Warnings - not detailed but there is mentions of sex
Before they even find out, everyone knows something’s off. She’s having a nap upstairs when Ginge comes down and sighs. The boys are all on the sofa just on their phones and talking casually.
“Alright mate?” Chazza looks up at Morgan who looks tense.
“Mate.” He shakes his head. “Dunno what’s up with her but she is not happy at the minute.”
“She went fucking off at me this morning about the crumbs on the side.” Heinz looks at Morgan.
“Yeah, she’s not good right now.” He takes a deep breath, flicking on the kettle.
“Probably hormonal, Heather gets like that sometimes.” Tays shrugs. “Just have to ride the wave, it’ll pass.”
Morgan nods. An hour later, she wakes up and notices he’s not in the room with her anymore. She stretches slightly before picking up her phone and calling him.
“Hello?” He answers the phone, slightly confused as to why she’s ringing from upstairs.
“Can you come up?” She whines slightly.
“Yeah, just a second love.” He ends the call and stands up, heading up the stairs. When he enters, she’s still tucked up in the sheets.
“I’m sorry for being a bitch.” She says quietly. “I love you.”
“That’s alright sweetheart, I love you too. I just want you to be happy.” He lays next to her and strokes her head.
“I am happy.”
“Good.” He kisses her forehead.
A few weeks later, the same attitude ensues. She wakes up one morning, Morgan had already left for work. She was starving itching for a slice of toast with butter and a cup of tea. She scrolls through her phone until she musters up the courage to go and make herself some breakfast. Her eyes widen when she checks what day it is.
“Shit.” She heads straight to her period tracking app and sees she’s 5 days late for her very regular period. Her stomach drops, her heart pounding. Then obviously she calls Morgan home and takes a test. Everything changed forever since then and the pair of them had never been so nervous.
He decides to tell all of the boys eventually but confides in Beano first. Beano watches over her constantly once he knows, particularly if Morgan’s not there for whatever reason.
“Fuck sake.” She stands on her very tip toes on the edge of one of the dining table chairs she’d pulled over to the kitchen. But she still couldn’t get it. Jakey thought it would be funny to leave the Nutella at the very back of a high cupboard so he wouldn’t be tempted to eat anymore of it. She wasn’t so strict with denying temptation these days though.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Beano’s voice cuts through the air as she wobbles with a fright.
“Beano! Can you get this?” She struggles. “Can’t reach.”
“Get fucking down! Are you mad?” He shouts. “You could’ve fallen.” He helps her down and reaches up to get it himself.
“I’m fine.”
“Reader, you can’t do shit like that now. It’s dangerous.”
“Stop being dramatic! I’m pregnant not incapable.” She scowls as he hands her the Nutella.
“I’m being serious! You need to think about what you’re doing.”
“God, you sound like Morgan.” She rolls her eyes. “Until you’re pregnant yourself, please don’t tell me how to deal with this.
“It doesn’t take an idiot to know you shouldn’t be climbing on chairs when you’re 4 months pregnant.” He shouts out of concern.
“Well maybe it’s Jakey’s fucking fault for putting it there!” She shouts back.
“Well ask him to get it back down for you.” He claps back.
“Stop shouting at me!” She shouts.
“You’re shouting at me!”
“Woah, Oi! What’s going on? What’s with the shouting?” Morgan races in. Her eyes fill with tears now.
“Don’t cry now he’s here-“ Beano starts.
“Beano!” Morgan stops him before it goes any further and she gets more upset. “C’mere love. What’s up?” Morgan opens his arms and she walks into them. Crying into his chest. “I know, I know.” He strokes her hair. “Just talk to me, take a deep breath.”
She explains between hiccups and sniffles what happened and Morgan sighs a bit. “He’s just looking out for you love, yeah?” And she nods, seeing sense again.
“Sorry, I was such a bitch Beano, but you didn’t have to shout at me.” She looks at him, her eyes red and puffy.
“I’m sorry for shouting. Here.” He hugs her, he knows she’s going through it at the minute. She hugs him back and sniffles again.
She’s just every emotion all at once in the beginning. She can’t even look at Morgan when he’s in his ballers suit without needing to jump his bones there and then (not that he complains). They’d been at it that morning in the shower as soon as they’d woken up.
Morgan had left her asleep in bed when he got up for filming. He jumped in the shower and expected she’d be asleep still when he got back. Until he heard the bathroom door open, a smile on his face as he saw her.
“Alright love? Thought you’d still be asleep.”
She shakes her head sleepily. “Can I come in?”
“Course you can, come on.” She rids herself of her pajamas and steps under the water with him. It wasn’t long before he had her holding onto the wall as he drilled into her from behind.
Then of course, that night when he got back home. She was at it again. She’d been cuddling with him for about an hour whilst watching tv in bed when her mind started to drift. Thoughts of what had happened that morning in the shower that eventually spilled into her replaying every sexual encounter she’s ever had with Morgan. And suddenly with a damp patch on her knickers, she pulls herself up to straddle his waist.
“What’s up love?” He grins as he looks at her.
“Nothing.” He can feel her fidgeting on his lap slightly. “Want you.” She says quietly.
“Again? We had sex this morning.”
“Need it again.”
Of course he’d never deny her when she’s asking for that!
Then other times their evenings are quite the opposite and he’s having to console her over stupid things.
“I just…” she cries.
“What’s wrong? Tell me love.” He strokes her hair.
“I just think you could be a little bit easier on Jakey.” She sobs. He has to hold back his laugh. “It’s just he’s so nice and he’s only young and you lot just take the piss out of him.”
“Babe, it’s a joke. He knows it’s a joke. We’ve spoke about this.”
“I know but,” she sobs harder. “Does he actually know? Maybe he doesn’t see it like that sometimes.”
“That whole act he puts on gets him a hell of a lot of money sweetheart, I don’t think he gives a shit. We’re all his mates, he knows that.”
hey! would you write a fic where maybe reader is dating ginge and she has a baby, maybe around 1 or 2ish. she’s doing something round the house and goes upstairs to find ginge streaming with the baby on her lap, maybe watching a cartoon and just being a softie? maybe the baby is from a previous relationship so she’s all emotional over it? Thank you!!
still recovering from the whole ginge seeing my blog thing but we persevere 😶🌫️ i made this short (and a little christmassy) 😉🎄 but this is the cutest idea ty lovely! enjoy!💓
You quietly walk up the stairs of the home you and your boyfriend share, careful since your daughters still napping… or so you thought.
When you crack open the door to her nursery to check on her your heart drops at the sight of the empty crib.
You panic a little before you open Morgan’s door to see him with your sixteen month old daughter comfortably sat on his lap.
You exhaled a breath of relief.
It’s christmas day and you’ve been clearing up the living room of all remnants of wrapping paper, while Morgan streamed from a little while before you headed over to your parent’s house for dinner.
Morgan slowly turned in his chair once he noticed you.
“Hey,” he greeted you softly.
“I thought you were still streaming?” You walked over to them.
“I could hear her stirring, you were busy downstairs and I’d already been on long enough so I just ended it and brought her in here,” he explained as she babbled in his lap, eyes focused on the kids show he’d put up on his monitor.
“Cute,” you thought.
You smiled. “Thank you,” you leaned forward to kiss him, grateful you’d found such a considerate man.
Unfortunately, even though he acts like it, Morgan isn’t your baby’s real father. Her real dad ran off as soon as you told him you were pregnant, you’d decided you were better off without him.
You met Morgan just before you started showing. You were strictly friends and nothing happened until you’d had your little girl.
That’s when everything changed.
It started with him coming over to keep you company when you were struggling.
Then he started to help out by doing little things like, hanging some pictures you’d bought, bringing you dinner and watching the baby while you showered.
And along the way you fell in love. Though he’d been in love since the day he met you, he was just hoping you being able to rely on him would open your heart, and of course… it did.
“We’re leaving in half an hour,” you reminded him.
“Mhm,” he responded, looking back down at your daughter.
She looked up at him and showed her gummy little smile, giggling.
“Daddy,” she mumbled.
The both of you froze.
“We’ve never had that conversation. Are you okay with that?” You asked anxiously.
“Are you?”
You waited a moment, thinking, before you nodded.
“Well then so am I.”
He turned his attention back to her. “Yeah. Daddy,” he confirmed with a smile.
She cheered, you almost cried but in that moment you knew you’d made the right choice in loving him.
Summary; Yours and Morgan’s journey from a family of three to a family of four.
Been trying to post this for hours kept deleting, then deleting from my drafts then wouldn’t let me make a post at all – I’ve had to delete the app and try again, I’m STRESSED! If I eventually get to post this please tell me it’s the best thing ever even if you hate it because I’m cryin rn 😗
The camera is propped up on a pile of baby books on the dresser. You’re sat cross legged on the floor, attempting to organize a small mountain of baby clothes.
"Okay, so," you say to the lens, your voice hushed. "We’ve had the talk. We’re officially trying for number two! It feels wild saying it out loud, considering Tilly was such a—"
"A total accident?"
You jump, twisting around. Morgan is leaning against the doorframe, a ‘1st Birthday’ teddy bear in his hand and that infuriatingly smug grin on his face.
