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beescomet · 2 months ago

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𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝟏𝟑 |

a/n: dead dying gone unproofread unedited here u go i couldn't wait lmao also reminder! I'm also on ao3 if that helps to save this fic there

taglist: @candyquokka @mikadough @em-100-blog @cursedreader @alicesmile1 @alexa24 @raegreenie4 @burdeningbitch @viannasthings @cadencannot @ml3czqo @nanasemo @certified-cole-simp @beescomet @theblindhag @mitbin24 @sweetlittlebumblebree @brooklyniswriting @cantbecreative @something-else3 @iinlovewithfictionalppl @itz-moonlight @jebesovovise @ryeheep @letthelightin2112 @classically-bored @clearlawyereaglewobbler @anajellyc @the-midnight-duck @fru1ty-bage3ls @elysiuansstuff @risagichi @mousedit@yoggi-bingus @silveritydreams @mikadough @greenunoreversecard @herondale3109 @something-else3

[ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ] | [ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

“I know you're pretending to sleep.” Cole's finger taps against the wheel rhythmically. Scrunching your eyes shut, you clear your throat.

“No I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.” He sighs, continuing the drive when the traffic light turns green. “You know we have to talk about it, right?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” You give up on the bad facade, shifting in your seat. Stupid seatbelt was making it more uncomfortable.

“Look,” he risks a glance at you, turning his gaze back to the road. “It'll be fine. Lloyd, Zane, and Jay were already on a scouting mission anyway, so they'll be coming back to the city soon.” Pausing for a brief second, he allows another moment to pass.

After you overheard his phone call earlier, he'd tensed, sensing you behind him. Cole had hung up there and then without another word, the phone falling to his side.

The walk back to the restaurant had been quiet, but once you entered the private room you'd forced yourself to act like everything was alright, joking around with your dad and drinking a tad bit more alcohol than necessary.

It'd been awkward at first. Goosebumps were all over your arms and even the server had kindly offered a hot towel. You accepted it of course, because free stuff is always nice.

Then your dad, Emily, and Cole watched in silent horror as you proceeded to tilt your head up to the ceiling, unwrap the towel, and drape it over your entire face like a low-budget version of Casper the Ghost.

It went on for ten painful minutes until you decided it was enough to help calm yourself. Dinner then concluded uneventfully, with Cole having asked your dad for permission to drive around with you first before dropping you off. He’d agreed without a second thought, and you only found out after following them to the carpark and being pointedly dragged off to Cole’s car.

Either way, you avoided talking about what happened earlier, changing the subject anytime he’d tried to bring it up. Alas, you’d run out of conversation topics and also you were just crazy tired.

Cole exhales, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. "Okay, we’ve avoided this long enough. What’s the plan?"

You blink at him, half-slumped against the car door. "Plan?"

"The part where we figure out why someone out there hates you enough to stab your picture and pin it to a wall like a sick warning," he says flatly. "Because I don’t think your ‘strategic avoidance’ is gonna cut it."

You scoff, turning your gaze to the passing streetlights. "As if I was avoiding anything. I seem to recall being incredibly composed even when we left.”

"More like terrified, actually," he corrects. "You wore your shoes on the wrong feet."

"It was on purpose."

Cole sighs, but you can hear the small huff of a laugh he’s trying to suppress. "Alright, Casper. Jokes aside, we need to talk. This picture? It wasn’t random. It was taken in Cloud Kingdom, where Lloyd, Zane, and Jay went to find out more information. Someone went through the effort of making sure we saw it. Which means–"

"They either want me to stay away," you finish, your voice quieter, "or they want to lure me there."

Cole nods, his eyes flicking toward you before refocusing on the road. "Exactly. And I don’t like either option."

It settles over you like a heavy cloak. It’s the first time he’s outright admitted how much this unnerved him. You could keep brushing it off, changing the subject like before. But there’s no more avoiding it now.

You let out a slow breath. "Fine,” you groan, “Let’s figure out who wants to kill me.”

— — — — —

“I know why they want to kill you.”

You blink. Then, mustering all your willpower and patience, you set your palms on the table with a level stare. “Tell me Jay,” you say dryly, “why do they want to kill me?”

“Easy. You pissed them off or something.”

Cole sighs beside you, rubbing his temples. “Jay. We’re trying to be serious here.”

“I am serious,” Jay protests, leaning into the camera. “Annoying people into irrational decisions is an art form, and she’s–” He gestures vaguely at you. “Like, really good at it.”

“Wow.” You pause for a moment. Oddly enough, you’re a hundred percent sure he meant that as a compliment. “Thanks.”

Lloyd’s face appears in the frame, looking far more exhausted than usual. “Can we focus, please? This isn’t just some random threat. Whoever left that picture knew exactly what they were doing.” He taps something off-screen, and a second later, a grainy image of the stabbed photo pops up on the monitor. “This was found in the library when we went to ask about the scrolls.”

Zane, ever composed, tilts his head slightly. “The question is whether this is a warning… or an invitation.”

Silence settles over the room. You hate how that makes sense. Kai breaks it with a snort. “Not a party I’d want to be invited to.”

Cole folds his arms, his jaw tight. “We need to find out who left it.”

Pixel swipes right on the screen, pulling up an email. “I looked into what you mentioned yesterday, Cole. There really was a dig site discovered recently by Percy Shippleton. After reaching out to him, I found out it was a temple dedicated to the First Spinjitzu Master, and it specifically referenced the Fountain of Youth. That lines up with what Emily told you.

“What’s strange is that there’s no record of it in any of Master Wu’s documents. It’s as if it was completely erased from history.”

“Seems that Emily’s alibi is lined up with the facts.” Lloyd muses thoughtfully. “We’re still a few hours away from the city. Here’s the plan: you’re going to visit the dig site and find out whatever you can. We’ve also found the locations of the other two scrolls, but it’s dangerous to share it over video call. We’ll tell you when we’re back.”

Jay crosses his arms. “Alright, so you guys get to play Indiana Jones while we’re stuck in traffic. Sounds fair.”

“You’re on a flying ship. There is no traffic,” Zane points out.

“Exactly! You know how long it takes for Lloyd to land this thing?”

Lloyd ignores him. “We’ll check in once we touch down. Keep us updated.” The screen flickers off, leaving the room in silence.

Cole exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll head there first thing in the morning.”

You tilt your head. “We.”

“No. Me.” His tone is final. “It could be dangerous.”

You scoff. “Cole, someone literally left a death threat with my face on it. Not only do I have a right to be there, but I also refuse to sit around waiting for updates like some damsel.”

“You’re not–” He stops himself, exhaling sharply. “Look, I get it. But if something goes wrong–”

“If you don’t bring me along, I will literally follow you in a cab,” you interrupt, crossing your arms. “I’ll even ask Emily to drive me there.”

His eye twitches. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

“You wouldn’t.”

— — — — —

“I told you I would.”

Cole hangs his head in defeat. Kai just cackles. You grin widely at them both before glancing toward a nearby tent, where Emily is chatting animatedly with Percy. She’d introduced you to the archaeologist earlier, making sure to mention that you were her stepdaughter. You’d shoved down every ounce of disgust, doing your best to be a decent enough person.

Luckily, it’d paid off. Percy had been more than happy to offer you an all-access pass, which you now wave cockily in front of your soulmate. “And here I thought you knew better than to underestimate me.”

Cole exhales sharply through his nose. “Just... stay close, and don’t wander off, okay?”

You blink at him before tilting your head. “I think you’ve got this backward. I’m the one with the all-access pass. So, in retrospect, you should be sticking close to me.” You shoot him a smug grin. “And don’t wander off, okay?”

Kai, thoroughly enjoying himself, lets out another cackle. His hands are shoved in his pockets, his expression a mix of pure amusement and secondhand pain.

Cole grits his teeth before sighing in resignation.

“Great!” You chirp, spinning on your heel and striding toward the entrance. “Follow me!”

The temple itself is rather small compared to the others that Master Wu had shown you, pictures compiled in a handmade scrapbook which you personally found adorable. You’d been handed masks before going in, a gesture which now makes sense when the ceiling sheds thin clouds of dust in uneven bursts, drifting like ghosts through the dim light.

At the heart of the temple stands a statue of a figure you can only assume is the First Spinjitzu Master. He looms over an empty fountain, its dry basin cracked with time. The stone rim is adorned with intricate hieroglyphs, their meaning lost to all but skilled scholars, whispering of a past far older than you could ever imagine.

One wall is dedicated to what looks like drawings of weapons, both Kai and Cole pausing in front of it. You spot hints of fondness in their gazes, eyes fixed on the scythe, sword, nunchucks, and shurikens. The air quickly becomes somber, and you decide to ask them about it later.

But it’s the wall encircling the fountain that truly catches your breath. Sprawled across its surface is a mural, its artistry fierce and chaotic. Armies of every race in Ninjago. Humans, serpentine, stone warriors, and more, clash in a furious battle, their weapons raised against one another. At the center of it all, the fountain sits untouched, a beacon in the storm of war. The desperation is clear in the etched expressions, the way some figures trample over the fallen in their rush toward the prize. The very stone seems to hum with their longing.

A shiver crawls down your spine. You didn’t need brainpower to understand that this wasn’t just a temple. It was a battleground.

“So this is Lloyd’s grandpa.”

“Yeah, great-grandpa to be exact. You get used to it after a while,” Kai says with a shrug, approaching the fountain with interest. “I’m assuming this isn’t the actual fountain?”

“I don’t think so.” Cole agrees, running a gloved hand over the hieroglyphs. He pulls out his phone, snapping photos of the entire area. “I’m sending these over to Pixel for deciphering.”

“Oh, I don’t think so.”

Kai stiffens, hand pausing mid-air over the fountain’s dry basin. Cole’s grip tightens around his phone, his head snapping toward the voice. You don’t even bother to turn, immediately recognising its owner.

Emily steps forward, a wry smile tugging at her lips as she tilts her head at Cole. “You could send those to Pixel,” she muses, “but you’d be wasting your time. I can translate them for you.”

You exhale sharply, not bothering to mask your irritation. “Oh, great.”

Ignoring you, she strides further into the chamber, her gaze sweeping over the hieroglyphs with a glint of interest. Behind her, Percy follows with barely restrained enthusiasm, his eyes practically sparkling. “Ah, this is perfect! We didn’t get to finish this the other day,” he says, clasping his hands together. “Emily, if you wouldn’t mind–”

She hums in agreement, already tracing the carvings with her fingertips. “Not at all.”

Kai eyes her warily before glancing at you. “Sooo, am I the only one wondering why she knows how to read ancient hieroglyphs?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Don’t get her started.”

Emily practically beams. “Oh you see, I majored in Mechanical Engineering at University but I took up an apprenticeship at the museum where I met Professor Jones who taught me everything about archeology. I got to tag along to some of her discoveries, and then when I completed my degree I spent a year or two out in the field before taking up another degree in BioMedical Science.”

“You just had to ask.” Kai grimaces in apology.

She leans down, tilting her head to study the glyphs. “That’s interesting.”

“What is?” Percy asks eagerly, a pen and notepad already in his hands.

Her hands hesitate, tracing the outline. “I-I’m not sure, but I think it’s a prophecy.”

What was once apart must come together,

Four paths converge, bound by fate’s tether.

Torn through time, yet always entwined,

The fountain waits, by hearts confined.

One will seek, yet many will fall,

And only the worthy will stand through it all.

“Not again…” Kai covers his face with his hands. “I hate these things.”

“Real,” Cole agrees, moving to examine them more closely. “I can’t even begin to count the number of times we’ve received some form of prophecy. Thank goodness Jay isn’t here, otherwise he’d launch into the whole spiel again.”

“Either way, it doesn’t bode well for anyone,” Emily adds, dusting off her gloves as she strides over to Percy. He hands her the notepad, and she jots down a few more notes. “But who knows? It could just be a prank. You’d be surprised how many archaeological sites have ominous prophecies filled with death and glory. Turns out most of them were written by people who were essentially court jesters at the time.”

“Right,” you mutter, shifting uncomfortably. The words don’t settle well in your gut. “Court jester.”

You absentmindedly reach out, hoping for the familiar warmth that usually anchors you, but your hand slips into Kai’s instead. He gives you an odd look, but accepts it, patting your shoulder lightly before taking your hand in his, gripping it in a brotherly fashion.

“You know what’s really strange, though?” Emily continues, her eyes glinting with intrigue. “Not long ago, another old temple was discovered, and there was yet another prophecy about soulmates. The weird part is that the way we find our soulmates now wasn’t always how it was done. There used to be a whole different method.”

“I see.” Cole smoothly interjects, subtly motioning for the group to leave. “Sounds fascinating, Emily. But right now, we actually have another appointment. And today’s your lesson with Master Wu, isn’t it?” His pointed look lands on you.

It takes a moment for you to process what he’s hinting at. “Oh, right. Of course,” you murmur, nodding. “I gotta kick butt and take names.”

Kai just sighs.

“I’ll catch you later!” Emily chirps before diving back into another conversation with Percy.

As soon as you slump into the passenger seat of Cole’s car, Kai loses it. His hands are flying, his face red with frustration as he lets out a string of profanity, completely thrown off. “This was supposed to be straightforward! We find the thief, catch them, then go home to dinner! Maybe even have one of Zane’s signature turkeys!”

“But it’s not Thanksgiving yet,” you murmur, pressing your lips together when Kai slowly turns his head in your direction.

“That’s what you care about right now???”

“Calm down, Kai,” Cole says, his voice cutting through the tension. You slump further into the seat, eyes absently tracing the dirt stain on the window. “We’ll head home, brief Lloyd and the others, then we’ll get to the bottom of this.” His voice is grim, his grip on the steering wheel tightening.

You stare blankly out the window, the pieces beginning to form in your mind. The thief had stolen the first scroll, but hadn’t gone after the others? Why?

Everything you've learned today points to a thief desperate for the Fountain of Youth, surely for some evil purpose. From the many strategy meetings and the bits of intel Cole had shared, you knew one scroll was hidden in the Cloud Kingdom, and another was buried somewhere in the dark side of Ninjago.

And then it clicks.

The thief didn’t know about the other scrolls. They were at the Sky Kingdom, because they were looking for the location of the others. That’s why they’d left that picture of you with a knife through it, stuck to one of the bookshelves. It was a threat. Not just to you, but to anyone who could stand in their way.

You feel a wave of nausea wash over you as the sickening realization sinks in. “They’re going to find the rest, aren’t they? The picture of me was a warning. They somehow know that we��re soulmates. It’s the only explanation, isn’t it?”

“Oh yippee,” Kai adds dryly. “Hate to be the one to break it to you guys but it’s like, crazy obvious to anyone with somewhat decent vision. Even our postman asked about you guys.”

Before you can snap back, Cole’s phone beeps. The display above the car’s console flashes with a notification from Zane. Cole presses on it, and you open the message.

Zane [ 04:56 PM ]: We’re heading to Shintaro in the morning

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beescomet · 2 months ago

Text

𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝟏𝟐 |

a/n: lol hey bitches wassup im alive barely

[ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ] | [ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

“Foie gras? More like fuck yeah.”

You barely hold back a snort as you pass a table of finely dressed patrons, their laughter chiming like the delicate crystal glasses they toast with. The restaurant practically oozes luxury. Soft golden chandeliers cast a warm glow over polished mahogany tables, with tall candlesticks flickering atop pristine white tablecloths. There’s a subtle Japanese influence woven into the elegance, from the delicate ink paintings adorning the walls to the serene arrangement of bonsai trees near the entrance.

After picking up your dad’s birthday cake, you had killed some time at a café before making your way here for the dinner Emily had arranged weeks in advance. Apparently, being a famous author has its perks.

Cole moves with ease, utterly unfazed by the people surrounding him. Meanwhile, you can practically feel every scrutinizing glance sweeping over you. Your outfit. Your posture. Your entire existence.

Confidence? Never heard of her.

Your stomach tightens at the unspoken question lingering in their stares, darting between you and Cole with barely reined in curiosity. You don’t even have to look to know that some of these people recognize him, whispered conversations teetering on the edge of gossip. Your mind briefly flashes to the inevitable newspaper articles, only to recall his reassurance that Cyrus Borg was keeping the news at bay.

A sliver of respect inches into your gut at how unnerved he seems. To be fair, fighting for the safety of Ninjago itself tends to bear more weight than snide gossip. Still, the feeling lingers, making your steps feel just a bit more awkward as the hostess leads you further inside.

At last, she stops in front of a private room and slides open the door with practiced grace. The transition from the bustling main dining area to the quiet intimacy of the room is almost jarring. The soft glow of paper lanterns casts long shadows over the tatami flooring, and a low wooden table sits in the center, set with lacquered trays and delicate ceramic dishes.

Cole waits for you to slip off your shoes first, stepping onto the mat in just your socks. In the corner of your eyes, the hostess pauses, her gaze flitting down momentarily.

Right. The candy cane socks.

You force yourself not to react, but inwardly, you sigh. Plain socks from now on. Noted.

Emily and your dad are already sitting down opposite each other, a bottle of sake already half-emptied. Neither of you are big drinkers, but somehow, your dad was blessed with the genetics of zero hangovers. A trait that, fortunately, he passed down to you.

The sound of your footsteps draws his attention, and he looks up with a big smile. “You’re here!” He greets enthusiastically, patting the spot next to him. “I already ordered some food for us.”

The way Cole straightens ever so slightly, inhaling as if bracing himself, almost makes you smile, but you press your lips together and drop into the seat next to your dad. There's another open spot beside you, but Cole, sensing the silent don't even think about it radiating from your dad, moves to slide into the seat directly across from you instead.

Your dad hums, clearly pleased, and reaches for one of the sake cups. “So.” He sets it down in front of Cole with casual deliberation, then leans back. “You’re my daughter’s soulmate.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Immediately tugging at his sleeve, you give him the sharpest glare you can muster. “Stop it.”

Your dad blinks at you, all wide-eyed innocence. “Stop what?”

“This. You’re doing something.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Yes, you are. It’s called killing your daughter’s dignity.”

At this, he snorts and takes a sip of sake before leveling you with an unimpressed look. “What dignity?”

Your mouth opens. Then, it closes.

You stare at him in sheer betrayal, utterly speechless at how intent he is on dragging you.

Across the table, Cole shifts just enough for your eyes to meet, his silent plea for help practically screaming do something.

You shrug helplessly.

Sorry bud. I tried.

Cole visibly withers.

Emily, meanwhile, is sipping her diet coke like this is the most entertaining show she’s seen all week.

Your dad clears his throat, finally relenting, though the glint in his eyes tells you he's far from done. “Alright then, tell me. How’d you two meet?”

Cole stiffens, then, without hesitation, reaches for the sake bottle. He smoothly refills your dad’s cup before pouring one for himself, clearing his throat as he sets the bottle down. “She, uh… saved me.”

Your dad raises an eyebrow. “Saved you?”

“From a horde of fans.”

You swear you see your dad’s lips twitch. He looks from Cole to you, skepticism creeping into his expression.

Cole catches on immediately. His spine straightens, and he shakes his head, hands raised slightly in alarm. “I mean, not like that! Nothing’s ever happened between me and anyone else, ever.”

Your dad takes a slow sip of sake, watching Cole as if deciding whether or not to kick him out of the room. Dropping your head into your hands, it takes all the remaining willpower left in your body to not slam your head against the table.

Your stomach churns.

This is a disaster.

You’ve been in nerve-wracking situations before, but nothing could’ve prepared you for the unique horror of watching your dad size up your soulmate like he’s deciding whether to drown him in soy sauce.

You drop your head into your hands, pressing your fingers into your temples as if sheer willpower alone can make this night go faster.

He’s doing this on purpose.

Desperate for an out, you spot a menu and snatch it up with all the sanity of an asylum patient. Thumbing through the pages, you try to focus on the blurry words and not on the intense heat that’s slowly but surely spreading through your face.

Your dad, of course, is unfazed.

“So,” he says, swirling his sake. “What’s it been like for you? I’m sure it wasn’t easy with my daughter.”

You tense.

Cole hesitates. “Uh–”

“I was actually thinking we should order,” you interject, voice an octave higher than usual. “Dad, do you think they have–” Your eyes dart across the menu. “Grilled octopus?”

He ignores you entirely. “I just mean, it must’ve been an adjustment, right? She’s never been one to romanticize the whole soulmate thing. Pretty closed off about it, actually.” He raises a brow at Cole. “That ever been an issue?”

The menu snaps shut with a thwack. “So we are getting grilled octopus.”

Cole, looking like a deer caught in headlights, gives an awkward chuckle. “I mean… yeah, it was a bit of a shock. She, uh, wasn’t exactly thrilled at first.” He glances at you for backup.

You stare back, wide-eyed and helpless white trying to subtly shake your head. Do NOT answer that.

He clears his throat. “But, uh, we’re figuring things out.”

Of course he fucking answered it–

Your dad hums, unconvinced. Then, casually, like he’s discussing the weather, he asks, “So, what do you make? Income-wise?”

The menu slams back onto the table with enough force to shake the teacups. “Dad.”

“What?” he asks, all innocence. “I just want to make sure you have a stable life.”

Your fingers dig into the menu’s edges. “Why? So I won’t end up like you and Mom?”

Silence.

It hits the table like a brick, the air suddenly heavy. Your dad’s easygoing expression falters, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. Emily, who had been quietly observing, glances between the two of you but says nothing.

Your eyes are fixed on the empty teacup in front of you, grabbing the sake from where it sits and pouring yourself a cup before downing it in one shot. The burn is wonderful, a nice distraction from the words you’ve just uttered that’ve set off a round of landmines at the table.

Regret blooms in your gut when you spot the expression on your father’s face. Guilt, sadness, and mild frustration all swirl in a mix of emotions in his eyes. It’s subtle; the way his grip tightens on his cup.

Cole clears his throat, shifting in his seat. In a clear attempt to redirect the conversation, he says, “Uh, well — Master Wu always taught us that we shouldn’t get paid to help people. But sometimes we take on ad hoc jobs, and people send donations.” He straightens slightly. “I invest most of it though, so I’m actually pretty financially secure.”

Your dad finally blinks, tilting his head. “Huh. So you’re smart with your money.”

Cole nods. “I try to be. Considering the amount of coffee she drinks, I have to be able to afford it, right?”

The atmosphere lightens at the sudden jab, and you narrow your eyes at him. “Really Brookstone? We’re gonna talk about my spending habits?”

Cole winces, exchanging a cheeky glance with your dad who grins widely. “Oh, you’re in trouble now,” he warns.

Just as you open your mouth to retaliate, the sliding door shifts open, and the first round of dishes arrives. The smell of freshly grilled fish and steaming rice temporarily distracts you, and you sit back as the server gracefully places the dishes in the center of the table. A delicate plate of sashimi, a bowl of miso soup, and a platter of karaage with a side of dipping sauce join the spread.

Your dad picks up his chopsticks with ease, nodding in approval. “Not bad. You get a lot of good food traveling around, Cole?”

Cole, who had just reached for a piece of karaage, pauses slightly at the question before shrugging. “Depends. A lot of the time, we’re eating on the go, so quick stuff that’s easy to pack is our usual. But when we do get the chance to sit down, we try to enjoy it.” He glances at you. “I mean, I know someone who would riot if she didn’t get a proper meal.”

You resist the urge to kick him under the table. “Excuse me for having standards.”

Your dad hums in amusement. “Must be a lot of work though, being the Earth Ninja. And now, with my daughter involved…” His gaze sharpens slightly, though there’s no outright hostility.

Cole meets his eyes without flinching. “It is a lot of work,” he admits. “But keeping her safe is a priority.”

Your chopsticks falter slightly. You knew, of course, that Cole was obligated to keep you out of harm’s way, but hearing him say it so plainly even as a simple statement makes something tighten in your chest.

Your dad doesn’t look entirely convinced. “And how do you plan on doing that when the world finds out?”

There’s a pause before Cole speaks again, slower this time. “Cyrus Borg has been helping us keep things under wraps for now. We’ll go public when she’s ready.”

You blink, caught off guard at the sudden reveal. A twinge of appreciation creeps into your chest before you can shove it down.

Your dad leans back, considering. “Borg, huh? Guess you’ve got some decent allies.” He glances at you, as if to gauge your reaction. “And you? What do you think about all this?”

You pick at a grain of rice with your chopsticks, reluctant to answer too quickly.

Emily, who has been surprisingly quiet this whole time, finally chimes in. “I, for one, think it’s pretty funny that this has thrown her off so much,” she muses. “Usually, she’s the one keeping people on their toes.”

You shoot her a look, but she only smirks behind her cup.

Cole snickers. “Yeah, that’s true.”

Traitor.

“That’s not the point,” you speak up with a roll of your eyes. “You asked me to bring him along to get to know each other better, and I’m pretty sure I’ve accomplished that.”

“True,” your dad muses as he chews on a piece of sashimi. “Shouldn’t have taken you so long, though.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You wave dismissively, placing a piece of the karaage on Cole’s plate before reaching for a slice of salmon. “If you’re done interrogating him, can we please focus on the food before I eat it all?”

“See? This is what I deal with.” Your dad gestures to you, sharing a laugh with Cole. His mischievous smile only makes you narrow your eyes into a glare. “I don’t know how you wound up with her, but you deserve much better.”

“That’s just offensive,” you grumble, snatching another slice of salmon off your dad’s plate. “I’m supposed to be too good for him, isn’t that how this goes?”

“I’m sorry, have you saved Ninjago yet?” He replies sassily, taking away the salmon you’ve just snatched and placing it onto Cole’s plate instead.

You just sigh.

“Speaking of saving Ninjago,” Emily puts her chopsticks down, turning to face Cole. “I’m writing a new book based on one of Ninjago’s oldest legends. As someone who’s encountered lots of myths, I’d love to hear your opinion on it.”

“Sure,” he says lightheartedly, “hit me with it.”

“It’s based on the Ninjago legend of the Four Scrolls.”

Okay… you blink, exchanging a look with Cole. Must be a coincidence.

His expression is calm, but you don’t miss the way he subtly straightens, exchanging another glance with you. You press your lips together, feigning nonchalance as you turn back to Emily.

“Didn’t take you for the history buff type,” you remark.

Emily lifts a brow. “Just because we don’t get along doesn’t mean I have bad taste in stories.” She leans forward, eyes glinting with satisfaction now that she has everyone’s attention. “The legend dates back to the time of the First Spinjitzu Master. It’s said that he discovered something…Something powerful enough to shake the foundation of all the realms.”

The table quiets. Even your dad, who’d been busy stacking wasabi onto his sushi like an absolute menace, pauses mid-bite.

Emily continues, voice lowering just slightly, as if the very act of speaking the words demands absolute silence.

“They call it the Fountain of Youth.” She lets the name hang in the air for a beat before continuing. “A wellspring of endless vitality, hidden deep within the world, untouched by time. But when word of its existence spread, it led to chaos. A war unlike any other, fought not for land or wealth, but for immortality itself. Every species — serpentine, humans, even the spirits — wanted it for themselves.”

Your grip tightens around your chopsticks. The theft of the first Scroll hadn’t even been made public yet, and everything Pixel had briefed you on was missing one crucial piece: the purpose of the Scrolls.

Emily’s research was probably full of embellishments, but if there was one thing you knew, it was how obsessively thorough she was. She met with experts, dissected myths, and hunted down obscure details, all for the sake of accuracy in her books.

So how, of all people, did she manage to unearth this legend in such detail?

“But the First Spinjitzu Master knew what power like that could do,” Emily goes on. “So instead of using it, he hid it. Sealed it away where no one could find it. And to ensure it would never fall into the wrong hands, he created a map… but divided it into four.”

“The Four Scrolls,” Cole murmurs.

Emily nods. “The Scroll of Fate, the Scroll of Destiny, the Scroll of Desire, and the Scroll of Dreams. Each one contains a fragment of the map, but only when the first three are brought together does the fourth reveal itself.”

“The Scroll of Dreams?” You echo, leaning back as your brows furrow. “I thought its name was lost.”

Emily shrugs nonchalantly. “I met with an archaeologist the other day. She uncovered an old dig site with hieroglyphs on the wall. I was called in to consult because I studied under Professor Jones.” She pauses for a beat, noticing the surprise in both yours and Cole’s expressions. “Why? You two look like I just cast a curse.”

“I…I need to make a call.” Cole stumbles to his feet. Your eyes meet briefly, a sinking feeling in your stomach as he hurriedly exits the room.

“I’m…gonna go take a shit.”

Your dad blinks. “Sure, honey. Let me know if you need medicine or something.”

As you step out of the room, you catch sight of Cole slipping through the side door. You follow him into the dimly lit car park, the cool air biting at your skin. “...yeah, that’s what we just found out. I’m not sure how reliable it is, but we should still look into it. Just in case.”

You wait, leaning against the wall, eyes trained on him as he speaks into his phone. The quiet hum of the night air fills the space between you, but something shifts when you catch the mention of your name.

Without him noticing, you stay silent, your heartbeat a little louder now, a mix of hesitation and curiosity gripping you. It’s far easier to remain in the shadows, letting him speak freely, than to interrupt him.

Then you hear it.

“...Zane and Lloyd found what?” His voice drops, the tension in his stance tightening like a wire about to snap. He rakes a hand through his hair, his words turning sharp, brittle. “I don’t understand. Are you sure that’s what you saw?”

You take a hesitant step forward, instinctively reaching to tap his shoulder. But before you can, his next words slice through the air like a blade.

A breath. A pause. A silence so heavy it feels like a single moment would shatter it.

“What do you mean you found a picture of her with a knife through it?”

