──˚.⏾˚｡ You were Aizawa’s needy, dramatic, touch-obsessed girl. The kind who got mad for no real reason, mostly for attention — like a cat left alone too long, now loudly demanding affection the moment he returns.

. . . .

| Today, you were both heading home from the Hero Agency, after a scheduled meeting with a few pro heroes about an upcoming mission. Of course, he took you with him. Of course-- he left you in the car.

And now you were mad.

Mad that he didn’t look at you the second he got back. Mad that he hadn’t even kissed your cheek. Mad that he just got in like everything was normal.

Hmph. The audacity.

You sat with your arms crossed, deliberately ignoring him. But you still wanted his attention — desperately.

And how did you do that? :

You sighed. Loudly. Every five seconds. Each one slightly louder and more tragic than the last.

He noticed — of course he did. He always noticed. But in classic Aizawa fashion, he didn’t say anything. Not yet. And that just made it 10x worse.

You were fuming in silence. . . . Until, finally, he sighed — a long, tired one, meant more for show than genuine exhaustion.

What’s the matter?

His voice was flat, quiet. Like he wasn’t genuinely asking — just giving you a window to crawl through.

You stayed turned toward the glass, arms still folded, jaw locked in a stubborn pout. No answer.

He exhaled again, deeper this time.

With one hand steady on the wheel, he reached over with the other — rough, warm fingers settling gently on your thigh. Not squeezing. Not pulling. Just there — grounding you. Reassuring. Like this was his version of an apology, wordless but sincere.

His thumb traced a slow line across your skin.

You relaxed. But only a little bit. Still not forgiving him.