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tropes-and-tales · 3 months

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You'd Be Surprised

For the super-late Winter Prompts (2023 Edition)! The master list can be found here!

This one was requested by the patient @justreblogginfics!

"From Sad Christmas prompts: #9 (being dumped before the holidays) with Beau "Cyclone" Simpson"

CW: Light angst (talk of infidelity).

Word Count: 1841

Vice Admiral Beau Simpson is deep in thought, lost in the pile of reports and memos on his desk when a soft knock at his door draws him out of his focus.

“Come in,” he calls out, and the door opens to admit you.

TOPGUN, Beau often says, runs on its support staff—many of them civilians, like you. Tech support, human resources, finance and accounting…it all keeps the machinery running smoothly so he and his pilots can focus on training, on missions, on testing new tech.

It’s always a balancing act, working with the civilian support corp. There’s a level of respect, of course, but he can’t quite ask his HR representative to drop and give him a hundred push-ups if his pension paperwork is wrong. Beau has to walk the fine line of being professional without being a drill sergeant, and sometimes he struggles.

He’s never struggled with you, though.

You’re pretty, but Beau is mostly immune to pretty women, since he’s always put his career above relationships and dating. You’re funny, but no one would ever accuse Beau of having much of a sense of humor.

No—with you, it was your competence that caught his eye first. You’re that rare blend of book-smart, experienced, and emotionally apt. You have an aura of wisdom, a whole cool-and-collected schtick that seems to act on those around you. You run your department as well as Beau runs TOPGUN, but you manage to inspire your team without the threat of calisthenics.

You’re the sharpest person Beau has ever met, and if he’s mostly immune to pretty women, he’s an absolute goner around smart ones. He’s been in love with you since the day he sat in one of your meetings and watched you corral a bunch of egomaniac, hot-headed career military men without breaking a sweat.

The only issue? You’re engaged.

You’ve been engaged for as long as Beau has known you. Engaged to a grunt in the Coast Guard, the mediocre sort of man that Beau has seen a thousand times in the military: enlisted because of some vague, Hollywood-fed misplaced notion of bad-assery, does the bare minimum, barely managed to rise to the rank of petty officer. For all your amazing traits, your relationship seems to be a blind spot to you, because no matter what angle Beau examines it from, he can’t for the life of him see why you bother.

He tried to draw you out, just the once. The two of you had been holding a working dinner in his office, and the conversation had drifted into the personal over dim sum. Beau had pointed his chopsticks in the direction of your left hand, made a mild joke about the Coast Guard not paying your fiance enough to afford a bigger diamond.

He felt like shit immediately afterwards, the way your face fell at the comment, the way you tucked your hand away on your lap and replied with something slightly defensive. But then you added, almost to yourself, that at least you’d gotten a ring, finally, so Beau guessed that there was an entire roiling ocean beneath your calm façade.

Still, he apologized that night, then again the next day, and then again at least three more times before you had smiled at him and told him not to worry about it.

The two of you have been on firm footing ever since, like Beau’s fumbling joke never happened—and he loves that about you too, how you move past things, how you don’t hold a grudge.

But now, as you enter his office, he can immediately tell that something is off. You look just the same, but that calming aura of yours feels off. It’s like big spiky thorns of some emotion (Anger? Frustration?) are threaded through, and it follows you like a storm cloud as you set a sheaf of paperwork in front of him.

Beau arches his eyebrows at you, but you miss the gesture. A beat later, he asks, “everything alright?”

“Fine, sir.” It comes out terse, bitten-off, like you’re clenching your jaw.

“You sure?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Beau watches you for a beat longer, but you only stare back at him, impassive, so he turns to the paperwork. That’s when he notices it, and he’s not sure how he didn’t notice it immediately because it’s been the proverbial stone in his craw since he fell for you.

Your left ring finger is bare. The cheap-looking metal band, the paltry diamond—it’s missing. There’s nothing there but the faintest line, a stripe of skin slightly paler than your usual skin tone.

You notice when he notices. He glances up and meets your gaze, and it’s no longer impassive. There’s an entire novel written in your expression: pain and anger and sadness, and a hint of challenge to see how he might react or what he may say.

If you’re expecting him to make another joke in poor taste, he disappoints you. He gestures at the chair across from him and offers for you to sit, and then he asks again, far softer, “is everything alright?”

