Collision Course
Katsuki Bakugo x General Studies Reader (Quirkless)
Word Count: 2.08k
The school festival was chaos.
A good kind of chaos—music thumping through the air like a heartbeat, dancers twirling in bursts of color, laughter spilling from game stalls packed with shouting students, the scent of sizzling meat and sweet batter weaving through the crowd. Bright quirks lit up the sky in flashes of flame and glittering energy, painting the atmosphere with sparks and spectacle. It was overwhelming in the best possible way—everywhere you looked, something pulsed with life and noise and motion. Still chaos… but the kind that made your skin buzz and your pulse quicken.
You briefly adjusted the strap on your backpack and squinted up at the banner hung over the UA gymnasium as you passed by. “UA School Festival - Class 1-A LIVE SHOW!” Students chattered nearby, some with troubled looks on their face and others exiting the gym- practically sparkling with newfound enthusiasm. You glanced around and noticed a young girl with blue hair nearby, waving her arm up and down exclaiming her excitement.
The infamous heroes-in-training had definitely put on a spectacle. You assumed it was to compensate for the trouble they’d caused in the recent months beginning UA. Something big and flashy to win over some alternative course students in terms of reputation. Honestly, the recent attacks were all kind of unbelievable. They had been constant, like a hovering force over class 1-A threatening to rage again at any moment of weakness. At this point, their homeroom could get demolished on a weekly basis and you wouldn’t bat an eye.
You hummed, and some part of you was disappointed to have missed their performance… but you weren’t here to whine over your poor time management.
You weaved your way past the crowd, toward the quieter edges of the festival, gripping your folded map of the school layout with numbered and labeled booths. Your destination? The tech club booth near the student center. According to some chatter you overheard some business course students discussing, they would be showcasing some support gear in one of the outdoor booths, and you’d volunteered to help the general studies department write a report on their projects- though it was really to have an excuse to see the proposed gear designs.
You weaved your way toward the quieter edges of the festival, gripping your folded map of the school layout. The tech club was showcasing some support gear in one of the outdoor booths, and you’d volunteered to help the general studies department write a report on their projects. It was really just to satiate your curiosity for upcoming tech gear.
You ducked around a group of people huddled around a sweet food stand held by one of the business classes and finally found the booth you were looking for- lined with prototype gear, polished displays, and even a few demo boards showing simulations on tablets and computer systems.
It was only a few steps towards the table before a crash made you jerk to a stop.
Someone had collided hard with a stack of metal chairs beside the booth, knocking them down in a clattering mess of noise and dust.
Instinctively, you jogged forward to help, bending down to grab one of the chairs and lift it back up into the half intact line of chairs.
“Hey, are you—”
“I’m fine.” The voice was sharp, low, and definitely annoyed. You looked up— and paused when you saw the face of the person who had toppled the chairs like a bull in a china shop.
Katsuki Bakugo was brushing dust off his pants with a deep scowl, one hand curled into a fist like he was resisting the urge to blow something up out of spite. You knew him by reputation- and unfortunately, repeating incidents that tended to flow around the school gossips you constantly overheard. It would be hard to find a single student at UA who hadn’t heard of the explosive teenager, honestly. He was the one to make national headlines during the Sports Festival, the guy who practically exploded his way into first place and still looked pissed about it.
The fact that he was here now, halfway tangled in folding chairs, was… odd. He leveled a look at you that was a mix of suspicion and simmering embarrassment. “Got something to say, extra?”
You blinked, ignoring the rather crude tone he was infamous for. “No. Just… helping.”
He scowled harder. “Don’t.” You raised both hands and took a step back, watching as he kicked one of the chairs upright and shoved it into the stack with more force than necessary.
“Not a great start to your festival, I see,” you said mildly.
He shot you a sidelong glare. “Tch. I wanted no part in all of this useless bullshit.”
You didn’t bother hiding your amusement. “And yet, here you are. Toppling chairs for the sake of school spirit.”
His eyes narrowed like he was trying to figure out whether you were mocking him or not.
“Who the hell are you, anyway?”
“General Studies,” you replied, like that explained everything. “I’m just here to observe some of the tech demos.”
His brows lifted slightly. “So you’re one of those?”
You tilted your head. “One of what?”
“People with shit quirks trying to act like they belong at a hero school.”
Ah, the same usual judgement that people had towards you. Only this time, you were positive he didn’t know you were quirkless. Still, he had the same look on his face. He might as well. People with useless or incompetent quirks were held to the same standard as those without. Honestly, sometimes you were glad you didn’t have to play the genetic quirk lottery. Having a marker for a head was worse than not having a quirk at all- in your opinion, of course.
You laughed once, short and sharp. “Wow. You don’t hold back, do you?”
He crossed his arms, unbothered. “Why should I?”
You squinted at him for a second, then turned toward the booth. “Well, since I’m clearly beneath your notice, I’ll go back to acting like I belong.”
