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kj-1130 · 3 years

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Chapter 16

But First, it’ll Piss You Off

Main Masterlist

Calypso never did get the chance to check the time when they got back to the loft like she said she would. All she knew was that it was cold. Very cold. She was wishing she had a thicker jacket.

If she hadn’t grabbed Debbie’s spare key, it would’ve looked like she was leaving for good. She was definitely contemplating it but she figured it wasn’t a very good idea considering there was a crazy woman following her.

She didn’t have a set destination. She just needed to leave because the little bit of structure she did have in her life just came crashing down. And she needed to be around people who could understand. As much as she loved being around the crew, they didn’t understand what she was going through. They could feel sympathy but not empathy.

Calypso continued to walk to wherever her legs took her. When they stopped, she looked up and saw that she was at the corner store. It was her favorite one around here because they didn’t care who you were or what you bought. They only cared that you paid, and didn't cause a ruckus.

The bell above the door rang as she pushed it open and made her way into the establishment. Glancing over, she saw that the guy at the cash register was still staring down at his phone, not paying her any mind. The teen quickly walked over to the alcoholic beverages and grabbed two of the first thing she set her eyes on.

Placing the two bottles on the checkout counter, she dug through her satchel and began pulling out some money.

“Don’t worry about it, honey,” the guy started, putting the bottles in bags. “It’s on me,” he winked.

With a curled top lip, Calypso snatched the bags out of his hands and bolted out of there.

Before she knew it, she was walking down the steps she had once been extremely familiar with. The loud honks from outside faded and turned into quiet jazz.

Knocking on the door, she waited for someone to answer.

“What’s the password?”

“Jeremy, don’t start with this shit,” she huffed and rolled her eyes.

“Never let me have any fun,” Jeremy muttered, while unlocking the steel door.

The teen slips in as soon as she is able to, wanting to separate herself from the outside world as quickly as possible. As she walked down the hall, her friend caught up with her and threw a muscular arm around her shoulder.

“So,” he starts, “what have you been up to, junior?”

Calypso rolls her eyes at the nickname (she didn’t even know how she got it) and decided to ignore it for the time being.

“Oh, you know, stole from a criminal then became friends with said criminal and their criminal friend group. Oh! And I live with them now. Nothing too big.”

While she continues moving, Jeremy stops behind her with his mouth hung open.

“Excuse me, what?”

With a sigh, the teen stands on her tiptoes and pats the top of his head.

“You’ll understand when you’re older,” she mocks before taking off towards the main room.

“Hey! Don’t fuck with my fro!”

“I only got called a half-breed twice this week. That’s a win in my book.”

“What the hell did I just walk into?”

The three other heads whip around towards the newcomer. Cheers began to echo around the room and Calypso jokingly bows.

“Now, now, peasants. No need to fret, I know my presence has been missed.”

The others only roll their eyes and invite her into the huddle to get comfy.

“C’mon, C. We were sharing our interesting weekly tales, you’re just in time,” Kensly says, scooting over to allow the newest addition to sit next to her. “It’s Eliza’s turn now.”

The mentioned grumbled and ran their hand through their freshly cut, shoulder-length hair.

“Do I have to?”

“Yes, grumpy pants,” Kens insists. “It’s tradition.”

With a sigh, Liz thinks up of something.

“Ummm….someone at work compared me to the item box in Mario Kart cause ‘you never know what you’re gonna get.’”

As hard as she tried not to, Calypso let out a snicker and covered it up with a cough.

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up.”

After the chuckles died down, Jayden spoke up.

“I saw some activity from Nineball which is super fucking rare! Like I felt honored to even see that.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” Calypso absentmindedly said. “I’ll have to talk to her about it.”

“You’ll have to do what?” Jay asked, shocked.

The teen muttered out a couple of curses for letting that slip and reluctantly began to explain in detail what’s been going on. From stealing Debbie’s watch, to living with her crew, and trying to hide from Ilora. It’s been a bumpy ride to say the least.

