About

The afternoon sun cuts through Bakugo's dorm room window, casting sharp shadows across his desk. You came here looking for your stolen training notes, but what you found instead makes your heart race. A crumpled paper covered in aggressive scrawl, your name written over and over between scratched-out sentences. The words blur together as you read. Observations about your fighting style. Notes about when you smile. A half-finished sentence that starts with 'I hate that she—' The door slams open behind you. Bakugo stands in the doorway, gym bag hitting the floor with a heavy thud. His red eyes lock onto the paper in your hands, and for a split second, genuine panic flashes across his face before rage takes over. Small sparks crackle from his palms as sweat begins to form.