#this is sooo self-indulgent (and low effort) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

utterlyinevitable · 3 years

Note

Alrighty sooo we all know Becca but what about this woman named...Hannah in you WIPS? (and in my WhatsApp) 1,2,4,8,9,15,16,18,23,26,27,31,33,39,45,52,54,55 this shall keep u occupied lol

*sighs* Hannah Hannah Hannah... when will I finish your saga 😔

i’m going to use both prompt lists for this and choose my favorite questions aha

1. What’s their full name? Why was that chosen? Does it mean anything? & Age, Birthday, Star Sign

Hannah Amelia Weill

I really like writing complicated women with long names and multiple identities.

Growing up her friends all called her Hannie. She was always Hannah to her family and everyone who doesn’t know her intimately. One boy (’Bryce’) called her Han. Later in life her partner calls her Anna because of his thick accent. Her alias and the name she went by during her uni identity crisis was Leah, a derivative of her middle name.

I don’t like her last name so it may change to fit with the metaphor of the whole piece 🤷🏻‍♀️

The story moves between her being 16-18 and 23.

tbh i haven’t given much thought to her birthday 😂 i feel like she’d be an edgy libra

2. Do they have any titles? How did they get them? & Gender Identity

Nothing formal lol

But her mother calls her a ‘hurricane’ and after high school that group of friends she had relegated her to a ‘selfish bitch’ and proceeded to cut her out of their lives without any warning. (side note: later in life she’ll realize she may have been The Toxic Friend)

She’s hetero female. Though she was bi-curious with only one friend when she was 17. She leaned into that for a while but realized women just weren’t doing it for her.

4. What is their relationship with their parents? What’s a good and bad memory with them? Did they know both parents? & Race and Ethnicity

She’s estranged from her father and hasn’t seen him since she was five. She’s an only child and had some distance between her and her mother because of socio-economic factors. At her core Hannah is a private, enigmatic person and her mother always kinda let her do whatever she wanted as long as she kept her grades up. It wasn’t a bad childhood or growing up. There were some rough patches but she lived in a bubble compared to the rest of the world. When she moved away her relationship with her mother got better because her mom would call or text her every week to make sure she’s alive. She still does and Hannah sometimes doesn’t answer so her mom calls.

She’s white bread with European roots.

8. Did they have pets as a child? Do they have pets as an adult? Do they like animals? & Weapon of Choice(?)

They had a dog which she loved and taught her the meaning of unconditional love. The dog even slept in her twin sized bed. As an adult Hannah is much to irresponsible (and self aware about this fact) to bring a pet into her life. She loves animals but keeps a distance and prefers the odd well behaved domestic pup.

She has wit, stoicism and psychological manipulations at her disposal.

9. Hometown and current residence

She grew up on the waterfront in Suffolk, New York. Now she resides in Southwark, UK.

15. Are they good at cooking? Do they enjoy it? What do others think of their cooking? & Can they sing? Can they dance?

She can cook if she has to. She’s not bad at it when she knows what she likes but she cannot handle another person in the kitchen with her and gets so so so angry when they make comments over her shoulder. Some times she gets the urge to bake but it’s TERRIBLE at dough so it’s just a box cake or cookies. Others think it’s edible.

When she’s older ‘Ethan’ teaches her how to cook fancy, complex meals and it’s rather meditative. And maybe she doesn’t mind having him in the kitchen with her.

She cannot sing to save her life. She has absolutely no rhythm. Doesn’t stop her from doing either. Her go-to dance of choice is a drunken grind.

16. Do they collect anything? What do they do with it? Where do they keep it? & Can they drive?

She doesn’t, well not really. She tries to hoard books but she’s moved around so much her moms outlook on life seeped in. Her mom always encouraged her to get rid of unnecessary things and so she has very minimal clutter (excluding her closet girl loves clothes). She does have a book shelf filled with CDs and vinyls and books and that makes her happy.

When she’s settled down and has disposable income she starts to collect tattoos and street art.

She can drive but doesn’t like to, especially in Europe. She’s thankful she lives in places with fantastic public transport.

18. What’s their favourite genre of: books, music, tv shows, films, video games and anything else & Have any special keepsakes?

Books: she likes horror and drama as books she’ll read in public. When she’s alone she likes a romance book or young adult novel.

Music: folk, indie and alternative.

TV: comedy, drama, anything on the old CW was her jam. She likes dark humor.

Films: romantic comedy. she went through a phase of only watching foreign films to seem more cultured. she’ll only watch action if there’s a comedic lead because blood and gore disgust her.

Video games: she doesn’t play. never got into them. but she did try because ‘Bryce’ really loved his xbox and she loved ‘Bryce’.

The one thing she made sure to take with her was a throw pillow that she’s had since she was a kid.

23. Do they have a good memory? Short term or long term? Are they good with names? Or faces?

She remembers everything about the people in her life. For better or worse - it’s no bueno for her mental health because she overanalyzes everything and dissects it until she’s essentially fabricated a whole other reality.

She misplaces things all the time and gets mad about it. ‘Ethan’ finds it an endearingly annoying habit of hers.

She’s okay with names and better with faces. But she really identifies people by their vibe and how they make her feel. If she feels good she’ll remember every single thing about them. If they make her feel bad she’ll only remember the bits about that person that make her feel that way - even if it’s only one sentence out of an entire year of friendship, that person will become that one bad thing to her.

She never truly forgets someone. Sometimes it’s better to pretend like she did in order to save face.

26. How do they act when they’re happy? Do they sing? Dance? Hum? Or do they hide their emotions? & Guilty Pleasure

When she’s happy she can do anything! She feels like she can fly. She usually is listening to a song and she’s very creative in this space. She parades around in her underwear singing at the top of her lungs when she’s alone. When she’s happy and with someone, she lets her guard down and shows who she really is. When she’s happy she’s the person she wants to be and not the front of an unbreakable woman she’s been pretending to be since she was old enough to remember it’s importance.

Oh yes, Hannah hides her emotions. it’s her MO.

Her guilty pleasure is popular culture. ‘Ethan’ makes fun of her for it but indulges her any chance he can get. For the longest time he’s also her guilty pleasure. She doesn’t want to like him from the beginning. But conversation just flows. And he’s such a Good Boy. she can’t help but fall for him quick and quietly.

27. What makes them sad? Do they cry regularly? Do they cry openly or hide it? What are they like they are sad? & What’s their family like? Who’s in it? What’s their relationship with them?

People make her sad. Failure makes her sad. She’s trying to cultivate a better life she’s read about in stories and feels like she needs to be successful to show up everyone who’s ever doubted her. She needs to be successful to prove to herself that she’s not a waste of space and worthy of this existence.

But successful comes in all shapes and sizes. Which is something she’ll learn when she least expects it.

Hannah only lets herself cry less than a handful of times a year. Usually in the dead of night or in the shower. And only when she knows she’ll be alone the entire time.

After she falls for ‘Ethan’ she can’t control her emotions as well any more. He’s always there for her even if he’s the source of her tears.

When she’s mad it’s almost manic depressive. She gets really really low and cuts people out. ‘Ethan’ will not have that. He will not let her go through this alone. Even if she doesn’t want him to see her or hold her he’ll still only be a short walk away.

I think I answered this above ? Her family was her and her mom. They weren’t close growing up but once she moved away they both made an effort to keep in contact.

31. Do they drink? What are they like drunk? What are they like hungover? How do they act when other people are drunk or hungover? Kind or teasing? & What’s their current main conflict?

Yes. She chooses whiskey and scotch for the connotation associated with them. She cannot stand scotch but the commitment to the illusion is greater than her taste buds. Her new friend Polly introduces her to wine. She gets really bad stains on her lips from red wine and no one tells her this until she’s half a bottle down with ‘Ethan’ and he comments on it. She’s so embarrassed and rushed to the bathroom to wipe it off. He stands just outside the doorway laughing his ass off.

She’s the kind of drunk that wants a smoke or sex. Sometimes both.

When other people are drunk and she’s not she cannot stand it and avoids them. Unless it’s her roommates whom she cannot avoid. She’s teasing and loving and will be a complete idiot with them.

When ‘Ethan’ is drunk she lovingly teases him and finds him so fucking cute.

uhhhhh her main conflict during the entire series is trying to find herself. She needs to stop being the person she is out of necessity and be the person she doesn’t know who she is at her core.

Then there’s the conflict of falling in love with ‘Ethan’ given the circumstances and how stupidly happy he makes her. And the conflict of still loving the ‘Bryce’ she knew back then that still gives her butterflies and plagues her thoughts and dreams and then comes face to face with her temptation after all these years.

The Enigma, The Boy and the What If 👀

this girl’s just trying to figure life out because she didn’t have a strict parent to map her whole life out for her. it’s a blessing and a curse compared to all those she grew up with and modeled her life after. She’s just off on an unknown adventure making things up and she goes and stripping the past from her future.

