STREAM • Angry Ginge
SUMMARY: Morgan’s girlfriend interrupts his stream and his chat love it.
I could hear him from the hallway before I even opened the living-room door-his voice sharp, dramatic, half-laughing and half-furious in that way that only Morgan could ever manage when he was streaming FIFA.
"Ref, you've got to be TAKIN' THE PISS-how is that not a foul? Nah. Nah. I'm done. I'm actually done. Chat, clip that. I'm-no, why does this game hate me?"
I rolled my eyes affectionately, shifting the cold drink in my hand as I pushed the door open with my hip. The lights bathed the room in that familiar warm purple glow he always said made him "look less ginger" even though everyone could still see the hair. And the anger. Definitely the anger.
He was sitting in his usual spot-gaming chair slightly reclined, headset crooked on his head, eyebrows furrowed so tightly he practically had a uni-brow. The FIFA menu flashed angrily on the screen in front of him. He didn't notice I'd walked in at first; he was too busy ranting to Chat.
"This guy thinks he's prime Ronaldo. He's not. He's NOT. I'm about to humble him-CHAT DON'T LOOK AT THAT-okay, okay maybe don't humble him yet- HOW IS THAT A FOUL?! I didn't touch him! EA are frauds. Actual frauds."
I let the door shut quietly behind me, already biting back a smile. Then I spoke softly.
"Hiya, love."
He froze like someone had pressed pause on him. Then he slowly swivelled his head toward me, eyes locking onto mine. Instantly-all the tension in his shoulders melted. His mouth twitched. He blinked once, like his brain was doing a full restart.
"Oh," he breathed, voice soft in a way it never, ever was when he streamed. "Sweetheart."
Yep. That did it.
The chat exploded.
His viewing screen lit up with messages flying so fast they blurred:
• WHY DID HE JUST SAY IT LIKE A DISNEY PRINCESS
• nahhh he folded like a chair
• suddenly he can't swear anymore
• she walked in and he forgot what fifa even IS
• PAUSE THE GAME KING UR BLUSHING
Morgan's jaw tightened. "Chat-shut up. Behave."
Which only made them worse.
A guilty smile tugged at my lips as I walked fully into frame, setting the drink down on the edge of his desk. "Your voice gets so nice when I show up," I teased quietly.
He shot me a warning look-the pretend intimidating one that never worked on me. On stream, though, it just made chat lose its mind.
"You're actually ruining my street cred," he muttered under his breath.
"You don't have street cred," I whispered back.
He huffed, then turned to the camera. "She thinks she's funny. She's not."
Chat immediately responded:
• HE'S LYING HE'S SOFT FOR HER
• look at his FACE I'm crying
• giggling and kicking his feet fr
He reached one hand off the controller and took mine, thumb brushing my knuckles under the desk where the camera wouldn't see. His voice dropped just for me, not for them.
"Thanks, baby," he murmured, glancing down at the drink I'd brought. "You're an angel, y'know that?"
I shrugged. "I heard screaming. Thought you might need hydration."
He glared. "I wasn't screaming."
"You absolutely were."
"No. I was expressing my-"
"Rage?"
"-passion."
Chat wheezed.
• PASSION LMFAOOO
• BRO PLAYS FIFA LIKE HIS LIFE DEPENDS ON IT
• nah he defo wants to kiss her rn
His ears went bright red.
He cleared his throat aggressively and dropped my hand before Chat could accuse him of being soft again. "Anyway. Back to the game. This guy's about to get smoked."
He unpaused. Immediately conceded a goal.
Silence.
Morgan stared at the screen, deadpan, like the universe had personally offended him.
Chat went silent for one second-one merciful second-before detonating:
• LMFAOOOOO SHE DISTRACTED HIM
• blame reader go on
• nah she's his kryptonite
• SHE WALKED IN AND HE FOLDED
He whipped his head toward me dramatically. "NO. No. Don't even say it. Don't give them ideas. This is YOUR fault."
"My fault?" I laughed, leaning my hip against his desk. "I only gave you a drink."
"You gave me emotional damage."
"From existing?"
"Yes."
Chat spiralled.
He groaned into his hands, dragging his fingers down his face. "Why are you all like this?"
• u changed bro
• SHE WALKED IN AND UR VOICE WENT ALL SOFT
• say sweetheart again I dare u
His head snapped up. "No. I'm not-stop it."
