#vegas pete angst

[artfreaksmeout]

VegasPete au where Pete is assigned to the Minor family instead of the Main family and becomes Vegas personal Bodyguard.

[bentnotbroken1fanfiction]

It's been six months since Pete and Vegas started living together, and while many things are amazing ( i.e. the many and mutual orgasms)  sometimes Vegas is really…off…

Yes, he is still dealing with the effects of being shot and helping Porsche run the minor family; because Porsche still doesnt know what the fuck he is doing most of the time, but there's something else going on  

Something more.

Something deeper than just the trauma of being shot, or losing his father.

He sees it sometimes when they are having sex, or when it's late at night and Vegas gets quiet and has a far away look on his face. He feels it sometimes when the younger man flinches away from his soft touches, when he doesn't exactly apologize, but says he's just distracted and tired. 

He hears it when Vegas is sleeping and cries out, eyes shifting quickly behind closed lids, quiet moans and protests leaving his lips as his body trembles next to Pete in their shared bed. 

Pete tries to ask him about the nightmares  about the looks, about the times he feels like he's disappearing, but is met with resistance and repeated I’m fine's. 

It doesn't matter, though. 

Vegas doesn't have to admit anything. 

Pete starts piecing things together little by little on his own.  

***

They don't talk about Khun Gun. 

But he’s with them all the same. 

In those first fragile weeks after, when his thoughts and feelings were a festering open wound as raw and real as the ones maring his chest, Vegas would scream, and sometimes he would cry.

Never in front of Macau. 

Never in front of the doctor or nurses. 

Never in front of anyone but Pete. 

Because Pete had stayed. And he knows that means something to Vegas. 

He knows because of the way Vegas holds him and squeezes his hand in the dark hospital room and lets out a bitter angry sound before hissing. “I'm glad he's dead. I fucking hate him.” 

Pete hums in agreement. He's glad the bastard is dead too.  

“I hate what he did…what he made me into, made me do….but a part of me still ….it still loves him….wants to have made him proud.  Fucking ridiculous. I'm so fucking pathetic.” 

The words are heavy, weighted in a strange way that Pete can't quite place. 

He tries to comfort him anyway. “You're not pathetic. He was your father, Vegas. It makes sense that a piece of you will always be a little boy that loves him and hates that he never gave you validation.”

Vegas gives him an unreadable look before muttering, “If you say so.” 

It isn't exactly him accepting Pete’s words, but he takes it as a win. 

Vegas has always liked to play rough. It's one of the things Pete fucking loves about him. He knows just how to get Pete to that distance floaty place where Pete the bodyguard nee-boyfriend ends and Pete the pet begins. He knows just how much and where to hurt him. Vegas loves to tie him up, belt him, flog him, use all the right toys and clamps to make Pete squirm. To make him scream. 

But there is always one thing that he doesn't do that always surprises him. Even that first time, when he was still technically Vegas’ prisoner, even now when they're role-playing and Pete asks to be fucked raw and without any prep….

Vegas's idea of no prep is obviously different than Pete's. 

Because no matter how or what they are doing, Vegas always makes sure he's wet. If not with lube, with copious amounts of spit. Even now, when Pete is practically begging him to shove his fingers inside of him dry, it's like he physically can't do it. He's already shoving his fingers into Pete's mouth to make sure they're coated. A quick don't want you to tear, baby whispered in his ear. 

Pete grunts in disappointment, he wants it to hurt dammit, but he knows this is not something he wants to fight right now when he's so close to having a mind blowing orgasm. 

Instead, he just files his observation away to look closer at it another day. 

***

When Vegas was in the hospital they'd had a lot of time to talk, and while Vegas refused to discuss certain topics in length, (his father's death) he was more than willing to answer Pete's questions. Especially those regarding Porsche. 

It wasn't a…fun…conversation, but since Pete was aware that Vegas was behind his best friend being drugged, he felt like he needed to know how far Vegas had been willing to take it. He'd needed to know if he'd planned to assault him. 

Vegas hadn't shied away from the question. He'd held eye contact and insisted that it had never been his intention to sleep with Porsche. He'd only wanted to leave a few marks to make Kinn think someone had. 

His face had gone a bit tight, his mouth a bit pinched, when he'd added that he didn't Like having unwilling partners and that he had even told Porsche that when he'd left the hickey on his neck. (Porsche  later confirms that he remembered  muffled words being muttered in his ear) 

Pete believes him. 

Mostly because of their own fucked up beginnings. 

Because despite the neck licking, and the wandering hand brushing close to his cock, Vegas hadn't actually done anything explicitly sexual to Pete when he'd caught him. 

It was simply torture, and it had been expected. Sure, It had turned Vegas on, and he'd made a couple lewd remarks, but he hadn't forced himself on Pete. It wasn't until Pete himself kissed him in the safehouse that it became purely sexual. 

And now when they play, when they do scenes, they have safewords and check ins and Vegas always makes sure Pete is good and that he's not too far gone or in too much pain. He gets off on hurting Pete, but he also likes taking care of him afterwards. He's strangely attentive and somewhat tender. 

So he is fairly confident that while Vegas is a sadistic, manipulative asshole most of the time, he actually cares about the consent of his sexual partners. 

Which should be the norm, if you asked Pete  but he knows it isn't. Especially in their line of work. Even Khun Kinn had….

Well….that's beside the point. 

The point is that this is another piece of the puzzle that makes up Vegas and his past that Pete is trying to put together. 

***

Vegas doesn't bottom….

Or he doesn't usually bottom. 

And that's fine with Pete. He is more than happy to be the one getting his back blown out. Prostate orgasms are great, thank you very much. 

But Pete had made a post coital comment about how sexy Vegas's body was and how hot it would be to watch him riding Pete’s cock, and Vegas had said he wouldn't be opposed to that as long as he was on top. 

So they tried it. 

And fuck. Pete had been right.

It was the hottest thing he's ever seen. 

But when he'd moved, lifting Vegas up to flip them over and pin him to the bed, his boyfriend had gone completely rigid and dislodged himself from Pete, moving to the other side of the room  with a deep frown and a quiet I told you, l need to be on top. 

Pete had apologized profusely and suggested that Vegas just tie him up so he wouldn't get any stupid ideas like that again. After a few minutes he'd nodded and done just that and they'd ended the night fully satisfied. 

But Pete couldn't forget the look of fear on his face when he'd flipped them. 

There was a reason why Vegas didn't bottom. 

Why he wanted consent. 

Why he wanted at least a little prep.

Why he didn't want his partners to tear.   

It reminds him...

There had been rumors at the Main family compound….that the Minor family heir sometimes sweetened arms deals with his charm….with his body. 

Pete had scoffed at them in the past. Just because Khun Vegas liked having sex and blatantly collected Kinns throwaways like trading cards, didn't mean he was sleeping with the family's business partners for better deals. 

But now? Pete is starting to believe that maybe there is some truth to those rumors.

[peachym00]

It's fathers day in the uk today and it really got me thinking about Vegas and Macau and how they might have coped with the day growing up together.

