your hand running down to massage over his wide shoulder as his laugh fans over your lips warmly, your hand whirling down to itch against his back.

‘I suppose we could snuggle here a little while longer’, he whispers happily, running his fingertips through the long strands of your hair, letting it flow through his hand. It felt like such a foreign thing for him to say, and it felt a bit jolted and stiff leaving his mouth, but you appreciated the sentiment, and he appreciated the response.

A contented, lazy groan escapes his mouth as you laugh in reply, warming the tingling skin of your collarbone as you mumble ‘it doesn’t matter, you’re not going anywhere anyway’. Before he has time to question your meaning, one leg wraps over his waist like a big cuddly koala bear, soft whines protruding from his plump lips as one slender arm finds its way to cup your side, snuggling into you as you lower your head against his thumping chest.

Almost painfully slowly, he leans down until you can feel his breath warm and hurried brushing against your opening lips, until he dives in, all worries and fear being tossed out the door as his lips dance painstakingly against yours. His hands rush up to cup your cheeks, desperation evident in every caress as he runs his fingers down to your neck, leaning over you suddenly so you’re eclipsed by the magnitude of this man, the utter devotion pouring out of this desperate being. You swirl your fingers against his hips.

Knocking you suddenly out of your daydream, a burst of uncontrollable giggles stream out of his throat in a melodious stream, your back hitting the mattress as he thumps you off, his eyes widening as your mouth begins to open.

‘Barry...are you ticklish?’

‘No! No. Of course I’m not! No, no n- AH!’

Thin motions against his hips cause him to jerk involuntarily. You gasp suddenly. amused at his childish throaty chuckles as he gazes down at you, before his eyes suddenly widen in shock as his bottom hits the floor, having inched too readily away from your hands.

Barry Berkman x Short!Reader Headcanons

Request: Can I request hc with Barry having a short gf? Thank you. :)

For all my short beauties out there can I get a hell yeah <3

To be completely blunt, once he got used to the whole physical affection is actually allowed and wanted from him thing, Barry would take every available opportunity to wrap himself around you in a massive, squishing hug.

If he’s had a long or sad day fighting with Fuches, sitting on the cushion armrest of the sofa with slender fingers running over the slight sweat of his forehead, a grimace covering his face as his large shoulders hunch down and his hoodie shakes gently against his wide frame, his ears would be straining to hear your footsteps gently float through the doorway.

As soon as your head would pop around the wooden door frame his face would light up, teeth showing as a smile lights up his face and reaches his glimmering eyes twinkling like a tranquil pool flecked with golden sunlight as he jumps up, leaping towards you.

His arms would completely wrap around your soft waist, like a teddy bear squeezing you gently against his thumping chest as his head falls familiarly on top of yours. The two of you spend countless evenings swaying serenely in each other’s arms as he hums gently, fitting into his lanky arms and wrapping around his long legs like a Lego piece.

This means Barry would be in heaven when he could snuggle up close to you in bed, bare skin against bare chest as he lies on his side, his long tired fingers sweeping hair away from your cheek as his devotional gaze never leaves your eyes, except for momentarily slipping down to glance at your plump lips.

A gentle smile would twitch at the curve of his mouth as his head shakes gently with laughter, you leaning down to place your head against his bare chest as his thick arm wraps around your shoulder. He sighs, wondering how incredible it is he found someone who could fit into his side like an extended part of him as his hands graze your skin, his palms rubbing gently circles into the muscles of your shoulder as he closes his eyes, the sound of your slowing breathing calming him down and lulling him into the most peaceful sleeps he’s ever had.

He often gives you piggy back rides when the two of you are out walking somewhere, one because he loves the feel of your legs tight around his waist and the plushness of your cheek against his back, but also because he can become quite impatient when you can’t keep up with him.

Tip toe kisses. Whenever he’s in a good mood and decides to try and cook you dinner after acting class, when you come in and rub your hands over his broad shoulders, eliciting a small groan from him, he loves the way you spin him around and lean up to softly press your lips against his eager ones.

