He Is So Cute

he is so cute

how was the first half?

Pretending - Jude Bellingham

Warnings: none, maybe a bit smut (?)

Summary: Why moving on needs to be so hard?

Author's note: i don't know about this...let me know if you like it! masterlist

Genre: reader x Ex!JudeBellingham (wordcount: 1425)

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

I could hardly believe my eyes.

Just when I thought I’d moved on, ready to start a new chapter and forget about him, there he was, looking like an angel descended to earth, a living Michelangelo masterpiece.

Was it the alcohol, or had he always been like this?

The sad truth was that I missed him more than I was willing to admit, and deep down, I hoped he missed me too.

When his eyes met mine, panic surged through me. I quickly turned away, pretending I hadn’t noticed him, as if that could somehow shield me from the storm of emotions brewing inside. I was terrified to face him, to meet his gaze, to exchange even a simple hello.

If I had truly moved on, I wouldn’t be feeling this way. No nervous fluttering in my stomach, no racing thoughts. But let’s be honest, this wasn’t just anyone. This was Jude Bellingham.

I could pretend I only noticed some of his teammates, but that would be a lie. He was surrounded by girls, their eager eyes betraying their desperation. Not that he paid them much attention, but they were ready to do anything to get close to him.

Before I met him, I had never been a jealous person, but what I loved most about him was his loyalty. Now, even though our relationship was over and I should have moved on, a pang hit my heart.

I had sworn to my friends that I wouldn’t fall for him again, no matter what. At the time, it seemed easy enough. I was confident, even defiant. But then I saw him, and all the walls I’d built crumbled in an instant. The progress I’d made was undone with a single glance.

“Show that you’ve moved on, you’re a fuckin’ independent girl.”

“He’s such a loser thinking he can get you back.”

What they didn’t know was that if I could, I would have jumped into his arms the moment I walked into the place. But I couldn’t. Maybe because my ego is as high as a mountain, and I’ve always followed this fundamental rule: Don’t go back to your exes.

Little did I know that soon this rule was going to be forgotten.

With my back still turned to him, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Before turning around, I tried to imagine who it could be. I hoped with all my heart that it was him, but all my hopes were shattered the moment I turned around.

There stood a man, visibly older than me, with a dazzling smile as he offered me his hand.

“Would you like to dance?”

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Jude has always been the jealous type, the kind of guy who feels the need to protect his territory. And I loved that protective side of him to death.

Ever since that guy asked me to dance, Jude hasn’t been able to take his eyes off me. I smiled slightly to myself because I knew the effect I had on him. I could see that irritated expression of his, the one that said, “I don’t like what I’m watching,” and butterflies fluttered in my stomach at the thought that maybe, just maybe, he still wanted me.

The guy had gone to get drinks, and while I was waiting, I heard a voice behind me, a voice too familiar to ignore.

“Were you trying to catch my attention? ‘Cause you did.”

My heart skipped a beat as I turned slowly, almost afraid of what I might find. There he was, closer than I expected, his eyes locked onto mine.

“I’m just trying to move on, like you should too,” I lied, my voice barely steady.

“Oh, sure you are,” Jude replied, his tone laced with sarcasm, but his eyes told a different story. They were searching mine, as if trying to find some truth behind my words.

“I saw how you were looking at me before, pretending not to notice,” he continued, stepping closer, my hands trembling harder than before.

“And I saw how you looked at me,” I shot back, my breath catching in my throat.

He smirked, the kind of smirk that made my knees weak. “So, what now? We keep pretending? Or are we going to talk about the fact that neither of us has moved on?”

I didn’t know what to say. I knew this night was going to be a long one.

His eyes and that little smirk. My heart was beating faster than it should have. Why was moving on so hard? My desire to jump into his arms was stronger than ever.

“Stop looking at me like that,” his voice pulled me back to reality. His gaze flickered away, a lazy smile tugging at his lips as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Like what?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against my skin, sending shivers down my spine. “Like you always did before.” He hesitated, then continued, “I miss you so fuckin’ much.”

His words hung in the air between us, the kind of tension that made it hard to breathe. “I miss you so fuckin’ much,” he repeated, his voice rough, as if the confession had taken everything out of him. His eyes, dark and intense, locked onto mine, searching for any hint of what I might be feeling.

