#Debbie ocean x Claude becker

[blackacre13]

I am DYING for a part 6 of the Actress AU pls 🙏🏼

Part 14 is here: https://blackacre13.tumblr.com/post/700763994533904384/please-could-you-write-more-of-the-actress-au-i 

Here's Part 15:

“I—I don’t want to do this wrong,” Debbie admitted almost shyly. She ran her fingers over Lou’s thighs nervously, smiling a bit as she watched Lou’s hips roll in response at the gentle touch.

“Just feel it out,” Lou murmured with a gentle smile. She took Debbie’s hand in hers, guiding her hand between her legs. “You’ll know what feels right. What feels good to you? What would you want?”

“Teach me,” Debbie whispered.

“Oh god,” Debbie groaned, shielding her eyes with her hands. “Oh Fuck. I can’t. I can’t.”

“Oh come on,” Lou grinned. “This is one of my absolute favorites.”

“You’re a liar,” Debbie shrieked, throwing the comforter over her head. “Turn that shit off. I can’t stand seeing my face.”

“Then don’t watch,” Lou shrugged, turning up the volume on the television that had previously been at an imperceptible level as a failsafe for background noise to muffle the sounds the two of them had been making. Debbie couldn’t have named whatever television shows or movies had been playing during the night if her life had depended on it. The only thing she could remember was Lou. Every touch. Every kiss. Every moan. And the taste of her…

“Hey,” Lou chuckled, tickling at Debbie’s thigh. “Teasing you isn’t any fun if you’re not going to get all cute and whiny and try to get me to stop.”

“Sorry,” Debbie blushed, peeking out from the comforter. “I was just—“

“Having gay sex flashbacks?” Lou grinned, raising an eyebrow. “Get used to it, Ocean. It’s a common side effect of life-changing sex, I’m afraid. Especially with me.”

Debbie let out a soft chuckle, but Lou could see her let out a small wince as she glanced at the screen and caught a snippet of herself running through a forest in a tank top and skinny jeans.

Lou pursed her lips, watching her for a moment, before she powered off the television with the remote.

“Would you believe they wouldn’t let me wear a bra for that scene?” The brunette sighed. 

“Well, that script wasn’t going to sell itself,” Lou smirked. “Had to give the audience something to pine over.”

“And I don’t even have to tell you about the chafing that comes from running around in sweaty denim. I mean, who would even dress that way trying to track down a criminal? I have no idea how you’re always walking around in that thick, hot leather.”

“Because it does this to you,” Lou whispered, her voice dropping slightly as she ran her fingers between Debbie’s legs, the brunette groaning at the touch as her stomach swooped. “See, America might get to see you running through the woods in a tank top and get a two second glimpse of that braless bounce, but me?  Fuck. To think that I get to have you all to myself, in my bed, and make love to you until you see stars and can’t even remember your own name? Worth its weight in gold, Ocean.”

“You’re going to make love to me all day?” Debbie giggled, trying to hide her blush.

“Did you have other plans?” The blonde grinned. “Because I know I had several orgasms in mind and all of them require your participation.”

“Breakfast first?”

“Sure,” Lou nodded, tossing the comforter towards the end of the bed as she crawled between Debbie’s thighs, lowering her head. Her nose brushed against Debbie’s clit as the brunette giggled, trying to close her thighs together as Lou pushed her legs apart, biting at the inside of her thigh.

“Real breakfast,” Debbie whispered.

“After I eat you,” Lou murmured. “Promise.”

[bernadettefoxs]

winter things - chapter 1

summary: debbie ocean is an aspiring photographer working at a department store in manhattan, where she meets lou miller, an alluring, wealthy older woman who is trying to put an end to her loveless marriage. their relationship escalates quickly when they start to catch feelings for each other. yes, this is absolutely a modern day carol (2015) AU, essentially, but i’ll be changing a few things every now and then.

length: short sorry next one will be longer

warnings: none

—

“Miss Ocean, they need you at the toys section!” the brunette was just about to sip from her coffee mug when she heard her boss call. She glanced at the doors of the cafeteria, noticing the woman wasn’t there anymore after yelling out her name, so she’d better hurry up.

Debbie stood up, washed her coffee mug in the bathroom and put it back on her locker, she wouldn’t go home until 5. It was still 9am, this was going to be a hell of a busy day, with christmas just around the corner, the store was soon to welcome a bunch of middle aged women who only wanted to buy their kids toys without thinking too much about it so they wouldn’t lose their minds trying to figure out how to make a better christmas dinner than they made on the previous year, and it was always this same cycle of attending desperate mothers — and sometimes fathers — that only made Debbie want to quit and kickstart her photographer career. But of course, she wouldn’t do that, not with the amount of money she had now. It just wasn’t enough.

She felt it was getting colder by the hour, and wondered if anyone else working behind the counter also felt like they were about to lose a finger. She checked her phone one last time before putting it away, completely ignoring the millions of texts from her boyfriend, or at least the guy that liked to call himself that. Claude Becker really needed to learn how to take a hint when a girl says she thinks your sister is “infinitely hotter than you.” Debbie didn’t even want to imagine how stupid she looked right now, fidgeting with the white pom-pom of her santa hat before putting it on, not wanting to deal with her boss later. You need the stupid money so do the stupid job.

At least two hours passed by and Debbie could now feel her feet dancing behind the counter to the christmas song that had started to play on the toy floor, quietly moving side to side as she felt the air quietly fill her lungs, breathing in and out with her elbows on the counter and her hand supporting her head. She was too distracted doing absolutely nothing to notice the woman looking at her from the other side of the aisle, following her every breath. After a second or two, Debbie seemed to have looked at her, briefly, and something sparked inside her chest. The woman wasn’t there anymore, and losing sight of her only made Debbie take another, long breath, this time a sharp one, not quietly like before. Who was that? She wondered. It was too late to think about it any longer when she saw blonde locks shining against the yellow light of the aisle roof right there in front of her, waiting. She was tall, but not that much taller than Debbie herself, had marble skin, pale, soft, older. But not that much older than Debbie herself.

She looked up from the blonde’s hands that held her brown leather gloves tightly seconds before she placed them on the counter next to her, and she admired her other features. She wasn’t quite like anyone else the brunette had ever seen, and she saw more than 200 people every day. Her eyes were icy blue and the curves around her lips when she grinned at her made Debbie want to burst into flames, her bangs fell perfectly into place, almost hiding her piercing gaze on the brunette, but Debbie sure caught on to it, jumping like the woman’s presence had suddenly startled her, and she felt more ridiculous than ever, wearing that silly hat and just in her red sweater and jeans when the woman in front of her was undoubtedly wearing a very, very expensive leopard printed overcoat and layers of good jewelry on her neck and fingers.

“Sorry. How can I help you?” did her voice come out almost strangled? Did the woman notice? Did she care?

“I wanted to buy a doll for my daughter, but I think I’m out of luck… That new one, that talks and wets herself.” Debbie chuckled, and the woman seemed to enjoy her response.

“Yes that one sold out this morning, but we do have other models that your daughter might li-“

“What did you want when you were 5?” the woman asked, unbothered. Her voice was deep and raspy, almost raunchy.

“Definitely not dolls. But people were too picky about these things in the 70’s so I couldn’t really just go to my mother and tell her I’d rather have a bike and not a… pink haired Suzy doll.”

“Why not? If that’s what you wanted.” she smiled at Debbie, and her once dancing legs were now all shaky.

“You’re right.” Debbie said, looking around for other options.

“I can’t buy my 5 year old a bike, although that sounds kinda cool.” Debbie looked back at her. “Not for her, for me.”

“How does she feel about puzzles? We have them with 500 pieces and more.”

“Is she gonna need help with it?” the woman asked holding back a smug smile before taking her wallet from the pocket inside the coat.

“Oh no, they’re pretty plain and simple. But it might take her a little while to complete it, she’ll be busy for hours.” Debbie answered enthusiastically.

“Well, that’s that. Sold.” she smiled at the woman, like she was ignoring everyone and everything else that was going on in the aisle. “Shouldn’t I pay now?”

“Oh, yeah, right. Sorry. We can have it delivered to your place if you’d like. Just write down your information on the paper and I’ll take care of it for you.”

“Nice.” she watched the woman grab the blue pen she handed her, writing down some numbers and then her name, finally her name. Lou M. She finished signing her name and glanced at Debbie with a smirk, thinking the brunette’s mannerisms were cute, the way she silently gasped when she saw her and the way her cheeks flushed whenever Lou smiled at her.

The woman grabbed her wallet and gave her the pen back, taking a deep breath before straightening her shoulders. “Merry christmas.” she said before leaving, and just as she was about to leave Debbie’s sight once more, she turned around for a second, checking her out from the other side of the room shamelessly, and quietly mouthed “I like the hat”, making Debbie’s cheeks go as red as the fabric of her sweater.

She shook her head after the blonde finally left the aisle, trying to wash away the image of that woman that was stuck in her head. She was happy to see her boss put a thumbs up in the air for her, realizing that that was probably the first time she’d seen that bitter old woman smile at her.

“I’m just gonna go pass down the client’s information to the delivery department, watch the register for me?” Debbie asked a colleague, who was quickly eager to be helpful.

“Oh, Debbie, you forgot your gloves.” the man said, making Debbie turn around to see what he was talking about.

“My gloves?” her eyes caught a glimpse of the leather gloves on the counter completely forgotten, and she immediately remembered who they belonged to. Well fuck me.

Debbie had no trouble finishing her shift, she went home and kept on ignoring Claude’s messages and calls, stopping to grab some coffee on the way home. It was cheap New York coffee but she was still satisfied, she just wanted to get home so she could send the gloves back to their owner safely and have time to prepare dinner for one, assuming she wouldn’t find Claude sleeping on her couch again. Debbie didn’t even like sharing a bed with him, and he thought maybe she wasn’t ready to be that intimate with him yet, it’s not like she didn’t want to or anything… right? Even if it had been 8 months since they started “dating” and Debbie didn’t like him to call her his girlfriend in public.

