sean

a/n: i am so sorry. i completely forgot about this sizzling in my inbox and it has now been SEVEN MONTHS since this movie's release. but this was such a cute idea, i needed to finish it!! im so sorry and i apologize if youve moved on from this man omg LMAO pairing : mike schmidt x gn!reader warnings : kind of heavy angst w/delving into mike's thought process, mentions of nightmares, otherwise fluff. partly proofread. SPOILERS! (but you guys... probably dont need the warning by now, right?)

mike's nightmares (dreams?) about garrett didn't really... go away after everything that happened at freddy's. sure, it gave him some ounce of comfort knowing that he'd found the man who took his brother-- one of his lifelines, away from him, and also knowing that the same man who took his brother was now dead. but regardless, it didn't take the memories nor the guilt away. mike is, and has always been convinced that everything bad leading up to now must've been his fault. starting with garrett, all the way up to vanessa's coma, no matter how many times you've told him otherwise.

and that lingering guilt seeps into his dreams, too. he's had less dreams about garrett, and he's slowly started to have actual stupid, brief, 'normal' dreams that he can't even remember once he wakes up ever since he stopped taking the ambien; he could now safely fall asleep to the sounds of your breathing, the soothing motions of your hands in his hair, and the crickets outside rather than the repetitive nature sounds on the walkman. but when the dreams about garrett happen, they're... different. they aren't the same sequence that would usually happen in his dreams like before. he can't even remember what happens in them anymore, his memory fading as soon as he wakes up as if he hadn't dreamt anything at all-- but he's always waking up with sweat condensed on his brow, his heart racing out of his chest, and a lingering feeling of dread tugging at his heart, always feeling like somebody was watching him. he'd often wake up with a gasp, or a brief shout. it brought an aching feeling like no ofher— and while he doesn't remember the dreams anymore, the aching feeling is still the same he used to get when he was searching for why, and who kidnapped his brother. and there's another overwhelming feeling of guilt too— how could he ever even think of trading his sister for garrett?

sometimes you wake up from his violent shudders or sobbing, sometimes you don't. and when you do, you're there in a heartbeat-- your body moving faster than your sluggish, tired brain to pull him close and hug him tightly into your chest as he sobs incoherent words, not caring about his cries moving through the thin walls. he'll always apologize no matter how many times you tell him that there's no need to. he woke you up. shouldn't he feel bad about that? he just doesn't want to inconvenience you anymore. but you're pulling him out of his thoughts quickly, comforting him before he even gets a chance to regret waking you up.

it doesn't take him long to calm down whenever you're around to hold him, just like how he needed. the both of you breathing softly, the only sounds audible being your heartbeat and the wind rustling the leaves of the trees outside. quiet, just what mike needed. just like what he craved, with you.

"'m so tired." he'd whisper, blinking slowly as he traced absentminded patterns on the skin of your collarbone, the repetition soothing him. he always liked doing that. and he liked when you did the same thing with him.

"i know." you'd whisper back— and he didn't need to head anything else to feel your overwhelming care for him. it was still so confusing for him to adjust to— the fact that you wanted him even after all of the fucked up shit he went through. no— you didn't just want him, you loved him. held him without a care in the world, and you'd do it in a heartbeat. you learned his body language— knowing exactly what he needed and when. you were his home— you and abby were his home.

one morning, he's waking up alone. not really something that concerned him— you had stuff to do. like work, taking abby to school when you insisted he stay home and rest. he rubs his eyes as he stares up at the ceiling for a bit longer before pushing himself out of bed— there's no use in dwelling on last night, anyways.

mike shuffles out of bed with a yawn, scratching at the skin riding up on his shirt before feeling something wrap around him at torso level. he looks down, and it's abby. he gives her a small smile, bending down slightly to wrap his arms around her, and she giggles. "i'm not supposed to say anything." she whispers, rocking back on her feet slightly. okaaay... secrets right when he woke up, just what he needed. but he smells something good— pancakes? that has him shuffling right into the kitchen, staring at you tending to the stove, the perfect image of domesticity.

as abby's shuffling into the living room to go watch labrynth once more, mike paddles behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, giving a small kiss to your collarbone as he's staring down at your perfect hands, watching you make breakfast. usually he was the one to make breakfast— what was the special occasion? "i'm guessing this is what abby was being secretive about?" he grinned softly, breathing in the warm scent of your hair. soft. you were soft.

"i told her she wasn't supposed to say anything." you replied back, giving a soft 'hmph' as you eyed abby from the kitchen with a soft smile on your face, turning the heat off to the stove before turning around to face your boyfriend. the eggs were done cooking, anyways. "just... thought i'd do something nice for you. let you sleep in a little." your voice was soft, held implications of last night's nightmares shaking mike violently awake. he... didn't get much sleep whenever they happened. his eyes fluttered softly at the feeling of your hands carding through his hair again, and he's already about to fall asleep right at the stove.

you're prepared for him to pout, claim that breakfast was his job and that you shouldn't have gotten out of bed so early with the fact that you had so much stuff to do. but instead— he gives you a soft, bashful smile as he grabs your hand gently, kissing your palm. "thank you. y'know I love you, right?" he whispered, giving you a gentle peck on your lips. fuck morning breath.

"i love you." you whispered back, moving to lean in another time before you're hearing a dramatic gag from the living room, coming from abby. you and mike are scoffing with soft grins as the both of you depart from eachother— but still never looking away.

a/n: thank you for being my first ask :3! and ofc it's not too vague! this is going to be focused more on mike's traits and basically his interactions with you. this was also lowkey self indulgent. i actually really enjoyed writing this so i think i might make another one of these focusing just on him@))@ pairing: autistic/audhd!mike schmidt x autistic!gn!reader headcanons, also autistic abby (the entire family is autistic) warnings: brief mention of autistic meltdown, otherwise fluff. wc: 836 (i ran out of ideas.)

not proofread i wrote this while high

mike schmidt didn't find out that he was autistic until a lot later into his adult life-- only knowing that he had adhd. he always knew that abby was autistic, she had been diagnosed earlier into her life. but him? he never gave second thought to it. of course, he felt disconnected in a sense to the rest of the world. he was there, but he felt like nobody truly clicked nor resonated with him besides abby. of course, until he met you.

to say that mike was truly comfortable with you was an understatement. he didn't feel forced to make eye contact with you, and of course, ended up feeling comfortable enough with you to make full-on eye-contact... each and every time.

REQ ;

- nsfw is def allowed, i'll write most things unless fheyre genuinely problematic. if i dont write your fic im either busy, not comfortable with the request, or brainstorming. nsfw asks will take longer for me to do!!

- please be specific with your request! it helps us both so i can make the ideal fic for you. i do not know everything that's going on inside your head when requesting a fic, i may get some things wrong. specifying is beneficial for the both of us

mike was never one to hold eye contact with people— at-least, not until he learned that in adulthood his employers would very likely think he was an absolute fucking weirdo, or think he didn't care about the jobs he absolutely needed, so he had to learn to force himself to hold eye contact with his peers. he could hold eye contact with abby the easiest— considering that was his little sister. but with you, it's more than just holding your gaze. it's the fact that he can't look away from it.