#it's about Maverick and a dog

[abirddogmoment]

Mav was put to rest yesterday. His spine injury was affecting his quality of life and he deserved to go without suffering.

I have a lot of things to say about my beautiful dog. He was funny, he was easygoing, he was versatile, he was charming. But mostly, Mav was beloved. He was loved from his very first breath until his last, and he'll be loved for a long time still. He was loved by everyone he met and by people he'd never get the chance to meet, and he loved the entire world in return.

He was the coolest dog in the world. We could've had a hundred years together and it wouldn't have been enough. But we fit so much love into that little dog, he was full to bursting. And that's something at least.

[censeoceterum]

[compacflt]

do you ever think about/write about how maverick threw goose’s dog tags into the ocean? the letterboxd reviews have me thinking again.

yeah that was literally one of the first little things august 2022 me petulantly retconned . fuck that . he kept one.

in my (and many other ppls) opinion those weren’t mavs to throw away they should’ve stayed with carole

and (i try not to talk about this as much as possible but) it suggests Something about mav & goose’s relationship that the filmmakers thought his dog tags should go to mav instead of to Goose’s wife (though i acknowledge and appreciate the usefulness of the visual metaphor of him saying goodbye to goose at the end of TG) (though that visual metaphor was rendered completely moot by the whole of TGM showing that mav HASNT moved on from goose and only moves on once he has the chance to save roosters life [which is why i retconned it])

ALSO? i am sure I’m not the first person to talk about this? But, to add a second layer of confusion & analysis, uh, the dogtags mav throws into the ocean aren’t goose’s.

I’m reading “metcalf, mike” from the backside. Those are VIPER’s dogtags. for some reason.

now i choose to believe that’s a props issue… someone grabbed the wrong set of tags & they were like ehhh no one will notice… script supervisor not doing their fucking job… so i choose to believe the filmmakers MEANT goose’s dogtags & it doesn’t change the end of the movie for me.

But im interested to hear from you—does that change/add anything to anyone’s analysis to know that mav threw VIPER’s tags into the ocean? there are a lot of really weird implications that come from taking what is probably a props fuck-up at face value!!! (Viper giving mav his tags [weird], viper being mav’s surrogate dad figure, thereby this scene becomes about mav saying goodbye to his FATHER finally,.. etc.)

[tea-time-terrier]

I need to know does the fish ever get identified as a different breed or mix and what's the weirdest or funniest one you've gotten

Oh man all the time! Even if people know what a rat terrier is, they have a little piebald miniature in mind and pigroast is...neither of those.

She is most commonly mis-identified as a miniature pinscher (I get it), a basenji (until they see the nub), and a doberman puppy (???).

My favourite was kelpie mix though <3

Funniest dog pike has mis-identified? A German pinscher. She was 100% convinced it was a rat terrier.

[be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie]

Nicknames That My Cousins Call Their Tiny Dog Maverick Ranked By How Well Pete "Maverick" Mitchell Would Respond to Them:

Mav: Canon, acceptable, and very common. His own son calls him that. He would respond normally.

Mavvy: I'll admit, it seems more suitable for a small white poodle than a small white man. That being said. I think this could be highly affective depending on who it's coming from and in what context it's in. Jokingly, by Goose, and involving alcohol? Mav will always respond ferally.

Rick: I literally never even thought of this one, but it is, in fact, in the name. Not normal. He would respond by being confused in a way that is awkward and not funny.

Ricky: Opposite of the last one. For some reason this one is oddly acceptable. Again, it depends on the person though. I actually can see both Charlie and Carole pulling this one off fantastically. He would respond by acting normal but internally being so caught off guard.

Also, my apologies for Iceman not being mentioned in the list at all. He simply calls Mav Peter when he's in trouble, and this dogs real name is not Peter so it doesn't work.

[academicgangster]

"petting planes like dogs" ma'am, that's a whole-ass planefucker stroking a plane like she's a LADY.

[cowboybeepboop]

Sweetness

"I care about you, more than I probably should."

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd

Genre: Smut

Word count: 3.3k

Summary: You finally find out the real reason behind Bob’s protective side. 

a/n: I saw Thunderbolts* yesterday, and I’m craving more of Lewis Pullman 😛😩

This team gets on your nerves, whether it’s Hangman’s cocky asshole attitude or Roosters constant issues with Mav. Somehow you’re always getting in the middle of something and you’re tired of these damn pushups. 

Bob is your weapons systems officer. He’s sweet and nothing but kind when it comes to you. It’s frustrating, though, because you know he doesn’t mean anything by it, but you don’t need him to stick up for you. 

It feels like he pities you, he challenges hangman when he says asshole things, he defends your choices when Mav questions you. He just doesn’t understand that you can speak for yourself. 

These dog-fights with Maverick have almost been the death of you. Maybe you’re an overachiever, but you’ve never needed to keep redoing and redoing exercises. It’s never been an issue for you to work in a team, but Hangman refuses to. 

“Fuck!” you slam your hand against the dash of the plane, tears building in your eyes. Taking a deep breath, you sigh away the anger, letting your head fall back against the seat. Bob tenses in the seat behind you as you land the plane. 

“Y/N? Are you okay?” his voice rings out, bringing you back into reality. 

“Yep. Let’s just get this over with.” Your tone is more firm than usual, irritation filling your veins as you exit the vehicle. 

Hangman begins spewing his usual bullshit, cockiness radiating off him even though you just lost. Bob argues with Hangman in the background as you ignore them, getting ready to get those damn pushups out of the way.

The only thing you need right now is an ice-cold shower and whiskey on the rocks. You’re pulling your uniform off your shoulders while walking toward the bar, Bob is hot on your heels, along with Rooster and FanBoy. 

“How’s it goin’?” Bradley wraps an arm around your shoulder, the familiarity of his touch doing little to ease your annoyance. You shift out of his embrace, not wanting to talk to anyone. 

Bob and Rooster make eye contact, shrugging as they notice your strange mood. “You got this one, Bob?” he nods in response, following after you once again. 

“Y/N?” he settles down next to you at the bar, shifting his weight as you stare down at the counter. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?” You ignore him, taking down your drink in one gulp. 

“I’m alright, Bob, just.. Annoyed.” you sigh, glancing at him slightly. He nods in response, fingers fumbling with his beer bottle. 

“Did-” he begins before you cut him off.

“We were so close, Bob!” your tone is laced with irritation, “We almost got him and then you got, distracted.” You roll your eyes, sliding the glass to the side. 

“I know.. I know and I’m sorry, you didn’t deserve that, you shouldn’t have needed to do all those pushups because of my-” you glare at him, everything he does just annoys you, he’s so nice even when you don’t deserve it. 

“Why do you take the blame for every little thing?” Maybe it’s the alcohol, but you’re hot, irritated, and red hot. “Leave it alone, Bob.” You storm out, admittedly a little childish, but you need the fresh air. 

Sitting down on the porch, you breathe in the scent of sea water, the wood creaks under a pair of boots next to you. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t mean to do anything to frustrate you.” his tone is the same soft and gentle one per usual. “If I can do anything, say anything, get you anything, please just let me know. I wanna help, we’re a pair, Y/N,” he says, settling down next to you cautiously. 

