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lessthandivine · 3 years

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sometimes all I think about is you | lm x r

pairing: lou miller x you

warnings: nsfw, drinking, fluff to smut (but mostly smut,) dirty talk, teasing, erotic asphyxiation, d/s dynamic (d!lou,) possession, no plot unless you count the romantic backstory, no beta we die like men

word count: 1849

summary: you and lou hadn’t had any real time to yourselves for a little while now. you weren’t aware of just how much you missed her until she showed you.

You walked out of the shower, singing a song that had been stuck in your head for the past week and toweling your hair dry. Yawning, you looked up from your phone and nearly dropped it.

“Jesus, Lou,” you laughed. The woman herself was lying on your bed, languidly outstretched, and she’d rolled onto her stomach to watch you. She looked adorable, in your sweatpants and sleep shirt, blinking sleepily, a lazy grin on her face.

“Hi, darling.” Her voice was raspy, low, and it sent shivers down your spine. “Missed you.”

You smiled fondly, sitting on the bed beside her. For the past week, you’d both been busy, with her and Debbie away tying up loose ends from the last heist, and you, away scouting parks, or gathering intel, often from dawn to dusk. The two of you saw each other every day, but there was never much time before someone had to go again. It drove you wild, but she was here now.

Lou gestured to the tray on the side table—on it were two glasses, and a bottle of your favorite.

“Wow, guess you really did.” You grinned, reaching out to card your hand through her hair. She leaned into it, nuzzling your hand. “Shall I?”

Lou nodded contentedly, sitting up. You poured a measure out for you both, handing one to her and tapping your glass against hers.

“Cheers?” Lou teased, reaching out to rub your back, running her hand along your boxers, down to where your joggers were slung low on your hips.

“To time spent together,” you said pompously, feigning poshness. “And to you.” you took a sip, barely waiting for her to mirror you before leaning forward to capture her lips.

“To me, huh?” Lou smirked, pressing her forehead to yours.

“Well, yeah,” you huffed a laugh. “You’re the best.” She hummed, setting her glass down on the bedside table and doing the same to yours. Pulling you into her arms, she laid the two of you down, and you tucked your face in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply.

“You smell good,” you smiled absently, running your hand up and down her ribs. “Wait. Is that my cologne?”

“No, it must be from your clothes,” Lou said, a sheepish edge creeping into her voice.

“But it’s right here.” You nipped at her pulse point, drawing a pleased groan from your lover.

Huffing, she smacked your shoulder gently. “Fine. Yes. It is. But just so you know, I saw you taking one of my jackets from my room, the one you like, with the embroidery on the back.”

“I did do that,” you said shamelessly, kissing the underside of her jaw. You laid your head back down onto her shoulder, enjoying the brush of her fingers trailing up and down your arm. The two of you stayed there, ensconced in each other, drifting aimlessly between sleep and consciousness.

“Did you want to go anywhere?” You asked drowsily, after a bit, knowing that Lou sometimes liked to go out and ride her bike at night.

“No,” she mumbled into your hair, playing with your fingers. “I’d rather stay here with you.” You smiled, biting your lip as her touch skimmed up your arms and down your chest. The way the palm of her hand caught on your clothed nipple at the same time she pressed her hips into yours was definitely not an accident, and you were wide awake. A pleased sigh escaped your lips as she bent her head to suck at your neck.

“Good?” Her breath fanned over the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your back.

“Yes.”

Her fingers pushed the hem of your shirt up, skimming across the soft skin of your stomach, and you felt a warm pressure, light but dizzying, at the base of your neck. “I missed you, so much, sweetheart,” Lou purred. You groaned, somewhat involuntarily, back arching on top of her as her teeth grazed your clothed shoulder.

You started to turn but she stopped you, strong hands suddenly at your hips. “No. I want you like this.”

Lou pressed the two of you together again, your back to her chest, and you swore under your breath, feeling every line of her body as she tugged the waistband of your sweatpants down. Kicking them off the rest of the way, you closed your eyes, jaw dropping open as her fingers raised goosebumps on your bare thighs.

