[being rewritten for the 1938473th time]
If it was up to Y/n L/n, she would read the summer away, lost in history books and adventure novels, finding excitement in their written words.
Meeting Lloyd Garmadon changed her plans.
Suddenly, Y/n is l...
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i don't even like it, i don't know which side is worse, just because you own it, it doesn't make you feel safe, feel safe
•••••
the storm.
TW: panic attack, feeling of dread, nausea
I woke on the first morning of the new year with a killer migraine and a dream that slipped out of my fingers too fast for me to remember.
Hiding from the too-bright mid-morning sun that leaked through the porthole window, I stuck my head beneath the blanket and groaned. The migraine pulsed behind my eyes with vicious bite, thudding within my skull like a soldier's procession. The pillow I squeezed around my face did nothing.
I closed my eyes and replayed the events of the night before; my 'love' slip-up, Lloyd's powers not hurting me, and our connection that guided my own. That fleeting feeling of being powerful was incredible, our combined abilities the stuff of fiction, but the pain of using it made me reluctant to do it again.
My hand snaked beneath the blanket and felt around my neck. The dragon pendant was still warm to the touch.
Eventually, after another twenty minutes of suffering and smothering myself with my own body heat, I poked my head back out. Dust motes danced in the ray of light overhead. I watched for a handful of minutes, entranced, before the rumble of my stomach drove me to my feet to search for clothes.
When I shuffled into the kitchen I found Lloyd alone, standing at the oven and cooking something that dragged me forward by my stomach - but not of our tugging. I smelt the wafting scent of a cooked breakfast with a happy hum. The scene was surprisingly domestic. I could get used to it.
"Morning, sleepy," Lloyd greeted with a glance my way. His smile grew when I wrapped my arms around his waist and pressed my head between his shoulder blades. "How are you feeling?"
My head reminded me of my state with a rather potent throb. I winced.
"Still sore," Lloyd guessed with a sympathetic murmur. "Thought so. There's feverfew on the table."
I retreated to grab the small pile of leaves on the kitchen island and chewed them hurriedly. They didn't really stop the pain, but they did shorten how long it hurt for. I appreciated the addition of paracetamol and a glass of water, and downed those, too.
"Thanks, hero." I went right back to my position of hugging Lloyd and felt his body soften into my hold. I watched him scoop some fried eggs and wilted spinach from the pan and onto a plate. "Where is everyone?"
"They went for a hike on an island not far from here," Lloyd supplied. "We didn't want to wake you."
"You could've," I murmured guiltily. "Sorry for making you miss it." But thank you for staying with me, anyway.
