Sleepy

The lights were low, the giant TV casting a soft, flickering glow across the room as a classic Disney movie played. The opening notes of "I See the Light" drifted through the speakers, gentle and soothing.

Charlie was curled up on one end of the couch in her pajamas—pastel pink with tiny crowns on them—her feet tucked under a blanket. She smiled as she glanced over at Y/N, who was nestled against her side, wrapped in a hoodie three sizes too big and clutching a large mug of hot chocolate in both hands.

His eyes were half-lidded, blinking slowly. The steam from the drink fogged his glasses slightly, and he'd been quietly humming along to the background music. The marshmallows in his cup had melted into a gooey cloud, and he hadn't even noticed.

Charlie (softly): You hanging in there, sweet bean?

Y/N: (barely audible) Mhm... 'm okay... just tired...

He let out a small yawn and leaned his head against her shoulder. Charlie melted, her heart doing a soft backflip.

She gently took the mug from his hands and set it on the table, wrapping both arms around him instead. He immediately cuddled into her, making a quiet little content noise in the back of his throat.

Charlie: You've been running around a lot lately. You deserve to just rest for once, y'know?

Y/N (murmuring): ...I like resting with you.

Her cheeks flushed, and she leaned down to kiss the top of his head.

Charlie: I like that too.

The movie played on, casting soft light across the sleepy pair. Charlie adjusted the blanket to make sure he was warm, her fingers gently running through his hair as he drifted further and further into a nap.

Y/N had started blinking slower and slower, his body sinking deeper into Charlie's side like a warm little kitten. His fingers twitched slightly as the music in the movie reached its softest notes.

Then, with a quiet exhale—and the tiniest sleepy squeak—he was out.

His face nuzzled gently into Charlie's arm, one hand still loosely gripping a corner of the blanket. His breathing steadied, warm and rhythmic, like a lullaby all on its own.

Charlie glanced down, her smile becoming impossibly tender.

Charlie (whispering): Out like a light...

She gently brushed a few strands of hair out of his face, careful not to wake him. Even his tail had stilled, curled around himself like a sleepy animal. One of his bunny slippers had half-fallen off, but she left it—too afraid to disturb his peace.

She reached for the remote and turned the volume down, letting the movie play on almost silently.

And then she just sat there.

Holding him.

Watching his chest rise and fall.

Smiling like she had everything in the world right here in her arms.

Charlie (softly, to herself): You don't need to compete with anyone, Charlie. You've got him... and he chose to fall asleep next to you.

She leaned down one last time and kissed his forehead gently.

Charlie: Sweet dreams, my love.

The demon princess of Hell pulled the blanket up over both of them and quietly, carefully, rested her head beside his. And for the first time in a while, her world felt perfect.

———
Understanding

The soft rustle of pages echoed in the quiet of Charlie's room. A small desk lamp glowed beside her, casting a warm pool of light over the mountain of books and notes she'd gathered. Her laptop was open too—tabs labeled "Understanding Autism", "How to Support a Neurodivergent Partner", and "Autism in Adults: Signs, Sensory Needs, Communication" cluttered the screen.

Charlie's eyes moved carefully over the text of the book in her lap. Her brow furrowed in thought, her highlighter tapping gently against her chin.

Charlie (reading aloud to herself): Many autistic individuals may experience sensory overload, difficulty in social settings, and a need for predictable routines...

She looked to the side, where her notepad had a growing list of things Y/N had mentioned or done that made more sense now. She'd titled the page "Y/N Notes – Things That Help" with a tiny heart next to his name.

Likes quiet places when overwhelmed

Loves soft textures (plushies, hoodies, weighted blanket)

Doesn't always like eye contact

Communicates better when things are calm

Needs time to recharge

Hyperfixates on train models, comics, and Disney

LOVES sweet drinks

Might not always say what he's feeling, but shows it

Charlie flipped through more pages. Her face was serious—focused—not because she saw Y/N's autism as a "problem" to solve, but because she cared.

Because she wanted to love him the way he needed to be loved.

She paused, rereading a paragraph about masking and burnout, her brows knitting in concern.

Charlie: He does that. He pushes himself too hard to please people. Even when he's tired, he doesn't want to let anyone down...

