#this was prompted because i once told my wife that i cope with stress by almost drinking myself to death and I've think about that every day

[sexiestchalupaever]

I am about a half step away from becoming an alcoholic but I fight that urge every single day because my wife and son need me to be sober. A few months ago I used to drink every single night till I passed out. Now I force myself to not drink and it feels great but the smallest inconvenience sends my brain into "go buy a bottle and kill yourself" and let me tell you, I do not like it.

[theotherace]

Fic Recs: Taang

I’ve made two or three rec lists over the past few months, but I thought I’d make a proper, comprehensive one that’s easy to add to in the future. Not all of these are exclusively Taang, but they all feature the ship to some degree. I will only recommend one or two stories per author, but some profiles are definitely worth checking out further. So! Here goes.

Multi-Chapter, Complete

Whisper Into the Sky by damagectrl – Toph has two choices: Go home and get married or have the family fortune and her inheritance given to a stranger. Her problem: She wants to keep her ties to her family, but is quite content traveling with Aang. Her solution: Fight her way through suitors for her freedom. Literally. | General 

The Slow Path by Tazmainian Devil – Eight years after the fall of Ozai, Aang returns to the friends he left behind. | T

A Matter of Honor by Adridere – Almost 4 years after the war. Aang is engaged to Katara and is up to Zuko to teach him the facts of life. Yep, the bees and the birds. Crazy kings, bananas and the ultimate contest for the hand of a reluctant maiden. | M

Roommates by breeeliss – An unlikely tale of two unlikely people being forced to live together under unlikely circumstances.| Modern AU | T

Fall of the White Lotus by Boo-82 – Three years after the war Zuko is living a life of duty while Katara reluctantly travels the world with Aang. So, when General Iroh orders them to find Zuko’s mother and save his Order they seize the opportunity with both hands. It’s the beginning of an adventurous journey of discovery, but as time runs out a rising threat puts their bond to the test. | T

Half Asleep by The Crushinator – Five years after the Hundred-Year War, Fire Lord Zuko is hit with an assassin’s dart, and falls into a coma from which he cannot wake. A week passes, and his prognosis is grim. But Katara could swear she hears him in her dreams… | T

Yaaburnee by aviatordame – Avatars aren't meant to belong – that's as much as Aang can fathom. | M

Getting Lucky by roca-dos – Crazy things happen in college every day. | Modern AU | T 

All Fall Down by DJNS  – Aang copes with a tragic loss and finds renewed hope in an unexpected place. | M | Warning for Major Character Death

The Princess & the Badger-Cat by panaili – In a land never torn apart by the Hundred Year War, the sixteen-year-old Avatar Aang is trying his best to keep the balance between the four nations, including the increasingly antagonistic Fire Nation, which, despite his friendship with the Crown Prince Zuko, refuses to acknowledge him. Elsewhere, Sokka and Katara have been separated on their quest to find their missing father, and Sokka, pursued by the same bandits who kidnapped his sister, finds himself on the balcony of some rich girl’s house in Gaoling. Oh, and a sorcerer has turned him into a badger-cat. It’s just one of those days. | Teen and Up

Reborn by Jakia – Life. Death. Rebirth. This is the cycle that all spirits must abide to, even the Avatar. Aang and Toph face death and the reincarnation cycle. | T

New Girl by tiffaniesblews – After coming home early from a business trip, all Katara wanted to do was surprise her boyfriend, Jet. Imagine her surprise when she got home and Jet was in bed with another woman. Not wanting to live with her ex, and unable to live with her best friend, Suki, Katara takes her brother Sokka's offer to move into his loft with his two roommates. Aang is perky and sweet, the owner of a st. Bernard and a cat, who's often confused about his direction in life. Zuko, on the other hand, is a closed-off bartender, who takes some time opening up to others.The four could not be more different, and yet? They work out perfectly. Even if Katara's feelings for Zuko get a bit more complicated as time goes on. | Modern AU | Mature 

The Ties That Bind series by LdyKirin – An exploration of the ties that bind for good and ill. Toph and Zuko are both shaped by the family they were born to and the family they choose. Lots of found family feels. | T

What Happens In Kyoshi by BlackVelvetBand – Prince Zuko, and the GAang take a vacation on Kyoshi Island. Flirting, fighting, and embarrasment ensue as Sokka takes it upon himself to defend Katara's virtue...in a dress? A short,chaptered fic featuring Zutara, Sokki, and Taang. | T

Under the Night Sky by mycomfortblanket – Aang hears the chattering of teeth during a cold night. Was an AU that I found on tumblr that I made fit into this story. Orginal prompt: "We have to go camping together and share a sleeping bag even though we are complete strangers | General

On The Precipice by JoyDragon – They’re just best friends. Or maybe they’re teetering on the edge of being something more. | General

Oneshots, Complete

Air and Stone by Wolvenfire86 – A few Taang stories munched together. My first submissions. I hope everyone likes them. Please review, it makes me feel special. | K+

Taang Week 2020 series by teabagginses | Teen and Up & Mature

Our Little Secret by IrisPlumeria – Toph and Aang, sat next to one another dressed in their finest under paper lanterns and surrounded by copious amounts of food and friends, cringed at the disgusting noises coming out of Sokka’s nostrils as he blew his nose into Suki’s handkerchief. “I can’t believe two of my best friends are finally married!” Sokka sobbed, earning a supportive pat on the back from Suki, who didn’t flinch at the snot coming out of his nose. “I’m so happy for you guys!” Toph and Aang's family are happy for their nuptials, but will they be able to survive their wedding party without letting slip a big secret?Written for Taang Week 2020 - Tradition. | General 

All Roads Lead To Ba Sing Se by irisbleufic – "I was thinking," [Mai] said, tucking her last remaining dagger into her belt as she strode to meet him, "that it's about time I let Fire Lord Zuko know that I quit." When Kuei smiled at her, she could see the sunshine at which she once cringed."Notice that's six years overdue is better than none at all." "Indeed," said the Earth Queen, and grinned at him. | Teen And Up

Lady Fu’s Fortune Telling by Lady Cleo – Katara and Toph visit the local fortuneteller to get their fortunes told. Added a part two with Zuko and Aang. | T

The Perfect Companion by Morna – Aang seeks comfort outside of the arms of his wife, Katara. Taang, slightly lemony. | T

Box by JoeMerl – Written for Taang Week, one-shot. Toph ticks off Bumi, but Aang is willing to fight his old friend tooth and nail to get her out of trouble. Humor, light romance. | K+

2 am by shmulia – Whoever set off the fire alarm at 2 in the morning is on Katara's shit list. Even if he is hot and shirtless. | Modern AU | K

And its sequel, 11:45 – House parties aren't Katara's thing. Sokka's drunk, Suki's on a mission to set her up, and Toph is... well, Toph. But for every cloud there's a silver lining, and for Katara it comes in the form of a second chance with her neighbour... | Modern AU | T 

Treat by PsychEmpress – She felt the corners of her own lips quirk as he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “Consider this my treat,” he said and Toph allowed a smile to break out. OR In which Toph is a stressed architecture student who gets a free cup of coffee from the handsome waiter after she helps his friend. Taang. Mentions of Sukka. | Modern AU | T

Sawaru by metacognitive – This love is simple. Non-Korra compliant. | K+

Newlyweds (and basically everything else) by PandaCookie – Everyone’s a bit hopeless right after they’ve been married. | K+

Rhythms by xcgirl08– For now, though, her child’s heartbeat was hers to contemplate. | K 

Tenderness by Adridere – He wanted to keep her, even though he was not supposed to. He promised her freedom, and she promised him sanity in his own household. She kept her part of the bargain, but he found a way not to keep his. | M

Holy Matrimony by Loopy – After their marriage, Zuko and Katara deal with conflicting religious beliefs, and look to the friends for advice. Between the Zutara and the religious satire, every single person who reads this should feel offended. | General

Blind Maiden’s Grace by Adara_Rose – You can learn a lot of things from a flower… | Not Rated (I’d say General) 

Etched in the Earth by Dance_Elle_Dance – She knows the feel of Aang’s footprints better than her own, and that reality scares her. | Teen and Up

No One Asks About The Scars by voleuse – Write about how you learned to curse in order not to be cursed. | General

When in Rome by dtmars – She wasn’t stupid. She knew what she was doing and what she was getting herself into. They both did. | Modern AU. | Explicit

Like Real People Do by DerAndere – The moon is full and bright when he falls out of bed, awake, asleep, inside a dream, and starts walking, driven by the feeling he does not understand, tugging on him relentlessly, and he is Aang, and he is not, and the world is cold. | General | Full Disclosure: This is my story.

Meet Me Under The Table by avatarfan16 – A story of how Toph and Aang find love, in the most unusual of places. TAANG | K+

Aftermath by Zaram'delar – In any celebration, there's always one or two people with a habit of disappearing. Taang drabbleish series. | T

I Choose Dare by for_darkness_shows_the_stars – An ode to how Aang, under the power of a mighty temptress, was forced to grow a beard. Oh, and the birth of his first child, too, he supposes. | General Audiences

Multi-Chapter, In Progress

Heartbeat by AngelicBee – Avatar Aang's soulmate probably died 100 years before, but he can't help but feel she's closer than he thinks. | Teen and Up

a mighty ocean (or a gentle kiss) by poweradequeen – no, the title doesn’t make sense but i don’t care. i couldn’t think of one so now you’re stuck with a cheesy line from two by sleeping at last.it’s a taang fine arts university au. because i said so. | Teen and Up

Neither is Love a Cage by cali-chan – Love is the freedom of flying accompanied. It is letting be without possessing. PG-13 (possibly M later on), drama/romance/angst, Zuko/Katara + Aang/Toph, post-finale but diverges before LoK canon.

Operation: Zutara (REVAMPED) by dtmars – Everyone could see that those two were in love with each other. Everyone except for them. So Toph takes the initiative and fills in for Cupid to give them a little push, while Aang just tags along for the ride. | Teen and Up

Taang One Shots by stitch1830 – A collection of short stories about Toph and Aang that I've had saved in my notes for a few months. Stories are in the ATLA/LOK universe (not canon compliant), and typically revolve around their relationship and family. | Teen and Up

[yeoldontknow]

I WANT ENOUGH!YEOL IN A HOSPITAL!AU BECAUSE I LOVE PAIN XOXO (also i love you so much)

i made myself hurt. i made myself soft. i made myself fall apart. here we are :(

send me a chanyeol + a prompt!

Verse: Enough + Hospital AU Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader (oc; plus size female; enough!reader) Rating: PG-13 Warnings: some sexual themes; heavy angst; romance; chanyeol cries and it breaks my damn heart; discussions of being overweight; the stigma of being a plus size or fat person in a hospital which is a really specific thing to experience; discussions of pregnancy Word Count: 1.4K

Three minutes. 

It only took you three minutes to know you loved Chanyeol. The day you met him, he was shy, a new hire. He shook your hand with confidence and smiled like he had something he wanted to prove to the sun. He was soft. He was handsome. But then, he sat beside you and he giggled. That day, his desk was decorated with welcome confetti - your idea, a tradition you started for each new member brought to the team. Flowers were placed next to his keyboard, ribbons on his stapler and notepad. Your idea too, a way to bring colour to the monotony of admin work. He giggled, joyful, unbridled, clapped his hands together and didn’t bother to hide the glee that overtook his features. 

It took only three minutes. 

Six months. 

It took six months of dating to realize you wanted to marry him. You didn’t say it out loud, certain this kind of admission was coming much too soon and much too fast, but you knew it was true. Over time, you had grown utterly disinterested in a life, in events, in plans that didn’t include him. You had a life. You had friends. You wanted him to be involved in every aspect of it. It was a Sunday, the day you told yourself you wanted to be his wife. A new thought, a new idea, one you had never tried on before - until Chanyeol, you were content with yourself. 

After Chanyeol, you were alive. You rolled over and cupped his cheek, whispered that you needed him, wanted him, craved him to his closed eyes and soft breaths. He didn’t wake when you touched him, and from the kitchen you smelled the coffee start to brew from the automatic start. You were making a life together. You wanted to age alongside him until your bones were ash.

It only took six months.

Two years. 

The earth moves slowly around the sun, but in Chanyeol’s arms life came quickly, and life came strong. Before him, when you were alone and at peace, you not once felt the urge to be a mother. You are not maternal - you are naturing, you are kind, and you are affectionate, but you are not maternal. Your reasons for not having a child outweighed and grew well beyond your reasoning for having one, but just the same way you woke up one morning wanting to be his wife, so too did you go to bed one night wanting to carry his child. 

It happened silently, suddenly, a thought that entered your mind abruptly while he dried his hair. Sitting on your shared bed, shoulders rounded and skin soft, you decided you wanted more of him. Another. An infinite amount of his hope, his smiles, his laughter, his temper in the world. You wanted family - not just him, your whole life, but a line of it, the kind of line that leaves scars in the earth long after you both have passed, a generation born out of love. You were still unmarried, close to calling him your fiance and still calling him your husband in your mind, a thought and a name you keep to yourself, but this too came quickly. Two years was too soon to want a child, a family, but you wanted it. You wanted it.

It took two years.

Chanyeol has been crying for three hours. 

With your hand held tightly in his, sits beside your hospital bed, eyes and cheeks wet, too afraid to leave your side. Head pressed against the pillow, you watch as he weeps, fights against the barriers that keep you separated, and clings to you as best he can. The back of your hand has grown wet with his tears, his body still wracked with fear and anguish. He’s your soft star, your heartbeat, and you bring your other hand to card through his hair, needing more of him. Needing all of him.

‘I promise I’m fine,’ you repeat. 

You’ve lost track of the number of times you’ve said it, the number of times you’ve done your best to affirm it, but still he does not believe you. His large eyes are stricken, painted with horror as he shakes his head, pushing the chair closer to your bedside, even though there is no more room to spare.

‘No,’ he argues, because he is stubborn, because he is insistent, because he refuses to let it go. ‘You fainted in the kitchen. You didn’t even wake up until we were halfway here!’ The stress creeps back into his voice, skin falling pale once more, and though you roll your eyes at his persistent challenge to your confident affirmations, your heart flutters, wondering how you ever coped without a love like his. 

Giggling, you stroke your finger along the tip of his ear, feeling his long eyelashes flutter against your skin. He’s burrowed into your arm, breathing your scent in deeply. If he could, you’re certain he’d be in the bed with you, unwilling to be parted.

‘Yes,’ you agree, nodding against the rough cotton. ‘But I have juice now.’ You cast your gaze to the bedside tray that contains a large juice box of apple juice. The straw reminds you of when you were a child, the days when you chewed the plastic out of anxiety. Today, it remains perfectly rounded, your toes having wiggled beneath the sheets with each excited sip. ‘I’m practically spoiled here. They even gave me peaches!’

Chanyeol shakes his head against your arm in vigilant disagreement, looking up once more with an expression that conflicts your heart. You would swoon by the sight of it, but are shattered by the pain of it, wishing he would believe you are whole, and you are well, if only so he could return to being your sunshine. 

‘I’m scared,’ he whispers, and you break. 

Laughing at the softness, the silliness of his anxiety, you pull him up to you, kissing his lips eagerly. 

‘Don’t laugh,’ he murmurs, kissing you once more with a groan. ‘I can’t cope if you’re not safe.’ 

The sound of the door opening interrupts you both, and Chanyeol returns to his seat, gaze fixated on the doctor who enters carrying a clipboard. His hair is greyed at the edges, glasses thin framed with lenses almost too thick for the wiring. Normally, you hate doctors. You hate doctors and you hate hospitals, neither a thing that seems to listen to women, all your problems and all your issues always somehow boiling down to your weight or your gender. You prepare yourself now for a reprimand that will almost certainly be moot, ready, once more, to be told you are not thin enough, not well enough, and certainly not privileged enough to be healthy.

‘Well,’ he begins gently, lowering himself to the rolling stool in the corner of the room, ‘your iron count is low which partially explains your fainting spell.’

Rearing back against the pillow, you cock your head in surprise, amazed that, no, this is not about your weight. ‘See!’ you exclaim, giggling as you nudge into Chanyeol.

‘But,’ the doctor continues, distracting you from Chanyeol’s sigh of relief, ‘congratulations are in order. Your blood tests confirm you’re pregnant. You’ll have to come back in a few weeks for a scan and a full pre-natal check up. There’s no way to tell how far along you are at the moment, so you’ll have to schedule an appointment with the nurse on the way out. Until then, I’ve prescribed a full pre-natal vitamin…’

A ringing in your ears overtakes the room, blood rushing simultaneously away from your head and into your cheeks, a conflicting experience that makes you feel dizzy. 

‘Baby?’ 

Chanyeol puts the straw of your juice box between your lips and urges you to sip. Obedient, you regard him with wide eyes, feeling ashen. He’s started to cry again, doing his best to maintain his composure for your wellbeing. And it is only when you pull back, the sugar and the sweetness taking root in your veins once more that you look back to the doctor, bewildered.

‘I’m sorry,’ you begin, finding your voice with care. ‘I’m pregnant?’

At this the doctor laughs, dropping his pen and offering you an understanding smile. ‘I understand this is a shock.’ 

Blinking through your shock, you feel Chanyeol fall into your chest, pressing kisses to your neck, your jaw, your cheek. Openly he cries, his hand wandering down your belly where he splays his fingers wide. 

‘I love you,’ he whispers. ‘I love you, I love you, I love you.’

‘Chanyeol,’ you mumble, stroking his hair with trembling fingers.

He pulls away to look at you with concern, a new wave of tears soaking his cheeks through his brilliant, otherworldly smile.

‘I’m scared,’ you whisper, and he rests his forehead against yours with a quaking sigh.

‘We’ll be fine,’ he assures. ‘I promise.’

[therectoress]

yennaia + gamer au

This was supposed to be three sentences and definitely not crack but I just had to... sksjsjssksjjs.

Yennaia prompt: Gamer AU.

LINK TO ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN IN THE REPLIES.

Word count: 1.8k+ Pairing: Yennaia. Rating: T.

Tissaia really had no idea why she was doing this. Perhaps to appease Rita. Perhaps because her addiction to nicotine had worsened over the course of one year of a bloody Continent-wide pandemic and she was loath to use her credit card every time she needed a new pack of cigarettes. Perhaps she was going through a midlife crisis to cope with the fact that being the Chancellor of Aretuza College was already stressful enough without half the generations there trying to fool her subordinates into thinking cardboard replicas or even mannequins counted as attendance or simply because the rest of the Board of Governors (Stregobor) couldn't differentiate between what could be said through an email and what required her to clean her entire house so the background of her call was pristine.

Her controller vibrated in her hands, (Why, for the love of the Gods, couldn't that setting be turned off?) her knuckles turning white from gripping it so strongly. "Oh, for fu- heaven's sake." There, she had been ambushed. Again. A funny and wholly unexpected thing happened, though, one of the users turned on her companions, offing the lot of them with clean headshots the brunette definitely couldn't pull off in the span of twenty seconds.

