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snowy-vee · 3 months ago

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𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫.

⭑.ᐟ｡𖦹°‧ warnings . . . approximately 7k words, smut with plot, cheating, older!ellie (reader is 23), chef!ellie, body hair, fingering/oral (e!receiving), no use of y/n, food play, ellie drinks coffee in this one :p 𐔌.author's note.ᐟ ֹ₊꒱ first post of the year!!! muahahaha (totally not proofread :p) HAPPY NEW YEARRR!!! i just wanted to take a moment to say thank you from the bottom of my heart to each and every one of you who reads and interacts with my writings/posts in general. it truly means the world to me. :3 i also wanted to let my moots know that i love you all, y'all are so funny and cool, and i appreciate you more than you know. even if we haven’t interacted much, just know i’m lowkey stalking your blogs (in admiration, ofc… i’m definitely not hiding in your basement as you’re reading this)

It wasn’t supposed to go this far. You’d never planned to walk this road, never imagined the day you’d become someone like this. A homewrecker, or whatever the fuck people called it. This wasn’t you, not really. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

But as you kneeled before the Ellie fucking Williams, none of that mattered. Your soft hands held on to her hips with a fervent grip, almost as if your life depended on it, tongue dragging up her dripping heat, collecting every bit of that sweet, sticky honey from the slit of her soaked pussy to the carved ridges of her toned abs. She was a masterpiece, sculpted by Michelangelo himself, and you were hungry for her essence, desperate to savor every inch she had to offer. No matter how many times you have done this before, it never gets old—she never gets old.

Golden syrup trickled from the curve of her perky breasts, pooling in the valley between them before rolling down to her hardened nipples. You couldn’t just ignore them, couldn’t leave them standing there neglected. Slowly, deliberately, you made your way up, tongue swirling, teeth grazing, your mouth worshiping her as she deserved. She whimpered��soft, breathy, almost vulnerable.

You’d done that. You made her sound like that.

But Ellie wasn’t one for patience, not in the kitchen, nor in a different context. That was her thing—impatience, control—making things happen whenever she wanted it. Her calloused hand gripped your shoulder, pushing you back down with the kind of force that sent a jolt straight through you.

“Get me off, like you always do, will ya?” her voice rasp and lazy, dripping with authority.

You looked up at her, smirking despite your knees throbbing from the cold tile beneath you, bruises blooming on your skin like pretty violets, a dark reminder of how many times you’d been down here like this lately. “Yes, chef.”

You didn’t break eye contact as you sank lower, lashes fluttering, bambi-eyed and eager. Ellie always had this power over you, this hold that went deeper than lust. You admired her. You wanted her job, her life, her. You wanted to be her, and fuck, you wanted to be with her, too. But that was a dream too big for the likes of you, and you knew it.

So for now, you gave her what she wanted, what she demanded, losing yourself in her, the scent of her, the taste of her. Your tongue laid flat and ready, exposed for her, and she didn’t waste a second. Instinct took over as her hips bucked against your pretty face, her throbbing, greedy clit grinding against the wet muscle of your tongue. Her desperation only fueled you, and as her heat consumed you, your breath hitched. Your free hand slid down, pressing against your own aching core, rubbing yourself through your soaked panties while you devoured her.

In minutes, you were a wreck. Hair tangled and wild, her hands yanking at it with no care for gentleness. She didn’t give a single fuck if she was hurting you—not now, not ever. That’s just how she was, and you wouldn’t have had it any other way. The pain only made you hungrier, needier, leaving you gasping for more.

“God,” she gasped, her voice breathless, “She doesn’t do it like you do.”

Your heart skipped, your cheeks flushed, and you couldn’t stop yourself from humming proudly against her. The vibrations made her hips jerk, her clit twitching against your warm tongue as you worked on her with even more determination. Your fingers moved faster, circling your swollen bud through the drenched fabric of your panties. The soft moans that escaped your throat only made her rougher, fingers digging into your scalp, pulling you closer as she chased her release.

“Fuck…” she cursed, her voice breaking as her head tilted back, her eyes fluttering shut. She was gone, completely lost in what you were giving her. “This is why you’re my favorite.”

The words hit like a shot of adrenaline, causing a fluttery, erratic sensation to erupt in your stomach. You sucked harder, more hungrily, her juices dripping down your chin and mixing with your spit, your tongue lapping it all up like you couldn’t get enough.

A low moan rumbled from your chest as you got more of her taste, vibrating against her clit and making her cry out in return. Her toned thigh tightened around your head, pulling you impossibly closer. You could barely breathe, your nose buried in her trimmed, reddish bush, but you didn’t care. Her other hand released its grip on the steel counter behind her, letting her back fully press against it to seek steady support while she trapped her stiff nipple between her fongers. Each calculated motion you made left her gasping, her shallow breaths hitching as if she were on the verge of losing control.

Your fingers slipped past the waistband of your white panties, eagerly teasing your slit before pushing them into your pulsating walls without wasting a second more. You were too wet, too sensitive, and way too horny to be patient, couldn’t wait until she came to feel good. You winced slightly, stifling a soft mewl as you sank them deeper and deeper.

She noticed, of course, she did. “What a fucking slut you are,” she chuckled, her voice a breathless mix of amusement and disbelief. Her hips ground impatiently against your mouth, her grip on your damaged hair tightening to the point of pain. “Just like that,” she gasped, her head tilting back again as her body tensed. “I’m close already.”

You couldn’t stop a giddy chuckle to slip past your lips. The sound was soft, playful, but it didn’t go unnoticed. Her head snapped downward, her brows furrowing in confusion as her gaze locked onto yours.

“Something funny?” she asked, her voice sharp despite the breathlessness.

“What, your wife doesn’t touch you at all?” you taunted, your voice laced with mock innocence as you pulled back just enough to meet her hooded gaze.

“She does,” Ellie shot back almost instantly, her voice sharp and defensive. But her actions betrayed her words as her hand gripped the back of your head, forcing you down again with the kind of need that spoke volumes. She was selfish about it, pressing herself against you without hesitation, demanding more of you like she always did.

