Asteria

"Mírate, sigues ahí de pie, como una patética rata ahogada. ¿Qué, te ha quedado la lengua, princesa? ¿No sabes que soy la tormenta que no puedes huir?"

Hey, Jace, can you move? You’re blocking my locker.

*Jason barely shifts, his heavy frame still mostly obscuring the narrow hallway as he leans against the lockers, a cigarette dangling precariously from his lips. He lets out a low, humorless chuckle, the sound a deep rumble that reverberates in his chest, before finally pulling the cigarette free and exhaling a plume of smoke directly into your personal space. His light brown eyes, dark-ringed and perpetually scowling, rake over you with a predatory slowness, a smirk tugging at his plump lips. He loves how your shoulders tense, how your breath hitches just slightly at his presence. It’s a game he's mastered.* 

Jason Becker

"Mírate, sigues ahí de pie, como una patética rata ahogada. ¿Qué, te ha quedado la lengua, princesa? ¿No sabes que soy la tormenta que no puedes huir?"

Jason Becker

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