33. What underwear do they wear? Boxers or briefs? Lacey? Comfy granny panties? & How have they changed over time?

She likes hipsters but if there’s an ounce of a chance she’s gonna be naked she needs a v-string even if they make her feel constipated. As for bras she loathes them. But apparently she needs them because of her body type. So if she’s gotta have a bra it’s padded and sexy. She’s not wearing it for her it’s for whoever will see her in it.

Eventually she’ll learn to love lingerie. For herself, not for ‘Ethan’.

The Hannah Evolution is messy.

A generally happy kid -> bogged down by having a single parent and the connotations that comes with that -> curating the perfect personality not to put strain on her mom -> creating an air of mystery and becoming an enigma. of never sharing her true feelings with anyone, even herself -> going after her dreams even if it pisses people off -> stupidly letting herself fall in love -> self sabotaging her happiness -> letting the facade crumble and rising from the ashes

39. Do they like letters? Or prefer emails/messaging? & Your character walks into a cafe. What do they order?

Modern love letters are texts to wake up to and fall to sleep to. That’s something she romanticized with ‘Bryce’ and didn’t realize that meant nothing until ‘Ethan’ showed her.

Cappuccino. Probably a lemon poppy seed muffin. Or if they do sandwiches it would be a panini.

45. How do other people see them? Is it similar to how they see themselves?

Other people not related to her see her as arrogant and a closed book. She isn’t forthcoming and makes it really hard to get to know her on a personal level. That makes making friends in adulthood hard.

Her ex-friends see her as selfish and fake and can’t deal with the drama that seems to follow her. They are actually really resentful for how well life was panning out for her once they all stopped being friends.

‘Ethan’ is intrigued by her. She finds her brilliant and beautiful and he wants to know more about her. The difference is he’s willing to put in the work. He’s able to see the funny girl hiding behind the rogue exterior.

She varies in how she sees herself. Some days she loves who she is and walks down the street with unwavering confidence. Other days she cakes on a face full of make up and becomes her alter ego. She’s never truly fully happy with herself. Something inside her is constantly looking for the next best thing to happen in her life and it is detrimental.

52. How are you and your character the same? How are you different?

You can find the projection yourself 😅

I’m not as bold as Hannah. I also like to think I’m a little more lovable and have a better grip on reality than this mess.

54. What does your character want, and what do they need?

She wants to be successful and shove her success up the ass of everyone who told her no growing up. She wants to be on the cover of Forbes 30 under 30. She’s creative and a bit chaotic and follows whims. She just wants recognition.

What she needs is ‘Ethan’ and everything he’s opened her eyes to.

55. What’s your character’s core trait? What’s their best trait? What’s their worst trait? When happens when these all interact with each other?

Instability.

Her best trait is her drive. It’s a little shaky in the grand scheme of things but at her core she just wants the best life.

Her worst trait is her tendency to write and cut people off without another glance. She does it swiftly and unapologetically.

Gosh all of these things combined come out when she fights with someone and it’s terrible. There’s screaming and slamming doors and ‘Ethan’ doesn’t know what’s going on and wishes she’ll just talk to him. But she’s not that easy and he understands that but goddamn he loves her and for him this is worth fighting for.

THE END.

#aylaramseycarrera #asked #oc #hannah weill #fun fact: her last name is a typo that i took as a sign #to change from farina to weill lolll #theo zaino #elliott hensley #the enigma the boy and the what if #Ayla i required detailed feedback on this thank u much love

3 notes · View notes

sarahw-world · 7 years

Text

My first fanfic: “A Dark Heart“

Chapter 22: A Ghost From The Past

Summary: Bulma and Vegeta get ready to land on a new, mysterious planet, where Vegeta will face an old enemy with unexpected consequences...

Notes:

Sooo, I'm back!

I'm sorry for taking this long with this update, but I've had my University exams and I've been really busy.

Also, this chapter is, again, one of the longest I've written so far in this fanfic and there's a LOT going on, so I hope the wait was worth it.

Hopefully, I'll soon be able to go back to writing and updating more often.

A little warning: There are some unpleasant themes discussed in this chapter, nothing too major, but I just wanted to give you a little heads-up.

I hope you enjoy it!

Vegeta run his amused eyes across the wide selection of clothing his mate had placed all over their large bed and he smirked, shaking his head at the same time, finding the whole situation completely ridiculous.

Who the Hell would pack such revealing garments when preparing for a dangerous trip into Space?

Only his shameless, vulgar woman would do such a thing and, ironically, her collection of sexy dresses and underwear had turned out to come in handy as they began the process of getting ready for landing on Planet Virggo.

“This one,” he said, grasping a minuscule dress that looked more like a black scrap of cloth rather than actual female clothing. “With this,” he continued, choosing a very skimpy black silk thong.

“These?” Bulma asked in shock, holding both items shyly in her hands, dumbfounded and embarrassed at once at the sight of the extremely raunchy pieces her mate had selected for her.

Vegeta nodded affirmatively.

“Are you sure?” She enquired again, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

“Yes, woman,” he replied, a hint of exasperation and mirth in his voice.

“You can’t be serious…”

The Saiyan crossed his arms, finding the whole scenario absolutely hilarious, and he stood right in front of her.

“What’s the matter, Bulma? I thought we agreed that you’d follow my instructions at all times during our stay in Virggo.”

Bulma sighed in defeat, clutching the tiny garments in one hand and closing the collar of her white bathrobe self-consciously with the other.

“I know I did, but…”

“But, what?” He asked authoritatively.

“Nevermind…” She said, exhaling through her nose and turning around towards one of the cabins. “I’ll go get dressed…”

“Don’t take too long, woman. We’ll be landing in less than four hours and you must be ready by then.”

“Yeah, yeah…” She mumbled dismissively, entering one of the small rooms, placing the clothes on a chair and sitting on the bed dejectedly.

Unbelievable…

She still couldn’t believe she was about to do what Vegeta was asking of her but, after all, she had no right to complain now, right? Wasn’t she the one who’d practically begged him to take her with him on this trip? She knew, deep down, that Vegeta would never hurt her or allow anyone else to harm her either, and his little plan was all for the sake of her safety. Still, she couldn’t help but find these circumstances utterly humiliating and completely against her nature.

Bulma took a deep breath and stood from the bed, looking at herself in the mirror placed on one of the doors of the narrow closet. She was freshly showered, and all that was left now was for her to do her hair, makeup and get dressed, so she grabbed a hairdryer and she switched it on, getting to work on getting ready for Vegeta.

‘It’s just for a few hours,’ she kept reminding herself.

Just a few hours pretending to be something she wasn’t while Vegeta took care of whoever it was he was about to kill, and then he’d promised her a week, one whole week, just the two of them alone in some mysterious, isolated location he’d assured her, repeatedly, she’d really enjoy.

“Alright, Bulma Briefs, let’s see what you’re made of…” She whispered as she reluctantly started the process of doing her hair…

A bit more than an hour later, it had become quite clear that being Bulma Briefs wasn’t so great these days, especially when Vegeta knocked at the door and, not getting a reply, finally entered the cabin, finding her sitting nervously on the bed, her hair and makeup immaculately done but still clad only in her white fluffy robe.

“Woman, what the…?”

He stopped dead in his tracks just as he was about to chastise her, one look at the woman telling him something was seriously wrong with her. She raised her eyes, full of fear and something else he couldn’t fully grasp. Her appalling expression made him immediately soften up his tone of voice.

“Bulma, what’s the matter? Why aren’t you ready?” He asked, making the enormous effort to hide his impatience and apprehension so as to not make her feel even more stressed out.

“I… I can’t do this, Vegeta…” She replied in a trembling whisper, almost sobbing pitifully. “I can’t… I just can’t…”

Vegeta felt his chest constrict at the poignant sound of her voice, and he took a few steps forward, standing right in front of her and kindly offering her his hand.

“Come here, woman,” he commanded softly, holding her hand and making her stand up, pressing her body against his. His large hands carefully cupped her face, his thumbs lightly grazing the delicate skin of her cheeks. “Let me take a look at you…” He whispered, his warm breath caressing her lips as he inspected her work.

Bulma looked absolutely breathtaking.

Her usually straight hair had been subtly curled into soft, lustrous waves, and her skin was radiant. Her makeup was light, as always, designed to enhance her perfect features instead of hiding them behind a heavy mask. Her longer eyelashes framed those expressive blue eyes and her glowing skin was perfectly complemented by succulent, glossy nude lips.

She looked flawless.

“Not bad…” Vegeta mumbled, immediately feeling his body respond to the dangerous combination of her proximity and her beauty. He kept caressing her skin, his eyes hypnotized by her immaculate visage. “What’s the matter, Bulma?” He gently asked again.

“Vegeta…” Bulma whispered. “I just… I don’t know if I can do this…”

“Are you afraid, woman?” He said in a voice so low she would have had trouble hearing it if she hadn’t been so close to him.

Bulma remained immobile, her mind was such a mess of nervousness, confusion and unanswered questions that she needed a minute to collect her thoughts, and the unresolved tension hanging heavily between them wasn’t helping her clear her mind either.

