A lot of people have asked me why I write Lincoln as having an antagonistic relationship with his sisters in certain stories. Long story short: One of the things that draws me to TLH (and I know it's in a million other shows and movies, etc) is the fact that these kids screw one another, manipulate one another, tease one another, get into huge fights...all this stuff...and at the end of the day they hug and kiss and have each other's backs because they're family. That's really sweet. Plus...siblings tease each other. Sure, it might be extreme in my stories, but they're humorous fan fictions. Don't take it too seriously.
Dread55: Don't worry, it's not dark.
Mood swings are a bitch. One minute she was laughing and the next she was crying. Okay, not literally crying because she didn't cry, but you get the picture. When she stormed out of the house and started toward school, she was seething with rage, her face burning, her fists clenched, and her eyes hard. Two blocks later, she started to laugh; she stopped, bent at the waist, and wrapped her arms around her stomach. Tears rolled down her freckled cheeks and anyone who saw her might think she was a madwoman, but she didn't care.
That son of a bitch...he was right. He won fair and square. They went toe-to-toe and she stomped off just like Lisa and Luan. Good job, Linc, she thought as she brushed a tear away from her eye. She didn't understand how it happened, though. She was having fun with him, first roasting Luan then roasting each other, then...bam, he rubbed her the wrong way and she took off. She remembered what she said about them not wanting a brother and calling him a mistake, and she felt a sharp twinge in her heart. She didn't mean that. At all. It's not fair (or right) to compare your siblings, but if someone had a gun to her favorite football and made her choose, Lincoln would be her favorite because he was always there for her...when it was important, and when it wasn't so important.
Suddenly, Lynn felt so sad that the tears in her eyes turned from ones of laughter to ones of, well, sadness. She called up a vision of him at their roast session, cocky grin and the bright, evil eyes, and a smile touched her lips. She was impressed. Linc had the habit of being a little too timid for his own good, but that was beginning to change. Along with other things, she'd noticed. His voice was lower and there was the faintest white fuzz on his upper lip. He also sometimes came out into the hall in the morning with, uh...Lynn's face flushed...a hard-on. Not that she looked! Any more than was healthy, at least. She was a girl, and it was kind of hard not to look (curiously) when a guy walked in with a massive tent in his tightie whities...hard not to wonder what it looked like...and felt like.
She felt herself beginning to stir.
Ew, gross, Jesus!
It was natural though! When you see something like that...it's not that you're horny for your brother...you just see it and your body responds. Your body's dumb like that. It doesn't care whether he's your brother...hell, does it even know? It wants something, it sees it, and there you go.
Something hard, hot, and...
Shut the fuck up, Lynn!
Alright, yeah, no more...think of something else.
That shit about peaking in high school really hurt. Despite being big and tough, she was sensitive sometimes, and him saying that got to her. She knew not everyone could go pro, and that a lot of people who tried really did wind up bagging groceries or flipping burgers, but not her...she really was going to go pro.
It's like he doesn't even support me.
Tears flooded her eyes.
Ugh, get a grip.
If she didn't know any better, she was going to start her period...but she literally just got off her period last week.
Way to ruin my day, Linc.
It wasn't his fault...not entirely. She's the one who suggested they try to make each other storm off...and she lost. She grinned. It was fun, though. He was getting better with his barbs. Hell, she was still thinking about them, and she was almost to school. Peaking in high school...dad wasted his name on a girl. It was like a sparring session, only mental instead of physical.
Did he win because she was stupid?
The geek who can make a passing grade without running to his four-year-old sister for help.
So she had Lisa tutor her. What of it? She was a literal genius, after all, four or not. Still...he kind of had a point. He was more...what do you call it...cerebral than her. She wasn't much into reading or any lame stuff like that. She played ball and worked out. Maybe she wasn't dumb, but he had a little bit of an advantage.
Anger filled her. Not for long. She'd cram her head full of every goddamn book she could find, then she'd cut him to ribbons with her words. She was Lynn motherfucking Loud, and she was the best at everything she put her mind to. Give her a week and Lincoln would be laid out on the floor, his forehead cutely pinched and his eyes closed to slits. You got me, Lynn...you're the best...I admit defeat...
She smiled at the image, then frowned when Dream Lynn got to her knees and kissed Dream Linc's cheek in a strange and tender way...then recoiled when she kissed his lips.
