#Mike schmdit x you

[leossmoonn]

mike schmidt trying to flirt with you is a like a car crash. it’s so bad, but you’re intrigued.

he happens to be sitting next to you at abby’s yearly pediatrician check up. she’s sitting at one of the little tables in the lobby coloring while mike’s waiting for the nurse to call abby in. he can’t help but notice the absolute beauty sitting next to him. you’re flipping mindlessly through a magazine, looking up and sighing every so often as your wait time increases.

“terrible time management here, right?” mike asks. you glance over at him, his eyes nervously flickering from you to the wall. you don’t say anything, not sure if he was speaking to you or himself. mike sita up in his chair, trying to look more confident this time.

“terrible time management, right?” he asks again. “i swear every time we’re here, it takes half a day just for a little check up.”

“yeah,” you agree. “it doesn’t help that it’s always busy.”

mike hums in agreement, thinking of what to say next. god, he’s so dumb and helpless. was it really this hard to flirt, much less talk? he looks over at you, trying to catch something that he could say. perhaps maybe you’re wearing something he can compliment? or there’s something in your magazine that’s also interesting to him?

“do you have a staring problem or something?” you break him out of his thoughts. he looks into your eyes, his heart slipping a beat. “i… uh… no. i… just like looking at interesting things.” he rushes out.

you raise your brows. “i’m an interesting thing?” he wants to kick himself. “no! i mean, yes. what i meant to say was i like staring at beautiful… people.” he watches as your lips upturn, but you work to keep it in a straight line. god, now he just wants to someone to run him over with a semi. “i didn’t mean that either,” he’s quick to say.

“oh, so i’m not beautiful?” you scoff, can’t help but feeling a little amused. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him cute as well. you thought about saying something to him, but you’re glad you didn’t. if you did, you’d miss whatever this is.

his eyes widen and he wishes the nurses would call abby’s name. “yes! yes, you are very beautiful. i’m just uh… well.. i-i’m mike.”

“it’s nice to meet you, mike,” you say. you look back at your magazine, not really reading any of the words now.

“are you here with your, uh, kid?” mike asks. “yes,” you say at first. “well, she’s not mine. she’s my niece. my sister and her husband are out of town and i get to babysit her.”

you swear you hear mike say “thank god”.

“what about you? is that your little girl over there?” you point to abby who is sharing her crayons with another kid.

“yeah, but she’s my little sister,” he says. “ah, how sweet. she looks like a nice kid,” you say.

“she is. so, uh, do you live around here?” mike asks.

you stifle a giggle and nod. “i do.”

“oh, awesome!” he exclaims like he just won the lottery. you look at him again and he calms down, laughing awkwardly. “yeah, that’s cool. i mean, obviously you live here. or maybe you don’t. it would make sense. you’re babysitting, so —”

“josie hutchins?” a nurse calls out. “that’s me,” you say. you fold up the magazine and place it on the table next to you. mike looks so sad, like he just witness a puppy die. “ah, okay. nice talking to you.”

“you, too,” you smile sweetly, taking your neice by the hand. as you walk away, a little folded up piece of paper from your coat.

“h-hey! you forgot this,” mike says, but you’re already gone. he picks it up, choking on his own spit once he reads your number on the paper. you must’ve wrote it down while mike was blabbering like an idiot.

“abby schmidt?” a nurse calls out. mike shoots up from his spot, making sure to slide the piece of paper in his pocket for safe keeping.

[freak-accident419]

Isn’t it Ironic?

Mike Schmidt x GN!Reader

Summary: You attend an old friend’s wedding that you were surprisingly invited to. One downside—it was raining when everybody least expected it. Lucky that the whole ceremony and party were indoors, the event prospered, and you meet someone during the reception.

Word Count: 2.8k

Content: fluff, a lot of banter, you two are very awkward, gender neutral reader, references to Y2K, literally just one mention of pot, wedding, non-gendered descriptions of clothing for reader, you have a thing for Alanis Morissette’s “‘96 hit” Ironic, takes place a year before the events of FNAF, kissing

-

A few months ago, you were surprised to receive a wedding invitation in the mail from an old friend of yours. It’s been several years since you’ve spoken with him, but you two still kept each other in mind, which explains why you were even considered as a guest in the first place. Simply, you were close enough with him to attend his wedding.

