his girls - christian pulisic
summary: pregnancy is doing everything it can to make Y/N's life miserable, but with Christian's help, it's a little more bearable
pairing: Christian Pulisic x pregnant!reader
warning/tags: pure, unadulterated fluff, pregnancy, descriptions of vomiting
notes: there will be a part two to this one because there was more to this request than I could fit in here! plus, that video after the USMNT game on Monday has me (and everyone else) feeling broody, so I figured I should finish this fic! As always, requests are open, and let me know what you think! <3
(also, this picture has me so soft for him)
All your life, you heard women describing pregnancy as the miracle of life. A wonderful time, when you felt more connected and bonded to your baby than any other point in your life. A time where your body prepared for all of the blessings of motherhood as you baby grew and developed within you.
What no one prepared you for was everything else that came with it.
The morning sickness, the back pain, the mood swings, the sleepless nights—you seemed to have gotten the worst of all of these things.
In the early hours of the morning, the sun not yet peeking over the horizon outside of your home, you found yourself sitting miserably in front of the toilet. The nauseous feeling seemed to infect every part of you, your head swimming, your stomach churning. You felt as if the slightest movement of your head or arms would send you hurling in that particular moment. Your elbow rested on the toilet seat, forehead in your hand. Your eyes remained closed as you tried to breathe deeply through your nose, willing the nausea to pass.
“You didn’t wake me up,” you heard Christian whisper from beside you. You had been so distracted by the sick feeling in your stomach that you hadn’t heard the opening and closing of the bathroom door. You blinked your eyes open slowly to see him sitting on the floor beside you. His eyes were soft, and you could tell he was worried for you, despite this becoming a routine for you throughout your pregnancy thus far.
“It’s so early, and you have training later,” you tried to justify yourself. In your defense, you had also rushed out of bed pretty quickly, only having a few moments warning yourself.
His lips turned downward in a slight frown. “I want to help you, though. If I can’t take away the morning sickness, the least I can do is sit here with you.” He reaches out, placing a hand on your bare thigh, stroking his thumb over the exposed skin. His presence was already beginning to calm you. Your heart, that had been racing before he arrived at your side, now felt like it was finally slowing.
“I know,” you sighed, casting your eyes downward.
Christian had been nothing short of perfect throughout the last five months. He would do anything and everything for you, from grabbing something in another room so that you didn’t have to get up, to frequent massages to relieve your tense muscles. And he never complained about it once.
You knew he felt guilty for everything you were going through. You wouldn’t dare, even in the midst of a particularly bad bout of morning sickness, point an accusatory finger toward him, muttering that “you did this to me” as you so often heard about other pregnant mothers doing. Christian frequently expressed to you that he wished he could share the burden, seeing as you had made this baby together. But since that wasn’t possible, he made it his mission to help you be as comfortable as possible.
You ran a hand over your slightly round belly, sighing as you switched to lay your arm on the edge of the toilet seat and laid your head on your forearm so that you were looking down at the bathroom floor.
You were wearing one of Christian’s shirts—you had quickly gotten to the point where your own no longer fit after you had begun showing. Plus, you knew Christian’s heart swelled with pride each time he saw you, carrying his child and wearing his clothes. The longer your pregnancy went on, the more items of his clothing you would steal. It had started with T-shirts, progressing to his shorts and sweatpants, until the two of you were sharing much of his casual wardrobe.
“Did you get much sleep last night?” Christian asked softly. You only responded by shaking your head ‘no’ while it remained resting on your arm, closing your eyes as another wave of nausea began to build up. “Kicking too much?” You nodded, and Christian squeezed the hand that was on your thigh gently.
The nausea washed over you again, and you quickly raised up onto your knees, leaning over the toilet as you spilled the remaining contents of your stomach into the bowl. You immediately felt Christian’s hands gathering your hair into a ponytail, pulling the strands out of your face. He held the ponytail with one hand and slipped the other under the bottom of your shirt, using his fingers to rub your lower back, applying light pressure there.
Once the nausea had passed, you sat back on your feet and wiped your mouth with the toilet paper that Christian handed you. The morning sickness seemed to have drained you of any energy you had left, and you slumped over into his side, resting your head on his bare shoulder as he wrapped his arms securely around you. He placed a kiss on the top of your head, and the two of you sat there in silence for a few moments, with his hands slowly running up and down your arm.
