#deb x lou | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Tumblr was the first site to host the blog for President Barack Obama in 2011.

blackacre13 · 11 months

Note

I think its pretty much an established fact that lou is a total womaniser, so I have this headcanon that after Debbie comes back from jail and they rekindle their relationship Lou has some problems going back to being completely monogamous. So could you do a Lou pov where she has all these girls flinging themselves at her and usually she wouldn't hesitate to say yes but Debbie means so much to her that she could never cheat. bonus points if the end has loubbie smut ;)

“You sure you don’t want to come with me tonight?” Lou asked, lingering in the doorway like she’d done every night for the last week.

She didn’t want to push Debbie. She didn’t. Lou couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to try to slip back into any sort of normal after what Debbie had been through, but a selfish part of her wanted Debbie to make her presence known in Lou’s club. Mark her territory. Declare that she was back.

Lou could say she was taken in a dozen different ways, but she’d also been saying that for years while Debbie was away. It had been habit. A habit that most women knew wasn’t actually the truth of the matter. Debbie had told her not to wait. Lou wasn’t in a committed relationship. Lou and Debbie and been label free for as long as they’d known each other, the truth of what they were never uttered aloud. And with Debbie behind bars, Lou had no one to go home to and only the option of inviting women who weren’t Debbie back to her place.

It had been difficult at first. She had blonde hair. She was a redhead. Nobody had Debbie’s brunette hair that slid from mahogany to midnight. Green eyes. Blue eyes. Never the right shade of brown that glimmered like amber. She had just seen Debbie last week. And then it was last month. And then she’d lost count of the days. Couldn’t remember the scent of her or the feel. She wasn’t sure what was fact and what was fiction when she pulled up a memory to pine over.

The “no thanks” and “I’m good” were habit, but there were other dangerous habits too. Helmet long gone on her bike. Nicorette gum down the toilet in a rage and a pack of cigarettes in her back pocket the same night. Vodka. A shot or two snuck in between serving. Then a pint glass. Then just like the days of Deb away behind bars losing meaning, Lou lost count of drinks.

Tammy was there to pull her out of her stupor. And she was beyond grateful for someone to chide her like a mother and hug her like a sister. But it was Danny of all people who closed his eyes and pinched his nose as he uttered softly, “when’s the last time you let yourself get laid, Miller?”

After giving him shit for saying it and having a much less awkward conversation about it with Tammy and Debbie too, courtesy of Tammy playing monkey in the middle, Lou replaced liquor with women.

A shot with a kiss. A drink with willing fingers slipping through her waiting heat. Bottle after bottle with tongues and teeth and sex. Never two nights in a row with the same woman. Never letting them call her by her name. Barely giving and more receiving. She felt too guilty. She only wanted to give Deb pleasure. Make her feel good.

And when Lou had returned to the club with more than a pep in her step, a permanent grin slung across her lips, she felt like she was sending out flashing lights and warning signs: I’m taken. I’m not interested. Don’t approach.

But much to her chagrin, she’d established a pattern. Women leaning over the bar a little too far, showing off cleavage and twisting their hair. A hand slipping into Lou’s own cleavage or pocket with a tip and the promise of just a little something extra for serving them.

It was easy to say no. It was just a word. But it was harder to see the pout. Harder to hear the “your loss” and “you sure?”

She just wanted Debbie to decide that tonight was the night she’d come to the club, strutting through the door, moving through whatever interested gaggle was barricading Lou behind the bar that night and claiming her as her own. She’d take a kiss or a hand leading her out of the club. she’d take a hickey to the neck or nails raked down her arms. Hell, she’d let Debbie fuck her against the bar right then and there. Her head was swimming with the thought, but now it was Debbie backed against the bar, skirt hitched up around her hips, Lou’s thigh between the brunette’s as she nipped at her ear, whispering in a low, deep voice what she was going to do to her right here and right now, without caring who saw.