“Fuck,” you whispered, hands fisting in the sheets as Lou traced you through your underwear, smirking against your skin. You inhaled sharply through your nose, cutting yourself off with a whine as she ghosted over your clit.

“You’re so sensitive,” Lou teased. “So wet too, already, is this all for me?” Her fingers circled your heat through the soaked fabric, endlessly, and you could hardly think through the pulsating haze in your head.

“Yeah,” you gasped, replying mindlessly. “Th—thought about you all week, Lou, it drove me,” you whimpered as she repeated her motions, molten desire pooling in your lower belly. “It drove me crazy.”

“And you didn’t do anything about it?”

“I didn’t ask,” you answered, without thinking, and you held your breath as you realized what you’d said. Her hands stilled, but after a moment her grip on you tightened, and she slipped a hand into your underwear.

As the pads of Lou’s fingers traced along your folds, you forced yourself to go on, knowing she liked to hear you. “Nothing makes me feel like you.” Your breath caught as she rested a finger on your clit, pressure deafening but not enough. “Please.” It came out as a whisper. You weren’t sure if you were allowed to beg.

Feeling Lou’s shaky exhale under you, you found yourself smiling, reaching up to hook a hand around the back of her neck. “Please,” you said again, tangling your fingers in her hair. She hummed, seeming to pay no mind to your cries. Her touch left hot trails, as if you’d burned yourself, and you could feel yourself throbbing with the heartbeats rushing in your ears. With each passing second that she skirted around where you needed her the most, you could feel your breathing quicken uncontrollably, groans and pleads slipping from your lips.

“Lou, I—oh, god.” you broke off as she pushed a hand under your shirt, rolling a nipple roughly between her fingers. The sudden sensation made you gasp, hips bucking into Lou’s hand. “Touch me, please, don’t you wanna know how much I missed you? Every—” she bit down on the shell of your ear. “Fuck, every night, I just thought of you and there wasn’t anything I could do, I’d just see you and think of you, your fingers, your mouth, your—” you were babbling now, the fog in your mind driving you in circles as Lou listened to her girl, her good, good, girl. She knew you’d give her what she wanted in time, and you were doing so well, your fingers tightening lovingly in her tresses.

Lou made a noise low in her throat, intoxicated on your compliance and the way you’d given into her, trusted her, so easily. She loved how you could do so well like this, but also have your way with her, wrapping her around your finger as casually as breathing. Maybe you had some sort of god given talent for her, a charisma that made her want nothing else but you, and she loved it.

“Is that so, babygirl?”

Her hand closed like a vice around your neck at the same time that she pushed two fingers inside, a strangled whimper falling from your lips as your eyes fluttered shut. You’d no idea you were so sensitive, or was it just Lou that drove you crazy? You decided it was the latter, her name coming out in whispers like a sacrament. Gasping as her fingers curled inside of you, you couldn’t focus on anything else. The hand around your throat, pressing gently but firmly into your windpipe was the only thing keeping you from falling apart, grounding you and making you feel so safe. Absently, you registered that Lou was crooning praise into your ear, at how well you were taking her and how good you were being, and you felt yourself become impossibly wetter, another one of her deft fingers slipping inside with ease.

You reached up to grip her wrist tightly, holding onto her as much as you were holding her there. The risk that you might leave bruises didn’t even occur to your arousal-drunk mind as Lou’s thumb found your swollen clit, making you gasp. In your mind’s eye, you could see yourself, flushed, panting, and debauched, loose shirt pushed halfway up your heaving chest, neck rubbed red, completely undone under Lou’s hands.

Unknowingly drawing a parallel to your thoughts, Lou chuckled darkly and murmured in your ear. “God, darling, if only you could see yourself right now, you’re so beautiful, you wanna be mine?” You nodded furiously, as much as you could with that brilliant pressure around your neck. Pushing your hips up into Lou’s hand, you moaned, past the point of caring.

“You’re close, aren’t you, love?” You whined helplessly at her question, hot coils tightening in your stomach. She didn’t need an answer to know. “You’ve been good tonight,” she decided, “my pretty girl,” your head swam with heady steam, “wanna cum for me?”

