the size of baby kent II - roy kent x reader
warnings; pregnancy (dur), giving birth, smut, roy is over protective as hell
part one; finding out + first half of pregnancy part two; second half of pregnancy + birth of baby kent part three; the first few months of baby kent's life
the size of a cantaloupe
"Will you rub my feet?" you ask, wiggling your toes on Roy's lap.
He looks up from his book, ready to say no because he's reading about what to pack in your hospital bag and he's stressed out about getting that together sooner rather than later, but he sees your pout, and looks down at your swollen ankles, and can't bring himself to deny you.
Setting the book aside, he pulls your sore foot into his hand, rubbing the soles gently, working out the muscles like he'd trained for it.
You settle deeper into the couch, watching the romcom you'd put on, and Roy just works away, looking between what he's doing and you, noticing the way your shoulders relax, and how you seem more comfortable.
"Do they hurt?"
"Yeah," you sigh, "pretty much all the time."
"I'm proud of you," he says, smiling, "doing some good work here, baby. Growing our little one, I know it hasn't been easy."
"You big softie," you coo, wiggling your toes at him. He laughs, pushing against the muscle, not hard enough to hurt you but enough to make you kick out of his hold. "Be nice!"
"I stopped what I was doing to rub your grubby little toes," he laughs, running a hand up your thigh. "You know what will really make you feel better?"
"Let me guess..." you laugh as he tugs your arm, bringing you up to sit on his lap, and you feel how hard he is through his boxers. "My feet get you that hard?"
He groans, "No, I was just thinking about how the last time we had sex on this couch I got you pregnant."
"Wanna show me how you did that?"
"My pleasure," he grunts, pulling your face down for a kiss.
His lips move against yours like he's been waiting for this all night, his tongue moves against your lip and you moan, more easily turned on in your condition.
"No teasing," you mumble, "want you in me now."
"Don't worry baby," Roy said, shuffling his boxers down to his knees, and pushing your big t-shirt out of the way. He doesn't bother taking off your panties, just moves them to the side as he lines himself up, fucking himself up into you.
You both moan as you're fully sat on him, wet and warm and tight against him. "Give you everything you want baby," he coos, holding your face in one hand and your hip in the other, helping you rock softly against him. "Just ask and it's yours."
You hover a little, letting Roy do the work of fucking you, and his hand creeps from your hip to your clit, rubbing gentle circles around the sensitive bud.
"Feels so good," you moan, "always make me feel so good."
"Show me," he orders, "show me how good, cum on my lap, yeah? Let me feel it." He kisses all over your face as he talks to you, your own features scrunched up in pleasure. "C'mon baby, show me how good and I'll show you how good."
He presses a little harder on your clit, and it's enough to snap that rubber band of pleasure in your core, and you're clenching up around him, encourage him to coat your walls with his own release.
Roy continues placing kisses over your face, as you slouch against him, his cock slowly softening inside you.
"C'mon, darling, let's go shower. I'll hold the baby up while you enjoy the water."
"You're the best man alive."
the size of an acorn squash
"Okay, mum, how are you feeling?" the doctor asks, looking at your chart as she walks into the room.
You weren't quite due for an appointment yet, but Roy had gotten really worried about the back pain you've been having, it was stopping you from sleeping. So here you were, back on the table, talking to Dr. Lalani.
Roy is beside you, tired but loving as he sweeps his thumb back and forth across your forehead, his other hand holding yours firmly.
"Tired, we're both tired," you say, "I can't sleep and Roy doesn't like falling asleep when I can't."
"Insomnia is common at this stage, and not cause for concern, I know it's hard, but this where you start napping whenever you can, if you're comfortable on the couch, sleep. And you, dad, I know it sucks but you also need to sleep," the doctor puts the chart down, and washes her hands while the ultrasound technician starts up the machines. "I know you wanted to talk about some pain in your back, let's look at that and we'll circle back to sleeping, see if the two aren't related."
You explain the pain, you talk about the pressure, and the anxiety of being a new mom, and the doctor and Roy are both listening so intently.
The ultrasound tech starts looking at the baby while you talk, and you find comfort in seeing your little one moving around.