You sit down, but you don’t answer him other than offering a faint shake of your head.

“You want to talk about it?”

Another shake of the head. “No, sir, but thank you.”

“You sure?”

That makes you smile, even for a brief second. “I don’t think relationship woes fall under the purview of a vice admiral.”

Beau smiles back at you. “You’d be surprised.”

You shake your head again, but you lift your hands in a helpless gesture before they fall back into your lap. “Nothing much to say, really. He was cheating, and he had been for a long time. I have no idea how I never noticed it.”

If anyone would have ever questioned the selflessness of Beau’s love for you, this would prove it to them. At your news, he doesn’t feel relief for you to be single finally, and he doesn’t feel vindication that his bad impression of your fiancé was proven right. He only feels a low-burning fury at the man for hurting you. Beau, at his core, wants you to be happy…even if it isn’t with him.

But he’d love to be the one to make you happy, all the same.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you, earnest. “You didn’t deserve that.”

You shrug but don’t add more, and Beau can guess at part of your angst. The holidays are mere weeks away, and you are an unabashed Christmas-lover. You love nothing more than all the cliched stuff: baking and decorating and wearing ugly sweaters and drinking spiced wine while Bing Crosby croons in the background. It’s your time of the year, but now? Now you’re facing it single and devastated by being cheated on.

Beau hates to see you looking so sad now, so he adds, “want me to pull some strings and get him posted somewhere terrible?”

It does the trick: it makes you smile again. “He loves the ocean. Hence the Coast Guard. Nowhere is terrible for him.”

“Atlantic Area has Station Chicago. As far from an ocean as a guy can get in the States.”

Your smile widens. “He does hate the Midwest.”

“Say the word and I’ll make a call.”

“How fast can you get him there? I’d really love to see his Christmas fucked up, y’know? Since he fucked up mine.”

It startles a laugh out of Beau. He’s never heard you swear before, and he’s never heard you express any emotion even in the vicinity of vengeance. Despite the circumstances, he finds he likes it. There’s a bit of fire to you, and he never would have guessed at it before.

“Don’t let him fuck up your holiday season,” he says. “Not to sound like some best friend in a Hallmark movie, but he’s not worth it.”

That startles a laugh out of you. “And how do you know about the tropes of a Hallmark movie, exactly?”

“You’d be surprised.”

The smile on your face turns soft. “I suppose I can skip the dramatic post-breakup haircut and rally for the sake of Yuletide cheer.”

“That’s my girl,” he says, and the nickname slides out of his mouth so easily that he doesn’t even notice until the words hit you. He sees your eyes widen the barest fraction, your smile turning a fraction uncertain around the edges, but you don’t say anything so the moment passes and you turn to the business at hand.

You walk him through the preliminary budget reports you and your team pulled together. Beau makes up for the awkward moment by asking more questions than usual, asking about certain earmarks and program details. You answer each question with your usual cool competence, but when he chances a look at you, you have the same soft, slightly uncertain smile on your face.

You noted the nickname. Beau knows you won’t forget it anytime soon. A lesser man might despair at showing his cards right out of the gate, but Beau didn’t become a vice admiral by waffling about what he wants.

He wants you. He’s wanted you since he first started working with you. No sense in pretending otherwise. Coy games of cat-and-mouse are for Hallmark movies and children. He’s a grown man, and you’re a grown woman, and he will respect your need to recover from your disappointing engagement ending, but he won’t pretend that he isn’t interested, once you’re ready.

Once the reports are reviewed, signed, and rubber-stamped, he hands them back to you. You take them, stand up, and you start to turn towards the door, but he stops you by asking, “are you still planning on going to Warlock’s holiday party?”

That same soft smile with a hint of hesitation before you shrug, then nod.

“I thought I might skip it. Stay home with a tub of ice cream, you know? But maybe I’m rallying faster than I thought I would,” you tell him.

“I’m glad to hear it. I hope you can make it.”

Another nod and you turn to leave, but when you lay your hand on the doorknob, you pause and turn back to face him.

“Thank you, sir. I…appreciate it.”

“Beau.” He says it softly, like if he barks it out as an order, he might scare you away. It isn’t mandatory that you call him “sir” like you do—you’ve always just extended that level of respect—but the two of you have just shared a moment, and he’s loathed to let you feel like you’re on uneven footing.

