Black eye (L. Garmadon x Reader)

o n e

Ninjago City's streets were nothing like (Y/N) had imagined. Towering skyscrapers pierced the sky, their gleaming glass exteriors catching the light as the sun broke through scattered clouds. They loomed like silent giants, casting cool shadows over the bustling streets below. Markets overflowed with vivid colors and exotic scents, while tech stores boasted sleek gadgets behind spotless windows. Neon signs flickered above crowded restaurants, painting the sidewalks in flashes of vibrant hues. The entire city felt alive—a constant pulse of energy, a place where everything seemed to move faster than she could keep up. Hover cars zipped overhead, their hum blending with the distant clatter of construction and the buzz of countless conversations, all swirling together into one chaotic, beautiful symphony.

With one hand gripping the worn strap of her bag, (Y/N) exhaled slowly, stepping into the crowd that surged through the streets. The sheer volume of movement was overwhelming, a sea of hurried footsteps and car horns that seemed to press in on her from all sides. Moving here hadn't been her choice—far from it. The decision had been made for her, an abrupt upheaval that promised a fresh start, but at a cost. Her parents needed her now more than ever, and the financial strain of the sudden relocation weighed heavily on her shoulders. That's why she'd applied at Aromá, the small coffee shop tucked away in the midst of the chaos. It wasn't just about finding a job—it was about keeping her family afloat. She had to make this work.

"Welcome to your new life," (Y/N) muttered under her breath, weaving her way through the thick crowd that filled the streets. The bustling city had once felt suffocating—so different from the quiet, slow pace of her small-town home—but today, there was a shift in the air, something she couldn't quite place. Maybe it was the sense of purpose tugging at her now, knowing that today marked her first day at Aromá. This wasn't just a new job; it felt like the start of something important.

Tucked away in a narrow side street, Aromá's glowing sign stood out like a warm beacon in the concrete wilderness. The neon lights flickered softly, inviting her in. As she pushed open the door, the rich, comforting scent of freshly ground coffee wrapped around her, soothing her nerves. The shop was a cosy sanctuary—wooden tables with the soft glow of low-hanging lamps casting warm pools of light over each one, while the hum of quiet conversation blended with the gentle notes of music playing in the background. For a moment, it felt like she'd stepped into another world, one far removed from the chaos just outside the door.

"Hey, you're the new hire, right?" a voice called from behind the counter, snapping her back to the present.

(Y/N) looked up to see a woman with short, choppy hair, an apron stained with coffee draped over her front. Her name tag read "Mina." She was wiping down the counter with swift, practiced movements and gave (Y/N) a quick once-over before flashing a brief, almost mischievous smile.

"Yeah, that's me. I'm (Y/N)," she replied, stepping closer to the counter, her hands fidgeting with the strap of her bag.

"Cool," Mina said, nodding toward a rack of aprons hanging by the wall. "Grab one. Noon rush gets pretty wild, so I hope you're ready." Her eyebrow lifted slightly, as if testing (Y/N)'s resolve.

The calm of the shop felt fragile, like a thin veneer over the chaos waiting just beneath the surface. Still, (Y/N) felt a spark of determination flicker within her. She had to handle this—for her parents, for herself. No turning back now.

"I can handle it," she said, offering Mina a small but confident smile. Even if she didn't feel completely sure, she had to believe she could.

Mina chuckled, her eyes crinkling at the edges. "That's what I like to hear. Welcome to Aromá."

With a sheepish grin, (Y/N) grabbed an apron from the hook and tied it around her waist, the weight of the day finally starting to sink in. The shop still hummed with an early morning quiet, a few customers sipping their drinks at scattered tables. But Mina's mention of the noon rush clung to the back of (Y/N)'s mind like a warning. She glanced around, taking in every detail of the place: the gleaming espresso machine with its polished chrome, rows of glass jars filled with coffee beans lined up neatly, and the chalkboard menu scrawled in vibrant chalk above the counter.