summary someone said something they shouldn't have. morgan made sure they understood that.
prompt – bov boys stream, someone comments about reader, protective morgan
warnings – language, protective behaviour
word count – ~2k
note – someone really thought that was acceptable to say on a live stream morgan said absolutely not — thank you for this request 🫶
requests are open :)
⋆｡°✩ 🎀 ♡ 🎀 ✩°｡⋆
The stream had been going for about an hour.
Just some of the bov boys — Ginge, Heinz, Tays, Cameraman Chazza behind the camera doing what Chazza did — the easy chaos of a group who had been doing this long enough that the content came naturally. No agenda, no structure, just the particular energy of people who were genuinely funny together and knew it.
You were in the background.
Not on camera — you were in the kitchen, visible occasionally through the doorway when you moved past, existing in your own space the way you did when Morgan was streaming and you were home but not participating. You'd brought them all drinks about twenty minutes in. Morgan had said cheers love without looking away from the camera, which was so thoroughly normal that nobody had made anything of it.
Chat had noticed you, obviously. Chat always noticed everything.
The comments had been fine. The usual — is that his girlfriend, hi, she's lovely, Morgan's a lucky man — the kind of thing that had become background noise over the course of the relationship going public. Mostly positive. Occasionally a bit much, but manageable.
And then someone had typed it.
Morgan saw it before anyone said anything. He was mid-sentence — something about the game Heinz was losing at, some point he was making — and his eye caught the comment the way his eye always caught things that were wrong, and he stopped.
Heinz noticed the stop. Looked at the camera. Looked at Morgan.
"You alright?" Heinz said.
Morgan was reading the comment again. Not because he'd misread it the first time. Because he was deciding something.
"Chat," he said. The easy stream energy gone, replaced with something flat and very even. "Read that back."
Chat, which had been moving fast, slowed down. Several people quoted it. Someone said oh he saw it. Someone else said uh oh.
The comment was four words. Simple. The kind of thing certain people thought was acceptable to put in a public chat about a real person — about his person — because the distance of a screen made them forget that words landed somewhere.
Morgan looked at the camera.
"Right," he said quietly. Not loudly. Not with the volume that would have been easier to dismiss. Just quiet and completely certain. "I'm going to say this once."
The stream went very still. Heinz had put his controller down. Tays had leaned back. Chazza, behind the camera, wasn't moving.
"She's not your bird," Morgan said. Each word placed. Unhurried. "She's not anyone's bird. She's a person. With a name. And she's in that kitchen right now completely unaware that someone just put that in a chat, and that's the only reason I'm keeping this calm." He looked directly at the camera. "If I ever see anything like that again — in my chat, in her comments, anywhere — you're gone. Permanently. And if you think I don't check, you don't know how this works."
Silence.
Chat had gone from fast-moving to almost completely still. Then slowly: sorry Ginge and he's right and that was out of order and respect filling the screen, the majority of the community doing what good communities did when someone crossed a line.
Morgan looked at it for a moment.
Then he looked back at Heinz. "Right. Where were we."
Heinz blinked. "You were saying I was losing—"
"You are losing."
"I'm not—"
"Heinz."
"Okay fine I'm losing a bit—"
The stream came back to itself. Slowly, then all at once, the energy resettling into something that was almost normal. Almost.
You appeared in the doorway about ten minutes later.
You hadn't heard — you'd had music on in the kitchen, hadn't caught any of it. You were holding your own drink now, leaning against the frame, half watching whatever they were doing on screen with the comfortable ease of someone who was present without being part of it.
Morgan glanced at you.
You raised your glass slightly. He nodded once, brief and private, and looked back at the game.
You went back to the kitchen.
He watched you go.
Tays, very quietly, said nothing. Which was the most diplomatic thing Tays had done all year.
Later, after the stream had ended and Heinz and Tays had gone and Chazza had packed up, Morgan found you in the kitchen finishing the washing up.
He leaned against the counter beside you. Said nothing for a moment.
"What?" you said, not looking up.
"Nothing."
"You've got a face."
"I don't have a face."
You looked at him sideways. He looked at the sink.
"Something happened on the stream," he said. "Someone said something in chat."
You stopped washing up. "About what."
"About you." He kept his voice even. "It was dealt with."
You looked at him properly now. "What did they say."
He told you. Simply, without dressing it up.
You were quiet for a moment. Then: "Morgan—"
"It's handled," he said. "They're gone. It won't happen again."
"You didn't have to—"
"Yes I did." No room for debate in it. Just fact. He looked at you with the expression that was quiet and completely certain, the one that didn't perform anything. "I'm not sitting on a stream while someone talks about you like that. That's not something I'm going to do."
You looked at him for a long moment.
"Okay," you said softly.
"Okay," he said.
You went back to the washing up. He stayed where he was, shoulder pressed against yours, and didn't say anything else about it.
Warnings: alcohol, talking about sex, clingy boyfriend morgan
The three of you had polished off three bottles of wine while doing your makeup. It would be rude not to when everyone showed up to the house with a bottle, wouldn’t it?
Endless tiktoks, instagrams and snaps were taken from pres. Going from the sensible streamer girlfriends to feral drunk besties in real time.
Honestly the weeks leading up to tonight you were so excited. Living with five 20 something year old teen boys was exhausting, at least the girls semi-understood since they were also dating a bov boy.
At the club drinks were flowing, you lost track of the amount of strawberry daiquiris you’d inhaled. The three of you were sat having a chat over your drinks, all way too far gone to have a filter and everyone’s feet killing from the heels you’d all chosen to wear.
“Y’know when you’re proper not in the mood but they do that face that makes you give in instantly?” Heather starts, Ellie immediately nodding and clapping along in agreement.
“UGH! Yes! It’s so annoying!” Ellie rolled her eyes. “Like I know we only see each other 3 days a week but I want to sleeeeeep keep it in your pants.”
“I genuinely have no idea what you girls are talking about.” you sipped on your cocktail, bemused by the shocked outrage on your friends faces.
“What do you mean? Surely he tries it on and you’ve not felt like it reader?” Heather pushes.
“Especially after nine years! Come on girl you can’t fool us.”
“No genuinely girls. My man is fucking stunning, I’d climb him whenever wherever. I’ve never not been in the mood.”
The table goes silent, Heather slowly lowers her drink like she’s just witnessed a crime. Ellie blinks at you. Once. Twice.
“…You’re joking.” she says flatly.
You shake your head, completely serious, sipping your daiquiri through the tiny straw.
“Nope.”
Heather grabs your arm dramatically.
“Nine years. NINE YEARS and you’re telling me you’ve never once gone ‘babe please I’m tired’?”
“No,” you laugh. “I mean obviously life happens, we live in the bov house now. but I still want him. Every time. He just,” you shrug helplessly, cheeks warm from alcohol and honesty. “He looks at me and I need a mop.”
“That’s actually disgusting behaviour, I hope you know that.” Ellie slaps the table pulling a horrified face at you.
“You’re the reason men have unrealistic expectations!” Heather points accusingly causing you to gasp.
“Excuse me! I’m appreciating what’s mine thank you very much!”
Ellie does an over dramatic shudder, fingers clutching her straw.
“I cannot hear ‘appreciate what’s mine’ in that context knowing we’re talking about angry fucking ginge!”
You burst out laughing so hard you nearly spill your drink.
“Don’t call him that!” you wheeze, pointing at Ellie, Heather is fully doubled over now.
“No because I know exactly who you mean and it’s way worse when you say it like that!”
“Angry fucking ginge who apparently just has you in a chokehold 24/7.” Ellie is fanning herself dramatically.
“Not 24/7!” you protest, still laughing. “I have hobbies!”
“Do you?” Heather squints at you. “Or do you just stare at him across the kitchen island while he’s making toast wishing you didn’t have roommates so he could be banging you over it?”
That one sends Ellie into a fresh fit of laughter.
“I do NOT!” You press a hand to your chest, offended. “Okay maybe once or twice I’ve-”
“Once or twice?” Ellie repeats immediately.
“Don’t interrogate me in public!” You point at her. “Anyway you literally shag in 67 bedsheets girl. I don’t have to take this slander.”
That gets a fresh round of belly laughs from the three of you, you having to be quick not to let the joyous tears fall and smudge your makeup.
Heather is wiping under her eyes like she’s about to ruin her mascara and she doesn’t even care anymore.
“Six-seven bedsheets,” she repeats, laughing. “Why is that so accurate though?”
Ellie leans back in her chair, pointing at you like she’s made a scientific discovery.
“No because she’s deflecting. She’s fully in love and attacking my brain-rotted jakey instead.”
“I’m not attacking anything!” you say, but you’re smiling so hard it doesn’t land with any seriousness at all. “I’m simply observing that some of our boyfriends have better tastes than others.”
“He’s just a bit special reader,” she giggles out. “How come mikeys getting off freely anyways?”
You both turn to Heather with cheeky smiles, knowing that she can’t stop you from bulling her bald boyfriend now.
“Girls! Girls! Don’t bring my sweet Mikey into this!!”
“Nah nah I live with him Hev, the bloke has literally got air in between his ears and nothing else. How do you cope?”
“He’s actually proper smart sometimes you know!”
You and Ellie make eye contact. Big mistake as you both folded immediately, clutching your stomachs at the mere thought of Mikey having a brain.
Heather sits there for a second, dead serious, trying to defend her man like it’s a court case.
“He is!” she insists, pointing between you and Ellie. “He is smart. He just…selectively uses it.”
Ellie wipes under her eye, still laughing.
“Selectively is crazy, Like it’s a Netflix subscription.”
“Mikey’s brain works on a pay-as-you-go plan.” You’re bent forward now, shoulders shaking, Heather gasps.
“Stop bullying him!”
“Then give us evidence.” Ellie fires back instantly.
Heather opens her mouth… closes it… then tries again.
“He once…he once fixed the WiFi.”
Silence. You blink. Slowly.
“The bar is in hell.”
“You’re both horrible!”
You’re all laughing so hard now the table is basically vibrating, drinks sloshing dangerously close to the edges.
Nothing exists except mascara-streaked cheeks, aching jaws, and the kind of laughter that makes your chest hurt in the best way. Then Ellie nudges your arm, still grinning.
“Okay but seriously though. Ginge, Does he actually know you talk about him like this?”
You pause.
“…No.”
“That’s self-preservation, that man would be far to smug” Heather immediately points.
You try to argue, but the thought of it catches you off guard for a second, your boyfriend’s face if he ever heard all of this. That smug little look he gets when he knows he’s got you figured out. You shake it off quickly.
“Nope. Absolutely not. We are never telling him.”
Ellie immediately sticks her hand out, “Pinky swear?”You slap your hand into hers without thinking, “Pinky swear.”
Heather leans in too, eyes narrowed. “On Mikey’s WiFi-fixed life?”
“On Mikey’s WiFi-fixed life.” you confirm solemnly.
That sends you all off again, laughing into your drinks like it’s the funniest oath ever made in human history.
Then your phone buzzes from your purse on the table. Instinctively you go to grab it, both girls making noises of disapproval as you do.
“No boys, reader!”
“We don’t even know it’s him yet.” you convince no one as you slide your phone from your bag.
The soft little smirk taking over your face told the girls instantly it was Morgan who messaged you.
From squishy❤️ : looked so good before you left, can’t wait to get that dress off you when you’re home x
From squishy❤️: send me a picture so I don’t forget what you look like, Sexy bitch x
“Go on then what’d he say?” Ellie asked leaning towards your phone, being in your tipsy state you weren’t quick enough to tilt the screen.
“Reader!! Nine years and he’s still messaging you like that? Fuckin hell.” a tone of disbelief shone through her voice.
Heather is still laughing so hard she’s basically folded in half, mascara hanging on for dear life at this point - not gonna look good for the bybabes brand surely.
Ellie wipes her hand down her face like she’s physically resetting her brain.
“Right, I need something stronger than strawberry daiquiris, I’ve seen too much.”
You take a long sip of yours, smug in the way only someone with a mildly deranged but loving boyfriend can be.
“You’re welcome for the free entertainment.”
Then Heather over dramatically slams her hands down on the table.