"Shut up, knobhead, I was going to say 'surprise'." You roll your eyes, suppressing a laugh.
He chuckles, moving into the room and dropping down to sit right behind you. He sets the toy aside and pulls you back against his chest, his arms looping firmly around your waist. He leans his chin on your shoulder, squinting at the small camera screen.
"We’re just being honest, Trouble" he says, his voice dropping to that lower, softer tone he only uses with you. He presses a kiss to your temple, then looks at the lens.
"Survived a year of parenthood and now we’re trying to add another one to the chaos. What could possibly go wrong?"
"Exactly.” You lean back into him, feeling the familiar comfort of his heartbeat against your spine. “And if it goes wrong, I’m blaming you."
"Yeah, yeah," he says, squeezing your waist. "Whatever you say, Princess."
You let your head fall back looking up at him through your long lashes, his soft blue eyes meeting yours for a moment before flashing back to the camera.
“Anyways hopefully next time you see us she’s successfully pissed on a stick!” Morgan claps, ending the segment.
Tilly was perched on your hip as you waited for your 3 minute timer to go. Minutes stretching on for hours.
“I know it’s probably negative, it’s only month one of trying” Your voice soft as you bounced the one year old gently on your hip.
Flipping over the test you tried to hide the disappointment from your face. One glaringly obvious, clearly negative, singular pink line staring back at you.
“That’s okay” you cooed, still bouncing the babbling Tilly. “Just round one, we got plenty of time haven’t we Tilly girl?”
In the next clip you were standing in the same spot, Morgan had his strong arms around you, leaving kisses in your hairline as the result sunk in.
“It’s okay princess, not like trying to get one in there is a terrible chore” he teased squeezing your hips.
You let out a sigh as you twisted in his arms, your own coming up and encircling his neck.
“It’s been three months squish!” You pouted up to him.
“You had no symptoms this month though have you, trouble?” His hands tighten on your waist as he consoles you. “Just not the right time yet, try not to stress too much.”
“I think it means you need to get your mum to babysit and take me on another date night.” You tease to break the slight tension that’s built.
“Oh yeah? Sure it does, dickhead.” He laughed as the clip cut.
A series of similar clips showed, some with Morgan, some with Tilly and some of you by yourself. Always in the same spot, camera balanced on the sink with the plastic test upside down just in shot as you counted down with the viewers.
Unfortunately, every test had the same increasingly devastating negative result once the timer was up.
And in each clip it was getting harder to mask the disappointment and heartbreak from flashing in your features as you flipped the plastic stick over.
“So everyone keeps telling me I need to be relaxed and stop trying” you opened up the vlog from the passenger seat of Morgan’s car.
“So daddy back there,” the camera briefly panned to Morgan who could be seen, and heard, strapping Matilda into her car seat. “Is on a mission to help me relax, and he’s looked up healthy recipes that are meant to promote fertility… however the idea of a boneless banquet is really appealing right now.”
“Hey,” Morgan calls from behind you, “If momma wants kfc we can get kfc, forget the vegetables for a day. It’s self care, innit?”
“Tilly will be two soon and she’s not got a baby sibling yet.” you mutter.
“We see the doctor next week, don’t get too in your head about it reader” He spoke softly as he got behind the wheel, one of his hands reaching out to cup your face. “I don’t think little lady is too bothered stealing all our attention for herself at the minute anyway.”
Almost to prove his point Matilda started shouting for attention from the back seat.
The camera was wobbling as you cried in Matilda’s dark nursery, only the soft glow of her nightlight illuminating the room.
“I feel like such a fraud” you sobbed, “I already have the most perfect baby right there! But every time it’s just one line there I feel a grief for something that never existed.”
Tilly was asleep in her cot, now taking up much more space at 22 months old. She had her arm and leg outstretched to her side as she lay on her tummy, the same way Morgan slept wrapped around you every night.
“The doctor said I’ve got unexplained infertility, medically I should be able to give Tilly a sibling… my body just won’t” you harshly rubbed at your face to get rid of the tear tracks. “I don’t know why I’m so upset because at least I get to be her mummy, and being her mum really is my favourite thing ever.”
You were looking solemnly at your sleeping daughter as you cried, taking in her soft features while she slept.
“It was so easy with her, we didn’t even have to try! I was on the pill and we still somehow got her” you whispered towards the camera. “I started this vlog ten months ago… which realistically isn’t even that long ago but, part of me expected to be about to give birth or already have a newborn by now... Maybe I was dumb for thinking that it’d happen so quickly?”
Nervous laughter followed your sentence as your fingers anxiously twisted through the ends of your hair.
“Anyway I should probably go to bed before Morgan wakes up and comes looking for me, if he sees me crying over our sleeping daughter again he might think I’m crazy”
The frame shook as you stood up, using the sleeve of your hoodie to wipe the remaining tears away as you smiled gently into the lens.
“To clarify I don’t cry over her a lot, but mums will know those first few weeks of having a newborn and post partum emotions sometimes you do be crying during the night feeds because you can’t believe you actually created a cuter perfect mini version of your feral ginger boyfriend”
The next clip opened mid conversation.
“–don’t think I can piss on another stick this month actually,” you muttered, phone balanced against the bathroom mirror instead of the usual spot on the sink.
Morgan’s laugh came from somewhere behind the camera.
“Bit difficult to know if you’re pregnant then, innit?”
You rolled your eyes weakly, though the joke barely landed this time. Tilly, now fully in her I’m two and I’m the boss now era, banged tiny hands against the bathroom door from the hallway.
“Mummyyyy!”
“One second baby!” You pinched the bridge of your nose before looking back toward the lens.
“I just…” your shoulders lifted helplessly. “I already know what it’s gonna say before I even check.”
Morgan appeared in the reflection behind you then, quieter than usual as he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind.
“You don’t know for sure, babe.”
You didn’t answer. The clip cut before the timer finished.
Another clip, another month. The camera wasn’t even steady this time, just loosely held in your hand as you sat in bed, the room bathed in the soft, blue light of your phone screen.
“We didn’t film the test,” you said quietly. Behind you, Morgan was dead to the world, face down across the mattress with one arm hanging limply off the edge of the bed.
“I dunno. It just felt a bit…” You shrugged, your gaze dropping to your lap. “Sad.” You took a breath, forcing a lighter, brighter tone as you looked back into the lens.
“But! On the bright side, apparently stress is the enemy, so Morgan’s officially banned me from watching my missing children documentaries.”
Half-asleep, Morgan’s muffled, gravelly voice drifted across the room, barely audible.
“You were scaring yourself, Trouble.”
“You snore like a lawnmower, you knobhead.” You rolled your eyes, a small, genuine smile tugging at your lips.
“You still shag me though,” he mumbled into the pillow, not even bothering to lift his head.
That finally pulled a real, unforced laugh from you, the tension in your shoulders dropping for the first time all day.
The camera sat on the coffee table, capturing the scene from a low, slightly awkward angle — the way it always did lately.
Tilly was in the middle of a serious, high-stakes operation. She’d wrapped one of Morgan’s hoodies around her doll and she was currently pacing the rug, shushing the air with the frantic intensity only a two-year-old is capable of.
“Daddy get me a real baby” Tilly chirped, coming to a stop in front of Morgan. “I share my Pooh-bear!”
You didn't look at the camera; you were too busy trying to keep your expression neutral. You glanced over at Morgan. He was sat on the rug in front of her, halfway through building a tower of blocks, but his hands had gone still.
"A real one, eh?" Morgan said, his voice soft as he spoke to your daughter. He didn't look at you, just kept his eyes on Tilly, though his grip on a wooden block was a little too tight.
Tilly nodded enthusiastically, nearly tripping over the oversized hoodie pooled around her ankles.
“Yeah! Tiny baby.” She held her hands up dramatically to demonstrate. “Thisssss big.”
Morgan let out a quiet hum, the kind he did lately whenever he was trying very hard to sound normal.
“And what if the baby cries all night, hmm?” he asked, reaching out to steady her before she face planted into the blocks. “What then?”
“I sing!” she announced confidently.
“Oh yeah?” His mouth twitched faintly. “Reckon that’ll work?”
Tilly nodded with the unwavering confidence only toddlers possessed before toddling over to you instead, shoving the doll into your lap.
“You practice mummy.”
Your breath caught so subtly the camera probably didn’t even pick it up. Morgan looked up then, just for a second. Neither of you said anything but, there was something exhausted in his expression now. Something carefully controlled.
You forced a smile for Tilly’s sake, adjusting Morgan’s hoodie around the doll automatically.
“Yeah?” you whispered, eyes burning suddenly as you cradled the doll against your chest.
The room went quiet except for the soft sound of Cocomelon playing faintly from the TV.
Morgan cleared his throat after a moment, dropping the block back onto the rug with a dull clack.
“C’mere monkey,” he said gently, opening his arms toward Tilly. “Daddy needs help building this tower before mummy starts crying at cartoons again.”
“I don’t cry at cartoons” you muttered defensively, swiping quickly beneath one eye. Morgan’s eyes flickered toward you briefly.
“You cried at that bluey episode for forty five minutes.”
