insomniac4000

[insomniac4000]

omg i actually can’t get over harry’s gentle parenting in the drunk lego pt2 video, im actually going feral.

There was something so good about him taking charge!

[insomniac4000]

Favourite moments from Arthur's FPL blog

[insomniac4000]

Favourite moments of the Drunk Lego part2

[insomniac4000]

can you do a fic about chris x reader, where sharon meets reader for the first time on maybe like see it off with becky and reader and sharon both start telling their steamy stories with Chris to kinda one up each other

See It Off. ChrisMD

Hope you don't mind, I couldn't write Shannon mean! So I just had them swap stories and bond.

It was still difficult for you to comprehend you were in demand and people wanted you on their shows and Podcasts. You had only been doing Youtuber for fifteen months, but things had exploded very quickly in that time. You did travel but also you did book reviews; people loved you for your honesty and laid back attitude. One person who fell for it in particular was ChrisMD. The pair of you had meet at a Youtuber’s conference eight months ago and after a couple of months of texting Chris finally bit the bullet and asked you out for a drink, neither of you had looked back since. Recently, after six months of dating you had gone public you had your reservations but on the whole it had gone well. You had slowly been bought into the larger UK Youtube scene over the past month or so and now Becky had asked you to go on see it off.

Originally Becky had asked both you and Chris to go on together. He unwaveringly refused “Look what happened last time I went on that show! Nope I’ve grown to like you and I want to keep you,” Chris commented.

Of course he was referring to the fact that when him and Shannon appeared together they broke up the very next day.

Shannon.

When the message came through from Becky that she had a great idea if Chris couldn’t make you never thought you would read the words Shannon. She wanted both of you to appear together, said it would be a “laugh.”

You had met Shannon twice, once before Chris and you had got together at an event and once afterwards at Becky’s birthday party. She was nothing but kind and gracious, Chris having spoken about you to her a lot. This was on another level though, it rattled you a little but after some assurances from Becky that Shannon was on board and it would be fun you agreed.

“Hello lovely!” Becky’s wonderful sing song Welsh voice rang out the studio. You smiled nervously and gave her a hug.

“Hey, how are you?”

“I’m good, I’m good how are you? Welcome to my pub!” Becky exclaimed, you smiled and looked around the place, the bar was incredibly well stocked and up on a bar stool already was Shannon, a glass of wine in front of her. She smiled warmly at you and waved, you sent a polite smile back but felt the nerves bubbling inside you.

“Want a pre drink?” Becky asked, you nodded silently and followed her to the bar area as Shannon poured a third glass of wine, this one was yours.

“Before we start I just wanted to ask if there was anything maybe you were uncomfortable with talking about? I’d hate for this to be awkward so just wanted to lay stuff down first?” Shannon suggested. You nodded.

“Chris and I agreed we’d talk about some stuff but keep a lot of it under wraps. I don’t know how I’ll feel after a couple of drinks though,” you smile and Shannon and Becky giggled.

You made some small talk but soon the cameras were rolling, hair and make up was touched up a little bit and it was go time.

“Hello and welcome back to see if off with strong questions and even stronger drinks! Today we have a treat for you as we have two beautiful babes with me today in Shannon and Y/N!” The three of you started clapping.

“The pair of you ready to drink?” Becky asked with a small smile.

“Well we’ve already started,” you replied with a smile causing the other two to giggle.

The premise of the video was simple, if you hesitate answering a question you drink. Things started off quite lightly, talking about videos and then it moved onto people you had met that you didn’t really like or click with very much. Both you and Shan had hesitated a little bit with it so you both had to drink a rum and coke.

Then the inevitable happened.

“So obviously you two have something in common or should I say someone in common, a certain Christopher Dixon also known as ChrisMD so I would like to know what has been your favourite date from the little hobbit.” You and Shannon looked at each other and shared a smirk which counted as a hesitation meaning you both needed to drink, it was wine again this time.

“Not a date as such but we went to Iceland and it honestly to this day is my favourite holiday.” Shannon answered while you thought of your answer.

“Probably my birthday a couple of weeks ago. He took me to my favourite play and Chris is not a musicals guy at all but sat through it for me and took me to this restaurant that I talked about once and mentioned it was my favourite meal so booked it for us. He often says he has a terrible memory and that’s true to some extent,” you started and Shannon nodded in agreement, you continued. “But he remembers the things that really matter and is thoughtful.”

