Since this little one-shot got so many requests for a sequel here we go.
It wont be in chronological order, every installment will be in on-shot style focusing on a moment in their lives.
Yes, i am still working on my other AU Hiraeth which will take priority over this. Installments here will be little one-shots when they hit me - I hope you enjoy it anyways :)
She should have known that someday she was going to end up here. Was a smart woman, pretty too, but with Vegeta, she had fallen hard - and despite everything, she didn't mind. She knew she should. But Bulma couldn't force herself to do as she knew society dictated her to do.
They'd met at a bar. Uncomplicated. Like normal, average, people. She just on the verge of her first big scientific breakthrough, him a few years into running his own practice. It had been like a lightning strike, a force of nature, unstoppable, electrifying- and for any observer with half a brain - terrifying.
The sex that night had been amazing - still was - and everything after that flowed so effortlessly. He was an amazing lawyer, a driven man that understood how to wield power. In some twisted turn of fate, they'd gotten a little tipsy at a local upscale club, celebrating one of his victories, had danced and grinded - well she had - on another shamelessly in a sweaty version of Tango.
And someone had filmed. Had put it online. Had made them famous.
It had been surreal, great for their carriers. Clients flocking to him, and people fighting over funding her research and projects. It had been exhilarating. And then the suspicion and accusations had started.
After all, Vegeta was the son of a yakuza. Not just any. The son of the boss, a man so high up the food chain he had avoided prison and an investigation entirely after being accused of murdering his wife - Vegeta's mother - in cold blood.
She'd know of course. He had mentioned it. She'd heard Raditz talk about it. Seen their tattoos. Had accepted that part of him without ever blinking an eye. She loved this man, in all his protective, borderline possessive, love of her he worshipped her. Maybe never directly in public, but she relished the knowledge of being the only one that got to see this side of him.
They'd been together for years - traveled the globe- engaged for many more summers -enough to really get the press talking - and then gotten married in the most private and traditional of all ceremonies during cherry blossom season.
She'd known that his father wasn't very fond of her. Wasn't very fond of the way Vegeta had left and pursued a career in law. Was irritated by the way his son only slowly, unwillingly took the rains, fully capable of violence and carnage, but not fully enthusiastic about it either.
She'd known the moment she had opened the door and seen the officers that push had come to shove. That the repressed hate for the crime against his mother and the darkness of his childhood had boiled over. Had known that she was now married to the most powerful man of the underworld. From Prince of darkness to its King. But she loved this man, loved the way his voice sounded when he laughed and his eyes closed in bliss when he came.
She'd been at court. Very first row. Had been as surprised as the blinding sea of cameras as he had leaned over the small banister, orange jumpsuit and clinging chains, and kissed her. Deep and passionate, like a man that had just spend weeks in solitary, right in front of the public eye, for the first time. Ever.
Now, 8 weeks after opening her front door, she stood in a small room, with a single bed, wondering just how in the hell he had managed this. Deep down knowing that somehow she had always known she'd end up here all along. They weren't their youngest anymore, this was a complete surprise, but she knew she had to tell him.
When they finally ushered him in everything became a whirlwind of movement and before she knew what was happening Vegeta had her against the wall. Legs wrapped around his waist, still covered in orange that was too bright, fingers working on her blouse, lips sucking greedily at her neck.
She had to tell him.
Small hands grasp his face, forced him to still. Her breath as hard and panting as his own. It's a whisper against his lips when she tells him. Isn't sure herself why she doesn't say it louder, perhaps she's afraid she'll be alone with this. Maybe he won't be excited. Won't want it. Maybe it's too late in their life's. Maybe it's the wrong time.
His eyes a dark and unreadable, sometimes she glimpses the monster they all say he is. But then his eyes close and he's softly rubbing his nose against hers. A hand so much larger than her own on her still flat stomach. The kisses and rhythm that follows are much gentler than the frantic ripping from a few minutes ago.
She knows he'll be home. Knows it'll likely not be legal, will cost violence and blood. But in this moment, when he's all but melting into her she can't seem to care. She knows it's selfish.
Even months later, she can't feel guilty. The way he is laying next to her, bare chest and dark, muscled skin, their son sleeping on his chest, blanketed in the large strong hand of his father, she knows she'd justify anything for them. She'd become a monster herself if need be. Because it's like magnetism, and what they have created together is like electricity , unstoppable and yes, maybe even a little terrifying.
to be continued..