This took me so fricken long and I have no idea why. Anyway I hope you all enjoy :)
Poppy being in nursery for a few hours on a morning was obviously great for her development but it helped the Mrs out a few days a week too. And it really was helpful only after she’d ensued the chaos that is a house with two small children getting ready for school.
“Poppy, put your shoes on please.”
…
“Poppy, shoes! Quickly!”
…
“POPPY PUT YOUR SHOES ON RIGHT NOW!”
Seb’s eyes widened as he strapped up his Velcro trainers, seeing he’s in no position to argue with his mum right now. She was in stressed out mum mode for sure. She looked at Seb’s face.
“Don’t start.” With a deep breath, she ran a hand through her hair.
“Mummy, I don’t want to wear those ones!” Poppy rounded the corner, thankfully fully dressed curtesy of Morgan.
“Pops, you wear those everyday come on.” Morgan followed shortly after her, also fully dressed and ready for a full day of filming.
“No daddy! I don’t like them! I want to wear these!” She pulls out her plastic princess style heels, the same ones that go with her Cinderella dress up set. Morgan can’t help but laugh. Having a baby girl was so different to Seb growing up, he was so laid back.
“You can’t wear those. Nursery won’t let you.” The Mrs puts her trainers in front of the stairs, like she does every morning so Poppy can have her shoes put on. She picks Poppy up, who immediately begins to scream and cry before placing her on one of the steps. Of course, Morgan’s phone begins to ring leaving her to fend for herself.
“Two seconds love.”
“Mummy!!! No!!!” She wriggles, trying to stand up.
“Poppy, you have to wear trainers darling or nursery won’t let you play. You want to play with the other children today don’t you?” Although her patience was waring thin, somewhere within her the Mrs mustered up a sweet, calm voice to try and defuse the situation.
“No!” Suddenly Poppy picks up one of her princess heels, throwing it straight at her mum in anger. It hits her square in the face and leaves her shocked. Her eyes watering. Even Seb gasps. Poppy’s cries stop, she’s even surprised herself. And now she knows she’s in big trouble.
It had been the same for weeks, a constant struggle with keeping a toddler happy 24/7. It was different with Seb. He was the only one they had to give their attention to at the time. But now with two small children, things were difficult.
“Shoes on, you have 2 minutes.” She’d given up, walking off into the house. Her voice quiet. She had to take a minute before she completely lost her shit.
She hardly had a second for herself and even when the kids were at nursery/school, she’d spend the day tidying after them. Lord knows the last time her and Morgan had some time completely on their own. With his streaming schedule, she was absolutely shattered by the time he got into bed.
“Yeah, I’ll be there in 5-“ Morgan’s eyes widened when he saw her, tears threatening to overspill her eyes onto her face. “What’s up?” He pulled the phone back to his ear. “Behz mate I’ll ring you back.” He follows her until she locks herself in the bathroom upstairs.
“Daddy! Seb took my doll!” Poppy screams from downstairs, with a deep breath he decides to get them ready himself.
“Poppy made mum cry!” Seb shouts.
“No I didn’t! Stop saying that!” Poppy cries even harder, clearly feeling incredibly guilty.
“She did dad. She threw her stupid princess heel at her face!”
“That’s out of order Poppy, you can’t hurt people to get your own way.” Morgan speaks calmly. “You especially don’t hurt your mum, she loves you.”
Poppy nods, not crying anymore but listening to what Morgan has to say.
“Sorry daddy.” She hangs her head down, upset with herself.
“It’s your mum you should say sorry to Pops.”
“What’re you doing? You’ve got filming.” The Mrs appears in the doorway, watching Morgan strap Poppy into the car seat in the back of his car.
“Don’t worry love, go and chill yeah?” He puts his hands on either side of her head and kisses her forehead.
“But you’re going to be late-“
“Shush. We love you. See you later.” He’s already getting in the car with a grin on his face.
“Bye mummy!” Seb waves from the backseat.
The car ride consists mostly of silence, the radio playing quietly. Usually it’s chaos, Poppy and Seb arguing, the Mrs shouting at them both to stop.
“Daddy will you tell mummy I love her?” Poppy says quietly, in deep thought.
“Course I will, she knows you do. You just need her show her more. We all do.” Morgan nods, making a mental note to buy some flowers on the way home.
After dropping both of the children off, he heads back home. Flowers in hand and a promise from his mum to babysit this Saturday. He shakes his head when he hears the washing machine door shut as he walks in.
“Reader?” He walks further into the house and stops when he sees her folding up laundry at the dining table.
“I told you to chill out babe.” He smiles affectionately at her, walking over taking one of Seb’s t shirts from her hands and putting it on the table. He can see her bottom lip wobbling before she even begins to cry. “Come ‘ere.” He pull her into his arms as she cries into his chest.
“I don’t even know why I’m crying.” She sobs, completely overwhelmed. “Maybe it’s my period or something.” She shakes her head, turning away and looking out of the window, trying to calm herself down.
“Doesn’t have to be your period, you can be upset y’know?” He wipes her eyes. “You’ve been running on empty for way too long love.” He’d tried everything, this wasn’t the first time she’d broken down. She wasn’t herself these days. Of course, he’d offered loads of help. Offered to move filming days around so that she could have the full day to herself, his mum had even offered to have them 1-2 days a week so they had some time together. But as stubborn as she is, she’d refused. Said she was fine and got on with it.
“Mum’s having them on Saturday.”
“What-“
“All day.”
“But Seb-“
“No buts, stop worrying. Everything’s going to be fine.”
She’s not even sure she has the energy to think about it, let alone argue about it. So she nods and smiles, taking the flowers he’d been holding out to her.
“Ok.”
“You do everything for us, so I thought I’d take you out…” He smirks, his hands sliding down her waist and landing on her arse. “Been a while hasn’t it love?” His hands squeeze as his lips kiss down her neck.
“M-Morgan.” She stutters out. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”
“I’ll take the fine if it means I can show my wife how much I appreciate her.” He says smugly, she gasps as he picks her up, her legs wrapping around his waist. Soon her back hits the cold wooden table as she lays back. His hands working quickly to get her knickers off. He smirks as soon as he sees she’s wet, knowing exactly what she needs. “Can’t believe how lucky I am.”
Her breath hitches when his fingers touch her clit, soon slowly invading her hole as he moves two of them in and out of her. “My wife, my fuckin’ gorgeous wife.”
She can’t help but moan, her walls clenching around him in pleasure. It had been forever since they’d been intimate.
“Hear how wet you are love?” He grins, she nods. Her cheeks blushed pink. “Been so fucking long since I watched you cum. You gonna cum for me, hm?” He taunts, smirking as his fingers curl upwards inside of her.
“Fuck!- y-yes, oh my god.”
It had only taken a mere two minutes to get her right to the very edge.
“Fuckin’ hell.” He watches her back arch off the table, her legs spread as she completely lets go. “Go on, let go love.”
With a high pitched moan, her muscles tense up as her head goes back. Her eyes close and she instinctively closes her legs as she rides out her orgasm. He smirks, pulling his fingers out and sucking on each one. “Unbelievable.”
Within a few minutes, she smiles at him, sitting up and stifling a laugh.
“There it is, fucking gorgeous when you smile y’know?” He kisses her lips, pushing her hair behind her ear. He looks down at his watch. “I’ve got to go. Promise you’ll just chill out? I better see all of those clothes exactly where they are when I get back.”
She actually listens this time. She decides to enjoy the rare heatwave in Manchester and sunbathes in the garden, alternating between scrolling through her phone and reading her book until it’s time to pick the kids up.
Poppy runs out of school, a piece of coloured card in her hand. Glitter falling from the page as she sprints over to her mum.
“Mummy! Mummy! I made you this!” She smiles proudly as she hands over the card. Tears fill the Mrs eyes once more as she reads it. Clearly it’s been hand written by an adult until the very bottom of the card where it says “Poppy” at the bottom. The Ps backwards and her writing messy in the cutest way.
“To mummy,
I’m sorry for hurting you and being not nice this morning. I love you.
Love from, Poppy.”
“Oh Pops, it’s amazing! I love it, thank you so much!” She smiles as she hugs her smaller frame.
Her, Seb and Poppy spend the rest of the afternoon in the garden as they wait for Morgan to get back from work. He’d got the pool out for them the night before and it was finally full enough for them to play in the water.
He smiles when he walks into the house, instantly hearing them all laughing. Poppy and the Mrs shrieking as Seb splashed them with cold water. Walking over to the back door, he watches them. His family.
“Daddy!” Poppy claps, looking over at the door. Both the Mrs and Seb turn to face the door.
“Dad!” Seb smiles from the pool. “Can you come and play football with me? Pleeeeease.”
“Course I can mate, just give me a minute.” He walks over to where the Mrs and Poppy are playing with her Barbie’s on one of the sun loungers.
“What’s going on here then?” He grins, looking at the scene in front of him.
“Well daddy, Barbie is changing her outfit because she’s going to the beach so she needs her swimming costume on.” Poppy explains matter of factly.
