•The World Isn't Ending• (Cole x Reader)

just a fool to believe, she's like the wind•༄ (SEASON FOURTEEN ENDING)

—~~••~~—
hey babes! welcome to my Cole x Reader, in this story you are Y/n Ninjago's one and only wind ninja, so enjoy! love ya <3
Song in title- She's Like the Wind (feat. Wendy Fraser). by Patrick Swayze
—~~••~~—

Late afternoon sunlight filtered through the tall windows, casting a golden warmth across the kitchen tiles. For once, there was no chaos. No Kalmaar. No looming prophecy.

Just a kitchen, two aprons, and a shared promise to bake a chocolate cake.

Cole stood by the counter, sleeves rolled up, dusting flour from his hands. He glanced sideways at me, smirking as I tried—unsuccessfully—to separate egg yolks with a plastic bottle.

"You know there's an easier way to do that, right?"

"Don't care," I muttered, tongue poking out in concentration. "I'm invested now. This is personal."

He chuckled low in his throat, stepping behind me. "Here," he said softly, reaching around to gently guide my hands. "Squeeze here. Like that."

I felt the heat of his chest at my back, the solid weight of him grounding me like he always did. For a moment, my heart stuttered in my chest.

"Cake's gonna come out burnt if you keep distracting me," I whispered.

He leaned in just a bit, teasing. "I haven't even started yet."

I elbowed him playfully, blushing. "Behave, Mr. Earth Ninja."

Cole laughed, the warm, easy kind that made my stomach flip. "Alright, alright. I'll be on my best behavior."

He pushed himself off the counter and moved beside me, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear before peering into the bowl. "Is that... supposed to look like that?"

I looked at the uneven, slightly lumpy mixture. "Well, it's not supposed to talk back if that's what you're asking."

He bumped his shoulder into mine, grinning. "Looks like we're winging it."

Sticking my tongue out before grabbing the whisk. "Which means this cake is gonna blow your mind."

Cole leaned over, snagging the whisk from my hand with ease. "Let me help before you start a flour tornado."

I reached for it back. "Cole—give it."

"Nope."

"Cole."

He held it above his head like a five-year-old. "Come on, make me."

So I did.

I stepped in close, pressing against him, eyes locked. "You really want to play that game?"

His grin flickered into something softer, something more charged. "If it means you'll stay this close... yeah."

My hand darted up and grabbed the whisk, victorious—but I didn't move away.

Neither did he.

Our breaths mingled for a moment, and then I cleared my throat, stepping back before I said something I couldn't take back.

The kitchen looked like a dessert warzone. Flour streaked the walls, cocoa powder clung to the air like smoke, and somehow, there was icing in my hair.

We poured the batter into the pan, both our hands brushing over the handles of the bowl. Our fingers lingered a little longer than necessary.

"Ready?" he asked.

I nodded.

"On three. One... two..."