#soft!vegaspete

[magicaldreamfox1]

Soft Tummy Pete Appreciation Post — part 2

[artfreaksmeout]

Day 11: VegasPete - Naps

I feel like both, Vegas and Pete struggled with sleeping due to their unpredictable and chaotic lives. Pete had to be alert because he was a guard and Vegas had to be alert because he was in the Mafia and his dad. So after the events of KP they definitely started sleeping better and now Macau often finds them cuddled up and taking naps at random times because they finally feel safe enough to do that.

[khathastrophe]

every time someone portrays Pete with abs an angel loses its wings

[kinnporschegl]

more vegaspete...

[peachym00]

one year later

Pete has some thoughts about his relationship with Vegas, one year since it began.

A bright light in the early morning awakens Pete.

Neither of them remembered to close the curtains before they went to sleep. The sheer netting over the windows does nothing to block out the sunbeam filtering over them. And so, at 05:57 in the morning, the sunrise pours in, waking Pete from his restful slumber.

Somehow Vegas never seemed to be affected.

Pete wrenches his eyelids open, squinting at the brightness whilst Vegas snores happily. It was a weekly argument for them, but it didn’t stop it from repeatedly happening.

Though on this morning, as he sighed through his usual routine of willing himself to get out of bed to close the stupid curtains, Pete felt different. As he opened his eyes, though tired and capable of hours more sleep, he didn’t feel the same urgency to close them again.

Pete stretched his body, the tingle of his muscles loosening, shooting all the way down to his toes. He was laid out flat, and he turned to find Vegas on his side facing him. His back was to the window, which would explain how he was still asleep, though Pete knew this didn’t actually matter, he could shine a torch directly in Vegas’s face, and if he was sleeping deep enough, he would not wake up.

Pete couldn’t help but stare at how relaxed Vegas looked. It had taken a long time for Vegas to show any kind of tranquillity, and even now, it was still a work in progress. For both of them, if he’s being honest.

Their journey so far had not been easy, and its continuation wouldn’t pretend to be. There would always be room for sadness and crippling bouts of anger in-between all the tenderness that their relationship holds. It was incandescent, in a way, almost too bright and too hot, like a phenomenon too inexplainable to anyone willing to listen.

When things were tough, and life was harsh, Pete would often wonder what it would be like if he’d chosen a different path. What it would be like if he hadn’t accepted the job as a main family bodyguard and if every choice he’d made so far hadn’t led him to where he was today. But imagining a world where Vegas wasn’t the very being that kept him tethered to the ground was impossible. Because even though the red strings of fate had only allowed their lives to be intertwined for such a short amount of time, it felt as if they’d been together for years, centuries even. And thinking of a life where Vegas did not hold him close was unimaginably lonely.

And perhaps that was the most terrifying thing he’d ever faced; to be so devoted to someone that it would kill you to lose them.

Sometimes it felt like Pete was walking through a dream and that nothing in his life was real. Vegas would do something mundane, like drool on Pete’s shoulder after falling asleep through Iron Man 3, and it would be so wholly human, so normal, that it would feel like Pete was making it up.

Their entire lives had been anything but ordinary, from their childhoods to their careers; nothing about how they’d lived could be considered normal. This was why Pete struggled to accept that this was something his life had become. To think that he was allowed the simple pleasure of a hand to hold, a shoulder to cry on when he was sad, and lips that would kiss him simply because they wanted to was something that, at times, Pete struggled to accept.

Choice wasn’t something he was used to. But choosing to spend the rest of his life with Vegas was something he would never regret.

And even now, as he chose to admire the sunlight sweeping over Vegas’s slowly waking form instead of getting out of bed, Pete couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. Vegas had been growing his hair out, and it fell across his forehead in dark strands. His hand was underneath his pillow as his other reached out towards Pete as if Vegas was making sure he stayed close, even as they slept. He looked at this man in his bed, and his breath was taken away because this was his. Vegas and his heart, soul, and very being belonged to Pete, as Pete’s heart, soul, and very being belonged to Vegas.

Nobody in the world but Pete got to have this, this exact moment, with this exact man, in this exact life.