I can imagine Vegas as a young boy, running down the stairs as soon as he wakes up that morning; he’s gripping a homemade card he’d made at school the previous day for his dad; maybe he’d had help wrapping something up that he’d made as well and it crinkles in his little hands as he tries to get down the steps without holding onto the bannister. Gun is sitting at the table eating breakfast, he’s stressed about something and in an awful mood, and Vegas bounds over to him, nearly tripping on his still-too-long trousers, and he proudly presents them over. Happy fathers day, Pa! Look, I wrote it myself, and I put Macau’s name in it because he can’t write yet, but I can!  And he beams up at Gun, who isn’t even looking at him; he’s still reading the paper, and someone comes over to take him away to eat his own breakfast, and they’re telling him what a good job you did, but your pa’s busy, you know not to interrupt him- And that night, as he goes to bed, he’s thinking about how he probably didn’t do a good enough job, and that’s why Pa didn’t want his card; he should have practised his writing better because it’s not very neat yet, and he should have written it in English too because he knows a lot of words now and Pa has been really pushy about him being good at English-  And it takes many more fathers days after and the realisation that he will never be good enough for his Pa before he stops trying. And then Macau is six and very nearly seven, and Vegas can see him getting excited to give him a card on fathers day because he can finally write in sentences now, but by this point, he knows what his dad is like. He knows he won’t like the crinkled, hand-written thing Macau has prepared because he’d already tried.  So he tells him to leave it on the table before he goes to sleep because then he’ll see it first thing in the morning but don’t be sad if he doesn’t mention anything, okay, Cau? Because he’s swamped, you know this, so you can’t bother him about it. And he puts on a brave face and convinces Macau that he will definitely love it because you’ve worked so hard; look at how good your hand-writing is getting- And that night, after he’s read Macau a story and waited until he fell asleep, he creeps down the stairs and picks up Macau’s hand-made card and replaces it with an expensive bottle of whisky with a fancy bow on it and a generic card that he’d made sure was written neatly, and with no sentiments written because,  Because. And he looks at the piece of paper Macau had made; he’d even added crudely drawn pictures of all three of them together, and he vows to be better and do better and never let his little brother’s heart get broken because of their dad like his broke all those years ago. And then Macau is 12, and Vegas has been learning everything about the minor family business for years. He’s been trying so hard to be better than Kinn in everything he does because he needs to keep Macau out of their dad’s radar, and he has to be the best because that’s what his dad wants, what he needs from Vegas and when Vegas fails he gets hit.  Which is what happens on fathers day.  And they’re older now, and their uncle had proposed they have a dinner together to celebrate. They sit in the main family mansion listening to Korn brag about all his sons for hours while Vegas sits and tries to avoid Gun’s glare and not think about how much his cheek hurts, and Macau looks devastated, so he tries to ignore it and smiles to let him know that everything is fine.  And when he’s finally in his bed that night and can let out a breath that this day is finally over, something gets shoved under his door.

When he looks at what it is, it’s a card with cool drawings on the front of it. He knows who they’re by because Macau has been really into manga and anime recently and has been obsessed with drawing little comic strips, and he gives them to Vegas, who keeps them in a box under his bed with all the other cards he’s made. He wonders if Macau’s finally figured out what he does with his cards each year and had decided to just give it straight to Vegas instead of leaving it on the dining room table for Vegas to inevitably swap, but then he looks, he really looks at what’s on the front- It’s him and Macau, just him and Macau, and Vegas’s pet hedgehog with happy fathers day! written underneath. When he opens it, it says Have a good day, Vegas! lots of love, Mac  He cries himself to sleep that night. But for once, it’s not out of fear or hatred of himself; this time, it’s a deep sadness that he doesn’t have anyone to rely on, doesn’t have an older brother to tell him they love him, to fix his problems or help him with his homework. But Macau does. Macau does, and he’s so glad he can do that for his little brother and be there for him that he cries himself to sleep out of sheer relief that Macau knows precisely how much Vegas loves him.

And then Macau’s nearly 18, and everything is horrible and scary, and Vegas has been shot, and he might die, and he can’t even think about fathers day anymore because there’s no room for frivolity when the mafia is concerned.

And then Vegas is awake, he’s awake, and he’s got Pete, and life is hard, but he’s alive. He’s alive, his dad is dead, and he finally has someone to rely on, lean on, and hold. And being loved by Pete is a feeling so encompassing that he can’t even put it into words.

And then it’s fathers day again, but this time their dad is dead, and Pete’s dad is dead, and there’s no reason for them to celebrate, so they don’t. And Macau has finally started university, but he skips class to hang out with his brother and Pete. They don’t do anything momentous; it’s raining, so they stay inside, occupying themselves with games, movies, and whatever else, until they go to bed.

None of them mentions that it’s fathers day.

Yet that night, when Vegas is in bed cuddled up to Pete, something is shoved under their door. Pete goes to have a look, looking confused, as he holds a piece of paper and climbs back into bed with Vegas. Its a card. A fathers day card. A well-done drawing of Macau, Vegas, Pete, and their newly adopted pet cat, with Happy Father’s Day! written underneath in familiar handwriting.

He hands it back to Pete and tells him to open it, too overwhelmed to read it himself. Inside the card, in much neater handwriting than either of them thought Macau was capable of, it says-

Have a good day, Vegas.

You may not be my real father, 

but you’re the only one I’ve ever had. 

Lots of love, Mac 

ps. I guess p’pete counts now too.

He cries again, and Pete is gracious enough not to mention it. He adds it to the box, with all the other things Macau has ever made him, closing it and placing it back underneath the bed.

And it's later, years later, that a revelation occurs to him. That even though he’s spent his whole life trying to be good enough for a father that genuinely despised his existence, that even though he spent so many years trying to be better than Kinn, than Korn, than everyone.

He has always been good enough for Macau.

And he will always be good enough for Pete.

And that, that, is enough.

[jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets]

I just finished KinnPorsche last night, and omg it was sooooo good, I was so happy with the ending, though I wish there was more! So, I'm gonna make more!

The fic writing has officially begun! And so, for the sake of the fic and everything I have planned, were going to pretend that the entire Tawan plot line never happened, so Big and Ken are still alive, Ken is not a bad guy hes good and still works for kinns family, and theres going to be a female OC who comes in as the daughter of the american branch that kinns father set up years ago through a close friend and colleague of his. Pete and vegas will also be included because I loved them!! And kim is going to be grovelling at porchays feet because he dun fucked up and now he has to fix it lol

So yeah, lots planned and I'm SO excited to write and post XD I hope its enjoyed ❤

[saiyan-angel-blue]

KINNPORSCHE, LOVEINTHEAIR, PITBABE CROSSOVER

HELLO 🖐 my fellow BL fanfic lovers, ARGH I NEED HELP!!!, so daydreaming aside, top fav bl series ever, i need a kinnporsche, love in the air pitbabe cross over, can anyone write one PLEASE 🥺, imagine this, parapai (phoenix) payu (venice) kids of kinnporsche and vegaspete in the same world as pitbabe, and babe is rome, payus twin brother, x-hunter dont know babe is a theerapanyakul, tony is still an asshole but low level mafia, and instead of charlies accident it was staged by tony so he can get to babe, i just cant get out of my head, what it would look like with babe crying over a dead charlie with vegas there ARGH, and twist charlie is rains brother, I NEED ALL MY BABIES TOGETHER with lots of blood gore, angst whump and SMUT!!!! most important 🤤