“Ah I see, of course.” He smirks. As soon as Poppy begins to play again, he lifts up his sunglasses his eyes landing straight on the Mrs’ body in her bikini with a wink. “There’s ice creams in the freezer.” He announces, mostly to Seb and Poppy. Seb jumps out of the pool and Poppy runs in the house behind him. Leaving the two of them alone.
“Good day?” She asks, smiling up at him.
“Better now.” He smirks, his eyes all over her.
“Perv.”
“Can’t blame me.” He leans down, kissing her lips. “You look happier.”
“I am.” She giggles against his lips. “Love you.” He kisses her once more, sitting down on the edge of the sun lounger now.
“Euuuurrrggh! Yuck!” Poppy recoils when she sees them both, Seb’s face turns sour at the sight of them.
“Dad that’s disgusting!” He hands over two ice creams to them standing as far back as he can.
“It wasn’t me! It’s your mum, she’s always kissing me.” Morgan laughs.
“Yeah right.” Seb retorts, clearly having his dad figured out. “I always hear you kissing mam in bed-“
“Right, enough of that! Who’s coming in the pool?” Morgan stands up, clapping his hands together awkwardly in a bid to get to Seb to stop talking.
“Me! I’m going in!” Poppy jumps excitedly. “Mummy come on.”
Saturday rolls along quicker than expected. She felt awful for wishing it to come sooner, she’d been craving some alone time with Morgan ever since he’d mentioned it.
He’s grinning from ear to ear once he gets back from dropping them off at his mums. They’d decided on Nando’s and the cinema. Nothing flash but one of their favourite date nights. One that was a regular occurrence for the two of them before the kids.
“Feels so weird being in here without the kids. I feel like a teenager.” He laughs, recalling the days they’d do this every weekend. Even well after he started earning a lot of money they still found themselves in the same Nando’s they’d always went to.
Back at home, the rest of the house is quiet in comparison to their bedroom. She was all giggles as he pulled off her thong.
“My. Fucking. Gorgeous. Wife.” He kissed down her neck, lifting up her hips and placing one of their pillows underneath her. “Open.” He tapped on her thigh, pulling her legs apart and smirking at how her core glistened already. “Haven’t even touched you yet and you’re soaked.” His finger traces lightly over her folds and she jumps which pulls a small laugh from him.
His eyes never leave hers as he pushes two fingers inside her tight, wet hole. Curling them upwards with a smirk. “M-Morgan..” The sound of her wetness only spurs him on further. Pulling moans from her as he speeds up his movements. “Fuck-fuck, Morgan!”
He smirked cockily down at her, getting her as close to the edge as he could using just one of his hands. His thumb worked over her clit. “You’re dead close love.” By now she could only muster a nod, her eyes shut in pleasure as she whimpered. The knot in her stomach tightening as her moans turned even more high pitched.
Before he knew it, she was clamped down around his fingers, her own hand wrapped around his forearm tightly as she came around him.
“Could watch you all day y’know? Fuckin’ so sexy.”
He laid back, his back against the headboard of the bed as he grabbed her hand placing it on his cock. She couldn’t help but smirk at how hard he was, giggling before leaning down and swirling her tongue around the head of his length still looking into his eyes. She pushed her lips downwards, taking him only halfway and using his fist to pleasure the rest of him. “Jesus- keep going love. Gorgeous with your mouth full.” He stroked her cheek affectionately before contrastingly putting a balled fist into her hair and using it to control her movements. He smirked as she gagged each time his head hit the back of her throat, holding her head down just a few seconds before pulling her away. She lifted up, her mascara watering around her eyes as she wiped the saliva that had accumulated on her chin. She crawled up his body, a grin across her lips as she settled with both legs at his hips.
“Think I must be the luckiest man alive.” His hands reached up to grab each of her tits, squeezing them and rubbing his thumbs over her hardened nipples. “Could knock you up all over again.” He smirked, it was no secret that he’d have a whole football team of kids with her, he just couldn’t help himself but thankfully she had more sense and self restraint than him.
“Nice try.” She leaned over, opening the top drawer of his bedside table. “Put this on.” She handed him a red wrapper, ‘Durex’ printed across it. With a joked sigh, he opened up the condom and began to slide it onto his length.
He teasingly ran himself through her folds again, stopping at her hole with a smirk. She pulled his big hands from him, placing each one on her arse as she began to slide down on him. “So tight, always so tight.” He squeezed her arse cheek, making her groan. Adapting to the stretch of his girth inside of her, she began to move. Bouncing up and down on him, her hands instinctively moved to her tits cupping each one.
“Oh my god.” Her head flew back in pleasure.
With a gasp, he planted a hard slap across her arse cheek.
“Faster, go on. Fuckin’ ride me.”
She did exactly as he said, his filthy commands only spurring her on more.
“What are you? Hm?” He smirked teasingly, knowing they both knew there was only one thing he wanted to hear from her.
“Y-yours.”
“What?” He slapped at her arse cheek again.
“Yours!” She shouted louder.
“Better.”
He had her screaming in minutes. A side to her he hadn’t seen for ages, parenthood getting in the way.
“Morgan! I’m gonna cum!”
He’d contorted her body until she was bent over their bed, her face smushed into their mattress due to her hands being held behind her back by one of his.
“Again?” He smirked, he prided himself on pulling orgasm after orgasm from her which he’d been doing for the last 10 minutes even though he was close himself. Her eyes filled with tears as she began to convulse all over again. Pornographic moans leaving her lips as she screamed his name. Just the sight of her was enough to have him spilling into the condom.
“Oh my god..” She whispered as he pulled himself out of her. She instinctively laid down again, a soreness in what felt like every muscle in her body. She smiled as she felt his lips on her, kissing up from her stomach to her lips.
He’d disappeared a few minutes later, running the shower before carrying her in with him as she giggled.
It wasn’t long before their routine settled again, life with the kids felt easier the more she allowed herself to take a break. With the kids being so well behaved at Morgan’s mums, she’d offered to have them anytime, which Morgan kept a mental note of.
“You look shattered, I thought you were having a rest? What the hell have you been doing?” His nana exclaimed from the living room, cup of tea in hand as she examined her grandson.
Michelle took one look at the lovebite on his neck and laughed.
“Can’t a man show the mother of his kids some appreciation every now and then?” He held his hands up before rubbing over the mark on his neck earning a disapproving look from his mum.
“Well I hope you took her somewhere nice, she deserves that at least. All the running around she does after you lot.” His nana shook her head, taking a sip of her tea.
“Trust me, she’s sound nana.” He laughs, his mum bats his chest jokingly.
“Right get out of here, we don’t want to hear anymore.”
With Poppy’s Peppa Pig backpack on one shoulder and Seb’s scooter in the other hand, he laughed as he joined the kids in the car who were more than excited to spend the day with their mum again. Given that she was still tired from the night before, she felt more refreshed than she has in a long time.
Morgan’s Mrs is so on it when it comes to making sure he has sun cream on because she knows he’ll burn and she knows he’ll be complaining about it to her.
He secretly loves it though bc it means she’s touching him all over, he also returns the favour of putting suncream on her back and arse which is definitely not an excuse to touch her up 😌
He is not a fan of her tanning though - her lying in a bikini, skin glowing under the sun and she won’t let him touch her? Hell. He hates it. Even more so if they’re at the beach/on holiday bc wdym other people also get to see his hot girlfriend in a tiny bikini? 😐
He also hates nighttime because he likes to be touching her while he sleeps but she’s pushing him away because it’s hot and she’s sweating even without her heater of a boyfriend wrapped around her - he gets in such a mood. “Yeah no worries you sleep peacefully and neglect your loving boyfriend” 😒
Summary; Yours and Morgan’s journey from a family of three to a family of four.
Been trying to post this for hours kept deleting, then deleting from my drafts then wouldn’t let me make a post at all – I’ve had to delete the app and try again, I’m STRESSED! If I eventually get to post this please tell me it’s the best thing ever even if you hate it because I’m cryin rn 😗
The camera is propped up on a pile of baby books on the dresser. You’re sat cross legged on the floor, attempting to organize a small mountain of baby clothes.
"Okay, so," you say to the lens, your voice hushed. "We’ve had the talk. We’re officially trying for number two! It feels wild saying it out loud, considering Tilly was such a—"
"A total accident?"
You jump, twisting around. Morgan is leaning against the doorframe, a ‘1st Birthday’ teddy bear in his hand and that infuriatingly smug grin on his face.
"Shut up, knobhead, I was going to say 'surprise'." You roll your eyes, suppressing a laugh.
He chuckles, moving into the room and dropping down to sit right behind you. He sets the toy aside and pulls you back against his chest, his arms looping firmly around your waist. He leans his chin on your shoulder, squinting at the small camera screen.
"We’re just being honest, Trouble" he says, his voice dropping to that lower, softer tone he only uses with you. He presses a kiss to your temple, then looks at the lens.
"Survived a year of parenthood and now we’re trying to add another one to the chaos. What could possibly go wrong?"
"Exactly.” You lean back into him, feeling the familiar comfort of his heartbeat against your spine. “And if it goes wrong, I’m blaming you."
"Yeah, yeah," he says, squeezing your waist. "Whatever you say, Princess."
You let your head fall back looking up at him through your long lashes, his soft blue eyes meeting yours for a moment before flashing back to the camera.