You gave in, plunging two fingers deep inside her, curling them just right, finding that sweet spot that made her body restless and her moans grow louder. Your mouth stayed busy, lips and tongue working on her rose nub in tandem, sucking and flicking in rhythm with the movement of your hand. Her body was tight, trembling under your touch, and you couldn’t help but feel a rush of pride knowing you were the one making her feel like this—pulling sounds from her that her wife hadn’t in years. It was wrong, but Ellie couldn’t bring herself to stop. Not with the way your fingers worked inside her, not with the way your tongue seemed to know exactly what she needed.

You looked up at her briefly, catching the flicker of something in her eyes—guilt, maybe, or shame—but it was quickly replaced by hunger as her fingers tightened in your once-soft hair. “Don’t stop,” she rasped, her voice growing desperate. And you didn’t.

How could you sleep with another woman’s wife? The thought lingered in the corners of your mind like a restless echo of a whisper, making you feel guilty and disgusting, until your gaze landed on her again, and suddenly, the guilt felt distant, almost irrelevant, like it was never there to begin with.

Even a blind person would succumb to her allure, you told yourself, as if that excused anything. That charisma of hers—it wasn’t just a pull. It was a wicked spell that left you weak in the knees. The world around you always seemed to fade into a hazy blur as she walked into the room, her presence overwhelming and intoxicating. Self respect? It vanished the moment her soft lips crashed against yours, leaving you drowning in the pounding of your heart and your feelings for her.

Maybe it was her beauty, effortless and unassuming, the kind that seemed to defy time itself. She wore it effortlessly, as if time itself had conspired in her favor. She looked fresh, radiant even, no matter her age. Thirty-six. Was that too old for you? Surely not. There were worse gaps out there, you reasoned, though even the thought of reasoning felt ridiculous when it came to her. She made rationality crumble, made you question things you never had before.

Ellie hadn’t always been this person, this version of herself that took and took without restraint. She hated it, hated the way she’d sunk so low, but she couldn’t stop. Not when it came to you. She’d had plenty of pretty girls come and go in her kitchen, of every age, bright-eyed and eager to prove themselves. But none of them had caught her attention the way you did. There was something about you that made her stomach twist and her chest flutter in ways she didn’t want to admit.

It made her feel disgusting.

The guilt clung to her like a parasite, heavy and suffocating, consuming her at night as she lay next to Dina. Sweet, devoted Dina, who didn’t deserve any of this. Dina, who kissed Ellie goodnight with the same tenderness she had ever since high school, who still looked at her with love in her eyes, even though Ellie knew she didn’t deserve it.

But the truth was undeniable. Dina didn’t make her happy anymore. Maybe it wasn’t even Dina’s fault, maybe the problem was Ellie herself. Years of love, years of marriage, and yet something had changed. Dina was steady, reliable, safe. But safe had grown boring. Too domestic, too… predictable.

Then you walked into her restaurant.

Ellie remembered that day like it had been etched into her memory with a hot iron. You had this nervous energy about you, your manicured hands trembling slightly even as you tried to project confidence. It was endearing the way you squared your shoulders and forced a smile despite how jittery you clearly felt. Ellie couldn’t take her eyes off you.

Your nerves were a tangled mess, a whirlwind of excitement and dread swirling in your chest. Meeting someone you had admired for years was thrilling, yes, but it was also overwhelming in a way you hadn’t expected. Your love for cooking had always been an anchor in your life, a passion ignited by your dad—a man whose laughter echoed in every inch of the house on cozy Sunday afternoons, whose hands expertly kneaded dough or seasoned a sauce with precision and care. Those moments were your happiest memories, fragments of a simpler time.

When he passed, it felt like a part of you went with him. Alongside the grief came a determination that burned quietly within you. You owed it to him, you told yourself. You had to carry on his passion, keep alive all the little tricks and lessons he had passed down. He never got the chance to go to a culinary school, never had the means to chase the dream he so clearly deserved. You’d been luckier. You had opportunities he could only ever dream of, and for that, you couldn’t complain.

However, somewhere along the way, doubt began to creep in.

It was subtle at first—a quiet voice in the chambers of your mind that questioned if you were truly good enough. That voice grew louder with time, eating away your confidence. Even after you graduated from a prestigious culinary school—one that rarely opened its doors to just anyone—you couldn’t shake the feeling that others were better.

More talented. More deserving.

Still, you pushed forward. Giving up wasn’t an option, not after everything you’d invested: all your savings, grueling hours of study, sleepless nights, sacrifices you had made, and the moments you had teetered on the edge of failure, only to claw your way back. Quitting now would mean throwing all of that away. Worse, it would mean letting down the one person whose opinion mattered most to you.

How would your dad react if he were still here? Would he understand your struggles, or would he shake his head in disappointment? Those unanswered questions haunted you late at night, swirling endlessly in your mind as you tossed and turned in your bed. Would he be proud of the path you had taken? Or would he see your insecurities as a weakness?

You didn’t know. You might never know. Yet that was part of what kept you going, clinging to the hope that, somehow, all of this would be worth it.

When your culinary school recommended Ellie Williams’ restaurant for an apprenticeship, your heart nearly stopped. You couldn’t afford not to say yes, but that didn’t stop the nerves from turning your stomach inside out. She was a legend, known for her perfectionism, innate talent, and the kind of reputation that inspired both awe and fear. She wasn’t just a great chef. She was the chef, and to top it all off, she’d walked the same halls at your school. Knowing she had started where you were now gave you hope, but it also set the bar impossibly high.

Ellie was why you chose that school in the first place, and now you were walking into her domain, hoping you wouldn’t screw it all up.The interview wasn’t something you could avoid, no matter how much you wanted to. Everything about her was intimidating—the stories of her strictness, her infamous zero-tolerance policy for mistakes, and her disdain for laziness in any form. All of it left you shitting your pants in anticipation.

The moment she stepped into the office a waitress had told you to wait in, the air felt like it had shifted, and the chatter of the bustling restaurant beyond the door suddenly muted. She carried herself with confidence, the intimidating kind. Her auburn hair was pulled into a loose bun at the nape of her neck, a few rebellious strands framing her freckled face. The years had carved faint lines into the corners of her olive eyes, but they only added to her beauty. Her gaze was piercing, the type that made you feel stripped bare with just one glance.