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beescomet · 2 months ago

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Nine lives

modern!Sukuna x Reader

You thought you had gotten rid of Sukuna from your life but you weren't expecting a furry friend to bring him back once again.

Content Warning: Mentions of past fwb relationship, Sukuna is his own warning, cat dad Kuna, slut shaming (for a cat haha)

A/N: Hi! This is just like a quick smau that came to me yesterday night so enjoy it haha. This isnt like a series (at least not for the moment) this is more like something I will be updating whenever the inspiration gets to me

If you like the story please interact: reblogs, likes and comments go a long way. Feedback is always appreciated! Feel free to message me about it.

#i love this omg #not because im studying to be a vet or anything so it hits super close to him ahahahah tTOTALLY NOT BECAUSE OF THAT

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beescomet · 2 months ago

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this is the funniest thing I’ve ever made you’re welcome jaymers

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beescomet · 4 months ago

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𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝟏𝟎 |

[ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ] | [ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

#1 Rule of Fake Dating: Don’t make it your go-to excuse for everything.

You learned this the hard way after telling Abby you had a ‘date’ to get out of her study session invite. Her eyes widened to proportions you never imagined possible as she gasped and demanded the full story of how you met your soulmate.

Before you could spin a convincing lie, your phone rang. The familiar ringtone makes you smile. For once, you were actually grateful for his annoying ass.

“What’s up, Brooky?”

Cole’s long-suffering sigh nearly makes you burst out laughing. “I’ll buy you a drink if you promise never to call me that again.”

You bid Abby a hasty wave goodbye, watching her slump back down in disappointment over not getting any juicy details. “Depends on how expensive it is.”

“You do realise that I don’t get paid for my heroism.”

You wince. “That’s so true. You guys should really talk to the mayor about that.”

“Right?” His voice picks up, clearly hitting a sore spot. “I mean, I already feel bad enough living off Cyrus’s goodwill, especially with all of us there.”

Sandwiching your phone between your ear and shoulder, you adjust the bag on your arm and hum in agreement as he continues. “Plus, I don’t know. Master Wu’s insistent on us doing everything for free, but I think the renovation costs might’ve made him reconsider taking on a few private requests.”

“What kind of requests?” You unintentionally tune him out as you exit the university grounds to look for him. Standing on your tiptoes, you scan the crowd. Nothing. You frown, craning your neck in hopes of spotting that familiar mop of black hair. “Where are you?” you mutter, your voice slipping into irritation.

“What was that?”

“I said–”

A firm tap on your shoulder cuts you off. Startled, you spin around and instinctively lash out, your fist connecting with someone’s side.

“Oof!” A pained grunt follows as Cole doubles over, clutching his ribs. Despite his wheezing, he still manages a crooked grin. “Is this how you treat your boyfriend now? Should I be worried?”

“Oh my god!” Your hands fly to your mouth, eyes wide with horror. “I am so sorry! You can’t sneak up on people like that!”

Straightening up, Cole gives you a mock-wounded look, still rubbing his side. “Noted. Next time I’ll announce myself with a trumpet.”

“Good,” you reply, crossing your arms but quickly softening. “You’re okay, though, right?”

“Define ‘okay,’” he teases, but his attention shifts as his gaze flicks over you. His brows furrow. “Uh… are we matching right now?”

You blink, glancing down at your outfit — a brown dress paired with a white bag — before looking back at him. He’s wearing a white shirt and long brown khakis.

It hits you both at the same time.

“No.”

“Oh, absolutely not.”

You gape at each other in shared offence.

“This is ridiculous,” you mutter, shaking your head.

Cole narrows his eyes, gesturing between you. “Who’s copying who here?”

“Obviously you copied me,” you reply, placing a hand on your hip.

He snorts, crossing his arms. “Sure, because I definitely planned to match my soulmate’s outfit for a date in public.”

“It’s not a date!” you hiss, glancing around as a few bystanders glance your way with interest.

Cole raises a brow, an all-too-amused smirk spreading across his face. “Oh, so you do admit I’m your soulmate? As in, accepted it?”

You groan, punching his arm lightly. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe,” he says, stepping aside to take your bag. “But at least I’m fashionable.”

“Don’t push it, Brookstone,” you warn, stepping past him. He simply shrugs, an easy grin on his lips when you hand him your bag without a second thought. He slings it onto his shoulder, starting to walk with you.

“So, where’re we headed?”

“I’ve got a lesson with Master Wu today, remember?”

“‘Course I remember,” he huffs with a wounded tone, placing a hand on his heart. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?”

“Okay,” you say, stopping abruptly in the middle of the sidewalk and turning to face Cole. Your tone is calm, but there’s a certain edge to it that makes him pause. “If you’re going to keep up this boyfriend act, then you better be prepared for the consequences.”

Cole raises a brow, clearly amused. “Consequences? Like what? You making me carry your bag for the rest of my life?”

“Worse,” you reply with a smirk, resuming your pace. He follows, though the grin falters ever so slightly. Good. Let him wonder. Let him wonder and forget till the day you fill his entire room with tiny rubber dildos, enough to make an army.

You’re just about to elaborate with another (hopefully) ominous sentence when a familiar voice calls out your name from afar.

You turn to see Holly heading your way, her usual bright energy radiating even from a distance. Next to her is a boy you don’t recognise at first, but when he comes into view you realise he’s the brother you met the other day.

“Hey,” you greet, waving as they approach. Cole glances at you questioningly but stays quiet.

Holly’s eyes flick to Cole, curious. “Who’s your friend? Is he…?”

You spot the perfect opportunity and take it, turning to Cole with a sickly sweet smile. “Oh, where are my manners?” Taking a step closer, you thread your arm through his. “This is Cole.” You bat your lashes for effect. “My boyfriend.”

The words that leave your mouth feel like poison, and you immediately feel like you’ve taken a nosedive straight into the fiery depths of hell. In your peripheral, you can feel Cole glance at you, his smirk widening.

Bastard.

Holly’s jaw drops. Her brother rolls his eyes at her reaction, crossing his arms. You recall his name starting with an L, trying to scrounge up his name from the tangled ball of yarn you call a memory when he suddenly speaks.

“Calm down,” he says casually, shrugging like he’s commenting on the weather. “They’re probably just soulmates. You don’t have to make such a big deal out of it.”

Holly scowls, swatting at the hand he’s using to poke her arm. “I know that, Leo. I was just surprised to see her, that’s all.”

The sudden mention of it makes you flinch. Fake dating or not, the fact that the truth is out there in its purest form of the word soulmates is enough to trigger the nerves in your chest. After spending so long denying it, you’re suddenly supposed to accept it?

Leo notices your reaction and shrugs again, unbothered. “Holly told me about you not finding your soulmate. Till now, I guess.” His gaze darts to Cole, “Honestly, it’s not everything people make it out to be. Besides, the whole thing is overrated anyway.”

The ease in his tone catches you completely off guard. For a moment, you forget Cole’s smirk or Holly’s wide eyes. Your lips twitch upward into a small, genuine smile. “You’re not wrong,” you admit softly, meeting his gaze.

Leo’s grin widens ever so slightly. “Glad someone gets it.”

Cole, apparently done being ignored, steps forward and extends his hand. “Cole,” he says, flashing a friendly smile. “Nice to meet you.”

Leo takes his hand, shaking it firmly. “Leo. I’m this dumbass’s brother,” he elaborates, gesturing to Holly who looks ready to shove his head into the wall. You wish you could do the same to your fake boyfriend.

Your gaze flickers to their hands, catching the subtle shift in Leo’s expression; a raised brow, the slightest tilt of his head. It’s quick, almost imperceptible, but you see it. Intrigue.

The handshake ends, and Leo steps back, his expression slipping back into its usual nonchalance. Holly doesn’t seem to notice anything as she starts talking to Cole about something you barely register.

“Oh, wait,” you say, digging into your bag. “Do you have Instagram? I should follow you.”

Leo nods, pulling out his phone as you exchange handles. Just as you confirm the follow, Cole’s voice cuts in, laced with over-the-top concern.

“Babe,” he says, the word so dripping with mock affection it’s almost painful. “You’re following another guy on Instagram? I’m starting to feel... jealous.”

You shoot him a side-eye glare that he ignores entirely, his grin widening. You can practically hear the smugness dripping off his words. Fighting the urge to shove him into the nearest wall, you plaster on an exaggerated grin.

“Jealous?” Leo echoes, smirking slightly.

“Of course,” Cole replies, slinging an arm over your shoulder and pulling you closer till you’re all but squashed against his chest. His very broad, muscular chest. “My Snugglebug here doesn’t just hand out her Instagram to anyone, you know.”

Snugglebug.

I’m going to kill him. Slowly. Painfully.

“Oh, but my love,” you say, voice sugary sweet as you lean into him, batting your eyelashes. “Don’t be jealous. You’re the only one for me.”

Cole’s smirk falters for a split second, and you know you’ve struck a nerve.

“Good,” he replies, recovering quickly. “Because I was thinking of getting us matching Instagram bios. Something like, ‘Forever & Always’.”

Holly bursts into laughter, while Leo watches with what you can only describe as amused bewilderment.

“Oh, that’s adorable,” you coo, patting his cheek. “But I was thinking something simpler. Like, ‘My Rock’.”

“Perfect,” Cole echoes, his voice dripping with mischief as he gently tilts your chin to face him. “I’ll change mine to ‘My Light’.”

Oh. Oh, he’s dead.

Holly clutches her stomach, still laughing, while Leo shakes his head. “You two are... something,” he mutters, his tone dripping with amusement.

You force a smile, plotting Cole’s imminent demise. “Aren’t we just?”

Cole squeezes your shoulder lightly. “The best couple, right?”

“Oh, come on,” Holly finally bursts out, half-laughing. “You two are insufferably cute.”

“Cute,” Leo echoes, though the shit-eating grin on his face makes you want to bury yourself six feet under and pray no one ever comes to your funeral. Scratch that, no funeral needed for your demise.

You step away from Cole, letting his arm drop, and shoot him a glare that promises retribution. He just grins back, smug as ever.

“Let’s go,” you mutter, grabbing your bag from him and stalking past Holly and Leo.

Behind you, you hear Cole chuckle softly. “Anything for you, Snugglebug.”

You don’t look back, but the intense heat in your cheeks are enough to tell you he’s won this round.

It’s only after you board the bus after waiting for ten minutes, hike up the mountain stairs (you’d gotten used to it at this point), and stormed past a perplexed Zane to grab some water and chug it down that you finally deign Cole with a scathing glare after the agony of silence.

“What’s wrong Snugglebug?” The bastard’s as smug as ever, leaning against the counter with a knowing smile. He tilts his head innocently, though his eyes gleam with mischief. “Did you want to take it to the next level? Change our Facebook status to ‘Taken’, perhaps?”

If not for the fact that the glass you’re drinking out of being classified as monastery property, you would’ve hurled it at his head without hesitation. Instead, you take a deep breath, set the glass down with no more than a soft clink, and plaster the tiniest smile on your lips.

“Cole?”

He’s wary now. You take a step toward him, the very picture of serenity when he suddenly takes a step back, slowly moving away to the other side of the kitchen. “What’s wrong?” You ask sweetly, watching him awkwardly smile back in response as his arm scrambles for something behind his back. “What’re you looking for, Cole?”

“Nothing,” he says, though you pick up on the smallest of trembles in his voice. “Just… loving how relaxed and completely okay with everything you are. Have I ever told you that you’re the best out of all of us?”

“Not at all,” you hum, stepping closer and closer to him until he’s flattened himself to the refrigerator door, looking down at you hesitantly. “The best, you say?”

“Mmhm.” He nods slowly, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. Your lips twitch ever so slightly, lifting your hand up. His eyes widen, gaze fixated on your hand as it swings down toward him.

And lands on his shoulder in the form of a gentle pat.

“Okay.” He watches you move away, heading to the sink to wash the empty glass. “I’m gonna go to Master Wu’s class now. You’re on bodyguard duty for the whole week, right?”

You can sense how flustered he is when he mumbles out confirmation, turning around and watching him stiffen noticeably when your eyes meet his. “Sounds good!” You chirp, placing the rinsed glass onto the dishrack and leaving the kitchen without another word.

— — — — — —

“Here’re the rubber... ducks you ordered.”

Zane holds out a small, nondescript package. His tone is neutral, but the slightest tilt of his head gives away his curiosity.

It had been two days since the whole fake boyfriend debacle with Holly and Leo, with Cole behaving more quietly ever since you cornered him against the fridge. He’d laid low, keeping jokes to himself and bristling each time you sent an emotionless smile in his direction.

But this morning, he’d seemed back to his old self, slipping in snarky little comments about your relationship.

Earth Ninja or not, you were thisclose to snapping the next time he referred to you as Babezilla in front of Kai.

But right now, you have more important things to focus on. Like the package in Zane’s hands.

“Thanks!” You say, grabbing the bag from him and clutching it to your chest like it’s some precious heirloom whilst grinning like an absolute madman.

Zane doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak. He just... stares. His eyes linger on the tightly wrapped block in your arms. You’re pretty sure if you poked him he’d teeter right before falling.

You can practically see the gears turning in his head, calculating every possible reason for your delivery. When his eyes narrow ever so slightly, you know you’re dangerously close to being interrogated.

You pat his shoulder, offering him your best reassuring smile. “Don’t ask.”

He blinks, his head tilting further. “But I wasn’t—”

“Don’t.”

Zane lets it go, though the way his brow furrows suggests this will remain an unsolved mystery he’ll revisit later.

Fat chance, my guy.

Clutching the bag tighter, you make your way toward Cole’s room. His music isn’t blasting through your head like it usually does when he’s nearby, a sure sign he’s out on patrol. Perfect.

As you reach his door, you take a deep breath, preparing for the task at hand. Operation Dildo Baggins was officially a go. You’d been sitting on this idea for a while with no official target, and now, with Cole’s recent antics (antics being the kindest possible way to describe the utter humiliation and embarrassment you’d been subject to with nicknames like Snugglebug, Babezilla, and worst of all…Babycakes), it felt like the perfect time to strike.

Slipping inside, you survey the space. His room is a mess, but it’s a mess you can oddly appreciate. Weights in one corner, a pile of laundry in another, and his bed unmade. The mattress practically has a Cole-shaped indent in it, while pillows lay haphazardly around.

You pull out the bag and unzip it, grinning at the contents. Tiny, brightly colored rubber dildos, all varying in size, shape, and shade. Some even had glitter. A stroke of genius, if you said so yourself.

Now, where to start?

You’re halfway through Operation Dildo Baggins when a sharp inhale makes you freeze. You slowly turn, expecting to be busted by Cole himself, when you see a wide-eyed Jay and Kai in the doorway.

Jay’s lips are parted, his gaze darting to the opened package on the floor, where its contents are spilling out, while Kai stands there with his arms crossed, one brow arched in silent amusement.

You glance from the sparkly pink palm-sized dildo in your hands to the two of them, trying to form a coherent explanation.

“...It’s not what it looks like.”

Jay erupts into a fit of giggles, pressing himself against the open door while he chokes on a shaky inhale. Kai steps inside, admiring your handiwork. You relent.

“Okay, it’s exactly what it looks like,” you relent, stepping down from the footstool you’re using to hide one of them above the closet. “It’s revenge. Or as I like to call it, Operation Dildo Baggins.”

Jay lets out an absolutely unhinged wheeze, sliding down the door frame as he laughs uncontrollably. “Dildo Baggins?” he chokes out between gasps. “That’s — oh my god — that’s genius.”

Kai strolls in, folding his arms as he surveys the chaos of tiny rubber dildos strewn across Cole’s room. “So,” he drawls with a smirk, “does this have anything to do with you being called–”

“Don’t,” you cut in sharply, jabbing a finger at him before he can utter the cursed nickname. Your glare is enough to make him pause. “I still have a coupon for another bag.”

He wisely shuts up.

“Anyway,” you continue, clutching the sparkly pink offender in your hand, “if you two idiots are here, you might as well help.”

Jay perks up immediately, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, I am so in,” he says, practically bouncing as he steps over to inspect the pile, picking up a few he deems worthy. Kai shrugs, amused, and picks one up, flipping it idly in his hand.

“Alright,” you announce, “we’ve got to be smart about this. No obvious spots. Think subtle, think devious.”

Jay nods enthusiastically, like you’re outlining the master plan to a heist. “Subtle and devious. Got it.” Then, with an impish grin, he holds up Cole’s clear shower gel bottle, tilting it slightly to reveal the viscous blue liquid inside. “Ooooh, this is a good spot.”

You gape at him. “Jay–”

Before you can finish, he unscrews the cap and carefully slides in a few glittery dildos, where they sink and swirl lazily in the gel like the most ridiculous snow globe. He beams proudly.

“Perfect,” he declares, holding it up like a trophy.

Kai snorts. “That’s evil.”

You groan, pressing a hand to your forehead. “Teamwork truly does make the dream work,” you mutter, but you can’t help the small grin tugging at your lips as you snatch the bottle back and shove it into Cole’s shower bag.

“Focus, team,” you say, regaining your composure. “We’ve still got plenty more to hide.”

Kai tosses a dildo into the air, catching it with ease. “I call dibs on his sock drawer.”

Jay claps his hands together, rubbing them like an evil mastermind. “And I’ve got ideas for his weights.”

You’re fairly certain you’ve assembled the worst accomplices in history, or maybe the best. Either way, the amount of gleeful scurrying, whispered plotting, and the sheer evil glint in their eyes makes you think you’ve found your partners-in-crime for life. Operation Dildo Baggins had been an unparalleled success.

By the time you’re done, it’s time to unwind in the game room, the massive TV already aglow with the chaos of Overcooked’s cartoonish kitchen. Jay thrusts a controller into your hands while Kai rummages through the kitchen for snacks. They’d insisted you stay for dinner, and honestly, how could you refuse? A day of dildo-hiding makes a girl hungry.

“Okay, new plan,” Jay says, resetting the level for the third time. “You stay on cooking duty. I’ll chop, Kai delivers. We’ve got this.”

“Pretty sure you said that the last two times,” you deadpan, cracking your knuckles and adjusting your grip on the controller. “And yet, here we are.”

Kai returns with a bowl of chips, plopping down beside you. “Third time’s the charm,” he says, tossing a chip in his mouth. “Now stop arguing and start chopping.”

The game begins, and chaos ensues. You’re barking orders like a drill sergeant. “Jay, the tomatoes! KAI, THAT PLATE IS BURNT. WHY IS IT BURNT?!”

Jay is in another fit of giggles as he accidentally throws a perfectly good onion into the trash. “It slipped!”

“HOW DOES AN ONION SLIP?!”

“Guys, calm down–” Kai starts, but you cut him off, voice rising in desperation. “No calming! DELIVERY! We need that plate out NOW or we fail again!”

The door opens behind you, but you’re too focused on the timer ticking down and the chaos on the screen to look. The sound of a water bottle being uncapped and a few long gulps makes you hyper-aware of his presence, though. Not to mention the fact that you’d heard the faint melody of his usual playlist approaching the monastery which had made you accidentally throw away a good pot of cooked rice.

Cole.

You can feel his gaze on you, but there’s no time to address him. Not when Jay’s standing in the middle of the screen holding a pot and doing nothing useful.

“Jay, fuck off! Kai, DELIVER THE PLATE!”

“I’m trying!” Kai protests, nearly tipping over his drink in real life as he frantically mashes buttons.

It’s no use. The timer runs out, and the screen flashes a giant FAILED in bright red letters. You drop your controller with a groan, leaning back against the couch.

“That’s it. I’m done. You two are hopeless.”

“Hey,” Jay protests, “I’m great under pressure! Just… not in a fake kitchen.”

“You’d starve if we ever got trapped on a deserted island,” you mutter, reaching for a chip.

“Looks like you’ve got everything under control here.”

Finally, you glance over your shoulder. He’s leaning casually against the doorframe, his water bottle in hand, watching you with that infuriating smirk. Also, he was wearing a sleeveless tank top which, you hate to admit it, looked good on him. But also, his arms had the slightest sheen of sweat.

In conclusion, gross and yucky.

“Care to back that up with action, or are you just here to talk shit get hit?” you shoot back, crossing your arms.

“Oh, I’d destroy you,” he replies smoothly, taking another swig of water.

You snort. “Please. You’d fold under pressure faster than Jay did when I asked him to deliver a plate.”

“Hey!” Jay protests, only to pause. “Okay, that’s fair.”

Cole chuckles, setting his water bottle on a nearby table. “You sure about that? I’ve got quick reflexes and perfect hand-eye coordination. I’d mop the floor with you, just like I did when we sparred.”

“Big talk for someone who hasn’t even touched the controller,” you retort, a spark of competitive energy flaring up in your chest. “Also, I totally let you win.”

“Oh, this I’ve got to see,” Jay interjects, scrambling to set the game to player-versus-player mode. He tosses a controller to Cole, who catches it effortlessly.

“I’m not kidding,” Cole adds as he strides toward the couch. “You’re about to witness greatness.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you scoff. “Hope you’re ready to eat my dust.”

Before you can say another word, Cole leaps over the back of the sofa in one fluid motion, landing right beside you. You blink, startled by the sheer grace of it, but quickly mask it with a scoff.

“Fancy moves won’t save you here, Brooky boy,” you mutter, gripping your controller tightly.

“Oh, I don’t need fancy moves to beat you,” he says, leaning slightly closer, his smirk infuriatingly confident. You shove him away with disgust, suddenly aware of how close you are. Before you can move away, however, Kai makes himself comfortable and manspreads. You roll your eyes.

“Bring it,” you reply easily, choosing your avatar.

Jay, already giggling in anticipation, hits start. “Let the carnage begin!”

The match starts, and the game becomes a blur of chaotic, fast-paced action. Your fingers move furiously over the buttons as you fight to keep up with Cole’s surprisingly sharp gameplay.

“You’re getting slow,” he taunts, the familiar chime of bells signalling completed orders going off non-stop for both sides.

“Slow?” you hiss, eyes narrowing. “I’m just warming up.”

Kai leans back with a laugh, munching on chips. “This is better than TV.”

For a moment, your eyes dart to your competitor. Cole’s leaning slightly forward, his full focus on the screen, brows furrowed in concentration. The corner of his mouth twitches upward, that stupid smirk never quite leaving.

Then, it hits you. The scent.

It’s faint at first, but the more you notice it, the stronger it becomes. A warm blend of spiced cinnamon and vanilla, rich and inviting, like stepping into your kitchen during Christmas to sneak a few cups of hot chocolate with your mother. A pang of nostalgia washes over you, unbidden and completely out of place. You shake your head slightly, trying to ignore how oddly comforting it feels.

How does he smell this good when he hasn’t even showered yet?

Your avatar stumbles on screen, moving erratically as you remain stuck in that memory. Cole notices instantly.

“Losing your touch already?” he snorts, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

The sound of his voice yanks you back to the moment. “What? No!” you snap, glaring at him as you hastily mash buttons to catch up.

“Sure looks like it,” he teases, that insufferable grin widening.

Without thinking, you shove him with your shoulder. He barely budges, laughing as he nudges you back. Your heart is racing in your chest, though you quickly chalk it up to the pressure of the game.

The timer on the screen counts down to the final seconds, and your competitive streak kicks into overdrive. Your fingers fly across the controller as you focus all your energy on completing as many orders as possible. The kitchen on screen is pure chaos with ingredients on every inch of floor space, chopped cucumbers everywhere, pots almost overboiling, but somehow, you’re thriving in it.

Also, a part of it is on fire but with five seconds left, you’re prioritizing getting the food out rather than extinguish it.

“Come on, you’ve got this!” Jay cheers, leaning forward in excitement.

“Not a chance in hell,” Cole counters, his tone light but determined.

With a final flurry of button-mashing, the round ends. The results start to tally, both of you subconsciously leaning forward in anticipation. When the screen reveals you’d beaten him by two completed orders, a triumphant cry tears itself from your throat.

“I am unstoppable!” you declare, throwing your arms up like you’ve just claimed the title of world champion.

Jay hits a button on the controller, triggering cheers from the speakers. Kai sets off a party popper he somehow produces on cue. Confetti rains down, and you take a mock bow, basking in your victory.

Cole leans back on the sofa, swirling his water bottle in one hand, a soft grin playing at his lips. “You’re really proud of yourself, huh?”

“Obviously,” you say, spinning around to face him. “Beating you at anything is worth celebrating.”

His grin widens, and there’s a flicker of something in his gaze. Amusement, sure, but also a hint of challenge. “It was beginner’s luck.”

You scoff, crossing your arms. “Excuse me? I’ve been playing this longer than you’ve been doing your ninja stuff.”

“I’m just saying,” he drawls, sitting up straighter. “If we played again, I’d wipe the floor with you.”

Kai lets out a low whistle. “Oh, he’s laying it down now.”

Jay, grinning from ear to ear, grabs another controller. “This I have to see.”

Your eyes narrow at Cole, your competitive streak kicking into overdrive. “Fine. Rematch. But let’s make it interesting.”

He raises an eyebrow. “What, like a bet?”

“Winner gets to change the loser’s contact name for them. No swapping, no amendments. The name has to be kept and can only be changed through official Overcooked Betting.”

Cole eyes the hand you put forth, waiting patiently for him to shake it and accept the terms.

He takes it.

The stakes are set, controllers gripped, and tension hangs in the air as the rematch begins. The sound of clattering plates and sizzling pans fills the room, each of you hyper-focused on the chaos of the Overcooked kitchen. You’re determined to hold onto your victory streak, while Cole, equally motivated, keeps throwing glances your way, his smirk bordering on smug.

“Focus on your side, Cole,” you snap, dodging his attempt to distract you as his elbow inches closer to your ribcage. You swat it away with your arm, using the side of your head to bonk his shoulder.

“Multitasking is my specialty,” he shoots back.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Cole stealing glances at you between frantic moves, his expression equal parts focused and amused. You push harder, refusing to let him win.

Jay and Kai are on the edge of their seats, munching snacks as if watching the most gripping movie of the year.

When the final seconds tick down and the scores flash on the screen, you let out a loud groan. He’d beaten you by one order.

“No!” you cry, dropping the controller in defeat.

The tension leaves his body, relaxing against the couch with the air of an accomplished man. “Hand it over.” He puts his hand out to you, palm side up. You eye it, wondering if it’d be too late to order more rubber dildos.

“A bet’s a bet,” Kai reminds from beside you. Groaning, you fish out your phone from your pockets and toss it into his hand. He unlocks it easily, having seen your password before during another study session where he’d kept himself occupied with books while you furiously rushed an overdue essay.

With every ominous tap tap tap of his fingers against the screen, you bristle. His expression is infuriatingly focused, as if he’s crafting a masterpiece.

When he hands your phone back, you snatch it and glance at the new contact name. Your eyes widen in horror.

He’d changed the contact name from ‘Cole Brookstone - Ninja’ to ‘Cole <3’. It’s so simple, yet the heart he’d added after his name makes you wince. Your fingers ache, inching toward the edit icon before he hums disapprovingly.

“Can’t change it,” he remarks offhandedly, peering down at his nails with a frown. You can see the corners of his lips struggling to remain turned down, knowing full well the bastard is busy laughing his ass off internally. “You made the rules, not me.”

“Fuck you.”

“You wish.” His childish retort eggs you on, and you stick your tongue out childishly in turn. He makes a face, only to stop when you raise a fist and hit his side - lightly. He groans in exaggerated pain, clutching his waist.

“How could you, Babycakes?”

Jay’s loud gasp makes the heat rush to your face and coloring your ears crimson, narrowing your eyes. You can practically see Jay’s expression as he files away this juicy tidbit for later use.

“You did not just call me that,” you hiss, jabbing your finger at Cole’s chest.

“What? It’s your nickname for me,” he says innocently, though his eyes gleam with mischief. “Thought I’d return the favor.”

“That was not my nickname for you!” you snap. “It was–”

“Oh, I know,” Cole interrupts, cutting you off with a smirk. “It was ‘Cole Brookstone – Ninja.’ So professional. So... boring. I thought we meant more to each other than that.” He blinks innocently as he looks at you, his smile bordering on evil.

“Boring?” you echo, your tone dangerously low.

“Yeah.” He shrugs casually, like he isn’t goading you on purpose. “No creativity, no flair. Just straight-up boring.”

Your jaw drops, and you lean forward, pointing a finger at him. “Excuse me? You don’t get to talk about creativity when you put a heart after your own name. How is that not boring?”

“It’s not boring because it’s cute,” he counters smugly. “And admit it, you winced because you thought it was cute too.”

You open your mouth to retort, but Kai’s voice cuts through the bickering before you can let loose a string of curses you’re pretty sure would’ve gotten you banned from being around the monastery’s classes for elementary students.

“Okay, enough.” He steps between the two of you, holding up his hands like a referee breaking up a particularly petty fight. Also, he’d somehow produced two yellow uno cards from seemingly thin air, waving it at you both in warning. “You’re acting like toddlers fighting over crayons.”

“He started it,” you grumble, folding your arms.

Cole snorts. “Oh, grow up, Pumpkin Pie.”

Kai sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. Then, as you part your lips to fire back, he glances at you, a meaningful look in his eyes that reminds you of your earlier enacted revenge.

So, you press your lips together, taking a deep breath. Think mini dildos hidden in his pillow. Think glittery ones floating in his shower gel.

Suddenly, all the tension leaves your body, and you open your eyes with a serene smile.

Cole notices the change instantly, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. “What’s that face?”

“Oh, nothing,” you say calmly, turning away from him with a shrug. “Just decided to be a good sport and a role model for the younger generation.”