“He is, he is always on his phone and it can drive you mad but you realise he’s just jotting things down so he doesn’t forget them later,” Shannon added.

“Okay, next question have you two ever compared notes?” Becky asked, a wide and sly grin on her face. You looked at Shannon again and bit your bottom lip slightly. In the time between Shannon and yourself Chris had made a bit of a reputation for himself for his bedroom antics and you had to admit you were a very happy customer. Part of you had wondered if he was naturally gifted or if it came with experience.

“Not yet,” Shannon’s response caused you to almost choke on your drink, you coughed.

“Is that what you do in the bedroom too?” Becky asked at your choking, the three of your then collapsed in a fit of giggles.

“He prefers the other way,” you replied now feeling bold from all the drinks you had consumed.

“Oh absolutely!” Shannon agreed and the pair of you giggled again.

“You know I can see that the dirty little boy!” Becky added raising her glass , the three women then clinked their glasses laughing between each other and took a sip. The video now became more about the drinking then playing the game.

“So his top shagger status is true then?” Becky asked, it wasn’t one of the questions he had on the card she just wanted to have a bit of a gossip now.

“I mean I never had any complaints even at the time.” Shannon smiled.

“He’s very giving,” you added sipping your drink once more.

“Oh absolutely, he puts other people’s needs before his own. I think he’s always been that way.”

“And he’ll try another once,” you spoke again.

Becky just sat in her way the biggest shit eating grin on her face as you and Shannon continued to bond over Chris’s bedroom adventures.

Eventually the conversation moved to other things but Becky was safe in the knowledge that this would be a good video.

You didn’t tell Chris too much about what had said, he did notice how tipsy you were and you told him that you and Shannon had a good time and you completely understood why he fell for her because she was beautiful and sweet but not much beyond that. You told him his name came up “a couple of times” but he didn’t know how much until the video was  released a couple of weeks later.

He watched it.

Of course he watched it, he was a curious little kitty and when he watched it, it almost killed him. You had to admit you couldn’t remember everything you said that day and you didn’t know what made the edit. Chris was at home, watching it with George which was a massive mistake as he already had lots of ideas on how to make content out of it already. You were filming but the pair of you had already made plans to meet up for dinner that night at your favourite ramen place. Chris was already there which was slightly unusual, sitting down at a booth. You walked over and indicated to the server that you were with someone and sat down opposite him.

“Hey you.” You gave him your usual greeting.

“So, youtube now know I love eating out and my dick leans slightly to the left,” he replied. He tried to look pissed off but he had that mischievous glint in his eye.

“We were complimentary too…” you tailed off, hoping the waiter would come over soon with a drink order. A big one.”

“Yeah. Four times in one day compared to her three and the hour session,” he replied this time his smile growing on his face.

“If I apologise and promise never to do it again will you agree to never take all those things away from me,” you suggested, genuinely looking remorseful.

“Fine. But next time you and Shan bond please don’t let it be on camera.”

You smiled. “Deal.”

[insomniac4000]

I loved that video with Reev and Will 🥺 Hearing men speak openly about their struggles and getting therapy is great and I just think it shows how lovely Reev is that people feel able to open up to him like that on camera. Compare that to when Will was on the Fellas and I felt they were childishly dismissive of his emotions tbh, it just shows how much maturity goes such a long way. Emotional intelligence is sexy fr.

I 100% agree. Reev is just a sweetheart and I love how relaxed he is and how people feel they can open up to him.

He called Will very emotionally intelligent and I agree with that completely. The way he opened up and discussed things and how he talked about going to therapy. Massive kudos for him and Chris for talking about therapy. Mens mental health needs to be talked about a lot more.

Plus him saying he wanted to be a good dad because he has good parents and wants to continue that on made me all choked up!

