#bulma x vegeta | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gripefroot · 6 months

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hi!! i saw that your requests are open, but i've never sent a request before so if i'm a clown and misunderstanding how this works just uhh block me lmao

i like the sensory prompts "the residual fear and anxiety of waking up from a nightmare" and "the muffled sounds you hear when you're underwater," and vegebul!

godspeed 🙏

Something about Bulma sleeping made him want to stay in bed.

He needed far less sleep than her, it was true. And he had far better things to do than linger: a part of him urged him to train and train and train, as it always had, and always would. But training was much the same, day in and day out, apart from occasional breakthroughs. Watching Bulma sleep, however, was always different.

Sometimes she slumped over at her desk, halfway through a mathematical equation or still clutching a wrench. Sometimes she passed out cold sitting up on the couch while a movie played in front of her. Sometimes she nodded off during a car rid, head bobbing until he relented and scooted over so her head could rest on his shoulder. For no other reason than to preserve her hard head from cracking the window of the car and getting blamed for it. No other reason at all.

But at night, when the world slept, Bulma didn’t fade quietly between one task and the next. She fussed. She tossed and turned and sighed and often made comments he could never tell if he was expected to respond or not. She rubbed her eyes and pulled the blankets up and then kicked them back down and took off her socks and rebraided her hair and then, two hours later, she drifted off.

Vegeta hated it.

Why did she have to be so busy? And when she was supposed to rest, nonetheless? He might sleep better if she wasn’t so loud and annoying. He’d sleep better in his own bedroom, but he hadn’t had the heart to retreat. Not when she was sprawled out and he was pushed to the edge, and her hair had fallen out of her braid to strew over her pillow and her shoulder rose and fell. Her pajamas—if they could be given the dignity of being called clothing—twisted and rode up her body, exposing all his favorite bits and hollows of her.

That was why he stayed. It suited his ego better than to settle on any other reason.

He’d never met anyone who slept like her. No soldier would expose their back in such a way; to sleep without armor or really, any decent clothing at all, and no weapon anywhere within reach. Bulma, naturally, needed no weapon. Vegeta was enough of one. He could guard her against anything.

Rolling onto his side, he nudged her leg out of his space. She mumbled something incoherent. He looped an arm around her waist and pulled her against his chest.

If he wasn’t going to train…if he wasn’t going to seek restful sleep in his own space…he may as well take advantage of it.

Her hair tickled his nose. Against his will, his eyes closed.

If he hadn’t been holding her, he wouldn’t have noticed when she started to tremble. He felt it long before he opened his eyes, thinking she was cold. His body heat would take care of that soon enough. But it didn’t stop, her limbs twitching at odd times in odd directions before the tiniest moan filled the room louder than a blast.

Vegeta’s eyes flew open, his arm tensing around her waist.

“Bulma?” His voice was jagged. From being startled, not from fear. Not because he’d never seen her so pale, nor sweat break out at her hairline. Her brows were pinched together, shoulders curved inwards as if to protect herself. Vegeta hoisted himself onto his fist, staring at her expression.

What was—was it a nightmare? That couldn’t be right. She was no soldier. She’d participated in no wars, leveled no weapons at villages where babies were rocked to sleep. Was she sick? Yes, she must be sick. It was logical: the season was turning, and humans often got ill when the weather cooled.

“Bulma,” he tried again, shaking her shoulder. “You need medicine. Go get medicine.”

She cried out again, face burying in her pillow before she startled awake with a gasp. Sudden flying limbs sent Vegeta jumping back out of her small range, not wanting an accidental black eye. Bulma scrambled around, breaths coming in short puffs as she grabbed at the blankets, at her shirt, at anything. Disoriented. She’d come ‘round in a minute.

“Do you have a fever?” Vegeta asked.

She whirled around, eyes too-bright and blinking rapidly at his face. He waited, cross-legged at the end of her bed.

“V—vegeta?”

“Who else would I be?” he snapped. “Do you need medicine or not?”

She hadn’t come around. By the glazed look in her teal eyes, she was miles away. No, further than that. A pit gnawed in his stomach at the fear that made her bottom lip tremble, at the way she pulled the blankets up to her chest, trying to kick herself away from him but only hitting the headboard.

Lightyears away.

Vegeta closed his eyes briefly, and sighed.

He couldn’t guard her against himself.

“You’re not on Namek,” he said roughly, opening his eyes again. He wanted to scowl, but didn’t, forcing himself to at least look neutral as he tried to bring her to the present. “You’re on Earth, Bulma. You’re safe.”

Safe was, of course, always relative. And she might be terrified of him from whatever nightmare she’d been having, but he wouldn’t hurt her.

He could have. He might have. But he hadn’t.

It was a feeble excuse to offer, but it was the only one he had. No excuses for his past and few apologies. Bulma had rightfully been terrified of him on Namek, as she’d once laughingly told him. When Vegeta had asked if she was still scared of him, she’d joked that she couldn’t be frightened of someone as secretly soft and sweet as he was. He’d hated that answer.

