#happylovemo

[howling-harpy]

Outsider pov: From Harry, he hazily heard something about Speirton doing a French kiss when he was drunk on the baloony of the Kehlsteinhaus ! 🥰🥰🥰

Word count: 860 A/N: Token straight!Harry returns. Thank you for the prompt! Always happy to write speirton.

*

It was the best day of Harry’s life, and he was positive it would forever be the second best until the end of his days as his wedding day would soon take the first place. The Alpine winds were blowing, the sky was bright, crisp and blue, and champagne buzzed in Harry’s veins. He hugged Lipton and laughed just out of happiness and breathless relief, and then let himself collapse back in one of the sunchairs.

Dick stole Nix away, but Harry wasn’t worried. For the first time in what felt like forever he felt safe. His friends left his side, but he knew they’d be fine and that they’d be back. A suffocating sweet balloon of happiness swelled in his chest and threatened to overwhelm him. He closed his eyes against the blue sky and dreamed of Kitty. Soon they’d be together, Harry’s parachute would be transformed into a beautiful dress for his girl, and then they’d be married. Married, with decades and decades of domestic bliss ahead of them. Harry felt tears brim in his eyes and smiled so wide it hurt. Lipton laughed too somewhere near. He had been barely keeping his smile at bay when Dick came to give them the big news, but now his happiness too had overflowed. Harry listened to his free laughter that he hadn’t heard since they’d departed from New York. “Come on, Ron!” Lipton laughed, refusing Speirs who was somewhat slow after an entire bottle of champagne and developed a boyish mischief along with it. Harry cracked one eye open and saw that Speirs was climbing up from the chair by using Lipton as his support, squeezing handfuls of his jacket and pulling himself up while Lipton laughed. “It’s over,” Speirs said like he couldn’t quite believe it, “over. It’s over.” “Yes, it’s over,” Lipton agreed softly, his voice warm and full no doubt with the same happiness that choked Harry. Speirs pulled himself upright by climbing Lipton, from his waist to his chest until finally he was grasping him by the shoulders. Lipton’s wide grin tempered down into a smile, his cheeks flushed with something else than alcohol, and Speirs stared him down like he had never seen him before. Harry shook his head and laughed a bit. He could never figure Speirs out, but Lipton seemed to have so Harry was content to leave the drunken Captain to the fresh Lieutenant. Friends should be with friends now that they finally had time. “Ron! You’re way too drunk, we’re going to tip over – “ “Hush, I’m never letting go.” There was rustle of clothes, a muffled gasp, and then a sound of a sunchair clattering when a misstep was taken, then a heavy thump of two bodies landing heavily on a cushion. Harry laughed out loud when he listened and knew whatever dance steps Speirs had tried to pull had ended up with him falling and pulling Lipton down with him. “Now look at what hap- “ Lipton started to scold, but was promptly cut off with something pressing against his mouth and muffling his voice. Harry patted the floor with his hand and found a half-full champagne bottle, brought it to his lips and gulped it down. The fizzing bubbles threatened to go up his nose and he had to pace himself, but the sweet luxury went down easily and rose to his head even easier. The conversation in the sunchair next to him didn’t resume, and Harry started to wonder if Speirs was keeping Lipton quiet with his hand on his mouth or had he passed out entirely, and stole a glance. They certainly looked comfortable there in the chair even though both Speirs and Lipton were big guys and they barely fit there. Speirs had ended up pulling Lipton down it seemed because Lipton was sprawled over Speirs’ thighs, his legs here and there while Speirs had him secured in a tight hold around his middle to stop him from falling to the floor. The victory dance had apparently turned into a victory hug since that was easier to accomplish lying down, and again Harry laughed. It was hard to tell exactly how they were lounging in the chair and which limb belonged to whom, but they seemed awfully comfortable so close together. Harry squinted against the sun in his eyes and took another look, and even though it was hard to tell how their legs tangled together it was easy to spot their faces very close together. Or actually, on a second look, just together. Harry raised his brows at them and felt a small tug of jealousy because Kitty was so far away, and here were his buddies shamelessly indulging. For a moment Harry wanted to make a pointed comment at Speirs for his sloppy kissing technique and the lack of manners, but then Lipton moaned into their kiss and pushed his hand into Speirs’ hair, and Harry decided to keep his comments to himself and look away. “Ugh… Fellas? Just don’t forget that I’m still here, alright?” Harry said, then closed his eyes and went back to enjoying the sun and the drink.