"Uhh..." What does one say when your virtual saviour just betrayed her entire party on a whim and was being cursed at obnoxiously loudly and vulgarly for it?

Yennefer ignored Sabrina calling her names that absolutely applied to her and her hormonal reaction to a lovely blue-eyed MILF the likes of which she had only seen in her dreams. "No thanks needed, love. I was getting tired of seeing you frown like someone had keyed your car every time you got killed. A pretty thing like you should only have cause to smile." Oh, Gods, now she sounded like a creepy old man that lived in his mum's basement. Great. Good job. Her Social Studies major was an absolute hit. Fuck her life. Fuck Oxenfurt College. And fuck Sabrina's witch-like cackling while she was at it. "Name’s Yennefer." She choked out miserably.

Tissaia scowled at her laptop. Hackers. Amazing. This was the best day of her new normal life. "Mind telling me how you broke through the most expensive antivirus in the Continent, dear? Because now I really need a refund." Now she also needed to contact Aretuza’s IT team on a Saturday night, because she was not about to mess any further with these blasphemous machines, thank you very much.

Wait, what? "That wasn't me... You left your camera on." The woman legitimately squealed at that, her oversized jumper sliding down her left shoulder and exposing just a glimpse of her collarbone as she pinned up her hair into a bun with... were those pens fashioned as swords? Oh, bugger, this was so not the time to get turned on! "Are you alright?" Mercifully Sabrina, Renfri and Phillipa were already accosting someone else, else she was sure the brunette would've completely lost it, more than she already was doing, anyways. "Hello?" No answer.

Tissaia was fishing for her boots when she started ranting, “Oh, don’t you worry! I’m fine! Just dandy! This is exactly how I wanted my life to go.” She motioned with her hand to the space around her. “I wished for nothing more than dealing with complete morons from nine to six, five days a week, whilst trying to make sure my sanity doesn't desert me.” Biting her lower lip for a moment she began checking that the ends of the laces were the same length when she pulled them up. “Running right after to my local grocery store to buy more instant meals that are probably going to give me cancer in five years if the bullshit articles my mother keeps sending me-”

Yennefer had told herself she wasn’t going to allow this wasn’t going to get any creepier than her misguided comment but she still had a gift code for that nice liquor store which conveniently had retailers popping up every six blocks everywhere for the last few months, especially in Thanned isle, only Gods knew why. “This bloody succubus of a twat that is my best friend has been forcing me to constantly use this cursed game by changing the password for my email and then Aretuza’s server and then-” Bingo. One text to Philippa and they had her IP address, with a mortified Triss already calling Jaskier since she was the only one that had managed to get a decent scholarship at that posh college.

This was her future wife who was about to jump from a bridge from the looks of her and they just had to do humanity a great service by saving her from herself and from sobriety.

“Can you believe that tosser? I am a lesbian! I spent my teenage years clad in flannel until my girlfriends staged an intervention kind of lesbian! Yes, Vilgefortz, I will sue you for harassment in the workplace and I will blacklist you. No, Vilgefortz, I don’t want to break quarantine to go on a date with you and I definitely do not want your disgusting cologne anywhere near my-” Tissaia’s head shot up, her doorbell was ringing and she pinched the bridge of her nose, reaching for a new, disposable, mask.

“You stay right there.” She threatened the girl, who had the most beautiful violet… Perhaps she really ought to let Coral get her a therapist. It rang again. “Gods-damn-it.” She thought.

Her plan was going marvellously. She would only have to sleep with a knife under her pillow for a few weeks for blackmailing Sabrina (Who honestly hadn’t the slightest talent to pass off plagiarism as a sudden stroke of genius in her final project without her aid.) into going along with this. The blonde was lighting the candles around the monitor without trying to burn her hair off and had given away her best bottle of cheap but still good wine for the cause. Thanks to Renfri and her frankly psychotic, owl obsessed, girlfriend she already knew what she would be replacing her trauma-ridden last name with! Splendid!

The brunette shut the door on Jaskier’s face after taking the brown paper bag from his hands, spraying the bottle of vodka inside it with so much disinfectant that it dripped down onto her carpet. Taking off her gloves and disposing of them, she grabbed a knife from the counter and ignoring the annoying blue light that came from the kitchen table, “Oh, shit. You’re soulmates. I’ll tell the rest of the girls we’re all fucked.” Tissaia cut off the upper part of the glass in one smooth hit, like Calanthe had taught her when the then teacher could still be considered fun by her groups of friends.

“Shut up, tiddybug!” She heard Yennefer sing-song.

Feeling like being crass the blue-eyed woman took a rather large swing directly from the bottle. Sitting back down, she sighed. Yennefer took a dignified sip from her wine; she could do balanced when her significant other to-be needed to let loose. “Did you like the bottle? It has good reviews from… wait a minute… apparently several alcoholics who don’t know what a budget is.”

Tissaia’s face paled. “I thought you weren’t a hacker.” The woman muttered. She didn’t fancy getting kidnapped and… No, no, no. Fucking Rita. What was the cost of moving, again? If she slept four hours less a day and split her cleaning time in two she could probably trade this house for Stregobor's in-

“I am not!” Yennefer cried. Bloody hell. “You just mentioned that you worked at Aretuza and-” Sabrina had probably started a group call and Phillipa was indeed hacking into her computer to save her arse. The Redanian was currently writing a script for her to follow. “Your username in the game is your surname. My friends and I tried to get into that school a few years back and I do remember that the Chancellor is a woman and that her last name is de Vries.” Her username wasn’t her last name, it was actually something that suggested she was an Ice Queen of the highest order. Queen Elsa from the movie Frozen would be intimidated kind of Ice Queen.

“Everyone is aware the highest-ranking members of the faculty live in chalets near the castle, pardon, the building.” True. According to Triss, that was a part of their contract that if unfulfilled prohibited them from working there ever again. To Yennefer that seemed borderline cruel, forcing them to be available at all hours like circus animals for juniors that didn’t deserve their spots.

“My best friend is a student there and she knows which one is your home because she wants to eventually be a teacher.” Partially true. Until that day came, Triss, like any rational individual, avoided the Chapter’s Village like the plague lingered inside, and wouldn’t be caught dead there unless she had to stop Sabrina from doing something stupid because of the anarchist phase she was going through. Jaskier was an acquaintance of hers of sorts because Triss had tutored his boyfriend Geralt in Biology and being daddy’s boy, he knew which one was Tissaia’s house because he had almost gotten expelled like fifteen times.

“I honestly just wanted to do something nice for you, you sounded like you needed it and… I know quarantine hasn’t been lifted once in Temeria since it all started.” Philippa wrote then that she would probably make for a decent actor without flashing her breasts to the audience every five minutes. She pursed her lips and replied in the mock post-it note to fuck off.

“I… I… Thank you. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed- I’m sorry, darling.” Her pale cheeks flushed at the term of endearment that slipped her tongue and Tissaia bowed down her head, red-painted nails caressing the glass bottle almost reverently. “Say, why don’t you tell me what your email address is and I send you my mobile via chat? The explosions in the background aren’t that, uhm, comforting to listen to when I’d much rather be hearing your voice.” Should she have looked up she would have seen the smile that threatened to split Yennefer’s face. “Only if you want to, of course! I- what am I even saying? Never mi-”

“No! Wait!” She placated. Sabrina squeezed her shoulder as she went to retrieve her phone charger, offering her a genuine smile. “I’d love to.”

“Okay.” Said Tissaia, an awed sound leaving her throat when blue finally meet with lilac. Gods, she was drop-dead gorgeous. Rita could have whichever bottle, all the liquor she wanted from the school’s cellar for indirectly enabling this.

Was one week a proper enough courting period to then buy the engagement ring? Or should she just have Philippa get her the best, costliest one from that jewellery eshop they all liked through some minor fraud that would take her like half an hour at most, today? “Good.” Yennefer de Vries had such a nice ring to it.

[sephirotha]

Trouble in Paradise

“I would like a job.”

Jumin looked very surprised when his wife announced this during their dinner.  His fork hovered before his mouth which was poised to eat the piece of steak.

He lowered the utensil and frowned.

“But you don’t need a job.”

MC shifted in her seat, looking a little anxious.  Jumin placed his fork and knife on the plate and leaned a little closer.

“MC, do you need money?  Is there something you want?  I’d be happy to…”

“No, it’s not about the money.  It’s about doing something in my spare time.”

MC looked around the penthouse, sighing softly.

“This is a nice place and I love living here.  But I don’t want to spend all day here.  I want to go out more, do something productive.  I mean, I’ve just graduated!  I should do something with my degree!  Then I wouldn’t have to fully depend on you, and I’ll be less guilty when I want to ask for something.”

Jumin took a sip of his wine to hide his grimace.

“But you’re my wife, MC.  If I can do something for you, I’d gladly do it.”

“I know and I will ask if I truly want something.  I promise.  I just want to get out more.  Don’t you understand?”

Jumin swirled the contents of his glass thoughtfully.

“Then I can look…”

“No.  I can look by myself.”

MC smiled as she reached out to pet her husband’s hand.

“If you want, you can help me write cover letters and check my CV. But I don’t want a job at C&R.”

Jumin sighed as he sat back and closed his eyes.

“Very well.  I can have Assistant Kang at least help you.  If you…truly wish me to stay out of this.”

MC’s face fell.

“Jumin, please don’t be upset.  I’m just hoping you can understand why I want a job.”

Jumin sighed again.

“It’s…it’s difficult.”

With his tone, they both knew that the topic was over.

Jumin made sure to keep away from MC and Jaehee as they discussed and planned for MC to apply to jobs.  He remembered that she was interested in journalism and secretly hoping she would change her mind once she realises how stressful that kind of career can be.

He smiled on cue when she announced she got an internship at a news station.  She would be shadowing employees and learning more about the industry.  

The chat was explosive with praises and congratulations.  It was honestly a headache.

During the next week, Jumin would arrive to an empty home.  MC worked late with the shadowing and they spent less time together.

He should feel happy, but he just couldn’t bring himself to.  

He missed MC.

He missed having dinner with her.  He missed the early nights or the lie-ins after a late night.  The penthouse just felt cold without her.

He just held his tongue during that first week.

But then, the second week rolled around and something about MC changed.

She stopped wearing skirts and wore trousers.  She changed from short-sleeved, comfortable blouses to high-collared and stiff ones.

And during the weekend, when she had those days off, she didn’t once talk about her job.  She looked…upset and it was distressing.

Jumin didn’t want to pry, until now.

His wife was uncomfortable and suffering but how was he going to approach her without making it look like he was trying to stop her from her job?

The answer was obvious.  Jaehee.

“Assistant Kang, stay for a moment, please.”

It was a hot, Thursday morning.  Jumin took his blazer off to cope with the heat and Jaehee looked like she would faint at any moment.  It was a tragic time for the air conditioning to break.

“I want to talk about my wife.”

“MC?” Jaehee said as she adjusted her glasses.  “Is something wrong?”

“She talks to you more than she talks with me.  Recently, she’s been…it’s like she has less energy.  And she is wearing uncomfortable clothes. Today, she wore a cardigan before leaving.”

Jaehee’s eyes bulged out of her skull.

“Oh, well.  Maybe she doesn’t feel the heat as much.”

“She never stops complaining about it, so I don’t think that’s the problem.”

Jumin narrowed his eyes as he leaned across the desk.

“You’re hiding something from me.”

Jaehee swallowed and lowered her gaze.

“Mr Han.  If I do divulge this information, that MC told to me in confidence, you must promise to not overreact.”

Jumin pressed his lips together and nodded once.  Jaehee took a deep breath.

“Friday evening, MC approached me for advice.  She’s being harassed by a male co-worker.”

Jumin sat back and Jaehee cringed when she saw his eyes aflame with emotion.

“And pray tell, what made you think I can…overreact to this?”

Jaehee stepped forward.

“Because MC is worried that if you intervene, it’ll make things worse. Think about it for a moment, Mr Han! You may be her husband, but you’re also the CEO of C&R!  If you do something, she could be open to more harassment.”

Jumin’s nostrils flared.

“So, she came to you for advice and not to me.”

He closed his eyes and looked to the side.

“I…I must be the worst husband on the planet.”

“Of course not,” Jaehee sighed.  “The fact that you’ve acknowledged the change in her behaviour puts you above all the neglectful husbands in the world.”

She looked to the side.

“Besides, her coming to me is beneficial, since I’ve been through similar experiences.”

Jumin turned to her sharply.

“And you haven’t told me?!”

Jaehee sighed shortly.

“You have a human resources department for a reason, Mr Han. I told MC to talk to the H&R department at her workplace.  Even if she’s only there for four more weeks, she shouldn’t have to put up with anymore of this.”

Jumin would have spoken more, hadn’t Jaehee firmly pointed out he had a meeting in two minutes and disappeared from his office.

That night, he waited for MC to come back home.  

It was painful to wait in the dark with the clock ticking in the sitting room.  Elizabeth was sound asleep on the sofa, purring gently.

Jumin lifted his chin when the door opened and he strode across the room.

“Jumin…?!”

Jumin grabbed his wife and brought her into a tight hug.  At first, he was upset and angry about her not coming to him about any problems.  He regretted letting her look for a job or pushing her to work for C&R so he could keep an eye on her.  

But the moment he heard her voice, it all just melted away.

He just really wanted to hold her and say everything was alright.

Just soothe her fears and rock her to sleep.

He had already requested for her to take the previous day off.  He just wanted to hold her and keep her safe.

Even if it meant locking her up again.

[For @mmangstweek - Prompt Day 1: Choices/Regrets]

[jonahwhalesw1]

Personal Connection- Ch. 8 (Bonus-Basset Hound)

Here’s my submission for the eight prompt, the bonus prompt, for the Spring @tpthvegebulsmutfest .  “Personal Connection” is up and running on Ao3 as well.  So if you need to recap, please do so.  The smut in this was inspired by @vegetapsycho​ ‘s phenomenal fanart “Point of No Return”.

Bulma and Vegeta are expecting a little bundle of joy, but what will that mean with the Androids still coming?  How will they cope?  Vegeta decides to enact drastic measures to protect his new family that send Bulma reeling.  Don’t hate me too much!  This story will continue in the Fall Smutfest.

The woman was a Gods damn basset hound!  Finally, finally, he’d managed to evade her.  Ever since announcing that Bulma was bearing his child, the Mother had not rested a single moment and constantly showed up everywhere. Anywhere.  He couldn’t get away from her.  They couldn’t get away from her.  Two weeks, it had been two weeks already and there hadn’t been a single moment except for at night in bed together where he and Bulma were alone.  Even then, all they did was sleep.  He was usually exhausted from training and tending to her needs, and Bulma was just trying to cope with how her body was reacting to being pregnant.  She was still sick every morning and every evening. Still, he smirked to himself, he’d visited her once when he sensed that her stomach was calm at her office.  He’d told her that he owed her, she hadn’t understood at first, not until he’d pressed her up against the wall by her windows and pressed his throbbing manhood against her pelvis.  Immediately she’d hiked up her skirt and demanded he get down on the ground.  He’d obeyed, pulling his pants down, and exposing himself before lying down and she was on him instantly, slipping him inside of her, and riding him.  Grinding her perfect little hips.  Both of the biting back screams and groans.  He’d grabbed her hips, she’d palmed his chest, and her hips worked the shit out of him.

Vegeta felt himself getting thicker, straining the confines of his pants.  He had gotten used to bedding her every day, multiple times a day, but now that she was so ill, he hadn’t touched her since she rode him in her office.  Granted she took him for orgasm after orgasm until he couldn’t breathe and her hips couldn’t move anymore.  It had been glorious.  And he was hoping for more glory with his beautiful Wife.  Except for her stupid Mother always popping up everywhere! Honestly, he was beginning to think she knew how to sense ki.  It was… disturbing to him how often and quickly she found him.  He tried to tell himself that it was simply because this was her home and she knew her daughter well and she’d learned his routines as any good hostess would.  But there were limits.  In the morning when Bulma was feeling well enough to shower… and well enough for him to join her… the Mother would barge into the room, thankfully not the bathroom, muttering about inane details about something called a Lactation Coach.  What the Fuck was a Lactation Coach?!  And if anyone was going to be coaching Bulma on anything, it was going to be him!

Still, after that rude interruption that totally killed anything that he and Bulma might have be getting into (Gods, had it killed it!), it got him thinking.  He didn’t know a Gods damn thing about how Earth women had children. So he went about finding out.  He was absolutely refusing to go to her Mother for anything about this; he wasn’t letting the Mother in any further than she had already forced herself into the matter.  So the Father had given him some research materials.  Things he quickly read, and utterly confused the shit out of him, when Bulma was busy throwing up every morning and evening.  Each page, every word… it was all so, so…  Why the Hell was it so damn complicated for Earth women to have children?!  On Vegetasei, from what he could remember about his brother’s birth, gestation and childbirth was so effortless… and clean.  A woman carried the child inside her till she reached the third trimester. Then the child was transferred over to a gestation tank where computers and Saiyan medical science ensured the child grew strong so as to achieve a successful analysis of it’s power levels at maturation.  It was all for the sake of the child becoming the absolute best warrior it had the potential of being.  Once it was to term, the child was removed, ‘birthed’, from the gestation tank and transferred to an analysis pod where the child’s power levels would be assessed.  From there, depending on the child’s level, the child would be assigned a class and continue to grow in the pod and later raised and trained by it’s parents to be the warrior it was meant to be or continued to grow and later be sealed into the pod and the pod would be sent out to another weaker planet for the weak offspring to establish a Saiyan foothold. But no, of course, humans had to make the whole thing so much more complicated and messy than it had to be. All this drivel about bleeding—Well, actually that scared the Hell out of him.  Light bleeding was okay, but if Bulma started cramping or bleeding a lot or felt any pain, it could mean that she’d lost the baby or the pregnancy was this thing called ectopic, which meant that the pregnancy had gone horrible wrong. Then there was breast tenderness—Actually he didn’t have a probably with her breasts’ milk ducts expanding her already exceptional breasts up another bra size, but the book the Father gave him to read said that his Wife’s breasts would also be very sore so Bulma would most likely not wanting him touching or licking them… then again his tongue’s gentle and lusty administrations might help her.  Okay, so breast tenderness wasn’t that complicated or messy.  But constipation!  What the Hell?!  And fluctuance?!  Disgusting. Then there was vaginal discharge that wasn’t the type he enjoyed from her, fatigue, food cravings and aversions, apparently she was going to have to pee a lot, she’d get heartburn, mood swings (which terrified the fucking shit out of him if it meant her already formidable temper was going to rage out of control, Dear Gods of Vegetasei!), and of course her sickness was going to continue and she was going to gain weight as their child grew.  And all of that was just in the first three months!!!