Goddamn it! She threw a frustrated punch at thin air and then a roundhouse for good measure. Stop having weird thoughts, you fucking pervert bitch! And stop with the fucking mood swings, too. You're gonna give me whiplash.
Think about something else...something that's not Lincoln...or any other boy for that matter. Think about practice later. Yeah! Practice! She loved practice because it provided the perfect opportunity to get out all of her aggressions and pent-up energy...that's the ticket...run yourself ragged so that at the end of the day you're pleasantly weary and can't muster the power to even think of certain things.
Certain sexy things.
Like sex.
Ugh. Here we go again.
And there she went.
Lunch was Lincoln Loud's least favorite time of the day. One, the food sucked. Honestly, it was trash. They eat better in prison. He remembered his first experience with school food waaaaay back on his very first day of Kindergarten. It was pizza...your standard cheese pizza. It looked alright...maybe a little pale, but whateves. He was stoked the whole day. He got to the cafeteria, got his tray, sat down, and took a giant, hungry bite...then promptly spat it back out. What the fuck is this shit? He thought. Okay, that's not what he thought at the time, but it was close. Two...the place was packed with girls. Tall ones, short ones, skinny ones, fat ones, brown ones, white ones...it was like a Motley Crue video. Maybe there were boys too, he didn't know, all he saw were skirts, dresses, ponytails, soft eyes, silky legs, and budding breasts. With this much stimuli, Lincoln Jr. was standing tall and, brother, lunch was almost over; if that bell rang right now, he'd either have to stay seated until he went soft, or he'd have to get up and bend over like Mr. Grouse on a bad arthritis day.
This was getting really old.
He sighed, sat back, and snatched his milk carton. He took a deep drink and sat it back on his tray. Why did people think he was such a pussy? Lisa: Oh, his timid personality. Then Lynn straight up called him a pussy. After that, as he was getting ready to leave, Luna cornered him in the living room, an uncertain expression in her eyes. Hey, bro, look, uh...don't let what Lynn said get to you. We all love you, man.
That kind of hurt his feelings. He wasn't some sensitive little bitch. Hell, did he storm out of the dining room? No, he had a full and balanced breakfast and ate at a leisurely pace, meanwhile Lynn got all huffy and ran away. He thought of her face as Luna held her back: Cheeks red, eyes narrow and hard. She was cute when she was angry.
Not in a weird way! Like...an insulting way. Like, 'LOL, you're cute, little girl,' and not like, 'I like your freckles and sometimes I wonder what it would feel like if I ran my fingers through your hair even though you're my sister.' That would be gross. Sure, sometimes he found himself looking at one of them (Luan in her little nightgown, Lori in her short shorts), and it made him feel like a piece of shit, but when a girl's running around with a thin nightdress that clings to her bare breasts like a second skin...where else are your eyes going to go? And if you get a boner...shit happens.
Pervert...you're a pervert.
Sigh. At least I'm not a hipster; I'd rather run through all my sisters like Jethro at a family reunion than wear a man bun, vape, and drink PBR. Oh, and sit around my dorm and sing Bohemian Rhapsody with all my hipster friends. Lincoln shuddered.
"...so, you think she'd say yes?" Clyde asked.
Dude, you were talking?
"Uhh...sure..." Lincoln said.
Clyde shrugged his shoulders. "I mean, I dunno. I like her but I don't think she likes me. I'm not much to look at."
Lincoln glanced at his friend. He really couldn't judge because he was straight and didn't like guys, but...you know...Clyde looked normal. At least he didn't weigh five hundred pounds like Poppa Wheelie or look like Bozo the Clown like Rusty Spokes. Now those were some goofy looking motherfuckers. "Go for it, dude," Lincoln said. "The worst she can do is say no." Who 'she' was, Lincoln didn't know.
Clyde shrugged one shoulder. "I'm kinda...you know...fragile. I don't know if I can take the rejection."
Lincoln opened his mouth but closed it again. He couldn't say much on that front because he was kind of the same way. He tried to move his and Ronnie Anne's relationship along, but he didn't have the stones to come outright and say "I wanna be your boyfriend." What if she said no? What if Lynn really was right and Ronnie didn't want him? What if he was wasting his time?
"Just do it," Lincoln said, "you'll never know if you don't try. You know that cheesy poster in Mr. Bradsher's office?"