Lou wanted to demand that Debbie come with her. Just drag her by the arm and take her back into her world. But she found herself slamming the door shut and pacing back towards the brunette, melting against her on the couch as Debbie looked up at her confused, but accepted the kiss Lou offered, moaning as it went from chaste and sweet to messy and deep, Lou tugging at Debbie’s lip in a way that was sure to bruise.

“You don’t have to come with me,” Lou promised, scraping her nails down Debbie’s chest as she groaned, haphazardly tugging at Deb’s shirt, buttons snapping and scattering. Her eyes were practically glazed over as she took in black lace and olive skin that waited for her beneath, Debbie’s nipples poking against the embroidered flowers. “But I want you to come with me. Right now.”

“Jesus, Lou,” Debbie whimpered, her hips lifting as Lou undid her slacks, her own legs straddling Debbie as she wiggled her hand inside Debbie’s pants, hissing at the heat.

“I want you on my fingers and on my tongue, Debbie. I want you all over me. I want them to know I’m yours. Only yours. That you’re the only one I take home. That I’m coming home to you. And I want you on my mind the whole time I’m gone.”

“Well, I think—“ Debbie smirked, rolling her bra cups upwards to reveal her breasts as she led Lou’s head roughly towards her, the blonde’s lips locking around her nipple. “I have just the plan for that.”

72 notes · View notes

sapphicforsarahh · 2 months

Text

best hands i've ever seen

ship: loubbie x fem!reader

word count: 800+

warnings: dom!loubbie x sub!reader, no smut (yet), dom and sub themes, sexting

synopsis: debbie and lou are looking for a new crew mate for the newest heist plan, that's when you catch their eye.

A/N: let me know what you think of this and whether you'd like a second part!

"Deb, I'm telling you, this girl has some of the best hands I've seen," she whispers to her wife. Both of them watch as you perform magic tricks to people who are stupid enough to fall for them. "Look, watch this," Lou leans forwards from her chair and watches you attentively. Your hands cleverly moved to show the participants correct cards. As they looked at their friends in shock and awe, you confidently slip the gold engagement ring, decorated with a diamond, off this woman's finger and secretively slip it into your pocket, without a single one of them realising.

"Not too bad," Debbie agrees and Lou smirks in return. "A pretty girl too," Lou adds, Debbie hums in agreement. After the bystanders had walked off, it was just you left with Debbie and Lou in the distance. "What do you say Deb?", Lou tries to convince Debbie to consider you, knowing their could be other benefits of having you on the team. "Sure," Debbie says a bit more easily than Lou would've thought. Without another word, Debbie stands up, Lou quick to follow her and the couple begin to approach you.

You're sitting on your bucket, counting your previously 'earned' dollars when you hear an Australian voice grab your attention. "Hey, can I hel-", you look up to see the older couple. Jesus, were they beautiful. All the thoughts in your head disappeared and you somehow managed to mumble out, "is there anything I can do for you ladies?". Debbie chuckles out, "we've got a charmer here."

One of the women stood with a dark, grey trench coat that pretty much hid her entirely black outfit, but still managed for her stiletto heels to stick out. The other, a blonde, stood taller with a sophisticated yet sexy leopard print coat. The dark, green lapels of her blazer were peeking through and you noticed her chest and hands were complimented by stacks of jewellery, most likely 24 carat gold.

"Me and my wife here noticed how skillful you are with your hands," Debbie started, taking off her shades and looking down at you with alluring deep, brown eyes. "We were wondering, if you could help us with something?" Lou added, also taking off her sunglasses, her eyes juxtaposed with her wife, as she met your gaze with light, blue ones.

You clear your throat with anxiousness, wondering what these women had proposed to you. "Uh, what is it?", you finally plucked up the courage to ask. "Come with us sweetheart, we'll explain everything," Lou said, placing her fingertips on your chin, making the power dynamic even greater.

You nod obediently, not wanting to upset these clearly powerful women. Debbie and Lou stand to the side whilst they watch you collect your things. "She's obedient isn't she," Lou chuckled, grabbing onto the lower of her wife's back. "Always a good thing, are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Debbie looks at her wife with a raised brow, knowing her full intentions with this girl. As Lou was going to answer, you walked over with your bag on your back and ready to follow these women to wherever they were taking you.