Sometimes though he can’t wait. His shirt ruffles against his thumping heart that twirls roughly in his chest like beating butterflies as he runs towards you, his arms wrapping around your waist and lifting your squealing form up under the dim lights, the spatula gripped in his hand falling onto the floor and splashing grease over the tiles as he switches it for your fingers, his knuckles white as they grab onto yours and don’t let go. Twirling you slightly in his grasp, slight hoarse chuckles erupting from his lips which are buried into the curve of your neck he nearly slips on the floor, his breath brushing warm against your skin as he nestles into you.

Barry likes to sit on the couch with you between his legs on the floor, so he can feel your warmth and brush his fingers through your hair. But, he also appreciates this in reverse as it allows him to lean back against your legs or grasp appreciatively at your legs.

Babysitter Blues / Barry Berkman Imagine

Request: hi i was wondering if you could write a barry imagine where the reader is babysitting and asks barry to help and it’s just super fluffy?

This is the dream, my lovely anon <3

Barry had never really understood children.

Sure, he had been one once, but those were times he didn’t want to remember. It’s too painful to think about what could have been. Instead, he prefers to focus on what he still has the chance to be.

‘Um... Y/n? I’m really-I’m really not sure I’m the right person for this-’

‘Yeah, yeah yeah I know I owe you, I just....babies? I’m not good with babies.’

‘Okay, if you stop shouting I’ll be round in ten, okay? Just...hang in there. Okay, bye.’

Barry holsters his gun, climbing up from his strategical position to scramble up from behind the sofa, patting down the dusty clay that lays on his trousers from the hill as he fumbles in his pocket for his car keys.

‘You got lucky today, ass-hole.’

This particular bundle of joy you were looking after for a close friend screamed night and day. There wasn't a single hour in twenty four that wasn't marred by her cries. The last few days had stretched into years, and it had driven you to your wits end. You had tried rocking her, letting her sleep on your chest, taking her outside for some fresh air, burping her, feeding her, changing her nappy. The list went on and on and on and your mind started disintegrating with each new thing that didn’t work.

You heard a loud whaling sound piercing through the walls. It was hard to believe it came from such a tiny creature; it sounded like the screeching of an angry cat, only growing harsher and louder as you walked to stop the wailing. You looked down at her balled up red face, eyes frantically searching the room for your familiar face, and when her eyes landed on me the crying diminished slightly.

‘Don’t worry baby, Barry will be here soon.’

Picking the baby up, you willed your boyfriend to drive faster as she began to struggle and squirm out of your arms, waving his fat fists. One caught you square in the nose.You staggered toward her crib, but you could hardly walk, as she was thrashing and wriggling like a particularly chubby eel. The entire time her screeching filled the room like someone was being murdered.

Barry knocked a few times on the door, glancing around him in the autumn glow of the suburban neighbourhood, his eyes wide but his mouth managing to stumble up into a smile towards the few neighbours who were still out mowing their lawns and watering their rose bushes. He goes to knock again, nearly stumbling onto the hallway carpet as the door swings open, and he chides himself for realising it had been open this whole time.

‘...sweetheart? Where are you? Why is it so quiet?’

What he doesn’t expect to find, however, is you passed out on the sofa with the baby sleeping in short fits on your chest.

What you don’t expect, when you wake up, is Barry looming over you. For a second, you don’t even realise it’s him.

Little did you know, that whilst you were asleep, Barry had gone out for a little walk. With another sweater on top he’s pretty puffy but he’s going to need it: that sun won’t keep them warm much longer. He steps out with his new hip extension, his hands wrapping around the straps of the baby carrier as he slowly shuffles her over to the left, her cheek squished against her shirt and dribbling slightly. He feels the wet stain, and groans slightly to himself, but his lanky legs keep moving down the street anyway. His hand reaches up to cup her back, looking around to make sure he hadn’t been followed on the way here.