I giggled quietly. His eyes flicked to me, and instantly the softness returned, even though he tried so hard to hide it.
With the headset still half-on, half-off, hair sticking out at every angle, he looked like a scruffy fox pretending not to be affectionate.
But then he reached out-like he couldn't help himself-and tugged gently at the sleeve of my hoodie.
"Come here a sec," he murmured under the roar of chat.
I stepped closer, leaning down so I was beside his chair. He lowered his voice. "Don't go yet."
Of course. He didn't want me to leave. He never did.
Chat saw me lean in, and that was enough to send them into another meltdown.
• HE'S SMILINGGGGGG
• mans lost the fifa plot he's in love rn
• he hasn't blinked since she walked in
Morgan's lips twitched. "Y'all have nothing better to do, huh?"
He played again, this time with a noticeable difference-no yelling. No swearing. No throwing himself back dramatically in his chair. He was... calm. Focused. Almost gentle.
Which chat obviously clocked instantly.
• WHY IS HE BEING POLITE
• nah he's scaring me
• she tamed the beast
• this is the nicest he's EVER played
He clenched his jaw. "I'm not being nice. I'm just-playing the game."
"Nicely," I murmured, unable to resist.
"Shut up," he replied softly, trying not to smile.
Another few minutes passed of him pretending to be totally fine, totally unaffected, totally not concerned about showing off just a bit because I was watching. But I knew him. I knew the way his foot tapped faster when he wanted to impress. I knew the way his shoulder tensed when he glanced sideways to check my reaction. I knew the way he held the controller slightly differently when he cared about looking good.
He scored a goal-a decently impressive one, actually-and immediately straightened up, throwing me a quick, triumphant look.
"You see that?" he asked, voice low with pride.
I nodded, pretending to be impressed even though I didn't actually know if it was skill or luck. "Very good, love."
Chat erupted again.
• THE WAY HE LOOKED AT HER
• nah he wants her approval so bad
• HUSBAND BEHAVIOUR
Morgan groaned. "Chat, stop making everything weird."
But he wasn't truly angry. Not even close. His cheeks were pink, and his eyes kept flicking to me like he couldn't help it.
Then I made the mistake of brushing my hand through his hair-just a little, a gentle smoothing of the part that always stuck up near the headset.
He froze.
Chat didn't.
• BRO STOP IM BLUSHING
• I KNEW ITTTT
• she patted him LIKE A PET
• nah she's got him domesticated
He went redder than his hair. "Oi-don't-don't touch my hair on stream."
"Why not?"
"Because they-because-CHAT STOP CLIPPING THAT-DON'T-"
Too late. They were already spamming:
"CLIPPED"
"SAVED TO MY CAMERA ROLL"
"PAWS UP IF MORGAN'S A GOOD BOY"
He buried his face in his hands. "I actually hate it here."
I grinned. "No you don't."
He peeked at me between his fingers. "...No. But they're annoying."
"They love you."
"They love clowning me."
"Well," I said lightly, "maybe stop giving them material."
He whined-actually whined-under his breath, and chat went nuclear again.
Suddenly chazza typed:
NYKCHAZZA: make him say sweetheart again
And Heinz followed with:
HEINZBAINES: yeah if ur not soft say it
HEINZBAINES: PROVE US WRONG KING
He looked straight into the camera. "I'm not doing that."
He looked at me. His eyes softened instantly.
I raised a slow eyebrow. "Not even a little bit?"
His jaw clenched. His shoulders tensed. He stared at the desk like it had personally betrayed him.
Then, so quietly chat almost missed it:
"...sweetheart."
Explosions.
Absolute chaos.
NYKCHAZZA: HES GONE HES FINISHED
HEINZBAINES: WRAP IT UP THIS MAN IS IN LOVE
• DID HE JUST WHISPER IT
• replay replay replay
He slammed a hand on the desk-not hard, just enough to express his dramatic agony. "STOP ENCOURAGING THEM."
I leaned down and kissed the top of his head before he could complain, then stepped back from the desk, heading for the door.
Immediately he snapped around, voice catching. "Wait-where you going?"
"Kitchen," I said. "Do you want anything?"
His mouth opened, then closed. Then softly:
"Just you back here."
Chat broke again.
I laughed. "I'll be two minutes."
He nodded, clearly flustered, clearly trying not to show it. "Fine. But hurry."