“Because auntie Brandy’s infertile, Morgan!”
“Mummy say bad word.” Tilly gasped dramatically, pointing at you.
Morgan barked out a startled laugh while you buried your face in the doll for a second, mortified
“Not that kind of bad word, baby,” he managed between laughs, reaching to scoop Tilly into his lap.
The camera kept recording for another few seconds.
Morgan pressing absent kisses into Tilly’s hair while she squirmed in his arms. You sat curled against the sofa clutching the doll a little too tightly.
And despite the laughter that had softened the moment, Morgan still looked at you the same way he always did lately, like he was trying to figure out how to carry heartbreak for the both of you.
The camera is propped on the dresser, filming you as you haphazardly stack boxes of toddler shoes. You pause, leaning against the dresser, looking directly into the lens.
"Were doing the bed transition, right? And Morgan is doing the 'supportive dad' thing, trying to make it a big, happy event. But I hate it! I really thought there’d be a baby ready to move into her cot when she was ready to move out of it."
You sighed as you busied yourself with reorganising the bookcase, replacing the books with far more force than required. The hardbacks thudding against the wood filling the short silence.
“And people keep saying to us when they see the three us together it’s a ‘perfect time’ to give her a sibling, total strangers too by the way. As if I don’t know. As if I haven’t been wanting to give her a sibling since she was like 6 months old!”
You stop, one book held mid-air, and let out a sharp, incredulous laugh.
“It’s like they think we’re just... not doing it? Or that we’re waiting for the 'right vibe'? I swear, if one more person tells me to 'not think about it and just have a drunk night together,' I might actually lose the plot.”
You shove the book into the shelf, the movement sharp and jagged. You look back at the camera, your voice dropping to that hushed, secretive tone.
“I used to love the spontaneity of it, you know? With Morgan? Like we all have eyes he’s so attractive, he’s my best friend – it used to be the best part of our day. But now? I’m all ‘Will this position help with conception?’ or ‘Quick! she’s napping, we’ve got at least 10 minutes, I’m ovulating.’ It’s not even fun anymore. It’s like a shift.”
You lean back against the shelf, looking defeated.
“It’s good because it’s with him, obviously. But I dread it. I can see the dread in his face, too, which somehow makes it worse. It’s like we’re both just performing. I look at him and I know he’s only doing it because he knows how much I want this, and he’s trying to be the ‘good husband.’ And I’m only doing it because an app told me it’s the ‘optimal day.’”
You rub a hand over your eyes, your voice thick.
“I miss being a wife who just… wanted her husband. I’m so tired of being a patient who needs a result. Does that make me a bad mum? For wanting more when I’ve already got the most perfect little thing in the other room? I feel like I’m constantly mourning a life I don't even have, while trying to ignore the guilt of not being happy enough with the life I do have.”
You walk toward the camera, your movements slower now, the initial rush of anger replaced by that hollow, creeping exhaustion. You lean in, your face filling the frame, eyes reddened and tired.
“The worst part is that I know he’s hurting too. But he’s so busy trying to keep the fun version of himself alive for me that he’s forgotten how to just be sad.”
You let out a shaky breath, your gaze dropping to the floor. The silence in the room is absolute now, no toddler giggles, no Morgan, just the hum of the camera.
“Anyway. That’s enough. I’m making this a pity party, aren’t I?” You sniff, rubbing your nose with the back of your hand and forcing a bright, brittle tone that doesn't reach your eyes. “Tilly needs her snack and I’ve got a big girl room to finish tidying. Life goes on, right?”
The camera flickers on shakily, still blurry before focusing on the bathroom sink. You’re standing there in one of Morgan’s oversized hoodies, nervously twisting your hair. Morgan is beside you, half-asleep, his ginger hair sticking up in every direction, squinting through heavy eyes.
“I’m five days late,” you breathe into the quiet room. “I didn’t want to say anything… I thought if I said it out loud, my period would start out of spite.”
“Bit rude of your uterus, that,” he murmurs. It’s almost a laugh, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.
You offer a weak smile, but it vanishes as quickly as it appeared. Morgan rubs a hand down his face, his expression sharpening as the reality settles in.
“Have you looked yet?”
You shake your head. “I’m scared to.”
The words land heavy. After eighteen months, the fear isn't just about disappointment anymore; it’s about that familiar, hollow humiliation of the negative result.
“We’ll do it together,” Morgan says. He starts pacing — just short, jagged laps across the tiny floor before stopping right beside you.
“You’re stressing me out,” you mutter, your gaze fixed on the white plastic test sitting on the edge of the sink.
“You think I’m not stressed?”
“You never get stressed anymore.” The words slip out before you can stop them. Morgan goes quiet. It’s true – over the last year and a half, he’d stopped letting himself believe enough to feel the nerves. He’d built a wall of stoicism to protect you both.
He lets out a slow, steadying breath and reaches for the test, handling it carefully, as if it might shatter under his touch.
You don’t look at the stick. You watch his face. You see the confusion hit, then the disbelief, and finally, something dangerously close to hope.
“Morgan?” your voice is a whisper.
“There’s… there’s something there.” He turns the test toward you, his hand trembling slightly.
The line is faint, fainter than a heartbeat, but it is there. A distinct, stubborn slash of color against the white.
Your hand flies to your mouth. Morgan lets out a startled, breathless laugh.
“Told you your uterus was just being dramatic.”
“Oh my god,” you choke out, tears flooding your vision. Morgan is staring at the test as if it’s the most offensive, beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
“That’s a line,” he says, his voice thick with wonder. “That’s actually a line.”
You start to sob, laughing through the mess of it as Morgan grabs your face with both hands, his thumbs catching your tears.
“Hey, hey, don’t cry yet, we don’t—”
“I can’t help it!”
“You’re gonna make me cry, and I’m meant to be the emotionally stable one.”
“You’ve never been emotionally stable,” you sniff, a watery laugh escaping you.
“That is slander.” He kisses you then. Hard, desperate and smiling against your mouth.
Downstairs, the sound of tiny footsteps thuds against the floor, followed by Tilly’s muffled yell for breakfast. Reality rushes back in.
The next clip opens in absolute darkness. The only sound is your jagged, hitching breathing as you struggle to balance the camera on your knees.
Morgan is sat beside you, anchoring you to his side, his lips pressed softly against your hairline.
Above you, caught in the faint glow of the camera’s light, sits the graveyard of your efforts: a pack of tampons, a bottle of fertility vitamins and a box of unused ovulation tests.
“So… she got her period during the night,” Morgan explains softly.
You’re crying into his shoulder, your body shaking with a heartbreak so deep it feels exhausting.
Morgan’s hand rests firmly on your back, rubbing slow, steady circles. He doesn’t tell you it’ll be okay. He doesn’t tell you to stop crying. He just holds you in the dark, and for the first time, he doesn't look like he’s trying to keep the ‘fun’ version of himself alive.
The camera is propped up on the edge of the bathroom sink – not for a test this time, just because habit makes you reach for it whenever things feel too heavy to hold alone.
You’re sat on the edge of the bath in one of Morgan’s hoodies, fingers twisting at the ends of your hair. The bathroom light is dim, casting tired shadows beneath your eyes.
“So,” you say eventually, voice quieter than usual. “We had a talk.” You swallow hard. “And I think… we’re done trying.”
The words don’t sound real out loud, like they belong to somebody else. From somewhere downstairs, Tilly’s laugh echoes faintly through the house followed by the sound of the Bluey theme tune. It makes your expression crumple for half a second before you pull it back together.
“We’re not buying ovulation tests anymore,” you continue softly. “Or pregnancy tests. I deleted the tracking apps.” A weak laugh leaves you. “Which honestly felt a bit like deleting a tiny little dictator who’d been ruining my life for a 20 months.” You rub tiredly at your face.
“I just can’t keep doing the cycle of convincing myself every month is different and then feeling stupid when it isn’t.” The camera shakes slightly as you adjust it.
“And I miss my husband.” The confession comes out barely above a whisper. “Not physically, I mean he’s literally downstairs making dinosaur nuggets with our toddler—”
A faint THEY’RE FUCKIN BURNT! echoes from downstairs. Despite yourself, your mouth twitches.
“But I miss us. I miss kissing him without thinking about ovulation windows. I miss him touching me without both of us silently wondering if maybe this’ll finally be the time it works.” Your eyes start filling before you can stop them. “I miss when we were just stupidly obsessed with each other.”
The bathroom door creaks open then and Morgan appears, ketchup bottle in hand and a tea towel flung over his shoulder.
“Language,” he shouts automatically down the stairs before looking at you properly. His face changes instantly, the sauce bottle gets abandoned on the sink. “Oh, Trouble.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m okay.” You shake your head quickly, embarrassed by the tears now falling, but your voice cracks on the last word.
Morgan crouches in front of you immediately, hands settling on your knees.
“You don’t have to do that with me.”
And that’s what finally breaks you because he sounds tired too. Not frustrated, not angry, just tired in that deep, aching way people get when they’ve carried hope for too long.
“I think I need us back,” you whisper.
Morgan’s face folds a little at that. His thumbs brush under your eyes gently.
“You never lost us.”