"I don't think we're experiencing anything that threatens you or the baby," the doctor says, looking at the screen and feeling your stomach. "Baby is looking good, resting where they should be. For the next week I'd like to you try a light yoga routine a few times a day, it's very gentle, I hope that will give some relief for the pain, and it may even help you sleep."
"We'll do it together," Roy says to you, squeezing your hand tight three times.
"Good lad," Dr. Lalani says, looking up at the screen. "Now, for some fun news... would you like to know the sex of the baby?"
You look at Roy, who's nodding slightly, but as always, he's giving you the final say.
"Yes, we would."
"Congratulations, looks like you're going to have a little boy."
And Roy's crying before you even have a chance to process the news. His hands stay on you as the doctor wishes you well and leaves, telling you to book an appointment for a week from now if the yoga doesn't help. The technician cleans you up, hands you a few print outs of the ultrasound, and leaves you to get changed.
Roy's tears are running freely down his face, but he doesn't feel embarrassed, or shameful, this is the best time of his fucking life. Football glory is nothing compared to this. He helps you off the table, and step into your pants, where he pulls them up for you.
"I want to put one of these on my desk," he says, admiring the blurry picture, as you shimmy into your shirt. "I want to see this little fella every chance I get."
"Awh, love," you coo, putting a gentle hand on his cheek, thumbing away the tears.
"A little boy," he mumbles, nuzzling into your palm, "I fucking knew it."
the size of a head of lettuce
"Easy darling, just like that, push your bum out a bit.... there you go, how's that feel?"
You grunt, the easy yoga pose seems harder than it should be, but it's been helping with the aches, and you've been sleeping longer hours since you started, so there was no going back now, tyrant Roy wouldn't let you stop something that's clearly beneficial for you and the baby.
"One more pose, okay? One big back stretch and then I'll make you some french toast before I go, okay?"
Bribing you with french toast was a dirty move, but effective, as you stretch out as much as you can, holding it as Roy counts.
"Now doesn't that feel better?"
You won't look at him, which makes Roy laugh, because yes it does feel better.
As he starts on your toast, you watch him from the counter, chin in your hands as you admire him working away on your breakfast. It's easy to appreciate him, and all he does, especially when he's shirtless, making you food, and just generally taking care of you, and shirtless.
"You're handsome," you coo, "always takin' care of us."
"Well you're doing all the hard stuff, love," he says, leaving the toast to cook for a second while he comes around the counter to pull you into his arms. He kisses you on the forehead, and puts an affection hand over the baby. "And you're doing so well at it."
"Stop it, I was trying to compliment you," you whine, "you've built that lovely nursery, you cook and clean more than I do, and I just work from my computer, you actually go and train the boys all day. You're working so hard."
He smiles, kissing you on the forehead again. "I would do anything for you, both of you. So get used to it because this is what the rest of your life looks like."
He returns to the stove, but turns after a moment. "Well, couple months after the baby's born maybe we can split the cleanin' fifty-fifty again." You just hum in reply, both of you know damn well you'd be doing more now if Roy would let you.
When Roy brings two plates of food over, you're happily digging in, while he seems zoned out.
"Y'okay?" you mumbled, taking another huge bit of food.
"Season starts soon, I just... I don't want to be busy." Roy sighs, pushing some food around on his plate. "I want to be a good dad, I want to be here," he says.
"Baby," you reach out to him, taking his hand in yours. "You're going to be a great father, you already are. You take care of the little guy every chance you get." You give him a reassuring squeeze, and he's looking at you. His eyes hazy with anxiety, but he's listening, waiting for you to go on. "And we're going to do it together. I'll be right by your side every step of the way. All you have to do to be great is care, and you've got that down, my love."
He nods, closing his eyes to let your words sink in. "I love you," he says, bringing your hand up to his mouth to lay a few gentle kisses on the knuckle. "Being with you has been the greatest honour of my life. And the baby, I can't wait to meet him, I hope he's just like you."
"He'll be like us both," you say, smiling. "I've been thinking we need a name for him, I want to start calling him other than little turnip."
"Any ideas?"
"What about Jamie?"
Roy laughs, "shut the fuck up."
"What about Grant?"
