Hey, so, this ask inspired me on the spot to write a (sort of long) one-shot. I literally read the ask, grabbed my laptop, and started writing. Wild when that happens. Anyway, here it isâŠ
Vegeta had never seen his woman like this. Sure, he had heard her scream in fear before, heard her scream when they were being particularly rough in bed. But, the way she was screaming now was twisting his guts into tight knots that he wished he could punch away.
Bulmaâs tiny hand was squeezing his with all her might. Kami she was so weak, but he didnât move, didnât let her hand go. She was sweating, her hair darkening from the moisture as tiny strands stuck to her face. Without thinking, he reached over with his free hand and pushed the wet hair away from her face, mumbling something in saiyango to himself and to her. He knew there were others watching, but he couldnât bring himself to care in this moment.
Apparently, birthing a child was just as difficult as it was for Saiyans, but Vegeta knew very little about both speciesâ birthing processes. He had heard passing comments about it from Nappa and Raditz when he was younger, but if he was being perfectly honest, he hadnât thought of that at all when Bulma was pregnant with Trunks. In fact, it had hardly crossed his mind when she became pregnant a second time; at least, not until she had approached her last two months of pregnancy. She had grown so large, her skin practically glowing with joy as the day of their daughterâs birth grew ever nearer.
Vegeta knew she could handle it, knew that she was strong enough to give birth a second time without him. But, he had changed since the birth of Trunks, and he couldnât bring himself to accept the tournament invite that Kakarot had been annoying him with the last twenty-four hours, no matter how tempting it had been. The guilt he had grown to feel over missing out on a lot of Trunksâ infant life had pushed his resolve to stay with Bulma, no matter what. He didnât want to disappoint her any more than he already had. The clown had left Beerus and Whis behind, but the two had been content to stuff their mouths with food while Bulma had gone wide-eyed, stating that the baby was coming. When Whis had offered to deliver the baby for her, Vegeta had refused strongly. He didnât want the man performing any of his weird, godly magic on his woman, and now she was giving birth the human way.
Bulma cursed loudly again as another contraction shook her body, the nurses in the room encouraging her that she was doing an amazing job. Vegeta had the strongest urge to growl a warning at everyone in the room, to tell them to either ease her pain or get out of the room. But, he knew he couldnât deliver their child without the help of certified doctors, so he swallowed the threat. Instead, he leaned closer to Bulmaâs ear and began to talk to her in his native tongue. He knew she wouldnât understand, knew she might punch him for distracting her, but he wanted her to know. He spoke softly so only she could hear, but also urgently, almost desperately, as he talked. He tried to convey his words in ways that would make sense, which was almost stupid since she didnât know any of what he was saying, but he tried anyway.
She was strong. She could get through anything, with or without him. She was the smartest damn woman he had ever met, a true genius, and a warrior in her own right. She was so small, so painfully weak when it came to physical strength, but she would always have a stronger spine than he did. His Bulma was brave and indestructible, while their Bulma was an heiress, a party-thrower and gift-giver. They could never really see the her that Vegeta saw, the her that saved his life ten times over, and the her that had helped the fools waiting outside in endless battles to be left without thanks. Just as she only saw him in a way no one else could, he could clearly see her. She didnât have to feel lonely anymore, didnât have to go through this again without a soul to help, to care. He would never leave her side again.
Bulma screamed again, her skin paling as her back arched off the bed slightly. The nurses starting to coo at her and at the baby beginning to leave her body, but Vegeta had to resist the urge to pull Bulma into him and shield her from a pain he couldnât touch. The cruelty of it made him lightheaded, almost dizzy, and he had to close his eyes. He lowered his forehead to her cheek, his hand squeezing hers back as gently as he could. He spoke again in his language, a strange knot forming in his throat that he still found so foreign.
Donât give up. Fight. His Bulma was a Queen, a fierce woman that didnât quit.
He could feel her shivering and his body mirrored it, an involuntary quake of his shoulders and legs as he kept his eyes shut, breathing in her sweet smell as he heard the nurses and doctor say that the head of their daughter had appeared. They instructed her to push, and Vegeta was alarmed to feel a strong ki flash through his senses. He lifted his head and stared down at Bulma, trying to feel out where it was coming from. Baffled, he realized the energy was coming from both her and the baby.
His face grew hot, suddenly overwhelmed by the strangest mix of emotions he had ever felt. Bulma was tied to their baby directly. Of course she was, thatâs how it worked, but the mix of their ki made him suddenly think of his own mother. She was a woman he had only glanced once as a child, a woman of strength and elegance. Vegeta never had the chance to know her, to learn from her, and now that he could sense the unbelievable connection between a mother and her offspring, he wondered if his mother had grieved at him being sent away to another planet so young. He wondered if she had cared the way Bulma did about their children. He marveled at how he, the Prince of Saiyans, had somehow been granted a second chance at life. He was insanely lucky just to know this woman, let alone be the father of her children, her husband, her lover. He didnât deserve her. No one did.