But that really wasn’t the bad things.  Oh no. There were these things called Red Flag Symptoms.  Severe pain in her abdomen.  Heavy bleeding.  Debilitating dizziness.  Too much weight gain too fast or too little weight gain.  Any one of those things and he’d need to get her to the doctors in the main building fast.  Because of his many, many incidents involving his training, there were already at least two major trauma physicians on staff day and night.  They could help until more specialized care could arrive.  But still.  Vegeta didn’t like having to monitor her constantly for any of those signs. As it was, he was already severely distracted by keeping track of her ki every second of her life.  And it was costing him.  He looked down at his left hand as though he could see through the white glove to the bandages underneath.  He glanced up further at his left bicep, where more bandages were hidden underneath his royal blue suit sleeve, then his right shoulder, for the same.

He kept walking down the hallway to her personal lab where she was working on new drones for him and another surprise which he wasn’t so sure he wanted her working on in her condition, but considering that her Father was apparently working on it with her, he trusted the old man to protect his child and future grandchild admirably.  Still, when he got hurt the first time he’d been too distracted by worrying about her to notice the blast coming from a drone, she’d chalked it up to him still getting used to the news about becoming a father and being distracted.  True, and she let it slide.  The second time, she let it slide again, again chalking it up to new fatherhood jitters.  The third and fourth times, no, that had worried her.  All the other times following and he was now hiding his injuries from her so she wouldn’t get scared and snap at him.  Again, he understood from that book that one of the most dangerous things for her right now was stress.  It was toxic and he’d be damned if she or their child was going to be in danger because of him!

He turned a corner. She’d fucking kill him if she found out that he’d suffered three more injuries… she’d kill him and kill herself and/or the baby as well…  He clenched his fists despite the burning pain in his one hand and both arms.  He wasn’t going to lose them.  Never.

*                      *                      *

The man was a Kami damn basset hound!  He just popped up everywhere.  She couldn’t even go to the bathroom anymore without opening the door and finding him waiting for her, asking about her, asking about the baby.  Asking about all these Red Flag symptoms things!  Kami damn it!  She wished her Dad had never given him that stupid ass book to read!  He was obsessed with it, he was obsessed with her!

Bulma threw a wrench down on her desk top.  It clanged loudly.  Her elbows followed suit, hitting the surface of her work area with twin loud thuds. She sighed heavily as she landed her face in her waiting palms.  She was stressed.  More than usual.  And it was because she was pregnant, she knew that.  Everything seemed to get to her quicker than usual, her fuse had shrunk a lot already and, according to the book (Kami, why the fuck did I read that damn thing too?!), her fuse was going to shrink by a hell of a lot more over the next couple of months.  And that wasn’t all.  She knew her Husband was lying to her.  Keeping secrets from her.  That pissed her off even more.  Her shoulders were tight, she could feel it.  She’d sigh, try to rest and relax like she should, but the muscles in her neck would never let up even the tiniest bit.

She sighed heavily again and rubbed just above her eyebrows at the growing headache that usually, nowadays, morphed into a migraine that had her wanting to kill every fucking person on the planet or at least the stupid assholes that were in her immediate vicinity.  Starting with the one that shared her bed and finishing with the ones that raised her. It was all so, so… it was all too much! An irritated groan left her mouth as she rubbed her tired eyes.  And that was another thing, she couldn’t work anymore.  She had the attention span of a gnat and every part of her seemed too exhausted to do anything other than inane crap that couldn’t hold her interest even before she was pregnant.

“Do you want me to rub your shoulders?”  The gravelly voice asked right beside her.

She jumped.  A startled scream echoing off her lab’s walls and throbbing in her head to splitting level. She winced then glared at Vegeta. But by the look of concern on his face, her anger lessened to just plain irritation.  She closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose hard.

“What the Hell do you want now?”  She grumbled.

“Are the new drones ready yet?”

“No, I’m not working on them anymore.”

Vegeta balked, shocked.  “Bulma!” He shouted at her.  “What the Hell are you thinking?!  How am I supposed to become a Super Saiyan without the proper training?!”

“Because you’re not becoming a Super Saiyan.”

Vegeta stared, that one cut deep.  Too deep. He bristled.  Fuck her being pregnant!  “HOW DARE YOU—”

“HOW DARE YOU!”  She screamed suddenly turning on him.

SMACK!

She slapped him.  He stared at her.  Now noticing the tears streaming down her cheeks.  “How dare you!”  She wept bitterly.  She raised another hand… that he caught by the wrist.  She raised her other, he caught that one by the wrist as well. She struggled in his firm grasp, “How dare you!  How dare you lie to me!  How dare you hide it from me!  How dare you get distracted!!!”

Terror gripped his chest as she began wailing.  Vegeta let her wrists go and crushed her to him.  Cradling her, hushing her.

“Easy, Bulma, easy.  Calm down. Please calm down.”  He pleaded desperately.  He could feel her emotions going haywire, felt her body trembling, felt her losing control in a dangerous way that sent every part of his mind and soul panicking!

“NO!!!!”  She roared against his chest.  Tiny fists pounding against his body.  Still he held her to him.  Letting her let it all out, fearing beyond words what would happen if she kept it bottled up instead.  “You can’t do this to us!  You can’t think about us, Vegeta!  You can’t!  We can’t be anywhere near you!!  You have to train!  You have to win!!  If you don’t… If you don’t…”

Her sobs overwhelmed her.  She clenched the shoulder straps of the armor she’d made him.  Her tiny shoulders heaving, her body shaking with each crushing wail.  He held her tighter and tighter as though he could will her hurt and fear away.  He bowed his head, burying his face in her hair.

“Please,” her voice was so small, “If you don’t become a Super Saiyan, the Androids will kill you.  Then they’ll come after me and the baby…  And I can’t… I can’t do this alone, Vegeta.  I don’t want to do this alone.”

She broke down again.  Vegeta sniffed, softly pressing his lips to the top of her head, kissing her gently. Then he looked away from her, blinking back tears, sniffing again.

*                      *                      *

They never fought like that before.  Never left each other’s presence without some sense of connection.  This time, when her tears were done, when his tears were done, she’d wiped them away herself with another deep sigh that seemed to rattle every fiber of her being before turning away from him and going back to her work. With silence hanging between them, Vegeta turned and left her lab.  He’d gone back out to the Gravity Chamber and trained harder than he had in a long time. For a moment he’d honestly considered leaving and training in the desert again.  But no.  He wasn’t going to run away from her and their child again.  He wasn’t giving in to his own fear again.  Yet, they both felt the gap that was suddenly between them. And never more so than lying in bed right now.

Vegeta stared at the door, listening to her vomiting again and fighting the urge to go hold her hair back for her and comfort her while her body wracked with everything their child was doing to it.  He scowled at the dark.  She had closed the door again.  Shutting him out again.  He felt his own dinner churn in his stomach.  He winced but kept glaring.  Bile was threatening to vacate.  He gripped his pillow from underneath, his knuckles whitening over the hem of the blanket covering up to his waist.  She wretched violently again.  He seethed at the dark.

This was bad.  It felt bad…  It felt the worst.  He loves her. More than words.  More than himself.  He loves their child, the whisper of a smile tugged at the corner of his grim-set mouth, and all the children still yet to come…  She wanted more children than just this one.  She wanted more of his children and he wanted more of hers.  In order for that to happen, the Androids had to be destroyed. To make sure nothing bad ever happened, he’d have to destroy the Androids.  To protect his family, to ensure a larger family, he’d have to destroy the Androids.  And to do that, he’ll have to become the Legend.  And in order to do that… Vegeta squeezed his eyes shut, keeping the wet and all the horrible feelings it brought with it at bay.  He knew he had to do it, but… but that… he gritted his teeth, it didn’t make it any easier to deal with.  Suddenly the toilet flushed.  His eyes flew open.  A few more minutes and the door opened, temporarily semi-illuminating the room, before the flick of the light switch plunged everything back into darkness. He leveled out his breathing and relaxed his body as he listened to her making her way across the pig sty floor to her side of the bed.

She didn’t say anything, her breathing was quick from the effort of nausea, but she didn’t say anything as he felt the covers lift behind him and the mattress dip with her weight and the covers lower again.  She shifted this way and that, trying to find a comfortable position again.  Eventually she settled.  Still she didn’t say anything to him—

“Vegeta?” Her voice was so weak.  His chest tightened and his heart clenched, he hated how weak she sounded; he hated how weak she was and he couldn’t do anything to alleviate that.

“What?” He grumbled.

There was a pause.  Silence filling it again.  “Hold me.”

Immediately he turned under the sheets and snuggled up to her as close as he could get. She needed him!  She needed him again!  He laid his arm over her waist and drew her in even closer to his chest… Then he nuzzled the back of her head, taking in a deep smell of her.  She sighed contentedly and it melted him.

“I love you,” he whispered by her ear.

He heard her sniff, “You have to leave.”

“I know,” he agreed and felt so much pain at finally having to say it out loud, “I’ll have your Father prepare the ship—”

Suddenly she bolted upright, turning to look at him.  Even in the dim light of the waning moon outside, he could see the shock on her face.

“The ship?!”

“Yes,” he frowned and looked away from her, staring into the pink of her pillow, “I can’t stay on this planet to train.  You and I both know that the Gravity Chamber gives me the greatest assistance let alone that I… I… I can sense you anywhere on this planet.” His dark eyes met hers, “I won’t be able to help myself not to monitor your ki and the baby’s ki.  I’d be attuned to it no matter what.”  Vegeta sat up.  “The only way to prevent you from being a distraction, to prevent myself from monitoring you, is I leave the planet.”

There he’d said it.  He watched her.  Watched it sink in.  Her eyes lowered from his, analyzing his words in the air between them.  Hurt slowly dawning on her, slackening her mouth in dismay and furrowing her brows with something akin to anguish.  And realization dawning on her, the realization that no matter how she felt, no matter how he felt, it was true.  It was all true.

Then her face contorted into heartbreak.  Just as the tears started to come, Vegeta reached over and drew her into his embrace. This time he didn’t bother hushing her, he didn’t bother to try and calm her down.  He just held her and let her weep.  Let her tears leave grief-stricken trails down his chest.  Let her nose drip snot on his scar-covered skin.  He bowed his head and buried his nose in the top of her head.  He inhaled deeply again, breathing her in; it was going to be one of the few chances he would have before he left the planet to commit her scent to his memory.

Eventually she couldn’t cry anymore.  She pulled her head back from his chest, wiping at her eyes and nose.  He reached behind her to her nightstand and retrieved the small box of tissues she kept there.  He held them out to her.  She cleaned herself up under his watchful gaze.  Then she took the box and put it back on her nightstand.  She turned back to face him and laid down, keeping her eyes locked with his.  He took the cue he read in them and settled back down facing her as well.  She wrapped her arms around him and held him tighter than he ever remembered her doing.  He did the same, as if holding her tighter than he ever had before could magically imprint her body on his; he’d settle for imprinting the feel of her body in his arms, the feel of her body against his, instead.

“I love you,” she whispered wetly.

He turned his head to bury his tears in his pillow.

*                      *                      *

It had been an awkward talk with Doctor Briefs.  It wasn’t that the elderly man didn’t understand why it had to be this way, but that the elderly man knew what it was taking out of both his daughter and his Saiyan son-in-law to do this and everything that went with it.  The stress, the hurt, the distance, the strain. Everything.

“Are you sure about this, son?”  The old man had asked.

Vegeta couldn’t meet his eyes, “Yes.  I have to become a Super Saiyan if I’m to protect them.  And that isn’t happening here.  Not now.”

With that, Doctor Briefs nodded and got to work on getting everything ready, “I’ll prep the ship for a year’s journey—”

“Three months,” Vegeta snapped.

“Three months, eh?  Gonna do this in hops instead of one big leap.”

“I won’t abandon her.”  Vegeta gritted his teeth, clenched his fists by his side.  His dark vision burning holes into the floor.

“Alrighty then, three days and then you’ll be off.  That sound good?”

It was a shock to Vegeta that it would only take three days before he could leave.  “So soon?”  It pained him.

“If you’re going to jump, boy, jump.”

Vegeta nodded.  And it was done.  Her Father started drawing up a supply list and Vegeta set off for training in the desert just outside of the city; he wouldn’t be able to use the Gravity Chamber while it was being prepped for his impending departure.

He trained hard.  He trained constantly.  Although he always kept his senses locked in on hers and their unborn child’s ki, it was as though he had reverted to old habits.  He didn’t talk to anyone.  Kept his own hours.  He trained until he couldn’t take it anymore and then trained some more.

He rarely saw her except when he returned to their bed after having showered, changed for bed, and eaten dinner.  He’d find her already asleep.  In the safety of the night, he’d watch her.  The gentle rise and fall of her shoulder or chest depending on what position gave her comfort for the night.  The moon always casting an ethereal glow to her that stole his breath away.  His Namekian Goddess.  He climbed into bed next to her and get settled by taking her in his arms again and holding her tight, always taking in the opportunity to imprint her in his mind. She’d always sigh like a cat with a full stomach of warm milk.  He’d smirk, close his eyes, and drift off to sleep with her.  In the mornings, he’d wake up before her, gingerly slip out of bed and out of their room, and return to his old room where he’d shower and dress for another day of training.  Again alone in the kitchen, he’d eat whatever the Mother had left for him to eat and then he was off to the desert again.

The days passed quickly.  He hadn’t meant for them to pass that fast, but he hadn’t prevented it either.  If you’re going to jump, boy, jump.  It was sage advice, painfully sage advice, from someone he had a strong suspicion knew it from personal experience.  Her Father had built this company from the ground up with his revolutionary invention.  How many times had his work called him away from his wife and child?  The man knew what all of this meant and he knew that if Vegeta hesitated or even thought of prolonging it, he would never leave.  It would all be for nothing.  So the days passed and it was the evening before he was to leave.

He landed on his old balcony so as not to disturb…  His brows furrowed, What is she still doing up?

Vegeta abandoned his towel and water bottle and headed for his door.  Once he opened it, he didn’t hear anything except for the soft steps of bare feet.  They were unhurried but traveling away from him.  He stepped out into the softly lit hallway.  She shouldn’t be up this late, not in her condition.  She needed to rest and take advantage of her nausea passing for the moment so she could sleep deeply and recover…  She was standing in front of their door wearing her pink bathrobe. It wasn’t tied at her waist and it was coming off her shapely shoulders.  Her hair was a mess of fantastic curls again.  She had her hand on the door handle.  An elegant vignette.

She looked over her shoulder at him.  Those enchanting curls framing her beautiful face.  Her eyes bright and angelic with the soft lighting practically glowing in their sapphire depths.  He spotted the slightest blush to the apples of her cheeks.  He tried to convince himself that it was residual from her sickness, but her demeanor was all wrong.  Then he detected something in the air.  Slight but becoming more and more pronounced with every passing moment. Her scent.  Her cheeks were blushed because she wanted him in a way she hadn’t wanted him for weeks now.  His heart thundered in his ears.

She looked away from him.  Was that… he swore he saw the hint of a smile just starting to touch the corner of her mouth as she opened the door and went inside.  He stared.  She’d left the door open for him to follow.  Her scent still lingering in the air as the most enticing, seductive lure he could possibly imagine.  His whole body burned.  His jaw set. Every dirty, lusty thought he could ever have about her played out in his dark, smoldering, swarthy gaze.  He followed.

*                      *                      *

The full moon lit their room like a temple lantern.  Soft, holy silvery light casting the unusual shadows that seemed to ordain the room as hallowed sanctuary.  A world all their own… for the night.

He stood in the opened doorway and watched, completely awed and enamored with the sight.  Bulma’s delicate fingers were slipping the pink silk garment from her bare shoulders… pulling… pulling then releasing.  It fell around her feet.  Her hands by her side.  He admired the sight of her naked body from behind.  Her luscious curls hiding the lovebite scar that he’d given her when he took her on their Wedding Night… the perfect lines of her shoulders and delicate outcroppings of her shoulder blades… the slender, sleek slope of her back… the voluptuous curvature of her hips that refined the perfect heart shape of her incredible ass… long legs that gave her the perfect proportions…  She was perfect.

She half-turned, giving him a clear view of her profile.  Her strawberries stood out from the cream of her full breasts. His body electrified.  His hands fisted at his sides.  He was set.

She looked over at him…  He startled, there was a question in her eyes… doubt?... fear?... concern?...  Suddenly seeing so many layers of uncertainty on her face, inhabiting the slump of her shoulders, it unnerved him.  Why did she need to even see if he had followed her?  Why would she even doubt that he would follow her?

Her feet were carrying her to him.  Bringing her face to face with him.  But she couldn’t meet his eyes.  She was looking at his chest… or his Adam’s apple… or maybe his chin… anywhere but his eyes or his face.  Why?  Why won’t she look at me?  He eyed her, stunned even more at what he was seeing so clearly so up close and personal now. Her brows were pinched ever so slightly in that way that they did when she actually felt the fear of embarrassment, normally she was so confident and unwavering in how carefree she was in whatever she did; other people’s judgements be damned.  It was doubt he was seeing in those sapphire orbs.  The flush of potentially dire embarrassment pinking her cheeks.  Her pink lips parted to show white teeth clenched together in nervousness.  She looked so… so…  He didn’t know what to say, what to do, what to think.  He was shocked.  His own lips falling apart in his own uncertainty in the face of what to do. It was clear she was offering herself to him and absolutely terrified that he wouldn’t accept her.  Why?  It made no—He was leaving.  Leaving the planet for who knew how long and she was… scared that he wouldn’t come back to her.  Gods…

Vegeta scooped her up in his arms.  Taking them inside the room and kicking the door shut behind them.  His lips mashing against hers.  He felt his manhood grow for her.  Reach for her despite the confines of his skintight pants.  He wanted her.  He would never stop wanting her.  He kicked off his gold-tipped, white boots.  He let go of her before she could react and began yanking down on his pants.  Desperate to get the stupid things off and claim her in a way that would let her know to never doubt that she was his and he was hers ever again no matter the circumstances.  No matter the distance, they are mates for life.

Her lips found his again.  Her hands his neck.  She had missed his kiss. She had missed him.  Gods damn it!  These things!  He yanked on his pants.  Finally!  They cleared his cut hips.  Setting his hard cock free.  He yanked them off his legs and flung them Gods’ knew where, he didn’t care.  He gathered her up in his arms again.  This time her arms wrapped around his neck as they devoured each other.  Her legs wrapping around his waist as he headed straight for their waiting bed.