"Let's get going, I bet you're eager to find out what we want, aren't you sweet girl?", Lou teases, walking forward and placing her hand on your back. "Yeah," you managed to squeak out, before the the two women pushed you into the taxi. Debbie sat in the front, whilst Lou got in the back with you. You tried to distract yourself by looking outside the window but you just couldn't concentrate on anything else apart from the insanely good-looking blonde next to you. Finally, you decide to stare at your feet and choose that as the safest option. The sound of Lou's ruffling coat caught your attention but you didn't look up. She took her phone from her pocket and looked at the notification from Debbie.

| Debbie: finish what you were going to say earlier love x.

You silently watch Lou smirk and quickly text back:

| Lou: i was going to say she’d be a good toy x.

she listened to every word we said without questioning it, we could break her in no time x.

Your eyes widened in shock at how these two women were talking about you. I mean would you really want that? Maybe you would!

| Debbie: good call baby, we'll discuss when we're back home x speaking of, i need you to take care of me once we're back i need you so badly honey x

You really try hard to hold back any reaction to the obvious sexting that's occurring in the back of this taxi, and it must've worked because all you hear is a small groan from Lou before she put her phone away.

-------

Taglist: @mllkw33ds @isle-of-earle @chillinftladygaga @cordeliaswife @angelick1sses @gmtsu @thenazwife @ladysc @midnightlove30 @blanchettlovebot

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

#fanfic #lgbt #gay #cateblanchett #cate blanchett #oceans8 #lou miller #lesbian #oceans 8 #lou miller x reader #debbie ocean #debbieocean #loubbie #loubbiexreader #loubbie x reader

77 notes · View notes

classicsapphicships · 1 year

Text

The first round of preparations are finally complete, and that means the first round of the Classic Sapphic Ships bracket is almost ready to go! I'll be preparing the polls today and tomorrow to hopefully go live on Friday, and voting time for at least the first two rounds will run for a week. Check out the FAQ in the meantime, and feel free to send over any additional questions as well!

The full list of Round 1 Match Ups is under the cut!

Right side:

Franky/Bridget (Wentworth) vs Regina/Emma (Once Upon a Time)

Watson/Moriarity (Elementary) vs Lucy/Amy (DEBS)

Gina/Rosa (Brooklyn 99) vs Debbie/Lou (Ocean's 8)

Jo/Blair (The Facts of Life) vs Peyton/Brooke (One Tree Hill)

Piper/Alex (Orange is the New Black) vs Bering/Wells (Warehouse 13)

Xena/Gabrielle (Xena: Warrior Princess) vs Trini/Kimberly (Power Rangers 2017)

Ripley/Annalee (Alien) vs Annalise/Tegan (How to Get Away With Murder)

Susan/Talia (Babylon 5) vs Chessy/Meredith (The Parent Trap)

Ann/Anne (Gentleman Jack) vs Scully/Reyes (X-Files)

Cat/Kara (Supergirl) vs Olivia/Natalia (Guiding Light)

Nikki/Helen (Bad Girls) vs Ola/Lily (Sex Education)

13/Cameron (House MD) vs Sara/Catherine (CSI)

Delphine/Cosima (Orphan Black) vs Emily/JJ (Criminal Minds)

B'elanna/Seven (Star Trek) vs Rachel/Quinn (UnReal)

Emily/Alison (Pretty Little Liars) vs Beca/Chloe (Pitch Perfect)

Carol/Maria (Captain Marvel) vs Raven/Abby (The 100)

Left side:

Grace/Frankie (Grace & Frankie) vs Shaw/Root (Person of Interest)

Callie/Arizona (Grey's Anatomy) vs Stef/Lena (The Fosters)

Eve/Mazikeen (Lucifer) vs Luce/Rachel (Imagine Me & You)

Tara/Pam (True Blood) vs Ally/Ling (Ally McBeal)

Alex/Olivia (Law and Order SVU) vs Miranda/Andy (The Devil Wears Prada)

