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getaapologist · 3 months ago

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The Tension and the Terror...........Part X

Pairing: Emperor Geta x OFC (extremely loosely, character is named but otherwise not described besides hair length)

Summary: Geta asks Letha to read to him.

Warnings: some dire, we-could've-just-died sex, a hint of a breeding kink if you squint, violence and blood, maybe Geta likes blood a bit too much, 18+ only.

Word Count: 3.9k

Part 10 of 15

[ Part IX ]

Series Masterlist

A/N: I don't have anything eloquent to say about this part, just that this was the first thing I wrote when I was exploring these characters. I hope you like it.

“I would’ve thought you’d be in bed by now.”

The sound of Geta’s voice startled Letha, bringing her out of the book. Geta stood in the doorway to the cozy library, his shoulders slumped, his posture slack. He was changed, wearing his robe and little else, save for his laurels. Perhaps he’d forgotten to remove them. She mirrored Geta’s tired smile and closed the book, watching him. It was late, almost an hour after she left him to talk down his brother. He should’ve just gone to bed.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s late.”

She shook her head as he approached, setting the book on the stack of others on the small table beside the couch, making space for him. He sank into the plush couch beside her, his hand falling over one of hers. He took it up, giving it a squeeze, not meeting her eyes. She squeezed his hand back, her other hand wrapping around it too.

“How is Caracalla?”

He sighed. “He is asleep. I can only hope he feels better in the morning.”

“And how are you?”

He met her eyes, his lips narrowing as he pressed them firmly together. “I wish I could tell you I still feel amazing,” he spoke, a wistful look in his eyes, “but I am conflicted.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, her heart aching for him. She would carry all his secrets, his sadness, like it was her own if he let her.

“...Can you just sit with me?” he requested. “Read to me or don’t, I just… let me sit beside you for a while.” The desperation in his eyes was intoxicating. She could serve as his distraction. He had done enough of it for her, without knowing it.

“Shall I bore you with Ovid, or…” she examined the stack beside her, leaned over the arm of the couch, “...Virgil, Geta?”

Geta felt his smile slowly returning. “Choose whichever you feel would be best.”

She took a moment, glancing at the books in her hands before making a choice, setting the other down.

Geta took that as his cue, spreading out over the couch, his back colliding with her legs as he tried to lean back. She drew her legs up to give him more room, surely he needed it more than she did. Wordlessly, he corrected her, his hands wrapping around her ankles to pull her legs back out, his touch searing her bare skin. Before she could protest, he reclined, his back pressing into her front, his head resting against her chest, a shockingly intimate position for simply reading.

He turned, his ear pressing into the soft fabric covering her chest, listening to her heartbeat as it raced. His hands smoothed up her now-bare legs, the dress forced up high around him. He began soft, innocent strokes back and forth over the top of her thighs, finally letting out a breath he’d been holding in since the party.

“Geta, what–”

“You offered to read to me, Letha,” he reminded her, interrupting her panicked words, looking up at her with his large chestnut eyes, “so here I am.”

All arguments died on her tongue as she stared down at him, his expression unreadable. She forced herself to look away, choosing instead to devote her attention to the book in her hands as her skin grew hot. Her nerves at an all-time high, she began to read.

She started off a bit shaky, still getting used to Geta’s closeness again, his physical touch, but soon her voice leveled out and she even let herself indulge in the way his fingers moved over her skin. If anyone saw them there, tucked away in the library together, it would be impossible to explain away.

Holding the book open in one hand, her other eventually wound into his soft copper hair, impeded by the golden laurel crown he still wore. She moved lower, running her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, mirroring his own pattern making.

After a few minutes he abandoned her thighs. She barely contained a sound of protest as he sat up between her legs, only really able to once she saw him lifting the beautiful crown from his head. He set it on the ledge of a bookshelf behind the couch. She didn’t have words any longer, his silent actions pulling taut a hot cord low in her belly, reminding her of their earlier encounter.

He was lying between her legs not as an Emperor, but as a man.

“I didn’t mean to distract you,” he spoke quietly, though the rise in his cheeks showed he knew what he’d done. As if on purpose. “Please, continue.”

A few heartbeats more and she did, relaxing once his hot hands returned to her thighs, her own fingers resuming their ministrations, spreading out further now that the crown lay beside him, glittering in the candlelight.