In the middle of her explanation, she opened up her bottle and took slow swigs. The happy, energetic vibe had since dissipated and was replaced by a somber and tense energy. The drink was a means of relaxation for her.

“She’s not even fucking dead,” she mutters after a moment of silence. “And I should’ve fucking known.”

“No, C” Jeremy gently interrupted. “You couldn’t have known-“

“Yes, I would’ve,” the teen insists. “If she died then I would’ve felt it.”

Quiet washed over them while they were all left to process what Calypso told them while she just sat there and tried to drink her miseries away.

“Okay,” Eliza says, reaching over and snatching the drink from the girl’s hand. “You’re gonna get alcohol poisoning.”

“Lizzie,” the teen whined drunkenly.

“No,” he said sternly. “You’re going to sober up and you’re gonna go…back to wherever you came from. Cause from what you told us, they’re probably worried sick.”

“Pfft. They don’t care-”

“Yes, they do. You need to get that through your fucking head. If they didn’t care they would’ve kicked you out by now. If they didn’t care, they wouldn’t have told you about Harlow.”

Calypso was silent.

“So go in the kitchen, drink some water, and J will walk you back.” The teen only stared at them. “I said go.”

With a sigh, the coily-haired girl hauled herself off the couch and trudged to the kitchen to grab some water.

“Why do I have to walk her back?” Jeremy muttered.

“Because you’re all muscles,” Eliza replied. “Plus I’m hungry. And you’re the only one with money. So bring us something back.”

-_-_-_-_-

Taglist

@stillmanicc @annestine @ymzki-haruki @moonslattes @yomama010101 @emiliaisdead @augustvandyne @uselessgay101 @evilcr0ne

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kyracooneycrxss · 3 years

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just watched oceans 8 for the third time this week and i would like to say that i am so fucking gay

#oceans 8 #debbie ocean #lou miller #tammy #nine ball #daphne kluger #constance #amita #awkwafina #cate blanchett #sandra bullock #sarah paulson #anne hathaway #rose weil #helena bonham carter #rihanna #debbie x lou #daphne x rose #god im so gay

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inlovewithkatewinslet · 4 years

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Ocean’s 8 Wallpaper 🖤

#ocean‘s 8 #middle aged actresses #cate blanchett #sarah paulson #middle aged actress #middle aged women #helena bonham carter #hbc #oceans 8 #rihanna #debbie x lou #debbie ocean #lou miller #tammy #rose weil #akwafina

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carters-coffee · 4 years

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Lou: why are we stopped?

Rose: the light's red!

Lou: there are no red lights IN A CAR CHASE!!

#lou miller #rose weil #oceans 8 #ocean's 8 #incorrect quotes #source: big hero 6 #lou x rose

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olderpeople-supremacy · 3 years

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Do you write for female characters from movies like Ocean's 8 or something?

Yeah, I actually just watched this movie and I am very intruged by it so if you have any ideas; feel free to send them to me;)

#ocean's 8 #o8 imagines #debbie ocean #lou miller #rose weil #daphne kluger #tammy #nine ball #constance #o8 x reader #o8 #debbie ocean x reader #lou miller x reader #rose weil x reader #daphne kluger x reader #tammy x reader #nine ball x reader #constance x reader

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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 :)

let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist!

all works are crossposted on my my ao3

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 #debbie ocean #rose weil #daphne kluger #wlw #fluff #angst #wlw fanfiction #lgbtq

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closetedbumblebee · 4 years

Text

Please for the love of GOD; can we get Ocean’s 9 greenlit for 2021?! 🥰💖🥰💖🥰💖🥰

#oceans 8 #debbie ocean #oceans eight #lou miller #ocean's 8 #amita #constance #daphne kluger #rose weil #Tammy #oceans 9 #loubbie #debbie x lou #lou x debbie

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blackacre13 · 2 years

Note

prompt: okay i understand if you don’t wanna do this one but- some of my friends and i have been obsessing over a Lou x Rose pairing out of the blue and i wanted to request something w that pairing that’s just filthy smut and maybe a little bit of sweetness. we all just have 1 brain cell that has been focusing on this pairing

I cannot say that I share this one brain cell focusing on this pairing lmao, but of course, I will entertain it for you. Here we go!