“Bob, you’re annoying me.” You groan, hating the butterflies in your stomach, and his heart drops as he straightens up. Your words sting him a little more than intended, and you see it in his demeanor. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that..” you trail off chewing on your lip while watching him fumble with his hands.” I didn’t mean to, you dont deserve that, it’s just frustrating to have you constantly siding with me, being so nice, and sticking up for me.” you groan.

“I know you mean well, but I can fight my own battles Bob.” you sigh, shifting uncomfortably as you look him over. 

Bob looks down at his hands, the sound of his fingers cracking fills the air as he processes your words. He hates your irritation being directed at him, but he knows you’re right. He’s been a little overprotective lately, and you’re feeling chafed by his kindness. It’s not what he wanted.

“It’s just…” Bob pauses, his mind struggling to find the right words. “It’s not about thinking you can’t fight your own battles. I mean, I know you can.” Bob leans back, resting his head against a pole.

“I know we’re a team, but we haven’t worked together like this before, not on a mission this important.” you sigh, resting your face in your hands. "I just wish you wouldn't make me look so weak in front of everyone, just because I'm a woman doesn't mean I need pity, Bob." You shut your eyes, taking steadying breaths.

Bob's eyes widen slightly, finally being able to grasp what is going on. He's been treating you like you're fragile, and you're getting fed up. It hits him like a truck, and the guilt instantly seeps into his bones.

"I know... I know, you're strong," he says, the shame evident in his voice. "I don't think you're weak, and I *don't* pity you." Bob's fingers twist together, frustration with himself bubbling up within him.

Bob rubs his face, he’s always had a crush on you, ever since he laid eyes on you. For Bob, you’re not just a talented pilot and a teammate, you’re smart, strong-willed, independent, and absolutely gorgeous.

His protective nature stems from the fact that he cares about you, a little more than he should. He’s scared of losing you, of getting you hurt, and it shows in his overprotectiveness and constant apologizing.

“I’m sorry, Bob, I shouldn’t have held this against you. Hangman is the one who left us to fend for our own. It’s not your fault.” You lean closer to him, brushing your shoulder against his. 

Bob's shoulders tense up for a moment, caught off guard by your sudden apology. Your touch, even as simple as your shoulder against his, has his heart beating faster. He relaxes a little, feeling relieved that you're not as irritated with him anymore.

"Thank you," he whispers, his voice soft as he relaxes his tense shoulders, he takes a deep breath. "But I still want to apologize for being so overprotective."

“I guess I just don’t understand why you’re so protective when it comes to *me*,” you scan his face, eyes wandering his features. “I know we’re friends outside of work, but.. I just don’t get it.”

Bob's heart leaps into his throat, his mind racing with nerves. This is the moment, the one he’s been scared of for the past few months. He’s always liked you, but he’s kept it to himself because of his shy nature, and he was afraid of ruining your friendship.

He takes a shaky breath, his fingers trembling as he fidgets with them."I…uhh"�� Bob struggles to find the right words, the truth on the tip of his tongue.

"Yeah?" you question, scooting closer to him, basking in the gentle heat of his body.

Bob's heart pounds in his chest, his cheeks heating up from your close proximity. He can smell your perfume, and the closeness makes his knees weak.

"I… I care about you a lot," he manages, his voice shaky, eyes refusing to meet yours. Bob's hands twitch with the nervous energy that courses through him, his fingers clenching into fists and unclenching rhythmically.

"A lot?" Your cheeks turn a slight pink. "In what way, Bob?" 

Bob's words get stuck in his throat, his breath hitches as he looks up at you, your eyes burning into his soul. He swallows hard, unable to hold your gaze, but at the same time craving it. 

"In every way imaginable," he breathes out, his heart pounding against his ribcage, "I care about you, more than I probably should." This is it, all or nothing, he can't back out now.

You take in a shaky breath, eyes focusing on everything but him as his words echo in your mind.

Bob watches your face, his heart in his throat as he waits for your response. The silence between you both is loud, making him almost sick to his stomach as he waits for your reaction. He’s so desperate to know what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling, but your expression is unreadable.

"Please say something," he mutters softly, his hand twitching to reach out and touch you, but his fear stops him.

You clear your throat, standing up and stretching, and your heart is racing in your chest. Being with Bob, it's what you want, but what if it changes things or makes both of you unable to go on the mission? Your mind is reeling, and you begin to pace. 

Bob follows your movements with his gaze, your nervous behavior making his heart ache. He knows he messed up, he should have kept his stupid feelings to himself. Now he's just made everything awkward.

With you moving around so much, unable to sit still, he stands up as well, worry etched across his face. "Y/N, I'm sorry, I didn't-" his voice is trembling as he tries to apologize, but you simply start pacing.

You shake your head, "You don't need to apologize, Bob." Turning back to him, you take a few steps until you're right in front of him again. 

Bob stands still, his heart practically beating out of his chest, as you walk closer to him. Your proximity takes his breath away, and he can’t tear his eyes off your face. All he can focus on is your every move, the way your lips are slightly parted, and how your cheeks are tinged pink.

He has to fight the urge to pull you into his arms and hold you close, but the nervousness in his veins keeps him rooted to the spot. "Y/N..” he breathes out, his voice low and unsteady.

"Bob," you whisper, "Please.." Your words, your simple plea, are all it takes for Bob to snap. His brain short-circuits as every thought about consequences and missions leaves his mind, replaced with one sole desire. *You.*

In the blink of an eye, his hands find your waist, and in another, he's pulling you flush against him. His lips crash into yours with a desperate need, as every pent-up feeling, every piece of suppressed desire is unleashed.

Your hands reach up to his face, gripping his face as you pull him closer, desperate for more. 

Bob is completely lost in the moment, his hands exploring your waist, your back, your face, trying to touch every inch of you. Your touch ignites something within him, and his kiss deepens as he presses his body against yours.

He pushes you backward until your back hits a wall, his hands gripping your hips as he cages you against the surface, his kiss still feverish, hungry, desperate.

You pull away reluctantly, gasping in a few breaths before speaking. "Bob, we need to go.. I *need* you," you whisper, kissing his face and neck. Bob lets out a soft groan at your words, the feeling of your kisses sending tremors through him, the need in your voice making his knees weak. 

"Go... where?" he breathes out, his fingers digging into your hips, pulling you closer, afraid that if he lets go of you, you'll disappear. He wants you badly, the mission forgotten in a haze of desire.

"I have a place," you practically moan, enjoying the desperation in his touch. All coherent thoughts leave Bob's mind as your moan is like music to his ears. He practically whimpers against your touch, the need for you nearly overwhelming.

"Lead the way," he mutters, pressing one last, lingering kiss to your neck before reluctantly releasing his grip. Even though he's letting go of you, his hand takes yours, unwilling to lose physical contact.

With your hand in his, Bob follows you to the secluded spot you've chosen, his heart racing in anticipation. The gentle squeeze of your hand reassures him that this is what you want, too. Once you're both inside, the door clicks shut, and the tension in the room thickens. 

You turn to face him, the hunger in your eyes matching his own. His hands trace the curve of your waist, pulling you closer as your mouths find each other again in a passionate kiss that leaves you both breathless. 