[basilone]

Speirton +2. A small, fleeting kiss - which is immediately followed by a passionate, hungry kiss. Thanks! !🥰❤️❤️

Ahh I feel so bad, @happylovemo, that this took me almost 2 weeks to sit down and write? I’m sorry for the wait!! ❤️ Ron’s perspective, as always, because he comes a whole lot easier to me than Lipton does.. I’m a little unsure of this one, to be honest, but I hope it’s to your liking!! 

2. A small, fleeting kiss - which is immediately followed by a passionate, hungry kiss.

Ron isn’t sure if one can speak of a stalemate when the other person is not even aware a game is being played. It’s how this past hour in this room has felt, though, and he hasn’t figured out how to break the lock. Every time he thinks he’s going to make a move, the other man does something to make him reconsider. 

He has watched Lipton fold and write papers for the better part of this hour. Has cataloged every sigh, every murmur, every inhale and exhale of breath. He has long given up on reading his own book or marking any of his own papers. Still pretends to read, sometimes, when it seems like Lipton’s eyes are going to meet his, but he has not turned the page once in these past ten minutes. 

It’s Lipton who breaks the stalemate, in the end. 

“You want to talk,” the man murmurs, “then talk. Sir.”

“Who says I want to talk?” He sighs. Sets his book aside. Takes a deep breath. “I wish you’d stop calling me sir.” 

He has never enjoyed army formalities. Doesn’t care about the salutes, or the titles, or the other flimsy lines of army red tape that seek to separate him from his lieutenant. The war is over. Redeployment into the Pacific is going to take longer than the brass currently seems to think. He has spent the past three days getting drunk and undoing every man’s opinion of him. Or, well, almost every man’s opinion. 

He isn’t sure what Lipton’s opinion of him is anymore. 

“Ron, then,” answers the man, and perhaps the warmth in his voice is opinion enough. “At least, that’s what you said I could call you when you were drunk and draped all over me.” 

“You can call me that even when I’m not drunk.” Ron waves his hand in dismissal, even as heat rises to his cheeks and he has to look away from the soft smile at play around Lipton’s mouth. “War’s over, no need for formalities.” 

“So you’ve said.” 

Lipton’s chair creaks. Ron’s gaze slides back over, always watchful, as the man sighs and rises to his feet. He almost smiles when he realizes that Lipton has stacked the paperwork meticulously, folded the maps back neatly, and cleared most of the desk. He knows he’d be lost at sea without Lipton. Ron’s good at fighting. Good at tactics. Good at anything that doesn’t require pen and paper and half a dozen written apologies to the brass for doing the unthinkable again.   

“I’ve said more than that to you.” It’s a gamble, this play of words, and Ron’s quite certain he stands to lose the game altogether. He doesn’t recall everything he said while drunk. Recalls enough to know Lipton’s silence on the subject is killing him more slowly than anything else managed in the past few years. “I meant that. What I said.”   

Lipton is silent. Too silent. 

“I can go, if you like,” he says, then, and tries not to dig his nails into his palms until he draws blood. Stupid, stupid, to think this was going to go well. “We don’t have to speak of this anymore.” 

“Stay put.” 

He arches a brow at the command that seeps through Lipton’s voice. Sinks back down into his own chair, which he’d already sought to vacate only seconds before. He is brave in every aspect of his life but this one. He can’t meet Lipton’s eyes. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He has no idea how this will end, if it will ever end.   

“I wasn’t sure.” Lipton’s voice is hoarse. Harsh, even, in the silence. “You never said anything before. And then there you were, drunker than Harry and Nixon put together, suddenly saying these things that I was so sure I’d never hear.” If anything, the man sounds slightly incredulous. “I wasn’t sure you meant any of them.” 

He looks at Lipton, then. Looks at the fidgeting man, whose hands don’t remain still, whose feet shift on the carpet, whose entire being looks nervous. And, despite the command to stay put, despite the knot tying itself into loops in his stomach, he rises to his feet at the sight. 

“I meant them,” he says as he steps closer to Lipton. He steps forward until he is wholly in the man’s space, as if somehow he can still be brave when he is terrified. “I wasn’t sure they’re welcome.” 

“They are.” Lipton meets his gaze. The knot in his stomach constricts. Loosens abruptly when he sees the softness in the man’s eyes. “I feel the same.” 

Before he can smile, before he can speak, before he can dare, Lipton’s lips press to his. It’s a hesitant kiss, fleeting and almost shy, but the touch itself is soft and warm and gone all too soon. He sighs as the contact is broken. Finds himself chasing after it until his hands weave tightly into Lipton’s shirt and pull the man back for another kiss. It’s Lipton who sighs this time, sighs into his mouth as though he is perfectly happy like this. Sighs into the kiss and then wraps his arms around Ron’s neck, presses up against him until there is nothing around him that isn’t Lipton, kisses back in such a way that feels as though they have never been separate a day in their lives. It’s enough to make Ron want. 