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but the words caught in my throat. It was impossible to think straight with him standing so close, looking at me like I was the only person in the room.

“Tell me you don’t miss me,” he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur, “and I’ll walk away right now. But if you do, even a little…” He trailed off, his gaze flickering down to my lips before meeting my eyes again. “Then let’s stop pretending.”

My heart pounded in my chest. I wanted to deny it, to tell him that I didn’t miss him, that I was perfectly fine on my own. But you know what the truth was.

“You’re making this really hard,” I finally managed to say, my voice shaky but laced with the frustration of someone who was desperately trying to hold it together.

He reached out, his fingers lightly tracing the curve of my jaw, sending a shiver down my spine. He closed the gap between us, his lips brushing against my ear as he spoke, each word sending butterflies to my stomach. "I know you want me. I can see it in your eyes. You can't hide from me, not now."

He pressed a soft kiss on my jaw, making me grip the bottom of his shirt. His hand then took my wrist, a grip much stronger and demanding. His fingers intertwined with mine.

I timidly sought his eyes, which immediately met my gaze.

“Am I going to regret this?” Words came out in a whisper. Enough to be heard but not enough to hide myself from him. I could never.

“Not if you want to.”

And there it was. In that moment, I was fucked.

I pulled him by his shirt to bring my lips closer to his, first just brushing against them, then Jude's hand slid around my hips, pulling me closer as his lips finally moved against mine with a fervor that took my breath away. I responded eagerly, wrapping my arms around his neck, deepening the kiss with a hunger that matched his own.

As his kisses traveled from my lips to my neck, the sensation of his warm breath and soft, tantalizing kisses made it hard to think. His lips brushed against my collarbone, moving lower, each kiss sending shivers down my spine, like always.

“I think we should take this to my place, yeah?”

Kylian!bf headcanon?

our hearts are free ────── i'm a flower, you're my bee.

♡ ────── pairing : kylian mbappé x reader ♡ ────── tags : reader's gender, ethnicity, nationality, and appearance is not specified. ♡ ────── wordcount : 513 ♡ ────── notes : i have another ky headcanon post that you can read right here!!. this is pretty short :( sorry. title and desc is from father john misty's real love baby ♡ masterlist.

This man is expensive—literally, and well, figuratively. He lives beyond comfortable, and has everything on the tips of his fingertips, including: you!

He does not like seeing you work! He will be the first to admit it! Call it his ego or whatever, but he feels as though you don’t gotta do it, you know? He doesn’t mind seeing you work, but Kylian has got probably enough money to propel you into early retirement—and he would do so happily.

Sometimes he sees you working after a long day, eyes heavy and shoulders slump, and his gentle voice, coaxing you to strip bare of your profession, would always begin.

He genuinely stresses seeing you so stressed out! You’re his baby, and he has to take care of you! But he won’t really force it upon you—while he doesn’t see the rationale behind you having to work when you have him, he understands the mindset of having to stand alone.

And he understands you. (As long as you understand that he is there for you too ♡ )

Kylian wants to get married. There are footballers who prefer not marrying— hell, there are people who prefer not marrying. But him? Nah.

He simply does not believe in not locking it down; he lets you know early into the relationship about his end goal. The matter of kids or no-kids is something that can be discussed and negotiated, but he wants to be your husband.

Boyfriend is cute the first two years, and fiance even better for the next. But he wants to call you his, in every sense possible—literally, lovingly, and legally.

And another reason why he wants that ring on your finger… he’s possessive.

He’s territorial, he’s possessive, he gets jealous easily—what the fuck! Name it whatever the fuck you want! Kylian does not like seeing you with other people—with other men.

But he keeps his cool whenever jealousy begins to run through his veins. He doesn't make a scene, he does not flip a table outside down. What he does is pout. He trusts you enough to not actually get upset, but he still lets himself the luxury of being immature by wallowing in his self-made misery.

“I’ll marry you.”

There you two are again, on the bed. He’s propped on top of you, arms clinging around your waist. You are scrolling on your phone, barely paying him any attention as your hand pats the back of his head up and down.

Kylian presses his nose to your neck.