With no more words needed, you both stumble over to the bed, the need for each other overwhelming. Bob gently lays you down, his eyes never leaving yours as he starts to unbutton your shirt. His touch is reverent, his every move filled with a passion that has been building for so long. 

You help him, pulling his shirt off over his head, feeling the warmth of his bare skin against yours. As the fabric of your clothes falls away, Bob’s eyes roam over your bare skin, tracing every curve and dip with a hunger that’s been building. 

His hands rough yet gentle, his kisses leaving a trail of fire down your neck as he unclasps your bra. The coolness of the air meets your heated skin, sending shivers down your spine. He worships your body, his hands exploring every inch with a passion that leaves you trembling with anticipation. 

The feel of his bare chest against yours is electric, his skin smooth and warm as he kisses his way down to your stomach. You gasp as his fingers find their way under the band of your pants, unbuttoning them with trembling hands. The touch of his skin against yours sends a jolt of pleasure through you, making you arch into his touch. 

His eyes meet yours, questioning, and when you nod, he pulls your pants down, exposing you to his hungry gaze. His eyes widen with awe, his breath hitching as he takes in the sight of you, fully exposed and desiring him. 

His thumb brushes against your inner thigh, sending a rush of heat to your core, making you whimper. His touch is soft yet demanding as he explores you, his eyes never leaving yours, drinking in every reaction you give him. 

You're both lost in the moment, the only sound in the room being the ragged breaths and soft moans that escape your lips. Bob leans in, his mouth replacing his fingers, and your world explodes into a symphony of pleasure. 

His name becomes a chant on your lips as he brings you closer and closer to the edge, your legs wrapping around his head as you pull him deeper into your warmth. The intensity of the moment reaches its peak as Bob's tongue meets your center, his strokes firm and precise. 

You moan deeply, your hands tangling in his hair, urging him on as the pleasure builds. He's relentless, his every move calculated to push you closer to the edge. His hands are everywhere, caressing your breasts, teasing your nipples until they're peaked and sensitive. 

The sound of your breathy pleas and the wetness of your desire driving him wild. He can't get enough of you, can't get close enough. You're soaking wet for him, and the scent of your arousal fills the air, making him crave you even more. His mouth is a masterpiece of pleasure, teasing and sucking, swirling and flicking, until you're panting his name and your body is tightening around his tongue. 

You're close, so close, and just when you think you can't handle it anymore, he slides a finger inside you, the pressure inside you building until it snaps. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, making your toes curl and your back arch off the bed. 

You scream out his name as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you, leaving you trembling and gasping for breath.

Bob pulls away, his face flushed and his eyes dark with lust, as he watches the aftershocks of your climax ripple through your body. He quickly removes his pants, his cock standing at full attention. The sight of him sends a fresh wave of heat through you, making you ache for him. 

He positions himself over you, and with one swift thrust, he's inside, filling you completely. Your legs wrap around him as he begins to move, his hips pumping in a rhythm that matches the pounding of your heart. 

The feeling is indescribable, a mix of pleasure and pain, of need and satisfaction, as he stretches and fills you over and over again. Your eyes lock onto his, and it's as if you're seeing him for the first time, really seeing the depth of his feelings for you, the desire and love that he's been hiding.

The friction is perfect, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body with every movement. You rock your hips up to meet his, desperate to get even closer. His hands are everywhere, holding you down, caressing you, making sure you feel every inch of him. 

Your bodies move in a dance that's been choreographed by months of tension and unspoken desires. Each stroke is a promise, each touch a declaration of his feelings.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down for another deep kiss, your tongues tangling as your bodies move together in perfect sync. The sound of your skin slapping against his fills the room, mixing with the desperate moans and gasps that escape both of your mouths. Bob's pace quickens, driven by the passion that fuels him, and you can feel him getting closer to his release.

You're so lost in the sensation that you don't even notice when the second orgasm starts to build, creeping up on you like a thief in the night. It takes you by surprise, stealing your breath away as it crashes over you, making your body tighten around him. Bob groans into your mouth, his release following closely behind, his cock pulsing inside you as he fills you with his warmth.

You collapse onto the bed, your bodies still entwined, hearts racing, and skin slick with sweat. The room is silent except for the sound of your panting breaths, both of you trying to come down from the high of finally giving in to the passion that's been burning between you. The weight of his body on top of yours is comforting, grounding, as you bask in the afterglow of your shared ecstasy.

Bob pulls out gently, collapsing beside you, and you roll over to face him, your eyes searching his for any signs of regret. But all you see is love and satisfaction, mirroring your own emotions. You reach out, brushing the hair out of his eyes, and he smiles at you, the tension of the day forgotten as you both drift into a contented silence, the kind that comes from knowing you've found something real in a world full of danger and uncertainty.

Bob's mind is spinning as he shifts to lie there next to you, completely stunned by the intensity of what just happened. His fingers gently trace patterns on your skin, a soft smile playing on his lips as he takes in the blissful expression on your face. Every nerve ending in his body is buzzing, the aftershocks of pleasure still coursing through him.

"That was..." he finally manages to breathe out, his voice thick with emotion, "That was amazing." Bob's heart still races, his head reeling from the intensity of the connection between you both.

You nod breathlessly, resting your face on his chest, cuddling close against him.

[constellationcrowned]

((I hope Kariom sticks to calling Junyver rakiba even if the repetitive usage will probably end with him getting his head bitten off. Literally.))

[abirddogmoment]

I've gotten an influx of followers so I wanted to make a post so people know what's going on here without having a scroll through a hundred posts.

First of all, hello! This is a side blog where I post (mostly my own content) about dogs. I'm a wildlife biologist and I've been here for almost a decade at this point. My main blog is mostly for relogs and the occasional vent and that's over at @some-sort-of-ecologist.

This blog primarily featured Maverick, who was my extremely beloved brittany spaniel. We did a lot of really cool things together, including traveling across Canada and trying out a ton of different dog sports, but mostly he was just my little friend I hung out with. He damaged his spine in an irreparable way sometime in 2022 and was compassionately euthanized in June 2023 when he started losing control of his hind end. His tag on this blog is #maverick and you can hide #mav memories if you don't want to see the sad posts after he was gone.

I'm planning on getting another dog in 2024 but won't be posting much here until then. I'll still be around on my main blog and happy to talk about dogs, but I won't be here as much.

Anyway that's about it. These are some of my favourite pictures of Mav and me. He was the coolest dog in the world.

[lumikinetic]

I mean this in the best possible way The Locked Tomb really is a viral disease of a series. That song that's playing? It's about Harrowhark. Rewatching Top Gun? Gideon has Maverick's shades. Passed an extremely beautiful tall woman with a great rack on the street? I'm always thinking about you Coronabeth. Studying hard on an assignment? I'm just like Palamedes fr. Thinking about beating everybody's ass at work but forcing yourself to stay emotionally neutral? That's Camilla speaking through me. Having a moment of unparalleled and unfounded ego? Ianthe and I are maximising our joint slay. That ink smudge on my notebook? Reminds me of Abigail and Magnus. That spilled coffee? I'm thinking of Pyrrha. That cloud? Dulcinea. Dog? Nona. You finish it and you start seeing it everywhere it's like a conspiracy.

