One piece men react to your new haircut
ft. Law, Zoro and Sanji
fluff + gn reader with long hair
LAW
“Y/n-ya” Laws muffled voice ringed in your ears from outside your dorm, a tad softer tone coloring his words than he would usually use, a tone that always accompanied your name after it
He was met with silence
You had skipped breakfast, first red flag, and when you didn’t showed up for the monthly meeting at his office he knew something was up, he just didn’t know exactly what could be
“Go away” the doctors eyebrows curled in confusion, you sounded upset
“Can you open the door please?”
“No”
Laws mind ran wild trying to think of a reason for your behavior changing one day to another, hiding away in your dorm
“Shambles”
The tall man appears in front of your door as he finds you underneath your bedsheets curled in a ball. Obviously what his mind zeroed in to immediately was that you may be feeling unwell, but as the tiniest softest sob left your mouth he realized it was a different kind of unwell he had not anticipated
Feeling extremely unprepared, he sits at the end of your bed, immediately making you squirm and hide further in your bed
“Don’t look at me, I'm horrendous!” The captain cannot stop the snickers that scapes his mouth at your statement
“Don’t be ridiculous” In a swift move Law removes the sheets, revealing your face hiding behind your hands
He noticed right away what you were referring to as apparently ‘horrendous’. Your locks were cut short too way above your shoulders, at the height of the frame of your face. He admires the new style, a smile tugging at his lips before he removes your hands from your regretful face, your eyes scan his expression in total terror
“I thought I could do it myself” a whisper could be heard louder than the words leaving you as you melt at Laws sweet touch “I look so bad”
Law runs his finger through your soft short strands before stroking your cheek “You look just fine y/n-ya… it quite suits you”
Your face turns from his grasp but your Captain is quick to catch you “You’re gorgeous any day, any time, with long or short hair” Doe eyes met his as if you were relieved at his praise
“Promise?”
“Promise”
Your short hair was quick to become Laws favorite look on you
ZORO
“Don’t move” Zoro's tongue peeks at the side of his lips as he finds the perfect angle to cut your soft long strands of hair
“If you cut me in half…”
“Quit complaining I haven’t even started” He watches as your hands show him what length to cut for the third time, the swordsman takes a deep breath. A swift move from his strong arms followed by the sound of a cut near your ears is the last thing that fills your senses before a weight is lifted from your shoulders. Your eyes peek at the floor, a sea of your now old hair beneath you
“Perfect” you hear Zoro mutter, you run your hand through your hair, a grimace appearing on your face
"It's not straight” you sigh, defeated
“What are you talking about?” Zoro appears in your field of vision and scans the way your hair sits at the sides of your frame, before you can even complain about it, another cut is heard disrupting the peace of The Sunny.
Instantly you run to the bathroom mirror, it’s not perfect per se´, but he got the exact length you wanted to. You were a short hair kind of a person your whole life, but when you had started to sail through the sea, embarking alongside the future king of the pirates, it was hard to keep up a neat cut like the one you liked, so you resorted to a more easy way out. Another sigh escapes you, a different one this time, this one is a content one. You smile as you pose before the mirror, which reflects another figure outside the bathroom watching you intently
“Thank you Zoro” you offer him the softest and most thankful smile through your reflection, the swordsman shrugs, trying not to make a big deal out of it, truth was he was more than glad to help you, in anything you may need, it made him feel important. His eyes take on the new view of your appearance once more, his heart thrumbing in his ears and a blush sitting on his cheeks, he didn't know how you managed to look even more breathtaking
“No problem”
You wink at him at you may have broke him, the swordsman stays frozen in place as you run to show Nami and Robin your new look
SANJI
The cook stays in a trance as he watches you braid your long beautiful locks in a fish braid before bed, as you tie it you watch your reflection for a while, a hesitant look appearing making your nose scrunch, the antic making his heart jump in his chest. Sanji bites his tongue, wanting to comment on this action, curious as to what could possibly be bothering you, because last time he checked, your reflection was nothing to frown about.
"What's wrong, my love?" He asks ever so gently, you stay silent before walking to your shared bed, sighing as you lay beside him
“I want to cut my hair, it’s really hard work keeping it off my face, and it takes ages to wash and style” another frown sits on your lips as your eyes advert from his face
The reality was that you were planning on cutting your hair for a while now, but the thought of Sanji disliking your new look haunted you, but you were not gonna admit that to him
One of his delicate hands reach for your braid, then travel upwards to cup your face, he smiles in pure adoration pulling at your heart strings in the most intimate melody
“I know whatever you do to your hair is gonna look smashing” a dark red creeps from your neck and warms up your face at the blonde’s touch
After Sanji’s sweet reassurance, you missed no time and that morning reached for the scissors in your drawer and just went for it. As half your braid fell to the floor you felt the biggest weight being lift from your shoulders, your locks dancing free with the ocean’s breeze
The cook walked outside the kitchen in the middle of his breakfast prep for a smoke, but his cigarette hit the floor the instant he spotted you leaning on the railing of The Sunny, he was left stunted, heart eyes following your beautiful silhouette as he rushed your way
“Stunning” his hands immediately landing on your strands, brushing them slowly and lovingly
“You were right” you smiled at him content written all over your face
“Of course I was darling, I know an angel when I see one”
Luffy’s whines of annoyance could be heard all over the ship when he found his plate empty in the kitchen and Sanji nowhere to be found, he just had to stay to admire you all morning, it was a must
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An Encounter in the Snow VII
The Captain finds Weapon as he left him, seated on the floor and fidgeting with the dust. His prisoner looks up when hearing him step inside. He grins a little bit and then, as if remembering the last time, he retreats from his place and steps as far as his chains would let him, hiding in the shadows and away from the dim light on the ceiling. Knowing Hero may be mad at him, he turns his back toward the Captain and tries to look inconspicuous while doing so, hyperfocused on the wall.