It’d been three days ever since he’d apologized and kissed her after their last argument, and things had only been getting better from that moment on. The instant he’d finally locked his lips with hers, giving in to their desire, had felt like a real breakthrough, and during the next few days they’d spent most of the time together, sharing small, intimate moments inside their cold space ship.

Vegeta still refused to have sexual relations with her, but he was gradually opening up, lying behind her as they watched movies on the television, gently caressing her hair and kissing her tenderly. At times, when she fell asleep on the couch, she’d wake up between his arms, either on the sofa or in bed, and he’d hold her firmly, almost possessively against his strong body. He barely talked, but the way he looked at her made her feel loved and desired in ways she’d never experienced before. It was almost as if his barriers were falling down, and the side of him that had always stubbornly and desperately attempted to keep her at a safe distance was slowly giving way to a new, more honest, almost vulnerable part of him. A side of Vegeta she’d barely had access to in the past, and she didn’t quite know what to do about it, afraid of being too bold or aggressive and scare him away. And yet, despite the deep gratitude she felt about these new developments in their relationship, she had to confess, she wanted more. She’d finally admitted to herself that she loved this man, and she knew that, if Vegeta didn’t eventually love her back just as much as she did him, her heart would be shattered, broken into a million pieces.

“I’m not… I’m not afraid, Vegeta. It’s just that I…”

“You, what?” He prodded gently, his hands never ceasing his excruciatingly loving ministrations.

“That planet… I have… I have never been to a place like that, I guess I… I’m just a bit nervous, that’s all…”

The Prince frowned, deep down unsurprised by the woman’s reaction. There was a good reason why he’d waited until the last minute to tell Bulma the planet they were about to visit was, in fact, a pleasure planet. A kind of planet male warriors often visited in search of some erotic performances, mostly in the form of harmless exotic dancing, but he knew some of the planet’s females would also perform other types of ‘services’ for the right amount of money.

Vegeta had visited Planet Virggo a handful of times in his youth, always encouraged by Nappa and Raditz, and while both warriors indulged in their depraved tastes, he’d just disappear, flying away from the large cities and spending long periods of time by himself in the wilderness. On two occasions, he lied to them, telling them he’d bedded a female here and there, but it was only so the bigger Saiyans would cease their teasing and leave him alone. Of course, he’d never slept with the type of women that inhabited the planet, much preferring to take care of his sexual needs with regular women he met on some of the worlds he’d visited through the years.

“I see…” He muttered, wrapping his arms around her and pressing her soft form against his robust one, inwardly cursing himself for his weakness when it came to his mate. A gentle, pure woman like Bulma didn’t belong in the place he was about to take her to. He kept telling himself she’d been the one asking, virtually imploring for it, and he knew leaving her on Planet Z365 wouldn’t have been an option either, and yet, he felt conflicted, almost tempted to just change the course of their ship and take her somewhere else. But he couldn’t do that, not now, not when he was so close to killing one of the few ghosts from the past that still haunted him.

One of his arms remained immovable on her waist, keeping her beautiful body close to him while he languidly run his other hand, up and down across her back in a slow motion, in an effort to relax her, to soothe her agitated nerves before they reached their destination. And the little trick must have worked, since he gradually felt her breathing slow down as she responded to his touch, also encircling his strong waist with her frail arms and pressing her cheek against his chest. For a moment, he wished he hadn’t been already wearing his armor, the new armor his woman had made for him, so he could better feel her embrace, but he figured it was for the best. He was a warrior, after all: a warrior that was about to face an old enemy just mere hours from now. It wouldn’t do for him to deal with one of his childhood demons with an unclear mind.

“Don’t be afraid, woman,” he murmured, subtly kissing the top of her head as he buried his nose in her shiny, feathery, turquoise locks.

His words made Bulma raise her head slowly, finally looking him in the eye once again.

“I’m not afraid, Vegeta,” she honestly responded. “You are one of the strongest men alive, aren’t you?”

He immediately replied, in the most confident tone he could summon. She kept looking at him with those large, supplicant blue eyes, begging him to bring her a confidence she was clearly lacking in that moment.

“That, I am, Bulma. Is that what you fear, woman?” He enquired again, secretly offended by the implication of Bulma not trusting his strength or his ability to keep her safe at all times. “I promise you have nothing to fear. Not by my side,” he vowed, the arm encircling her tiny waist pressing her protectively against him. He’d never allow anyone to hurt this woman, even if he had to give his life to ensure her protection. He’d truly experienced the loss of a loved one, something he hadn’t really gone through since his childhood, when he saw his son from the future die by the hand of Cell, and the thought of ever seeing Bulma suffer under similar circumstances drove him absolutely mad with fury.

The small woman nodded in agreement, never letting go of her man either.

“I know, Vegeta. I know… I just…”

“Then, what is it, woman?”

Bulma took a deep breath, deeply ashamed of what she was about to discuss with her Prince; a woman as cocky and self-assured as she normally was, had a hard time dealing with her relatively new insecurities.

“Do I really have to wear that dress?” She whispered shakily, like a little girl reticently refusing to follow the rules.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Gods, Vegeta… Seriously? It’s so damn small! I just, I don’t feel comfortable wearing it, that’s all…”

“And yet you brought it with you. Why?”

Bulma shrugged, timidly avoiding his penetrating gaze.

“I don’t know… I just grabbed a bunch of clothes from my closet while I was packing. I guess I didn’t even check out everything I encapsulated.”

She was lying, of course. She knew damn well why she’d brought a wide selection of raunchy clothes and underwear. It’d been in case she found herself exactly in the position she was in right now, alone inside an enclosed space with her Prince. After all, a woman never knew when she might need a little help to seduce a man, who had technically abandoned her, all over again. Still, those sexy items were meant just for him and him alone to enjoy, and certainly not to be worn out and about in public, especially on some foreign planet full of horny warriors and beautiful, exotic females that sold their bodies to the highest bidder.

“Still,” Vegeta retorted. “It is your dress, woman. Is it not?”

“Yeah…”

“So, why own a dress you do not want to wear anyway?” He asked with honest curiosity.

Women were still such an enigma to him…

Bulma felt her discomfiture and frustration grow by the second. Was it really that hard for him to comprehend why she’d feel uncomfortable wearing such a thing in public? Did she have to spell out everything for him?

“It’s an old dress, Vegeta. I haven’t worn it since I was a teenager, when I used to go out clubbing…”

The Prince shook his head, still not understanding where she was going with this.

“So?”

“What do you mean, ‘so’? So, I hadn’t just had a baby back then! And I didn’t have to wear it on a planet full of women that are… You know…”

“Women that are what, Bulma?” He prodded once more, finally guessing where his mate’s fears were originating from.

“Well… Those women… If, if those guys pay to see them dance and… You know… All that other stuff… They must be really pretty, right? I just…” She shrugged shyly again, not even recognizing herself.

‘Had she really changed that much?’

Motherhood and all the madness she’d been going through ever since Vegeta had left her had really made a number on her confidence, hadn’t they? The woman she was today was a far cry from the carefree, cock-sure teenage girl that used to take the world by storm with Yamcha and his baseball buddies back in the day. And it wasn’t that she missed those frivolous times at all but, she’d be lying if she didn’t admit to herself that she wished she’d get some of that legendary cockiness back once again.

Vegeta tilted his head to the side slightly.

So, that’s what it was…

His woman was feeling insecure because she had birthed his heir just mere months ago.

He knew he’d have to choose his words wisely if he wanted to make Bulma feel better about herself. He kept clutching her greedily against him, his hands lazily exploring her body through the fluffy fabric of her white robe as he felt her soft, curvy form in his hands.

She felt as perfect as she’d always been.

True, he hadn’t made love to her ever since she’d had Trunks, but he’d seen her in her underwear just a few days earlier and she’d looked so damn delicious his body had even reacted to her beauty against his will, much to his shame. His eyes just kept staring at her, and all he could think of was that she’d never looked lovelier. When he’d first seen her on Planet Z365, she’d looked a tad too thin and gaunt, which had certainly concerned him at the time but, during these past few days, he’d made sure she ate regularly and she’d put on some much needed weight, filling in her curvy petite frame perfectly and finally going back to her old self.

“Bulma, look at me,” Vegeta commanded in a low but firm voice, letting go of her body but holding her radiant face in his hands one more time. “I am a Prince,” he simply declared, as if that explained everything.

Bulma just held his gaze, confused about his brief statement.

Of course, he was a Prince! He’d reminded her that just about a million times before, but this time such a declaration seemed to hold some hidden meaning behind it that she couldn’t grasp. All she knew was that the tenderness he’d been displaying towards her these past few days and in that very moment, with his rough fingertips delicately cupping her cheeks, where making her giddy with excitement, almost making her forget her own uneasiness about her physique.

“Yes, I know…” She finally replied in a vague attempt to get him to finally make his point.

Vegeta kept staring at her with solemn eyes, making her quickly realize he was dead serious about the thoughts he was sharing with her.

“Then you must already know that a Prince only surrounds himself with the best of everything.”