And it was divine.

“It’s fucking bright in here,” Vegas grumbled, his voice croaking, squinting his eyes open as he grabbed Pete’s arm and pulled him close.

“It wouldn’t be if you closed the curtains last night,” Pete muttered, pressing himself to Vegas as close as physically possible, hiding a smile into his sternum as he imagined Vegas rolling his eyes.

“Why is it only my fault? You could have done it,” Vegas’s lips pressed to his temple, and Pete felt like he was glowing with happiness. “Oh wait, no, you couldn’t; your legs were shaking so much after I–”

Pete punched him in the arm. “So you admit it is your fault I woke up at the crack of dawn on a Sunday morning when I could still be peacefully knocked out.”

Instead of answering, he felt Vegas smile against his temple, and Pete closed his eyes, using Vegas’s neck to block out the light from the window.

“Go back to sleep,” Vegas whispered, holding him tighter, stroking his hand up and down Pete’s back.

Pete did not need to be told twice.

Then when Pete wakes up again, the bed is empty, but their room is blissfully dark.

And it may have only been one year since the cataclysmic start of their relationship, but in the grand scheme of things, it’s a mere blip in their timeline. Their journey will be long and hard and riddled with obstacles, but it will also be full of warm tenderness, bright laughter, and a love that will last a lifetime.

And that, for Pete, is everything.

[iamfujoshiwe]

✨VegasPete : Touching each other's cheek✨

Bonus:

Not THAT cheek, Vegas. Not that cheek.......

[kinn-porsche-forever]

Vegas: (with love in his gaze) What would I have done without you? Pete: (rolls his eyes) Find somebody else to keep chained in your chamber, of course. Vegas: (smirks) What about the part where they perfectly fit- Pete: shuts him up by kissing him Macau: (confused, pressing his ear against the door) Why is the room suddenly silent? (realizes) Of course, they are doing it, again.

[raelle-writing]

Sweet Dreams

Short VegasPete fic, posted as a twitfic and edited a little for Tumblr. Fluff, rated T. 764 words.

At first, sharing a bed was weird, Pete thought. He'd never shared a bed with anyone before Vegas. He'd always slept in twin beds on his own. Perhaps he'd shared a bed briefly, once or twice, on accident, or by necessity. But never ongoing.

But the first night after Vegas woke in the hospital, when Vegas looked at Pete and asked him to climb in bed with him, Pete couldn't say no. And though it was a little weird at first, he gradually relaxed into it.

Now, months later, he couldn't imagine sleeping alone. Couldn't imagine not waking up next to Vegas each morning, and falling asleep with him each night. Those silent moments where they could just hold each other, moments from sleep or waking - they were precious to him.

And to Vegas, too, he could tell. Because Vegas almost always insisted on sleeping curled up around him, somehow. Pete holding him, or the other way around, the two of them touching, even while asleep. Sometimes, Pete woke up with Vegas entirely on top of him, cheek on his chest, sleeping peacefully, and it was one of the best things Pete had ever experienced.

Sometimes, Vegas even napped on him. It was something he'd taken to lately, laying on the couch with his head in Pete's lap and nodding off as Pete played with his hair and read a book, or watched TV. Pete loved him, loved the intimate, soft feeling of knowing Vegas felt safe enough with him to fall so deeply asleep. So even if sometimes Vegas slept so long that Pete's legs cramped up, he'd never complain, or even think about moving. Vegas was too soft and precious for that.

That's where they were on a Friday afternoon when Macau came back from school. Vegas with his head in Pete's lap, asleep, Pete playing with his hair absently with one hand, a book in the other. He glanced up as he heard the front door open and shot Macau a smile and a shushing gesture.

Macau looked blank as he slipped off his shoes, then walked over, expression going oddly soft as he took in the sight of Vegas asleep on the couch. "Oh," he said softly and Pete nodded and smiled. Vegas didn't stir, so he was deeply asleep. Pete kept petting his hair, valuing this soft little moment so much.

Macau didn't go to his room, though, and Pete shot him a questioning glance and blinked as he took on the soft, almost emotional expression on Macau's face as he looked at his older brother on the couch.