She wore her chef’s jacket open at the collar, the sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms adorned with faint scars and a faded tattoo. Her stance was casual but strong, her crossed arms flexing toned muscles beneath the freckled skin. She looked like someone who had worked for everything she had and who wasn’t afraid to call you out if you hadn’t done the same.

The interview itself was mercilessly brief. Ellie didn’t waste time, her words were stern and straight to the point. She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest, her expression unreadable except for the slight downturn of her lips. It wasn’t just that she looked unimpressed, it was as if she had already decided you had something to prove.

Her voice cut through the silence with a rasp that spoke of too many late nights and maybe one too many cigarettes in her youth. “I’m not here to hold anyone’s hand,” she began, “And I don’t give out praise for showing up. I want to know why you think you can keep up here when most fresh-out-of-school types run for the door the second they realize what I expect.”

You stumbled over your words at first, her intensity throwing you off balance. Her stormy green eyes stayed locked on you the entire time, dissecting every word that left your mouth. You couldn’t help but notice the faint quirk of her brow, a hidden challenge laying in its arch, daring you to falter.

When you finished answering, her expression didn’t change, her arms still crossed in that stance that screamed impatience, like she had better things to do. She let the silence stretch, as if weighing your every word. Finally, she nodded, just once, curt and decisive, before standing.

Your posture straightened awkwardly, every muscle stiff as you tried to hold her gaze. You didn’t want to look nervous, not to her. Ellie Williams wasn’t the kind of person who tolerated insecurity, and the last thing you wanted was to give her the impression that you didn’t know what you were doing.

“I’ll give you a week,” The older woman conceded, “A trial. During that time, you’ll work every shift I tell you to—no complaints. If I think you’re slacking even once, you’re out. Understood?”

Anxiety coursing through you at her words, the pressure settling on your shoulders like a lead apron. You nodded, swallowing your nerves and summoning every ounce of determination you had left. “Understood, Chef.”

“Good.”

Ellie pushed herself off the desk, her hand extended toward you, and for a second, you froze. When you finally reached out, your fingers met hers—rough, calloused, worn down by years of relentless labor in kitchens like this one. Her grip was firm and commanding, her knuckles marked with tiny cracks and the faded scars of burns long since healed. You couldn’t help but notice how her hand lingered just a second too long, enough for you to feel the weight of her scrutiny.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, “Don’t disappoint me.”

“I won’t,” you promised, your voice cracking slightly, betraying how much you wanted to sound confident.

Easier said than done.

The week passed in a blur. Each day felt like a battle that tested you to your limits. The kitchen wasn't just hectic; it was hell. A scorching inferno of non-stop work. Pans clattered, oil sizzled, and the air seemed perpetually thick with heat and the aroma of garlic and herbs. Voices shouted over the din, and orders barked with urgency. The counters gleamed under the lights, every inch of the space immaculately polished, ready for Ellie’s scrutinizing eyes to find fault in it.

And find fault she did.

It was like suddenly, you couldn’t hold a knife to save your life. Ellie would swoop in, catching you mid-slice with a firm, “Stop—just stop for a second.” Her voice cut through the noise, causing the chattering to quiet down. Suddenly, all eyes were on you. It felt so humiliating. “Are you a chef, or are you a five-year-old holding a knife for the first time?” She’d stand there, arms crossed, eyebrow cocked, watching you squirm. You tried to steady your hands, gripping the knife tighter, and all you got was a scoff, a look that made your stomach twist.

Then it was the mess. “Look at this mess! You think I’m running a playground here?” The older woman would gesture around your station, eyebrows pinched, lips in a tight, judgmental line. “Clean as you go, or you’re out of my kitchen.” There was no leniency. Her gaze was like a hawk’s, sharp and all-seeing. The second you moved a dish or reached for a towel, her eyes were back on you, always expecting you to fail.

And food presentation? Forget it. “Did I ask for a food explosion?” She’d glance at the plate you’d put together, her mouth twitching in that grimace that made you feel about three inches tall. “Plates come out looking perfect, not like someone took a bite out of them before they left the kitchen. This isn’t cafeteria food; it’s a reflection of our work—my work. Start over.”

Every mistake felt magnified, like each misstep was some personal insult to her craft. One evening, she caught you hesitating by the stove, trying to balance the pan with a little too much caution.

“What are you afraid of, a little fire?” She stepped up, snatching the pan from your hand and demonstrating with quick, fluid movements, flames licking up as she seared the dish. “If you can’t handle a hot pan, you’re not going to last five minutes here. Heat means flavor—no hesitation. Either own it, or let someone else do it who actually knows what they’re doing.”

Each critique came hard and fast, like she was testing just how much you could take before breaking. But you’d see that flash in her eyes, just for a second, when you corrected yourself or caught her rhythm without her saying a word—a glint of approval, almost pride, though she’d never admit it. That kitchen was hell, and Ellie was the one lighting the fire.

Gradually, you grew on her in ways Ellie refused to acknowledge. At first, it was your dedication that caught her attention. You were so damn passionate, throwing yourself into every task with a fire she hadn’t seen in years, not even in herself anymore. It reminded her of how she used to feel about cooking, back when it wasn’t just a job, back when she wasn’t doing it for anyone but for herself. A sparkle that had been her whole world until the sparkle began to fade.

That same drive she once held was mirrored in you, and it hooked her in a way she didn’t let you see.

At first, it was harmless, or at least, she told herself it was. Viridescent eyes would wander absentmindedly while you worked over the stoves, catching the way you moved, the confidence in your hands, and the soft furrow in your brow when you were deep in concentration. It wasn’t even intentional at first, just a passing glance, a stray thought. Then she noticed the way her gaze lingered longer each time, how her mind wandered just a little too far. And once she started, she couldn’t seem to stop.

She made sure you never noticed. Ellie was good at that—at control, at holding the reins so tight they left marks in her palms. Whenever you turned her way, she’d tear her eyes away before you could catch her looking, busying herself with anything else. But there was no denying the way her focus shifted, no longer just assessing your technique or critiquing your timing. Her gaze followed you for other reasons now. The curve of your body in those faded denim jeans seemed to pull at her attention no matter how hard she tried to ignore it, and every time she brushed past you, the accidental touch of her hand against yours sent a spark up her arm that she couldn’t shake.