He says the name out loud a couple of times, you laugh as he tries is in different tones, as if seeing how it tastes. Roy leans close to your stomach, resting his eye against the bump, holding you by your hips. "Are you a Grant, baby?"
the size of a cauliflower
Tossing and turning, whimpering, you accidentally wake up Roy. He grumbles, trying to wake up, rubbing his eyes, but when he notices your distress, his eyes snap open, and he's gently shaking you awake. Seems like a fucking crime, to wake up you after you've had the hardest time sleeping. But he's worried something's happening.
"Baby, c'mon, you're all right darling," he's cooing, moving his hands up and down your arm as you jolt awake, struggling to take in your surroundings.
You can't help the emotions flowing through you, and you're bursting into tears, letting Roy wrap you in his arms. He's talking to you so sweetly, whispering kind, loving things into your ear, letting you cry away some of the whatever had happened in your sleep.
"What's goin' on, darling? Hm? What happened?"
"What if he doesn't like me?" you whimper, tucking your head into Roy's chest.
"Oh baby," he muses, not needing to ask anymore to know what's happening, and he planted a kiss on your head, "there isn't a world where Grant comes out and doesn't love you more than anyone else. The way you take care of him? Reading to him, high fiving all his little kicks," he never stops rubbing your arms, "He already loves you. There is no one in the world you doesn't fall in love with you the moment they meet you."
"Do you really think that?"
"Do I think that... darling, I spent the first half of our relationship beating off the team."
"You were beating off the team while we were dating?"
"Oh, fucking come off it, beating away the team... I meant, oh you know what I meant, they were all trying to steal you from me. Until I set 'em all straight. Told them the next one to hit on you, even playfully, had to do 20 pushes. The one after that, 40. They didn't learn 'til 120 and their little arms started givin' out."
"But Grant isn't going to be like that, it's different. What if I'm a bad mum," your voice catches in your throat, "what if he can't wait to get away from me."
"Darlin' listen to me," Roy says in a tone that's firm and grounding, breaking you out of the slight panic you were in, "he will love you, because you will love him. You keep him safe, you've been keeping him safe for months and he'll know that. He'll know you're his mum and no one will ever love him more than you do."
"D'you think?"
"Yes darling, I think that. There isn't a person alive who I think is more fit to be a mum than you." Roy kisses against your forehead and holds you close in his arms.
He looks at the clock, he's supposed to be up in two hours for training with Jamie, but he won't take the comfort away from you. Wouldn't dream of leaving you alone to catch some more sleep. He could be tired at training, the season would be starting soon, and he was so worried about this happening when he's away. What will he do? Stay behind? Should he take a step back this season? He didn't know what to do. Didn't know how to protect you from feeling alone.
"I'm sorry I woke you up," you say. Roy looks down at you shocked, and considers you may be able to read his mind.
"No, don't ever be sorry for that. You wake me up for anything, wake me up for a cup of water, I don't mind. I'm here for you."
"I love you, Roy." You snuggle deeper into him, you let his warmth spread comfort throughout your body, you let him into your mind and soul to bring you back down. "There's no one in the world more fit to be a dad than you."
"I barely had one," he whispers, "dunno what I'm doing."
"Just do what you've been doing with Pheebs, s'no different," you murmur, "just have to love 'em and teach 'em and keep 'em safe..."
"Stop trying to comfort me and go back to sleep," he whispers into your hair, smiling against you, "my lovely girl."
the size of a bunch of broccoli
"Keeley, I love you but I am perfectly capable of walking down the steps on my own," you say, hand held tightly in hers as she guides you down the steps of the stadium.
"I know that," she defends, sneaking a look down at Roy, who's staring at the two of you, arms crossed, turned fully away from the play the boys are practicing, "but look at the way he's lookin' at us, s'fucking scary. He's like a predator tracking your every movement." Keeley shudders. "That baby is gunna be the most protected baby the country's ever seen. That includes the royal babies."
"He's a bit protective," you laugh, finally reaching the end of the world's longest staircase, or that's how it feels anyway. And Keeley lets you go, but keeps leading you through the hallways.
"Oi, baby mamma!" Jamie shouts, jogging up to you, wide smile on his face. "I'd hug ya but Roy'd probably come side tackle me before I could grab ye."