[laurenkmyers]

bare as a fresh wound (you have my heart)

what if pete gets shot at the pool side instead of vegas? fic inspired by @vegaspetesupremicy​​​​​‘s amazing artwork (x). ao3

~~~ Vegas

Vegas

“Could you please turn around to see me...?”

Vegas?

At the third mention of his name, Pete’s voice sends shivers down his spine. He says it with such conviction, open and raw- no ‘khun’, no surname. To Pete, he is just… Vegas, laid bare like a fresh wound.

It ignites something inside him, makes him miss the way Pete looks at him. He craves it now more than ever, wants nothing more than to see Pete and wash the sadness away. He wants Pete’s fire back, not a cheap reflection of surrender. 

So he turns. Slow and steady.

Pete’s tentative smile is the first thing he sees through the fog. It warms him from head to toe, defrosting the ice around his heart and his own lips turn up into a ghost of a smile. With Pete at his side, he might actually make it through this.

Sadly, reality kicks back in in the form of Pete’s head snapping in the opposite direction.

“NO!” A command to a fellow bodyguard that comes too late.

 Before Vegas can make sense of anything Pete is turning back to him, shoving him bodily out of the way and covering him with his own-

One. Two. Three. Four.

The gunshots ring through the air and Vegas flinches at each hit, watching in helpless horror as the smile fades from Pete’s beautiful face, cheeks going slack. His eyes rapidly lose focus, but not once does he look away from Vegas. Instead, his eyes flit quickly up and down as if assessing him for the slightest indication of harm. Pete’s smile returns briefly as he realises, with visible relief, that Vegas is safe before sliding gracelessly to the floor.

For a moment, Vegas is left frozen. When he moves it’s with sluggish confusion as he finds himself on his hands and knees, crawling towards Pete, who’s lying beneath him in a sickeningly dark pool of continuously growing blood.

“No no no no, Pete!” 

Vegas barely recognises his own voice as he wails, watching the way the white shirt rapidly changes colour, darkening, saturating, as it clings to Pete’s broken body. Voices blur into the background, footsteps of what he assumes are other guards gather around the scene, but he ignores them all. He reaches over with trembling fingers and helplessly rips Pete’s shirt down the middle, pressing down on one of the many holes seeping with blood that now join the array of scars already littered across Pete’s torso. A choked up sob rips its way out of his lungs. He’s already lost so much, he can’t lose Pete too.

“P-Pete, please, baby, please don’t leave me. I need you. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere,” he stumbles through words that don’t sound like words, trying to coax Pete awake.

Pete’s eyes flicker open, heavy and languid, and as if to taunt Vegas further Pete smiles up at him- that stupid, dimple-popping smile. Like the crazy fucking asshole he is he smiles through the pain. The smile that simultaneously delighted, annoyed, and excited Vegas, turns bitter in the pit of his stomach, because now it terrifies him. Pete watches him for a moment before his smile brightens even further.

“S-so beautiful in red... love you in red.” Pete slurs almost deliriously.

Pete’s thought process is so ridiculous that it takes Vegas completely by surprise. Vegas isn’t wearing red today? He releases a shocked laugh as he takes in the implications of Pete’s delirium. The crazy bastard is talking about the red blood splattered across his face. His boy really is just as crazy as he is. Currently bleeding out in Vegas’ arms and all he can think to comment on is how pretty Vegas apparently looks covered in blood. Vegas has never met anyone like him before.

“You’re a psycho.” Vegas quips, wiping away the lone tear tracking like a traitor down his cheek as he mimics Pete’s own words, once used on him, back affectionately.  

Pete giggles despite the thinly veiled insult, but when it turns into garbled choking Vegas pulls him onto his lap and further into his chest, shushing and soothing, but as he moves he thinks he hears Pete say ‘you love me anyway’ through the mess and Vegas thinks, ‘yes, I do.’

The next few moments of peace don’t last long as Pete starts to fade in front of him. Pete tries to speak again, words of comfort Vegas thinks, but he can’t hear anything other than the red, hot rage simmering in his gut, at himself, at the world, as he fails one more time, always a failure . His father’s words haunt him even in death.

His biggest failure now is the way the light dims in Pete’s eyes as he fails to save the one person other than his brother that he can say he truly loves. His fists clench painfully in the bunched up fabric of Pete’s ruined shirt.

As Pete trembles in his arms, Vegas wraps his own further around him and tucks his face into the crook of Pete’s neck, laying soft kisses along the line of his hair, whispering his love into Pete’s ear.

“It’s gonna be okay.” Pete says eventually, hoping to comfort him one final time. He says it with such conviction that Vegas almost believes him. But Vegas refuses to see a world in which Pete dying this way- cruelly so that Vegas can live- can be in any way okay. And if he can’t live in a world where Pete lives, no one can.

“No! Not if you leave me! You can’t leave me!” Vegas yells, startling Pete as he tilts his head to look at him.

Pete smiles one final time, “It’s gonna be okay.” He says before he closes his eyes, head slumping back onto Vegas’ shoulder as his entire body goes limp.

The monstrous noise that erupts from Vegas rocks them both and the rage within Vegas’s heart spreads like wildfire through his veins. Vegas closes his eyes, and for the first time since Pete fell he looks away, turning his fury to the group of people now gathered at the poolside. Vegas catalogues them all, one by one. Most of the faces watching the scene are unfamiliar to him, but some ring with familiarity. He examines each face, categorises them in his head, unimportant, not a threat, easily dismissible . But he keeps searching, eyeballing each and every one of them, until he lands on the one face he’s really searching for, the man responsible for Pete’s downfall. Vegas feels momentarily victorious as he catches his eye because the unassuming bodyguard knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that he’s caught in the last moments of his pitiful life.  

Vegas’ expression darkens further, and he delights in the fear he sees seep into the unfamiliar man’s bones as he gently lays Pete’s body safely back down to the ground without breaking his gaze. He grabs Pete’s gun, having already dropped his own, and stands with it pointed directly at the origin of his rage. But the moment he steps forward, all of the other faceless guards spring into action and lift their weapons in his direction. 

Do your worst , he thinks gleefully. 

As long as he takes that bastard down with him, he’ll gladly die right here next to Pete. It’s more than he deserves, but he’ll take it willingly.

“You…” Vegas sneers, “think you can take the man I love and live?”

The guard in question hasn’t even lifted his own weapon, frozen in Vegas’ gaze, trapped and terrified, the prey to Vegas’ predator.

Vegas takes a deliberate step forward, but as he does, the sound of a bullet whizzing through the air catches everyone’s attention. The impact of metal knocks Vegas off-kilter, as he grabs at his shoulder now blazed in agony. He’s impressed by his own resilience to the hit, and as he stands back up he feels the fury creep back in, grounding him.

Vegas lifts his uninjured arm and starts firing his gun, but sadly his aim is off, exhaustion getting the better of him. Despite his struggles he still manages to take down several armed guards on his way to the one he really wants. Getting closer and closer as each bullet hits flesh. Through sheer force of will alone, Vegas is undeterred. Even the guards themselves know he’s untouchable as they choose a more hands on tactic, gun’s forgotten. They continue their defence, but it’s more mechanical, almost as if they’ve been warned against actually killing him. It only confuses and frustrates him more. He punches and elbows and kicks his way through the gathered crowd of guards, headbutting one man who gets too close. 