He left out a soft grunt of satisfaction, the sweet sound stoking the flames within her. It was so hard for her to focus now, the words on the page beginning to blur together as she attempted to recreate the sound in her mind.

“We can stop,” he offered, his voice barely a whisper.

She shook her head, though he couldn’t see it, and continued reading.

This book had never bored her more than it did right now.

Letha couldn’t have said when it happened, but at some point she’d fallen asleep while tucked behind the tall Emperor. Geta didn’t mind at all, also feeling the pull of Somnus on his eyelids.

They laid there together for almost an hour before the attacker stepped into the room.

Letha awoke gently, though she was immediately free from the grogginess that usually followed, sensing something off. The book had fallen to the floor from her dangling hand, rousing her. As she leaned down a bit more to collect it, she froze, her eyes landing on a pair of dark brown, almost black boots.

She followed them up as her fingers wrapped around the book, fear driving her fight or flight response as adrenaline put life back in her limbs. The blade glinted in the stranger’s hand and as he raised it, Geta began to stir against her. She felt a jolt of panic.

The stranger’s eyes left hers and darted over to watch Geta as he moved a bit, beginning to wake. Before she could warn the assassin off of what he was about to do, he lifted the blade, eager to bring it down into the slumbering Emperor.

She moved without thought, lifting the book up into the blade’s path. It sank into the bound parchment, poking through to the other side, perilously close to her palm. Relieved to see Geta so far unharmed, she twisted the book in her hands, freeing the blade from their attacker’s grip. She quickly tossed the damaged book deeper into the library. He watched it go, a bit surprised.

“Leave,” she begged him, her voice shaky. She could feel Geta grip her calf tighter in sleep and she knew she wouldn’t let anything happen to him. Whatever it took.

“Macrinus sent me here for you,” the man clarified, “This is just providence.”

The words were like ice in her veins.

He readied himself for a fight. Letha was forced to push Geta off of her and onto the floor so she could get to her feet in time to meet the assassin’s lunge.

Geta was startled awake, confused at what he was witnessing. Letha’s foot came down startlingly close to his face as she pushed back against the attacker, a loud crash sounding as he was forced into one of the many bookcases lining the walls.

Geta remembered sending the guards posted outside the door away upon his arrival and realized immediately just how stupid he’d been. He would never be safe here, in this city.

He sat up, watching her straining to topple his attacker. He couldn’t deny the rush that overtook him. She was fighting for him.

The assassin trapped one of her arms, twisting it harshly. Letha cried out, her eyes squeezed shut as the man pressed at the still-healing wound on her shoulder. It was all Geta needed to get to his feet, risking his own safety to wrap a strong arm around the man’s neck, pulling him off of Letha.

The man reached for his throat, attempting to pull Geta’s arm away, but it was futile. Geta was quite strong, he just never had to make use of his strength, was never shown how to wield it properly. The man pushed back, forcing Geta into a low table. They both crashed down through it, the narrow wooden legs splintering under their combined weight. An elbow to Geta’s ribs got him to loosen his grip and the man rolled away from him, sputtering.

Letha was on him in a flash, one of his arms trapped behind his back, pinned by the weight of her on his chest, but the other was free to reach for her, finding purchase in her hair, yanking down hard.

“Letha!” Geta shouted, holding up a sharp piece of the broken table, tossing it to her. It landed beside her and she pulled against the man’s grip to reach over for it, her fingers only barely grabbing on.

She pushed it harshly into his neck, the grip on her hair going slack immediately. Hot, traitorous blood burst out of the high-pressure vessel, splashing all over her face and neck. She leaned all of her weight onto the piece of wood, letting it sink further and further in, watching carefully for any signs of a second wind as the attacker bled out on the library floor.

Geta couldn’t breathe, the sight before him beyond his wildest dreams. His very own Tisiphone in the flesh, red blood dripping down her cheek.

Letha fell back off their attacker and crawled away, leaning up against the bottom of the couch. Geta winced as he stood, but kept his eyes on her, sinking down to the floor beside her. He watched her come down off the adrenaline, the fury slowly fading from her eyes to be replaced by fear. Uncertainty. They were safe, their attacker lying dead, but it didn’t seem to matter.

She breathed heavily, turning to Geta but not touching him, her blood-slick hands held up between them, unwilling to take hold of anything lest she stain it. She wouldn’t look up at him. Geta thought she looked a little lost, a sliver of vulnerability showing through in her silence.