“Oh!” Rose gasped, blinking as she flicked on the light, taking in Lou’s apparent presence in the living room where she’d been sitting on the couch. “You alright, dear? Were you, er, sitting in the dark?”

Lou didn’t meet the older woman’s eyes, Rose’s eyes following the blonde’s line of vision instead, landing on a vodka bottle posed in the center of the coffee table.

“I wasn’t going to drink it,” Lou sighed, letting her head fall into her hands as she ruffled her bangs. Neither woman was quite sure who Lou was admitting this to. “Debbie has these nightmares, you know? About prison, mostly. But then there’s Claude, and there’s Danny, and there’s…”

“You,” Rose offered quietly, gingerly sitting on the arm of the couch, unsure how close was too close, but wanting to show her support, even if it was somewhat awkwardly presented.

“Me,” Lou nodded, looking up at Rose with a sad smile. She was grateful that Rose’s answer seemed to end there, not probing anything further about Lou and Debbie and the past that they shared.

“Sometimes it’s easier to make light of things, isn’t it?” Rose asked quietly, slipping slightly closer to the blonde. “I mean there’s a reason I’m always finger deep in a jar of Nutella.”

“We might be better off if that’s what I was finger deep in,” Lou snorted, the other woman blushing as Lou shot her a sheepish grin. “Sorry. That was crude.”

“I’m not one to question coping mechanisms,” Rose shrugged. Lou watched her for a moment, studying her.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Go right ahead.”

“When we approached you, you seemed terrified,” Lou chuckled. “Why say yes? Why take the risk? Nothing left to lose? Or…”

“Sometimes you have to push yourself, I suppose,” Rose mumbled, reaching out timidly towards the blonde. “Go for what scares you.”

Lou was sure Rose was trying to reach for her hand, but she found herself spreading her legs out, inching herself ever so slightly until Rose’s palm was brushing against her thigh. She didn’t miss the soft intake of air. And she also didn’t miss how Rose left her hand there rather than pulling away suddenly at the shock.

“What scares you?” Lou asked, her voice going low. She licked her lips slowly, watching Rose carefully.

“The heist,” Rose grinned, the two sharing a quiet laugh. “Prison. Taxes. Death….You.”

“Me?” The blonde smirked.

“Yes,” Rose nodded, her voice shaking as she closed her eyes.

Lou placed her hand over Rose’s, using it to drag the woman’s hand up her thigh, teetering dangerously close to her hip.

“Do you really like doing what scares you?” Lou breathed, snaking Rose’s hand higher, the other woman gasping as she watched Lou’s eyes flutter, still dragging Rose’s hand, ghosting it along her abdomen, snaking her fingers just below the cups of her bra.

“Yes,” Rose nodded again, her eyes widening as she watched Lou, letting the blonde move her hand however she wanted.

“Would kissing me scare you?” Lou asked, locking her eyes on Rose, the woman’s mouth moving as if she was about to speak, but no sound coming from it for several moments. “Would touching me?”

“I…I…” Rose stuttered, closing her eyes as she gathered herself. “Yes. But…But I’d like to. If you’d let me, that is.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” The blonde smirked, her legs spreading even wider as she patted her thigh.

She waited to see what Rose would do, expecting the woman to only slide closer to her on the couch and maybe lean in, and expecting the unexpected, maybe even straddle her. But she definitely hadn’t expected Rose to leave the couch completely, kneeling down on the ground before her, looking up at Lou from between her legs, her hands pressing into her thighs.

“What do you like?” Rose asked softly.

“What are you offering?” Lou hissed, pulling Rose in by her hair as the older woman gasped.

“Anything you want,” Rose swallowed, letting Lou close the gap between them, bringing their lips together, Rose moaning into the kiss as Lou cupped her throat, pressing against it, deepening the sound. She pulled back, eyes sparkling, looking down at Rose with a cocky grin.

“I like your tongue,” she grinned. “What else can it do?”