Vegas is covered in so much blood he can barely see, his, their’s, Pete’s . Heavy and laden with exhaustion, his whole body starts to ache. His muscles give up on him eventually and he finds himself being dragged to the ground. The few men left standing after his rampage turn the barrel of their guns towards him in resolution- a final line of defence- but as they do a surprising voice chimes in, telling them to lower their weapons.

So surprising is the voice that Vegas blinks past the blood and sweat and turns his head up to find the source.

Tankhun Theerapanyakul, in all his black and white furred glory, stands under one of the archways with his bodyguard, Arm? (smart, good aim- could be a real threat), Vegas thinks, still cataloguing.

Arm flanks on one side of Tankhun, gun wavering in Vegas’ direction as he looks at his master with the same confusion Vegas thinks must be across his face. The adrenaline still coursing through his body doesn’t allow him to linger in said confusion for long as he blurts, “What game are you playing, cousin? Isn’t this what you wanted?” he spits maliciously, “or do you want to finish me off yourself?” Vegas thinks out loud, but quickly backtracks with a deranged laugh, “No, that’s not it. You’re too much of a fucking coward. You never did like to get those precious hands of yours dirty, did you? That’s the Minor Family’s job. My job.”

Tankhun rolls his eyes dramatically in reply. His nonchalance feeds further into Vegas’ fury as he continues, “Your poisonous family has taken everything from me. I’ve got nothing left to give, cousin. So please, spare me the theatrics and take some fucking responsibility for once in your goddamn, pitiful life.” Tankhun is about to jump in and say something, Vegas is sure of it, but he cuts him off before he can, “Taking Pete is where this ends.”

And finally, finally Vegas sees something other than nonchalance grace his cousin’s face. He sees a darkness that might even match his own, surprising Vegas again.

“Dear cousin…” He rattles off what Vegas thinks is about to be a long and arduous speech with a Jane Austen-eque air about him, “I find you insufferable. You’re a cruel, cold-hearted, son of a bitch and I do not like you, but begrudgingly you are family-” Vegas scoffs at the word family , but Tankhun carries on despite his best efforts. 

“I watched Pete very closely when he returned to me from his proclaimed extended holiday with his grandma . He thought he was so smart. Pete might be my head bodyguard, but he was always a terrible liar. He came back a changed man. He was hurt, both physically and emotionally, and for that alone I should have you strung up and beaten to death.”

Vegas tries for laughter, though it hits every nerve on its way out of his lungs so when it appears it sounds more like a sob than a laugh. Pitiful and weak, just like him. 

Despite his pity party, stubbornly, Tankhun continues, “And yet, despite everyone knowing exactly where he ended up after he exposed your pitiful plan with…” He gags around the name Tawan , “Pete chose to stay silent. Why? I saw what you did to him. But not once did he even think about implicating you. He lied to father, to Kinn, to Porsche , but most importantly- he lied to me . My most loyal bodyguard. Sacrificed his own life...for you . Tell me why!”

Vegas doesn’t have the time or the patience to explain his and Pete’s fucked up love story right now, so rather, he utilises the distraction his cousin presents to shrug off the two guards still tentatively holding him down and shoots them both in the head point blank before turning his back to his still blabbering cousin and over to the man Vegas is happy to find is still frozen in fear. But as he takes aim he’s once again interrupted by a hysterical Tankhun screaming behind him.

“WILL YOU PLEASE STOP MURDERING MY BODY GUARDS? I’M TRYING TO MAKE SENSE OF ALL OF THIS!” Tankhun flaps his arms and stomps his feet like a child mid-tantrum.

Vegas has truly lost all will to live at this point so he ignores, once more, the wailing, and takes his final aim, sending four bullets into the man’s midriff, almost an exact replica of the four bullet holes that now stain Pete’s body.

When he’s finished the job, satisfied that the man truly is dead, he turns back to Tankhun and sinks to his knees with his arms out awaiting his own inevitable end.

“I’m ready, cousin.” Vegas says in final surrender.

This isn’t exactly how he pictured his own death, but despite the less than admirable setting, Vegas is ready to die.

In his final moments he lets himself think of Macau, hopes that wherever his brother ends up, that he’s safe and cared for. The instructions to Nop, loyal from day one, were clear: should Vegas fail to return he’s to take Macau and run, as far away from Thailand as possible. The money Vegas had been stashing intermittently for years in off-shore bank accounts will keep Macau well-looked after, separated entirely from the name Theerapanyakul and all its associations.

Vegas only checks back into the real world when he hears Tankhun let out the most toe-curlingly annoying squawk, wagging an accusing finger in his direction.

“And people call me the drama queen? Get up you idiot, I’m not going to kill you. Up up up!”

But Vegas is done with Tankhun’s bullshit, and if his cousin is too much of a coward to finish him off, he’ll just have to do it himself, like everything else for this family. Readying to take his own life, Vegas turns the gun in his hands under his own chin and closes his eyes- one, two, three, four - but as the seconds tick by a garbled cough interrupts from behind.

Vegas’s eyes pop open. Tankhun’s puffy red cheeks drain of colour, white as a ghost, he raises both hands to his face and shrieks, “PETE, OH MY PETE, YOU’RE ALIVE!!”

Even that feels like a trick. A cruel trick that his cousin might have played once upon a time, but he watches as Tankhun’s face lights up, and suddenly Vegas knows it’s not a trick. Then he hears his name, but Tankhun’s mouth is no longer moving, but his name is being muttered, and it’s from the one voice Vegas could never mistake for anyone else. He whips his head around and sees a very much struggling, but still alive Pete trying to reach out to him. It prompts him into action, dropping the gun as he crawls on wobbling limbs to cup Pete’s face with both hands.

“B-baby?” He soothes, leaning down to take Pete’s bloodied lips into his mouth to kiss him with all the strength left in his trembling body. “I thought you left me...” Vegas whispers against his lips, as stray tears drip down his cheeks.

Pete’s eyes continue blinking sluggishly, “D-didn’t think you’d get rid of me that easily, did you?” Pete wipes the tears from Vegas’ eyes and smiles, dimples and all.

Maybe Vegas has something to live for after all.

��***

 The light of the hospital is far too bright.

Pete can barely open his eyes, but when he does finally manage it, the fluorescents force them shut again. He hears a soft chuckle from beside him and his body relaxes back into the fluffy pillow behind his head as the familiarity of the voice seeps into his bones and turns him to jelly.

“Too bright, baby?” Vegas asks knowingly as he lets go of Pete’s hand to get up. The moment he no longer feels Vegas next to him, he panics, letting out a rumbling groan. Vegas must understand his apprehension because he shushes him, reaches back and strokes a thumb along his open palm and says, “I’m just gonna dim the lights, I’m not going far. I’ll be right back.”

Pete relaxes once more, and once the lights have dimmed he tries to pry his eyes open again. He successfully blinks them a few times before his focus shifts over to the blurred vision in red in front of him.

“V-vegas?” He croaks, voice sore and unused.