Still, she kept herself professional. She corrected you like she corrected everyone else, keeping her harsh tone and her words blunt. You weren’t special, she told herself. You couldn’t be. And yet, when her fingers lingered a second too long while adjusting your grip on a knife or guiding your hand to the perfect spot on the cutting board, she felt the edges of her resolve begin to fray.

Then came the night that changed everything.

The last customer had left, the dining area was quiet except for the faint buzz of the lights. The rest of the crew had clocked out and gone home, leaving you alone in the kitchen, scrubbing at a caramel spill that had hardened into the countertop like cement—a clumsy incident of yours. Your movements were hurried, and your brows knit together in frustration as you scraped at the sticky mess.

Ellie stayed behind, like she often did, overseeing the final cleanup before heading home to Dina. The thought was always there, hovering at the back of her mind like a shadow, but tonight, it felt distant, blurred. She stood at the far end of the counter, arms crossed, her gaze glued on you without even realizing it.

Something about the way you moved hypnotized her. The way your lower lip caught between your teeth, the faint sheen of sweat on your forehead from the heat of the kitchen, the fluid way your body bent and shifted—it all made her stomach twist in ways she hadn’t felt in years. You were stunning, achingly so, and the red-brown-haired woman couldn’t stop herself from noticing every little detail about you.

Her chest tightened as she battled the strange, unwelcome flutter deep in her gut. It wasn’t just attraction—it was something more insidious, something that made her feel both exhilarated and ashamed. She didn’t feel this way when she went home to Dina anymore. She hadn’t for a long time.

Ellie furrowed her brow, her thoughts an unsteady swirl as she watched you wipe at the counter, your features etched with determination. She told herself to leave, to walk out and go home, but her boots stayed rooted to the floor.

When you finally finished and prepared to leave, you took a deep breath, the familiar wave of intrusive, overthinking thoughts gnawing at your self-esteem all over again. You steeled yourself, fighting the inner tension, before turning toward Ellie. She was focused, double-checking a few final things, but your stomach twisted with nerves. You couldn’t let her walk out without asking, without knowing. It might have seemed pathetic, but you needed the truth, needed to know if you’d wasted your time, if you should’ve just walked away and taken a job at McDonald’s instead. Because if that was all you were capable of, then why bother aiming higher?

“Can I ask you something?” you ventured, stopping the older woman in her tracks. Your voice carried a note of hesitation, the vulnerability in it impossible to miss.

Ellie paused, glancing over her shoulder before turning fully toward you. She wiped her hands on the apron snug around her waist, her expression shifting from its usual intensity to something softer. “Sure,” she uttered, curiosity flashing in those green eyes.

You hesitated for a beat, your fingers nervously brushing over the edge of the counter. Then, before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out. “Am I completely helpless? Like… am I trash?”

The insecurity in your voice hung in her ears, and for a moment, Ellie just stared at you, her mouth tightening as the question sank in. Something about the way you stood there—your shoulders slightly hunched, your gaze fixed somewhere below hers, bracing yourself for the worst—tugged at her chest.

She recalled that feeling all too vividly. The nights spent doubting herself, the pit in her stomach as she questioned if she was good enough to stand in a kitchen like this. It was a memory she thought she’d buried, but now it resurfaced in the form of you—young, insecure, and so painfully earnest.

“No,” Ellie reassured, her voice was firm but not unkind. She stepped closer, her apron swaying slightly as she moved, and her eyes softened into something warmer, a nuance you had never seen before in those irises. “You’re not trash. You just… need time to find your footing. Everyone starts somewhere, and I’ve seen enough to know you’ve got more potential than you give yourself credit for.”

You weren’t helpless. You were just trying to figure it all out, and she couldn’t help but see herself in you, more than she cared to admit.

It wasn’t then that things started between you two. Not that night. But exactly a week later, it began.

It happened during a chaotic morning when you accidentally nicked your finger while chopping vegetables. The cut wasn’t deep, but the sight of blood had you panicking. Ellie had swept in with a surprising amount of care, guiding you to her office to patch you up and calm you down.

She hadn’t pictured you as the panicking type—self-assured was more the image you projected—but that moment revealed something else entirely. You were sweeter than you let on, a little naive, even, but there was a warmth to you, a vibrancy she hadn’t realized was there.

At first, it was innocent enough. A lingering touch as she wrapped the bandage around your finger. Then came the late nights in the kitchen, staying behind to help her with something small or lingering because she had promised to teach you a few of her tricks, always claiming you were the only one worth teaching.

Initially, it felt special, as if you were being singled out for something significant. You didn’t realize that those excuses were designed to keep you there longer than anyone else. You had no reason to suspect otherwise. Ellie was subtle and calculated in her approach, so it never occurred to you that she might be making a move—especially with a whole wife waiting for her at home.

Ellie knew what she was doing, she always did. Once you had let her see the cracks in your confidence, the way you second guessed yourself, she used it to her advantage. Whenever you vented about your insecurities or the weight of expectations, she was there, whispering reassurances in that husky voice of hers. Her praise was addictive, and you found yourself craving it more than you’d ever admit.

Before long, the lines began to blur. Innocent late-night conversations with a married woman gradually evolved into deep discussions over shitty after-hours coffee as you sat on cracked stools in the empty kitchen of her restaurant, the smell of grease still lingering in the air. She’d vent about her wife, about how distant things had gotten, how they barely spoke unless it was to fight. All you’d do was nod, offering words of comfort because that’s all it was supposed to be. Comfort. But then her hand brushed yours one night, and everything started spiraling.

Those comforting touches soon escalated into stolen kisses in her office, the kind that left you breathless. Her hands explored you sinfully, and she couldn’t get enough. Then you’d find yourself waiting for everyone to pack up and leave, your heart thrumming in your chest like never before. For the lights to dim, and the sound of keys to jingle when Ellie locked the front door, making sure to keep any potential intruders out. When the coast was finally clear, she’d be on you, no hesitation, no second-guessing. Her lips, as soft as petals of a blooming rose, would crash into yours like she’d been starving for it, her hands rough and desperate, would shamelessly yank at your shirt, your pants, anything that was in the way.