Bulma blinked slowly, frowning in confusion as she tried to put two and two together.

And then it hit her…

‘Was he talking about…?’

He placed the lightest kiss on her soft, glossy lips, making her briefly close her eyes and inhale sharply. When he finally separated his mouth from hers, she was practically melting by his touch, looking at him in bewilderment and curiosity as she struggled to keep her knees from shaking. Only Vegeta’s touch had such a powerful effect on her, and every time they shared a moment of intimacy, no matter how innocent or insignificant it may seem, she could only wish it’d last forever.

“Tell me, Bulma… How many women have I chosen to bring with me on this ship?”

There was brief silence, an intense stillness full of honesty and unspoken feelings.

“Vegeta…” Bulma whispered, frowning pitifully and feeling her eyes burning, about to shed tears of love and relief.

Gods…

‘The best…’

He’d just called her the best woman…

“Vegeta, I…” She said again, but the Prince cut her off, unconsciously running his tongue across his lips and placing a stubborn finger on hers, shushing her gently. He had to get out of the room; if the woman started crying or getting too sentimental he didn’t know what he’d do. The more time he spent with his little mate, the more fond of her he seemed to grow and, the worst part was that, even though he’d already experienced such emotions with Bulma in the past, lately he’d found himself unwilling to leave and push her away as he’d previously done. If anything, a part of him was beginning to enjoy her unashamed demonstrations of love and affection towards him.

She made him feel good, as if he were the best man in the world, and given his history, he knew such a thing was objectively impossible, but then again, he knew the woman was smart.

What if she was able to see something in him he wasn’t able to see on his own?

“No more tears, woman…” He gently scolded her, delicately running the back of his hand across her glowing skin on last time. “Now get dressed and look your best. Have no fear, Bulma.”

Bulma remained silent for a moment, trying to assimilate his words. It was unlike Vegeta to flatter or compliment her in excess, except perhaps, during their lovemaking in the past, when sometimes soft words of encouragement unwittingly escaped his lips in the middle of the night.

She smiled lovingly at him, getting her emotions in check but still refusing to let go of him. He looked so attractive wearing his brand-new armor and exuding such great confidence that, even though she was afraid for him, fearing that this mysterious enemy he was about to face would end up hurting him, deep down she believed everything would be all right in the end. There was something in his strong, comforting presence that felt like a warm blanket enveloping and soothing her, keeping her safe from harm.

“Okay,” Bulma finally whispered, promptly placing a quick peck on his cheek before releasing his waist, taking a couple of steps back. “I’ll be ready in a few minutes…”

Vegeta smirked, pleased to see his words had been enough to instill his woman some of her confidence back. He was painfully aware of his poor command of language outside of anything related to fighting and battle, and even though he was proud of being Saiyan and of his warrior status, at times he wished he were able to better express his thoughts and emotions to Bulma, knowing just how much his silence or poor choice of words had hurt her in the past.

He nodded in acquiescence and left the room, giving the woman some privacy while he went to the central console of the ship to check on the navigation system for final confirmation that everything was in order. He had to give it to Bulma, the new model she’d designed by far out bested her last ship, and this one run even more smoothly than the previous one.

Just as he was going through the details of his target one final time to make sure he left nothing to chance, he heard the unmistakable sounds of Bulma’s steps entering the room. When he turned around, he had to make an extraordinary effort not to let his jaw open wide in shock.

She looked positively incredible, perhaps too incredible...

Then again, that was the point, wasn’t it?

Bulma was standing a few steps away from him, and her face, which had first had still featured a tinge of insecurity, was now adorned by a devastating smile, the smile of a woman whose mate’s eyes had just told her she still had ‘it’.

“How do I look?” Bulma purred in a seductive voice coated with false naivete.

The Prince clutched the tablet he was holding in his hands a little tighter and he swallowed heavily. He could feel his entire body screaming in desire for this woman, wanting nothing more than to grab her and have his way with her repeatedly on the floor of the gravity room.

“You look…”

“Yes?”

“You look decent, woman,” he finally declared with difficulty.

Bulma pouted like a little girl. “That’s it? Just ‘decent’?”

Her damned adorable expression made his cheeks flush crimson, and he took his eyes away from her, pretending to be paying attention to the small device in his hands in a futile attempt to stop looking at the delightful curves that looked as if they were about to burst from her little black dress.

She walked towards him, standing by his side and placing her hand on his shoulder, playfully taking a peek at the small screen Vegeta wasn’t actually looking at.

The blasted woman smelled so good he could barely control himself by now, so he tried to find a way to distract her and keep a distance between them. Even though these past few days they’d finally given in to each other in many ways, there was still that final, unseen line he didn’t know if he should cross. He couldn’t imagine what the consequences would be for their relationship if he finally took her and made love to her with everything he had…

“I thought you weren’t going to interfere in my plans…” He implied firmly, still avoiding her gaze, almost dizzy by her sweet scent as he kept showing feigned interest on the contents displayed on the small tablet.

“Uh? What do you mean?”

“You’re being nosy, woman…”

“Ah! Not really,” she replied, finally understanding what he was referring to. “I’m not trying to read your information, Vegeta. I can’t even understand that language… No… I was just wondering…”

Vegeta turned his head to the side, finally daring to set his eyes on her once again.

“Then what is it?”

“I was just wondering if you’d let me take a look at your tablet sometime. You know, when you’re done with your… With your mission…” She answered timidly, feeling as affected by Vegeta’s near presence as he was in that moment.

He looked so sexy wearing the new armor she’d specifically designed for him during his absence, and his dark, flaring eyes were inspecting her closely, making her body warm up as if she was wearing a dress made out of fire. The chemistry between them was undeniable, and she desperately wondered what it would take for him to finally stop being so horribly obstinate and take that final step before she went absolutely crazy.

“We’ll see…” Vegeta awkwardly responded, unsurprised by the little genius’ interest in any kind of foreign technology. “Are you ready?”

Bulma nodded, her eyes wide open and never leaving his. Even though she could perceive a change in his attitude towards her, no doubt the result of him being in the process of mentally preparing himself to ‘go into battle’, she allowed herself one final moment of intimacy by slowly, very slowly, stroking his bronzed cheek affectionately. Her gentle touch made Vegeta’s eyelids very heavy all of a sudden, and he blinked lazily a few times, entranced by her light touch.

“Vegeta,” Bulma whispered with bated breath. “I know I promised I wouldn’t ask you about this… This man... But, I just…” She released a trembling sigh. “You are stronger than him, right?”

“I am,” he replied softly but confidently.

“Are you…? Are you absolutely sure?”

The Saiyan stared at her, deep in thought. For some reason, he would have found Bulma’s doubts almost offensive in the past but, now, he knew she simply cared about him, and he felt secretly grateful for her concerns. Thankful that someone, especially this extraordinary woman, was worried about his safety.

Before he had time to regret his actions, he impulsively held her fragile body and crushed it tightly against him, forcing a sweet gasp out of Bulma’s lips as she panted nervously against his neck. Vegeta languidly kissed her temple several times, basking in the pleasure of his little mate’s presence by his side before they landed on Planet Virggo.

Before he had to shield himself from his own emotions towards her, for a few hours at least…

He was actually looking forward, not only to finally getting rid of a very significant ghost from his tumultuous past, but also to the entire week he’d promised Bulma he’d dedicate entirely to her. The thought of wholly devoting his time and energy to his woman was both terrifying and exciting for, if he was brutally honest with himself, he’d never done such a thing before, always being the kind of man who’d put his own needs and interests before anyone else’s.

Even Bulma’s, much to his shame…

He knew he hadn’t treated her the way she deserved, and he’d already made the decision that he’d give her his all when he finalized his business and made peace with that part of his past. Whatever love was left within his heart, he was going to give it to her, at least for the next few days.

“Bulma,” he mumbled against her skin, nuzzling her silky, wavy hair; the way his warm breath caressed her made Bulma shiver in delight and anticipation. “I’ve been stronger than that bastard since I was ten years of age.”

Bulma looked at him one final time, her eyes filled with a thousand questions about how was it possible for Vegeta’s old enemy to still be alive if the Prince had been stronger than him from such a young age. For an instant, she mediated on whether or not she should ask him any more questions, but she finally chose to remain silent, not wanting to intrude on things her mate possibly wouldn’t feel comfortable sharing with her. After all, she’d made him a promise to respect his choices without any interference from her part. Up to this point, Vegeta’s actions had all made sense, and she had no reason whatsoever to think otherwise in this occasion.

“Okay,” she finally replied with a comforting, trusting smile on her lips, trying to show her man her full support and understanding. “I trust you.”

Vegeta gave her slender body one final affectionate squeeze before letting go of her.

“Good,” he said with aplomb. “Have no fear, Bulma. Just follow my instructions and everything will be all right.” He turned around, taking a seat on the pilot’s chair and inviting her to do the same by his side, on the co-pilot’s. “Fasten your safety belt, woman, we’ll be landing in a few minutes”.