Kai catches the edge of your smirk and shakes his head, muttering, “You two are exhausting. Not even Nya was this much trouble growing up.”

Cole watches you carefully for a moment longer before relaxing back into the sofa, though the wary look doesn’t completely leave his face. “You’re up to something,” he mutters.

“Maybe I am,” you reply, not bothering to deny it. “What’re you gonna do about it?”

He frowns, aout to say something before you’re interrupted by Zane walking into the room wearing an apron that’s an almost offensive shade of bright pink. You have to double check to make sure you’re not just seeing things.

“Dinner is ready,” Zane announces before scanning your faces. “Have I interrupted something?”

No one moves or responds. The mention of food acts like a switch flipping in everyone’s heads.

“Nah, you’re good buddy,” Kai groans, standing and stretching dramatically. “I’m starving.”

“Same,” Jay says, bounding after him. He throws a playful arm around Kai’s shoulders as they head for the dining room.

You follow at a more leisurely pace, Cole casually falling into step beside you. Neither of you speaks, the earlier bickering melting into a comfortable silence as the scent of freshly baked bread and herbs fills the air.

When you reach the dining room, the table is set with steaming dishes spread across it. Master Wu, Nya, Lloyd, and Pixal are already seated, pausing their discussion when you all enter.

For a moment, you notice the way Master Wu and Lloyd change their grave expressions into a wide smile, though there’s still a solemn tint to their eyes. Part of you bristles, but curiosity is easily buried by hunger.

Without a second thought, you and Cole gravitate to seats next to each other. It’s unconscious, natural, and nobody comments on it outright, though Nya raises an eyebrow as she glances between the two of you.

You happen to look up and meet her gaze, raising a brow in silent question. She just smiles and looks away to chat with Jay.

“Wow,” Lloyd says, leaning forward to inspect the spread. “Zane, you’ve outdone yourself. Again.”

“Is that herb-crusted salmon?” you ask, practically drooling.

“And garlic knots,” Cole adds, pointing to a heaping basket.

“Correct,” Zane replies with a slight bow of his head. “I’ve also prepared a vegetable medley with a lemon-butter glaze and rosemary roasted potatoes.”

“It smells amazing,” you say, eagerly reaching for a garlic knot.

“Smells amazing?” Cole laughs as he piles his plate high with potatoes. “It looks like a five-star restaurant in here. Zane, you’re spoiling us.”

“Preparing meals for my friends is not spoiling,” Zane replies evenly. “It is an expression of care.”

“You’re the best, Zane,” Lloyd says, already chewing on a piece of salmon. “Seriously, I don’t think I could go back to eating instant noodles after this.”

“Not with Zane around,” Pixal chimes in, a small smile tugging at her lips. “He would somehow make them gourmet.”

Jay leans toward you, whispering theatrically, “Don’t let him fool you. Zane’s just trying to make sure we can’t eat anywhere else without missing him.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Nya teases, nudging Jay with her elbow.

“Not complaining,” you quip, popping a piece of garlic knot into your mouth and groaning. “Oh my god, this is ridiculous. Zane, how do you make everything taste so good?”

“Precision,” Zane answers simply.

Cole nods, as if Zane’s simple explanation made more impact than any of Master Wu’s advice ever did. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: Zane is the kitchen ninja.”

“More like the ninja chef,” Nya says, smirking.

“Or the ninja of nourishment,” Lloyd adds, earning a snort from Jay.

Master Wu chuckles softly, his hand resting on his teacup. “It is good to see you all enjoying yourselves. Bonding over food is an ancient tradition.”

“Especially when the food is this good,” Cole says, digging into his plate with gusto.

“Damn, leave some for the rest of us,” Nya says. You can only stare with begrudging respect as she spears a roasted potato off of Cole’s plate with a cartoonishly long fork that extends to his plate without the need of standing up. She catches you looking at it, grinning widely as she pops the stolen goods into her mouth. “Like it?” She asks through mouthfuls, carefully waving it around. “Crafted it in the workshop today.”

“Hey!” he protests, but it’s half-hearted.

“Sharing is caring,” Pixal says lightly, passing a dish to Lloyd, who is too focused on his meal to notice her amused smile.

You scoff playfully. “Not with these potatoes. If you guys aren’t fast enough, I might empty the whole thing.” Glancing over when you feel a nudge, you roll your eyes at Cole’s earnest gaze. “Fine, I suppose you can have a piece.”

Kai gags. “The couple are so sweet it’s disgusting.”

“Not a couple,” You and Cole automatically reply in sync, shovelling more food into your mouths and munching. You don’t have to lift your head to see the sceptical glances exchanged, putting aside your usual snarky replies to focus purely on enjoying every bite of Zane’s cooking.

“You wonderful, wonderful man-droid.” You mumble out between bites. Zane nods his head in humble thanks, Cole muttering a similar sentiment.

The rest of the meal passes in a flurry of light-hearted jabs and never-ending enthusiastic praise for Zane’s culinary talents (all of which which the man-droid rightfully deserves). Plates were cleared, dishes stacked, and as the group slowly disbanded to their own devices, you found yourself lingering in the quiet warmth of the dining room, helping Master Wu wipe down the table.

“Thank you for letting me stay for dinner so often,” you said, glancing at him with a soft smile. “And for letting me hang out at the monastery so much. It’s… nice to be here.”

Master Wu paused mid-swipe, his wise eyes crinkling with warmth. “The monastery welcomes those who find comfort within its walls.”

You tilted your head at his cryptic tone, sensing there was more to his words. “That’s… oddly specific.”

He chuckled softly, folding the cloth in his hands. “You are exactly where you are meant to be, young one. Even if the reason has not fully revealed itself yet.”

You frown, your brows knitting together. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He gives you a knowing look, one that somehow carries both gravity and lightness. “You will understand when the time is right.”

Before you can press further, the sound of footsteps draws your attention. Cole appears in the doorway, hands shoved into his pockets with a relaxed grin.

“Ready to head out?” he asked, his voice casual but his gaze lingering on you for just a moment too long.

You glance back at Master Wu, who merely nodded as if to say the conversation was over.

For now, that is.

“Yeah,” you say, grabbing your jacket and stepping toward Cole. “Thanks again, Master Wu.”

“It is always a pleasure to have you here,” he replies with a small bow, his tone warm. “Safe travels.”

Cole holds the door open for you as you step out into the cool evening air. Comfortable silence falls over you both like a warm blanket, walking toward the doors. The stars twinkle above, and there are barely any clouds above you both to obstruct the view.

One of the perks of living on the peak of a mountain, you suppose.

“Did Wu drop one of his cryptic wisdom bombs on you?” He asks after a beat, his tone teasing.

You huff in amusement. “Something like that.” You pause, tugging your jacket. “Do you ever understand all that weird cryptic stuff he sometimes spouts? Just last week he was telling me about not jumping out of a well.”

Your response elicits a laugh from him, the sound deep and easy. You find yourself smiling at it, a warmth in your chest as you look at him. “Honestly?” He sighs, hands deep in his pockets as you make your way down the stairs. “I just smile and nod, then just hope I’ll figure it out somehow.”

“Really?” Your interest is piqued. “How about when you saved the world and all that? Couldn’t have done it without deciphering his mysterious sayings.”

He grins. “You should’ve seen the way we were all racking our brains, trying to understand what he was saying. It was worse at the start, before we all knew Lloyd was the Green Ninja.”

“Worse? How?” you ask, your curiosity pushing a teasing smile to your lips as you both reach the end of the stairs and make your way over to the bus stop.

Cole shakes his head, his grin widening. “We were clueless, running around like headless chickens. Wu would drop some riddle about balance or destiny, and the rest of us would argue for hours about what it meant. There was this one time–” He breaks off, laughing to himself.

“What?” you prod, nudging his arm gently.

“There was this one time Wu told us we had to ‘look inward to find the strength to move forward.’” He mimics Wu’s calm tone, his expression mock-serious. “So naturally, Kai thought it meant we needed to meditate or something. He sat us all down in a circle and tried to lead a group meditation. Jay couldn’t stop cracking jokes, and Nya fell asleep within five minutes.”

You burst out laughing at the image. “What about you?”

“I just sat there thinking about how hungry I was,” he admits, shaking his head with a self-deprecating chuckle. “Turns out, all Wu meant was that we needed to believe in ourselves. But, you know, saying that plainly wouldn’t be very ‘Master Wu.’”

“Of course not,” you agree, grinning. “Mystical vagueness is his brand.”

As the two of you reach the bus stop, you glance at him. “So… did all his cryptic advice ever help? Like, for real?”

Cole nods, his expression softening as he looks at you. “Yeah, it did. Sometimes not right away, but it always made sense when it mattered most. Like when we were trying to stop the Great Devourer… or when we were facing the Overlord. Those were times when his words stuck with us, even if we didn’t get them at first.”

The bus pulls up, and the two of you step on. Cole fumbles briefly, patting his pockets with a furrowed brow before finally pulling his transit pass from his back pocket. “When you travel by dragon, bus passes don’t exactly come to mind,” he mumbles defensively. You roll your eyes with a playful smile as you both settle into seats near the back. As the city lights blur past the window, you glance at him again, catching the thoughtful look on his face.

“What about you?” you ask, leaning slightly toward him. “Was there ever a moment where something Wu said clicked for you?”

He smiles, but it’s a little more subdued this time. “Yeah. Back when we were stuck in the Cursed Realm, Wu told me, ‘A leader doesn’t just carry others; they let themselves be carried, too.’”

You tilt your head, intrigued. “What did that mean?”

“It meant I didn’t have to do everything alone,” he says quietly. “Back then, I felt like I had to shoulder everything for the team. But Wu was right. Being a leader means letting the people around you support you, too.”

You let the thought sit for a moment, then give him a small smile. “Sounds like solid advice.”

“It was,” he agrees, glancing at you with a faint smile of his own. “Even if it took me a while to figure out.”

The two of you share a quiet moment, the conversation lulling into another comfortable silence as the bus hums along. It’s only when you notice his reflection in the window with his expression relaxed, the corners of his lips slightly curved… You feel the odd warmth in your chest again.

“Thanks for sharing,” you say softly, your voice barely above the hum of the engine.

He glances at you, his grin returning, playful now. “Don’t get used to it. I’m not usually this talkative.”

“Oh, I won’t,” you reply, smirking. “Wouldn’t want you to ruin your mysterious tough-guy image.”

The bus finally reaches your stop and the both of you tap out. Your apartment building is within view, but a part of you lingers, your footsteps slower as you approach. “Got any plans for next Saturday?”

You hum in thought. “Only to pick up the cake I ordered a while back.”

“Oh. I’ll tag along.” You glance at him, mildly surprised at the statement. He catches your look, raising his brows in question. “I gotta stock up on croissants. It’s been ages since I had some of his cinnamon rolls too.”

“Where do you even find the space for all that and not gain weight?” You ask, though it’s more to yourself in jealousy than an actual question. Unfortunately, he hears it.

“Having a gym in-house does wonders when you can’t sleep.” His voice is tinged with something you recognise instantly — sorrow. You’re about to ask, but decide against it when you see the look on his face.

“You can pick me up in the afternoon then,” you say lightly, looking at a random streetlight. He hums in agreement. “And let’s try not to match again.”

That gets a chuckle. “Don’t you mean ‘try not to copy me’?”

“You’re impossible.”

The lift is only a few paces away. You feel him stop, turning to see one hand shoved into his jacket pocket, the other hanging loose at his side. His posture seems effortless, but there’s something steady about it, like he’s rooted to the spot. The faint light from the hallway catches the curve of his smile, his gaze soft and lingering, almost bordering on fond as he looks at you.

“Goodnight, Snugglebug.”

Scoffing, you enter the lift and press the button to your floor. “Goodnight, Brookstone.”

For tonight, you’ll let him get away with this one.

— — — — — —

It’s around midnight by the time Cole reaches the monastery. He’d taken his time on the way back, stopping by a convenience store to pick up some pre-cooked chicken breast, planning to microwave one as a snack after tonight’s gym session.

He grabs his headphones from the lounge but pauses, setting them back down onto the table.

She’d probably be asleep by now, right?

He leaves without his headphones, entering the gym where Lloyd is busy doing his usual sets. Both of them were the more regular visitors, having encountered the other far too many times at odd hours to instinctively understand the dark rings under their eyes and haunted tinge in their gaze.

“So,” Lloyd breaks the silence, glancing over as he lowers the speed on his treadmill. “Your soulmate, huh?”

Cole exhales sharply, the weight of the question hitting heavier than the bench press he’d just finished. He’d been waiting for Lloyd to bring it up but didn’t expect it to be now, in the middle of their usual workout session. “Yeah. We’re not exactly eager about it either,” he says, walking over to the bench and starting a few stretches. His tone is casual, but there’s a hint of tension in his shoulders. “It won’t impact my duties.”

“Oh, I wasn’t suggesting that.” Lloyd raises his hands in assurance, though his thoughtful gaze is now fixed on his teammate. “I’m just saying, it must be exciting, right? Meeting the person you’re supposedly destined to be with.”

Cole snorts, shaking his head. “Destined. Right.” He shifts his position, stretching out his arms. “It’s not like that. We’re just... soulmates in name. That’s it.”

Lloyd hops off the treadmill, grabbing a towel as he narrows his eyes at Cole. “Sure doesn’t seem like it’s just a label.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Cole asks, arching a brow.

Lloyd shrugs, leaning casually against the nearby wall. “I mean, you’re... different around her. Like when you got all defensive when Kai tried to eat her fries the other night.”

“She was clearly going to eat them!” Cole protests, the words spilling out faster than he intended.

“And how you knew her favorite bubble tea order?” Lloyd adds with a sly grin.

Cole freezes for a second before recovering with a huff. “She mentioned it once.”

“Uh-huh.” Lloyd tilts his head, his smile widening. “And that time you made sure to save her a spot during movie night, claiming it was ‘just coincidence’ when she showed up?”

“Coincidence,” Cole insists, though the tips of his ears are turning pink.

Lloyd’s smile falters, his expression softening. “You really don’t see it, do you?”

“See what?” Cole mutters, crossing his arms defensively.

“How much you notice about her.” Lloyd’s voice is quiet but steady. “The little details. The way you remember stuff she’s only said once, or how you pay attention to what makes her laugh or what annoys her. It’s not just about being soulmates, Cole. You care about her, even if you’re too stubborn to admit it.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “I don’t—”

“Last week, when she complained about being cold, you handed her your jacket without thinking,” Lloyd cuts in, raising a brow. “No one even asked you to. And don’t tell me that’s just duty or being polite.”

For a moment, Cole doesn’t say anything, his jaw tightening as he looks away. “It’s... nothing. She’s part of the team. That’s all.”

Lloyd lets out a soft laugh, pushing off the wall. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, man. Just don’t wait too long to figure it out. Soulmate or not, people don’t stay in one place forever.”

Cole scowls at his retreating back. “For the record, this is worse than when Master Wu tried giving us the talk about the birds and the bees.”

He can vaguely make out the casual “deal with it” that Lloyd remarks as he turns a corner. Rolling his eyes, he shoves all lingering remnants of their conversation into the back of his head before continuing his workout.

After two more hours pass, he finally decides he’s had enough, heading to the kitchen where he’d dropped off his chicken breast from earlier, waiting for the microwave to heat up when he spots a text from you that he’d missed.

He picks it up, reading it before his brows furrow in confusion.

What’s a Dildo Baggins?

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Taglist: @candyquokka @mossy-mika @em-100-blog @cursedreader @alicesmile1 @alexa24 @raegreenie4 @burdeningbitch @viennasthings @cadencannot @ml3czqo @nanasemo @certified-cole-simp @beescomet @theblindhag @mitbin24 @sweetlittlebumblebree @brooklyniswriting @cantbecreative @something-else3 @iinlovewithfictionalppl @itz-moonlight @jebesovovise @ryeheep @letthelightin2112 @classically-bored @clearlawyereaglewobbler @anajellyc @the-midnight-duck @fru1ty-bage3ls @elysiuansstuff

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beescomet · 4 months ago

Text

Reblogging to read after my final tomorrow

SHSJKSKS I LOVE THISISISIJSIISISJS

The Red String Theory (06)

a/n: Happy New Year!

Jet

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗼𝘂𝘀 | 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 | 𝗻𝗲𝘅𝘁

It’s been more than a few moons since the Freedom Fighters had found you washed up ashore, barely breathing with tattered robes and scraped hands. You’d woken up to them taking care of your wounds, letting you join their crew after being mistaken for a water tribe refugee.

The first few words they had spoken to you were about their hatred towards the Fire Nation. As such, them being unaware of your true homeland was the best course of action to take. You’d initially tried to run away from them, but the presence of their leader stopped you from doing so.

Jet is his name, with dark and calculating eyes, scanned you with an intensity that seemed to strip away any pretence. It took all the energy you had in you to keep up the falsehood of being from the Water Tribe. Maybe it was due to the fact that you’re a girl (and a pretty one at that), that he decides to believe you and even recruit you into the Freedom Fighters.

It’d been an exhausting few weeks since then, and he’d relaxed a little more around you, even going as far as the occasional flirting. The dull throbbing of your injuries had eased during the time spent, but there wasn’t any opportunity to run away.

Any time you even brought up the mere mention, Jet would chuckle and brush it off, everyone else acting as if you’d been around them for ages. You gave up quickly. Instead of finding the opportunity to leave, perhaps the opportunity would find you.

Now, however, you’re currently camping out in the trees, waiting for the perfect moment to strike the camp below.

Fire Nation soldiers had set up a base near your hideout, and Jet had tasked Smellerbee and Longshot to spy on them, waiting for the opportune moment to take them out. Did you feel any guilt towards attacking them? Not particularly. Your childhood left much to be desired, and you had almost nonexistent loyalty to the Fire Nation itself.

You wait patiently among the rest, willing your body to stay completely still to avoid rustling the delicate leaves surrounding you. Your body stiffens even more, however, at the sudden voices you hear approaching the camp.

“Hey, Sokka’s instincts, would you mind-”

“Okay, okay, I get it. Look guys, I’m tired too but the important thing is that we’re safe from the Fire…Nation…”

Oh spirits. How did they get here?

You recognise the trio that stumble upon the camp at perhaps the worst timing, the boy’s voice trailing off once he spots all the soldiers around them. They instantly throw off their bags, running away. You hesitate, weighing the pros and cons of heading down to help.

Sure, one of them is the Avatar that would hopefully end the war, and the girl seemed to be pretty nice last time you saw her. But the boy in front with the ponytail? Last you remember, he had a stupid, smug smirk on his face when he flew off on that bison of theirs.

…Maybe he could use a lesson in survival.

You glance briefly at Jet, spotting a faint smirk on his lips as he holds his hand up, signalling to wait. Once the trio are surrounded by the flames with nowhere else to escape to, he tilts his head in intrigue when he sees the girl waterbend to extinguish the flame on the boy’s shirt.

“You? Won’t hurt us?” Upon hearing the captain’s words, Jet brings his hand down, Longshot acknowledging and firing a shot that hits the soldier in the dead centre of his chest. You roll your eyes, taking it as the signal to move.

Jet draws his swords, leaping down from the tree and landing on two guards. You join him by using a nearby vine, knocking out another soldier in your path. The both of you manage to take out a few soldiers before realisation hits, one crying out in warning that the rest are in the trees.

You spot a soldier about to swing his sword at the trio, running over and jumping, using your leverage to kick the soldier away. You land deftly in front of them, the girl clapping in admiration as you dust off the dirt that had gotten on your shirt.

“Avatar. Water Tribe people.” You acknowledge with a firm nod. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Hi! I’m Aang!” The kid introduces himself with a bright smile.

“And I’m suspicious.” The other boy frowns at you, taking a protective step in front of the two. “Get away from her.”

“Sure,” You shrug, “Talk to you later. Gotta fight anyway.” You gesture to the ongoing chaos behind, running off to join the rest. You make quick work of the rest of the guards, fluid but graceful movements from years of dance finally useful for real-life situations.

Your hidden weapon comes in handy, when a soldier manages to knock your usual one out of your hands. You arch backwards, narrowly dodging a sword to your face and plant your left hand firmly on the ground below you, using your right to pull out the hidden dagger in your boot and slash his arm at the joint. He cries out in pain, letting go of his weapon and grabbing his arm to stop the bleeding.

You’re about to knock the soldier out when Jet comes in and punches him firmly in the jaw, causing him to fall to his knees and collapse on the ground like a limp doll. “Thanks,” You say reluctantly. He accepts it with a grin, casually making his way to the girl whose eyes you swear just got bigger when he stops in front of her.

Figuring he had the situation with the Avatar sorted, you head over to Sneers who’s organising the rations that the soldiers had placed in one of the tents. “What’d they have?” You ask, nodding to the large crates he’s prying open.

“Not much. Just the usual chicken, dried pork, sausages…noodles! Score!” He cheers, lifting up the packets in the air like a newborn baby.

“Looks like we’ll be having a good dinner tonight,” You grin, noticing Jet gesturing to each member of the team. When it comes to you, you simply hold your arm up in a wave, pretending not to notice the glare that the older boy is giving you. Hopefully he won’t remember you.

You didn’t even remember his name either, so maybe it’d work out in your favour.

“That was pretty cool, the way you took out all the soldiers just now.” Aang makes himself known with his cheery question, as if he didn’t just witness blood being shed.

“Thanks. I try,” You smile down at him, suddenly getting the urge to ruffle his hair (or lack thereof).

“Sorry about earlier,” he says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. “Sokka can be a little…paranoid.” You glance at the boy you can finally place a name to whose arms are crossed, staying far away from anyone while keeping a sharp eye on each person. Especially you.

“You really think so?” You joke, attention caught by The Duke who brings over a barrel. He uses a crowbar to pop open the lid, peering inside. “Jet, these barrels are filled with blasting jelly!” You call out, spotting the familiar bombs inside. You had your fair share of military knowledge, having stayed around Zuko on the ship who discussed his plans freely in your presence.

“And these boxes are filled with jelly candy.” Pipsqueak announces happily.

“Also good. Let’s not get those mixed up.” Jet chuckles.

“We’ll take these back to the hideout.” You begin loading the barrel onto the wagon that the rest hid in the greenery before your attack, Aang doing his best to help. You take the boxes from him with a laugh. “Easy there kid, why not get someone to help?”

“I’d ask Sokka or Katara but... They’re kinda occupied.” He admits. “Wait, you guys have a hideout?”

You wanna see it?” Jet overhears Aang’s question.

“Yes, we wanna see it!” Katara answers instantly with an eager gaze.

“Looks like we’re all getting a field trip.”

— — — — — —

“We’re here.”

“Where? There’s nothing here.” Sokka says sceptically, surveying the area with a suspicious gaze. Jet grabs a rope and holds it out to him. “Hold this.”

“Why, what’s this do?”

You watch, smiling ear-to-ear as the rope immediately pulls up, the boy’s yells echoing through the forest. “Grab ahold of me Katara.” Jet holds his hand out. She takes it eagerly, and he tugs her close to his chest before letting the rope pull them both up.

“Do they know we’re still here? They do, right?” You whisper to Longshot who just shrugs, bringing down the barrels of blasting jelly. Rolling them onto the platform takes little effort, stepping onto it and allowing the machinery to pull both you and the barrels up into the trees.

“It’s beautiful up here!” Katara exclaims, admiring the auburn leaves that surround the entire base.

“Beautiful, and the Fire Nation can’t find us here.” You stiffen at Jet’s words, almost bumping into Sokka who shoots you a withering glare. You chuckle awkwardly, scurrying off to your small tent a short distance away from the exit while the rest explore the hideout.

“So much for not being found by Fire Nation,” You mumble under your breath upon entering the tent. The pure irony of their entire movement being based on staying hidden from the very nation you’re from has given you amusement from time to time, but the scathing glares and dark words as they speak of how to destroy the people makes you shudder at times.

Sitting down on the small stool next to the makeshift bed makes a slight squeak, every muscle in your body tensing as you wait with bated breath. No other voices seem to be nearby, allowing yourself to carefully pull out the small bag you’d kept hidden away under a messy pile of spare parts and other things picked up in the forest.

What’s left of your few belongings remains in the tattered bag you escaped with, the once vibrant red now a dull scarlet, a product of the sea’s vicious waves. The pure panic that struck you upon waking up here for the first time had quickly subsided once you found your mother’s old bracelet tangled up at the bottom of the frayed ends.

The fabric dangles from your hands, a bright green bead that’d never lost its lustre remaining firmly in the middle. Your fingers stroke the ends, fastening it to your other wrist through the knot that you’ve re-tied countless times.

It rests on your bare skin, traces of a smile lingering on your lips. Allowing yourself a little more time, you stare aimlessly at the ceiling. The Avatar had found this group of Freedom Fighters, and with it, a Fire Nation girl. Not that they know it of course, but who’s to say they wouldn’t react negatively upon discovering this fact?

Of course they’d react badly. You scoff at yourself for even entertaining the possibility of otherwise. You wouldn’t put it past that Water Tribe boy to bludgeon you to death if he even had an inkling of a suspicion.

The small boy had caught you off guard at first though. Who would’ve thought that the one to ‘save the world’ would be someone who looked no older than the youngest maid in the Fire Lord’s palace.

A ribbon catches your eye from the corner of your room. You stand up, holding the remains of what you’d managed to snatch away from the other camp you’d raided before Jet and the rest burned it down.

A tiny part of your heart aches, realising that your gaze has lingered on it for a second too long. Letting it go, you watch it drop to the floor, the shadows consuming whatever colours there are left. Glancing at the tent’s entrance once more, you keep a keen ear out as you entertain the beginnings of an idea.

A very risky one.

No footsteps.

Good.

Inhaling shakily, you snap your fingers once, twice, then thrice. The tiniest of flames flickers to life on the tip of your finger. The way it bobs and sways with the gentleness of your slow exhale brings a soft smile to your face.

It’s been so long since you’d been able to do any form of bending. It’d been like suppressing a part of you; one that longed to be free and meet the sun once more. The green bead reflects the light of your flame, giving yourself the joy of a few more seconds before extinguishing it.

Fire Nation.

It’s a moniker you’ll never be able to escape, no matter how much you try. One day you’re bound to slip up. The best part? It’d be in a group of people who hate the Fire Nation to death.

Well, at least you’d die with the achievement of having gotten Zuko to drink alcohol.

The memory draws a chuckle, shaking your head in amusement as you remove the bracelet from your wrist, stashing it securely inside the wrapping that binds your chest. Heading back out, you’re surprised to see that it’s already close to the end of the day.

“There you are!” You take a step back at the sudden presence of a young boy who suddenly hangs upside down in front of you, with nothing but a vine to support his weight. “I was looking all over for you!”

“Bad Aang! What did I teach you about strangers?”

It’s almost painful, the way he tries to act like a big, tough leader. “She’s not a stranger though, she’s part of the Freedom Fighters!” Aang blinks owlishly at the older boy who frowns so deeply that you’re pretty sure it’s gonna become a permanent fixture in his face.

“That’s not my point.”

“He’s right,” You interrupt, ignoring the way he scoffs. “You shouldn’t trust people so easily, like Stocka here.”

“What did you just call me?” He says indignantly, his chest puffing up with pride. “My name is Sokka, Son of Hakoda from the Southern Water Tribe.”

Aang looks between you both, unsure of how to approach the conversation or even interject. A cold smile settles on your lips, maintaining your composure as you observe the skin on your fingers. “Right, right. So you’re like, a prince?”

“Huh.” As soon as his ego is somewhat stroked, he deflates slightly. “I suppose you could say that. I could be the lord of…”

“Snow… and ice…? Wow. I bet thousands of girls must be bending over backwards to meet you. That’s so weird, being around you must’ve lowered their standards.” You pipe up cheerfully, your barbed words practically a dagger striking through him with each word.

“So, are you gonna join us for dinner?” Aang asks hopefully. Your icy demeanour melts at his innocent smile, nodding your head. “Don’t worry Stocka, we’ll save a seat for you,” He adds, walking away with you.

Sokka’s face flushes with a mixture of anger and humiliation. He lets out a cry of indignance, though you ignore it and continue chatting away with Aang who’s more than excited to show you his airbending.

— — — — — —

Being on the receiving end of someone’s sceptical gaze isn’t the most ideal way to start off the night, yet here you are. Sokka’s jaw is tense, but his eyes burn with a calculative look that sifts through each word you speak, searching for the lies.

Though, his choice of weapon does help in not taking him seriously.

“Calm down, ice-brain.” Rolling your eyes, you take another mouthful of the stew that Smellerbee had made for dinner duty. “If you continue pointing your spoon at me, who’s gonna help feed you since you clearly can’t do anything by yourself?”

A snort breaks the silence, Sokka officially directing his glare toward his sister who instantly ducks her head, though the way her shoulders shake doesn’t help in hiding her intentions. You spot her breathing deeply, before looking back up with a calm smile. “Stop pointing your spoon at our saviour, Stocka.”

“Not you too!” He points at her in offence, accidentally flinging some of the soup onto her face. She reaches up and wipes it off her cheek with a blank expression, clear emphasis on the way she flicks it off her hands. He freezes, slowly lowering his spoon back to the bowl and continuing to eat with a grumpy scowl.

“Sorry about him,” She apologises with a weary sigh, pinching the space between her brows and massaging it. “He can be…a handful.”

“Please, I’m sure it’s harder on you, being blood-related and all.” You remark dryly, though the pity is your voice is very much real as you eye her pathetic brother shovelling the food into his mouth.