[insomniac4000]

overstimulation

chris dixon x fem reader <3

summary: after a stressful week for chris all you want to do is something for him, but he has other ideas.

a/n: 18+ mdni

wc: 2.1k

content: pussy eating, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it lads).

chris dixon was not the type of man to do anything half assed. he coveted and worshiped his partners, planning special birthday dinners and he was always in charge of planning holidays. he didn’t want you to stress, to have to think about anything, he always had everything covered. since being with chris all you’ve ever had to do was show up because he always took care of the rest.

sometimes you felt guilty, never really feeling like you were pulling your weight in the relationship, but he always reassured you. his love language was quality time - all he wanted was to spend time with you. but when saturday rolled around after a particularly stressful and hectic week for chris, the guilt hit you again. while still under your cozy sheets lounging together under the morning sun that was streaming in through your window you bring up his long week, “is there anything i can do for you?”

you should have figured that everything he wanted to do with his saturday still revolved around you. he treats you to brunch, each of you stealing bites off of the other’s plates. afterwards, you two lazily walk the streets with full bellies, chris pulling you into any shop he notices catches your eye. when you notice a pub that appears relatively quiet for a saturday afternoon you pull him inside. you interrupt his protests of it only being 2 o’clock by saying, “chris, you deserve a pint, live a little bit.”

one pint turned into two, which turned into three and after one too many cocktails for yourself chris decided it was time for you two to head back to your flat. you giggle to each other through the streets, walking hand in hand in your own little world. “when we get back, we should watch movies in our pajamas and get takeaway,” you suggested, “you can even pick the movie.”

“well, let’s get back before you change your mind about that,” he teased. 

you two finally make it to your flat and clumsily slip out of your shoes in the entryway. you keep locking eyes and giggling, giddy at being day drunk on a random saturday, “aren’t i full of great ideas?” you ask, cheeks flushed.

chris looks at you as thoughtfully as he can in his tipsy state and brings his hand up to cradle your jaw, “you are, sometimes,” he makes himself chuckle, “but so am i, now go change into something comfy.” his voice is commanding as he swats at your butt as you go to turn down the hall to your shared bedroom.

you feel light and floaty as you hum to yourself while pulling a pair of sweatpants out of your open dresser drawer. you get lost in your own world for a moment as you shuck your trousers off and step into your sweats, pulling them up over your love handles. you startle when you feel chris’ warm body press along your back, hands wandering around your waist to rest against the softness of your stomach. “just me,” he chuckles warmly against your skin, voice low as he presses a kiss against your temple. he moves his lips lower, pressing a kiss right below your ear before whispering, “remember when you asked me if there was anything you could do for me today? well, i finally thought of something.”

you turn your head to look at him over your shoulder with big curious eyes, “what is it?”, you’re eager to at last have something to do for him, to be useful. 

his hands trail back to your hips, gripping you in his solid hands, fingers sinking into your soft flesh. pressing another kiss to your flesh, his breath hot against your ear, “bend over.”

your brows furrow, you mind moving syrupy slow, more focused on the way his lips and hands feel on your body instead of his words. you have a hard time forming words, still feeling the buzz underneath your skin. chris can sense you struggling and takes pity on you, bringing one hand up to the center of your back and gently presses your chest into the safety and warmth of your bed, leaving you bent at the waist. you giggle at your position, mind finally catching up to his perversions, “chris!”

but your laugh turns into a gasp when your sweats are pulled down your legs along with your panties, “stay just like that for me, sweetheart,” he urged as you heard him drop to his knees behind you. his hands smoot over the globes of your ass, pulling your cheeks apart and exposing your wet folds to his hungry gaze, “stay just like this for me,” he murmured lowly before leaning forward to lick up your sensitive folds. 

your responding moan is shocked and high pitched as you melt against the mattress, he smacks a wet kiss against your cunt before you feeling him shuffling behind you. he gets up from his knees to sit back against the mattress, head resting against the edge, your fluttering hole hovering right over his waiting mouth. 

and he wasn’t wasting any time, either, sweeping his tongue through your wetness before attaching his lips to your clit, sucking hard. your legs shake as a guttural moan is ripped out of you. all you can do is grind against his tongue and grip the sheets as he works you closer and closer to orgasm. he settles his hands firmly against your ass again, gripping your soft flesh in his strong hands. you were putty in them, mind cloudy as he took over the rhythm you had set, instead forcing your hips to grind your clit against his tongue at his pace. and what finally sent you over the edge was how badly you knew he wanted you to come. you come on his tongue, letting out a gasp and a string of broken moans as he laps at your slick, groaning against your sloppy, twitching cunt.

he doesn’t give you much of a reprieve before he’s back on his feet, grip firm around your hips so he can slide you further up the bed. his hands are all over you as he moves you onto your back and when your eyes begin to focus again you can see that he looks just as fucked out as you feel. his lips and chin are slick with your release, his cheeks are flushed a deep pink, eyes half lidded, and his hairs a mess. 

