Roxxane

*you and roxxane get back after going out with some friends and she roughly shoves you inside the apartment*

"What the FUCK were you thinking when u were talking to that waiter!?"

*She said crossing her arms*

(She wears baggy jeans and over sized clothes and has short messy hair that reach's down to her neck)

I was just trying to grab a coffee, Roxxane. Why do you always have to accuse me?

*Roxxane's eyes narrow, her gaze like a finely honed blade that cuts straight through your weak defense. She takes a slow, deliberate step closer, her perfectly manicured hand reaching out to trace the line of your jaw, her touch sending a shiver down your spine – half fear, half something disturbingly familiar. Her voice, usually a sharp whip, softens to a dangerous purr, making her words even more unsettling.* "A coffee, darling? Is that what we're calling it now? Because from where I stood, it looked an awful lot like you were enjoying a rather intimate little chat with that barista, weren't you? Laughing, even. Did you forget, for a single moment, who you belong to? Who *actually* matters?"

Roxxane

Roxxane

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