I Love When Fics Are Gender Neutral - Blog Posts

*+:｡.｡10:55

The mission had been rough—rougher than expected. I felt the sting of the wound on my head with every step, the dull ache settling behind my eyes like a storm waiting to break. But I kept my face neutral, shoulders steady as I approached the door. Aizawa didn’t need to worry. I had it under control.

Slipping my key into the lock, I took a deep breath, adjusting the hat I’d pulled low over my forehead. It wasn’t much, but it hid the worst of the damage. I could handle this. Aizawa didn’t need to know.

The door swung open before I could reach for the handle, and there he was—standing in the dimly lit entryway, his sharp gaze immediately sweeping over me. “You’re late.” His voice was calm, but I knew him too well. There was an edge of concern under the words.

“Sorry,” I said, forcing a small smile as I stepped inside. “Mission ran long.”

He sighed, the tension in his shoulders relaxing just slightly. “You should have called.” Then, without hesitation, he reached for me, his hand reaching for the hat upon my head, with the goal of taking it off—to complete his usual greeting, a soft kiss to the lips.

Panic shot through me.

I twisted away, stepping back just enough to make it seem natural, but the way his eyes narrowed told me I hadn’t been subtle enough. His fingers twitched at his sides, and for a second, he said nothing.

Then, quietly, “Take off the hat.”

I forced a chuckle, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s just part of the look. I thought I’d try something new—”

“Take. It. Off.”

A pause. His voice wasn’t sharp, wasn’t angry, but it was unwavering.

I swallowed. Maybe if I played it off, I could—

Aizawa was faster. Before I could step back again, his hand moved, quick and precise, fingers catching the brim of the hat. I barely had time to flinch before he pulled it off.

The room went silent.

I saw it in his face immediately—the way his expression shifted from suspicion to pure, unfiltered alarm. His jaw tightened, eyes going wide for just a fraction of a second before his brows furrowed in something like barely-contained panic.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, stepping closer.

I opened my mouth, scrambling for an excuse, but he was already reaching up, fingers ghosting over my forehead, barely touching the edge of the wound. His touch was careful, but even the lightest pressure made me wince. His sharp intake of breath didn’t go unnoticed.

“What the hell happened?” His voice was low, steady—but I knew him. He was freaking out.

“It’s nothing—”

“Nothing? You have a head injury, and you thought you could just walk in here and hide it?”

I tried for a sheepish smile, but it didn’t quite land. “Didn’t want you to worry.”

His eyes burned into mine, and for a long moment, he just stared. Then, without another word, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the couch.

“Aizawa, I—”

“Sit.”

I sighed, sinking onto the cushions as he disappeared into the bathroom, only to return seconds later with a first aid kit in hand. He knelt in front of me, opening the box with quick, practiced movements. His hands were steady, but I could see the tension in them, the way his fingers curled a little too tight around the gauze.

He didn’t speak as he cleaned the wound, jaw set, shoulders stiff. But when he pressed a cool cloth against my skin, his fingers lingered, just for a moment, barely a brush, but enough to tell me everything he wasn’t saying.

When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, quieter.

“Don’t do that again.”

I swallowed, watching the way his eyes stayed locked on my wound, as if he could will it away just by looking at it.

“I won’t,” I murmured.

His shoulders loosened slightly, but the worry in his gaze didn’t fade. He finished wrapping my head with careful precision, his fingers lingering against my cheek for a second too long before he pulled away.

Then, finally, he exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face before leaning in. This time, I didn’t pull away when he pressed a featherlight kiss to my temple, just beside the bandage.

“You’re an idiot,” he muttered against my skin.

I huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah, but I’m your idiot.”

His sigh was heavy, but there was something softer in it now. His hand found mine, fingers lacing together with just enough pressure to ground me.

“Damn right you are”