When you’re ready, and when Beau makes his move, he wants to make sure you’re absolutely clear on this point: you’re equals, and he’s not a vice admiral but just a man, and you’re not a member of staff but just a woman.

“You can call me Beau,” he adds, and then you do—you nod, and you say his name, and it makes that soft smile on your face bloom into something brighter.

#beau simpson #beau simpson imagine #beau cyclone simpson #cyclone simpson #cyclone simpson imagine #cyclone imagine #top gun maverick #winter prompts 2023 #tropes and tales

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mr-e-gallery · 4 months

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Mr. E Gallery 'The Front Yard' (01-24) Trapped inside on an icy day!!!

#mr. e gallery #photography #edmond simpson #lincoln city #winter

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jinxxparodiesproductions · 1 year

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What came to mind whenever Lady Dimitrescu grabbed Ethan by his neck

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daystilchristmas · 7 months

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There's 56 Days Til Christmas!

#Winter #Snow #Christmas #Christmas Countdown #The Simpsons

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howlingday · 3 months

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Winter: (Memory loss + 3) Ugh... My head.

Qrow: Don't worry. I made sure you got the good medicine. Vacuo likes to keep the best stuff to themselves.

Winter: Oh, thank you. I'm so lucky to have such a kind... uncle?

Qrow: Unc- Win, I'm your husband!

Winter: What?!

Qrow: It's true! We're the same age, too!

Winter: But you look so much more... ravaged than I am.

#rwby #the simpsons #snowbird #qrowin #qrow branwen #winter schnee

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ravensuizo · 9 months

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There's this part in the demo 2 in which Mia gives MC a present (for them to deliver to Miranda) and for some strange reason the first thing that came to mind after reading it was warm, was that that thing was radioactive and MC was done for- So I'll leave this here and probably go into hiding again

#resident lover #mia winters #fanart #resident evil village #Remember that intro in The Simpsons?#The one where Homer accidentally leaves the power plant with an uranium bar in his clothes?#Yeah that was the reference

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thecittiverse · 7 months

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"Check it out, boy. It's like looking into a living snow mirror."

Frinktober 2023 Day 28: Christmas Episode

Bart' building his suboptimal snowman from "Marge Be Not Proud."

See the whole prompt list here.

#frinktober #inktober #simpsontober #drawtober #the simpsons #bart simpson #snowman #marge be not proud #homer simpson #marge simpson #maggie simpson #lisa simpson #christmas #christmas episode #fanart #thecittiverse #cittiverse #winter

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mysillylittlecountdown · 7 months

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𝟟𝟟 𝔻𝔸𝕐𝕊 𝕌ℕ𝕋𝕀𝕃 ℂℍℝ𝕀𝕊𝕋𝕄𝔸𝕊

#christmas countdown #christmas #xmas #merry xmas #merry christmas #winter #snow #eggnog #the simpsons

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rinabirgul · 10 months

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68 days to october ..

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a-reader-and-a-writer · 1 year

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Secret Santa

Winter Whumperland: Day 6. Shared Holiday Meal

Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, f!reader, Simpson!Reader

Summary: With everyone heading home for the holidays, the Daggers decide to throw a last-minute holiday party before they leave. And your secret Santa takes you by surprise.

Word Count: 1758

TW: Fluff

Notes: This idea started out as more of a group fic (hence the header) but slowly transformed into a Rooster fic as I wrote it.

It was a Christmas miracle that the entire Dagger Squad was somehow able to all get leave for the holidays. It was almost unheard of but no one wanted to ask any questions in case someone realized a mistake had been made. And so, tickets home to visit family had been purchased all around and everyone began to pack their bags to leave.

Only two members of the squad were staying in town. Rooster had agreed to spend the holidays with Mav, Penny, and Amelia. It was the first time in over fifteen years he would be spending the holidays with his godfather and both men were secretly very excited about the idea. And you were staying near North Island to spend the holiday season with your father. As the Air Boss at Top Gun, it wasn’t surprising that Cyclone wasn’t able to get Christmas day off, yet he had managed to work it out so he would be able to be home early. It was more than you usually got with him so you were beyond thrilled.

And yet….