She sighed when the front door unlocked and she saw a man sitting on her kitchen table, eating an apple as his eyes rapidly found hers, tired and for a strange reason, anxious, maybe a little ecstatic. She didn’t bother talking to him, quickly going to her room and locking the door behind her, and he only took it as a sign that it hadn’t been a great day at work, so he didn’t go after her, asking about her possibly shitty day, although that wasn’t the case, at all. If anything, there hadn’t been a better day for her at work than that day.

The blonde still hadn’t left her mind, her body language still roaming around the corners of Debbie’s brain and her accent playing time and time again in Debbie’s ears as Debbie tried to focus on shipping the gloves back. By the time Debbie left her room, she looked around in the small apartment and noticed the absence of her “boyfriend.” She’d spent too long thinking about Lou, replaying their conversation about dolls and bikes in her head. A conversation she wouldn’t soon forget.

[widomauked]

Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Ocean’s 8 (2018)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: Lou Miller/Debbie Ocean
Characters: Lou Miller (Ocean’s), Debbie Ocean, Claude Becker
Additional Tags: claude becker is an asshole, Homophobia, Drabble, Established Relationship, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, warning for homophobic slurs, specifically the d slur, there’s not actually a lot of violence, but I tagged it just in case, no beta we die like danny ocean, stand alone
Series: Part 21 of keep it quick, say it brief
Summary: Claude Becker had this great way of being the personification of everything Lou hated.

[imgaysarcasticandsad]

No one:

Lou: wOw I'm gay

[incorrectmetgayla]

Claude: The stars are very beautiful tonight.

Debbie: Yeah they are, do you know what else is beautiful? 

Claude: *blushes* What?

Debbie: Lou.

[textsfromoceans8]

[roseofthewolf21]

Lou: [hitting Claude with a broom]

Debbie: What are you doing?

Lou: Cleaning.

[mistyyygoode]

I’m A Fool to Want You (2: First Day)

Debbie grabbed her backpack, her jacket, and keys to the car. As she was about to walk out the front door her father yelled, "Are you driving alone?"

"Yes, who else would I be driving with?" she yelled back.

"I don't know. Just checking. Have a good day, babygirl!"

"Thanks, Dad!" Debbie said before walking out of the house, locking the door behind her before making her way to the car.

It was only fifteen minutes before Debbie arrived at the school. She parked up front and noticed a group of older girls staring at her as she got out of the car. She noticed one, in particular, a tall, blonde that looked like she was at least sixteen if not seventeen. She was wearing sunglasses, a leather jacket, skinny jeans, boots, and had a cigarette in between her fingers. She stared at the other teen as she walked to the front of the school, but broke eye contact when she entered the front door.

She made her way to the wing of the high school where her first class was going to be, finding the hallway empty except for one girl, slightly shorter than her, and blonde. She was wearing a long-sleeved dress with tights and ankle boots.

When their eyes met, Debbie could see how the other girl's brown hues sparkled under the horrible fluorescent lighting of the hallway.

"Are you in Miss Birkin's class too?" the other girl asked.

"Yes," Debbie said before walking closer to the other teen. "I'm Debbie." She said as she held out her hand.

"Tammy." The blonde said with a small smile as she shook the other's hand. "I was going to ask you if you knew where it was at. I think I'm in the right hall, but I'm not sure."

"Yes, you are. Did you not come to orientation?"

"No," Tammy shook her head. "I moved here last week. I didn't get enrolled in time. Some of the classes I was put in were at random... I didn't even get a chance to select my electives." She explained.

"What did you end up with?"

Tammy pulled the paper from the pocket of her dress to look at. "Intro to business and marketing... do I look like the type of girl who would be into that?"

Debbie couldn't help but chuckle. "Sorry... no, you're not, but don't worry, it's not that hard. I have those too."

"You do?" Tammy asked. "What other classes do you have?" she asked.

Debbie pulled her schedule from her pocket and handed it over. She saw a smile grow on the other teen's lips.

"We have all the same classes." Tammy chuckled softly. "That's cool." She said as she handed the paper back over.

"Cool. So, where did you move from?" Debbie asked as she took the paper, folded it back up, and placed it back into her pocket.

"Maine, but I'm originally from Florida." The blonde explained as she put her own schedule away.

Debbie nodded softly as she listened. "Why did you move?" she asked.

"My dad... he's a lawyer. We move a lot because of it. He's always moving for better deals, better partners or something like that." Tammy explained. "My mom's a lawyer too, but not the same kind." She added.

"Lawyers, huh?" Debbie mused, hoping to sound interested. "What kind are they?"

"My dad is a prosecutor, and my mom is a lawyer in child cases, like, when a kid is abused and stuff."

"That must be tough."

"Yeah... they're always working..." Tammy said as she looked down at her hands. "It's kind of annoying."

"I know what you mean. My dad's always working too." Debbie said, seeing the sad expression on the other teen's face. It wasn't a complete lie, but it didn't bother her when he was gone.

"What does he do?"

"He's a banker." It was a lie that Debbie was taught from a young age. Whenever she or Danny was asked about her father's work, they were always told to say he was a banker.

"That's cool. He gets to work with money and stuff, right?"

"Yeah, he takes care of the vaults in banks," Debbie said.

"It must be cool to see all the stuff they have in there."

The brunette nodded softly. "Yeah, he used to tell me stories when I was little of the jewels they kept in this one place he used to work at." She said, again, it wasn't a complete lie.

Tammy nodded softly. "That's pretty cool."

Before Debbie could elaborate more on her white lies, the bell rang, and students started to flood the halls. "Let me lead you to class." She said before walking to their English class.

"Okay, thank you." Tammy smiled softly as she followed after the other teen.

As they entered the classroom, they saw that names were placed on the desks in alphabetical order. Debbie found her seat near the back and noticed that Tammy sat down next to her.

"What's your last name?" she asked.

"Parker. Yours?"

"Ocean."

"That's pretty." Tammy smiled softly.

"Thanks."

The room started to fill with other students, and a few students glared at Debbie before taking their seats. Soon enough, the second bell rang, and Miss Brink stood in front of the class. She introduced herself and gave some insight into what the school year was going to hold for them. She then started roll call, telling them that if they would like to be called something other than the name she called out to tell her.

"Deborah Ocean." She called out.

"Debbie, please." The brunette said softly.

"Ocean... is Danny your older brother?"

"Yes." She answered softly, sighing after.

Miss Brink just nodded as she wrote on her piece of paper. "Hope you don't give me any trouble as he did."

"No, ma'am."

"Too bad. Heard your brother was a killer to hang with." Some boy said.

Debbie rolled her eyes as she ignored it.

"That's enough Mr. Caldwell." The teacher said before continuing on with the roll call.

Once roll call was done, the semester's syllabus was passed out, and Debbie watched as Tammy pulled out a binder from her bag, placing it into a section for English. She could already tell that Tammy was a smarty and that she was going to be able to help her keep up with her grades. She watched the other teen and noticed she was writing her a note.

What's up with the thing about your brother?

Debbie took the paper and started to write out her answer before handing it back.

He's a bad kid, I guess you could say. People think I'm like him

What did he do?

For starters, he's had some of the best parties anyone's been too, at least that's what the jocks say. He's not the nicest person to teachers, and he's been to juvey a few times

Oh... shit

Yeah, but he's in college now. I think people expected me to be the same. With the parties and drugs

But, you're not, right?

No. I don't like drugs, and I don't like parties... not really anyways

Okay. I don't either. I'm not into that stuff

"Girls." Miss Brink said as she looked at the two.

Debbie quickly passed the note back to Tammy before she was about to write anything else.

Once the first bell for the next period rang, Tammy stood up and put her binder back into her bag. Debbie grabbed her bag and walked out of the room with the blonde.

"Sorry if I caused trouble with the note..." Tammy said softly.

"You didn't, don't worry."

The other teen nodded softly as she pulled out her schedule to see where they were headed next. "Oh... the business class."

"It won't be hard. I promise. Just stick with me, and I'll get you through it, okay?" Debbie said.

"Okay," Tammy smiled softly as she followed after Debbie to their next class.

[blackacre13]

Teacher/Student AU now on ao3 too! As requested ☺️ Stay tuned for updates!

by BlackAcre13

“You alright there?” A gentle voice asked as a light hand found her shoulder.

Lou turned slowly to see Dr. Ocean’s face close to hers, deep brown eyes full of concern. She had to bite down her tongue to keep from letting out a cheesy line like: Well, I am now, already wanting to smack herself for this being her first impression up close.

“Perfectly fine,” Lou smiled. “No need to worry about me, professor.”

Dr. Ocean smiled with a nod. “Do you think you’ll like the class?”

Lou was perplexed for a moment, surprised that the professor recognized her as her own student.

“I know I will,” Lou nodded. “I’ve been looking forward to being able to take your courses since I was a first-year.”

Dr. Ocean laughed softly and Lou’s heart started thumping faster, her head dizzy at the sound. She wanted to make her laugh again.

“I’ve heard great things about you, Ms. Miller. I’m looking forward to seeing your work.”

“You’ve heard about me?” Lou half-whispered, taken by surprise.

“Dr. Weil has always been impressed by your papers,” Dr. Ocean nodded again. “And Professor Kluger mentioned I should keep an eye out for you. Have you thought about applying to be my TA?”

Words: 1299, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Series: Part 4 of Multi-part Tumblr Prompt Collection

Fandoms: Ocean’s 8 (2018), Ocean’s Eleven Trilogy (Movies)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/F, F/M

Characters: Debbie Ocean, Lou Miller (Ocean’s), Tammy (Ocean’s), Claude Becker, Danny Ocean, Amita (Ocean’s), Linus Caldwell, Rose Weil, Daphne Kluger

Relationships: Lou Miller/Debbie Ocean, Lou Miller & Debbie Ocean, Debbie Ocean & Original Character(s), Claude Becker/Debbie Ocean

Additional Tags: Teacher-Student Relationship, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Alternate Universe - Professors, art student, Art Teacher, Professor Debbie Ocean, Student Lou Miller, College student Lou Miller, Art History, Art References, Inspired by Art, Alternate Universe - Art School, Art School, New Relationship, First Time, First Meetings, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - After College/University, College Student, Professor - Freeform, inspired by Mona Lisa Smile, inspired by Bette Porter (The L Word), Tumblr Prompt, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, professor student relationship, Forbidden Love, Forbidden Romance, First Dates, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Sex, Bisexual Female Character, Gay Character, gay art, Student Teaching, teaching assistant, College

[blackacre13]

I'm greedy with the asks... but more defendant/ lawyer au please???