Sokka frowns, clearly unimpressed by your little jab. “Yeah, well, having to deal with a suspicious girl who won't even tell us the truth doesn't make it any easier.”

You arch a brow, meeting his gaze head-on. “Really? I haven’t exactly seen you around the forest much either, so you should take all of that,” you gesture to his entire being, “make like a fish, and swim away.” You lean back slightly, feigning relaxation, though the tension coils tightly inside you. You needed to stay on edge. Needed to stay focused on your escape.

He scoffs. “You just pointed to all of me.”

Katara sighs, clearly exhausted by the constant back-and-forth. “Would both of you stop? It’s not helping.”

You can’t help but cast a sideways glance at Jet, wondering if he’s picking up on the thinly veiled conflict between you and Sokka. His trust in you had come too easily, and while you hated the Fire Nation for its cruelty, you hated the idea of being used as Jet’s tool even more. You needed to escape—not just from this place, but from the tangled mess you found yourself in.

Sokka grumbles something under his breath, but his glare doesn’t leave you. His distrust, though annoying, wasn’t entirely misplaced. After all, you weren’t planning on sticking around.

Still, you couldn’t help but take one last shot. “Don’t worry, Sokka,” you say with a smirk. “I’m sure your sister will find a way to manage without you babying her every second.”

He opens his mouth to fire back, but the sound of Jet’s voice cuts through the tension. “You both make a great team.” His grin is wide, but his eyes settle on you with an intensity that’s hard to read.

Jet’s trust was suffocating. You knew he believed in what he was doing, but the longer you stayed, the more it felt like a trap closing in. You had to find a way out, but every glance at the darkened forest reminded you that freedom was only a fleeting illusion. The Fire Nation might be cruel, but at least you knew it. You knew your place in it.

But maybe not anymore. After what happened with Zuko, you’re pretty sure he’d place you under arrest if you were even within three li of him. And that’s if Uncle Iroh’s around. “So, what’s your story? I’m pretty sure the Avatar didn’t just make a pit-stop here to gather some firewood.”

Aang pauses his chewing. “We’re trying to get to the Northern Water Tribe, so I can find a teacher and learn waterbending.” Your heart all but stops, practically falling into the depths of your stomach as Jet vaguely gestures to you.

“You got one right here, don’t you?”

Letting out an awkward chuckle, you try to ignore the scrutinising gaze Sokka’s set upon you, like a hawk intently studying its prey. “Exactly! Katara, aren’t you teaching him anything? I don’t know what you learn from that guy,” you lazily gesture to Sokka once more, “but I don’t think it’s helping you get there.”

He frowns at you, still clearly suspicious of your true intentions. Luckily, he bites at the bait you’ve desperately thrown out in an attempt to steer the conversation away. “He learns a lot from me!” He protests, pointing his spoon at Aang. “Don’t you??”

Aang doesn’t answer.

Sokka’s mouth is let agape in shock, the smaller boy patting his shoulder gently. “Aw, don’t say that Sokka! If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have met all these great people!”

“Exactly,” Jet spread his arms in a welcoming gesture. “Stay as long as you need.”

“Unfortunately, we have to leave tonight.” Sokka huffs, standing up.

“Oh, of course! Wouldn’t want you to miss saving the world and all,” You smile brightly, excited at the prospect of them leaving so you’d (hopefully) never have to see him again. “Have fun! Safe travels!” You pick up the bag they’d left near you and hand it to him. “Bye bye now!”

“Sokka, you’re kidding me! I needed you on an important mission tomorrow.” Jet chuckles, and you notice Aang and Katara haven’t moved an inch from their seats. Your shoulders slump in defeat, and you toss his bag to the side with a huff with Sokka’s hand still outstretched.

He glares at you. “What’s your problem?”

“Don’t blame her, she’s just got a lot on her plate, ever since she washed up ashore from the water tribe. Besides, I thought you guys didn't have much bad blood, being from the same tribe and all.” Jet points out. You’re in the middle of swallowing your drink after sitting down, choking from his sudden revelation.

“I’m sorry, water tribe?” Katara asks you curiously. Now all three are looking at you, two of them with mere confusion, and there’s Sokka. “I didn’t know you were from the same Nation.”

“Those are Smellerbee’s clothes. She just borrowed and altered them.” Jet shrugs, scooping another spoonful of soup.

“Water tribe, huh?” Sokka marches up to you. He stops beside your frame, his shadow looming over you. The way he’s looking at you makes you want to shrivel a little inside, closing your eyes with a curse aimed at the spirits in your head. “Interesting. Who’s your chief?”

“Are you seriously being suspicious of her right now? She’s done nothing but help us since we got here, and you’ve done nothing but be a waste of air.” Katara scolds her brother who crosses his arms with an annoyed grunt. He reluctantly moves away from you.

She turns to you with an apologetic smile. “Sorry about him, he’s kind of on the edge lately. His ‘instincts’ are how we ended up here in the first place.”

“No problem,” You manage to summon a brief smile, waving it off. “I’m just glad you’re safe from him now.”

“I wish,” She snorts, turning away to face Jet, getting distracted by his biceps. The sight makes you turn away, nausea hitting at the fact that she finds him attractive. Forcing it down though, your gaze finds its way back to the boy beside her.

His dark, tousled hair falls effortlessly over his forehead, giving him a roguish charm that draws attention. A sleeveless vest showcases his toned arms. You unexpectedly meet his eyes, warmth instantly flooding your cheeks when you realise that you’ve been caught staring.

All attention is drawn to you when you stand back up with a convincing yawn, lifting your arms in a stretch. “Wow,” You blink a couple times, “it’s been a long day. Guess I’m more tired than I thought. Night everyone!”

Upon walking away, everyone else resumes their activities, but you can sense two sets of eyes on your back. One being the water tribe boy as expected, but the other catches you off guard.

— — — — — —

Yet another night that’s spent in the same old tent, under the same roof as a bunch of kids who want nothing more than to tear down anything to do with the Fire Nation. It’s a wonder you even got any sleep the whole time you’ve been here.

Unfortunately, the noise outside startles you awake. It’s been awhile since you’d slept so lightly, the last time being when you’d just gotten exiled. Fun times, you smile grimly. Making sure that all your stuff is stashed away securely, you push past the tent flap and step into the sunlight.

As you prop your hand above your eyes to shield them from the sudden brightness, you hear a loud whoop. Aang is free falling, having jumped from a branch high above. A glider pops out from the staff he always carries around, manoeuvring smoothly around the multiple branches and leafy surprises the trees always had in store.

You watch him with a small smile, until he spots you and beams. His hand waves excitedly, slowly descending till he lands in front of you. “Someone’s cheerful today.” You ruffle his head until it suddenly hits you that all you’re feeling is skin.

Retracting it with a sheepish smile, he grins up at you regardless. “I don’t mind it.” Embarrassment isn’t how you wanted to start the morning, but now that it’s over and done with, may as well get some breakfast.

Eating breakfast in the form of bread and bland leftover stew is still a drastic change as ever from the flavourful spices of the dishes cooked many a time in the ship’s kitchen. You disguise the disgust with a forced smile, swallowing down the dry bread and taking a swig of water from the canteen you’d tied to your waist.

“Morning meeting’s starting,” The Duke reminds you. You finish the remains of your breakfast in a hurry, unable to hide the groan that slips out from the tacky texture. You stand up with your bowl in hand, noticing Sokka making his way over.

Embarrassment might have been how you started off your morning, but who’s to say a little humour wouldn’t help?

Pushing past him without so much as a muttered apology, you shove the empty bowl into his arms without an explanation. He’s left gawking at your back, looking from you to the bowl, then at you once more as his expression morphs into one of annoyance.

The irritation sound he makes is enough to make you smile, rushing over to the tent. However, the tent flaps flutter slightly, the morning breeze carrying hushed words that make your movements stutter to a stop.

“You’re sure the dam is weak enough?” Jet’s voice is low. You move a small step away from the entrance, heart pounding as you strain to catch more of their conversation.

“Yeah,” Smellerbee replied, her voice uncertain. “But Jet, are you sure about this? We’re talking about an entire village. Not everyone there is a soldier.”

“They’re Fire Nation. Every one of them is responsible for the suffering they’ve caused. Do you think they care about the lives they’ve destroyed? We flood the village, wipe them out, and send a message. It’s the only way to make them pay.” His response is cold and immediate, sparing no thought for the innocent.

It’s enough to make the blood in your veins turn to ice.

Flood the village? Wipe them out?

Smellerbee’s hesitant voice is small, almost afraid to say her thoughts.. “But… Jet, there are families down there. Kids. They didn’t choose this war.”

A long silence follows before Jet speaks again, his tone colder than before. “Collateral damage. Every war has its casualties. If we don’t do this, they’ll keep coming. This is the only way to protect what’s left of our world.”

You’re not sure if you’re still breathing at this point.

The boy who’s supposed to stand for freedom and justice now sounds like the very monsters that live within the walls of the palace. Countless whispers of palace officials discussing the lives of their subjects as if they were mere fodder for entertainment.

But... Is he wrong?

Collateral damage...

The words echo, twisting in your mind, but part of you feels a sick understanding. The Fire Nation has destroyed everything. Your home, your family, your future. Haven’t they earned this? They’ve caused so much pain, left so many scars.

Maybe he’s right.

The thought that follows doesn’t catch you off guard as much as you’d expected it to, an odd calm taking over when you picture Ozai’s face warped into the very picture of despair as his kingdom burns before him.

With you at its forefront.

But then, another thought cuts through the haze. Innocent people. Families. Kids. You picture them—faces you’ll never know, lives that aren’t part of the war but will be shattered by it.

Your chest tightens with uncertainty, the earlier sensation now washed away and replaced by a lingering sense of doubt.

Do they even deserve your sympathy?

The Fire Nation has hurt you, and so many others. Maybe this is justice. Maybe this is the only way to make them understand the suffering they’ve caused. Isn’t this what war does? Forces hard choices on all of us?

But even as you think it, a knot of guilt settles in your stomach. If we start doing what they do, if we make excuses for harming the innocent, are we any better than them? You bite your lip, torn between the deep-rooted hatred that still burns inside you and the flicker of doubt gnawing at your conscience.

Jet’s voice comes back to you, firm and resolute. “This is the only way to protect what’s left of our world.”

Our world. The words feel distant, hollow. It’s ironic, really. What good is a world without the people you love to live it with you? A world built on the backs of innocents, on blood and destruction? You swallow hard, the weight of the decision pressing down on your chest.

You could tell someone—stop this before it’s too late. But you hesitate, hands clenched into fists. Maybe it’s not your place to stop it. Maybe the Fire Nation deserves this. Maybe they need to know what it feels like to lose, to suffer.

Shouldn’t they suffer, too?

The silence stretches as the battle rages inside you. Your heart screams at you to do something, to stop this madness, but the anger—the deep, festering anger—tells you to let it happen. Let them feel the pain you’ve felt.

But then, you take a shaky breath, feeling a chill spread through you.

If I let this happen, what does that make me?

Taking a deep breath, you back away from the tent flap and turn, your mind racing with a singular thought: Get out. Get away from here.

There’s only one way to survive, and that’s to run.

Unfortunately, the spirits seem to not be on your side. Just as you turn, prepared to sprint off away from the forest, you bump face-first into something warm and solid. Groaning, you shove off whatever’s in front of you as an automatic reflex, flinching when your hand meets skin.

“What the- are you kidding me right now?”

Just great. First you overhear a plot to murder an entire village right after a less than satisfactory breakfast, and now the water tribe boy looks like he’s about to fight you. Maybe the little prank you pulled this morning might have contributed.

“Sorry,” your rushed apology draws his attention, grabbing your arm before you can run off elsewhere. You glance up, already annoyed. “What do you want? I already apologised.”

“Exactly,” he snorts, scanning you up and down with a sceptical raise of his brows. “You? Apologise? Are you okay?” He looks from you to the tent flap suspiciously.

A cold sweat runs down your neck, eyes darting anywhere but at him as you try to compose yourself. “I’m fine,” you snap, snatching your arm away. “I’m just…hungry?”

“Right,” he says slowly, the memory of your empty bowl being shoved into his hands simultaneously coming back to the both of you. “Hungry.”

“That’s not- why am I even talking to you?” Running a hand through your hair in frustration, a sudden chill makes your heart stop, turning to see Jet outside the tent. He’s waiting patiently, though now you can spot a dangerous glint in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“Hey, we’re waiting on you both. Come on in.”

Hesitating, you glance at Sokka who brushes it off, shrugging as he walks over. Jet gives you an ominous smile, heading inside first. Your fingers slowly curl into a fist, trying to calm your pounding heart.

You can’t let them know that you’d overheard everything. You can’t risk it. Not now.

So, you square your shoulders and take a deep breath, walking straight into the tiger’s den.

Everyone else is already assembled, standing in their usual positions. You move to stand beside Smellerbee who raises her brows at your presence. “Why’re you here?”

“I wasn’t aware that she’d been kicked out from the Freedom Fighters.” Jet speaks, his voice commanding attention from the group. “Otherwise, what rule is there that prevents one of us from being around?”

Buying into his words, they all nod. Save for Sokka of course, who merely stands to the side with dissatisfaction. Now that the issue of your attendance is sorted, the briefing begins. You pay attention, but occasionally get distracted by the sounds the water tribe boy is making with every word, mocking Jet’s instructions.

After the meeting concludes however, you’re quickly approached by the very person you’re trying to avoid. You can sense his eyes on you from the very beginning, trying not to let his gaze get to you as you head to the exit as fast as you can.

It truly seems that the heat of fortune abandoned you along with whatever miniscule amount of luck that’s gotten you this far. Your footsteps falter at the call of your name, turning to see Jet.

“Yes?”

Even a single word is barely able to brush past your lips without the slightest of trembles. If he notices, he doesn’t bring it up as he grins. “I’ve got another mission for you. Follow me.”

Against your better judgement, you follow. Wrestling with the already existing knot of unease in your chest, your instincts practically scream at you to get out. “I’m guessing this isn’t another supply gathering mission.” The words fall from your lips before you can stop them, covering your mouth as your eyes widen in pure shock.

Luckily, you’re already in a secluded area of the hideout (probably not a good thing, in retrospect). “You’re right,” he turns, his expression dark as the air suddenly grows heavier, “it’s not.”

Oh, sparks. I’m gonna be murdered, aren’t I.

The tension twists tighter as Jet begins explaining his plan—something more dangerous, more extreme. You try to focus, but your mind races with doubts and fears. This isn’t right. The Fire Nation may be the enemy, but this... this feels like too much.

However, this isn’t the right time to escape. It’s not the right time to speak up about anything. The best chances of your survival would be to play along for now, and run when an opportunity presents itself.

If it doesn’t…well, you’d just have to make your own.

So you follow along, making sure to stop by your own tent to pack everything you own and stashing it away under a pile of leaves near the tree you’d already marked a while back after claiming you needed to relieve yourself. That excuse had been enough for Jet to let you slip deeper into the forest, away from their watchful eyes.

Now, though, they’ve cornered Sokka, who’s discovered their plan. It’s incredible, really. You can’t help but think that this actually makes things easier. With the Avatar and his companion distracted, the only person left to finish off is him.

“There are people living there, Jet. Mothers, fathers, and children.” Sokka’s voice rings with conviction as he spots you trying to hide behind Pipsqueak. He takes a step closer, meeting your gaze, and you flinch at the intensity of his stare.

He hones in on that lapse of weakness, trying to continue making eye contact whilst arguing against Jet. Without realising it, your fingers curl around the handle of your dagger, your eyes fixed on the ground beneath.

“I can’t let you warn Katara and Aang. Take him for a walk. A long walk,” Jet scoffs. He pauses when you step out of Pipsqueak’s shadow, approaching the three of them with daggers in hand. He allows the ghost of a smile to shadow his lips, raising a questioning brow when you stop them.

“Wait,” they stop at your sudden call. Sokka glares at you, hints of hurt and betrayal in his eyes. However, your own are passive when you glance down at him, tucking the daggers away. “I’ll come too.”

A moment passes before Jet nods. “Meet us back at the reservoir.” He states simply, leaving without another glance back. Pipsqueak holds on tightly to the boy’s arms, ensuring he wouldn’t get the chance to run away while Smellerbee bound his wrists.

The trees all look identical. If you weren’t with the other two more seasoned fighters, you’d have gotten lost multiple times over. “How can you do this? How can you just stand by and watch innocent people die?”

“They’re not innocent,” You spit back, barely managing to hide the grimace on your lips. Luckily, Smellerbee and Pipsqueak were in front, trusting you to hold the fort down at the back.

Sokka had been relentlessly trying to raise even the slightest ounce of sympathy, hoping that perhaps one of you would release him from his binds. “So much for being one of the good guys,” he hisses.

The tense movements of Smellerbee’s arms and Pipsqueak’s gritted teeth reveal all you need to know. Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself before lifting your hand and swinging with all your strength.

A loud slap echoes through the recluse forest, Sokka stunned into silence as the other two turn in pure shock. He lifts his head with blank eyes, processing through the large red handprint on his cheek. “One more word out of you and I’m going to throw you into the river with a heavy rock tied to your ankle. Not even your sister will be able to save you.”

His parted lips that are about to hurl an insult at you shuts immediately, pure hatred and anger in his gaze. The corner of your lips lifts in amusement. “I’ll take care of things here.” You address the other two who nod silently, unable to refute.

You grab the excess rope from Smellerbee’s hands, dismissing them with a nod as you continue to trudge ahead, yanking the now silent boy behind you. Finally, a red imprint on the trunk of a tree catches your eye.

A while back before the Avatar and his group showed up, you’d done a little exploring of your own, having marked potential escape routes with red. The colour was easily camouflaged with the burnt orange leaves, making it perfect to use.

Plus, with the Freedom Fighters under the impression that you’re from the Water Tribe, it’d never occur to them that you were the one to place the markings. At the most, they’d probably jump to the conclusion that Fire Nation soldiers were around.

“What is your problem?!” Sokka yells at you while you tie him to the tree. It’s taking all the willpower you can muster to not punch him in the abdomen so he’d be less quiet. It’s unfortunate that the impact from your earlier slap had worn off, but you didn’t really feel like doing it again.

He does, however, quieten a little when you smile sweetly at him, showing no trace of compassion as your fingers grip the rope, tying it extra tight to the point the wind is knocked out of his chest.

“Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?” He scowls, trying to use his tightly bound feet to kick up at your ankles. You shake your head, glancing around before deciding that he could suffer for a short while longer before putting your plan in action.

You squat down, picking up a branch and using it to draw tiny doodles in the dirt. “You know, your instincts aren’t totally bad.” Despite his anger and obvious hatred for the enemy, his ears practically perk up at the compliment. “But you just have to change…this.”

“You just gestured to all of me,” Sokka huffs. “What’s that matter to you anyway? You’re just a traitor.” He practically spits the last part in your direction with narrowed eyes.

How did he even make it this far?

Dismissing the question with a shake of your head, you stand back up and take a step closer. His face is inches apart from yours, trying not to reveal his discomfort by looking anywhere except you.

You study him closely, using a finger to poke his cheek. “What’re you even doing? You’re supposed to be the bad guy.” He says sarcastically. “Do I have to tell you what to do too?”

“If your instincts are so good,” his breath hitches when you lift the tip of your dagger, brushing it against his shoulder, “you should’ve figured out who I was earlier.”

Watching him squirm is enough for now. Hopefully this would discourage him from following you. Placing the dagger back in its sheath, you walk behind him. No one else seems to be around, you decide, scanning the forested area you’re in. It should be safe for now.

You hold up your index finger, willing the small flame to dance atop of it. Fire comes to life, tiny but powerful in the right hands. This time, those hands are yours. You bend down and hold your finger against a few of the binds, letting the rope act as fuel for the controlled flame on your finger as it eats away at the material, loosening them slightly.

Surely that would be enough for him to escape, right? Unless he really has no muscles…likely possibility, but still.

A gasp cuts off your train of thought, and you flinch when you spot his wide eyes. “Fire Nation.” He barely whispers it aloud before you instinctively react, slapping his cheek harshly. “Ow!” He groans.

“One more word and I’m leaving you to die.” You threaten lowly, taking a step back.

He nods with a scowl, though it’s not like he has any other choice but to agree. “Fire Nation.” He mutters, barely within earshot as you begin to walk away. A sigh pushes past your lips, choosing to let it go.

Maybe it was a bad decision to let him go. Remnants of Jet’s plan lingers in your memory, squeezing your eyes shut as you bend down and pick up the hidden bag from earlier, hoisting it onto your back and starting your trek out of the forest.

However, the thought still haunts you. It’s not your position to do anything, you remind yourself. Surviving is hard enough, helping others only adds to it. Besides, you’d already made your peace to be the bystander in this situation.

But was saving Sokka part of your plan in the first place?

A shaky breath escapes, staring up into the clear sky, partially shrouded by the surrounding trees. All you have to do is keep going, to keep running. That way, you’ll live to see another day in a world which doesn’t want you to.

Whether it’s guilt or curiosity driving you, your feet move faster than your thoughts as you race back toward the cliff overlooking the Fire Nation village. The sunlight filtering through the leaves up ahead beckons you—just a few more steps, and you’ll know for sure.

Your breath catches in your throat, and before you realize it, the world tilts violently. The ground rushes up to meet you as you stumble. A quick glance down shows a tree root having caught onto your foot, causing your fall.

Face, meet ground.

Pushing yourself off the ground with a soft grunt, you pause right before pushing past the bushes as familiar voices drift to you on the breeze.

“The Fire Nation is gone, and this valley will be safe.”

A mild pang resounds in your chest, fingers clenching the hem of your shirt. Your right hand lays flat on the trunk beside you, eavesdropping on the conversation right next to you. Crouching slightly, you squint past the leaves to see Jet pinned against the very tree you’re leaning against, covered in ice that creeps down his arms and legs.

“It will be safe, without you.”

Inhaling sharply, you duck back down behind the tree, the rustling covered by the growl of whatever animal it was that Sokka’s now sitting on. Katara’s voice is filled with pure joy as she cries out her brother’s name in relief.

“I warned the villagers of your plan just in time.”

“What?”

As much as you hated to admit it, maybe releasing him was the right course of action after all, even if it wasn’t in your initial plan. Realising that the corners of your lips have lifted into a smile, you instantly frown, trying to scrunch your features into anything but.

“At first they didn't believe me. The Fire Nation soldiers assumed I was a spy. But one man vouched for me, the old man you attacked. He urged them to trust me, and we got everyone out in time.”

Hearing his testimony draws a soft chuckle from you, covering your mouth quickly in shock. Your body tenses, ready to sprint away in case they heard you. Luckily, Jet’s outraged reply draws their attention instead, your chest practically collapsing in on itself in relief.

“Sokka, you fool! We could've freed this valley!”

“Who would be free? Everyone would be dead.” Sokka voices the very thoughts that beare themselves in the forefront of your mind, nodding in agreement.

“You traitor!”

“No, Jet. You became the traitor when you stopped protecting innocent people.”

Unable to contain your curiosity, you bend down and peer through the leaves once more to catch a glimpse. Unfortunately, your mother’s bracelet that you’d adorned on the way here snags on one of the branches of the shroud of leaves.

As you fumble to free it, a small twig snaps off in your hand.

You freeze. The loud crack reverberates through the air, and dread curls in your stomach. Glancing nervously at the opening in the leaves, you debate whether to keep watching.

Maybe it truly is curiosity that will kill you one day, you decide.

Steeling yourself, you peer through the gap again—only to lock eyes with Sokka.

Your breath catches, your lungs refusing to work for a beat. Panic flares. You flinch, snapping back into motion and running in the opposite direction. Did he see you? You’re not sure. The blood rushing in your ears drowns out any rational thought as your feet fly over the forest floor.

Maybe he didn’t. Maybe they were too distracted to notice.

Even when you finally stop, chest heaving and sweat dripping down your face, your heart refuses to calm. You hold your breath, listening for the sounds of pursuit, but there’s only the chirping of birds and the rustle of leaves. No one’s following.

Exhaling sharply, you take a moment to collect yourself.

Whatever. You’d done your best and so did they. It’s just better judgement on your part to have helped him, after all. So in a way, you’re the one that saved the village, right?

Right.

The thought cheers you up a little. You adjust your bag, pull out your compass, and check the direction. The needle wobbles before settling west. It’s almost hard to believe you ran into the Avatar and his group. Of all the people in the world… What were the odds?

How would Hanoh react if she found out?

Maybe she’d hit your back with a frown, chiding you for not being more careful. Or maybe she’d laugh and pat your head like she used to before you got banished. Maybe she’d ask why you didn’t go with them.

Sokka’s sharp blue eyes flash in your mind, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. That Water Tribe boy is by far the most irritating person you’ve ever met—second only to the self-proclaimed Crown Prince, of course. Not that you’re particularly fond of either of them. Sure, Sokka’s reactions were amusing, but only for a moment’s distraction.

Besides, it’s not like you’ll ever see them again.

25 notes · View notes

beescomet · 4 months ago

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All Too Human (01)

a/n: thought about him a little too much.

series masterlist | 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 | 𝗻𝗲𝘅𝘁

The first thing you see upon opening your eyes is pitch black. The darkness resembles the black holes you’d seen in space documentaries, ready to swallow anything in its path of destruction.

A sense of unease coils in your stomach as the leaves crunch beneath your body when you sit upright. The gradual haziness from the sleepy fog slowly leaves your mind, revealing the stark reality of your surroundings.

Gone is the warm comfort of your bed where you’d laid to sleep, snuggled under the sheets with the promise of a new day. Instead, all that greets you is an ominous silence, with no trace of sunlight to be found.

Trees surround you, but their appearance is starkly different from the ones you know. Instead of vibrant green leaves and dark brown bark, the ones around you are of a dark grey, their roots curled and twisted above ground as if the soil itself were filled with poison.

It must be a dream.

You smile. Maybe it’s the stress of your gap year almost concluding with practically no results to show other than your travels, but one could attribute the giant spider in front of your eyes as the product of a nightmare.

After all, it could just be your brain rationalising all your anxieties and unresolved emotions into a creature of horrors. The spider approaches with caution, its beady eyes analysing whether or not you need to be bitten and paralyzed.

Not like it’d do anything in the first place, you’d be happy to simply lay there and accept them, knowing that they’re all just in your head. Perhaps being bitten by it would somehow give you a sort of ‘awakening’ in coming to terms with your unacknowledged yet plausible fears.

If therapy were a subject, you’d have aced it with flying colours and extra credit to boot from the amount of psychoanalysing you’ve just done.

But unfortunately, as your fingers fiddle with the silken thread that’s begun to weave around your body that feels a little too realistic to be a product of imagination, an inexplicable sense of dread consumes your senses like a tidal wave that’s arrived too late.

It’s not a dream.

Glancing from the cocoon that’s already woven up to your thighs to the sharp fangs dripping venom, any cry for help dies in your throat. Your heart hammers against your ribcage, but your body remains frozen.

You try to pull one leg free, but the silk only tightens, binding your movements with every subtle twitch. Your mind races, logic and fear clashing, struggling to convince yourself this can’t be real. But the prickling sensation on your skin as the spider's fangs inch closer to it is unmistakably so.

Panic bubbles up, the urge to scream trapped beneath the weight of paralysis. Your gaze darts around, desperate for anything that could help. A branch, a stone, a break in the webbing; but all you see is endless darkness and twisted shadows.

Just as the spider shifts, a flicker of movement catches your eye. A shadow, swift and silent, slipping through the trees. You want to call out, but your voice is caught, locked behind a wall of terror. The spider's attention wavers, one of its legs pausing mid-air as though sensing something nearby.

Then, a glint. A flash of metal slicing through the darkness. Before you can process what’s happening, the creature rears back, a soundless scream stretching across its mandibles as it stumbles. You feel a force pulling at you, the sharp sound of a blade slicing through the silken webbing just as your vision blurs with panic and relief.

Your body is lifted up by a pair of strong yet thin arms, your hands automatically clinging to their shirt. Only what meets your touch isn’t the cotton material you’re familiar with, but the firmness of leather.

Your eyes drift upwards up to see the face of your saviour, only for the breath to catch in your throat once you do. His beauty is almost paralysing — a cascade of golden hair frames a face that seems carved from light itself, jaw sharp and eyes piercing. You’re so stunned that the only word you can manage is a breathless, disbelieving, “Legolas?”

His brows knit together, a flicker of surprise crossing his features as he registers your words. But before you can say more, your vision blurs, the world dissolving into darkness as his face; half surprise, half confusion, fades from view.

— — — — — —

“-in the forest. She knew me, Tauriel. She called me by name.”

You lift your head, blurry vision clouding your focus as you come to your senses. The last thing you remember is seeing the very figment of fiction standing right in front of you. A wave of scepticism washes over you for a fleeting moment, wondering if you’d somehow died in your sleep and gone to hell.

It’s the only way to explain the bizarre nightmare you’d just had, after all.

As your vision clears with a few shakes of your head, you become aware of something soft covering your body, and the rays of sunlight beaming through the open windows. It’s a stark contrast to your nightmare from earlier. Your hand reaches to your throat, gently feeling it as if ensuring you’re still alive.

“You’re awake.”

The sudden voice startles you, instantly sitting upright as your hands curl into fists. How did a stranger get into your apartment?

But when you see who the intruder is, your jaw drops.

“Legolas.” His name, filled with pure disbelief, falls from your lips, and it suddenly occurs to you to look at your surroundings. Your eyes dart from the vanity mirror next to the door decorated with shining jewels, and sizeable emeralds encrusting the bedframe you’re in.