Vegas smiles at him and nods, “Yeah, baby, I’m here. Drink this.” He brings a straw up to Pete’s mouth and lets him take several sips of the refreshing water, soothing its way down his throat, Pete hums happily. Once Vegas is satisfied Pete has had enough he pulls back, placing the half-finished cup of water onto the bed side table before turning back to look at him with the fondest of smiles. Pete wants to imprint the image on the front of his eyelids to keep forever. He also desperately wants Vegas to kiss him.

“Vegas?”

“Yes?”

“Kiss me?”

Vegas’ answering smile burns brighter at the request, soothing away the darker edges of his face. And when Pete asks for what he wants Vegas is happy to comply. Especially now, as he leans forward to capture Pete’s lips between his. He takes it slow, tentative at first, until Pete pushes forward and bites down on Vegas’ bottom lip, relishing the groan Vegas lets slip into his mouth at the action. The thrill of being able to make Vegas react in such a way settles all the what ifs plaguing Pete’s mind as he sinks into the kiss like he was made for only this.

The kiss lingers on, getting slightly more heated as Vegas loses himself in it too. Pete tries to move further into Vegas, not caring for the wrinkled silk of Vegas’ shirt as he bunches the fabric between his fist, the desire to be closer replaces logic and precaution for want and need and more. But the moment Pete twitches in pain, Vegas pulls back, despite Pete’s whine of disapproval. Vegas breathes a soft apology and then takes his time just looking at Pete. So long, in fact, does he look, that when he finally utters words Pete isn’t sure he hears him correctly, and his face must display what he can’t say because Vegas repeats himself with a bit more confidence.

“You really scared me, you know?” Vegas phrases it like a question, but there is a hint of accusation that Pete picks up on immediately. His first thought is to jump straight to defensive, but the way Vegas is regarding him, with sad, unguarded eyes stops him in his tracks. Pete understands more than anyone what it takes for Vegas to expose himself in such a vulnerable way, and he never wants to make Vegas feel like he can’t be anything but honest with him. The phrase tattooed along his hip burns as a reminder every day of the fact. Full transparency. He’d never deny Vegas this. 

“I’m sorry for scaring you, but I’m not sorry for saving you.” Pete settles with, speaking his truth. Because he knows full well he’d do it all over again given the choice.

Vegas frowns, staring at him like he’s lost his mind. “Don’t do it again.”

Pete smiles back sweetly knowing he can’t make that promise. He tells Vegas as much, “I won’t stand by and watch you die, Vegas. You’re too important to me.”

“And you’re the most important person in my life!” Vegas proclaims with a hint of panic in his tone. He sits back down and lowers his voice, slightly embarrassed by his outburst. “Without you…I’ve got nothing left.”

Pete lets out a deep sigh, understanding, but despite that still says, “That’s not true. You’ve still got Macau.”

But Vegas is already shaking his head. “Macau is better off without me.”

“Don’t you think I should have a say in what’s best for me?” A red faced Macau says as he makes his presence known, hands firmly on his hips in a striking resemblance of Vegas’ stubbornness. 

Pete notices the deep sigh Vegas releases before he turns to look at his brother, preparing to explain his pain away. But before he gets the chance Macau has made his way across the room and is landing a soft punch to his brother's (uninjured, Pete takes note) shoulder. Vegas recoils in faux-hurt and his mouth drops open in surprise. 

“That’s for trying to send me away, asshole.”

“It was for your own good. I did it to protect you.” Vegas sounds firm to the untrained ear, but Pete knows that he and Macau are probably the only two people in the world who can tell the difference.

Macau doesn’t let up, that stubborn Theerapanyakul blood ringing true, “I don’t need you to protect me from this, Hia. Dad’s dead. Good fucking riddance.”

“Macau!” Vegas scolds, but sounds far too fond to make it sound genuine. 

Macau smirks, but his face turns serious once more before he says, “I’m not a helpless child anymore, V. Stop treating me like one. I’m a Theerapanyakul. I’m part of this world whether you like it or not. ” 

Vegas sighs in defeat. “I know that, Cau. I know I can’t protect you from it forever. But I wanted you to have a normal childhood. Away from all the Mafia bullshit. You deserve that.” 

“You already gave me that, hia.” Macau smiles fondly, reminiscing wistfully on the chance Vegas granted him, but his face quickly changes, hardening back into determination. “But now that I’m an adult I need you to stop pushing me away. Let me be part of your world. I just want to help give you the chance you never got as a kid. With dad gone you can have the life you deserve.”

Macau smiles knowingly as Vegas lets out a soft, choked off noise. He immediately moves to pull Vegas into a hug which Vegas reciprocates without hesitation, resting his head on Macau’s chest. 

Pete almost wishes he could step away and give them their moment, but he’s also selfish in his desires and bearing witness to the love the siblings have for each other warms his heart. When Macau pulls back, he has a slight shine to his eyes, betraying the depth of his emotions. Pete looks to Vegas then and sees the same thing reflected in his eyes and the warmth surrounding his heart spreads all over his body. He’s never been more thankful for Macau and the never-ending love he has for Vegas, who has had a severe lack of it in his life. 

Pete sniffles loudly, his own emotions betraying him as he inevitably breaks up the lingering sweetness. Macau turns to regard him in confusion, almost like he’d forgotten Pete’s presence. He considers him for a minute longer before blurting, “Is someone gonna tell me when the fuck this happened?” deliberately eyeing his and Vegas’ joined hands.

It’s only when Pete looks down that he realises that Vegas never let go, and has been subconsciously rubbing his thumb along his palm during the entire exchange with his brother. 

“Like, don’t get me wrong, I’m super grateful that you saved my brother from those bullets- Nop filled me in-” Macau answers before Pete can interrupt,  “-but, don’t you work for the Main Family? Last time I saw you, you were doing a terrible job of spying on us for them. Wait- did you betray the Main Family for Vegas? Are you one of us now? Can I call you P’Pete? I have so many questions.” Macau babbles on and it prompts a laugh out of both himself and Vegas, who just shrugs his shoulders in a gesture that clearly says, ‘your turn’. 

Pete steels himself, “I didn’t betray the Main Family- I quit.” 

Vegas’s head snaps back to him so quickly that Pete fears he might have given himself whiplash.

“You…what?” Vegas asks, voice confused and a little unstable.

“I quit.” Pete repeats, clear and concise, leaving no room for any confusion. And yet confusion clearly remains because Vegas is staring at him like he’s grown a second head or something.

“You…quit?” Vegas tries again, clearly struggling.

Pete is about to take pity on him when Macau once again makes his presence known, “He just said that, hia. Are you okay? Do you need to get checked for concussion or something?”

Vegas shoos Macau away after his unsuccessful attempts at checking on him. “No, Cau, I’m fine. I’m just trying to…understand. Why, Pete?”

Pete feels very exposed, both Theerapanyakul brothers are staring at him, expecting him to expose himself even further, but all he can muster is a shrug and a quiet, “you know why.”

Vegas loses his breath again, mouth slightly open as he swallows, allowing the implications of Pete’s words to wash over him. When realisation hits his brow furrows prettily and it makes Pete’s lips turn up in a smile. “You’re really gonna make me say it?” He asks jokingly. 

Without breaking eye contact Vegas says, “Macau, can you give us a minute?”

Macau scoffs, “Absolutely not. I wanna hear him say it too.”