“Y—yeah,” you breathed, the edges of your voice raspy. “Please, Lou…” at your mumbling, Lou bit her lip, the high of satisfaction and pride for you tiding her over.

“Then cum.”

And you did, as soon as she let you, swelling and crashing over the edge, tightening around Lou’s fingers as her thumb rolled circles on your clit, crying out her name. You turned your head to press your face into Lou’s neck as wave after wave of pounding euphoria made your jaw drop open in a silent cry. Your grip on her wrist slackened and she stroked a hand up and down your chest, helping you come down. She couldn’t help but admire you again, as she took in your pink tinged cheeks, and the satisfied grin slowly spreading on your face.

Giggling, you finally turned around, caging Lou’s head in with your arms as you straddled her hips. Quirking an eyebrow at her blown, dazed pupils as your eyes met her, you ground your hips into hers, cheekily. You watched her bring her wet hand up to her mouth, never breaking eye contact as she sucked her fingers clean, the ghost of a smirk flitting on her face. Reaching over to the bedside table, you took a sip of your nearly forgotten drink, noting how her gaze tracked your flushed neck as you swallowed. Leaning in, you pressed a kiss to her bitten-red lips, sighing as you tasted yourself, and you knew that she could taste the drink on you by the way she shivered. Leaning back, you caught your tongue between your teeth, cupping her cheek with a hand.

“Your turn, baby.”

a/n: it’s been a while! finals and the holidays got me... here’s a short one, just until i finish my other wips. don’t usually write bottom!reader, am I out of practice...? hope you enjoyed! comments, reblogs, asks, etc. are always welcome :)

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please do not repost, reproduce, copy, or take from my work in any way without express permission. thank you!

#fanfiction #ocean's 8 #oceans 8 #oceans8 #lou miller #lou miller fanfiction #lou miller x reader #lou x reader #cate blanchett #wlw #fluff #smut #nsfw #lou miller smut #wlw fanfiction #lgbtq #smut fanfiction

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lessthandivine · 4 years

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promise that I’ll meet you halfway | lm x r

pairing: lou miller x you

warnings: light angst, swearing, tsundere!reader, shameless theft (obviously,) suggestive dialogue, stubborn idiots, no beta we die like men

word count: 4672

based on a writing prompt: look, we could keep pretending you hate me, or you could kiss me.

summary: having joined the team at debbie’s request, you do recon for the marauding eight. it’s all smooth sailing, save for a certain blonde that distracts you to no end. swords clang, but you realize where you stand, just in time.

Lou.

Even thinking about her made it hard to breathe, and you swallowed, shaking yourself. Every time she looked at you, with that narrow, cocky gaze, you just couldn’t stand how annoyingly attractive it was. How ridiculously hot it was when her eyes tracked down your body every so often. How infuriatingly smooth and low her voice was when she praised your plans and diagrams, mentioned how important the pages upon pages of valuable information you’d painstakingly collected were. All of that, on top of her irritatingly charming smile and exasperatingly endearing kindness, wit, courage, and intelligence.

You couldn’t stand it.

Shutting the door quietly behind you, you sighed as you took off your coat, shaking your hair out from it’s bun. The loft was quiet, empty, and the clatter of your boots, untied, of course, echoed through the space when they hit the floor. Hanging your coat on the peg, you rubbed your tense neck and rolled your wrists. Walking slowly to the sitting area, you wondered if there was anything stronger than a beer in the kitchen—you could feel the tension in your shoulders, sore muscles and sore joints. Side effect of the occupation, you thought wryly. Recon involved a lot of things, one of which was staying in one place. Small spaces, often. For long periods of time. You were too young to have joints that hurt. No stranger to stress, it didn’t faze you, but none of that made it easier.

You paced a little, fingernails scratching the pad of your thumb, a nervous habit from university. Today, you’d scouted out several locations, none of them leaving much room for comfort. Work always pulled you in several different, sometimes dangerous, directions. Collecting intel, too, involved mind games. You also had to go see a potential ‘client,’ to try and wriggle some information out of. He was the usual sleazy type, of course, and you had to resist the urge to break his nose when he leaned in close and put a hand on your knee, instead carefully plastering on a cloying smile. And while that was your specialty, it was hard. You didn’t like to admit it—everyone played their role in the heist, and you knew you were a key part, but damn if it didn’t take a lot out of you.

