Mar 29, 2025
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A casa verde em São Paulo
Woah / Instagram
Taxi Cab (Part 2)
— k. bakugo x f!reader angst continuation
part one here
──── ୨୧ ────
The cardboard mug was a pathetic casualty, a minor sacrifice to the supernova of pain currently consuming your chest. You didn’t cry in the lobby. You didn’t break down in front of your colleagues. You were a Pro Hero, trained to keep your composure even when the world was ending. But the world did end, and you needed to mourn its loss.
Hours later, the world was a dizzying tilt of neon and bass in the smoky, dimly-lit corner of a bar you didn’t even recognize. You’d lost count of the drinks. Gin? Whiskey? Who cared. The point was to burn away the memory of that cruel, easy smile he’d given a stranger.
Mina, Kirishima, Sero—they all called. They all texted. Concerned, angry on your behalf. They’d been the ones who remembered Bakugo when he couldn’t remember himself. They’d been the ones who tried to help him piece together the history he’d lost in that horrific villain attack, the history where you were the centerpiece. They’d failed. And now, you’d failed too.
You were supposed to be opening an agency with him. That was the dream, the promise he made before the explosion took his memories of you, of your bond, of everything.
And now, he was engaged.
You hadn’t moved on. No matter how much you told your friends you were fine, you weren’t. You’d been waiting for him to remember, waiting for that crimson flicker of recognition to return.
The alcohol, thick and unforgiving, finally dragged you out of the bar. It didn’t take you home. It took you to the one place you absolutely shouldn’t be — the place where you had spent countless hours nursing his wounds, celebrating his wins, and building a life that was now scaffolding for another woman’s future: His apartment.
You stumbled, catching yourself on the wrought iron gate. The cold metal bit into your palm.
“Katsuki! You asshole!” you screamed, your voice raw and thick with unspent tears and alcohol. You banged on the gate, the loud, metallic clang a harsh disruption in the quiet night. “You fucking coward! You lied to me!”
You banged again, adrenaline and gin surging through your veins.
“Open up, you bastard! Face me! Face me!”
The lock mechanism whirred. The gate slid open just enough for him to step out.
He was wearing a simple black t-shirt and grey sweatpants. His hair was slightly damp, probably just out of the shower. His frown was immediate and sharp — the familiar expression of annoyance you’d spent years learning to translate into: “I’m pissed but I care.”
Tonight, however, there was no hidden meaning. Only the frown of a man looking at noise he wanted to shut up.
“…What the hell are you doing,” Bakugo muttered, voice low and edged but not yelling — the dangerous kind of quiet. “You’re drunk as shit. Go home before you make this worse for yourself.”
You swallowed the sob building in your throat. “Don’t— don’t talk to me like I’m some stranger, Katsuki.” Your hand tightened on the gate. “Look at me. Look at me properly. You can’t tell me there’s nothing.”
His jaw flexed. A flicker of something — irritation? confusion? — sparked in his eyes, but it wasn’t recognition.
“I already told you,” he said, voice firmer now, “stop sayin’ we were anything. I don’t remember you. So knock this crap off.”
The words hit you like an explosion. He started closing the gate.
You shoved your hand through. “Don’t you dare shut that on me!”
“Get your hand outta there,” he growled.
“STOP—!” your voice cracked, “stop pretending like I wasn’t— like you didn’t—!”
“We weren’t anything!” he snapped, finally raising his voice. “So stop showin’ up like you got a damn right to be here!”
“We were EVERYTHING, Katsuki!”
“We weren’t—”
“Katsuki?” a soft voice interrupted him gently.
You froze.
She stepped out from behind him — the fiancée — wrapped in a soft silk robe, her hair tied in a loose, casual knot like she’d just finished her skincare routine. The ring on her hand caught the porch light instantly, sharp and blinding, impossible to ignore.
She walked to him, fingers brushing his shoulder. “Katsu,” she murmured, soft and sweet, “what’s going on?”
Bakugo exhaled harshly but his tone softened — noticeably. “Just some drunk girl makin’ noise. I got it.”
It stabbed you in places you didn’t know existed.
She looked at you then. And something strange flickered behind her eyes — recognition. Not of meeting you. But of knowing you.
Her lips curved. Not kindly.