“Letha,” Geta spoke, his voice full of worry for her. “Are you hurt?” he asked, his hands gripping her forearms as he checked for wounds that might have been made before he’d woken up on the floor.

All she could do was shake her head.

“Good,” he breathed, relieved. He studied her as she calmed down, still avoiding his eyes.

“Did you hit your head?” she finally asked, her eyes meeting his.

“No,” he answered.

“Okay,” she whispered, eyes once again filling with worry.

Every bit of him was screaming to kiss her, to reward her for protecting him without a second thought. His hands moved to her face, lifting it. She closed her eyes in comfort, letting out a sigh. It was the only sign he needed.

He leaned down, his lips finding hers, kissing her as gently as he could. He could taste the iron splashed across her skin, its presence a reminder of what she had done for him, her willingness to protect him, but also her violence. He could still vividly picture her fingers curling over the lip of that chestplate, had dreams about it. He couldn’t deny the way it still affected him.

They should be out, seeking the Praetorians. He should be furious, questioning how this was allowed to happen, calling on Tegula at this late hour. He should be checking on his brother–

Her bloody hands squeezed his wrists and he could feel the slick of it transferring onto him. All other concerns were washed away.

He got on his knees, bringing her up with him, their mouths never disconnecting. Her touches grew more desperate, her hands smoothing up to find purchase in his hair, at his neck. He let his own hands fall away, one wrapping around her waist, the other hefting her thigh up as he moved her into his lap, propped up by the bottom of the couch behind her.

She moved against him, releasing his mouth with a gasp as she felt him beneath her, his hard length hardly hidden by the thin material of his robe. He felt dazed as she pulled it open, baring his chest and shoulders to her, as well as his aching cock.

He inhaled sharply as she experimentally rolled her hips against his, sliding herself against him with intention. It took all his strength to not buck up into her right then. Her skirts had already been pushed up around her waist by their movements, no barrier between them any longer. Her eyes moved up from where they met to check if this was okay, if he wanted her to continue.

Yes, yes he did.

He smothered her unspoken question with his lips, one of his hands diving down between them to prepare her for him. She let out a gasp that morphed into a sob at the feeling of his large fingers exploring her. She was used to her own touch, soft and teasing. His fingers created molten metal wherever they touched, currently circling that pleasurable place his mouth had been attached to earlier–

“Thank you,” he breathed into her skin, a finger sliding into her tight warmth, eliciting a gasp from her as she squeezed his bare shoulder.

“Geta,” she moaned, nails digging in.

He soothed her, his warm brown eyes staring up through hers and into her soul, his finger still torturously passing in and out of her. He watched her eyelids flutter as he added a second finger, her slick coating making it too easy to get carried away. She let her eyes fall shut as she bit her lip between her teeth, her hips moving on their own to try to relieve the pressure he was creating between her thighs.

She was beautiful beneath the streak of drying blood, her small sounds driving him mad. He leaned up and captured her swollen lips with his, his tongue delving deep as his thumb drew unintelligible patterns over her most sensitive spot. He wanted them to melt together into one. He wanted this forever. There was no alternative he was willing to consider. He would make it so.

He felt her clench around his fingers and withdrew them immediately, needing to be inside, to give in to what he wanted so desperately. She whined into his mouth and he stifled the rush of lust that filled him at her reaction. She had a hold on him, her touch met with real love as he looked in her eyes. Her pupils were blown wide and she appeared as if she’d had a few dozen ships of wine from his cup. He felt drunk too, whether it was off the violence he’d witnessed up close or her, he couldn’t say.

“I need you,” she admitted, her fingers finding the nape of his neck, pressing her forehead down to his.

He was powerless to resist her. His Venus. She had been distilled into this form, just for him. Sent to him by way of divine intervention. There was no other explanation for how he caved to her, would put himself in danger for her. Felt love for her.

He reached down and lifted her hips, using the couch for support as he passed his tip through her slick folds, using her wetness to coat himself before he pushed up into her, a blade finding its sheath.

She sucked in a ragged breath, her bloodied hands finding his cheeks as she acclimated to the presence of him buried so deep. She nodded to him, burying her face in his neck as she urged him to move with a gentle roll of her hips, forcing them both to gasp.

