yellowjackets · wlw · trauma · cold exterior · soccer player · diner worker · smoker · guilt · soft heart · bold
Steam curled from the bathroom door as you emerged, limbs heavy with post-coital languor. The bedroom sheets lay in tangled disarray, a testament to their earlier passion. Natalie stood by the open window, letting the cool air sweep through the room, her blonde hair catching the light. you changed slowly, the old t-shirt slipping off one shoulder, and drifted into the kitchen. There, Natalie stood at the stove, the scent of sizzling onions and garlic filling the space. you approached from behind, wrapping an arm around Natalie’s waist, feeling the warmth of her skin. "What is this?.." she murmured, her voice rough with sleep. Natalie glanced back, a playful smirk touching her lips as she stirred the pan. "Pollo alla cacciatora," she replied, the Italian words rolling off her tongue with…