Samantha/Janet (Stargate SG-1) vs Nomi/Amanita/Sense8)

Willow/Tara (Buffy the Vampire Slayer) vs 13/Yasmin (Doctor Who)

Sharon/Brenda (The Closer) vs Kalinda/Alicia (The Good Wife)

Max/Anne (Black Flag) vs Petra/Jane (Jane the Virgin)

Eleanor/Tahani (The Good Place) vs Kelly/Yorkie (Black Mirror)

Rory/Paris (Gilmore Girls) vs Aneela/Kendry (Killjoys)

Quinn/Rachel (Glee) vs Jane/Maura (Rizzoli & Isles)

Nico/Karolina (Runaways) vs Serena/Bernie (Holby City)

Laura/Danny (Carmilla) vs Peggy/Angie (Agent Carter)

Hecate/Pippa (The Worst Witch) vs Bobbie/Chrisjen (The Expanse)

Bo/Lauren (Lost Girl) vs Bette/Tina (The L Word)

#bracket poll #femslash ships #fandom polls #femslash #sapphic ships #round 1 #classic fandom

63 notes · View notes

thelongstrangedrivehome2 · 19 days

Text

playlist for the eleventh of april twenty twenty-four

Bruce Springsteen - Rosalita (Come Out And Play)

The Rolling Stones - Miss You

Dolly Parton - Wrecking Ball

Syd Barrett - Terrapin

David Bowie - The Jean Genie

T. Rex - Jeepster

Björk - Hyper-Ballad

John Lennon - Instant Karma

Shihad - Deb's Night Out

The Velvet Underground - New Age

Elton John - Honky Cat

David Bowie - Breaking Glass

The Rolling Stones - Faraway Eyes

The Smile - Open the Floodgates

Lou Reed & David Bowie - Hop Frog

Pink Floyd - The Show Must Go On

X-Ray Spex - Warrior In Woolworths

Nick Lowe - 36 Inches High

Staple Singers - (Sittin' On) The Dock Of The Bay

The Beths - I'm Not Getting Excited

Bob Dylan - The Mighty Quinn (Quinn The Eskimo)

Boy George - My Sweet Lord

Teenage Fanclub - Personality Crisis

Meat Puppets - Unexplained

The Long, Strange Drive Home — East FM 88.1 107.1

@michaelatkinsprescott | Linktree

#bruce springsteen #the rolling stones #dolly parton #syd barrett #david bowie #t. rex #bjork #john lennon #shihad #the velvet underground #elton john #the smile #lou reed #pink floyd #x ray spex #nick lowe #staple singers #bob dylan

4 notes · View notes

petitegaynerd · 6 years

Photo

young deb x lou // full of sweetness and a lotta trouble

#ocean's eight #ocean's 8 #ocean's eight edit #debbie ocean #lou miller #deb x lou #sandra bullock #cate blanchett #this one is... better #i think #vague mooing

78 notes · View notes

lilolilyr · 6 years

Text

Heistwifes Ficlet /1

I watched the movie two days ago and will go see it again today because I loved it so much, and the second I saw Lou Miller and Debbie Ocean look at each other I knew they were in love. So here goes:

Lou's POV as Debbie is in prison pre- Ocean's 8

--------------------

Lou has many faces, but few have ever seen her without a mask.

And few have noticed that she has been wearing one. With her slightly crazy demeanour- not necessarily fake, but a good place to hide nontheless- people are less likely to assume she isn't showing her true self than they are with the cold exterior of Deb.

Deb.

Debbie.

It's been years, and Lou misses her so much, it's a constant ache in her chest.

Misses her closeness, the intimacy, misses her partner and partner in crime, but most of all, maybe, she misses being able to be true to herself around the one person she trusts most in the world.

She hasn't called her in prison, except once, when her contacts had told her Debbie had been in solitary for over a month, and Lou just needed to know whether she was alright.

Deb sounded glad that she'd called.

Not that she'd said so, of course, and not like either of them could even say a true word on a prison phone, anyway.

It's a policy of theirs, and just something that needs sticking to, when you're living their lives.