Mr. Bradsher was the guidance counselor...a big fat Jewish guy who looked like Santa Claus and dressed like it was still 1975 (plaid blazer, who are you, Howard Cosell?). Like all guidance counselors, Mr. Bradsher has a bunch of stupid motivational posters plastered to the walls of his office. One had a picture of a basketball dropping into a hoop (which made Lincoln think of Lynn) and said: "Goal. Act as if what you do makes a difference. It does." Ugh, gag me with a spoon.
"Which one?" Clyde asked.
"The one that says: Shoot for the moon...even if you miss, you'll land among the stars."
Clyde groaned. "That one gave me cancer."
"Shoot for the moon, buddy."
"I'd probably have a better chance of getting the moon to be my girlfriend than Penelope."
Penelope? Oh, Jesus! Penelope was the one girl in school who had never given Lincoln a hard-on. With her bushy hair, glasses, and general she-geekiness, she reminded him of someone's crazy cat lady aunt. Though if you turned off the lights, she would be just as soft and warm as...
Lincoln's dick twitched.
Kill me now!
"I just don't think I have a chance."
"You're fine," Lincoln said. Penelope wasn't much to look at, so he doubted she'd be too picky. She was probably desperate and would take the first thing that came her way. Why can't I be into an ugly girl? Why do I have to into Ronnie Anne, a virtual fucking angel? I oughta steal Penelope from under his nose...
Ew. No.
"Shoot for the stars," Lincoln repeated, more to himself than to Clyde. Maybe he should take his own advice and go for it with Ronnie Anne. The worst she could do was say no...but that was pretty bad, so...yeah, probably not.
Sigh.
Lynn Loud snatched the ball, drew it to her chest, and darted down the field, pounding as hard as she could, opening all the flumes and stoking the sexual energy that had been building in her stomach all day. She was practically flying, the cold autumn air streaking through the slats of her helmet and touching her sweaty face like the fingers from her dream touched her back...
Her feet tangled and she face-planted into the turf, jarring vibrations running through her head. Shit!
The coach blew the whistle. "Another fantastic flub by Loud," she called, and a bunch of the other girls laughed.
Fuck you, bitch.
Lynn pushed herself up and grabbed the ball, her teeth bared. Nice going. You thought about something you shouldn't have been thinking about and you failed. Lincoln was right; you might as well put an application in at Meijer now and practice your bagging skills. Loser.
"Hey, Loud," the coach said, coming over, "why don't you hit the shower before you break something?"
"I'm fine," Lynn said tightly.
"Alright, let me rephrase that: Hit the shower before you break something."
Lynn flashed. "Fine." She snapped the ball back and threw it as hard as she could, sending it soaring high into the air and toward the parking lot. "There's your ball." She spun around and started toward the locker room.
"Someone's PMSing," the coach teased.
Lynn's shoulders hunched and she almost turned to say something, but instead she kept going, hot and inexplicable tears welling in her eyes. She looked stupid and weak in front of the whole team.
In the locker room, she ripped her helmet off and slammed it against the bench, hoping to god it cracked and feeling a rush of disappointment when it didn't. She opened her locker, grabbed her things, then hurriedly stripped naked. Under one of the heads, she turned the water on and winced at how cold it was. She squeezed some body wash into her loofa and lathered up, being careful when she ran it across her tender breasts and between her legs. Cleaning between her legs was the worst because it made it really hard not to think about sex.
What a fucking slut! That's almost all she thought about anymore: The whole day it was sex, sex, sex. Sex and Lincoln.
Not together, though! She'd think about how sorry she was she said they never wanted a brother, and how mad that peaked in high school comment made her, and how much fun she had sparring with him. When she got home, she decided, she was going to make him spar with her again. How, she wasn't sure. Maybe she'd steal one of his stupid little video games or...or something, she didn't know. She was in the mood to play rough, though.
Presently, she sucked it up and rubbed the loofa between her legs, gasping at the hot sensations rising in her stomach. Her eyelids fluttered and her teeth unconsciously raked across her bottom lip. She braced herself against the tile wall and rubbed slowly. Her knees started to quiver and her breathing grew short. She purred and bowed her head. It felt really good.
An image of Lincoln flashed across her mind, and she jumped back with a cry. Dude, leave me alone!
Feeling a hot rush of shame, Lynn rinsed off and cut the spray. She wasn't thinking of him as she touched herself, thoughts just...came. She touched herself only one time before...and gave up when her mind drifted to an upcoming game and the moment passed.