He crawled onto it with her, lowering her onto it’s cushy surface.  Her fingers cupped one of his shoulder blades, her nails digging into the flesh of his back.  Her legs hiked above the cut of his hips.  Her heels keeping bouncing, spurring time against his taut ass as he slipped inside of her.  Thrusting over and over.  Setting a relentless pace that had her very nearly drawing blood.  They didn’t speak.  Just let their moans and groans, whimpers and gasps, hisses be all the sounds they needed to hear from each other.  He kept thrusting and thrusting.  His thick, hard cock filling her warm, tight pussy.  His tongue tasted every part of her mouth.  Entwined with her tongue as she tasted him.  She moaned.  He groaned, feeling the precum weep into her welcoming depths.  It had been so long since he felt her like this.  Heard her moan from the pleasure his body gave hers. Fuck, this feels so good!  So fucking good!  He ground his hips into her tight pussy.  Driving himself into her.  Fucking her good.  Just as a starter.

He reared up and sat back on his heels.  Teetering on the edge of the bed.  Holding her on his lap.  She straddled him.  One hand holding her delicate lower back, keeping her safe.  His other hand grabbing a healthy chunk of her delicious ass cheek to hold her down so he could still fill her as deeply as he possibly could.  His hips still thrusting.  Her hips bouncing now.  She opened her mouth wider so they could plunge their tongues deeper into each other’s mouths.  He took the opportunity to finally nip at her lower lip the way he’d been dying to for a long while now before licking as deep into her mouth as he could.  Her bounces, his thrusts sending her round, pillowy breasts to fit perfectly with the outstretched curve of his throat. Her hands cupping the base of his skull. Her nails digging into his scalp. Zinging his skin with the contact. Thrilling his cock with it.  They gasped moaned, growled as they fed upon each other.  She bounced and bounced.  Her cunt feeling tighter and tighter to his engorged penis.  She rode his thrusts harder and harder.  His thrusts forcing him deeper and deeper.  He felt his balls pinching.  The feel of them both heading for climax drove them desperate.  She whimpered, grinding her hips back and forth over his lap.  He held her down and thrusted into her without a care for the screams filling his mouth as his won roars filled hers.  Fuck.  Fuck!  FUCK!!!!! She came.  Her walls gripping him and releasing and gripping over and over. His hot semen shooting jets deep into her core.  And she rode him.  She kept fucking him.  Not wanting it to end so soon.  Wanting him to tremble between her thighs.  And he wanted to.  Gods, did he want to tremble between her legs again.  His breathing rasped as he strained to give her all he could.  He felt himself release more into her.  Jet after jet.  She could feel it, his hot seed inside her.  Her legs starting to shake as her own orgasm ebbed into needy moans. She wanted more.  Had to have more.  

Her body stopped moving.  She clawed at him.  Their orgasm gone too soon.  Hoping their kiss would last.  But he wanted more too.

Vegeta sat up on his knees and dumped her off his lap.  Temporarily vacating her tight body.  She gasped as she bounced on the mattress before he flipped her over.  He was on her in a second.  She yelped when he yanked one of her knees up the soft linens. He was back inside her with a single, powerful thrust.  She screamed as he took her from behind.  Sweat beading on her skin.  Sweat dripping of his.  He reached around and cupped her delicate throat.  Turning her face to look at him even though he shut his eyes, gritted his teeth, and pounded into her relentlessly.

“Ha! Ha!  Ha!  Ha!” She screamed.

His free hand gripped the sheets.  “Hn! Hn!  Hn!  Hn!”  He grunted. Pounding her.  Jarring her tiny body beneath his.

“Hahnngh,” she growled.

“Hnngh,” he growled back, rolling them both onto their sides.

He grabbed the lifted knee and held it up.  Thrusting in her with abandon.  He angled her face up to his again and devoured her lips.  She shoved the pillow away and grabbed a huge chunk of sheets. Her breasts bounced.  Her back arched.  He was fucking her gloriously.  Her legs shook as her body began bracing again.  Holy fuck! Holy Fuck!  His thick fingers dug into the tender flesh under her thigh as she felt—She yanked on the sheets, hearing them rip, as her scream filled his body.  She felt herself squirt her juices over her inner thigh, slicking his thrusting dick. He slipped in and out of her so much easier now.  Rubbing that rough spot inside her perfectly.  Furiously.  He growled again.  Deeper. Darker.  He kissed her so hard she thought her lips would bruise.  Oh fuck this feels so good!

Suddenly he pulled away from her.  She fell back on her back.  He was on top of her.  His iron body pinning her down to the bed.  Pinned her wrists down by their hips.  He thrust and she saw stars behind her eyelids.  He fucked her hard.  Deep. She never thought he could be this deep or this rough with her.  And she loved it!

Her breasts squished against his chest.  His mouth falling open as he, “Hng!  Hng!  Hng! Hng!,” into her drenched cunt. He’d make her wetter.  He’d fill her with his seed so much that it would seep out between his shaft and her nether lips again.  He slammed his cock into her over and over.  More, he had to have more!  Had to give her more!  She would never want!  She would never be in doubt!

“Hng! Hng!  Hng!  Hng! Hng!”

“Ha!  Ha! Ha!  Ha!  Ha!”

She struggled beneath him.  Writhed. But he was steel.  He wouldn’t budge except for his hips giving her pleasure beyond words but not beyond sound…

Suddenly her head snapped back with a primal scream filling her room and spilling into the crisp might air beyond her balcony.  Sweat dripped down his forehead and cheek onto her prone throat.

“Hnngh!!” He roared as he released in her again. Filling her more.  His hips slamming into her again… again… again… Her walls thundering around his pulsating dick.  He gave it to her over and over.  Fresh hot jets of his seed streaming into her hot depths.  Gods, she feels good!

Suddenly he rolled over onto his back, taking her with him.  She took control immediately.  Her hips rode with abandon.  Her nails finding the chiseled edges of his pectorals and digging into their curves.

“HA! HA!  HA!  HA! HNGH!”  She roared.  Squeezing her eyes shut and riding her Husband’s fantastic stiff cock.  He felt so fucking amazing!  And the way he made her feel, she was dripping with sweat. Soaked in it and cum and she didn’t care!  She was in Heaven!  His head was flung back, “HA!  HN! HN!”  He groaned, wallowing in the pleasure she gave him.  His body just as drenched as hers.

She rode him.  Rode him. He gripped her hips.  His fingers digging into her soft flesh.  She bowed her head as she felt her body tense and suddenly release again.  She squirted all over his crotch.  Her body shaking.  Her strawberries as pert as lighthouses.  It was bliss! Pure bliss!  She kept riding, kept feeling her whole body tingle with her cumming until he joined her.

His hips bucked up into her hard and she felt more thick spurts of his cream slather her inside.  It was so hot!  It felt so good!  She kept riding and riding until he was having trouble breathing.  Vegeta, the Prince of All Saiyans, was straining under the power of the orgasm she could pull from him.  Tearing him down.  Breaking him apart the same way he did to her.  It made her feel glorious!  It made her feel powerful!  It made her feel like a Queen!

They panted for awhile before she managed to lift her head from his chest and place a gentle press of her lips to his.  It was all the kiss she could manage.  His lips reacted, pucker for hers.  She kissed again, he puckered back again.  Then again.  And again. Until their kisses were longer… deeper… involving their tongues searching each other’s mouths.  He was succulent.  With such a scarred body and such rough hands, Vegeta’s lips were surprisingly soft and pillowy.  His tongue curious and attentive.  For him, he’d never felt anything so soft in his life as her pillowy lips.  They seemed perpetually moist and plump and just waiting for him to suck and nip and feast.  Her tongue was agile and catlike and inquisitive.  Every part of her was an explorer and begged to be explored. Vegeta never thought of himself as an adventurer, but for her, he was.  He would always be an avid explorer just for her.

He began to push up, pushing her back up.  She slipped off his lap the further he sat up.  He got up on his knees.  The bustling breaking their kiss.  But she stayed close to him, her lips always near, and ready to be back on his the moment there was an opportunity to.  He straightened up on his knees and reached for her hips as her hands reached for his neck. They drew each other in for another round of oral exploration.  He indulged in her, pressed her hips to his.  Commiting it all to memory.  He plunged his tongue deeper.  Slicking and snaking it over hers.  Feeling the sharp edges of her perfect teeth.  The warmth of her mouth.  He pressed her hips closer.  Felt the searing heat of her incredible body.  Felt the press and slight parting of her nether lips against the aching hardness of his rock hard cock.  She was drenched and he felt the peak of her engorged pearl.  He groaned.  He needed more.  Had to have more.  Had to give her more as though the ghost o his body presence could stay with her forever like a talisman that warded off any who would dare to get near her while he was away.

Then he nudged and pulled one side of her hip.  Silently asking her to turn around.  She held their kiss as long as she could as she began to turn her body around for him. When their lips broke, they both sucked in air.  She turned fully around and leaned over onto all fours.  He enveloped her tiny frame with his own muscular one.  She gripped the sheets as he nuzzled the lovebite he’d given her through her hair. She closed her eyes and moaned long and low.  Relishing in the feel of his Saiyan love for her.  The puff of his hot breath through his nose permeating her hair and skin. Making the lovebite scar tingle. And moistening between her legs even more.  Reflexively her core clenched even though he wasn’t inside her to feel it.  Vegeta reached between them and took hold of himself. He pulled away from his mate just enough to line himself up then closed the distance between them again as he slipped inside of her.  He made sure to enter her nice and slow since she was so wet and he wanted her to feel every bit of him.  For her wanton pussy to memorize the smooth roundness and cleft of his head, every vein along his shaft, and every ridge leading down to his base.  He filled her.  And she moaned an ‘Ahhhhh’ that was music to his ears.

Inside of her, he reached his hands and cupped her full breasts. Her pussy clenched his penis as he rolled his palm over her stiff nipples.  Strawberries, he hummed.  She gasped.  He squeezed her breasts, feeling how soft they were.  Pliable.  Luscious orbs of the softest cream.  He reared back slowly, bringing her with him, and making sure that he didn’t slip out of her.

He sat back on his heels.  Bulma leaned her head back and he wiggled his nose over her lovebite.  He closed his eyes, wallowing in the cozy warmth that was her.  Her slipped his hands to hook behind her knees.  And lifted.

She trusted him completely.  Her tight ass nestled into his lap even more as he raised her bent legs over his bent knees.  He balanced her perfectly.  She closed her eyes and reached around his neck and placed her fingers over the scar of the lovebite she’d given him.  He purred at her touch.  His hips moved.  Leisurely. Up then down…  Up then down…  Her fingers rubbed circles over his lovebite.  Sweat dripped down his temples.  Down his etched shoulders and biceps.  It poured off of her like she was goddess of water.  He grinned, My Namekian Goddess.  He buried his face in her bobbing teal curls, breathing in her scent like she was a cup of morning coffee, contented wafts of steam that melted every tense muscle better than any massage.  Being inside her was his solace.  His sanctuary.  He let go of her right knee.  She kept it balanced on her own, liking the way this position made him feel inside her. He slipped his hand over her slick stomach… down… down… running his fingers through her sticky patch of teal hairs, rolling his digits through it… moving down to her saturated lips and parting them with his honey-dipped fingers.  Her back arched the moment a warm fingertip caressed her hot bead.

“Aha,” she cried out.

He made small, tender circles over her stimulated clit.  Her breathing shallowed, rasped.  He purred into her hair again.  Enjoying in the gentle, bobbing thrusts, the squish of their sticky sweet juices over his fingers and palm and her nether lips, and her achingly arousing whimpers of pleasure.  She responded by turning her face to his, mashing the side of her face to the left side of his so hard her right eye squeezed shut.  His nose nestled over the flushed apple of her cheek.  His lips finding her jawline and kissing it over and over.  Her hand slipped from his lovebite to his ear and cheek. He kept moving his hips.  Rubbing her glorious pearl.  Her free hand gripped his wrist still holding up her left knee.  Her mouth hanging open in constant cries and moans.  It was tempting to stay here forever.  Experience nights like this forever.  Be inside her forever.  More than she could possibly know.  But it couldn’t be, not until he had defeated the Androids.  And to do that he had to leave in the morning, well, mere hours from now actually.  In the meantime, he could be tempted by her, experience her, be inside her all night long until the alarm sounded and their fairytale night together would end.

“Uhhnngh,” she growled.  The sound vibrating through his body.

He growled, low, deep, and luscious.  She melted, gasping.  He bucked a little for good measure.  Her breathing seized in her chest.  His tongue joined his kisses to her jaw.  Licking the salty dew from her flushed jaw.  Drinking her in literally.  His brows pinched when he felt the pressure begin to build in his balls right at the base of his extended cock.  Her breathing became ragged.  Her cheeks burning with sexual exertion.  He felt her tightening around his weeping head.  He strained to keep his pace measured.  All he wanted to do was fuck her with total, reckless abandon.  Grind into her tender pussy all of his cock she could take. His breathing changed.  Picked up.  Rasped.  She clenched tighter.  His balls pinched tighter.

“Uh!  Uh! Uh!”

He rubbed her inside and out.  Licked and kissed.

Her grip on his wrist went white-knuckle.

The sweat sheened their skins in the moonlight as though they had bathed under it’s heavenly glow.  And they had, bathed in each other’s affections.

“Ha!  Ha! Ha!”

Fuck.  Fuck. Fuck!  Fuck!!!!!  Vegeta suddenly grabbed her clit as his cock pulsed, cumming inside her.  Twitching and bobbing with each jet of his hot semen he filled pussy with.  His hand squeezing the tender flesh behind her knee.  Bulma’s head fell back, voiceless, as she gasped and whimpered, trying to breathe.  Her walls quaking.  The fluttering milking him.  Her nails biting into his wrist.  Her other hand desperately holding onto his meaty trapezius for dear life.  Legs shaking.  Toes curling tight.

They pitched forward.  Collapsing. Panting hard against the bedsheets. But he wasn’t done yet.  Not by a long shot.  It started with a soft growl… then another as he parted his lips and nipped at her shoulder… then another growl lasting longer as his nips became playful.  The Saiyan way of asking her if she was ready yet.  Keeping her enticed for him.  Eventually she started purring, rubbing her body against his.  Marking him as her territory.  His growl became huskier, her purr needier.  He rubbed his body with hers.  Oh, they could feel how ready they were again.

He reared back, slipping out of her.  He grabbed her arm and flipped her over roughly.  She let out an excited squeal, bouncing on the comfy mattress that had already proven its buoyancy more than up to the sensuous task of keeping up with them.  So there she was.  Radiant in the glory of her perfect body and the wet glow it received from hot, steamy, sex with her Husband and the aura of the moonlight outside their room.  Her legs spread, her knees bent up just waiting from the perfect fit of his hips to hers.  Her voluptuous pillows of cream waiting for his touch, waiting for his lips and tongue to snack on her delectable strawberries.  Her sapphire blue eyes watched his.  She got a kick all over again at how the Prince liked to survey his territory.  She turned her hands over so that the back of her hands felt the warmth that their insane body heats had lent the sheets then dragged them up the bed in wide swings of her arms to dangle her hands over the edge of the mattress above her head. Surrendering to him and his dark desires, desires she wanted him to fulfill with her.  His smoldering gaze followed the path of her hands upward and found her eyes waiting for his.  She licked her lips before biting her lip in that way that drives him wild… her toe reached out to his slippery thigh and dragged the tip of its nail up to the temptation of the start of his plunging ‘V’.  He smirked, that smirk that told her he was going to fuck her senseless, enjoy every moment of it and make sure she did too, and he knew that he really was that incredible in her bed.  She loves that smirk.  Without preamble, he grabbed her ankle and pulled her leg straight up on a long, elegant line.  He kept eye contact with her as he ran his hand down her calve… down the back of her knee… he grabbed the back of her thigh roughly.

“Uhngh,” she gasped, backing arching a little.  Breasts bouncing and those curls…

Vegeta shoved her knee against her chest.  Bulma gasped. He licked his own lips as he took hold of his dick once more and lined up his eager head with her waiting entrance. He pressed his tip to her and her moan came out more as a desperate whimper.  He knew that sound, that was the sound of her desperate for him to fill her and fuck her into the mattress.  He gave a smoldering growl deep in his chest like a barrel roll of Saiyan thunder and shoved his hips forward, thrusting into her.  Her back snapped back fiercely.  A scream ripped from her throat.  He leaned over her, balanced on his other hand he placed beside her hip, and eased his hips back from her, slipping out a little.  Then he slipped back in.  Then out.  Her back eased back into the comfort of the mattress.  She looked at him with blushed cheeks and pleading eyes.  Gods! She looks stunning!  He thrusted back in.  Hard.  Bearing down on her with his cock.  Pounding her pussy.  Hard and fast.  The bed bounced and creaked with his power.

Her shoulder lifted.  Her eyes squeezed tight at the mercy of the fucking onslaught.  She gritted her teeth.  Taking it.  Taking him.  Her hand gripped his forearm muscles.  Her nails dug in deep.  He looked down and watched her delicate nails drag burning, long, red lines down his flesh. Then he looked further down at the sticky mess their crotches and inner thighs were and watched his cock ramming in and out of her spread folds.  Fuck!!!  He seared it into his mind.  He watched himself fuck the shit out of his wife.  Her stifled screams morphing into snarls that turned him on even more. Calling to his primal side.  He went at her harder and faster.  She writhed.  Her head snapped back.  She growled like he’d never heard her before.

He leaned back, not slowing his pace or easing his power for a moment.  He yanked her leg up from mashing her perfect breast and lifted it to his chest.  Holding her calve over his shoulder.  Sweat dripped down his cheek.  Down his trapezius.  Down his perfect pectorals.  He watched her writhe, snarl, growl.  Her nails biting into his flesh, searing.  Sweat matting her soaked curls to her hairline.  Matting her hair to her neck.  To her shoulder.  It beaded on her breasts and stomach.  Dripped off her shoulders and biceps.  She kept her leg spread for him.  She was truly a sight to behold!  His cheeks blushed deep red as he watched her take him.  He gritted his teeth, feeling what seeing it was doing to him.  He pounded harder and harder.  Faster and faster.  The bed sounded like it was about to give.  She sounded like she was about to be ripped apart and wanted nothing but more of him.  Gods!!  She’s perfect!!  She’s fucking perfect!!!!!  He wanted to lick the moonlight off her body…

He flung himself down onto her.  Still pounding her poor, defenseless, wanton pussy into the mattress.  Hammering brutal, blissful screams from her tiny lungs. He grabbed her hips, his fingers digging savagely into her plump, round ass.  He didn’t care if he bruised her.  She didn’t care if he bruised her ass as long as he kept fucking her like this! She wrapped her arms around his neck. One of her hands grabbing a fat chunk of his flame and holding on as he plowed into her pussy.  Her growls gave way to the most sinful moans of pure ecstasy. You are!  You are so fucking GOOD TO ME!!!!  He buried his face in her neck.  Licking her pulse line clean of sweat.  Clean of moonlight.  Her legs wrapped around his waist and squeezed.  More!  More!