Lou has never been caught, never imprisoned, so technically Deb wouldn't be breaking any rules stopping her from getting out on parole. And Lou doesn't care about being a known associate if that's the price to pay to be with Deb.

But it's about more than that, it's always about more than that.

It's about safety, secrecy, security.

About being susceptible to blackmail, weak spots visible, vulnerability, leaks in the system and always, always the watchful eyes of your enemies.

The only times Lou can be herself outside of the confides of her own head are scarce.

A safe place, a place that can't be bugged or has been sweeped, a place where no-one's watching- except Deb. And she needs Debbie to be there, needs her like air to breathe, because after all the years of faking, Lou doesn't quite know which parts of her facade are her true self. Needs Debbie to be there, to break her apart piece by piece and make her real again.

She can't wait for her lover to be free.

Part 2

Part 3

45 notes · View notes

poeticsandaliens · 6 years

Text

Cactus Flower (or There ain’t no grave)

Pairing: Heist Wives (Debbie x Lou)

Rating: Explicit.

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

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

Read Here on AO3

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

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

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

“It could be important.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not—”

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

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

“Have you heard from her at all?”

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

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

“It’s a con,” she assures Tammy.

“How do you know?”

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

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

“What the hell do you think you’re—”

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

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

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

“I am,” Lou replies.

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

“I need you to come to New Mexico.”

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

“Good news or bad news first?”

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

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

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

A pause. “Four weeks ago.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is she all right?”

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You would rob a Victorian aristocrat.”

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

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

What now? it seems to ask.

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

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lou, look at me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#ocean's 8 #ocean's eight #debbie ocean #lou miller #heist wives #debbie x lou #deb x lou #nine ball #tammy #amita #constance #rose weil #daphne kluger #ocean's 8 fanfic #heist wives fanfic #tw: blood #tw: injury

41 notes · View notes

blackacre13 · 1 year

Note

loubbie having wild rough sex with a strap then realizing how good they are at it even if they’re in their 50s already lmao this is silly but like it goes something like “how are we in our 50s?” or whatever fits

“It was not,” Debbie snorted, her face turning red with laughter as Lou shook her head.

“I shit you not. Right in the dishwasher.”

“Next to Dani’s pink sippy cup?”

“I’m not a monster,” Lou rolled her eyes. “I’d never put it next to her favorite one. It was next to the green one.”

“You’ve lost it, Miller,” the brunette grinned. “Now get over here. No more delays.”

“First off, it’s the most efficient way to clean them both,” the blonde pointed out, crawling onto the bed. “Second, you’re the one who asked me to find the bigger one.”

Lou sat the dildo down on the night table, the base suctioning to the surface with a bubble-like sound. “Now are you gonna kiss the hell out of me, Ocean, or not?”

“Get over here,” Debbie smirked, pulling the blonde in closer and wrapping her arms around her neck as she tugged her up along the bed and laid Lou flat against her.

“I thought you’d never ask, Mrs. Miller,” the blonde murmured, nails raking down Debbie’s chest as their lips meant until Lou was drifting down her wife, running her lips over her breasts, sucking at her nipples, biting her way down her stomach, making a detour to nip at her thighs before circling back to Debbie’s simmering heat to swirl her tongue through Debbie’s pooling arousal.

“Fuck, I love when Tammy takes the kids for the night,” Debbie moaned.

Lou looked up at Debbie from between her legs, arching an eyebrow before she wiped Debbie’s slickness off her lips with the back of her hand pointedly.

“Please don’t use your ex’s name and the word love in the same sentence, especially while my tongue is inside you.”

“She’s your ex too,” Debbie exhaled, pushing Lou’s head back down as the blonde laughed against her, grazing her clit maybe a little too hard with her teeth as Debbie cried out. “Was merely grateful for her as a babysitter precisely so I could have your tongue inside me.”

Lou bit down on her thigh before she looked up again. “Then clearly, I’m not doing enough to get your mind off of the kids,” she smirked, blindly grabbing at the dildo before plunging it into Debbie without warning, the brunette letting out a deep moan as her nails dug into Lou’s neck.