“That sounds like a threat, Kylian.”

He scoffs hearing that. “It will be if he keeps touching you.”

You can’t even find it in yourself to be upset at how silly he is being, chuckling softly.

“He wasn’t touching me, baby.” 

“He was,” he whines quietly, still hiding away in the crook of your neck. “Once I get that ring on your fingers, he’ll know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you kiss the top of his head, before focusing back on your phone. “Make sure to get my size right, huh? We don’t want the ring not fitting.”

Christmas On The Farm

Erling Haaland x Fem!Reader

Warnings: family christmases, stealing a tree, use of an axe, getting caught, soft boyfriend erling, a few cheesy moments, fingering, oral (f!receiving), overstimulation kinda, penetrative sex (p in v), nipple sucking, creampie, getting caught in a different way :)

Word Count: 2,357

Author's Note: omg it's the big mannnn, anytime I think of erling, I think of the farm so here we are lmao - also this is for pookie too sorry lmao all her bfs are in here

merry smutmas series

--

Erling takes you home to spend the holidays at the Haaland Family Farm and you two end up being the only ones there. 

"Are we going the right way?" You look over at your boyfriend, the man driving through the snow.

Erling nods, "I promise I know where I'm going." He laughs, the wind shield wipers make a squeaking sound, brushing the snow away as he slowly makes his way up the road. He turns into the driveway, the snow really coming down as he parks the car.

"It's freezing!" You shouted, running up the front porch stairs to unlock the door. Erling rolls his eyes at your theatrics, getting the bags out of the car before following you into the house.

The door shuts behind him, Erling shaking the snow off of his hoodie.

The two of you had ventured up to the Haaland family farm for the holidays. His siblings and parents were supposed to meet you guys there but due to the snowstorm, their flights were canceled. They would be arriving on Christmas Eve rather than the 18th like the two of you so that left it up to you to get things ready for the holidays.

It takes the two of you an hour to defrost and get comfortable, Erling rearranging things to his liking and you were relaxing on the couch, finally glad to have your boyfriend to yourself and not have to fight for his attention during the season - though you had to give it to him, he balanced everything in his life perfectly.

"We should decorate," he announces, coming into the living room from the kitchen. You look at the man over your book, "okay, with what?"

Looking around, the house lacked Christmas spirit big time.

Before you could gather yourself, Erling's got you over his shoulder as he walks down the hallway. "I can walk, you know!" You say through the giggles, holding onto him.

He smiles, putting you down at the end of the hallway. "Where's the fun in that?"

You roll your eyes at his childish ways, letting him walk into the room first. The room was used for storage, all sorts of things packed away in boxes and containers. You flipped the switch, turning on the light as he looked around. Eventually you two found the boxes marked for Christmas - ornaments, garland, lights etc.

One by one you moved the boxes into the living room and you started on your tasks.

Erling braved the cold; something that never really bothered him - having his Norwegian blood and all - and strung the lights around the porch railing and roof.

You were working on the inside; wrapping the staircase in garland, changing the curtains to the red and green ones, hanging mistletoe, replacing the regular throw pillows for the holidays ones and things like that. Eventually Erling came back in, helping you with the rest of the tasks, a few miscellaneous things to do here and there around the house.

There was one box left, the big label on the top read ornaments.

"We need a tree," you looked over at him, your hands on your hips.

Erling smiles, "you look.. very wife like."

"Thank you, I guess," you laughed, "but we still need a tree. Do you guys have one somewhere? Did we forget it in the room?"

"You mean like.. a fake one?"

"Yeah, duh." You looked at your boyfriend, the look of confusion on his face. "We don't have one in the house but there's one outside."

"Okay where is it? In the barn or?" You trailed off, waiting for an answer.

"No, we can just cut one down." He says, tossing your hoodie to you. The sweater lands on your face and you move it, looking at the man like he was insane. "I'm sorry, we can.. what?"

"Cut the tree down. There's a few at the back of the property. It stopped snowing so we can make it and be back before it gets really dark."

You put your sweater on, looking for your coat. "Have you ever cut a tree down before?"

Erling shakes his head, putting his own coat on. "No, but it can't be that hard."