It was always messy. Messy and quick, like you didn’t have time to think about what the hell you were doing—perhaps because she didn’t want to think about it, not before, not during, and certainly not after. She’d leave the moment it was over as if it had never happened, leaving you with only the echoes of what had happened. She’d shove you up against the cold steel of the prep table, and it’d be so fucking wrong but so fucking good all at once. Her lips, her hands, her voice—it was addictive. The way she whispered filthy things in your ear completely contrasted the sweet nothings she used to talk her way into your bed.

The only other sounds were the occasional car passing by outside and your obscene whimpers, loud and unrestrained as she shoved her fingers deep inside your cunt. She liked it that way, liked seeing you lose control while she stayed so composed. Her wedding band glistened under the low kitchen light, covered in your juices, the gold stained with the sin of what you both knew shouldn’t be doing.

It wasn’t love, not really. Or maybe it was, in some twisted, fucked up way. Whatever it was, it kept you coming back.

Maybe it was because of the way she looked at you as if you were a risk worth taking—it made you feel invincible. Special. Because she had chosen you, of all the girls that worked for her. She hadn’t even chosen her wife, Dina, who waited at home every night as she fucked you roughly on the kitchen counters, bending you over the surface as your hard nipples pressed against the cold metal and her fingers plunged deeper into you. That was enough to make you dumbly believe she couldn’t live without you, that she’d be willing to leave Dina for you.

It was in those moments that you felt like you were her everything.

After six long, agonizing months, the truth hit you in the back of the head like a ton of bricks—you weren’t special.

You weren’t the one she picked. You were just another victim of her lies. She was just that—a cheater. And just like every other cheater, she promised you love and loyalty only to pull the rug from beneath you when you least expected it.

Your heart dropped when you saw Dina walk into the restaurant, bouquet in hand, her son clutching her hand like a lifeline. It felt like the world spun too fast, and all you could do was stare as she sauntered into the kitchen, greeting everyone with that perfect, beaming smile of hers.

And then Ellie—your Ellie, the one who made you believe in something real—just kissed her. Not a quick peck, but a real kiss. One that felt too familiar. A kiss that made you sick, made your stomach churn like you had swallowed rusty nails. You could hear their voices, muffled through the noise of the restaurant, but the words were clear as day. Trivial shit. Talking about their son. Pet names. Casual chatter, the kind that could’ve been any couple. But it wasn’t supposed to be them. Not when Ellie had kissed you like you were the fucking air she needed to breathe, like her wife had failed her in ways you couldn’t even begin to understand. Ellie kissed you with that desperate hunger, like she was starved for something real, and you naively fell for it.

When the auburn haired woman looked back at you, for a split second, everything froze. She saw the pain hiding behind your strained, faint smile, the hurt you were barely managing to mask. Her face went pale, and then, like a fucking coward, she ditched her wife, brushing her off with some lame excuse about being too busy. You saw the fear of being caught. The guilt. The shame. All of it etched in her face, and you hated her for it.

You confronted her, demanded answers, tried to make sense of the lies she’d spun to you for months. But she stuck to her story, every word coming out of her mouth an excuse to protect herself. “It’s not like that, it’s all a facade. She’s not like this at home.” Fucking bullshit. Dina was the perfect wife. The kind of woman anyone would kill to have by their side. Ellie was the fucking problem. She couldn’t stay away from things she shouldn’t want—you. She never could.

She convinced you, promised you she would leave Dina, that one day, it would be just the two of you. But when that night came—the night you spent together, tangled up in sweat and passion—it was the end, one you never knew was coming. You were still panting, your heart pounding, when she rolled off of you.

“Babe, where’re you going?” You croaked, your voice strained and filled with disappointment. Your arm reached out slowly, but she was quicker, already perched on the edge of the bed, ready to up and leave. You could hardly keep yourself together as she pulled on her clothes.

“Home. To Dina.” The words fell from her lips so casually, as if they didn’t tear you apart to hear them, as if the aftermath of your activities wasn’t still gripping your chest, stealing your breath. You propped yourself up, your hair a tangled mess clinging to your sweaty forehead, forcing a playful expression, masking the pain inside you with a fake pout.

“Five more minutes? Where’s my aftercare?” You hoped your teasing would soften the moment, maybe make her cave the way she always did. It was a little game you’d played, and it usually worked.

In return, she dropped a whole bomb on you that made your chest tighten painfully and your stomach sink, “Look, we can’t keep doing this.” Her back was to you, her muscles flexing as she reached down for the rest of her clothes, the soft moonlight casting a faint glow over her freckled skin, leaving you drowning in the silence that followed.

“What?” you whispered, your voice barely a breath. Your eyes trailed over her back, over the red scratches you’d left there in the heat of it all, unable to comprehend how things had turned upside down so fucking fast.

“You heard me.” Her voice grew colder all of the sudden. “I have a wife, and I’m not gonna divorce her, no matter how bad things are.” She sounded so final, like her decision was set in stone and nothing would sway her.

You tried everything. You begged her, your voice breaking as you told her to stay, to not walk out of your life just like that. You yelled, you cried, you threw every last ounce of yourself into making her see what you two had, what she was throwing away. Nothing worked. She still left.

It didn’t just end there. She had one more kick to land. A week later, she fired you.

Fired you.

She called you into her office, and just when you thought she was about to offer even a shred of compassion, there was another cold punch to the gut. She handed you a card with a number on it, and you stared at it, bile rising in your throat. As if everything you two had could be wrapped up in a neat little package with a goodbye card like you were nothing more than some evidence she needed to get rid of in order to clean her conscience and carry on with her life like you never happened.

“What’s this?” You had questioned, confused, pissed off by the lack of any emotion in the exchange.

“Another restaurant that would much appreciate your devotion. She’s my friend and—” she kept going, but you couldn’t hear it anymore. The more she spoke, the more you felt the anger boil inside, hot and suffocating. You couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Are you firing me?” you snapped as the realization hit you harder than it should’ve. You’d fucking hated this job, she made you hate it, but it had been the best thing that ever happened to you. And Ellie knew that, she knew how much it meant to you. She simply couldn’t stand to look at you anymore. Guilt had started eating away at her—after six months of sleeping with you, no less.