Hero scoffs.
His prisoner remains facing the wall, but something is different. While Hero stops, hands in pockets, he observes Weapon getting more and more unrested. His prisoner seems to be smelling the air, as if something has changed.
“I brought you something,” says Hero, and Weapon turns around at last, still sniffing the air like a dog. The Captain reveals the old blanket, something that can merely cover Weapon’s skinny body but thick enough to look comfortable.
Hero waits for his reaction, but Weapon is frozen in place, caught between an expression of confusion and agitation. So he decides to try something he has been rummaging about for the last few hours.
“Come here,” orders Hero. Weapon doesn’t move at first, but when he sees Hero signaling for him to approach, the prisoner complies. He stands up, still with his back ached and head down, and gets in front of Hero.
The Captain scrutinizes him for the first time since the prisoner arrived. From head to toe, he finds it funny that the two of them may be of the same height, or at least it may seem so if Weapon stood straight. His prisoner keeps looking at the ground, suddenly docile and weirdly calm. He still has his grin plastered on his face, but his expression is more sober.
Hero observes how he still clutches at his side and pays attention to his bony wrists, ankles. His skin, calloused and burned from severe exposure to the sun. His hair, which falls onto his eyes, only letting his smile shine from under the messy dark waves. He lacks some fingernails, both on each hand and foot. It may have been because of torture, who knows. Lots of bullet wounds, cuts. His hips bend at a weird angle, and his underwear, clearly old and not once washed, just adds to his overall pitiful state. And the way he twitches. Now that’s scary, adverts Hero. He grins constantly, and his fingers seem to grab something invisible in the air from time to time. Signs of PTSD. There’s one twitch that specifically puts him on edge. The index finger on his left hand, which curls inward subtly. As if pressing the trigger of his firearm, shooting, and killing as a first instinct.
He’s absolutely and utterly a machine made to kill. Hero looks down at his prisoner, trying to see underneath the other’s matted hair. Two gray eyes return his gaze. He steps back again and decides to try something with the blanket.
“Now, eyes on me, you dog,” signs Hero. Weapon looks up toward him, and his hair falls back a bit, framing his face. He has huge eyebags, and he looks tired. He always does.
“Is this yours?” asks him Hero, showing him the folded blanket. Weapon looks briefly at the item and then pouts. He looks as if he’d like to tear it out from his hand but can’t. As if now, Hero has the upper hand, at least for the first time.
“If you want it back, you’ll follow what I say,” tells him Hero. The Captain is still feeling a little bit skeptical about the whole ordeal. Weapon furrows his brows but doesn’t move from his place. He is now listening. “Ok, it seems I have your attention. Now, put your right hand up.”
Weapon seems to have heard him, but grinning a bit, he looks like he doesn’t understand what is going on. Hero, with the hand which isn’t holding the blanket, puts it up, palm open and toward Weapon. “Here,” motions. And Weapon ends up copying him as well, pulling his right arm out and opening his palm toward Hero a bit. His fingers are long and bony, and the skin on his knuckles is red and raw. His hand trembles. Actually, all of him seems to subtly tremble. Hero waits a bit. The chains dingle.
“Ok,” says Hero, lowering his arm. Weapon copies him as well. Hero then says, “now the other hand,” while pulling up the very same hand as before… Just as the Captain thought, Weapon raises again the same right hand, mirroring him again.
Hero repeats himself using a monotonous voice, “no, the other. Left.” He doesn’t move, though, keeping his hand still up. Weapon doesn’t hesitate to change sides; he keeps his right hand up in the air.
The Captain finally pulls his arm down, and Weapon copies him again. “So I was right,” mutters Hero to himself. “You don’t really understand me.”
Weapon smiles again, looking absentmindedly at his blanket, still in Hero’s grasp. His arms gravitate towards it, but Hero pulls away from his grab.
“Before that, one more thing.” Weapon looks at him again. ‘He seems to get the tone of my voice,’ notes Hero. He signals down to the floor.
“Sit down.” Weapon looks at his index and then at the floor, and without a word complies, crouching down. He lets his hands rest on his knees, fidgeting again with his fingers. The chains on his arms and feet rattle quietly.