his smirk is cocky as he meets your gaze, “there’s my girl.” 

you grin to yourself and you stomach flutters as his big hands push your shirt up your belly. his lips brush against the swell of your exposed breasts, the barely there contact sending shivers through your whole body, his lips continue to trail down your body, pressing kisses along the stretch marks of your stomach.

your brain is still trying to get back online, your body still shuttering weakly from the aftershocks, you’re eventually able to tangle your fingers in his soft, unruly curls, pulling his attention back to your face. you whine his name, not even knowing what you’re asking for. his gaze cuts back up to you as he rests his chin against the softness of your stomach. his eyes shine from the sunlight and his smirk isn’t mean or unkind, he just knows you’ll do exactly what he asks of you.

his hands drift down your hips to your inner thighs, thumbs grazing your wet core. just the whisper of a touch has you whimpering, “think you can give me another one, sweetheart?”, he inquired, but one of his thick fingers was already pushing past the fluttering resistance of your hole and making a home for itself in your wet, heat. “knew you’d open right up for me.”

the intrusion makes your eyes roll back, your head tipping back to rest against the softness of the bed and your thighs shake at the sudden pleasure. your cunt is still sensitive and pulsing from your first orgasm as you reach down to wrap both your hands around his wrist. if you don’t ground yourself to him you feel like you’ll burst into a million little pieces. 

“chris,” you whine again, breathy and pathetic, his name the only words in your mind. the mess you made from your first orgasm makes the glide of his finger so smooth along your walls. he pulls almost all the way out before placing another digit at your entrance, slowly plunging both into your fluttering hole. you moan at the stretch and scramble to get your hands around the backs of your thighs to spread yourself open to him as he kneels over you. 

his knuckles drag firm and tight against that sensitive spot inside of you that makes you cream against his digits. he brings up his thumb to press firm circles against the sensitive bud of your clit. you choke on a moan as you grip your thighs tight, nails digging into the soft flesh instead of letting them close around his hand as your walls pulse and clench, coating his fingers in your cum.

you writhe against his fingers, chasing your orgasm as he continues to stroke your trembling clit through it all. the cooes at you when you begin to whine at the overstimulation, his fingers still stretching your quivering entrance. “good girl, good girl,” he murmurs, finally pulling his fingers out of you. 

your hands shake as you come down from your high for the second time. you twist your fingers back into his curls, bringing his body back down to blanket over yours. your lips meet in a messy kiss and you groan at the taste of yourself on his lips. you just need to be close to him, to feel him all around you, making you feel safe and secure in his arms. he pulls back and gazes into your eyes for a long moment, his features soft as he strokes a finger down your cheeks. his soft smile turns mischievous as he wonders, “think you can give me just one more?”

instead of answering you let him turn you over back onto your front, his hands soft and gentle on your heated skin. he makes space for himself between your legs, pushing one of your legs up to expose your puffy, sensitive lips to him. he teases you, rubbing his thick tip through your messy folds, purposefully bumping against your clit just to hear you whimper and watch you squirm. he finally takes his heavy cock in hand and rests it against your entrance, meeting almost no resistance when he finally pushes forward.

“there she is, my perfect fucking girl,” he whispered in awe at the way your body made space for him. you let his words wash over you, unable to do anything else, too fucked out by all that he’d done to you already. but, you remembered that this day was supposed to be about him and so far it hadn’t been. you weakly try to meet his steady thrusts but chris adjusts his position when he senses your movement. 

he leans down, his elbows on either side of your head, warm body draped over yours as he continued his steady thrusts. “no, no, just lay there and take it. you don’t have to do anything, just be good and take it.” he babbled, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chased his own orgasm.

and you did what you were told, just laid there in the messy sheets, whimpering as his cock dragged over all your sensitive spots. you groaned as he gave a few harsh thrusts before you felt his cock twitch and spill inside of you, leaving you feeling warm all over. 

he stayed draped over you as he tried to catch his breath. his hands were all over the place, stroking over your heated flesh as he peppered kisses up your neck and across your cheeks. “seeing you cum like that, twice, was the sexiest fucking thing i’ve ever seen.” 

your face heats up at the praise, knowing he means every word of it. but then he starts to shift, moving as if he’s going to sit up. “here, just that last one, sweetheart.” he went to put his hands under your hip and you interrupt him before he can get his fingers back on your spent cunt, “no, chris, please, i just want to lay with you,” your voice is wrecked but you hope he knows that you cannot cum again. 

his gaze turns soft as he leans down to press a kiss to your sweaty temple, “anything you want.”