You had a reputation to uphold, and this new project at the Met just had so much on the line, you knew you had to do the best you could. And more. Even after the whole affair, while everyone was celebrating, you took the time to scope out a few places that the team had mentioned they might hit next. Your teammates were all so confident and experienced, while you were relatively new in the field, only working on the side or behind the scenes. Especially Debbie, who’d been in this for years, and her right hand woman, Lou.

Lou.

You couldn’t stand it.

It also made the heist planning much more difficult than it already was. You thought it would be better after the team successfully pulled the whole plan off, but even now when it was all over, those stupid feelings were still there. It pissed you off just thinking about it. The weird, irksome fluttering in your stomach, the kind that made you feel simultaneously sick and elated, never failed to come around when Lou was there. It was impossible, really, to handle. Whatever it was, you weren’t familiar with it, and you absolutely hated not knowing.

And it was horrible, worsened tenfold by the fact that you couldn’t even talk to her normally. Work, though difficult, was made easier by the fact that you, her, and the whole team had something to focus on. That forced you to calm down and function properly, for the group dynamic. But anything else, anything personal, almost always resulted in a row, or at least a snarky, unnecessary comment. You always had some sort of sarcastic remark, and Lou, being Lou, always had one in return. It was never so explosive that it would break the team apart, but it definitely made everyone look twice.

You forced yourself to relax as you heard someone coming down the stairs. You’d thought you were alone, the rest of the team out at some sort of… mini golf drinking game course? But you turned from where you’d been pacing a path in Lou’s living room floor to see Debbie.

You smiled instinctively, something tight and too at ease to be real. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself, kiddo,” Debbie called back, slumping down onto the couch. “You okay?” You and Debbie had been acquaintances for a while before she called you to work on this, knowing you were the best person for the job. She’d helped you out of a tight spot more than a few times, so you trusted her. It only made sense that she could read you, could see the nervous tick in your jaw.

You shrugged. “I’m fine,” you said, a little more roughly than you needed to.

“I believe you, sweetie,” she said soothingly, knowing you didn’t mean it. You looked at her, an apology on the tip of your tongue, but she just smiled and you knew she knew.

The loft door opened, a familiar stomping on the wooden floors making you sigh. Even without looking, you knew that Lou was back, pulling off her boots and throwing them aside. Without undoing the laces. Didn’t she realize how easily she could fall like that, and break her arm or something?

Debbie bit back a smile. You really had no idea how similar the two of you sounded, coming in the loft in your boots. When you came in together, it was nearly impossible to tell which one of you was which until one of you complained about the other’s coat on the hanger, or something equally inconsequential. And she knew, by virtue of having been around the two of you separately for various amounts of time in past years, that neither of you would bother to untie the laces putting them on, or taking them off.

Soon enough, Lou came strutting in like she owned the place (which she did, you granted) in her damned black leather jacket, black leather pants, pulling her bike helmet off her head. It left her hair tousled, and as she dragged the back of her hand across her forehead, a bit of bike grease smeared.

She should’ve kept the helmet on, you thought dumbly, as your eyes lingered around the smoky black that made her slate blue irises seem to glow, the smirk she always wore, the few strands of hair plastered to her face, and you couldn’t help but keep watching as she shucked off her jacket, revealing a customary button down (in zaffre, today.) Was it impossible for her to wear a shirt like that without having half the buttons undone? It looked stupidly good, and you forced yourself to resume your pacing after giving Lou a nod.

Lou glanced at you, and then at Debbie, who shrugged. She dumped her helmet on the table by the couch, and you turned at the noise, inwardly sighing. As Debbie asked Lou if Tammy and the others were still at the course (they were,) you crept quietly around her, picking up her helmet carefully from the side table. You were halfway to the foyer, where things like this were supposed to be, when a shuffle made you pause.