The pressure was building.  Building. Building.  He felt like his whole body was going to explode.  Every muscle, every sinew drew as tight as an overstretched band.  Vibrating under the stress.  About to snap gloriously.  He didn’t stop.  He didn’t dare stop.  She clung to him for dear life.  She didn’t want him to stop.  Not until…  Oh Kami! Until…  Oh Kami!!  Unti—She screamed the most powerful orgasm of her fucking life! Brutal.  Primal.  He dug vicious bruises into her hot ass, slamming into her quivering pussy over and over and over.  Roaring like a fiend!  Feeling himself shoot hot streams of cum deep inside her.  So fucking deep! He kept going until he fucking hurt to keep fucking her like this.  She kept up with him though.  Lasting just as long.

But he couldn’t stop now.  If he did, the night would end before the alarm.  If he did, it wouldn’t last forever!

He moved his hips, slipping out of her.  He hissed at the pain it sent through his tip and shaft, searing him on the way out.  He lifted himself up just enough to flip her over onto her stomach.  She lay there.  Exhausted and spent.  Vegeta may be exhausted, but he was far from spent.  He pounced on her prone form.  He hands gripped the sheets on either side of her as he smashed his mouth onto her lower back.  Kissing and licking the base of her spine.  She cooed, barely able to writhe under the tingling feeling of his tongue on her skin.  His mouth traveled up her spine.  Tasting and sampling each vertebra.  She moaned and shivered beneath him.  Heat pooling in her core again.  All at once she felt as if she couldn’t take anymore and she couldn’t get enough.  The further he went up the middle of her back the more aroused she became.  She wasn’t the only one.  Fresh scent filled his nostrils, mixing with their old juices, and each whimper and shudder made his mouth water.  Making him harder.  He couldn’t get enough of her.  He lapped up her sweat.  Lapped up the salt from her skin.  He gave her a kiss between her shoulder blades then nipped at her lovebite, she moaned, before kissing it lustily then sitting up on his knees.  Her grabbed her round rump sitting so enticingly right in front of him.  Like she was offering herself up to him.  And who was he to reject or deny himself such an offering.  From his Wife.

Vegeta massaged Bulma’s buttocks before sliding his hands along her wet skin to take hold of her ample hips.  He lifted, she whined a little, but he got her hips up over her knees. He kept one hand on her hip to keep her steady and slipped the other to his stiff member.  He slicked some of his precum over his weeping head.  Gritting his teeth and hissing at it’s hypersensitivity. He held his tip out and rubbed it against her splayed entrance.  Her hips bucked, her voice moaning, begging him to enter her.  Her rubbed at her entrance a few more times then pressed himself in.  She welcomed him gratefully, easily.  Slowly, Vegeta pushed his hips forward until he was fully inside her.  He felt her walls grip all around him, holding him deep inside her.  Gods, she feels so good.  He gripped her hips tightly and began fucking her again. Setting another hard and fast pace. She rose up on her hands, “Ha! Ha!  Ha!”

He was mesmerized by the frantic bouncing of her teal-colored locks.  Flashing him quick glimpses of the scar of her lovebite.  He could almost envision by the slump of her shoulders the bouncing of her breasts.  Suddenly he didn’t want to imagine anything.  That time was coming sooner than he’d like, but for now he wanted the real thing.

Vegeta reached down and yanked back on her left elbow. She’d nearly slipped, but he yanked again on her forearm then wrist.  She was reared up as he rode her hard.  He gripped her wrist tightly and pinned it to the small of her back between them.  She looked back at him, struggling to keep her self up.  His eyes looked down over her trapped shoulder.  Down at her flushed bouncing breasts…  He licked his lips like a starving man shown a steak. Or rather a starving Saiyan Prince shown a single, ripe Strawberry.  He growled deep and low in his chest.  He kept her left arm pinned as he reached around her right arm.  Pinning it as well.  His fingertips caressed over the wet dome of her right breast.  He massaged it.  She yelled in his face, “Uhhnngh!”

Oh fuck, he cupped her breast… then fingered her strawberry.  It was soft and stiff at the probing of his fingertip.  He felt her pussy clench.  He rolled his finger over her strawberry’s luscious tip.

“Uhhhnnngh!”

He rubbed his thumb over the curve of her pillow… rubbed it once, twice over her strawberry tip… then took it between his thumb and his forefinger and pinched.

“HA!!!” She screamed.

He rubbed and rolled her pert nipple between his fingers. Her hips bucked into him.  He kept thrusting.  Watching himself manipulate her tender nipple.  Her body trembled.  Legs weakening.  But he kept her held up.  Kept her body bouncing faster and faster off his thrusting pelvis.  He listened to her body.  The way she was screaming.  The way her pussy had a death grip on his manhood even as he slipped in and out of her. From this angle he rubbed that special part inside of her perfectly.  Relentlessly.  Her nose nuzzled his cheek.  He nearly came.  She nuzzled it again.  Kept nuzzling.  He felt his balls clench again.

“Hn!  Hn! Hn!”  He groaned through clenched teeth.

“Ha!  Ha! Ha!”  The tip of her nose rubbed into his cheek—

“HHHNNNNNGH!!!!”  He came. Filling her pussy.  His seed squirting from her wet folds.  Dripping down his pulsating shaft.  Oozing down her thighs.  His hips slammed into her again and again.  Prolonging his bliss.  He buried his face in her curls.  His cheeks burning with exertion.  His whole body trembled.  Suddenly she grabbed his thigh with her free hand…  He felt her walls quake.  He stopped his hips.  Leant his forehead against the back of her shoulder.  Grateful that her orgasm was milking him of the rest of his orgasm. She stopped moving.  Panting.  Flushed as her pussy quaked and his cock slowly stopped pulsing as it squirted more semen into her…

She basked in the warmth of his body.  It always amazed her how much stamina he had, how much stamina he gave her just by being the only man she’d ever met that treated her like the only woman in the world.  He always seemed to push himself to breaking for her, with her…  He loves her and she loves him.  They found adventure and excitement in each other on Namek.  Then they found comfort in each other when her heart had been broken by someone else.  Now she was his wife and they found solace in each other forever.

He released her wrist and slumped back on his heels.  His arms hung by his sides, his hands palms up beside his shivering thighs, and his head bowed.  He gasped for air, panting still.  She collapsed forward and barely caught herself on her hands.  Her sweat dripped off her onto the bedsheets.  Temporarily darkening the bright pink color.  She looked back over her shoulder at him.  He hadn’t budged.  Just sat there looking like a spent and broken man… but she knew he was far from it.  She turned around to face him.  He lifted his head to look at her; his cheeks deep red and his eyes nearly shut.  Bulma crawled up to him… up onto his lap…  Vegeta looked up into her blue eyes, still bright and beautiful and the most enchanting things he’d ever seen in the entire universe.  She reached up and he felt the angel soft touch that he’d never experienced in entire tortured life until he’d met her.  Her fingers warmed his cheeks as she leaned her forehead against his and breathed in his smell.  Musk… sweat… spice that made her stomach tingle and butterfly…  She slipped one hand into his hair… and took a handful of his unique flame at the back of his head.  Enjoying the feel of his hair between her fingers.  Coarse and soft at the same time… like him.  She leaned in further and touched the tip of her nose to his then nuzzled him.  Somehow he found it in himself to raise his hands to rest on her waist… then wrapped his arms around her.  Holding her. Bulma tilted her head… and pressed her lips to Vegeta’s.  The kiss was simple.  No lusty fire… just a glow, like the halo of moonlight they found themselves and their bed bathed in.  Like it had the night they conceived their child, the night they bonded together forever. Their kiss lasted as long as a breath. She kissed him again… then again. Slowly he leaned forward, making sure to keep his arms around her tiny waist.  He laid them back on the warm sheets with control that he didn’t think he still had.

It was their respite without having to lose any time to something as frivolous as sleep.  Spending all the time they could with each other before…  He squeezed his eyes shut and inhaled deeply; he didn’t want to think about that, all he wanted to do right now was lay here in his bed and kiss his Wife.  Relish in the softness of her lips… in the softness of her whole body in his arms… He kissed her back.  Soft, sweet, and gentle.  He was only ever this way with her.  She was magic to him, for him. He loves her.  He’s never loved anything except his homeworld, but she, his Bulma, she is his homeworld now.

His hands travelled along her sides… her hips… up her sides again… his fingers and palms mapping every curve of her body.  The flex of every muscle just beneath that smooth porcelain skin.  Her fingers threaded over and over through his thick, black, flame of hair… each caress sending thrills to his spine.  He etched the feeling in his mind, never forgetting the way she made him feel.  Her fingers left his hair… travelled down the back of his neck, fingered the lines of the scar she’d given him… his breathing shallowed, picked up; it was amazing… her delicate touch caressed along the lines of his shoulder blades… down his back.  Nimble digits tracing the line of every scar that he’d rather forget about but life and anatomy refused to let him ever forget. Now he had something new to attribute to those scars, not the horrors of their stories but the bliss of her touch. He felt himself throb and ache between their bodies, growing with each caress.  He tilted his head this way… and that… kissing her in every way possible and she did the same.  Her hands cupped the middle of his back… sliding down… down…  His hands slipped over her arms… sliding up… up…  He cupped her shapely shoulders.  Her fingers settled on his lower back… began moving inward. He knew to where.  His penis knew where.  Her breathing quickened, she knew where and what it would mean.

Silently, she began spreading her legs for him.  She took her time with the motion.  Knowing to let him commit to memory every touch… every sensation…   Her fresh scent, their juices, tingling his nose.  Making his mouth water in primal ways that he was sure went beyond what it meant to be a Saiyan but not beyond what it meant to be a man.  His hands moved from her shoulders up into the fluffy curls that haloed her angelic face.  He drove his fingers up through them… feeling the soft caress of every teal tendril… His thick fingertips found her scalp.  He cupped her head, feeling thick locks matte between his palms and her head.  Felt soft fingers trace scars angle down from the small of his back.  Okay, so maybe he hadn’t known where her hands were going.  Fingers traced the lines of his buttocks, riling him up, before cupping his buttocks. She moved his hips forward… his fingers curled and curled the closer his hips got to her heat…  When he felt himself press at her entrance, he gripped handfuls of teal.  He met no resistance as she guided him inside her.  Gripping his cheeks tighter and tighter the further she brought him into her. He closed his eyes and just felt. Every succulent millimeter of her… her grip… his girth… his grip… the touch of the sheets beneath them.  He was all the way in her, a perfect fit.  He knew what to do.  He eased his hips back, slipping out of her a little, then slipped back inside her.  His movements were slow, testing, timid at first.  He continued to absorb every sensation every moment.  Felt each bead of sweat bloom on his skin and hers… each bead slink, stream, and trickle along rippling sinews and soft-moving porcelain… breathing patterns aligning with every gentle push.  He bowed his head, the tip of his nose touching her chin. He inhaled deeply.  Taking in everything.  He picked up his movements.  Bobbing their bodies up and down the mattress.  Her plump breasts rose to press into his hard chest as her back arched with their slightly faster pace.

“Aaaaahhhhhh,” she moaned, her jaw slackening.  Her own eyes closing slowly.  She held him tight inside her.  He absorbed new familiar sensations.  He felt his tip weep crystal clear droplets inside her.  “Aaaahhhh… Mmmmm…  Hmmmmm…”

“Hhhnnnggghhhh,” he groaned, “Hhhhnnnnnggggghhhhh…  Mmmmmmmm…”  She was bliss, pure bliss.  “Hhhhaaaaaaa…  Aaaaahhhhhh…”

He moved faster in her.  Making physical heat from the carnal heat.  Manicured nails drew across his buttocks to his burning thighs over her own bobbing thighs to his knees nestled into rumpled folds of pink bed linens and fluffy mattress.

He shifted his knees a little bit farther apart, dropping himself down lower, and made one long circle with his hips.  Her breath seized in her chest.  Her back arched sharply.  Nails digging into his knees.  “Hah,” she gasped.  She clamped down on him.  “Ha,” he gasped.  He couldn’t breathe.  He made a circle again… felt her nipples pierce his chest, his cheeks flushed…  Another circle… “Hhhhaaaaa!”  She begged.  “Hhhhaaaa.”  He answered. Another circle.  Another.  He picked up speed again.  The bed shifted with their movements.  Rocking back and forth as well.

“Ha!  Ha! Ha!  Ha!”

“Ah!  Ah! Ah!  Ah!”  Her fingers hooked around his knees.  Holding on. He picked up his pace.

Their bed creaked and rocked and thudded loudly against the wall.  Circle after circle.  He picked up his pace.  Circle. Circle.  Circle.

His balls tingled.  Tensed. THUD.  THUD. THUD.  Circle.  Circle. Circle.

“HA!  HA! HA!  HA!”

“AH!  AH! AH!  AH!”

His whole body felt more alive than he ever remembered.  Only with her.  He was only ever this alive when he was with her.  He could feel, could tell that she was only ever satiated when she was with him. Only with him.

Circle. Circle.  Circle.  THUD.  THUD. THUD.

“HA!  HA! HA!”

“AH!  AH! AH!”

They knew how to fulfill one another.  Give each other everything they never had before.

His body burned with pleasure.  Going white hot, almost numb.  The base of his cock pinching tighter and tighter with every circular thrust.  He was going to explode inside her.  He wanted to explode inside her.  Fill her with his cum so thoroughly that the excess squirted out around his shaft from the confines of her folds.  He wanted to stain the sheets with cum.  Circle.  Circle. Circle.  THUD.  THUD.  THUD.

“HAAAAA!!  HAAAAA!! HAAAAA!!”  Gods, Bulma!!!  Oh Gods, BULMA!!!!

“AAHHHNNNN!!  MMMMNNNNN!!”  Vegeta!!  Oh Fucking KAMI!!!  VEGETA!!!!

Tighter. Tighter.  Circle.  Circle. THUD.  THUD. THUD.

The tension was unbearable.  He wanted to break.  To shatter inside her.  He wanted her to come apart at the seams.  Shatter into a million little pieces underneath him.  His cock twitched.  Twitched. I’m gonna…  “HNN!! HNN!!  HNN!!”  Her thighs quivered against his.  “AH!!!  AH!!! AH!!!”  I’m gonna… Tighter.  Tighter.  Circle. Circle.  THUD.  THUD. Quiver.  Quiver.

“HN!!!  HN!!! HN!!!”

“AH!!!  AH!!! AH!!!”

His fists in her hair shook…

Her hips moved.  Writhing in the incredible pleasure.  She was on the brink.  Teetering on that edge.  The more she moved the more excited he got.  The more the tightness at the base of his manhood was nearly bringing him to tears.  He wanted to cum.  He wanted to cum so bad inside her.  He wanted her to cum so fucking hard all over him!

Tighter.  Tighter. Circle.  Circle.  THUD. THUD.  Quiver.  Quiver.

Suddenly her hands shot to his lower back.  Her fingers dug into his tail nub.

“HNNNGH!!!!!”  He rammed into her.  The bed giving an almighty CRACK! Against the wall!  Thick spurts of semen squirted into her pussy.  Her fingers rubbed deep and hard into his sensitive tail nub.  He rammed again!  “HNN!!!!”  Again!  “HNN!!!!!”

She gasped.  Desperate as though she were taking more than she could handle.  Overwhelmed.  Her walls fluttered and fluttered.  Ram!  “HNGH!”  Her fingers dug deeply into him.  He strained to squirt all he could into her.  Strained until she milked him dry.  Strained until the quake of her pussy subsided.  He bobbed his hips a few times.  Giving her aftershocks.  He worked his hips through pants until even those subsided.

They opened their eyes.  He drank in the sight of her desperate sapphire eyes glowing in the moonlight. The apples of her cheeks flushed bright pink.  Her curls matted to her hairline like a teal crown he’d bestowed upon her.  Beads of sweat dotting her forehead and chin.  He felt a drop of sweat slip along his jaw, build up on the tip of his chin, and drop down on her chin and snake down her delicate, bobbing throat.  She’d never seen his cheeks so red.  Never saw him look so rested, so at peace with what they’d done.  Sweat made a sheen of water and moonlight over his face; highlighting the right side of his face so brightly.  He wasn’t glaring at her or scowling at all.  He looked like he was… in love with her.  She held him tighter, pressing his lower back into her, not wanting to let him out of her.  Not wanting to let him go.

BEEP!  BEEP! BEEP!

It was over.  The spell was broken.  It wasn’t just moonlight lighting their bodies.  It was dawn.  The sky was lightening outside her balcony.  Taking away the moonlit night that had been their own private world. Taking their sanctuary away with the growing light.  It was time.

He had to go.

*                      *                      *

Silence.

It was so unusually silent while they were getting dressed.  His Woman was unusually quiet and he’d noticed that she wasn’t meeting his eyes either.  He, on the other hand, couldn’t stop looking at her; committing every gloomy line to memory. He’d didn’t want to forget her or a single part of her… he…

“I love you,” he said quietly.

She froze with the shirt clearing her head and part of her shoulders.  He watched her for a moment.  The elegant line of her back… the smoothness of her skin… the—

She sniffed.  Then sniffed again.  Then her shoulders started shaking.

Silently Vegeta gave his glove a last tug then walked around the bed and stepped up right in front of her.  She kept her head down, the fall of her hair hiding her eyes from him, but how tight her lips were pursed together was a dead giveaway.  Vegeta reached out and slipped her other arm through the arm of her shirt then pulled it down over her torso.  She kept holding back her sobs even as he felt her tears falling onto his gloved hands.  He slipped the side of his finger underneath her chin, hooked, and gently drew her face up so he could see it.

Her eyes were closed.  Squeezed tight, tears staining her cheeks with their trails, her lips quivering under the strain she was putting them under.

He tilted his head, leaned in, and kissed her.  Suddenly her arms were around his neck.  She kissed him hungrily.  Instinctively, his arms wrapped around her waist.  He devoured her right back.  Their breathes meshed loudly in their ears.  She rolled her head.  Kissing him deeper and deeper.  He plunged his tongue into her depths.  When they’d stolen the oxygen from each other’s lungs, their kiss broke with a gasp for air.

“I love you,” she breathed, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”  She repeated over and over, breaking a little bit more each utterance… until she finally sobbed out loud in his arms.

Vegeta held her close.  Cupping her head into the crook of his strong neck.  He pressed his lips into her hair, kissing her head.  He breathed in the scent of strawberry, sweat, sex, and himself. It was also the reason why he hadn’t bathed before putting on the Saiyan-like new armor and body suit, gloves and boots she’d given him as a parting gift.  He smirked into her hair, along with a promise of more suits of armor to come so long as he kept coming back.  Appealing to his warrior self and sense of Saiyan Pride to get him back here with her again and again no matter the distance away from her he went.  She didn’t have to do that, he’d always return to her.  But he knew why she did it.  The pathetic weakling had abandoned her more than once.  Promised to return to her only to end up laving her over and over. She was afraid that Vegeta would do the same.  That he would get back out in the rest of the galaxy, rest of the universe, and not want to come back to her.  He understood her fear.  How many times had he talked about blowing up her planet before returning to the cosmos to dominate them as King?  Now… now, it was different.  He couldn’t care less about the cosmos.  He didn’t want to be out in the cosmos…  He wanted to be here with her.  He wasn’t just coming back to fight the Androids.  He was coming back to his Wife and their future child.