“Girls we need shots!!” She squeals. Naturally you and Ellie agree it’s the best idea ever and off the three off you go in your too short dresses to the bar and order way too many tequila rosés to your table.
The tequila rosé hits the table like a warning nobody listens to, Ellie squints at it.
“That looks illegal.”
“That looks like healing!” Heather is already clapping.
You, unfortunately, are already halfway through your first one before anyone has even finished speaking.
“Okay,” Ellie says slowly, watching you like a wildlife documentary. “She’s feral again.”
You point at her with your glass.
“I’ve been here the entire time, devellie!!”
Heather laughs.
“No you haven’t, You’ve been spiritually texting angry fucking ginge!”
“Stop saying it like that!” you groan, but you’re smiling so hard it doesn’t land.
Ellie leans on the table, dramatically.
“Right, New rule. Every shot = one embarrassing boyfriend story.”
You immediately shake your head.
“Absolutely not.”
“I’ll start!” Heather raises a finger “Once Mikey tried to be proper romantic and carry me to bed but he tripped on his clothes and he ended up falling - ON TOP OF ME - and twisting his ankle… so even later on we couldn’t shag or anything.”
You both stare at her, there’s a beat of silence so pure it almost resets the club noise around you.
Then Ellie slowly says, “So… romantic injury prevented shagging?”
Heather nods solemnly, “Correct,” then tilts her head back as she downs her shot.
You lose it instantly.
“No because that is the most Mikey-coded romance I’ve ever heard in my life,” you gasp, nearly sliding off your chair laughing. Heather points at her drink like she’s still defending his honour.
“It was an accident!”
You wipe under your eye, trying to breathe. Ellie snorts.
“He fumbled you, literally.”
“He was trying his best!” Heather throws her hands up in defeat.
“His best is dangerous!” you say, still laughing.
Ellie leans in again, wiping her mascara like she’s about to declare war.
“Right. My turn!”
You groan immediately, Ellie grins.
“Morgan story.”
“Don’t you dare, he’s not even yours to embarrass!” You point at her.
Too late, Ellie sits up straighter like she’s about to deliver courtroom evidence.
“So. Your angry fucking ginge-”
You physically bury your face in your hands.
“I hate you.”
Ellie continues regardless.
“- once forgot I was over, came into the room fully tried to get into her pants - like he’d UNDONE the button of her jeans before he clocked I was in the fucking ROOM!” She was fully wheezing before she’d got her whole sentence out.
You shoot upright so fast your chair screeches.
“HE DID NOT” Heather slams a hand on the table, screaming “NO HE DIDN’T OH MY GOD”
Ellie is doubled over, pointing at you like she’s reliving a historical event.
“He just walked in like hello girlfriend zero survival instincts, straight hands-on situation!”
You hide your face behind your drink.
“He thought we were alone!” you argue, mortified. “You were meant to have left!”
“I HAD gone downstairs for my charger!” Ellie cries, throwing her hands up for emphasis. “I came back and your man was already halfway through unwrapping his dinner!” Ellie is fully red in the face now, gasping between laughs. “man didn’t even say hello, just saw girlfriend and needed her pants off.”
Heather is clutching your arm so hard her nails are digging in.
“No because I’m picturing him just LOCKING IN! Zero thoughts only sex.”
You groan into your hands.
“I genuinely believed we were alone! Why would I check my own bedroom?!”
Ellie wipes tears from her eyes.
“Because WE WERE WATCHING A MOVIE TOGETHER, babe!”
You point accusingly.
“You LEFT THE ROOM”
“I went for a charger!” Ellie shoots back. “I walked in and your boyfriend was already going for it!”
Heather wheezes.
“Exactly! No awareness! Just girlfriend detected - sex addict activated”
You sink lower in your seat.
“I cannot believe this is public knowledge”
“Oh no babe it’s worse,” Ellie grins wickedly. “The way he froze when he finally noticed me…”
Heather leans forward like she’s about to hear gossip from God himself, hands flat on the table no distractions around.
“What did he do?”
Ellie straightens reenacting it perfectly - shoulders stiff, eyes wide.
“He just stopped. Completely, like someone unplugged him.”
You already know where this is going and want the floor to swallow you.
“No,” Ellie says firmly “That man chose dignity. Wrong choice, but it’s the choice he chose.”
Heather is doubled over now.
“I bet he still tried to act normal after too.”
Ellie slaps the table.
“He DID! Sat down like nothing happened while she was still fixing her jeans!”
“I wanted to DIE Ellie!” You groan.
“And he was just there like anyway, been up to much?” Ellie adds, losing composure again.
Heather wipes under her eyes, still gasping for breathes between laughs. Ellie finally downs her tequila, shivering as she swallowed.
Heather watches you for a second, smile softening.
“Jokes aside… he really loves you, doesn’t he?”
You shrug, but your grin gives you away.
“Yeah.” you admit quietly. “Never had to question if he loved me or not, suppose he’s good at that.”
Ellie hums, clinking her glass against yours.
“That’s how you know it’s the real thing. Jakey used to proper do my head in all through school and he still does my head in now. That’s how I know he’s the one I reckon.”
Heather nods thoughtfully, swirling the last of her drink.
“Mikey’s an absolute idiot,” she says fondly, smiling into her glass. “but, he’s my big idiot.”
For a tiny moment the noise of the club fades behind you lights flashing, music thumping, strangers shouting and it hits you how rare this is. The three of you, messy makeup, sore feet, stupid stories and boys you somehow all ended up loving anyway. You squeeze their hands without thinking.
“God we’re soft.” you mumble.
“Speak for yourself, I’m still judging your feral ginger.” Ellie snorts immediately that breaks the spell instantly. Heather raises her shot glass again.
“Right, Enough emotional growth. Someone embarrass another man.”
“Oooh okay my turn… when we first started dating Morgan was even worse than he is now at leaving hickeys.” you confessed, full story teller mode. Too drunk to worry about repercussions, “anyway age 15, my mum panicked when she saw my neck and the next day pulled Morgan to the kitchen and gave him a box of condoms.”
The girls screeched at your confession, Ellie smacking her hands on the table and Heather gripping into you.
“No way your mum bought condoms for her 15 year old daughter’s boyfriend. I can’t buy it.” Heather was wiping tears from her eyes as she spoke.
“Genuinely she did. It was mortifying, bare in mind this is this same kid who I had sleepovers with every weekend too.”
“Oh god! Did Morgan die on the spot?” Ellie had leaned in now, full detective mode activated.
“Yes!! He was terrified my mum was going to ban him from seeing me,” you chuckled. “But no she gave him a box of rubbers and ‘I’m too young to be a grandma Morgan, be more careful yeah’ HORRIFIC!!”
The girls only fell into more intense fits of laughter as you downed your shot.
After a few more hours, endless shots and even more embarrassing stories that should’ve been kept in the confinement of each individual relationship the three of you decided to book an uber home, or to the bov house where all your stupid men would be.
Outside the club the cold air hits the three of you like a brick, the infinite shots not warming you up as much once leaving the building. All three of you immediately gasp.
“Why is England like this?” Heather whines, clutching her tiny jacket that has never once provided warmth in its entire existence.
Ellie wobbles slightly on her heels, grabbing your arm.
“I cannot feel my feet, I think I left them inside.”
“You didn’t have any feeling to begin with in those heels!” you laugh, tugging your dress down as you all huddle closer together waiting for the Uber.
Your phone buzzes again, Ellie spots it instantly.
“No,” she says firmly. “No boyfriend contact until we are safely transported.”
You grin anyway, sneaking a glance.
From squishy❤️: you having fun?
From squishy❤️: bed is too big without you
Your chest does that annoying warm little squeeze you pretend not to notice, Heather peeks over your shoulder.
“OH he misses you, that’s sickening.”
“He’s probably pacing around the house.” Ellie adds knowingly, “oh spike, I know mummy is so nasty leaving her boys all alone, isn’t she!” she finishes in a mock deep voice, what you’re assuming is meant to be your boyfriend.
You shove her shoulder immediately, laughing.
“That is NOT what he sounds like!”
“It absolutely is!” Ellie insists, still wobbling dramatically. “He’s sat there right now, stroking Spike like a divorced dad waiting for visitation hours.”
Heather gasps.
“STOP! I can literally picture it. Lights off. TV on mute. Just sighing every five minutes into the abyss.”
You roll your eyes but you’re smiling too much to deny it.
“He is not sighing.”
Your phone buzzes again, Ellie and Heather both scream.
“HE’S DOUBLE TEXTING!”
You glance down despite yourself.
From squishy❤️: you really did look so pretty
From squishy❤️: remember to stay safe baby x
The teasing dies just a tiny bit, not fully but enough that Heather softens.
The uber ride home was a mixture of incorrect song lyrics belted far to confidently, the poor driver getting three girls life stories when he just wanted to do his job and so much laughter your ribs were aching.
When the uber finally pulled onto your street, headlights washing over the familiar BOV house.
All the lights were on, every single one. Ellie squinted through the window.
“…Why does it look like an intervention?”
“That’s not an intervention, that’s boys pretending they weren’t waiting up.” Heather snorted.
You tried not to smile. The car stopped and the three of you spilled out onto the drive in a tangle of heels, handbags and drunken giggles, the cold air biting harder now the alcohol had started wearing off.
You barely made it halfway up the path before the front door swung open. Of course Morgan stood there like he’d been listening for the engine.
Grey joggers. Hoodie. Hair a mess like he’d been running his hands through it all night. Spike squeezed past his legs immediately, tail wagging so hard his entire body moved.
“There she is.” Morgan said, voice warm and relieved in a way that settled something deep in your chest.
Ellie leaned heavily against Heather.
“Oh my god he was pacing.”
Morgan ignored her completely, eyes only on you as you walked closer.
“You alright?” he asked softly, already reaching for you.
His hands landed automatically at your waist, steadying you before you even realised you’d wobbled.
“I’m fine,” you laughed, “Very hydrated.”
Heather snorted behind you.
“She means tequila.”
Morgan huffed a quiet laugh, thumb brushing absentmindedly along your hip like he needed to check you were actually there.
“You going to conk out the second you walk into our room aren’t you, trouble?”
“Depends, is there gonna be a tall sexy defender in bed with me?” You smiled up at him, not even attempting to fight the allegations.
Heather and Ellie made exaggerated gagging noises behind you, falling into eachother in a way they’d both vehemently deny tomorrow.
Morgan rolls his eyes at them but doesn’t let go of you, pulling you closer against his chest like the rest of the world is background noise.
“Alright, gremlins,” he calls over your shoulder. “Did you return my girlfriend in one piece?”
“Debatable,” Ellie replies instantly “She asked the taxi driver if he’d had a long shift and if he was tired.”
“That’s normal British chitchat.” Morgan instantly defends you, causing Heather and Ellie to let out another squeal of laughter.
“Oh yeah it is!” Heather agreed easily, “except ‘trouble’ over there was asking so she could take over the drive home!”
“She said and I quote ‘you sure you’re energetic enough to drive, my squishy would’ve had is there by now. I can take over for a bit if you need?’ That poor man was unprepared!” Ellie exclaimed.
You could feel Morgan’s shoulders shake underneath you as he attempted to hold in his laughter.
“Okay… maybe not the way people generally go about it.” Morgan choked out between laughs. “But you’ve got spirit babe, shall we go inside out the cold?”
Once inside Morgan guided you to the sofa, removing your heels once you were sat securely then going to get you a bottle of water.
By this point Jakey and Mikey had come to collect their own drunken women.
Jakey appears first, leaning in the doorway like he’s been waiting for this exact moment all night.
“There she is,” he says, already walking toward Ellie with the patience of a man who has done this many times before. “My little liability.”
Ellie lights up instantly, “JAKEY!” she cheers like he’s returned from war instead of being upstairs five minutes ago.
She launches herself at him. He barely reacts, just catches her automatically, hands settling at her waist.
“You drink water?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“She absolutely did not.” Morgan mutters from beside you, not following girl code clearly.
Ellie gasps in betrayal.
“Daiquiris don’t count.” Jakey says calmly, steering her toward the kitchen.
Meanwhile Mikey crouches in front of Heather, inspecting her like a concerned mechanic.
“You alive?”
“I’m thriving.” Heather narrows her eyes.