“Anyways hopefully next time you see us she’s successfully pissed on a stick!” Morgan claps, ending the segment.
Tilly was perched on your hip as you waited for your 3 minute timer to go. Minutes stretching on for hours.
“I know it’s probably negative, it’s only month one of trying” Your voice soft as you bounced the one year old gently on your hip.
Flipping over the test you tried to hide the disappointment from your face. One glaringly obvious, clearly negative, singular pink line staring back at you.
“That’s okay” you cooed, still bouncing the babbling Tilly. “Just round one, we got plenty of time haven’t we Tilly girl?”
In the next clip you were standing in the same spot, Morgan had his strong arms around you, leaving kisses in your hairline as the result sunk in.
“It’s okay princess, not like trying to get one in there is a terrible chore” he teased squeezing your hips.
You let out a sigh as you twisted in his arms, your own coming up and encircling his neck.
“It’s been three months squish!” You pouted up to him.
“You had no symptoms this month though have you, trouble?” His hands tighten on your waist as he consoles you. “Just not the right time yet, try not to stress too much.”
“I think it means you need to get your mum to babysit and take me on another date night.” You tease to break the slight tension that’s built.
“Oh yeah? Sure it does, dickhead.” He laughed as the clip cut.
A series of similar clips showed, some with Morgan, some with Tilly and some of you by yourself. Always in the same spot, camera balanced on the sink with the plastic test upside down just in shot as you counted down with the viewers.
Unfortunately, every test had the same increasingly devastating negative result once the timer was up.
And in each clip it was getting harder to mask the disappointment and heartbreak from flashing in your features as you flipped the plastic stick over.
“So everyone keeps telling me I need to be relaxed and stop trying” you opened up the vlog from the passenger seat of Morgan’s car.
“So daddy back there,” the camera briefly panned to Morgan who could be seen, and heard, strapping Matilda into her car seat. “Is on a mission to help me relax, and he’s looked up healthy recipes that are meant to promote fertility… however the idea of a boneless banquet is really appealing right now.”
“Hey,” Morgan calls from behind you, “If momma wants kfc we can get kfc, forget the vegetables for a day. It’s self care, innit?”
“Tilly will be two soon and she’s not got a baby sibling yet.” you mutter.
“We see the doctor next week, don’t get too in your head about it reader” He spoke softly as he got behind the wheel, one of his hands reaching out to cup your face. “I don’t think little lady is too bothered stealing all our attention for herself at the minute anyway.”
Almost to prove his point Matilda started shouting for attention from the back seat.
The camera was wobbling as you cried in Matilda’s dark nursery, only the soft glow of her nightlight illuminating the room.
“I feel like such a fraud” you sobbed, “I already have the most perfect baby right there! But every time it’s just one line there I feel a grief for something that never existed.”
Tilly was asleep in her cot, now taking up much more space at 22 months old. She had her arm and leg outstretched to her side as she lay on her tummy, the same way Morgan slept wrapped around you every night.
“The doctor said I’ve got unexplained infertility, medically I should be able to give Tilly a sibling… my body just won’t” you harshly rubbed at your face to get rid of the tear tracks. “I don’t know why I’m so upset because at least I get to be her mummy, and being her mum really is my favourite thing ever.”
You were looking solemnly at your sleeping daughter as you cried, taking in her soft features while she slept.
“It was so easy with her, we didn’t even have to try! I was on the pill and we still somehow got her” you whispered towards the camera. “I started this vlog ten months ago… which realistically isn’t even that long ago but, part of me expected to be about to give birth or already have a newborn by now... Maybe I was dumb for thinking that it’d happen so quickly?”
Nervous laughter followed your sentence as your fingers anxiously twisted through the ends of your hair.
“Anyway I should probably go to bed before Morgan wakes up and comes looking for me, if he sees me crying over our sleeping daughter again he might think I’m crazy”
The frame shook as you stood up, using the sleeve of your hoodie to wipe the remaining tears away as you smiled gently into the lens.
“To clarify I don’t cry over her a lot, but mums will know those first few weeks of having a newborn and post partum emotions sometimes you do be crying during the night feeds because you can’t believe you actually created a cuter perfect mini version of your feral ginger boyfriend”
The next clip opened mid conversation.
“–don’t think I can piss on another stick this month actually,” you muttered, phone balanced against the bathroom mirror instead of the usual spot on the sink.
Morgan’s laugh came from somewhere behind the camera.
“Bit difficult to know if you’re pregnant then, innit?”
You rolled your eyes weakly, though the joke barely landed this time. Tilly, now fully in her I’m two and I’m the boss now era, banged tiny hands against the bathroom door from the hallway.
“Mummyyyy!”
“One second baby!” You pinched the bridge of your nose before looking back toward the lens.
“I just…” your shoulders lifted helplessly. “I already know what it’s gonna say before I even check.”
Morgan appeared in the reflection behind you then, quieter than usual as he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind.
“You don’t know for sure, babe.”
You didn’t answer. The clip cut before the timer finished.
Another clip, another month. The camera wasn’t even steady this time, just loosely held in your hand as you sat in bed, the room bathed in the soft, blue light of your phone screen.
“We didn’t film the test,” you said quietly. Behind you, Morgan was dead to the world, face down across the mattress with one arm hanging limply off the edge of the bed.
“I dunno. It just felt a bit…” You shrugged, your gaze dropping to your lap. “Sad.” You took a breath, forcing a lighter, brighter tone as you looked back into the lens.
“But! On the bright side, apparently stress is the enemy, so Morgan’s officially banned me from watching my missing children documentaries.”
Half-asleep, Morgan’s muffled, gravelly voice drifted across the room, barely audible.
“You were scaring yourself, Trouble.”
“You snore like a lawnmower, you knobhead.” You rolled your eyes, a small, genuine smile tugging at your lips.
“You still shag me though,” he mumbled into the pillow, not even bothering to lift his head.
That finally pulled a real, unforced laugh from you, the tension in your shoulders dropping for the first time all day.
The camera sat on the coffee table, capturing the scene from a low, slightly awkward angle — the way it always did lately.
Tilly was in the middle of a serious, high-stakes operation. She’d wrapped one of Morgan’s hoodies around her doll and she was currently pacing the rug, shushing the air with the frantic intensity only a two-year-old is capable of.
“Daddy get me a real baby” Tilly chirped, coming to a stop in front of Morgan. “I share my Pooh-bear!”
You didn't look at the camera; you were too busy trying to keep your expression neutral. You glanced over at Morgan. He was sat on the rug in front of her, halfway through building a tower of blocks, but his hands had gone still.
"A real one, eh?" Morgan said, his voice soft as he spoke to your daughter. He didn't look at you, just kept his eyes on Tilly, though his grip on a wooden block was a little too tight.
Tilly nodded enthusiastically, nearly tripping over the oversized hoodie pooled around her ankles.
“Yeah! Tiny baby.” She held her hands up dramatically to demonstrate. “Thisssss big.”
Morgan let out a quiet hum, the kind he did lately whenever he was trying very hard to sound normal.
“And what if the baby cries all night, hmm?” he asked, reaching out to steady her before she face planted into the blocks. “What then?”
“I sing!” she announced confidently.
“Oh yeah?” His mouth twitched faintly. “Reckon that’ll work?”
Tilly nodded with the unwavering confidence only toddlers possessed before toddling over to you instead, shoving the doll into your lap.
“You practice mummy.”
Your breath caught so subtly the camera probably didn’t even pick it up. Morgan looked up then, just for a second. Neither of you said anything but, there was something exhausted in his expression now. Something carefully controlled.
You forced a smile for Tilly’s sake, adjusting Morgan’s hoodie around the doll automatically.
“Yeah?” you whispered, eyes burning suddenly as you cradled the doll against your chest.
The room went quiet except for the soft sound of Cocomelon playing faintly from the TV.
Morgan cleared his throat after a moment, dropping the block back onto the rug with a dull clack.
“C’mere monkey,” he said gently, opening his arms toward Tilly. “Daddy needs help building this tower before mummy starts crying at cartoons again.”
“I don’t cry at cartoons” you muttered defensively, swiping quickly beneath one eye. Morgan’s eyes flickered toward you briefly.
“You cried at that bluey episode for forty five minutes.”
“Because auntie Brandy’s infertile, Morgan!”
“Mummy say bad word.” Tilly gasped dramatically, pointing at you.
Morgan barked out a startled laugh while you buried your face in the doll for a second, mortified
“Not that kind of bad word, baby,” he managed between laughs, reaching to scoop Tilly into his lap.
The camera kept recording for another few seconds.
Morgan pressing absent kisses into Tilly’s hair while she squirmed in his arms. You sat curled against the sofa clutching the doll a little too tightly.
And despite the laughter that had softened the moment, Morgan still looked at you the same way he always did lately, like he was trying to figure out how to carry heartbreak for the both of you.
The camera is propped on the dresser, filming you as you haphazardly stack boxes of toddler shoes. You pause, leaning against the dresser, looking directly into the lens.
"Were doing the bed transition, right? And Morgan is doing the 'supportive dad' thing, trying to make it a big, happy event. But I hate it! I really thought there’d be a baby ready to move into her cot when she was ready to move out of it."
