#queen concept

Robert clambered onto the couch next to you and pressed the side of his face into your arm, and as a result tilted the party hat he wore to the side. He insisted that each and every one of you keep those hats on until midnight - horrible gaudy things that he spotted while on a quick run with you to The Dollar Store with '1979' in big, gold and glittery letters, with streamers falling rather unceremoniously from the top. John had Michael sleeping on his chest, it was far past his bedtime but between cleaning up from dinner and keeping your little four-year-old entertained, you hadn't had time to properly put him down for the night.

"'M sleepy, mama," Robert mumbled into you, and you moved your arm to wrap around him and pull him into your side - it was about twenty after ten, and you were honestly surprised he'd made it this long. You leaned down to press a kiss to his head, "That's okay, just sleep."

You felt him relax against you, and after tugging the blanket shared between the four of you more around him, you leaned back into your husband, relishing in the peace and quiet which surely wouldn't last long.

You hadn't even realized you'd fallen asleep until John was shaking you gently, murmuring, "Hey, it's almost midnight, wake up," into your ear. You creaked open your eyes to look at him, and gave him a tired smile, which he returned, slowly moving his head to press a kiss to your forehead. The clock hanging above the mantle read 11:59 pm, and you could see the host and the crowd in London beginning the countdown.

10, 9, 8, 7

You leaned down to Robert asleep in your lap to press a kiss to his temple,

6, 5, 4

and you also leaned over to Michael to press a kiss to his forehead, before you turned to John.

3

John maneuvered his arm around the sleeping baby to cradle your cheek with his palm, and you lifted your hand to grasp his wrist.

2

You began to lean in to meet him, watching the grin grow on his face with a certain level of fondness, his eyes crinkling from the strain. Something you'd always adore about him was his beautiful smile.

1

John closed the gap between the two of you and gently pressed his lips to yours, successfully missing the fireworks shoot from Big Ben, but neither of you cared much. You had everything you needed right where you were, your two kids, and your husband. You pulled away only to press a few more pecks to his lips, which he returned eagerly. You leaned into John's side and relished in the warmth of his arm wrapping around you, relaxing for just a few more minutes before you had to take the children up to their rooms and hope that Michael went down without complaint. You could afford a few more minutes.

Brian May:

A continuous chorus of chug! chug! chug! chug! surrounded you, practically driving you up a wall. The only reason you had come tonight was to see Freddie, an old friend from college, and meet his darling bandmates, as he phrased it. You were currently trying to find him right now, it was very close to midnight and he had gotten lost in the crowd. Or, he had gotten himself lost in the crowd. He claimed he was going to find the other guys in his band to introduce you but you weren't sure you'd be able to get the meeting over with before midnight. Not that it really mattered, but you felt like as soon as the clock struck twelve, everyone would go even more crazy than they already were and it would be impossible to find Freddie, let alone hear them. As of now, though, you were standing on your tiptoes, trying to see over the crowd to find Freddie, but to no avail, it was so crowded you could barely move. 

You decided it was useless to simply stand here and look and thought it best to try and move around a bit, so you carefully began to squeeze through people, not being able to avoid bumping into practically everyone within your line of sight. One particular person you bumped into quite roughly, leading to him splashing his drink on your shirt and a string of apologies to escape from both of you.

"Shit! I am… so sorry," he apologized, looking around quickly - you assumed for some sort of cloth or napkin to wipe the liquid from your top. Thankfully, and, you were sure you could attribute this partially to the time of year and the reason for the get-together, his drink was just champagne, and therefore didn't leave any sort of lasting stain.

"Uh…," you looked down at your shirt, examining the large wet spot in the middle, it wasn't that bad, "It's fine, it's not that bad," you sighed, glancing up at the offender. He was an extremely tall man, definitely over six feet, with a mop of ringlet curls atop his head, and the loveliest face you think you'd ever seen. He continued to mumble half-hearted apologies, possibly to keep from a lull in the 'conversation' - and you use that term lightly - and still looking around for some sort of cloth. He looked slightly panicked, and you felt bad that a simple incident like this seemed to stress him out so much.

"Um, excuse me," you attempted to get his attention by tapping his arm a few times, and only when his apologetic eyes met yours did you continue speaking, "Listen, it's fine, it really," you paused again, slightly gesturing to your shirt and laughing, "it's really not a big deal."

