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lieutenantfloyd · 21 hours
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A small town romance with Hangman ♡
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lieutenantfloyd · 6 days
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Cyclone: I found a note in one of my old word .docs that said Note to self: Get revenge on Maverick. Cyclone: Except I couldn't remember what I was supposed to get revenge for. Cyclone: But I trusted my own judgment, so I went with it. Maverick: Hmm... I don't know what you were supposed to get revenge for, either. Cyclone: I can only assume you got what was coming to you. Not 100 percent sure, though. Maverick: Well, whatever I did, I guess I deserved it. Cyclone: Let that possibly be a lesson to you.
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lieutenantfloyd · 6 days
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Springtime with Phoenix ♡
Requested by @littlemiss-fanficlover!
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lieutenantfloyd · 7 days
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Phoenix: So I have made the decision to trust you. Rooster: A horrible decision, really.
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lieutenantfloyd · 8 days
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Phoenix: This is getting embarrassing. Bob: Getting? We’re already there!
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lieutenantfloyd · 9 days
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Cyclone: Whatcha got there..? Maverick: *petting a ostrich* A smoothie.
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lieutenantfloyd · 11 days
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Rooster: I'm gonna need a human skull but you can't ask why. Maverick: Only if you also don't ask why. Maverick: *pulls four pristine human skulls out of their bag* Rooster: ... Rooster, grabbing a skull: This one will do.
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lieutenantfloyd · 12 days
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When Duty Calls Part 3 | Cyclone x Reader
Word count: <500
Summary: Beau reckons with the weight of his orders and his untold feelings.
Warnings: mentions of romantic feelings, anxiety, and superior/subordinate relationships.
Authors note: This is a quick chapter, but it gives a peak into Cyclone's conflicted thoughts ahead of the mission.
Read on AO3
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From the moment he was ushered into Iceman's office last week, Beau had been dangerously on edge. Thoughts of how his vision got blurry when the candidate list crossed his desk and the way his voice threatened to waver each time he had to mention your name rang loudly in his mind. 
The cherry on top of his miserable cake was getting your text this afternoon. Even after months of radio silence, you still regarded him so sweetly— a fact that only worsened the hurt and guilt living in his chest. 
He had typed and retyped a reply a thousand times by now, but no response would ever feel right. Beau tosses his phone onto his desk and lets out a sigh before reclining further into his leather chair. He stares up and watches the lazy ceiling fan spin as he ruminates over the situation he's found himself in. 
Being in silent, helpless love with his subordinate-turned-closest friend was a fact that kept him awake more nights than he'd ever like to admit. Worse still was how his biggest curse also happened to be his largest saving grace, seeing as how for the last 4 years you had been stationed in Key West or shipped off to the other side of the world. Another fact that he, by yet another miracle, had nothing to do with. Above all else, he wished you were back in town under better circumstances. If this was the situation of one of his colleagues, he'd give them a dry laugh and simply tell them to man up and get their priorities in check. But he wasn't them, and you were, well, you.
Steeling his nerves, he types up yet another reply, only this time he hits send before he can second guess himself. The nerves set in quickly, but It's too late now. Leaving him to resume his watch of the ceiling fan as if there isn't a mountain of paperwork calling his name. Paperwork that has your portrait pinned to the top.
He lets out a silent prayer, asking that somehow you never receive his words at all. He briefly considers putting his phone on airplane mode, but he knows his meager words are already illuminating your phone screen. With the weight of the world resting on his shoulders, he swallows the lump in his throat and forces himself to begin tackling the ever-growing mountain of paper that has found a home on his desk. Even though his mind is anywhere but here, he knows most of it needs to be signed off on before tomorrow's debrief. With each stroke of his pen his thoughts spiral harder, leaving him to simply hope that over the next two weeks, you won't grow to hate him for what he's been ordered to put you through.
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lieutenantfloyd · 13 days
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Hangman: I type how I think.
Rooster: Odd that you type at all then.
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lieutenantfloyd · 13 days
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Maverick: Rules were made to be broken.
Cyclone: They were made to be followed. Nothing is made to be broken.
Hangman: Uh, piñatas.
Phoenix: Glow sticks.
Rooster: Karate boards.
Bob: Spaghetti when you have a small pot.
Maverick: Rules.