You laugh, "hey Jamie, how's pre-season treating you?"
"Ah, s'alright," Jamie smiles, walking alongside you and Keeley, "how's the baby building?"
"S'alright," you mimic, "I'm working on his eyelids now."
"Gross," Jamie laughs, "he just in there with no eyelids?"
"He doesn't just form all at once," Keeley laughs, "it's bit by bit."
"Well, finishing building the lil guy already, I want to meet 'im."
"Only nine weeks to go," you say, running a hand over the bump affectionately. "Feels like it's been years he's been in there, I don't even remember what it's like to not have Grant weighing me down."
The three of you make it to Roy's office, where you flop unceremoniously into the comfy chair Roy had brought into the office, just for you, in case you wanted to visit, he couldn't let you sit in some stiff office chair.
"There's my favourite girl!" Ted Lasso said, "Oh my, don't you look beautiful, honey. Just the bee knees, could I have the honour of touching the baby?" Ted's smile makes you smile, he's just so genuine.
"Of course, Ted. Rub the belly for luck for tomorrow's game."
"Don't mind if I do," he said, kneeling down beside you, "oh! He's kicking for me! Might have to sign him to the team, feels like a good strong kick!"
"If he's anything like his daddy, he'll play." You laugh as you feel him kick harder, like he's trying to say something. "He likes you. Might even like you more than Keeley, if that's possible."
"Hey! That's my little turnip," Keeley says, pouting. "I'm number three in his life, don't you forget it. You, Roy, and then me."
"Well it's good to know I won't be short on babysitters," you laugh, Ted raises to a stand, rubbing his hands together as if he's spreading the good luck like lotion.
"Definitely not, it's important for new parents to have time to themselves, even if it's just the length of a walk around the block," Ted says, "and I do love walkin' around the block."
"No one's takin' Grant anywhere," Roy says, pushing passed Jamie and coming to your side, kissing your cheek in greeting then rubbing a hand over your belly to greet his son. "He stays with me."
"Clingy," you say, taking on of his hands into yours, "it takes a load of my shoulders to not have to be the worried one, thanks for covering me babe." You joke and Roy just grunts in response, squeezing your hand twice quickly. Your eyes closed in a wince, trying to take a full breath but Grant is blocking your way. "I think he's tryna break out the way he's kickin' me love, I may have to go home soon instead of grab lunch with you. I think he's sitting right on my lung."
"Why don't I take you home and Jamie will bring us some kebabs and we can eat at home, huh? We can have lunch on the couch," he said.
"I'm not an uber driver," Jamie scoffed, crossing his arms, but whined when Keeley elbowed him. "Obviously I'm gunna do it! But a please would've been nice."
Roy looked at him for a moment, then looked at you wincing, then rolled his eyes. "Please."
"You make him a better man," Jamie says, bowing playfully, laughing when Keeley elbows him again. "C'mon Keels, you come with and order for everyone."
"Thanks guys, you don't have to go out of your way just for me," you say, blushing under the attention, it comes with being pregnant, you know, but there's also a guilt to it. You're not feeling great so the plan changes.
"Yes, we do, don't be silly," Keeley said, smiling in her kind, authentic way, waving your worries away, "we wanted to see you, no one cares where that is, babes."
"Just appreciate it, darlin'," Ted says, clapping your shoulder gently, like a father would, "it's your village, simple as that."
the size of a butternut squash
"Not today, right buddy?" you ask your stomach, keeled over on the couch, trying to shuffle your way into comfort. "S'too early, baby."
You'd left bed, the soft mattress was unreasonably annoying when Roy wasn't in it, and found yourself on the couch. He had an away game yesterday, and something about him being away made the braxton hicks contractions ten times worse. Maybe Grant was upset about his dad being gone, maybe you were stressed about it. Whatever it was, it'd kept you up most of the night, and now you were watching the sunrise.
Roy would be back sometime today, but it felt unbearable. It was too early to call him, although you can hear his voice in your head saying, call me baby, call me for anything, anytime.
Grant kicks again, another contraction you don't believe.
You call him.
He picks up on the first ring.
"You okay, baby? S'happening? Why aren't you asleep?" All his questions come out rush and slurred, his morning voice a raspy, panicked mess.