“Cau…please?” Vegas pleads, still refusing to look away from Pete. It makes Pete’s heart skip several beats. 

“Ugh! Fine.” Pete thinks he feels Macau turn to walk away from them but as he does he throws one last line back at the two of them, “I knew it the second I walked in here and saw the way he was looking at you with those puppy dog eyes. You really are an idiot sometimes, hia.” 

Pete should feel embarrassed by that, but he can’t quite get his body to calm the fuck down enough to process anything other than the way Vegas is currently devouring him with his eyes. Saying all the things he knows he can’t say in front of his little brother. 

The moment the door slides shut Vegas is on him, tentativeness and hesitation thrown out the window as Vegas’ lips find his once more, the fire that always sizzles beneath the surface when they’re together ignites as sparks lick their way up Pete’s spine. Even the twinges of pain throbbing away on his chest don’t faze him anymore, they only add to the fuel of his pounding heart. 

Vegas draws back eventually, but he doesn’t go far, resting his head on Pete’s as he allows oxygen back into his lungs. As much as Pete wants to continue kissing him, he’s thankful for the air that rushes back into his own chest. 

“Tell me.” Vegas breathes hotly against his lips. “Tell me why you quit the Main Family, Pete.”

Pete’s heart flutters in his chest, the machine he’s currently hooked up to spikes hard, and for a split second Pete panics, wanting to fall back on old habits, giggle his way out of it, crack a joke about Kinn annoying him into quitting, tell a lie with a smile. He opens his eyes and takes one look at Vegas and he knows he won’t. Surrender never felt this sweet. He feels split open, walls crumbling, brick by brick by the fond look staring back at him. The incessant beeping of the machine fades into white noise, because nothing else matters but Vegas, and the way he makes Pete feel alive . The man Pete willingly took several bullets for, and would do again. The man who ripped him wide open, literally and figuratively, exposing all of his ugly parts, only to stitch him back together, one thread at a time. The man he loves. Body and soul. 

“Because I love you, Vegas.” Pete holds strong, “How can I be loyal to them when everything I am, is yours ?” 

Vegas grabs his face in both hands and holds him close, caressing his damp cheek with his thumb and replies, “You’re more than I deserve, but fuck, I love you too.” 

Pete is about to protest Vegas’ obvious self-deprecation when the force of Vegas’ lips slide back over his, compelling his head quiet as his body submits to total salvation.

Pete’s mind is still very much lost in Vegas’ kiss when he realises far too late that not only are Vegas’s lips no longer on his own but Macau’s head has popped back through the door and he’s cooing over at them, “Damn, you guys move fast. I was eavesdropping and assumed after you both dropped the L-bomb it was safe to come back in. Anyway, welcome to the family, my in-law.” He directs at Pete with barely concealed glee. 

The kid continues rambling away as he climbs up onto the bed behind where Vegas is still perched, snuggling close. When Pete’s brain eventually clicks back into the room he lets out a genuine giggle and tries to tuck his face away from them both shyly, but Vegas turns his head back to face him.

“No more hiding, Pete.” 

No more hiding. 

Got it. 

Vegas leans forward to kiss his dimpled cheek and Pete feels his smile grow. He thinks he might finally be ready to start living.

Whatever that means. 

Pete’s ready to find out.

[angsty-violet]

Broken

“I’m sorry, Pete.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Porsche glanced at Pete as Pete stared out the window. Pete’s jaw was clenched, and his eyes were focused outward.

Vegas had been locked away in a padded cell for six months. During that time, Pete begged, bartered, threatened and prayed. Every minute he had spent away from Vegas’ side had killed him.

Now, finally, he was being released.

Pete wasn’t sure if he had finally gotten some progress or if what Kinn had said about the doctors deciding he was ready to leave. Either way, Pete was taking him home, and he would make sure that none of these assholes would ever lay eyes on him again.

Vegas was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring down at his hands. They had a moment alone while Porsche dealt with some of the paperwork. Pete knelt in front of him, taking his cold hands.

“Vegas?” Pete was distressed to note his voice was nearly on the verge of tears. It had been so long since they had even laid eyes on each other.

Vegas looked at him when Pete said his name, but Pete nearly burst into tears when he saw his eyes. There was no life in them. They were just blank.

“Baby, I’m taking you home.”

Vegas looked so confused, and Pete’s heart shattered.

“Home?”

The willpower to not dissolve into tears was a lot, so Pete just nodded.

“You ready?”

Vegas looked around the room and then at Pete. There was hardly any recognition there at all. But apparently, that didn’t matter.

“Yeah.”

The ride home had been painful. Porsche had attempted to talk with Vegas, but all he got were confused looks and no response. Finally, they settled into awkward silence. Despite his confusion, Vegas had continued to hold Pete’s hand on the way home, and Pete counted that as some kind of progress. By the time they pulled up to the Minor Family home, Pete was beyond rattled. However, more recognition entered Vegas’ eyes as he looked up.

“Home?”

Pete’s heart really couldn’t take this. Vegas had lived here his entire life, and now whatever they had done to him made it so he didn’t even remember his home.

“Yeah.”

Three days on, and Vegas had shown hardly any improvement. Pete’s stomach ached constantly as he guided his boyfriend from day-to-day activity. He was like a doll. No thoughts, no feelings, just doing what Pete told him and nothing else.

He rarely spoke, and when he did, it was in one-word answers to direct questions. His original ability to recognize his home seemed to have been the sum total of it.

Currently, Pete had put him in the sunroom with one of his favorite books. Pete didn’t truly believe that something as little as familiarity would undo what had been done to him, but he thought it was worth a try.

He was glad of it when he saw who had come for a visit.

“What do you want?”

Kinn gazed at him with an unreadable expression. “I’ve come to see my cousin.”

“Macau is in America.” And out of reach of your filthy horrible influence, Pete thought but didn’t say. They all knew why he had packed Macau off to America to attend a university far from home.

Kinn rolled his eyes. “I’m here to see Vegas.”

“No.”

“Pete,” Porsche started.

“No! You locked him away, you had those doctors do God knows what, you’re not seeing him. You don’t get to treat him like that and then show back up here. Get out!”

Kinn turned reluctantly. Then he turned back. “It wasn’t my idea. I tried to talk my father out of it. Please, Pete, I have to see if he’s okay.”

“He isn’t!” But the problem was that Pete was so tired. The last months had been hell, and instead of the joyous reunion with his lover, he had gotten back someone so broken that sometimes he didn’t even recognize his own name.

Porsche hugged Pete tight. Kinn watched, not able to do anything. Pete cried softly, burying his face in his best friend’s chest. After a few minutes, he resurfaced.

“He’s in the sunroom, but he’s in really rough shape.”

Kinn nodded and left Porsche and Pete still hugging. He knew where the sunroom was, and he wasn’t willing to wait for Pete in case the man decided he no longer wanted Kinn to see Vegas.

He entered the sunroom, and his eyes fell on Vegas. For a second, he looked completely normal. A book was set in his lap, closed, and his eyes were focused on something outside. Kinn had found him like this a million and one times. Then, that image was shattered when Vegas turned to look at who had entered the room.

