The city was alive in its usual chaos—honking cars, chatter, vendors calling out deals—but all of it dimmed the second Bakugo Katsuki stepped onto the street.

People noticed him before he even said a word. The way his boots hit the pavement—heavy, certain. The way his presence rolled through the crowd like a wave about to break. He didn’t need to yell (though he often did); his glare alone could send grown men stepping aside. Civilians knew better than to block his path, the heat in his expression promising trouble if they did.

He was every bit the hero people claimed him to be—explosive temper, fierce eyes, and a voice that could silence a room. He carried himself like someone always on the edge of detonation.

But if you looked close—closer than anyone ever dared—you’d see it. The quick dart of his gaze over the crowd, the faint tightening in his jaw. He wasn’t just looking for threats. He was looking for you.

And then he found you.

Your eyes met his from across the street, and everything about him changed. The storm in his chest broke. The tension that clung to his shoulders slipped away with a quiet exhale. His fists unclenched. The world around him, for just that heartbeat, stopped being something he had to fight against.

He didn’t smile—Bakugo never smiled—but his eyes softened, just enough that anyone who really knew him would see it.

For everyone else, he was still Dynamight, the hero with the temper to match his explosions. But for you— he was just Katsuki.