You're crying, you hadn't even realized until you couldn't answer.
"Hey, hey, it's okay, m'right here, can you hear me?" You hear shuffling, you picture Roy sitting on the edge of the bed, looking for his shirt, ready to run home if he has to. "Darling, please."
"Sorry," you creek out, harder than necessary to get the words out. "I couldn't sleep."
"S'okay baby, I'll be home in uh," Roy checks the clock on the bedside table, "eight hours give or take, okay? I'll see if I can wrangle them up early and head to..."
"No," you interrupt, "you can't do that. I can't come before the team."
"You will always come before the team," he says, firmly, unapologetically. "You and Grant come before anyone." Roy thinks for a moment. "And Pheebs and her mum of course, all four of ya are tied for first."
You laugh, the fake contractions subside.
"I keep scaring you," you sigh, "I don't mean to."
"Stop feeling guilty," Roy says, you hear him typing on his phone, you must be on speaker. "I'm your guy, it's my job to worry about you and love you." Something dings on his phone. "I'm catching a plane in two hours, I'll be home in four, okay? Try to take a nap and I'll be home by the time you wake up."
"Roy," you start, but he shushes you. It's soft and loving and tender.
"Don't say a thing baby, I always should've had a plane home booked." He begins packing, you hear him throwing his few things in his bag. "You put on Muppets from Space and take a nap on the couch, I'll be home to wake you up, okay?"
"Thanks baby," you sigh, settling into the couch.
Grant stops kicking.
He just wanted his daddy to come home.
"Anything for you baby, anything for him."
the size of a pineapple
The season was going well so far. You tried to come to as many games as possible, but Roy hated you being around all the commotion. The excitement seemed to negatively effect your anxiety, which was already worsened by the hormones, and Roy couldn't focus on you while the game was in full swing.
But he also knew he was just being overprotective, he knew it was something to work on. He lied to himself over and over, promised himself it would be different once Grant was born.
Picturing that bundle in his arms, just six weeks away, maybe less... there was just no way he would relax like that. How could he? His little baby.
Roy stood on his side of the pitch, Ted and Beard on either side of him. Jamie was playing better than ever, Isaac was blocking every shot on him. It should've been exciting, it should've been fun.
But he couldn't stop glancing up at the owner's box, couldn't stop checking on you to see if you were alright.
The pregnancy had gotten rough now, back pain was winning the fight, your joints hurt all the time, you had to start maternity leave early. Roy didn't want you to go back to work once Grant was here, you'd been arguing about it off and on, but Roy was convinced he'd win the fight. You were too honestly, but stubborn about it.
Roy took another deep breath, missing the action and keeping his eyes on you.
"She's okay, you know," Beard whispered, "Rebecca's right by her side."
"Yeah, but Rebecca's not me," Roy grunted, "so it's not fucking good enough."
Roy flinched when he saw you grab your stomach. Why weren't you sitting? Your poor knees. He wanted to take it all away, wanted you to feel no pain at all and him to feel it for you.
He sighs in relief when you take a seat. And when the Greyhounds win the game, he's already off the pitch, making his way to you, like he always will.
the size of a papaya
Roy is doing his final walkthrough of the nursery, he's making sure everything is stable. He pokes and prods at shelves to make sure they're safe, as if the baby is going to be hanging off of them when you guys come home.
The go bags are by the door, baby seat is secured in the backseat of the car, and Roy is refusing to go to any and all away games, in fear that labour will start without him, so he instead is there via zoom, watching a blurry screen that Beard holds surprisingly steady.
He keeps you close at all times, and when he can't, he's constantly texting you.
"I think everything is good love," he says, wiggling the side of the crib again. "We should get you to the couch, c'mon."
"I'm fine, Roy, seriously. I've been sat all day."
"But your ankles are so swollen, let's go sit together, we can cuddle before the match starts."
You want to be annoyed, you do. But it's all because he cares, he cares so much that he just wants to make sure you and the baby are safe. Every single Monday he loads you into the car, takes you to the doctor, then gets you a chocolate croissant from that bakery you like. Every Tuesday he washes your hair for you. Everyday he cooks. Everyday he cleans. He's just been so supportive and so protective.