Although the apologetic look in his pretty hazel eyes didn't leave altogether, he seemed to relax a bit and give you a small smile, "I-uh, sorry about that, I didn't mean to ruin your shirt," he said, and you gave him a reassuring smile.

"Oh, trust me, this isn't really the fanciest thing I own. Besides, it was accidental. Can't blame you for that, can I?" you offered him your hand to shake, which he accepted, while you told - or more like shouted - your name to introduce yourself.

"Brian May," he returned, and dropped your hand. As he reached up to rub the back of his neck with his left hand - presumably at the lack of words being spoken on either yours and his part - you noticed with some humor that his nails on his left hand were painted white, and you reached out and took his hand, which he furrowed his brows at but allowed you to do so. His hands seemed to be too delicate for a man, and you laughed, glancing over his fingernails.

"I like this," you said, gesturing to his nails, and he laughed a little.

"Thanks, my friend Freddie and I sort of coordinated it so his nails are painted black and mine are painted white," he explained, and you thought about it for a second, giving him a questioning look.

"Freddie, like… Freddie Mercury?" you asked, and he nodded with a similar look of confusion painted across his features.

"Yes, how do you know him?"

"Well, he and I were good friends in college, and we kinda drifted apart once he started getting more into music, but he invited me over for New Year's to meet the other members of his band," you explained, shrugging slightly at him, and Brian dropped his head in his hand, laughing to himself for a fleeting moment.

"Oh," was all he said, and continued to giggle to himself, while you stared at him like he was a maniac.

"Something… funny?" you asked, and he looked up at you, shaking his head with a smile.

"No, no, no, it's just that for weeks now since he's planned this party, he's been going on and on about 'y/n this, y/n that', and how we had to meet one of his 'dearest friends', and I just, I'm sorry, how coincidental that he's been trying to round all of us up together tonight and you and I happen to bump into each other… literally," you realized why he was laughing, and let out a small chuckle yourself.

"Right… I suppose that is rather unlucky," you admitted, then thought for a moment, "wait, so I suppose, then that you're a member of Queen?"

Brian nodded, "I'm the guitarist, nice to meet you, my dear."

It was really a simple thing, Freddie called you dear and darling all the time, but your stomach erupted in butterflies at the term, a blush surely rising on your cheeks.

"And, I wouldn't necessarily say our meeting was unlucky," he backtracked to something you'd said earlier, "I'd say more… unexpected. Meeting someone as lovely as yourself is far from unlucky"

Now you were certain he'd done that on purpose, as he seemed quite pleased with the shy smile your lips curled into, and the red hue only deepening on your face.

"Well, uh," you tried to compose yourself, lifting your head to try and level your gaze with his, which was, a pitiful attempt, to say the least, "what makes you say that?"

Brian took your hand, very gently, and you marveled in the comfort of your hand in his, "Well, to start with, you're obviously very pretty," he began, running a thumb over your knuckles - God you really hoped he was looking to ask you out and not to simply sleep with you, "And you're quite a charming girl, very polite and all that," he brushed a thumb over your cheekbone lightly with his free hand, "and your blush is adorable."

You laughed out loud at this, and nudged his hand away from your cheek, "How can you possibly find me charming when you barely know anything about me?" you inquired, and Brian tilted his head in feigned thought.

"Well, perhaps I'd know more about you if you were to join me in an… excursion, of sorts?" he asked, and you only raised your eyebrows, encouraging him to continue, both of you practically oblivious of the New Year's countdown commencing in the background, "What I'm asking is, would you like to accompany me on a date? Maybe I could take you out for lunch or coffee sometime?"

Instead of answering him, you leaned up - a rather far lean - and pressed your lips against his, a bit more forcefully than you'd meant to, but it didn't matter, because Brian was eager to reciprocate, letting go of your hand to wind his arms around your waist and dip his head to meet you. You only broke apart when a loud voice startled you.

"Well there you are dears, I invite you both over for New Years to meet, and you're off getting it on without telling me! I was looking for you for hours, Brian!" Freddie complained, and you ducked your head in embarrassment, letting go of Brian and walking to Freddie to embrace him.