“Jesus, Fuck, Lou.”

“Had to shut you up,” Lou hissed, pumping the dildo in and out as Debbie groaned, cursing and grabbing at the blonde, biting down on her shoulder after reaching an entirely new level of loud to keep from going completely shrill. “Still thinking about anything else?”

“Just…your strap,” Debbie panted.

“Just the strap?” Lou asked, her rhythms stopping with the dildo just outside of Debbie, the tip brushing against her teasingly.

“And you…only you…Fuck!” Debbie moaned, Lou plunging the dildo all the way inside her. Hard. As Debbie fell over the edge, clinging to the blonde.

“Not bad,” Lou spoke aloud, an hour or so later, her finger running along Debbie’s exposed spine, tracing over her skin softly as Debbie let out a sleepy hum of agreement. “Glad to know we’ve still got game.”

“Strap game,” Debbie chuckled.

“That’s all mine, love.”

“Takes two to tango, Miller.”

“Also takes two for the finale,” Lou giggled, tugging at a fistful of Debbie’s hair to catch an additional moan from her partner before Debbie rolled over with a lazy smile.

“You get the Chinese and I get the ice cream?” Debbie asked.

“Just let me throw on some boxers.”

“Don’t,” Debbie grinned, watching the blonde stand up, walking towards the bathroom before placing a kiss on Debbie’s forehead. “Did you ever think we’d still be up to our same antics in our fifties?”

“Honey, you just wait until we hit our sixties,” Lou winked.

61 notes · View notes

sapphicforsarahh · 23 days

Text

best hands ive ever seen pt.2

ship: loubbie x fem!reader

word count: 695+

warnings: none, mention of sex but none (yet)

synopsis: You finally learn what Lou and Debbie want with you

After what seemed like the longest car ride, you eventually reached wherever these women were taking you. “Let’s go honey,” Lou taps your leg and urges you to get out. You do as you’re told and stand next to the car, waiting for the other women to guide you where you needed to be. Debbie smiles at you at walks towards an old building, which looks like it should be abandoned. “Is this where you’re taking me?”, you ask nervously. Lou chuckles, “don’t worry, its much nicer inside.”

Lou tosses Debbie the keys and waits for her to open the door, then you take a look inside. A massive loft, covered with expensive furniture, shelves stacked with records and racks cluttered with fur coats and empty hangers. “Do you guys live here?”, you ask, still inspecting the place. “Well, not so much anymore, it’s pretty much just where we plan,” Debbie explains, throwing the keys on a nearby table. “Plan?”, you question, sitting down on the sofa. “We should probably explain,” Lou sits down on the chair in front of you, Debbie adjacent. “Lou and I have been doing this for years, getting away with stealing and making millions from it. And Lou happened to find you, a girl with good hands,” Debbie explained, Lou nodding along with her. “Basically, we’re asking you if you’d want to be in the next heist?”, Lou asked bluntly.

You were shocked to say the least. That’s definitely the last thing that you were expecting from these two women. “I, uh. I’m not sure what to say,” you laugh out. “Well?” Lou teases, leaning forward, placing both her hands on your knees. You blush, obviously, and look at Debbie, hoping for some sort of support, but she just cocks her head and raises a brow. “S-sure,” you answer, unconfidently.

"Please doing business with you," Debbie shakes your hand. It was just now that the two women realised they never caught your name. "Oh, I'm Y/N by the way," you said, as if reading their mind.

-------

Over the coming days, you learn their body language and how they spoke to eachother. Lou was extremely flirty with everyone that she saw, apparently, and Debbie was there to apologise for her. You also noticed how much more intense the flirting had became. Both women teased with you and gave eachother a smirk.

One night, after the rest of the group had went home and Debbie had went to bed, it was only you and Lou up. She had poured you a whiskey with ice, however she had it neat. Her leg propped up on the table in front of you both, one hand held her glass, the other entertaining a lighter. "So, Y/N," Lou begins, her low voice helps to accentuate her accent. You turn her attention to you and also prop your foot on the table. "Are you single? Any lady we should be aware of," Lou jokes, sipping her whiskey and raising a brow.