You sighed as you busied yourself with reorganising the bookcase, replacing the books with far more force than required. The hardbacks thudding against the wood filling the short silence.
“And people keep saying to us when they see the three us together it’s a ‘perfect time’ to give her a sibling, total strangers too by the way. As if I don’t know. As if I haven’t been wanting to give her a sibling since she was like 6 months old!”
You stop, one book held mid-air, and let out a sharp, incredulous laugh.
“It’s like they think we’re just... not doing it? Or that we’re waiting for the 'right vibe'? I swear, if one more person tells me to 'not think about it and just have a drunk night together,' I might actually lose the plot.”
You shove the book into the shelf, the movement sharp and jagged. You look back at the camera, your voice dropping to that hushed, secretive tone.
“I used to love the spontaneity of it, you know? With Morgan? Like we all have eyes he’s so attractive, he’s my best friend – it used to be the best part of our day. But now? I’m all ‘Will this position help with conception?’ or ‘Quick! she’s napping, we’ve got at least 10 minutes, I’m ovulating.’ It’s not even fun anymore. It’s like a shift.”
You lean back against the shelf, looking defeated.
“It’s good because it’s with him, obviously. But I dread it. I can see the dread in his face, too, which somehow makes it worse. It’s like we’re both just performing. I look at him and I know he’s only doing it because he knows how much I want this, and he’s trying to be the ‘good husband.’ And I’m only doing it because an app told me it’s the ‘optimal day.’”
You rub a hand over your eyes, your voice thick.
“I miss being a wife who just… wanted her husband. I’m so tired of being a patient who needs a result. Does that make me a bad mum? For wanting more when I’ve already got the most perfect little thing in the other room? I feel like I’m constantly mourning a life I don't even have, while trying to ignore the guilt of not being happy enough with the life I do have.”
You walk toward the camera, your movements slower now, the initial rush of anger replaced by that hollow, creeping exhaustion. You lean in, your face filling the frame, eyes reddened and tired.
“The worst part is that I know he’s hurting too. But he’s so busy trying to keep the fun version of himself alive for me that he’s forgotten how to just be sad.”
You let out a shaky breath, your gaze dropping to the floor. The silence in the room is absolute now, no toddler giggles, no Morgan, just the hum of the camera.
“Anyway. That’s enough. I’m making this a pity party, aren’t I?” You sniff, rubbing your nose with the back of your hand and forcing a bright, brittle tone that doesn't reach your eyes. “Tilly needs her snack and I’ve got a big girl room to finish tidying. Life goes on, right?”
The camera flickers on shakily, still blurry before focusing on the bathroom sink. You’re standing there in one of Morgan’s oversized hoodies, nervously twisting your hair. Morgan is beside you, half-asleep, his ginger hair sticking up in every direction, squinting through heavy eyes.
“I’m five days late,” you breathe into the quiet room. “I didn’t want to say anything… I thought if I said it out loud, my period would start out of spite.”
“Bit rude of your uterus, that,” he murmurs. It’s almost a laugh, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.
You offer a weak smile, but it vanishes as quickly as it appeared. Morgan rubs a hand down his face, his expression sharpening as the reality settles in.
“Have you looked yet?”
You shake your head. “I’m scared to.”
The words land heavy. After eighteen months, the fear isn't just about disappointment anymore; it’s about that familiar, hollow humiliation of the negative result.
“We’ll do it together,” Morgan says. He starts pacing — just short, jagged laps across the tiny floor before stopping right beside you.
“You’re stressing me out,” you mutter, your gaze fixed on the white plastic test sitting on the edge of the sink.
“You think I’m not stressed?”
“You never get stressed anymore.” The words slip out before you can stop them. Morgan goes quiet. It’s true – over the last year and a half, he’d stopped letting himself believe enough to feel the nerves. He’d built a wall of stoicism to protect you both.
He lets out a slow, steadying breath and reaches for the test, handling it carefully, as if it might shatter under his touch.
You don’t look at the stick. You watch his face. You see the confusion hit, then the disbelief, and finally, something dangerously close to hope.
“Morgan?” your voice is a whisper.
“There’s… there’s something there.” He turns the test toward you, his hand trembling slightly.
The line is faint, fainter than a heartbeat, but it is there. A distinct, stubborn slash of color against the white.
Your hand flies to your mouth. Morgan lets out a startled, breathless laugh.
“Told you your uterus was just being dramatic.”
“Oh my god,” you choke out, tears flooding your vision. Morgan is staring at the test as if it’s the most offensive, beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
“That’s a line,” he says, his voice thick with wonder. “That’s actually a line.”
You start to sob, laughing through the mess of it as Morgan grabs your face with both hands, his thumbs catching your tears.
“Hey, hey, don’t cry yet, we don’t—”
“I can’t help it!”
“You’re gonna make me cry, and I’m meant to be the emotionally stable one.”
“You’ve never been emotionally stable,” you sniff, a watery laugh escaping you.
“That is slander.” He kisses you then. Hard, desperate and smiling against your mouth.
Downstairs, the sound of tiny footsteps thuds against the floor, followed by Tilly’s muffled yell for breakfast. Reality rushes back in.
The next clip opens in absolute darkness. The only sound is your jagged, hitching breathing as you struggle to balance the camera on your knees.
Morgan is sat beside you, anchoring you to his side, his lips pressed softly against your hairline.
Above you, caught in the faint glow of the camera’s light, sits the graveyard of your efforts: a pack of tampons, a bottle of fertility vitamins and a box of unused ovulation tests.
“So… she got her period during the night,” Morgan explains softly.
You’re crying into his shoulder, your body shaking with a heartbreak so deep it feels exhausting.
Morgan’s hand rests firmly on your back, rubbing slow, steady circles. He doesn’t tell you it’ll be okay. He doesn’t tell you to stop crying. He just holds you in the dark, and for the first time, he doesn't look like he’s trying to keep the ‘fun’ version of himself alive.
The camera is propped up on the edge of the bathroom sink – not for a test this time, just because habit makes you reach for it whenever things feel too heavy to hold alone.
You’re sat on the edge of the bath in one of Morgan’s hoodies, fingers twisting at the ends of your hair. The bathroom light is dim, casting tired shadows beneath your eyes.
“So,” you say eventually, voice quieter than usual. “We had a talk.” You swallow hard. “And I think… we’re done trying.”
The words don’t sound real out loud, like they belong to somebody else. From somewhere downstairs, Tilly’s laugh echoes faintly through the house followed by the sound of the Bluey theme tune. It makes your expression crumple for half a second before you pull it back together.
“We’re not buying ovulation tests anymore,” you continue softly. “Or pregnancy tests. I deleted the tracking apps.” A weak laugh leaves you. “Which honestly felt a bit like deleting a tiny little dictator who’d been ruining my life for a 20 months.” You rub tiredly at your face.
“I just can’t keep doing the cycle of convincing myself every month is different and then feeling stupid when it isn’t.” The camera shakes slightly as you adjust it.
“And I miss my husband.” The confession comes out barely above a whisper. “Not physically, I mean he’s literally downstairs making dinosaur nuggets with our toddler—”
A faint THEY’RE FUCKIN BURNT! echoes from downstairs. Despite yourself, your mouth twitches.
“But I miss us. I miss kissing him without thinking about ovulation windows. I miss him touching me without both of us silently wondering if maybe this’ll finally be the time it works.” Your eyes start filling before you can stop them. “I miss when we were just stupidly obsessed with each other.”
The bathroom door creaks open then and Morgan appears, ketchup bottle in hand and a tea towel flung over his shoulder.
“Language,” he shouts automatically down the stairs before looking at you properly. His face changes instantly, the sauce bottle gets abandoned on the sink. “Oh, Trouble.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m okay.” You shake your head quickly, embarrassed by the tears now falling, but your voice cracks on the last word.
Morgan crouches in front of you immediately, hands settling on your knees.
“You don’t have to do that with me.”
And that’s what finally breaks you because he sounds tired too. Not frustrated, not angry, just tired in that deep, aching way people get when they’ve carried hope for too long.
“I think I need us back,” you whisper.
Morgan’s face folds a little at that. His thumbs brush under your eyes gently.
“You never lost us.”
“Feels like I did.” You let out a small sob-laugh. He leans forward then, resting his forehead against yours.
“We made her,” he says quietly. “Got our tiny little psychopath downstairs singing the Bluey theme tune at chicken nuggets. Think we did alright, Princess.”
That gets a real laugh out of you through the tears.
Downstairs, Tilly suddenly screeches “MUMMY I NEED KETCHUP!” Morgan closes his eyes briefly.
“See?” he mutters. “Dream life.”
You laugh again, shakier this time, and he kisses your forehead softly. The camera keeps rolling a little longer.
Just long enough to catch the way Morgan stays kneeling between your legs even after the conversation ends, holding your hands like he’s terrified that if he lets go, you’ll disappear into the grief again.
The camera is propped against a stack of laundry on the table, slightly crooked. The living room is a landscape of chaos— toys, mismatched socks and half eaten snacks.
Tilly is sprawled across the rug, surrounded by a mountain of stationery she definitely doesn't need yet. She holds up a glittery pencil case like she’s presenting a legal document.