You part your lips, still processing the room that’s probably worth more than your entire family. “This isn’t my apartment.” You stare at the elf sitting next to you, reaching out a hand in wonder.

Is he real?

His hand grabs yours, stopping you from pinching or poking his face. He shifts, discomfort crossing his face momentarily though traces of it remain in his gaze. “How do you know me?” He asks, a hint of perplexity lacing his voice as he leans forward, genuinely intrigued by your reaction.

A freakishly tall cosplayer? A D&D player who's really into the role? What if this is a TV show and you're just getting pranked or something? You nod at the last possibility. It had to be something like that, it's the only thing that would explain all this so far.

“Okay, this is all very funny, but if this really is a TV show, I’m expecting a huge reward for my reactions.” You watch as Legolas’s brow furrows, the corners of his mouth twitching in a mix of confusion and amusement. It’s almost as if he’s trying to comprehend the absurdity of your words while remaining serious.

“What are you talking about?”

Ignoring his question, you scrutinise him, adjusting yourself so that your hands rest under your chin, elbows propped up by your bent knees. “How’d you get his hair colour so accurate? The bleaching process must’ve been absolutely insane.” You comment, watching him flinch away from your touch, making you grin.

“I hope you know that kidnapping is illegal though,” you continue, your tone light yet pointed. “And I’d really appreciate the appearance fee on whatever show this is. Is it YouTube? I can subscribe to support it. I gotta show this to Mom for sure. This set is incredible!” You marvel at the lavish set around you, gesturing to the bed. “I mean, these diamonds? They look so real!”

Patting your body to find your phone, you realise that the old, oversized shirt and shorts you use as pyjamas have been replaced with a tunic with the pattern of vines embroidered across your abdomen, and a pair of pants that fit you almost perfectly.

What the-

Narrowing your eyes, you snatch up the blanket and scooch back. “Okay, who changed me? That’s crossing a line, buddy. Me being passed out does not equal consent.” Your voice wavers slightly as doubt creeps into the cracks of your confidence.

Am I really awake right now?

Instinctively, you start patting down the bed and your new clothes, continuing the search for the comforting weight of your phone, but it’s nowhere to be found. A small spike of panic rises before you quickly brush it off. They probably confiscated it for filming, you reason, trying to steady your nerves. Wouldn’t want me leaking the ultimate Lord of the Rings production before the big reveal, right?

“His Majesty has called for you to bring the human to him.” Another beautiful elf cosplayer appears in the open doorway. You stare at her pointed ears in momentary fascination, only to be pulled out of the bed by the wannabe Legolas.

“Hey, what the fuck? I can get out of bed by myself, thank you very much.” You pull your arm back in annoyance, the elven girl from earlier casting you an odd look. Her hand reaches for the sheath attached to the belt on her waist, only to falter when Legolas holds up a hand.

You follow them both in a daze, speechless from the wonders you pass by on the way to wherever they’re taking you. The air is filled with the scent of flowers and vibrant greenery in every corner of the place.

They must’ve spent close to a million dollars on the set alone.

Finally, you enter a pair of huge doors that open silently. You’re almost hidden behind Legolas’s towering build, the grandeur of the throne room washing over you in a wave of disbelief.

“Yup, I’m dead.” You confirm with a lighthearted air, practically feeling your soul leave your body at the sight. “I’m dead and this is heaven. Or hell. Or in between, I don’t know.”

You spot the slightest twitch in the corner of Legolas’s grim expression, doing his best to hide his amusement from your words. Seeing a figure clothed in white that sits on the throne in the middle of the room, you blink a couple times, your brain registering his appearance.

“My Lord,” Legolas begins, stepping forward and gesturing toward you. “This is the human I found lost in the dark forest.”

Thranduil's sharp gaze narrows at you, and he leans forward slightly, a hint of disapproval etched on his features. ““A human in Mirkwood? They do not stray here without reason, Legolas. You should have left her to the mercy of her own kind.”

Legolas straightens, a hint of defiance in his tone. “But she knows me by name, and her demeanour is unlike that of any human I’ve encountered before.”

You watch the exchange, a mix of confusion and intrigue swirling within you. The way they speak, the elegance of their movements, and the grandeur of the throne room feel all too real to be a TV show. The cogs in your brain creak and groan as they turn, piecing together the fragments of the bizarre situation you’ve found yourself in.

“Wait.” Your brain stutters. The puzzle pieces finally fall into place, staring straight at the elven prince who looks back at you with raised brows. “If you’re actually Legolas, and you’re,” you gesture lamely to the elf on the throne, “Thranduil…”

Oh my god.

Oh. My. God.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” A laugh wrecks itself free from your chest, staggering backwards. “Am I in Lord of The Rings? The Hobbit? Is Sauron still evil?” This must be a dream, you think desperately, pinching your arm to test reality. Pain flares, but the confusion only deepens.

Maybe I hit my head?

Legolas approaches you with concern in his eyes, but you flinch away, hands curling into fists as you assume a somewhat defensive position. The weight of their gazes almost makes you crumble. They’re real. They’re not just characters in a movie. Or cosplayers.

You’re in the Hobbit world, and this isn’t a prank. The realisation hits you like a punch to the gut. Your mind spins, grappling with the truth that this is no fantasy — it’s your reality now.

It crashes over you like a wave, pushing you closer and closer to the edge of pure disbelief.

This is insane.

Your breath quickens as you watch Thranduil, regal and imposing, speak in a voice that sends chills down your spine. What if this is really happening? What if I can’t go back? Everything is muffled, unable to process anything that he says.

You blink rapidly, feeling the panic clawing at the edges of your mind. “No, no, no… this can’t be real…” Your voice trails off, and you find yourself staring at Legolas, at the exquisite throne, and at Thranduil’s intrigued yet guarded expression.

“You,” gesturing to the king of elves so casually would’ve probably cost your life, but right now you couldn’t care less. “Has Smaug attacked Lake-Town yet? What about the Ring, or whatever it’s called?”

Thranduil’s expression hardens, eyes narrowing. “You speak of events you should not know, human,” he states coldly, his voice laced with authority. “Your knowledge is… troubling. Why would you possess such insight into our affairs?”

The realisation dawns on you, a creeping dread that what you said could have dire consequences. You’d spoken too fast, too urgently for it to be seen as idiotic ramblings. You take a step back, the room suddenly feeling smaller, the walls closing in as Thranduil’s gaze pinches your chest with an unyielding grip.

Your lips part and close like a goldfish gasping for air, mind racing for ways to undo the fatal mistake made. The room spins slightly, disorienting you further.

What have I done?

Based on his reaction, none of what you’ve said has taken place yet, which means that it’s only going to get worse from here now that he’s heard.

Thranduil leans forward, the regal facade slipping away to reveal something darker. “Speak the truth,” he commands, each word measured and heavy. “How do you know these things?”

You swallow hard, panic bubbling in your chest. “I—uh, I just… I read the books. I mean, it’s not like you can keep secrets when you’re famous, right? Everyone knows about you and your kingdom and the dragon!” The frantic pace of your words makes you sound desperate, and you can hear the tremor in your voice.

Legolas’s brows furrow in worry as he steps closer, but is stopped by one of the guards whom his father waves a hand toward. You’re in a throne room with a king who holds the power of life and death in his hands, and you’re just a human who dropped into this world with knowledge that shouldn’t exist.

“What if I’m just a casual reader?” you babble, desperately trying to grasp at straws. “I mean, there are millions of people who love your stories! This has to be some kind of mix-up, right? I can’t be the only one that's read them! Sure, I might've only read the books when I was 16, but that should still count for something, right??”

Thranduil’s piercing gaze only intensifies. “Your flippancy in the face of such gravity is alarming. If you truly are a mere mortal with fanciful tales, you would not speak of such matters so easily.”

“I swear, I didn’t mean to-” you start, but the words get caught in your throat, overcome by a wave of nausea.

“Enough!” Thranduil’s voice reverberates through the chamber, commanding attention. His gaze sharpens, narrowing as he scrutinises you. “Your words bear the weight of knowledge that should not belong to a mere human. You speak of events that could unravel the very fabric of our history.”

A chill creeps down your spine, a mixture of fear and confusion. “But I-”

“Do not interrupt,” he snaps, his tone leaving no room for defiance. “You are a mystery to me, and mysteries are not to be trusted lightly. You may not be a spy, but the truth of your origins and how you came to know such things is troubling.”

“I can explain! I’m not a threat! Please-”

Thranduil raises a hand to silence you, his expression stern. “Your incoherence and wild claims only heighten my concern. Until I can ascertain the truth of your existence and intentions, I cannot allow you to roam freely within my realm.”

He stands, your heart sinking as he parts his lips.

“Seize her!” he commands, his voice resolute. The guards move forward, their expressions grim and unyielding. Legolas can only watch helplessly as you’re dragged away to the dungeons, your limp body and watery eyes staring at the ceiling.

— — — — — —

Maybe if you squint hard enough, the rock-hard floor would eventually become the emerald-encrusted bed you’d woken up on the first day you arrived here. Barely flinching when footsteps walk past your cell, you continue staring blankly at the ceiling.

Your back had grown numb to the stone floor, but you hardly noticed anymore. Days blend together, differentiated only by the creak of the cell door as someone delivers your meals; meals that remain untouched.

At first, you'd begged anyone who would listen, voice hoarse from calling out for an audience with the king or even just a glimpse of Legolas, desperate for answers or even a small sign that you hadn’t simply vanished into some twisted nightmare.

But they never came.

Over time, your voice grew softer, your pleas weaker, until they faded entirely, swallowed by the plaguing silence of the dungeon. Now, you simply lie there, unmoving, eyes tracing the cracks in the ceiling, hoping that if you stare long enough, the rough stone might blur into something familiar or even comforting.

A shiver runs through you as a cool draft drifts in from somewhere in the dark. You barely register it, too accustomed to the damp cold that’s seeped into your bones over time. The floor is firm, pressing into your spine, yet you can’t bring yourself to shift or even curl up for warmth. Movement feels meaningless.

Time is a cruel, slippery thing. At first, it dragged, each hour stretching into an eternity, every moment a fresh reminder of how confined you were. But now, it blurs, slipping past in uneven stretches you can’t track. One blink, and days have vanished. Another, and an agonizing moment stretches forever.

It’s almost laughable, really. Just days ago (though it feels like a lifetime) you’d pounded on the cell door until your fists were raw, shouting until your throat burned, desperate for someone, anyone, to hear you. To acknowledge you. To see you. You’d begged, reasoned, demanded, your words spilling out like a broken dam.

But the silence was louder. It swallowed you whole.

The footsteps echo again. Slow and deliberate. You know the sound well by now, the rhythm of someone entering the cell, but you don’t bother looking. They leave a plate, same as always, then retreat without a word. Maybe if you close your eyes, you could almost pretend you’re back home. Almost.

But the ache of hunger remains, the chill lingers, and the weight of your isolation presses heavier with each passing day. You sink deeper into yourself, mind drifting as a desperate form of escape, retreating further and further from the reality of your situation.

It’s nightfall when someone approaches your cell once more. You’d mentally counted the number of times they delivered your food today. This one, however, sounds different. It’s a few seconds of silence that pass by before someone calls out to you in a hushed voice.

“Human, wake up!”

The lilt of his voice is vaguely familiar. You huff. As if Legolas, of all people, would come down here. If he wanted to, he would’ve already done so. But a part of you stirs, buried hope rising to the surface.

Sitting up is difficult, your self-starvation having resulted in a weakened body. Empty eyes look to the door, only to widen at the sight of golden hair. “Legolas?” His name comes out in a whisper. You refuse to blink, fear gripping your chest at the thought of him disappearing the moment you do.

“What have the guards done?” He murmurs, shock in his eyes as he takes in the gauntness of your cheeks and the prominence of your collarbones that peek out from beneath the now dirty tunic.

“They didn’t do anything,” you mumble, sudden shame flooding your cheeks in a rush of warmth. “I just didn’t eat…”

Legolas’s brow furrows, his gaze softening as he watches you turn away, your voice barely audible. He hesitates before kneeling down. His movements are careful, almost as though he's approaching a wounded animal.

“That is no way to survive here,” he says in a gentle reprimand. “This may not be your world as you claim, but that doesn’t mean you must waste away in it.”

A small, bitter laugh escapes you, though it lacks any real humour. “What else am I supposed to do? No one believes me, and your king thinks I’m a threat just for… knowing things.” Your dry throat makes the words come out hoarse, swallowing down whatever saliva you can muster to lubricate it.

Legolas studies you for a long moment, something akin to compassion flickering in his eyes. “Perhaps my father was… hasty in his judgement,” he murmurs. “If you truly pose no danger, then it would be unjust to keep you here like this.”

He straightens, the resolve in his gaze hardening. “I will speak to him. I cannot promise he’ll be easily swayed, but I will do what I can to ease your burden. No one should be left to suffer like this.”

Your head snaps up, a glimmer of hope fighting its way through your weariness. “You would… do that?”

“Do not misunderstand,” he says, voice firm but kind. “I know not what brought you here, nor do I fully understand your knowledge of our affairs. But you have not acted with malice. You look more like a soul displaced than a threat.”

For a moment, he seems almost conflicted, as though something deeper drives him to help you. He lets out a sigh, his hand hovering above the branches that make up your cell gate, almost touching but not quite. “Eat, regain your strength. I will speak to my father. Perhaps… Perhaps there is another path.”

He leaves as quickly as he arrives, the only trace of him the empathetic advice he’d given you. You glance from the now empty hall to the tray of bread and roasted vegetables that had probably become cold by now.

The first thing you grab, however, is the clay cup filled with crystal-clear water. You never knew water could taste so sweet. It’s gone in seconds, and you place the now empty cup beside you before attacking the coarse bread with an almost primal ferocity.

At first, you think it’s just the sensation of the food, like a lump that sticks in your throat, or a catch in your breath. But then you notice the tremor in your hands, and a strange wetness slipping down your cheeks.

You freeze, a piece of bread still clutched in your hand, and touch your face cautiously. Your fingertips come away damp, and the reality sinks in: you’re crying. It’s not the sobbing kind, nor the loud, cathartic release you’d seen in movies. Instead, it’s quiet and constant, like a river that refuses to stop flowing.

Somewhere between the exhaustion, the loneliness, and the fear you’ve tried to ignore, the tears found their way out, and now they refuse to stop. So you sit and allow them to fall, quiet sniffles echoing through the lonely cell.

I want to go home.

After your tears subside, you continue eating with a sense of calm. Legolas is right, you reason as you bite into a chunk of carrot. I have to eat to survive, so I can go home again. I’m sure he’ll find a way. He’s Legolas, after all.

The tray is soon cleared of all food, and you stumble to the door, placing it nearby. Laying back down on the floor once more, you gradually succumb to the lull of sleep, hoping that when you open your eyes again, the sight of a familiar window by your bed will greet you like an old friend.

— — — — — —

“You’re kidding me.”

The very elf king guy that had you confined to this cell stares down at you with thinly veiled disgust in his eyes when the words slip from your lips. Before, you would’ve probably collapsed at his feet, trying to beg for your life in a strange and unfamiliar world.

But now? A spark of anger triggers something in you. With all the energy your body can muster, you slam yourself against the cell door, fingers curled around the sturdy bars that secure you inside. “Let me out,” you grit your teeth, pissed off by the calm expression on his face.

“You spoke of the One Ring.” He ignores your pitiful attempt at intimidation, shifting ever so slightly as he stares at you. “Elaborate.”

You swallow hard, throat suddenly dry as the weight of his gaze pins you in place. “I—I don’t know much,” you stammer, the words tumbling out despite your attempts to stay composed. Right. He has the power to end your life with a flick of his hand. “Only that… the One Ring is tied to Sauron somehow. I remember that it’s… powerful, dangerous.”

Thranduil��s expression doesn’t shift. His eyes are as cold as ice, studying you with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

“What else do you know?” His voice is low and unyielding, giving no indication of his thoughts. “You spoke of Smaug as well. And mentioned Sauron. Speak clearly, human.”

You let out a shaky breath, mind racing as you try to recall the scattered bits and pieces from books you barely remember. “Smaug… he’s alive, somewhere… in the Lonely Mountain.”

The details are hazy, like faded ink on an old receipt stored away in your wallet. “But I don’t know much else, only that he’s… a dragon,” you add, voice trembling. “And Sauron… I remember that he’s evil. That he… corrupts things.” You look up, frustrated by the gaps in your own memory. “I’m sorry. I’m trying, but I read about this so long ago, and a lot of it is… gone.”

For a moment, silence hangs in the air, thick and heavy. Thranduil’s gaze sharpens, silently weighing your words, assessing whether to trust your confusion or see through it. Then he leans forward, his face unreadable.

“Why, then, do you speak of these events as if they’ve already happened?” he presses, his tone probing but controlled. “The dragon, the One Ring. You speak of them as if they are matters of history, yet they are our present. I find your lack of knowledge… puzzling.”

The truth of his words only magnifies the anxiety twisting inside you. How can you explain the concept of a book…a story, even, from another world? How can you convince him that you’re not some spy, or a witch wielding forbidden knowledge?

“I know how it sounds,” you say slowly, struggling to keep your voice steady. “I sound… deranged, I get that. But where I’m from, all of this. This whole world…it’s just a story.” The words leave you, barely a whisper. “You, Legolas, even… Sauron. You’re part of a book.”

At that, Thranduil’s expression grows colder, as if his patience is waning. “And what purpose would such a… ‘story’ serve?”

You hesitate, trying to find words that would make sense to him, though you can barely understand it yourself. “It was… a tale of good and evil. Of heroes, villains. I read it when I was younger because it was assigned reading. But this,” you gesture around you, the dungeon walls, the cold stone floor, “none of it felt real. I didn’t even think it could be real.”

Thranduil regards you for a long, unreadable moment, then shifts slightly, his stance regal yet filled with disdain. “You will remain here until I determine whether you are a danger to my realm,” he declares, sharp and final. “Your knowledge, whether madness or truth, must be contained.”

“But I’m not a threat!” you protest, hands gripping the edge of the cold metal. “I don’t know enough to change anything. I’m just… I’m just trying to understand.”

“If you possess knowledge that should not exist in your mind, that alone is reason for caution,” Thranduil replies, unmoved by your desperation. He takes his leave, walking away with that unnerving composure of his.

“Please-” Your plea comes out choked. “At least let me take a bath.” It’s truly absurd, the fact that luxuries like hot showers and soaps you’d once taken for granted are now things you have to beg for.

He stops, turning his head slightly. He nods once to the guard stationed nearby, granting your request. Relief floods your body in waves, barely able to believe he’d agree. The guard steps forward, taking the set of keys from his belt and unlocking the door. Your body is too weak to fight, and Thranduil is most definitely aware of this.

It’s also probably why he’s letting you have this one thing.

As you’re led down the stone corridor, you catch sight of other elves passing by, each one casting curious, wary glances in your direction. You shrink under their stares, feeling painfully out of place. When you reach a chamber outfitted with a small basin of steaming water and a cloth, your breath catches at the sight.

“Thank you,” you murmur, feeling the words slip out almost unconsciously as the guard averts his gaze, giving you privacy to bathe.

The water is lukewarm, but it might as well be a luxury spa as you scrub away days' worth of dust and weariness. You close your eyes, letting the water drip down your face, imagining for just a moment that you’re back in your world. A place with warm showers, comforting scents, and familiar sounds. But no matter how hard you try, the ache in your chest remains, reminding you of where you truly are.

You take your time, hoping to savour every second of it, every drop of water and gentle brush of the cloth. But too soon, it’s over. The guard’s footsteps echo softly as he approaches, a subtle indication that your time is up.

After dressing in the simple, clean tunic provided, you’re led back through the winding corridors, the fleeting moment of peace slipping away as reality settles in. When the heavy cell door shuts behind you, sealing you once more in cold stone.

— — — — — —

Another week slipped by. Thranduil continued his irregular visits, each time pressing you for information. You’d combed through (almost) every scrap of detail you could remember, hoping it might eventually lead to freedom. But even with your best efforts, the gaps in your memory remained stubbornly intact.

To hold on to some piece of yourself, you started working out in your cell — pushups, sit-ups, anything to keep moving. At least now, you could understand why gym bros were so committed. Without the endorphins from the exercise, you probably would have unravelled by the fifth or sixth day.

Legolas had visited again a few nights ago. His expression held a quiet regret as he admitted he hadn’t yet persuaded his father to release you. Still, he’d managed to convince Thranduil to transfer you to a more comfortable cell, a small victory in his eyes.

But the surprise on his face when you declined almost made you laugh.

Honestly, you’d given up hope that he or anyone else could get you out. Instead, you’d decided to rely on your own wits, piecing together hazy recollections of events that would eventually bring familiar characters to the dungeons.

When the dwarves arrived, you’d just need to bide your time until Bilbo found the barrels or some other escape opportunity presented itself.

You had no idea how long it would take. But if you’d endured this long, what was a little more waiting? Based on the hints Legolas had dropped about recent events across Middle-earth, you estimated the timeline was closing in on Thorin’s arrival. With any luck, the moment to escape would come soon enough.

The winding passageways had become familiar as well, Thranduil having given you more opportunities to bathe in exchange for the information you provided. (Though, you suspect it has more to do with his senses being compromised by your stench when he’d drop by for questioning)

Roughly two hours (or more, you can’t really tell at this point) after you had returned to your cell, hair damp from the bath and skin scrubbed clean, loud cries echoed through the cold, stone corridors of the dungeon. The sounds were chaotic and jarring. Gruff voices raised in anger, the clanking of metal chains, and the thud of heavy boots against the floor resounded in your ears, cutting through the usual silence.

The unmistakable voices of the dwarves, rough and determined, reached you as they were dragged into the dungeons, each cry echoing with a mix of defiance and dread. Each heartbeat of yours is like a drum until an entire marching band is practically playing in your chest.

You raise your head from where you sit, staring at the wall opposite with weary eyes as you hear loud protests and bodies being harshly pushed into the neighbouring cells.

Thorin and his dwarves had arrived.

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beescomet · 4 months ago

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GUYS YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!!! I NEED TO RIDE THIS MAN IMMEDIATELY

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beescomet · 4 months ago

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beescomet · 5 months ago

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𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝟎𝟗 |

[ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ] | [ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

“I don’t get it.” You cross your arms, glaring at Jay, who looks like he’s seconds away from tearing his hair out.

“What’s so hard about down-up-left, smash-up, then down again two times ?” He jabs a finger in your direction, his tone accusing. His game controller lies abandoned on the carpet, thrown there in his dramatic rage-quit.

“Firstly, how dare you assume I know anything about this game,” you retort, raising a brow. Your own controller dangles limply from your hand as you return his glare with equal intensity. “Secondly, you’re the one who was lacking a teammate. In case you didn’t notice, I was busy trying to kill those aliens you let through.”

Jay groans, dramatically slumping back on the couch like the very fabric of existence has betrayed him.

To be fair, he’d given you little choice but to join him. He’d texted you the second your classes ended, announcing that it was his turn for guard duty. After a week of being chaperoned by Nya and Kai (who at least managed to stay professional about it) you were left with Jay. Fun.

Nya had dropped you off with a laptop full of incomplete Word files and a heap of boredom. It didn’t last long. Jay had instantly yelled for you to join him in the game room, and, well, here you were.

“Hello.” Zane’s voice cuts through the argument as he enters the room wearing a pink apron, carrying a plate of cookies. You seize the distraction, leaving Jay to sulk on the couch as you swipe one from the plate.

“I assume you’re having fun?” Zane asks, though you suspect he already knows the answer.

You smirk, nodding. “He can never know how I kicked your butt last time we played this game,” you whisper, giving Zane a conspiratorial glance.

“Your secret is safe with me,” Zane replies, though there’s a subtle hint of mischief in his tone.

You pat his shoulder, taking another bite of the cookie. “Good man.”

It’s then you notice something off. It’s not the blinking arcade lights in the corner or the disorganized pile of vinyl records waiting for salvation. Neither is it the foosball table that’s been turned on its side or the random origami paper on the ground.

“Where’s everyone else?”

Zane tilts his head, as though mentally ticking off a list. “Sensei Wu gave the students the day off. Nya and Kai are still on patrol. Lloyd is in the strategy room with Pixel, and Cole stepped out to grab some pizza for dinner.” He pauses, glancing at you. “Will you be staying?”

You sigh wistfully, longing for a slice of Hawaiian pizza. “I wish. But I’ve got dinner at home I can’t skip. I’ve already been out with you guys too often this week.”

“For your safety,” Zane reminds gently. “This thief, whoever they are, is still at large and remains a significant threat. However, Lloyd mentioned an update earlier. Perhaps you’d like to join me to hear it?”

Your gaze flicks to Jay, now fully engrossed in setting up a solo game, and then to your laptop perched on the table. “Yeah, alright. Lead the way.”

Zane guides you through a set of doors and into a lift, which hums softly as it descends into the depths of the base. The doors slide open with a hiss, revealing the familiar sight of the strategy room, bathed in the soft glow of monitors.

Pixel is the first to notice you, offering a welcoming smile. Lloyd glances over his shoulder, his brows lifting in surprise. “Hey,” he greets, a slight grin tugging at his lips. “Didn’t expect you down here. How’ve you been?”

“Could always be better,” you reply with a shrug, matching his casual tone. His grin widens, and you can tell he’s already picking up on your vibe.

“Heard there’s an update,” you say, gesturing to the room. “Anything I can do to help?”

Lloyd hesitates for a moment before nodding to Pixel. She presses a button, and in an instant, holographic screens materialise, casting a pale glow over the room.

You try to read the text, but it’s dense. Paragraphs of information fly past faster than your brain can process. Instead, your attention is caught by a sketch of a masked figure, their features obscured, and a blurry CCTV photo beside it.

“That’s the thief,” Lloyd explains, stepping beside you. His tone grows serious as he gestures to the photo. “Unfortunately, this is the clearest image we’ve got. All the cameras surrounding the jewelry store went offline during the heist. Pixel’s still analysing the footage for anomalies, but so far, nothing adds up.”

“Convenient,” you mutter, squinting at the screens. “So they knew how to cover their tracks.”

“Exactly,” Lloyd replies, his expression grim. “Whoever this is, they’re good. Too good.”

“And the Scrolls?” you ask, noticing another screen displaying text about their ancient origins.

“They’re connected,” he says, voice tight. “The thief’s after them for a reason, but we’re still piecing together why. If they get their hands on all of them…”

The weight of his unfinished sentence hangs heavy in the air.

“Well,” you say, crossing your arms and forcing a smirk, “guess it’s a good thing you’ve got a team of ninja and a… very stressed university student on the case.”

Lloyd chuckles lightly, the tension easing just a fraction. “Yeah. Guess it is.”

Pixel steps forward, her mechanical fingers tapping on a keyboard. “We’ve highlighted the thief’s potential next targets. With your permission, Lloyd, I can brief her on the details.”

He nods, and you step closer to the screens, your smirk fading as you take in the gravity of what’s unfolding.

“I believe Cole mentioned this at dinner the other night,” Pixel begins, swiping her hand across one of the holographic screens. The image shifts, revealing three distinct scrolls. Each is wrapped with a different colored string. One red, one blue, one gold, and sealed within ornate tubes etched with intricate patterns.

Pretty.

“These are the only three Scrolls whose locations are known,” Pixel continues. She points to the red scroll first, its intricate casing glowing faintly on the screen. “The Scroll of Fate. This was stolen here in Ninjago the night of the charity auction.” She taps the image, and it zooms in to show an empty display case surrounded by police tape.

Your hand curls into a fist at your side, recalling the way the ground had collapsed in on you with that stupid gauntlet the thief had worn when they punched the floor.

Her finger moves to the blue scroll. “This is the Scroll of Dreams, located in Cloud Kingdom.” The image shifts to a floating realm wreathed in mist. It looks almost ethereal, your eyes widening in awe.

Finally, she gestures to the gold scroll. “And this is the Scroll of Destiny, housed in the Temple of Light.” The screen transitions to a simple temple atop a grassy mountain, its white stone walls and red accents glowing under the bright sunlight.

“Wait.” You hold up a hand, frowning as a memory tugs at the edge of your mind. “Didn’t Cole say there were four?”

Lloyd and Pixel exchange quick, knowing glances. You narrow your eyes, suspicion bubbling up.

“The fourth is… different,” Zane chimes in, stepping forward. His tone is calm, but his words carry a heavy undertone of solemnness. “Its location is a mystery, known only to its guardian, who guards it fiercely. Even its name has been lost to time.”

“Great,” you mutter, crossing your arms. “So it’s like some mythical hide-and-seek. What happens when the thief gets their hands on these three?”

“The first three Scrolls can be combined to form a map,” Zane explains. “A map that reveals the location of the fourth Scroll.”

You frown. Even the very notion sounds complicated. What’d they use? Glow-in-the-dark ink?

“Exactly,” Lloyd says, his jaw tightening. “That’s why we need to figure out the thief’s next move before they can get their hands on the others.”

Pixel nods. “And we must also understand why they are targeting you. Their intentions remain unclear.”

Looking at the ground with a defeated sigh, you kick at an imaginary pebble. Great. Juuuust great.

“Yes,” Lloyd says, his tone sharpening as he turns to face you fully. “Are you sure there’s no one you might suspect? Someone from your past, or even recently, who might have a connection to this?”

“What?!” You gape at him, incredulous. “Dude, I just moved here. I barely know anyone, and my enemies list is at a solid zero. I think. I’m pretty sure.” You pause at his sceptical look. “I’m sure.”

