~𝚅𝚞𝚕𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎~ ((BNHA/MHA Shota Aizawa x OC))

Chapter 1

(((TW: There will be descriptions of vomiting in this chapter, so please be aware of that when reading! It doesn't go into much detail, just know this just in case.)))

The evening had come, and I had just come home from another long day of work. Normally, I would be fine with this whole four a.m. to seven p.m. work shift of being a hero and teaching, but recently it has been too tiring.

I sat down on the medium-gray L-shaped couch, running a hand through my long crimson red hair and effectively plopping my keys on the clear glass rectangular coffee table in front of me.

The scenery was nice and big around me in the living room. It was wide open, leaving my eyes to wander to the right seeing the kitchen lit up from white hanging lights above the pristine countertop. Plants were scattered around the open area; some hanging down from the ceiling, one in the left-hand corner of the room, even some on the coffee table.

The flatscreen TV was turned off when I looked at it in front of me on the TV stand, though I didn't mind. I was sort of 'out-of-it' anyways. Even the lights from the kitchen gave me a headache and my stomach was churning.

The worst part of not feeling great was the fact that my husband, Shota Aizawa, would be coming home from another undercover mission, and that I wouldn't be able to spend as much time with him if I was potentially sick.

That being said, I was feeling more nauseous by the second. 'What is wrong with me? I feel like throwing up... Should I call Shota? Should I-'

My thoughts were cut off from the feeling of my lunch rushing into my throat. I hurriedly put a hand over my slightly open mouth, while the other clutched my abdomen. Immediately, I jumped off the couch and rushed down to the nearest bathroom.

My hand slammed the white, wooden door open and I slid to the toilet, effectively falling onto my knees and hurling my lunch...and breakfast.

After a few minutes of the continuous 'spilling the contents of my stomach game', I fell back onto my legs, leaning with my arm outstretched and head leaning on the arm, onto the toilet seat.

The door opened and closed soon after, shaking me out of my focus of not throwing up, and making me jolt up in slight surprise. The jumpiness of the rest of my body made my stomach twist and I groaned and put my head back into the bowl. 'Great,' I thought, feeling the more food contents in my throat, 'Why did you have to come home right now, Shota?'

"Homu? Love? Are you here?" A slight pause was heard from my husband calling out, knowing he was looking around from me, though I was busy puking. "I see your bag here? Where are you?"

I groaned involuntarily and alerted the man immediately. "Homu?" I heard fast-paced footsteps ascend in my direction. I groaned once again, purposefully this time, and hurled once again.

I heard a small gasp from behind and rushed footsteps that stopped right behind me. One of my husband's hands clasped my vermillion locks behind my head, and the other rubbed soothing circles on my hunched back, helping me puke even more contents of my stomach.

"What happened?" Shota questioned, his voice barely above a whisper. I just ducked my head further down into the bowl and grunted in response, not being able to speak words at the moment.

After another moment, my stomach finally decided to settle and rob me of my misery. I leaned back into my man's muscular chest, now that he was sitting down, immediately feeling even more exhausted than before.

Shota sighed and ran his large hand through my hair, while his other arm wrapped around my weak body. Tilting his head so his mouth was right next to my slightly pointed ears he whispered, "Are you okay now?" I nodded slowly in response. "What happened?" He repeated his question from earlier.