He can’t move like he usually does, she has him all off balance. Barry sighs to himself as he stops at the end of the road, looking around him trying to figure out the quickest way to the nearest park. He nearly misses her bright blue-green eyes opening, a small yawn rounding her mouth as her tiny fingers clench tighter into his navy shirt, her eyes finding his and letting out a little gleeful gurgle, a sweet sound unblemished by the hurts of life. Her little face glowed from a light within, and her miniature fingers grasped his as he raised his hand, and held tight.

Barry felt something flutter in his heart, a warmth coursing through his body that broke goosebumps out in his skin. A comfort, a joy, that he had never felt before and never thought he would. She knew! Somehow it felt like she knew he needed comfort, she knew he needed joy in the midst of his pain. He held her to his chest tightly, a smile twitching at the side of his lips.

‘Shhhh’ Barry nearly shouts at you, his large stout fingers having been totally wrapped around by the baby’s small rice like ones. The baby rests against his polo shirt, their little cream knitted hat hitting lightly against his chest like feathers as he bounces them slightly on his knee, his heart bubbling as they see their little cheek squish against him. You rub your eyes, not completely understanding the peaceful silence that envelopes your ears for a second, thinking it to be a dream.

‘Shit, Barry, when did you get here?’

‘About an hour ago. You didn’t tell me this little baby was so cute!’

You lean down by the coffee table, a bright smile lining your face as you squat, watching Barry’s large thumb come up to stroke tenderly against the baby’s arm, their little onesie soft and fluffy against his shaking fingertips.

You thump down on the sofa next to him, watching him cuddle with the baby almost effortlessly, all the worries of earlier gone. Although his hair had grown out a little, flopping around his temple like wilting flowers, and although his eyes were lined with tired wrinkles, red and sore looking, he was still the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. Your hand moves up to rest against his knee, running slow figure eights over the soft material of his jeans as his head whips around to gaze at you, his eyes glowing in the dim light with such joy your breath catches for a moment, and although you don’t realise it, as the baby starts to gurgle awake, Barry smiles, believing honestly deep in his stomach nothing in the world could ever beat this moment.

‘Y/n, I want a kid.’

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Halloween Mayhem / Bill Hader + Barry Berkman Fluff

Requests: I love your blog so much! Would you consider writing something about the reader trying to get Barry to wear a couples costume with them? Thank you!💕💕💕

Hey girl! How about some Halloween themed Bill Hader x reader headcanons? Thought it’d be cute, watching scary movies late into the night

Okay, so I’ve split this post into two parts for some Halloween fun! <3

Bill Hader

Autumn, although it had been a long time coming, had finally arrived. The leaves had changed colours, lining the trees with speckles of orange, red and yellow. When the wind blew they came down, breaking delicately off of tree branches and fluttering down to earth like a colourful rain. The air is as crisp and sweet as one of the apples in the orchards, trees lining warm fences and railings as the ground is wet underfoot. The clouds aren’t too threatening today, just a little grey, and the wind is starting to feel more like the blast you get from opening the refrigerator door.

The leaves detach from their autumnal boughs and fall to earth as gently as feathers. They have the rocking motion that such delicate things assume when they tumble through the breeze. Bill wears a smile that could light up the world as he runs underneath them, pushing a dazed you out of the way as he wraps his scarf tightly around himself, rubbing his gloves together as he breathes out a cold stream of fresh air, unable to stop the childishness that comes out of him as he runs around the grass, each vibrant hue making him feel more and more alive.

Having swept up the pile of brilliant yellow, bright orange and subtle red autumn leaves that litter the dewy ground, Bill winks cheerily at you, the bitter wind biting into his skin as he runs over to you and grasps your hands.

Before you have time to register his actions, he tumbles the two of you backwards, delight covering his features, leaping the two of you through the air until he lands in the leaves like an excited puppy, flowering leaves through the air and straight into your face with a dramatic thump as you land on his chest and roll off with a thud onto the cracking dirt. His head peeps out from the top of the pile, shock evident on his features as fumbles to find you, his fingers finding fumbling onto your arm as he pulls you up into his chest.