“Mummy,” she says with grave seriousness. “This for important business.”
“What business?” you ask, your voice coming from behind the camera, warm and unhurried.
“My important business.” Tilly shrugs, unbothered.
Morgan snorts from the dining table. He’s hunched over, painstakingly ironing name labels into tiny school cardigans.
“She’s definitely your child.”
“She screams when the people on tv don’t do what she wants, Morgan.” You deadpan. “She’s yours.”
“That’s necessary, that is.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
The camera catches Morgan grinning. A real, full-blown grin, the kind that’s been rare through the video. You’re sat beside him, folding tiny socks into pairs. You aren’t rushing, you aren't checking a clock or a phone app, you’re just there.
“Tills,” Morgan calls out after a minute, holding a polo shirt up like evidence in a courtroom. “You’re too little for this. Stop growing.”
“I’m big girl now!” she shouts, jumping up to prove it and immediately tripping over the oversized backpack she insisted on wearing.
You burst into laughter. Morgan doesn't even flinch he just reaches out, grabbing her by the hood of her jumper and hauling her upright in one practiced motion.
“Tiny drunk person.”
“Mummy! Daddy being rood!” Tilly gasps, dramatically.
“You literally fell over air, baby” you say, wiping a tear from your eye.
“She gets that from you as well,” Morgan mutters, you kick his shin under the table. “Ow! Domestic violence in front of the child.”
“Yeah, Mummy! Vile-ence!” Tilly claps her hands.
You laugh until your sides ache, the camera shaking slightly as you lean back against your chair. The room feels full. Not because there’s another heartbeat in the house and not because the ache of the last two years has vanished but because you’ve stopped living in a waiting room.
Morgan glances over at you. His eyes linger, watching you laugh, his expression softening.
“You alright?” he asks. The question is simple, stripped of the loaded fear it used to carry. You look around the room. The half-ironed clothes, the glitter pens scattered like confetti and the man who, despite everything, is still your best friend.
“Yeah,” you say softly, and you mean it. “I really am.”
The camera continues to roll, capturing the way Morgan’s gaze doesn’t leave your face. His expression shifts; that guarded, supportive wall he’s been keeping up for months finally drops, replaced by a slow, knowing smirk.
“You look nice,” he says, his voice dropping just a notch. “Like, actually nice. Not just mummy nice.”
You lean back, arching a brow at him, catching that familiar, mischievous glint in his eyes that you haven't seen in ages.
“And you,” you tease, resting your chin on your palm, “look like you’re trying to start something.”
Morgan smirks as he kicks his chair back, the legs scraping against the floorboards, and he leans into your space not quite kissing you, but close enough that the air between you feels charged.
“Maybe I am,” he murmurs. “I think I’ve been a very patient man lately. Don't you?”
You laugh, a light, airy sound, and give his arm a playful shove.
“Oh, have you? Is that what we’re calling it? You’ve been a nightmare, more like.”
He laughs, the sound genuine and unburdened. He reaches out, his hand sliding across the table to cover yours, his thumb tracing the back of your knuckles.
“A nightmare, huh? Just wait until I’m off the clock, then you’ll see.”
Tilly lets out a loud, frustrated grunt from the rug as she struggles with her pencil case zipper.
“Mummy! Help!”
You tear your gaze away from him to look at Tilly, but you don’t pull your hand out from under his. You’re still grinning, that flirty, knowing look still plastered on your face.
“In a second, Tills.” you call out, your voice bright, though your eyes go right back to Morgan.
He leans in a little closer, his voice dropping to a low, intimate murmur that’s meant just for you, even if the camera is recording.
“Don’t worry about the uniform labels,” he whispers, his eyes shimmering with cheeky intensity as he looks you up and down. “I think we’ve got more important business to focus on for today.”
You feel your cheeks flush and you let out a shaky, breathless laugh. You give his hand a squeeze, leaning into him just enough to feel the solid warmth of his shoulder against yours.
“You’re ridiculous,” you breathe, though you’re looking at him like he’s the only thing in the room.
Morgan just grins, that smug, familiar spark back in his eyes. He taps your hand twice before finally standing up to go help Tilly, but he leaves a lingering touch on your shoulder as he passes, his fingers brushing the back of your neck in a way that feels like a promise.
“Go on then,” he says, glancing back at you over his shoulder with a wink. “Go be a mum. I’ll be back for you in five.”
You watch him walk away, laughing to yourself, the knot in your chest completely gone. You reach for the camera, not with the frantic energy of someone trying to hide something, but with the relaxed, happy smile of a woman who finally has her life back.
You give the camera a final, playful smirk, and with a soft click, the screen goes black.
The camera is propped on the bathroom counter. You’re in a black bodycon dress, hair curled, mid-laugh while fixing your lipstick. You’re holding glass of rosé looking relaxed and loose.
“Right,” you say to the lens, giggling. “I’m literally about to head out to meet the girls, but I promised myself I’d bin this last pregnancy test first. I’m having a massive cupboard clear-out. Between nursery germs, new allergies and me catching every single bug Tilly brings home, I’ve honestly never gone to the doctors so much in my LIFE. I’m reclaiming my space.”
You tear the packaging open with your teeth, still laughing as you prepare the test.
“I know it’s negative. I’m not even going to look at it, i’m just going to do the thing, toss it and not be a mum for the night.“ Your tone is still cheerful as you talk to the viewers. “Suppose it’s a good ending though isn’t it? The final test, we’re happy with where we are so I can end the video now.”
You lean over, do your thing and casually set it on the edge of the sink. You turn back to the camera, picking up your drink, totally unfazed.
“So, yeah. Tonight is purely for cocktails and complaining about the nursery mums and I am so ready for it. I’ll update you when I’m — wait.”
You pause, mid-sip as your eyes caught the test. You freeze, leaning in, squinting as your brow furrowed in complete confusion.
“No… that’s not right.”
You reach out and pick up the stick, holding it up to the bathroom light. You tilt your head, turning the stick from side to side.
“That’s… that’s a line,” you whisper, your voice deadpan. “That’s definitely a line.”
You look at the test, then at the camera, then back at the test. You let out a short, disbelieving laugh.
“Well. That’s inconvenient.” You walk to the bathroom door, still holding the test, wine glass in the other hand.
“Morgan?” you call out, your voice perfectly steady. “You need to come here for a second. I think I’ve just ruined my night out.”
“What you mean? You’ve planned it for weeks, I’ve told you me and monkey will be–“ Morgan wanders into the frame, stopping mid-sentence when he sees you holding the test. “What’s that? You said you were binning it, princess.”
You just hold it out to him, still holding your glass.
“I know. I was. But apparently I’m not broken.”
Morgan looks at the stick, then at you. His eyes go wide, then he starts to chuckle, shaking his head. He doesn't even go for in for a hug, he just takes the test, looking at it with a mix of shock and amusement.
“You’re having a laugh, aren’t you?”
“I wish I was,” you say, finally setting the drink down on the counter. “I was really looking forward to shots and bad decisions.”
You both just stand there, staring at the little piece of plastic and then you start to giggle again.
“Well,” Morgan says, a slow, dazed smile spreading across his face. “I suppose you’re not going to the pub then.”
You look at him, the humor of the situation finally sinking in. You burst out laughing, a genuine, confused, happy sound.
Morgan steps closer, his gaze drifting from the stick to your face, his usual smirk replaced by a look of dazed, utter disbelief. He gently takes the glass of rosé from your hand and sets it down next to the test, as if it’s suddenly a dangerous object.
“Think we’re done with this for now too.” He reaches out, tucking a loose curl behind your ear, his touch lingering on your cheek. “You’re actually serious? It’s not one of those… dented lines or whatever you used to call them?”
“It’s a line, squish,” you say, your voice vibrating with that same disbelieving laughter. “A very dark, very night out ruining line. I barely put it down before it showed up”
He lets out a short, incredulous huff of air and pulls you into him, his arms wrapping around your waist. He doesn’t squeeze too hard, he just holds you there, looking over your shoulder at the sink like he expects the test to have vanished by the time he looks back.
“We literally just decided to stop,” he mutters into your hair, sounding both winded and amused. “We were one and done. And now – and now you’re telling me there’s a tiny little squatter on the way?”
You laugh, a wet, shaky sound as the reality starts to bleed through the shock. You lean your head against his chest, feeling his heart hammering against his ribs, just as fast as yours.
“I know. I was literally about to put on my heels, have a tequila and forget that I have responsibilities.” You look up at him, your eyes crinkling at the corners.
Morgan’s expression softens, that familiar, cheeky light returning to his eyes. He leans down, pressing a lingering, soft kiss to your forehead.
“So,” he says, his voice dropping to a low, amused rasp. “You’re telling me that after two years of temperature tracking, calendar alerts and enough ovulation tests to build a small house… I get you pregnant the second you plan a night out that involves shots?”
“It’s the timing, isn't it?” You burst out laughing, the sound slightly hysterical. “It’s genuinely insulting, Tilly has been extra testing this week I needed a girls night.”
He shakes his head, a wide, disbelieving grin spreading across his face. He doesn’t reach for a dramatic embrace instead, he just leans his hip against the vanity, looking at you with that familiar, cheeky glint.