Part 8 is here; Here's Part 9:

There was silence between them for a moment before Tammy snatched back the cookie container, Debbie’s finger almost caught in the lid.

“I like her for you,” Tammy finally decided, carefully sealing the lid before tucking it into her oversized purse, her eyes finding Debbie’s once more. “There’s something there.”

“I think so too,” the brunette smiled, nodding her head slowly. “Aren’t you supposed to tell me not to shit where I eat though?”

“You already did, babe,” Tammy exhaled, looking around the small room. “And it landed you here. I think all bets are off now. And Lou seems like the good deal. Let’s just see if she can break you out first.”

“I’ve got faith in her,” Debbie whispered, looking at the door, missing Lou’s cocky grin and the way she watched Debbie’s eyes light up at her coffee and treat surprises. “I trust her.”

“Debbie Ocean trusting someone?” Tammy raised an eyebrow. “And they don’t think prison changes people.”

“You thought you could handle a job like this on your own, sweetheart?” He laughed, snipping off the butt of his cigar before he lit it, taking in a deep pull of it before he blew out, leaning against the railing. “At least you keep me laughing, Deb. And we know you’ve got that body going for you.”

Take the cigar, Debbie thought. Take the cigar out of his stupid ass mouth and hold it against his damn cheek. Teach him a lesson. You know he’s done it to you enough times. She thought of the foundation she’d pocketed at Saks the other day, almost getting caught because she’d taken an extra beat to choose a color, not realizing that the shade she needed for her arms and legs was a different shade than her face. But she’d had to cover the burns to wear the dress Claude wanted her to wear for the job.

She didn’t know if the burn, singeing her skin, leaving the smell of burnt rubber lingering in the air was better or worse than the fear that had trickled through her veins when he’d held that butcher knife to her neck, the tip of the blade almost pressing into her. She’d been surprised that there was no single drop of blood on it, making a perfect little bubble by the time he’d pulled it away.

“There is that,” Debbie agreed, trying not to spit at him. “Lucky for me, I don’t have to worry about that. Working alone is a thing of the past. I’m so lucky to have you. Handsome.” She added, lying through her teeth.

She draped her arms around his shoulders, resting her head against one of them. It would be so easy to move her hands to his neck and twist his head just so, getting to hear that satisfying snap, and knowing his eyes would blow wide and he would fall to the concrete of the patio.

Instead, she kissed his shoulder, if only to avoid the stubble around his lips.

A braver Debbie would’ve convinced him to shave. A braver Debbie would have stood up to him and told him not to talk about her like an object. A braver Debbie would have gotten the Fuck out of this situation that was quickly spiraling into the beginning of the end.

She used to run shit. Own New York. Be a name.

She had a reputation and an apartment and her pick of any jobs she wanted. And she sure as hell would have never let a man walk all over her. But the way this was going, she was too terrified to be the brave version of Debbie and she let herself shrink back further and further and further until she was just a mere shadow of herself. And it was this sort of Debbie who could very easily get stabbed in the back. She needed to find a way to get out. And it had to be fast.

Suddenly things were jumping around and they were sitting in an elegant restaurant, Claude holding her hand across the table. That was new. That was odd. It took her longer than she cared to admit that there was an odd prickling against her skin that felt warm and nice at the start but quickly felt like her skin was being licked with flames. And it’s because it almost was. He was holding her hand so that her wrist was over the candle on the table.

“Claude,” she smiled sheepishly, gesturing to the candle the best she could. “C, my wrist. It’s—it’s kind of hot.”

“I know,” he hissed, gripping her wrist even tighter, the skin turning white as he cut off the circulation. “It’s going to stay here while I tell you what you’re going to do for me and you’re going to smile all pretty and act like I am telling you what a wonderful woman you are and how much I love you. But in reality, you’re going to listen. You’re going to do this job for me. And I’m going to let you in on a little secret about this art that we’ve been dealing these past few weeks. And if you try to get smart. Or tough. Or call your stupid best friend or your conniving brother and his little firecrotch girlfriend, then we’re going to have a real problem, Deborah. So listen up and listen good.”

“It really burns,” Debbie whispered, her voice shaking. She knew the skin was going to blister.

“What the Fuck did I just say?” He hissed.

Things jumped again, but Debbie was suddenly dizzy, seeing herself and being inside and outside herself. Then there was the night. The arrest. The holding cell. Claude again. Danny dying. Tammy telling her it would be okay. Danny dying, Danny dying. Meeting her. Meeting Lou. Claude again.

We’re going to have a real problem, Deborah so listen up and listen good.

And then she was spinning, black and white tv fuzz before her eyes and the sound of a needle scratching a record as it bumped against the needle again and again and again, out of songs. Out of time. Out of—

“Inmate!”

“Inmate, your lawyer’s here!”

“Ocean!”

“Shit. Shit, can I get backup in here? Block A. Inmate down. There’s an inmate down. D. Ocean.”

“We’re dispatching extra guards. Can you get a read on a pulse?”

[magdalenacats]

Mommy Dearest - Ocean's 8

Lou Miller x Debbie Ocean x daughter!OC

Wattpad Story - Ariadragonfly

Gif by @genevieveetguy

Story Description:

Lou Miller gave birth to her baby girl 17 years ago, she gave her up for adoption on the same day. The biggest mistake Lou ever made, she never spent a day not thinking about her baby. Now a young girl shows up at her door claiming to be her daughter. How will Lou react? Will she finally be reunited with her daughter?

The story is about Lou Miller's daughter. Lou and Debbie are married here.

There will also be themes of abuse, eating disorders, underage drinking ect.

1. How it all began

It's been a year and a half since Debbie Ocean, and the other seven, robbed the Met Gala. During this time, more or less happened in their lives. Some of them had big changes, the others almost none. But the biggest thing that happened was the wedding of Debbie Ocean and her partner in crime Lou Miller.

Before and during the time of Claude Becker and Debbie's relationship, Lou and Debbie had some nights together. However, both agreed that they only wanted friendship, although both felt something for the other.

Debbie and Lou, however, never admitted it. Whenever someone asked if they were in a romantic relationship, they both denied it, saying they were just very good friends, best friends.

About 20 years ago they both met, a year later they were partners in crime and inseparable. Both got along well with each other from the beginning.

In the beginning, they both loved each other, as friends love each other. Both did not know at that time that it was more than just friendly love.

13 years later, when Debbie met her then-boyfriend Claude Becker, the two criminals drifted apart. Debbie didn't do as much with Lou anymore. Both saw each other only less often. Their daily meetings became weekly, then monthly.

Debbie and Lou lived together in Lou's loft until Debbie moved in with Claude. Their heists were also no longer together, but with Claude. At that time, Lou also opened her current club and started watering down her Vodka.

Lou stopped robbing to focus more on her club. In contrast to Lou, Debbie robbed more and more casinos, bars and clubs.

The Ocean woman planned her robberies, also no longer by herself, but with Claude. She trusted her former boyfriend blindly. However, this was her undoing, which then also sent her to prison for five years.

After these five years, when Debbie got out of prison, she had planned an ingenious heist. This should not only go down in history, but also be the revenge on her ex boyfriend Claude. The robbery was pulled off by eight strong women.

These women were Debbie, of course, she had devised the whole plan. Five years in prison is a long time, there she could think about many things.

Debbie has changed over the years, she is less careless, and more conscientious. She is no longer as selfish, and thinks more about her fellow man.

Now she is a 45 year old woman, with the same long brown hair and brown eyes. She is still a little shorter than Lou.

Debbie knows she had hurt her partner and best friend very much. She knows she shouldn't have shut Lou out like that. She is almost embarrassed that she favoured Claude over Lou. She didn't even love him as much as she loved Lou.

The Blonde was also involved in the heist. The brunette was happy that Lou forgave her and that they were a team again.

Lou couldn't stay mad at Debbie. She thought the years in jail were punishment enough. Besides, she missed Debbie a lot, but she didn't want to admit that at the time.

She has also changed a bit, becoming more down to earth over the years. Externally, she was still the same, shoulder-length blonde hair with her fringed bangs and bright blue eyes.

Besides Lou and Debbie, the other women were Tammy, 9ball, Constance, Amita, Daphne and Rose.

Tammy is a suburban mother, she has in her garage, a kind of warehouse where she sells stolen goods. She, Debbie and Lou already knew each other. At first, Tammy didn't want to participate because she now has children and is married. But she then changed her mind.

9ball is the best hacker on the East Coast. Her job was to get the women in and out of the Met Gala without being seen.

Constance is a pickpocket, she was found by Debbie and Lou on the streets of New York City, trying to steal people's valuables. She is the youngest of the group, being only 23.

Amita is actually a jeweler, she knows diamonds, rubies and sapphires very well. Her job was to costume a fake necklace, which they could replace with the real one.

Daphne was a total surprise to the others, as she only really got to know the whole team at the end. She was the hidden eighth member. Daphne wore the necklace around her neck at the gala, which was then stolen by Constance.

Rose was a designer, when Debbie and Lou found her, her business was practically at an end. But she recovered and designed the Met Gala outfits for them.

These eight robbed the necklace and some other jewellery, with an approximate total value of 240 million dollars, of which thus each got about 30 million dollars.

Since the day of Debbie's liberation, until today, Debbie and Lou have been official lovers. They also got married a year ago, which makes them a criminal couple. The group sometimes pokes fun at them when they call them Bonnie and Clyde.

The wedding was nothing big, and not very elaborate, in fact there were only the two brides, the registrar and the other six present. But their honeymoon was beautiful, they flew to Italy for 2 weeks.

Today is the day after their first wedding anniversary. It's a rainy Monday evening in New York City. All eight women are sitting in Debbie and Lou's loft, enjoying time together.