There was one small problem, however.

It was raining.

This wedding was planned quite intricately, yet nobody ever expected it to rain heavily. The forecast barely gave any warning or prediction about rainfall, so there was no doubt that people, especially the bride and groom, were apprehensive. However, it didn’t matter too much, because the venue was in a nice, fairly large ballroom that was completely indoors. While this event’s relation to Alanis Morissette’s ‘96 hit remained uncanny and undesirable, the ceremony still went graciously well. You never expected such elegant vocabulary from your old friend as he said his vows, which was actually a refreshing listen. You watched the couple kiss after hearing the officiant say ‘you may now kiss the bride’, and the room erupted in joyous cheers and applause.

It was now the reception, as you sat down at a round table, a thin, white cloth draped loosely over it. And as you tapped on the surface, fidgeting with some of the silverware, your eyes scanned the room, trying to find the man you had just recently met.

Earlier today, you were prepared exquisitely for the wedding. However, as you changed into your best attire, you began to hear soft tapping on your window. At first you thought nothing of it, but with time, the tapping transitioned into violent spatters against the glass. Finally looking out your window, it was raining hard. Like, it was pouring.

The forecast, weirdly enough, never expected any rain. And for this unnatural and abrupt weather to be on the day of the wedding was quite painfully ironic—again, an uncanny resemblance to Alanis Morissette’s song (that you found delightful to reference). And so, with this, you made sure to bring your umbrella.

Getting out of a taxi, you noticed that the front of the venue building was crowded with people trying to get in, several umbrellas protecting their heavily expensive formal wear. As you made your way to the front, you noticed that, with all the people walking around you, there was one person that caught your full attention.

It was a man walking without an umbrella, having to hold his blazer above his head, leaving him in his white button up and lampblack skinny tie. You immediately felt bad, and rushed over to him, holding up your umbrella so that you two were both protected under it.

“Oh! Um, thank you,” he smiled softly, a bit awkward in his mannerisms. “Did you, um, know it was gonna rain?”

“No, um,” you began with a chuckle, shaking your head. “I don’t think anybody knew. It was, like, completely unexpected.” He nodded at your reply.

“Kinda, uh, reminds me of that one song—”

You interrupt him eagerly. “By Alanis Morissette?”

An low, amused chuckle escaped his lips as he looked down, then up at you. “Yeah.”

You weren’t much of a romantic, or someone who believed in fate, but his acknowledgment towards the ‘96 hit by Alanis Morissette nearly convinced you that he was your soulmate. Yet, you shook off the feeling.

“So, uh, how do you know the… the newly weds?”

“Oh, uh, I was friends with Quinn in, uh, high school,” he answered as the two of you approached the venue’s entrance. “You?”

“I met Emmett also in high school,” you say, “Through, uh, mutual friends at the time.”

You two finally got inside the venue, closing your wet umbrella and finally being able to see the man more clearly. He was pretty decent looking, maybe even above average, at that. There was something so charming about his big brown eyes, brown curls and stubble that made you feel… flustered, you suppose. “Uh, I guess I’ll see you around,” you offer a kind grin.

“Oh, yeah, um definitely. Yeah.”

The encounter was a bit awkward, but there was also something there, you felt. You weren’t really sure what exactly it was, but you were determined to find out more about this man.

Which led you to this very moment. You watched the groom and the bride’s first dance happen in the very center of the venue, a sweet, classical song being played by a live band, and the deep, loving eye contact the newly weds shared.

Then, when your eyes drifted away from them, you finally saw him across the room, sitting at a table, and noticing you at the exact, same time. The man from before.

***

“Do you believe it?”

“Oh, h-huh? Believe what?”

You shrug. “That the world is ending next year.”

He looked confused.

“You know? Y2K? People believe that next year, the whole, like, all of computer systems will crash because code can’t read the year two thousand and the glitch is going to cause an entire apocalypse.”

You two sat at the same table after he joined you, in which he came over quite awkwardly, resting his damp blazer on his chair, placing his plate of cake on the table, and then finally sitting down. And now, you two were just conversing about random topics while eating cake and drinking mediocre beverages.