[insomniac4000]

It’s so easy for some people to hide behind their keyboards it’s crazy like why be rude are u a fucking child omg this is why i could never have a page cause i’m petty and i will fight every single person 😂

I know it's a problem on other platforms but I honestly thought Tumblr was better than that

[insomniac4000]

It's a free country I can say whatever the fuck i want bitch

No you can't

If you do it doesn't mean no consequences.

There are real human people behind the Tumblr. Just like you are a real human behind this "anon" façade, you exist and if you're this unkind in real life like you are behind a screen karma will come for you.

If you're the person terrorising some UKYT fan accounts. Get help. This isn't funny or clever.

[insomniac4000]

Babes

[insomniac4000]

The anonymous button is not for hate messages and death threats! It’s for confessing your love and asking stupid questions!

[insomniac4000]

with chris and harry's sis where she is a singer and chris is regreting not dating her earlier

are you gonna do that request?

It's on the list.

I have a few others I need to first :)

[insomniac4000]

are you going to do my request?

Hi anon

I currently have over a dozen anon requests was wondering which one you were referring to?

They can take a little while sometimes so apologies for that.

[insomniac4000]

do you have any fic recs for joe weller? i'm dying for more writing about him

One by the wonderful G https://www.tumblr.com/pretendyoucantseeme/779684002654224384/enjoying-the-view-joe-weller?source=share

And 2 more here https://www.tumblr.com/sdmnpact/779621713531011072/brighton-pier?source=share

There's not many!!

[insomniac4000]

hey, are you taking requests right now?

You can always request. I may take some time to do them but will get round to them eventually.

Just a bit of a reminder to everyone I dont write for people in relationships and I dont really do song requests

And no illegal shit obviously

[insomniac4000]

when you're not here

description: even on opposite shifts, you and george never stop finding your way back to each other - one text at a time.

pairing: police officer!george clarke x er nurse!fem!reader

contains: fluff, talks of hospital injuries, talks of police work

song rec: work song by hozier- "i'm so full of love, i can barely eat. there's nothing sweeter than my baby."

w.c: 800+

a.n: oh, don't mind me....i'm just manifesting my future life as i go into nursing school.

your phone buzzed just as you stepped into the er locker room, the familiar fluorescent lights humming above you like they always did before a shift.

george: morning, love. just headed out. be safe today, okay? xx

you smiled before you could help it.

george had a way of reaching you even when he wasn’t there. even through words on a screen.

you tapped out a reply quickly, your fingers flying with muscle memory.

you: just clocked in. full moon last night so let’s see what kind of chaos we’re in for. you too, georgie. come home to me safe, yeah?

you added a red heart, hit send, and shoved your phone in the locker before pulling your scrub top over your head. already you could hear voices from the hallway - monitors beeping, gurneys rolling, the steady rhythm of a hospital that never really sleeps.

you wouldn’t see george this morning. you hadn’t seen him last night either.

shifts had a cruel way of keeping you apart.

he worked nights mostly - on patrol, sometimes in the city center, sometimes responding to calls that made your stomach twist when you heard about them. you worked swing shifts in the er, never the same two days in a row. on rare occasions, you passed each other in the apartment like ghosts: him coming home, you going out, the warmth of a kiss lingering on your lips but not enough to make up for the hours lost.

but you had the texts.

always the texts.

every morning, every night, even if you barely had time to breathe.

that was your ritual.

your shift began like all the others: chaos layered with urgency, layered with fatigue. a kid with a broken arm, an elderly woman struggling to breathe, a man with stab wounds refusing to say how it happened. you moved from room to room, stitching lives back together one second at a time.

around lunch, you ducked into the break room and pulled out your phone. a new message waited.

george: just came off a call. armed robbery. everyone's okay. thinking about you. did you eat?

you rolled your eyes with a grin. that was george. he could be shoulder-deep in danger, but he’d still worry if you skipped a meal.

you: bag of chips and a yogurt. so basically, i’m thriving. how about you, officer clarke?

george protein bar and two coffees. living the dream.

you leaned back, phone in hand, letting yourself imagine him just for a moment. his uniform slightly wrinkled, one of his sleeves rolled too far, hair tousled from his hat, eyes tired but steady.