“Feels like I did.” You let out a small sob-laugh. He leans forward then, resting his forehead against yours.
“We made her,” he says quietly. “Got our tiny little psychopath downstairs singing the Bluey theme tune at chicken nuggets. Think we did alright, Princess.”
That gets a real laugh out of you through the tears.
Downstairs, Tilly suddenly screeches “MUMMY I NEED KETCHUP!” Morgan closes his eyes briefly.
“See?” he mutters. “Dream life.”
You laugh again, shakier this time, and he kisses your forehead softly. The camera keeps rolling a little longer.
Just long enough to catch the way Morgan stays kneeling between your legs even after the conversation ends, holding your hands like he’s terrified that if he lets go, you’ll disappear into the grief again.
The camera is propped against a stack of laundry on the table, slightly crooked. The living room is a landscape of chaos— toys, mismatched socks and half eaten snacks.
Tilly is sprawled across the rug, surrounded by a mountain of stationery she definitely doesn't need yet. She holds up a glittery pencil case like she’s presenting a legal document.
“Mummy,” she says with grave seriousness. “This for important business.”
“What business?” you ask, your voice coming from behind the camera, warm and unhurried.
“My important business.” Tilly shrugs, unbothered.
Morgan snorts from the dining table. He’s hunched over, painstakingly ironing name labels into tiny school cardigans.
“She’s definitely your child.”
“She screams when the people on tv don’t do what she wants, Morgan.” You deadpan. “She’s yours.”
“That’s necessary, that is.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
The camera catches Morgan grinning. A real, full-blown grin, the kind that’s been rare through the video. You’re sat beside him, folding tiny socks into pairs. You aren’t rushing, you aren't checking a clock or a phone app, you’re just there.
“Tills,” Morgan calls out after a minute, holding a polo shirt up like evidence in a courtroom. “You’re too little for this. Stop growing.”
“I’m big girl now!” she shouts, jumping up to prove it and immediately tripping over the oversized backpack she insisted on wearing.
You burst into laughter. Morgan doesn't even flinch he just reaches out, grabbing her by the hood of her jumper and hauling her upright in one practiced motion.
“Tiny drunk person.”
“Mummy! Daddy being rood!” Tilly gasps, dramatically.
“You literally fell over air, baby” you say, wiping a tear from your eye.
“She gets that from you as well,” Morgan mutters, you kick his shin under the table. “Ow! Domestic violence in front of the child.”
“Yeah, Mummy! Vile-ence!” Tilly claps her hands.
You laugh until your sides ache, the camera shaking slightly as you lean back against your chair. The room feels full. Not because there’s another heartbeat in the house and not because the ache of the last two years has vanished but because you’ve stopped living in a waiting room.
Morgan glances over at you. His eyes linger, watching you laugh, his expression softening.
“You alright?” he asks. The question is simple, stripped of the loaded fear it used to carry. You look around the room. The half-ironed clothes, the glitter pens scattered like confetti and the man who, despite everything, is still your best friend.
“Yeah,” you say softly, and you mean it. “I really am.”
The camera continues to roll, capturing the way Morgan’s gaze doesn’t leave your face. His expression shifts; that guarded, supportive wall he’s been keeping up for months finally drops, replaced by a slow, knowing smirk.
“You look nice,” he says, his voice dropping just a notch. “Like, actually nice. Not just mummy nice.”
You lean back, arching a brow at him, catching that familiar, mischievous glint in his eyes that you haven't seen in ages.
“And you,” you tease, resting your chin on your palm, “look like you’re trying to start something.”
Morgan smirks as he kicks his chair back, the legs scraping against the floorboards, and he leans into your space not quite kissing you, but close enough that the air between you feels charged.
“Maybe I am,” he murmurs. “I think I’ve been a very patient man lately. Don't you?”
You laugh, a light, airy sound, and give his arm a playful shove.
“Oh, have you? Is that what we’re calling it? You’ve been a nightmare, more like.”
He laughs, the sound genuine and unburdened. He reaches out, his hand sliding across the table to cover yours, his thumb tracing the back of your knuckles.
“A nightmare, huh? Just wait until I’m off the clock, then you’ll see.”
Tilly lets out a loud, frustrated grunt from the rug as she struggles with her pencil case zipper.
“Mummy! Help!”
You tear your gaze away from him to look at Tilly, but you don’t pull your hand out from under his. You’re still grinning, that flirty, knowing look still plastered on your face.
“In a second, Tills.” you call out, your voice bright, though your eyes go right back to Morgan.
He leans in a little closer, his voice dropping to a low, intimate murmur that’s meant just for you, even if the camera is recording.
“Don’t worry about the uniform labels,” he whispers, his eyes shimmering with cheeky intensity as he looks you up and down. “I think we’ve got more important business to focus on for today.”
You feel your cheeks flush and you let out a shaky, breathless laugh. You give his hand a squeeze, leaning into him just enough to feel the solid warmth of his shoulder against yours.
“You’re ridiculous,” you breathe, though you’re looking at him like he’s the only thing in the room.
Morgan just grins, that smug, familiar spark back in his eyes. He taps your hand twice before finally standing up to go help Tilly, but he leaves a lingering touch on your shoulder as he passes, his fingers brushing the back of your neck in a way that feels like a promise.
“Go on then,” he says, glancing back at you over his shoulder with a wink. “Go be a mum. I’ll be back for you in five.”
You watch him walk away, laughing to yourself, the knot in your chest completely gone. You reach for the camera, not with the frantic energy of someone trying to hide something, but with the relaxed, happy smile of a woman who finally has her life back.
You give the camera a final, playful smirk, and with a soft click, the screen goes black.
The camera is propped on the bathroom counter. You’re in a black bodycon dress, hair curled, mid-laugh while fixing your lipstick. You’re holding glass of rosé looking relaxed and loose.
“Right,” you say to the lens, giggling. “I’m literally about to head out to meet the girls, but I promised myself I’d bin this last pregnancy test first. I’m having a massive cupboard clear-out. Between nursery germs, new allergies and me catching every single bug Tilly brings home, I’ve honestly never gone to the doctors so much in my LIFE. I’m reclaiming my space.”
You tear the packaging open with your teeth, still laughing as you prepare the test.
“I know it’s negative. I’m not even going to look at it, i’m just going to do the thing, toss it and not be a mum for the night.“ Your tone is still cheerful as you talk to the viewers. “Suppose it’s a good ending though isn’t it? The final test, we’re happy with where we are so I can end the video now.”
You lean over, do your thing and casually set it on the edge of the sink. You turn back to the camera, picking up your drink, totally unfazed.
“So, yeah. Tonight is purely for cocktails and complaining about the nursery mums and I am so ready for it. I’ll update you when I’m — wait.”
You pause, mid-sip as your eyes caught the test. You freeze, leaning in, squinting as your brow furrowed in complete confusion.
“No… that’s not right.”
You reach out and pick up the stick, holding it up to the bathroom light. You tilt your head, turning the stick from side to side.
“That’s… that’s a line,” you whisper, your voice deadpan. “That’s definitely a line.”
You look at the test, then at the camera, then back at the test. You let out a short, disbelieving laugh.
“Well. That’s inconvenient.” You walk to the bathroom door, still holding the test, wine glass in the other hand.
“Morgan?” you call out, your voice perfectly steady. “You need to come here for a second. I think I’ve just ruined my night out.”
“What you mean? You’ve planned it for weeks, I’ve told you me and monkey will be–“ Morgan wanders into the frame, stopping mid-sentence when he sees you holding the test. “What’s that? You said you were binning it, princess.”
You just hold it out to him, still holding your glass.
“I know. I was. But apparently I’m not broken.”
Morgan looks at the stick, then at you. His eyes go wide, then he starts to chuckle, shaking his head. He doesn't even go for in for a hug, he just takes the test, looking at it with a mix of shock and amusement.
“You’re having a laugh, aren’t you?”
“I wish I was,” you say, finally setting the drink down on the counter. “I was really looking forward to shots and bad decisions.”
You both just stand there, staring at the little piece of plastic and then you start to giggle again.
“Well,” Morgan says, a slow, dazed smile spreading across his face. “I suppose you’re not going to the pub then.”
You look at him, the humor of the situation finally sinking in. You burst out laughing, a genuine, confused, happy sound.
Morgan steps closer, his gaze drifting from the stick to your face, his usual smirk replaced by a look of dazed, utter disbelief. He gently takes the glass of rosé from your hand and sets it down next to the test, as if it’s suddenly a dangerous object.
“Think we’re done with this for now too.” He reaches out, tucking a loose curl behind your ear, his touch lingering on your cheek. “You’re actually serious? It’s not one of those… dented lines or whatever you used to call them?”
“It’s a line, squish,” you say, your voice vibrating with that same disbelieving laughter. “A very dark, very night out ruining line. I barely put it down before it showed up”
He lets out a short, incredulous huff of air and pulls you into him, his arms wrapping around your waist. He doesn’t squeeze too hard, he just holds you there, looking over your shoulder at the sink like he expects the test to have vanished by the time he looks back.
“We literally just decided to stop,” he mutters into your hair, sounding both winded and amused. “We were one and done. And now – and now you’re telling me there’s a tiny little squatter on the way?”