Whatever. She shouldn't be touching herself anyway. In the locker room, she got dressed, and then walked home through the gathering gloom. A chilly wind swept along the street and needled her bare arms and legs. When she got to the house, she went through the front door, pulled her gym bag off, and hung it up. When she turned to the living room, she started. A little white tuft of hair stuck up from the back of the armchair. Lincoln!
A grin spread across her face. She dropped to a crouch and crept up to the armchair. Paper rustled as he flipped a page: He was either doing homework or reading one of his dorky little comics. Pushing up on powerful legs, she leaned over the back and looked down: He was lounging with his feet resting against one arm and his head resting against the other, his face open and goofy as he scanned his comic.
For a moment she simply watched him, smiling when he winced cutely at something happening in the book. She realized she was holding her breath, and let it out.
Look at this guy. Completely unaware that she was inches away from him. Tsk, tsk, tsk. You gotta be aware of your surroundings, Linc-O.
Because when you're not, something like this might happen.
She grabbed his cowlick, yanked as hard as she could, and then leapt over the back of the chair. He yelled and jerked, moving his legs: Lynn dropped into the space they left behind. "Hey, Linc, what're we reading?" She snatched the comic out of his hands and then stood. "Oh, Chase Savvy, I love this guy."
"Give it back!" he yelled, getting to his feet.
Lynn ducked aside. "When I'm done." She held the comic over her head and craned her neck. "Who's that loser in the mask? He looks kinda like you."
Lincoln jumped up and tried to grab the comic, but Lynn wheeled around and started walking toward the kitchen. "Oh, Ace Savvy, I'm Lincoln Loud and I jerk off to you every night."
"Give it back, Lynn," Lincoln said tightly.
"Or what? You're gonna summon your legion of geek friends to come and beat me up?" She glanced over her shoulder just as he threw himself at her; her eyes widened, and then he slammed into her. He didn't weigh very much, but he hit her like a car, and suddenly the floor was rushing up to meet her.
This time she wasn't wearing a helmet, and her forehead absorbed the brunt of the impact. She cried out as pain exploded in her skull. He was on her back, reaching for the comic, which had fallen from her hands and landed a few inches away. His body was warm and sleek.
"Oh, no you don't!" Lynn cried, and rolled him off. He yelled as he spilled onto his back. He tried to get up, but Lynn shoved him back down and mounted him, pinning his wrists to the floor. "Bet'cha can't get up, you little bitch," she grinned. His face darkened, and he started to struggle.
"Get off!"
Lynn leaned in. "Make me."
He bared his teeth and tried to get up, but couldn't. He threw his hips forward in an attempt to buck her off, and his crotch rubbed against hers. Her loins tingled, and her stomach pinched in horror. Her grip loosened, and he flung her aside: The back of her head smacked the couch, and more pain filled her skull. Ow!
Panting, he got to his feet and snatched his comic off the floor. "Nice try, little girl," he said, and grinned, "but next time bring your A game."
Lynn glared at him. "I let you do that."
"And I'm going to let you walk away without kicking you in the face."
Lynn was springing forward before she knew what she was doing: She took out his legs and he fell back with a sharp cry, the comic flying from his hands and fluttering back to the floor. Lynn went to get on top of him again, but his palm crashed into the side of her head, and she fell over, landing on her side. Did...did he just slap her?
For a moment neither of them did anything. "Oh, shit," Lincoln said, panic in his voice. "Lynn, I'm sorry."
He knelt beside her and laid a hand on her shoulder...a warm, soft, caring hand. "Are you alright?"
She was frozen. What should she do? Slap him back? Say 'No big, nice spar, bro?' Just lay here?
"Lynn?" he asked miserably.
The hitch in his voice decided her. She sat up and shook her head. "I guess when you take a geek's comic he gets retard strength."
Lincoln's brows knitted, and Lynn's heart fluttered. "That's one of your superpowers, isn't it? Along with social awkwardness and repelling girls?"
His face was starting to turn a cute shade of red. She grinned viciously. "Small Penis Man...away!"
"Fuck you, Lynn," he muttered, and got to his feet. He crossed over to his comic, bent, and snatched it up. He went back to the chair and plopped down.
Lynn got up, went around the side of the couch, and started up the stairs. "Don't jack off too hard to that comic, Linc. You might pluck it out like a hair."
He lifted his middle finger, and Lynn stuck out her tongue.