She scribbled something down.

"Support gently. Respect his pace. Let him know it's okay to say no."

On a tab behind the article, she had a dozen videos open. Some were by autistic creators. Others were animated explainers. A few were just threads she'd bookmarked from when she noticed Y/N stim with his fingers while talking or when he avoided eye contact after long days.

She clicked over to another article: "How to support your autistic partner with love and understanding."

Charlie smiled softly, her eyes scanning every line, holding on to every word like it mattered—which it did.

Because he mattered.

She pulled her hoodie sleeves over her hands and whispered to herself, almost like a promise:

Charlie: I'm gonna be the best girlfriend I can be. For him. However he needs me.

The door creaked softly.

Y/N, sleepy-eyed and still in pajama pants, peeked in with his usual shyness.

Y/N (quietly): Charlie? Couldn't sleep...

Her eyes lit up. She quickly closed the laptop and patted the spot beside her.

Charlie (gently): Come here, sweet bean.

He padded over and curled into her side without hesitation. She wrapped an arm around him, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head.

Charlie (whispering): I was just reading about how to love you better.

Y/N blinked up at her, a small, sleepy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Y/N (murmuring): You already do.

Charlie bit her lip to stop herself from melting into a puddle.

———

Midnight Movie

The lights were low, the popcorn was extra buttery, and the TV screen was currently flashing a blood-red title card: "Mickey vs Winnie".

Y/N sat in the middle of the big, overstuffed couch—wrapped in his favorite soft blanket, knees tucked close to his chest. On one side was Vaggie and Charlie, gently rubbing his arm, and on the other was Cherri Bomb, already on her third soda and way too into this.

Cherri: (grinning like a maniac) This is gonna be so messed up—I heard Dark Winnie eats people whole!

Charlie: (laughing nervously)

Suddenly, Dark Mickey emerged from the fog—his hollow black eyes glowing red, mouth twisted in a permanent, toothy grin. He moved like a marionette, limbs jerking unnaturally, a rusty, blood-slick knife in his gloved hand.

Y/N: ...nope.

He pulled the blanket over his head like a turtle retreating to its shell, only his eyes peeking out.

Charlie (giggling softly, stroking his hair): Aww, it's okay. He's not real, sweetheart.

Cherri (grinning): You sure? This dude moves like he's hacked straight outta my nightmares. Look at that face!

Vaggie (arms crossed, scowling at the screen): Who even approved this movie? This is like if Disney had a psychotic breakdown in the woods.

The screen cut to Dark Winnie—his honey-covered muzzle dripping with blood as he dragged a teenager into the trees, growling like a starving beast.

Y/N: ...that's not my childhood...

He curled tighter into Charlie, clutching his mug like it was a life vest.

Charlie (whispering sweetly): Want me to cover your eyes for the scary parts?

Y/N nodded quickly.

Cherri (laughing): Too late, Charlie! He already saw Mickey stab a guy with a corn cob!

Vaggie shot Cherri a look.

Vaggie: Seriously?

Cherri (still snickering): It was metal.

They kept watching the movie. They watched as one of the characters, a boy named Potty Pete, ran into the outside.

Suddenly, the music cut. Only the creaking of the wind and the soft buzz of flies.

Then came the scratching. The heavy, gloved fingers dragging down the outside of the door.

Y/N (tense): Charlie, I think Mickey's outside...

Charlie (clutching his arm, eyes wide): I know! I know! I already hate this part—

CRASH!

The outhouse door exploded inward. Dark Mickey, his limbs contorted and smiling ear-to-ear, ripping Pete to bloody shreds.

Then a part where Dark Winnie launched himself through a college bus windshield.

Y/N, sipping hot cocoa, choked as he watched Winnie flip a teacher across the aisle like a rag doll.

Charlie: Oh no! Professor Jenkins just—OH MY GOD he bit him in half—

Y/N (eyes wide): He bit him like a gummy bear...

Charlie: Ah! He killed that teacher with a bee hive! Oh god he's killing somebody with a beehive!!

The camera showed Winnie clawing down the side of the bus, honey and blood mixing into a thick, syrupy mess.

Charlie, halfway behind the couch cushion: "Why is this so gory!? He's wearing a scarf, for Heaven's sake!"