“You know what this means, don’t you? You’re going to have to go to the pub with the girls, order a coke, and pretend you’re having the time of your life while they get absolutely hammered.”
“Don’t.” You groan, dropping your forehead onto his shoulder. “I’ll have to listen to Heather talk about her sex life while I’m sat there sober and fully aware she’s talking about MIKEY. It’s a tragic existence, Morgan. Truly tragic.”
He chuckles, his hand finding the small of your back and pulling you flush against him. The intimacy of it makes your heart ache in the best way.
“You could always just text them,” he suggests, his thumb brushing slow, lazy circles against your dress. “Tell them you’ve been struck down by a mysterious, tiny, very inconvenient virus.”
You look up at him, your eyes crinkling. The sheer, absurd irony of it all is finally sinking in.
“You mean tell them I’m ‘pregnant and suffering from a sudden intolerance to fun’?”
“Exactly that, yeah.” Morgan snorts quietly, leaning down until his forehead knocks gently against yours. “Terminal condition. Symptoms include cancelling girls nights and becoming violently sober.”
You laugh again, soft and helpless now, your fingers twisting in the fabric of his t-shirt as the reality starts settling properly between you.
The house is quiet around you. Tilly had gone to bed an hour ago after demanding three stories, one yoghurt and exactly seven kisses. Her little nightlight glows faintly beneath the crack of her bedroom door down the hall.
“Oh my god,” you whisper again, but this time it sounds less shocked and more terrified to believe it.
Morgan’s eyes flick between you and the test like he still thinks one of them might disappear if he looks away too long.
“We literally gave up,” he says quietly, almost laughing again. “Like properly gave up.”
“I know.”
“You deleted the apps.”
“I know.”
“You bought wine.”
“I KNOW.”
That finally breaks him. A real laugh escapes him, startled and disbelieving and so painfully happy it makes your throat ache.
Then suddenly he’s covering his face with one hand, shoulders shaking once as he looks down at the stick again.
“You’re pregnant,” he says, muffled behind his palm.
Your eyes instantly burn the way he says it gets you, like after two years he never actually thought he’d get to say it again.
You step closer without thinking and Morgan immediately reaches for you, both hands settling on your waist like muscle memory.
For a second neither of you speaks he just stares at you, at your face, your dress, your curled hair, the glass of rosé abandoned beside the sink.
At the woman he’d spent nearly two years trying to convince he loved regardless of what her body could or couldn’t do.
“You know what’s mental?” he says softly.
“What?”
“You’re standing there looking all pretty ready for a girls night and I genuinely think this is the sexiest you’ve ever been.”
“Morgan.” You let out a watery laugh.
“I’m serious.” His thumbs brush slowly against your waist. “You’ve looked heartbroken for so long and now you just…” He shakes his head slightly, eyes glassy. “You look like you again.”
“WAIT!” You look up at him, smile infectious. “We have to tell Tilly… would we be the worst parents ever if we woke her up?”
Morgan blinks at you for a second, still looking shell-shocked. “…Probably,” he says honestly. You burst out laughing again, grabbing at his arms.
“I’m serious! She asked for a baby for like six months straight, she’s gonna lose her mind.”
“She’s also three and it’s half eight at night,” he points out, though he’s already smiling now. “She’ll wake up, ask for ‘a mummy snack’ and then tell us it’s morning time cause she’s already been to sleep.”
“That’s still a valid reaction.”
Morgan shakes his head at you, smiling so hard now it looks almost painful. Like his face has forgotten how to hold this much happiness all at once.
“You’re actually buzzing to wake a sleeping toddler” he mutters in disbelief.
“I really thought my body hated me.” Your eyes well up again as you let out a shaky breath.
“Don’t say that.”
“But I did.” Your voice cracks slightly. “For ages, I did.”
Without hesitation, he pulls you into him again, one arm firm around your waist while the other cups the back of your head.
“Your body gave me Tilly,” he murmurs against your hair. “And now apparently it’s gone and done it again just to humble us.”
“You’re such a knobhead.” A broken laugh escapes you against his chest.
“Yeah, but I’m your knobhead.”
You stay there for a second longer, wrapped around each other in the tiny bathroom before Morgan pulls back just enough to look at you properly again, blue eyes brighter than they’ve been in months.
“Go on then,” he says, a grin creeping back onto his face. “Let’s go wake the tiny dictator.”
Your gasp is immediate. “You said no!”
“I changed my mind.” He shrugs. “This is arguably bigger than bedtime.”
You beam at him so brightly it almost knocks the breath out of him.
If anyone has any drabble ideas (or ginge’s girlfriend thoughts and I’ll turn them into drabbles) please lmk, I have a fic thats almost finished but I just want some drabbles to mix it up a bit x
Morgan and his girlfriend find out if their baby is a boy or a girl.
a/n: low-key just locked in and wrote a fic? Not a request just had a dream about this x
Warnings: none, pure fluff.
The piece of paper had been burning a hole in you bag since you got it. You didn’t want to do one of those big parties with a balloon or a cake, you just wanted something together, just you.
When you got home, you b-lined straight for the sofa, you were just over 20 weeks pregnant now and things were starting to ache and tiredness consumed your body constantly. It had become a routine when you both got home, you would get off your feet as quick as possible and Morgan would go and make you both a cuppa.
Pregnancy had made you more impatient anyway, but waiting for him to make that cup of tea, the envelope containing your baby’s gender sitting in front of you made you so incredibly impatient.
After what felt like 5 years, Morgan casually strolled in, mugs in hand - you wouldn’t guess that this is the same man who has been desperate to find out the baby’s gender since you found out you were pregnant.
He sat down next to you, you instinctively moving closer, almost sat on top of him, one leg over his the other under you.
“Are you ready?” You said excitedly, you truly could not wait, you were almost bouncing.
“Yeah, I’m ready.” He said with a small laugh.
You took the envelope, holding it in your hands. Your hands were shaking and for a second you just stared at the small white envelope.
“Okay, final bets - boy or girl?” You said with a deep breath.
“Girl.” He said, he had been so sure from the start that the baby inside of you were a girl, not once even thinking it’s a boy. You were convinced that even if it was going to be a boy, somehow he will have managed to change the baby into a girl.
“Still sure?” You grinned. My god this man was so stubborn, god help you when this baby gets older.
“Yep, I’m telling you love, she’s told me.”
You could only laugh at the man sat next to you, as much as you joked about how you might be doomed if your baby inherits some of their dad’s traits, like the shouting at 3am, ypu hoped every night that this baby would be like their dad.
“Why you doubting me darlin’? What do you think it is?” He smirked.
“I don’t know, I keep changing - I mean I keep having dreams about a boy recently, so boy I guess? I don’t know.” It was true, one week ypu were certain it was a girl, the next you were adamant it was a boy, you just truly couldn’t make your mind up.
“Well good fucking job you don’t get to pick, fucking hell.” Your boyfriend laughed.
“Right c’mon, open it.” He was the one getting impatient now, he didn’t care about what you thought the baby was really, he just wanted to know what the baby actually is.
“Me? Why am I opening it?” You said, shocked as if you weren’t carrying this baby.
“What? Yes you? You’re it’s mum?” He said confused.
“Stop calling our baby ‘it’!” You scolded.
“Then open the bloody envelope, so I don’t have to?” Yeah this child was definitely going to get his sass, regardless of the gender.
“Okay. Okay.” You breathed, suddenly sat up straight.
You placed your hand on your small bump for a second taking a deep breath, you were just grateful your baby was healthy and growing.
You were shaking, excitement and nerves flooding your body. Opening the envelope with such delicately, you could feel your heart hammering against your chest. You could also feel your boyfriend’s eyes burning into you, impatient and desperate for you to hurry up and get on with it.
You took out the piece of paper, glancing up at the man staring at you, you took a deep breath and opened the piece of paper.
Your eyes filled with tears almost instantly as you read the word: girl.
A baby girl, you were having a daughter, a mini-you.
“Reader? What is it? Tell me? Don’t leave me hanging?” Your boyfriend said, almost shouting and holding your arm.
“It’s a girl.” You said showing him the paper.
“OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! I KNEW IT! SEE SHE TOLD ME!” He screeched. Before you could fully react he was basically on top of you, careful to not pull his weight on you.
“We’re having a baby girl, we have a daughter.” You could tell he was emotional and the slight wetness on your neck confirmed that.
He look up at you, eyes brimmed with tears, he kissed your face repeatedly.
“I love you and our girl so much.” He said quietly as he rested his forehead against yours.
“We love you too, so so much.” You said, your own tears now flowing.
He moved down your body, his face now by your small bump.
“Hi babygirl, it’s your dad and I love you and your mummy so much.” His voice cracking slightly, tears still streaming.
You truly wished you could stay in this moment forever, you had never loved this man so much - you loved how happy he was and how excited he was to be a dad, to your daughter.
a/n: this was such a cute request! Will be writing more requests very soon x
Warnings: innuendos but nothing much!
The idea had come to you randomly, your head debating it for a few weeks. It’s not like this would be your first tattoo, you had a few dotted ive your body, some recent, some from when you were 18. One side of your brain was so stuck on that this was a permanent thing but the other side argued - so was he. He was the constant, being by your side since you were both teenagers.