As your cheek smushes against his jacket, your fingers digging into the muscles of his arms as he decides the best course of action is to just stay silent for a moment, he allows his shoulders to relax when he feels you giggle against his chest. He feels something warm and tingly flutter in his heart as he leans down to press a lingering kiss against your forehead, before pulling the two of you back down into the pile and away from the eyes of passerbys on the pavement.

Later in the day, when you’d finally managed to get him to settle down, wiping the fake blood off his face with the back of your hand once you’d convinced him that dressing up as a murder victim to hand out candy to trick or treaters was in actual fact a very scarring idea, he’s plopped down next to you on the soda, happily eating popcorn.

His leg bounces next to yours, a few empty chocolate wrappers from the leftover stash littered next to his socked feet as one arm wraps itself around your shoulders. The music grows louder as Halloween plays on the flickering screen before his entranced eyes, his hand slowing down and mouth slacking slightly, his nose twitching slightly. A particularly loud sound of shatter glass has him pushing his face into the side of your cheek, his nose smushed against your skin as he doesn’t blink, pulling you closer with his arms as he drops the popcorn bowl onto the carpet.

He bites his bottom lip as he rubs your back in soothing circles, smiling slightly despite the movie as you reach up to brush his hair aside and kiss his forehead, going on to press soft kisses on his cheeks. You let him snuggle up to you, face nuzzling you chest as his feet plop on top of yours, until you can hear his snores gently vibrate over your skin before the movie had even ended.

Barry

‘Y/n, you really don’t need to buy me a costume. My horrible dress sense coupled with my personality is horrifying enough.’

‘Barry, we’ve been here for hours. Just pick. A. Costume. Or Gene is going to kill you for ruining his dress up party.’

‘That’s why we shouldn’t go-’

‘Barry!’

Your eyes wander off, suddenly focused on something else as Barry sighs and turns back to the rack, pushing a large feathery top hat out of the way and frowning at the glow in the dark velvet cape that brushes against his fingers and rattles against its hanger. A huge grin spreads across your features as you brush past his hoodie and move, instead, in the direction of your newfound goal.

‘How about matching outfits?’ You pick up the crystal ball resting on the table next to the wizard and witch’s outfit, holding it to your ear, ‘Oh my god, I think the crystal ball is working! The spirits are telling me you’re an idiot.’

'I can’t believe you convinced me not to go.’

You were pinning the fake bats to the ceiling with precarious precision, your thumb slightly sticking out from under your tilted witch’s hat when you nearly tripped over your dress jumping down onto the floor. Stepping back to admire your work, the orange and black spirals falling from the roof like confetti, you frown for a second when you don’t hear a reply from Barry, Kicking past the stool, you start to head towards the bedroom, when suddenly you saw a figure jump in front of you and you screamed, falling backwards into the door frame.

You heard a familiar laugh and sighed, realising it was just Barry with a very concerned look grabbing your elbow and picking you up from the floor rather than some very weirdly dressed murderer.

‘What the hell, Barry’, you say, trying to stifle your laughter as Barry gazes at you wide eyed from behind his very protruding beard, standing up against the wall. You thump your hand against his shoulder as he chuckles hoarsely, moving the beard away from his mouth so he could talk to you properly.

‘What do you think of this for handing out candy?’

‘You’re going to horrify them.’

Sweetheart / Barry Berkman Imagine

Request: Hi love, I was wondering if you could write a Barry x reader where he has to kill like an old crush (from high school idk) and he doesn't remember her but when he sees her he's like "damn I can't kill her she's pretty" Sorry for the spelling mistakes btw i love your blog❣️

Thank you so much darling! Also to the anon who asked about domestic Barry, I don’t have many at the go at the moment! <3

Warning: Strong language!!

Barry tumbles back out of the hedge, cursing silently into the night as he stumbles further down the path that winds around the neighbourhood like Dorothy’s yellow brick road.

Soon the shadows of the trees will blend into the blackness and their silhouettes against the sky will grow less pronounced. As the view disappears the sounds emerge as if the volume is being steadily turned upward. The breaking of a simple leaves or twigs becomes the focus of Barry’s attention, glancing upward to catch a glimpse of the moon before a dark cloud erases its silver rays and covers him in darkness once again.