“You called me crying because the club toilet lady looked disappointed in you.”
“She judged me, I could feel it in the air!” Heather says seriously.
Mikey nods like this is normal information, to be fair in this house it’s not far off.
“Right, Bed.”
He helps her up, arm wrapped securely around her shoulders while she leans fully into him, already half asleep.
You watch them disappear upstairs, warmth spreading in your chest at how natural it all looks boys who pretend to be chaotic disasters suddenly soft and careful the second their girls need them.
On que Morgan returns with a glass of water, forcing you to finish it before letting you talk to him - or touch him.
“All done.” you nodded in reply. “Good let’s get you to bed then.”
“Dirty boy,” you wink, far too overdramatised to be anything resembling sexy. Good thing Morgan was all ready in love with you as he just rolled his eyes and pulled you to your feet.
“Come on, ya freak.”
One the bedroom door closes behind you and the noise of the house dulls instantly.
You spin toward him before he can even speak, arms wrapping around his neck.
“There’s my boy!” you sigh happily, pressing your face into his hoodie like you’ve finally reached home base.
His hands settle automatically at your back, grounding you when you sway slightly.
“Hi baby.” he says quietly.
You tilt your head up, studying him like you haven’t seen him in years instead of hours.
“You missed me.” it was a statement, not a question. He exhales a small laugh.
“Yeah,” he admits regardless. “Bit boring without you.”
Your grin widens.
“Ellie said you were pacing.”
“I was not pacing.”
“You absolutely were.”
“…I refreshed your feeds a couple times!”
“ROMANTIC!” You gasp.
“Super normal behaviour.” he mutters, fingers already deftly undoing the zipper of your dress. Pulling his hands away from your back he lifts a hand to your face brushing a thumb under your eye where mascara has started to smudge.
“You tired?”
You shake your head immediately.
“No. I’m obsessed with you.”
Morgan freezes for half a second, caught between amusement and that soft affection he never quite hides well.
“That’s the tequila talking.”
You grab his hoodie strings, tugging him closer.
“Nope. Been like this since 2017, think it’s terminal.”
That earns a quiet laugh, the kind he only does when it’s just the two of you.
“Alright,” he murmurs despite the blush coating his cheeks. “Let’s get you comfy before you start declaring love to the furniture.”
His big hands cup your face as he gently uses a wipe to remove the bulk of your makeup. Not the best, not your usual standard but you’d feel much better in the morning so Morgan is taking his little victories.
“Morgan.”
“Hm?”
“You’re really pretty.”
He sighs, smiling despite himself.
“Thank you.”
“Like… offensively pretty.”
Morgan laughs properly now, shaking his head as he attempts to swap your dress for a set of your pyjamas.
“Not them ones!” you whine, crossing your arms across your bare chest.
“What do you mean love, it’s your pyjamas?”
“Want your top tonight squish.” you pout. The pout only increases when he goes to get a top from his drawer.
“What?” He laughs at you, fully just wanting to sleep at this point.
“I want the one you’ve got on!” You exclaim like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Smells like you, need that one for bed.”
He scoffs before removing his shirt and helping you get it over your head. You immediately crawl into bed once it’s on, arms reaching for him before he’s even settled.
“Stay.”
“I’m staying.”
He slides in beside you and you attach yourself instantly leg hooked over his, face tucked under his chin, fingers grabbing into his bare chest like you’re making sure he can’t disappear.
Downstairs you hear Mikey laughing loudly followed by Heather telling him to shut up. A door closes. Someone drops something. The house settles into its usual late-night chaos.
You mumble sleepily, already drifting.
“Love you.”
His reply comes instantly, like breathing.
“Love you too.”
Within minutes your breathing evens out, completely gone.
Morgan stays awake a little longer, thumb tracing lazy circles on your shoulder, listening to the quiet sounds of the house and the steady rhythm of you sleeping against him.
Spike eventually jumps onto the bed with a satisfied huff, curling at your feet like security detail.
Your fingers twitch against his chest even in sleep, automatically tightening like you’re checking he’s still there. He stills instantly, hand smoothing over your hair.
He leans back into the pillows, finally relaxing now that you’re here, warm and heavy against him. The house noises fade into background comfort laughter, footsteps, doors closing life continuing around you.
A few minutes pass, then you mumble.
“…Morgan.”
“Yeah, baby?” He looks down immediately.
Your eyes never open.
“…did I embarrass myself tonight?”
The question is soft. Sleepy. Vulnerable in that honest drunk-afterglow way. Morgan huffs a quiet laugh, brushing his thumb over your cheek.
“Course not.”
A pause.
“…Ellie called you angry fucking ginger again.” you whisper, deeply offended on his behalf even unconscious.
He snorts.
“Sounds about right that.”
You hum, satisfied with his response, already drifting again. Another beat passes before you add, “…told everyone you’re fit.”
His eyebrows lift. “Oh yeah?”
“Mhm… said I’d climb you like a tree…”
Morgan presses his lips together, trying not to laugh loud enough to wake you.
“Very respectful trouble, cheers.”
You nod weakly against his chest.
“…also told the Uber driver you miss me when I go to Tesco.”
He actually laughs this time, shoulders shaking.
“Did you now?”
“…he understood.”
“Aye, I bet he did.”
Your breathing evens again, conversation forgotten mid-thought.
Morgan had been trying his hardest not to let it show.
Because everyone had warned him.
“It’s only two weeks.”
“You’ll survive.”
“Stop being dramatic.”
But the boys didn’t know why he’d been so off all day.
It was your anniversary.
And for the first time since you’d been together, he wasn’t waking up beside you. No breakfast dates, no annoying each other all day, no stealing each others food.
Just New York.
And somehow New York didn’t feel all that exciting anymore.
⸻
Back home, you were feeling exactly the same.
Until there was a knock on the door.
Michelle stood there holding an envelope and a smile.
Michelle: “Happy early anniversary, love.”
Inside was a plane ticket to New York.
You nearly burst into tears.
Reader: “Michelle, I can’t—”
Michelle: “Oh yes, you can.”
Reader: “But—”
Michelle: “He misses you terribly.”
Your heart softened.
Reader: “He does?”
Michelle laughed.
Michelle: “Love, he rang me this morning sounding absolutely miserable. Didn’t want to admit it, but I could tell.”
And that was when you made up your mind.
⸻
The first person you texted was Beano. You and Beano had really gotten along since knowing each other. You shared similar banter and both loved winding Morgan up together. He was almost like your brother.
Reader: “Hi Bean, weird question… can you help me surprise Morgan?”
Not even thirty seconds later your phone rang.
Beano: “YES.”
You laughed.
Reader: “You haven’t even heard the plan.”
Beano: “DOESN’T MATTER.”
Reader: “Bean—”
Beano: “THIS IS CINEMA.”
⸻
Within ten minutes, Beano had created a group chat.
Operation Anniversary ❤️🗽
Members:
Beano.
Tays.
Jakey.
Chazza.
And you.
⸻
8:45am
Beano: “Nobody tell Ginge.”
Tays: “If any of you lot ruin this, I’ll actually cry.”
Jakey: “He has been unbearable all day. This needs to happen.”
Chazza: “He’s watched their TikToks edits about fifty times .
Jakey: “HE’S DOWN BAD 😭”
You couldn’t stop laughing reading through them.
Reader: “You lot are so mean.”
Beano: “No we’re not. He’s pathetic. We love him though.”
As the hours got closer, the group chat somehow became even more ridiculous.
⸻
11:57am
Jakey: “Ginge has just bought her a bracelet.”
“He said, ‘She’ll love this.”
“And then stood staring at it for ten minutes.”
⸻
1:49pm
Chazza: “He just asked what time is it in England.”
“Three times.”
And then on the morning of your anniversary—
10:35am
Tays: “Emergency meeting.”
Jakey: “He’s sad.”
Chazza: “Really sad.”
Jakey: “Like genuinely.”
Beano: “Man hasn’t smiled properly once.”
Meanwhile, Morgan sat on the hotel sofa.
Chazza: “Cheer up, Romeo,” Chaz teased.
Morgan: “I’m cheerful.”
Chazza: “No, you’re not.”
Morgan: “I’m smiling.”
Chazza: “You look constipated.”
Jakey burst out laughing.
But what Morgan didn’t know—
was that while he was moping around New York, the boys were working overtime.
Tays had arranged for you to get into the hotel.
Jakey had distracted Morgan every five minutes.
Chazza had nearly blown the surprise three separate times because he kept grinning whenever Morgan mentioned you.
And Beano—
well.
Beano had taken his role very seriously.
⸻
2:36pm
Beano: “She’s landed.”
Tays: “GET IN.”
Jakey: “HES CURRENTLY ARGUING ABOUT PIZZA TOPPINGS. WE’RE SAFE.”
Chazza: “HE NEARLY SAW ME SMILING. I’M FIGHTING FOR MY LIFE.”
Beano: “Act natural.”
Chazza: “HOW?”
Beano: “You’re pushing thirty, mate.”
By the time you’d reached the NY Bov house, Beano was waiting for you a bit down the street dressed like some sort of secret agent
He had sunglasses on.
You stared.
Reader: “Beano.”
Beano: “What?”
Reader: “Why are you wearing sunglasses?”
He lowered them dramatically
Beano: “For the mission.”
Reader: “You look ridiculous.”
Beano: “It’s called aura.”
Meanwhile upstairs, Morgan was somehow even sadder.
Morgan: “It’s our anniversary and I can’t even annoy her in person,” he sighed.
Jakey exchanged a look with Tays.
Tays had to physically leave the room because he was smiling too much.
Eventually Beano dragged Morgan upstairs.
Beano: “Need your help with something.”
Morgan: “Can it wait?”
Beano: “No.”
Morgan: “I’m depressed.”
Beano: “Exactly.”
Morgan sighed dramatically and followed him.
He opened the his bedroom door.
And froze.
Because sitting on the bed—
was you.
His whole face changed.
Morgan: “…No.”
You smiled nervously.
Reader: “Hi.”
His eyes immediately filled with tears.
Morgan: “No.”
You laughed.
Reader: “Morgan—”
Morgan: “No, shut up.”
He covered his face.
Morgan: “No way.”
And then he crossed the room and wrapped himself around you so tightly you almost fell backwards.
Morgan: “Oh my God.”
Reader: “Happy anniversary.”
Morgan: “You came.”
He buried his face into your shoulder.
Morgan: “You actually came.”
⸻
And outside the room—
four grown men were crowded around the door.
Chazza: “Can you hear anything?” Chaz whispered.
Tays: “No.”
Jakey: “I think he’s crying.”
Beano: “He is crying.”
Chaz: “Definitely crying.”
Beano grinned.
Beano: “I told you.”
Chazza looked emotional himself.
Chaz: “This is beautiful.”
Jakey just laughed.
Jakey: “Imagine if they open the door and we’re all standing here.”
Which was exactly what happened.
Morgan opened the door ten minutes later.
And found the boys frozen like deer in headlights.
Tays: “…Hello.”
Morgan blinked.
Morgan: “Were you eavesdropping?!”
Chaz: “No.”
Morgan: “YES YOU WERE!”
Beano looked proud.
Beano: “Operation Anniversary was a success.”
Jakey was laughing too hard to speak.
Tays pointed at Morgan’s red eyes.
Tays: “He cried!”
Morgan: “I’m going to kill all of you.”
But he never actually did.
Because later that night, walking through New York with your hand in his, Morgan quietly admitted
Morgan: “I was really struggling today.”
You squeezed his hand.
Reader: “I know.”
Morgan: “I just hated the thought of spending our anniversary without you.”
He smiled softly.
Morgan: “But somehow…”
He looked over at you.
Morgan: “You, my mum and four idiots managed to pull off the best surprise of my life.”
And somewhere back in the hotel—
Operation Anniversary had changed its group photo to a picture of Morgan hugging you.
With Beano changing the group description to:
“Mission accomplished. Absolute cinema.” ❤️
When you and Morgan arrived back at the house the boys surprised ye with lots of snacks, rose petals spread across Morgans bed and a card written from each of them.
Reader: “Aw boys you didn’t have to do this”
Jakey: “It’s the least we could do for our favourite couple.”