You didn’t wait for a response, stepping forward to greet one of the tech club students and ask about the motion calibration software they were displaying. But you couldn’t help noticing, out of the corner of your eye, that Bakugo hadn’t left. He lingered nearby, arms still crossed, gaze flicking between you and the booth’s display like a child who had a death stare aimed at random people.
When you asked the student a question about how the arm-mounted stabilizer would affect recoil for larger support items, Bakugo snorted quietly behind you.
You turned halfway toward him. “Something funny?”
“That won’t work,” he muttered.
You arched a brow. “How would you know?”
He stepped forward, nodding at the screen where the demo played on loop. “If you try to absorb that much force without a pressure-vented release valve, the whole thing’ll seize up. Maybe even snap the casing.”
The student blinked, suddenly flustered. “Uh, I—I mean, we haven’t gotten to the release testing phase yet, but—”
You looked at Bakugo. “You know support gear?”
He shrugged like it was obvious. “I wear a big ass grenade on each arm. ‘Course I know how it works.”
Touché, Katsuki Bakugo. Touché.
You turned back to the student. “What about testing a low-viscosity internal gel buffer? Might keep the casing from cracking without needing an actual valve.”
Bakugo gave a sharp grunt. Not quite agreement, but not disagreement either.
The student jotted a note down. “That’s… actually not a bad idea. We could prototype that.”
You nodded, glancing back at Bakugo. “See? Even us lowly general studies kids can contribute.”
His scowl returned with a vengeance. “Didn’t say you couldn’t. Just said most of you don’t.”
You turned fully toward him now, crossing your own arms. “And look at you! Loitering at a tech booth and giving unsolicited advice. Looks like we’re not so different after all.”
His eye twitched. “Don’t lump me in with you.”
“I’d never dream of it,” you deadpanned.
There was a beat of silence. A weird one. Not quite hostile, but definitely tense. And then Bakugo exhaled hard through his nose and looked away.
“Whatever.” You watched him for a second, unsure if he was going to stalk off or explode something just to reassert dominance.
But instead, he stayed.
Not close. Not friendly. But he hovered just off to the side as you asked more questions and the tech student explained their design process. Every now and then, Bakugo would throw in a comment—sometimes useful, sometimes sarcastic—but never quite leaving.
After about twenty minutes, the student thanked you both and excused themselves to check on another part of the booth. You stepped away from the table and looked over at Bakugo.
“So… do you usually hover around tech savvy areas or is this like.. a special occasion type of thing?”
He scoffed. “Hell no. I was trying to get to the kitchen stalls before this dumbass crowd got thicker. Tripped over that pile of metal crap you called chairs.”
“Tragic,” you said with a solemn nod. He glared at you like he wasn’t used to being spoken to like a normal person. Like he wasn’t sure if he should incinerate you or ignore you.
You offered a small smirk. “Well, thanks for the insight. Despite your very charming delivery.” He didn’t reply right away.
Then, quietly, he said, “You were right. About the gel buffer.”
You blinked.
He rubbed the back of his neck and looked off toward the stage. “My first set of gauntlets had a pressure issue. Too much blowback. Lost my hearing for two weeks.”
You blinked again, slower this time. “Sounds rough.”
He shrugged, uncomfortable.
“Well,” you said, hoisting your bag back onto your shoulder, “good luck with the food stalls. Try not to trip over any more metal.”
“Shut up,” he grumbled—but without real venom. You gave him a small nod and turned to head off, leaving him behind. And for some reason, even though it had been a weird, tense, kind of aggressive exchange—you couldn’t help the small curl of a grin at the edge of your mouth.You weren’t sure if it had been a conversation or a verbal sparring match.
Either way, you held your own.
And apparently, that was enough to make even Katsuki Bakugo himself stick around.
His first impression of you? Oh, at first, he doesn’t take you seriously.
You’re from general studies. Just another nobody trying to hover around the edges of hero society like you belong. He sees you approaching that tech booth and thinks, why are you even here?
But then you talk.
Not timid. Not starry-eyed. Just calm, direct, and unbothered by the way he practically sneers at you. You throw his words back at him like they don’t sting. Like you’re not afraid of him at all. That catches him off guard more than he’ll admit.
Then you start talking tech—clearly, confidently, and without fumbling. You know what you’re saying, and you don’t hesitate to challenge a flaw he points out with something smarter. For someone so… settled- you sure as hell have teeth. It pisses him off.
And yet, he doesn’t walk away.
You hold your ground. You don’t flinch under his glare or scramble to win him over. You just exist—intelligent, capable, and unapologetic. That irritates him even more because he can’t find a reason to dismiss you now. You’ve proven you’re not a waste of space, and that messes with the neat little categories he’s used to putting people into.
So by the time you leave—shouldering your bag and tossing one last smart remark over your shoulder—he’s left standing there, unsettled. Still annoyed. But thinking.
Because despite everything, you didn’t back down.
And worse—he kind of respects that.
…Not that he’d ever say it to your face.
-authorkbw