His face was blank, and his eyes were distant. Kinn realized that he hadn’t been looking at something outside. He had just been facing that direction. Kinn approached him slowly, not wanting to startle him. However, it must not have mattered because Vegas didn’t say or do anything.

Kinn knelt down on the floor next to him and took one of his hands. They were cold. Vegas still didn’t say or do anything.

“Ah,” Kinn started and realized that he was on the verge of tears. “I am so sorry, Vegas. I am so sorry.”

Kinn pressed a small kiss to the cold hand and then hugged Vegas’ knees. The tears started to flow freely.

“I had no idea my father was going to do that. I tried to stop him, to get you back out, but he wouldn’t budge. Just getting you released cost, well, it doesn’t matter what it cost me. We’re going to take care of you. You’re going to get better, and everything will be fine.” Despite his words, Kinn wasn’t actually certain that was true.

He was about to get up when a hand settled on his head. Kinn peeked up, and Vegas was looking at him, with something like recognition, with his hand on Kinn’s head.

It was something, at least.

[dual-desires]

In That Sharp Place – Chapter 3

🔮VegasPete Incubus AU🔮

Chapter summary:

Pete comes to terms with an uncomfortable reality.

[vegaspetesupremicy]

From :

I loved this fic 🥹

Full pic is on my Twitter @Sketchy__Shit

[raelle-writing]

New chapter of IYHSTL is up!! And if you haven’t already seen it, don’t forget to check out this edit made by the wonderful @insomniacpreacher!

Chapters: 14/? Rating: Explicit Relationships: Pete Phongsakorn Saengtham/Vegas Kornwit Theerapanyakun, Porchay Pichaya Kittisawat/Macau Theerapanyakun, Minor or Background Relationship(s)

Chapter summary:

Pete seeks comfort. Kinn has a visitor. Vegas drowns his sorrows.

Work summary:

When Pete saves a bleeding, gorgeous stranger from being killed by the Yakuza, that man opens doors to a world of submission and pleasure he’d never known before.

When Vegas is saved by a beautiful college student, he knows he doesn’t want to let the man slip through his fingers.

The two of them start up an arrangement: kinky sex, but only casually.

But with the Yakuza on the hunt for the person who took down their men, and the main family asking questions about where Vegas goes when he disappears, how long will their casual arrangement last?

–

OR: Pete is a college student. Vegas is in the mafia. They shouldn’t meet, but they do, and their spark is impossible to ignore.

[bentnotbroken1fanfiction]

When Vegas wakes up from his coma and finally has to face the repercussions of his actions, he finds that he doesn't really know who he is anymore. It's like there are two of him now. The Vegas from before and the Vegas after. 

The Vegas he was before the failed coup could somewhat handle his shit. Sure he'd been pretty fucking violent at times and let his anger get the best of him, but he could usually contain it. He could take the belittling comments and physical abuse from his father. He could take the scorn from the Main family’s business partners, the polite disappointed stares from his uncle, and even the angry virtrol thrown at him from Tankhun or Kinn.

He could handle all of that. Hiding his feelings was as easy as breathing most of the time. He could throw up a wall with zero effort. Nod his head.  Let the slap land.  Agree to whatever nasty things were said. Spit off a well timed quip. Swallow down the angry storm in his gut. Hide the vicious tears that wanted so badly to spill. He could shove it all down. Bottle it all up. Wait until he was alone, or at the very least until he was at the Minor compound where violence was a near daily occurrence. He could just hide it inside until it was safe.

He could just …wait. 

Wait until he was in his room where he could break down in peace. 

Wait until there was a prisoner to unleash all his unbridled fury upon.  

Wait until no one's eyes were on him except his most trusted guards, and even then, he would wait until they were gone.

Because they were only privy to his violence, never his vulnerability. 

The him before? 

He could handle his shit. 

The Vegas after the failed coup….the Vegas who was shot and almost killed for a cause he didn't even really believe in anymore?

He can't handle his shit at all. 

He can't handle what he's done. 

To Macau. To Porsche. To Pete. 

The overwhelming guilt almost smothers him the moment he can fully comprehend what has happened. 

So, it starts in the hospital when Pete doesn't leave. 

When the former bodyguard takes his hand and tells him that he quit and declares that he's Vegas’ problem now. 

He says he loves him…

As if Vegas deserves love. 

Especially from Pete. After what he'd fucking done to him…after leaving scars on his body and fucking up his head…Pete should hate Vegas. 

But for some reason, he doesn't, and the Vegas after is just as selfish as the Vegas before . So he eventually accepts that Pete isn't leaving. He accepts that his lover obviously has no self-preservation and wants to be tied to a broken shell of a man for the foreseeable future.

Whatever. 

He's not going to refuse him. 

He wants, no, he needs him too much. 

Besides, the Vegas he is now…in the after , is weak.

His healing is slow. 

His anger is quick. 

Despite Macau and Pete trying their hardest to help, there are just so many things they can't do. Because they don't understand.  

They don't understand what it means to be here now. 

In the hospital, he is so vulnerable . The whole time he is stuck in the bed with wires attached to him, he is riddled with anxiety and plagued by nightmares. He's worried that Uncle will send someone to kill him, or worse, kill Macau.

Or Pete . For daring to leave the Main family. 

Uncle Korn had said he'd take care of them, but he knows better than to believe a word that comes out of that man's mouth. If he really cared about Vegas he would have shut his Pa down when he'd suggested-when he'd thrown Vegas to the fucking wolves.

He wouldn't have let Vegas suffer like that. 

He wouldn't have let Vegas get fucking shot. 

So yeah, he doesn't trust his uncle with their safety. 

And he's too fucking weak, in too much pain, to protect them. 

He hates it. 

Hates himself. 

Hates having to depend on other people to do things...like help him take a fucking piss. 

It makes him want to scream.

Why couldn't he have just gone against his Pa just that once? 

Why couldn't he have been strong?

Why did he have to fuck everything up so much?

Why could he have stood up for what he actually thought? 

Like Pete?

When he chose Vegas...

Fuck…

Pete should have run when he had the chance. 

Vegas is not good to him like this. 

He's so fucking pathetic. 

Macau and Pete deserve better.

Vegas thinks maybe he shouldn't have woken up after all. 

He thinks maybe he should have fucking died. 

Then he sees Pete smile and ruffle Macau's hair and thinks maybe he’s wrong. 

If he had died he would have missed this. Pete and Macau acting like family. 

He would have missed the way Macau lights up when Pete asks about his interests. He would have missed Macau tease Pete about his clothes. He would have missed Pete's soft touches and quick kisses when no one’s looking. 

He would have missed the simplicity of his hospital stay. When it was just the three of them. Even with the anxiety and the tension of waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

Yeah. 

He would have missed these precious moments with the two most important people in his life. 

And he'd made a promise to Pete. 

So he had to get better. 

His boyfriend needs someone to take care of him. To feed him. 

Vegas after the coup may be weaker, but he refuses to let Pete down a second time. 

Things are different, even months later.

He knew they would be. Too much had happened for them to remain the same. 

He and Pete talked about things just like they did in the safehouse. Not about his Pa, not after he'd admitted he was glad he died, but they talk about Porsche. About the Auction. 