Morgan: “Thanks boys I mean it”
Beano: “Ya, ya, don’t enjoy yourselves too much” (as he smirked)
Morgan playfully hit him on the arm as the rest of the boys all laughed.
Morgan practically shoved everyone out of the room.
Morgan: “Right. Thanks for your service. Get out.”
Jakey gasped.
Jakey: “That’s no way to speak to your family.”
Morgan:“You’ve been listening through the door!”
Chazza: “Only professionally.”
Morgan: “OUT!”
Beano saluted.
Beano: “Mission accomplished.”
As the door finally shut behind the last of them, the room became quiet for the first time all day.
Morgan let out a long sigh and just looked at you.
Morgan: “No cameras.”
“No more chaos”
“No Beano pretending he’s in a spy film.”
You laughed.
For a moment neither of you said anything.
Because after weeks apart, neither of you quite knew where to start.
Then Morgan smiled softly.
Morgan: “Come here.”
He wrapped his arms around you again, resting his chin on top of your head.
Morgan: “I missed this,” he admitted quietly.
Reader: “Being squeezed to death?
Morgan: “Shut up.”
You laughed.
Reader: “No seriously”
His voice softened.
Morgan: “I missed you stealing my hoodies. I missed you falling asleep halfway through films. I even missed you stealing my chips. Even though it’s only been a week”
Reader: “Me too Morg”
You spent the next hour exchanging anniversary presents, laughing at the terrible wrapping job he’d done, and looking through the hundreds of photos he’d taken over the past two weeks that he’d been saving to show you in person.
Eventually, the two of you ended up curled up together on the bed, takeaway boxes scattered everywhere, watching whatever random rubbish Morgan had put on the TV.
Summary: First introductions Morgan’s family and friends have to his baby girl.
Lowkey started writing fics for my Tilly arc so locking in on these fics is bringing me so much joy! This is a long one grab a drink and a snack x
Two days later you were released. Morgan fussed over you, helping you into stretchy leggings one of his hoodies and of course a post-partum nappy. First matching fit with your girl, both sporting extra padding and being frustrated with it.
Matilda wore a much cuter outfit. A soft oatmeal baby grow with little bows scattered around it, a little white hat protecting her head from the nippy wind waiting for you outside.
She looked lost in her car seat, like you’d been entrusted with something sacred. Her hands balled into little fists held to her pouty lips.
Every time you looked at her you welled up, her mere presence alone solving every issue in your life.
“Let’s get my girls home then” Morgan clapped his hands together, instantly regretting it as the loud noise caused Tilly to stir.
“It’s okay princess, daddy is loud. You’ll have to get used to him I’m afraid” you cooed, fingers tracing the slope of her nose.
You thought Morgan was fit before he got you pregnant? Watching him carrying that car seat like it was effortless was a whole different level.
How soon is too soon for baby number 2?
After he insured Tilly was secured in the back, he helped you into the back seat before settling into his own.
The Merc had never moved so slowly in its life. Morgan was almost hesitant to drive, scared any sudden movement would damage his precious cargo. Morgan from last week would hate dad driver Morgan.
You were mesmerised in the back seat, barely noticing the streets passing outside. Matilda’s tiny hand curled around your finger, impossibly strong for something so new. Little squeaks escaped her as she held on, as if making sure you were still there.
Cold air nipped at your skin as you left the car, you wrapped your arms around yourself - not before double checking Tilly was snug underneath her blanket.
Stepping through the threshold nothing had changed in the two days you’d been gone. But everything had changed, you left this house as a woman and you’ve returned a mummy.
Morgan’s collection of football boots still overtook the shoe rack, Tv remote still haphazardly on the sofa - even your forgotten mug of tea abandoned on the table. A snapshot of your old life.
Hesitantly Morgan placed the car seat on the floor in front of the sofa, making sure you’d sat comfortably before handing her over to you.
“Still doesn’t feel real does it” Your nose nuzzled into her soft curls, breathing in her scent.
“Not at all, can you believe we’ve been trusted with a whole life?” He chuckled, lowering himself beside you.
“They’re proper idiots” You both chuckled softly, soaking up the love in the room.
You shifted slightly against the cushions, instantly wincing as your body reminded you that forty-eight hours ago you’d pushed a whole ass human into the world.
Morgan clocked it immediately.
“Oi,” he murmured, already halfway to standing. “What do you need?”
“Nothing,” you lied automatically.
He raised an eyebrow. “You just fought a small war, babe. You’re not moving from that spot”
Before you could argue he disappeared into the kitchen, returning moments later juggling a your Stanley cup, your favourite snacks, your phone charger, and the fluffiest blanket in the house.
You laughed weakly as he started tucking the blanket around your legs.
“Comfy?”
Matilda stirred between you, tiny mouth stretching open in a silent yawn that made both of you freeze. Her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks. One hand escaped the blanket, fingers flexing slowly until they brushed your hoodie.
Morgan’s hand found yours automatically, squeezing tight. Blue eyes wide in awe.
“She’s ours,” he whispered, almost like he still couldn’t believe it.
Emotion rose so suddenly it stole the breath from your lungs. Your eyes burned before you even realised you were crying, not loud sobs, just quiet tears slipping down your cheeks.
Morgan panicked instantly.
“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Are you hurting? Do we need to call someone?”
“I just… I love you both so much it actually hurts.” You laughed through it, shaking your head.
His expression softened in a way you’d never seen before. Softer than boyfriend, softer than life partner. Father.
He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, lingering there.
“You did that,” he murmured. “You made her.”
Your throat tightened.
“We made her… look at her face, she’s definitely all you”
Matilda let out a small protesting squeak, face scrunching as reality interrupted the moment. Forget ever having a sweet moment with your boyfriend again.
“Oi, what’s up with you little one” Morgan cooed to your newborn, one of his fingers petting her squishy cheeks.
“I think she’s hungry”
You shifted her weight against you, putting her in the correct position to feed from you.
Morgan watched in amazement, the whole world shrinking around the three of you. Just this transcendent moment, her weight against your chest and soft suckles coming from her mouth.
Outside street lights began coming on as night approached, telly a low hum in the background.
Once she’d had her fill, been burped and changed exhaustion started seeping in. Morgan insisted you stayed put as he triple checked he’d locked the door, prepared the nappy bag to take to bed and gotten you a fresh bottle of water for overnight.
Making your way up to your room was relatively stress free. Both of you anxious about dropping her on the was up the stairs but no crisis occurred.
“It doesn’t seem fair that she’s got to sleep all alone in that basket when she’s been nicely tucked between us for nine months” Morgan claimed as you moved her heartbeat Teddy from the Moses basket, a placeholder that you didn’t need anymore.
“Feels proper mean doesn’t it” Your default lip pout made an appearance. A default Morgan couldn’t help but see in his daughter as well.
Eventually, reluctantly, hesitantly you placed her in her bed, tucking her in loosely.
The pair of you just sat at the edge of your bed, peering in at her. Making sure she was still breathing. Making sure she was definitely real. Falling in love in ways you didn’t know existed.
“We probably look like right weirdos” Your boyfriend mumbled, however his stance didn’t falter.
“Yeah probably” you agreed
After a few Morgan’s arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you tightly into him. Your eyes felt heavy as you let the comfort and familiarity wash over you.
Eventually the heaviness behind your eyes became too much and the two of you got into bed, properly. Matilda sleeping peacefully in her basket beside you.
House filled with love, safety and warmth.
Quickly a new normal settled into your home. You’d wake through the night, an argument Morgan was forced to back down from, letting Morgan rest. It wasn’t like he could do anything, Tilly couldn’t latch onto him for her milk.
Morgan did the mornings, letting you feed her and soak up the morning snuggles. He’d change her, play with her - well as much as you could play with a newborn anyways.
Michelle and Julie had pre-warned him about how wild hormones were after birth. The horrors of post-partum mental decline, self neglect. He didn’t want you to feel any of that, he was doing everything in his power to ease the burden.
He helped you keep up with your skin care and hair routine - being a mum didn’t mean you weren’t a person anymore.
Tilly was his biggest blessing, yours too. He didn’t want her to change the core of person he fell in love with.
Michelle had met Matilda in the hospital, bringing Julie along with her. It was emotional, charged atmosphere as they saw the angry streamer panic about his precious bundle in their arms - as if he wasn’t standing there because the two of them had raised him.
Michelle popped round everyday with dinner for the two of you, another weight lifted off your shoulders, as you settled into a routine and your body recovered.
Julie cried when she learned of Matilda’s name. Matilda Julie Burtwistle, middle name of the queen herself. The highest honour granted to her by her only grandson.
Today you were planning on your first trip out - nothing major. Family dinner at Nana Julie’s house, with her decreasing mobility you wanted to make the effort to show up for her with her namesake.
Plus you really wanted to do your makeup again, even just to sit in Nana’s living room. Miss Tilly really stole all your beauty as she made her appearance.
“Do you think I’ll be able to squeeze into my jeans?” You called over to Morgan, he was sat patting Tilly’s back - her head cradled on his shoulder.
He looked ethereal. Bare chested, hand the same size as your daughter’s back, hair a perfect mess atop his head, eyes hazy with sleep but full of contentment.
He looked like a dad.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” He chuckled, tongue running over his bottom lip as he gave you a once over.
“Fuck off…” your own laugh melded together with his. “You’re a proper dilf it’s distracting”
All you got in reply was a shake of his head.
As quickly as possible with a baby and various wonderful post birth fluids that seeped from you, the three of you were ready to go.
Matilda was in the sweetest little Winnie the Pooh baby grow, little yellow ears on her hat really tying together the look. Morgan was in one of his seemingly infinite united tops and a random pair of joggers. Blessedly you managed to fit into a pair of jeans, the largest pair of jeans you owned, and a woollen jumper.
You actually looked like a proper little family.
A bag bigger than Morgan’s weekend away bag was stashed in the car for your few hours out. Matilda bundled in a fluffy pink blanket was secured in the car, Morgan triple checking he’d definitely done it up right.
It was a quick drive to Nana Julie’s house. She was already standing at the threshold as you pulled up the curb, anticipating your impending arrival.
Her hand came to her mouth the moment Morgan rounded the car with Tilly’s car seat in his grasp. No words escaped her, not yet. She just took in the three of you.
“Hi Nana” your arms loosely wrapped around her frame.
“Look at you!” Voice thick with emotion. “All my babies back under my roof!”
Morgan scoffed, wrapping his free arm around his nan.
“Don’t start crying Julie!” He scolded. “You’ll set off the bairn”
He was shifting on his feet, not used to something so serious. So emotional. So real. He didn’t know where to place himself, he bloody grew up in this house he’d should be long past the feeling awkward stage.
“She’s just eaten before we left the house nan” He spoke quietly. “Why don’t you let us in and you can give her a cuddle?”
Seemingly snapping back to reality she quickly ushered you inside, closing the door against the chilly breeze.
The three of you sat scattered around the lounge, Morgan gently lifted Matilda. Briefly holding her against his chest before handing her over to her namesake.
“I know I saw her in that hospital room” Julie started, eyes glassy. “But this feels so different, too clinical. She belongs here, in the house her mummy and daddy grew up in”
A powerful emotion clawed at your chest, a deep sense of home settling within you. For the first time since leaving the hospital, you didn’t feel like someone pretending to be a mum. Sitting in this room, surrounded by the people who raised him, who welcomed you long before this baby existed, you finally felt like you belonged to the same story she did.
“Oh Matilda Julie” Tears escaped her eyes as she looked down at the baby girl in her arms.
Then she looked up to Morgan, the cheeky little boy she helped raise. The same boy that argued with her for weeks when they decided at age 14 the two of you were definitely not sharing a bed at sleepovers anymore.
“I can’t believe you’ve actually done it Morgan. You’re a dad” You could feel the pride radiating from her.
Morgan reached out a hand, a thumb stroking his Nana’s shoulder.
“I still don’t believe it either Nana, she’s perfect isn’t she?”
“I’ve imagined what she’d look like since you told me you were pregnant” she admitted. “But she’s so much better than any thing I could’ve thought up”
Her hand soothed over the creases in Tilly’s face. Morgan’s eyes found yours across the room - missing puzzle pieces slotting together.