You laugh, a wet, shaky sound as the reality starts to bleed through the shock. You lean your head against his chest, feeling his heart hammering against his ribs, just as fast as yours.
“I know. I was literally about to put on my heels, have a tequila and forget that I have responsibilities.” You look up at him, your eyes crinkling at the corners.
Morgan’s expression softens, that familiar, cheeky light returning to his eyes. He leans down, pressing a lingering, soft kiss to your forehead.
“So,” he says, his voice dropping to a low, amused rasp. “You’re telling me that after two years of temperature tracking, calendar alerts and enough ovulation tests to build a small house… I get you pregnant the second you plan a night out that involves shots?”
“It’s the timing, isn't it?” You burst out laughing, the sound slightly hysterical. “It’s genuinely insulting, Tilly has been extra testing this week I needed a girls night.”
He shakes his head, a wide, disbelieving grin spreading across his face. He doesn’t reach for a dramatic embrace instead, he just leans his hip against the vanity, looking at you with that familiar, cheeky glint.
“You know what this means, don’t you? You’re going to have to go to the pub with the girls, order a coke, and pretend you’re having the time of your life while they get absolutely hammered.”
“Don’t.” You groan, dropping your forehead onto his shoulder. “I’ll have to listen to Heather talk about her sex life while I’m sat there sober and fully aware she’s talking about MIKEY. It’s a tragic existence, Morgan. Truly tragic.”
He chuckles, his hand finding the small of your back and pulling you flush against him. The intimacy of it makes your heart ache in the best way.
“You could always just text them,” he suggests, his thumb brushing slow, lazy circles against your dress. “Tell them you’ve been struck down by a mysterious, tiny, very inconvenient virus.”
You look up at him, your eyes crinkling. The sheer, absurd irony of it all is finally sinking in.
“You mean tell them I’m ‘pregnant and suffering from a sudden intolerance to fun’?”
“Exactly that, yeah.” Morgan snorts quietly, leaning down until his forehead knocks gently against yours. “Terminal condition. Symptoms include cancelling girls nights and becoming violently sober.”
You laugh again, soft and helpless now, your fingers twisting in the fabric of his t-shirt as the reality starts settling properly between you.
The house is quiet around you. Tilly had gone to bed an hour ago after demanding three stories, one yoghurt and exactly seven kisses. Her little nightlight glows faintly beneath the crack of her bedroom door down the hall.
“Oh my god,” you whisper again, but this time it sounds less shocked and more terrified to believe it.
Morgan’s eyes flick between you and the test like he still thinks one of them might disappear if he looks away too long.
“We literally gave up,” he says quietly, almost laughing again. “Like properly gave up.”
“I know.”
“You deleted the apps.”
“I know.”
“You bought wine.”
“I KNOW.”
That finally breaks him. A real laugh escapes him, startled and disbelieving and so painfully happy it makes your throat ache.
Then suddenly he’s covering his face with one hand, shoulders shaking once as he looks down at the stick again.
“You’re pregnant,” he says, muffled behind his palm.
Your eyes instantly burn the way he says it gets you, like after two years he never actually thought he’d get to say it again.
You step closer without thinking and Morgan immediately reaches for you, both hands settling on your waist like muscle memory.
For a second neither of you speaks he just stares at you, at your face, your dress, your curled hair, the glass of rosé abandoned beside the sink.
At the woman he’d spent nearly two years trying to convince he loved regardless of what her body could or couldn’t do.
“You know what’s mental?” he says softly.
“What?”
“You’re standing there looking all pretty ready for a girls night and I genuinely think this is the sexiest you’ve ever been.”
“Morgan.” You let out a watery laugh.
“I’m serious.” His thumbs brush slowly against your waist. “You’ve looked heartbroken for so long and now you just…” He shakes his head slightly, eyes glassy. “You look like you again.”
“WAIT!” You look up at him, smile infectious. “We have to tell Tilly… would we be the worst parents ever if we woke her up?”
Morgan blinks at you for a second, still looking shell-shocked. “…Probably,” he says honestly. You burst out laughing again, grabbing at his arms.
“I’m serious! She asked for a baby for like six months straight, she’s gonna lose her mind.”
“She’s also three and it’s half eight at night,” he points out, though he’s already smiling now. “She’ll wake up, ask for ‘a mummy snack’ and then tell us it’s morning time cause she’s already been to sleep.”
“That’s still a valid reaction.”
Morgan shakes his head at you, smiling so hard now it looks almost painful. Like his face has forgotten how to hold this much happiness all at once.
“You’re actually buzzing to wake a sleeping toddler” he mutters in disbelief.
“I really thought my body hated me.” Your eyes well up again as you let out a shaky breath.
“Don’t say that.”
“But I did.” Your voice cracks slightly. “For ages, I did.”
Without hesitation, he pulls you into him again, one arm firm around your waist while the other cups the back of your head.
“Your body gave me Tilly,” he murmurs against your hair. “And now apparently it’s gone and done it again just to humble us.”
“You’re such a knobhead.” A broken laugh escapes you against his chest.
“Yeah, but I’m your knobhead.”
You stay there for a second longer, wrapped around each other in the tiny bathroom before Morgan pulls back just enough to look at you properly again, blue eyes brighter than they’ve been in months.
“Go on then,” he says, a grin creeping back onto his face. “Let’s go wake the tiny dictator.”
Your gasp is immediate. “You said no!”
“I changed my mind.” He shrugs. “This is arguably bigger than bedtime.”
You beam at him so brightly it almost knocks the breath out of him.
The park was silent, nobody around except for you and your 1 year old daughter who wouldn’t sleep. She was going through a stage where she would wake up at 4:30am and refuse to go back to sleep. So this morning you decided to take her to the park, hoping to burn out some energy.
At 5:30a.m., the paths were completely empty. No joggers. No children racing around the playground. No dog walkers chatting to one another. Just you and Evie, just like usual.
You glanced down at your daughter, smiling despite the exhaustion that lingered beneath your eyes. She sat happily in her pram with her bunny snuggled under her arm, her dummy in her mouth and a blanket placed over her in her pyjamas.
Every few seconds she pointed enthusiastically at something only she seemed to find remarkable, filling the peaceful silence with tiny babbles and delighted giggles that made your heart ache in the best possible way.
"You like the birds today?" you asked softly, brushing a gentle hand over her hair.
She answered with an excited squeal before clapping her little hands together.
You laughed quietly. "Yeah... they're pretty."
Your smile lingered for a moment before slowly fading. This wasn't how you'd imagined your life would look at twenty-four.
When you were younger, you'd imagined sleepy mornings shared with someone you loved. You'd imagined making breakfast together while your child sat in a highchair throwing cereal across the kitchen, arguing over who had forgotten to buy milk, laughing over burnt toast and unfinished cups of tea.
Instead, most mornings were silent. Just you and Evie and a home that still felt too quiet after her dad had walked away. He walked away just after she was born, he was never around much during your pregnancy anyways.
You pushed the thoughts aside, refusing to let it ruin another morning. You adjusted the blanket covering her legs before steering the pram towards the open field where she loved watching the ducks gather by the pond.
Then, you heard a bark. A way too familiar bark that you’d once loved and hear every day. You turned around and saw a tiny, old dog waddling towards you.
Spike.
Your ex boyfriends, Morgan’s, dog that you once practically owned yourself.
Morgan was behind him, following closely behind. His ginger hair poked out from underneath his hat. He looked exactly the same, just mature and also hotter if you had to admit it. The same boy you loved all those years ago, and deep down still did.
You’d spent five years together. You had met when you were only eleven at secondary school. A shy timid girl and the class clown, two best friends. Then when you were fifteen you started dating.
They were the best five years together but life just got in the way. You were busy at uni, he was busy streaming and there was just no time for each other.
So on one cold January night, you had a long and hard conversation that resulted in you mutually breaking up. You said goodbye on his doorstep after packing up, both of you in tears as you had one last final kiss.
You tried to remain friends but it was too hard for the both of you. So you went no contact. You stayed friends with his Mum and Nan, after all they were practically your family.
Spike barked happily before charging towards you without waiting for permission.
"Oh!" you laughed in surprise as the dog reached you, his tail wagging furiously while he nudged his head against your legs, desperate for attention.
You crouched down automatically. "Hi, handsome..." Your voice was barely above a whisper.
Spike immediately pushed his head beneath your hand exactly as he used to all those years ago, letting out an excited whine when you scratched behind his ears in exactly the right spot.
"I've missed you too." Your eyes began to sting unexpectedly.
Dogs remembered. Even after four years.
"Looks like someone hasn't forgotten you." The voice was deeper now. Richer. But unmistakably his.
You slowly stood, brushing your hands against your jeans before finally looking directly at him.
He offered a small, nervous smile and wave. "Hi."
Neither of you moved. It felt almost surreal standing only a few feet apart after all this time. His gaze searched your face carefully, almost as though he was checking you were real.
"You look..." he started quietly before stopping himself. His smile softened. "exactly like I remembered."
You couldn't help laughing softly. "I definitely don't."
"You do." He shook his head gently. "Maybe a bit more tired."