He crowds Lipton up against the desk and kisses him deeper, hungrier, with wanton need urging his every move. There’s nothing gentle about what he wants, nothing sweet about the way he pushes and licks and nips at lips and skin alike, nothing remotely good about his hands trailing across bare skin and weaving into Lipton’s hair so tightly that the man gasps at the touch. There’s nothing inside his hunger that Lipton should crave. Yet the man pushes up against him and kisses back hard enough to bruise, squeezes Ron’s shoulders before tracing circles of his own onto Ron’s skin, leans back against the desk and tangles their feet together as if they have done this a million times before. 

This dance is new. This dance is old. He smiles into the kiss and says more with every breath, more with every gasp and squeeze, more with every part of him that shatters and rebuilds beneath this touch.

[himbowelsh]

Hi! I really love your writings about bob ships and I almost read all of them.They are lovely and amazing, especially winnix and speirton, I could read your fics or headcanons of the two ships every day ❤️ I just know you also do a OUAT AU, winnix is the snow white and speirton is the beauty and the beast, I am deadly looking forward to the next chapter!BTW what would dick do if he fucked nix in bed? What do you think about it?I have seen many fics about dick is fucked, I am so curious ❤️

oh god, yeah, thank you, thank you so much!!!   i’m so happy you’re enjoying the writing i’m putting out  (and i’m really trying to write more, i swear).  thank you for all your kind words!!

i’m honestly not sure about your question though, i don’t write smut, but there are plenty of winnix fics on ao3 where you could probably find what you’re looking for! sorry i can’t be more help!

[johnny-martin-is-mypeanut]

Photos of Malarkey and Jones from @happylovemo

∆text excerpt from new fic [Sunshine and thunderstorms]∆

“You...have a right to be sad...„ “You lost your best friends, it's ok to be sad... don't let anyone tell you that you can't be sad„ “If you need someone to talk to...I'm here for you„

“Yeah, I get it...you want to help” “but listen to me when I say this” he put his hand on Jones shoulder “No-one can help me, but I appreciate it”

-I've been here for a bit and I can't help but think... Malarkey needs some tough love... But he's gotten a lot of tough love already... I'm not sure what to do... If I could get some advice it would be helpful-

[band-of-brothers-headcannons]

Okay @happylovemo asked for some Speirton with the dirty headcannons so here we go.

Out of every couple in easy, they are the nastiest

Well, Lieb and Web are a close second lol

These two are so perfect for one another cuz Ron loves dominating and Carwood loves to be dominated.

Even though they both like it rough, Ron always makes sure Carwood is okay. They like using safe words and such.

They aren't very adventurous with what they do in bed, they just stick to stuff they know and they like.

Like bandage and occasionally some breath play

[panevanbuckley]

@happylovemo idk if you've already read it or not but the fic I'm reading atm is Old-Fashioned Romance and omg it's pulling on my heartstrings 😭 omega!lip is my new favourite thing to exist ❤

i did not know i needed omega!lip with his omega babies roe and web until now but wow...i can't live without this now

[howling-harpy]

I always love your headcanons and writings ❤️❤️❤️

Thank you! I'm always happy to share, especially when I get to muse about the otp and think about tropes and draft something nice.

[howling-harpy]

You are sooooooo great! I really love your writings, from “men who live in shadows” to “the desolate house”, your stories are so touched and the characters you write completely are not OOC, so glad I like the same couples as you, especially Speirton!!

Oh thank you!! How lovely~~ 😊😝

Thank you for the message.

Ooh, a fellow speirton shipper, it's good to have you! I do my best. I have so many strong feelings about all the characters and the ships that I love, I work hard to do them justice in my stories.

[howling-harpy]

@happylovemo aaaww! Well... what can I say. It's been a timebomb this whole time. Speirs is Like That.

[howling-harpy]

Ron loves from afar. I'm really glad his love has impressed you, he's really doing his best within the boundaries he's given.

Mightier than sword

Pairing: Speirs/Lipton Rating: T Word count: 12 581

Summary: A selection of post-war correspondence between Lipton and Speirs. Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based on the HBO’s drama series and the actors’ portrayals in it. This has nothing to do with any real person represented in the series and means no disrespect.

*

“No, dear friend and brother in arms, those days are over. We ought to kiss them goodbye. But do keep writing, write as often as you’ll like, and don’t worry about it being important or interesting. You’re always important and interesting to me, and simply getting a word from you makes me happy. “

[Read on Ao3]