Bite-Sized Fics and (Stupid) Ideas

Lincoln/Mrs. Johnson.

>Lincoln, on his 21st birthday, goes to his first bar.
>Ordering his first ever drink (legally), he starts chatting up the woman beside him.
>"I'm sorry, did you just say 'Lynn Loud?'"
>He turns around to look at the woman beside her.
>She looks familiar.
>Idly spinning the olive in her martini, the older woman studies the man.
>Her hair is auburn, held up by a pencil of all things in a tight bun.
>She's wearing a green turtleneck, knitted with a delicate, intricate pattern, tracing from her chest down to her waist.
>He can't resist glancing down at her dark skirt, noting her...Ok, that is a nice butt.
>"Mr...Lincoln Loud?"
>His eyes snap up to the lady, watching her lips part to sip from her glass.
>"Missus Johnson?" He asks.
>"It is you!" she gushes. "My, how you've grown. I remember you were just a little bean sprout sitting in front of my desk. And now, you're tall and..."
>She pauses, leaning forward to stroke his bicep.
>"Muscular."


Lincoln/Christina
>Christina shlicks to Lincoln all the time, but just doesn't have the guts to say anything.
>One day she's trying to peek through the window when Luan's prank goes wrong, throwing Lincoln out the window and landing on her.
>When Luan drags them both in to patch them up, Christina finally sacks up and throws herself at the boy the moment the prankster leaves the room.
>After the debauchery ends and Christina is finally sated, she goes home.
>But not before stealthily passing a crisp five to the Loud in Yellow.
~~
>She doesn't say a word.
>She just stares.
>Her bottomless blue eyes taking it all in.
>Her face always neutral.
>Christina closes the door.
>She locks it.


Lincoln/Ronnie Anne


>"Ok, Lincoln," Ronnie Anne says, sitting back down from her dare. "Truth? Or dare?"
>She punctuates 'dare' with a cocked eyebrow and a sensual tone.
>Lincoln looks at the two girls before him.
>Ronnie Anne, his loosely-defined "girlfriend."
>And Christina, the quiet, redheaded object of his little fantasies.
>Ronnie Anne's eyebrow stays cocked, waiting for a response.
>Christina watches him quietly.
>His gaze shifts a little lower.
>He stares at their lips.
>Ronnie Anne's are surprisingly soft, and despite her attitude, her kisses are sweet.
>Christina's are more plump, if only slightly. Lincoln doesn't know what they taste like, but he always assumed, hoped, they tasted like raspberries.
>He swallows.
>He balls his fists.
>He utters a silent prayer that his voice not break.
>He opens his mouth.
>"Dare."
>Ronnie Anne narrows her eyes and smirks.
>"Alright, Lame-O..."
>Her eyes wander around the treehouse, looking for a source of humiliation for her boyfriend.
>A twig catches her eye.
>"I dare you," she declares, picking up the little stick, "to stick this in your peehole."
>Christina spits out her drink, coughing loudly as she stares incredulously at the girl beside her.
>"WHAT?!" Lincoln shrieks, immediately crossing his legs and shielding his crotch with his hands.
>"R-Ronnie Anne, that's not what we ag-"
>"No choice. Too bad."
>She flicks it at the terrified boy.
>"Take the dare, Naranja"


Lincoln/Carol
>Carol and Lori were once the best of friends.
>They would hang out all the time, and she was on a first-name basis with the family.
>Carol used to help Lori babysit the siblings to the point the younger kids considered her a cousin.
>She even used to call Mr. and Mrs. Loud "Mama and Papa."
>Then Junior Prom happened.
>And the subsequent falling out.
>Carol would spend years trying to make amends to no avail, and would eventually accept that they'll never reconcile.
>Then, one humid Saturday, her phone rings.
>"H-hi, is this Cousin Carol?"
>She knows that voice.
>It's deeper, but she'd never forget that sweet little boy.
>"Cous...I mean, Lincoln? Is...is that you?"
>"I need your help with something. Do you think you can come over for a minute?"
~~
>Lori tries with all her sisters, to no luck.
>She calls a few of her friends, hoping to bum a favour.
>Nada.
>As a last-ditch effort, she calls Bobby, asking Ronnie Anne to go.
>Her flat refusal kills any hope of Lori having a romantic evening to herself and her boyfriend.
>Now she'll have to cancel her date and accompany Lincoln with trick or treating.
>'Well,' her inner thoughts offer. 'There's...one other person..."
>Oh. God, please, no.
>Lori double checks her list of contacts.
>Every single name is crossed out.
>All but one.
>Feeling she has no choice, Lori sighs and grabs her phone.
>It rings twice, before she hears a click.
>"Hello?"
>"Pingry."
>"L-Lori? I'm, uh...what do you want?" her former friend asks nervously.
>"I need...hurgh. I need a favour."

Context: Abuse Guy (Think it was Abuse Guy) wrote a little snippet about Lori guilting Lincoln into staying into a relationship with Ronnie Anne, and the poor kid starting to go numb from the stress. I admittedly skimmed it, and immediately came to the absolute worst conclusion, and so wrote a letter from Lincoln to Lori, ten years later.

Lori,

I'll be dead when you read this. I don't know if you've ever cared, but I want to know: why. Why did you allow all of this? You saw the bruises. The bad makeup. I know you were smart enough to see through the excuses and lies. You were my big sister. You were supposed to protect me from people like...people like her.

I think I stopped loving you ten years ago, after we went to that restaurant. I don't think you've ever noticed. Did you even care? Give Bobby my regards. You deserve him.

This is all your fault.

And you know what's the best bit? I'm hating myself writing this right now, because I know exactly how this will make you feel reading this.

Goodbye.
No funeral.

-Lincoln.
~~
>Leni goes for the world record for longest hug with Lincoln.
>Fic is about him living his life with his sister attached to him.
>As Hallowe'en fast approaches, Lincoln has to convince Leni to either drop the record attempt, or work together with him to make a costume that would work for them both.
>They end up going as Banjo and Kazooie.
>Lincoln's knees never fully recover.
~~
rita stole mr loud from ms johnson
17 years later, it's time for revenge
"You steal my boyfriend, Rita?" Mrs. Johnson muttered, rocking her hips up and down roughly on the boy. "Well, I'll fuck your son."(edited)
"W-what?" Lincoln stammered, trying to keep his composure as the waves of pleasure beat down on him. "M-Mrs. Johnson, please s-slow down, I'm to-"
"I'LL FUCK YOUR SON!" the teacher yelled, already too far in her haze. As her climax rolls through her, she mashes her face against the boys, driving her tongue into his frightened mouth.
She can taste herself.
Good.
As he finishes emptying himself into her, he tries to roll off of her, only for the older woman to wrap her legs around his waist, locking him in.
Too tired to fight, Lincoln rests his head on her bosom. At least she's soft.
As the boy naps, Mrs. Johnson strokes his head, deep in thought now that the frenzy of lust has passed.
Twenty-five years ago, her best friend stole her man from her, and sired eleven children.
She looks down as the boy shifts in his sleep, rubbing his head on her chest.
Ilene Johnson smiles. An even dozen should settle the grudge.
~~
>"I can't believe I'm doing this," Lori mutters, bent over sorting the pile of comics on the desk.
>"When you're done, you can then fold some laundry," Lincoln replies, reclining on the bed, keeping Lori's skirt-clad rear in his peripheral.
>Lori turns around to glare at him.
>"Don't turn a favour into something you're going to regret," she growls.
>Lincoln stares back, slowly arching an eyebrow.
>Lori huffs.
>"Don't turn a favour into something you're going to regret, sir."
>"Better."