the man who made you laugh even when your scrubs were blood-stained and your eyes burned from crying.

the rest of the day passed in a blur. more patients, more charts, more noise. when you finally changed out of your scrubs, it was nearly 8 p.m. the sky outside was dark, your body buzzing with adrenaline and exhaustion in equal measure.

another text came in as you slung your bag over your shoulder.

george: back at the station. end of shift in 20. got any plans to collapse dramatically into our couch tonight?

you: you know me. wine, takeout, and reruns. preferably with my husband beside me.

george: best plan i’ve heard all day. on my way soon. love you, always.

you: love you more. drive safe.

you didn’t need much.

just this.

just the ritual.

a string of words that reminded you he was still out there, still yours.

you made it home first. the apartment smelled faintly like his cologne and the coffee he drank too late in the day. you set your bag down and headed straight for the bathroom, needing to wash the day from your skin. the water was warm and soothing, and when you stepped out, you wrapped yourself in a towel and padded to the bedroom.

you opened his drawer.

you always did, on nights like this.

one of george's old shirts, soft and oversized, went on first. then a pair of his sweatpants, slightly baggy but comforting in a way only his clothes could be. you pulled your hair into a loose bun and grabbed a fuzzy blanket from the end of the bed.

you lit a candle on the coffee table, kicked off your slippers, and sank into the couch with a sigh. the tv played quietly in the background, but you weren’t really watching. you were waiting.

not anxiously.

just...waiting.

not until the front door creaked open.

george walked in, his uniform jacket slung over one arm, a bag of thai takeout in the other. you were already smiling.

he leaned down, kissed you slow, soft.

"hi, poppet."

you curled against him, arms wrapped around his waist.

"hi."

neither of you said much after that.

you didn’t need to.

the texts had said it all.

[insomniac4000]

Congratulations James!!!! Number one album :)

https://www.instagram.com/reel/DLIPlCRIMEQ/?igsh=N3Rrd2IzbWlyaTRt

[insomniac4000]

w2s dad fic next?

When you told Harry he was going to be a dad, he had the exact response a lot of fans assumed he did.

He screamed. Not a little yelp. No, this was a full-blown Harry freak out; throw chair at the TV, scare the dogs, knock over a mug of tea type of scream. The kind of scream that made you stare at him like he was the one about to give birth right this second.

“You alright?” you asked, already amused. Harry stood there, frozen, a pregnancy test in one hand like it was radioactive. “I—I don’t know how to be a dad! I can’t even keep mint alive. Mint! You just water it!”

“We don’t even have mint in the garden,” you replied.

“Exactly! I forgot to buy the fucking little pot it comes in! We have a shit tone of Coriander. What if our baby is mint and not coriander?” He panicked.

You walked over, put your arms around his neck and kissed his cheek lightly in an attempt to calm him down. “You’re going to be brilliant.”

He didn’t believe you. At least not then.

He watched YouTube tutorials like “How to hold a baby without dropping it” and “Do babies bounce?” (He didn’t stop asking questions of Ethan and Simon, something that you found incredibly adorable.

He overprepared. He thought if he was going to be a shit dad at least the child should want for nothing so he bought a car seat it took four of you to work out how to install. He spent over a grand on a pram that looked more like a Mars rover than anything a human child should be in. Painted the nursery yellow because he read somewhere it was a “neutral, calming colour,” then immediately hated it and repainted it blue. Twice. It had to be blue.

When their son finally arrived, something switched in Harry’s brain. One minute he was a nervous wreck with hands that hovered uselessly like he was defusing a bomb, and the next, he was cradling him like he’d done it his whole life, he stared it his tiny little son in his huge hands and all of sudden there was something which just felt… right. Like it always belonged.

“Okay lad you listen, screams are for FIFA and for freaking out your uncle Chris during football challenges yea fella? Not at 2am.”

Of course it didn’t work but Harry took it in stride. You were breastfeeding but even so he saw it as his duty to take Elliot and settle him back down placing him to sleep, when he wouldn’t settle he would place him on his chest, talking to him about anything and nothing but mostly plane crashed. You would joke it wasn’t appropriate for a child to hear but it didn’t matter, weirdly it worked. Mostly you loved the sight of your two boys, Elliot snuggled on his daddy’s chest both with small smiles on their faces.