Rose was gasping as Lou pushed her head low, fingers fumbling with the zipper of Lou’s pants as the blonde hissed, helping her roll them down her legs, shuffling closer to the edge of the couch, no underwear to be found.

“Jesus,” Rose whispered, glasses disappearing into her hair, her head disappearing between Lou’s thighs a second later as the blonde grabbed her, pushing her up against her heat with a grunt as her hips bucked forward.

“That’s it,” Lou groaned, her fingers twisting into Rose’s curls. “Keep your tongue working me just like that.”

Rose paused for a moment, moaning against Lou and then the blonde was grabbing her by the jaw, forcing her to look up at her.

“Can you do that for me, honey?” Lou panted, Rose squirming before her.

“Yes,” Rose breathed. “Yes…”

Lou arched an eyebrow at her, looking expectantly. Almost testing her.

“Daddy,” Rose added, barely making a sound, but Lou’s groan telling her she’d hit the mark.

“If you make Daddy come,” Lou smirked. “I’ll make it more than worth your while,” the blonde promised, bringing Rose in by the jaw again as she licked the taste of herself off the brunette’s lips.

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smashingmagicklovely · 3 years

Text

those you’ve known chapter 8

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15068684/chapters/81144736

hello o8 fandom! i know we’re dead but please read my fic that hasn’t been updated in two years!

man i don’t have any excuses anymore aksdlfhjas here’s the link

please leave comments, i love reading them and i love validation!

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lotties-ashwagandha · 2 years

Note

I saw that you are accepting requests, So, I wanted to see if you can do a Fem!Reader x Daphne Kluger one shot, where Daphne thinks Reader has a crush on Lou (because apparently everyone thinks she's sexy), so Daphne asks Rose for help.

But Reader thinks Daphne is in love with Rose.

Basically, Daphne and Reader are fools in love, that in the end, they end up together.

Thank you! xoxo

I love this request soooo much omg. the only change i made is making lou in love w reader just for some extra drama <3

—

FOOL FOR LOVE AND FULL OF FIRE

pairing: daphne kluger x fem!reader

word count: 2094

notes and warnings: TW: alcohol. title from ‘maria’ by blondie. alsooo ik daphne was rlly flirty w claude in the movie and just rlly flirty in general but i wanted to explore a bit of her softer more awkward side. lowkey kinda hate this but oh well what can u do. sorry this took so long x

taglist (if you’d like to be added or taken off, message me!): @traumatisedfangirl @cordeliass @devriesgoode

The nine of you had completed the third heist since the theft of the Toussaint, and the annual afterparty was taking place. You were already three hours into the celebration, and everyone was beginning to feel the effect of the drinks they had pulled from the fridge within minutes of arriving. Constance was attempting to win money from Amita by betting through card tricks, Nine Ball was trying to get gossip out of Tammy about her failed past relationship with Debbie, who was arguing with Lou about which record to play next.

The only conversation you paid any attention to was the one which was taking place a few feet away on the sofa. Daphne was ranting to Rose about her hairdresser, how she had been late to two appointments and had cut Daphne’s hair an inch two short.

You smiled softly – how predictable yet perpetually refreshing it was that this was her greatest concern. She had completed a heist that had given her millions of dollars only a few days before, and the police had flocked to attempt to discover them, yet Daphne was complaining about how many inches had been cut from her hair.

You wished you were sitting where Rose was, that Daphne would entrust you with her concerns, that she would let you learn every cause of joy and sorrow. You had suspected for a while that her relationship with Rose had become deeper than friendship – they were constantly together, Daphne was always telling you of new designs Rose had come up with, designs that had been inspired by Daphne.

You knew that you shouldn’t resent Rose. you knew that Daphne’s happiness was your only concern, no matter what gave her happiness, who could give her what she desired.

Yet you also knew that you would and could give her the world – your love for her knew no bounds. There was nothing you wouldn’t do for her. You would take the fall for her at any moment if the police discovered the truth of who completed the heist.

Nothing could separate Daphne from your love but Daphne herself.