He was out the door before you could protest. You really had no choice now, did you? You followed the man to the barn, he pulled an axe out of some trunk and handed you a giant torch light. It was the blind leading the blind, the two of you trudging through the snow to find a Christmas tree.

Sometimes you really wondered what went through this man's head. Then you wondered if you were right in the head, following him through the snow in the dark to find a tree.

You find a few, settling on the biggest one you could get without it being too heavy to carry or too big for the house, and Erling started swinging the axe.

You took a step back; you trusted him but not when it came to chopping a tree down in the dark.

It reminded you of when you were a child, your father yelling at you to hold the light one way while he's doing something and you held it a different way.

So there you were, dragging a Christmas tree through the snow with your boyfriend. "Move faster," Erling says and you grumble.

"We don't all have superhuman strength, you know."

"Just hurry up, babe," he told you.

You grumble again, trying to move a little faster but between the thick snow, the heavy tree and holding the light, it was a little hard to do.

"What's the rush anyways ?"

"Well," he starts and you know that tone; something was wrong. "It's actually the neighbour's tree."

"WHAT?" you stopped, turning to face him. "WE STOLE A TREE?!"

He laughs, nodding for you to keep walking. "It's not that serious babe, just keep walking."

Sometimes you really wondered how you ended up with him as a boyfriend, but the fact that he made you an accomplice to Christmas tree theft is outweighed by how good of a boyfriend he is.

Despite all your huffing, you help him get the tree into the house in the snow off of it. It took about an hour of sorting for you two to settle on a theme for the tree; the classic red, green and gold. The ornaments hung off the branches, Erling strung the lights around the tree before finally plugging it in.

The two of you admired your work, his arms wrapped around you as he hugged you from behind, his chin resting on your head.

Your own hand rests on his, "I cannot believe you made me steal a Christmas tree."

Erling laughs, "is it really stealing though ? The tree is out in the open sooo.." He trails off, making you laugh. You turned to face him, your hands holding his jaw, "you're ridiculous."

He leans into you, kissing you softly. "'Tis the season for giving, baby."

"Yeah, sure."

"Speaking of gifts," he starts, his hands moving to rest on your lower back, pulling you flush against him. "I have one for you."

You brows furrowed, "it's the 18th, babe. You're a whole week early." Your head tilts to the side as you look at your boyfriend. The man smiles, shaking his head as he leans down to kiss you.

It clicks, you realize what his gift is.

"Oh," you giggled, the two of you shifting to the floor. "I like this kinda gift," you whisper, his lips moving to your neck.

"I knew you would," he mumbles into your skin, his cold hand slipping under your shirt. "Erling!" You shrieked, wiggling away from him.

The man smiles, "sorry."

He sits against the couch, watching as you undress in front of him. The leggings sliding down your smooth legs, pooling by your ankles before you step out of them, you pull off the sweater and that leaves you in the same blue set Erling loves so much.

You reach behind to unhook your bra but he stops you, “leave it on.” 

He pulls you by your waist back to him, his hand slipping down to rest on your ass before giving it a smack. You’re quiet, looking down at your boyfriend on the floor. 

“I like this,” he tells you, fingers rubbing over the blue lace. 

You smile, “I know.” 

He pulls you to lay on the floor, he’s sat between your legs with one on either side of him. You’ve propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him. Erling pulls the panties to the side, his eyes fixed on your pussy and he gives you no warning, pushing his fingers into you. The sound leaving your mouth was like heaven on earth to him. 

His fingers curl upwards, your back arching at the feeling. 

“Baby, please.” your hand reaches down to wrap on his wrist but he swats your hand away, managing to pull both to rest on your stomach and his free hand over your hands, pinning them to your stomach. 

You try to wiggle your hands away from him, trying to grab on something. “Behave.” He tells you, adding another finger.

You subconsciously spread your legs, giving him more room. Erling's cheek presses to your inner thigh, watching as your face twists, pleasure all across it and your hands stop wiggling, he smiles, satisfied. 

Erling can feel your eyes on him, he reaches for the blue lace you’re wrapped up in and tugs it down your legs, letting it fall to the floor with the rest of your clothes.

He shifts to lay on his stomach between your legs, leaving a trail of kisses as he works his way up to your cunt. 