He made up games like “Catch the Nappy” (it was never caught), “Burp or Explosion?” and “Milkface,” where he’d put on a bib himself and pretend to chug a bottle. It was for him, obviously. Not because it made his you laugh until you cried.

Bath time became Harry’s favourite thing to do and it became incredibly chaotic, it was his favourite time to make up games.

Elliot would splash, and Harry would retaliate with a tiny cup of warm water over his head, gasping dramatically. “YOU DARE WET THE KING?” he’d yell, causing your son to go into a fit of giggles, his first ever giggles were in the bath.

But for all the chaos, he was good. Really good.

He could soothe him with a gentle rock, do nappies in record speed, he still gagged at them but he got them done incredibly quickly and by the time he turned one, he knew who the fun parent was.

“Dada!” Elliot babbled one day, pointing directly at him, you never saw him smile as widely before.

When you told him you were pregnant again, Harry blinked slowly and whispered, “We’ve done this once. It’s fine. Right?” He was surprisingly calm but when he found out you were having a girl, the panic set in again a little, what did he know about raising girls? Turns out quite a lot.

But when babyLeah arrived, Harry was calmer. Still fun, still slightly chaotic. Still prone to yelling things like “THE BEAST IS FED!” after a bottle, but calmer, he loved his little girl HIS little girl to protect and love.

And Elliot? A surprisingly sweet big brother, considering he was his fathers son he could be sweet at times. Harry’s mum told you it reminded her a lot of Harry and Rosie. There were the odd moments like when Elliot was trying to “share” his half-eaten biscuit by shoving it in Leah’s ear.

Harry loved having two. He joked he was now running a starter Pokémon team.

“Water-type baby and Normal-type toddler. Soon, I will evolve.”

His favourite pastime became launching them into the air in turns, safely, he said and catching them with dramatic “DA-DAAA!” poses like he was on stage. His arms were constantly tired, but his heart was full.

Bedtime routines? A full production. Songs, dances, plushie puppet theatre. Elliot refused to sleep unless Harry did the bedtime story with all of the silly voices. Leah insisted daddy tucking her in as tight as he possibly could.

He suggested the Sidemen do a “father Olympics” video, everyone was sure he would win.

By the time Baby Number Three came along, another boy named Sebastian or Seb—Harry was a seasoned pro.

By now, your house was a noisy, toy-strewn kingdom of tiny humans who all worshipped him like some chaotic, bouncy god. Three mops of blonde hair, three very loud and cheeky personalities

“Seb, this is a football,” he said proudly one day, placing it in front of her at six months. “Your brother kicks it, your sister throws it, and I step on it, fall and scream into the void.”

Elliot now six had learned sarcasm, which was terrifying, Leah was approaching four and had a love of airplanes, Seb the baby was small, squishy, and already mastering his “Dad can’t say no to me” face.

He built pillow forts bigger than his sofa. Turned bedtime into laser-tag hide-and-seek. Once installed a ball pit in the living room “for early stimulation” (and also for diving into like a gremlin when the kids went to bed). You of course made him tidy it all up after as he grumbled.

“Daddy, come play castle!” Was a frequent request.

Harry would sigh, pick up a foam sword, and declare, “Right. I’m the dragon now. You have to slay me before bedtime!”

And they would. Usually with plastic pots on their heads as helmets and the dogs joining in for no reason.

He wasn’t the most traditional dad. He let them stay up late just because. Let them eat cereal with forks “just to see what happened.” He once accidentally let Leah eat a crayon (“It was non-toxic! It said non-toxic!”) and got yelled at for laughing too hard.

But when they were sad, he was there. When they were sick, he was bedside with cuddles and Paw Patrol. When they learned something new, he was front-row with a proud tear in his eye and his phone camera zoomed way too close.

And despite all the chaos, the house filled with laughter.

One night, after finally getting them all to sleep, he collapsed on the couch next to you and sighed, “I used to be famous, you know.”

“You still are,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Am I?” he yawned.

“Yeah. You’re Dad Famous. You’re the king of puddle-jumping, the pillow fort architect, the fart noise champion of the world.”

He smiled, looking around at the toys, the laundry, the crayons on the walls.

“I’ll take it.”

Then he paused.

“…Wait. Why is it too quiet?”

“Harry, no—don’t jinx—”

A crash.

A scream.

A giggle.

He stood up with a sigh. “Round four begins.”