Bulma followed his orders without hesitation, quietly sitting beside him. The warrior, surprised by her uncommon docility gave her a side glance, only to find her deep in thought. He could tell she was anxious, but true to her word, she’d been extremely respectful towards him at all times, never questioning the mission or his commands.

On her part, the heiress kept mentally going over and over again through Vegeta’s plan, which was, in truth, fairly simple. She was about to play the part of his bed slave, which was the reason why she had to wear such scanty clothing, so it wouldn’t look as if she meant much to her ‘Master’, certainly not enough to want to cover her up to stop other men from looking at her. She’d been advised to avoid eye contact at all times, never start a conversation and only speak when spoken to.

Vegeta’s mysterious ‘target’ was, apparently, co-owner of one of those places which were the equivalent of Earth’s strip-clubs, and he had a contact there he trusted and who’d watch over her while Vegeta dealt with what Bulma assumed was an old enemy. She had no idea why her mate would trust someone enough to leave her alone with them for an indeterminate amount of time, but as usual, she concluded that he’d had good reasons to do so and chose not to question his choices.

Bulma propped her head back on the headrest, closing her eyes and taking deep breaths to calm down, reminding herself to be brave and focusing on the thought of the week together Vegeta had committed to. Every now and then, she’d glimpse at her mate, who was now putting his white gloves on and keeping his eyes on the screen. The record amount of time in which he’d learnt how to pilot her new ship reminded her, as always, of how intelligent the Saiyan Prince really was. Indeed, Vegeta’s skills went way beyond his natural ability for battling in combat.

They finally landed, surprisingly smoothly, on what Bulma quickly learned, as she peeked through one of the vehicle’s windows, was some kind of harbor where a handful of other space ships were parked still on a straight line.

Bulma did a double check inside her small silver clutch, making sure she was carrying her share of capsules with her. They’d both decided to split them, carrying half of them each, and Vegeta would also encapsulate and safely keep the ship with him just in case anything went wrong. The woman had also placed a small button inside Vegeta’s armor, and she had one herself on her flimsy dress, camouflaged under the appearance of a tiny ornamental brooch, so she could signal him in case she found herself in danger.

After verifying that everything was in order, Bulma finally stood from her chair, finding Vegeta standing by the closed door already, waiting patiently for her. She re-arranged her tiny black dress, making sure everything was in place and she joined him, sharing a quick glance with him and holding the arm he was chivalrously offering.

“Remember, Bulma, never walk in front of me and do not show defiance of any kind,” he reminded her softly, his gloved hands caressing the delicate fingers of the hand she was holding him with one final time.

Bulma squeezed his arm comfortingly, offering him a confident, optimistic smile.

“Understood,” she simply replied.

Vegeta opened the gate, walking slowly, ever mindful of the woman’s shoes, a pair of sparkly high heels that made her legs look spectacular, and after they finally reached the ground, he encapsulated the ship, putting it inside his armor and ignoring the snooping stares a few of the warriors gave the newly-arrived couple.

They walked through noisy, crowded streets, packed with fighters of all races and sizes. The big city was full of strange vehicles and a wide variety of neon lights, advertising their ‘attractions’ in the form of large billboards featuring female-shaped figures and what Bulma assumed were words written in a foreign language she couldn’t understand.

It was quite a surreal scene, and the only thing keeping her grounded was Vegeta’s steady presence by her side who, wearing a fierce scowl on his face, kept her hand firmly pressed between his folded arm, silently reassuring her and making her feel free from harm despite the alien madness surrounding her. The beautiful woman caught quite a few lecherous glances from a large number of males, and yet, the moment those males took one look at her terrifying ‘Master’, they immediately looked away in fear. Whether all of those people knew who Vegeta actually was, she didn’t know, all she knew was that, by the time they reached their last stop, she’d never felt safer in her entire life than by her mate’s side.

A really short man in a purple suit looked the couple up and down with palpable disinterest.

“Is she up for sale?” He finally asked Vegeta, completely ignoring Bulma as if she were a doll with no voice of her own. Being regarded as an object didn’t sit well with Bulma, who was now inwardly fuming, forcibly biting her tongue in an effort not to mess up her mate’s plans, and the almost imperceptible growl that made Vegeta’s body vibrate at the implication of selling his woman, told her the Saiyan wasn’t very happy about the green dwarf’s attitude towards her either.

“I wish to speak to Teekoh,” Vegeta finally declared, his whole body already tense and ready to attack the perverted idiot at any minute if he gave him any trouble.

“Tsk! He’s busy right now…”

Vegeta inhaled deeply through his nose, clutching Bulma’s hand even closer, before replying in the most neutral voice he could produce.

“Call him.”

The short man rolled his eyes at the Saiyan’s insistence. “What do you want, anyway?”

That was it.

He was done with this shit.

He had to get inside and stop all those filthy imbeciles in the streets from looking at his woman, right fucking now.

Vegeta slowly lifted the index finger of his free hand and threateningly pointed it right between the eyes of the miniature idiot.

“Ask me about my business again and see what happens,” he muttered, a malicious smirk spreading across his lips.

“Wha…?”

A small ki ball sparked out of the Prince’s finger, making the short man’s eyes widen in sheer panic.

“Take me to Teekoh. Now.”

“Uh… Uh… Sure! Sure, man! No problem! F-Follow m-me!” The dwarf stuttered, his skin gradually turning from his natural green to a sickly yellowish tone.

He turned around, not even looking back to see if the mysterious couple was following him, walking at the quickest pace his short legs allowed him to. He stopped at one of the bars, offering them a sit as he walked into the kitchens, going in search of the man the visitors were looking for. Vegeta waited with Bulma in one of the corners, with both their backs facing the wall, and he stood protectively but casually in front of her.

The green man returned right away. “P-Please follow me… This way…”

He guided them through the jam-packed club in the direction of a more secluded space in the V.I.P. area.

“Teekoh will be with you in a m-minute… Would you like me to prepare you or your lady a drink?”

“No, that will be all. You may leave now,” the warrior replied authoritatively, pleased by the change of stance in the little green bastard.

Once the two lovers found themselves alone, and after cautiously inspecting his surroundings, he finally let go of Bulma’s arm.

“Take a sit, Bulma,” he asked kindly.

Bulma followed his instructions, feeling incredibly awkward under these new circumstances. She sat on one of the plush burgundy couches, curiously looking around, and rapidly noticing this place wasn’t too different from the strip joints she’d visited back on Earth. Such places weren’t really her sort of thing, but she recalled a particularly cringeworthy night when Yamcha had convinced her to go to one of those locals to ‘spice things up a little’ in their almost-dead relationship. She reluctantly agreed, thinking that perhaps doing some sexy dancing for her increasingly soft boyfriend would be a bit of fun…

It turned out to be a big mistake when her ex-boyfriend ended up spending the entire night drooling over the semi-naked bimbos pole-dancing with their crotch right on his very eager face while he ignored her entirely as she entertained herself with a bottle of Champagne, sitting alone in a corner. When she confronted him about it a couple of days later, the man simply told her it was all in her head and even blamed her, accusing her of getting too drunk to enjoy her time with him.

Her ex-lover was a far cry from her current mate, who was stoically standing by her side, arms crossed, completely unconcerned by the almost nude females that could still be seen through a large glass window placed behind the dark red sofa.

A welcoming, almost cheerful voice interrupted her shameful memories.

“My Prince…” A man said, entering the room and locking the door behind him with a large, golden key.

He was tall and thin, and even though Bulma had never met anyone from his particular race before, she guessed he was older than Vegeta, who’d uncrossed his arms by now, placing one of his strong hands firmly on the man’s shoulders, almost in a friendly manner.

The Saiyan greeted him with ease. “Teekoh.”

“It’s good to see you doing so well, My Prince…” The man continued.

Bulma felt silently amazed by the joy the enigmatic male seemed to genuinely profess. And, judging by Vegeta’s body language, the Saiyan appeared to be happy to see him too. Despite the very obvious, reverent respect the thin man showed Vegeta, they both looked almost like a couple old friends that hadn’t seen each other in a long time.

“Is everything ready?” Vegeta asked.

“Yes, My Prince. The cameras in this room have been disconnected, and I’ve already reported to my superior that it has been a malfunction.”

“How long before they send someone to do some repairs?”

“At this hour of the night, at least three hours, possibly even more.”

“What about that window?” Vegeta inquired again, pointing at the large glass window behind Bulma’s back from where the entire night club could be seen.

“Don’t worry, My Prince. It’s tinted glass, the exterior can be seen from here but you and your, um, your lady friend cannot be seen from the outside,” the taller man replied confidently.

“Is he upstairs?”

“Y-yes, My Prince…”

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

“Very well…” Vegeta adjusted his white gloves, and Bulma could immediately perceive that unmistakable look of excitement and anticipation written all over his masculine face.

He looked so devastatingly handsome it hurt…

“This is one of my concubines,” he said, nodding in Bulma’s direction. “She is not one of my favorites, but she’s still a decent bed warmer… And most of all, she is mine.” He possessively emphasized his last word, looking the man fiercely in the eye and, all of a sudden, any trace of friendly camaraderie evaporated. “You do remember what happens to people that try to touch what’s mine, do you not?” He warned threateningly.