He's going to be the best father.
So you let him lead you to the couch. You lean into his side, and his hand fans out over your stomach.
You wouldn't dare wish time away, but you do wish your baby was here already.
the size of a mini watermelon
Grant Theodore Kent is ready to come out of hiding right in the middle of a home game.
You try to keep him in there, partially out of anxiety, partially out of respect for the football match - one that you were meant to be at. But your contractions get too close together, and it's time to go to the hospital. Roy has the hospital bags in the trunk of the minivan already, safely stowed during any and all time he was away from the house so he could deliver them if need be.
His phone was either dead or on do not disturb, either way, you couldn't get through. He would be devastated if he missed the birth, he would never forgive himself and you know it.
You call his sister first, who luckily is off today and is currently rushing to get to you.
And then you call Rebecca, who doesn't answer. Then Keeley.
It must be an exciting match because no one is checking their phones.
Roy's sister barges into your house, and finds you on the couch, sweating and holding onto your bump, legs soaked and hair matted to your forehead.
You call Rebecca again from the car, and she yells over the noise, but can barely hear you.
A contraction silences you, and Roy's sister screams 'send him to hospital now!!' and the line cuts out. You pray that she heard that, but it was time to focus on Grant now.
Roy feels off.
Something is off.
He noticed you weren't up in the box earlier, but you hadn't called; so he figured you were just too tired to come to the game. But something feels... wrong. He looks up and Rebecca is pointing at her phone, waving her arms, and he sees Higgins running down the steps into the stadium, presumably to come out to the pitch.
Roy looks at his phone, and it's dead.
And he knows what's wrong.
Ignoring any and all pain in his knee, he's running faster than he has in years. He turns around, says nothing to anyone, and is sprinting as fast as possible through the halls, leaving everything he owns behind. None of it matters, nothing matters - the only thing on Earth that has ever mattered at all is getting to the hospital and not missing the birth of his little boy.
He feels sick as he's driving, he's nervous, and excited, and scared, and happy, and there's tears in his eyes, so he's speeding, but he's being careful.
Grant was coming. Grant would be here today.
And Roy was not going to miss it.
He parks crooked in the lot, and is running into hospital, sprinting as fast as he could to the front desk, shouting your name before he even got there. Doesn't say thank you when the receptionist gives him a room number, just takes off running again, ignoring the shouts for him to slow down.
He can hear you screaming as he gets closer, and both winces and rejoices, knowing it wasn't over and he hasn't missed it.
"Just in time dad," the doctor said, nurses handing Roy gloves and apparel to put on.
He comes to you first, checks on you first. His sister happily taking a backseat to everything.
"Hi love," he says, pushing wet hair off your forehead, "I'm sorry I'm late."
"I'm glad you're here," you cry, half pain and half relief. "It's happening."
"It's happening," he repeats.
He leans down to kiss your forehead. And holds your hand in his, letting you squeeze as tight as you need. He wouldn't mind if you broke his hand, it's the least he could do.
And it began. He let you cuss him out, scream, blame him, let you damn near break his fingers, and he only returned with praises, and thank yous, and nonstop words of encouragement. He was solid, he was steady. He was a brick wall to lean on after a ten mile hike.
When Grant comes into the world, there's not a dry eye in sight - save for maybe the medical staff.
Roy is sobbing, his baby being the most beautiful thing he's ever seen in his fucking life. He takes his place by the doctor, cuts the cord, and the nurse takes him to clean him up for a moment, and Roy's back on you. Crying and kissing you, and you're crying, asking for Grant, smiling through tears when the nurse put the crying bundle in your arms.
Roy has a hand on each of you, one on your head, and one on the bottom of the bundle, protecting his family, always watching out for the two of you. His sister takes a few photos of the moment, then slips out to call Keeley, and let her know everything went perfectly. And go collect Pheebs from the nieghbour.
When Roy finally checks his phone a few hours larer, he sees a game report from Ted, and can't help but laugh.
"We won the match," Roy says, "Grant was born at the same time that Jamie scored a winning goal. Fuckin' figure that." Roy laughs, a bright booming smile over his features as his kisses you, then kisses Grant. "He's never gunna fucking let that go."