Your eyes meet his, he knows you’re looking. He wants you to look at him. Your hips buck when you feel his tongue against your clit, your hand gripping on his hair. 

He knew you like the back of his hand, gripping your thighs to keep them in place as his tongue lapped your clit. Your hips buck, your way of saying you want more and Erling gives in - he always gives into you. Two fingers in you and he glances up to see your head tossed back onto the pillows, eyes fluttering shut and your free hand groping your tit. 

Between his fingers and his tongue, your orgasm was teetering on the edge; he knew that much. 

He pulls his hands away, the sticky fingers on your thighs. A whimper leaves your lips at the loss of fullness. 

“What- why’d you stop?” You asked, pouting at your boyfriend in disapproval.

Erling sits up, patting his lap. “C’mere.” 

You manage to pull yourself up, your legs feeling like jelly as you move yourself onto your boyfriend’s lap. Erling's hands resting on your lower back, fingers dancing up and down the curve of your spine. They run up once more before they stop on the clasp of your bra. 

He unhooks it, letting the straps slide down your arms and land on your lap. He brings his hands around to your stomach, once again his fingers slide up your soft skin before resting on your tits. 

“Erling,” you call, eyes fixed on him.

He hums, his focus on your tits rather than anything you had to say. Gripping his chin between your fingers, he finally looks at you. 

“Please,” you mumble, the desperation all over your face. Erling smiles, there's a look you've seen a million times over on his face.

You’re up on your knees, hovering over his lap, your hands under you as you undo his pants. Erling helps you, pulling them down enough for you to sink down onto him. Your hand rests on his shoulder, giving you a moment to gather yourself before starting to bounce on his lap.

You look at your boyfriend, watching as he kisses down your chest, over your tits before his lips wrap around your nipple, tongue lapping over it. Your hand tangles in his hair, his name falling from your lips.

Your back arches a bit, pushing into Erling. His hand moves from your hip to your other tit, fingers pinching your nipple, twisting and rolling it softly between his thumb and index finger. 

“God,” you breathe, a hand raking through Erling's blonde hair. 

You rock your hips forward and Erling's head drops back into the couch, his eyes fluttered closed.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” His hand pats your hip, “made just for me.” He tells you, your lips on his neck -- a trail of marks and sloppy kisses being left along his neck.

Erling can feel the way you were clenching around him and he knew you were close; you knew he was close, his eyes closed and head back.

His hand reaches between the two of you, his fingers finding your clit once again. “Oh my god,” your hips bucked, his fingers matching the pace of his hips, your body rocking back and forth to get the most out of your boyfriend. 

“C’mon sweetheart, want you to cum for me.” He says, knowing it won't be long more. 

He knew you like the back of his hand, every look, every touch, every movement, he knew you.

Between the two, he pushes you over the edge. The knot in your stomach comes loose and your boyfriend watches as you cum. The wetness wrapping around his cock, and with a few sloppy thrusts, Erling follows behind you. 

The two of you are holding onto each other like the other is going to disappear, giggly and love drunk. Your boyfriend peppers kisses all over your face, your arms wrapped over his shoulders.

It wasn't until there was a knock on the door that you two froze, looking at each other. "Erling?!" The voice calls from outside.

His hand covers your mouth, your brows furrowed and eyes widen as you look at him. His lips are by your ear, "it's the neighbour."

You move his hand, whispering back to him. "The lights are on."

"Shhh, they'll go away if we're quiet."

You look at your boyfriend, lips pressed together in an attempt to muffle your laughter. He really did make you wonder sometimes.

--

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→ stuck like glue I jules kounde

requested I jules k. x wife!mom!reader

genre: fluff

summary: emile never wanted to leave his dad's side. he wanted to be in jules’ arms or have him in his sight at all times but everything changes when jules comes home from an away match and baby emile refuses to leave his mama's arms & is suddenly over protective of her, too.

“Emile, daddy’s going to be back.” You said to your son who was emotional over his dad even leaving his sight.