[moon-fics]

I'm just spitballing here, but what about bob floyd × naval admin reader where she sees him shirtless for the first time and like a friend kickback on the beach and is just absolutely gobsmacked because she knew he was fit but not ripped to heck 😭 and bob is just so nonchalant about it 😂

Please keep spitballing bc I love this. Sorry, it took so long!

After beating all the odds, the mission was a success. You only had a minor heart attack watching Rooster and Maverick get shot down. You definitely didn't need to lock yourself inside a bathroom for a few hours after everyone returned home to ground yourself. Everything that could have taken your friends did not.

Which is why you're celebrating at Penny's house. You're only a few days away from being sent to another base, and yet, you're happy. You get to stand in a beautiful backyard while hot dogs are being grilled. You're surrounded by people you love and get to keep for one more mission.

Now, if only the sun would set so you don't have to sweat through your shirt. It doesn't help that you forgot to wear a swimsuit for her pool. You're stuck watching Rooster, Hangman, and Fanboy mess around in the water.

"Hey," Bob's voice snaps you out of your mind. You glance to your left to see him holding two plates with hot dogs on them. "Penny said you haven't eaten yet." He holds out one of the plates.

You turn your head past Bob to see Penny staring right at you. She gives you a wink and returns to talking to Maverick over the grill. You should have assumed she'd do something like this. Ever since you drunkenly admitted to having a crush on Bob she's made it her mission to get you with him.

"Thank you," You sigh. You take the plate, but you don't eat from it. You're afraid that if you take a bite, the heat from the hot dog will worsen your sweating. You take a second to admire Bob, who is wearing a T-shirt that is drenched in sweat. "You're allowed to take that off." You gesture at his shirt.

He's taking a bite of the hot dog when you speak. His eyes snap to you immediately, and he awkwardly chews to talk. It takes a couple of long seconds before he swallows.

"I didn't really think about it," He admits while flashing a nervous grin. Your eyes trace the lines from his smile automatically. You're trying to ingrain every part of him before you're left to fate, for when you see him again. You don't want to forget a single detail about him. "I didn't put any sunblock on," He chuckles.

"I'm sure you'll be fine," You shrug. You can feel the sun kissing your skin and tanning it, but you don't feel burning yet. Besides, Penny should have sun lotion somewhere in her house if he really needs it. "I mean, you just came back from a mission that Maverick deemed almost impossible. I think a few sun burns will be alright."

"Yeah, I can't argue against that," He nods. "Hold my plate?" He asks, and you take it from him. You watch as he takes off his shirt and rolls it into a ball. It takes a moment for you to look down because his arms are enough to keep you occupied. When you finally change your focus to his chest you clench your jaw to stop it from falling.

You can see every muscle on his torso, and the sweat only defines them more. He's tan from the sun already, which adds to the appeal. Forget Hangman and Rooster. Bob has a body that you could not imagine holding his head up.

"You look like this regularly?" You ask without realizing it. The question slides down from your brain and past your lips before you can stop it. The only thing stopping you from diving into Penny's pool is his laugh.

"Yeah, I mean, everyone else looks the same," He brushes it off.

"Well, yeah, but I just wasn't expecting you to be this fit." You cannot stop talking. It's like your brain is just letting anything out. "That came out wrong. I knew you were strong, I just never imagined you shirtless," You clarify.

"That insinuates you've imagined everyone else shirtless," He points out. He ducks his head down as another laugh comes out. You're thankful he's finding this humorous instead of insulting or creepy. You could handle looking like a fool. "I just don't see a need to show off," He says and takes his plate back from you.

"You're depriving the world," You joke. "I'm serious. If I looked like you, I'd be shirtless regularly."

"I'm glad you think that. Next time I'm shirtless, I'll let you know," He shakes his head while holding back a chuckle.

"Put me on speed dial," You nudge him.

[welldressedandfandolobsesed]

I have only been in the Top Gun fandom for a short time but I feel like it’s not talked often enough about how much the Bradshaws and Maverick function as a single family unit. Like more than just close friends, family friends, or even relatives.

My case…

First we have this scene. Where as soon as Goose says hi to Bradley, Maverick almost immediately scoops him up and carries him.

Then we have this scene. Where Mav’s love interest is sitting RIGHT THERE. But instead he chooses to sit further away from her WITH his arm around Carole

Military standard is that when a service member dies the dog tags are split, one they are buried with and one is given to a family member (usually the spouse). And I know it clearly doesn’t follow all the right protocol becuase Mav had both. But he still has them. They aren’t buried with Goose and Carole decided not to keep them for herself or Bradley. She gave them to Mav and trusted him

And I’m not saying I ship Mav with them (individual or as a throple). But these guys are just so much more then friends, family, or even found family. There so some weird 4th thing I can’t seem to place.

[ateliersss]

TOP GUN #2

…is part of The Bookshelf.

⇨ This is a collection of my favorite fanfics/oneshots on Tumblr I love to re-read once in a while. None of those works belong to me! Feel free to use it as well.

⇨ My own works are here

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Left at the Altar Summary: When you get left at the altar, a familiar face swoops in to save the day.

Can't Let You Go Summary: When you and Jake broke up, it hurt both of you more than you could handle. Now, after three months of barely seeing or speaking to one another, Jake walks in on the surprise of seeing you in a wedding dress, and it brings past memories and ruined dreams to the surface.

Wanting It All Summary: Hangman ends up in the hospital from a very similar Phoenix/Bob/birds situation, and you suddenly regret keeping a big secret from him.  

Drunken Words, Sober Thoughts Summary: You and Jake had a history of flirting and occasionally kissing if too much time was spent at the bar, but it never went any further than that. One night, after showing up at your house and passing out on your couch, Jake wakes up the next morning only to learn he had drunkenly confessed his feelings for you.

Less Misery, More Company Summary: Jake has feelings for you but you don’t believe it, so you play a little trick to get back at him for all of his flirtatious teasing. But that little trick fails miserably, and as the weight of your mistake settles in, you realize you owe him an explanation, one that requires you to admit some things you’ve long denied.

Scrapes and Bruises Summary: Basically, Rooster is not thrilled about your relationship with Hangman, and their issues with one another bring up some fears of your own.

Good in Bed Summary: Jake has made it crystal clear to you that you're only friends with benefits, so why did he go and delete your dating apps?

Cross Summary: The four times you captured Jake Seresin’s attention and the one time he did something about it.

There's a Honey Summary: 3 times your aunt penny sees herself and maverick in your relationship with jake and 1 time she doesn’t.

So Funny Story (I'm Fucking Your Daughter) Summary: You've had a thing with Jake for a while now. The thing is, your dad doesn't know and your brother is desperate for you to tell him.

All You Had To Do Was Stay Summary: Six years ago Jake hit your life like a hurricane. In and out in a matter of weeks. You thought after you get over the disappointment of him leaving without saying a word you’d never think of him again. But then two pink lines change your life forever. Now he’s back and still has no idea that the little girl by your side is his daughter.

