ʙᴛꜱ ᴀᴍʙᴡ ᴏɴᴇ-ꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ, ꜱᴄᴇɴᴀʀɪᴏꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ꜱʜᴏʀᴛ ꜱᴛᴏʀɪᴇꜱ | ʙᴛꜱ x ᴏᴄ

The one with the Breaking Point (PJM) (pt.1?)

🌺Lol I do so many Jazel ones I swear. Give me suggestions because it can be hard to write for some other members. I have literally hundreds of ideas but no idea how to go about them.

This idea has been in the works for a long time. (The image is an old cover I made) I thought of publishing it but it's honestly never been fully developed. If y'all like it though, please let me know; PLEASE feel free to give some feedback! I'm definitely open to it, it improves my writing and stories! Just make sure you dm me with details. Thanks!

  They bore so much, those deep, onyx eyes. Turmoil and... frustration, it seemed. His thick brows were knitted together in concentration, gaze traveling around her body. He wore a nice pair of ash colored boots, which filled the bland room with their firm clicks.

  He circled her; once, twice, almost a third time until she caught his gaze, though Hazel had only managed to hold it for a moment. Those eyes, they were piercing, they carried a weight to them that introduced a lingering, agonizing tension into your chest. It troubled her lungs for a moment before she was able to break free and return her gaze to the safety of the ground.

  He was staring so intensely, eyeing her like she was his next meal; predator had met prey, and he seemed to be calculating when he was going to pounce.

  She had gotten a good look at him, though her eyes hadn't been on him long. Large, plump, pink lips. Epicanthic eyes. He had ash-colored hair fashioned into a neatly trimmed undercut, and she couldn't ignore the way the rings adorning his fingers always managed to catch the dim lighting in the room.

  Hazel feels her stomach groan, clenching her abdomen to silence it. She had not eaten in two days, the voyage it had taken for her arrival had prompted a loss for an appetite. She had not been here long - wherever 'here' was - having just arrived perhaps some hours ago. Her perception of time had easily slipped past her.

  He made a gesture towards her body, and she stilled herself as not to flinch. Something in her told her that he wouldn't take too kindly to such a reaction. Her wrist was grabbed, the rope-burn she bore had managed to chafe her delicate caramel skin and it had turned an angry red. The stranger sighed huskily as he studied her wrists, her skin was otherwise clear.

  "I told them not to be rough with you," he muttered aloud, though she was unsure if his words were reserved for himself. His fingers carefully traced the abrasions bracing her wrists. A deep, dissatisfied frown making his face. "Do you not know to fight back?"

  The question puzzled her, and he lifted his gaze again. His eyes withheld so much power that she was forced to meet them. Her blood ran cold at the sight of his demanding expression. He had yet to let her wrist go, and she was far too cautious to pull it back.

  "Pardon me?" She whispered, realizing quickly how dry her throat was - she was absolutely parched, and especially not having uttered a word since her family bid her goodbye from her village. She was severely dehydrated; her endless stream of tears that she wept through the former half of the voyage hadn't been of much help, either.

  "My men have obviously mistreated you, they were instructed to take careful care of you. To bring you here without so much as a blemish on your body. And yet here you stand with raw wrists. Don't you have enough self respect, enough dignity to demand better treatment?"

  Hazel blinks, unsure if she should be insulted, regardless of the nature of his words, they felt oppressive. They were imposing on her already crowded thoughts.

  Her mouth gaped for a moment, but she couldn't manage a reply. What could she say? "I..." She cleared her throat, ripping her gaze from his at last as she collected her thoughts. "I felt it wasn't my place-"