Lloyd exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair as his shoulders tense. “I had to ask.”

“Maybe try asking the thief next time they pop up,” you quip, leaning back against the table. “Pretty sure they’d have more answers than me.”

Lloyd shakes his head, muttering something under his breath. Pixel offers a small smile, attempting to ease the tension.

“Regardless,” she says, her tone soothing, “your safety remains our priority. We will continue to monitor the Scrolls and the thief’s movements.”

“Good to know,” you reply, though the idea of being a walking target gnaws at the edges of your thoughts. Vulnerability isn’t an option, so you shove the unease aside and straighten your back.

Lloyd steps forward, his gaze softening. “We’ll figure this out. I promise.”

You nod, forcing a small smile. Pixel parts her lips, about to say something before another voice pipes up.

“I got the goods!”

All heads swivel toward the lift. Cole strides in, pizza boxes stacked high in his arms, his grin as wide as ever. He stops short, eyebrows quirking as he takes in the scattered documents and glowing screens. His eyes land on you, and his grin shifts into a wry smile.

“You gonna stay for dinner or what?”

— — — — —

You did not, in fact, stay for dinner. But right now, you wish you were back at the monastery. Anywhere but here, sitting next to Emily of all people.

She cheers when the fireworks go off a short distance away, your dad gesturing back as he lights up another one. What was supposed to be a calm, peaceful dinner quickly turned into a kidnapping when he sprung the surprise of a beach hangout instead.

Emily had been caught off guard too, warily glancing in your direction before nodding when he grinned widely. Now, here she was, sitting awkwardly beside you, the two of you making an unspoken agreement to ignore each other as much as possible atop an old Barney the Dinosaur mat he’d somehow found.

“Here.” Her voice snaps you out of your brooding. She holds out a sparkler, its long, unlit stick wavering slightly in her hand. You glare at it, suspicion and annoyance bubbling up. Of course, she’d try to break the awkward silence with a gesture like this.

You don’t move at first, staring at the sparkler like it’s a snake ready to bite. However, your love for the stupid small stick wins out. Huffing out a breath, you snatch it from her hand, your fingers brushing briefly against hers.

Dang it.

“Thanks,” you mutter, though the gratitude is purely for the sparkler, not the person handing it to you.

She nods, looking away.

A candle flickers a few feet away, stuck in the sand. Your dad had set it up earlier, claiming it was for the sake of convenience before running off to light up the more whimsical fireworks near the coastline.

You shuffle over, careful not to let the grains stick to your jeans, and lean forward to light the sparkler. The tiny flame catches with a hiss, and it comes to life in a shower of glowing embers.

For a moment, you just watch it, letting it dangle limply from your fingers as it sputters and sparks. The light reflects in your eyes, the embers reminding you of a certain someone. But the joy is fleeting. It fizzles out far too soon, leaving only the acrid smell of smoke and a charred stick.

You toss it aside, brushing your hands off. A firework whistles into the sky, bursting into brilliant red and gold. Emily claps beside you, her enthusiasm grating on your nerves.

You glance down at the sand, grimacing at the thought of it clinging to your clothes. With a resigned sigh, you shift closer to her. Anything to avoid the gritty annoyance.

She glances your way, perhaps sensing the movement. Her mouth opens like she’s about to say something, but she seems to think better of it, turning her attention back to the fireworks.

Another one explodes in the sky, showering the night with brilliant light. You tilt your head up, watching it fade. For a second, you close your eyes. It makes it easier to pretend that Emily isn’t there, that it’s your mother instead.

Then, she hesitates. You can feel her glance, the kind of awkward sideways look that signals incoming small talk. Silently, you pray for the moment to pass before it even begins.

But of course, your prayers aren’t answered. They never are.

“So…” she begins, her voice tentative. “How’s Master Wu’s classes going?”

You tense, not expecting her to bring that up. Your gaze flicks toward her briefly before returning to the waves you can barely make out in the dim candlelight that slowly sweeps onto the shore. “They’re… fine.”

She nods, clearly trying to gauge whether that response is an opening or a dead end. She chooses the former, her tone turning almost casual. “He’s… quite something, isn’t he? You know, I actually met him once. A while back.”

That catches your attention, but only slightly. “Really?”

“Yeah.” She smiles, a little fondly. “At one of my book signings, of all places. He showed up right at the end of the event, stood patiently in line with this serene expression. At first, I thought he was in the wrong place, but nope. He handed me a copy of Heartstrings of Eternity —”

You can’t stop yourself from blinking at her. “Wait. Master Wu… a romance novel?”

She laughs, light and easy. “That was my reaction too. But he was very polite about it, said he appreciated the deeper themes and my perspective on fate.”

You stare at her, trying to picture Master Wu solemnly flipping through pages of a swoony love story. The mental image doesn’t compute, and yet, there’s a weird sort of charm to it. “Huh,” you say finally. “Never pegged him for a romance novel fan.”

Emily grins. “I didn’t either. But he has this way of making you feel like everything he does is somehow deeply intentional, you know?”

You don’t respond immediately, unsure how to navigate the conversation. Reluctantly, you offer, “Yeah. He’s… definitely got that vibe.”

To your horror, Emily continues. “He even gave me this little nugget of wisdom before he left. Something like, ‘The threads of destiny weave through all hearts, even in fiction.’ I’m pretty sure it was his way of telling me he liked my book.”

You hum absentmindedly, shifting slightly as the sand threatens to creep onto your clothes. A firework bursts overhead, painting the sky in gold and blue.

Emily watches the display for a moment before speaking again, her tone softer. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re taking his classes. He doesn’t exactly hand out invitations to just anyone, you know?”

Her words hang in the air, uncomfortably sincere.It would be easy to brush her off, easy to pretend the entire conversation didn’t happen and just not respond. But you’re reminded of the first time you met the rest of the ninja, how quickly you warmed up to their presence despite your whole soulmate situation.

Eventually, you nod. “I appreciate it. The classes are…” you hesitate momentarily, eyes flicking to her before casting them back to the mat beneath you, fingers tracing the outline of Barney the Dinosaur's mocking smile. “They’re good.”

You can hear her sharp inhale and already regret your words. Luckily, you’re saved from more conversation when your dad finally returns to the mat. He’s breathless, his forehead shining with sweat, but his smile remains as he collapses into the small space between Emily and you.

“Seems like my girls are getting along well!”

Emily parts her lips, glancing at you with uncertainty. You shrug your shoulders, offering probably one of the best responses you have given so far.

Your dad doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe he doesn’t care about the awkward tension lingering in the air. With an exaggerated flourish, he pulls a plastic bag out from behind him, the Chen’s Noodle Palace logo emblazoned in bright red on the side.

“Dinner is served!” he announces, holding the bag up like it’s a trophy.

You blink. “Chen’s? Here?”

“Turns out they do takeaway for beach picnics now,” he says, pulling out steaming containers of noodles. “I had to wait forever, but trust me, it’s worth it. Best noodles in Ninjago City!”

You and Emily exchange glances, both skeptical. Your dad opens the first container, releasing a savory, mouthwatering aroma that has you leaning in despite yourself.

Emily perks up, her earlier hesitation forgotten. “That actually smells amazing.”

“I know, right?” Your dad grins, passing you one of the containers and some chopsticks. “Dig in!”

You take a cautious bite, the flavors immediately bursting on your tongue. Sweet, salty, umami…it is surprisingly good. You don’t realize you’ve taken a second bite until you catch him watching you with an annoyingly triumphant smirk.

“Told you,” he says smugly.

Emily is already halfway through her portion, nodding in agreement. “Okay, I have to admit, this is probably the best takeaway I’ve had in months. Guess they really improved ever since the original owner stepped down.”

Your dad beams, clearly basking in the success of his food choice. Just as you’re about to go for another bite, Emily taps her chopsticks against her container lightly, drawing your attention.

“Hey,” she says, holding up a golden-brown piece of tempura prawn. “Wanna try?”

You hesitate, the automatic response on the tip of your tongue. No, thanks. I’m good. But the way she holds it makes you pause.

“Uh…” you trail off, glancing at her offering. Before you can decide, she gently sets the prawn on the edge of your container.

“There,” she says with a small smile. “No pressure.”

You glance at the prawn, then back at her, reluctantly nudging it into the noodles with your chopsticks. “Thanks.”

Your dad watches the exchange, his expression softening. He doesn’t say anything, but the glint of pride in his eyes is impossible to miss. You shift uncomfortably, focusing on the noodles instead.

“Wow,” Emily says after a moment, gesturing at the food with her chopsticks. “I don’t know what’s better, the fireworks or these.”

“Definitely the noodles,” you mumble through another mouthful.

She chuckles softly, and for once in a long while, the air between you feels a little less tense.

— — — — —

- [ Musketeer ] has changed [ Cake Enthusiast ] to [ Rocky’s Dad ] -

- [ Rocky’s Dad ] has changed [ Musketeer ] to [ anarchy ] -

Rocky’s Dad [ 11:02 PM ]: i always knew id be used for my dragon

anarchy [ 11:11 PM ]: lol what

anarchy [ 11:11 PM ]: lololol what is this name

anarchy [ 11:11 PM ]: do i even wanna know

Rocky’s Dad [ 11:20 PM ]: sry was in the shower

Rocky’s Dad [ 11:20 PM ]: at least make my name shorter

- [ anarchy ] has changed [ Rocky’s Dad ] to [ kole ] -

kole [ 11:24 PM ]: .

anarchy [ 11:24 PM ]: ?

kole [ 11:24 PM ]: anyw i got the short straw for next week

- Incoming Call from [ kole ]-

“Send me your schedule.”

“For free?” You put him on speaker, resuming your essay on the study of Borg Industries. “Don’t tell me you’re enrolling like Nya did. How does she even find the time?”

“You’d be surprised at her multitasking skills,” Cole replies, his voice tinged with amusement. In the background, you catch faint sounds of Jay and Kai bickering. The noise fades, and you suspect he’s left the room. “Anyway, since I’m your bodyguard next week, I figured we’d need a solid cover story.”

You hum, absently tapping the spacebar. “What kind of cover story?”

The line falls quiet. You glance at your phone, narrowing your eyes as if the device itself could pull an answer out of him. “What kind of cover story, Cole?”

After a beat, he says, “I think it’d be easier if we pretended to be a couple.”

Your hands hover above the keyboard. With deliberate care, you set your glasses aside and pinch the bridge of your nose. “...Why?”

“For starters, I’m not about to enroll in a business course I know nothing about. And second, people don’t ask as many questions when it’s soulmate-related. Makes it less complicated.”

You groan.

“Wow,” he says, his voice mockingly wounded. “At least warn me if you’re a hater.”

You highly doubt he’s offended. Secretly, you suspect he’s just as much of a drama queen as the others, maybe worse.

Pausing, you weigh your options. Unfortunately, it does make sense. No one would believe two "friends" willingly spending that much time together unless they were besties or soulmates.

Luckily for you, he falls into the latter.

“Fine,” you relent, “but we’re setting some ground rules.”

“Oh, agreed,” he replies, adding a theatrical shudder. “Rule one: we can never fall for each other.”

That draws a laugh out of you.

“Rule two,” you continue, “hand holding is allowed, but no PDA. I refuse to be that kind of couple.”

“Absolutely. We’ll save the PDA for the privacy of the monastery.”

You can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips as you close your laptop and pick up a pen to fiddle with. “Rule three: you pay for our ‘dates’.”

“Dates? As in plural?” he teases. “Didn’t realize you liked me that much.”

You snort. “Very funny, Brookstone. But you know I have to study to pass. You only had to take a few Zoom classes.”

“Hey, online university is hard when you’re saving civilians half the time.” He clears his throat, his tone softening. “Will you be okay, though? Studying outside, I mean.”

Your chest tightens at the shift in mood. You nod reflexively before realizing he can’t see you. “I’ll be fine. Corner seats in cafes are better anyway. Out of sight, out of mind, right?”

The joke lands flat, and Cole forces out a weak chuckle. “How about we swing by Papa’s? He’s been asking about you.”

“I still don’t get how you managed to charm him into giving you free stuff every time he sees you.”

“What can I say?” His smugness practically oozes through the speaker. “I’m just that amazing. Good-looking too, if I dare say so. And also smart. Can’t forget smart.”

You hum in mock agreement, though part of you begrudgingly acknowledges it. He is rather handsome. Objectively speaking, of course.

“Welp,” he cuts himself off with a yawn. “I’ll see you next week.”

“And hereI thought ninjas never run out of stamina.” You state, picking up the phone. “Goodnight, Cole.”

“Night.”

You hang up.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

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beescomet · 5 months ago

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AHSHZJKDKZ AJDJXJNDNDN AAAA EJKDKXKMXMDN AAAAA

𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝟎𝟖 |

a/n: Happy New Year <3

[ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ] | [ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

Receiving the honorary ninja status isn’t as great as you imagined. It comes with its perks, like an ego boost, for one, but it definitely has its downfalls as well. For example, finding out you’re being targeted by a random villain via an ominous picture of you in their hideout.

Just what you wanted in life. To unknowingly piss off some criminal mastermind. You definitely didn’t have it on this year’s bingo list, which is rather unfortunate. Maybe next year.

After Cole had taken the picture from your hands and handed it to Lloyd, he pulled you aside, guiding your numb body out of the warehouse. The briny scent barely registers in your head, your feet moving on autopilot. His warm hand gripping your wrist is probably the only thing keeping you anchored to the real world right now.

Why me? The fuck did I do to them? Am I being pranked? Did I accidentally cut them in line at a bakery? Is this karma for the time I accidentally threw away Melody’s gift? Shouldn’t there be a Ninja Customer Service I can call to ask about this?

You’re still running these thoughts in circles when Cole abruptly stops. He turns, his hands firmly gripping your shoulders as if he’s holding you together through sheer willpower. He says your name again, voice soft but concerned.

When you don’t reply, he leans in, concerned eyes scanning your blank expression. He calls your name for the fifth time (possibly eighth, but you were too out of it to count). The fuzzy fog of panic clears just enough to reveal Cole’s frustrated face about two inches from your own.

You flinch, your body instinctively taking a half-step back. “I-I’m fine,” you mumble, although the complete lack of conviction in your voice betrays you immediately. He lets out a slow breath, visibly trying to calm himself down. His hands remain on your shoulders, but his grip loosens, as if he’s trying not to overwhelm you any more than you already are.

"You’re not fine,” he says quietly, his voice soft but firm. “You just found out that some psycho’s been watching you. It’s okay to not be fine.”

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard. For a moment, you see the cracks in his usual tough exterior, the worry beneath his brittle composure. He’s frustrated, not at you, but at the situation. He’s frustrated at the fact that he can’t fix this with just his strength alone.

His brow furrows, and he leans back a little, his hand running through his hair. "Look, I know this is a lot, but we're going to figure it out. Together. We’ll get to the bottom of it and make sure you’re safe."

You laugh, but it comes out soulless, like you’d drop to the ground any moment now. “Safe? Safe?? ” you reach up and grab his hands that still rest on your shoulders, bringing them down and letting go.

“They had a picture of me. I didn’t even know they were there.” The words feel foreign on your tongue, the sheer fact of how vulnerable you were in the moment rattles you more than you’d like to let on. “Why would they even target me?”

“They won’t. I’ll make sure that you’re safe.”

“ We’ll make sure you’re safe.” Lloyd interrupts, walking up to the both of you. His words are firm and resolute, somehow calming your jittery nerves. Nya joins, placing a hand on your shoulder with a soft smile.

“For now, let’s go back home. Cole?” He nods. His hand finds your wrist gently, the warmth of his touch grounding you as he leads you toward Rocky.

The ride home is silent. Your arms rest limply around his waist, the steady rising and falling of his chest bringing you a sense of newfound calm. His hand somehow finds yours, placing it on top of them with an assuring squeeze.

Rocky glides down towards your apartment building, landing smoothly. The slight jolt stirs you from the coma-like daze you’re in, purely having focused on trying to match Cole’s breathing.

He helps you get down, every touch and motion gentle as if you’d shatter in his hands at any moment. It’s a drastic contrast from your usual self, and on any other day you’d smack his hands away with a huff but now? Now, you probably need this more than ever.

You wait for the lift together, his hand gripping yours in a loose hold. The lift dings, its doors opening for you to get in. “Hey.” Cole’s voice breaks the silence, and you pause to look at him. “It’ll be okay. I promise. We’ll figure this out.” Taking a deep breath, your usual retorts die on the tip of your tongue.

“...Sure.”

— — — — —

“Hey, what the fuck?”

“Good morning to you too, sunshine.” Kai greets you with a sarcastic smile, sliding down his sunglasses as he nods. “I’m here to pick you up for school.”

“Who’s this?” You inhale sharply with a hiss, slowly turning around to see your dad leaning against the wall with his coffee mug in hand. “You a friend of my daughter’s?”

In this moment, you’ve never regretted answering a doorbell more than you do right now.

“I’m the fire-” You slap your hands over his mouth, muffling the rest of his sentence.

“Yes! He’s…a friend! Remember the ones I told you about before?? This is…Wang. Wang Fire.”

“Wang Fire?” Seconds pass, the ball of nerves tightening in your chest as he regards Kai sceptically. You retract your hands when you feel something wet against them, shooting a disgusted glare at Kai who shrugs innocently. “Your friends… exist?”

“I’d say so, yeah. My sister and I are her friends in class.” Kai takes the hint, lying flawlessly. “We’re meeting her later. Hey, since you lost that bet of ours, you’ll have to buy coffee for Sapphire and I.”

That sly bitch-

Glaring at him only further bolsters his confidence, shrugging once more while giving off the impression of the picture perfect friendship you both share. “Well, don’t keep your friend waiting.” Your dad gestures to your bag sitting next to the shoe rack. “I’ll see you later. And make sure you buy them coffee!”

“I will,” you grumble, shoving on your sneakers and all but bolting out the door. Kai bows quickly to your dad before following suite, the door shutting with a click. “Okay, so what the fuck??”

“Good to see you’re back to normal.” Kai grins cheekily, the lift doors shutting before starting to move.

“Yeah, well. Only so much I can do as an honorary ninja, right?” He has the decency to look sheepish. “So explain? Please?”

He hesitates briefly, a solemn look on his face. “Lloyd and the rest are going to help guard you. We’re taking shifts. I got the short straw, so I have to do it in the mornings.” His tiny grumble doesn’t escape your notice.

If you were being completely honest, you’re still somewhat rattled from last night. As soon as your head hit the pillow, you passed out from exhaustion. Getting out of bed however, was a different matter altogether. Upon opening your eyes, your entire plan was ‘fuck it, we ball’ . So far, it’s a success.

“Just an iced americano for me, thanks.” You tap your card against the card reader grouchily, ignoring Kai’s cheery thank you . “Oh please, you’re getting a sweet deal. If not for Cole, you’d probably be paying for our guard duty.”

You chuckle softly at that, a hint of warmth spreading through you despite the tension that lingers in your chest. The barista hands you your drinks, Kai instantly taking a huge swig of his before wincing at the brain freeze that hits.

He waves a dismissive hand at your snickering. The walk to your lecture is filled with endless chatter about his past, how he’d been found by Master Wu ( you’d shuddered at how creepy it was - imagine following a stranger because he promised you powers. Cult much? ) and how he’d first met Cole.

Which then led to the question - “Are you his soulmate?”

Ah.

You choke. To be fair, it was only a matter of time before someone asked. However, you thought it’d been lowkey enough. Apparently not.

“Would you believe me if I said no?” You lift your head to meet Kai’s gaze.

He stares back with a flat expression, the corner of his lips twitching up into a hint of a disbelieving smile. A beat passes. “Yeah, I thought so,” you sigh, hanging your head. “It hasn’t been that long since we found out. It’s been like, what. A couple weeks? A month?”

Kai pauses mid-sip. “A month?”

“I asked him not to tell anyone. To be fair though, he didn’t seem eager to do so in the first place. This is between you and me though, got it?” You warn, poking a finger to his chest with narrowed eyes.

He raises his hands in surrender. “Whatever you say. I’m just a guard after all. What am I good for?”

“I dunno. You’ll get there someday, Wang .” You shrug, sharing a laugh at his fake name.

The view changes from bustling streets and shops to the campus interior, notice boards in every hallway, and students rushing to their next class. “Well, this is where my shift ends.”

“Wha-?”

A loud greeting draws your attention, finally noticing Nya in the sea of students. She wades through the crowd, greeting her brother with a smile. “Hey sis. Have fun in class. Oh, and if anyone asks, you’re Sapphire Fire, and I’m Wang Fire.”

She blinks. Looking from her brother to you, you can only shake your head helplessly. “I already got my student card.”

“Change it again!” He calls out as he walks off, the students automatically moving out of his way as if he’s parting the Red Sea.

She glances at you again, her confused expression almost drawing out a laugh. However, you manage to suppress it, masking it with a blank expression. “What Wang Fire wants, he gets,” you say nonchalantly, walking into the classroom.

You don’t have to turn to spot the baffled look in her eyes, making a beeline for the seats near the open windows. Nya sits down next to you, setting down her stuff and taking out a laptop.

“Oh.” You blink. “You’re like, actually doing this.”

She scoffs playfully. “Of course I am! Granted, I’ve already gotten a degree, but who’s to say you can’t have more, right?”

She has a point. Shrugging it off, your smile only grows wider when Holly comes in through the door. She raises a hand in a wave, pausing briefly when she sees who’s next to you. Nya looks up from her laptop, glancing between you and Holly before offering her a friendly nod.

Holly hesitates for a moment, making her way over when you gesture for her to join you. “Holly, this is…”

“Sapphire Fire.” Nya holds out her hand in a fist bump, and it takes all the willpower you have in you to not choke. “Nice to meet ‘ya! I was in a different course of study — Robotics, but I changed my mind and so, here I am.”

“Robotics?” Holly echoes, raising her brows in awe. “That must take a lot of brainpower.”

“Believe me,” Nya sighs, leaning back in her seat, “it doesn’t make up for the lack in the emotional intelligence sector.”

“Right,” you manage to say, nodding seriously. “Robotics.”

The professor arrives looking as if he’s just been through hell and back, with his crumpled shirt and stained coffee mug that he slams down onto the table. “Look,” he begins, his voice tinged with exhaustion, “I’ve got a bad headache and took painkillers, so this class will end when I do. Or when I pass out.”

As the three of you step out of the classroom thirty minutes later, Nya stretches her arms dramatically, a grin tugging at her lips. "Well, that was... enlightening. I think I’ve learned more about painkillers and how to hide treats from your dog than whatever he was supposed to teach."

Holly chuckles, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. "Honestly, I’m not sure I even remember the topic. Did he say something about our project? Or was that during the part where he stared into the void for five minutes straight?"

“Probably both,” you reply, your voice dry. “But hey, at least it wasn’t a total waste of time.” You nod toward Nya. “I got a new partner out of it.”

Nya smirks, nudging you lightly with her elbow. “Lucky you.”

Holly claps her hands together. “Speaking of the project, we should get started before the deadline creeps up on us. How about we go to a cafe? We can brainstorm over coffee and snacks. It’ll be fun!”

You blink at the suggestion, an unexpected tightness settling in your chest. For a moment, images of the previous night flash through your mind. The dark warehouse, the lingering sense of being watched… Your smile falters, and you shake your head slowly. "No cafes for now," you say, your tone light but your smile a little forced. "I’m... just not feeling it."

Nya glances at you, her eyes narrowing slightly as she picks up on the unspoken tension. She gives you the briefest of nods, a silent acknowledgment that speaks more than she could ever say out loud.

Holly shrugs casually. "No problem. The library it is, then. They’ve got some pretty nice study rooms if we can snag one.”

“Great idea,” Nya chimes in, her tone breezy. “Let’s head there now before it fills up.”

As you walk across campus, the two of them fall into easy conversation. Holly asks Nya more about her previous coursework and Nya playfully downplays her achievements. You’re grateful for the distraction, letting their chatter wash over you as you focus on the rhythmic crunch of gravel beneath your shoes. Still, every so often, you find yourself glancing over your shoulder, your senses on edge.

I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I have Nya with me.

When you reach the library, Holly leads the way to a study room near the back. “This one’s perfect,” she declares, setting her bag down on the table. “Plenty of space, decent lighting, and no weird coffee smells.”

“Plus,” Nya adds, dropping into a chair, “it’s way quieter too. Fewer distractions.”

You offer a small smile, settling into a chair as well. “Yeah. This works.”

As the three of you start discussing the project, Nya subtly shifts the conversation to keep things light, steering clear of anything that might put you on edge. Holly occasionally chimes in with an idea, while you assign yourself the task of scribbling down all the ideas put forth no matter how nonsensical.

There’s no such thing as a ridiculous idea, only idiots who rule them out before even trying.

The memory of your mother saying it to your younger self with a playful grin makes you smile. You can almost hear her voice, teasing and warm.

But the smile doesn’t last. The image of her in your mind changes, her expression clouded with worry, her voice strained the last time you saw her, three years ago. You remember the way she hugged you tightly, like she was trying to anchor you to the world, and the quiet crack in her voice as she whispered, “Stay safe, okay?”

Your hand pauses mid-scribble. You swallow hard, forcing yourself to focus on the present, on the steady rhythm of Holly’s voice and Nya’s occasional quips. You can’t go down that rabbit hole. Not now.

The door to the study room bursts open, startling all three of you. To you unadulterated horror, Abby strides in, her blonde curls bouncing as she gasps dramatically. “Oh my god, you’re here! ”

The last time you remember seeing her was when you’d left her hanging to answer all the questions people had rushed to ask in the food court. Every time you saw her after that, you’d hightailed it out of her sight to avoid being dragged for another round of socialisation.

You barely have time to react before she plops down in the empty chair next to you, her eyes sparkling with excitement. The change in atmosphere is immediate; her bubbly presence feels like a spotlight, and you can practically feel Nya and Holly stiffen at her sudden intrusion.

“I knew it!” Abby exclaims, leaning in so close you instinctively lean back. “You were hanging out with Cole yesterday, weren’t you? The Earth Ninja? You can’t even deny it, my friend saw you! What’s going on? Are you, like, his secret girlfriend or something?”

Your brain short-circuits for a moment as she barrels on, her questions coming rapid-fire.

“Or wait. Oh my god, is he your soulmate? That would be so epic! Like, imagine being soulmates with one of the ninja. You have to tell me everything. How did you even meet him? Was it super romantic? Do the others know?”

“Abby,” you manage to say, your voice a little sharper than intended. “This is a study session.”

“Oh, right!” she chirps, completely unfazed. She turns to Nya and Holly with a bright smile. “Hi! I’m Abby. I’m sure she’s told you all about me.”

Holly blinks, clearly taken aback, while Nya raises an eyebrow. “Can’t say she has,” Nya replies dryly, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. The corner of her lips is raised, a hint of amusement in her eyes as she watches you flounder for a proper response.

Undeterred, Abby continues. “Well, now you’ve met me! Anyway, you have to spill. What’s it like hanging out with the ninja? Do they, like, train all day? And Cole, he seems like the brooding type, but I bet he’s a total softie, right? Or am I way off?”

You glance at Nya, who’s looking at Abby like she’s trying to decide whether to laugh or walk out. Holly shifts uncomfortably in her seat, clearly unsure how to handle the whirlwind of energy that has descended on your quiet study session.

“Abby,” you say again, this time more firmly. “We’re trying to get work done.”

“Oh, right, right,” she says, waving a hand dismissively. “But seriously, we have to talk later. Like, over coffee or something. You can’t keep this ninja thing to yourself forever.”

You sigh, casting an apologetic glance at Nya and Holly. “Sure.” The word slips out before you can stop it, and Abby’s face lights up in triumph, making you immediately regret it. “Just... not right now. We’ve got work to do.”

“Fine, fine,” she says, standing and nudging your arm with a playful grin. “One quick thing, though. Do me a favor and let Kai know I think he’s, like, ridiculously hot, would you?”

Nya’s snort bursts out so loud and sudden it’s as if she’s set off a fire alarm. Heat creeps up your neck to the tips of your ears, and you stubbornly avoid meeting her eyes, instead fixing your gaze anywhere else. Forcing a nod, you mumble, “I’ll… pass on the message.”

Abby beams, clearly satisfied with your response. “Perfect! You’re the best. I’ll catch you later!” She waves dramatically as she saunters out of the room, leaving behind the faint scent of expensive perfume.

The door closes with a soft click , and you exhale, shoulders sagging as if someone just turned off a pressure valve. “Oh my god.”

Nya wastes no time. “So…” she drawls, leaning forward with a sly grin. “First Cole, now Kai? What exactly are you doing with your time, Miss ‘I’m Just a Regular Student’ ?”

You glare at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, you don’t ?” Her grin widens. “Because according to Abby, you’ve been gallivanting around with the Earth Ninja, who, by the way, she thinks is your soulmate .” She emphasizes the word with a dramatic wiggle of her eyebrows, earning a groan from you.

Holly looks up from her notes, utterly perplexed. “Wait, what? Soulmate? I thought we were talking about the project?”

“Exactly! That’s what we’re talking about!” You jump on Holly’s confusion like a lifeline, desperate to change the subject.

But Nya isn’t letting you off the hook that easily. “Oh, sure, the project . Because that’s why your ears turned redder than Kai’s fire when Abby mentioned Cole.” She pokes your arm, snickering. “Or was it when she called Kai ‘super hot’ ?”

I’m. I’m going to kill myself.

You drop your head onto the table with a groan. “I am begging you to stop.”

“Fine, fine.” Nya’s voice is laced with mock pity. “I’ll stop… for now. But seriously, you and Cole? I mean, I wouldn’t have guessed, but hey, stranger things have happened.”