The spell was broken by the door creaking open, Michelle and Tasha shouting hello down the corridor.
“Saw the car outside” Tasha said as she walked into the room. “How are yous doing, and little Tilly?”
You smiled up at her, moving slightly on the couch so she had a space to sit down.
“Were good, she has her dads attitude - so we’re proper lucky”
You both chucked as Morgan made a noise of protest.
“She makes that same sound” you exclaimed pointing at him.
Michelle made her presence known, simmering the argument before it had a chance to take shape.
“Right mum, shall we go to the kitchen and get dinner finished? Let the kids have a catch up?”
Reluctantly Julie handed Matilda over to Morgan before the two of them started pottering around in the kitchen. Distant sounds of plates clashing and pots bubbling away floated to the lounge.
The homely scent of dinner being prepared got a low rumble from your stomach as the three of you chatted aimlessly on the sofa. Tilly secure in her Auntie Tasha’s arms.
“Kids, dinner” called through the hall.
“Suddenly I’m 12 again and about to get shouted at for refusing to eat my brussell sprouts” You whispered between the three of you as you all stood.
“Think she’ll smack his head with the wooden spoon for stealing food off your plate again?” Tasha giggled.
“You two shut up right” Morgan mumbled as he shifted the baby against his chest. “You’re laughing now but it was clearly elite flirting - stole her scran now I’m the father of her child. I stay winning”
It was the same table as all those years ago, everyone automatically slotting into their predetermined spots. You and Morgan on one side, Tasha and Michelle across from you and Julie at the head of the table - queen at her throne.
Except this time a small rocking chair was slotted on the floor between Morgan and your seats. A symbol of change in your normality.
No time was wasted before a plate, piled big enough for at least three, was placed in front of you. Another plate, piled even higher, placed in front of Morgan.
“You need proper food” Julie stressed. “Need all the energy you can get when you’re looking after a baby”
Morgan instantly shoved a roast potato in his mouth, gravy already slipping out the corners of his mouth.
“Reader” Tasha started, face contorted in disgust at her brother. “How did you let that thing get you pregnant”
You shrugged, soft laugh escaping.
“Felt sorry for the bloke didn’t I?”
Finally lifting his neck from the hunched position over his place he turned to you. Mouth full of roast, indignant noise escaping through the chewed up dinner.
“Why am I catching strays here?”
“Morgan! Don’t talk with your mouth full” Michelle reached across the table and swatted his bicep.
“Right hold on, why is everyone attacking me today? Is it because I’m the only bloke? What a fucking joke!”
As if sensing her dad’s protest Matilda grumbled from the chair between you. Instinctively Morgan was reaching for her, smoothing the curls that framed her face.
“Oh are you mad at daddy too, eh?” He cooed down to her. “Little miss need attention does she?”
Matilda settled almost instantly against his chest, tiny fists curling into the fabric of his shirt, suckling against nothing - the sound soothing both her and the adults around her.
“There we go, princess” Morgan murmured, rocking slightly in his chair without even realising he was doing it. “Drama queen, Take after mummy, don’t you?”
“Absolutely not,” you shot back. “She’s inherited your need to be the centre of attention.”
Julie watched the two of them quietly from the head of the table, fork paused mid-air.
“I used to do that with you,” she said softly.
Morgan glanced up. “What?”
“That little bounce,” she nodded toward his absentminded rocking. “You wouldn’t sleep unless someone walked you round the kitchen at three in the morning, Drove your grandad mad”
Tasha burst out laughing. “So nothing’s changed then”
Morgan rolled his eyes but you saw it, that brief flicker of emotion he never quite knew what to do with. Overwhelming, all consuming.
A small, satisfied smile graced her lips as she pointed her fork Morgan’s plate - “Eat your sprouts!”
“I’m 24 now Nana” he complained. “I’ve created new life and you’re still forcing me into eating bloody sprouts. Have a day off”
“I don’t think you did much work creating her” Julie scoffed. “You ate them as a kid, you’ll eat them now. Set a good example for Matilda!”
He groaned, adjusting his grip on the baby so she was secured with one hand. Free hand stabbing a sprout with his fork before dramatically popping it into his mouth.
“Happy” He spat out around the mushed up food in his mouth, Tasha cackled at his disgusted expression.
“Still not like them, son?” Michelle laughed.
“I think you all enjoy my suffering way too much”
Conversations continued flowing. When everyone was seemingly distracted you reached across and stole a roast potato from Morgan’s plate, wasting no time in popping it in your mouth.
“OI!”
You gave him a cheeky grin. The other adults laughing at the easy banter between you.
“That’s right love!” Julie chuckled approvingly. “You keep him in line”
Morgan leaned closer to you, voice low enough only you (and by default Matilda) could hear.
“You realise, when I decided to start flirting with you it was by stealing food off your plate - you’re not slick”
Your heart did that stupid, traitorous little flip it always did around him.
“Well…” you mumbled back. “Worked out alright in the end didn’t it?”
He smiled at you, not the over performative streamer smile, not the flirty boyfriend smirk.
Happy in a way that seeped into his bones and oozed out his pores.
Conversation carried on around the table, laughter folding into the clink of cutlery and Julie’s familiar scolding echoing through the kitchen.
Matilda slept soundly against Morgan’s chest, completely unaware she’d already become the centre of an entire world.
Home had never felt so full.
The boys lasted a week before they ambushed you at home. Desperate to meet the smallest bov member.
Excessive chatter ceased immediately as they huddled at the threshold of the living room.
You hadn’t made an effort - there was a half drank cuppa on the table, hair thrown up in a bun, hoodie definitely stained in some sort of newborn excrement.
Morgan didn’t look much better, stubble littered his face, he was wearing a beanie to disguise his untameable hair and he too sported stains down his top curtesy of Tilly.
As you sat cradling your baby girl to your chest you couldn’t help but laugh at them. The usually over performative males turned mute at the sight of an infant, surely this moment needed document.
Morgan’s deep laugh broke the spell as they eventually tumbled in, finding a space to slot into around you.
“She’s so small” Chazza whispered, leaning closer to her. “Can’t believe one of us actually has one of these now”
“She’s a bloody baby not a 1 of 1, chaz” Beano scoffed. “Has one of these, think all women are objects even the wee ones”
Chazza shoved Beano’s arm playfully. Nervous energy exuding them all, you’d never seen them so shy before. Hands in pockets, eyes darting around the room like they didn’t quite know where to look.
Matilda made a small noise against your chest, wriggling slightly in your grip. All the men in the room snapped their attention to you. You couldn’t help but burst out laughing.
“Jesus Christ, she’s a baby not a bomb!”
“I dunno reader” Mikey said, full seriousness. “Ginges hairs made of fire maybe she got something from him”
“Right, fuck off you”, Morgan shook his head, leaning back in his chair. He let the silence stretch a minute before nodding his head in your direction. “Who wants a hold?”
Voices overlapped instantly.
“Ah no I’m fine”, “I’ll drop her”, “I haven’t trained yet”, “she looks comfy where she is”
“You lads play 6 a side every week, and your kryptonite is a 10 day old baby?”
Tilly’s chubby fist escaped her blanket almost as if to agree with her dad, her uncles were idiots.
Chazza visibly melted beside you. “Oh I think she’s reaching for me you know”
“Must be a tragic judge of character” Mikey got out before a full body laugh took over him.
You rolled your eyes, used to the boys behaviour by now, gently adjusting Matilda into Chazza’s arms.
“Just cradle her as if she were Sid, protect her head. Perfect”
Tilly settled against his chest, impossibly small against him. The room was quiet again, soft this time.
Chazza stared at her in awe. Still in disbelief his best mate was a dad, he was holding his freshly born baby in his arms.
“Nah I want a go, can I have a go reader”
“Wait your turn, she’s bonding with her uncle Charlie now Jake” Chazza replied, cautiously twisting so his back faced Jake.
Morgan moved to hand over your daughter, he trusted his friends with his life - but they weren’t passing around his baby. Hold her stationary? Yeah no problem. They weren’t moving her or with her.
“You ready Jakey?” Morgan hesitated, his nose nuzzling into Matilda’s soft copper curls.
Jakey nodded in reply, eyes wide - face full of fear.
“Right she’s really delicate okay? You can relax your arms Jakey, she’ll not settle if you’re like a statue. Yeah cradle her head - I’m going to let go now, you definitely got her?”
“Course she’s real you melon,” Beano snorted, though his voice had softened without him noticing.
Jakey didn’t look up from the bundle in his arms.
“She’s tiny, man,” he said quietly. “How do you trust yourself with something this small?”
“Honestly?” Morgan leaned aback, one arm coming to wrap around your shoulders. “You don’t, everything is terrifying. Like one small move and I’ve ruined the rest of her life. Just have to crack on I suppose - she needs us”
You softened against him, placing a quick kiss on his collar bone.
Mikey cleared his throat, getting ready to break the serious atmosphere.
“Well, luckily she didn’t get your nose mate”
Laughter escaped you all, normality seeping back into the house. Conversations started overlapping, voices raised, someone getting gently bullied.
Phones appeared, everyone getting a proud uncle pic to post once you made a public announcement. Jealous girlfriends replying in the group chat that they weren’t currently having newborn cuddles.
Obviously Tilly needed more attention as she let out a tiny squeak against Beano’s shoulder.
“What wrong with her?” He froze, for someone with as many siblings as him he was the last person you expected to be unsure around your daughter.
“Probably wants her mums boobies, can’t say I blame her” You swatted Morgan’s arm the second his sentence was uttered.
“What? Can’t appreciate my girlfriend anymore?”
Morgan stepped forward again, instinct taking over as he gathered her back into his arms. The transition was seamless now, confident hands, gentle sway already starting as he rested her against his shoulder as you adjusted your clothing.
“Right pass her over” you reached out for her.
Morgan’s hands hovered over her back as you shifted her until she was comfortably latched on. Soft suckling filling the once again silent room.
Five grown men suddenly discovering intense interest in absolutely anything except where your baby currently was.
Beano picked up the TV remote, the TV wasn’t even on.
“…So this is a nice remote” he announced to nobody just trying to find something to fill the silence.
Mikey stared aggressively at the living room door, like it was the most interesting thing in the universe.
“That always been there?” He asked suddenly, actually pointing to the door.
“Our door? Yeah mate our door has always been there” Morgan laughed.
Jakey had turned 90 degrees, back ramrod straight facing you.
“I’m being respectful!” He defended before anyone had a chance to ask.
“Very respectful atmosphere happening right now” Chazza nodded, facing straight ahead of him.
Morgan took in his 4 closest mates for a second, completely unimpressed.
“You know she’s feeding a baby” he began dryly. “Not staring in a porno”
“That’s your Mrs mate!” Mikey exclaimed. “We don’t know where to look!”
“Maybe her face?”
The four of them immediately turned and made direct eye contact with the wall above your head.
Too intense. Uncomfortably intense.
You and Morgan burst out laughing, Tilly whining in protest. Clearly not a fan of milkshake, noted.
“Oh my god… they’re just boobs” you shot out.
“Told you lot years ago they were class” Morgan smirked beside you, eyes zoning in on your chest.
“Can you let me know when it’s safe to look” Jakey returned to having his back facing you.
Tilly made a soft, contented hum against your skin. Despite themselves all the boys eyes snapped to her. Silence.
“Mental” Chazza whispered. “She just, knows what to do”
The humour softened the moment again, embarrassment slowly ebbing away the longer Tilly fed.
Morgan’s thumb absently stroked your shoulder, eyes flitting between you and Tilly - unable to make up their mind on who to focus on.
“See? Nothing to feel weird about, they’re both sound”
The boys all smiled softly warmth settling in the room.
“She’s definitely the boss of us now isn’t she?” Mikey shook his head as he spoke.
“Without a doubt, bro” Chazza agreed easily.
Tilly finished feeding with a sleepy sigh, milk-drunk and heavy against your chest. Morgan reached automatically, lifting her carefully and settling her high on his shoulder.
She burped loudly.
The boys erupted into cheers like she’d scored a last-minute winner.
Morgan shook his head, smiling helplessly as he looked down at his daughter, then back at his friends.
“God help her,” he muttered fondly. “Look at the state of her uncles.”