Hero crouches down to his level as well. He makes a mental note to clean him up when possible, and with caution, reveals a key from the inside of his coat inner pocket. Weapon watches closely as Hero grabs one of his chained wrists and unlocks the link between the handcuff and chain. Silently, Hero does the same with his other wrist and ankles, releasing him from them all except the one on his neck, still bolted to the floor. His prisoner doesn’t move at all. He looks around meanwhile, lost in thought and not quite there. Finally, Hero grabs the blanket again and unfolds it on him. Weapon doesn’t move while getting covered with the soft fabric, and when the Captain gets up again on his feet, the prisoner caresses absentmindedly his item.
He sniffs the cloth, and there’s a peak of weirdness in his eyes. Weapon looks up at Hero, questioning.
“I had to wash it, you dog; it was disgusting,” tells him Hero. The Captain kicks away the detached chains to the back of the room, away from Weapon’s reach. Last time it was a pair of tweezers stabbed onto a Colonel’s leg, who knows what Weapon would be capable of with those.
Hero stands in front of his prisoner again. It’s useless to talk to Weapon. He won’t understand a word, and he doesn’t seem too eager to acknowledge even his tone. But talking to him has proved from time to time to calm Hero’s thoughts, maybe as a way to free them off his mind.
“I’ve seen your eh… room, the one back at your last base,” speaks Hero. His tone is harsh, authoritarian. Weapon looks up, not really understanding a word from a language he hasn’t been trained to understand. “Seems to me you are considered useless if not owned and directed. At least that’s what they say in your homeland.”
Hero starts pacing around the room, hands behind his back. Weapon, seated on the floor and caressing his blanket, smiles devilishly at the Captain. Who knows what might be he thinking about. He sits, cross-legged, fiddling with the cloth but without taking his attention off Hero. ‘He’s waiting,’ realizes the Captain.
Hero stops again right in front of his prisoner. Weapon looks up, defiantly. They stare at each other.
“I know you don’t understand a word I’m saying,” tells him Hero. “But I don’t fucking care.” He crosses his arms, looking down at the other severely. “You are now under my orders. You rest when I tell you, you eat what I’ll give you, and you, in no circumstance, move a finger without me knowing it beforehand.”
Weapon says nothing, as usual. His smug smile widens under his matted hair.
“I,” repeats Hero, pointing at himself, “own you,” and follows by pointing at Weapon. Weapon looks at his finger and licks his lips. Hero’s not too sure the other is getting the idea. He then crouches on one knee and gets really close to the enemy. Weapon doesn’t mind the sudden movements of the other. He watches defiantly how Hero grabs at the only chain still binding him to the cell floor, the one around his neck. The Captain pulls it up toward himself, obliging the other to face him, unable to resist the restraints around his neck.
“You are now my dog,” tells him Hero, and suddenly, it appears to dawn on Weapon what those strange words he can’t identify mean. He loosens his smile, and his gaze becomes darker.
Hero lets go of the chain, and Weapon sits back again, still looking him in the eye.
“Hope we can get to an agreement,” says Hero. Still kneeling on the floor, he slips out from his inner pocket a metal canteen, full of water. The Captain unscrews the cap carefully, watching Weapon’s eyes following the action. His prisoner’s mouth opens slightly, his gaze now pierced onto the bottle. He stops fidgeting with the blanket, leaving it aside, and starts to crawl toward the canteen.
“Ah, ah. Stop there.” Hero motions for Weapon to stop dead in his tracks, and the monster complies, looking thirstier by the minute. The Captain leaves the bottle right in front of Weapon and crosses his arms. He waits patiently, observing how Weapon grows more restless from the sight of water.
“I heard you weapons could stand almost a week without taking a drink. But looks like even you have limits when bound.” Weapon grows more nervous each second that he isn’t permitted to get his hands on the canteen. He starts struggling with breathing, and he starts to scratch at his left arm, drawing red lines onto the dry skin. The Captain observes the sight, finally taking some pity on his new pet.
“Ok, stop scratching. Drink already,” he finally allows. Weapon looks up to him, trying to understand if that was a yes. Hero motions toward the water and points at his prisoner. “Go on.”
His prisoner grabs the bottle as if there was no tomorrow and in practically seconds gulps down the entire contents. Hero motions for him to return the water flask, and Weapon complies when finished. He looks more relaxed and docile after that, and so, Hero stands up on his feet again.
“Good boy. Surely we can manage to understand each other.” Weapon dries his mouth on his arm, and the Captain looks absentmindedly at his still fresh bullet wound on his chest, alongside all the other scars and older bruises on his skin.
“I’ll take a look again at that if you let me,” and starting to head toward the cell door, adds, “Now rest.” Weapon looks at him from his spot on the floor. Hugs his blanket and falls on his side, closing his eyes and rolling until finding a comfortable spot on the concrete. Hero watches him for a bit before locking again the door. He can’t keep away the thought, though. This cell looks as sad as the one Weapon inhabited before.
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