Your head snaps up, ready to protest, but the teasing twinkle in her eyes makes you stop short.

“I hate you,” you mutter half-heartedly, which only makes her laugh harder.

The rest of the discussion continues without any more hindrances, though the occasional student that passes by looks in with interest. You try to ignore them to the best of your ability, but it feels as if you're being poked and prodded all over by needles like you’re an experimental subject.

“Are you busy after this?” Nya asks as you gather your things. Holly had left a short while ago to cook dinner for her family, bidding you both a rushed goodbye after she got the text. “If not, wanna join us for dinner? I think it’d be better than randomly having someone else guard you for a bit.”

Her words are lighthearted and joking, but it’s the feigned nonchalance that makes you sigh internally. Yes, you’re shaken more than you’d like to admit, but not so fragile as to need pity. However, a sudden thought makes you pause.

“...Who’s paying?”

— — — — —

“I’d like the A5 Wagyu please. With caviar. And some truffle fries. And a coke.”

Jay watches on in fascination as you rattle off your order to the waiter who nods politely, a newfound respect in his gaze. “You’re a heathen,” he murmurs in awe.

Cole merely shakes his head. “Really? You had to do all that?”

Shooting him a glare, you cross your arms and take a sip of water. “Look, if I knew we were going to some fancy upscale restaurant, I would’ve at least had some time to prepare! Instead, you let me almost be turned away at the door.” Gesturing to his suit and tie, you point at your own ratty jeans and thin beige cardigan.

Compared to him, you look like a troll from under a bridge.

“You’re fine,” Cole dismisses with a wave of his hand. “Besides, I didn’t even know you were coming. If anything, blame Jay. He’s the one who went in without you.”

Your lips part, a retort ready, but you pause, shifting your gaze to the blue ninja. He offers you a sheepish smile that does absolutely nothing to disarm your glare. “You’re so right,” you say, narrowing your eyes at him.

Jay flinches dramatically, clutching Nya’s arm like she’s a human shield. To your satisfaction, she does nothing to defend him. Instead, she pointedly pries his hand off and slides her seat a little farther away, the subtle shift making him gape at her in betrayal.

The look on his face is almost enough to make you grin. Almost.

When Nya invited you out for dinner, you expected something low-key. Chen’s Noodle House, maybe, or a casual diner. You were not expecting the five-star hotel looming in front of you when she pulled up, handed her car keys to the valet, and stepped out as though this were her usual Tuesday night. It was not, in fact, a usual Tuesday night for you .

Jay had been waiting outside with his signature bright smile, waving enthusiastically before offering Nya his arm. They both strolled in ahead of you, leaving you momentarily frozen in your tracks. The building’s gleaming exterior, the perfectly dressed doorman, and the elegant guests filtering inside made you feel as out of place as a plastic cup at a royal banquet.

You’d ducked into the bathroom to freshen up, splashing cold water on your face in hopes of shaking off your discomfort. But when you finally made your way to the reception desk, you were promptly halted by a woman with a polite but icy smile.

“I’m sorry, miss, but we can’t admit you without a reservation,” she said, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Stammering out Nya’s name hadn’t helped either. She and Jay were already inside, and the receptionist clearly wasn’t about to take your word for it. Frustrated and a little humiliated, you’d stepped aside, contemplating texting them when a familiar figure strode into the lobby.

Cole.

Dressed to the nines in a sleek tuxedo, his usual laid-back demeanor replaced by an air of quiet confidence, he barely had to glance at the receptionist before gesturing toward you. “She’s with me.”

The change in the woman’s expression was almost comical, her polite frostiness melting into something approaching genuine warmth as she hurriedly nodded.

Now, as you sit across from the guilty pair, you’re determined to make the most of this luxurious dinner. It doesn’t matter who’s footing the bill, as long as it isn’t you. They’ve seated you next to Cole in a private dining room on the upper floor of the restaurant. Walking up the grand staircase earlier had made you feel even more exposed, especially with the envious stares following your every move.

Thankfully, Cole had fallen into step beside you, his solid presence acting as a shield. His casual demeanor somehow grounded you, even as you caught whispers of admiration from the patrons below.

A few more seats remain empty, presumably for the others. Just as you take a sip of water, the door slides open. You glance over, expecting the rest of the ninja to arrive, only for a man in a wheelchair to roll into the room.

It takes a second for your brain to process the face you’ve only ever seen in photos that Holly’s shoved into your face a number of times.

You choke on your water.

Cole reacts first, leaning toward you with concern etched on his face. “Hey, you okay?” he asks, his hand hovering near your arm like he’s ready to help if needed. Despite his worried tone, the corners of his mouth twitch slightly, betraying a hint of amusement at the spectacle you’re making.

Jay, on the other hand, wastes no time being dramatic. “ooOOoo!” he exclaims, his voice a mix of teasing and exaggerated awe. “First time seeing a genius in person?”

“Jay!” Nya hisses, smacking his shoulder hard enough to make him flinch. “Don’t be rude.”

You cough into your napkin, trying to regain some semblance of composure as the heat in your face intensifies. “I’m fine,” you croak, your voice raspy.

Your gaze darts to the man in the wheelchair, who has now paused by the table, watching you with a small, bemused smile.

“Cyrus Borg,” he says, introducing himself with a polite nod. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“Same,” you manage, still reeling from the surreal moment.

Before you can recover fully, Nya chimes in with a smile that’s far too innocent to be trusted. “She’s a new friend of ours. Actually,” she adds, tilting her head slightly, “she’s with Cole .”

Your head snaps toward her so fast you nearly give yourself whiplash. “I’m sorry, what?”

Nya shrugs, all false nonchalance, though her grin betrays her.

Cyrus raises an eyebrow, his gaze flicking between Nya, Jay, and Cole. “I see,” he says finally, his tone entirely too neutral for your liking. “Well, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Cole groans softly, pressing a hand to his forehead. “Ignore them,” he whispers to you, leaning closer so only you can hear.

You nod, trying to match his seriousness, but the proximity catches you off guard. He’s close. Too close. Close enough that you catch the faint scent of cologne, subtle but warm, and for a brief, unbidden moment, you find yourself thinking that he cleans up surprisingly well.

“Thanks,” you mutter, forcing yourself to look away.

Jay leans forward, clearly relishing the chaos. “So, Cole, how’s it feel knowing you’re—”

“Don’t,” Cole warns, cutting him off with a sharp glare that only makes Jay grin wider.

Cyrus clears his throat, drawing everyone’s attention back to him. “I take it you’ve all ordered?”

You stifle a laugh as Cole sighs heavily. “You could say that.”

“So, I hear that you wanted to meet with me about something? Pixel didn’t give me many details. How can I help you?”

You raise a hand before any of them speak, blinking as your gaze darts between them. “Sorry, but how do you guys know each other…?”

“We saved him from getting devoured by a digital Overlord.” Jay answers simply, picking up a piece of bread and munching on it.

“Oh.” Your hand slowly lowers. “Okay. Cool.”

Just your average ninja stuff I guess.

“Yes, that’s right.” Cyrus chuckles. “I’ve been helping them out ever since. I can never express just how grateful I am for their assistance and for saving my life.”

“Very cool.” Deciding to just accept it as is, you proceed to spread some of the fancy butter onto your own baguette slice.

“Cyrus, there’s a new threat.” Cole says, his voice somber. It makes the man lean forward, his elbows on the table as he listens intently. “They stole the Scroll of Fate.” The mention of it makes everyone pause, the only sound echoing through the room being your oblivious munching.

You glance around the table, realizing everyone else is either staring at Cole or frozen mid-motion. Except for Jay, who’s still nibbling on his bread, but even he looks mildly concerned.

“Wait, what?” Cyrus’s brows knit together as he leans closer. “The Scroll of Fate ? That’s—”

“Exactly why we called this meeting,” Cole interrupts, his tone firm. He leans back slightly, arms crossed over his chest. “The scroll is gone. We don’t know who took it, but we do know they’re not stopping at just one. It happened at the museum, when everyone else was evacuating.”

Cyrus straightens in his seat, the gears in his mind visibly turning. “Where’s Lloyd?” he asks. “Shouldn’t he be here for this?”

“He’s handling another matter,” Cole replies, his voice steady. “He asked me to brief you guys first. Right now, we need to focus on figuring out where the scroll went, and how to stop whoever’s behind this.”

Your gaze flickers between them, trying to keep up with the conversation. So far, you’re not doing very well.

Jay pipes up. “So… we’re assuming this isn’t just some random burglary? Like, someone actually knew what they were taking?”

“Exactly.” Cole nods grimly. “They knew where to find it, and they knew its importance. Which means they probably know about the others.”

This catches your attention, even as you try to stay inconspicuous. You set your bread down, feeling the need to ask. Your voice comes out quieter than intended. “Why is it so important?”

All eyes turn to you, making you instantly regret speaking up. But Cyrus answers in their stead with a measured and calm tone, like a teacher explaining something profound to a curious student.

“There are four scrolls in total,” he begins, folding his hands together. “The Scroll of Fate, which was stolen from the museum, and three others: the Scroll of Destiny, the Scroll of Dreams, and the Scroll of Desire. Together, they form a map — a guide to a treasure hidden long ago. A treasure so dangerous, it must never fall into the wrong hands.”

Your stomach drops slightly at the gravity in his tone. A treasure? Of course, there’s a treasure involved. Why wouldn’t there be?

“I’ve heard of them before,” Nya chimes in, cutting through the tension. She leans forward, eyes narrowed. “Master Wu talked about them once. He said they weren’t just some random artifacts. He called them ‘keys’ to something that could change the world. And if someone’s already got their hands on one…”

She doesn’t finish her sentence, but the weight of her words hangs heavily in the air. You shift uncomfortably in your seat. Even now, you’ve no idea why you’re a part of this conversation. If not for Cole whose gaze falls on you every now and then, you’d probably have bolted out of the room ages ago.

Cole clears his throat, drawing the group’s attention back to him. “There’s more,” he says, glancing briefly in your direction before continuing. “When we tracked the thief to their hideout the other night, we found… something else. A photo.”

The word makes you freeze mid-motion. A photo?

Cole’s voice remains steady, but there’s a weight to his tone that sends a ripple of tension through the room. “It was a picture of—”

“Of me,” you interrupt softly. Every pair of eyes in the room shift toward you, and your stomach churns at the sudden scrutiny. The fork in your hand feels heavier, and your grip tightens reflexively as a wave of unease rolls over you.

For a moment, you don’t dare look up, but the silence feels suffocating. From the corner of your eye, you see Cyrus frowning, his brows knitting together in a mix of confusion and concern. The others exchange quick glances, their unease palpable.

Out of the corner of your vision, Cole shifts in his seat, and a moment later, you feel the warmth of his hand sliding over yours under the table. His fingers curl gently around yours, steady and deliberate, offering a silent reassurance.

The small gesture anchors you, grounding you in the chaos. You keep your gaze on the table, your knuckles whitening under his palm, but the tension in your chest loosens ever so slightly.

Cole continues, his voice measured. “We don’t know why it was there or who took it, but it’s clear whoever is behind this isn’t just after the scrolls.” His words are for the group, but you can feel his thumb briefly brushing against your knuckles, a barely perceptible motion meant only for you.

His hand stays over yours, grounding your tense self in the thoughts that start to swirl in your mind again like a hurricane. His thumb brushes over your skin every once in a while, helping to relax you somewhat.

Jay grumbles around a mouthful of bread. “Great. As if our lives weren’t already exciting enough.”

Kai, who’d entered sometime during Cyrus’s explanation, shoots him a look, but Cyrus is too deep in thought to notice. “If they’re after all four scrolls,” Cyrus says slowly, “then we need to figure out where the other three are, and fast.”

“What do we know about the thief?” Nya asks, ever practical. “Did they leave anything behind? A clue, a trace, anything ?”

Cole shakes his head, his frustration evident. “Nothing. It was a clean job. Whoever they are, they’re good.” His grip tightens ever-so-slightly, and the hint of frustration in his gaze elicits an odd flutter in your chest.

Nya’s voice pulls you back into the conversation. “We’ll need to divide up. If they’ve already got one, they won’t stop until they find the others. We can’t afford to waste time.”

Jay raises a hand, as if he’s in a classroom. “Uh, quick question. What happens if they do get all four?”

Cyrus’s expression darkens. “Then whoever holds the scrolls will hold unimaginable power. Enough to reshape reality itself.”

The silence that follows is deafening.

Cole’s voice cuts through the heavy air. “Which is why we can’t let that happen. Not on our watch.”

Everyone nods in agreement, their determination palpable. You, on the other hand, pick up your baguette slice again and take another bite, hoping the carbs will somehow make all of this easier to digest.

Thankfully, a knock on the door interrupts the tension, signalling the arrival of your food. The sight of the waiters carrying plates and bowls immediately lifts your spirits. You sit up straighter, the truffle fries you ordered placed neatly between you and Cole. He lets go of your hand, sending you a small smile.

You return it.

“Good choice,” Kai remarks, gesturing to your plate of pre-cut steak with his fork while chewing on a mouthful of spaghetti. “As long as it’s not on our card, that is.”

You smirk, shrugging innocently. “In my defense, I thought Jay was paying.”

The ninja in question looks up sharply with narrowed eyes, shaking his head disapprovingly before going back to mauling his lobster.

Cyrus chuckles, his gaze warm as he waves off the comment. “Don’t worry, dear. I’ve grown quite used to Kai’s appetite. Feel free to order anything else. After all, I’m sure you’ll be around for quite a while.”

At that, Cole, who’s mid-sip of his drink, suddenly chokes. The spluttering noise draws everyone’s attention, and you instinctively glance at him, alarmed. His fist thuds lightly against his chest as he recovers, his expression caught between embarrassment and discomfort.

“Careful, Cole,” Nya quips, her eyes brimming with mischief as she glances between you both. “We wouldn’t want to lose you over a glass of water.”

You notice the faint pink tint creeping up his neck and the tips of his ears, and before you can stop yourself, the thought flashes through your mind: Cute.

The realization jolts you. Nope. No way. Absolutely not. You hurriedly shove a piece of steak into your mouth, focusing intently on chewing as if your life depends on it. The warmth crawling up your neck is most certainly from the food. Definitely.

As the others dive into casual conversation about strategies and possible leads, a nagging thought begins to form in your mind. You swallow your mouthful, reaching hesitantly for a fry before voicing it.

“But…” you start, your tone hesitant, yet cutting through the chatter. All eyes turn to you, making your palms slightly clammy. “What do the scrolls have to do with me?”

The question hangs in the air, and you immediately feel the burden of everyone’s attention. Cyrus exchanges a glance with Cole, his brow furrowing in thought. The silence stretches just long enough to make you regret asking, but Cyrus finally speaks, his tone measured.

“That,” he says slowly, “is precisely what we need to figure out.”

— — — — —

The valet holds out the keys to Cole. He accepts them with a quick thank you, sliding into the driver’s seat of the car that’s been brought around. You blink, momentarily confused.

“Since when do you drive?” you ask, tentatively sliding into the passenger seat and shutting the door behind you.

He waits for you to pull on your seatbelt before smoothly maneuvering the car out of the pickup area. “I got my license pretty early,” he says with a glance in your direction, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “It was kinda necessary, y’know. Saving the world isn’t exactly convenient without a dragon to ride on.”

You mull this over for a second, nodding as you reply, “Fair.”

Your gaze flickers to the fuzzy dice hanging from his rearview mirror, the cluster of coupon cards, parking tickets, and drink stamp cards stuffed into the cup holder. It’s a little messy, but somehow it feels fitting. Struggling to suppress a grin, you lean back in your seat, turning your attention to the buildings flashing past the window.

All night, Cole’s been a perfect gentleman. It’s a side of him you never thought you’d see, let alone experience firsthand. When dinner had wrapped up, he’d offered to drive you home before you could even figure out a plan. The memory of Jay crooning at the table, much to Nya’s exasperation, flashes in your mind, and you can’t help the small smirk that escapes you.

Kai had claimed he needed his beauty sleep and left early. Cyrus offered to give you a ride, but Cole intervened before you could accept. At first, you’d assumed he’d summon Rocky, but instead, he’d surprised you by walking over to the valet stand.

The air conditioning is a little too cold for your liking. With a quick flick of your wrist, you adjust the dial, then reach for the radio. As soon as you press the button, the Bluetooth system lights up, a calm voice announcing, “Device connected. Playing most recent playlist.”

The first few notes of a song fill the car, and you freeze. It’s one of your favorite songs, the kind that makes you want to hum along or drum your fingers against your leg.

You glance at Cole, who remains focused on the road, completely unfazed. “Your playlist?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Why?” He glances at you briefly before returning his gaze to the empty street ahead.

“No reason,” you murmur, a little thrown off. The songs continue to play, one after the other, all suspiciously aligned with your taste.

A comfortable silence settles over the two of you, broken only by the low hum of the music. The streets are quieter than usual, the bustle of the day long gone.

“You know,” you say after a while, “I haven’t really had a chance to explore Ninjago City yet. I only moved here right before university started, so it’s been classes, unpacking, and not much else.”

Cole hums in thought, tapping his fingers lightly against the steering wheel. “That’s a shame. The city’s pretty great once you know your way around.”

You nod, expecting the conversation to end there. But instead, he glances at you again, a spark of mischief in his eyes.

“How about a little detour?” he says, steering the car down a different street without waiting for your answer.

“What kind of detour?” you ask, shooting him a suspicious look.

“The kind that doesn’t end with you sitting in your apartment wondering what you’re missing,” he replies, his tone teasing.

You roll your eyes but don’t protest, curiosity bubbling in your chest. As the car takes a turn onto a quieter road, the city lights cast a warm glow over the dashboard.

Cole takes you through the quieter streets of the city, the hum of the car blending seamlessly with the music playing softly in the background. As he drives, the buildings around you begin to shift. Towering skyscrapers give way to cozier streets lined with shops and cafés, their warm lights still glowing faintly despite the late hour.

“That,” he says, pointing toward a modest little bakery with a bright yellow awning, “is where Jay convinced me to try his favorite pastries. I think he was trying to cheer me up after a rough mission. Ended up eating half a dozen éclairs because he dared me to. Regretted it for a week.”

You snort. “Why am I not surprised? And did it work?”

“Cheering me up? Yeah, somehow it did.” He grins, the memory clearly amusing him. “Although I’m pretty sure he just wanted to see if I’d actually do it.”

The car turns onto another street, this one quieter, almost deserted. He nods toward a dimly lit dojo. “That’s where Sensei took us when we were still figuring out how to work as a team. Spent hours there sparring, tripping over ourselves, and arguing about who was doing what wrong.”

You arch an eyebrow. “And now you’re all perfectly in sync?”

Cole chuckles, the sound low. “Let’s just say we’ve come a long way since then.”

As you pass a park, he slows the car down and gestures toward a small playground tucked into the corner. “There,” he says, his voice softening. “That’s where we helped a kid find his mom. He got stuck at the top of the jungle gym and was too scared to come down. Lloyd climbed up to get him while I held the ladder steady. The kid hugged us both like we’d just saved the world.”

A smile tugs at your lips. “You kinda did, in his eyes.”

“Maybe.” He shrugs, but there’s a faint warmth in his expression.

The car glides into a more bustling area, neon lights casting colorful reflections onto the windshield. He points out a karaoke bar, shaking his head with a small laugh. “Never let Kai drag you in there. Trust me.”

“Why? Is he a bad singer?” you ask, intrigued.

“More like he’s too good. He gets way too into it. Once, he jumped off the stage mid-song to serenade someone in the audience.”

You burst into laughter, the mental image too vivid to ignore. “Let me guess. Was it a complete stranger?”

“Yup. She loved it, though,” he says, chuckling.

As the car continues its journey, Cole shares more little anecdotes. Each one paints a picture of his life before you’d met him.

Each one makes you smile.

Eventually, the car takes a turn onto a quieter road, and Cole slows down, pulling into a lookout point overlooking the city. The skyline stretches out before you, a sea of twinkling lights against the dark night sky.

“I used to come here a lot,” he admits, his tone quieter now. “Back when I was still trying to figure out my place on the team. It helped me clear my head.”

You glance over at him, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of the dashboard lights. “And now?”

“Now I don’t come here as often,” he says, his gaze fixed on the view. “But every now and then, it’s nice to remember.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks, the silence stretching comfortably between you. The distant hum of the city below mingles with the faint music still playing in the background, and you find yourself leaning back, taking it all in.

“This city’s pretty amazing,” you say softly.

Cole turns to look at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. “It is. You just need the right person to show you around.”

“Right,” there’s a cheekiness in your grin, holding up your wallet. “How much do I owe you for the tour guide fee then? I’ve got five dollars to my name and a whole lot of boba stamp cards.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “I’m good, thanks. Maybe next time you can order in for game night.”

“Only if you beat me. Don’t you remember? Loser pays for the meal.” You fake a sympathetic smile, patting his shoulder. “Maybe next time you’ll learn that Kai and I? We’re unstoppable.”

“Tell that to Jay,” he snorts, leaning back against the driver’s seat as the city glimmers before you. The easy banter fades into a calm quiet, the serenity of the night settling in. You glance out the window, but the reflection of your face in the glass makes your stomach twist.

You press your palms against your thighs, the cool fabric of your jeans grounding you. “Cole?”

He turns to you, his expression shifting into one of quiet curiosity. “Yeah?”

You hesitate, your fingers fidgeting with the strap of your bag. “I’ve been meaning to say this… but I don’t think I’ve had the guts.”

His brow furrows slightly. “What’s on your mind?”

You exhale, long and slow, feeling the weight of your thoughts pressing down. “That day when you found the photo of me… I haven’t felt the same since. It’s like I’m constantly looking over my shoulder now, waiting for something to go wrong.”

Cole’s face softens, his eyes searching yours. “Hey—”

“I’m grateful, okay?” you interrupt, your words tumbling out faster than you intended. “For you, for the team, for everything you’ve done to protect me. But there are moments—” You falter, your voice cracking slightly. “There are moments where I feel so small. Like no matter what I do, I’m being watched. Judged. Scrutinized. I don’t even feel like myself anymore.”

Cole reaches out, his hand brushing yours lightly. “I get it,” he says quietly. “It’s a lot to handle. But you’re stronger than you think. You’re going to get through this.”

Something snaps inside you, and the words spill out before you can stop them. “But I’m not like you, Cole!” You pull your hand away, your voice louder than you intended. “I’m not a ninja. I’m not brave or strong or whatever you guys are. I just want a normal life — to go to school, to hang out with friends, to not worry about villains or warehouses or photos of me showing up out of nowhere!”

The hurt in his eyes is immediate, like you’ve struck him physically. His jaw tightens, and he glances away, his fingers curling around the steering wheel. “I didn’t mean to drag you into this,” he says softly, his voice barely audible.

Your chest tightens with regret as the words you’d thrown at him echo in your mind. Cole doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the skyline. When he finally speaks, his voice is measured, almost too calm. “You should get some rest. It’s been a long night.”

The faint smile he gives you doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and your stomach twists with guilt. “Cole—” you start, but he’s already shifting the car into gear, avoiding your gaze.

“It’s fine,” he says lightly, the edge of something unspoken in his tone. “Let’s get you home.”

The drive back is quieter than before, the comfortable silence replaced by something heavier. You sneak glances at him, but his expression is unreadable, his focus firmly on the road ahead.

When he pulls up in front of your apartment complex, he parks and steps out, walking around to open your door.

You step out, barely inches apart from his chest. His eyes are tinged with guilt and regret, and your heart sinks as you realize just how much your words must’ve affected him. He’s been supportive throughout everything, from assigning Nya and the rest to guard you, to tirelessly searching for the thief on top of his usual duties. And now, here you are, with the weight of your sharp words hanging in the air between you.

He takes a step back, waiting for you to enter the lift before he can leave. You take a few steps forward, but your feet feel like they’re glued to the pavement, each step away from him like a mistake you can’t undo. Your thoughts tumble over each other as you try to find the right thing to say, but nothing comes.

You slow to a halt, barely inches away from the lift, and glance back at him. He’s still standing by his car, watching you with that same patient, unreadable look on his face. No . You shake your head, your hands clenching into fists, frustration flooding your chest. I can’t just leave. Not like this.

Before you can second-guess yourself, your body moves faster than your brain can catch up. You turn and march back to him, a full-blown wave of mortification crashing over you as you approach. Your heart races as you find yourself wrapping your arms around his waist, pressing your face into his shoulder in one swift motion.

A solid few seconds pass.

Why isn’t he hugging me back?

Panic sets in. You don’t dare to pull away. The heat in your ears burns like wildfire, and every muscle in your body screams for you to turn and run, anything to escape the embarrassment flooding through you. But you don’t. You stay. You can’t move.

Are you shitting me? Is he seriously not going to do anything?

The seconds feel like an eternity, but just as you start to feel like you might die of mortification, his arms finally wrap around you, pulling you into a gentle, reassuring hug.

Then, you realize something as his chest begins to move.

Is he… laughing?

The realisation hits you like a bolt of lightning, and before you can even think, you shove him off you in one swift move. Your cheeks flush pink, your eyes narrowing into a glare as he chuckles, clearly trying (and failing) to suppress his amusement.

“What the hell is so funny?” you snap, frustration rising in your chest.

I’m going to stab this bitch and bury the body.

His smile is soft but undeniably teasing as he rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry, it’s just… I didn’t expect that.”

You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “Well, I didn’t expect to—” You stop yourself, sighing as the words fall flat. It wasn’t exactly how you intended things to go, but here you are, standing in front of him like an embarrassed mess.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, your voice quieter now, but the sincerity is there. “For snapping at you earlier… and for… you know, that.” You gesture between the two of you, feeling even more self-conscious now that the moment’s passed.

Cole’s smile softens, and he places a hand gently on your head, a comforting gesture that feels like a wave of calm washing over you. “It’s alright. Really. You’ve been through a lot, and I get it. I do.”

You scoff again, but this time it’s not out of anger. “I’m just not used to… all of this. I just want to live a normal life, you know? Go to school, hang out with friends, and not feel like I’m constantly under a microscope.”

Cole’s expression shifts, the teasing fading into something gentler, something understanding. “I get that. And you will. But we’re here for you, okay? We’re all in this together.”

You stare at him for a moment, the warmth of his words sinking in. There’s no judgment in his eyes, just a quiet assurance that makes your chest tighten.

“Thanks,” you say softly, still feeling a bit vulnerable. “For everything you’ve done for me. I know I don’t say it enough, but I really appreciate it.”

Cole nods, his smile returning, this time warmer, more genuine as your name falls from his lips. “Anytime.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

#ninjago #lego ninjago #cole brookstone #cole brookstone x female reader #cole x female reader #ninjago x reader #cole ninjago #lego ninjago x reader #you HURT me #I CANT DO THIS

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beescomet · 5 months ago

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beescomet · 7 months ago

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beescomet · 7 months ago

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I am on cloud 9 omg

𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝟎𝟳 |

[ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ] | [ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

“This isn’t what I meant when I said that we needed to talk.” You roll your eyes at Cole’s griping, though the fact that he hadn’t removed the earbud out of his ears tells you more than you need to know.

“Just shush for a moment and let me relax a little, okay?”

He lets you be, leaning back and letting his head relax on the brick wall behind him. After he’d suddenly dropped the whole bomb of needing to talk and all, he’d summoned Rocky and (dragged) brought you to the nearby rooftop.

Instead of actually talking about your feelings and thoughts, however, you’d pulled out your phone and earbuds, shoving one into his ear when he sat next to you and shushing him with a glare.

As the music plays, your racing heart starts to calm. Staring up at the sky, you watch the clear blue slowly fade into hues of pink and yellow, the colourful rays dancing together as if they were in an otherworldly waltz of their own.

“I’m still sorry, by the way.” You turn your head to see his closed eyes and tilted head back, exposing his Adam's apple. He speaks slowly, as if carefully choosing the right words in his mind to mould a cautious sentence. “The day we first met, Lloyd and I had just been mobbed earlier by a group of fans again, and I just wanted some quiet time to myself.”

Black irises meet yours, a shared stare filled with silent apology. “It’s fine,” you allow a slow smile onto your face. “I’d have reacted much worse if I were you. I’m sorry about hitting you though.”

He laughs, glancing down at his abdomen. “What, this old thing? Barely felt it. Maybe I’ve gotten used to your punches.” He chuckles when you shove him once more with a playful scowl, the air between you both settling into a much more relaxed mood.

He hesitates, allowing the song to play for a few more bars before deciding to broach the long-awaited topic. “So what’s got you so riled up about soulmates anyway? I mean, you made your dislike pretty clear, but I thought most people look forward to meeting theirs.”

“That’s exactly what makes it annoying.” An exasperated sigh falls from your lips, running a hand through your hair. “Just because I have a soulmate doesn’t mean I have to automatically like them, do I?”

He winces. “I didn’t think I was that bad…” He mumbles, looking down at his shoes and kicking away a small pebble.

“No, it’s not- I just…” A groan leaves you, eyes fixed back onto a passing cloud as you try to sort out the mess of thoughts all clumped together in your head. “It’s complicated, okay? It’s not you, it’s me.”

“Right,” he nods. “Can’t argue there.” He hides a weak grin when you shove him with an annoyed laugh, copying your posture and looking up at the clouds. “So why? Why all this?” He gestures aimlessly.

The answer’s hard to pinpoint, unable to conjure the right words to encapsulate the surge of emotion in your heart as it swells. The silence between you grows heavier with each passing second.