Ridiculous.

“No, my friend Abby told me she needs more—” She tried to bullshit her way out, but you saw right through it. She sighed, frustration in her voice as she planted her hands on her hips, looking down at the floor, avoiding your gaze like the coward she was. “Yes. I’m firing you,” she finally admitted, cutting through her own bullshit.

“Is it because of—”

“Yes.” She confirmed, not even letting you finish the question.

“Wow.” You blinked at her, the words heavy in your mouth, disbelief written all over your face. You barely managed a faint frown, feeling your insides twist. Without another word, you turned on your heel and stomped out of her office, ripping your apron off like you were shedding the last bit of dignity you had left.

That’s what led you here. Sitting in your car, parked in front of Ellie’s house—this massive, gaudy mansion that felt like a fucking slap in the face. Too perfect, too shiny, too fucking out of reach for someone like you. Your fingers dug into the steering wheel, gripping it as if you wanted to rip it apart, your eyes locked on Dina’s silhouette as she paced back and forth behind the windows. Meanwhile, Ellie was still at work, living her life as if nothing had happened, while you were left drowning in your stupid, fucking choices. Only because you fell for her words, her kisses, her promises.

She couldn’t just ruin your life and walk away without consequences. No, you wouldn’t let her get away with this shit. You felt like a goddamn homewrecker, not only because you had slept with a married woman, but because of what you were about to do now.

Your hand hovered over the doorbell, your fingers shaking as you tried to convince yourself this wasn’t a mistake.

It was too late to back out.

The seconds dragged on like hours before she appeared. Dina, standing there at the door with that look on her face—confused, curious, like she was trying to place you before she realized she had never seen you before.

“Sorry? Do I know you?” Her voice was soft, too soft, as if it was meant for someone who had slept with her wife. Those warm, brown eyes staring back at you made you feel like the lowest piece of scum, causing your words to catch in your throat, tangled and desperate. It was as though they were trying to strangle you from the inside.

“Are you okay? Do you need anything, sweetie?” Her tone shifted, softening as she noticed the panic clouding your eyes, the tremble that gripped your body. But no amount of softness could quell the scorching anger inside you. You wanted to throw it all out—the truth. The ugly truth.

Before you could even utter a word, her son appeared from behind her, his small hands holding up a drawing, pride beaming from his small face. “Mommy, look!” His innocent, excited tone cut through you, “Can’t wait to show mama, too.”

Dina gently hushed him, running her fingers through his brown hair, and your eyes locked on the ring glinting on her finger. Your gaze lingered on Dina for a moment before drifting to the family photos adorning the wall behind the woman. Some captured small trips, others moments on the beach, while a few were wedding and baby pictures. Then, your eyes returned to the child’s innocent face, his tiny hand clutching the drawing—it made something inside you crack, without a warning.

You swallowed hard as you blinked, fighting to compose yourself.

“Sorry, I was looking for... Jake. I must’ve gotten the wrong address.”

#snowy read🖇📓✒️🗄

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snowy-vee · 6 months ago

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KOL: December 1st (1)

n/a: I come out of the basement with a new WIP, I know I promised an update on ALL MINE but I am still working on it, in the meantime, I hope yall can enjoy this fic! I wanted to make it CaitVi but I miss my girl Ellie, it's not going to be 'x reader', more like OC (trying new things) THAT'S ALL, LOVE YOU. Any mistake will be corrected later on, but feel free to point anything!

—————————— Insert cool divider.

The smell of fresh coffee hit her, mixed with the alcohol of last night, making her reach for her forehead as soon as the headache came. She groaned walking towards the back of the counter ignoring the ‘finally, you show up’ of Dina and putting her apron on.

“Remember that tonight Dina and I have our anniversary dinner and you’ll have to open up tomorrow, also, the new hire has experience working in coffee shops, still you’ll have to instruct her.” Jesse said while preparing some cappuccinos. “I told her to arrive at the same time as you, so please don’t be late”

Ellie nodded, opening the cash register and slipping a five-dollar bill into the back pocket of her denim jeans. Behind her, Dina let out one of her usual loud sighs, muttering under her breath, “Unbelievable. There she goes again.”

“Got something to say?”

“Yeah, clean up the tables, rush hour is coming soon” Dina threw a cleaning cloth at her. “You may be the owner but you still have to work for those fives you be taking out ¡I want to see my face, make’em shine!”

Just like she said, in less than fifteen minutes, the coffee shop was full with uni students and office workers that were going to spend eternal hours (until closing time) finish work and drinking coffee, eating the little pastries, gossiping and making some calls. Ellie liked that time, it kept her busy and running, so her mind had zero time to think about the bad times, even less once Dina clocked out.

Sure, she had to make most of the coffees while Jesse interacted with the clients and keep filling up the ‘freshly baked’ pastries but that was better than pretending to be friendly and having to smile. If she was the one receiving the costumers, they would leave the worst reviews online, her smile? Crooked, never met the eyes, her tone? Rude, she wasn’t in the mood, service? Thank the genetics that she was hot enough to make anyone ignore all of the above, pretty privilege.

She yawned, checking that they had enough of everything in the storage room for the next day. Check here, check there, enough milk, enough coffee… yeah, everything seemed to be enough, even the sound of the coins falling back in the cash register as Jesse counted them wasn’t enough to fill the silence that surrounded her now.

Ellie coughed, trying to get herself back into her task and not wander through those bad memories, of that cold night, the last night she had with him and she wasted it by fighting… no, no… her breathing starting to be irregular and her heart seemed to be beating faster than usual, She told herself it was nothing she couldn’t handle until the light bulb flickered, fro that moment it was fight or flight. ‘‘Fuck no, I’m leaving-’’ she shook her head and tried to open the door but it seemed locked, it wasn’t locked before, this door doesn’t even lock, why couldn’t she get out?

