not up for discussion — morgan (ginge) x reader
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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 :)
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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.
He didn't need to.
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