Everyone who knew Lynn Loud Jr. had a version of her in their head — loud, competitive, fearless, the kind of girl who filled every room before she even spoke. She treated life like one long tournament, collecting victories and bruised egos like trophies. But for all the noise she made, there was one place her bravado never quite reached.

You.

You hadn’t planned to come over to the Loud house that day butttt everyone forced you to.

Lynn Loud Jr. was being her usual nightmare in the living room.

“Bro, I destroyed your high score,” she bragged, tossing the controller at Lincoln. “I wasn’t even trying. Natural athletic superiority.”

“Lynn, you literally yelled at the screen the whole time,” Leni said.

“That’s intimidation, babe.”

Everyone groaned. Everyone except you.

You were curled up at the far end of the couch, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, staring at the carpet like it personally offended you. Your chest felt tight, like someone had wrapped wire around your ribs and kept pulling. You hadn’t said much all day. You barely existed in the room.

Lynn noticed.

She always did.

She rolled her eyes at the rest of the chaos. “Whatever, losers, take your pity party somewhere else.” Then, much quieter, only for you, “Hey. Walk with me.”

You blinked. “What?”

She stood, stretched dramatically. “C’mon, champ. Doctor’s orders.”

You didn’t argue. You never could with her — not when she used that voice. Still teasing, still Lynn, but soft around the edges like she’d wrapped the words in bubble wrap just for you.

You followed her out to the backyard. The noise from the house faded, replaced by cicadas and the dull thump of your heartbeat.

Lynn hopped onto the porch railing and looked down at you. “You look like a kicked puppy.”

“That’s… rude.”

She smirked. “And yet, accurate.”

You tried to laugh, but it came out wrong. Your eyes burned and you hated yourself for it.

Lynn’s grin softened immediately. She jumped down and stood in front of you, blocking your escape route. “Hey.” Her voice dropped. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I’m just tired,” you muttered.

“Of everything, or just yourself?”

You swallowed. “…Both.”

She leaned in a little, not close enough to scare you, but close enough that you could feel the warmth from her skin. “You know you don’t have to be tough around me, right?”

That was the problem. You weren’t tough at all.

“I feel like I ruin everything,” you whispered. “I try so hard to be normal and I still mess up. I don’t even know why you stay.”

Lynn scoffed. “Bro, if I bailed every time someone was a disaster, I’d be living alone with a dumbbell and a mirror.”

You looked up at her, eyes glassy. “You deserve someone better.”

She tilted her head, studying you, then poked your forehead. “Wrong answer, try again.”

“Ow—”

She took your hands gently this time, thumbs brushing over your sleeves. “Listen to me. You’re not some project I’m stuck fixing. I want you. Messy, insecure, emotionally confusing you.”

Your voice shook. “Even when I’m like this?”

“Especially when you’re like this.” She flashed a half-smile. “I’m cocky, not heartless.”

You laughed weakly. “You’re heartless to everyone else.”

“Yeah, well.” She leaned closer, eyes soft, teasing spark still there. “You’re not everyone else.”