“Can you not move that all the time? I put it there for a reason.” Lou’s voice, definitely annoyed, carried through the loft. Behind her, where you couldn’t see, Debbie shot her a careful look, which Lou ignored. You hated it when she put her helmet there, because there was always other stuff that needed to be there, and she knew it. And you knew she knew, so why didn’t she just keep it somewhere else? There was plenty of space, and it would be easier for everyone. You were silent as you could hear her footsteps coming up behind you, stopping a good distance away.

“I wouldn’t have to, if you didn’t leave it in random places all the time,” you finally said, needlessly curt. You knew you sounded childish, but it was easier than turning around and coming up with a response where you’d have to look her in the eye. You knew that those strange feelings in your chest would come back, the ones that surfaced whenever you were around Lou. She stared at you for a moment—you could feel it burning into your back—then scoffed.

“Nobody asked you to clean up after me,” she replied, just as caustic. You were about to retort, but you paused, choosing to set the helmet down on the shoe bench.

From her vantage spot on the sofa, eyes flickering between the two of you, Debbie sighed. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “You two fight over everything, even the most stupid things. Just quit it already.”

You didn’t say anything, ducking your head. Guilt swelled up in you, over disrupting the dynamic, over doing something you didn’t need to do and saying things you didn’t need to say, over how you just couldn’t get your head straight. You couldn’t bother to apologize as you hurriedly slinked away to the kitchen, missing Lou looking over at you, confusion masking the hurt in the furrow of her eyebrows.

You might’ve missed the look, but Debbie didn’t, leveling Lou with a deadpan expression, unimpressed.

“You two,” Debbie started, but Lou cut her off.

“Shut it, Ocean, I already know what you’re about to say.”

Debbie continued quietly, ignoring Lou’s protest. “You two dance around each other in the worst way. She hurts you because she doesn’t know how to recognize her feelings, and you hurt her because you’re too stubborn to make the first move.”

Lou glared at Debbie, hating that her best friend was so perceptive, and hating that she was right.

Debbie sighed, waving Lou off. “Whatever. she’s young, maybe this is the new mating dance.” Lou laughed dryly, crossing her arms. “Anyway, do something, or not, soon. There’s a betting pool, and I can’t lose to Constance. Again.” With that, Debbie stood and walked out. Lou stared at the spot where she’d been, hearing the loft door open and close. There’s a what? On us?

Lou ran a hand carelessly through her already messy hair, groaning. Contrary to what you probably thought, she’d seen the tension in your too-straight back, and she inferred that the day’s missions must’ve been stressful. She knew where you’d gone when you left all those celebration parties early. Why did you always have to work so damn hard all the time, running yourself into the ground? Didn’t you know how to take a break and relax? You worked just as hard as everyone else, sometimes harder, but Lou knew that because you were younger than most of the team, you felt the need to make up for it. How stupid, she thought. Your work was impressive as it was, were you really so blind as to overlook how important you were to the team?

Lou tried to avoid thinking about how important you were to her, a familiar frustration already coming to her mind. The two of you traded barbs, always, but sometimes, it made her wonder. It made her wonder something she wasn’t willing to think about, not right now.

You weren’t often seriously moody like this—though you were stressed half the time, you really were a fun person to be around. You were incredibly witty and charming, even (especially) when you were shooting some annoyed comment in Lou’s direction. She’d send one back, and you’d parry, just as quick and dry. She enjoyed it, almost too much, because she’d never met anyone quite on par with her, for verbal sparring. Until you.

Until you. That summed up everything, didn’t it? All the girls that came before, Lou had never really felt anything for them. She thought she did, but it all went out either with a bang or a whimper. Until Debbie brought you in one day, in the early stages of the Met heist, and you had so much information, detailed insider plans, and a brilliant mind to match. Plus, you’d looked something incredible in your Tom Ford sunglasses, thick Armani cable knit turtleneck, Brioni jacket, Gucci wool coat (‘it’s rather grand, though, isn’t it?’ you’d replied when she’d playfully commented on how tacky Gucci could be,) elegant Cartier watch, crisply pleated Savile Row (Richard Anderson) trousers, shiny Jimmy Choo oxfords, and Target socks. It all totaled, easily, up to twenty. Twenty thousand, Lou had figured. Euros. There were no logos, but she could just tell, from experience. The fact that you hadn’t paid for a single item made it all the more attractive. How she could still remember all that, and the way you’d gestured, the passion of the work really setting into you, was remarkable.