‘‘Oh, god, Jesse! Jesse, open the door, please! I’m stuck, Jesse!’’ Ellie started hitting the door repeatedly, if that bulb stopped fully and she was left in the dark, she was so sure that she would die, her heart would jump out of her body or maybe she would turn purple. Like flashes, images of that one moment came to her head, the sounds were vague but they felt so close, almost as if she was transported to relive that day once again and the coldness of that room wasn’t playing in her favor, much less the humidity that started forming in the room since the winter started.

The dizziness she wasn’t unfamiliar with, finally catch her up, her legs became weak and threw her balance off, making her fall on her ass, she searched for stability leaning on the closest wall, putting pressure on her pounding chest. She knew that she was exaggerating, that she wasn’t going to throw up her whole stomach, but why did it felt like that? why did it felt like her lungs were closed? as if something sucked them dry and now she wasn’t able to breath normally?

“Wow, wow! Ellie? Hey!” Jesse quickly grabbed Ellie, shaking her up a little so she could snap out of it, she ,instinctively, pushed him away. “Ellie, you are okay, I am here with you now, the door is open too, let’s breath… Inhale… Exhale”

“I-It’s difficult, I can’t breath” she gasped in the middle of her hyperventilation, Jesse put a hand on her shoulder and slightly pressed it, repeating the same words. “I can’t breath, it hurts- I can’t-”

“Ellie, I’m right here. Focus on my voice. Inhale… now hold it for a second… exhale. That’s it, one breath at a time” He kept talking her out of her trance. Jesse thanked god that Ellie had her eyes closed, otherwise, the worried look he had on his face would’ve triggered her more, she needed help. Delete Created with Sketch.

“We’re home!” Jesse said loudly opening the door of his highly lighted house.

“Fucking finally, go get dressed. We’ll miss our reservation.” Dina walked ahead, adjusting her earring as she went upstairs with her husband following behind “Ellie, I left everything written on a note on the fridge, JJ already had dinner he’s watching some cartoons while Amaris leaves, two more hours and he goes to sleep, no more than that”

Dina kept talking but her words became muffled as the distance grew and the sound of her footsteps replaced them as she turned the corner, Ellie rolled her eyes, as if it was the first time they left JJ on her watch, the kid loved her, one hot glass of milk for him and a cold beer for her and they could fall asleep instantly “Who the fuck is Amaris?”

“That would be me” She turned around to find the soft voice behind her, there was a girl putting a big brown coat on and wrapping a cranberry red scarf around her neck. “And you are Ellie”

“How do you know?

“Dina said your name” she smiled grabbing her bag “Dina, I’m leaving!”

The sounds of heels clacking towards them made them looked up at the top of the stairs, there she was wearing an amazing red dress paired with dazzling heels of the same color, her dark wavy, voluminous hair, and her simple yet glowing makeup. It had been a long time since they had an opportunity of having alone time, so Dina wanted to look her best.

“Thank you so much love! I don’t know what I would have done without you, text me when you get home!”

“I will! You look gorgeous, have fun!” Dina disappeared the same way she came, leaving Amaris and Ellie at the entrance once again “And I’ll see you tomorrow, bye, Ellie!”

“See me tomorrow?” Ellie asked but the girl had left without hearing it, leaving her confused. The girl was new in town—Ellie was sure of it. And if she wasn’t, there was no way Ellie would have forgotten a face like that.

She had to ask Dina and Jesse, she was curious now, so she went upstairs towards their room, they had the door half open so it was easy to hear their conversation, she was about to knock when she heard her name in the middle of it.

“I’m telling you, Dina, I found her curled into a ball and trembling, full of tears, she needs professional help”

“We are helping her, she’s not ready to open up to strangers yet”

“And when is she going to be? Look at her, she needs to get wasted to sleep, she barely eats…”

That wasn’t true—she usually ate the breadsticks they sell all the time, just… not much lately. But it was nothing for them to worry about. Ellie stepped back from the door, she didn’t want to be a burden for them, that’s why she was being distant to the couple and for what? Her action made them concerned about her and she couldn’t have that.

What happened today at the storage room might have not been the first but it was a first for Jesse. She has had panic attacks in front of Dina, who swore not to tell him, so Ellie wasn’t surprised that she was trying to dodge having that conversation, maybe she felt bad for not telling Jesse.

That thought made Ellie feel worse, even her chest felt heavy, she was the one that begged her to not tell anyone, she knew how bad her friend must’ve be feeling at he moment, having to lie to her husband for the sake of their friendship.

“When she feels like it! All we can do is show her that we are here for her, that we love her and that she can count on us”

Jesse sighed “I know but-”

“But nothing, please, let’s enjoy this night, hm? I’m wearing an amazing set and I can’t wait to show it to you’’

“Oh yeah?” That was her cue. Slowly without making noise she went downstairs to the kitchen and she grabbed a beer from the fridge, her hand twitching before she picked it up. The conversation she’d just overheard still echoed in her head, but now, the noise in the back of her mind needed to be silenced.

She sighed heavy plumbing down on the sofa next to JJ “What are you watching, big boy?”

“Amaris put a Ghibli movie for me to watch, Ponyo” The seven-year-old pointed at the TV, his eyes weren’t even meeting her, he was immerse in the colorful and exciting cartoon in front of him.

“Amaris… Did you like her?”

“She’s super funny! And she prepared pasta with carbonara, it was delicious!”

“Is she funnier than Aunt Ellie?” JJ put a hand to his chin and hummed as if he was debating between them two “You’re joking, come here, I’m gonna tickle you until you choose me!”

“No!” JJ tried to run away but it was late, the moment Ellie put her beer down, she was grabbing her nephew and tickling his belly while he kicked and giggled. This moments warmed her heart, she used to babysit him every Saturday night with- well, she used to, but after what went down, she stopped. Today was the first night since then and, God, did she missed this.

The giggles of them both joined two more voices, Dina and Jesse were watching the whole scene with heartfelt smiles, for a moment they saw Ellie glow like she used to. Dina approached them giving a kiss on her son’s cheek and giving a twenty dollar bill to her.

“I pay you in advance, do not finish all the beers, I counted them” Ellie chuckled and nod “And you, not because Auntie Ellie is here, you can stay up all night, okay young man? I will know it and I will take your TV rights”

“Better listen to you mother, and no overeating, you’ll get sick” Jesse added messing with his hair but he was looking at Ellie.