Vegeta lowered his head once more, his eyes squeezing shut as he buried his head in her cold, wet neck and let a tear escape him. His chest was tight, his throat even more so, and he prayed to whatever true God there might be, that she would be healthy after this was all over. He didnât know how Earth women did it, what with their weak energies and frail bodies, but here was his wife, doing the impossible. He could no longer speak words to her, could only hold her hand as she cried out, tears beginning to stream down her flushed face. He could only be there for her, and he hoped it was enough.
Suddenly, there was silence from the doctors. Only Bulmaâs ragged breathing and a couple gasps from the nurses could be heard. Vegeta looked up slowly as the smallest cry rang through the room. The sound grew louder and, within moments, there was a crying baby in the doctorâs arms. The small thing was covered in blood, a pointy tuft of cerulean hair growing out of the mostly bald head, and a tiny blue tail flicking back and forth in the air. The nurses leapt back into action, helping clean the small hybrid baby before wrapping her in a soft, pale yellow blanket. They brought the baby over to Bulma who, by now, had started to recover just enough to open one eye and smile as the nurse laid the baby on Bulmaâs chest.
Vegeta was speechless. Their daughterâs energy was strong, and her crying had ceased the moment she was lain in Bulmaâs arms. Wordlessly, the prince helped his wife sit up a little so she could better hold the baby, and he watched in awe as Bulmaâs tears came in a new wave, her eyes only for their daughter.
âSheâs⊠beautiful.â Bulma whispered hoarsely, a tired smile tugging at her lips. Then, she laughed softly before turning to face Vegeta. âShe has her fatherâs hair.â
Overcome with emotion, he smiled back at her before bowing his head into her shoulder. As if on cue, the doctorâs and nurses left the room to give the couple some space with their new baby, the door clicking shut behind them. The moment they were gone, Vegeta lifted his head and gently put his hand on the back of Bulmaâs head. He pulled her in for a kiss and she obliged, her energy sapped as she let Vegeta take the lead.
When he pulled away from her, she was smiling at him and he looked down to see their daughter sleeping soundly against her motherâs chest. She was beautiful, and even though her coloring was very much like his Bulma, her slight scowl and pointy hair made him feel like he was looking at a smaller version of himself.
Silence passed for a while until Vegeta had the courage to speak. âWhat⊠what if Iâm not what she needs?â The shock in Bulmaâs eyes wasnât missed, but he felt the need to continue, to explain himself. âShe looks⊠well, she kind of looks like me. Which, I am proud of, but also⊠Bulma, what if Iâm not the father she needs?â
A small sob shook his wifeâs body as she put a hand on the back of his neck and pulled him in, putting her forehead against his. âVegeta, no. No, you donât get to think like that. You are not the same man. Youâre a good father. You may not be a conventional, suburban dad, sure, but no one in this family is conventional. Iâm the worldâs smartest genius, youâre the worldâs strongest man, and our son is brains and brawn. Iâm sure our daughter will be too. Bra Briefs is going to love her father, no matter what.â
He felt like he was drowning, his breathing hard to control. âBulma⊠I donât think I can do what is needed of me.â
âYes, you can. And you will. Youâve done so great with Trunks since Buu. Youâve been home, Vegeta, and that is all I could ever truly ask of you. Iâm not a perfect parent either, you know. Iâve made plenty of mistakes, but itâs what makes us mortal. The only thing you can do is your best.â
âAnd if that isnât enough?â He wasnât sure why he was being so pessimistic in the presence of their newborn. He didnât want to suck the joy from his wife, but in this moment, his self-loathing ran deep. He had disappointed Bulma too many times. He wasnât sure if he could handle fucking everything up again.
âThen youâll learn.â She stated, ignoring his moody behavior like usual. Her eyes fell down to their daughter, Bra, cradled in her arms. âItâs like training for a fight, or training to save the world. You stumble and fall, maybe get cut up and bruised, and definitely blow up once or twice.â She seemed to flinch at those words a bit, and Vegeta knew the memory of his last death still haunted her. âBut⊠well, you learn. I know you can do it. Youâre strong enough to handle being a parent, just like Iâm strong enough to handle having a Saiyan for a husband.â
She laughed lightly and the knot in Vegetaâs gut loosened. She was right, as usual. He would be his very best, if only for his family. The rest of the world tended to annoy him to no end; a planet full of idiots and mediocre living. But, his family was so much like a Saiyan one that he knew he would go to any lengths to keep them alive, to keep them safe. He wanted to fight for their peaceful lives, to protect their planet from any and all harm, to watch his children grow strong and full of hope. He would train them both, would teach them the ways of his people, would teach them that their pride in who they were was never something to be taken lightly. He would tell them of his past in full, eventually, and he would hope they still accepted him. He would tell them how he learned the hard way that, caring for another person could make you stronger, but that believing in yourself would make them the strongest they could ever be.
He was the protector of Earthâs Royal Family. So, he would protect them, no matter the cost. But, for now, he wanted to sit with his wife, his newborn child, and the peace of having a place to call home.
prguitarman
origamiaround
areudirty
yousharknotpass
tangentwithtanner
vaporwave
blakekathryn