As I walked out, I could still hear Morgan attempting-and failing-to regain control of his chat.
"No, I'm not whipped. Stop-don't put that. Mods? Mods HELP. She's not-NO I'M NOT BLUSHING."
He absolutely was.
I took my time, letting him suffer a little. By the time I returned, he was mid-rant again-but calmer than before, his frustration softer around the edges.
When I stepped back into the room, his eyes snapped up like he'd been waiting the entire time.
"Oh thank God," he muttered.
"You missed me?"
"No," he said quickly. "Chat's annoying."
"Chat's always annoying."
"Yeah but they're worse when you're gone."
My eyebrows lifted. "Because you act differently when I'm here?"
He swallowed. "...No?"
The lie was immediate. And obvious.
I set another small snack on his desk and leaned down again, this time letting my cheek brush his temple. He inhaled sharply.
Chat noticed immediately.
NYKCHAZZA: MF IS IN 4K
HEINZBAINES: THEYRE SO CUTE IM GONNA CRY
• THEYRE LIKE A MARRIED COUPLE HELP
Morgan muttered under his breath, "Gonna block all of them."
Then silently, he reached for my wrist and tugged me gently to stay beside him. I shifted the chair a little, sitting halfway on the arm of his gaming chair, close enough that our knees touched.
He kept playing-still raging, still commentating-but his hand found my thigh under the desk, thumb brushing absentminded circles like he'd forgotten he was live.
Chat did not forget.
NYKCHAZZA: HAND ON LEG??
HEINZBAINES: WE SEE THATTT
• why is he all cuddly now
• she's literally his comfort person this is so soft
Morgan's face flushed. "I'm not cuddly. I'm concentrating."
I laughed quietly. "You're cuddling."
"it's not cuddling," he grumbled, shifting closer.
"That definitely is."
"You're distracting me," he muttered.
"You play better like this."
He made a noise like he hated that I was right.
And maybe it was the soft lighting, or the hum of the game, or the way his thumb was brushing tiny circles against my skin like he needed the contact, but suddenly his voice dropped low again, just for me.
"Stay here for the rest of stream."
"Thought I was distracting."
"You are."
He glanced up at me, eyes warm, unguarded.
"But I like it."
Chat practically combusted.
NYKCHAZZA: NAH IM DONE
HEINZBAINES: HE SAID THAT ON LIVE TV??
• this stream is historic
• GET MARRIED ALREADY
Morgan rolled his eyes at the camera. "Can you all chill?"
But he didn't move his hand from my leg. Didn't lean away. Didn't stop glancing at me like I was the only thing grounding him.
He played another game, surprisingly well. I stayed beside him, sipping my own drink, quietly teasing him under my breath when he messed up. He muttered stupid little comments back, trying not to smile too hard.
Every time my knee bumped his, his whole body reacted like he had no control over it.
Eventually the stream reached the two-hour mark. He looked tired but content, calmer than when I'd walked in. The rage had faded into something softer, warmer.
He stretched, exhaling loudly. "Alright chat, I'm gonna wrap it up here. I'll see you all tomorrow."
Chat begged for another game. More teasing. More comments about how soft he'd been.
He ignored most of it, but just before clicking "End Stream," he looked at me again with that stupid, heart-melting expression he always tried to hide.
Then he turned back to his viewers.
"Right," he said, voice gruffer than normal. "Thanks for watching, I love you all, and... stop bullying me."
NYKCHAZZA: NEVER
HEINZBAINES: goodnight lovebirds
• BYE READER WE LOVE YOU
He groaned. "Stop saying goodnight to her. She's not-this isn't-stop."
Then he clicked "End Stream."
Silence.
He ripped off his headset, tossed it onto the desk, then turned fully toward me.
And the second he wasn't live?
All the pretending vanished.
He wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me gently onto his lap with a sigh of pure relief.
"Knew you were soft," I murmured against his ear.
He tucked his face into my neck. "Only for you."
"Chat would implode if they heard that."
He huffed. "Chat can cry about it."
I stroked his hair again-this time with no camera, no audience, no teasing.
He melted into me instantly.
After a moment, he whispered, softer than anything he'd said all night:
"Thanks for coming in. I... needed you."
I smiled, threading my fingers through his.
"I know."
And he held me tighter, FIFA forgotten, rage melted, completely undone by something as simple as me walking into the room.
Exactly as Chat said-
completely, hopelessly, undeniably soft.
