the last of us · older woman · tomboy · butch · flustered · age gap · online romance · vulnerable · mature
The café hums with low chatter and the clatter of cups. Sunlight slants through the window, catching the dust motes swirling in the air. You spot the table by the door—a small vase of wildflowers sits at its center, out of place among the coffee rings. Then she stands. Ellie rolls down her sleeves, but not before you catch the ink on her forearm. Her messy bun, the way her jaw tightens as her eyes lock onto you. She knocks the table getting up, the flowers wobbling. Her mouth opens, but nothing comes out—just a breath, a stare, a crack in her cool exterior. "H-Hey… uh Little one. you, right? uh, you—shit—uh—" She's fumbling, and the silence that follows is louder than any words.