"Sorry, Freddie, I was trying to find you too, though," you defended, and though Freddie made a face before you tucked your head onto his shoulder, he reciprocated the embrace, squeezing you against him and practically lifting you from the ground.

He waved you off, wordlessly deeming the matter in the past, "Happy New Year, darlings," he kissed your cheek, and patted Brian on the arm. Before he flitted off to entertain the other guests, he leaned close to your ear and whispered, "Don't think you're getting out of filling me in on all the gory details later, lovie."

You laughed, waving goodbye as he disappeared back into the crowd. 

"So is that a yes?" Brian asked from behind you, making you turn to face him with a grin.

You nodded, "Definitely."

Roger Taylor:

This holiday season was outrageously depressing, Roger and the boys were off on tour and not set to come back until mid to late January, so you were just watching the television in the bedroom by yourself, trying to ignore that you couldn't even spend the New Year with your husband. Slumping against the headboard with a glass of wine in your hand and stupidly childish pajama pants on might've been an enticing night in if you had Roger with you, but without him to keep you company it was unspeakably dull. It wasn't long before you'd polished off your wine glass and started to doze off in the bed, and it was slightly later that you were awakened out of this doze by the door handle jiggling.

You sat up straight in bed with a suddenness that made your head hurt, and after a moment to compose yourself, you got up off the bed and peered out the doorway, where the handle was no doubt still being struggled with. You closed your eyes and willed the unwelcome guest to give up and leave you alone, but cursed under your breath when they didn't. You exited the bedroom and went down the hall and into the kitchen to get a knife - the biggest one you could find - and in that time the assailant had entered the house. What a way to spend New Year's, you thought bitterly, Roger is off with Queen performing to millions and you're at home fending off a possibly dangerous criminal.

You took in a breath as quietly as you could and walked into the living room with the knife hidden behind your back, you swore to God you felt like the idiot in a horror movie who went to check out the situation. Entering the living room was the stupidest you'd felt in a long time, because all that fucking suspense, all the nerves that were at their highest in your system, was all for nothing. You let out a heavy sigh in relief that the man in your living room was only Roger, and when he turned to see you with a knife held tight in your dominant hand, he gave you a curious look.

"Are you okay, love? You look scared out of your wits," he commented, and you set the knife down on a nearby coffee table, laughing to yourself half because of your own stupidity and half out of relief. You walked forward to wrap your arms around Roger, which he eagerly reciprocated.

"I thought you were someone trying to break in. I-I heard the door handle jiggle a little and you weren't meant to come home until later this month," you mumbled into his neck, and he laughed against you.

"Sorry to worry you, lovely, my key got stuck for a bit there," he kissed your hair and pulled away from you to look at you with a wide grin, "But I'm so happy to see you! I've missed you so, so much," he buried his face back into your hair, pressing several forceful kisses to the side of your face to make you giggle, "I was able to get some time - we all were - to come home to you for New Year's. I feel so bad about being away for Christmas, I'm so, so sorry about that," he apologized, squeezing you tighter against him and kissing your cheek gently, "God, I've missed you so fucking much."

You let your hands drift through his soft hair, smoothing it over his head, then you thought of something, and pulled away from him, taking his wrist to read his watch.

11:59

"Oh shit! We gotta get to the TV to watch the countdown!" you exclaimed, shaking Roger as he laughed. When it was just you it didn't matter too much, but now that he was here with you, you wanted to follow the tradition that you'd been following since you'd gotten together with him. You always turned on the BBC One to watch the fireworks display, it wasn't much of a tradition, but you wanted to watch it with Roger.

You dragged a laughing Roger, trying to finish kicking his shoes off to the bedroom, "So eager, aren't you, darling?" he laughed, and you stopped to elbow him in the ribs before continuing to pull him into the room and click on the TV in the midst of the host counting down from ten, you'd turned it on around six. Neither you nor Roger really had time to sit down before the clocktower chimed 12:00 and it was the new year, and you barely had time to turn to Roger to wish him a Happy New Year before he was pulling you into a searing kiss, his hands on both of your cheeks and your arms raising to rest atop his shoulders. He was holding your face so forcefully at first that your cheeks were squished together when he pulled back, and he giggled at your expression.