KNOCK.  KNOCK.

Judging by the timidness, it was, “Bulma, Vegeta, the ship’s ready whenever you are,” the Father.

The old man new it had to be him to come and get them.  He was the only one, Vegeta was fairly certain now, that knew what it meant to leave his family for important work for an unknown amount of time. There was only one guarantee:  he would come home to them.  But that didn’t make leaving them in the first place any less painful.

Bulma sniffed as she pulled away from him, wiping her tears from her eyelashes.

“I’m sor-sorry.  I-I messed up-up your new s-suit.”  She kept sniffing.

“I want to smell like you for as long as possible.”

She finally looked up at him.  Her eyes wide with shock.  He took in those sapphire jewels the absolutely beguiled him every time he saw them. Then she smiled and began to laugh. His heart skipped beats at the beautiful sound, one of his private joys in life… that and her outrageous vulgarity during their lovemaking.

“So do I,” she giggled.

He smiled and took her hand in his.  He brought it to his heart and held it there.  Her smile died as she stared at their joined hands.

“I’m coming back. But first… I must go.”

She nodded.  Turned. And led him by the hand to the door. He admired her bravery… she had more courage in this moment than he.

*                      *                      *

He wanted to curse the dawn.  Stepping closer and closer to the ship, he wanted to curse the brightening skylight behind it.  Every step carried him farther away from her even though he held her hand as she walked beside him.

He glared at the ship.  He didn’t want to leave her, but… but… she… he scowled, she was right.  If he stayed, he would be too distracted by his mate bearing his child to continue his training properly even more than it already was.  He had to leave her.  But not for long!  He had no idea how he was going to handle the next three months.  He’d… he’d be alone again.  He looked at the ship, but wasn’t seeing it.  All he could see was a small space pod.  Himself reflected in it’s bulbous glass.  Sitting there with his arms crossed over his chest.  A scouter on his ear.  The calm and easy look of knowing he was moving on to the next planet to be ‘cleared’ for resale.  Yes, always Nappa and usually Radditz were in similar pods traveling beside his own, but still, he had been completely alone.  His stomach clenched viciously.  He gritted his teeth and forced the bile back down.  Was he prepared to go back into that again?

As if she could read his mind, Bulma gave their joined hands a little squeeze.  He felt the gentle low burn of her ki… and the bright spark of ki inside her that was their child.  Yes, his jaw set as he stared down the ship, yes, he would go back to Hell for them.

He led past her unusually quiet parents to the bottom of the ship’s ramp.  He turned to her, his Wife.  But before he could even say a thing, her arms were around his neck again.  Her body was trembling against his.  Bulma squeezed her eyes shut as if that would somehow stop him from leaving as if doing that over and over would prevent any of all these bad things from happening. She just wanted some moment of peace where he would stay and they could be a happy little family and maybe an Earth wedding to go with their Saiyan one…  And maybe another child.  They had said that they both wanted more.  But… the Androids.  The Androids had to be dealt with first although, she’d never tell him, but what if they killed him?  That Earth wedding would never happen.  That second child would never happen.  No, he needed this.  He needed this to become a Super Saiyan.  He needed this so that they could have all that.  She hugged him tighter.  She felt strong masculine arms, the same arms that had wrapped around her morning, noon, and night for weeks wrap around her once more…  He’s shaking?!  Why is he shaking?  Is he—

“Bulma,” his voice was stern like she was used to, but shaky, which she wasn’t; it scared her, “If… If that stupid boy from the future screwed everything up and the Androids show up early, if they… if they show up before I’m back,” his voice cracked and he paused, taking the moment to compose himself.  In the silence, she realized he was voicing his worst fear in all this.  That he was making a huge mistake with disastrous consequences.  Screwing up, losing everything he ever loved, that was the greatest things to ever grace his pathetic, fucked up life.  That the Androids would show up.  That she and the baby would… would…  “If those stupid, fucking tin cans show up before I’m back,” he gritted, “your Father has a second ship.  I want you to get your parents and that stupid cat and all your friends into that ship and go to New Namek.  Do you understand me?  You get everyone and go to New Namek.”

“Vegeta…”

He grabbed her arms and yanked her back so he could get a good look at her face. “Bulma, promise me.”

“Vegeta…”

“Promise me!”  He screamed in her face.

She gaped. Terrified.  She’d never seen him look so terrified.  Not even when he sensed Frieza coming to Earth.  This was… so important…  “Yes, Vegeta.  I promise.”

“All of them.  Especially Dende and Popo.  Without them, there’s no hope of getting the dragon balls back.”

She nodded.  He’d said their names, their actual names.  Oh Kami, he is fucking terrified to leave. She nodded more emphatically, “I will, Vegeta, I will.”

“When I enter the system, I will search for your ki.  If I don’t sense it, I will meet you on New Namek.”

She nodded again.  He had a plan.  When did he come up with a plan?

Suddenly he cupped her cheek.  He was so gentle.  She reached out and cupped his cheek, rubbing her thumb softly over his skin.  He wanted to kiss, she wanted him to kiss her, but he knew if he did…  He leaned in… then tilted his chin up… and pressed his lips to her forehead.  She closed her eyes and took the feel on his lips on her skin, memorizing it, committing it to memory.  He pulled away.  Turned. And began walking up the ramp into the ship.  As soon as the first bootstep, Bulma turned and began walking back to the house.

Vegeta surprised himself by reaching the top of the ramp.  And surprised himself again by entering the ship.  He didn’t surprise himself when he refused to look back and blindly shut the ships door behind him before he ever thought of turning around to face it.  She, she and their child, were on the other side of this door.  He held onto it’s locking mechanism for a long moment, numb to the hum of the ship waiting for his commands, numb to everything except the pain of realizing that he was leaving her, leaving them behind.  He concentrated on her ki and found her just entering the house.  Good, good Woman.  She knew if he caught even a glimpse of her distress other than just sensing it through her ki that he would disembark this stupid vessel and return to her in an instant.  She had to hide herself, had to.  He locked the door.  Sealing himself inside.  He turned again and headed for the pilot’s seat and the vessel’s command controls.

He remembered the first time he’d seen this part of the ship.  After she’d brought him to Earth as her houseguest. He smiled to himself, Vulgar woman.  His smile shifted into a grin as he sat down.  Oh, at first he’d promised not to do anything naughty to her, but now… he chuckled, naughty was all he did to her.  Vegeta reached out and began plotting in destination coordinates, seeing as how the Father had already had the ship warming up.  Vegeta frowned as his gloved fingers pressed buttons.  He still wasn’t entirely sure where the Hell he was going. All he knew was that it wasn’t here. Well, he would at least begin by plotting a course that would get him out of the solar system.  That would be a good start.  Then…  Then… His frowned deepened.  Well, he’d get to the next step after completing the first.  The coordinates were laid in.  He sensed her in their room now.  She was avoiding her balcony, avoiding that whole side of the room.  Good Woman.  He began the launch sequence.  

“Launch sequence initiated.”  Somehow, this time, he didn’t find the computer’s feminine voice comforting. “Launch in ten.  Nine.  Eight…”

Vegeta sat back in his chair.  His whole boy was tense.  It was unusual for him to be traveling without having to be in stasis.  The first time he’d done this, trying to find Kakkarot after the fool survived but didn’t return to Earth, the going-without-stasis thing hadn’t bothered him at all.  He found the whole situation freeing.  It showed him that he really was free of Freiza.  This time, he’d rather be in stasis.

“Four. Three.  Two.  One.”

The ship lifted up.  Smoothly. Flawlessly.  He smiled bitterly.  That was her handiwork.  She and her Father had made absolutely sure that everything about this vessel would be in perfect working condition for him. Better than working condition. She wouldn’t let him go unless it met her meticulous standards.

He watched her parents grow smaller…  He watched the yard of Capsule Corp grow smaller… Capsule Corp grow smaller… the city grow smaller… the region… landmass… planet.  He was away.  Away from her for the first time since they had become mates.  In minutes, the ship was approaching the system’s asteroid belt. The ship’s own defense protocols activated and it dodged and wove it’s way through easily.  Again, another gift from her to him.  The ship could travel and he could train.  My Woman, he wished she were here with him but he’d never dare bring their child out into space unless he had to.  If anyone, anyone, found out that he had an offspring and a mate, neither would be safe; he’d done too much under Freiza’s orders and just as much not under the lizard’s orders.  He approached another planet.  He kept silent.  Then another. Then another.  Another.  And finally the last.  He had done it.  He was clear of the solar system.  So what now?...  Well, when he’d been searching for Kakkarot, he’d began by going to the nearest trading planet and asked questions at the landing areas about if any one had seen another Saiyan or had heard of one.  Vegeta laid in the new coordinates.  This time he wouldn’t be asking about another Saiyan.  This time he’d be asking around for a good place to train.  A good place to fight.  To push him to the limits.  Shouldn’t be too hard.  There plenty of people who wanted to kill him.  The more difficult matter would be finding the few who didn’t…  And making them regret that decision—No, no, if he was to succeed in becoming the Legendary Super Saiyan, he couldn’t make enemies everywhere he went.  He’d have to… He has to go beyond what he would normally do, how he would normally act.  He had a mate now and a child on the way, picking a fight all the time would satisfy his own wants and needs but not theirs.  No, no extra enemies.  Extra informants.  That was what he needed!  Extra informants.  Vegeta pushed a button and his ship sped away from his Wife’s system.  He swallowed down yet another acidic threat of bile, What am I going to do tonight?  How will I sleep without her?

*                      *                      *

She’d waited.  Bulma’d waited.  She returned to their room, broke out her laptop, brought up the program that tracked his ship as long as it was within range, and waited.  The engines had roared, but nowhere near as loud as her heart in her own ears.  He was leaving.  The ground shook and for a moment she feared that it would give out beneath her; she certainly felt like her legs were going to.  Bulma stared at the monitor, watching the tiny blip that was his ship reach all the necessary landmarks on its way out of the solar system.  Each one twisting her heart a little then a little bit more.  He was getting farther and farther away from her.  Her eyes started to sting.  She sniffed and still smelled their lovemaking filling the air.  She grabbed her heart.  He’d just past Neptune…  No.  Her eyes burned.  Uranus. No.  Pluto. No.  No. The blip stalled for a moment… Her vision watered.  Then it was gone.  He was gone.

“NNNOOOOOOO!!!!!”  Bulma dropped to her knees.  Pitched forward.  Her forehead hit her soft carpet and she sobbed.  Wailing with grief.  He was gone.

[bob-giovanni]

A Casual Affair - Part 21

Characters: Simon X OFC

Summary: Violet tries to adjust to her new more public life.

Warnings: Cursing, Angst, A bit of fluff

Notes: I’m sorry it took so long to get this written, and this is a pretty short chapter, too. I’ve had the worst case of writer’s block. It also didn’t help that I was busy bingeing Brooklyn 99 (It’s a fucking fantastic show and you should watch it if you haven’t.)

Song for this Chapter: “Paparazzi” by Lady Gaga (Playlist Here!)

Simon and Violet had been back from their vacation for a little over 2 months and since then things had been a little crazy. Pretty much everyone at the office now knew that Simon and Violet were in a relationship which prompted some complaints about favoritism. Luckily Violet was able to find a new job working as an assistant at one of the big Broadway theaters. It sucked not being able to see Simon as often, especially since he’d moved back into his place. But they still spent every weekend  and multiple nights during the week together. One thing that was starting to wear on Violet was the attention. It didn’t happen often, but considering it never happened before, getting recognized a few times a week was taking it’s toll. Violet was planning on taking time this coming weekend to talk to Simon to see how he coped with this sort of thing in the beginning.

As Violet was finishing up her tasks for the day, her new boss, a guy around her age named Andy, walked up to her desk. “Hey, Violet.” She smiled and looked up at him. “Hey, Andy. What’s up?” Andy was clearly about to walk out the door. He had his backpack slung over one shoulder and his bike helmet in his hand. “Before you head out for the weekend, can you just make sure that the new rehearsal schedule is posted online? We really have to kick things into high gear if we’re gonna be ready for the opening in a couple of weeks.” Violet nodded. “Already done. I wanted to make sure everyone had plenty of time to get their affairs in order since the next couple of weeks are going to be capital B busy.” Andy laughed softly and nodded. “Thanks, Violet. You’re the best. Have a great weekend!” “You too, Andy.”

Violet watched as Andy left. When she first took the job with him, she was worried that he’d try and use the fact that her boyfriend used to be her boss to try and get into her pants. Luckily Andy is gay so she had no worries there. And he was really nice. He acknowledged that he knew about her story from the papers but he assured that he wouldn’t judge because he knew the papers didn’t know the whole story and it was none of his business what went on behind closed doors. That was a huge relief for Violet. She’d been on a few other interviews before landing the one with Andy and all the other people wanted to talk about was her relationship. It was nice knowing that there was at least one person who didn’t give a shit. And no one else that worked at the theatre treated her any differently. It was all she could’ve hoped for.

As Violet was nearly done for the day she texted George, the driver Simon insisted he pay for to take her to and from work everyday, to let him know she was almost ready. About 15 minutes later, George replied that he was outside. Violet grabbed her things and made sure to shut out the lights and lock the door as she left and climbed into the back of the car. “Afternoon, Violet.” He greeted her as she buckled up. George was originally from Tennessee and had a thick southern accent that always made Violet smile. “Afternoon, George. How was your day?” “Ah you know, uneventful. How was yours?” “The same.” Violet and George chatted a bit as he drove towards her apartment. Once the car pulled up out front, Violet thanked George and told him to have a good weekend before heading into her building.

As Violet took her keys from her purse as she walked up the stairs to her apartment. She was so tired that she didn’t notice Simon sitting in the arm chair facing the door when she first entered. However when she turned to put her things down, she gasped loudly and put her hand on her chest. “Jesus Christ, Simon!” She exclaimed. Simon let out a loud laugh and slapped his knee. “Oh I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He said between giggles. “What the fuck did you think would happen? I wasn’t expecting you until later tonight!” “I know, I know. I just wanted to surprise you.” Violet set her things down and kicked off her shoes. “Well consider me surprised.” Simon stood and walked over to Violet, smiling at her as he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “How was your day?” Violet smiled and wrapped her arms around Simon’s torso, really needing to feel safe in his arms. “Stressful.”

Simon wrapped his arms around Violet. “I’m sorry, love. I ordered us dinner. It should be here soon. Why don’t you tell me about your day while we wait for it to get here?” Violet nodded followed Simon to the couch, snuggling against his side when he sat down. She sighed deeply before speaking. “How did you deal with all the attention when it first started happening?” She asked. Simon gently ran his fingers through her hair. “What do you mean?” Violet gently ran her fingertips along Simon’s clothed abs. “I mean when you first started getting recognized in public, when you started noticing people taking pictures of you while you were just doing normal everyday things…how did you deal with it?” Simon sighed softly. “Unfortunately there’s no right answer. Some people just adapt. Other’s hide. With me, I just tried to pretend like the cameras weren’t there. If someone approached me, as long as they were nice about it, I’d talk to them or take a picture with them or whatever. If they were rude I’d tell them to fuck off and go on about my day.” Simon leaned down and kissed Violet’s forehead. “You’re strong, baby girl. You’ll get through it.”

Violet nodded. “I know. It’s just frustrating. I went out at lunch and some guy in the deli I went to kept taking pictures of me. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. It was like he thought that just because parts of my life have been made public that he had every right to just snap a million photos of me. Like, if you’re gonna do it at least be more discreet.” Simon sighed. He hated that his actions had led to this. He wanted nothing more than to protect Violet and he felt like a failure. “Do you feel unsafe? I could get you a bodyguard.” Violet laughed softly and shook her head. “I think that’s overkill. But I appreciate the thought.” A moment later the bell rang. Simon stood and pressed the buzzer once he confirmed it was the delivery man with their food. Simon thanked the man and took the bag to the kitchen. He set up everything for them before calling Violet in. As they ate, Violet talked a little more about her new job. Simon wasn’t super familiar with the world of theatre so hearing about some of the behind the scenes stuff was pretty neat.

“How’s your new boss?” Violet smiled and nodded. “Andy is a nice guy. He’s one of the few people I’ve met recently that doesn’t give a shit about my personal life.” Simon smiled. “He, uh, try to make a move on you?” Violet laughed and shook her head. “Calm down, Simon. He’s gay.” Simon laughed softly. “Sorry. I let my jealousy get the best of me for a second.” Violet smiled. “It happens to the best of us.” When they were finished eating, Violet cleaned up and put away their leftovers. Simon poured each of them a glass of wine and headed out to the living room. He placed the glasses on the coffee table before settling down on the couch and turning on the TV. This was how he and Violet would unwind at the end of the week. They’d each have a couple of glasses of wine after dinner, watch some TV or a movie before heading to the bedroom to have sex and then they’d fall asleep in each other’s arms. It was a comfortable routine that they’d both quickly gotten used to. Violet joined Simon on the couch a few moments later and took a sip of her wine before leaning up to peck Simon’s lips a few times. “Love you.” She said softly. Simon smiled and nuzzled her nose. “Love you too.”

—————————————————————————————————

Violet slowly opened her eyes and looked over at the clock on her bedside table. It was 2AM and she had to pee badly. This always happened. She’d wake up in the middle of the night and be so comfortable and not want to move but she had to go to the bathroom and had no choice but to get up. She groaned a bit as she sat up on the edge of the bed and stretched her arms a bit. She stood and trudged to the bathroom, not even bothering to cover up. Simon was the only other person in the apartment so she certainly didn’t care if she was naked around him. Once she was finished she washed her hands before heading back to the bedroom. As she climbed into the bed, her phone dinged. She furrowed her eyebrows and picked it up off the nightstand. The notification indicated that she had a DM on Twitter. She’d never gotten DMs before but as soon as her relationship with Simon became public she started getting some with people calling her a whore and a home wrecker as well as the occasional dick pic.

This was an actual message though from someone she didn’t know. The message simply read, “Trouble in paradise?” with a link. Violet sighed softly as she tapped the link, expecting to be sent to some bullshit tabloid story. However she was surprised when the link led to some photos instead. There were about 20 pictures, all of them were of Simon and Charlotte. In a couple of the photos they were holding hands. In a couple others they were kissing and smiling and laughing. Violet rolled her eyes. Why would she care about some old photos of Simon with his soon to be ex-wife? But Violet could feel her heart drop when she took a closer look at the photos. They were timestamped from 3 days ago. That had to be photoshopped, right? But then Violet realized the shirt Simon was wearing. She’d bought it for him just before they left Bora Bora. So at the very least the photos had been taken within the last 2 months. Violet felt tears stinging at her eyes. Was Simon cheating on her…with his wife?