"What is it?"

Macau's expression was still watery as he looked at at Pete again. He stepped closer and leaned down so he could speak softly, whispering, "Hia always had nightmares before."

That made Pete blink. Nightmares? Vegas had never had nightmares since they'd shared a bed.

"Really?"

Macau nodded, looking a little sad. "He'd wake up screaming and be up half the night, pacing around. It made him tired and stressed… and he's not like that anymore. Not since you."

Pete's lips parted in surprise, and he glanced down at Vegas' sleeping face in his lap. He looked so peaceful, there, asleep, breathing long and even, no sign of distress on his face. "I had no idea," whispered Pete.

"I think he feels safe around you," murmured Macau, and Pete glanced back to find the younger boy looking soft again, gaze on his older brother's face. Then he glanced up at Pete. "Thank you, P'."

Pete swallowed, throat feeling tight, then offered Macau a small smile. "You don't have to thank me. I didn't do anything."

"I know. But you changed everything, anyway." Macau sighed, then straightened up before murmuring, "I'm going to do homework. Let him sleep a bit more before we make dinner."

"Yeah, okay. I will." Macau walked away and Pete dropped his gaze down to Vegas' face again. "Why didn't you tell me?" he whispered softly.

Vegas didn't stir, breathing still long and even. It made Pete let out a soft, sad, but also contented little sigh, then pick up his book again. Vegas hid a lot of things from him, but that was okay in this case. After all, the nightmares were in the past now.

And if he felt safe enough around Pete to sleep soundly, then Pete would make sure Vegas never slept alone again.

With that thought in mind, he turned his attention back to his book and kept petting his fingers through Vegas' hair, leaving Vegas to his sweet dreams.

[shouyou910]

can I just say one thing or like a few things I guess

I LOVE every single version of vegaspete there is out there. every single like, fanfic version of them

you write them soft?? and careful with each other? they’re not into bdsm and all that shit? yes give it to me I love it

or you write them as unhinged SEX FREAKS yeah? absolutely. spit kink?? choking? face slapping, spanking yeah uh huh I love that shit hand it over

pete being a total pain slut? yuppppp. or pete only wanting soft touches? yessss.

Vegas not liking inflicting pain. Vegas liking it.

I love it all!!! give me all the versions of them. I don’t care what they’re into, or how they like it as long as they’re IN LOVE.

[vegaspetesupremicy]

[badboyvegas]

I’m in my soft Vegas thought hours right now thinking about the safehouse. Vegas seems so comfortable there. When he arrives he touches the back of the couch in such a soft way. He seems very familiar with the house. The kitchen, his books and his reading spot, the garden and the place they buried the hedgehog. It got me thinking that maybe it is not only a safehouse but also a place where his mother was sometimes. If Gun wanted her and the kids out of the minor family mansion when they were children, they probably went there. Maybe they cooked together in the kitchen and Vegas and Macau played in the garden or she read books aloud for them in the little pagoda by the lake. Maybe it was the only place for them to be together and laugh and be a happy family for a while away from Guns anger and harsh words. I would like to think that Vegas has a lot of happy memories there. Maybe some of the only good ones from his childhood before Gun began raising him as heir when he got older. I would also like to think that despite the terrible initial circumstances of Pete and Vegas’ being there, it was also the place where they fell in love. And in my head canon it makes a lot of sense for them to go back there after Vegas is released from hospital and go there to heal. Away from the house where Gun ruled and back to the place where Vegas once was happy to start mend their wounds and start a new life together.

[magicaldreamfox1]

Pete Hands Appreciation Post (for @kissporsche)

[delululover]

Am I only one or did anyone else think that with each passing episode with Vegas Pete became softer and at the end scene at the hospital he looked utterly soft, all the edges of being the "head bodyguard" gone?

[yinwaryuri]

ANYWAY I AM SCREAMING

[fleet-off]

yet another Off the Handle excerpt

from the one where Vegas over-reacts following a dishwasher argument.

Pete drops to his knees, skin showing pink like a burn in his cheeks and the tops of his ears as he lets Vegas apply his sunscreen.