"You look like a fish"

You laughed out loud and smacked him on the chest, making him remove his hands from your face and raise them in the air defensively. You allowed him to pull you into a hug, his arms wrapped around your middle and one hand rubbing up and down your back sweetly. Your arms were wrapped around his shoulders, hands clasped in the back and fiddling with his long blond hair. Through a laugh, Roger murmured, "Happy New Year, honey," into your ear, leaning down to press a kiss to your shoulder.

"Happy New Year, Rog. I love you," you matched his volume, and felt him smile against your shoulder at your sentiment, leaning back to press a rather forceful kiss to your lips, and without having to express it through words, you knew that the feeling was mutual.

Joe Mazzello:

Spending time with Joe on New Year's always meant a good time, your best friend would never fail to go off the rails, bringing the best alcohol he could muster and taking you off to some party somewhere in the city, most of which weren't exactly your scene but he'd make them enjoyable by sticking by your side the entire time and making you laugh. Which is why it was perplexing to you that he'd forgone all that tonight and instead decided that the two of you stay over at his place and watch When Harry Met Sally before tuning into New Year's Rockin' Eve ten minutes or so before midnight. You'd asked several times what was wrong, but he brushed you off, and if you were completely honest, he looked happier than he did most years.

"Joe, not that I'm particularly complaining, but wouldn't you rather be out at a party, not watching characters on TV attend a New Year's party?" you asked after getting beers for the two of you and settling down with Joe on his couch, where he was already seated, watching Harry singing to Sally over the phone to try and get her to call him back.

His eyes lifted to catch your gaze and he groaned good-naturedly at your repetition, slinging an arm around your shoulders and squeezing you briefly, "I told you, y/n. I don't need to be at some crowded party when I can stay in with my best girl," he explained, and you rolled your eyes in response, though your stomach jumped at the term.

Truthfully, he had been calling you his 'best girl' since the two of you were teenagers, so him calling you it now shouldn't have been any different, but two or three years ago, you'd begun to react this way to his friendly affection, and after a few months you realized you had well and surely fallen for your best friend, which was, without a doubt, terrifying. Over the past couple years, you'd been able to control your blushes, and had gotten used to the butterflies in your stomach at the mere friendly touch.

But there was really nothing you could do about it, nor could you get him to admit something was wrong, so you simply sighed and leaned into him, focusing your attention on the movie, Harry wandering the empty New York streets and Sally dancing with some too-forceful guy at a big New Year's party. You continued to watch the movie in relative silence, save for the occasional comment Joe would make to make you giggle, and finally, you came to the scene where Harry had just run to the party to see Sally.

You leaned forward in your seat a bit, leaning your chin on your knuckles, completely enthralled by the movie.

"Hey, uh, y/n—"

"Shh," you shushed Joe without looking his way, reaching out an impatient hand to pat his wrist excitedly, "This is the best part"

On the screen, Sally goes to leave just as Harry walks through the door, and as soon as he spots her, she freezes and he walks up to her.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking. And the thing is, I love you."

"What?"

"I love you."

"How do you expect me to respond to this?"

"How about you love me too?"

"How about I'm leaving."

"Doesn't what I said mean anything to you?"

"I'm sorry, Harry. I know it's New Year's Eve, I know you're feeling lonely, but you just can't show up here, tell me you love me and expect that to make everything alright. It doesn't work this way."

"Well how does it work?"

"I don't know but not this way."

"How about this way? I love that you get cold when it's seventy-one degrees out, I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich, I love that you get a little crinkle above your nose when you're looking at me like I'm nuts, I love that after I spend a day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my clothes, and I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. And it's not because I'm lonely, and it's not because it's New Year's Eve. I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."

"You see? That is just like you, Harry, you say things like that and you make it impossible for me to hate you. And I hate you, Harry… I really hate you."

She mouths 'I hate you' one more time before they lean into each other and kiss, and you're positively certain your eyes are watery and your makeup is smudged from the collection of water on your lash line. You breathlessly laugh at the way Harry asks about the meaning of Auld Lang Syne, and glance over at Joe.

"Sorry, um, what was it you wanted to—" you stop short when you realize he's already staring at you, with such an intensity that you want to melt. There's this look in his eyes that you swear you've seen before, and it just looks so fitting on him that all you can do is stare at him imploringly, wondering what was going on in his head.

