(Todoroki Shoto x Reader x Midoriya Izuku.)
Poly!
-BOOK ONE of the Lush Life series!
*Please point out grammar errors, English isn't my first language.
•
I had known of the rumors, he was supposed to be a cursed being--something unwanted and maimed...
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—First Person POV.—
Izuku doesn't look at me—not right away.
His eyes, viridescent like storm-wet leaves, are locked on the figure across from us—jaw set so tight it looks like it might snap, every muscle wound up like a tripwire in tension.
"Is Shoto here too?" The question makes his fangs peek out from his lips—tone measured in a way that causes the hair on my arms to stand up.
"Yes," I breathe, stumbling over the word like it caught in my throat.
I force myself to glance at the stranger again—still unmoving and drenched in water that drips from his coat like he'd just clawed his way from the bottom of a lake "But he's helping in the sky."
Izuku's brows furrow deeper, the lines between them darkening as he eases me down to the ground, his grip careful—but there's a tremor in his grasp.
"What were you doing down here?" He asks—not in an accusatory manner, moreso concerned with a handful of things at once.
"I was trying to help with the evacuation," I answer "But the Nomu— They were taking people, I saw them dragging them off to the carts, so..."
Something shifts in his expression—eyes widening just slightly before fixing into a glare once more as he bared his teeth.
"(Y/n)," He murmurs, angling his body slightly to further shield me with his own frame.
His fingers graze my arm, and for the first time, I catch sight of the massive sword strapped to his back—the hilt juts above his shoulder, wrapped in blackened leather and glinting in the firelight.
I swallow hard—my hearts thundering.
"I need you to listen to me very carefully." His voice cuts through the air but is sharp with urgency—cautious and final.
"Turn around, run, don't look back, and don't stop."
The command lands like a blow to the ribs, hollowing my chest until my breath stutters out and refuses to come back in.
My mouth opens, but no sound escapes—because deep down, some part of me already knew.
I lift my gaze to search his.
It isn't just fury etched into his face—there's grief smoldering behind his eyes.
A history carved in scar tissue and ruined hope.
A hatred so cold it sears into flesh.
My hands are still on his shoulders, clinging like a fool to something I know can't protect.
So, slowly, I let go—fingers slipping away like the last seconds of something precious—and step back.