It brought things to the surface that Vegas wasn't expecting. Things that left him feeling slimy…

But he always pushed those feelings away before so he tried to do that again. He needed to focus on getting better. 

He needed to get strstronger.

So he pushed himself. 

He fought with the Doctors but still did all the PT like he was supposed to. Otherwise he wouldn't have been able to go home. 

Home. 

That's different now too. 

When he'd finally left the hospital, everyone assumed Vegas would be shitty about all the changes being made in his absence. 

With Porsche taking on the role that was meant for him, things were obviously being handled differently.  Porsche had given him the option of staying at the Minor Family compound with him, or moving into an apartment just around the corner. 

He had talked to Pete and Macau about it. After discussing all the pros and cons they'd decided that the apartment would be better for Vegas in the long run. It would be better for his healing. 

He could focus on his PT and not have to see Porsche and Kinn flipping everything he'd ever known inside out in front of him. 

But truthfully? He actually likes living in the apartment better than he thought he would. 

Perhaps it's because the ghosts of his past failures aren't lingering here. The ghost of his father isn't here either. There are no reminders of Pa’s heavy presence. Like the smell of his favorite cigars, or the sickening sweet perfume he was obsessed with. There are no slammed doors or shattering ceramic. No looming threat around every corner. 

No....desks that threaten pain or punishment. 

Here, in the two bedroom apartment that he shares with Pete and Macau, where the furniture is new and it smells like fresh paint, Pa’s shadow can't reach him here. 

At least not in the light of day.

At night, it's a different story. 

***

Vegas has trouble sleeping now. 

At first it was because of pain or discomfort from the wounds healing, and now the new scars pulling. 

Then it was the nightmares.

He knows some of them are because of the Coup. He dreams of running, of shooting, of fighting Kinn. He dreams that he shoots him. That he dies on the garage floor…That he loses everything anyways. 

He dreams of Porsche screaming and hitting him. Asking him if this is what he wanted. If he's happy now. 

Dream Vegas just lets him hit him and tells him no. He's not happy. He's sorry. 

He's so fucking sorry. 

He dreams of Pete. 

Of Pete dying. Bleeding out. His blood soaking Vegas's clothes, staining his hands. 

Pete gasping his name. Choking. Tears spilling. 

His blood spilling…spilling…

Red staining everything . 

He dreams he's falling. 

He dreams of hands on his body. Touching. Hurting. Holding him down. Fingers squeezing, squeezing, suffocating him. Someone on him, inside of him. 

He can't fucking breathe . 

He hates those dreams the most. 

The last time he'd struggled this bad was when he was fourteen and his Pa had-

No. 

He cant...

Shutting down that trail of thoughts. 

All it would take is a few minutes thinking about that day, about the desk...the body…about being shoved down…down… and he'd be violently spiraling. And he can't do that right now. 

He looks over at his boyfriend sleeping next to him. He really cant let himself think about it now. Not when he has an audience. 

Pete has already noticed. He's already seen him when he's lost in his thoughts. He's already asking him about…about the nightmares. 

And Vegas just….he can't talk to him about them. Because if he tells him about the nightmares, he might figure out what they're about. And then he'd ask more questions and Vegas….

Vegas doesn't want him to know . 

No one needs to know the most shameful parts of himself. No one needs to know the secret….the secrets he keeps hidden. He wishes he didn't have to look in the mirror and see them staring back at him. 

Why would he subject his boyfriend to them?

Besides, it wouldn't change anything. 

It's already happened.  

He's over it. 

Or the person he was before was over it. 

The person he is now…

He knows he should be over it too.

He's not a scared teenager anymore. 

He can handle it. 

And his Pa is dead. 

He's dead…

Fuck.

He's really dead…

He cant…he can't touch him anymore 

He can't hurt him anymore. 

Can't threaten to hurt his brother. 

He's fucking gone . 

Vegas is finally free .

So why does he still feel so fucking awful?

Read the rest on AO3

[peachym00]

Chapter 10 is here👀

🔥 72k 🔥❗️Explicit❗️Graphic Depictions of Violence❗️✨ Slow Burn ✨ Mafia Pete ✨ Angst with a Happy Ending ✨

When he and his grandmother owe the minor family a debt, Pete finds himself pushed deeper into the mafia world than ever before. Working for Vegas sounds like Pete’s idea of Hell. But when feelings develop and lives are on the line, will the Devil finally admit he’s met his match?

⬇️ ❗️TW Implied/referenced child abuse❗️ ⬇️

The pain in his ribs was so visceral, a deep ache searing through his bones, that he could still remember the pain of it. He was only fourteen, but his father had forced him to compete in an underground boxing match the night before, and he had been utterly annihilated. The kicks his father had rewarded him with for losing, doing nothing for his already severe injuries. He was in agony. And hiding it from Yaai as she made him breakfast that morning had been a hell of an entirely different kind. It was his maths class that gave it away. The teacher had called for him to get up and write the answer on the board, and as he’d forced himself to step forward and grab the pen, he’d lifted up his arm and screamed, blacking out. When he came to, he was lying on the floor, the heads of his classmates all looking down on him.

Time was a blur as he was helped to the nurse’s office, his Yaai suddenly bursting through the door. Pete cried when he saw her. The pain was too much for his young soul to bear, his heart too heavy in his chest. The way his Yaai looked at him made him feel guilty. If only he had been more brutal. If only he had won the match— she wouldn’t be forced to see him like this.

Broken and weak.

Link to chapter one ➡️here⬅️

Link to all chapters ➡️here⬅️

[stardustvx]

"I don’t think the Main Family thinks you are insane because you pulled someone’s teeth out. Besides, dentists do that all the time and no one thinks they are insane."

y’all I’m rewatching kinnporsche and the pool scene with Vegas putting his fully clothed legs into the water still makes me giggle hysterically SO i wrote a thing!! it’s Macau-Vegas bonding time and very much the opposite of sad!!

[saiyan-angel-blue]

i had a thought 😏

im not a great writer and putting this out there and being a massive simp for LITA and KP BL series, imagine a reader story when rain gets kidnapped its far more serious than the show, with vegaspete coming instead of p'chai to help payu, imagine rain bleeding out on the floor with payu/venice screaming over him,........... you feel the hand touching yours, voices sounding like your underwater calling you, "rain baby please wake up rain" ...... my name is not rain..... twist you wake up in the body of rain, with payu over you, his pa pete behind him, both bloodshot teary eyes...... double twist realizing you a female bl fan now trapped in a male body in 2 of your fav bl universe's ....... SHIT........ let the fun begin..... any takers for a fan fic? who wouldnt want to be rain in that gif

[fruityuncleskeletor]

Pete wakes up at night to bask in his lasting happiness. Vegas joins him soon after.

[wordsoflera]

Cuts, Claws & Corruption

An A/B/O VegasPete fanfiction by: wordsoflera

Pete has lied to Vegas, loathed him, disfigured said demon, tried to kill him, overthrown the devil's reign, imprisoned the alpha and by doing so – irrefutably bewitched all of the monster.

How could Vegas not mate him?

Stumbling upon a murder-scene in the basement, Pete wasn’t surprised by his omegean presentation.

He was terrified.

Or, Vegas gruesomely tortures people and Pete's brain's like: mine. And the absolute chaos that follow.

“I could fix him” Good for you, i’m gonna join him in his insanity.