Revelation

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Three Generations Summary: Rooster is married. Maverick found out when the paperwork got filed with the Navy, but he doesn’t have a chance to ask Rooster about it until after the mission

Endings and Beginnings Part 1, Part 2 Summary: It's Maverick's retirement party but Rooster's far more concerned about you, his pregnant wife, than anything else.

Wrong Number Summary: Bradley was planning on a quiet night at home with a beer and a basketball game on TV. When he receives a text from a wrong number, he's left looking at a beautiful photo of you. Now he just needs to persuade you to ditch the guy you meant to text and focus on him instead.

Robert "Bob" Floyd

Only Love Can Hurt Like This Summary: Bob lost his fiancé in a dog fight and goes through the grieving process. Eventually he learns to move on but then everything he thought he knew was a lie, including the fact that Y/N had died on that mission.

All Fun & Games Summary: Returning to San Diego was just another assignment for you. Another step in the career path, full steam ahead, until you come to an obstacle in the road. Usually, you’d navigate around it, keep on going, but this is no normal obstacle. It might be enough to reroute you completely.

Tom "Iceman" Kazansky

Part of Three Summary: Reader is Maverick's sister, dating Iceman, and finds out she's pregnant.

Scared Summary: A fight between you and your fiancé spirals out of control.

Get Your Girl

Tom Is Finer

[talesofesther]

now and forevermore

➥ Yelena Belova x Reader/fem!OC

Summary: A story about a motorcycle ride, some takeout, and counting constellations. Or, Yelena picks you up from work on her motorcycle and takes you on a sweet date on the outskirts of town.

A/N: This story ended up quite personal to me, but very sweet all the same. Yelena has the biggest 'I kiss girls' energy in thunderbolts, and no one can convince me otherwise. <3

Word count: 3.2k

Masterlist

You walked out of work on a Friday evening feeling the weight of a busy week on your body.

You loved your work. Many would think that grooming dogs for a living was the dream job. And most of the time, it really was. Your clients were fluffy and always overly happy to see you; bad days were a rarity.

But, it could also be very tiring. Your muscles ached from the workout of having to bathe two German shepherds in a row. And there was a prominent scratch on your forearm from a small dog who had been terrified of the blow dryer.

So when you walked out the doors and saw Yelena waiting for you outside, you nearly teared up from happiness.

She had a habit of leaving you breathless. Her motorcycle, an already well-loved CCM Maverick, was parked behind her. Yelena leaned back against it, arms crossed in front of her body, and short blonde hair flowing with the afternoon wind. She wore a black leather jacket, boots, and fingerless gloves. A single thin chain necklace lay around her neck, and her collection of earrings glinted under the fading sun of the evening.

You could fall in love with her all over again.

Two helmets rested on the motorcycle, along with a plastic bag hanging from the handlebars. Your stomach fluttered excitedly at the implication.

You fought to suppress a smile when she finally looked at you. Things still felt novel. The weight of Yelena's gaze made you look down bashfully.

"Hey, pretty girl." Her Russian accent sent goosebumps rising on your skin. "Any chance you're free tonight?"

You raised your chin in feigned thought, stopping in front of her when your sneakers bumped into her boots. Yelena pushed herself up. Her lips parted with the ghost of a smirk when you didn't step away.

The closeness was almost too much for a sidewalk in the middle of the city.

"Depends," you hummed. Yelena's hair curled prettily around her ears. You wanted to run your hands through it. "Will you show me a good time?"

Her hands found your arms. Yelena trailed a lingering path down with her fingers until they interlocked with yours. There was a barely there blush to her cheeks; if you paid attention, you'd be able to hear the stumble on her breath.

"What do you say about takeout and getting away from this city for a while?" Her voice dropped a decibel. The start of a pout coming to her lips.

Yelena was the most capable person you knew. Her hands fidgeted with yours, a little restless. Her eyelashes kissed the corner of her cheeks when she averted her eyes. She was also the most endearing person you knew.

Before allowing yourself to overthink it, you leaned in and pecked the corner of her mouth. "It sounds perfect."

Yelena's smile was contagious. She leaned forward, and her forehead touched yours for a brief moment. Wisps of her hair tangled with yours and then let go. It was relief and gratitude all wrapped into one.

Yelena is still living many firsts. You are her first sweetheart.

She handed you one of the helmets and put on her own, along with sunglasses to shield her eyes from the bright orange setting sun. She got onto the bike first, and once you did as well, one of her hands found your knee and squeezed reassuringly.

Riding on the back of Yelena's motorcycle, with your arms tight around her waist and her hand brushing against yours whenever you'd stop at a traffic light, was nothing short of blissful.

The city blurred past the corners of your eyes like a memory from a dream—distant and only a mix of feelings, lights, and noise. You could smell Yelena's perfume even through the helmet. The constant warmth of her body pressed tightly against yours was addictive.

Yelena was excellent on the streets, but she kept the speed under 100 whenever you were with her—an unspoken act of care. Your heart swelled ten sizes, and it still wasn't enough to contain your love.

Your hand sneaked under her jacket as you drove past downtown and reached the secluded residential area. You felt the shape of her abdomen beneath your fingers, and your thumb pressed gently against her ribs. No malice, only closeness.

"I've missed you, moy sladkiy." Yelena's voice almost disappeared amidst the low rumble of the bike's engine. But you caught it. You squeezed her tighter.

Yelena, the deadliest woman you knew, and you disarmed her with a single touch.

She had been the consequence of a gamble. You'd never worked at a pet salon before, but your friend had informed you of an opening, and well, you needed the money. The fact that you already loved dogs was a bonus, so you took the shot. That was almost a year ago. On the three-month mark of you working there, Yelena walked in. She held the leash of a light caramel and brown American Akita; a big girl, with fluffy fur and an overly friendly demeanor to contrast that of her owner.

Fanny was a delight to work with, she had taken a liking to you since the first appointment. So much so that when Yelena came back to pick her up for the first time, the dog kept wanting to go back for more ear scratches from you.

You were the first person who managed to bring a genuine smile to Yelena on the first day of meeting her.

"Seems like this won't be the last time you'll see me." Yelena had told you, while bending down to bury her hands into the now even fluffier fur of Fanny's neck.

You couldn't thank that dog enough. But maybe the extra snacks you gave her on each grooming session would cover it.

The drive took about ten more minutes. Wind kissed your cheeks through the open visor of the helmet, and Yelena let one of her hands rest on your knee when you turned at an intersection and began driving down an empty road.

The houses from before had vanished; now, all that surrounded you were overgrown patches of grass. It was a steady slope, rising continually until you eventually reached a dead end.

Yelena parked the motorcycle to the side of the street. She placed her helmet on the bike's rearview mirror and waited for you to get off before she did the same.

You had never been here before. It wasn't too far from town or from your house, but this little hidden corner of the world was new to you. Yelena had taken you to the top of a hill, the end of the furthest road before leaving the city completely. It wasn't overly tall, but from up here, you could easily look over houses and most of the city far below. Fresh wind hit your skin, and you felt the breeze of air that didn't smell like car smoke.

Away from it all, the view of the sky was unobstructed. You could see far and wide, a privileged seat to watch the setting sun until it hid behind the city's silhouette.