There was a gate of rough wood near the entrance to your house, and ivy cascading over the fence, growing tendrils in every direction like seeking fingers. The stone path was punctuated with weeds; moss than grass and was over shadowed by huge oak tree flowing its leaves down onto the dank and squishy ground, and on top of a flustered Barry’s head as he brushes them off. Clusters of defiant daffodils reared their golden heads amidst the gloom and there were smatters of fuchsia along side the scarlet and saffron hued primroses that he squishes under his feet, moving closer to the edge of his target’s property.

The gate was somewhat rickety; the hinges and nails had become rusted and the gate hung at a jaunty angle. It gave the impression that one good gust of wind could finish it off. Barry opened it and brought it to a soft, noiseless close behind him.

When at last he arrived at your kitchen window, climbing in once he jived open the lock, he nearly skidded against the floors of polished concrete and into the centre island, whispering a light ‘fuck’ as he throws his gun out of the way and reaches up to steady the three swaying lights, not noticing the dirty footprints he had left on the stone.

Hearing footsteps, Barry ducks behind the counter, squeezing his eyes closed in prayer that you hadn’t heard him, but not realising he was so tall that you could very obviously see the brown tufts of his hair floating above the grey top like tufts of grass.

‘Who the fuck are you!? What the fuck! Get the fuck out of my kitchen, asshole!’

His mark stepped out from the door way, eyes wild and crazy in shock, your pyjamas lumped around your arms as you grab a saucepan from the rack on the wall and raise it above your shoulder. The photograph given to him by Fuches hadn't done you justice at all. In his magnified eyes yours shone, and there was a genuine look of concern flashing across his face as you watched you jump lightly on the spot, screaming slightly in surprise when you spot his head whipping around the corner with a small frown.

What the fuck?

He wanted to reach out and touch yours lips, full and glossy even in the fading light of the evening. You had a kind of understated beauty, perhaps it was because you were so disarmingly unaware of your prettiness.

But he wasn’t. He had spent every day of high school looking at how brightly your skin glowed so, the beauty that lit your eyes and softened your features. When you had smiled and laughed in the hallways during lessons, Barry couldn't help but smile along too, even if it was just on the inside. To have been in your company was to feel that you too were someone, that you had been warmed in summer rays regardless of the season. It was the only memories from his childhood he wanted to remember.

‘...Y/n? Jesus fuck, hi. Hi-it’s Barry? Barry Berkman? We used to know each other in high school?’

He waved awkwardly, dropping the gun down onto his chest with a little ouch, before pulling the strap behind his back.

‘Yeah, hi Barry I remember you, but what the fuck are you doing in my house...with a gun...you know, TRYING TO KILL ME??’

At first there was silence. A misty haze upon the horizons of his mind as he stared into your eyes again; he could feel the hard painful lump in the back of his throat as the tears began to form. Slowly his breathing hallowed itself and a small but intense pain struck the top nerve in his head.

‘Fuck this’, he thinks, ‘and fuck Fuches too.’

He felt his cheeks flush hot, and his stomach grow heavy. My heart pounded in his throat, threatening to break out.

‘Uh...if I say I came here to protect you from that dude-did you hear? That dude who, uh, killed that guy from the drama class? Would you believe me if I said...I was here to protect you?’

‘No!’

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

Perfect Father / Barry Berkman Fluff

Request: Barry Berkman x wife where she gives birth to a baby boy and they take him home from the hospital!

Thank you for the request @80s90steen! <3

Warning: Strong language!!

‘BARRY I SWEAR TO GOD YOU BETTER PICK UP HOLY SH-’

‘BARRY WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU’

‘PICK UP DUMBASS I AGH-’

The office was painted grey, and it had only one floor-to-ceiling window, which faced Gene now spun around on his little swivel chair, his hands landing with a thump on the grey desk, rumpling a notebook lying open, and a stack of papers sitting under a turtle-shaped paperweight. In a corner a bookshelf was bursting with books with yet another stack of papers under a paperweight that was shaped to look like a tuft of grass. A few pens were lying on the papers, but some had fallen onto the top of the bookshelf.