Emile was in a fit of tears, his little lip quivering as Jules dared to step away. Jules desperately needed to get a shower and change. He was exhausted and hadn’t rested well the night before because of Emile’s clinging demeanor. Jules couldn’t hide the small smile at his baby boy needing him. It made him feel loved but once he looked up at your nearly tear filled eyes, he stepped in and grabbed him. You sighed at the loss of the weight and tried to remain calm. Emile had been so testy lately and you were at your wits end. Emile was the sweetest and most calm baby until he hit his two year old bench mark. Now, he was a menace if he wasn’t in his daddy’s arms. Which would be fine in a normal situation, where your husband had a simple 9-5 job. But your marriage and your husband’s career was far from normal.

“I’ll be quick and make sure he’s in my sight.” Jules said and placed a kiss to your temple.

“Okay.” You sighed again and let your tense shoulders drop. “Take your time, I’ll be here with the other girls.” You tipped your head to the other WAGs.

The entire time you sat waiting, you wondered why you felt so tired and so hungry. You were snacking the entire match and you were well rested because you napped before coming, which was out of the usual, but you still felt tired.

You loved chatting with the girls but you loved seeing Jules carrying Emile, ready to leave much more. Nothing sounded better than a shower, leftover pasta, and bit of Love Island before bed. You met them with a smile but made no effort to try and grab your son. He clearly cried while he was away, his eyes puffy and still watering. He held his hand in his mouth and when he saw you coming, he buried his face in the crevice between Jules’ arm and chest. Jules handed you the keys to drive so that he could focus his attention on Emile.

——

Once Emile was finally down for bed, Jules shuffled into the room and took a deep breath. You sat on your knees on the bed and wrapped your arms around him - soaking up the warmth of his shirtless skin. Jules let go to head to the bathroom and do his skin care routine, which you crafted, and you followed. You sat on the counter as he talked to you about his new coach and how things had been. This would be their first trip on the road and he wasn’t certain how it would go.

“And I feel bad,” He said gripping the counter. You tilted your head to look at him, confused by the statement. “Emile has been fussy and you look tired.”

“Oh…” you said unsure of what you were meant to say in response. You were tired and Emile had been fussy but that doesn’t mean you want your husband to say it to your face - it felt odd. Like it almost was an insult but you knew he didn’t mean it that way.

“I don’t want you to be here alone and be stressed.”

“Emile is fine, dramatic…but fine. When you leave he’s all over me and it’s like you never existed.”

“Ouch,” Jules frowned but smiled knowing that Emile wasn’t going to be difficult for you. “I can’t lie, I love seeing him be like that sometimes.”

“I know,” you giggled, “you love to be wanted.”

“Especially by you.” He moved in between your legs and you spread them for him to have more access to you. You made no hesitation and grabbed your husband’s neck and pulled him into you. There was never any loss of attraction in your marriage - it just shifted. The lust for sex turned in a yearn for him when he was gone and turned into making love once he was finally back. You’d grown used to him coming and going but you were also used to the intentional time he spent with you so that there wasn’t any time for you to ever feel forgotten.

Jules’ mouth on yours was heavy and slow. Kissing him was the best part of your day and it was probably childish but it felt so sweet. You weren’t surprised by him taking your body off the counter and walking you over to the bed, his mouth moving down your neck, his hands moving to removed the silk robe you had on. To his surprise, there was nothing on underneath. His laugh echoed in the quiet bedroom and you slapped your hand over his mouth to keep him quiet.

“Sorry.” He mumbled against your hand. Emile was a hit or miss when it came to waking up from noise. The two of you aired on the safer side of being quiet whenever you had sex. “Did you miss me?” He teased once you finally removed you hand.

“Always.” You propped yourself up on your elbows to watch him untie the robe slowly.

“We were apart for like, six hours?” Jules laughed quietly.

“That’s a long time for a girl who wants to fuck her husband.” You said with a bit of sass but ultimately serious. Recently, you couldn’t get enough of Jules - no matter how much sex you had, you were never satiated by it. It didn’t help that you got to watch him sweat, run, and body other players while drinking glasses of wine from the comfort of the reserved section of the stadium. It was similar of someone dangling a carrot in front of a horse.

“You can’t say stuff like that.” Jules groaned and slid his hands up your abdomen and between your breasts, his hand finding a spot around your neck. You flopped back down on the bed, letting him experience every part of you. His face hovered over yours and you asked him why. “Because I’ll be inside you all night and you might end up pregnant.” He placed warms kisses on your neck and clavicle. You laughed at the statement.