Your eyes might've been tricking you, but you thought you saw Joe begin to lean closer to you, and you can't help but mirror his actions, it was as if a gravitational pull was forcing you to lean in, and not by your own will.

"Y/n…" it comes out as barely over a whisper, and he doesn't have much time to say anything else before he's pressing forward to close the last inch of distance between you two and mold his lips to yours. It was nothing like you'd expected your first kiss with Joe to be. You'd expected it to be sudden and breathtaking and rather harsh, but in a good way, and this was certainly breathtaking, but in a different, dare you say in a better way. His hand had come to rest on your neck and the other was sitting on your bent knee, his tongue was trailing lovingly over your bottom lip and he only pulled away to press a kiss to your bottom lip, and another kiss to your top lip, then he leaned back in for another full-on kiss without skipping a beat. You couldn't help but reach up to run your fingers through his hair, and he let out a small groan against you. You realized with a chuckle that, contrary to all the movies, including the one you just watched, you and Joe didn't have your first kiss at midnight, in fact, it was still about twenty of, and you could hear the music of the ending credits in the background, turned down so low in your mind that you could barely hear it.

You started to laugh against Joe's lips, ultimately breaking the kiss by just smiling against his lips, and Joe pulled away to give you an odd, but all the same, fond look.

"What're you laughing at?" he asked, his grin growing when you didn't stop laughing, and it in fact only grew louder.

"I-I don't know, I just… how did this even happen? It's not even like it's midnight yet, it's like twenty of, and we were watching a movie," you tried to explain your thought process, and the nonsensicalness of it alone was making Joe chuckle. 

He pecked your lips once, twice, then three times, "Well, I was going to tell you when the movie was playing but you told me to shut up."

"Hey that is not fair that was the best scene," you retorted, but Joe just smiled at you, lifting his head to kiss your nose, then between your eyes, then your hairline.

"I know, honey. But just the way you were looking at that stupid movie—"

"Now wait just a minute—"

"Shh," Joe pressed his finger to your lips, "Just let me finish."

You stopped, nodding for him to continue, "The way that you were watching that damned movie in awe like it was all you ever wanted, it was the cutest thing, and I wanted to come up with some sort of speech like that for you, but I really couldn't, my head was all muddied, and I couldn't think straight. This is also a reader insert fanfic and I can't be that specific." Joe paused to lift your hand to his lips and press a kiss to it, "I wanted so desperately to be that source of love for you, because I love you. I love you more than… anything else in this world," he confessed breathlessly, and a wide grin spread across your face.

You brought both hands up to his face to hold it, leaning forward and pressing the softest of kisses to his lips, "You're such a dick."

Joe barked out a laugh, "Y/n! Why'd you have to go and say that for?"

"Because you weren't expecting it, were you?" 

"Oh shut up, you."

Gwilym Lee:

"Dear, have you put out the veggie tray yet? Everybody's gonna be here, like, super soon!" Gwil called to you from upstairs, and you laughed at his nerves. He was a chronic worrier, and it was only amplified when you had informed him that you'd invited your friends over for a sort of New Year's party. It was really just a spontaneous thing, and you doubted anyone expected you to get together much, as it was the day of, but Gwilym insisted that you didn't give him enough time to buy things and that everything at the grocery store would be gone by now because it was 3:00 on the day of New Year's Eve. You were inclined to agree, but no matter how much you assured him that you didn't really have to get things to please everyone, that no one expected you to do so, Gwilym wouldn't accept your reassurance, and instead drug you to the store with him.

"Gwil," you came up behind him where he'd just pulled on a pair of pants after being in the shower, his chest still had droplets of water clinging to his skin. You wrapped your arms around his torso and rested your cheek against his back, "Don't worry, our friends won't care if we have a fucking veggie tray or not. I mean, yes I put it out," you paused, squeezing one of his hands that had gripped yours, "But really, stop worrying. They're just our friends."

Gwilym turned to face you, and let out a small sigh, "Yeah, yeah, I know. I just," he paused, contemplating whether or not to unload his horrid day on you. He sighed again, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Just what?" you implored, and Gwilym seemed to think for a minute, "It's really not that big of a deal, I just had… a difficult day, and I don't know if I'm in a 'party' mood," he relented, and you gave him a sympathetic look. Gwilym immediately shook his head though.

