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[manvannearyou]

[fromthedeskofelizabeththird]

Habanero

You're a good girl, well behaved.

Absolutely not the type to rail random guys in nightclubs.

Until you are.

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Polyamorous Erasermic x Reader

Rating: Some references to explicitness towards the end

Trigger Warnings: None in this chapter.

AO3: Here | Want to support me? I have a Kofi

Chapter: 16/16 (all chapters)

You were proud of your home.

You had painted the walls yourself, built cupboards and shelves and painted those too. You’d crocheted your own throw blanket and stuffed every single cushion you owned.

You had made room in one corner for a moses basket and built a wine rack for when you had adult guests over.

It was warm and cosy and you often found yourself dozing off on the couch.

Today, in fact, was such an occasion. You opened your eyes to soft light, snuggled up in the same position as when you returned from work. You had taken off your coat and shoes and set aside your purse, meaning to take a couple of minutes before getting up to make dinner.

Clearly, that had not gone according to plan. You sat up with a wince and rubbed the spots of your back that had grown stiff. How long had you been asleep?

You moved to get up from the chair but that was easier said than done. You were, after all, extremely pregnant and even if your center of gravity wasn’t completely displaced, navigating your swollen belly was getting increasingly difficult.

This was your last week at work before you left for maternity leave and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t glad. Your nesting instincts had hit you hard within the past month or so and you’d reshuffled the furniture more times than you could count.

Nezu had been more than accommodating when he brought staff members into the dorms on site. Your dormitories were more like apartment complexes than the shared halls the students lived in. Your apartment was built to very specific requirements, namely that it was sound proofed and made from two apartments merged into one larger one, with doors connecting them together. There was enough room for Hizashi to do his radio show, for a home office, a bedroom for Eri and, more recently, a nursery.

Eri had a room to the left of yours, specifically chosen for easy access when she had nightmares and needed reassurance. You chose the room on the right of yours for the baby. Eri had offered to share her room, though you got the feeling she didn’t understand much about babies in general, let alone night time feeds and diaper changes.

You could hear three sets of voices coming from the nursery and you waddled towards it, clasping one hand over your belly and the other on your hip for balance.

Hizashi, Shouta and Eri were in the middle of building a crib, Hizashi leaning over the half finished frame, Shouta holding out tools and Eri sitting cross legged in the nursing chair, squinting at an upside down set of instructions.

“Are you sure that’s the right screw?”

“Positive.”

“It’s just that...I need five of them. How many do you have there?”

“One.”

Hizashi was a lot better at DIY projects than Shouta, thanks in part to how much of his time he spent building sound rigs and fixing his equipment. You could have lingered in the doorway forever, just watching them, though your back and ankles were already beginning to protest.

“Having fun?”

Eri gasped in happiness at the sight of you standing there, launching herself out of the nursing chair and reaching for your hand.

“We’re building the baby’s bed,” she said, hopping on the spot as you lowered yourself into the chair. “They’re following my instructions!”

“So I see,” you said. “Looks like you’re being very helpful!”

“We couldn’t do it without ya, Eri,” said Hizashi, before turning back to Shouta. “How many do you have now?”

“ One .”

“That can’t be right.”

Hizashi sat up and shuffled across to Shouta, counting out the screws and other materials.

“One,” he said, turning the screw over in his hand. “Why would they only give us one ?"

“Probably so we’d have to go back and spend more money,” said Shouta.

You sat back in your chair and rubbed your hand over your belly, glancing round at the near complete nursery. Everyone had contributed something; all four of you (and several others) had made your mark on this room.

Hizashi had assembled just about everything, from the changing station to the bookcase to the nursing chair you were currently sitting in. The very same day you told him you were pregnant, he came home with an armful of toys, almost all of which were sound related and certainly far too advanced for a newborn, though he refused to hear it. He’d also bought a music player and specialised headphones so that he could play music or voice recordings through your belly. It had become his favourite thing to do ever since your bump got noticeable, mostly because it almost never failed to make the baby kick.

Eri (under supervision, of course) had painted rainbows, clouds and kitties on the walls, as well as a picture of her and the baby enjoying a basket of apples. She didn’t know much about babies, much less what this one would look like, so her painting looked a little like a potato. She’d been something of a bad influence on Shouta, too, who couldn’t refuse her at the best of times, much less when she was pointing out cute onesies.

Shouta supplied almost all of the stuffed animals in the room, as well as the mobile you planned to hang above the cot. You hadn’t realised just how many baby toys, clothes and equipment were cat themed until Shouta bought almost all of them.

Nemuri’s gift lurked in the corner; an enormous teddy bear with glass eyes and a tartan scarf. It was almost as tall as you were and possibly the most hideous thing you had ever seen, but she and Hizashi had both smiled so widely when she brought it over that you had had little choice but to put it next to the bookshelf.

Your colleagues at UA (with the exception of Shouta and Hizashi for obvious reasons) had gifted you a storybook, with buttons at the side. They had recorded themselves speaking the lines and sometimes, when you wanted a giggle, you pulled it off the shelf and pressed the buttons yourself.

You had overseen everything without picking up quite as many individual items, though in your defense you were contributing the baby.

“That reminds me,” you said aloud without meaning to, “just a second…”

You had done something a little special, something you had been working on for weeks and couldn’t wait to hand over.

You climbed up out of the chair and waddled into the bedroom, coming back with a box you’d gone so far as to wrap with a ribbon.

“What is it, doll?”

“I got the test results back a few weeks ago,” you said with a grin, holding the box out towards them. “I was wondering how to tell you...so I made this.”

Due to your somewhat unique circumstances, you had gone through much of your pregnancy without knowing the identity of the father. You knew it was either Shouta or Hizashi, but couldn’t put that on the birth certificate.

You’d sent samples of your blood and Hizashi and Shouta’s saliva to be tested, though as far as they knew, that was where the story ended.

Both of them eyed the box in your arms, knowing that whatever was inside it would change the course of your futures. One of them was about to become a father, biologically speaking.

Eri didn’t fully understand the situation, but she did understand the concept of presents.

“Can I see?” she cried out.

“Sure, sweetie, why don’t you open it?”

You handed the box to Eri and sat back down in your nursing chair, watching in anticipation as she unfastened the ribbon and lifted the lid.

Maybe it was the hormones, but you’d been thinking about Ego a lot lately. You remembered glasses shattering against the floor, remembered your heart shattering into just as many pieces.

“It’s a onesie,” Eri cried out, dragging the black fabric out of the box.

“Sure is, honeybun,” said Hizashi. “What else is in there?”

It had been years since that night at the bar that changed everything and up until then you hadn’t been the biggest believer in destiny.

“Look,” said Eri, dragging out a small, grey strip of fabric, “it’s a scarf! Oooh, and there’s goggles!”

“That’s right! It’s a hero costume.”

You remembered how long you had shivered inside of a toilet stall, scrubbing away a stranger’s cum. You’d panicked, the reality of what you had done sinking in. You had never been so happy as when you got your next period; you didn’t even complain about the breakout and hellish cramps that came along with it.

You planted a hand on your belly, unable to stroke your son’s hair and so settling for his general vicinity.

Needless to say, you were a believer now.