Chapter Text
Is she an unripe fruit? Should I make her an unripe fruit or should I search for one during lunch? Decisions…Decisions…
You look over at Hisoka as he tosses his dirty clothes into the washing machine shivering a little because his thoughts are disturbing. It’s not the first time he’s called you an unripe fruit or another nauseating word that leaves a bad taste in your mouth. You’re not for sure why he classifies you as your favorite food. If he keeps continuing to, you’ll stop eating fruit with your breakfast.
You pick up your bra out of the laundry basket on top of a table in the middle of the laundry room slowly while keeping an eye on Hisoka. He grabs a bottle of laundry detergent off the table and pours it into the washing machine. A blue liquid spills out of the bottle onto his clothes, covering everything inside the drum. You wonder why the magician didn’t measure the amount of detergent he’s supposed to use in the measuring cup attached to the cap.
How strange.
“What are they serving for lunch? I’m really hungry and I don’t want to eat that nasty crap they call curry,” Illumi hisses.
Why can’t the chef cook opulent food like my personal chef back home? What a moron. I should kill him for feeding me poor people’s food. I’m a Zoldyck. Zoldyck’s doesn’t eat the same food as the poor.
You look over at him and narrow your eyes because he likes to complain about all of the dishes served in the cafeteria. The prison food isn’t as bad as he makes it out to be. It’s quite delicious, colorful, and fills your stomach for hours until it starts screaming at you for more food. The only issue with the food is that the portions are really small. It looks like you’re eating a kid’s meal every time the chef places a plate on your tray.
“Tacos or Lasagna,” Feitan answers as he jumps onto the table and sits down. He dangles his feet off the edge and swings them back and forth like a child waiting to receive a present from their mother. “I don’t care what they serve today. I’m willing to eat anything since Hisoka stole my food last night.”
I really hate Hisoka. Maybe I should tear off his nails or slice his throat open when he’s sleeping tonight. No. no…I need to torture him.
You almost choke on your spit from Feitan’s thoughts. The small thief doesn’t play around when it comes to thinking of gruesome ways to torture his victims. Thank god he hasn’t thought about torturing you yet. You don’t really say anything to him unless if it’s important.
Keeping a low profile around the dangerous criminals is the best way to survive.
“A cup of coffee and lasagna sounds nice,” Chrollo adds.
He takes off his shirt, exposing the muscles on his chest and stomach, and tosses it into a washing machine. He proceeds to unzip his pants but stops when he notices you staring at him. You look the other way quickly, hoping he doesn’t say anything to you. The goal is to keep a low profile so that you can survive the next few weeks until your set free from the prison.
That’s if your lawyer finds enough evidence to prove your innocence. If not, you’re stuck inside the cell with the six sociopaths for five years. You’re not for sure what their sentences are. It’s possible they are in for life for all of the horrendous crimes they have committed since childhood.
She’s not bad on the eye. Her breast are nice, she’s beautiful, and I love her hair. I wonder why she’s in an all-male prison instead of a women's prison. There’s no way they mistook her as a man. I wonder what it is.
So the troupe leader has been checking you out like a horny teenager. It brings music to your ears to hear him compliment your appearance. You didn’t think he had it in him because he’s always reading a book by the nightlight in the cell quietly. You thought he was just a sociopathic book worm. It turns out he’s charming and inquisitive.
You blush a little as you pick up your laundry basket and dump the remaining clothes inside into the washing machine. Phinks walks over to you with his arms crossed, grinning hard as if he’s about to pull prank. He leans against the washing machine next to the one you are using. It makes a creaking noise as his body presses against it.
“The guard will be coming soon to escort us to the shower room. Did you…did you want to take a shower with me this time?” Phinks asks blushing hard.
I wouldn’t mind bending her over in the shower and hearing her scream my name. Wait, I shouldn’t be thinking about her like that. She’s my cellmate. But I haven’t been laid in months. Maybe I’ll jerk off in the shower if she says no to me.
You walk away from him to a shelf in the corner of the room to grab some laundry detergent. You clamp your mouth shut as you reach for the detergent because you’re trying not to smile from his thought. The fact that he jerks off in the shower makes you relieved to know he has needs. You thought criminals don't desire sex or pleasure their self because they’re too focused on spilling blood.
“The guard will most likely make all of us take a shower under one shower head,” you reply.
“Yeah I know that, but um…what I meant to say is…did you want to stand next to me?” Phinks asks, blushing harder until his face is beat red.
What the hell am I doing? Of course she’s going to say no. I sound like a pervert. I’m not a pervert. I want to stare at her breast. Wait, that’s being a pervert. Crap.
You clear your throat and ignore his thought. “Actually, I think I might wait here. The other prisoners will steal our clothes if we all leave.”
“Yeah…um…yeah I forgot about that,” Phinks mutters.
Shalnark puts his hands into his pockets as he walks over to the door. He stands next to it as if he’s expecting someone to open it at any moment. It’s possible he’s waiting for the guard because he’s so eager to take a shower for whatever reason. You doubt that’s what it is. Mostly likely he wants to kill someone like your other cellmates.
Puppets…How many people can I turn into a puppet in this prison? Maybe I’ll start with the girl. She’ll make a great puppet. I could command her too…
Shalnark looks over at you with a bright smile, sending shivers down your spine. What the hell was he going to say? What does he want you to do? It better not be anything sexual.
The guard enters the room carrying a gun that looks like it came from the future. It has a tube connected to the back of it with yellow liquid inside. You’re not for sure what the liquid is for. Maybe it coats the bullet before it leaves the barrel or it’s there to give the weapon an aesthetic look.
“Get your asses out into the hallway so that I can take you to the shower room,” the guard barks. He looks over at you grinning hard. “You’ll stay here and guard the clothes. I can’t you have running around naked. It might distract the other prisoners.”
It will distract me as well. I’m glad the warden allowed its first female prisoner.
What a pervert. Geeze, does every guy in this prison want to see you naked besides some of your cellmates? You understand that you’re the only female but can’t they stop thinking with their dicks whenever they see you?
The guard opens up the door and waves for your cellmates to leave the room. After a few minutes he shuts the door and escorts them to the shower room, leaving you alone in the laundry room.
You sigh as you sit down in a chair next to the table, your butt touches a stain on the seat but you don’t care because you want to rest your legs. You think about the potential conversation you’ll have with your lawyer in two days about your trail. Hopefully they found evidence to prove your innocence.