As the plans and projects continued, you’d always been there for the rest of the team with easy advice, and you were never at a loss for what to say that would make everyone laugh. At first, Lou had a hard time with it. Having real feelings for someone was scary, everyone knew that. Especially you. But the sweet sense of inevitability with which she was drawn deeper and deeper into you? That was something she couldn’t ignore, instinct told her. She’d looked upon your bickering with a sort of fondness, that went with how she felt about the rest of you.

Maybe. Just maybe, Debbie was right. Lou was fairly sure that you were attracted to her, that much was evident in the way your eyes lingered on her. It was a familiar thing for Lou, but when it came to you, your attention made her skin flush and her blood thrum. She’s Lou Miller, for goodness’ sake, She could get a girl (or two) easily. But you? You were something else entirely. And Lou Miller was never one to miss a chance.

The loft was empty now, except for you and Lou. You’d heard Debbie leave from where you’d escaped into the kitchen, pouring yourself a stress maté. You just needed a moment to calm your nerves, then you could hopefully make yet another escape upstairs, to go mope under the guise of working on plans. Sighing, you sat down at the table, wondering if ‘destressing’ was even possible, at this point.

Without her boots or heels on, Lou really was as silent as a cat, and you nearly jumped when you looked up from your tea and she’d materialized in the doorway.

“Jesus, Lou,” you said dryly. “Do you always tip toe around like this?”

Lou sighed, unknowingly imitating you, carefully watching you at the table with one of your stupid tea drinks in front of you. There were shadows under your eyes, and your shirt collar (Louis Vuitton, today) wasn’t as neatly tucked as it usually was, and your lips were set in a thin line.

“A good evening to you too.” You nodded at her greeting, casting a furtive glance at her. Moments of silence passed, where she stared at you and you alternated between looking at her, and looking away. God, did she really have to wear that eyeliner she always wore, the one that made her grey eyes look all sultry and alluring? It was just stupid, you decided.

“We fight all the time,” Lou started, blatantly ignoring your scoff. “Don’t you think it’s messing with the team?”

You shrugged, replying without thinking. “Does it really matter?” Even Lou was a bit taken aback at your blasé answer. You were nothing if not intensely meticulous and almost foolishly dedicated to the work they did, but she could tell you immediately regretted your words.

She walked over to stand opposite you, in front of the counter. “I know you don’t mean that.” The words came out sharper than she meant for them to be, and your returning gaze was almost doleful.

“You don’t know a thing about me.” At the sudden, hastily suppressed flinch from Lou, you cringed, biting your lip. She did know you. She hadn’t come to pick you up from one of your scouting locations, in the dead of night, long after you were supposed to come back, because she was bored. Even if she did, almost physically, drag you from your spot, silently kicking and screaming, and even if you complained about it the whole way back, you appreciated it. Sometimes, only Lou, not even Debbie, could tell how tired you were, and sent someone else to go with you to collect intel, to take the pressure off. You regretted your slip, more than you’d regretted your former feigned carelessness, because it just wasn’t true.

“Don’t I? You don’t even know yourself.” You deserved that, you knew.

“Watch it, Miller.” But you said it without malice, in a borderline teasing way. You’d both overstepped, but something in the air wasn’t awkward, or uncomfortable, it was just there. Barely normal.

“We fight all the time,” Lou said again, quietly. “But you don’t really hate me, do you?”

At her question, you looked up, startled. You gazed right at her, tired and sad in the slump of her shoulders, leaning against the counter, in the way she looked at her feet instead of at you. The sight sent an oddly unpleasant shiver through you, and your heart twisted with guilt. Of all things, you weren’t expecting that, at all. Surely, Lou knew that you respected her, right? That even though your conversations weren’t always the best, you admired her hard working manner, her advice, and her input.

But that’s not what she asked, is it? Your rough words sent all the wrong messages, you knew, but she’d never let it affect her. Or at least, she hadn’t let it show. Had it hurt her this entire time?