His arms rest across Vegas’s lap, muscles firm against his fingertips. It’s more body contact than they’ve had in nearly a week and it aches a little, the way casual touch does when it’s Pete.

“I don’t need it,” he’s saying, although not particularly protesting, “I spent a lot of time indoors the last few years, but I can handle some sun.”

Vegas massages lotion into his cheeks. “...You’d tell me if you noticed something wrong with your skin.”

“What, like an infection?”

“A rash, a weird mole…”

Pete gives him a funny look. “Yeah, I’d tell you if I were worried about skin cancer.” He butts his face against Vegas’s hand, shocking enough that Vegas nearly jolts back. He gentles his palms for Pete’s face to nestle against. “Really, don’t you think you’d notice first? You know my skin better than I do—you and your mole-biting and your weird ingrown-hair thing.”

Vegas bites back a retort. He shouldn’t have to defend his kinks—they both know Pete’s are weirder. “Tell me anyway,” he says.

Pete frowns. “Sure.” Softening up, “Odd to think of a future long enough that we have to worry about cancer.”

“…Yeah,” Vegas says thickly, and, “Turn around, I need to do your neck.”

Pete’s neck is sweaty already—it really is miserably hot. “We’ll leave by eleven,” Vegas tells him. “Pick up lunch on our way home.”

He pats Pete on the shoulder when he finishes and receives an unexpected kiss on the cheek for the trouble—doesn’t know what to do with it, after days of tension and waiting for the other shoe to drop. Probably he looks a little sunstruck, because Pete smiles and flicks his nose. “Sure you don’t want to get in the water?” he asks. “Just up to your knees? It’ll cool you off.”

“Have fun,” Vegas says, picking up his novel and the pieces of his composure. “And get Macau back here for his turn, will you? He has our mother’s skin.”

[peachym00]

♡ new fic alert ♡

♡ 9k ♡ ❗️explicit❗️♡ marriage proposal ♡ secret wedding ♡ eloping ♡

All these years later, and somehow, even with the devil on his arm, Pete still goes by unnoticed.

It was customary to wake up to several missed calls and messages from Porsche.

All these years later, he still needed far more reassurance than Pete or Vegas had the patience to give him. It’s been a slow, rough journey, but now Vegas was officially an advisor to the minor family (and unofficially, according to every contact who still despised Porsche, the co-leader). Even though Kinn was adamant about presenting a united front and operating as one, there was still a clear separation. (Vegas would always be seen as lesser; that was a fact Pete was sure of.)

A constant buzzing noise worms its way into his ear, dragging him from the comfort of a pleasant slumber. The arm around his waist tightens, pulling him backwards into the warm body slotted behind him. “What the ever-loving fuck is that noise?” The rasp in his ear makes him giggle, and the feel of Vegas kissing the back of his neck makes his body sing with contentment.

“I think it’s my phone,” Pete rasped in reply, wanting nothing more than to launch it from the nearest window.

“If it’s Porsche, I’ll murder him,” Vegas grumbles, sitting up and leaning over Pete to reach his phone, which was still incessantly vibrating against the bedside table. He flopped back down next to him and rolled his eyes as he looked at the screen, swiping his thumb across and answering it. “The fuck do you want?”

A long, loud sigh came from his phone, which Vegas had put on loudspeaker. “And good morning to you too, Vegas. Why do I never get Pete when it’s his phone I’m calling, huh?”

“Try calling at a better time, and maybe he’ll fucking answer for once.”

Pete smiled as he turned and tucked himself back into the warmth of Vegas’s body. Porsche and Vegas had a love-hate relationship. It was (still) a work in progress.

“But I have news—good news, don’t worry,” Porsche said, far too animatedly for the hellishly early hour.

“What kind of news needs to be said at–” Vegas pauses, looking at the phone in his hand to confirm the time, baulking slightly when he realised how early it was, “—six twenty-five in the morning.”

“Kinn proposed—I’m engaged!” He shouted, the words tumbling out of his mouth so quickly that Pete thought it was a miracle he even understood what was said. Silence filled the room, Pete's mouth agape, while Vegas continued to look as if he wished he could throttle Porsche down the phone. “…hello, are you still there?”