You smiled sadly. "That's motherhood."
His eyes instinctively drifted towards the pram.
Only then did he properly notice the little girl watching him with wide curious eyes.
For a moment, his entire expression softened. This was once his dream with you. You had baby names planned out and when you wanted to have your first baby. Now some other man was living that dream.
"Oh..." A genuine smile spread across his face. "You've got a little one."
He looked happy for you. Truly happy. And somehow, that hurt even more.
"Yeah," you replied quietly.
He stepped a little closer, though still leaving enough distance to avoid making either of you uncomfortable.
"She's beautiful."
Your heart squeezed. "Thank you."
"How old is she?"
"She turned one last month."
His eyebrows lifted in surprise. "One?"
You nodded. "Feels crazy."
He chuckled softly. "I bet."
Evie suddenly waved her tiny hand enthusiastically in his direction before letting out a delighted squeal.
Morgan laughed, a warm, familiar laugh that instantly transported you back to being seventeen years old, sitting beside him on a park bench sharing chips after school.
"Hello there." He cooed, crouching down, “Aren’t you gorgeous?”
She giggled loudly in response.
"She's friendly." He smiled, tickling her stomach. “Is that your bunny?”
"Usually." You smiled. "Depends whether she's had a nap."
“Bit like you then.” Morgan laughed, recalling how you were always a sleepy person.
You rolled your eyes, “Only when I was tired and grumpy!”
Evie reached one tiny hand out towards him, opening and closing her fist as though inviting him closer.
You laughed quietly. "I think she's decided she likes you."
"I'd like to think it's me," he joked, the corners of his mouth lifting into a grin, "but it's probably because Spike's here."
Spike trotted over, tail swishing lazily behind him before resting his head against the side of the pram. Evie let out a delighted squeal as she tried to pat him on his head.
"Oh, gentle baby," you reminded her with a smile as she reached down with both hands to pat the dog's head.
Spike didn't seem to mind in the slightest. If anything, he looked perfectly content, lying patiently while tiny hands clumsily stroked his ears.
"What's her name?"
"Evie."
His expression softened immediately. "Evie." He repeated it carefully, almost as though committing it to memory.
He crouched down to her, “Do you like doggies?” He cooed with a gasp.
Evie giggled in response, you smiled down at them, “Oh you love doggies, don’t you?” You gasped. “She’s obsessed with them.”
“Well Spike seems to love her!” He smiled, standing back up.
Neither of you said anything for a while. The conversation seemed to settle naturally into silence again. Evie yawned dramatically before rubbing one tiny fist against her eye.
You smiled down at her. “I think someone's ready for breakfast."
Morgan looked at her and smiled. "I've probably kept you longer than I should have."
"You haven't." The words escaped before you had the chance to think about them.
His eyes met yours for a brief second. "I'm glad I bumped into you."
"So am I."
It was the truth. Neither of you had expected this morning to happen, yet neither of you wanted it to end.
Morgan glanced down the empty path before letting out a quiet laugh. "I should probably get Spike home before he decides every squirrel in the park is his mortal enemy."
Almost as if on cue, Spike barked excitedly at a squirrel darting up the nearest oak tree.
You couldn't help laughing.
Morgan rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at the ground for a moment before speaking. "So..." He looked back up. “I know this might sound a bit weird."
"It won't."
“I just..." He let out a nervous laugh. "I'd rather not wait another four years before seeing you again."
Your heart skipped. He wasn't asking for anything dramatic. He wasn't trying to rewrite the past. He was simply asking not to lose each other again.
"I'd like that too."
His shoulders visibly relaxed. "Maybe we could... I don't know... grab a coffee sometime?"
He quickly added, "Or breakfast. Whatever's easier with..." He glanced towards Evie with a smile. "...your little sidekick."
You looked down at your daughter, who was happily trying to hand one of her toys to Spike. "I think she'd approve."
"Does that mean that's a yes?"
You looked back at him. "Yeah."
A genuine smile spread across his face, reaching his eyes. "I'd really like that."
"So would I."
For a moment, neither of you moved. Then Morgan patted the pockets of his hoodie. "I've got my phone somewhere..."
He finally pulled it out, the screen covered in tiny smudges and a cracked corner that made you smile. "You still never bought a phone case?"
He looked down at it before laughing. "I was wondering how long it'd take you to notice."
"You used to drop your phone about six times a day."
"I still do."
"Clearly."
You both laughed. He unlocked his phone before holding it out.
"Can I have your number?"
You hesitated for only a second before taking it from him. Your fingers brushed his as you accepted the phone, the brief touch enough to send an unexpected warmth through your chest.
You quickly typed in your name and number before handing it back. He looked at the screen. He smiled.
"You've still got the little heart emoji after your name."
Your face immediately warmed. “I..." You'd added it without thinking. Embarrassed, you reached for the phone. "I'll change it."
He gently moved it out of reach with a grin. "No." He locked the screen and slipped the phone back into his pocket. "I quite like it."
You laughed, shaking your head. "You haven't changed."
"I'll take that as a compliment." He looked at you for a second longer than necessary before speaking quietly. "I'll text you later?"
"You'd better."
His smile widened. "I will."
Spike wandered back over, nudging your hand with his nose as though reminding you he hadn't yet had enough fuss.
You crouched down once more, scratching behind his ears. “Bye, Spike."
The dog leaned happily into your hand before trotting back to Morgan’s side. “Come on, mate."
Spike obediently sat beside him, though his tail continued wagging enthusiastically.
Morgan looked at you one last time. "I'm really glad you're okay."
You smiled softly. "I'm getting there."
He gave a small nod, understanding there was a difference. "I'll see you soon?"
You nodded, “Yeah, I’ll see you soon.”
You stood there watching until they were completely out of sight.
A soft buzz broke the silence.
You frowned before reaching into your coat pocket.
Unknown Number.
You opened the message.
Morgan:Didn't fancy risking you giving me a fake number.
A laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it.
Another message appeared almost instantly.
Morgan:Also it was really good to see you today. I've missed you more than I probably should admit.
You stared at the screen, your thumb hovering over the keyboard.
Then, smiling to yourself, you typed back.
You:I'm glad you stopped to say hello.
You hesitated for a heartbeat before adding one more line.
I've missed you too.
As you slipped your phone back into your pocket and started pushing Evie's pram towards home, the morning somehow felt brighter than it had an hour earlier.
Nothing had been fixed. The past hadn't disappeared. Life was still complicated. But for the first time in a long time the future didn't feel quite so lonely.
Can u do a dad!ginge fic where his gf has gone away for the weekend and he has a daughter whose 2-3 years old and she has curly ginger hair and he thought he would nip on stream before he went out so he got her ready on stream and ppl kept commenting being shocked how he could do a cute hairstyle (half up plaits maybe) and his gf sees it being clipped and finds it really cute
Hey! I loved this! Thank you so much for this request! Keep em coming guys im starting to run out of them now lol
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Dad!Ginge Plaits - Angry Ginge
Ginge wasnt planning on doing a proper live. It was supposed to be a quick thing. Five minutes. Nip on, say hello, tell chat he’d be off for the weekend ‘cause you were away and he was on full-time dad duty, then log off and take his daughter out to the park.
That was the plan.
Unfortunately, your 3 year old daughter was currently standing in front of him in nothing but a nappy and a T-shirt, curly ginger hair sticking out in every possible direction, holding one of his hoodies and chanting, “Daddy. Help. Hair.”
So now he was live.
The camera clicked on to reveal Morgan sitting on his gaming chair, hoodie sleeves rolled up, a tiny girl perched between his knees on the floor, back to the camera. Her hair was a soft halo of copper curls, springy and wild.
Chat instantly exploded.
“GINGE???”
“WHY IS THERE A SMALL HUMAN”
“IS THAT UR KID???”
“SHE’S GINGER 😭”
Morgan squinted at the screen. “Alright, calm down. Yeah. This is my daughter. Her mum’s gone away for the weekend, so it’s just us, surviving"
The little girl tilted her head back to look up at him. “Plaits?”
“Yeah, plaits,” he said patiently, grabbing the brush. “I’m doin’ it.”
Chat went feral.
“YOU CAN DO HAIR???”
“GINGE DAD ERA”
“BRO HOW DO YOU KNOW WHAT HALF UP PLAITS ARE”
He snorted. “What do you mean how do I know? I’ve got eyes. And YouTube. And her mum showed me, like, once.”
He started carefully brushing through the curls, tongue poking out slightly in concentration. He was gentle surprisingly so one hand steadying her head, the other working through knots like he’d done it a hundred times before. Which he had.
The girl hummed happily, swinging her feet and occasionally trying to turn around.
“No, no, stay still, bug,” he murmured. “If you move I’m gonna mess it up and then Mum’ll roast me when she gets back.”
Chat noticed everything.
“THE WAY HE’S TALKING TO HER 😭”
“GINGE YOU’RE ACTUALLY GOOD AT THIS”
“THIS IS THE SOFTEST I’VE EVER SEEN YOU”
He scoffed. “Relax. I’m not soft. I’m efficient.”
He separated the top section of her hair and began plaiting, fingers surprisingly nimble. One plait, then the other, securing them neatly at the back in a little half-up style.