Yelena took the plastic bag in one hand and yours in the other. A timid grin stretched her lips, and she avoided your eyes, focusing instead on how her black boots hit the old pavement.

You loved her. Her short hair was all over the place, tousled because of the helmet and the wind. She fidgeted nervously with your fingers while she led you to a lonely wooden bench standing at the edge of the hill. And you loved her so much.

The sky was all bubblegum and gold, stripes of the last rays of sun bleeding in between the few clouds.

"Sometimes, I come up here to think." Yelena interlocked your hands. She took a step closer, and your heart skipped a beat, eyes following the soft curve of her nose.

Yelena's cheeks were pink, because of the sun or something else. Either way, you wanted to kiss them.

"Ever since we met, it's about you." Her voice dropped lower, words thick with her Russian timbre. Green eyes still hid behind her lashes, but she squeezed your hand.

With bathed breath and barely contained affection, you raised your free hand to her face. Your thumb found the corner of Yelena's mouth. You traced a path there; unhurried, memorizing. You pressed against her lower lip gently, feeling the shape of her beneath your touch.

The sigh that fell past Yelena's lips was a shaky one. She leaned into your touch, falling forward until her forehead rested on yours.

The kiss that followed came as easily as breathing. Her lips were familiar and novel all at the same time. Yelena took your lower lip between both of hers, nose pressing to your cheek as she leaned in urgently. Close wasn't close enough.

You had not yet labelled what you were to each other. Everything is too raw and fragile yet. But you loved with the intensity of souls that waited a lifetime to find each other.

—⧗—

This far away from the city, the stars shone all the brighter. Without the pollution of streetlights and neon signs, the sky became a blanket of constellations.

Two takeout boxes lay empty and forgotten on one far side of the wooden bench. Beside them, you and Yelena sat together. No space was left between you, with her shoulder a constant and warm presence against yours.

From your place leaning onto her, you turned your head up. "My mother used to tell me about that one." You pointed up towards a group of stars resembling an archer's figure. "Orion, from Greek mythology. He believed himself to be a great hunter."

Your smile became nostalgic. "When I was little, I used to spot the three stars that form his belt first, and figured out the rest of the shape from there."

"It's beautiful," Yelena mumbled, even if you could feel her gaze on you.

She held one of your hands between both of hers. You realized today that Yelena had a habit of always touching some part of you. You didn't mind at all.

"I never learned too much about stars." She mused. Her cheek came to rest atop your head, and she nuzzled closer.

You've been here for hours, the sun has long since set. You had a feeling Yelena did not want the night to end. And you didn't either. "I've always found them fascinating."

"Tell me more," Yelena spoke against your skin, a request that sounded more like a soft plea. "I like hearing you talk."

Blood rushed to your cheeks. You squeezed her hand, thumb brushing past the fabric of her gloves and finding her skin. "Did you know that, if you want a glimpse into the past, all you have to do is look up at the stars?"

An inquisitive hum escaped Yelena. You could perfectly picture a confused frown on her features.

"Yeah." You grinned, voice sweet as honey because of the woman holding you. "The stars we see in the night sky are from the past. Their light takes a long time to reach us. So long, that when we look at the sky, we are actually seeing it as it was in the past, not as it is in the present."

Yelena went quiet. Her head pulled away from yours as her nose pointed up at the sky, and her eyes drank in the infinity of constellations above both of you.

"So if you want to go back in time, just look up." It was nothing but a breath past your lips as you didn't want to break the peace of the night.

A trembled chuckle escaped Yelena. Her throat worked through a heavy gulp.

You brought her hand to your lips, placing a lingering kiss on her knuckles.

It brought her back. She turned to you, and her lips found your hairline. She pressed closer, allowing you to support her weight for a moment.

Her free hand found your chin. Yelena brought your head up from where it leaned against her shoulder, only enough so her lips could kiss the spot between your brows.

Gratitude. Love. You understood the words she didn't say.

Minutes turned into another hour or two, and the fresh breeze from before had turned into a cold night wind.

It ruffled the grass and howled softly as it passed through. You shivered involuntarily, goosebumps rising on your skin as you pressed closer against Yelena.

Her picking you up from work had been a surprise. You were not exactly dressed for cold nights.

Yelena shifted, causing you to straighten up as well. Perceptive as ever, she undoubtedly felt the tension in your muscles. One of her hands reached for your bare arm and then cupped your cheek.

"Shit, you're freezing!" Yelena exclaimed, suddenly alert as if alarms were going off inside her head. There was a furrow between her brows that you wished to smooth away with your fingers. Her lips turned slightly downwards with an adorable pout.

"Oh, it's nothing, Lena, I'm not-"

Before you could finish, Yelena had already shrugged off her black jacket. It left her only in a white tank top, and your gaze couldn't help but stray to the thin scar just under her right shoulder.

"Put it on." Yelena shoved the jacket into your hands.

"Lena-"

"Please, put it on."

You pressed your lips together, a protest lying on your tongue. But her eyes were big pools of green; they had endless galaxies reflecting on them, and you were a goner. You bit back the words.

Relenting, you put on the jacket. It was comfortable and just a little bigger on you. The fabric still held the warmth of Yelena's body, and you almost groaned at the feeling of having it wrapped around you. A soft sigh escaped as you closed your eyes briefly.

"I'm sorry." Yelena breathed, and you focused back on her in the same heartbeat.

She shook her head, blonde strands of hair falling over her eyes. The makeup on the bottom lid of her eyes seemed much darker when the only light was that of the moon. "I should've known better, I-" Yelena raised a hand, fingers brushing between her brows as she clenched her eyes with a grimace.

"Stop." The whisper fell past your lips of its own volition. Your heart stumbled upon seeing the clear distress on Yelena's face.

"It was a stupid idea to come here. This is no place to bring you-" Yelena's voice became increasingly unsteady. She pressed her lips together, turning away from you and towards the city far below, now nothing more than dots of light.

"What? No." You gripped both her hands. Confusion laced your tone as you tried to convince her of something you thought was already obvious; "Yelena, today was perfect."

"You're cold, this isn't perfect." She spoke as if talking more to herself than to you. Her tone was reprimanding. "I should've thought better."

"I don't mind," You promised quietly, shuffling closer to her again as if pulled by her gravity. "I'd want to be here anyway."

For several beats, the only sounds you could hear were the crickets hiding in the grass and the soft wind that disheveled your hair.

Yelena's stare was distant, as if taken by a memory. Her eyes glazed over, and the moonlight bathed her earrings in silver.

"I had nothing when I got you." Yelena's voice dropped to something calmer, as soft as you made her feel.

Her sudden fragility startled you. And foolishly, for a brief moment, you still thought her words were only because of the cold night wind.

"You…" The first tear rolled down her cheek. Yelena beat you to wiping it away. She brushed the back of her hand under her eye. She wasn't as kind to herself as you would've been. "You are the best thing that has happened to me… in a long time." Slowly, her voice became a whimper. Small sobs made her shoulders shake.

Yelena looked down at her lap, at your hand clasped tightly on her own.

No, these words come from a much deeper place, one you knew was there.