You blush and hesitate to answer, Lou grows impatient. "So?", she pries. "Well, no. It's a bit complicated," you say quietly, almost embarrassed. Lou only hums in response, waiting for you to continue. "I've never really had a thing for girls my age," you practically stutter out. Lou's smirk was plastered across her face. "You have a thing for older women honey?", her lighter is soon thrown on the table and she moves closer to you.

Nervously, you clear your throat before answering, "you could say that." The older woman clearly notices the tension rising between you and decides to see how far she can go. "So, Debs and I, we've been talking," her veiny hand is palming your knee. You nod, thinking that it's better not to speak. "Would you be interested in joining us? In the bedroom?" Lou asks a bit too casually.

So many thoughts are going through your head. The main one being: yes. All you could do at that moment is nod. Lou simply hums before downing the rest of her whiskey, giving you a quick kiss to the forehead before whispering in your ear, "Stay the night, we have a spare room."

---------

Taglist: @mllkw33ds @isle-of-earle @chillinftladygaga @cordeliaswife @angelick1sses @gmtsu @thenazwife @ladysc @midnightlove30 @blanchettlovebot @bellasbaxters

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

#fanfic #lgbt #gay #cateblanchett #cate blanchett #oceans8 #lesbian #lou miller #oceans 8 #lou miller x reader #debbie ocean #debbie ocean x reader #debbieoceanxreader #loubbie x reader #loubbiexreader #sandra bullock #sandrabullock

24 notes · View notes

classicsapphicships · 1 year

Photo

Round 1 Polls are posted! Each poll will be up for a week, so good luck to everyone’s favorite ships!

Right Side:

Franky/Bridget (Wentworth) vs Regina/Emma (Once Upon a Time)

Watson/Moriarity (Elementary) vs Lucy/Amy (DEBS)

Gina/Rosa (Brooklyn 99) vs Debbie/Lou (Ocean's 8)

Jo/Blair (The Facts of Life) vs Peyton/Brooke (One Tree Hill)

Piper/Alex (Orange is the New Black) vs Bering/Wells (Warehouse 13)

Xena/Gabrielle (Xena: Warrior Princess) vs Trini/Kimberly (Power Rangers 2017)

Ripley/Annalee (Alien) vs Annalise/Tegan (How to Get Away With Murder)

Susan/Talia (Babylon 5) vs Chessy/Meredith (The Parent Trap)

Ann/Anne (Gentleman Jack) vs Scully/Reyes (X-Files)

Cat/Kara (Supergirl) vs Olivia/Natalia (Guiding Light)

Nikki/Helen (Bad Girls) vs Ola/Lily (Sex Education)

13/Cameron (House MD) vs Sara/Catherine (CSI)

Delphine/Cosima (Orphan Black) vs Emily/JJ (Criminal Minds)

B'elanna/Seven (Star Trek) vs Rachel/Quinn (UnReal)

Emily/Alison (Pretty Little Liars) vs Beca/Chloe (Pitch Perfect)

Carol/Maria (Captain Marvel) vs Raven/Abby (The 100)

Left Side:

Grace/Frankie (Grace & Frankie) vs Shaw/Root (Person of Interest)

Callie/Arizona (Grey's Anatomy) vs Stef/Lena (The Fosters)

Eve/Mazikeen (Lucifer) vs Luce/Rachel (Imagine Me & You)

Tara/Pam (True Blood) vs Ally/Ling (Ally McBeal)

Alex/Olivia (Law and Order SVU) vs Miranda/Andy (The Devil Wears Prada)

Samantha/Janet (Stargate SG-1) vs Nomi/Amanita/Sense8)

Willow/Tara (Buffy the Vampire Slayer) vs 13/Yasmin (Doctor Who)

Sharon/Brenda (The Closer) vs Kalinda/Alicia (The Good Wife)

Max/Anne (Black Sails) vs Petra/Jane (Jane the Virgin)

Eleanor/Tahani (The Good Place) vs Kelly/Yorkie (Black Mirror)