Later, the teens in the film stumble into an abandoned funhouse—inside is Mickey's lair, where twitching puppet bodies hang from strings, eyes blinking in jerky loops.

Charlie immediately put her hands over Y/N's eyes.

Charlie: Nope. You don't need that trauma.

Y/N (soft): It sounds squishy...

TV Mickey (echoing): Smile for me... forever.

Charlie winced and buried her face in Y/N's hoodie.

They watched on, the movie growing more surreal and gruesome as Mickey and Winnie finally faced off in a brutal, blood-drenched forest clearing. Reality distorted, shadows stretched like claws, and children's nursery rhymes twisted into eerie chants in the background.

Charlie, watching Y/N flinch during a particularly intense scene, gently pulled his head onto her shoulder and whispered,

Charlie: It's just a movie, love. And I'm right here.

Vaggie, now leaning closer too, rested a hand on his knee.

Vaggie: You want us to turn it off?

Y/N, after a quiet moment, peeked out from the blanket again.

Y/N (softly): ...N-no. I wanna see if the town wins. If they fight back.

Charlie's eyes softened.

Charlie: You're so brave, you know that?

Y/N:...No

———

Shower

The steam had barely cleared from the bathroom mirror. A soft scent of vanilla and rose lingered in the air, blending with the warmth still curling off the tiles. Charlie stepped out first, wrapped in a fluffy pink towel, her hair damp and clinging to her shoulders. She smiled as she turned to see Y/N following behind, swaddled in an oversized towel that almost swallowed his tiny frame.

His cheeks were still flushed—not from the heat, but from the closeness they'd shared.

Charlie: (softly, brushing a bit of damp hair from his forehead) Hey... you okay?

Y/N nodded shyly, holding the towel closed like armor, his fingers twitching gently against the hem.

Y/N: Yeah... It was nice. Really nice. And... I liked being close to you.

Charlie's heart melted.

Charlie: (beaming) I liked it too. You're always so gentle.

She led him back to the bedroom, where clean pajamas waited folded on the bed. She helped him dry his hair with slow, careful movements, knowing how much he appreciated soft touches. He hummed a little under his breath—something he only did when he felt really safe.

Once they were both dressed, Charlie tugged him under the covers and wrapped her arms around him from behind, chin resting gently on his shoulder.

Y/N: (murmuring sleepily) You smell like candy...

Charlie: (grinning) And you smell like my favorite person.

He giggled softly, then let his head fall back against her.
The room was quiet, the lights dim, the world small and safe.

Charlie squeezed him just a little tighter, her heart glowing with warmth.

———-

Singing

The lights in the room were dim, casting a golden warmth over the soft bed where Y/N lay curled up under a blanket. His head rested on Charlie's lap, his eyes half-closed, fingers lightly fidgeting with the hem of her shirt for comfort.

He'd had a long day—too many people, too many sounds, too much everything. Charlie could see it in the way he stayed quiet, tucked himself into small spaces, and avoided eye contact a little more than usual.

She gently ran her fingers through his hair, smoothing it back as she leaned over slightly.

Charlie: (softly) Do you want me to sing for you, sweetheart?

Y/N blinked slowly, then nodded just once.

With a tender smile, Charlie began to hum, then softly sang—her voice low, melodic, and full of warmth.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine...
You make me happy when skies are gray...
You'll never know, dear, how much I love you...
Please don't take my sunshine away..."

Her fingers moved in rhythm with the melody, brushing through his hair, tracing soft lines on his temple. Y/N's breathing slowed, and his body relaxed deeper into her lap.

She kept going, singing another verse, then another, shifting into a lullaby her mom used to hum to her. It was gentle, old, and full of love.

By the time she finished, Y/N was asleep—his face peaceful, the tension gone from his shoulders.

Charlie leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.

Charlie (whispering): I'll always sing for you. Anytime.

She stayed there, cradling him as the room fell into quiet peace, the only sound the soft breathing of the boy she loved.

The door creaked open gently with a quiet click, just enough for Vaggie to peek her head in. She had come to check on them—Charlie hadn't responded to her texts, and Vaggie knew Y/N had seemed off all day.

But the sight before her made her pause.