You chose to not tell him, keeping it to yourself deciding that it would be a sweet surprise especially with your appointment being booked for the day after the sidemen charity match.
The sidemen charity match, had you ecstatic and so unbelievably proud of your boyfriend - something that made you confident in your decision. You loved this man, always.
You had left just before midday, telling him you were just going to run errands in town, which wasn’t a complete lie, you were. Just with an extra task.
When you got to the tattoo parlour, you were a mix of excitement and nerves - you weren’t nervous about what your decision, more so nervous for some reason he wouldn’t like it. Luckily you didn’t have much time to think about it with your tattoo artist calling you through.
The tattoo took barely any time, you were in and out in 30 minutes. You loved it, it was so perfect. Just a tiny 13 on the side of your hip, placed just above the lace of your thong.
You had honestly forgotten about it by the time you had gotten home late that afternoon. Morgan was sat at his desk, PC ready but not streaming yet.
“Y’alright love?” He said as he heard you come in.
You came to sit on his lap, pressing a kiss to his lips.
“What’ve you been up to hm?” He asked mindlessly, expecting a mundane response of a food shop or getting coffee.
That was what had reminded you of the surprise and suddenly you had perked up slightly, a smile plastered across your face.
He noticed your sudden spark of excitement, looking at you with a mix of confusion and amusement.
“What?” He asked with a slight laugh.
“I have a surprise for you.” You said while trying to hide your nerves.
“Oh really?” He said with a smirk, leaning back in his chair.
You stood up while Morgan watched you expecting you to go to your shared room and give him something you bought from the shops.
Instead, you turned to face him, hands unbuttoning your jeans and pulling the left side down slightly.
“Oh this is my favourite kind of surprise” he said with a smirk.
You scoffed at him.
“Shut up and look.” You said, turning slightly and pushing your hip out, tattoo on full show.
“What-“ He said with confusion as his eyes dropped to your hips.
There was a beat of silence, your heart pounding on your ribs.
“Oh my god.” He finally said.
“Do you like it?” You said, slight anxiety evident in your voice.
“Like it? I fucking love it!” He said with a laugh.
You exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding, relieved that he loved it as much as you did. Both of you just staring at it in awe.
He suddenly stood up, pulling you into him, both hands grabbing your face and kissing you with so much love. After a moment he rested his forehead against yours, his hands cupping your face.
“I love you so much” he said quietly.
Your mouth opened to reply but before you could he pulled you into hug, his body wrapping around you.
“I have to start stream in a minute but I love you and I love that tattoo so much” he said as he pulled away, a massive grin on his face.
“I love you too, don’t stream too long and you can have another surprise later” you smirked pressing a kiss to his lips and leaving the room.
He had been streaming for an hour or two, you had been just sat downstairs just watching a random documentary while scrolling mindlessly on your phone when you received a message.
Postman ❤️: send me a pic of your tattoo x
You: why 🤣
Postman ❤️: some freaks in chat think they have a chance with you
Postman ❤️: just want to prove they don’t
You: *1 image*
You: sure you aren’t just desperate to see it again????
Postman ❤️: well that too
You decided you wanted to see what was going on, granted you could have just walked upstairs but honestly you didn’t particularly feel like being dragged into the stream, so instead you opened up twitch, clicking on your boyfriends profile.
“Chat, chat, honestly I can’t believe he missed that pen” he said talking about the sidemen charity match from the previous day.
“Oi ginge your birds fit” he read out.
“Yeah funnily enough i know, and you know what chat, I know some of you think you have a chance but look” he said while fumbling with his phone, holding it up to the camera and letting it focus.
“She has a tattoo for me chat. You lot dont stand a chance. Not that any of you weirdos ever have” he said with a smirk
You smiled at your screen, happy at how much that man loved you.
“It’s okay chat, I’ll put a ring on her finger soon so she doesn’t have to pull her trousers down to show she’s mine” he said smugly, making his chat go mental.
Morgan hates being a passenger in his Mrs' car, like she's not a bad driver, she's very capable but she low-key just wings it? Like sometimes she forgets to indicate, doesn't really know where she's going or what she's doing, dances and sings, hopes she can fit through gaps, drives over potholes like they don't exist etc.
so he just willingly drives them everywhere, he also warns everyone she offers a lift to - "don't. She's a fucking maniac on the road". "Shut up Morgan"
Morgan gets into a fight at ballers and despite your concern, you find it rather hot x
Warnings: mdni, smut, p in v, unprotected sex, slapping, rough sex, mild fighting? (Praying I’ve not forgotten any but lmk if I have and I’ll add them)
a/n: sorry this took so long, I have no excuse I just could not lock in for the life of me.
In all honesty you weren’t quite sure on what had happened, you were sat chatting mindlessly to the people around you, while watching your boyfriend’s ballers team play. One minute they were playing and then the next a crowd of players had gathered shouting and shoving.
From where you were sat you could barely make out what was happening but you could just about make out your boyfriend in the centre - shoving and shouting. By the time you had made it over to the other side of the court the fight had been broken up.
“No no no, keep the streams going!” You could hear your boyfriend shouting as you got closer.
“I think you need to see a medic” a team member suggested.
“A medic! For what?” Your boyfriend argued.
“Just because you’ve got a bit of a cut there on your neck” The man defended.
“Ive got a fucking cut? Im fucking coaching a match mate! I don’t need a medic!” Morgan said still fuming at the situation.
It was at this point you stepped in, attempting to calm your boyfriend or at least get him to stop shouting at people.
“Morgan! Morgan!” It took him a second to compute who it was talking to him, ready to continue his fight with someone else before realising it was you.
“Morgan! What the fuck? Are you okay? What the hell happened?” You rambled, unsure which to ask first.
You could tell he was trying to stay calm, not wanting to shout at you.
“Im okay, don’t worry reader. Just go back to where you were, we can talk after.” He reassured despite remaining visibly distracted and annoyed.
~
The uber ride back to the hotel room was quiet, not the normal chatter between you two - it wasn’t awkward though your head rested on his shoulder and his hand rested on yours.
The same continued in the hotel room, you both had put your stuff down, you took your shoes off and turned around to see Morgan sat on the side of the bed, staring at nothing in particular.
You walked to stand infront of him, hands resting on his shoulders. His come up to your waist, eyes now on you.
“Are you okay?” You ask.
“Yeah, just pissed off” He huffed.
Your hands come to his jaw, tilting his face away slightly so you could see the red scratches imprinted on his neck.
“It’s fine, it doesn’t hurt I promise” he said, already answering the forming questions in your head.
He pulled you by the waist to sit sideways on his lap, his chin resting on your shoulder.
Your eyes caught his, your brain beginning to replay the earlier events, how your boyfriend was ready to fight his point with such passion and confidence, it was…hot.
“What?” Your boyfriend must have seen that glimmer in your eyes, his lips curving into a slight smirk that told you he knew what you were thinking.
“Nothin’.. I just..”
“You just?”
“Just seeing you all angry like that it was so…hot”
“Hot?” Your boyfriend smirked.
You hummed in response, not trusting what you might say.
In seconds him lips crashed into yours, your brain barely even recognising what was happening. The kiss continued sloppy and desperate, one of his hands roaming your hair and the other tight on your hip.
You shifted to be sat straddling him, the kiss still not breaking, chest now flush with his. You pulled away just enough to catch your breath, your eyes flicking to his and you could see the hunger in his eyes.
You could feel yourself growing more and more desperate, the scene from earlier playing repeatedly in your mind, your hips uncontrollably starting to roll against his, desperate for some kind of friction.
Something in him snapped, suddenly his hands were up the back of your top, attempting to rip it off as quick as possible. His mouth instantly latched to your cleavage that was almost falling out of your bra. You knew his lips would leave a bruise but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. One hand held your hips close to him, the other unclasping your bra, needing more access. You could feel how hard he was. How badly he wanted you.
The kiss continued messy, pleasure flooded your body, your muscles melting in ecstasy. He pushed you to stand, so he could shove your jeans and thong down your legs. Your hands came to the hem of his shirt, rashly pulling it over his head while he made work on his trousers and boxers.
He grabbed you by the backs of your thighs, pulling you towards him, once again straddling him. Two of his fingers came to your soaked entrance and spread it to your clit, eliciting a moan from you.
You positioned yourself to hover just about his tip, head tipping back at the sensation. You slowly sank down onto his throbbing cock, both of you groaning.
Too caught up in the sensation between, you didn’t realise you weren’t moving, Morgan however did.
“C’mon, get going darlin” he breathed, a slap to your arse following.
You began to roll your hips, your body taking over. Moans fall out of your mouth. Morgan lets his back fall to the mattress, your body instinctively follow, hands resting on his bare chest, his large hands grabbing at the flesh on your arse and thighs guiding your movements.
Your thighs begin to ache, your pace faltering slightly, Morgan notices. He uses this as an opportunity to take control, thrusting himself up harshly into you. Hitting your spongy sweet spot with practiced precision. You almost scream as your torso falls flush with his, face pressed into his shoulder.
“Oh- oh my god, Morgan fuck.” You could barely form sentences, your moans strained and muffled into his shoulder.