“I—“ you swallowed, licking your dry lips. “I don’t hate you. at all.” Quite the opposite, in fact. The thought made you pause. You didn’t want Lou to think that you hated her, because it wasn’t true at all. You really, really wanted her close, closer than you’d ever wanted anyone, and it terrified you. You didn't hate her at all. You just didn’t know how to deal with just how much you liked her, how much of a place she had in your heart and mind. How much you had grown used to Lou’s presence, Lou’s easy, witty dialogue, even when bickering with you. Lou. That, all of those annoying, little, petty fights, what you were used to, it was the easiest way for you to just talk to her. To ignore what you really wanted with her. That was all so much simpler than confronting the yawning void in your chest that you knew would gape open if she somehow wasn’t in your life anymore.

“Then why do you—“ Lou’s voice caught in her throat, and you couldn’t stand the, for once, openly conflicted look on her face. You looked away, guilt clouding your eyes.

“Lou, I don’t hate you, I just—“ you stopped, your own voice failing you. I just need you, more than I’ve ever needed anyone, and it terrifies me to no end, that I could take the chance and fail, and break us, and I—

“You just what?” You didn’t miss the defensive, almost… hurt? tone her voice had taken.

“Fuck.” Even without looking at her, the shame creeped into your stomach, twisting and winding. “I never know how to talk to you.” Had you caused that, all because you didn’t know how to confront the way you felt?

“You don’t know how to talk—“ Lou scoffed, crossing her arms. “That’s rich. You? Don’t know how to talk… you’re one of the most well spoken, eloquent people I’ve ever met. Quit the excuses, doll.”

Even now, the feelings returned to your chest, both at her acknowledgement and that dumb term of endearment, the one that lodged itself firmly in your memory. Does she really think that?

“To you,” you said softly.

You looked back up at Lou, not bothering to hide the look in your eyes. Her own face was uncharacteristically vulnerable, making her seem young and afraid. She met your gaze, and the feelings, already rising from her just being there, suddenly shot up, especially when she let her eyes flicker down to your lips.

Lou came over to you abruptly and leaned across the table, propping herself up with a hand dangerously close to yours. You felt your heart jump as she locked gazes with you, as if looking for something, but you didn’t dare move. Her searching scrutiny was intimate, welcome, even, because you could feel yourself on the edge of something bigger than just you.

“Look...” Lou said lowly, eyes stormy but clearing by the second. “We could keep pretending you hate me, or you could kiss me.”

You could only look up at her, back into those turbulent grey eyes, startlingly close. Your mouth parted in surprise. And god, you could see everything swimming in those eyes, anger, anxiety, frustration, hope... fear. Everything inside of you toppled over, and you made up your mind. You just needed a little push.

She straightened up and turned away without a word, jaw tightening. You knew you’d waited more than you should’ve, but it wasn’t too late. You stood to move to the other side of the table, and before Lou could register what you were about to do, you grasped her wrist, gently, spinning her around into your arms. She gasped, hand coming up to rest on your waist, steadying herself. You wrapped your arms around her shoulders, eyes fluttering shut—you two had never been this intoxicatingly close, only pressed shoulder to shoulder when working on plans. This was something else entirely, as Lou was so warm, so close, that you could even see where her mascara had left little sooty smudges on her cheeks. You thought to yourself, god, I hope I haven’t gotten this all wrong. The next instant, you brushed your noses together, feeling your own breath come out in a shudder as your lips brushed hers, ever so slightly. Lou’s arm tightened around your waist, the other rushing to cup the back of your neck possessively. Tilting your head away, you let yourself pause, eyes still closed, breathing tremulously with all the hope, devotion, and understanding you held in your arms.

“Tell me to stop.” Your voice was strangely quiet in the thrumming air, and almost immediately, she pulled you in so her hips pressed against yours, breath coming out in hungry pants.

“Don’t.” Lou’s answer snapped something in you, and you lurched forward, sending your weight into hers, lips flush. Tangling your hands in her hair, you couldn’t resist, all slow and soft and fast and hard. She moaned into your mouth at the tension, and everything you’d tried to push away, lock away when you were with her rushed to the surface like tears in glossy eyes. And you let it, you let it rise into the air, into your chest, into the fingertips that caressed her scalp. And Lou, in turn, felt you against her, hot, heady, and held you as close as she dared, then a little closer, because you were always more, always lovingly, gorgeously more.