But what almost no one knows is that 17 years ago, Lou had to make a difficult decision. Exactly 17 years ago Lou gave birth to a girl. She got pregnant during a drunken one night stand.

Actually she's not interested in a men, because she simply prefers women, but at that moment she was just too drunk. She didn't even know the name of the man, she can't remember anything. The only thing she knows is that she woke up naked next to a blond guy, she quickly made a run for it.

8 weeks later she found out she was pregnant. She told Debbie of course. They both then racked their brains as to what to do now. Lou didn't want to abort her baby, and she couldn't keep it either. Therefore, she came to the decision to give it up for adoption.

9 months later, when she was visiting Australia, she went into labor. Debbie was not present at the birth because she stayed in the United States. After she gave birth to the baby girl, she was allowed to hold her for a few minutes.

Lou named the baby, Juliana. She just thought the name was so beautiful, and it also fit the baby. Lou also gave her a middle name, Deborah, as a gift to her friend. Since Debbie had been supporting Lou for the last 9 months. Although the overprotective Debbie got on her nerves at bit, and she couldn't hear the sentences 'Do you need an extra pillow' or 'Have you taken your vitamins yet' anymore.

The only people who know about Juliana are Lou, Debbie, 9ball and Danny, Debbie's older brother.

Lou can't stop thinking about her. She thinks about her daughter every single day. She wonders to this day, if it was really the best thing she could do for Juliana. The blonde wonders to this day what happened to her baby.

Lou was here with Debbie, both sitting isolated from the other six at the kitchen table. She couldn't suppress thoughts of her daughter, what she might be doing, where she was, and whether she was celebrating her birthday.

Lou sipped her drink, "You know, exactly 17 years ago I gave her away, today is her seventeenth birthday", she said in a soft voice.

Debbie nodded slightly, "I know."

"I've been wondering since that day, what if I had kept her? What would her life be like? With me? You, me and her, we'd be a family. I wonder if it was the right decision...She was still so small and petite, but so beautiful. And yet I couldn't keep her, I wasn't ready to be a mother. I had nothing to offer her, she deserved better. Hell, she deserved better than me. She was so pure and innocent, she looked at me with those big blue eyes, she had my eyes. Debbie, if only you could have seen her, she was so little," Lou looked up. to stifle her tears. But in the process, a single one ran down her cheek.

As I said, Debbie knew Lou had a daughter at 26. She was there for Lou the last couple of years.

Debbie was not present at the birth, however, she held and comforted Lou when she came back to New York without a baby. She comforted her every year on the same day, even when she met Claude, Debbie took time for Lou, on that special day. She regrets not being able to comfort her best friend and partner, in prison. That was the hardest thing for her, knowing her partner is alone in the world, with no one to hold on to.

She was also there for Lou when they both found out, with the help of 9ball, that Lou's daughter had been missing for about 3 years. This was a real shock to both of them. To this day, neither knows if Juliana is still alive and well. Debbie comforted Lou when they both heard about the news.

This was a year ago just before the wedding, Lou wanted to know what happened to her child, where she lived and if she was adopted. That's why they asked 9ball for help, she was supposed to track down the girl by her name, date of birth and place of birth. They found out that Juliana was adopted by a French businessman and his wife in London.

But besides this information, they also found out that the girl was missing since her fourteenth birthday.

Debbie held Lou that night as she sobbed over her daughter. She couldn't bear to see her usually strong partner, fall into a hundred pieces.

From the thoughts of her missing daughter, Lou had to pull herself together even more, she didn't want to start crying now.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. You couldn't do anything about it Lou, you just wanted what's best for her, it was the best", Debbie reassured her, taking Lou's face in both hands, "Lou, look at me!", she brushed the tears away with her thumbs, and looked deep into her eyes, making sure Lou heard every word clearly.

"You heard what 9ball said, her adoptive parents are rich, the best search parties and private agents are looking for her. They will find her soon enough. She wouldn't want you to blame yourself for her disappearance. She'll turn up soon," Debbie smiled and gave her wife an encouraging look.

Lou smiled back slightly and nodded her head up and down, "Okay, thanks... I really needed that," she said, laughing lightly.

Debbie laughed lightly too, mumbled a soft, "You're welcome," and wrapped Lou in her arms.

"Hey yo, lovebirds, stop feeling each other up in here and come on over. We want to get this movie started," 9Ball's voice sounded from the living room.

This was followed with, "Shh, 9Ball give them a break," a light slap from Tammy and 9Ball's quiet grumble, "Ouch, chill, chill, no need to get violent."

Lou and Debbie looked into each other's eyes briefly at that moment, and then laughed lightly at their two friends.

Both women went into the living room together to watch 'Catch me if you canˋ, starring Leonardo DiCaprio and Tom Hanks, with the other six.

It was about shortly after 7:00 p.m. ,and they were almost through the movie when there was a knock at the door.

***************************************************

On Wattpad are already more Chapters, so don't forget to check my Wattpad Account out!

Ariadragonfly - Wattpad

[estel-of-irysi]

I posted 351 times in 2021

72 posts created (21%)

279 posts reblogged (79%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 3.9 posts.

I added 703 tags in 2021

#lou miller - 91 posts

#debbie ocean - 77 posts

#loubbie - 73 posts

#heist wives - 72 posts

#ocean’s 8 - 72 posts

#cate blanchett - 71 posts

#lou x debbie - 68 posts

#debbie x lou - 68 posts

#ocean’s eight - 61 posts

#asks - 50 posts

Longest Tag: 83 characters

#and for some reason one of my english teachers typed them for me and gave me advice

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Lou Miller

1: sexuality headcanon

Pansexual. (See description on previous ask).

2: otp

Lou Miller/Debbie Ocean

3: brotp

Lou Miller & Tammy; Lou Miller & Danny Ocean

4: notp

Lou Miller/Daphne Kluger

5: first headcanon that pops into my head

Lou abused alcohol and drugs while Debbie was in prison. She cleaned up her act when Tammy helped her find a club.

6: favorite line from this character

“Who do you think we are, a bunch of pussies?”

7: one way in which I relate to this character

I’m very loyal to my friends, as is Lou.

8: thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character

She’s very ostentatious, which would be embarrassing for me if I acted like that. (Not exactly second-hand embarrassment.)

9: cinnamon roll or problematic fave?

Cinnamon roll

23 notes • Posted 2021-03-03 19:25:49 GMT

#4

Do where do we think Debbie and Lou fall on this spectrum?

Debbie can do math and drive. Lou can drive and cook.

Also, this is far too accurate. I feel called out.

27 notes • Posted 2021-01-26 21:10:53 GMT

#3

Chapter Eight: Jump So High

My Shadow and My Light (34953 words) by hope_s

Chapters: 8/10

Fandom: Ocean's 8 (2018)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Lou Miller/Debbie Ocean

Characters: Lou Miller, Debbie Ocean, Danny Ocean, Dina, Tammy (Ocean's), Amita (Ocean's), Rose Weil, Daphne Kluger, Constance (Ocean's), Nine Ball (Ocean's), Claude Becker

Additional Tags: Canon Timeline, (mostly), Drug Use, Developing Relationship, Angst, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pre-Canon, Post-Canon, Trauma

Summary:

CW: Drug Use

Debbie only bought the drugs in case of emergencies, she never expected to use them.

But Lou has built a whole life without her. Lou has said she'll walk.

And sometimes desperate times call for desperate measures.

Preview of Chapter Eight:

Lou smoothed the front of her deep maroon vest, tucked her bright red tie a little more securely down the front. Butterflies flapped against her ribs. She almost laughed at herself, at how lovestruck she felt. A second later, she almost cried, because this - her and Debbie - wasn’t trivial at all, and she was done with trying to convince herself that it was anything other than the most important thing in her life.

This maroon suit does things to me and I’m sad they changed the vest and tie for it in the film. ANyway, I’m pleased to be bringing it back - complete with the bright red tie - in this chapter. Enjoy! 

30 notes • Posted 2021-01-09 20:08:40 GMT

#2

As an American, I might be totally off base here, but the amount of patriotism and national enthusiasm demonstrated by acts and fans during Eurovision is comparable to that of a typical Tuesday at my local grocery store. And man, is it refreshing. Some days I would give anything to live in a country that uses its flag waving to cheer on their sports teams and Eurovision artists, rather than live here where an advertisement for meat reads “you can’t spell sausage without USA.”

34 notes • Posted 2021-05-23 12:16:26 GMT

#1

13.5 weeks!!! ❤️👶

38 notes • Posted 2021-03-22 14:21:26 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[poeticsandaliens]

Cactus Flower (or There ain’t no grave)

Pairing: Heist Wives (Debbie x Lou)

Rating: Explicit. 

Summary: Angst, porn, but emotionally charged porn with a side of hurt/comfort and some near death experiences. Lou is reckless and crashes her bike in New Mexico. Debbie—rife with unresolved attraction and something one would typically call ‘love’—goes after her.

Tagging @tasha-vick, and also @smashingmagicklovely whose “Lou looking like a pimp with a cane” prompt and @alannaofroses whose hurt/comfort prompt I used as inspiration.

Read Here on AO3

When her phone rings, four PM on a lazy August afternoon, Debbie is melting like hot wax over Tammy’s kitchen stools. Her cheek smushes into her fist, propped half asleep against the counter. A glass of ice tea sweats beside her. The warehouse had grown eerie in Lou’s absence; as the temperature climbed, its air smelled of dust and hot aluminum, and her voice echoed off the walls like a choir of poltergeists. Eventually, she couldn’t stand to laze about the place and paid Tammy a visit.

“Are you gonna get that?” Tammy asks, wiping the counter free of crumbs.

Her gaze flicks to the buzzing phone. “Why would I?”

“It could be important.”

Debbie sags into her seat. Glancing at the unknown number— “It’s not Lou.”

“Oh, so you’re sulking around my house because your girlfriend took a vacation without you.”

“Not my girlfriend,” Debbie scowls, but her heart isn’t in it. “And only if by ‘took a vacation’ you mean ‘fucked off the face of the planet.” That’s the real issue, here—Lou went AWOL a month after the heist without so much as a goodbye text.

