welcome home oneshots

when it becomes more than a drink

Barnaby❤(father figure!!! not an x reader!!) you were in your house relaxing with a bottle of wine. this weekend was absolute chaos. the sleepover you had with Wally and Julie turned into a horror show after home decided that it was funny to lock us inside for hours.

you're a puppet that is made to eat and drink, having a small compartment in your stomach that can hold up to two pounds of food. you can soak up drinks with the fabric lining your "stomach", letting you experience the effects with different medications or drinks, coming in handy when having a headache or when you can't sleep.

You a slimmer than a normal puppet, letting you squeeze into smaller spaces. no wonder you always win hide and seek. you have a nice green dress with blue splotches sewn onto the corners of it. you have blue and white stockings with purple and green leg warmers. your dress has lace-lined shoulders, being a light pink. your shoes being a navy blue Doc Martens

wally tries to apologize but you ran out of the house with the first second you could. you knew it wasn't his fault, you were just scared that any longer and you would be in there forever. after that incident, you would not give a second thought if Wally needed a place to stay for the night. I would move out of the house if mine did that. creepy.

with the wine bottle slowly declining with the liquid dribbling down your chin, you think that it's time for bed. slowly getting up you stumble to your room. such a nice night for a rooftop star-gazing session, right? the stars are out and are shining with glee like they want to be gazed at. you gave into those little voices and climbed out your window onto the roof. looking up at the stars, you sigh. they looked like small little explosions frozen in time. you think about some things going on in the neighborhood before you go inside to grab your notebook.

you climb back on the roof, pull a pen out of your hair, and start to continue writing a poem about your neighbors

*FRANK**his head is always spinning, always winning**his clothes the same as royals, maybe a toyal**his collection, made to perfection**his smarts, like thou arts**his lover, made of -*

a cough of clarification disturbed your peace. looking around, you see a barnaby...or two barnabys. you didn't think the wine would mess you up this bad. you nod; like saying you are listening to what he has to say.

*what are you doing up there? you look dryer than a fish jumping out of water. what got you so wavy?*

his laugh echoing through your soul. you shake your head in confusion.

*what?*

he laughs again. he then motions for you to climb down. you shake your head. if you climb anything more, you will fall on your butt. he sighs loudly and holds out his arms. He's willing to catch you.

you shake your head again. Are you still scared? most of the time alcohol will make you braver, but not you. you're still a pussycat. Yeah.... still a pussycat. you climb back father onto the roof, not wanting to fall even though you know that he will catch you in a heartbeat. you whimper in fear shamelessly. you dont know why you did that. Barnaby was the dog here.

*why are you so scared? it's not like imma eat you! Haha!*

"And? that is not helping. what if I go around telling you to jump off off your roof, hm?" he nods in agreement. he wouldn't have done that either. he looks around until he finds a ladder. he smiled in triumph until he started to climb up to the roof. he starts to shake and falls after climbing a few steps on the ladder.

"*how do you do that?!*"

"do what?"

"*climb the roof!*" you point to your window going to your room. she shakes his head. why was he trying to climb the roof when he could just go inside and climb in there. he goes into your house, stopping when he sees the living room. a few wine bottles were spread out along the table. he sighs, another long day for you ended in being wasted.

he picks them up, throwing them away. he then continues to your bedroom. he opens the door and climbs out of the window, sitting next to you. you were lying down on your back, looking up at the stars. the little balls of fire caught your distraction for a good bit of the night. barnaby just lays there next to you as you both stare at the stars. he sighs in relief that you are ok, but gets worried as he finds multiple bottles on the table.

"*how many bottles did you drink tonight?*"

"Only two...the other ones had like- a sip in them"

"*oh...*"

you nod in understanding...or what you could understand. you were drunk off your feet and he thought it was not ok. This has happened to you before so you knew you were going to be ok but this was the first time a person has found you like this.

doing this at night when people are asleep does not raise suspicions when they find you in the morning on the couch. you usually clean up the night before you go to bed so that there is no evidence but this time was a bit more than appeasing with the wine.

the way that your speech slows down, your heart goes 9 an hour, and the way the world slows down is just magical to you. barnaby gets kinda worried about you because you look like a hobo right now. he waves his hands in front of your face but you dont notice it at all. he picks you up without trouble and carries you to bed. tucking you in he tries to leave.

you grab his arm before he can leave, begging him to lay down with you. he sighs and gives in. Your bed groans in pain when he lays down but stays upright. he chuckles when you try to spoon him but he goes ahead and becomes the big spoon.

"*good night booger*"

"night handsome"

"*what-*"

"nothin"