“I’m on birth control, that ain’t happening.”

——

You awoke to the sound of Emile crying his heart out and you were disoriented, usually at this time he would still be in bed. The sounds of his cries grew louder, closer and you heard the door open. Jules was trying to calm Emile down but it wasn’t working. It wasn’t until Jules was standing over you that you realized he was asking for you. Emile was muttering mama over and over as he reached out to you.

“Hi baby,” you comforted him as Jules placed him in your arms. You laid back down and Emile settled himself on you, cuddling you tightly. Jules placed a kiss on your forehead and let you know he was going to finish making breakfast for you before he left for work.

You attempted to let go of Emile to get your morning started but he was having none of it. You told him to stay and sleep, reassuring him you would only be in the bathroom but that was not enough for him. He held onto your leg and made it wet from his teary face. You spoke to him with a calm tone, hoping to ease the situation and not send him into another fit of tears. You gave up on changing clothes and opted to stay in your pajamas to avoid another screaming fit from Emile.

He was happy as ever being carried down the steps by you and was giggling the whole way down though his eyes were still damp but tears. You sat on the barstool at the kitchen counter with Emile on your lap. He smacked the counter and wiggled his little legs and you were stunned from the emotional whiplash he was experiencing.

“Uh, what are you cooking?” You placed your hand under your nose to mask the smell. Jules turned around with the pan in one hand, the spatula in the other. The frown on his face was an immediate reminder of who’s pouty lips Emile inherited.

“Eggs?” Jules glanced at the pan without hesitation and back up to you. “What’s wrong with that?”

“They smell awful. Are they expired?” You gave up on trying to breathe through your nose and instead just took air in and out of your mouth.

“Eggs don’t expire.”

“They have to, there’s no way.” You shook your head. The smell was a mixture of rotten trash, soured dishes and something else you couldn’t place.

“But they don’t.”

“Google it.”

“You google it.”

“I don’t have my phone.”

The only noise for a few moments was Emile and the searing sound from the stove top. Jules eyes widened then narrowed at his phone.

“They do but…we just got these there’s no way.” He concluded. He went back to the stove to keep on cooking you willed your spirit to think of anything other than the rancid smell filling the kitchen. It took all your energy to get through the cooking and as soon as Jules was finished, he reached for Emile.

“No!” Emile whispered and wrangled his way into hiding his face and your neck.

“Ah, Emile, let maman be.” Jules said.

“No!” Emile said a bit louder into your neck which made you laugh. Jules mouth opened and he dropped his hands down in disbelief. “My maman.”

“That’s my maman, too.” Jules argued childishly.

“No that’s mine.” Emile turned to peek at his dad sbc when he got a glimpse of Jules still standing, he whipped his head around and sighed, as if Jules was a nuisance to him.

“Okay, fine.” Jules surrendered. “Are you going to be okay?” He asked you.

“Mhm. He’s probably just having one of those days.” You reassured you husband. Jules smiled at you softly and leaned in to kiss you but as if Emile could sense him, he whipped his head up and threw his hand out.

“Oh mon dieu.” Jules groaned, retreating from his spot next to you and went upstairs.

——

One of those days, turned into a week, then two and you were certain that you were losing your mind. You weren’t feeling the best and with Emile practically attached to you as if he was in the womb, you had no time to breathe.

Simply standing in the tunnel waiting for Jules became a game of “will E or won’t E bawl his eyes out if I set him down?” Luckily, for just a few moments, he was out of your arms and on the ground even though his arms were wrapped around your calf. A small win was still a win. You were exhausted and you could not get to the bottom of Emile’s sudden clinginess.

“Oh precious,” an older woman who you were familiar with walked up, leaned down to pinch Emile’s cheeks softly. His amused giggles were truly music to your ears and she seemed very pleased with making him smile. “How are you?” She asked, her accent thick with each word.

“Tired.” You replied with a weak smile. You opened your palm towards your baby boy who was content gripping and releasing your pants leg. It was the most calm he’d been in a while.

