e m e r a l d 💚 e y e s || lloyd x reader oneshots

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("The Wolf that Fell in Love with Red Riding Hood") (in which y/n is the wolf and lloyd is red riding hood) (be warned this is angsty) (enjoy :))

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   It began with coincidence, an inevitable scene. She saw a flash of swaying red, a colour that should have served as a warning, yet she couldn't help but be drawn to it. And underneath that red was a head of golden curls, and shimmering green eyes that captured her affections almost instantly.

  The young wolf crawled to her den in an agitated state that night. Who was that human, who so easily swayed her with his cloak of red and shining eyes? Why didn't he disgust her, when his kind had killed hers so recklessly? Her head was spinning, a million thoughts echoing, yet it was a singular word (or rather, name) that rolled so easily from her tongue, "Lloyd?"

  Deep within the forest, he came upon a foreign shadow that seemed to follow his every step. With the premonition of a tragedy, he fled the woods in fear. He ignored the clawing of his heart, the unexplainable urge to run back, to embrace the darkness with open arms.

  The boy rushed into his home wracked with anxiety. Ignoring the worried expressions of his family, he marched straight to his room, closed the door and threw himself upon the bed, tears pricking at his eyes . He was confused, he knew not why his heart ached, and a single person that he did not recognise came to mind. He whispered her name through trembling sobs, "(Y/n)."

  And the memories came flooding in, overtaking their senses, filling their souls with vivid images of the same story, their story, being played on repeat. Two souls, their narrative intertwined, their meeting only served to signal the end. An endless loop that could only lead to goodbye. And so they purposely chose to prolong it.

  She knew he would cross this pathway once more, his everyday route. But as always, she could do nothing more than watch over him as he walked away. He had cheerfully picked up the small bouquet of daisies she had gathered for him in an obvious lump by the road, however, and the thought of it made her heart soar. Perhaps she would pick prettier flowers that matched his hair next time, golden flowers for her golden boy, she thought with a smile.

  He saw a glimpse of her again today, hiding as she always did beyond the branches of that willow tree. He pretended not to notice, and walked past with a bitter smile. He brightened almost immediately after when he picked up that bouquet she left for him (he almost giggled at the sloppily scribbled smiley face on the ground next to it). He thought of weaving a crown of daisies, of how adorable she would look, but caught himself hastily when he remembered what would happen should they meet.

  They longed to meet each other, to touch each other, to simply talk to each other. But it was unthinkable, the delicate villager and the dangerous wolf, it would only end in havoc. They were bound to this cursed fate that would never change, The Wolf and Little Red Riding Hood.

  Their gazes would never meet. They would never hear the sound of each other's voice, only their sighs would be able to overlap in a fruitless reverie. But it was okay. For as long as they existed, for him to know she would survive, they were content. With their little gifts that brightened each other's day, their simple actions that spoke volumes, what need was there for words?

  It was words, careless words, that brought upon their undoing after all.

  He didn't mean it. He didn't mean it, and he would rather throw himself off the nearest cliff rather than harm her purposely. He had heard of the village guards' plan to improve security around the area. Of course he knew it was for the betterment and safety of the people. He knew that realistically, she would not be harmed if she kept to herself in her usual spot, deep in the woods, hidden by the willow trees.

  But dread pooled at his gut, and his conscience screamed at him to warn his lover. And so he ran. He ran and ran, unbothered by the ache in his legs and the stitch in his sides. When he found her at last, she wasn't hiding behind the willow tree, but sitting cheerfully beneath it, the flower crown he made for her perched clumsily over her ears. He wanted to beam, to sing her praises and bask in that moment of her, but then their eyes met and her expression turned fearful and he remembered why he was there, breaking their unspoken promise in the first place.

  "The villagers. Guards. Not safe. You have to leave."  he had managed to speak between panting breaths. He expected her to flee. Instead she worried over him, asking if he was alright and he was just about ready to scream damn it all why won't you run? Why are you so obsessed over my well-being when you're the one in danger? Why?

  But he knew why. He had broken the loop. The end was now sure and dangerously near, and she was spending her last moments caring for him, when he was the one who so thoughtlessly ran to her. He felt a sob rise in his throat, and when a tear slipped down his cheek she wiped it away gently, making sure not to scratch him with her claws, and it only made him want to cry harder. This was the real them. Not the helpless human and the reckless wolf, but gentle souls who treasured one another, regardless of their differences. He reached out to caress her face, to maybe give her assurance as she had for him.

  But then he was swept away from her arms, held violently back as a few dozen villagers swarmed around them with pitchforks and torches. He had been followed. He kicked and screamed and pleaded for them to show mercy, but they didn't listen. They plunged a fork through her chest, unwavering as she cried out in pain, blood trickling from her body as she fell to the ground, lifeless.

  In her last moments, she wanted to comfort him. Even as her body fell she could only think of how she could possibly change that pained expression on his face as he cried out her name. She found herself thinking that she would willingly die a million more times, just to meet him for whatever few moments fate would spare them before she did, if only it didn't pain him so. Arm stretched out and trembling in a hopeless attempt to reach him, she whispered a final vow of 'I love you'.

  How many times? Just how many times must they pray to whatever god that saw fit for them to live out this story countless times, again and again? And yet however they struggle, no matter how much they prayed, the fangs and claws still remained. So she waited there for his tears to dry, watching over him even in death. Come their next life, they would be waiting for each other on their opposite sides of the willow tree as always.

  Always.

(ayeo watch the actual pv this was based on for maximum p a i n skdjjd)