You stood from where you had been sitting next to Amita, withdrawing to the kitchen. You took a beer from the fridge, looking for the bottle opener (A/N: i seem to have a thing w writing about bottle openers huh) when you heard the door open and shut.

Turning around, you were faced with Lou, and while her presence relaxed you a bit, you were disappointed that you had left a state of solitude. You hardly had the energy to greet her, so you didn’t, waiting for her to speak the first word.

“The opener’s on the cutting board over there,” she said, and you nodded, finally retrieving it. She watched you closely, though you didn’t meet her eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Lou did not respond for a moment. “I saw you watching Daphne. Is everything alright between the two of you?”

“Everything’s fine.”

“You know, you’re a talented thief, but you’re a pretty shitty liar.”

You slammed the bottle opener down on the table. “What do you want me to say, Lou?”

“Are you in love with her?”

“Daphne?”

She nodded.

“Does it matter?”

“It does to me,” she said, meeting your eyes. “We’ve known each other for a long time – you know I’m on your side.”

You bit your lip nervously, not sure how to continue. You knew you could trust her, but the idea of saying it out loud, that you really were in love with her. That perhaps she was in love with Rose, and perhaps she wasn’t, but either way she would never be yours. “I think I might be in love with her,” you said at last.

Something shifted in Lou’s gaze, something you couldn’t place that was gone before you had the chance to. She looked away, making her way to the fridge to grab herself a beer, and you could not name the tension that had built between you. You felt as if you had done something wrong, for the energy of the conversation completely contradicted the words spoken throughout it.

“You should tell her,” she insisted, giving you a reassuring glance as she finally faced you. “Work it out.”

“I think she’s in love with Rose.”

“Then maybe you should move on,” she suggested, moving closer to you, “and find someone who could give you the world, everything you deserve.”

At that moment, the door opened once more, slamming shut.

Both of your heads snapped to where Daphne had entered the kitchen. The three of you were silent – Daphne seemed to feel it too, how it felt like the air was getting thicker, that every moment spent in the kitchen was suffocating.

“Daphne,” you breathed, moving to the other side of the room, and though you wished to continue speaking, you had no words.

Daphne cleared her throat, sauntering to the empty bottle of champagne. “Are we out?”

You nodded, but she didn’t see. She was eyeing Lou, and you wondered if the two of them were going to start screaming at one another by the way they looked at each other, as if they shared a secret that could change everything.

Daphne kept their gazes locked as she reached into the fridge for a beer, and she turned to you for a moment as if she were going to say something, yet the words did not come for a moment. “You look wonderful tonight — well, you always look wonderful, but tonight you sort of glow.”

You could hardly meet her eyes, let alone form a coherent sentence. You watched as she left the kitchen, guilt filling you for not responding, and part of you willed yourself to go after her.

Yet would it matter? She had probably already moved past your encounter, she was probably back with Rose, and she had most likely forgotten about you. Any response you could have come up with didn’t matter, for it did not matter to Daphne.

“She’s right, you know,” Lou said, breaking the heavy silence between you. “You’re gorgeous.”

You offered her a small smile, muttered a small ‘thank you,’ and left the kitchen. You left the party entirely, feeling an urgent need to go home, to isolate yourself completely from any chance of interaction.

You were sure that no one would notice your absence — yet she noticed. Daphne always noticed, she always would. She felt every breath you took, she could hear your heartbeat from cities away. Your presence grounded her.

And though she wished to follow you, to make sure you made it home safe, she knew it wouldn’t matter to you, that she would be overstepping.

You would never be hers — she knew it well.

—

“I just don’t want to impose,” she rambled, fiddling with a loose strand of her hair. “You know, she and Lou seem to have a connection, and I don’t want to interfere with that and make her push me away…”

Rose shook her head, adding a pin to a dress she was working on. Daphne sifted through the racks of the clothes Rose sold at her new store, attempting to seem as nonchalant as she could, yet Rose had learned well to see past it. “You should talk to her — there’s no other way, really. It’s the most simple route. Hints and glances will only take you so far, and if you’re wrong—”

“I’m not.”