Gene raises his hands up in despair as Barry hangs up the phone and fumbles it back into his pocket with a breathless gasp. Holy shit, holy shit, he thinks, this is it, this is really it. The moment he’s been dreaming for over the last nine months. He’s going to finally be a dad.

He feels his mind whirl, his fingers clenching into and out of fists as his fingernails dig into his skin, and he has to back up until he’s bumping against the door to stop him collapsing right there and then.The pain that sears through his stomach isn't sharp like a needle point or a knife, it burns around his inside, licking its flames against his stomach as sharp as a bullet wound. He subconsciously reaches behind him to check there’s no exit wound, his eyelids flittering in shock. The thud of his thick right shoulder hitting against the cracking wood that brings his mind back to the reality of the present. He didn’t have time to mess about.

‘Shit, fuck, Mr Cousineau I’ve got to go.’

‘But Barry, the audition’s tomorrow!’

‘No offence, but I really don’t care, I gotta go. It’s time!’

‘Oh Jesus, Barry, why didn’t you say? Go, go! Shoo!’

The navy car cruised down the freeway, travelling south at eighty miles per hour. Barry swore every time the car nearly collapsed over a pot hole, gestured to every driver in his way, his eyes anxiously flitting down to the time. He blinks away the sweat that starts to bead down his forehead as he exits the freeway, blaring his horn as he begins to reach eighty miles per hour.

‘Come on, come on. Fuck. GET OUT OF THE WAY, ASSHOLE, I’M GOING TO BE A DAD!’

He can’t remember the last time his hands had shaken so much. Not even during his last hit had his fingers trembled against the steering wheel so much.

Doubt suddenly shoots through him like a piercing arrow, shattering his resistances as he doubles over against himself, having to slam on the brakes to stop himself from losing control and driving into the red brick wall of the hospital. Doubt at his existence. Doubt that he was worth it, worth this, worth you. That he deserved this life. Maybe Fuches was right, maybe this wasn’t what he was good at, and never would be. It was something that he had spent countless nights tossing and turning in bed next to you, slowly tracing the hair away from your forehead, worrying about. Worry grew like a corrupted, malicious and perfidy wound, his veins twisted and darkening. But, seeds of hope wormed its way in, and no matter how large and terrifying the darkness was, he knew that right now, you needed him, no matter if he wasn’t sure who that was. You needed him, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t there.

He finally reaches your door, his eyes wide and manic and his breathe coming laboured from his longs as he bangs against it, nearly falling over his own feet to push it open, but instead only managing to trip over the nurse who anticipated his arrival.

‘Well, here we are,’ the nurse smiles kindly and opens the door wider, a slight smirk on her face as she finishes off with a ‘all of us, now.’

Doctors and nurses surround his hospital bed, gently telling you to push over the screams off frustration and pain.

‘WHERE. IS. MY. HUSBANDDDD!’

‘Oh god, love, I’m here, I’m right here, I promise.’

His hand reaches up to rest gingerly on your forehead, his fingertips dancing tenderly over your skin to check your temperature. With half-lidded eyes, his fingers delicately trace the slight curve of your jaw, a smile gracing his face as he looks down at your sleepy figure, his jumper scratchy against your bare arm as you reach up to clasp your fingers in between his, intertwining his clammy hands with your squeezing ones. The pain was unbearable, but as he smiled at you with tears beginning to crinkle in his eyes, you couldn’t care less. You were just glad he was here. Peppering kisses against the tip of your ear, he pulls you in so tight you feel you may burst as his hand runs figure eights up and down your back, wondering how you could look so ethereal even when pushing a baby out.

With each contraction came a pain that dominated your entire being. In those moments, for those seconds that stretched into infinity, there was nothing else. You could hear screaming from other rooms, yet you made no sound at all. When the pain passed it was only for a minute or so and you breathe with closed eyes, unwilling to re-engage with life outside of your own body. The room might as well have been empty for all the awareness you had, and when they did talk, touch, gain your attention you found it so hard. To reply you had to find yourself from the deepest recess of your own mind. You could feel your husband’s cold, shaking fingers clasping yours, his thumb itching against your skin as he eagerly shouted at you, his voice wavering but so proud.