Charlie sat against the headboard, her legs stretched out, a book forgotten in her lap. Y/N was curled up across her, head nestled on her thigh, fast asleep under a fuzzy blanket. Charlie's fingers were combing gently through his hair, and a soft hum still lingered in the air—like she'd just finished singing.

Vaggie's heart melted a little. Charlie glanced up and gave her a small smile, then brought a finger to her lips—shhh.

Vaggie stepped inside quietly, closing the door with care. She padded over, sitting gently on the edge of the bed, watching Y/N sleep with that peaceful, warm expression on his face.

Vaggie (whispering): He okay?

Charlie: (nodding softly) Yeah. Just tired. The day wore him out a little, so I sang to him.

Vaggie gave Charlie's arm a gentle squeeze.

Vaggie: You're good with him.

Charlie smiled—gentle, but with a hint of worry still in her eyes.

Charlie: I just want him to know he's safe. That we're here. Always.

Vaggie leaned over and kissed Charlie's cheek, then brushed a soft hand across Y/N's blanket-covered back.

Vaggie: (softly) He knows. Trust me... he knows.

The room stayed quiet, warm, and safe—the three of them wrapped in soft light and softer love.

Charlie shifted just a little, careful not to wake Y/N, as Vaggie gently climbed onto the bed beside them. She pulled the other blanket up, draping it over her legs and Charlie's, and leaned in, resting her head on Charlie's shoulder.

Charlie: (smiling softly) He really knocked out, huh?

Vaggie: (nodding, her voice a whisper) Like a kitten in the sun.

Charlie giggled quietly, turning her head to rest her cheek against Vaggie's temple. She kept one hand gently in Y/N's hair, the other now tucked around Vaggie's waist.

Y/N, though asleep, let out a tiny, sleepy hum, shifting just slightly in Charlie's lap. His fingers curled against her thigh like he was grounding himself—safe, protected, comforted by touch.

Vaggie reached out too, resting her hand lightly over Y/N's back, thumb tracing slow, soothing circles.

Vaggie (softly): Can't believe someone this sweet lives in Hell.

Charlie (murmuring): I think he's proof that even down here, something gentle can still be possible.

They sat like that for a long time, the only sounds being the soft breathing of the boy they loved and the hum of comfort between them. Eventually, both girls felt their own eyes growing heavier, lulled by the calm.

———

Walking in

The soft click of a doorknob turning echoed through the hall as Charlie carried a folded blanket in her arms. She was humming a gentle tune, bouncing slightly on her heels, lost in the warmth of the moment.

She had just finished tidying up after movie night. Y/N had gone off to get changed into more comfortable clothes while she put the kettle on for some sleepytime tea. Figuring he wouldn't mind a quick visit—maybe even to surprise him with his favorite plush blanket—Charlie pushed open the door without thinking.

Charlie: Hey, babe, I brought your—

She froze.

Y/N stood in the middle of the room, shirt halfway over his head, his soft, white skin exposed from the waist up. He was wearing a pair of pajama pants, but his chest was bare, lightly freckled, and slightly trembling as his body registered the sudden presence. The shirt was still caught around his arms as he turned sharply in surprise, wide-eyed.

Y/N: Ah—! W-Wait! D-Don't look!

His voice cracked with panic, and he spun around, the shirt now bunched awkwardly around his neck. His cheeks went bright red—like, cartoonishly red—as he tried to pull the fabric down to cover himself again.

Charlie dropped the blanket and immediately slapped her hands over her eyes.

Charlie: Ohmygosh! I'm sorry! I didn't know you were—! I didn't mean—! I thought—!

She spun around, back facing him now, her voice flustered and fast, the words tripping over themselves. Her face was equally red, and her wings fluttered out in reflexive embarrassment.

Y/N, still struggling with his shirt, fumbled and finally yanked it down over himself completely, now completely clothed—but still pink-faced, visibly overwhelmed and clutching at the hem of his now-wrinkled shirt.

There was a beat of awkward silence.

Y/N (quietly): I-I wasn't decent...

Charlie's mouth drooped. She didn't dare turn around yet, still staring at the wall.

Charlie: I swear I wasn't trying to peek! I just wanted to bring you your blanket!