Rory/Paris (Gilmore Girls) vs Aneela/Kendry (Killjoys)

Quinn/Rachel (Glee) vs Jane/Maura (Rizzoli & Isles)

Nico/Karolina (Runaways) vs Serena/Bernie (Holby City)

Laura/Danny (Carmilla) vs Peggy/Angie (Agent Carter)

Hecate/Pippa (The Worst Witch) vs Bobbie/Chrisjen (The Expanse)

Bo/Lauren (Lost Girl) vs Bette/Tina (The L Word)

#Classic Sapphic Ships #Round 1 #fandom polls #hopefully all the links work

35 notes · View notes

smashingmagicklovely · 6 years

Text

footprint(s)

new ocean’s fic for ya right here!!

Some pure Nine-Ball content, with a side of Deb x Lou and just a dash of Nine x Lou!!

Different for me, but I hope you enjoy!! <3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15602157

#ocean's 8 #ocean's eight #deb x lou #lou x deb #nine-ball #rihanna #tammy #constance #amita #rose weil #daphne kluger #lou #lou miller #debbie ocean #my fic #mine #femmeslash #femslash

11 notes · View notes

forsurebuddy · 6 years

Note

Somehow, I knew you'd love them. Which makes the fact that I already wrote it even better. (1/?) For the longest time it was Danny and Debbie against the world. He taught her the ways of the world, even, or especially, when their mother disapproved. Thick as the thieves they were (or would be). Then it became Danny and Debbie and Rusty against the world. Rusty could finish Danny’s sentences but mostly none of them needed to talk. A whole conversation held with the arching of a single eyebrow.

(2/?) Things start going downhill when Danny met Tess. Danny vowed he was going to turn his life around, for Tess. Neither Rusty nor Debbie believed that for a second. He tried, and failed, to no one’s surprise but his own. Danny and Tess, however tumultuous and ill-fated, is the end of their perfect trio. Rusty and Debbie try to give it a go just the two of them. But without Danny they just don’t have that special something that makes them unstoppable.(3/?) It takes getting away by the skin of their teeth for them to realize it and drift off in separate directions. And sure, Debbie is perfectly capable of pulling jobs on her own, but that takes some of the fun out of it. She’d learned what not to do from her dad. He’d taken it far too seriously. You had to have a little fun or eventually you slipped up and got caught. But one night, having a bit of fun, a pair of eyes catch Debbie’s in the mirror above the bar.(4/?) Debbie is bored between jobs and has formed a bad habit of letting boys in bars try to pick her up. And then picking up most of the money in their trust fund-ed wallets. The eyes in the mirror flick, almost imperceptibly over to the hand Debbie was inching into the latest mark’s pocket. For an instant, Debbie is ready to create a distraction and bolt. But then she catches a wink from the blonde who is staring her down(5/?) and all of a sudden it feels like the heydays of her and Danny and Rusty. But better. She catches Brad or Brent or whoever’s attention and even though she’s looking for it, Debbie barely sees the blonde’s hand pull something better than a wallet from Brett’s pocket. The next few moments are a blur. A drink ends up in Benji’s lap. She and the blonde race for the door like their lives depend on it.(6/?) One long, jean encased leg swings over the seat of a motorcycle parked out front. And Debbie doesn’t think twice about joining her new, blonde partner in crime. They rocket down the street, both of them laughing. From the high they get, from the joy of clicking instantaneously with another person. “I’m Lou,” says a breathless voice once they’ve pulled over after putting a half dozen blocks between themselves and the bar.(7/7) “Debbie,” she answers, sure that this is the beginning of a beautiful partnership. If only she knew.ummmmm this is SO good already? this is 100% how they met like these two are such troublemakers apart and put them together and you're in for it now my dude. these two are out here robbin' dudes and being hot together what more could you even want

#oceans 8 #Sandra Bullock #Cate blanchett #anon fic friend #THANK YOU ANON FIC FRIEND #your return has been long awaited :)#Deb x lou

19 notes · View notes

homo-homey · 6 years

Photo