Tags: @collette04 @66psychotic99 @simons-thirst-squad@mwesterfeld1985 @negans-castle@neganismyobsession@laymetorest77 @brittlw @faith-lynn9

[bellarkefanworkawards-blog]

Best Slow Burn

ARKADIA FLORAL & GARDEN by wanheda_two_heda @youleftme-clarke

Clarke has owned Arkadia Floral & Garden Supplies for 3 years when Bellamy Blake, her high school rival, comes back into town following his mother’s death and needs Clarke’s help to restore his mother’s garden to its former glory. But gardening isn’t Bellamy’s strong suite, and neither is coping with losing another parent. He might need a lot more help than he’s willing to admit, but luckily for him, his feisty blonde former rival is there to guide him through some of the most difficult months of his life.

DON’T LOOK BACK, YOU’RE NOT GOING THAT WAY by andsowemeetagain @and-so-we-meet-again

Viking Bellamy prepares for the journey of a lifetime. Clarke Griffin is the new, mysterious girl that wants to join him.

Best Fake Relationship

THINGS WE SHOULDN’T DO by Willaphyx @rebelprincebell​

“The history between the two of you is well known,” Marcus went on, talking over Clarke’s continued splutters. “And it hasn’t escaped the notice of certain news organizations–” “What, you mean fucking TMZ?” Clarke interjected.Marcus sighed. “It would be in the best interest of the show and I think both your careers if you were to be seen as a couple. ”Silence.“A dating couple,” Marcus added as if that hadn’t been clear. Bellamy and Clarke exploded simultaneously.“If we what?” Clarke demanded at the same time that Bellamy just started laughing. He slipped sideways, dangerously close to falling out of his chair. Clarke is at the bottom of a downward spiral and Bellamy is riding an all-time career high when they’re cast as the leads of Marcus Kane’s newest drama. The entertainment world expects a blowup of immense proportions between the two feuding actors but get a hard to explain romance instead. Or: a fake dating celebrities AU.

I DREAMED YOU A SIN by monroeslittle

“If I do this,” Blake said, “how are you imagining it’s going to work? I can’t just knock on his door, and say I want in again. It’s been eleven years. And even before I left, I never cared about the business. Do you have a plan? You say you want me to open the door for an agent. How? What’s that mean?” “You’re going to get in touch with your grandfather again at your wedding,” Clarke said. He stared. “I hope you don’t have a girlfriend, Mr. Blake.”

fake!married AU. Clarke’s in the FBI, Bellamy’s the grandson of a mobster, and they’ve got to work together.

Best Pining!Clarke

I (LOVE)D YOU by funfanfin @funfanfin

A relationship that only lasted five months and ended four years ago shouldn’t still be affecting her, but…it wasn’t just any relationship. It wasn’t just any breakup. It wasn’t just any ex. It was Bellamy.

AND THEN WE WERE CHASING COMETS by prosciutto @prosciuttoe

That same, elusive shrug. “It’s a secret, princess.” He says pointedly, snagging the book from her before throwing the truck into park, “But you’ll be the first to read it once it’s done, okay?” “Wow,” she says, nodding. “I’m honored.” A beat as he sizes her up, his brows furrowing together in exasperation before he says, weary, “You’re going to ask me what it’s about again, aren’t you?” “Bellamy,” she says obediently, grinning, “what’s your book about?” If you told Clarke Griffin that she would become best friends with the resident black sheep of Arkadia, she would have difficulty believing it, let alone the fact that he apparently wrote an entire book about her.

Or: Clarke and Bellamy through the years, as childhood best friends.

Best Royalty AU

KINGDOM COME by the.ktgrace

Her father, the king, was poisoned. She, heir to the throne, fled into hiding. Ten years later, a royal guard needs to bring her back to the throne to save his sister. Faraway kingdoms, arranged marriages, deception, brewing war… And that’s only the beginning for this stubborn princess and her arrogant guard. A story of fantasy and adventure in the kingdom of Ark.

HOW TO SAVE A KINGDOM by Laughingsenselessly @wellsjahasghost

Clarke sputters an indignant laugh as he takes her elbow and steers her away from the doors. “You won’t let me out of the palace and you’re calling me a difficult person? You,” she fumes, “are insufferable.” Bellamy merely grins. “Now that’s no way to talk to your husband.” Clarke forces herself to stalk away before she can give into the urge to throw her glass of wine at him. She doesn’t know why she bothers, though. Somehow, none of their guests seem to notice the clear antagonism between the king and queen, or maybe they just don’t care. And why should they? The two of them are just husband and wife. They’re not actually expected to like each other.

AU. Clarke marries Bellamy for a political alliance.

Best Teacher!Bellamy

MUST BE LOVE (ON THE BRAIN) by Caramelle @mellamymake

Is she grateful for the distraction that is Finn Collins? Sort of. Does that make her want to punch his teeth in any less? Hard no. Or, the one where Clarke Griffin wishes the annoying boy who always sits next to her in class would shut up and let her listen to her professor. Her professor also happens to be really pretty. The two things are mutually exclusive.

AFRAID TO CALL THIS PLACE OUR OWN by HawthorneWhisperer @hawthornewhisperer

Clarke frowned at the notification on her ipad. “Why does your history teacher want to meet with me?” she asked, but Madi kept her eyes innocently on her homework. A little too innocently. “Mr. Blake’s a hardass,” Madi said with a shrug. “A hardass who wants a meeting with me barely a month into the school year?” Clarke asked. Madi shrugged again and Clarke narrowed her eyes and scanned the email. “He’s worried about your performance already. Have you even had any tests? What am I missing?” “He just doesn’t like me,” Madi replied and erased something on her worksheet.

Best Roommates AU

KILL THEM WITH KINDNESS by Kacka @katchyalater

Clarke thought subletting Miller’s room for the summer would be a perfect solution: convenient, affordable, and it comes furnished. Unfortunately, it also comes with his roommate, who for some reason, hates her.

I DON’T KNOW HOW TO LOVE PEOPLE WITHOUT THEM DYING by Kacka @katchyalater

“This is where it falls apart,” Clarke whispers. Her finger traces random patterns across Bellamy’s chest, his gently untangling the knots in her hair. The sun hasn’t yet risen but the sky outside has begun to lighten, those nebulous hours when night fades to morning and the world starts to think about waking up. Clarke greets them like an old friend. Most nights she wakes with a jolt– sometimes from nightmare, other times from the stress of an unimaginably long to-do list– and lets the slow ascent into day calm her racing mind.

Best Social Media AU

OR, YOU COULD ALWAYS GOOGLE IT by Prosciutto @prosciuttoe

“You know,” Bellamy muses, grin wide and a little conspiratorial, “you’re robbing our legions of fans here. They’re expecting a showdown and you’re being perfectly cordial towards me.” “Right,” she nods, pursing her lips to keep from smiling. “Well, it’s not too late. I could always pitch that glass of water down your shirt.” Someone really should have warned Clarke that the first step to becoming internet famous would involve acquiring a nemesis.

(Or, Bellarke as rival YouTubers, basically.)

YOU’RE COOL ON THE INTERNET, AT LEAST by Prosciutto @prosciuttoe

Look, Clarke will not dwell on this. She will not get flustered just because a possibly cute guy on Facebook apparently shares her views on what constitutes a terrible person. Ten minutes later, her phone gives a short, irritated buzz; startling her enough that she jumps. Biting at the inside of her cheek, she allows herself a quick peek. Friend request from Bellamy Blake. Clarke has no idea how she manages to develop a crush on a guy who won’t stop fighting everyone on Facebook, but here they are.

(Or: Clarke meets Bellamy on Facebook. They hit it off.)

Best Enemies/Friends to Lovers

EMERGENCY CONTACTS by wanheda_two_heda @youleftme-clarke

When Bellamy gets a call from Ark Memorial Hospital because he’s the emergency contact for an unnamed girl in her early twenties, his only thought is Octavia. He can’t imagine that someone might have just entered his phone number by mistake. But when he sees the blonde girl lying unconscious in a hospital bed with no other contacts until she wakes up, something tells him to stay. So he does.

Based on the prompt: au where person a accidentally puts the wrong number as their emergency contact and when they end up in hospital person b gets called (and comes anyway, despite not knowing person a)

IN MY DREAMS WE ARE ALWAYS TOGETHER by andsowemeetagain @and-so-we-meet-again

100 delinquents got sent to Earth and battled for survival against the odds. They landed in Trikru territory but that is not where they stayed. After weeks of battle and war, the Sky People finally lost. They were sent to a land far away, where a group of Grounders unlike any they’ve met waited for them.

*This is a terrible summary…I don’t know how to describe this story. It’s a mix of canon and AU. But if you like arranged marriage and enemies->friends->lovers and friendship and love and fluff and angst, then this is the fic for you.

Best Arranged Marriage

BEFORE: KING OF A BROKEN LAND by forgivenessishardforus

Miller, a knight who had graduated with him five years before and now a lieutenant and one of his best friends, sticks his head around the door. His mouth is quirked in a smile that instantly makes Bellamy wary. “You have visitors,” he announces. Bellamy groans. The last thing he wants to deal with right now is visitors; most were families of murdered nightbloods, looking for answers he didn’t have; some were looking for advice on problems he didn’t care about; still others came to him with suggestions and criticisms on what he should be doing to better protect his people. “Tell them to wait in the audience chamber. I’ll deal with them in a couple of hours, or maybe in the morning.” “Oh, I don’t think you’ll want to keep these visitors waiting,” Miller says. His eyes are positively snapping with mirth now. “Who is it?” Bellamy demands. “Just the Queen of Arkadia and her daughter.”

JUST AS YOU ARE MINE by prosciutto @prosciuttoe

Bellamy’s already there by the time she makes her way to the centre of the room. She didn’t get a good look at him before, so Clarke takes the time to look at him now. He’s not all that much taller than she is, but the breadth of his shoulders feels worrying, somewhat. His skin is marked with a array of calluses and scars, white against his tanned skin, and the deft, sure movements he makes confirms that he’s every inch the warrior he’s promised to be. Swallowing, she steps forward, meeting his gaze. His face remains carefully blank, same as before, when Kane had told her that they’d be married. In hindsight, marrying a total stranger may not have been one of Clarke’s brightest ideas.

Or: Arranged Marriage AU. Clarke seals an alliance with the Broadleaf clan by marrying Bellamy Blake.

Best Past Relationship

KNOWING ME, KNOWING YOU by caramelle @mellamymake

In hindsight, staying in the apartment he shares with his ex probably isn’t the best idea Bellamy’s ever had. Probably not his worst either, to be fair.

Or, the one where Bellamy and Clarke break up and, instead of moving out, somehow find themselves in a heated prank war.

I FEEL IT IN MY FINGERS by lightyears

It’s a short wait for the patient to arrive once Clarke gets herself organised. She stands out at the emergency entrance for all of three minutes before the ambulance comes to a stop in front of her, Jasper jumping out of the driver’s seat and rounding to the back to open the rear door. Clarke’s right behind him, watching as the patient is pulled out on a gurney, and getting ready to take action, just like she’s done countless times over the years. But instead of grabbing ahold of the stretcher railing to help wheel the patient inside, asking Monty what happened, what his initial evaluations found, she falters in her step, feels the air get knocked from her all at once. Because she recognises that boy, warm brown skin sprinkled with freckles, unruly inky curls and a jawline so sharp it could cut glass. She recognises him despite the ten years that have passed and the bruises and cuts scattered across the skin free from his clothes. She recognises him and it makes her world stop. “Bellamy,” Clarke breathes out.

[words-and-fangirling-wonder]

I is for Idiots

Wait, what? What is this? Another chapter? A prompt update? Help! Someone has obviously kidnapped the real author and replaced her with an alien who is actually productive!

Ahem. Anyway, here’s a chapter about Kid and Killer being idiots who don’t communicate! Enjoy!

Author: fangirlwonder (wordsandwonder on AO3)

Pairing: Kid/Law

Prompt: Idiots

Rating: Teen, but only for swearing and stuff, I don’t know I’m bad at rating

Unbeta’d

Being in his old room was weird for Kid. After all, he’d made a lot of memories in here. The carpet was still speckled with grease spots where he’d tinkered with various car parts without laying anything down to catch spills or drips. Posters featuring scantily clad women posing provocatively with muscle cars were still stuck to his walls with thumbtacks. Even after he was long gone, his mom hadn’t changed a thing. This was the first room he actually had to himself since Bonney was born, in the first decent house he’d even lived in. He’d spent countless hours flipping through car magazines and reading how-to manuals at that desk. He’d lost his virginity on that twin bed, and it still squeaked like crazy every time he moved around too much on it. But the thing that was currently giving him pause as he packed up his things was the old, battered shoe box he’d just found in his closet. He hadn’t really thought anything of it when he pulled it out. He was a notorious pack-rat, so it wasn’t the first random box he’d come across, and he wasn’t anything particularly exciting or important to be in it.

He was wrong.

Once he cleared the disgustingly thick layer of dust off the lid he could see the messy, faded lettering scratched onto it that read: Kid and Killer’s Time Capsule. Do Not Open For 10 Years!

He remembered making this thing, though he couldn’t quite picture what he’d put in there. Knowing how he and Killer were at thirteen-years-old, he guessed there was probably at least one porn magazine, and probably a bunch of dumb crap with absolutely no explanation. Curious, he began to lift the lid, but something stopped him before he could open it fully. This wasn’t just his, it was his and Killer’s.

And just where the fuck was that asshole, anyway?

He’d been awake for four weeks now, and out of the hospital for one of them. And he knew Killer had been to visit him almost every day when he was in that coma, because Law told him as much. At first, he’d been too thankful that Killer had come out of the fire pretty much unscathed, aside from a concerning amount of smoke inhalation, to be upset at not seeing him. Then he’d been too distracted with therapy and adjusting to life with a prosthetic to think about the absence of his best friend. But when he started searching for apartments he’d tried to call the blonde and see if he wanted to room together again and it had gone straight to voicemail, and Killer never called him back. So now Kid was simultaneously worried and pissed as hell. For all he knew Killer had complications after getting out of the hospital and was really sick. Or maybe he blamed Kid for the fire. Kid knew that Killer was bad with open flames and should be kept to prep work only in the kitchen if there was a gas stove, yet he still left Killer in charge of cooking rice for his anniversary dinner and went to take a nap. How could he have been so careless? The man had lit his own shorts on fire for fuck’s sake.  Kid wouldn’t blame him at all if Killer resented him.

But the bastard could still have the decency to at least call.

“Eustass? Dare I ask what that poor shoebox ever did to you to deserve such a look?” Law asked from the doorway. His tone was as monotone as ever, but his eyes were slightly concerned as looked at his boyfriend.

It was only then that Kid realized he was gripping the box so tight he was crushing it a little, and that he was glaring fiercely at Killer’s messy writing.

“This fucker,” he muttered, tossing the box onto the bed and standing abruptly to put distance between it and himself. “What the fuck, you know?”

Law arched an eyebrow at him. “Unfortunately, I do not know, Eustass. Perhaps you could elaborate?”

“He’s my best friend. He’s been with me through some of the shittiest parts of my life, and now I don’t hear from him? No call back? Not even a fucking text? What the fuck is up with that? If he’s pissed at me about the fire he could at least say so, right? I mean, fuck.”

“You could always reach out to him again,” Law suggested.

“Nah, forget it. Whatever. He’s a grown ass man, he can do whatever the fuck he wants. If he doesn’t want me in his life anymore then … then … whatever.” To his horror, Kid could feel a lump growing in his throat and his eyes burning. Because pissed or not, the idea of Killer not wanting to ever talk to him again was … painful.

“I’m sure Mr. Killer wants you in his life. Everyone handles stressful situations differently; perhaps he’s just trying to give you space.”

“I appreciate you trying to help, Law, but you don’t know Killer. This isn’t how he copes or whatever,” Kid explained tiredly. “Let’s just … let’s just forget it. I’m almost done sorting through this shit. Those boxes over there can go to Goodwill or somewhere, if you wanna load them in the car.”

Law looked like he wanted to say something more, but he refrained (to Kid’s relief) and simply picked up the nearest box. “Alright then. I’ll take these to a drop-off.”

“Thanks, Law.”

The doctor nodded once and left, leaving Kid alone with his box full of memories.

++++

“Oh no, please, no one else bother. I’ll get it. Not like I was sleeping or anything,” Kid yelled crankily as he went to answer the insistent knocking on the front door.

Al didn’t even bother to look away from the TV show he was watching with his wife. “It’s probably just that bible salesman that keeps coming around. Can’t seem to take no for an answer,” he reasoned with a shrug.

“So tell him you’re perfectly happy worshiping Satan or something,” Kid spat, yanking the door open a bit more aggressively than was strictly necessary. “Look, we don’t want any … oh. Uh, hey man.”

Killer shifted uncomfortably on the porch, his eyes moving quickly away from Kid’s prosthetic and fixing pointedly on his feet. “Hey Kid.”

Fuck. Killer looked like shit. Since Kid had last seen him the blonde had definitely lost weight, making his eyes look a little too big in his face, and his hair seemed thinner and more disheveled than he usually kept it. He was pale too, except for the twin spots of red burning on his cheekbones. Honestly he looked like a shrunken down shell of the man Kid knew, and Kid hated it.

“Well hey, c’mon in. It’s good to see you,” he said finally, stepping back and gesturing for the man to come inside.

“Uh, yeah. Thanks.”

The previously occupied living room was suspiciously empty when Kid led his friend into it. Almost like his sneaky ass family knew it wasn’t a fucking bible salesman at the door. He’d yell at them about that later. Right now he had a very uncomfortable looking Killer to deal with.

“So, uh, how ya been?” Kid asked awkwardly after the two had been sitting in silence for a few minutes.

“Huh? Oh, uh, not bad. You know, just working a lot. How’ve you - I mean, how’re … uh …” Killer trailed off and stared intently at his hands, frowning deeply.

“Okay man, let’s cut the crap. What the fuck is up with you? I don’t hear from you for almost a month and then you show up on my doorstep unannounced looking like shit? Are you drinking again? What’s the deal?”

Killer didn’t lift his gaze from his lap, and Kid had to lean forward to hear his reply. “I just … I came to say I’m sorry,” he whispered brokenly.

“You’re … sorry?” Kid asked blankly. “What - I mean … why?”

“Why?” Killer repeated incredulously, finally looking up at his friend. “Why? Because I almost fucking killed you! Because you almost died saving my life all because I’m a stupid fuck who can’t even make fucking rice, apparently, without burning the fucking house down!”

“Killer, it was an accident,” Kid began, perplexed by Killer’s sudden outburst.

“No, Kid, don’t do that. Don’t say that like it makes it okay. You were in a fucking coma. We didn’t know if you’d wake up! You … you lost your …” Killer’s eyes flicked to Kid’s arm as he drew a shaky breath. “You lost your arm because of me. It’s my fault. I-“

“Wait, no. Shut up a minute.”