Sometimes, Yelena's eyes would tear up out of nowhere—you could be walking hand in hand down the street, or giving her a peck on the cheek when she comes to pick up Fanny, or simply when you'd linger a little longer on a goodbye hug—you'd see that glint in her eyes, barely contained tears just a blink away from spilling.

Her sorrow was silent and loud at the same time.

It made you wonder when was the last time someone loved on her.

You had never brought it up. You knew Yelena didn't have an easy time talking about these feelings. But you noticed, and if you hugged her a little tighter or told her you loved her a little too many times, you'd blame it on you being a sap.

Now, you wonder if you should've addressed it sooner.

You reached for her, free hand pushing stray locks of her short hair behind her ear. "Yelena, listen-"

"I want it to work." She cut you off, finally looking you in the eyes. Her quiet voice burned with rawness and desperation—too many emotions swam behind her eyes for you to put a finger in any of them. "I want to do it right, but I'm not sure how."

Your heart swelled inside your chest. Hurting with love for this woman who'd pick up stray animals and bring you flowers at work and still not see her own value.

You let go of her hand, and there was a brief moment of panic in Yelena's face, before you cupped both her cheeks. You hoped your love could be felt in your touch.

She pressed her lips together. Tears hung on her eyelashes. You couldn't feel her breathing, and you wondered if you were the only one allowed to see this side of her.

Your thumbs found the apple of her cheeks. You brushed away the stray wetness there, touching her as tenderly as you felt. "Yelena, my sweet love." Hand to her jaw, you held her steady. "You already do."

You held a pause, feeling how Yelena's hands found the ends of her own leather jacket and pulled you in as soon as the word 'love' left your mouth. The distant lights of the city far below framed her prettily, and you knew you'd be looking up at the stars come morning, wishing you could be back here.

"I would look for you in every person I meet," You told her easily, your hands sliding through her blonde hair as your forehead fell against hers. "You are it for me, now and forevermore." Your upper lip brushed hers, whispering into her mouth.

"All is perfect if I'm with you."

Yelena kissed the words the moment you spoke them, over and over. Her arms circled your waist beneath her jacket, fingers pressing against the curve of your spine and pulling you closer, closer, closer. Until her heart beat with yours.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Yelena’s taglist is open, let me know if you’d like to be added. Or you can follow @talesofesther-library and turn notifications on to know when I’ve posted a new story/chapter.

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

[thereoncewasagirlnamedjane]

PAIRING | Joaquín Torres x f!Reader

TAGS/WARNINGS | just tons of fluff, and doggos!

SUMMARY | Joaquín is fiercely protective of all the VA’s service dogs in training, so when Sam informs him that there’s a new volunteer arriving to help take care of the pups, Joaquín is prepared to use any excuse to veto anyone who comes in through those doors… until you’re the one who walks in, and he knows he’s lost.

WORD COUNT | 2.0k

⋆ ˚｡⋆˚ NAVIGATION | | JOAQUÍN TORRES M.LIST ˚⋆｡˚ ⋆

I do not do taglists. Please follow my sideblog @ficsbyjane for notifications whenever I post.

✧.* In the Golden Hour

Sam sighs. It’s only ten in the morning and he’s already tired.

Joaquín sits on the floor in one of the VA’s designated meeting rooms, arms crossed over his chest, looking uncharacteristically grumpy even surrounded by six happy dogs poking and prodding at him with their noses.

“You know, you could… I don’t know, help?” Sam says, sidestepping a rogue tennis ball as he stacks up a few chairs and moves them to the back of the room. “What’s your problem anyway?”

“I wanna vet ‘em.”

“Too bad. I already told them they could start today.”

“Without consulting me?!” Joaquín sits up a little straighter now, indignant. Bailey, a curious little beagle, whines now that his face is out of reach and she can’t smother him in kisses.

“And since when did I need your approval, kid?”

“But I’m Mav’s handler,” the younger man insists, and a golden retriever who’s been lying sprawled across a sunlit patch just an arm’s reach away lifts his head, as though recognizing the sound of his name. “I should have a say on who comes in to take care of him when I’m not here.”

Mav, or Maverick, lets out a cheerful woof! His mouth then falls open in that silly golden grin that melts the hearts of everyone he meets, his tongue lolling to the side.

“See? He agrees with me,” Joaquín points at his latest pet project, no pun intended. He reaches over to give Mav some much deserved belly scratches. “Don’t you, buddy?”

“Don’t encourage him, Mav,” Sam half-heartedly scolds, and Maverick slumps back onto the floor with a high-pitched whine. “And you’ve already scared away plenty of volunteers. You think they’re easy to come by, or what?”

“I’m protective of the pups, okay? You can’t blame me for that,” Joaquín points out defensively, softening just a little when Daisy, a sweet and predictably excitable Labrador attacks his extended arm, wanting to play. “…And Mav’s special.”

It’s not that Joaquín doesn’t trust Sam’s judgment, and it is true that he’s protective of all the service dogs in training, but Mav is special.

Joaquín found him when he was still just a pup, a few weeks shy of a year old according to the vet, in some war-torn zone while overseas. It was instinct, he didn’t even think as he scooped up the trembling fur ball and brought him back to base.

While the Air Force weren’t strangers to welcoming golden retrievers among their ranks, Joaquín knew immediately that Mav could do the most good as a therapy dog. With Sam’s help, he got the smiley goldie a spot in the PAWS program and the rest was history.

And it was impossible not to get attached.

So while he’s not opposed to handing over Mav’s leash for a few hours a day, especially now that he’s the Falcon to Sam’s Captain America and he doesn’t always have the time to dedicate to the program, the last thing he wants is for some inexperienced volunteer to come in and mess up Mav’s progress.

“Wow, did you guys hear that?” Sam feigns shock, addressing the other dogs in the room. “Your lieutenant has a favourite.”

“Aw, come on. Don’t do that,” Joaquín winces, not daring to look over at the innocent stares of the VA’s latest round of recruits. “Don’t turn them against me.”

“Hey, you incriminated yourself,” Sam points at him before shaking his head, “I wouldn’t look at Jax if I were you. That look of betrayal—oof.”

“Listen, can’t you just—I don’t know, tell me more about this person?” Joaquín asks, hazarding a glance over at Jax the Doberman, who looks back at him with shining, watery eyes. He’s hit with a pang of guilt, one he tries to remedy by pulling Jax in for a cuddle.

“You’re being too protective,” Sam rolls his eyes. “The new volunteer is good with them, alright? She—”

“These guys would love a serial killer if he gave them treats,” Joaquín scoffs, ignoring the way Axel, a German Shepherd, seems to tilt his head with indignity. “Also… she?”

“Is that a problem? Damn, didn’t know you were like that, Torres,” Sam’s eyes widen, but there’s a telltale smirk on his face that says he’s just kidding around.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” the young Falcon rolls his eyes, although he softens a little when Bailey starts pawing at his knee for some attention. He scratches her affectionately under one floppy ear. “I just mean… well, she needs to be able to handle Beau, for one thing.”

Beau the Rottweiler then jumps up at attention when Joaquín points at him, barking once, twice, as though saying, “I’m here!”