Christian broke the silence several minutes later, whispering a short, “you okay for a minute?” and once you had nodded, he briefly let your side, returning with a bottle of cold water and a couple pieces of buttered toast. He handed them to you, sitting on the edge of the bathtub next to you while you ate the toast, holding the cold bottle against your cheek before taking a couple sips from it.
After you finished, you were feeling considerably better, so you decided to go back to bed before Christian had to leave for training. The light of the sunrise had just begun peeking through between shutters over your bedroom window, casting the room in a slight orange glow.
You and Christian crawled back under the covers, and he pulled you to his chest, lying on his side so he could use his hand to trail slow lines up and down your spine under your shirt. You sighed in content, tucking your face into his warm neck and pressing a kiss to his collarbone as a show of thanks for everything he was doing for you.
You were beginning to drift off when you felt a sharp pain in your belly, feeling your baby’s foot pressing against the surface. You groaned, being drawn from the sleepy state you were just slipping into. Due to your position against him, Christian felt the press of the baby’s foot softly against his own stomach.
“She really won’t give you a break this morning, will she?” he asked with a short chuckle. You pulled your head from his chest, pouting at his amusement. He reacted by placing a gentle kiss to your lips, a wide grin spreading across his cheeks. “Just think: a few months from now, she’ll be here, in our arms, and all of this will be totally worth it.”
“It doesn’t feel worth it right now,” you grumbled, nuzzling your face back into his neck to hide away like a grumpy child.
“I know, baby. I know,” Christian was unable to wipe the smile from his face at the thought of your little family of three coming home from the hospital in just a short while, a mix of both excitement and nervousness running through his body at the idea.
He slipped his hand from your back, resting his palm over your belly and rubbing it in circles to try to soothe your little baby with soft whispers.
It felt like mere moments before Christian’s alarm was going off for him to get out of bed, startling you out of sleep. He kissed your forehead, shuffling out of the bed while trying to disturb you as little as possible. After spending a few minutes in the bathroom, he emerged, collecting his things from the closet. He pranced to your side of the bed, sneakers in hand, and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek before he left to head to training for the day.
Your day following Christian’s departure proved to be fairly uneventful—something you were thankful for after a long, sleepless night and a rough morning in the bathroom. Once you finally emerged from the blanket cocoon you wrapped yourself in after Christian wasn’t there to keep you warm, you maneuvered through the house, feeling well enough to catch up on a few chores and things you hadn’t been able to do over the last couple of days.
Your productive afternoon was briefly interrupted by a short nap on the couch, something you found yourself doing more and more as your pregnancy wore on. The task of growing a child seemed to zap you of your energy if you tried to do too much on one single day.
In the early evening, you found yourself tidying up the kitchen—washing and putting away the few dishes that had accumulated and clearing the countertops of various items that had been left behind while music played softly from your phone.
As you were bent slightly over the counter, wiping it down with a cloth, you felt two strong hands slipping around your waist, causing you to jolt in surprise, a soft gasp escaping from your lips.
“Sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Christian spoke softly, pulling your body back into his chest. With his arms wrapped around you firmly, you melted into his embrace, leaning into his warm body.
“ ‘s okay,” you mumbled, letting your head fall back onto his shoulder. Instantly, you felt at ease in his embrace.
“How are my girls?” he pressed a kiss to the side of your head and warmth flooded over you at his words.
“We’re good. Better than this morning,” you smiled at him, and short laugh escaped his lips.
For a moment, he just stared down at your face, laying on his shoulder. He tried to study your features, committing them to memory. He swore every day that the sight of you that he came home to every night was the most heavenly thing he’d ever seen. You were wearing one of his T-shirts and a pair of his sweats—ones that he knew, without even checking, that you had rolled the waistband up so that they wouldn’t be falling past your ankles.
A slow song was playing on your phone that you had left sitting on the countertop as you had been cleaning, and Christian began swaying side to side, slowly dancing to the music. One of his hands smoothed over your belly, thumb rubbing soothing circles through the thin material of the large T-shirt you were wearing.