“O-oh, yeah, I think I, uh, heard of that.”

He was a bit awkward. But it was nothing you couldn’t handle.

“So? Do you believe it?”

“Um… No, actually. It’s too… theatrical. I know a lot of people bought so much flashlights and candles because they assumed that the whole bug will cause everyone to be forced to camp, but… It’s just a bit ridiculous,” he answered, taking a sip of the champagne.

“Right,” you agree.

“And you?”

“Huh?”

“Do you belie—”

“Oh, no, of course not,” you chuckle lightly. “I, uh… It’s ridiculous, as you said, but… sometimes it’s kinda fun for the world to panic over dumb shit together… It… reminds me that we’re all just humans, trying to live and survive, experiencing the same thing everyone else is, just co-existing.” You looked at him for a while until your eyes widened suddenly. “Sorry if I got too, I don’t know, serious abou—”

“No, no, um… I agree. You’re right,” he smiles softly and you return it.

You clear your throat. “Do you, uh, actually like that stuff?” You ask, pointing at his tall glass of champagne, then looked at your own.

He pursed his lips. “I mean… It’s okay, I guess.”

You scoff. “It tastes like hand sanitizer. Like, you’d think this expensive ass wedding would have better drinks, you know?”

He paused. “How would you know how hand sanitizer tastes?”

“It’s just a feeling. Like—I’d imagine bar soap to taste like white chocolate,” you say.

A small chuckle leaves his mouth, which you seemed to admire heavily. You wanted that to happen again. It was a sweet, wide smile, his tired eyes growing bright, and his soft laugh entrancing you completely. You wanted to take out every lame joke of your shitty humor book stored in your prefrontal cortex to see him chuckle like that again.

“Shit,” he grumbled, his face contorted in discomfort as he attempted to look down under the table.

“Are you okay?” You asked, raising an eyebrow and trying to see what was bothering him.

“No—I mean—Yeah, I am, it’s just… I’ve never been to something formal in a long time, and I never got to buy new shoes so… They’re kinda tight,” he explained, moving the table cloth slightly to see his shoes in view under the table.

“Oh,” you reply.

“Doesn’t help that the rain made my socks wet too.”

“Ugh.”

He paused, then looked at you. “Should I take ‘em off?”

Your eyes widened. “Wh—Seriously? Are you insane?”

“It’s not like anyone could see it. C’mon, my feet are really aching,” he complained.

“Dude, look at what the bridesmaids are wearing! Look at those damn heels, you’re really gonna complain about your own feet when they have to wear those the entire day?!” You exclaim, but you couldn’t help but laugh softly. He liked your laugh.

“I’m taking them off.”

“No!” You giggle. “What the fuck are you thinking?!” Your voice lowers in a murmur, ensuring that nobody else hears you.

“I am taking these guys off.”

“Dude, no! If—If Quinn finds out, she is going to be pissed,” you urge.

“Hey. You knew the groom and I knew the bride. Meaning that I know the bride more than you. And I would know, that if she found out—”

“She’s gonna kill you,” you interrupt.

He paused.

“Yeah, she’d definitely kill me.”

You both laugh softly, enjoying each other’s presence. “You know, weirdly enough, I think my feet hurt even more when they’re all stiff. Like, walking doesn’t hurt as much as them being still.”

“Seriously?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Yeah—”

“You’re not just saying that so you’d have an excuse to dance with me, right?” You tease, letting a playful smirk appear on your lips. “Because that logic literally makes no fucking sense.”

His eyes went wide, and you swore you could see his face flush red, and he began to stammer over his words. “N-no, I—I mean, that wasn’t—uh…” It seemed as if he gave up. It truly wasn’t his intention to dance with you, but he was too flustered to even state his case.

You stood up, walking in front of him and took your hand out. “You don’t have a date, do you?” You ask, raising an eyebrow with a gentle smile.

“Um, no. Why-why would I—”

“Okay, good,” you nod, “Then may I have this dance?”

He looked up at you in surprise and parted his lips to respond. “I—I don’t know how to dance—”

“Anybody can dance. Anyways, wouldn’t it be ironic if there was a wedding without any dancing?” You inquire.