Cyclone:
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lieutenantfloyd · 14 days
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send me a made-up fic title and i'll tell you what i would write to go with it
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lieutenantfloyd · 14 days
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girlhood is wanting to kiss Feyd-Rautha's massive white forehead <3
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lieutenantfloyd · 19 days
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Bob: The salary of a clown is 51,000 dollars. Bob, gesturing to Hangman and Rooster fighting: And yet these idiots do it daily, and for free
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lieutenantfloyd · 23 days
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Love is a mystery | Robert "Rosie" Rosenthal x reader
Word Count: 841
Summary: With Harry’s help, Rosie finds old hobbies and new love in post-war New York.
Warnings: Mentions, of war, implied ptsd and depression, talk of marriage and pregnancy.
Authors Note: I honestly don't know where this idea came from, but I think my brain needed something a bit fluffy after watching all nine episodes of Master of the Air in two days and crying the whole time. [This is based off of the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I have nothing but wholehearted respect for the real life individuals and situations portrayed.]
Read on AO3
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In the months following their return stateside, Crosby takes a trip to see Rosie. During a nice casual lunch, he spends far too long dancing around the fact that Rosie is visibly not okay, and eventually suggests that getting back into things he enjoyed before the war will greatly help his readjustment.
Rosie briefly considered placating him with an "I'm fine, really," but he only nods, unable to lie to Crosby. 
The truth is Rosie hasn't slept one full night since his first at Thorpe Abbotts and he gladly accepts shaky hands and reddened eyes over the twilight memories of what he saw and those he's lost.
Yet, after a night of particularly bad insomnia, he takes Crosby's words to heart and heads to the library. The pen trembles against Rosie's calloused hand while he fills out the library's card application, but his voice is steady when he asks the pretty librarian for recommendations.
He's too distracted by your shiny, kind eyes to notice how you recognize the distant look in his own. contrarily, You note in your diary that night how you couldn't tell if it was sympathy or his easy charm that made your heart race wildly while suggesting some classics and mysteries that should keep his mind busy.
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"you need to get out more, Rosie," Crosby states in a letter one day.
It just so happens that during a now routine trip to the library, Rosie notices a half-hidden flier for an Agatha Christie book club pinned to the community board.
A week later—spurred onward once more by Harry's words—he pulls himself out of bed, has a shower and shave, and attends the meeting.
The cracked glass of Rosie's brown leather watch allows him to see he's half an hour late as he ascends up the small steps in front of the building.
Designated meeting room C is quiet and mostly dark as he pulls the handle. He's three solid steps inside the door when the room's sole occupant looks up at him—you, that same librarian with those same eyes.
He barely has half a mind to choose one of the provided refreshments—a cup of black coffee dangerously close to room temperature—before sinking into one of the many empty seats. The weary but logical part of him says that this is a waste of time, but the remnants of his fun-loving side tell him that he's got nothing to lose.
He takes a sip of coffee and sinks further into his seat.
While exchanging kind pleasantries, you retrieve a well loved copy of Why Didn't They Ask Evans? from your envelope handbag. Rosie quickly follows suit and slips his own newly bought but already dog eared book out of his leather coat pocket.
"So you liked it?" you inquire with joyfully clasped hands and a voice filled with breathtaking earnestness. After nearly choking on a hefty drink of coffee and his fluttery nerves, Rosie lets a bashful smile slip past his defenses.
Ninety minutes pass completely uncounted before Rosie steps back out onto the snowy, bustling New York City streets. He quickly shuffles home, tossing his coat and book onto a chair before dropping down onto his bed. He intends to return the items to their rightful place after a short rest, though the book will find a home on his bedside table after he spots your number jotted on the inside corner in loopy, flowing handwriting.
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Spring is well in bloom when Rosie and Harry see each other again. 
Rosie spends the following two days giving the Crosby family a tour of the best sights and eats his hometown has to offer. 
Their third evening in town has Crosby swaying his young son to the music flowing through the jazz bar while covertly helping Rosie draft his proposal speech. You and Jean are sat within arms reach, though you both pay the boys no mind as you're fully entranced by the music. The night winds on, and the draft becomes a full, completed speech. They share a coy laugh as Rosie slips the notebook back into his vest pocket, knowing that if all goes right this moment will find its way into Crosby's best man's speech.
In this smoky bar just past dinner time, they both accept that they aren't the same men they were before the war. They’d seen a hell no words could ever describe, and yet the world somehow kept turning. They escape to the bar soon after, where Harry tells him that he'll soon be a father once more. Rosie offers his congratulations and jokes that he won't be far behind. The bar is dim, but Crosby still catches a glimpse of the lighthearted playfulness returning to his friend's eyes.