Chazza puffed his chest out proudly. “Elite male role models, actually.”
Matilda made a tiny sleepy noise, fingers curling into Morgan’s shirt.
And just like that, the lads settled around her again closer this time, easier, no hesitation left.
“Reckon she knows we’re all obsessed with her already?” Jakey leaned closer, whispering like she might understand him.
“She can smell fear,” you replied. “That’s why she likes you.”
“Sound,” he nodded seriously.
Chazza crouched beside Morgan, peering at her face. “She’s changed since ten minutes ago.”
“She has not,” Beano laughed.
“Nah she has look, her cheeks are bigger.”
“That’s milk mate. That’s just milk.”
Morgan rolled his eyes but didn’t move away, letting them orbit closer. Tilly’s fist escaped again, reaching and gripping Morgan’s finger tightly.
“Oi” he cooed, rocking her slightly in his arms - completely instinctively and unintentional. “That’s mine princess”
The boys softened, seeing a whole new side to their angry mate. Completely whipped by a tiny doll.
Eventually the boys made move to go, albeit reluctantly. Quickly snapping more photos just incase, gentle strokes across her chubby cheeks, extra hugs for Morgan and you.
Tilly slept through all the chaos, thankfully as she’d be around it abit too much as she grew.
Morgan was relaxed against the sofa, headset around his neck, controller in hand as Matilda slept soundly on his chest - the soft pink blanket you’d picked out for her cot all those months ago covering her small frame.
The FaceTime dialling tone filled the silence as he waited for Jynxzi to answer.
Faintly he could hear the flowing water and the soft rhythm of your playlist coming down from the shower, your first uninterrupted moment of the day Morgan sent you to pamper yourself.
The connection tone sounded, a shadowy silhouette of his American friend squinting back at him.
“Bro” he grumbled “it’s 7am, this better be important I was streaming till 3”
“Hey, bro you’re the one who answered” he grinned through the screen
“Because you called me” he gritted out, then leaned closer to the screen squinting against the light. “What are you holding?”
“Oh” Morgan gasped. “Forgot to tell you, had baby”
Silence. Full stretching unedited silence.
“You had a WHAT?” Jynxzi moved now sat bolt upright in his bed, face pure unfiltered shock.
“Yeah” he chuckled. “Little miss Matilda”
He gently started rocking her, force of habit more than anything else.
“12 days old now”
“TWELVE -“ his voice cracked. “TWELVE DAYS AGO?!”
Tilly stirred at the sudden volume, nose scrunching up adorably. Immediately both men froze. Jynxzi lowering his voice to an aggressive whisper as to not displease her further.
“Is that her?”
Nodding he adjusted the blanket, aiming the camera to capture her squished cheeks. Tiny copper curls framing her face, hand balled into a fist beneath her chin.
“Oh my god” he whispered. “You just… spawned a human and didn’t tell me?”
“Been busy mate” Morgan laughed.
“Yeah, with a baby” Jynxzi let the silence sit for a beat, “You’re rocking her”
“Am not” Morgan frowned.
“You absolutely are.”
Morgan looked down realised he was and shrugged.
“Works though”
The American leaned closer to the screen like proximity would somehow help.
“She’s tiny, bro”
“Yeah,” Morgan said quietly, voice softening without effort. “She is”
“Let me talk to her.”
“You cannot talk to a twelve-day-old baby.”
“Hey Matilda. I’m the one who’s gonna teach you bad words over the internet” Jynxzi ignored him completely, softening his voice instantly. Morgan laughed under his breath.
Tilly stretched, mouth opening in a dramatic newborn yawn. The reaction on the other side of the screen was catastrophic.
“OH MY GOD SHE YAWNED”
“She does that a lot”
“I would die for her”
“Bit dramatic”
“No, listen” he said seriously. “I just woke up and now your kid exists. This is insane”
Morgan didn’t answer he just looked down at her, thumb brushing across her back.
Jynxzi watched quietly as Tilly settled deeper into Morgan’s chest, completely safe, completely unaware she’d just gained another person who adored her.
“You look different,” he said finally.
Morgan frowned. “Rough?”
“No,” he shook his head. “Happy.”
Morgan huffed a laugh, embarrassed by the accuracy.
He heard the shower power off upstairs, and the soft padding of your feet returning to the bedroom to dress.
“Her mum’s gonna come down in a sec,” he said. “You’ll have to pretend you’re normal.”
“Normal?” Jynxzi exclaimed. “You woke me up - after only 4 hours of sleep to tell me you hid a whole baby from me”
Morgan snorted, shifting slightly so Tilly stayed settled against him.
“Yeah well,” he muttered, “figured you needed more excitement in your life”
“You had a baby, man,” Jynxzi shook his head, still processing. “That’s not a casual update. That’s a life event.”
Tilly made a sleepy little noise, lips puckering as she rooted instinctively against Morgan’s hoodie. Instantly his hand came up, thumb brushing along her cheek.
“Alright princess” he murmured softly. “I got you”
Jynxzi went completely still watching it “You didn’t even realise you did that,” he said quietly.
“Did what?”
“That voice,” he laughed softly. “You got a dad voice now.”
Morgan rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it. Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Your voice floated down before you appeared. “Is she still asleep?”
You rounded the corner drying your hair with a towel, stopping immediately when you noticed the phone propped against Morgan’s knee.
“Oh…hi?”
Jynxzi’s face lit up like he’d was in the presence of royalty.
“HI. HI. I JUST FOUND OUT YOU GUYS MADE A HUMAN.”
“He’s taking it well” Morgan groaned.
You laughed, moving closer and leaning over the back of the sofa to peek at the screen.
“Sorry,” you smiled warmly. “We’ve been a bit… distracted.”
“You think?” Jynxzi said. “I wake up and my friend’s a father.”
Your eyes dropped to Morgan and Tilly together, her tucked perfectly into him, tiny hand gripping his shirt. Your expression softened instantly.
“She’s got him wrapped around her finger already,” you said.
“Lies,” Morgan muttered.
Tilly chose that exact moment to stretch dramatically, making a small squeaky sound.
Jynxzi clutched his chest. “I can’t handle this. She’s too small.”
Morgan carefully lifted her hand toward the camera.
“Say hi to Uncle Jynx.”
“UNCLE JYNX,” he repeated immediately, visibly emotional now. “Yeah. I’ll take that.”
The room fell into an easy quiet. Just a sleepy baby, two exhausted parents, and a friend thousands of miles away smiling at a tiny person he already cared about.
“Next time I see you,” Jynxzi said softly, “I’m holding her.”
Morgan nodded without hesitation.
“Yeah,” he replied. “You will.”
Two weeks in you’d found a steady rhythm in parenting. You’d yet to have a trip out that wasn’t to families house for fear of a viewer seeing you so today you were announcing baby Tilly to the world.
You didn’t want it to feel like content. She wasn’t content, she was your world. But the viewers and constant livestreams played a big factor in your decision making.
The two of you spent over an hour picking the perfect collection of photos for instagram. All of Morgan’s being ones of her sleeping against his chest or you gazing down lovingly as she was latched to you mid feed.
Eventually you settled on 6 pictures that you felt encapsulated the past two weeks.
Picture one was Matilda, face just out of shot as she lay in the hospital bassinet, her fist curled around your finger. Welcome to the world printed on the front of her baby grow, with clouds and starts scattered in the background.
Picture two was Morgan holding her for the first time, eyes red rimmed, hair a tangled mess. Pure unfiltered joy on his face as he cradled her close to him.
Picture three showed Tilly latched you your chest, the soft pink blanket she’d become so fond of covering your dignity. Your cheek pressed into her soft curls as you were relaxed against the sofa cushions.
Picture four was a family picture sat in the hospital bed. Matilda wrapped in the retched green hospital blanket, Morgan’s arm wrapped around your shoulders - free hand cupping Tilly’s back. Neither of you faced the camera, both of your heads tilted down to your daughter.
Picture 5 was Tilly in an oatmeal brown woollen jumper that drowned her frame, Matilda written across it in pastel pink cursive. You’d bought it in size 12-18 months, so you could watch her grow into it. At just two weeks she was already filling it out much more than the first time.
The final picture was a candid Morgan took of you, sleeping curled around Tilly in the bed. His own arm could be seen under your neck, thumb stroking your spine. Tilly pouting softly as she slept between the two of you.
The caption was simple. Trying to be nonchalant. Very Morgan.
‘New player spawned in, Meet Tilly’
Morgan didn’t turn the camera on straight away, letting his regular opening show on the stream no music today, Tilly was sleeping soundly in your arms just out of frame when the camera eventually clicked on.
“Hello everybody” using his proper voice, not his performative one. “How we all doing?”
He waited a few seconds for chats to start rolling in, smiling softly at the little noises that escaped Tilly as she slept.
“So this time chat it wasn’t the postman who delivered…” he bowed down in ‘defeat’ “I know I know, slacking”
The sound of both of your laughter filled the room as he read through a few of the messages coming through.
“But you know me, managed to pull some strings and got the…” he pulled a face “postwoman?”
“Nah that don’t sound right that” Your laughter stopped his sentence again, his eyes catching yours as he made a wanking gesture in your direction.
“Anyway, very special guest for today’s stream…” You walked into frame, Tilly tucked under your neck. “reader and baby Matilda!!” He cheered.
You waved towards the camera, saying hello to the viewers. The chat was spammed instantly.
milf !
OMG BABY GINGE
SHES HERE
Family stream !?!
Morgan leaned back in his chair, visibly overwhelmed at the outpour of support and trying not to show it.
“Alright, best behaviour all of yous” he joked, thanking everyone sending gifted in.
Tilly gave a tiny sleepy squeak against your chest, her face scrunching slightly before settling again.
Hearts filled the chat. Morgan saw it and clicked his tongue.
“Don’t encourage them,” he muttered, more to you than anyone else. You gave him a look.
“She didn’t do anything.”
“She knows what she did” he replied conspicuously.
That got you laughing again as you shifted her slightly, still half in frame. Morgan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“Right,” he said, switching back into streamer voice for a second. “For anyone confused, no we didn’t just randomly acquire a child - she’s a month old now. Just been enjoying family life without the internet as she got used to existing”
A MONTH ?
the instagram was 2 weeks ago !
WHAT
“Yep, crazy innit?” Morgan laughed, shaking his head.
“Basically he hates you chat” you joked from beside him, softly swaying Tilly.
“That’s not - what? No!” He was laughing as he spoke. “Sorry, never had a baby come out my girlfriend before - needed a slight adjustment period. Please forgive me”
Tilly made a noise of disapproval from your chest, not used to her dad talking so animatedly. Her little mouth puckering and fingers flexing on your collar bone like she was deciding whether it was worth disturbing her slumber.
Morgan shifted instantly, hands moving to take her from you if you needed.
“You got her?” Voice soft as he spoke to you, a sharp contrast to how the viewers had ever heard him talk. You nodded towards him, shifting so she settled more comfortably against you.
Chat clocked the change in Morgan’s posture.
dad mode activated
Bro forgot he was on stream
Did you see that??
“I didn’t ‘forget the stream was on’” he said flatly, blue eyes squinting at the camera. “I’m just not letting my daughter fall or my mrs get tired arms”
That made you laugh again. Tilly chose that exact moment to let out a bigger, slightly offended noise like she didn’t like not being the centre of your attention.
The stream went silent for half a beat. Morgan froze. You froze.
Morgan immediately leaned into her space.
protect her at all costs
timing us out like her dad ❤️
what’s wrong with her !!!
“It’s alright princess” He cooed. “Daddy’s sorry, didn’t forget about you I’m still here” Morgan briefly glanced at the chat, chuckling under his breathe.
princess confirmed
getting timed out by angryginges kid
poor baby !!
“‘Course she’s a princess chat. I don’t know if I mentioned but i won the jungle - I’m the king” he paused, trying to hold in his laughter as you giggled beside him. “Therefore reader is the queen, obviously our kid is a princess”
You shook your head beside him, smiling down at Tilly as she settled again, completely unbothered by the thousands of people currently losing their minds over her existence.
Chat moved too fast to read properly now.