He notices your quiet struggle, and for a moment, the air between you both feels fragile. Breaking the silence, he speaks, his voice softer than usual. “I didn’t think I’d ever have a soulmate,” he admits, the rawness in his tone catching you off guard.

His gaze grows distant, barely focusing on the clouds in the sky. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes, one that mirrors your own uncertainty.

“After my mom died, I saw what losing her did to my dad. He was... broken. I never wanted to go through that kind of pain.” He pauses for a moment, gathering the courage to continue. “When I became a ninja, I thought I was untouchable. I had a purpose. I didn’t need anyone, least of all a soulmate.”

The weight of his words hangs in the air, and it hits you—his resistance, his fear, the walls he’s built. He takes another breath, a tremble in his words as he speaks. “I thought I didn’t need anyone then, and I’m still not sure I do now.”

His admission stirs something inside you, the unease morphing into something more complicated. You want to say something, anything, but the words seem stuck behind the unspoken tension that lingers between you both.

“Looks like we both don’t need soulmates then.”

Wow, I need to stop talking. Forever.

A flicker of surprise registers in his gaze as he processes your words. Shaking his head with a nervous laugh, a moment of silence passes between you both. Guilt starts to eat away at the edges of your conscience, mentally berating yourself for your response.

He stands up, his fingers brushing against the earbud before handing it back, hesitation flickering in his movement. You stare at his outstretched hand, taking a deep breath as the words rip themselves out of your throat, an unspoken secret you’ve never shared with anyone.

“My mom and dad got divorced when I was 15.” The instant relief you feel is startling, like a weight that had been dragging you under finally loosened its grip. For so long, it had gnawed at you, a parasitic leech feeding on your spirit.

Well, until now.

The sensation of a freshly opened wound is unnerving, raw and exposed to your soulmate who stands in front of you. He’s completely silent, which only adds to the growing nervousness that begins to spill over the jug holding everything inside.

Coughing, you snatch the earbud from his hand and roll up the wires in a hurry. Standing up, you refuse to meet his eyes. “So, where’s Rocky? I’m pretty tired, so I kinda have to get home now.”

Another moment passes before Rocky materialises behind you both. I guess he’s finished recharging his dragon, you think to yourself as it bends down, sensing you didn’t really want to talk with his owner for the time being.

The ride back home is quiet, though your arms had found themselves wrapped around his waist once more from fear of falling off. You’d allowed yourself a brief moment of resting your forehead against his shoulder for a moment, breathing in his cologne that calms your racing heart.

As the seconds pass, you can sense your raw wound slowly patching itself up, like a hastily plastered band-aid. It shouldn’t still ache like this, not after all these years. Yet, even now, the mere mention of your mom has a way of pulling at the fragile seams, threatening to tear them open all over again.

It’s like what your mom always said when you were younger. You’d always been an active and mischievous kid who constantly found herself in accidents. Every time you came running to her, she'd kneel down, her hands gentle but firm, tending to the wound. “Remember,” she’d say, “if you acknowledge it, you give it power. So ignore it, and it’ll go away.”

Back then, it worked. Chanting those words under your breath as she cleaned your wounds felt like a secret spell, something to cling to. But now? Now that you’re older, wiser, and have seen more than just playground accidents? It feels hollow. Because no matter how hard you try to ignore it, the pain still lingers.

Perhaps it’s the fact that you’re older now and more mature, but the phrase still stood strong. If you didn’t acknowledge the wound, then it wouldn’t hurt. If you didn’t acknowledge the fights behind closed doors, they didn’t happen. If you didn’t acknowledge the divorce, it wasn’t real.

But it is.

The thought makes you inhale shakily, choosing to press your forehead against his back, wanting nothing more than to burrow further into a deeper, darker hole within yourself. His back tenses slightly before relaxing, and you can sense his concerned gaze as he glances down at you before turning back to face the front.

He lets you remain there for the rest of the ride home, pretending not to notice your shaky breaths and occasional tightening of your arms around his waist. Opening your eyes, you spot the comic book store below, and it dawns on you that he’d taken the longer route back to your home.

Suddenly, breathing gets a little easier.

When Rocky finally lands, you’re back in your usual upright position. He lets you dismount first, then dematerializes his dragon, having learnt from the previous experience. You both head toward the building, his hands casually shoved into his pockets, and an odd sense of ease settling between you.

As you pause in front of the lift, you press the button, the soft glow of the floor numbers flickering in the reflection of the glass doors. "Thanks for today," you murmur, your voice quieter than intended but sincere. You catch his gaze in the reflection, his eyes meeting yours. The corners of his lips curve into a small, relieved smile.

“Maybe the next time we meet, it’ll be less awkward.” He jokes in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Yeah. Next time.” His words don’t go unappreciated, the warmth in your own voice surprising you. The lift arrives with a soft ding, and as you step inside, something makes you hesitate. You keep the doors from closing, holding the button down.

He’s already started to turn away, ready to head back. “Friends?” The word slips out, catching slightly in your throat. Extending the olive branch feels strange, but somehow necessary.

His body stiffens for a beat, caught off guard by the offer. Slowly, he turns back toward you, his expression shifting into a wide, genuine grin. “Friends,” he repeats, the relief in his voice matching your own.

As the doors close between you, you both share a nod of understanding, your expression mirroring his. The shared gaze filled with a sense of warmth and genuine trust doesn’t break, until the lift finally disappears from his view.

— — — — —

As the saying goes, when life gives you lemons, you strangle the bitch for doing so.

When it comes to Duolingo streaks at least.

“Español? More like espafar,” you mutter, pressing the home button rapidly when the screen shows your broken streak. You’d been 7 days strong into the Spanish course but forgot all about it until now.

The lift doors open, and Holly steps in with a grin. “Buenos dias!”

“Don’t even,” you groan, showing her the screen of the animated green bird shaking its head in disappointment. She raises her brows. “I just keep forgetting everything except for like, the simple phrases. Why is it even teaching me how to say ‘the bottle is big?’”

“Good point. I don’t think the topic of bottle sizes comes up in conversation often.” She agrees, stepping out of the lift when the doors open on the ground floor.

“We still gotta find a company to research,” you grumble, wincing as the bright sun decides to aim its rays directly at you. Alan - another of your professors who insisted you remove the Dr. from his name had assigned your class another project on top of the already existing ones from other classes.

“I’m basing mine off Papa’s Pizzeria,” she shrugs, narrowly avoiding a kid on his bicycle, the ringing of bells sounding through the bustling streets as they deliver newspapers from door to door. “His business model is crazy. He’s got like, what, four successful franchises?”

You sigh, the reminder of the cake you’d placed an order for just a single week away from being collected. The only reason why you’d even placed the order so early is because you knew you’d forget if you didn’t. Plus, if not for Cole’s presence, the earliest slot would’ve been months away.

“I haven’t decided mine yet,” you say, swinging your arms up in the air as you yawn, the effects of your morning americano already wearing off. Blinking sleepily, the bright lights of a building looming in the distance catch your eye.

Huh. You squint a little, reading the words off the top. Borg Industries.

“Is that a big company around here?” Holly blinks, glancing from you to the big neon signboard in the sky.

“You’re joking.”

The shrug you offer in return draws a snort of disbelief. “Borg Industries? The most innovative, cutting-edge tech alive? They make everything! Over two-thirds of the city uses Borg Industries products. What I would kill to sneak a look in their lab.”

“Someone’s a fan,” you say sarcastically, flinching when she practically jolts upright.

“Oh no, I’m not just a fan, I’m a fanatic.”

She halts in her tracks. “Actually, why don’t you do your project on it?”

You hum thoughtfully, mulling over the suggestion. “Sure,” you reply with a shrug. “Why not?”

“You can ask me anything,” she all but jumps in front of you with an excited smile. “I’ve been studying their stuff since I was a kid! My mom used to work for them, but she left because she got pregnant with my brother.”

“If I have any questions, you’ll be the first person I call. Or text. Most likely text.” The assurance makes her laugh, continuing the walk to the university.

Luckily, today just has a few morning classes so you’re able to finish by 2pm. The iced latte you’d gotten on the way had been your primary source of fuel throughout the lectures and project discussions, chugging down the last of it as soon as class concluded.

“That’s weird, what’s he doing here?” Glancing over at Holly, you follow her squinted gaze to a tall boy leaning against the wall next to the campus entrance. “What the fuck- Leo??”

You glance over, curiosity piqued. He looks up just as you approach, greeting Holly with a playful grin. “Hey, sis! You forgot your—” He pauses mid-sentence, his gaze landing on you. For a moment, you feel a chill, as if he’s sizing you up, but then he shakes it off, the charming smile returning.

He pushes himself off the wall, walking over to your friend with an air of effortless confidence. “Here you go,” he says, handing her a small package with a flourish, his demeanour playful and light.

“Thanks! You didn’t have to come all the way here,” she replies, genuinely grateful.

He shrugs, a cheeky glint in his eye. “Couldn’t let you go without your snacks, now could I?” He turns to you, his expression warm but with a hint of mischief. “And you must be the infamous friend I’ve heard so much about. Nice to finally meet you.”

“Infamous?” You question, fist-bumping him. “Not the wildest description I’ve ever gotten. I’m satisfied with that.”

He pauses, turning to glance at his sister with a sceptical eye. “How’d you get someone as cool as her to be your friend? What’d you do, blackmail them?”

You grin.

This is insanely validating. I like him.

“I did not,” Holly huffs, her cheeks flushing as she pushes her brother away with an embarrassed smile. “I gotta go for my elective now, have a safe trip home!” You wave her off with an amused smile, watching Leo protest vehemently to his sister.

Upon reaching home, you quickly take a shower and change into a more relaxed fit. If you were gonna get beat up during a spar, you’d at least do it wearing lighter clothing.

A knock on your door draws your attention. Opening it reveals Emily holding a cup filled with a liquid so hot you can see the steam coming off the surface in wisps. “I made some tea for you.” Her voice is hesitant.

Not again, you sigh internally. Every now and then she’d approach you with something like cookies or cake as a peace offering. You’ve always rolled your eyes and shut the door in her face.

However, you hesitate. Would it truly be so bad to accept it…?

“It’s yuzu tea,” she interjects quickly, seizing the moment your silence creates. “I saw your friend’s mother today and gave her a whole tumbler. I was also hoping you could join us at the restaurant downtown for your dad’s birthday. I know you usually celebrate just the two of you, but… maybe this time we could celebrate together?”

Your heart sinks, frustration rising beneath the surface. Of course she’d ask for something in return. Stop pretending to be my mom. I never asked you to.

A part of you stops the harsh words from spilling past your lips, pressing them together. You know you’re being completely unfair to her, the recently opened wound beginning to throb.

“Okay. I’ll be there.”

She blinks owlishly at your calm reaction, her hands remaining in the same position even after you remove the cup from her hands and drink from it. “Thanks,” you manage to say, angling yourself to squeeze past her figure in the hallway and walking to the door.

Cole’s confession flashes through your mind as you glance at your dad who’s adjusting his tie in the mirror, steps slowing to a halt as you watch him hum in the bathroom.

“Hey munchkin, looking forward to your lesson today?” He spots you from the corner of his eyes, turning to you with a bright smile.

You nod, adjusting your collar. “Yeah, thanks for signing me up for them.”

His hands freeze, brows furrowed in pure confusion. Hiding a chuckle, you continue to the door, putting on your shoes and leaving quickly before they start asking questions.

The phone rings in your pocket when you’re on the bus. Picking it up, you press it close to your ear as you alight, tapping the transit card on your way off. “Hello?”

“Class is cancelled today, Master Wu had to rush off to an appointment.”

“Oh.” You pull the phone away for a moment to see Cole’s name on the screen. “Why’re you the one calling me though?”

“We bumped into each other, but he forgot to let you know. He did tell me that dinner would be on us next time you come over after lessons though. Not like he’s paying me to cook anyway,” he grumbles at the last bit.

You hum in acknowledgement. “To be honest, I’m kinda…on the way already.” You admit.

“How near are you?”

You hesitate, your steps slowing to a halt. “Like…Right below the huge-ass mountain near? It’s chill though, I can just take the bus home.”

“No,” he pauses. “Just come on up. The rest of us are having Game Night, and we could use one more player.”

“Well…” You hum, glancing at the stairs. “If you say please, maybe I’ll consider it-”

“Please.”

Oh. Well, that was fast.

“You’re no fun, you know that, right?”

“You’re the one going up the stairs, aren’t you?”

You pause, glancing down at the number of steps you’ve already walked. “Damn you, Brookstone.” His sharp laugh cuts off when you press the red button to hang up, continuing the climb with a roll of your eyes.

Reaching the doors of the monastery takes a significantly shorter amount of time than you’d expect, but it’s more likely due to the increased levels of physical activity through the amount of walking you do every day and Master Wu’s classes.

The couch potato in you is still not sure if you should be grateful for it or not.

Cole’s the one who greets you at the doors, leaning against them nonchalantly while waiting for you to reach. “About time.” He narrowly misses the punch you throw his way.

“You couldn’t have asked Rocky to pick me up?”

“How could I? He’s resting right now.” You roll your eyes. “So how’s the project going?” He asks, referring to the one you'd been talking about over text a couple nights ago.

“If you want, I could ask Papa to let you interview him,” Cole grins, taking the bag from you as you bend down to take off your shoes before stepping onto the varnished wooden floors.

“It’s fine, I've changed companies. Ever heard of Borg Industries?”

He tilts his head in thought. “I’ve heard about them, yeah. You're gonna do your project on them now?”

Your stomach growls, interrupting your sentence. The room you’re about to pass catches your eye, Cole raising a brow at your grin. Entering the kitchen to grab a snack from the private stash he’d shown you just last week, you eye the various bags of chips on the countertop.

“You just got back from patrol?” At his nod, you veer toward the fridge and open it, grabbing a packet of frozen dumplings you’d seen him get during a random midnight grocery run at the convenience store nearby.

It’d been the first time you saw each other ever since ‘the talk’, but strangely enough, both of you immediately fell into lighthearted conversation when he asked about your classes.

He grabs the plate from a cupboard above. Spotting his fingers grasping at the edges of the plastic, you can sense the frustration brimming with every movement. Hiding a smile, you nonchalantly walk over and pull it away, examining it with the air of a professional before opening it with a simple tear.

“Call me mistaken but aren't you supposed to have, like, super strength?”

He chuckles, shaking his head as you dump the soon-to-be delicious snack on the plate. He takes the now-filled plate from your outstretched hand, placing it into the microwave and turning it on.

“Now I just have to do research on Cyrus Borg. You wouldn’t happen to know his assistant or something, would you? That superstar ninjadom power would really come in handy right now, soulmate.” The conversation resumes as easily as it’d stopped, accepting the cup of tea he hands you and take a small sip.

He takes a sip out of his own cup, shrugging. “I might know one of his assistants.”

A solid thump echoes through the kitchen as you set down your cup, your gaze turning serious. “You better not be playing with me, Brookstone. I can and will drain you dry during Monopoly.”

“I’m just saying,” he points out, “that favours are a give and take. So, I’ll do you this favour and you do me another.”

“And what exactly is this favour?” Crossing your arms, you eye him with suspicion.

“It’s no big deal. Just be Kai’s partner for Game Night.”

You blink, regarding him with scepticism. “That’s it? Just be his partner?” He nods, taking another sip. “Sure,” a slow grin spreads across your face. “I’ll do it. Then, you introduce me to this assistant and put in a good word.”

“Sure thing, soulmate.”

You watch him turn to take out the dishes from the dishwasher below the countertop, smiling softly. It’s almost insane how quickly everything had blown over. If not for him initiating the talk, you’re a hundred percent sure you would’ve continued to run away again and again until you’d been cornered.

In a way, you’re grateful for him. The whole romantic part of it would be sorted out by your future selves but for now? Being friends isn’t so bad. He sets the plate down, picks up a pair of chopsticks you’d set aside for use earlier and grabs a dumpling.

You’re too preoccupied with your thoughts to notice he’d placed it closer to you, having poked a small hole to let the hot steam escape. “Gonna eat?” He asks through a mouthful, gesturing to the plate.

You pick up your chopsticks and pick up the dumpling closest to you, blowing on it to cool it down before taking a bite, and chewing slowly. Glancing up, you notice him looking away hurriedly. “What?” You ask with a blank stare. “Do I have something on my face?”

“Yeah, it’s over here.” He gestures to his left cheek and you use your knuckle to rub against the spot. “You missed it,” he huffs in amusement, leaning forward. Automatically closing your eyes as he draws near, you wait patiently.

“Is it off yet?” His touch is almost feather-like, barely sensing it against your skin before you hear him sit back down in his seat. Hearing what you assume to be a sound of agreement, you open your eyes, only for them to widen at his red cheeks and teary eyes.

He uses his chopsticks to gesture at the hot dumplings as he chugs down a bottle of water, exhaling shakily when he finishes. “Hot.” Is all he can muster, roughly wiping away the tears while you dissolve into a fit of laughter.

After your initial laughter subsides, you let out a chuckle every now and then, continuing to eat. “Didn’t know you were here!” Looking up, you greet Jay with a casual wave as he saunters into the kitchen with a smug air about him.

“Heard you’re playing tonight. Prepare to get wrecked!”

“Please,” you scoff playfully, shoving off the arm he’d slung around your shoulders. “All the energy for my cancelled class is gonna go towards killing you guys off in Charades.”

“Don’t count your roosters before they hatch,” he shrugs in response, using Cole’s chopsticks to steal a dumpling. “Whose team are you on, anyway? Cole’s?”

“Kai’s.”

His arm freezes, and you can practically hear every muscle in his neck creak as he looks at Cole in silence. “...Kai?” He glances back down at you, his gaze filled with sorrow. “What did this despicable man do to make you agree?”

His arms are flung around your shoulders once more, but this time it’s in pity. “Wha- What did you make me agree to??” You demand, swivelling back toward Cole who simply smiles innocently as Jay pats your back.

Scowling at him, you bite down harshly on another dumpling, eyeing him in disbelief. Surely it wouldn’t be that bad, right? You don’t know what’ll happen or why Jay’s behaving this way, but surely it’s not terrible…

Right?

— — — — —

“How the fuck are we getting negative points???”

You can’t help the scoff of pure, utter bewilderment as you stare at the board in front of you. Turning to glare at Kai, he crosses his arms defensively. “Don’t blame me, you’re the one who couldn’t guess seagull.”

“In what universe was that a sea-” Cutting yourself off, you exhale, pinching the bridge of your nose as you try to calm down. “A seagull has two wings and a beak. Not an amalgamation of parts from Willy Wonka’s Factory.”

“That’s what I drew! Two wings and a beak and a body!” He splutters, the offended expression on his face instantly making you lose whatever remaining hope you have for the night ahead.

A snicker from the left draws your attention, turning to see Cole, Jay, and Nya instantly masking their expressions. They raise their brows in sync as if it were your idea to team up with Kai in the first place.

Your fingers curl into a fist, wanting nothing more than to march over to your stupid, dumb soulmate, and grab his collar, shaking him till he admits he’s wronged you. Unfortunately, reality sinks in when he stands up for his turn.

You watch as Jay and Nya cheer when Lloyd gets the charades right, Kai sulking next to you. “Fuck it,” you declare, grabbing his arm and pulling him to sit back upright. “We’re gonna beat these losers.”

“Those are some fightin’ words,” Nya pipes up, Jay giving her arm a squeeze in encouragement.

“Yeah, I don’t know about you but based on facts…” Lloyd trails off, pointing at the whiteboard as Cole uses a red marker to write down yet another point under their names, “we’re in the lead. And you know the rules-”

“I actually do not-”

“Losers treat the next group dinner.” Cole cuts you off, finishing Lloyd’s sentence as he grins maniacally at you.

Blinking, you can feel the last bits of your dignity slipping away from under you. Your partner and you exchange glances, fist-bumping each other. “Well, looks like you’ll have to get more sponsorships because we’ll be enjoying the entire restaurant menu on you guys.”

“Sure,” Jay snorts, waving dismissively. “On us. As if you’ll be able to beat Nya and me at Jenga.”

— — — — —

“You cheated.”

You shrug with an air of innocence. “Poor Jay…Sad, sad little Jay who couldn’t keep the tower from collapsing in on itself…Playing Jenga with a degree in Engineering and still losing…” Kai sighs sadly with a shake of his head, bending down to pick up the scattered pieces.

“Ugh-” Jay splutters, throwing his hands up in the air. “You cheated somehow, and I’m going to prove it. Zane!”

“From my calculations, it seems that she really did beat you, Jay. She tricked you by-” You cut him off with a loud hush, shaking your head urgently even as he mumbles out a response from below your hands covering his mouth.

“A magician never reveals their secrets.” You glare at Cole when he gently removes your hands from Zane’s face, the latter now able to speak properly. “What do you want, Brookstone?”

“Just for you to let Jay marinate in his loss.” He chuckles, helping you stand back up. He ignores his friend’s cry of outrage, taking the Jenga bricks from your hand. Kai stands up too, dumping whatever he has into Cole’s hands before sauntering off to the coffee table with a victorious grin.

“Everyone,” Pixel gasps, standing upright from her initial place on the couch. The room falls silent, tension cutting through the air as all eyes turn to her. “I tracked down the villain’s hideout. We need to go now.”

The playful banter evaporates, replaced by a rush of adrenaline and urgency. Cole’s expression shifts from playful to serious in an instant, and you can feel the weight of the moment pressing down. “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice steady but laced with concern.

Pixel nods, her excitement palpable. “I’ve got the location and everything. This could be our chance to finally confront them.”

“You wanna come along?” Surprised by his sudden invitation, you grin.

“If you insist.”

“I didn’t but, okay-” He lets out a slight cry when you hit his arm with a scowl. You take a surprised step back when Pixal lifts up the dartboard attached to the wall, pressing a button that reveals a hidden lift.

“Wait, you’re letting a civilian tag along?” Lloyd asks, placing an arm in front of you before you enter it.

“It’ll be fine, she’s been taking lessons from Master Wu. Besides, it’d be great to have experience!” Kai points out.

You nod along. “Yeah, what he said. Besides, I’m not just a civilian. I can hold my own,” you retort, crossing your arms defiantly. “I want to help.”

Cole steps closer, his tone firm yet encouraging. “She’s right, Kai. We need all the hands we can get. Besides, she knows what’s at stake here.”

Lloyd sighs, his arm lowering reluctantly. “Fine. But if anything goes sideways, you’re getting out of there.”

Pixal beams at you, the lift doors sliding open with a soft hum. “See? It’s gonna be fine! Just think of it as a field trip.”

As you step into the lift, you feel a mix of excitement and apprehension swirling in your stomach. The doors close, and the lift descends quickly, the sound of machinery humming around you.

“Okay, so what’s the plan?” you ask, trying to distract yourself from the rising tension. “And out of curiosity, am I considered an honorary ninja after this?”

Cole cringes, shaking his head at your bad attempt at lightening the mood. “Maybe after you defeat the Overlord single-handedly or have an attack that’s targeted at you.”

“Or have an arch-nemesis out to get you,” Lloyd (unhelpfully) chimes in.

“Let’s move!” Zane calls out, adjusting his gear as he steps into the lift behind you. “We can’t let this opportunity slip away.”

Jay grins widely. “Yeah! Let’s catch those bad guys!” His eagerness is infectious, and you can’t help but smile through the sudden nervousness making itself known in the depths of your stomach.

Pixal quickly outlines the plan. “We’ll split into two groups. Lloyd and Cole will take the east side while Kai and Zane cover the west. Jay and Nya, you’ll cover the entrance to make sure they can’t run. If you find anything suspicious, signal each other.”

“Got it!” Jay replies, cracking his knuckles. “I’m ready to show those crooks who they’re dealing with!”

The journey over is quick, all of them using their own vehicles while Cole lets you ride Rocky with him once more. The briny smell of the seawater hits your nose before the docks come into view, grimacing at the scent.

“Smells like piss.” Cole hums in agreement at your comment, diving down and landing. Once you disembark, Rocky dematerializes. The remaining vehicles come to a stop next to you.

“Stay sharp,” Kai reminds everyone, his expression serious. “If we see anything out of the ordinary, we regroup immediately.” You take the earpiece he hands to you, taking a step back when a screen materialises in front of your eyes.

“Hello. Do not be alarmed, this is merely a scanner to help detect and zoom in on anything we might find.” Pixal’s voice makes itself known in your ear, glancing around to see the rest already prepared to get in position.

“Let’s move out!” Cole whispers, nodding toward the entrance of the warehouse. You follow closely behind, your heart racing with each step. In fact, you’re not entirely sure you’re breathing at all.

As you approach the massive doors, you can see the dim light filtering through the cracks, casting ominous shadows on the ground. Cole raises his hand to signal for a moment of pause.

“On three,” he murmurs, his voice steady. “One… two… three!”

With a collective effort, you all push open the heavy doors, the sound of creaking metal echoing in the silence. As the doors swing wide, you expect to be greeted by the sight of henchmen or the stolen goods you’ve been hunting for. Instead, you’re met with…nothing.

The warehouse is empty.

“Shit,” you breathe, stepping further inside, eyes scanning the vast, open space. Shadows dance along the walls, but there are no signs of life. No stolen items, no villains, nothing but an unsettling quiet.

“Where are they?” Kai asks, his voice filled with disbelief. “They should’ve been here!”

Cole’s brow furrows as he surveys the area. “They couldn’t have just vanished. There must be something…”

Pixel, still communicating through your earpiece, adjusts her scanner. “I’m not picking up any heat signatures or movement inside. It’s as if they cleared out completely.”

Cole shakes his head, his determination unwavering. “No, this doesn’t feel right. They wouldn’t just abandon their hideout without a reason.”

A dim light flickers in the corner, catching your attention and drawing you away from the chaos around you as everyone starts to argue. As you step through the plastic shroud that covers the entrance to a separate area, an unsettling chill washes over you. The room is filled with silence, broken only by the faint rustling of your footsteps.

A massive map of Ninjago looms on the wall, its edges frayed and yellowed from the lack of sunlight. Red circles and ominous question marks encircle specific regions, each marked with frantic scrawls of black and red ink. The museum is crossed out, a bold slash that feels more like a threat than a mere ‘X marks the spot’.

“Guys?” you call out, your voice wavering as an unsettling feeling creeps into your gut. As the scanner detects something hidden behind the corner of the map, you feel your pulse quicken. You lean in closer, your heart pounding in your chest as you spot the edge of a photo peeking out.

“What’d you find?” Cole's voice breaks the stillness as he enters the room, pulling the plastic aside with a flicker of curiosity. He steps in, but his expectation for a casual discovery fades when he sees your face contorted in confusion and dread.

With trembling hands, you reach out and gingerly pull the photo free, a sense of foreboding washing over you. As you hold it up, the dim light reveals a bird’s eye view of you at a café, oblivious to the world around you, immersed in your work. The image is haunting, a snapshot of a moment that feels both ordinary and deeply unsettling.

The café looks familiar, but something about the angle of the shot feels invasive as if someone was watching you from afar, hidden in the shadows. You notice the way your focus is entirely on your laptop, unaware of the eyes that might have been tracking your every move.

“Is that…?” Cole starts, his voice trailing off as he takes a step closer, peering at the photo with wide eyes. The room feels colder now, the air thickening with the weight of unspoken fear.

“What the fuck?” you whisper, the realisation dawning on you like a dark cloud. This wasn’t just a coincidence; someone had been watching you. “They know me? They’ve been watching me?”

Something clatters to the ground as the plastic shroud is pulling away once more, each ninja entering one by one. “What’s wrong?” Nya asks, noticing the sudden change in your demeanour.

Everyone falls silent when you hold up the photo with a blank expression for them to see. They have similar reactions, looking at you with grave eyes before Jay breaks the silence.

“Guess you’re an honorary ninja now.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

“Is what I’m seeing real, or am I just dreaming?” Jay slaps his wrist, hissing in pain when it stings. “Nope. Real, definitely real.”

“Shh!” Nya hushes him, excitement bubbling over as she grips the edges of the doorway. Her eyes widen as Cole pokes a hole in the dumpling, lifting it with a flourish before placing it down near you. “I bet she’s his soulmate. She has to be!”

“No shit,” Jay mutters sarcastically, but his tone shifts when he notices Nya’s raised brow. “But isn’t he all ‘Oooh, I’m big and buff and strong, I don’t need a soulmate because I’m sooo independent’?” He rolls his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips.

Nya presses a hand over her mouth, desperately stifling a laugh at his poor imitation. “Look at them! They’re so sweet,” she sighs, fanning her flushed face.

“Yeah, they remind me of us,” Jay murmurs dreamily, only to blink when Nya glares at him. “What?”

“Don’t you remember how our first date went?” The reminder makes him stiffen, a sheepish laugh escaping him. He squeezes her arm, his eyes pleading for her to drop it.

“Oh!” His wish is granted as Nya’s attention shifts back to the scene unfolding before them. They both watch as Cole leans over the table, fingers hovering hesitantly above your cheek.

“Is it off yet?” you ask, oblivious to the sudden tension in the air. Cole’s face flashes with panic as he quickly brushes off whatever it is before sitting back down, fanning his flushed cheeks.

In that split second when you open your eyes, Cole grabs an unpoked dumpling and pops it into his mouth whole before letting out a pained grunt.

“What is he doing??” Nya practically whisper-shouts, her eyes wide in disbelief.

“Well,” Jay allows himself a moment of smug satisfaction as he watches Cole immediately regret his life choices, chugging down the entire jug of water, “at least now you know who’s more lame.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

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