pairing: Beau “Cyclone” Simpson x Wife!reader (Mitchell!reader)
synopsis: After the successful Dagger Squad mission, Pete “Maverick” Mitchell returns home only to be blindsided by the revelation that his estranged daughter is married to Vice Admiral Beau “Cyclone” Simpson. Maverick is forced to confront the years he lost and the family he never knew existed. Tensions rise between the two men as Maverick struggles to find his place in a life that has moved on without him, leaving the question: can broken bonds ever truly be repaired?
chapters -
chapter one
chapter two + maverick's pov
chapter three
chapter four
chapter five
chapter six
chapter seven
blurbs -
the first time you met beau
beau finds out you're related to maverick
thoughts of two
beau as a dad
beau and reader's wedding
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Can we get more cyclone x maverick’s daughter pls??? I love your series and keep going back to re read it. 🫶🏻
ahh, thank you so much. i'm trying to get back to them, but life has been life-ing lately! i appreciate your patience while i continue to figure things out <3 send in your blurb requests in the mean time!
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bob floyd gets a concussion and is flustered and embarrassed when wife!reader tells him they’re married, and he doesn’t believe her because she’s so pretty
muaahahahaha😈😈😈 I absolutely loveee this !!!
warnings/tags: v minimal hospital stuff, anxious reader, (y/n) used like twice, fluff, bob is sooo in love lololl, very quick nsfw mention, also bob is southern because I SAID SO, reader is lowkey southern too cause i am and i’m projecting🥀
wc: 1.2k
a/n: sighhh i love bob so much, this was so fun to write :] thank you for the req !! plsss keep them comin !
It wasn't very often you were invited on base. You aren't not allowed there, you just never really had much of a reason to spend the day over there. So that's why you're a little fidgety as you make your way through the parking lot of the small hospital on base. That, and you had received a worrying phone call this morning.
You were lounging at home- enjoying your day off- when your phone rang. You recognized the number from the very few times you had been called by one of your husband's supervisors. A doctor had informed you that your husband had had to make an emergency eject during training and hit his head pretty hard.
You had panicked immediately but the doctor assured you Bob would be just fine; he just has a fairly serious concussion and his memory and motor skills are a bit wonky at the moment. You finished up the phone call and rushed over as quickly as you could.
You aren't waiting in the lobby very long before a nurse leads you back to your husband's room. Your heart almost breaks at the sight of him in his hospital bed, looking absolutely pitiful. He's sitting up slightly with his head tilted back facing the ceiling, his eyes closed and his breathing a bit slower than usual.
"Bobby? Honey, how're you feeling?" You're by his side in an instant, one hand caressing his arm and the other brushing along his forehead as his eyes flutter a few times before his head tilts toward you. His eyes are a bit fuzzy, unfocused, but he's still got that light he's always had- like the sun itself has taken root in him and couldn't help but shine through. "'m doin' okay, how're you?" He mumbles, his tone completely serious. You can't help but laugh at him; those southern manners imbedded deep in him. "I'm okay, just worried bout you, Bobby." You run your fingers along the edge of a small bandage on his forehead, before turning and reaching for his glasses.
Carefully, you slide them onto his face and watch in amusement as his mouth drops open. You go to speak, but he beats you to it; "I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." A pretty flush rises to his cheeks and his eyes stay wide open, like he doesn't want to blink and miss any microexpression you might make.
"Oh, thank you, handsome." You grin, cupping his chin with one hand and leaning in to brush your lips against his gently. You're shocked when his shaky arms do what they can to push you away- there's not much force behind his wobbly movements, but you back away and look down at him with furrowed brows. "Nonononono, stop stop- 'm married." He frantically tries to get out despite the slur in his voice.
"Baby-" You start, fighting the giggle in your voice. He shakes his head, a beautiful pout taking over his features. "I love my wife. She's perfect- you gotta back up." His eyes screw shut, he turns his head away from you, and his shaky hands rub his eyes. "Her name's (y/n), she's fuckin' great- pardon my l-language." He mumbles, mostly to himself at this point.
"Bob. My name is (y/n). My last name's Floyd. I'm your wife." You reach out to gently grasp his wrists. Bob whips his head toward you so fast he's dizzy for a few moments. You keep your eyes on him, unsure whether to laugh or call for a nurse. Once his eyes really focus on you he seems to deflate, his arms falling to his lap and his cheeks quickly heat up a bright red. He looks.. nervous. "You okay?" You hum, slowly reaching out for him.