“Oh,” she whispered, stepping closer, “so you’re her.”
You blinked. “Her?”
“The one he used to date,” she said pleasantly, but her eyes were sharp. “The one he doesn’t remember. His… old chapter.”
Bakugo scowled. “Hey—”
But she ignored him.
“I used to watch your interviews, you know?” she continued, almost wistfully. “Followed your hero work. You were so perfect with him. Everyone talked about how in sync you two were.”
The way she said it made your stomach twist.
“It must be awful,” she said softly, “being forgotten by the love of your life.”
Her smile sharpened into something cold.
“And worse—watching him choose someone else the moment he finally became a man worth choosing.”
Your breath trembled.
“Don’t,” you warned.
She leaned in, whispering so only you heard:
“All those years you worked on him… all that patience… all that love you poured into him… you polished him just right.” She tapped her ring. “And I get to keep him.”
Something inside you shattered so loudly you were sure the whole street heard it.
Your fist curled. You raised your hand—
—but a strong hand clamped around your wrist.
Bakugo.
His grip was firm but unshaking, eyes glaring down at you with a cold determination.
“Don’t touch her,” he said — to you. Not her.
It strangled what little remained of your heart.
“Katsuki—?” you whispered.
“You’re wasted,” he bit out. “And you’re not gonna lay a damn finger on my fiancée. Get the hell outta here before you make me actually—”
Suddenly his grip was yanked away from you.
A chill spread down your arm where warmth had just been.
“Don’t finish that,” Shoto Todoroki said quietly.
He stood there, calm but furious, fingers wrapped around Bakugo’s wrist. His mismatched eyes were narrow, his expression carved from ice.
Bakugo snapped, “The hell is your problem, Icy hot?!”
Shoto didn’t look at him. He looked at you.
“Are you hurt?” he asked softly, his tone gentle in a way that almost undid you completely.
You shook your head shakily.
Shoto’s gaze flicked down to your reddening wrist, and something dangerous flashed in his eyes.
He turned back to Bakugo, voice level but razor-edged.
“You don’t put your hands on someone who’s not fighting back. Not now. Not ever.”
“She tried to hit—”
“She’s drunk,” Shoto said sharply, cutting him off. “And you don’t know half of what you’re talking about.”
Bakugo’s jaw tightened. “This has nothin’ to do with you.”
Shoto finally met his eyes.
“It does when you forget the people who bled for you,” he said, quiet but devastating.
Bakugo flinched — almost imperceptibly — but he did.
Shoto turned to you, extending a steady hand.
“Come on,” he murmured. “You shouldn’t be here.”
You swayed, dizzy from alcohol and heartbreak. Shoto stepped closer, sliding his arm around your waist with practiced gentleness.
You let him.
“Oi!” Bakugo barked. “Where the hell are you taking her?!”
Shoto didn’t even turn around.
“Someplace safer than here.”
And that — that line — made Bakugo’s expression crack for the first time all night.
You let Shoto guide you down the sidewalk, his hand warm at your side, your head spinning. You didn’t look back.
But Katsuki did.
His fiancée touched his arm.
“Katsu, come inside—”
“Shut up,” he muttered, staring at the street where you’d disappeared.
He didn’t know why his chest hurt. He didn’t know why seeing Todoroki touch you felt like someone twisting a blade between his ribs. He didn’t know why a girl he doesn’t remember mattered enough to make him feel sick.
All he knew was that watching you leave — leaning on someone else — felt wrong.
Unbearably wrong.
──── ୨୧ ────
part 3 here
a/n: hii! omg… if y’all want a part 3, literally just whisper it in my direction and i’m already writing it. like fr even if only ONE person comments “pt3 pls 😞” i’ll fold instantly. i’m weak. i’m soft. i exist to serve your emotional damage needs.
alsoooo while you’re here 🫶🏻 if u want something more kdrama-coded, chaotic-romcom-but-make-it-hero-society, pls check out my wattpad fic “trust no hero” under neromi222 ☺️ it’s giving: slow burn, plot twists, and the most unserious banter ever!!
two birds
Zhangjiajie Great Canyon - looking down on Rainbow Lake
Wulingyuan Scenic Area - China
Spring 2025
Source: jeanniejournals
📷 Soleil d'hiver... ☀️