You and Jean coo and fuss over the baby as the men say their goodbyes. Through an especially tight hug, they make each other a silent promise to keep holding on. If not for who they were before but for who they are—and what they have —now.
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lieutenantfloyd · 28 days
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Yooo I'm always happy to see new Dune writers! 🫶 Could you write sth about Feyd and Rabban competing for Reader's affection? Can be HCs or written, whatever suits you most
Competing for your affection headcanons | Feyd-Rautha & Rabban x reader
Warnings: mentions of blood, possessiveness, bullying, polyamory, and implied mental abuse.
Authors note: I have some ideas for a full fic, but I wanted to get some headcanons out first!
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From the moment their feelings arise, they are deeply competitive with each other and wholly possessive of you.
This often leads to physical fights between the brothers, only ceasing once there is a heavy mix of blood and humiliation.
The one thing they can both agree on is that if a threat arises, they will stop at nothing to keep you safe and defend your honor.
Neither one of them is going to try to woo you in a typical or expected manner.
Feyd-Rautha will put his focus into mind games and wearing you down mentally, while Rabban takes an uncharacteristically soft and physical approach.
Rabban fails to understand why Feyd is so outwardly cruel to you and often wonders if he should mimic Feyd’s actions as a way to win you over.
Meanwhile, Feyd takes pleasure in harassing Rabban over his glaring soft spot for you.
The interactions you have with them are wildly different for each brother.
Rabban needs someone to see through his rough exterior and grant him kind words and soft touches. Both things he’s never once received before.
Feyd-Rautha needs devotion, challenge, and the illusion of control. Attend his fights, dress his wounds, and call him sweetly by his title while also alluding to the fact that you will always hold the upper hand.
Their egos and emotional immaturity will eventually lead to their demise, which in turn allows you to toy with the situation as you wish.
If you choose to solely pursue the Na-Baron:
Rabban will descend into an absolute rampage, unable to cope with his unrequited feelings.
Feyd-Rautha, on the other hand, will grow even more confident at his perceived “victory”.
He’ll even go as far as dressing you up in Harkonnen dress and parading you around.
Behind closed doors, however, he’s completely at your mercy.
As Feyd gains more power and you make more public appearances as a couple, the reality of your relationship becomes more widely known.
It’s not long before it becomes glaringly obvious that while Feyd may have birthright and claim to thrones, you are the one truly in control.
If you choose to solely pursue the Count:
Rabban will take you back to his planet of Lankiveil before Feyd-Rautha can sink his blade into his brother's chest.
While at first he feels like he must be harsh to you, it quickly melts away until you see more signs of kindness from Rabban than you ever could have expected.
Rabban has had a hard life, and he doesn’t quite know what to do with or how to convey his feelings to you.
What he does know is how good treating you well makes him feel.
What starts as small gestures—like keeping you well fed and teaching you to defend yourself—eventually manifests into him waiting on you hand and foot.
Controversy will arise as the public becomes aware of your relationship.
The great houses, the brutal society of Geidi prime, and even the rest of the Harkonnens are completely incapable of understanding how you turned their fearsome Beast into your personal lap dog.
If you choose to pursue them both:
It will take careful planning along with keeping their behavior on a tight leash, but the reward certainly outweighs the risk and labor you need to invest in the relationship.
Initially they’ll both be needy, angry, and complicated. Frustrated as to why they can’t have you alone, while also being grateful to receive any affection in return.
You often have to act as a mediator between them.
Over time—and using your love as a common ground—a strange form of respect grows between them.
The Baron does not keep his disdain for your relationship a secret, afraid of how it will affect the House as well as the Emperors and the Bene Gesserit’s plans.
Feyd and Rabban are quick to match his words with their own unconcealed threats.
While their words barely phase him, The Baron is shaken to see the heirs finally getting along even momentarily.
With each of your unique skills now working together, both Feyd and Rabban are happy to serve your personal soldiers while you strategize to gain them more power over House Harkonnen and eventually the Imperium.
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lieutenantfloyd · 29 days
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thank you for writing for stilgar 🤭🙏💦 eternally gagged over nectar like OMGGGGG
Thank you very much for reading, I’m so happy you liked it! Your reaction Is what I strive for!
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lieutenantfloyd · 29 days
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Springtime with Bob ♡
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