"No no no, don't give me that look. It's fine, I'm fine," Gwilym assured you, but you continued to look at him with a sort of pity in your eyes that he hated.

"But if you had a bad day and you didn't want to go through hosting this stupid thing, then you should've told me when I brought it up! I'm so sorry, honey, I didn't know," you stressed, pressing your face into his shoulder and effectively muffling your words. You only stayed there for a moment though before you lifted your head to look at him, making him face you by placing a hand on his face.

"Gwil, I want you to be completely, utterly, honest with me," you paused, apparently looking for an affirmative, so Gwil nodded, "Do you want me to text everyone and tell them not to come? Because I will if you're not feeling up to dealing with company. Please be honest with me," you bargained.

He really wanted to put up with this for you, he really did, but to be honest, nothing had been going his way that day, and all he really wanted to do was have a quiet night in with you, and give you a kiss at midnight. He sighed, "I, I'm sorry, would you mind if we didn't have anyone over?" he asked, and you noted that there was a certain amount of shame in his eyes, and he slightly hung his head. He felt bad, and it made you feel worse for even inviting them over in the first place. You left Gwilym for just a moment to pull out your phone and text your friends something short to call it off,

Sorry guys, not up for a New Year's party tonight, maybe another time,

then immediately tossed your phone on the bed and went to hug your husband, resting your head against his chest, "What do you want to do?" you mumbled, settling your chin on his chest to look up at him, while Gwil just gave you a smile.

"Thank you. You're the greatest wife I could ask for," he smiled down at you, running a hand up and down your arm briefly. You simply returned his smile and detached from him, going to the bedroom door when he called out to you.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to get food, we have a TV up here," you gestured up to the wall your television was mounted on, "If you're looking for a day of relaxation, I think it'd be nice to lay in our bed all damn day with snacks," you explained, and Gwilym nodded, an 'ah' expression on face, "So, if you'll excuse me, I shall be back," you narrowed your eyes at him jokingly, and with that, proceeded to walk out the door and pad downstairs to the kitchen. Gwilym wasted no time in shedding his stuffy button down and pants, and switched them out with an old T-shirt and a pair of plaid pajama pants. Soon afterwards, you came back up with a bag of chips and two cups of hot chocolate, and practically shoved Gwilym into his side of the bed to sit under the blankets, then joined him on your own side.

"Ahh," Gwilym realized, eyeing the steaming mugs in your hands, "so that's what took you such a long time," he said, graciously taking his mug as you handed it to him and pressing his lips to your cheek, "I thought you'd run off to party with your friends and abandoned me."

You let out a small laugh, patting his shoulder briefly, "As if I would ever do that in your time of need," you gushed to him, fluttering your eyelashes in a quite obviously sarcastic manner, and Gwilym laughed with you, leaning over to grab the remote from the bedside table.

"So," he looked to you, where you'd already burnt your tongue on the hot chocolate and were swearing about it, and laughed quietly, "what do you want to watch?"

You sent him a glare, but answered him all the same, "Well, we could always watch whatever New Year's program is on," you lulled your head to the side to look at him, "or we could put on Princess and the Frog and fall asleep to the lovely tunes of Dig a Little Deeper, though I suppose that song doesn't exactly promote relaxation, we'd probably be required to dance."

Gwilym raised an eyebrow at you, "Oh we'd be required to, would we? By whom?"

You grinned and leaned forward to peck his cheek, "By me."

"Okay," he agreed, leaning back into his pillow and wrapping his arm around your shoulders, all but urging you to scoot closer to him and lean into him, which you complied with eagerly, "then let's fall asleep to that song where they're dancing on the lily pads or something," he pulled you into him and kissed your forehead.

"Sounds like a plan," you murmured against his collarbone, then whined when he tried to move. He tilted his head to look down at you, "Y/n, honey I have to go get the movie if you want to watch it," he said, trying to gently move you off of him. You let out another whine, but moved anyway.

You looked up at him and gave him your best pout, "But I love you…"

Gwilym laughed, standing up from the bed and bending to kiss your forehead, "And I love you, but if I don't get the movie now, I won't ever be able to leave you."