When he finished, he leaned back and tilted her gently towards the camera.
“There. Look.”
The girl beamed, wide smile, curls bouncing. She waved enthusiastically at the screen.
“Hello!”
Chat absolutely lost it.
“I’M SOBBING”
“SHE’S PERFECT”
“GINGE UR WINNING AT LIFE”
Morgan’s ears went red. “Alright, alright, enough. She’s got shoes to put on and we’re goin’ out, yeah?”
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head without even thinking about it.
The clip was everywhere within minutes.
You were sitting in your hotel room later that evening, scrolling mindlessly while waiting for your food to arrive, when you saw it.
A clipped video.
“Dad!Ginge gets his daughter ready on stream 🥹”
Your heart actually stuttered. You tapped it.
There he was. Your boyfriend. In his hoodie. Focused and careful and soft in a way the internet almost never got to see. Your daughter sitting between his knees, trusting him completely.
You watched the plaits take shape, watched the way he spoke to her calm, warm, endlessly patient. And when he kissed her head?
You covered your mouth, eyes burning. You immediately FaceTimed him.
He answered with a confused, “You alright?”
You turned the camera on yourself, smiling like an idiot. “I saw the clip.”
He froze. “Oh. That.”
“That,” you said softly, “was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”
He glanced down at your daughter, who was currently lining up toy cars on the floor. “She asked for plaits.”
“I know,” you said, voice thick. “And you did them perfectly.”
He shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Wasn’t that hard.”
You laughed. “You went viral for being a good dad.”
He groaned. “Don’t say it like that.”
But when your daughter climbed into his lap and leaned her head against his chest, his arm wrapped around her automatically, you saw the smile he couldn’t quite hide.
“Miss you,” he added quietly.
You smiled back. “Miss you too. You’re doing amazing.” And for once, he didn’t argue.
Morgan and his girlfriend find out if their baby is a boy or a girl.
a/n: low-key just locked in and wrote a fic? Not a request just had a dream about this x
Warnings: none, pure fluff.
The piece of paper had been burning a hole in you bag since you got it. You didn’t want to do one of those big parties with a balloon or a cake, you just wanted something together, just you.
When you got home, you b-lined straight for the sofa, you were just over 20 weeks pregnant now and things were starting to ache and tiredness consumed your body constantly. It had become a routine when you both got home, you would get off your feet as quick as possible and Morgan would go and make you both a cuppa.
Pregnancy had made you more impatient anyway, but waiting for him to make that cup of tea, the envelope containing your baby’s gender sitting in front of you made you so incredibly impatient.
After what felt like 5 years, Morgan casually strolled in, mugs in hand - you wouldn’t guess that this is the same man who has been desperate to find out the baby’s gender since you found out you were pregnant.
He sat down next to you, you instinctively moving closer, almost sat on top of him, one leg over his the other under you.
“Are you ready?” You said excitedly, you truly could not wait, you were almost bouncing.
“Yeah, I’m ready.” He said with a small laugh.
You took the envelope, holding it in your hands. Your hands were shaking and for a second you just stared at the small white envelope.
“Okay, final bets - boy or girl?” You said with a deep breath.
“Girl.” He said, he had been so sure from the start that the baby inside of you were a girl, not once even thinking it’s a boy. You were convinced that even if it was going to be a boy, somehow he will have managed to change the baby into a girl.
“Still sure?” You grinned. My god this man was so stubborn, god help you when this baby gets older.
“Yep, I’m telling you love, she’s told me.”
You could only laugh at the man sat next to you, as much as you joked about how you might be doomed if your baby inherits some of their dad’s traits, like the shouting at 3am, ypu hoped every night that this baby would be like their dad.
“Why you doubting me darlin’? What do you think it is?” He smirked.
“I don’t know, I keep changing - I mean I keep having dreams about a boy recently, so boy I guess? I don’t know.” It was true, one week ypu were certain it was a girl, the next you were adamant it was a boy, you just truly couldn’t make your mind up.
“Well good fucking job you don’t get to pick, fucking hell.” Your boyfriend laughed.
“Right c’mon, open it.” He was the one getting impatient now, he didn’t care about what you thought the baby was really, he just wanted to know what the baby actually is.
“Me? Why am I opening it?” You said, shocked as if you weren’t carrying this baby.
“What? Yes you? You’re it’s mum?” He said confused.
“Stop calling our baby ‘it’!” You scolded.
“Then open the bloody envelope, so I don’t have to?” Yeah this child was definitely going to get his sass, regardless of the gender.
“Okay. Okay.” You breathed, suddenly sat up straight.
You placed your hand on your small bump for a second taking a deep breath, you were just grateful your baby was healthy and growing.
You were shaking, excitement and nerves flooding your body. Opening the envelope with such delicately, you could feel your heart hammering against your chest. You could also feel your boyfriend’s eyes burning into you, impatient and desperate for you to hurry up and get on with it.
You took out the piece of paper, glancing up at the man staring at you, you took a deep breath and opened the piece of paper.
Your eyes filled with tears almost instantly as you read the word: girl.
A baby girl, you were having a daughter, a mini-you.
“Reader? What is it? Tell me? Don’t leave me hanging?” Your boyfriend said, almost shouting and holding your arm.
“It’s a girl.” You said showing him the paper.
“OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! I KNEW IT! SEE SHE TOLD ME!” He screeched. Before you could fully react he was basically on top of you, careful to not pull his weight on you.
“We’re having a baby girl, we have a daughter.” You could tell he was emotional and the slight wetness on your neck confirmed that.
He look up at you, eyes brimmed with tears, he kissed your face repeatedly.
“I love you and our girl so much.” He said quietly as he rested his forehead against yours.
“We love you too, so so much.” You said, your own tears now flowing.
He moved down your body, his face now by your small bump.
“Hi babygirl, it’s your dad and I love you and your mummy so much.” His voice cracking slightly, tears still streaming.
You truly wished you could stay in this moment forever, you had never loved this man so much - you loved how happy he was and how excited he was to be a dad, to your daughter.
Would it be possible to do a collection of drabbles (like the teenage fic one) of ginge’s and his Mrs shagging, like kinky car sex and trying to be quiet bc the boys are home sex, him giving her head in the sauna etc
Mad horny rn 😛
MDNI
Warnings- all smut, use of ‘daddy’, slapping, orgasm denial, being caught, hand over mouth, car sex, angry sex. Sorry if I forgot any
“Shush!” Morgan puts his hand back over her mouth as he ruts his hips back and forth into her from behind.
“Mhmmm, mmmm m-Morgan.” She manages to moan but it’s completely muffled. Her nails are digging into his forearm that’s holding her up against the bathroom sink.
“Fuck.” He breathes out quietly as he watches her face in the mirror. “Got to shut that fuckin’ mouth love or we won’t hear the end of it.” She just nods not even really listening to him, her eyes almost rolling back. His arm lifts her left leg up onto the counter and the loudest scream escapes her through his fingers over her mouth. “Shut the fuck up.” He laughs into her ear and she smiles back at him almost laughing herself, she pulls his hand from her mouth and kisses his lips.
“Gonna cum, gonna cum!” She whispers loudly into his ear.
“Quietly then.” And she nods but completely ignores him cumming so loud it echos around the bathroom and Morgan vouches to never take her in there again when the boys are home.
💋💋💋
They’d been sat in the sauna for about 10 minutes, he’d promised her he wouldn’t make it too hot in there in a plea to keep her in there as long as possible with him. She sat on his lap, facing him as she played with the hair at the back of his head. His hands moving between her lower back and her arse to keep her from slipping off him. Every so often his eyes moved to the line of sweat that would trickle between her cleavage and she’d call him minging.
“Love you y’know.” He kissed her cheek as he whispers in her ear. Feeling herself slipping, he’d grab her hips and pull her forwards back towards him. “My girl, hm? My fucking stunning girl.” She wasn’t even slipping this time when he pulled her towards him and she smirked when she felt him hard against her bikini bottoms. Her lips met his in seconds, her tongue straight in his mouth. Not leaving his eye contact, she pulled herself from his lap and kneeled in front of him. Her hands ran up his thighs as she looked at him. His hand tracing her jaw.
A few minutes later and her mouths sucking on the very tip of his cock, her hand doing the rest of the work as his head tips backwards hitting the wall.
“Good?” She smirks.
“So fucking good, don’t stop.” His hands come up to pull her hair into a messy ponytail as he watches her deepthroat him.
💋💋💋
“What’ve I told you? I have to concentrate.” Morgan looked over at her as he drove the pair of them back from the Bov house. The journey only lasting a mere 20 minutes but after watching him stream all day, she’d missed her man.
“Concentrate then.” She nods as her palm skims over his cock in his joggers once more. He grabs her wrist and pulls her off him, practically throwing it back to her lap.
“Behave.” He says sternly, looking at her as she sighs. He only made her wetter when he was like this, even he knew that.
She looked briefly out of the window, a lack of cars on the road with it being 2am. With a smirk, she pulled her own skirt down leaving her in just her wet knickers. His eyes landed on her, moving back to the road and then back to her as he tried to drive as safely as he could.