A beat of silence passes before he opens his mouth, his bottom lip trembling, "I missed youuu." He finally says- his hand shooting out to meet yours. He overshoots it a bit, though, and smacks your shoulder. You let out a relieved laugh, grabbing his hand and interlacing your fingers together. God, he really scared you for a second. "You're really my wife? How?" He asks, looking absolutely amazed as you run your fingers along his cheekbones.
"It's a very long story, Bobby. But I love you." You grin, leaning down to kiss his forehead. He lets out a dreamy sigh, reaching up with his free hand to grip onto your shoulder. "Yeah? God, you're so pretty." He blinks up at you, unable to fight the smile on his face.
For a moment, you're stunned by just how beautiful he is- pink cheeks, wide eyes, and a boyish grin; a little beat up and bruised but easily the most gorgeous man you've ever seen. You chest seems to swell up with all the love you feel for your husband. You feel a tugging at your shirt and realize he's said something to you. "Sorry, what'd you say, honey?"
"'m tryna sweep you off your feet, sweetheart- you're makin' it hard." Bob grumbles, letting go of your hand to grip at the front of your shirt so he can tug you down with both arms. You let out a breathy laugh, allowing him to pull you closer. "I'm so very sorry." You grin against his lips before giving in.
He tastes the same, he's got the usual enthusiasm, his technique's just a bit wonky. You honestly wouldn't change it for the world. The kiss only breaks when he's gasping and you have to push him away or he won't stop. It's his favorite thing- drowning in you; in your eyes, your lips, your pussy. God, just the thought of having you has blood rushing to his dick so fast he's a bit lightheaded.
You press one last lingering kiss to his lips before you're pulling back and turning to grab a chair. "Doctor said you gotta spend the night here so-"
"Need my pillow- need to move my pillow." Bob's voice is urgent when he interrupts you and you're letting go of the chair and running your eyes over him to see if anything's changed. "Where? Are you okay? You hurting?" You question him as you carefully slide the pillow out from behind him. He just furrows his brows and chews on his lip as you hold the pillow beside him for a moment. "Where do you want it, Bobby?" You repeat, worry clawing up your throat.
"My lap." One of his wobbly arms grabs onto the pillow and tugs it toward him- you don't let go just yet, your fear turning to confusion. A "Huh?" tumbles from your lips and Bob is grinning. "So pretty, my wife.. Gave me a kiss and I popped a boner." He sighs, still fighting with you for the pillow as he starts to giggle to himself over the word 'boner'.
You let go of the pillow with an incredulous laugh and watch as he settles it over his lap. Surely there's no way he's at full mast with all the pain meds in his system- you almost want to check- but you just shake your head and settle into the chair next to his hospital bed. You thread your fingers with his and settle your head onto his boner-hiding pillow, keeping your eyes on his as he traces his unsteady fingers along your features.
Bob stares at you in wonder, wondering what he could've done to ever possibly deserve having you. "My wife." He murmurs, reverently, like he can't quite believe it.
"Maybe we'll renew our vows when you aren't so hopped up on pain meds."
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If you’re up to it, how did reader announce the first pregnancy to Beau and how did he take it? Were they trying? Was she a whoops? I need answers!😂
<3 here ya go!
It had been a random Saturday morning. You’d woken up with a strange feeling — one part nerves, one part excitement, two parts nausea. You weren’t late by much, but there’d been a softness in your body lately, a kind of stillness that you couldn’t quite explain.
You hadn’t been trying exactly — but you hadn’t been not trying either. After a few long conversations filled with “what ifs” and “not yets” and “somedays,” you and Beau had landed in a space that felt like: if it happens, we’ll be ready.
But nothing prepared you for the sight of those two pink lines.
You’d taken the test alone while Beau had gone on a walk to get coffee. And then, because one test wasn’t enough, you took two more. All lined up on the counter, as clear and bold and life-altering as anything you’d ever seen.
You cried. A little. You laughed too — mostly from disbelief. Then cried again, sitting on the closed toilet lid, whispering, “Oh my god,” over and over like it might settle the butterflies erupting in your chest.
You wanted to tell Beau in a way that felt right. Not dramatic. Not scripted. Just you. You were too excited to wait, so you tucked a test into a little bag, grabbed your jacket, and called him to meet you at the boardwalk where he liked to people-watch on slow mornings.
As you strolled, you suggested getting photos taken in the old photo booth by the pier — the one you both had used once during your first year of dating, where the film had jammed and all you’d gotten was one blurry strip of your laughing faces. It had become your thing ever since.
This time, you sat down next to him in the booth with a small, nervous smile. Beau raised an eyebrow at the camera lens, already suspicious, but obliging.
You climbed onto the bench beside him and slid some bills into the slot. The countdown blinked on screen.
3… 2… 1…
First photo: a regular smile. His arm over your shoulder. Yours tight around his waist. You were vibrating.