PRINCESS TILLY
generational stream
KING GINGE ERA
Morgan leaned closer to the monitor, pretending to scan messages seriously.
“Right” he said. “Any disrespect toward the royal family results in immediate banishment”
“Banishment?” you laughed.
“Yeah” he nodded firmly. “Straight to the naughty step”
Tilly made a soft snuffling noise, her tiny hand stretching toward his voice. Morgan’s entire face changed he reached out instinctively, letting her fingers curl around his thumb.
Chat exploded again. Neither of you paid it any attention.
“Strong grip that,” he murmured proudly, like she’d just achieved something extraordinary.
“She’s literally grabbing your finger,” you said.
“Exactly” he replied. “Going to be a pro athlete like her dad”
You rolled your eyes, laughing quietly.
A sound bite went off loudly through the speakers, Morgan visibly flinched.
“Oh shit, sorry, sorry” he muttered quickly, reaching to lower the volume. “Didn’t think about alerts”
Tilly twitched at the noise but stayed asleep. Both of you froze again. The entire stream held its breath. Morgan stared at her like he was personally negotiating with fate.
“…we’re good,” he whispered.
“Right,” he said quietly. “We’re turning alerts down today, this is a calm household now”
You shifted closer, resting your elbow on the arm of his chair keeping Tilly supported while you watched chat together.
It felt strangely normal, like this had always been part of your life. Morgan glanced sideways at you and then back to the camera.
“I’ll be honest chat,” he said, tone softer now. “Felt proper odd having a month off and full access to my set up, you’ve kinda been here for everything else”
Messages slowed slightly, the mood changing.
love you Ginge
congrats man
W W W W
He swallowed, clearly not expecting the sincerity.
“Yeah… cheers” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.
Tilly made another tiny sound, her face scrunching before relaxing again. Morgan looked down instantly. Every time. You noticed it. Chat noticed it.
He didn’t.
“Mad though,” he added quietly. “Used to worry about stream numbers and how many views Bov had - Now I just worry if she’s breathing too quietly.”
A collective awww rolled through chat.
You nudged his shoulder gently.
“They didn’t tune in for emotional vulnerability.”
“Tough” he shrugged. “I’m dad Ginge now”
He reached over stroking her soft curls with his thumb with ridiculous care, still seeing her as the fragile 7lb 3oz infant placed on your chest, not the almost 5 week old milk hungry tank she’d become.
“Anyway,” he cleared his throat, trying to recover some normality. “We are still gaming today. She’s supervising.”
Right on cue, Tilly let out a tiny squeaky noise. “See? Approved” Morgan grinned.
“So what we thinking chat - clubs? GTA? Fortnite? I’m up for anything” A beat of silence. “Right, you lot vote in that poll and we’ll see what we’re doing”
As he waited for the poll results his attention drifted back down to Tilly, finger tracing her scrunched up nose instinctively.
thinking about after care with ginge when he’s just cuddly and checking in every 10 seconds
The quiet after is broken almost immediately by him clearing his throat.
“Right,” Morgan says, shifting slightly. “Quick survey.”
You hum, eyes closed.
“On a scale of one to ten,” he continues, dead serious, “how alive are you feeling right now?”
You crack one eye open. “What?”
“Important data,” Morgan insists. “For… science. And boyfriend reasons.”
“Nine,” you say. “Maybe nine and a half.”
He nods solemnly, like he’s logging it mentally. “Good. Anything below seven and I panic.”
Morgan settles back against you, arm draped over your waist, fingers warm and absentminded. For exactly ten seconds, everything is peaceful.
Then,
“You need water?”
“I’m fine.”
“Blanket?”
“Already got one.”
“Snack?”
You snort. “You offering?”
“I could be,” he says.
He groans dramatically, face pressed into your shoulder.
“Never moving again. This is my life now.”
You laugh, fingers threading through his hair. Morgan makes a pleased noise at that, immediately shuffling closer like a cat that’s just been acknowledged.
Ten seconds.
“Hey,” he says again. “Still okay?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” he mutters, then kisses your shoulder. “Just checking. I read somewhere you’re supposed to do that.”
“Where?”
“Don’t remember. Internet probably.”
Another pause.
“You comfortable?”
“Yes.”
“Too warm?”
“No.”
“Too cold?”
“No.”
“Okay. Cool. Excellent communication.” He nods, satisfied, then pauses. “You sure you’d tell me?”
You poke his side. “Yes.”
Morgan laughs, the sound low and warm, then presses his forehead to yours.
“You’re really nice to lie with,” he says, like it’s a revelation. “Top-tier lying partner.”
“That might be the worst compliment you’ve ever given me.”
“Disagree. It’s versatile.”
Ten seconds pass. You can almost feel the question loading.
“You good?” he asks softly.
You smile. “I’m very good.”
His shoulders relax again. “Perfect.”
Morgan pulls you closer, one hand splayed securely at your back, thumb moving in slow, grounding circles.
“I love you,” he says casually, like it’s obvious.
“I love you too.”
“Good,” he says. “Because if you didn’t, this would be really awkward.”
You laugh, and he smiles into your hair, finally quieting down, though you’re fully aware it’s only temporary.
The quiet moments with Morgan are what you appreciate the most.
His life was hectic, that you knew before you started dating. You had met Morgan just before he went into the jungle, which was hard but you survived it. Whilst most other couples were in the honeymoon faze, you were watching you boyfriend on the screen doing bush tucker trials.
Then once he returned it was all steam ahead towards the BOV house. You had met all the boys awhile before this, and were well aware that Morgan would have to go back and forth from the house for content. You didn’t mind; you knew that deep down everything would work out no matter the sacrifices you both had to make for the relationship.
But your favourite moments with Morgan were simple. Just as the sun is about to come up, and the earth is quiet, no sound other than his soft snoring can be heard. You both snuggled up in the duvet back at his home, away from the chaos. You turn to look at him. No stress etched on his face, no worry. You simply trace his features, him snuggling into your hand as you do so. ‘You alright love?’ he mumbles, voice laced with sleep.
‘Yes, just admiring’ you hum. Fingers moving over his eyebrows and nose as you speak.
‘Can’t say I look my best right now though darling’ he joked, kissing your palm as it cupped his cheek.
‘Perfect to me’
Another is when you are both sitting on the sofa watching a show you had found and ended up being obsessed with. Morgan would never moan, just sit at the end of the sofa with your feet lay out on him, rubbing them steadily. Watching as you cheered or oohed at something that was happening.
‘What’s so funny?’ You asked, as you heard him laugh at you screaming at the TV because your favourite contestant didn’t pass the level.
‘You. It’s not that serious but you are acting like someone’s going to end up dead’.
‘You should have seen what I was like when you were in the jungle Morgan. Your Mom told me she was tempted to buy ear muffs I was so invested’. You nodded with fact.
Morgan just shook his head and laughed.
Finally, when you are both cooking together. Youd put all the ingredients out perfectly in order of preparation time. You had the video and recipe all printed out and ready. Morgan began making the batter for the chicken as you cut them up into fillets.
‘Morgan, no that’s not what you are meant to add. You are only meant to put in a cup of this flour; I even printed the recipe out for you.’
‘What this flour?’ Morgan asked as he flicked some onto your face. Your mouth wide open in shock. Morgan decided that this was the funniest outcome for him, and burst out laughing.
‘You motherfucker.’ You took it upon yourself to grab an egg and smash it onto his head. Yolk spilling all down his head as you did so. His face dropped the laughter quickly ending.
The look in his eyes changed, you knew instantly that you had fucked up. The kitchen was ruined by the time you had both finished, you are still finding flour to this day.
These moments, away from the public eye were your favourite, when he really was just Your Morgan.
sit down and behave — Morgan (angry ginge) x reader
⋆｡°✩ 🎀 ♡ 🎀 ✩°｡⋆
summary she said it was for youtube. he said he'd be professional. neither of them managed it.
prompt – outfit react video, established relationship, suggestive, touchy morgan
warnings – suggestive content, morgan being feral 🔥
word count – ~2.5k
note – ginge blind reacting to his girlfriend's outfits for her youtubechannel?? he had absolutely no business being this much 😭thank you for this request 🫶
requests are open 🎀
⋆｡°✩ 🎀 ♡ 🎀 ✩°｡⋆
It had seemed like a good idea at the time.
You needed a react video. Your subscribers had been asking for months — get your boyfriend on camera, we want to see him, does he have opinions on fashion — and Morgan had opinions on everything, so theoretically this should have been simple. You film, he reacts, everyone goes home happy.
What you hadn't fully accounted for was Morgan.
Specifically, Morgan with an audience, a camera pointed at him, and you walking out in a succession of outfits he'd never seen before. You'd done the shopping trip without him deliberately — the whole point was blind reactions, genuine ones — and you'd been very pleased with yourself about it right up until this moment, sitting in the makeup chair while he settled onto the stool you'd positioned in front of the camera with the energy of someone who had already decided he was going to enjoy this enormously.
"Ground rules," you said, pointing at him in the mirror.
He held up his hands. "I'm a professional."
"Morgan."
"I'm sitting on a stool. I'm being filmed. I'm completely professional."
"You need to actually react to the clothes. Not just—" you gestured vaguely at all of him.
"Not just what?"
"You know what."
He grinned. The one that meant he absolutely knew what and had already decided not to comply. "I'll be good," he said pleasantly.
You looked at him in the mirror for one long moment.
"Camera's rolling in five," you said.
The first outfit was safe. Intentionally. You'd ordered them specifically — safe to less safe to the one at the end that you were already slightly nervous about — and you came out in a cream co-ord set, tailored and clean, the kind of thing that photographed well and read as effortlessly put together.
Morgan looked at you.
"Yeah," he said. Nodded slowly. "That's nice."
"Nice?" you repeated, for the camera.
"Really nice." He tilted his head slightly. "Turn around."
You turned around.
A beat of silence.
"Really nice," he said again, with slightly more emphasis.
"Morgan it's a co-ord set—"
"I'm aware of what it is." He was still looking. "I'm reacting. This is my reaction."
"Your reaction is really nice?"
"My reaction is—" he paused, appeared to collect himself, "—it fits well. The colour's good on you. I like it." He nodded at the camera. "Solid start. Good outfit."
You narrowed your eyes at him. He held eye contact, completely innocent.
"Okay," you said. "Next one."
The second outfit was a going-out dress.
Not over the top — fitted, dark, the kind of thing that worked for dinner or an event, the hem hitting mid-thigh. You walked out and Morgan, who had been scrolling his phone while you changed, looked up.
The phone went face down on his knee immediately.
"Right," he said.
"Right?" you prompted.
"Right." He nodded. Eyes doing a full sweep that he made absolutely no effort to make subtle. "Yeah. That one's — yeah."
"Specific feedback, please, for the video—"
"Where are you wearing that?"
You blinked. "Sorry?"
"That dress." He gestured at you. "Where are you planning on wearing it?"
"I don't know, out—"
"Out where?"
"Morgan—"
"I'm asking a genuine question—"
"You're being weird about a dress—"
"I'm not being weird." He sat up slightly straighter. "I'm being informed. There's a difference." He looked at the camera. "It's a great dress. Genuinely. She looks—" a pause, something shifting in his expression, "—she looks incredible. Obviously." Back to you. "But we're having a conversation about the venue later."
You stared at him.
"Next outfit," he said pleasantly.
The third one was casual — oversized vintage tee, wide leg jeans, chunky trainers. The kind of effortless off-duty look that took considerably more effort than it appeared to.
Morgan visibly relaxed when you walked out.
"Now THAT," he said, pointing, "is an outfit."
"You prefer this to the dress?"
"I didn't say I preferred it. I said it's an outfit." He stood up — off the stool, which you hadn't given him permission to do — and walked over, examining the tee. "Where's this from?"
"Vintage find."
"It's good." He tugged the hem slightly, straightening it, the way he touched things that were yours with the casual ownership of someone who had stopped distinguishing between your stuff and his a long time ago. "Really good actually. This is the one you'd wear to come watch me, yeah?"
"Potentially."
"Wear this one." He nodded, satisfied, and went back to his stool. "That's my vote."
"You don't get a vote—"
"I just voted."
"Morgan—"
"Next outfit," he said, in the exact tone you'd used on him three outfits ago. You pointed at him. He smiled serenely.