“Fuck fuck fuck Morgan!” You moaned between the gasps and tears forming in your eyes.
The pleasure engulfed all your sentences, his cock slamming into you at a relentless pace. Your nails digging crescent red marks into his chest. One of his hand held you in place, iron grip around your waist - the other fisted in your hair, keeping you close to him.
It didn’t take long for you to feel the build up in your stomach - threatening to snap. Your moans becoming strangled and barely audible, your soaked walls beginning to tighten around him.
Feeling this, Morgan shifted his arms to reach down to your clit - adding more and more pressure. Your orgasm now seconds from taking you, his not being far behind.
You sobbed into his shoulder, the pleasure overwhelming you completely. You didn’t even realise you had bitten into his shoulder until he let out a low growl.
Your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave, your body felt like it was both floating and weighed down. Morgan followed suit, his thick white ropes filling you completely.
“Oh fuck” is all you could both let out.
You could barely breathe; you were barely even awake, your body completely exhausted.
“You okay darlin’?” He asked, a complete switch from seconds ago.
It took you a few seconds to answer - a quiet “yeah” whispered into his neck.
His hand softly moved through your messy hair, smoothing it out a bit. Cheek pressed onto your forehead anf you both basked in the silence.
“Maybe I will start getting into more fights at ballers - quite like the aftermath actually” he said, the smirk evident in his voice.
That got you to lift your head up, meeting his eyes, a slight pout on your face.
“Don’t you dare.” You warned, a sleepy smile still on your face.
He didn’t reply, just placed a kiss to your lips, hand pulling your head back down to him. Smirk never leaving his face.
You don’t condone fighting but my god was your boyfriend hot when he was riled up.
a/n: This was so fun to write icl, please sent drabbles and thoughts in!
Warnings: nsfw headcannons at the end, mild mentions of sex throughout, mentions of choking, slapping, sexual positions (all consensual)
- He acts like his Mrs is the only woman to walk the planet
- Fully obsessed with her but will never admit that to anyone
- However still takes the piss out of her as much as he can, but never cruelly
She leans up to peck is lips
“Admit it, your obsessed with me”
“You wish”
“I wasn’t wishing, just stating facts darlin’”
“Love you even if you struggle to make a proper brew”
“Take that back”
- Despite pretending he doesn’t, Morgan loves all her weird interests and fun facts, even if they are slightly random and at random times
“Did you know the shortest war in history was 38 minutes long, between Britain and Zanzibar 🙂”
“I’m literally about to take your jeans off, stop trying to foreplay with history facts, you complete weirdo”
- Morgan and his Mrs have been together for so long, both struggle to sleep without the other
- He hates PDA but will flirt with her like he’s just met her, then pretends their having a normal conversation if anyone else joins them
- Morgan’s Mrs has (in his opinion) the best body and most perfect face, nothing can be said by anyone to change his mind
- He again will never admit it, but he just loves to cuddle with her
- He thinks his Mrs is the smartest, most interesting person ever
- He loves whenever his Mrs comes to support him, whether it’s coming to winton games, charity matches or just coming into his streaming room
- He struggles to understand why he can’t join her during her everything shower
“What could you possibly be doing in there that you don’t in a regular shower?”
“Do you not just do all that every shower?”
- Him and his Mrs have been together for many years but they still flirt like they’re just crushing on each other
- He frequently catches his Mrs singing - in the shower, while cleaning, just randomly and he lovessss it, he has many videos of her singing
- He tries to keep her life private, she’s not hidden but her instagram is private and her private life is kept quiet
- Incredibly protective over her, tries to keep his chill but he will crash out if someone tries it on in chat
- Every now and again she’ll make an appearance on stream and his chat goes wild
“Bro’s punching 🙏🙏”
“Trust me, I know”
“She’s so fit”
“Don’t boost her ego chat”
“She’s so sweet omg”
“She’s not chat, she bites”
“Morgan!”
(All said with a grin plastered on his face)
- She has the best relationship with his mum and nan, they both consider her their (grand)daughter, they will regularly phone her filling her in on the latest before they tell Morgan
- They tell her all the gossip and often side with her in petty arguments her and Morgan have
- Her and his sister also have a great relationship and bond over taking the piss out of Morgan
- She’s also like a sisterly figure to the bov boys, her and beano especially - sometimes she’ll go to the bov house just to gossip with beano and is there for at least 20 minutes before Morgan even knows
- She’s the biggest Jakey defender ever, Morgan gets a telling off if he’s too mean to him in front of her or on stream she’ll ring him to give him an earful
- She cried both when chaz found out he was playing in the charity match and when he scored- very much a proud big sister type of moment
- She had completely lost her voice by the day after the charity match, she screamed hard when Morgan and chaz scored, and when Morgan fucked her senseless that night
- She genuinely is so incredibly proud of Morgan, she’s known him since he was 18 and now he’s achieved so much - it’s also something that Morgan loves about her, she’s very open with her pride for him
- Her and beano religiously watched every episode of him in the jungle live
- She sobbed when he cried and when he talked about her
(Pointing at a photo of them)
“Thats my Mrs that”
“She’s gorgeous” (Lisa/Ruby)
“I know, I miss her a lot more than I thought I would honestly - I’ve never gone this long without seeing her. Still baffled at how 18 year old me pulled her, im not gonna complain though”
- He regularly thinks about her becoming his wife, the only thing stopping him from proposing is that they’re still young but eventually he stops caring and starts planning because he knows she’s his person
- Always includes her in his future - ‘our’ future house, ‘we’ are going to do this because he genuinely cant picture his future without her
- He hates when she pays for anything, even if she’s just getting a coffee while they’re together
- She however is adamant about paying but he secretly will send her the money if she’s being stubborn about paying
- He loves that he can finally spoil her, when they first got together he couldn’t do now he is making up for it
NSFW!
- He is obsessed with eating her out, truly his favourite thing to do
- Despite being together for years, she could do anything and would turn him on
“Why you staring you freak”
“Im not”
“Are you turned on by me putting dishes away?”
He has her bent over, leg up, moaning into the marble counter not longer after 🙂
- He’s such a boob man, will just sit and hold them casually
- However, given the chance he’s slapping her ass
- Her openly needing him is his biggest turn on ever
- Him and his Mrs have had sex in many random places, safe to say the scenery is never repetitive
- Her moaning his name makes him so weak, the way she whines or gasps gets him going even more
- Lovesss to rile her up in inappropriate situations, whispered teases, fingers brushing just slightly too high up her thigh, grabbing her hips and pulling her into him
- He loves to wrap his hand around her throat and she loves it just as much if not more
- He truly cannot pick a favourite position, some days he has her on all fours, hand shoved into her hair holding her up, some days he loves missionary, leg on his shoulder with her biting into his shoulder trying to muffle her moans and he will never say no to her on top especially with the great view it gives him of her boobs however that one is a rarity.
And she can’t be convicted, she’s earnt her degree.
Graduation day with Morgan by your side.
a/n: ahhh my first fic! Idk if I like this but enjoy!
“Morgan!”
“Morgan!”
“What? What’s wrong?”
“I can’t find my shoes”
You stood looking at him - your face, dress on, makeup and hair flawless but bare foot and concern painting your face.
It was finally graduation day, three years of what felt like endless writing, cramming and stress all finally about to be over and yet a pair of shoes seemed to have defeated you.
“It’s fine, I’ll find them. Just breathe yeah?”
Your boyfriend pulled you from your spiral, you looked at him dressed in his suit, his aftershave faintly lingering mixing with your vanilla scent. God he looked gorgeous, any normal day and you’d be jumping straight on him.
“Go ‘em, they were next to the bed”
Before you could move he was knelt in-front of you, holding your ankle and sliding your heels on without a word.
As he stood back up, he placed his had to your face.
“You’ll be fine, don’t worry I’ll still shag you later even if you stack it up the stairs in-front of everyone” he said as he pecked your lips.
A chuckle escaped you, nerves beginning to fade slightly.
The cathedral was swarmed with other graduates, mums getting emotional and grans demanding pictures. Yours was no exception.
“Reader, come on we need photos!” Your mum said, phone already in hand and pointed at you.
“Mum! Why don’t you wait until after I’ve got my degree!” You said already slightly overwhelmed.
Despite your protests, your mum got her pictures, Morgan also being dragged into the photos.
Before you knew it, your name was being called and you were walking onto the stage, and luckily not stacking it up the stairs.
As you walked back down, you scanned the crowd of faces instantly finding the face of your boyfriend. A slight glimmer in his eyes - was he? Was he tearing up? Oh you were rinsing him later.
After endless photos, hugs and congratulations you were finally back home. Instantly your body fell to the mattress, overwhelmed and exhausted.
The mattress dipped as you felt the weight of your boyfriend next to you, you could feel his smile before you even looked at him.
You felt his lips begin to press to your cheek - “my girls well smart y’know”
You hummed in response, suddenly remembering the sight that met you as you had looked to the crowd.
“Were you crying? When I went up on stage?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about love, that cathedral was really dusty though”
You bit your cheek, containing your laugh but kissed him in response, which he happily gave back.
And finally, you had your degree and a very proud boyfriend.
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