Y/N sat down gently on the edge of his bed, hugging the plush fabric of his shirt. He was trying to slow his breathing, tapping his fingers against his knees in that self-soothing rhythm Charlie recognized.

She turned slightly, just enough to peek over her shoulder.

Charlie: Are you okay?

Y/N gave a tiny nod, though his voice was still soft and unsure.

Y/N: Y-Yeah. Just... startled. I don't like... people seeing me like that. I get, um... really self-conscious. My body doesn't... feel right sometimes.

Charlie's heart ached in the most tender way.

She turned fully now, slow and careful, then walked over and knelt in front of him, her expression gentle.

Charlie: Y/N... you never have to be anything you're not comfortable being, okay? I love you, all of you. Whether you're wrapped up like a burrito in sweaters or... well, not. You're perfect just the way you are.

His eyes flicked up to hers, searching her face like he always did when trying to read emotion—trying to make sure she meant it.

And she did.

Charlie reached out slowly, giving him time, and rested a hand on his knee.

Charlie: I'll knock next time. Pinkie promise.

Y/N gave a soft, shy laugh—barely above a whisper—but it was real. His hand came up slowly, linking his pinkie with hers.

Y/N: Okay... but only 'cause it's you.

Charlie grinned, then reached down to retrieve the blanket she dropped. She placed it in his lap and gave him a kiss on the forehead—light, warm, and full of care.

Charlie: Now, let's get you tucked in for that tea, okay?

Y/N smiled, cheeks still a little red, but glowing now in a way that had nothing to do with embarrassment.

Later

Y/N walked downstairs and got himself some water. Y/N had just come downstairs, quietly padding into the kitchen in his soft slippers and oversized hoodie.

He paused.

On the kitchen counter, neatly folded and gleaming under the soft lights, sat Charlie's iconic red tuxedo — bright, polished, and very clearly forgotten.

Y/N blinked and tilted his head.

Y/N (softly, to himself): She left her tux...

Just then, Vaggie entered from the hallway, tying her long hair into a loose ponytail.

Vaggie: Hey, Y/N—oh, Charlie forgot her outfit?

Y/N (nodding gently): Yeah... I was gonna bring it to her.

Vaggie raised a brow, then smiled, a little impressed.

Vaggie: Let's both go. I need to be getting ready for bed anyway.

Y/N picked up the tux with gentle hands, carefully holding it like a sacred object. Together, he and Vaggie headed upstairs, making their way to Charlie's room.

They reached her door.

Vaggie knocked once. No answer.

Vaggie: Huh. That's weird.

She pushed open the door.

Y/N peeked in behind her.

What they saw hit them like a freight train of pure chaos.

Charlie was in the middle of getting changed. She stood by the mirror, glowing in the golden lamplight, her shirt off and no bra on. Her her long, golden hair tumbled like a waterfall down her bare back.

She turned around with a surprised smile.

Charlie: Oh! Hi guys! Did you bring my—?

Her words cut off.

Because in front of her, Vaggie had completely frozen, her mouth parted in stunned silence.

Next to her, Y/N was so red he looked like a strawberry in a hoodie, eyes wide, hands still gently holding the tux... now shaking.

Y/N (high-pitched, stunned whisper): S-s-sorry—!

Vaggie (simultaneously): O-Ohmygod—I-I didn't know—!

Their noses started to bleed in perfect unison.

Both tried to turn, but tripped over each other in a tangle of panic and flustered chaos.

Y/N: T-this wasn't planned—I-I j-just wanted to be helpful!

Vaggie: Whyyyy does she have to look that good without clothes on?!

Charlie (shrieking, blushing now herself): GUYS!! Don't look!!

But it was too late. The overload of beauty and awkwardness was too strong.

Y/N and Vaggie both let out soft gasps, wobbled... and fainted at the exact same time with dramatic thuds on the soft carpet floor, tuxedo flying out of Y/N's hands like a red cape in the air.

Charlie, now flustered beyond belief, rushed over.

Charlie: Oh my Satan, they're out cold! I didn't even mean to—!

She crouched down between them, pressing a hand to each of their foreheads, both still flushed deep crimson.

Charlie (giggling nervously): Well... I was trying to feel confident today, but uh... maybe I overdid it.