You grinned up at him, "Would that be such a bad thing?"

He laughed at you again, then left to grab the DVD your mom had gifted you when you married Gwilym, along with all the other Disney movies she had collected over the years. She figured since she really didn't have a use for them anymore she'd give them all to you, and although you greatly appreciated it - sometimes there was nothing better than a good old fashioned Disney movie - you could now say, without a doubt that most of your movies were Disney princess movies, as you hadn't had time to build up a collection of other movies yet. Gwilym and you had really only been married for a few months. But you supposed you didn't mind all too much, those movies were laced with nostalgia for both you and Gwil, and it was nice to be able to relish in the simpler times of childhood.

"Okay, one princess and one frog com— wait, no one princess and two frogs, no wait, she's not really a princess, so zero princesses and two frogs coming right up!" Gwilym enters the room holding up the DVD, and you giggle at him.

"It took you way too long to come up with that conclusion."

"Yes, I know."

He got the movie situated in the DVD player and grabbed the main remote and the volume remote, then as soon as he settled down into bed with you, you curled up against his side, making him chuckle quietly and move to turn on the TV, then start the movie. The two of you snacked and laid in bed for the rest of the night, and despite your promise to dance with him when Dig A Little Deeper came on, you'd passed out by then. He didn't blame you, it was late, almost midnight, and he was beginning to drift off too, only briefly remembering that it was indeed New Year's Eve. He just sunk back into his pillows and tightened his arm around you, to which you hummed in your sleep, and let his eyes slip shut.

—

You opened your eyes to find that it was still dark, leading you to believe that you hadn't been asleep long, and you also realized that Gwil had fallen asleep as well. Once you got your bearings, you propped yourself up with a hand on Gwilym's chest and reached over for your phone on the bedside table. Blinking a little to adjust to the sudden flood of light in your eyes, you raised your eyebrows in mild shock to find that it was somehow, someway exactly 12:00, and somewhat delighted to find that you hadn't missed it completely. You shook Gwilym gently until he stirred, groaning and rubbing his eyes before looking up at you.

Despite his obvious exhaustion, he grinned at you, his eyes still hooded, "Hey darling, is it midnight yet?"

You nodded, "Yeah, I just wanted to wake you up to say Happy New Year," you kept your voice a little above a whisper, you weren't quite sure why, but given the atmosphere, it seemed appropriate.

Gwil propped himself up on his elbows, leveling his eyes with yours, still smiling, albeit a little softer, "Well, in that case, let me give you a kiss," he brought you in with a hand on the back of your neck and pressed his lips to yours chastely, "I love you, and Happy New Year."

You let your thumb run along his cheekbone, "I love you too, and Happy New Year to you too," you returned, and Gwilym pecked you once more, before all but falling back against the bed again, bringing you down with him since you were wrapped up in his arms. You let out a loud laugh when you heard him snoring not a minute later, and smiled at his sleeping figure. You couldn't resist brushing his hair back to sneak in one more kiss to the forehead before laying down against his chest and willing yourself to relax and fall asleep in his arms.

Ben Hardy:

"...Woah," was all you could manage as Ben rolled onto the bed beside you, both of you sweaty and out of breath.

Ben mustered a small laugh, "Yeah… woah," he agreed, reaching over to grab your hand and intertwine your fingers together. You squeezed his hand, using your free one to wipe your brow, trying to gather up the energy to get up and clean up, though you found you didn't want to move. Ben, however, didn't seem to have the same problem, because after squeezing your hand back, he huffed and forced himself to get up. You were just about to do the same when he circled the bed and lifted you into his arms, as gently as he could, given the sensitiveness between your legs, although it didn't do much to help, and he muttered an apology as he carried you into the bathroom. He grabbed a washcloth from a pile and ran it under water in the sink until it was warm, and cleaned himself up, grabbing another washcloth and repeating what he did with the first before turning to you.