Your eyes remained closed as you took in the moment: the gentle tones of the song ringing out into the evening air, Christian’s warm body holding you securely, a hand resting over the bump that held the growing baby you had made together.
You felt completely and totally at peace, swaying there in his arms.
A soft smile played over your lips, one that Christian noticed and wished he could snap a photo of to save forever.
As the song that was playing came to an end, he pressed his nose into your cheek before placing a soft kiss there. “As much as I would love to do this all night,” he whispered, trying not to startle you from the peaceful moment. “I brought home your favorite, and I don’t want it to get cold.”
Your head snapped up quickly, turning to look at the countertop. Just as he had said, there was a large, brown, paper bag sitting there, with the logo of your favorite local restaurant adorning the side. You immediately knew what the contents of the bag would be, as Christian had made it his personal mission to know all of your orders.
You turned back to look at him, hormones getting the best of you as you felt your eyes moisten. “Christian, you didn’t,” you whispered.
“Babe, it’s just dinner,” he beamed at you, knowing that it still meant the world to you. Little day-to-day gestures in relationships were massively important to you, and Christian knew that.
You hugged his torso tightly, pressing your face into his firm chest, whispering a soft “thank you.”
That warm feeling didn’t leave you for the rest of the night. You felt overcome with gratitude, not knowing what you had done to deserve the life you had.
Later in the evening, you found yourself sitting up in bed, leaning against the headboard. You were playing with your rings, running your finger over the wedding band as you stared at it, lost in thought.
“Thinking about taking it all back?” Christian chuckled, crawling into the bed next to you.
“Never,” you smiled at him. He came to sit beside you and leaned across your body gently, resting his hand on the other side of the mattress next to your waist to support himself as he looked at you.
“Good, because you’re stuck with me.” He leaned forward to kiss you, pressing his lips to yours slowly and sweetly, letting it linger for a moment. “Forever.” He nudged your nose with his, forcing a giggle from your lips.
“How did you feel the rest of today?” he asked, bringing his free hand up to your face to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. After your bout of morning sickness, worry for you had remained in the back of his mind the entire afternoon until he was able to come home and wrap you in his arms.
“I honestly felt okay today. I was able to get a lot of chores and cleaning done, so it was a good day.”
A satisfied smile took over his features as he looked over your face for a moment more. Then he shifted, pressing a kiss quickly to your nose before he shuffled down the bed, laying on top of your outstretched legs. He rests one of his arms across your thighs and sets his chin on his forearm. He lifts the hem of your shirt, raising it so that your bump is exposed. Christian poked your belly button, which he had loving dubbed “the microphone” and would talk to your baby through.
He swore up and down that she could hear him better when he used the “microphone,” which always caused you to roll your eyes at his antics. Secretly, he did it because he knew it would always get you to laugh.
“Hey, there, baby girl,” he cooed to your belly. A soft gasp escaped your lips as you felt a limb press into your stomach from inside. You saw the slight distention in your belly as a hand or foot pressed into the surface, reacting to her daddy’s voice. Christian beamed with pride and rested a hand over the same spot, hoping to feel the baby’s movement. “You gave mommy a pretty rough time last night, didn’t you? I need you to give her a break tonight, okay? Let her rest a little bit.”
He glanced up at you with an amused look, and you could see a twinkle in his eye. His eyes became a little teary as he placed a soft kiss to the surface of your belly. “We already can’t wait to meet you, baby girl,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your stomach.
Christian was going to be an incredible father—you already knew it. She hadn’t even arrived yet, and already Christian loved his little girl so fiercely and completely. You could see it, years from now, how he would do anything for his daughter. Whether it be tea parties and princess dresses or football and rough-housing in the backyard, he would be there for every moment. He would do anything for her and would protect her until his last breath.
You had to wipe a tear that slipped down your cheek at the thought, not wanting to ruin the perfect moment before you.
Moments like these reassured you of why you had never once doubted the man before you—the man you chose to marry, the man who would now be the father of your child. You already couldn’t wait to start your journey as parents, as a small family of three. It would be a hard road, sure, but it would be a road you could take with the support of Christian at your side, and there was nothing you could possibly want more.
tag list:
@masonspulisic @chelseagirl98 @thoseboysinblue