“Bullshit.” Tammy rolls her eyes. “You two are practically married, and you know it. Your—how did Constance put it—eye sex makes everyone around you uncomfortable.”

“Tammy, it’s Lou. Lou is—” Solitary, impulsive, off the map in more ways than one.

“As head over heels for you as you are for her. Trust me.”

“I’m not—”

“Debs, we’ve known each other for a long time.” Tammy leans over the counter, resting her hand on the lid of the blender and shooting her a very pointed look. “You can’t lie to me. I am the only genuine adult in your life, and as an adult I reserve the right to tell you to get your head out of your ass.” She lowers her voice to a whisper and throws a sidelong glance at the hallway, checking for eavesdropping children. “This… pining needs to stop.”

“I’m not talking about this,” she tells Tammy under her breath. It is as close as Debbie Ocean gets to you’re right. Privately, she has resigned herself to the possibility that Lou got tired of waiting for a declaration of love. She has not yet resigned herself to the possibility of never seeing Lou again.

“Have you heard from her at all?”

“No one hears from Lou when she’s on the road.” Also not entirely true: A week after she left, Lou sent her a photograph with no caption, of a blush-pink flower sprouting from the arm of a saguaro. She didn’t respond.

Debbie’s phone buzzes again, rattling the granite countertop. The same number, a 505 area code and an ominous persistence, flashes onto her screen. Tammy arches an eyebrow, purses her lips worriedly.

“It’s a con,” she assures Tammy.  

“How do you know?”

“Because I’ve done that con.” She tries to sound confident; phoning it in has always been her specialty, but the facade drops where Lou is concerned. She can’t suppress the tug in her gut—what if it is Lou, calling from some pay phone in the middle of nowhere? She wants to hear I love you. I miss you, through static and Lou’s husky drawl. They’re both romantics at heart, beneath their wit and jaded shells.

The phone goes quiet. They let out sighs she didn’t even know they were holding. Then, after a moment measured only in relieved breaths, it buzzes again. Same number. Tammy opens her mouth, but Debbie caves first. She grabs the phone off the counter.

“What the hell do you think you’re—”

“Harsh, Debbie. And here I thought you missed the sound of my voice.” Lou rattles her, rough and rousing through the speaker. She presses her lips together and fights back a smile, keeps her optimism in check. She can’t help her sharp intake of breath, or the thrum of her heartbeat, or the nagging sensation that something isn’t right.

It’s the name that throws her. Maybe the unknown number should concern her, but sirens wail in her head every time Lou says her name, and not ‘Honey’ or ‘Deb,’ or ‘Sweet’ when she’s tipsy. Her name only crosses Lou’s lips in moments of intimacy, uttered as a prayer or a curse. Never in passing, never in greeting, never in casual conversation. The last time Lou greeted her with “Debbie,” she cornered her in their miniscule apartment and read her the riot act about trusting Claude Becker. Two months later she was in jail.

“I thought you were a scammer.” She goes for nonchalant—she always does, with Lou. Her hand trembles, but her speech remains steady.

“I am,” Lou replies.

“Ha ha. What happened Lou?” She can hear the exhaustion in Lou’s voice—it was always weathered, sure, but her familiar accent and the swing of her words have given way to a cadence Debbie doesn’t recognize, like a violinist playing with snapped bowstrings.

“I need you to come to New Mexico.”

“Why?” She wants it to be a job, but there’s nothing in New Mexico she feels comfortable stealing.

“Good news or bad news first?”

“You’re stalling.” She wouldn’t call it so blatantly if her heart wasn’t cracking her damn ribcage. She hates where this conversation is going; she hates Lou’s inability to admit something went wrong, hates it even more because she understands it. She had plans, impressive plans, and even as the detectives were slapping handcuffs on her wrists she convinced herself those plans would run smoothly. She would sell the art; she would rig a poker tournament; she wasn’t going to jail. Everything was going to be fine.

“I ate shit in San Juan Valley,” Lou growls. “A rock flew into my spokes, the tire jammed, and I hit a hoodoo so hard I smashed it. As it turns out, rocks are stronger than people.”

“Jesus Lou, when was this?” Debbie holds her breath. Tammy is staring at her across the counter, eyes wide as dinner plates.

A pause. “Four weeks ago.”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me four weeks ago?”

“Why does it matter?” Lou sounds infinitely more bitter than she did two minutes ago, but more importantly she sounds like she’s on the verge of tears. Lou. On the verge of fucking tears. And Debbie’s not sure whether to apologize or panic. Hearing Lou waver like that flips her guilt switch like nothing else can.

“It’s bad,” whispers Lou. “It’s fucking bad.” she collects herself. “Come to New Mexico. I’ll text you the address.”

There’s a decisive click, and the line buzzes eerily. She puts down her cell phone.

“Deb?” Tammy waves a hand over her face. “Deb, what happened?”

“Lou crashed the bike in New Mexico,” she tells Tammy, and it still sounds like a cosmic impossibility, like she’s looking in on some other universe or maybe just tossing and turning through a routine nightmare. Maybe she’ll wake up in an hour.

“Is she all right?”

Debbie slings her bag over her shoulder and pushes in the stool. “I don’t know,” she snaps in Tammy’s general direction. “I don’t know, God,” she hunches over the counter, resting her elbows on the cool granite and pressing all ten fingers to her temples. “I don’t know,” she whines again, trying and failing to inhale. “It’s really fucking bad, that’s all she said.”

Tammy, always a mother to her friends in some capacity, rests her palm on Debbie’s back. “If she called you, it can’t be that bad.”

“I’ve never heard her sound like that before, Tam,” and the tears come as a shock. Somehow, she never thought she’d break this easily. “She sounded so… fragile. Lou did. Do you have any idea what it would take for her to sound like that?”

Tammy presses her lips together. Debbie knows she’s lost for words, lost for solutions. Debbie doesn’t blame her—she’s supposed to be the calm, collected one, not the fearless criminal mastermind having a panic attack at her friend’s kitchen counter. And yet—it’s Lou. God, everything in her aches for Lou; she’s so in love with this woman. She needs Lou like her own blood. Losing it drop by drop since May is slowly killing her, but hearing Lou crack is unfathomably worse. She imagines losing Lou in one fell stroke, running in circles like a chicken with its head cut off.

“I know how I’d feel if it were my husband.” Tammy tells her. “I’d want to see him as soon as possible. I would want to hug him and kiss him and reassure myself over and over again that he was alive.” She, too, seems on the verge of terror, but suppresses it for Debbie’s sake. “That’s why you need to pull yourself together, Deb. Go to New Mexico, and don’t come back without her.”

                                                           * * * * *

New Mexico blisters her skin. She rides the adrenaline of anxiety and tangible heat waves, barreling through the wasteland in a canary yellow rental car. She watches the skyline through Lou’s black aviators, her shoulders pinking through the open window. Sunscreen is for tourists, for people whose best friend isn’t lying on some stale hospital cot.

A billboard shimmers against the buzzard-flecked sky. Jesus Saves. 1-800-TRUTH, in block letters, a raven perched on its rim. She wonders if Lou passed the same sign, revved her motorbike and tossed back her head in irreverent laughter. She understands now, why Lou loves the desert. It’s hellish, desolate, but if she looks closely it brims with tenacious life. Rattlesnakes and roadrunners and the skulls of lost cattle, bleached like fine decor. The undergrowth sprouts spines for foliage. Creatures here breathe dust, drool poison; at night they mate and birth beneath the sand. Lou belongs here, a leathered and weathered outlaw of a woman ripping through hell with the scream of a two-stroke engine, grinning into the blaze. Beneath her prickly shell, she is ripe and lurid as a cactus flower.

Eventually, the highway winds into a labyrinth of hoodoos, lurching overhead like the ghosts of cowboys summoned by her arrival. By Lou’s arrival. They line the road, her honor guard as she nears the town of Farmington. Behind the hoodoos, toothy spires of rock jut toward sky. She thought the rock here would be redder, ruddier, but it seems the New Mexico sun has stripped the landscape to its bones, as it strips everything that lives and dies here.

                                                    * * * * *

She tells the receptionist she’s here to see a Moira White. She recognizes Lou’s alias from their youth, scamming their way through Vegas casinos, counting cards at cocktail parties. She gets in with a confident “I’m her sister” and an updated ID reading Carrie Everton-White. For the first time, Debbie can’t help but think how much easier it would be to do this legally, to respectfully offer her real name and cement her place in Lou’s life.

She finds Lou in beaten-down street clothes—a leather jacket that’s clearly seen some shit and a turquoise vest. Something in Debbie seizes when she notices the tie—even here, in a fucking hospital, Lou had to put on her tie. She sits on the edge of bed, her palms digging into the sheets. She is painfully out of place here, in this muted room that smells of antiseptic.

Debbie shoves her hands into her pockets, let the car key dig into her skin. “Hey, Lou.”

Lou looks up, and something like shyness—as close as Lou’s ever come to it—passes over her features. Shyness and two thick, white scars along her chin and cheekbone, where lines of stitches had done their part. “Hi.”

                                                             * * * * *

The story is one Debbie has heard a thousand times— roving, hungry-eyed man grasping at a young waitress. Lou, who’s gritty sense of justice rails for all the girls who used to be her, putting her glitzy, green boot between the him and the her and daring him to protest. The waitress scampered back to the kitchen, and the man spat tobacco through his salt-and-pepper beard and asked her if it was here shiny new bike out front. If she meant it when she told him to back off, if she had the balls to back it up.

The girl—Laura, eighteen, waitressing to pay her way through college—watched it go down. She watched them scream down a dirt highway track where at night, kids smoke fat cigars and homemade blunts and race their purple Volkswagens into the moon. Where one day in July, Lou smoked a man like a cheap cigarette until he kicked up a rock and it caught between the wrong two spokes of her wheel, and she barreled so fast into a sandstone spectator that it crumbled.

