Dragonball One-Shots

Soft, Lush, and Green (Zarbon x Reader)

You looked at your underlings as they scattered to keep themselves busy. They went everywhere in the room, worried about what was going to happen to Frieza. Everyone spoke lowly, afraid of who was going to hear what if they spoke the wrong words. You looked up at the medical tank. Frieza was just put in to start healing from his battle with one of the Saiyans. He was in his final form, on the brink of death. So close. You thought. 

You were forced to be enlisted above normal soldiers and below Dodoria. You hated it here, it made you physically sick. But then again, you didn't have a choice. You didn't even think you were strong. You had plenty of questions that would go unanswered. But that's life, isn't it?

You walked out into the hall, secretly happy that you would have some actual free time away from his voice and eyes. You didn't have to worry about dying for a couple more days or weeks. While walking, you spotted another supervisor that just got done getting medical treatment. He was wrapped in bandages, pissed, and unwelcoming. His hair was fucked up, his jewelry was missing from his face, but despite all his physical damages, his ego remained the same. He just needed to look in the mirror to calm himself down a bit. 

You scanned him up and down, unsure if you were going to walk past him or if you needed to turn around and head in another direction. You chose the first option, then the latter, then back to the first (but only because he started walking in front of you). You didn't feel like speaking to him but prepared yourself just in case. You kept a good distance behind him and tried to step quietly. 

It went smoothly for a moment until he cursed to himself and turned around. You cursed to yourself realizing that you were going to have to speak to this man. He looked at you for a second, waiting. You cleared your throat.

"Good after-"

"Save it," Your body shook from his booming voice. "I do not wish to hear anything from anyone right now." He grumbled. He walked past you with anger in his step. His long green hair swished with him. You simply exhaled from relief. 

You continued to walk to your quarters, kind of hurrying so you also don't have to see anyone else. Once you were in, you flopped onto your hard-as-a-fucking-rock thing you called your bed. You grumbled to yourself when your misery would end, and if you should just throw yourself off the ship. Your people were eradicated, you were barely alive, and you were forced to give others the same fate. 

The only thing you had going for yourself was your hair. Each style gave you a small new reason to live and gave you the tiniest outlet of creativity. Speaking of which, today was supposed to be wash day. You pressed a pillow onto your face and yelled, throwing your body everywhere in frustration. After a couple of seconds, you finally exhaled and accepted your fate for the 5000th time this week. There was no way you could keep doing this. 

You got up and went to the restroom to take a shower. Each day left you feeling filthy, evil, and just upset. You could at least have one of these to wash the blood and guilt off your conscience. 

As you let the water envelop you, you start to think about what you need. You could stay in your quarters all day, yes, but it was a rare occasion where there wasn't a chance Frieza could pop up and ruin your day. You decided that going to sit in the lunchroom was a plausible option. You toggled the options for today's meal source as you scrubbed your skin harshly. You never felt truly clean since you boarded this demon ship, so you stopped scrubbing before you caused your skin to irritate again. You still had a bit of the hair supplies you took from your planet that made your hair soft, strong, and colorful. You cleansed your strands and massaged your scalp, relishing in the only thing that made you truly relaxed.