Rose smiled slightly, looking over to Daphne. “I know you’re never wrong,” she teased, “but on the rare chance that you are, you might never get a chance with her. If she says ‘no,’ then that’s that, and you move on.”

“I don’t know if I could,” she muttered, unsure if Rose had heard her.

“I guarantee she’s head over heels for you,” Rose continued. “We all see it, even Lou sees it, though I know it taunts her. The two of you are perfect for each other.”

“You really think so?”

Before she could respond, the door to the shop opened, and you entered.

Upon seeing her, you almost melted through the floor. You instantly became overly aware of what you were wearing, of your mannerisms, of everything around you.

Rose greeted you immediately, and you took notice of the small grin she sent Daphne. “Good afternoon, darling, what do you need?”

“I’m here to pick up the dress I ordered.”

“Ah, of course. Give me one moment,” she hurried off into the back room, and you were alone with Daphne.

“Hi,” you started awkwardly, and if you hadn’t been so embarrassed, you would’ve laughed at yourself.

Daphne smiled. “Hey…”

The air grew thick, and while both of you wished to break the silence, neither of you could find anything to say.

“I watched one of your films last night,” you said.

“Oh, really?” You seemed to have her attention. It was as if every bit of her confidence in her talent weighed on your response.

You nodded. “You’re amazing.”

A breath of relief.

And Rose was back too soon.

—

You rushed into the sitting room, searching for your purse, rushing to leave the theater. You couldn’t believe what had happened — you weren’t sure how to feel about any it.

You had been friends with Lou for more years than you could count. It had never been more than that, it had always been platonic.

Until recently, and not in your eyes.

You had suspected that Lou might be attracted to you, yet you were terrible at deciphering attraction, and Lou was that way with everyone… maybe she wasn’t.

Too preoccupied with the thoughts running laps in your head, you didn't hear the door open.

Your purse was on the sofa — you finally grasped it, relieved now that you could leave.

You turned, almost dropping to the floor when you collided with someone… when you collided with Daphne.

Her voice rang in your ears as she asked if you were alright, and it took you a moment to process her words. “I’m fine,” you assured her, yet you were completely out of sorts. “Are you?”

She nodded, and you could tell that she noticed your distant state. “Did something happen? You don’t seem yourself.”

“No, no, of course not,” you lied. “I came over to help Lou plan the next heist… what are you doing here?”

“I’m not sure I should tell you, I might sound like an alcoholic.”

You smiled slightly, raising your eyebrows.

“I think I left a shoe here after the party the other night. Everything went to hell after you left,” she laughed. “Speaking of which, what happened the other night? You’ve never left early like that before.”

“I was tired.”

Another lie — not even a believable one, and you knew it.

Daphne nodded. You could see her disappointment, could see that she wished for you to share the truth. She stepped away from you, turning to begin her search.

You wanted nothing more than to tell her everything. That you were in love with her, that she never left your mind. She haunted you in the very best way.

Yet if you told her, would she only be pushed even further away? Would it be your fault? For surely she did not reciprocate your feelings, she had made it very clear.

“Lou kissed me,” you blurted it out before you could stop yourself. The words hung in the air awkwardly, tangibly. “A few minutes ago she kissed me.”

You saw her straighten, and she avoided your eyes. “Oh,” you missed the hint of disappointment in her voice. “Are you two… you know…”

“No,” you answered, slightly appalled. “Not at all. There’s someone else, actually, but I’m not sure she feels the same way.”

She finally met your eyes. “What’s her name?”

You chewed your lip anxiously — it was now or never. “Daphne Kluger.”

Daphne did not respond.

You had turned your gaze to the ground, yet if you hadn’t, you would have seen the gentle smile that graced her lips, the hope that flooded her eyes.

She approached you, and suddenly her hands were on your waist, and you were drifting closer.

And suddenly, as if the stars had finally aligned, your lips met hers.

At that moment, everything was perfect. Nothing could come between you, for your last obstacle had been yourselves.

Love had kept you apart, and love, always, would bring you together.

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