"This might hurt a little, sorry, darling," he leaned forward to pepper soft kisses across your lips, simultaneously bringing the second cloth between your legs to wipe there, which made you wince at first at the sudden contact, but the feeling was dulled a little by Ben's comforting measures, which you greatly appreciated. He finished up quickly and tossed both washcloths in the laundry before helping you back to the bed, as you were still enormously sore and Ben was sympathetic, almost to a fault. He made you sit down while he rummaged through your dresser for a new pair of underwear, put them on for you, and grabbed his long discarded shirt for you to slip on. Once you'd put on some more clothing and relaxed under the suddenly cool comforter - you weren't entirely sure how that happened but you wouldn't question it - with Ben beside you, your earlier feeling of exhaustion returned with as much ferocity as it had been hitting you after you'd finished.

"Ben?" you laid your hand on his upper arm.

"Hmm?"

"What time is it?"

Ben lazily picked up his phone from the bedside table to look at the time, and his eyes widened visibly. Sitting up and furrowing your eyebrows at him, you silently asked him what was wrong, to which he turned his screen around to face you.

12:42.

"Aww…" you drawed, and Ben gave you a pout.

"We missed midnight."

"Well, if you think about it, this is really a compliment to you," when he gave you an odd look, you elaborated, "y'know, just the fact that we were so caught up in…" you revolved your hand in a circular motion, "that, that we missed midnight," you grinned at him, and Ben laughed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you to him.

"I appreciate the compliment, my dear, but," he used his free hand to lightly pinch your arm, leaning in so his mouth was level with your ear, "it's your fault we missed it."

You let out an offended gasp, smacking his shoulder, "How dare you! I feel so betrayed!" you retorted through a giggle, and your inability to keep a straight face made Ben, in turn, crack up as well. "And besides, at least I wasn't the one insisting we go for a fourth round!" 

Ben shoved at your arm, a futile attempt, considering he was still holding you against him, "You were all for it, though, you practically begged me to—" he tried to say, but your covered his mouth with your hand, letting out a loud, semi-bewildered laugh.

"You're such an ass," you replied, to which Ben pushed your hand off his mouth and took his arms back, folding them like a child and pouting his lower lip.

"You're an ass!"

"Oh real mature, Ben," you giggled, reaching over to unfold his arms and pull one back around you, which he accepted. After a few minutes of silence, you felt Ben start to relax against you, and he leaned over to press a kiss to your cheek mumbling a 'goodnight' and an 'I love you', but before he could fall asleep you pushed away from him, propping yourself up on your hand to look at him while his expression remained a bit perplexed.

"No, no, no, you don't get away with a shitty kiss like that on New Year's Eve," you emphasized, and Ben only closed his eyes and laughed quietly.

"What?" you asked, "Can't I get a non-half-assed kiss from my boyfriend on New Year's?"

Ben sat up then, grabbing you by the shoulders and pulling you into him to press his lips against yours incessantly, then pulled back with a grin, "Of course you can, my love," he pressed his lips to yours again, "But," another kiss, this one to the corner of your mouth, "I'd rather," a kiss to the other corner, "you not insist upon it," a kiss to your nose, then one to your chin, "right after we call each other 'asses'," he pressed his lips against the side of your neck, "So excuse the shit out of me, but, I thought the contrast in our interactions was rather humorous," he kissed your neck once more before lifting his head, then kissed you fully on the mouth again.

You couldn't help but smile at him, letting your hands rest on either side of his face and bringing him forward to peck his lips again, "But you are an ass," you pushed quietly, though Ben didn't take the insult too seriously, as there was a wide grin on your lips that you weren't even trying to suppress, "and now you're a dork too," you added, and Ben chuckled, squeezing your shoulders lovingly.

"Ah, yes, but I'm your dork."

"See? The fact that you even thought to say that just makes you a dork!" you pointed out, still grinning. Ben only laughed again at your insistence, and pushed you gently back down onto the mattress, laying down with you so he was laying on his stomach with an arm draped over your middle, his head turned to the side to continue pressing little kisses to your face.

"By the way," you mumbled, sleep finally beginning to reach you and causing you to relax against Ben, intertwining your fingers with one hand, "I love you too. Forgot to say it back when you said it earlier." 

Your words sounded like a half-apology, so Ben squeezed your hand, "'S okay, dear. I'll start worrying when you stop sleeping with me," he laughed sleepily, and you let out a sort of breathy half-laugh, turning your head to kiss his cheek.

"Goodnight, Ben."

"Night, love. Happy New Year."

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