Second photo: you shakily pulled the test from your jacket pocket and held it up like a secret about to be spoken. His eyes dropped to it, brows drawing together.
Third photo: realization dawned in his eyes — jaw slack, eyebrows raised, that slow, blinking disbelief.
Fourth photo: he turned his head toward you, eyes glassy, a disbelieving smile spreading across his face. And you? You were already crying. Smiling. Shaking. He leaned in and kissed you then, soft and grateful and reverent.
“You’re serious?” He’d whispered, leaning his head against yours, foreheads touching, both of you laughing with the kind of joy that only comes from stepping off a cliff together and loving the freefall.
The machine whirred and clicked, and the strip of freshly printed photos slid out from the side of the booth with a mechanical sigh.
Beau grabbed it first, eyes darting down the line of images, each frame more unreal than the last. He didn’t say anything at first — just stared.
“Are you happy?” You asked, voice soft.
He looked at you, the strip of photos still pinched between his fingers. “Are you kidding? Of course I’m happy. I’m gonna be a dad.” He reached out, cradling your jaw with his free hand. “And you’re gonna be the most incredible mom.”
You let out a tiny laugh, partly from relief, partly because the word mom still sounded surreal.
When you got back home, you hadn’t said much. You didn’t need to. Beau walked straight into the kitchen, grabbed a magnet, and immediately placed the photo strip right on the fridge — next to the old one from the early days. It was unspoken, but clear. This moment belonged right there, next to the beginning.
Weeks later, after your first ultrasound, you added the sonogram.
Then another.
And eventually, a small collection of baby-shaped shadows and photo booth strips stood side by side — your love story, told in refrigerator snapshots. Beau would sometimes pass by and pause, touching the newest one with a quiet smile. You caught him doing it more than once when he thought you weren’t looking.
And somehow, every time you opened the fridge door, it felt like you were opening a chapter of your life that was still being written — frame by frame, photo by photo.
I’m dying to know what Beau and readers wedding was like 😍😍
love this ask! it's been so fun getting back to beau and reader. i've been going through it y'all so this was a nice distraction :)
The afternoon was warm with salt and sunlight, the ocean just beyond the palms humming its soft rhythm like a blessing. Strings of lights were strung between trees, swaying slightly in the breeze; a canopy of celebration. Everything was exactly how you’d dreamed it: simple, elegant, and full of heart.
You didn’t want to be walked down the aisle. Not because you didn’t deserve to be, but because the life you had built, the strength you stood in, had been yours alone for a long time. So you entered the ceremony solo, the back of your dress a sculpted cross of silk and bare skin, sunlight catching your shoulders as you made your way down the aisle line with wooden chairs draped in ivory flowers.
Every step echoed with certainty. With choice.
And at the end of the aisle stood Beau.
He wasn’t one to wear his heart on his sleeve in public, but this was different. The second he saw you, something in him broke open. His hand moved instinctively to his mouth like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Tears welled up, fast and unashamed, and when you finally reached him, he took your hand like it was the only thing anchoring him to the earth.
There were a few dozen people there: his family, your chosen family, your tightest circle. All of them beaming or teary-eyed, soaking in the stillness and sanctity of it all. There was no music blaring, no extravagant decor — just the scent of flowers, ocean air, and the quiet murmur of love.
The ceremony was short, heartfelt. Your vows were simple and true. His voice cracked as he promised to never let you go, not in fear, not in failure, not even in the quiet spaces where life slows down. You laughed softly when you almost dropped the ring — a beautiful, slightly imperfect oval diamond set in gold — and he caught it with a smirk like, “You always keep me on my toes.”
You kissed to a round of cheers and clinking glasses of cocktails garnished with white orchids. The cake, two tiers of vanilla bean with soft buttercream, was as unpretentious and lovely as the rest of the day. And your reception under the lights was a warm, magical blur: barefoot dancing to Van Morrison, stolen kisses, slow moments in the grass.
Later, when the crowd had started to thin and the night had deepened, you and Beau slipped away to sit quietly together, away from everyone else. You leaned into him, your fingers tracing the edge of his lapel.
“You okay?” He whispered.
You looked up at him, eyes turning glassy again. “Yeah,” you said, voice thick. “I just… I didn’t know it could feel like this.”
“Like what?” He asked.
“Like home.”
And you were right. It wasn’t just your wedding day. It was the beginning of something sacred. You had built a life already and now you were anchoring it. Together.
Just the two of you… before the chapters of little feet, and drowsy 3 a.m. feedings, and the chaos of building a family.
But on that day, under the glow of the string lights and vows whispered into golden air, it was enough. It was everything.
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