“Thing is,” Lou says now, “the bike took most of the damage, but that’s not saying much. The rock shattered like shrapnel. One piece stuck in my leg, another one in my hip. There were other things—a couple bruised ribs, a few stitches, but Jesus, Deb. There was a lot of blood.” She stares, fixates, on the scuffed tile floor and takes a deep breath. “I died out there. The rock nicked an artery. They only told me when I came to.” Another pause, another breath through her nose. “My leg is fucked.” She glances up to meet Debbie’s espresso-brown eyes, and Debbie knows that despite her best efforts Lou can see them water.

“I don’t mean broken, Deb. I mean fucked. I mean, it’ll walk, but never without help. Some things just can’t be fixed, not when a slab of rock the size of a railroad spike ripped through them.” She blinks at Debbie, hoarse and frustrated and trying to gauge a reaction. “Are you going to say anything?”

Lou can’t look at herself in the silence, not yet. She fucking died here. Debbie always pictured Lou as the rebel riding through the wasteland, but she was nearly another body swallowed into it and bleached beneath its endless sky. “You’re really something, Lou.” Her lower lip trembles in a relieved, tired smile. She rests a hand on Lou’s shoulder, reassuring herself that her partner is not a ghost.

Lou makes a face. “Well I better be,” she drawls, “I came back from the damn grave.”

“Yeah,” Debbie whispers, letting her fingers run through Lou’s un-styled hair, committing to memory her partner’s soft planes and sharp edges. “Yeah, you did.”

                                                       * * * * *

Lou forges Moira White’s signatures on her release forms while Debbie gathers some of her things.

“I didn’t want you to see me in that Godawful hospital gown,” Lou confesses, “so I sent Laura to my hotel for a change of clothes.”

“Laura, the waitress?” Debbie asks. Lou mentioned she’d used the girl’s phone to call her, and that she had been by.

“Yeah.” Lou ties back her hair with a snap of a rubber band. “She wanted to help. Apparently, I ‘defended her honor.’ She was a smart kid and didn’t ask too many questions about where I came from, so she made good conversation while I was trapped in this awful room.” In their line of work, honest conversation has always been a luxury. It’s never strangers they have to worry about, but people close enough to trust. There are two kinds of people a thief can talk to: a trusted partner and a friendly face she’ll never see again.

“Done.” Lou sets down the clipboard on her side table. She drums her fingers on the wood. “I’m not sure—” her voice falters, and Debbie’s heart breaks. “I’m not sure how to do this.” How to walk out of here, how to reclaim her freedom. This was the heartbreak Debbie hid while she was schmoozing the cops for parole.

She looks at the sleek black cane leaning against the bed. Its head is a gleaming cobra, its fangs poised to strike. Leave it to Lou to find a cane that looks like it belongs to a fuck-you rich Grim Reaper. It’s impressive, really.

She meets the cobra’s emerald eyes, then Lou’s blue ones. “Where did you get that?”

Lou smirks—a raw, tainted thing—and says, “I stole it from Bram Stoker while I was dead.”

“You would rob a Victorian aristocrat.”

“Well,” Lou replies, with distinctly less spunk than Debbie’s used to, “turns out Amazon will deliver your shit anywhere when you have thirty-eight million dollars.”

Debbie snorts out a laugh and waits. She looks at Lou, wearing black leather and velvet on the cot’s stark white sheets, her legs dangling over the side. She looks at the stumped pout of Lou’s lips and the furrow of her brow as she decides to do this but doesn’t know what she’s doing or how. The cobra’s head bursting from a slick cane, staring Debbie down.

What now? it seems to ask.

She thinks of the night Tammy’s son was born. She wasn’t there—she was in prison, missing her friends’ life milestones and entertaining revenge fantasies—but one day over coffee Tammy told her the story. How she lay in the hospital bed, haggard and hungry, with this fragile-as-cobwebs being wriggling in her arms. How her husband sprawled on the visitor’s chair with a five o’clock shadow and frightening bags beneath his eyes and watched them with the most tender, puzzled look she’d ever seen. How utterly lost they both felt, wondering what the hell to do now, because in Tammy’s words, here’s a breakable, bendable person we love with our entire being, and there isn’t a fucking manual for this.

And when she meets Lou’s eyes, Debbie understands. What she feels now is incomparable to parenthood, but it’s something akin to what Tammy described—an older, wearier cousin of that daunting what now? How do we do this?

Debbie unbuckles her nude pumps and slips them off her feet to match Lou in height. She sits down next to her, sinking into a desperate silence.  Lou, indomitable Lou—who crafts solutions out of thin air, who finishes fights, who puts out candles with her tongue—watches her through storm-blue eyes, begging her to know what to do. Quietly, hesitantly, Debbie slips an arm around her partner’s waist, and she feels Lou do the same. Lou’s other hand clasps the green-eyed cobra. When Debbie stands, Lou stands too, trembling and unaccustomed to the remake of her own body. Debbie’s discarded shoes glint in the flare of fluorescent light.

* * * * *

They drive Northeast through Utah and Colorado, watching the landscape darken to the color of tangerines and bushfires, then fade to a smoky grey. The Rockies tower over them when they finally pull into a Motel 6, sheltering wildflowers and patches of summer snow.

Tammy calls first, and Debbie gives her the rundown while Lou sits in a lukewarm shower. She offers to tell the others, so Debbie doesn’t have to, so she and Lou can curl up in a cheap hotel quilt and figure out how their lives are going to change.

The next phone call is from Daphne, who informs them that she’s catching a plane to New York ASAP and no one can stop her. Then Nine Ball, Amita, Constance. Even Rose, who barely uses her mobile phone. The turnover of friendly voices touches her—the gang is rallying, turning up for she and Lou because apparently nothing fosters friendship like stealing a hundred and fifty million dollars in diamonds.

Lou emerges from the bathroom in a plaid cotton robe. Debbie holds her waist, steadies her, and they limp to the tatty queen-sized bed. “Thanks,” says Lou bitterly as she sits down.  

“Yeah,” Debbie replies, rubbing feather-light circles on her back. The cane, an implement for balance more than support, lies on the carpet. Lou glares at it.

“God, I’m not used to this.” Lou chuckles, her shoulders shaking.

“You almost died, Lou. You did die. You don’t have to be used to it right now.” I almost lost you. It’s selfish, sure, but she lived five years without Lou, and she won’t do it again.

Lou’s eyes glisten. She laughs something throaty and harsh. “I don’t know what I’m doing, honey. I know how to wait for a wound to heal; I waited five years and eight months for you to get out of jail, but this isn’t a waiting game. I’m different now; my body is… different, misaligned. It’s as fixed as it’ll ever be.” She sighs. “I haven’t figured out how to live with that yet.”

“Lou, look at me.”

She looks—wet, ice-blue eyes, all cheekbones and stubborn pride. Debbie kisses her. She loves this woman, this reckless, ritzy lover, patron saint of neon club lights and the vibrant blossoms of cacti.

“I don’t care,” she mumbles into Lou’s lips. “I don’t care if you walk with that stupid supervillain cane; I don’t care about scars; I don’t care if you don’t look invincible anymore.”

When they break apart, Debbie’s heart beats into her ribs at a million miles an hour. Her breaths come in heated pants. “I’m so in love with you. I’m sorry it took me this damn long.”

“Sweetheart,” Lou purrs, as if she hasn’t teared up. “I’ve been gone on you for decades.”

This time, she captures Lou’s lips in the searing kiss she deserves and feels the rapturous rumble of Lou’s vocal chords against her hand. She pushes her back into the mattress, sliding a hand between the buttons of her vest and tugging them open one by one.

“How do you want to do this?” Lou asks as they part for air.

“Carefully,” she says, deadpan. Here.” She musters the swagger to take the lead she once imagined Lou would take, and Lou bares herself naked with her back on the sheets, her good leg bent and Debbie between her knees. Debbie kisses her way down collarbones and bare breasts. She takes Lou’s taut nipple between her teeth, eliciting a husky moan. Her fingers flutter over the scar on Lou’s cheek, the one beneath her ribs, and down her hipbone, before slipping between her thighs.  

She always thought that when they cracked, it would be Lou slamming her into a brick wall, kissing her sloppily, drunkenly, scotch on her breath and her hands all up in Debbie’s cocktail dress. She didn’t think it would be this languorous, that Lou would be so delicate and pliable, coming undone beneath her. “You’re really something,” Debbie murmurs, bringing her mouth back to Lou’s and reveling in the feeling of Lou’s wanting tongue between her lips.

Lou smells like Old Spice and shampoo, and Debbie breathes her in. She dips two experimental fingers into Lou’s center and cradles her when she arches off the bed, conscious of the injury to which neither of them has adjusted. “Fuck,” she growls, thrusting and curving into Lou, fitting the shapes of them like gears on a clock as it ticks down to the hour. Her sex aches; she labors on Lou’s wiry body, the flex and flux of her musculature as she climbs, and she thinks all the dubstep, club-stall sex she had in her twenties will never compare to making love to Lou Miller in a Motel 6.  

When Lou comes, it’s quiet, a whimper from her chest and the ripple of her abdominal muscles beneath Debbie’s expert lips. Debbie hardly has to work herself to tip into orgasm with her, collapsing loose-limbed and short of breath, her lips still drifting down Lou’s midsection. She explores Lou without haste, as she has always been and as she has changed.

“Was that my delayed ‘welcome back to the land of the living?’” Lou asks when Debbie has settled, and their fingers have locked beneath the sheet.

“Something like that,” Debbie replies with a smug, post-coital smile.

“You know,” says Lou, her voice deepening thoughtfully, “I came back because I couldn’t bear for the last thing I ever sent you to be a picture of a plant.”

Debbie snorts. There’s something absurd about the whole thing, maybe because she didn’t see Lou for the first month after the crash, but there’s something darkly comic about Lou rising from the dead like the dapper, immortal being she is.

“It was a very pretty plant.” A cactus flower the color of a storm-born dawn.

Lou huffs. “I turned down the pearly gates for you,” she scoffs with a lopsided grin—the first snarky, all-Lou smile she’s seen since she arrived.