It was amazing how close all of you had become in the last few months. While most of you had known each other either personally or by reputation before the Dagger Mission, the bonds that formed between the members of your team were stronger than any of you had experienced in past assignments. Personally, you chalked it up to Mav’s training and focus on teamwork and support. But regardless of the reason, the Dagger Squad had become its own small family.

Which was what made the fact you were all going to be scattered across the country for the holidays so bittersweet. You were all going to be with one family but leaving another behind. Which was why everyone immediately got on board when Bob suggested a mini-Dagger Christmas the night before everyone left.

It was decided they would hold a potluck dinner where everyone brought their favorite holiday treat. Payback organized a Secret Santa and had everyone draw names from his helmet when they were leaving training (Hangman had offered to do it, but no one trusted him not to put his name down on every slip of paper). Phoenix, Bob, and Fanboy took charge of the decorations while Coyote created the perfect holiday music playlist (yet another job everyone refused to let Hangman do). Rooster agreed to pick up the alcohol from the Hard Deck after you somehow managed to talk your dad into letting you hold the party in the rec room on base. For such little planning time, everything seemed like it came together flawlessly.

That was until you arrived. The room looked amazing. Strings of lights, tinsel, and ornaments covered the walls while large paper snowflakes hung down from the ceiling. A table had been set up along the back wall for the food and drinks so you quickly headed back there to deposit your plate of cookies.

But when you reached it, you stared at the items all laid out and sighed loudly. “Jake.”

Hangman crossed the room to where you were standing. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Wasn’t your job to make sure everyone was bringing something different?”

“Uh, if I remember correctly, you just said to find out what everyone was bringing and make a list.” He grinned widely. “I think everyone made excellent choices.”

You groaned as you looked back at the table which was filled with nothing but eggnog and a variety of cookies. So much for dinner.

“The eggnog on that end of the table is already spiked.” He pointed towards the six bottles to the left. Then pointing to the only small bottle on the right, he added. “That one is plain.”

Rolling your eyes, you said, “Good to know. I’ll make sure to tell Bob.”

Hangman grabbed a gingerbread man from the plate at the center of the table. With a wink, he snapped off the head between his teeth and said, “And don’t forget to try one of these. They’re an old Seresin family secret recipe.” And then he walked off to where Coyote was hooking up the speakers.

You groaned again as you scrubbed your hand over your face. It really shouldn’t have surprised you that Hangman would do this and if you had to guess, he probably even encouraged others to bring one of the two items in front of you.

“It’s okay. I just ordered a dozen pizzas and they should be here in about an hour.”

You looked up in surprise to see Rooster suddenly standing next to you. “You didn’t have to do that. That must have cost you a fortune.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it. I put it on Mav’s card.” Rooster said.

Laughing, you said, “Remind me to thank him later.” Poking Rooster in the chest, you added. “Great sweater by the way. Very appropriate.”

Rooster looked down at the giant chicken wearing a Santa hat that was on his chest. “Thanks. I saw it and couldn’t resist.”

The two of you stood in silence for a minute, each munching on a cookie. But just as you finished yours and was about to excuse yourself, Rooster pulled an envelope out of his back pocket and offered it to you. “I’m not sure how we are doing this, but this is for you. I’m your secret Santa.”

“Oh!” you said in surprise. “Thank you.”

Taking the envelope, you tore it open and peered inside. Your jaw dropped as you looked back up at him. “Are these…”

Rooster smiled as he nodded. “I know you were talking about how bummed you were that the concert sold out before you could get tickets. Merry Christmas.”

Still in shock, you removed the two plastic cards and the attached lanyards. “Rooster, these aren’t just tickets. These are backstage passes. Don’t tell me you put these on Mav’s credit card too?”

“No, then it wouldn’t have been a gift from me.”

“You realize we had a $20 gift limit. This is so, so much more than that!”

He shook his head. “Technically, I didn’t pay for them. I have a buddy from an old deployment who is working private security now, including for that concert. He owed me a favor so I just made a few calls.” He shifted slightly. “I hope that doesn’t lessen the gift.”

You threw your arms around his neck. “Are you kidding? Of course not! This is absolutely amazing. Thank you so much!”

“Oh, um, you’re welcome. I’m glad you like them.” He patted your back softly, clearly surprised by the hug. You pulled back to see his face had turned red underneath his mustache.