“What are you doing?”
“What do you want me to do?” She smirked up at him, spreading her legs so he can see just what he does to her. He looks at her, feeling his cock grow even harder.
“Touch yourself.” His eyes continue to wander from the road to her pussy as her hand dives in her thong, rubbing circles around her clit as she gasps and moans. She didn’t even realise he’d pulled over until her eyes reopened.
“In the back.” He opened his driver door, stepping out and heading into the back of his car. She giggled as she pushed herself through the two front seats to get to him, helped by himself pulling her through and onto his lap. “Needy girl today, hm?” He grabs hold of her jaw, forcing her to look at him as she nods. Her hips can’t help but grind slowly on him to try and relieve any inch of pent up energy she has within her.
“Gonna be good or?”
“Yeah, I’ll be good.”
“Good girl.”
She wasn’t all that good, his teasing got the better of her and she was beginning to fall desperate. He did give in and fuck her but under no circumstances was she allowed to cum.
“Fuck!” She screamed, her head on Morgan’s shoulder as she suppresses another orgasm.
“You’re so good at that.” He smirks, lifting her head up by her ponytail. “Ready?” There’s tears in her eyes by now as she nods and their hips work together once more. His hand wraps around her neck, squeezing slightly only increasing her pleasure.
“Can I cum daddy?” She whines out, so loud it’s unmistakable. She was completely fucked out, her brain had stopped working by now.
“What?” He smirks, his grip not faltering on her neck but all other movements from him stop. Her cheeks go red totally embarrassed. She’d never called him that in her life. “Say it again.” He tightens his grip on her neck and her core pulsates once more.
“D-daddy.” She manages to say, it makes his smile widen even more.
“Who’s your daddy hm?” His hips start moving again.
“Yo-you.” She gasps as he fucks up into her.
“Gonna cum for daddy?” He smirks, rubbing her clit as she nods and cries out in pleasure.
💋💋💋
“You need to leave.” She laughs as Morgan tries it with her for the third time.
“I know but we could just be quick.” He smirks, his hands wrapped around the waistband of her knickers. “Won’t take me long trust me, look at you.”
“Morgan, you’ll be late and then the boys won’t listen to a word you say when they do the same. You need to go.” She giggles and he sighs, nodding because he knows she’s right.
“Later then?” His eyes light up as he looks at her.
“Later, yeah. If you win.” She smirks.
“If we win? What about if we lose?” His mouth drops.
“I don’t shag losers babe.” She winks and he laughs.
“Right, right. Ok I’ll make sure we win then.”
Safe to say the team talk is more aggressive than usual before the game and he gets exactly what he wants.
💋💋💋
But there definitely are lows when it comes to Morgan and his career. Like when Winton lose because the boys just aren’t listening to him. Lucky for her it results in the most aggressive, pent up sex she could imagine. Her face is smushed into the mattress, her arse high in the air as he stands on the floor next to their bed fucking into her hole relentlessly. She can hardly speak, a mixture of babbled moans leaving her as she ‘listens’ to him rant.
“You listen to me don’t you love?” He smacks her arse harshly, his eyebrows furrowed together in frustration. She manages to nod but she’s convinced she’s mute by now. “Can’t even fucking speak can you?” He smacks her arse again. “Fucking dirty bitch, I bet you love this.” She tries to shake her head but he’s grabbed her hair and lifted up her head with a smirk.
💋💋💋
A quiet morning in the Burtwistle household was an absolute rarity, so when she woke up and realised Morgan didn’t have any work today she was overjoyed. Both Seb and Poppy weren’t waking up any time soon, still perfectly in line with their teenage lifestyle which meant they hardly ever rose before 12 on a weekend.
“Morning gorgeous.” He pulled her further into his arms and kissed her head.
“Why are we awake?” She groaned, they’d absolutely no reason to be up.
“Dunno but I reckon I can entertain you.” He smirks and pulls himself on top of her, spreading her legs so he can fit in between them. She giggles as he pulls her (his) top over her head. “So fuckin’ sexy.” He kisses her boobs over and over and she giggles at the sensation.
“Lock the door.” She looks over at it then back at him.
“We’ll be fine, won’t take long love.” He’s already peeled off her knickers by the time he’s finished his sentence, shuffling down the bed so he’s face to face with her wet core, the covers over his head. His tongue licking from her hole to her clit as she shudders.
“Oh my god.” She grabs his hair pulling on it in a bid to get him even closer to her.
“Sexy bitch.” He smirks into her pussy, using his tongue to flick over her ball of nerves.
“Fuck Morgan!” She gasps as she watches him, his lips sucking on her clit. The sound of her wetness fills the entire room within minutes and her legs start to tremble around him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” She whispers as she gasps.
“Gonna cum for me love, hmm?” He flicks his tongue back over her clit, his precision perfected over the years that she was seeing stars just from his slight movements.
“Y-yeah.” She nodded, her nails in his hair.
In minutes her legs shake around him, clenching together in pleasure as she finishes there on his tongue.
“Fucking hell love, never get tired of doing that.” He smirks as he pulls himself back up to her face, kissing her lips. He thrusts himself inside her and she’s gasps with how overly sensitive she is from her orgasm which makes him chuckle.
His forehead rests against hers, his hips doing all the work as he watches her face again. He can hardly stop himself from groaning but it’s not match for her moans and whines. “Shhh love.” He laughs.
“Dad have you seen my shin pads? They were on the table and now they’re gone- AHHHHHH”
She swears she’s never seen Morgan move so fast in his life, the covers fly over the two of them and he’s laying by her side immediately but he’s sure it was too late. He’d completely forgotten about Seb’s friendly match later that day.
“OH MY GOD YOU TWO ARE DISGUSTING!” Seb shouts as he walks out, quickly closing the door.
“Mate!” Ginge can’t help but laugh when Seb calls him that, as if he doesn’t have his own needs as a young man. She looks up at Morgan and shakes her head.
“I told you to lock it!”
“Well he’s not gonna come back now.” Morgan laughs, turning the Mrs onto her side and lifting her leg so he can slot back inside her from behind.
themrsusername: Happy Father’s Day to the best dad in the whole world 🤍🥹 Watching our babies adore you will always be one of my favourite things 🥺🫶🏼 We’re so lucky to call you ours xxx
lisarileyofficial: Awwww 🥹❤️ what a beautiful family. Happy Father’s Day Ginge, those little ones are lucky to have you xxx
angrygingefan nah this is actually well cute, who knew Ginge was so soft
thebovboys: Fair play mate 👏❤️ Top dad, top family 🐐
michelleburtwistle: So proud of the dad you’ve become Morgan. You two have come so far, love you both loads 😘
angryginge13: Definitely not crying in bed right now
angryginge13: cheers babe, my greatest achievement is all of you ❤️
> themrsusername love you so much
elliemayxx: You can tell he’s such a good dad 🥹🫶🏼
tiktoktea_: The fact they’ve been together since they were kids 🥺🥺🥺
charliefc: Fair play to Ginge’s mrs because raising four kids can’t be easy ❤️🥇
> themrsusername 😭😭😭😭😭
themrsusername posted a story!
“Poppy I have to hold it, I’m the oldest!”
“No! Sebby, no! Daddy wants me to hold it!” The sound of cutlery clattering together grabs the Mrs attention as she notices Seb and Poppy arguing over who carries the tray with Morgan’s breakfast on this morning.
“Guys! Stop fighting, it’s Father’s Day.” She grabs two trays and distributes Morgan’s breakfast evenly. Poppy holds one and Seb holds the other whilst Freddie, completely unfazed by the whole thing, carefully carries up Morgan’s cup of tea.
The four of them wander upstairs where Morgan’s still in bed, scrolling through his phone until he sees them.
“Happy Father’s Day daddy!” Poppy shrieks, walking around to his bedside and lifting up the tray for him. Morgan stifles a laugh at the slightly strange breakfast the kids insisted on putting together for him.
“Happy Father’s Day!”
“Happy Father’s Day dad!”
“Woah thank you very much!” He laughs as he takes a very handmade card from the three of them. “That’s sick! Who wrote that?”
“Seb.” Poppy points to Seb, he’d been working so hard on his handwriting at school that he was designated the role of addressing the card to his dad. “But me and Freddie drew all of the pictures. Look daddy, it’s us at United!” 5 stickmen (2 with long curly hair) of all different sizes are scribbled on the front of the card. Each one labelled, daddy, mummy, Sebby, Freddie, Poppy.
“Best place in the world Pops, thank you so much.”
It’s not long before the three kids are in bed with him, eating the entirety of his breakfast for themselves. Not that Morgan would have it any other way.
Even the Mrs gets back into bed at one point, little Freddie cuddles into her chest as they all watch TV together. Poppy is, of course, latched to Morgan and Seb takes his place in the middle of his mum and dad.
The Mrs turns to look at Morgan, he’s almost half asleep again in the rare silence of their bedroom but he manages to look at her.
“Love you.” She mouths to him, not wanting to disrupt the peace.
“Love you more.” He mouths back, shooting a wink her way before smiling at her.
Of all of the things he’s accomplished in his life, his family had to be the one he was most proud of.