“Bullshit.” Debbie smirks. “We’re hellbound, Baby.” And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

[blackacre13]

Can you do a fic where Lou and Debbie are out doing whatever and they see Claude (or someone who looks like Claude assuming this is post canon and he’s already in jail) and Debbie panics and holds on tight to Lou while she goes into protective mode?

The white edges. Messy rows. Line after line of photos. Polaroids. Candids. Silly. Strung up. Simple. Home. Good art.

Paint strokes. Smooth curves. Abstract. You could barely tell it was the curve of a breast and a few beats down a hip. But Debbie knew. And Lou knew. Because Debbie had posed for it. And Lou had painted it. Gold frame. Crisp canvas. Comforting art.

And anything on display at the Met? Fucking brilliant. Because…well, you know.

But that damn gallery. That damn prick. She’d had to physically hold Lou back from trying to throw things at the entirely glass walls and tell her that it wasn’t classy or wise for a fifty year old to egg the windows of a business. Even if it’s owner was in prison.

While Lou would tense up, looking ready to throw hands whenever they came close to the building, Debbie would shrivel as if she could fall inside herself. All it did was bring her pain. Remind her of her mistakes. What she’d lost. Who she’d lost. What she’d had to do to claw her way back into her career and her life and her family.

Lou did her best to steer them away. Take different blocks and streets and avenues. Distract Debbie. But every so often, it slipped through the cracks. No one’s fault. He was everywhere. Haunting her. Reminding her. She couldn’t get rid of him. Not by sending him to prison. Not by breaking up with him. He’d always have a hold on her.

And then one day it happened. Half a block away from the gallery. They wouldn’t have walked this way, but Constance and Nine had told Lou about some hole-in-the-wall restaurant they just had to try. And Lou loved any excuse to take Debbie to a restaurant and then reprimand her for talking with her mouth.

It was happening before Lou could stop it. And Debbie couldn’t even tell what was happening. Didn’t know it was happening. Or happened, rather.

She was sitting on the sidewalk with her head cradled in her knees and Lou fanning her face with a flyer for a DJ night, tears streaming down her face.

“You’re okay, Debs. You’re okay. You with me, honey? It’s not him. I promise it’s not him. Debbie, you’re safe. He can’t hurt you. He can’t hurt us anymore.”

It was coming back in bits and pieces. Her vision blurry. Head fuzzy.

Her knees had buckled. She’d started sweating.

Mumbling. “No, no, no, no, no.”

Crisp collar. Too rigid blazer. Prickly stubble. Too strong cologne. Too much—too close—

“He can’t hurt us,” Debbie repeated. “He can’t hurt me.”

“It wasn’t him,” Lou whispered, kneeling on the concrete. All Debbie could think about was the crease in the leather boots the crouch would make. The gravel against crushed velvet pants. But Lou didn’t notice. Didn’t care. She only had eyes and worry for Debbie. “Let’s get you out of here. Can you stand?”

Debbie stared up at her as blue eyes flashed between Debbie’s own and the Rolex on the blonde’s wrist, Debbie barely registering the two fingertips against her neck, checking her pulse.

“Yeah,” Debbie finally managed, wanting to do anything to wipe the concern from Lou’s face. “Yeah, let’s go home. Take me home, baby.”

[blackacre13]

I have a request, please! About them still being just fwb and sleeping with other people, but actually being in love with each other. Until maybe one of Lou's or Debbie's dates proposes a threesome just to be forgotten midway by Lou and Debbie who finally admit their feelings

Thank you for this! It became one of my favorite pieces I've written, so I hope you enjoy!

“Does this one know about me?” Lou asked, watching the smoke from her cigarette curl into the air as she watched Debbie slide her dress over her head.

“Not yet,” Debbie shrugged, slipping back into her abandoned heels before checking her watch. “Can you please put your tits away? They’re distracting.”

“Maybe you should stay instead,” the blonde smirked, pushing the blanket even further down her torso as she leaned back against the pillows. “I mean what kind of douchebag name is that anyway? Claude?” She snorted.

“He’s nice,” Debbie laughed, sitting down on the edge of the bed as Lou pulled her back against her.

“We both know you’re not looking for nice,” Lou murmured, tugging at a strand of the brunette’s hair as she hummed.

“I’m trying to behave so I can get settled down,” Debbie protested, pulling away slowly.

“We both know you don’t like to behave either,” Lou winked.

“Come on,” Debbie sighed with a grin. “I have to get out of here so I can run some errands before I meet him.”

“Will you be paying for those with cash or credit?”

“Five finger discount, baby. Obviously.”

Lou chuckled as she watched Debbie stand and take her purse from Lou’s dresser before checking her reflection in the mirror and using great concentration to slide her lipstick along her lips before puckering at her reflection, decidedly satisfied with the result. Suddenly, the blonde had to look away, clearing her throat as she crushed her cigarette and threw it into her abandoned drinking glass.

“You’re gonna set your apartment on fire one day if you keep doing that,” Debbie warned her, whipping around.

“My best friend would probably take me in,” Lou shrugged, tossing her a wink.

“Sure,” Debbie nodded. “If you pay rent.”

“How about a lot of sex instead?” Lou offered, raising an eyebrow as Debbie’s cheeks blushed.

“I have to go,” Debbie murmured. “I’ll see you in a few days?”

“I don’t know why you keep dating these jerks, Deb,” Lou spoke suddenly, the thought breaking through her usual knee-jerk teasing reaction to Debbie’s flirting.

“I don’t know why you keep sleeping with other women who clearly aren’t as hot as I am,” Debbie tossed back without missing a beat.

“Call me?” Lou asked, looking at Debbie with desperate eyes that bordered on loving.

“Sext me,” Debbie laughed, blowing the blonde a kiss before she glided out of the room, her heels clicking away slowly as Lou threw a pillow over her face and groaned into it.

**********************************************************************

“You’re kidding, right?” Lou laughed. “A threesome.”

“I asked him what he liked,” Debbie sighed. “That was his suggestion. Pig.”

“Oh, honey,” the blonde chuckled. “And you thought of me? Should I be flattered or horrified?”

“You’re the only one I really trust,” Debbie spoke softly, looking down at the sheets as Lou watched her, her face full of concern for her friend.

“Okay,” the blonde nodded, placing her hand over Debbie’s as she squeezed. “I’m in. When did you want to do this?”

“Tonight?” Debbie asked, looking up at Lou, her face hopeful.

“Of course,” Lou agreed, kissing the back of Debbie’s hand before she released it. “I’ll come over to your place. Just text me the time. And make sure he’s at least cooking for you or buying you dinner first.”

“You just worry about dessert,” Debbie hummed, kissing Lou’s neck softly as she played with the chains around her neck.

“I’m not sucking his dick,” Lou clarified making Debbie burst into a fit of giggles.

A few hours later, Lou was shaking her hair out of her helmet and stowing it against her bike outside Debbie’s apartment, looking up at the windows with a long sigh. She was surprised to find herself wondering, and almost praying, that this wasn’t just something Debbie was doing to appease the newest of her boyfriends and that she wanted this as much as he did. Debbie Ocean wasn’t a woman who got pushed around, and she hoped Claude knew that. Though she had to admit, it would be fun for him to learn the hard way she thought, chuckling to herself as she headed up the concrete steps, buzzing into the building.

Debbie had the door to the apartment open before Lou had even made it down the hallway, sniffing out the treat in her hands like a dog.

“Is that chocolate?” Debbie asked, eyeing the bag with a grin.

“Bad girl,” Lou whispered, but she handed the bag over to her anyway. “I come bearing dessert as requested.”

“Hope that’s not all you had in mind,” Debbie whispered, pulling the blonde in closer to her.

“Would you expect any less from me?” Lou smirked. She found herself leaning into Debbie, moving to sweep her hair to the side and kiss her, but stopped herself as she felt a pit in her stomach. “He’s in there now?”

“Yeah,” Debbie nodded, pulling back a bit herself as realization seemed to hit them both. “Listen, he, uh, wants to watch us for a bit first.”

“Seriously?” The Australian scoffed, shaking her head as Debbie shot her a look, tugging at her sleeve with those pleading eyes again that Lou couldn’t ever say no to.

“Guess I’ll just have to show him how it’s done,” she winked, striding past Debbie into the apartment as she sprinted to catchup.

“You must be Lou,” a man spoke, suddenly appearing just inside the doorway as Lou made her way in. Her nose wrinkled as his cologne hit face, sticking her hand out between them to shake his so she could distance them slightly. He was already too close for comfort. She found herself looking back at Debbie protectively to make sure she seemed alright. “Can I get you some wine?”

“I’m more of a whiskey man,” Lou smirked, pushing past him as she released his hand from a too-tight grip. “But I’m good. I like to keep a clear head when it comes to sex.”

“Come on,” Debbie smiled, nodding her head towards her bedroom as Lou and Claude started to follow her, shooting death glares at each other. “You can sit over there, baby,” she motioned to Claude as he gave her a nod, sinking into the armchair, spreading his legs wide as he stroked the liquor glass in his hand.

Lou’s face soured at the term of endearment and the way he sat there, all business, and no passion towards Debbie, or their invited guest, but she was on a mission, tugging her leather jacket off and tossing it to the ground as Debbie’s eyes found her, licking her lips in anticipation.

“Are you sure this is okay?” Lou whispered softly as she pulled Debbie in close to her, the brunette’s arms snaking around her as she pulled Lou closer. “Promise me, Debs.”

“I promise,” Debbie murmured, leaning in close to the blonde as their lips barely brushed, Lou more gentle and hesitant than she’d ever been before with Debbie this close to her.

She could feel Claude’s eyes on them and it made her nauseous and angry. She grimaced, thinking about his hand slipping into his pants, hoping he’d choose to watch over any other reaction. She could feel her pulse getting too rapid, bile rising in her throat—and then Debbie’s hands were on her shoulders and she was nuzzling her face into Lou’s neck, whispering softly as her hands traveled down to Lou’s vest, unbuttoning it slowly before working her fingers against the buttons of her shirt.

“Pretend he’s not here,” Debbie whispered. “It’s just you and me, Lou. Just you and me.”