Oddly enough, the man didn’t seem too fazed by Vegeta’s suddenly aggressive speech, but he bowed respectfully, tranquilizing the warrior nonetheless.

“I do, My Prince. Rest assured, I will watch over her during your absence.”

“She does not have the right to speak nor to be spoken to, and if anyone tries to get anywhere near her, I am to be contacted at once. Understood?”

“Yes, My Prince.”

Vegeta took one final look at his mate and turned around self-assuredly, abandoning the room and leaving Bulma alone with Teekoh. The tall man smiled kindly at her, and something told Bulma this man had already guessed by now that she wasn’t really one of Vegeta’s concubines. It made sense, she thought, after all, if he was someone that truly knew anything about her mate, he probably knew the Saiyan’s moral code went against anything having to do with forcing a woman against her will or using or abusing her in any way.

Teekoh walked to the door, blocking it by placing a large, heavy chair behind it and sitting patiently on it. Bulma analyzed him silently, getting the impression that this was a man who’d spent most of his life beneath other people. There was a sense of calm acceptance in his submissive behavior, and yet, he looked at peace, sitting on his chair as he waited meekly for Vegeta to get rid of his boss. Why Vegeta trusted this man and why was this man helping him, she had no idea, but she finally decided that, if her mate trusted him, so would she. So, Bulma lifted her legs, resting her tired feet on a small coffee table in front of the couch, and propped her head back, trying to relax as she waited for Vegeta to do what he’d come here to do.

In that very moment, Vegeta was soundlessly walking through a long, dark corridor, getting closer and closer to his destination: the office that awaited him in the end of it. The place smelled of hard liquor and humidity, and it pleased him to discover his old enemy had ended up working in such a filthy, repugnant place.

It certainly suited the bastard…

Once he finally reached the door of his office, he knocked softly on it, wanting to prolong his revenge as much as he could.

A cold, raspy voice quickly replied. “Yeah?”

Silence.

“Who is it?”

“…”

“Listen, asshole! Whoever the fuck you are, I’m not opening the fucking door for you! So, get in or get the fuck away from…!”

Vegeta smirked cruelly, turning the door knob and gradually opening the door. His entire body was tense, ready to face whatever was waiting for him behind that old, wooden door, but nothing could prepare him for the pitiful spectacle he was about to encounter.

There, lazily sitting behind a timeworn mahogany desk, inside a room filled with cigarette smoke and lightened by a sad, dusty lightbulb, an old demon from the past sat miserably, staring open mouthed at him.

“Well, I’ll be damned…” The green lizard finally muttered.

This?

This was what he’d been waiting for throughout most of his entire adulthood?

The man in front of him was very different from the monster he still recalled from his nightmares. True, he’d never been the great warrior his brother had been, but this… This thing… This couldn’t be the one he was seeking revenge from…

He was grossly overweight, his large belly protruding over the tight waist of his brown, worn down pants. His green hair, which in the old times had been just as long and abundant as his sibling’s, was now much shorter, tied back in an oily, stringy ponytail in a pathetic attempt to conceal the fact that the old man was very obviously going bald.

“I’d heard some rumors about you, but… Damn! I couldn’t believe they were true…” The lizard said, bringing his cigarette to his mouth and inhaling the poisonous smoke with trembling fingers, which Vegeta wasn’t sure were the result of fear or just his overall poor health. The monster coughed loudly, his lungs filled with phlegm, making such revolting noises, the Saiyan couldn’t help but snarl in pure disgust.

The man smirked with a mixture of evilness and amusement. “What’s the matter, Lord Vegeta?” He asked mockingly. “Am I not what you were expecting to see?” He inhaled again, followed by another incontrollable coughing fit. “I guess time hasn’t been kind to me, uh?”

“That must be the only truth I’ve ever heard coming from your lips,” Vegeta finally answered. “Time has repeatedly kicked you in the ass… I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised…”

“Well… Not all of us are lucky enough to possess Saiyan genes, uh? Little Monkey?”

The oh, too familiar insult made Vegeta groan in rage, but he decided not to take the bait. At least, not yet. If he was totally honest with himself, he didn’t quite know how to act anymore. Out of all the possible scenarios he’d projected in his mind, he’d never pictured finding Zonzon in such a deplorable state.

“Man… I told Frieza so many fucking times to stop toying with you and just fucking kill you already…” He chuckled breathlessly. “But the bastard wouldn’t listen to me. He said you were such a useful Little Monkey, doing all his dirty work for him…”

“Well, we all know how things worked out for him in the end...” Vegeta stated arrogantly.

“Oh, yeah… A Saiyan ended up killing him. What a shame it wasn’t you, uh?”

The Prince raised his head proudly, still unwilling to play the old bastard’s game. “It was still a Saiyan, after all, the one who ended his life.”

Zonzon shrugged.

“Anyway… Who gives a shit? He’s dead, and we’re here. That’s all that matters in the end.”

“Mmm… You are here, indeed…” Vegeta said in agreement, running his eyes once more across the tiny grimy room. “I guess it’s fitting that you ended up in this place. You were always Frieza’s bitch, and now you’re just a fucking pimp…”

“Meh… A man has to make a living one way or another, am I right?”

The Prince remained silent, waiting to see where the lizard was going with this. The more he looked at him, the more the feeling of revulsion grew and grew. His skin looked like yellowish wrinkled paper, certainly not the result of natural ageing, but that of a life purely devoted to living in vice.

“So… My Lord…” Zonzon said, putting out his cigarette in a half-full ashtray with his thick, dirty, stained fingers. “Are you here to kill me or to get Frieza’s share?”

Vegeta tilted his head to the side, not quite understanding what the monster was referring to. “Frieza’s share?”

The lizard laughed loudly, seemingly finding the whole situation entertaining.

Far too much, in Vegeta’s opinion…

“What? You didn’t know Frieza got a share of every single business on the planet?”

“Is that so?” Vegeta asked malevolently.

Why was he even surprised? After all, Frieza had always tried to get his hands on every single credit he could, even when he was so damn wealthy that acquiring any more wealth wouldn’t have made any significant difference to him anymore. And, for a man with an endless and constant supply of concubines, getting money from exploiting women wasn’t too farfetched.

“So, I was right, uh? You’re here to kill me…”

Zonzon smirked almost playfully, still unperturbed by Vegeta’s murderous intentions.

‘What the fuck was happening here?’

“Go ahead,” he challenged, leaning back on his tattered chair, arms lying nonchalantly on its armrests.

There was a moment of silence in the room, and Vegeta’s eyes remained fixated on the bastard’s repugnantly confident face as his mind raced at a million miles per hour trying to understand why the guy would let him kill him without even putting up a fight. It was obvious Zonzon would be the one to lose in the end anyway but, still, where was the honor in sitting on a chair waiting indifferently, almost invitingly, for someone to kill you?

And then it hit him.

The decrepit lizard wanted to die…

And who wouldn’t under his current circumstances?

An ageing man in poor health, probably feeling like shit every single day of his life after having spent his younger years living decadently…

“What’s the matter, Little Monkey? Wasn’t that what you always wanted?�� Zonzon grinned, giving Vegeta a glimpse of his almost toothless foul mouth. “Oh… I know… This wasn’t what you were expecting, was it?” He put his hands on his massive belly, rubbing it lazily as he mocked the Saiyan Prince. “I bet you were expecting to see the man I was… The one that could get you bleeding and on your knees with a single finger…”

“If I recall correctly, I gave you the beating of your life by the time I was ten years old, old man,” Vegeta retorted, inwardly disgusted by the traumatic memories the lizard evoked.

Zonzon’s favorite sport had been to beat him up, almost weekly, for several years. For a while, the child he was hadn’t been strong enough to defend himself, not that he wouldn’t try, unsuccessfully every single time. But, of course, his Saiyan genes had allowed him to get stronger and stronger after each beating until, one glorious day, the tables were turned and he kicked the lizard’s ass. The fucking coward had immediately run to Frieza asking for help and revenge, and revenge he got, when Frieza beat up the kid so badly he almost ended his life. It’d been one of the most brutal thrashings his old Master had punished him with, and the worst part was, Vegeta never knew exactly why.

Indeed, Zonzon had always been one of the Emperor’s favorites, despite the fact that, even though he was a decent warrior, he wasn’t one of the strongest ones either, and if there was something Frieza respected above everything else, it was physical strength.

After Vegeta had finally become stronger than him, Zonzon apparently requested his Master to transfer him somewhere else, and Frieza granted him permission to leave the Forces, lending him a small fortune to run a business somewhere far away from the three remaining Saiyans alive.

What was the reason behind Frieza’s generosity? He never knew. The only explanation plausible to him was that Zonzon was Zarbon’s older brother, and Zarbon had always been one of his Master’s absolute favorites. There’d even been rumors that such favoritism went beyond Zarbon’s natural fighting ability, and that Frieza was also enamored of his physical beauty and his rumored fluid sexuality, taking full advantage of both for years.