“I mean, yeah, but, like… I’m not saying that dancing shouldn’t occur, I just… Me? I just can’t, I don’t think I—”

You scoff and roll your eyes. “Just take my hand, dude.”

He places his hand in yours, and before he was given the chance to completely stand up, you hastily dragged him to the dance floor.

Despite all that, you smile at him warmly, giving him a sense of comfort and safety. Your hands held onto the back of his neck, and he placed his hands on your waist. “Can’t dance, my ass,” you mumbled playfully, which brought a stifled laugh from him.

The two of you swayed with the soft music, looking profoundly into each other’s eyes. You couldn’t take them off each other if you tried. You only knew him for a few hours, and you just met him today, but you felt like his soft, deep hazel eyes told you his whole life story, engulfing you in solace and intimacy.

And then it hit you:

You didn’t even know this man’s name. And he didn’t even know yours.

“Hey,” you chuckle, your voice only widening his present smile.

“Yeah?”

“It has just occurred to me that I don’t know your name.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Wait, seriously?”

“Wh—yeah—”

“So we never told each other our names in the past hour we’ve met?”

“Hm, no, I guess not,” you giggle.

“Damn,” he sighs pleasantly. “Um, do you wanna go first?”

“Does it matter?”

“No.”

“Should we do rock-paper-scissors?”

He scoffs in delight. “Seriously?”

“You’re right, that’s ridiculous… It should definitely be a thumb war.”

He laughs. “What?”

“Or maybe I’m thinking of a number between one to fifty? I mean—”

“I’m Mike.”

“Y/n,” you say immediately after him.

You two smile at each other, and it was apparent that you were trying not to laugh.

“Ow—” You hiss abruptly.

“Shit, sorry,” he breathed. ‘Mike’ stepped on your foot.

“It’s okay, it’s fine,” you giggle.

“I told you I can’t dance,” he frowned.

“But you’re doing it right now,” you retort.

“Not doing it very good,” he corrects.

“But you can admit you’re dancing,” you smile.

He chuckles. “Yeah, I guess I’ve proven myself wrong.”

You two share a look, a very particular one that communicated adoration and captivation for each other.

“What number would you have said if I did get you to choose one from one to fifty?” You ask out of curiosity.

“Hm… Maybe… maybe si—?”

Mike cut himself off once the lights suddenly shut off, all of the electricity in the venue failing simultaneously. A few panicked gasps and even screams escaped several people’s mouths as the entire venue was black. You couldn’t see anything, and you held onto whatever was closest to you, seeking comfort in a warm embrace.

A man called out the explanation, saying how it was the rainstorm that caused the power outage, and only a few seconds after that was said, the lights all switched back on.

Your eyes adjust, only to realize that you were pressed against Mike, you two holding one another against each other. Your hands, which were on his shoulders, dragged back down to his arms as you pull away slightly, the two of you exchanging awkward chuckles and smiles.

The two of you spent most of the wedding day together. You both didn’t really know anyone else that well enough, so you relished in each other’s company.

You found an empty, unoccupied room in the venue, another small ballroom, you presumed, that wasn’t used for the party. You and Mike sat at the edge of the short stage, giggling after making a few jokes to each other.

“Um… You met Emmett in high school, so, like, does that mean you’re from Pennsylvania?” He asked after the laughter had died down, his sweet grin still remaining on his lips.

“Oh, um, yeah. But, uh, I live here now, y’know, we had a small friend group and decided to go to the same college together, or at least state, and we all ended up in Minnesota,” you answer. “Why? Would you have been disappointed to find out that I’m just visiting?”

He shrugged, but smiled amusedly, never tired of your antics. “Kind of, yeah.”

“Kind of?” Your raise your voice playfully, placing your hand on your chest in offense.

“Okay, okay, the truth is, I would’ve been devastated to know that you didn’t actually live here,” he says, chuckling.

“Devastated, huh?” You smirk, taking out a pen (that you kept on yourself after finding it before the reception because you did plan to give your number to him tonight) and a clean napkin you had from earlier. You began to write down your phone number, then handed him the completed note. “Don’t hesitate to call.”