You could taste the coffee and cigarettes on her, and it felt so much like the right place to be that you smiled, a happy, effervescent hum bubbling up in you. You two broke apart, breathing hard, and you bit your lip, grinning so wide that your cheeks hurt. Lou raised an eyebrow at your expression, resisting the quirk that pulled at the corners of her kiss swollen lips.

“What’s so funny?”

Her demand sent a flush through you, and you just laughed again, pulling her in again for another kiss, chaste and playful this time.

“Me.” You gazed easily up at her amused face. “I was so stupid. I spend so long thinking about how I felt in my own head when I could’ve just thought about you, how you felt, and that would’ve given me an answer better than anything I could’ve come up with.”

Lou’s eyes softened, and it was her turn to press her lips to yours, gentle and giving, so unlike the bruising urgency of before. But no less welcome. “It doesn’t matter how you got there, what matters is that we’re here now.”

You nodded, tucking your face into the crook of her neck. You were a little shorter than her, so this was easy for you, and you felt her cheek against your hair.

“God, I—” you swallowed, inhaling deeply. She smelled like her bike, something clean and warm at the same time, and strangely enough, tequila, though you hadn’t tasted any of it. “I’m really sorry, Lou, I shouldn’t have handled… all of this… like I did.” You worried your lip between your teeth. “It hurt the both of us, it hurt you…”

Lou chuckled, thumb tracing circles just under your earlobe. Dropping a hand from your waist to find yours, she pressed your knuckles to her forehead, her cheek, her lips. “Darling, I said it doesn’t matter, didn’t I?”

I don’t deserve your forgiveness. Sighing, you pulled back, looking into her easy smile, her bright eyes, and you cupped her face to kiss her. You tried to put all you didn’t know how to say into it, and she seemed to understand, groaning softly into your mouth.

“Did you have fun at the course?” You asked quietly, pulling away.

“It was alright,” she replied noncommittally, swaying a little with you in her arms. “I’m sure they’re all drunk as all hell right now.”

“Oh, yeah,” you said, surprised. “You didn’t drink?”

“Nope.” she shrugged. “I wanted to talk to you.”

You were about to reply, a smile playing itself on your lips, when the loft door flew open. Voices filled the loft, a few tipsy shouts accompanied the clatter which you knew was the coat stand tipping over. You felt Lou tense a little up a little beside you, but you didn’t bother to move from your sanctuary in her arms. She relaxed again, also not bothering to separate herself from you.

Debbie walked in with the group, reaching the kitchen first. Upon spotting the two of you, arms wrapped around each other, she broke out into a wide grin.

“Constance, you owe me five!” She yelled, turning back to you. I’m happy for you, she mouthed in your direction, and you just smiled, leaning your head on Lou’s shoulder.

“Seriously?” You could hear Constance stumble her way to Debbie, a flush on her cheeks. She groaned, slapping a hand to her forehead. “Come on!”

“Five thousand, hand it over.” You giggled at Debbie’s smug expression, and without looking, you knew that Lou was amused too, eyes sparkling with mirth. “I knew it.”

“Wait. you knew? You fixed it, you fixed the bet!” Debbie dragged the protesting Constance away, sending a wink in your direction. The rest of them had made it over to the kitchen by now, Tammy rolling her eyes with a ‘jeez, about time,’ and Rose giving a shriek as she spotted you.

“Lou’s got herself a girl,” she sang, Aminta joining in. Daphne and Nineball sported twin smirks as they passed by, giving you a little salute.

“Come on,” Lou whispered in your ear, making you shiver. “Let’s go out.” You felt her arm tighten around your waist, leading you towards the door. Passing by the group, you chuckled at their cheers, shaking your head when Lou leveled a mock glare at them. Feeling the warmth bubbling in your chest chasing away the guilt of the past months, you reached for her hand and interlaced her fingers with yours.

a/n: title from ben platt’s ‘honest man.’ hope you enjoyed! comments, reblogs, asks, etc. are always welcome :)

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