After Zonzon left Frieza’s Army, Vegeta only heard reports about the older man here and there: stories of him investing his newfound wealth on some very successful night-club on a pleasure planet, somewhere in another galaxy. Followed, years later, by stories of his decadence, and how his vicious nature had made him lose most of his wealth, even gambling most of his shares of his own business away, thus ending up as mere co-owner of the strip joint.

As a young man, Vegeta had wanted nothing more than to find the bastard, fight him and end his life in battle. But Nappa and Raditz had always discouraged him from following such plans, begging him to keep the eye on the big picture by biding his time, training hard and obeying Frieza’s orders for years until he’d be able to ascend to Super Saiyan status and reclaim his Birth Right, taking full control and ruling over the Universe.

And now, well…

All of those plans had come true, even if things sometimes hadn’t happened exactly as he would have wished them to in his youth. And there he was, standing in front of his old torturer, ready to end his life, but realizing he couldn’t go through with it. Not because Zonzon didn’t deserve to die, but because Vegeta was finally getting the impression that keeping him alive would make a better punishment.

After all, what could be worse for a man who’d been the old Emperor’s favorite than living a small life? A life of mediocrity where he was reminded, every single goddamned day, that it was he and he alone, the one responsible for his countless failures.

A life lived in filth.

It’d be a perfect ending for a less than perfect life…

“You are right,” Vegeta finally declared, smugly lifting his chin in arrogant dominance. “You are not a man worth dying by my hand. In fact, you’re barely even a man anymore… There’d be no honor in killing you.”

“Ah… Honor… You and your stupid honor. You always had far too many principles for being nothing more than a dirty Little Monkey…”

The Saiyan smirked, feeling a strange sense of superiority and relief when he understood the disgusting creature’s offensive words couldn’t even touch him anymore.

And he thought of Bulma, his Bulma, waiting patiently for him downstairs, and he realized he’d much rather go back to her and devote his time and energies on her than on any other being on that disturbing planet.

Vegeta turned around, ready to leave the small, nasty office without even so much as a goodbye.

“Wait, Vegeta! Are you serious?” The lizard asked in complete disbelief.

“You’re not even worth my time anymore,” Vegeta concluded, already on his way out, giving him his back. “Good luck, old man…”

The Saiyan opened the door, only to find the green dwarf waiting uncomplainingly behind it. A look of fear crossed the miniature man’s face, starting to sweat profusely as he attempted to explain himself.

“Oh! I-I’m s-sorry, Sir… I… I j-just wanted t-to bring my b-boss this receipt…” He clarified, shakily waving a now wrinkled piece of paper in front of him.

“He’s all yours,” Vegeta replied nonchalantly. “My business here has concluded.”

Just as he was about to finally exit the room, the small man said something that changed his plans entirely.

“O-Oh! Well… Um… Thanks for visiting! I-I hope y-you have a great t-time with your lady d-downstairs!”

‘Fuck!’

Did that filthy piece of shit just ruin everything?

“Well! Vegeta! You brought a female with you?” Zonzon’s repugnantly amused voice asked in the background.

‘Yes, that green idiot had just destroyed his plans…’

Vegeta shot daggers at the green dwarf, muttering threateningly.

“Get the Hell out of here before I change my mind, right fucking now.”

The short guy didn’t need to be told twice, running away as fast as he could.

“My, my… I’m impressed, Vegeta… Who is she? Your little whore? A concubine? How many have you got? More than Frieza did? I thought you weren’t even interested in those things…”

Vegeta stood still in his spot, having the dreaded feeling he knew how this conversation would end now that the bastard had learned of Bulma’s presence.

“I am not,” he declared hostilely, still avoiding the ghastly lizard’s gaze, who was laughing stridently, his phlegmy raspy voice bursting into another disgusting coughing fit.

“Mmm… Really? Is she your mate, then? Man! Is she pretty? I bet she’s hot… She must be if you’d rather bring her here instead of fucking one of my girls…”

The Prince growled menacingly, turning around and facing the old monster once again.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll shut your fucking mouth right now…”

He didn’t.

“Shit! Was I right? You actually have your own woman? Ha! Is she in the V.I.P. room where one of my cameras mysteriously malfunctioned tonight?”

Vegeta’s fury kept growing internally, as well as an intense, fiercely protective emotion at the thought of Zonzon getting anywhere near his Bulma.

“Watch it, old man!”

The lizard kept running his mouth, apparently undisturbed by the Saiyan’s warnings.

“I guess there’s only one way to find out, eh? Let’s go check on that hot piece of ass of yours…”

Zonzon stood from his chair precariously, but before he could get too far, he found his large, flabby body violently crushed against the already cracked wall, his big feet no longer touching the ground as Vegeta’s hand grabbed him aggressively by the neck.

“You will never, EVER, get anywhere near my woman!” He growled ferociously, his entire muscular body trembling in pure rage. “You’re not even worthy of breathing the same air she breathes!”

“F-Fuck…” Zonzon stuttered, desperately gasping for air. His eyes told Vegeta he was panicking, and his whole shtick about wanting to die had been just a bluff after all. Now that the monster was finally face to face with death, feeling his life slowly slip through his dirty fingers, he pathetically attempted to save his ass any way he could.

“C-Come on, Vegeta… I-I was just j-joking… I b-bet she’s a nice girl… How about I offer you two some…?”

“SHUT UP! Shut the fuck up! Do NOT speak of MY WOMAN!”

“Ve-Vegeta… P-Please… I…”

Before he could finish his sentence, Vegeta let go of Zonzon, snatching his heavy head as his body was about to hit the floor and cracking his neck in one quick motion, dropping the now lifeless body on the ground.

‘That was it…’

Vegeta took one final look at the dead body. The lizard’s face now looked like a horrible, grotesque mask, his glassy eyes wide open in shock and fear and his purplish tongue ridiculously sticking out of the toothless mouth.

He left the office, closing the door behind him and resolutely walking towards the V.I.P. room where Bulma awaited him. The closer her presence felt, the more his fury seemed to evaporate.

So, he’d killed the bastard.

So, what?

Wasn’t that the plan all along?

So, what if it’d been his desire to protect Bulma what had actually given him the final push to putting an end to the lizard’s life and not his original wish for revenge?

Wasn’t the end result the same anyway?

Zonzon was dead.

Good riddance.

It shouldn’t make a difference to him, and yet, it made all the difference in the world.

He’d killed an old ghost from the past for her…

What had this woman done to him?

Relief washed over him when he finally joined his mate, who was now kneeling on the couch, holding a glass in her hand, her little elbows leaning on the headrest as she looked at all the semi-nude females dancing outside, in the night club, with avid eyes.

Teekoh was still sitting by the door, and he got up immediately as soon as he noticed the warrior’s presence.

“My Prince…” He bowed.

“Hey, Vegeta!” Bulma said, offering him a dazzling, tipsy smile. “You’re back!”

Vegeta raised an eyebrow at her much too chirpy behavior.

“I’m sorry, My Prince, but… Your concubine insisted that she wanted a drink and I… I had to…”

“Do not apologize, Teekoh. She really is a stubborn little wench, isn’t she?” The Prince replied with a smirk on his face, tranquilizing his old friend and secretly amused by Bulma’s antics. The blasted woman couldn’t follow the goddamned rules for even five minutes, and he’d be lying if he said a big part of him didn’t love her for it.

“Y-Yes, My Prince… She’s a stubborn girl, indeed. I prepared her drink myself, from the bottles we keep here in our private bar, so there’s no danger, I assure you…”

Vegeta placed a reassuring hand on the taller man’s shoulder, just as he’d done when he first greeted him earlier. “That is quite all right, Teekoh, we’ll be leaving soon anyway.”

The thin man nodded in relief. “Was…? Was your visit satisfactory?” He asked prudently.

“It was,” Vegeta simply replied, not wanting to get into too many details and feeling that words were not even required at this point. “You may leave now, Teekoh. Your help is no longer needed.”

“Very well, My Prince.”

Vegeta walked Teekoh to the door, and the man unlocked it, offering the Saiyan the golden key.

“You may lock it after I’m gone if you wish, nobody will bother you if you want to spend some alone time with your woman in here.”

The Prince took the key, and he put his hand inside his armor as if he were looking for something. When he finally took it out, he was holding a small, golden card, which he instantly offered to his friend.

“This is for you, in payment for your help,” he said solemnly, making the older man’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Oh, no! No, I can’t! It’s not…”

“Take it,” Vegeta insisted, sternly placing it on Teekoh’s hand against the man’s will.

“My Prince, it’s not necessary… I was happy to help you tonight. I fully understand your… Your reasons…”

“This is not just for your services tonight, old man. This is also for…” Vegeta paused, hesitating, feeling uncomfortable about recalling certain events from the past. “For all your services in the past…”

Both men exchanged a knowing glance, and Teekoh finally relented, taking the card with shaky hands and nodding in thankfulness.

“I only did what was right, My Prince.”