“And if next year does result in the failure of all technology?” He raises an eyebrow, making you scoff, taking back the napkin and scribbling more down.

“Then don’t be afraid to be old fashioned and write me a damn letter,” you grin, handing him the napkin once again. It had not just your name and phone number, but your house address as well.

Mike smiled to himself, knowing that his awkward, yet cheesy ass would send you flowers at your doorstep one of these days. What a total pansy.

“I had a great time tonight,” you tell him quietly, looking into his sweet, brown eyes.

“I did too,” he nodded, smile only widening.

“Never thought, uh… This sorta, um, ‘thing’ would happen to me during someone else’s wedding. They weren’t lying when they’d say romance is in the air, huh?”

“You sure it’s not just the gas leaks?”

You chortle. “Mike—”

“Or Emmett’s grandmother’s unnecessarily strong perfume?”

The two of you laugh hysterically, and you add on yourself. “Or the shitty pot that Quinn’s sister snuck in?”

And as soon as your laughter died down, you found yourselves kissing each other deeply, your hands cupping his face as you feel his soft lips against yours. There was no specific, long quiet moment that led up to the kiss, it just… happened. There was a mutual understanding between the two of you, in which you both had the urge to press your lips against each other.

You two look into each other’s eyes silently once you pulled away gently from one another’s lips. A smile rose at both of your faces as you began to giggle with him sweetly. His laugh was addicting, as you observed from before, and his face even more enthralling, with his pretty smile and big bright eyes.

Your thumb was still under his chin as he waited in anticipation, for your lips to come in contact with his again. The two of your eyes had been half-lidded ever since the first kiss, and they completely closed once again as your lips crashed onto his again, the kiss done much more confidently than before.

“Take me out next week, will you, Mike?” You pulled away, raising an eyebrow.

“Y-y-yeah, sure. For sure,” he replied, making you two laugh together again, attaching your lips together once more.

[schmidtsbimbo]

hi! I really enjoyed reading the older bf headcanons for Mike - I was wondering if you could write a fic or hcs of how Mike would try to make it up to the reader after an argument? like angst with hurt/comfort? thanks!

★Mike Schmidt comforting you headcanons★

𖦹 Warnings: slight angst and fluff, GN!Reader no use of pronouns, use of Y/N

⋆｡°‧Requests are open! Comments and reblogs are welcome and appreciated ♡

―୨୧⋆ ˚A/N: this feels so short but its been sitting in my drafts forever im sorry anon☹️ I promise im working on all my other requests and will try to get to them as soon as i can<3 Happy holidays!

This has not been proofread ^_^

Mike Schmidt who almost never gets angry or upset with you. Dealing with Abby has taught him so much and he is oh so patient with you

Mike Schmidt would accidentally lash out at you and instantly regret it as his guilt ridden eyes would land on your hurt expression, making his chest hurt at the sight

Mike Schmidt who would instantly try to make things right and apologize, quickly running towards you before you could leave the room and pulling you into a tight embrace, his hand landing on your lower back as the other is holding the back of your head, his chin resting on your shoulder

Mike Schmidt who would silently and softly sway you side to side as he tries to find the right words to say, he wasn’t the best at apologies but he knew he wouldn’t be able to let this go if he didn’t

Mike Schmidt who plants a kiss on your forehead and leaves his lips there, “I’m sorry, y/n” he’d simply mumble against your skin, “i promise it won’t happen again, ever” he’d continue to mumble, his voice dripping with guilt and shame at the memory of him raising his voice at you

Mike Schmidt who still isn’t able to get over the incident even after you accept his apology and would go above and beyond for you for the rest of the day, not that he doesn’t already do that but now its even more amplified

Mike Schmidt who would offer to cook dinner that night despite how exhausted from work he is, making the occasion extra special by cooking your favorite meal and surprising you with it

Mike Schmidt who would shower you with kisses every chance he got, quite literally kissing you from head to toe and muttering a small “I’m sorry” in between each and every kiss

Mike Schmidt who ends the night with you wrapped up in his arms while you lay in bed, his chin resting on the top of your head as one hand soothingly strokes the back of your head, kissing your forehead every once in a while as you drift off into sleep in his arms