He hated it because he wished it were true, and not just her affection for him coloring her opinion.

Each of Bulma’s breaths lifted and lowered her chest. Hair stuck to her damp face, her bare legs extended. Vegeta might have approached her, if he weren’t the object of her nightmare. Touched her to calm her, give her one more verbal reassurances before his patience wore out.

“I’m…this isn’t Namek.” Bulma’s voice was a thin warble. He didn’t like it. He’d take her shouting at him over this weakness.

“No,” Vegeta said.

“You’re…not here to kill me.”

Kill her? He’d rather kill himself.

“No,” he said again. The word cracked when it came out.

“No,” Bulma said. The glossiness was leaving her eyes, focusing on him. “You wouldn’t. You love me.”

Vegeta’s mouth fell open.

“Oh…” She pinched the bridge of her nose, apparently utterly unmoved by the damning accusation she’d just uttered. “That was a bad one. I haven’t had a nightmare of Namek for months. I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

“I wasn’t sleeping,” Vegeta snapped. “And I don’t love you.”

Bulma’s lips twitched. And when she lowered her hand she looked on the verge of a giggle. The hairs on the back of his neck rose. Vegeta’s weight held on his fists on the bedspread, ready to jump right out of bed and leave. This was ridiculous.

“Well, I love you,” she said. She sounded more himself, so he tried not to be bothered by the turn of the conversation. “Thank you for waking me up. And not leaving.”

“I’ll go.” Vegeta swung his legs over the side of the bed.

“No!” Her hand seized his arm, pulling him back with fragile strength. He could break away, but her touch was a thousand gossamer threads, tying them together. He sucked in a breath.

“You had a nightmare about me,” he said. He didn’t look over his shoulder, didn’t meet her eyes.

“No,” Bulma said. “It was…it was about hanging on a cliff and my hands slipping. And then f—falling. Falling forever.” Her fingernails dug into the flesh of his forearm.

“You don’t need to fear that,” Vegeta said in a harsh voice. “If you found yourself in such a situation in the future, I would catch you.”

It was quiet for a moment. Then, “I know. Please stay.”

If he left, he could sleep somewhere else. If he left, he wouldn’t have to see that look on her face again; the one where she’d still thought he would kill her. If he left, he wouldn’t have to keep lying through his teeth.

“I have to leave early to train,” he said.

Bulma’s grip softened. “I won’t wake you up again.”

“You’re a menace to sleep beside.” But with a grunt Vegeta relented, anyway. Her eyes were magnified; by the late hour or the blue nightlight on the wall. She wasted no time pulling him into her arms, where he went with only a single growl of protest. Her leg hooked over his and the top of her head was snug beneath his chin. Until she tilted her head back to kiss the underside of his jaw.

“Stop that.” Vegeta pushed her head back into place. “Go to sleep.”

“If you’re getting up early…we may as well now.”

“I don’t understand you,” he said. “You wake up thinking I’m here to kill you and then you wish for me to make love to you?” She was already squished against his chest, by her own strength and his holding her around her shoulders. Not even a spiderweb could pass between their bodies. Vegeta would have liked to remain aloof, but the suppleness of her body and the way her cheek nuzzled his chest made his blood surge.

“It would be a good reminder,” Bulma chirped.

“Reminder of what?”

“That time has passed…we’re not on Namek anymore…” She sighed, trying to scoot closer. Which was, of course, impossible. “I no longer think you’d cart me off to a distant planet to have your way with me.”

Vegeta rested his cheek against the top of her head. Because it was there. No other reason. “Then you don’t know me as well as you think,” he said. Because few things sounded more enticing than him and Bulma and an empty planet right about then. Her parents had a tendency to…interrupt.

“Well,” Bulma said after a moment. “Fine. You could still do that. But I’d be happy about it.”

He wanted to smile. But she’d feel his face move and she couldn’t know that she amused him.

Maybe she already knew. How awful.

“Go to sleep,” Vegeta said again, for what felt like the tenth time. “If you truly want, I’ll delay my training in the morning.”

Her tiny ‘yay’ made him want to smile again. So he frowned instead.

“Vegeta,” Bulma said a while later, when her voice was thick was bleariness and he’d tracked her heartbeats until they were slow and even again. For no other reason than to make sure she wouldn’t have another nightmare and inconvenience him again. “You don’t have to say it. I already know.”

“Say what?”

But she didn’t respond. Fast asleep.

Annoying of her, wasn’t it? To drop off without explanation? Because now he wouldn’t get his answer and likely by morning she’d forget what she’d been about to say.

Not for any other reason. Not because he liked talking with her, or listening to her. Not because while she was asleep, he couldn’t protect her from her own imagination. And certainly not because he loved her.

#vegebul #dbz fanfic #bulma x vegeta #drabble requests

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