Killer’s mouth snapped shut in surprise at Kid’s suddenly rough tone.

“Is this why you didn’t come see me? Why you didn’t call me back? Because you blame yourself for the fire? Because you feel guilty? Well fuck that, Killer. Like, seriously fuck that. That fucking sucks.”

“But how could I possibly face you after-“

“The better question is how could you possibly think I’d blame you? That’s just fucking stupid.”

“But you lost-“

“Killer, you idiot. You think I would rather lose you than my fucking arm? Because that’s fucked up. I’d do it again in a heartbeat, you know? Look, that fire was an accident. It coulda just as easily happened cuz of me. And this?” Kid gestured to his prosthetic. “I don’t blame you at all for this.”

“You’re not … mad?” the blonde asked hopefully.

“Mad? Dude, fuck yeah I’m mad. Are you kidding me? I’m fucking furious.” Killer shrunk back as if Kid had punched him, but the redhead didn’t give him a chance to apologize again. “I’m fucking pissed that you avoided me. I was fucking worried about you, man. Law told me you were okay, but still, when I didn’t hear from you even after I got out of the hospital? That sucked. I’m pissed that you’re obviously not taking care of yourself, too. You look like shit right now. I didn’t fucking save you from that fire for you to let guilt eat you alive, so what the fuck? If you’re gonna come over here all sheepish and shit to apologize you can apologize for not taking care of yourself. You can apologize for not visiting, or calling. But don’t fucking apologize for the fire, man. Don’t apologize that I pulled you out, because no matter what I lost I’m sure as hell not sorry that I did it.”

To Kid’s surprise, his speech made Killer’s lips twitch into a small smile. “Yeah, Law said you’d say that,” he admitted quietly.

“Law?”

“Yeah, when he tracked me down and all but kicked my ass for avoiding you.”

“Huh. And when exactly did he do that?” Kid asked, slumping back in his seat. He wasn’t sure at what point in his little tirade he’d leaned forward and clenched his fist, but he was feeling a little stupid for it now. He’d sounded like his damn mom.

“Yesterday.”

So basically right after Kid had ranted about being pissed and hurt that Killer was avoiding him. That sneaky bastard.

“So … you’re really okay, then?” Killer asked tentatively.

“Yeah, I’m actually doing really well. Packing up all my shit right now cuz I’m about to move in with Law.”

“Wow, congrats. That’s a big step.”

“Yeah,” Kid agreed absently. “I tried seeing if you wanted to room together again, you know.”

Killer had the decency to look ashamed. “Yeah, sorry. I was just …”

“Yeah, yeah. Well, you got a place at least?”

The blonde nodded. “It’s a shitty little studio, but it’s real close to the shop, which is nice. And the rent is cheap so I’m not complaining.”

“Cool. So …”

“Yeah?”

Kid’s expression turned stern. “You calling your sponsor or am I? And don’t you dare try to tell me you’re not drinking. I’ve been around long enough to know the fucking signs.”

Killer heaved a sigh. “I’ll call him.”

“Good.” They sat in silence for a moment before Kid remembered the box he’d found the day before. “Hey, you wanna see something?”

“Uh … sure?”

“Come with me.” Kid led his friend to his room and gestured for him to take a seat on the bed as he fished the box out from the closet again.

“Man, being back here brings back memories, huh?” Killer murmured, looking around at the posters fondly.

“Yeah,” Kid agreed. “And speaking of memories, check this out.”

Killer took the box curiously, turning it so he could read the message. “Oh shit, our time capsule. How old were we when me put this thing together?”

“Thirteen. You wanna open it? It’s been ten years.”

For the first time in far too long Killer gave Kid a genuine smile. “Yeah. Hah … kinda excited to see what our treasures used to be.”

“Ten bucks says there’s porn in there,” Kid challenged jokingly.

Killer laughed. “Alright, you’re on. Let’s open this bad boy up.”

[zygomatic-process-2018]

Breaking The Wheel

For years I have lived a life of safe decisions. Situations and circumstances from my childhood led me to believe that one false move could destroy my life. This may have been the birth of my perfectionism and OCD tendancies. I honestly felt that every decision I had to make had to be the right one so I wouldn’t end up broke, alone and homeless. 

As a child I experienced things that made me believe that I would never get ahead in life. I thought I wasn’t very smart, that I didn’t have a lot to offer the world and that I was destined to live a bad life. Let’s please remember that a child’s perception can be molded when properly attended to but adults rarely attend to themselves, let alone their children.  I don’t recall people asking me about how I felt about anything, how my friendships were going, etc. I didn’t feel comfortable to share anything, and no one prompted so I have kept most of my life to myself. Regardless of the events of my life, this is no one’s fault but my own. My fault starts when I learned of a better way to live but acted in the same old ways that I always did out of fear. I hope that makes sense. 

A lifetime of “safe” decisions led me down a path of a life that wasn’t really for me. I followed direction of adults around me, all the way up until I was 30. It was around that time that I realized I wasn’t truly happy. I had made decisions out of fear and what I thought was going to happen. Life has taught me how to prepare for the worst, because in my mind, nothing good ever happens to me. Good things appear because I’ve worked for them, not because anything was gifted to me or fell in my lap. While my peers took family time for granted, I struggled to find direction in a broken home.

Thoughts are powerful. They shaped major events in my life by creating stories that weren’t true or creating worst case scenarios that weren’t actually happening. The fear of what could happen caused me to make decisions regarding the safety of my spiritual, emotional, physical and mental well-being. They shaped what I thought I would amount to. I believed I didn’t bring anything to the table because I learned early on that if I was perfect, everyone would leave me alone and I wouldn’t feel as bad about myself. I was sensitive and any form of criticism was an attack on me, because everything I had done in my life was ME driven. Although the decisions were made out of fear, they were still mine. Any criticism of my actions meant that there was something flawed with me as a human. I didn’t realize that my thinking could be flawed and I could still be a good person. I associated people’s perception of me on a scale of self-worth. I didn’t have a guide to show me how it didn’t matter what anyone thought, it only mattered what I thought. I chose not to have a guide. I could have talked to someone about how I felt, but I never felt safe doing so. I would cry at things people thought were odd and I was labeled emotional. No one took the time to ask me why I was crying, they just wanted me to stop. This is where I learned to shut off my emotions and at certain emotional points (even today), I completely shut down and become transactional. People think it’s because I’m cold and I don’t care. It’s actually the opposite. I care too much and at the times I feel like my heart can’t take what is happening, I become completely numb. Years of therapy have taught me that this is a learned behavior that is considered a coping mechanism for childhood trauma. I haven’t begun to dig through that, so I’ll have to put a pin in that one. it’s hard to believe the compliments that are given to me, even now. I always think people are being nice or doing that thing you learn in kindergarten where you give compliments equally to the class so no one feels left out.  I’m slowly learning things aren’t always what I think they are and I’m practicing positive thinking because my thinking is broken. “You know nothing, Jon Snow.”

For me, safe decisions were the ones where I had little to lose. I would choose the options where I would seemingly win but remained unchallenged. I only did things I was good at because why do anything that will make you look bad? I stayed loyal to friends whose morals and character didn’t align with my own. I didn’t want to watch people tag each other doing fun stuff on Facebook, and it’s sad to see how far I sold myself short just to be liked. I remained a workaholic and my body started paying the toll with complete exhaustion, anxiety and an eating disorder.  Never once did I think that I should calm down. I thought I was working toward a promotion that never came. I dove into 12 step work and their society with full force. If I was going to be in recovery, I was going to do it all and be the best I could be. I went to college full time on top of all of that because I thought for sure a degree would solve my problems. Clearly if I’m writing about these things, these decisions weren’t the best ones. I didn’t choose these things because i wanted them. I chose them because they were the least scary of all options available to me at the time. That is not a way to live, it’s a way to survive. Pretty intense right? Learning how fearful I really am has been a hard pill to swallow. I always thought I was tough; I scare grown ass men for a living after all. Turns out I was just afraid of life and clueless on how to live it. 

Somehow along the way, I woke up to what I was doing. I was 30. I made the “mistake” of trying to unpack years of baggage before taking the lifelong commitment of marriage. It felt like the right thing to do because I didn’t think there was that much to work through. It was worth it to be a good wife, so I faced my problems head on. I am a bull in a china shop; all confrontation and sharp edges. Gentleness and fragility rarely see the light of day in my life. See life had taught me that nothing could hurt you if you stayed hard. I would tell myself, “Don’t let anyone close, you can’t trust anyone, they always leave or hurt you, just give them enough so you can have fun but never give them every part of you.”I spent a lifetime toughening up and really didn’t think I had that much to work on. I thought for sure that the 6 years I had done in recovery had solved the majority of my issues. 

For anyone that doesn’t know, 12 step work is very challenging. There is a reason people become addicted to things (people, substances, events, places, you name it and it’s most likely an addiction to someone). Life is hard. Not everyone has been given a framework for the harsh realities of what happens through the course of one lifetime. I became delusional as to what my life was and lost meaning in my value as a person…if I ever valued myself to begin with.

I am not alone in this. Just look around you at the habits of others. Most people spend lots of time in traffic surrounded by road rage, they have a few drinks after work to take the edge off, they plop down in front of the tv and zone out for a few hours. There is so much content out there that you only get to watch a few episodes of something and all of a sudden it’s bedtime; the entire routine starts again. Now imagine that routine is unbreakable because it’s become too easy or you’ve become too dependent on it. You work super hard and your tolerance to whatever your “escape of choice” is gets bigger so you need just a little bit more. But that little bit adds up over time and all of a sudden you can’t stop this routine. No matter how bad it gets, you just can’t stop. 

This for me was alcohol and the thought of living without my crutch seemed impossible. I wasn’t a full blown alcoholic yet, but I identified with the beginning stages of alcoholism. I’m smart enough to know that the alcoholic road is scarier than facing reality, so fear really saved me here. My decision, which was based on fear, was to stop drinking. I went where my friend led me and I have been without alcohol for 10 years. 

Through various stages of recovery I have gotten the opportunity to dig through my thought processes and see patterns of behavior that I don’t want. I had to be ready to see that though. I find that people don’t want to look at themselves or their actions. It’s easier to get into that routine, and partake in bad behavior like gossiping, giving “constructive criticism” which code for insulting people under the guise of being helpful, leading potential partners on so you feel desired, shunning people because it makes you feel superior, etc. I believe that this is why people are unhappy. They distract themselves to avoid the hard work of living. They carry stress and worry with them; it’s quite a heavy load. 12 step recovery is designed to help you work through your issues using a spiritual and altruistic approach. It gave me purpose and direction at times, when I was able to help others in recovery. 

The first time I went through the steps with a sponsor I was skeptical. I liked what she had: a husband, a house, a dog, a full time job, etc. That was the ideal life and I thought I was lucky if I got just one of those. I never thought all of them were possible for me because I couldn’t stop my terrible routine, nor did I think a person like me could be worthy of anything so special. My first round of steps I treated as a homework assignment. At the ripe age of 24, I still had a child’s mentality. I had lived on my own for 6ish years and had the maturity of a 17 year old. I was rebellious but I also knew how to play the role of a goodie-two-shoes. I had spent my entire life filling roles to get by in life. I felt as if I could play any part in a movie because experience had taught me how to blend in. I remember handing my sponsor a written out inventory that had a cover on it as if I were turning in a college paper. When she told me I had to read it out loud to her rather than have her read it out loud, I died inside. I didn’t want to say the things I had written down. The things I had written down was all the pain, suffering, anger, resentment, hate, and events where I had been a victim of someone else’s bad behavior. To say them out loud meant that I had to acknowledge that these events happened and it was the first time I would have to do something about them. I had lived years avoiding feeling anything, that this was mind-blowing. Even worse, the biggest part of the inventory is where you see what your part in the situation was. Often alcoholics like to only focus on the other party’s fault and never to take ownership of their own part. Normal people act this way too, but I’m sticking with what I know. So now I had to see what actions I took in response to the things on the list.

Needless to say, the first inventory was surface level crap. It didn’t get down to the causes and conditions the way my next inventory went. The next one came at a time where I was humbled beyond belief. I had just come out of a break-up with a narcissist and had no idea how to navigate life. I was 3 years in to physical sobriety and I had zero emotional sobriety. I had followed direction of my 12 step support group but their direction didn’t give me the results I wanted. Quite frankly, the results I wanted weren’t true to me, they were other people’s desires I felt I should have. I had unrealistic expectations. At that time, I only did things if it meant that I would get something in return. I wasn’t truly helpful; I was a selfish child masquerading around as an adult on a high horse. I thought I was spiritual when really I had no clue about anything on the spiritual realm. The amount of work I did to overcome this was painful but I uncovered areas of my life that needed attention. 

The sponsor I had at the time recognized so many things about me that I hadn’t seen and probably things I still don’t see. I followed suggestion (which is dangerously known by the civilian name of “commands” in 12 step culture) like the good 12 stepper that I am, but I still felt as if I was following a life that didn’t fit. I jumped around recovery groups for a while but realized that the life I wanted meant that I needed to step off the paved path of 12 step recovery groups and onto the rugged road of living life for myself. It was hard to walk away because I had thrown myself so far into that realm that I didn’t really know how to live anymore. 

12 step programs are known for poor behavior, which is really a disservice to the program. Everyone has an uncle/brother/sister/friend/etc who was once in a 12 step program but has since left. 12 step program’s own members shoot themselves in the foot by avoiding the hard work of uncovering, discovering and discarding character defects and habits. 12 step groups provide a lot of structure, but at a certain point that structure can become a prison for those of us who see the program for what it is. The program encompasses spiritual principles, and the people in the group aren’t supposed to be authority figures. Why these groups find the need to name a Messiah of the group is beyond me. I don’t blame the Messiah of the group either. If I were put on a pedestal even after doing horrendous things to my spouse, friends or other group members, I would eat that $hit up too. Just call me Mary Harris and carry my step stool peasants. 

::insert bright white light and parted clouds:: 

Celebrate me in all my glory!

Oh and don’t forget to bring the Krispie Kreme donuts on time or Old Timer Hernandez will character assassinate you behind your back. Don’t you dare cross her either. She is program famous and will make your life miserable. <—Why do you people put up with crap like that? Are you really that weak and scared to stand up for yourself?

I’m personally waiting for the day to run into some of these people so I can tell these people what the rest of the world thinks of them, since program members can’t do it themselves for whatever reason. Someone has to say something, or the behavior will continue or get worse. The real world (which I’m now a part of for once) doesn’t care if your water cups are poured correctly. Set yourself free and let go of these idiotic rules people make. Why do you want to be a part of their group so bad? Is it so you can have the notoriety of belonging to a prestigious group? Is it because you are too scared to try something else? They do scare you by telling you that if you leave the group, you will drink and you will die. They also tell you that “the people who left the program must not be doing well because they never come back to tell us that it’s good. They only come back with horror stories.” <—yeah, because once we see your group’s insanity for what it is, you run and never look back. Why would we come back? I’d gladly do 10 mins and inform you of the benefits of leaving, but until I’m asked, I guess I’ll just have to write about them.  

Some of these groups are glorified forums for character defects and the slogans in the group go something like this: “Suit up and show up no matter what” “My feet are trained to go to meetings no matter what.” “No matter what” is a huge deal for these people, but it eliminates critical thinking from the equation. When members are taught “no matter what,” some go to the extreme and sacrifice work, family obligations, and self-care in order to fit in. I know I did, and it took a toll on me. I realized that I was willing to do the work “no matter what” and I did it. Yet I was surrounded by people who spoke the same way as I did, but their actions told a different story. I no longer wanted what these people had because I could finally see through them for what they were. They were alcoholics with no clue on how to run their own lives, and instead of working on themselves, they would use their sponsees to inflate their egos. There were unspoken contests of how many “babies” you had, which was code for how many sponsees found your life attractive enough to ask you for help with their own lives.  If you didn’t have any, you were worthless, unattractive, and you better hurry up & get your $hit together or you’ll drink/die. If you had a tough life event and you weren’t sure why the event was happening to you, members would ask a series of questions, searching for the one thing you weren’t giving over to the program. Questioning goes something like this: 

-How many meetings are you going to per week? “Correct” answer: if under 3 years of sobriety, you should be at a meeting every day. Over 3 years, you should be going to no less than 3 per week. 

-How many “babies” do you have? If the answer is zero or a single digit number, you were instructed to get new member phone numbers and in essence force yourself into their life because it will magically make your life better. 

-How many panels do you have? These are meetings that are taken into hospitals or institutions. If the answer is zero, you better go get one. If the answer is one, the follow-up question is “why only one?”

-When was your last inventory? It doesn’t matter what the answer is, it’s always time for a new one. 

When the members stumble on the one out of one thousand things you aren’t doing perfectly, that is your prognosis and you better hurry up to fix it. It was never an explanation of life being life. If something bad was happening and you were struggling, it was always your fault because you weren’t doing enough program work. In my own quest for freedom, I found flaws in myself that I wanted to be rid of, but I also found flaws in the support group members that clearly weren’t a priority to amend. I couldn’t take them seriously anymore because I started seeing these people for what they were. They too were alcoholics and I no longer believed that their answers were right for my life. I was scared but this was the first move in the right direction to freedom. This was the moment I separated myself and my belief in the spiritual principles from the group at large. I knew better and I finally had the courage to act better. 

This was the most radical decision I had ever made. I was leaving the safe nest of comfort for the dark and scary forest of fear. I felt like I had no choice in the best way possible. “I stood at a turning point and asked God for His care and protection with complete abandon.” I am proud to say that this life I have now is mine. It’s not based on anyone else’s wants or needs. I’m not doing what someone thinks is best for me. I’m not following someone else’s path and getting upset that the path was wrong. No, I am taking ownership of who I am and I’m facing life head-on. The battles I’m fighting are emotional, mental and spiritual. It’s an inside job and only I can take action on the changes that need to be made. I’d hate to be the one to say this, but although the program helped me create a slight foundation, I feel it did more harm than good for me. It works for some people, but for me it created confusion. 

I want to leave you with this. You have one life. One. Single. Life. Why spend time worried or live suffering when there are other ways out there to live? Why blindly follow what a group of people tell you instead of making your own decisions? Please know that not all advice given to you is from a pure place. Some people want you to fail because it validates their complacent life (e.g. “See that’s why I don’t XYZ. Mary XYZ’d and she failed. At least I’m not a failure like her.”). You might only tell people half truths where you always look like the good guy <—advice given in response to an inaccurate story will NEVER work. You might be surrounded by the best people with the best intentions and their advice still doesn’t work, because it’s not aligned with your Truth. My unsolicited advice: follow the path that makes you feel happy, joyous and free. You can always change your future by changing paths but you can’t change your past decisions. Live in a way that gets you the life you want not the life that is given to you by default. You deserve better than what you have, but it’s up to you to do the work.