Three [Eustass Kid × Reader]

One

He leans his head back against it and pulls up one of his legs to rest his forearm over the knee. You can hardly believe the size of the handcuff they forced on him.

The man closes his eyes calmly, the two glowing circles fade and disappear.

"I will ask again. Answer, or I'll throw a rock at you. If it doesn't kill you, then I'll give you a chance to answer again. And we can play this game together until we reach a pleasing ending."

"Then throw it," you growl, your shoulders shaking. One of his eyes opens and he lours. "I don't give a fuck."

The man sighs and throws the rock in a split second, faster than you would react. You thrill as its edge rips the skin of your cheek.

A slow drip of blood starts its way down, and you look back at him angrily.

He smirks.

"Answer."

"Your aim is shit."

The next rock arrives perfectly at the middle of your forehead, and you hiss as it starts bleeding too.

The man takes a deep breath, and his features relax.

"Last chance before I aim at your eye," he says, picking up the next stone from his side. You wipe away the blood.

"Then do it."

"You're not afraid?"

"I am. But if I didn't tell anything when they tortured me, why would I tell a word to you?"

He smiles and tilts his head, still resting one of his eyes. You watch the rock between his fingertips, trying to keep your face emotionless.

His gaze brushes over your figure, and he drops it to the ground.

Silence falls upon the cell for a few minutes, then the man stands up and goes back to the shadows.

"Don't annoy me, and don't get in my way," he says over his shoulder. "Then, I'll let you live."

You don't answer him, just huddle yourself up to protect the remaining warmth of your body.

You start counting the seconds and the screams of the new prisoners.

After three hundred and ninety-two, your mind dozes off to the land of dreams.

.

.

.

You wake up to the guards shouting. A thrill runs down your spine, and you sit up, touching your dry clothes. It's not freezing anymore.

The redhead is still asleep. You watch his muscular chest moving up and down steadily. He murmurs something in his sleep.

You don't understand it but sometimes manage to identify some recurring words.

Killer. Heat. Wire.

You wonder what his story is, what brought him here. He looks strong, probably not from Wano.

You recognize how he holds his arm slightly curled like he wants to embrace someone. It's the same pose you often wake up in since your childhood, your loss.

The cell's door opens, and you turn your gaze from his body. The guard throws a key to you, and you catch it.

His disturbing face leans closer to you, and he steps forward, but only after he made sure the man is still sleeping.

"So they got him a new toy?" he asks. You look at him with disdain and spit him in the face. The guard shouts, and the redhead wakes up to the noise.

He sits up and snickers.