Lou couldn’t help the gasp that escaped from her lips as the brunette’s fingers found her nipples, twisting and teasing them as Lou’s hips ground against Debbie’s, seeking purchase, trying to stop herself so she could unzip Debbie’s skirt, letting it pool down around her legs, falling to the floor as Debbie threw her shirt over her head, tossing it towards the wall, as Lou hoped it might land on Claude’s head, blocking his vision for even a moment of intimacy.

But she couldn’t be bothered with him anymore, or the sound of the ice splashing in his drink as he sipped and watched. Or the sound of his zipper.

All she saw was Debbie. All she felt was Debbie. The deep moans falling from her chest. Her panties soaked through. Her nipples hardening beneath Lou’s fingertips.

Her heart was thundering in her chest and she saw red flashing before her eyes. Debbie beneath her wriggling and writhing as she came against Lou’s hand, reaching up for her, grabbing at her, pulling her in to kiss her deep and slow as she rolled her hips against Lou, begging to feel her.

There were alarms ringing in her head, telling her to stop. Reminding her no matter how much she pretended they weren’t truly alone. There was an audience that Lou didn’t want. That she had a suspicion neither of them truly wanted. She should have called him over. Debbie should have called him over. He should have offered to take over, but jealousy and possession was starting to blind her, and her tongue was lapping at Debbie before she could stop herself, the brunette gripping her hair as she cried out, her hips bucking under Lou’s head, her juices dripping down the blonde’s chin as she ate her out with fervor, savoring the taste like she never had before. Debbie making sounds like she never had before.

And she was too caught up in it all. Already needing her own pants off so she could sink against Debbie’s heat, needing to show her how turned on and wet she was for Debbie. Needing to feel her. And she was ready to fight for it. Ready to push him away if he made any advances and she knew things would end badly. That there would be a power struggle between the two of them and a hurt and confused Debbie on the other end. And she didn’t know what to do or what to say, too caught up in Debbie and the moment and the pleasure between them that she wished Debbie could read her mind. Could call this quits. That it could be just them.

And then she felt the mattress shifting, and could smell his cologne, and even between Debbie’s thighs, she knew he was moving towards Debbie to kiss her and she could feel the bile rising again. Could almost feel the stubble of his beard prickling against Debbie’s skin, fighting the urge to stop his hands from touching Debbie. Having to tell herself that this was okay and that Debbie wanted this and that—

“Stop,” Debbie suddenly breathed out, sitting up as Lou’s face shot up, looking at the brunette with panic and concern as her hand found Debbie’s thigh, trying to meet her eyes only for her to realize that she wasn’t who Debbie was addressing. “Claude, stop. I don’t—Fuck, I don’t want this. Not like this.”

“Okay,” he nodded, speaking gently in a way that pleasantly surprised Lou as she sat back, wiping at her chin with the back of her hand as she watched them, feeling invisible, wondering if she should slip away and disappear. “That’s okay.”

And then Claude was looking over at Lou and she felt her cheeks burning with shame.

“You should go,” he spat. “Debbie’s not—“

“No,” Debbie whispered, looking back at him, her eyes dodging Lou as she face him. “You, Claude. I want you to leave.”

“Debbie, you can’t be serious. I mean—“

“She asked you to leave,” Lou hissed, her eyes flashing with anger.

“You’ve got to be Fucking kidding me,” he laughed, shaking his head. “God, I should have known. I mean you were all too excited when I suggested this. Had the name ready to go and everything, didn’t you? You know what, Debbie?”

“No, what?” Debbie shot back, scrambling to stand as she pushed him off the bed, staggering to his feet as Debbie shot Lou an apologetic look, the blonde too frozen to move.

“It wasn’t a mistake the other day was it?” He laughed. “You should face it, Debbie. You’re nothing but a goddamn—“

“Do not finish that sentence, you asshole,” Lou growled, finally finding the energy to stand, her anger flashing towards Claude. “You can find a way to apologize and make up for what a shithead you are later, but she asked you to get the Fuck out.”

“You two make quite the team,” he spat, shaking his head as he stormed from the room. “This isn’t over, Deborah!”

The two women waited, Debbie wincing as the front door slammed behind him, the brunette sinking down onto the bed.

“I should probably go too,” Lou whispered, looking down at the comforter as her fingers ran over the pattern. “You’ll be okay, right? Maybe call Tammy or something?”

“Don’t,” Debbie whispered, coming to sit down beside Lou.

Their fingers lingered next to each other as they sat in silence for what felt like hours, Lou wanting to scream.

“It wasn’t just me, was it?” Debbie finally asked, still looking ahead and not at the blonde.

“No,” Lou whispered. “It wasn’t just you.”

Debbie nodded, thinking for a moment before she looked up at the blonde, her eyes hopeful.

“Lou, I—Fuck, I just need to say it. But I think that I—god, don’t hate me, please but I—“

“I love you,” Lou finished for her, finally meeting her gaze with a soft smile as Debbie started to laugh, tears coming to her eyes.

“You do?”

“Yeah, Debs,” Lou grinned. “Fuck, I really do.”

“I love you too,” Debbie smiled, shaking her head. “God, I cannot believe myself. I shouldn’t have—there were better ways to do that I’m sure.”

“I’m glad you did,” Lou admitted, playing with their fingers. “I wanted to, but it was something you wanted and I…you know what? We can talk about this anytime. It seems to me, that you had both a breakup and a revelation in less than a five minute span. So you know what I’m thinking?”

“Naked chocolate cake and Judge Judy time?” Debbie giggled.

“See? I knew I loved you for a reason, Debbie Ocean.”

[blackacre13]

Can you plz do one where Lou respects Debbie’s boundary as Debbie doesn’t want to have s3x that particular night and she’s not in the mood. I think boundaries and consent are really important x

“Well, I hope you brought home souvenirs, Ocean, because that was quite the long time to run a single errand,” Lou smirked, swinging open the door to the loft to let the brunette in.

“Hey, baby,” Debbie smiled, relieved to see her partner, the tension starting to dissipate at once as her shoulders settled and her jaw unclenched as Lou pulled her into the living room, closing the door behind them before wrapping Debbie into a tight hug as if she just knew. She always knew. “Sorry that took longer than expected.”

“Hey, honey,” Lou whispered, kissing her softly. “That’s alright.  I found a way to keep myself busy.”

“Oh?” Debbie laughed. “You did? Do I get to know?”

“Maybe,” Lou shrugged, leaning in to give Debbie another kiss to distract her, the brunette pulling away with a giggle after a beat, intent on getting an answer.

“You can’t distract me that easy,” Debbie grinned. “Even if you do always kiss the hell out of me. Not falling for it.”

“No?” Lou grinned. “Hmm, well maybe, this will give you a hint.” Lou pushed Debbie back against the door, her thigh coming between Debbie’s legs, hands tangling in her hair as she kissed her again, more fiercely, tugging at her lip as Debbie moaned into her mouth, her body trying to grind against Lou’s thigh, seeking friction, Lou smiling into the kiss as she removed her thigh to Debbie’s whine of a protest before grinding her hips against Debbie’s, something hard pressing against the brunette as she let out a gasp. “Maybe I was busy thinking about being inside you. Filling you up. Fucking you with my strap. Making you feel good. Over and over and over again.”

“Lou,” Debbie panted, her hips pulling back as her grip on the blonde loosened, hands moving to her shoulders as she looked away, biting at her lip nervously. “I—as good as that sounds, baby. I don’t think that I—“

“Say no more,” Lou smiled, shifting backwards slightly, not wanting Debbie to feel pressured at all in any way, including the temptation of even standing too close together if this wasn’t what Debbie wanted.

“No, baby I—shit. It’s not that you don’t look sexy or that this wouldn’t feel absolutely fucking incredible. I just don’t…” Debbie looked panicked as she tried to find the words, her hands coming up to massage her temples as she thought, but Lou was already shaking her head and pulling her into a soft hug, shushing her and telling her she loved her and she didn’t owe her any explanations.

“Honey, I promise it’s alright. Okay?” Lou whispered, kissing her forehead. “There doesn’t even need to be a reason or an explanation. An I don’t think so is as good as a no, because it wasn’t a yes. And we can leave it at that, love. You only need to tell me if you want to tell me why. Or maybe if it’s something I can help with. No pressure. But maybe let’s get you out of the doorway and out of your heels?” Lou smiled, motioning down to Debbie’s uncomfortable looking stilettos.

“How are you so incredible?” Debbie asked softly, shaking her head, looking entirely in awe of the Australian.

“Because I don’t want to have sex if you don’t want to have sex?” Lou asked, raising an eyebrow. “Or because I want you to take your heels off, because I love fashion as much as anyone, but shit, those must be killing you. You can’t even lie. Toes pinched in there like that.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop thinking you’re too good for me,” Debbie whispered, looking up at Lou with a serious expression as she stepped out of her heels, moving them to the side before peeling off her coat and letting it fall on top of them before she was racing back to Lou, throwing her hands around her and nuzzling against her neck. “I love you. I love you.”

They were three rare words she rarely ever heard aloud from Debbie, but she knew she felt them all the same. Debbie just happened to do better with showing the sentiment rather than verbalizing it most days, though Lou knew she had grown over the years and was more open and vulnerable with the blonde than she ever had been. She just only wished it hadn’t taken them each a gamut of mistakes and hitting rock bottom to get them to a place where they could admit their feelings for each other every day, without games, with the same finish line in mind.

And it broke her heart to hear them now, because while the words were true and they always made her heart flutter, she knew this was Debbie’s way of thanking her for listening to her and respecting her boundaries in a way that she hadn’t been granted before. Debbie didn’t need to utter the most recent name for her to know and it wouldn’t keep her from her fists clenching and uncurling behind Debbie’s back as she hugged her, wishing she could do anything and everything to erase the last few years for a plethora of reasons, but mostly to take away any shred of pain, regret, and upset that Debbie had experienced.

“You deserve better than me,” Lou laughed softly. “But I’m glad you settled every damn day. I love you too, Debs. More than you’ll ever know.”

“Will you hold me like this for a little longer?” Debbie murmured against Lou’s neck.

“I’ll hold you like this forever and even then won’t be enough.”