He only looks intimidating, honest. In reality, Beau’s just another gentle giant. Still, if he decides to go running off chasing squirrels on his next walk, most people wouldn’t stand a chance against his speed and strength.

“Why do you think we call him ‘Beau’, huh?” Sam just grins even wider, bending over to pat the Rottweiler on the head. Beau laps up the attention, his bum wriggling excitedly with each wag of his tail. “He’s a total sucker for a pretty face. Aren’t ya, boy?”

“Well, duh, that’s why he likes me so much,” Joaquín grins when Beau huffs as if in agreement, tickling him under his chin. And then, he can’t help asking: “Alright, how pretty we talkin’?”

“God, is that important?”

“Wha-? You just said—!”

“Yeah, but you need to keep the flirting to a minimum, alright? This is a professional environment.”

“Oh, come on, when have I ever—”

“Literally all the time, you incorrigible little…” Sam trails off, exasperated, not wanting to call Joaquín something incredibly rude. “I swear, you should come with a warning.”

Joaquín just smirks at that, picking up the tennis ball when Axel brings it to him, tossing it across the room and starting a flurry of movement and a chorus of joyful barks.

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“Eh, depends on how you look at it.”

“Okay,” Sam scoffs, “so you’re done giving me crap about the volunteer?”

“Nah, I’m not letting you, or her, off the hook that easily,” Joaquín then looks over at Maverick, who has moved to join the other dogs in the chase for the ball. He and Daisy are play fighting over it. “Alright, well, if I can’t vet her, then I at least wanna meet her first.”

“You’re only saying that because I said she’s pretty,” Sam grabs the dogs’ leashes that are hanging from a hook on the wall, letting out a sharp whistle that echoes off the walls. All of them obediently fall into line, plodding over when they see their leashes out.

“Please,” Joaquín rolls his eyes, “how pretty can she be?”

“Oh, you’re gonna regret that one,” Sam shakes his head, attaching the leashes to the dogs’ harnesses, camouflage-patterned with the words “ARMY” and their names stitched onto them.

Joaquín laughs now, catching the handles to the leashes that Sam tosses toward him. Daisy is connected to Beau and Maverick, while the others are grouped together, all somewhat evenly distributed.

“What, you gonna snitch or somethin—” he starts to fire back, but then movement in the hallway catches his eye. Joaquín glances out the door and almost chokes.

Because walking in through the doorway is easily the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

“Hi Sam—oh!”

Your eyes just light up when you see the dogs, like the moment just before a sparkler catches. Joaquín scrambles to his feet just as you fall to your knees to welcome Axel into your arms, who is the first one to run up to you.

The rest follow eagerly to say hello to their new friend, just swarming you. Beau pokes his head under your arm, Jax is so eager for kisses that he knocks you off your feet and onto your backside, and Bailey immediately jumps into your lap. Daisy is attacking your face, making you squeal when she licks a stripe up your cheek.

“Okay guys, okay!” You’re giggling, and Joaquín has to take a second to inhale, like he’s trying to breathe in that laugh. “Pets for everyone, but wait your turn!”

The dogs don’t listen, just continue giving you sloppy kisses and nose boops. Maverick goes bounding over, the only one of the bunch you haven’t met yet, and noses curiously at the soles of one of your shoes.

Joaquín doesn’t stop him. In fact, he barely registers the fact that he’s let go of the leashes.

“Why, hello there,” you coo, letting Mav sniff the back of your hand before you start petting him in earnest. You check his harness, smiling as you read his name out loud. “Well, aren’t you a handsome one, Maverick?”

The golden retriever looks to his handler, as though proud, like he’s saying, “Did you hear that? She said I’m handsome!”

Joaquín’s never been so jealous of a dog in his entire life.

Once the dogs have finished saying hello and have calmed down a little, you stand up, trying not to trip over them as they circle your legs.

“Ahem, sorry about that,” you clear your throat sheepishly. Sam smiles triumphantly, turning to give Joaquín the smuggest of looks, only to roll his eyes at what he finds. The kid’s earlier skepticism and indignation is nowhere to be seen, only the most idiotic smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Along with the most obvious pair of heart eyes mankind has ever seen.

Joaquín grins. Your hair is slightly dishevelled now, and your nice jacket is covered in dog drool and dog hair but you don’t seem to care. Instead, you just catch his eye and smile.

“Oh, you must be Lieutenant Torres,” and then you step closer and hold out a hand. He can smell your perfume or your shampoo, whatever it is, and for a second he can’t seem to form any words. You glance uneasily over at Sam, who just shrugs.

“Um—yeah,” Joaquín blinks and shakes his head a little, taking your hand with maybe a bit too much enthusiasm. Maybe he even holds on a little longer than is necessary. “Please, just Joaquín is fine.”

“Sure, Joaquín,” your smile grows wider and he can’t help but watch, enraptured, as your lips form the sounds of his name.

“So… the dogs, uh, they really like you.”

“Oh, you think so?” You visibly melt, pressing a hand over your heart. “Thank god, it’s the best endorsement I’ve ever gotten.”

“Well, you know what they say: dogs are a good judge of character,” he offers. You laugh and he chuckles along, all breathless and smitten. To the side, Sam lets out a scoff but he can’t bring himself to care.

“I thought you said they’d love serial killers—” But Sam doesn’t get to finish, Joaquín stepping forward hurriedly to pick up the dogs’ leashes off the floor.

“Hey, I’ve got some time…” Joaquín says, not at all subtle or casual. He steps a little closer, offering you the leashes, letting out an almost imperceptible sigh when your fingers brush his. “Maybe I can show you their favourite route.”

You glance over at Sam, who rolls his eyes so hard you think they might get stuck. Still, you smile up at Joaquín.

“Lead the way, Lieutenant,” you gesture to the door, giggling when he dips his head shyly and slowly jogs toward the door.

You turn back to Sam, smirking as you whisper, “I thought you said he’d give me a hard time?”

“Yeah, well, he’s a pain in my ass, that’s for sure.”

“…He’s cute.”

“Ugh, I oughta throw up in your face.”

You can’t help but laugh.

“Ready?” Joaquín then pops his head back into the room to ask. You spin around, nonchalant, and nod, letting the dogs tug you excitedly towards the door.

Sam watches you all go, huffing a laugh when Joaquín bends dramatically at the waist as he opens the door for you. Shaking his head, Sam turns away to finish reorganizing the room and mutters to himself, “Guess Beau’s not the only sucker around here.”

Outside on the sidewalk, Beau sneezes.

FIN.

Notes: I love these two already, so I miiiiight do a part 2 eventually, one day, idk.

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[abirddogmoment]

If you’re still up for asks - how did you decide on Mav’s name? Were there other options or just this one? And did you know that was his name straight away or did it take some time to decide? Thanks for sharing your adventures with us, it’s been a joy to see 🧡

Thanks for the ask!

I picked Mav's name off a baby names website because I wanted an M name to match Marlo. I briefly considered W names too (M and W being reflective so it would make a cute watermark). Other contenders were Wyatt, Waylon, Minnow, and Mason, but ultimately I liked Maverick the best.

His registered name, KN Vibrant Malbec, was picked to match Marlo's Rugged Merlot.