She smiled in a way that was so endearingly maternal and sweet that you nearly her to teach you how the hell to get through this. She clasped her hands together in sympathy, smacking her tongue against her teeth.

“Too young to be so tired.” She said with a laugh. Her eyes went down to Emile then back up to your face but not before she took a long look at your abdomen and hips. It wasn’t in an odd way but with a sense of discernment. Just as you were about to ask her to elaborate, Emile broke free from you and happily took to waking aimlessly.

“You’re like a fairy godmother…he hasn’t left me alone for more than five minutes.” You chuckled. Emile skipped and hopped before he bent over, looking up at you through his straddled legs. His eyes were bright, his giggles loud. You watched him with genuine confusion about his sudden independence and the odd way he was moving.

“Oh,” she said with a giggle. “Ah. Kids know, you know?” She smiled.

“Know what?” You tore your gaze away from Emile to look at her. With her facial expression unchanging you looked back at Emile and asked, “Know what?”

“Just a little wives tale…” She trailed off but before she continued on the men started to pour out of the hallway, emerging showered and ready to go home. She kissed you goodbye and waved to Emile who was now promptly back in his favorite place: next to you.

“Hey.” You said to your son and he looked up at you with the most adorable eyes - he was a spitting image of his father. “What is it you know?” You asked as if he was going to miraculously tell you genius information. You sighed and patiently waited for your husband to walk out the door.

——

“Oh…” you said lowly. You blinked slowly at the bathroom counter, refusing to move. Two pink lines reflected on the stick as clear as a full moon.

After Jules fell asleep and Emile, for once, was in his bed, you spent an ungodly amount of time tossing and turning before you gave up and played on your phone. You couldn’t stop thinking about what she said earlier about kids “knowing” and you ended up deep in a subreddit about old wives tales and traditional folklores. It hit you instantly.

“Older generations believed that kids tend to look through their legs while upside down when their mom is expecting or when they are looking for a sibling.”

“What the fuck?!” You whisper shouted and grabbed the test, staring at it as if it would change in your hands. You covered your mouth with one hand, screaming quietly as if truly dawned on you.

You were pregnant.

Again.

The hunger, the restless energy, the smells.

All of it. It was there and Emile knew.

You knew that it wasn’t scientifically possible for him to know, you felt that he truly did. He was latched onto you and so overwhelming because he sensed a different in his mom because he was the one who used to be there - he knew all of you. The thought of Emile’s growth and how he was soon to be a brother, tears welled up in your eyes. You sobbed quietly. First of surprise and then out of joy. The two other test results finally settled, they were all in agreement: pregnant, pregnant, pregnant.

“Why are you up?” Jules asked, slowly cracking the door open. He rubbed his eyes in confusion and walked in with heavy feet. “Are you sick?” He touched your forehead with his palm as if your were a kid and it made you laugh. “Are you crying? Why’re you crying?” He opened his eyes and scanned you for an injury.

“Look.”

“What am I looking at it? It’s 2 in the morning.” He said and turned in a circled, trying to find the culprit behind your emotional distress.

“Jules, look.” You grabbed his shoulders and turned him square to the counter to look at the other two test and then presented the one in your grip in front of him with shaky hands. “I’m pregnant.”

“Oh…” Jules said, his voice cracking. His chest was rising and falling at an increased pace and he leaned in close to see the results.

“Babe…I’m pregnant.”

Jules gasped and crushed you in a hug before immediately apologizing. His hands fell to your bloated stomach - which you knew now not to be a consequence of your eating habits. He was as stunned, if not more than you. Jules held you in his arms gently this time and pressed kisses on your head. You continued to cry, unable to fathom the change that was coming.

You were so excited about the baby considering the birth control you were so adamant about getting on. Now you knew that it truly only worked 99.9% of the time.

——

“Say good morning.” Jules said gently and quietly, placing Emile onto the bed. Emile whispered a little good morning in French before he climbed onto you. He sprawled onto you, his legs dangling on either side of your waist with his head on your chest. You couldn’t believe this was your life.

Jules smiled at you knowingly and leaned in to give you a good morning kiss but Emile wasn’t having any of it. His voice wasn’t loud but it was aggressive and it sent you into a fit of laughter.

“No, papa!”