The fourth was the one.
You'd almost not bought it. Had held it up in the shop, put it back, picked it up again, stood in the changing room for four minutes deciding, and eventually bought it because your subscribers had specifically requested something that would make your boyfriend malfunction on camera.
You were about to deliver.
You walked out.
Morgan was mid-sip of the water bottle he'd stolen from your desk. He looked up.
He put the water bottle down very slowly.
It was a going-out set — a top that was doing a lot of work and wide satin trousers, the whole thing cohesive and objectively not that revealing but fitted in a way that was very specifically and deliberately designed to cause problems.
Silence.
"Morgan," you said. "This is the part where you react."
Nothing.
"For the video—"
"Give me a second." His voice had come out slightly different. He cleared his throat. "I'm reacting internally."
"Externally, please—"
"You bought that." Not a question.
"Obviously, yes—"
"When?"
"Tuesday—"
"Without me."
"That was the point—"
"You went shopping without me," he said, slowly, "and you bought that, and you didn't tell me—"
"Morgan it's an outfit—"
"It's not just an outfit—"
"It absolutely is—"
He stood up again. Walked over, considerably more purposefully than he had for outfit three. Stopped in front of you. Looked at you up close in the way that had considerably less to do with the clothes than he would claim.
"Turn around," he said.
"Morgan we're filming—"
"Turn around."
You turned around. You heard him exhale behind you, quiet and controlled, which he probably thought you didn't hear. You heard it.
"Right," he said. More to himself than to you or the camera.
He put his hands on your shoulders — both of them, just resting there, the familiar weight of them — and turned you back to face him.
"You're wearing this when we go out," he said. "Just us."
"I thought you wanted to talk about the venue—"
"I've reconsidered. Private venue. Just us." He looked at the camera, completely straight faced. "Great outfit. Ten out of ten. No further questions."
You laughed despite yourself — helpless and genuine, head tipping forward slightly — and his hands moved from your shoulders, one going to your waist, pulling you in.
"Morgan—" you started, laughing, "—we're still filming—"
"I know." He wasn't looking at the camera. He was looking at you with the expression he had when he thought nobody was watching, which was ironic given the camera pointed directly at both of you. "You did this on purpose."
"The whole point was genuine reactions—"
"You got genuine reactions."
"The whole point was also for you to stay on the stool—"
"The stool was uncomfortable." His hand at your waist wasn't moving. "How many more?"
"That was the last one."
Something shifted in his expression. "Good," he said.
The camera kept rolling.
Neither of you moved for a moment — you in the fourth outfit, him with his hand at your waist and his eyes on yours — and then you laughed again and pushed him gently toward the stool and started talking to the camera about where everything was from, and he sat back down and watched you with the particular expression he used when he thought he was being subtle about it.
He was never subtle about it. You'd stopped telling him that.
@y/nvlogs : made him react to my new outfits for the channel 🎀 he was SO normal about it as you can see
click to view all comments
@angryginge13: i behaved
↪ @yourusernamex: you got off the stool TWICE
↪ @angryginge13: the stool was uncomfortable
↪ @yourusernamex: 🙂
@jakeydavies: "reacting internally" bro was cooked 😭 ❤️ by angryginge13
@nellarose: THE WATER BOTTLE GOING DOWN SLOWLY I CANNOT @iluvsharky: outfit four really said let me end this man's whole career @plainjade: "private venue just us" morgan really rescheduled their entire evening mid-youtube video 😭🔥
@dragqueen: he stood up twice, put the water bottle down in slow motion, and then said ten out of ten no further questions. he's so down bad.
@sharkywifeyera: the hand on her waist while they're still filming and he just. doesn't move it. doesn't even acknowledge it. 🔥
@rawrxdeex: "you did this on purpose" YES SHE DID AND IT WORKED PERFECTLY
@gingesgirlera: the way he asked WHERE she was wearing the dress like he was going to personally vet the location 😭
@internetcrying: he watched her talk to camera at the end with that face and i have never felt more single
@justhere4this: thumbnail is him with the water bottle. she knew exactly what she was doing posting that thumbnail. she's so funny. @needsginge: "reacting internally" i'm going to think about that forever @chunkzreacts: Jakey commenting immediately because he KNOWS morgan was absolutely not normal about this 😭
worst trip, best person — morgan (angryginge) x reader
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summary he said he was fine. jakey said he was not fine. she booked the flight.
prompt – tokyo food poisoning, she flies out, role reversal, him being looked after for once
warnings – food poisoning, poorly morgan, soft chaos
word count – ~2.5k
note – jakey being the one who told her the truth is everything 😭 morgan pretending he's fine when he's absolutely not is so him — thank you for this request 🫶 (no proofread)
requests are open :)
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He'd texted her at eleven pm Tokyo time — which was three in the morning for her, which meant her phone buzzing had pulled her out of sleep immediately — and the text had said not feeling great, don't worry about it which were the six most alarming words Morgan had ever sent her.
Don't worry about it was not a Morgan phrase. Morgan didn't say don't worry about itunless there was something to worry about. Morgan said I'm fine and it's nothing and seriously stop fussing — all of which were also alarming but in a different way. Don't worry about it was new, and new was bad.
She'd called immediately.
He'd answered on the fourth ring, which was also wrong — Morgan picked up on the second ring when she called, always — and when he'd said hey his voice had been entirely wrong. Flat. Tired in a way that had nothing to do with time zones.
"What's happening," she said.
"I'm fine—"
"Morgan."
"Seriously it's just—" a pause, a sound she didn't like, "—I think something I ate disagreed with me."
"How bad."
"Not bad—"
"Morgan, how bad."
Another pause. "Fairly bad," he admitted, which from Morgan meant very bad.
She'd lain there in the dark for approximately ninety seconds after she hung up. Then she'd opened her laptop and looked at flights.
She'd texted Jakey at three fifteen in the morning: how bad is he actually
Jakey had replied within two minutes — which meant Jakey was also awake, which meant it was bad enough that he was monitoring it: bad. won't let me call a doctor. been in his room since yesterday evening. genuinely please come he's being so stubborn
She'd booked the flight.
Morgan did not know she was coming.
She'd made Jakey swear on pain of death not to tell him. Jakey had agreed immediately and then sent three separate follow up texts checking she'd actually booked it, which was very Jakey and also reassuring.
The flight was fourteen hours. She spent most of it alternating between sleeping and catastrophising, which was not productive but was what her brain had decided on. She watched one film she couldn't have named afterward and ate a meal she didn't taste and landed in Tokyo at seven in the evening local time feeling simultaneously wired and exhausted.
Jakey had sent her the hotel name. She'd texted him when she landed.
He met her in the lobby, looking relieved in the specific way of someone who had been dealing with a stubborn poorly person alone for two days and had reached the end of his resources.
"How is he," she said, before hello.
"Sleeping right now," Jakey said. "He had a rough night. He kept saying he was fine but he's—" Jakey made a face, "—not fine. At all. He tried to convince me he could film today and then lasted about twenty minutes before he had to go back to bed."
"Has he eaten?"
"Some crackers this morning. He kept the water down which is better than yesterday."
She pressed her lips together. "Room number."
Jakey gave her the key card. "He's going to make a face when he sees you," he said.
"I know."
"Like an embarrassed face. Like he's going to try to send you home."
"He can try."
"Just so you're prepared—"
"Jakey." She looked at him. "I flew fourteen hours. I'm prepared."
She went up.
She knocked quietly in case he was sleeping. Nothing. She let herself in.
The room was dim — curtains mostly closed, the particular organised chaos of a hotel room that had been occupied by an unwell person for a day and a half. Water bottles on the nightstand, crackers, his phone face down beside him.
Morgan was in bed. He was asleep, or had been — the knock had done something because he shifted, and she stood very still in the doorway until he settled again, and she looked at him in the low light and felt something in her chest that was half relief and half the specific tenderness of seeing someone you loved looking smaller than usual.
He always took care of everyone. That was just who he was — the one who checked on people, the one who noticed when something was wrong, the one who showed up. She'd been on the receiving end of it enough times to know exactly what it felt like.
She set her bag down quietly. Got a fresh glass of water from the bathroom. Sat in the chair by the bed.
He opened his eyes about ten minutes later.
Looked at the ceiling.
Looked at her.
Looked back at the ceiling.
"No," he said.
"Hi," she said.
"You didn't," he said.
"I did."
"I told you not to worry—"
"You said don't worry about it, which is not the same as I'm fine, which is what you say when you're actually fine." She held his gaze. "Jakey told me."
Morgan closed his eyes briefly. "Of course he did."
"He was right to." She leaned forward slightly. "How are you feeling right now, actually."
A pause. The pause of someone deciding whether to maintain the performance or not. "Better than yesterday," he said finally. "Yesterday was—" he stopped. "Bad."
"I know."
"You didn't need to fly here—"
"Morgan." She said it quietly. "Let me do this."
He looked at her. Something moving across his face that was between embarrassed and something else — something that was the specific vulnerability of someone who was used to being the capable one and didn't know quite where to put it when they weren't.
He said nothing for a moment.
"Okay," he said quietly.
She stayed.
That was really the whole of it — she stayed and she took care of him with the same quiet efficiency he'd always brought to taking care of her, and it turned out that the dynamic was different but the feeling was the same. He slept a lot. She sat nearby, working on her laptop when he was asleep, there when he woke up. She got him soup from somewhere — the hotel restaurant, a negotiation conducted entirely through the translation app on her phone — and sat with him while he ate it slowly and carefully, like he was testing whether his body had forgiven him yet.
Jakey knocked on the door on the second morning, checked in briefly, looked at the situation with the expression of a man who was very glad he was no longer the one responsible for it, and left again.
"You're staring," Morgan said, on the second day.
"I'm watching to make sure you finish it."
"I'm going to finish it—"
"You said that about the crackers yesterday and then you ate four."
"Four was finishing it in my condition—"
"Morgan."
He ate the soup. All of it. She took the bowl and he watched her with the particular expression of someone who had been fussed over enough to have stopped fighting it and had arrived somewhere that was almost comfortable.
"You didn't have to come," he said. Again. For approximately the fifth time.
"I know," she said. Again. For approximately the fifth time.
"I would have been fine—"
"You were not fine."
"I would have gotten there—"
"Morgan." She sat back down beside the bed. "You flew fourteen hours for me when I had pneumonia two years ago. You slept on a hospital chair. You brought me four different kinds of soup because you didn't know which one I wanted." She looked at him. "Let me have this."
He was quiet.
"Yeah," he said finally. Soft. "Okay."
She reached over and pushed his hair back from his forehead — the same thing he always did, the gesture she'd memorised on his hands and was now returning — and he closed his eyes and let her.
"Cheers," he said quietly. Into the pillow. Slightly muffled.
"Anytime," she said.
By day three he was well enough to be bored, which was how she knew he was actually recovering. He started commenting on everything she was doing, wanted to be involved in decisions about food, complained about the TV options in a way that was entirely coherent and therefore reassuring.
"You're being annoying," she told him.
"I'm feeling better," he said, like this explained it.
"It does explain it."
"I want actual food."
"You can have actual food when your stomach decides it's ready—"
"My stomach is ready—"
"Your stomach was not ready for the thing that started all of this—"
"That was different—"
"Morgan."
He subsided. Looked at the ceiling. "Can I at least have something that isn't plain rice."
She looked at him. He looked back at her with the expression of a man who had been reasonable for three days and felt he'd earned something.
"Plain rice," she said. "And maybe some bread."
"Bread," he repeated. Like she'd offered him something significant.
"Don't push it."
He smiled — the real one, finally, the full one, the one that had been absent for three days and the return of which did something considerable to her chest.
"You're very bossy," he said.
"You're very poorly."
"I was poorly. I'm better now."
"Mostly better."
"Mostly better," he conceded. He reached over and took her hand where it was resting on the bed beside him, laced his fingers through hers. "Thank you," he said. Simply. No performance.
"Thank you for letting me," she said.
He squeezed her hand.
Outside Tokyo carried on, indifferent and bright, and in a hotel room on the fourteenth floor Morgan was mostly better and she was exactly where she'd flown fourteen hours to be.