You knew, as soon as Barry started crying and your son was placed into his arms, that he would walk through the gates of hell to keep him safe.

As you placed your son’s seat into the back of Barry’s car, every fibre of your being aching but elated beyond any joy you had ever known, Barry was sitting in the front seat. He had gone ahead to start the car for you, not wanting either of you to stay out in the shivering cold for longer than necessary, but as you wrapped the cotton blue blanket around his small, chubby arms, you had no idea he was watching you through the rear view mirror, wiping the tears away from where they dripped down his cheek. Barry had known kindness, but the negative influences in his life from his parents and his uncle had often outweighed the good he desperately tried to feel in his heart. The morning he held his son, the most perfect feeling he had ever known swept through him. He was rocked to his core; he knew he would do anything in the world for him. He would be his hero, his keeper, the one who gave him cuddles and kept him safe, no matter what he faced in the world. He would make sure he would never go through the same hardships he had faced, would never feel the same loneliness and heartbreak. He was going to be the perfect father.

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Barry Berkman having a crush on you would include...

Thank you sweet anon who requested this!! <3 Also everyone should go check out @fangirl-imagines, they’re a really incredible person and write some amazing Barry stuff! <3

You two would meet during one of the Mr Cousineau’s theatre classes. It would be Barry third or fourth lesson, and your first one (you had seen it advertised and decided to try it for a bit of fun). He would be up on the stage, already nervous beyond belief as Gene tries to guide him through an improvisation scene, his blue shirt crinkled and trousers slightly scrunched from where his hands had been digging and fumbling into them. But when he spots you in the third row of the auditorium, leaning back against the velvet seat with the most glowing, hesitant smile on your face as you watch Barry struggle, Gene would tell him to get off the stage because all the words would just leave his mouth, and he would stand there like a blubbering fish, his mouth opening and closing.

He couldn’t remember a time, even in the marines, when he had felt his heart pound this much. Stepping down, too scared to meet your gaze as he takes a seat near the fire exit in the first row, his hands would be clammy as he rubbed them together, his back bent down as he tried to cross his arms and act normally, but he couldn’t control how dilated his pupils were or how much it hurt to take in a shaking breathe. Whenever Sally talked to him for the rest of the lesson, trying to get him into character, he usually babbled, not being able to form long sentences.

It took him weeks to finally form the courage to even come near you, despite Fuches’ warnings not to, and when he did he acted like a nervous schoolboy, his hands crossed in front of his chest as his eyes flickered between looking just behind your head to the tips of your feet. However, when you smiled shyly at him, trying to make him relax, his cheeks turned beetroot red as he scratched behind his ear, finally being able to meet your gaze.

When he finally asks you out, he would try to put his new acting skills into work and act very confidently, and very slick, as if the words were just tumbling off his tongue, but in reality he had spent a few nervous hours staying up last night, practising what he was going to say in his bedroom mirror.

Constant dates. Once the two of you start going out, he would find it difficult not to find a way to constantly be with you. It would get him away from Fuches, and give him a release from the constant tension and nightmares he had been having. He relished in this intimacy he wasn’t particularly used to, so he would constantly drag the two of you away (when Gene invited the two of you, of course) out into the sparkling water of his lake house that twinkles in his eyes like broken glass just to wrap his arms around your waist. A smile would grace his lips as he just watches your every movement, gently placing his forehead against yours as the two of you just bob in the waves, your bodies melting together.

He never tires of talking to you, always being hung up on your every word and memorising every tic as you spoke, every unique thing you did.

He would also always be constantly looming over you, to the point that you’ve sometimes yelped and shoved him over and onto the floor with a dull thud and ‘ow, what the heck?’, because he’s constantly sneaking up and standing next to you with no warning, whether it’s because he has this constant fear and need to protect you from his life, or whether he just finds comfort in your presence. He just feels that with you, he can finally begin his new life.