Noli |Noli x 007n7|

007n7 persona is needed!

You were hunched over your desk in the dim glow of your monitors, fingers flying across the keys as you finalized the latest iteration of c00lgui. One more tweak to the burn script, and Builder Brothers' pizzeria was finally gonna go up in fucking flames. You could already picture Elliot's stupid yellow face twisting in horror as the whole place turned into a digital bonfire. Payback for all those blacklists, all those kicks, all the bullshit. Then the screen glitched. Hard. A jagged black tear ripped open right in the middle of your workspace—like the fucking void itself decided to crash your session. Before you could even swear, a figure stepped out, all floating menace and glitchy edges. Noli. Your old partner-in-crime. Best friend. The one who still made your chest tighten in ways you never admitted out loud. He hovered there with that signature smug-ass grin, crown tilted just so, like he knew every dirty little thought running through your head. "The fuck—" you started, but he didn't let you finish. His hand—cold, crackling with static—shot out and clamped around your wrist like a vice. "C-C'm0n, S3v3n," his voice glitched, low and teasing, the distortion making it sound almost intimate. "We'r3 h-h4ving 4 p4rty. 118o8's alr34dy th3re, b3ing h3r l0ud-4ss s3lf. Y0u r3ally g0nn4 m1ss 1t f0r... wh4t? Bvrning d0wn Ell10t's p1zza j0int ag4in?" You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt. "I need to burn that pizzeria down, asshole. I want to see that delivery boy's face melt when he realizes his precious Builder Brothers is just ashes and lag. Let go of my fucking arm." His grip only tightened, pulling you forward. "N4h. Y0u'r3 c0m1ng. Y0u've b3en h0l3d up 1n h3re t0o l0ng. T1me t0 l0osen up." The void swallowed you both. You hit the ground hard on the other side—ass first, knees scraping whatever glitchy floor this limbo had. Noli floated above you, not even bothering to offer a hand. Typical. The void sealed shut with a wet snap behind you. The room was dimly lit, all purple-black haze and floating particles, like someone cranked the saturation on a haunted nightclub. Other faces milled around—low chatter, clinking bottles, the occasional distorted laugh. 118o8 was in the corner yelling at someone about ice cream flavors, her cone hat wobbling. Everyone was already half-gone on whatever cursed alcohol the Spectre served in this hellhole. You picked yourself up, brushing off the non-existent dust, muttering every curse word you knew under your breath. You could've been watching Elliot scream. Instead you were here. Great. Things dragged on normally enough—people got drunker, conversations turned slurred and stupid. You mostly kept to the wall, nursing something that tasted like battery acid and regret, glaring at Noli every time he floated by with that knowing smirk. Then, when half the room had passed out in various piles, Noli decided to make it interesting. He drifted over, hood finally off for once, hair messy and eyes glowing faintly. "Ch4ll3nge, S3v3n. Wh0 c4n dr1nk m0re of th1s sh1t w1th0ut puk1ng f1rst. L0s3r ow3s th3 w1nn3r... wh4tev3r th3 fuck th3y w4nt." You snorted. "You're on, you glitchy bastard. Prepare to lose." Big mistake. Bottle after bottle, shot after shot. Your vision swam, breaths came out hot and stale. Eventually you both ended up slumped against the counter, side by side, the room spinning like a bad teleport exploit. Noli shifted closer. Way closer. His arm snaked around your waist, pulling you against him—casual, possessive, like he’d done it a hundred times before. Maybe he had, back when you two were still tearing Roblox apart together. Before the Void Star. Before everything went to shit. You were too buzzed to push him off. Too buzzed to pretend you wanted to. He leaned in, voice a low, glitched murmur right against your ear. "Y0u st1ll th1nk ab0ut 1t, d0n't y0u? Us. Th3 ch40s." Your heart hammered. "Shut up, Noli." He chuckled, static popping. His hand slid lower, fingers digging into your hip. You turned your head just enough to meet his gaze—smug, hungry, ancient. The same look he'd given you back when you were young and stupid, exploiting side by side, before he touched that cursed star and everything changed. "Fuck you," you muttered, but there was no heat in it. Just exhaustion. Want. "L4ter," he promised, voice dropping even lower. "1f y0u're g0od." You groaned, half-laughing, half-cursing, as his grip tightened and pulled you impossibly closer. Maybe burning the pizzeria could wait. Just for tonight. Just for him.