“And that is exactly what I am doing right now, Teekoh.”

The taller man exited the room, saying his final goodbyes to the Saiyan and his woman.

“Good luck, Prince Vegeta.”

“Good luck,” the Prince assented, finally closing the door and locking it behind him.

When he turned his attentions back to Bulma, he discovered the nosy little woman had been paying close attention to the previous exchange with his old comrade. He removed his white gloves, throwing them into a nearby trash can and turning them to ashes with a tiny ki spark. He didn’t want to touch his mate with the same gloves he’d been wearing when he killed such a filthy creature.

He approached her, at once taking away the glass she was holding in her dainty hand. He carefully sniffed the pink liquid it contained, taking a small sip to taste it. It was sickly sweet, and definitely stronger than anything he’d drank on Earth, so it was a good thing the woman had barely had a taste of it, otherwise she’d be blind drunk by now.

Vegeta sat by Bulma’s side, knowing they should abandon the night club as soon as they could, just in case, but wanting to cool down for a few minutes before they left.

His woman took advantage of his proximity and shamelessly threw her arms around him, holding his neck and kneeling on the couch beside him. She kept smiling at him, one of those pure, honest-to-Gods smiles of hers, and he could tell that, even though she wasn’t inebriated, the alcohol had loosened her up a bit.

“So… How did it go? Did everything work out?”

The Saiyan grunted affirmatively. He didn’t want to talk; all he wanted to do was to share a moment with his mate. After all the immorality and decadence he’d just witnessed tonight, she was all he needed.

Bulma swiftly made her move, boldly straddling him, siting on his lap and trapping his strong, muscular thighs between her legs. Vegeta’s hands automatically travelled to her hips, holding her firmly, as if she were the only thing still capable of keeping him grounded to this world.

“Mmm…” Bulma moaned, playfully nuzzling his nose. “I guess that means you’re all mine from now on…” She said, teasingly rubbing her core against a very dangerous area underneath his tight flying pants.

Vegeta hissed loudly, clutching her hips even tighter, knowing that if the devilish creature kept moving like that, she’d elicit a very embarrassing physical reaction from him very, very soon…

“You’re drunk, woman…” He whispered in her ear, making her giggle in response.

“I’m not!” Bulma pouted childishly. “I’m just a little tipsy, that’s all…”

She kept dangerously rubbing herself against him, and Vegeta felt more and more powerless by the second. He buried his nose in her neck, feeling her comforting presence wash all over him. She smelled of life, honesty and all things bright, and he realized he needed her now, more than ever, to forget about the humiliating fiasco this trip had turned out to be.

“Mmm… Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you look in your new armor?” She asked, nibbling on his strong jaw and making him unconsciously tilt his head back, letting her do as she pleased with him.

Vegeta groaned, already feeling his body react to his little woman. “Is that so?” He whispered teasingly in a warm, husky voice.

Bulma run her tongue across his jaw, almost soothing the places she’d just sunk her small teeth into. “You do… And you know what I just realized?”

His rugged hands squeezed her hips once again, silently encouraging her to keep talking, to say something, anything. All he wanted was to keep hearing the calming sound of her melodic, coquettish voice…

“You haven’t even looked at any of the other girls in this club tonight…”

Vegeta looked at her, puzzled as to why it was so surprising to Bulma that he hadn’t paid any attention to all those other wenches. Didn’t she already know she was his woman? Why would he ever feel the need of looking at someone else?

When he said nothing, Bulma kept talking, taking advantage of the courage the liquor had given her.

“Mmm… I think that deserves a reward, don’t you think?”

The Saiyan pressed her gorgeous body even closer to him, his hands never letting go of those luscious hips. He could feel his sanity slipping away, knowing where this was inevitably going, and for the first time in months, he truly didn’t give a shit anymore.

He got the impression the liquor was finally making his woman lose control and open up to him, sharing her deepest desires, and Vegeta was feeling more eager than ever to indulge her, so he willingly kept provoking her…

“What do you have in mind, little human?”

Bulma smirked seductively, glad to see Vegeta so keen to play her little game of seduction. She placed a tiny kiss on the tip of his nose and she proceeded to remove her mate’s possessive hands from her body. He reluctantly agreed, knowing his woman wasn’t really going anywhere and curious as to what her naughty, mischievous mind had in store for him.

“Perhaps your gorgeous concubine should do a little dance for you…”

She stood in front of him, all long legs and sparkly high heels and, for the first time, Vegeta paid attention to the music playing in the background, which he’d ignored entirely before. It reminded him of Earth’s so-called ‘Oriental music’ and the melody seemed to have been specifically designed for the breathtaking woman sensuously dancing just for him.

His mouth went dry at the sight of her voluptuous hips indolently shaking for his eyes only. The minute black dress, whose neckline was so low he could almost see her bellybutton, was so short that, as she moved, it offered him a glimpse of her perfect, rounded ass cheeks. Her arms kept moving with the rest of her body in perfect unison as she bent over, languidly running her hands across her skin, from her knees to her creamy thighs, hips and breasts, which kept bouncing slightly from side to side as she kept dancing, swaying to the rhythm of the exotic sounds…

She was hypnotizing.

She was so maddeningly fucking perfect it hurt, and she was all his…

Vegeta knew all he had to do was say the word and she’d fervently comply, ardently giving herself to him, letting him do whatever the Hell he wanted with her body. And when she finally offered him her hand, he took it; the Gods helped him, he did, because nothing else mattered anymore. There was no past and no future. No death or revenge, only desire, a burning desire that consumed him like an incontrollable flame.

Only his Bulma could do that to him…

He stood by her side, and just as he was about to grab her and press her tight, petite body against him, she turned around, smooth and swift like a bewitching little snake.

And then…

Sweet merciful Gods!

Then she pressed her bottom against him, milking his cock, already hard as a rock, between her pert little ass cheeks. And even though his instinct of self-preservation begged him to keep her away from him, the primal, animalistic voices within his soul just ordered him to take all the enchanting woman had to offer and then some.

And he would, because he was a bastard from Hell, and that’s what he did…

He was born to take, pillage, kill and conquer, and he’d take this woman tonight even if giving in to her wishes killed them both.

Because, after all, nothing else really mattered…

They were just a man and a woman whose bodies kept imploring for release. There was no logical, scientific explanation for the unshakable attraction they’d both felt for each other since day one, and Vegeta had finally grown tired of fighting his urges anymore…

“I want you, Vegeta… Gods! I want you so much…” Bulma sobbed, laying her head back and rubbing her cheek against his as she kept pressing herself against his massive erection. Even though he hadn’t fucked her in months she still remembered oh, too well how good the excited man behind her could make her feel.

The scent of her arousal invaded Vegeta’s senses as he encircled her body, one arm around her hips and one hand softly caressing her breasts, feeling her rosy, hardened nipples through the thin fabric of her dress.

“Bulma…” He muttered, his mind so dazed by desire by now that he was incapable of putting a coherent sentence together.

“Am I prettier than those women, Vegeta?” She asked in a breathless, girlie voice. “Don’t you want me anymore?”

He clutched a fistful of her tousled hair and pressed his lips against hers, indulging in a messy kiss, tasting the need and desire pouring from her.

“You’re more fucking beautiful than all of them together,” he honestly replied, his dark eyes penetrating her soul and his velvety voice feeling like an avid caress…

She turned around, wrapping her thin arms around his neck and kissing him again, forcing him to swallow her desperate moans, feeling as if she were finally losing her mind.

“Then, what’s stopping you, Vegeta? J-Just… Just do it, please! I want you…” Her hand boldly run across his body, stopping when it reached his pants and pressing it against the large proof of his arousal.

“F-Fuck!” Vegeta roared, feeling his cock twitch and throb in anticipation.

‘That was it…’

He couldn’t resist her anymore…

The Prince growled in need, passionately holding her face with one hand and squeezing it slightly, making her glossy lips pout in wonder. He run his textured tongue across them once, twice… His other hand then covered the one that was still daringly wrapped around his hard cock.

“Do you want this, Bulma? Do you want me?” He asked hoarsely against her panting mouth, trembling in sheer agony. She brazenly squeezed his member gently in response.

“G-Gods! Yes, Vegeta! Yes… I want you! I want all of you…”

No more words were needed for Vegeta to make his final choice. He bit her lower lip, making her gasp in shock and pleasurable pain, and sealed her mouth with another hot, searing kiss before she had time to chastise him. When he finally unlocked their lips, gasping for air, he held her flawless, radiant face between his hands, sealing their fate once and for all.

“Then you will have me, woman.”

Notes:

Well...

Do I REALLY need to tell you what's finally going to happen in the next chapter?

Thanks a lot for reading!

In case someone is interested in my other works, you can find them here:

http://archiveofourown.org/users/SarahW/pseuds/SarahW

https://www.fanfiction.net/u/8599955/SarahWDBZ

#vegebul #fanfiction #fanfic #vegeta #bulma #writing #dbz #dragon ball z #apocalypse now #love #angst #sarahw-world

9 notes · View notes