Releasing him and taking a step back, you said, “Man, now I just feel bad all I got Coyote was a dart board to set up in his dorm.” Looking down at your present again, you held up the passes. “Who is the second one for?”

Rooster shrugged. “Whoever you want. I figured you might have more fun if you have someone go with you.”

“Would… would you want to go? I mean, you did get them for me and pretty much everyone else I know around here will still be gone on leave. But if you don’t want to–”

“No. I’d love to go with you.”

You blinked in surprise. “Great! Um, yeah. We can figure out the details later but it’s a date!” You felt your cheeks grow hot. “I mean, not a ‘date, date’, just that we have set a date for us to do something. Together. I–I’ll stop talking now.”

“I got what you meant,” he said with a small smile.

You smiled back. Just then, Phoenix called to Rooster from the other side of the room. Glancing over, you said, “Looks like you’re needed. But thank you again. This really is the best Christmas present anyone has ever gotten me.”

“You’re welcome. And Merry Christmas.”

Rooster started to walk away but as he passed you, you reached out and grabbed his arm. Then you placed a quick kiss on his cheek. His face grew bright red once more but he smiled brightly at you. Then you released his arm and he walked over to Phoenix.

The rest of the evening went great. Once the pizzas arrived, no one really seemed to mind the overabundance of cookies and eggnog. When Mav and Penny showed up later in the night, everyone yelled “Thanks for the pizza” as they walked in. The bewildered couple just smiled and nodded as they exchanged glances. Rooster explained later and everyone had a good laugh about it.

Coyote loved his gift but told you not to tell Hangman about it. He wanted to practice in secret so he might finally be able to beat the other aviator. You promised and told him to let you know anytime he wanted someone to play against.

It was just before midnight when you saw your dad slip into the room. No one else seemed to have noticed Cyclone grab a drink and a few cookies before retreating to the back corner. Excusing yourself from your conversation with Bob and Phoenix, you walked over to him.

“Hey. Glad you could make it.”

He nodded. “I was just about to leave for the night and figured I would stop by to make sure you all hadn’t destroyed the place.”

“I would be mad you thought so poorly of us, but honestly, that doesn’t sound too unimaginable,” you laughed. Then you bumped your shoulder against his arm. “Thanks for arranging it so everyone gets to go home for Christmas. I know how much that means to all of them.”

He took a sip of his eggnog. “Yeah, well, they deserve it after what they accomplished this year.” Turning to look at you, he added, “Sorry you’re stuck here for leave. But I do appreciate you staying so we can spend the holidays together.”

You wrapped your arms around his waist and gave him a big hug. “Of course! This is the first time we’ve both been stateside for Christmas in years. I wasn’t going to miss the chance to celebrate with you.”

He squeezed you back. “Thanks, kiddo. I’m just sorry that I still have to work for most of your leave. It seems like such a waste of your time off.”

You caught Rooster’s eye from across the room and he gave you a shy, but warm smile. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m sure I can find something to keep me occupied.”

Taglist:@loverhymeswith, @babblydrabbly, @green-socks, @mayhem24-7forever, @11thstreetvigilante, @the-untamed-soul, @inglourious-imagines, @topguncortez, @footprintsinthesxnd, @airhogger, @notroosterbradshaw, @straightforwardly, @bonnieelizabethparker, @srry-itshockeyszn, @flyinlove, @fandomhopped, @sweetheartlizzie07, @yjwnoot, @wanderdreamer, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @fangirlinc, @sparrows-corner, @therebeccaw, @mads-weasley, @trencher4lyfe, @merlehs, @sunshineflowerchild789, @imjess-themess, @callsign-phoenix, @maggie8002sq, @je-suis-prest-rachel, @tellrock35, @shanimallina87, @mak-32

#amow winter whumperland 2022 #shared holiday meal #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun #top gun: maverick #top gun maverick #miles teller #f!reader #simpson!reader #fluff

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a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all · 1 year

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Secret Santa

Winter Whumperland: Day 6. Shared Holiday Meal

Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, f!reader, Simpson!Reader

Summary: With everyone heading home for the holidays, the Daggers decide to throw a last-minute holiday party before they leave. And your secret Santa takes you by surprise.

Word Count: 1758

TW: Fluff

Notes: This idea started out as more of a group fic (hence the header) but slowly transformed into a Rooster fic as I wrote it.