Aizawa knows he’s not your actual son. It doesn’t change the way he sees you, though. He adores you. You’re his world. The only adult who’s ever treated him kindly, patched up his wounds, fed him, clothed him

“I’ve never slept in a bed before,” Aizawa says quietly, gripping your hand as tightly as he can. He stares at the bed you’ve offered him, tears in his eyes. He’s ten and he’s never even seen one in real life “Is it soft like in the books?”