“I know, no candy for the kid, you two can go and have a great time”

Dina narrowed her eyes and smiled to the side before sighing and nodding. “Anything, don’t hesitate to call.”

Two hours later after they left, JJ was passed out on the couch, drooling a little bit on the cushion, Ellie laughed at the image, so cute! Gently, she picked him up and carried him to his room, put him in the bed and tucked him in before hitting the night light and leaving. Time to finish all the beers and smoke a joint in the backyard. Delete Created with Sketch.

When the morning alarm rang, she woke up startled in her apartment, kicking some beer bottles she had around, but not hard enough to shatter them. She had a short time to shower, but she still did and got dress real quick and basic (Blue jeans, white t-shirt and her green flannel), grabbed her keys and got out of her apartment.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have drank so much” Ellie said locking the door. She knew that the moment that Dina saw her, she would reproach as to why she finished all the beers when Dina ask not to, but Ellie couldn’t stop herself and once she got home-Jesse had to dropped her- she kept going at it until she passed out on the couch.

“I know the feeling” Chills. Through. Her. Whole. Spine. Behind her was JJ’s one-night babysitter, Amaris, closing the door of the apartment in front of her “Would you look at that? We are neighbors”

She had a big smile and she look radiant, she was wearing the same scarf as last night and Ellie swore for a second there was a halo making the girl shine. She nodded her direction barely meeting her eye and raised her hand to signal ‘bye’ and took off towards the coffee shop.

How embarrassed she felt, oh god, she must look like crap and it wasn’t something that she usually cared because she was so used to the people in town that she barely cared about their opinions on her, if she wanted to hook up with any girl from her- Not that she wanted to hook up with the new girl- she knew they wouldn’t care, she’s been like this since… Whatever, why was she thinking about how she looked? She needed to focus on opening the shop and training the new hire—not obsessing over cranberry girl.

Also, what a coincidence that the new neighbor after Ms. Johnson was Amaris, she knew that someone new had moved in a few days ago but she never payed attention nor cared, Ellie felt as if she unlocked a new character in a video game, you see them once, you see them forever. They’ve only interacted twice but Ellie could tell that she had a charming personality and she made everything very casual.

The streets were getting colder, Ellie’s flannel wasn’t enough to keep her warm anymore, winter was close and with that the busiest holiday for the coffee shop. When the little snow, the charming lights and the jolly songs surrounded the town, it was enough signal for everybody that wanted to spend time outside of their houses but not freeze the whole day to go and order the hottest drink in the menu and enjoy the heating the shop provided them, and Ellie hated that… What doesn’t this girl hate? Oh! And not to mention how Dina made her wear a headband with a little Santa’s hat. Another year of torture, she thought unlocking the back door and hitting all the lights on.

She yawned again looking at the hour in the big clock as she got in the front and started turning on every machine, the new hire should be nearby, I will wait for them before starting to do anything, meanwhile I’ll arrange the cash register. Ellie started doing the task, counting that it were close to 200 dollars like everyday when the bell of the front door jingled.

“We are not open yet, you can comeback in 30” It wouldn’t be the first time customers dismissed the closed sign and came in before the opening time, so automatically, without taking her eyes off the money, Ellie gave her usual line listening to the steps getting closer to the counter.

“I’m the new hire, actually” That voice. Ellie couldn’t seem to escape it since she heard it last night, was she everywhere? Amaris smiled taking off her coat and her scarf, as she did that, she contaminated the whole air with her essence, a combination of cherries and amber, smacking Ellie off guard. “Oh, yeah, here… for your headache, I can’t have my boss being grumpy on my first day”

Amaris handed a plastic bag to her with some pills in. “What?”

“Sorry, was it too much? too friendly too soon? God, I’ve been told that I should slow down and not be all up in people’s business specially if we are not close but this morning you seemed hangover and you said-”

“Uh, yeah, no, you’re good” Ellie frowned looking at the girl that now seemed flustered and nervous, even embarrassed which was a new look for Ellie since Amaris seemed pretty confident the little times she have seen her (two fucking times), coughing a little bit to maintain her focus, Ellie locked the register “Let me show you where you can leave your things and then the basics, Jesse told me you already have experience?”

“Yes, I do, I used to work in one at the mall in my town, always filled, so I work really well under pressure”

“Huh” Ellie nodded pointing at a locker when they got there “You will have to buy a lock yourself, tho, but this is yours now”

“Dina told me, I came prepared” Amaris winked at her showing a lock and key, she folded her coat and stashed it inside with her scarf and her tote bag.

That winked surprised Ellie “Is this what you meant by seeing me tomorrow? You already knew who I was?”

“Yes, I had the interview in your office, there are picture there, but sorry if it was too much, again, I’ve been told I could be too much… but that doesn’t affect my efficiency when working! I am very moderate” Amaris rushed to say.

From her point of view, Ellie didn’t seem someone playful at all, not someone you could crack jokes with easily unless you were in her inner inner inner circle and she was trying so hard to restrain herself to not start blabbing and fuck up her first day in the job and having the boss instructing her the whole morning. Amaris wanted to present herself as she normally is but just with those little interactions with Ellie, she felt as if being her usual flirt self would get her into trouble, she had to tone it down. Another thing she noticed was how different Ellie looked from the pictures, a little bit more gloomy, as if someone had sucked the color off of her, the light pf her eyes and any happy emotions since she looked pissed off with the world almost every minute.

Amaris hit her forehead mentally questioning herself if she was there to think of Ellie or to work “Okay… Let’s get into it and hope you weren’t lying”

Ellie turned around just in time to not see how Amaris mouth opened showing how offended that comment was. Great, so she is the jerk boss type, nothing you can’t handle, Amaris, remember why you need the work- money, money money ,with a deep breath and two taps on her shoulder to cheer herself, she followed the boss.

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie fanfic #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #the last of us part 2 #tlou2 #ellie x fem reader #the last of us #the last of us 2 #snowy vee #snowy read🖇📓✒️🗄#oc #slow burn #december

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