He knew she’d been so close a moment ago, and he knew he wouldn’t last, not long enough for what she deserved. But he hoped desperately that there would be more chances to come together like this.

He withdrew and pushed right back inside her, moving painfully slowly, her moans strangled against the blood-streaked skin of his neck.

Letha wrapped her arms around his shoulders as she met his next thrust with one of her own. She wondered if this was Elysium. Maybe the assassin had been successful and she’d never know the pain of dying, only this.

She could stay wrapped up in Geta forever. Now that they had joined, she would never let them unjoin. He could hold council here on the floor of the library, indecent, the both of them bare for all to see.

She could hardly breathe as he made good on all his threats, his teasing glances, his stray hands. Seeing him this way filled her with a new appreciation for the cocky Emperor. One she was hesitant to put words to. For all she knew, this one moment would finally satisfy him. The mystery would be gone and he would move on to the next shiny, flitting thing. She knew she would never move from this place, this moment.

But even deeper still, part of her knew this was important to him, too. She didn’t know exactly when, but she’d come into possession of a piece of him. A sliver of his trust. She just wished desperately that she didn’t have to betray it.

“Letha,” he panted, his cheek pressed to hers, “I need to–”

A flush passed over her as she realized what his words meant. As she started to lift herself off him, his grip pulled her back down, his look desperate.

“Stay,” he breathed.

She nodded, bringing their mouths back together. She moaned into him as his fingers returned between them, rubbing gentle swirls, urging her on. Her walls clenched around him, forcing a grunt from his throat, her release so tantalizingly close.

“With me,” he whispered, begging. She listened, the idea of what he was asking of her all she needed before she began seizing up around him. Rhythmic contractions pulled at him as white hot heat pulsed through her, forcing her eyes shut as she moaned into his skin, body trembling in his arms.

She heard him grunting, his breathing erratic as he bucked up into her, a soft warmth filling her as he finished, his forehead falling to her uninjured shoulder.

In the silence she became aware of sweat running down her spine, the undersides of her thighs, could feel it under her hands as they smoothed over his skin, smearing new stains over his shoulders. She crushed his cheek to her chest. She didn’t want to give him up to the world. Just a minute longer.

Eventually she was able to lift her head and meet his eyes, finding tenderness there.

He spoke first.

“You saved me, again,” he smiled, his voice low, fatigued. “The scale of your eventual celebration grows each day, Letha.”

His jest filled her heart and she couldn’t hold back her own smile. “I don’t need a celebration. You’ve been so good to me.”

“Are you happy here?” His words were loaded with meaning. She could see him searching her eyes for an answer.

“Very.”

The answer comforted him, more than he would ever let on. “Good.”

He squeezed her hip, shifting slightly beneath her. He tried to get up but she grabbed at his leg, trying to keep him close. She didn’t want it to end.

The sound of armor clinking and boots stomping filled the hall outside the room, shattering their sanctuary. There wasn’t time to extricate himself from her, so he simply did his best to cover her bare lower half with his own body, her chest still covered by her bloodied dress.

“Emperor, are you hurt? We heard…”

The Praetorians took in the scene, the shattered furniture, the dead man on the floor across the room. Books and scrolls toppled from shelves. Their Emperor bare as the day he was born, kneeling on the floor in front of a couch, looking over his shoulder, another sitting before him, a woman, with blood on her cheek–

“Avert your eyes,” Geta instructed. They obeyed immediately.

“Emperor, are you hurt?”

“I am fine,” he insisted, his tone sharp. “Find out who paid this man. Interrogate the whole Senate, if you must.”

“Yes, Emperor,” the guard bowed, careful to keep his eyes off the woman in Geta’s lap.

“And get out!” Geta shouted, waving them off.

They wasted no time, two of them bending low to drag the assassin out of the room as the rest of them quickly made their exit.

Geta sighed, his eyes meeting hers, the tender moment shattered. “I can draw us a bath,” he offered.

“Us?” Letha questioned, a cautious smile pulling at the corners of her lips.

Geta lifted an eyebrow, keeping his smile hidden. “Do you think I’m letting you out of my sight now?”

The notion filled her with a nervous excitement. She would take all she could get. “Okay,” she agreed, eager to scrub her skin. And Geta’s, she thought, noticing all the smears of blood over his shoulders, his neck, his arms. Her doing.

As she moved to try to stand, she winced, going slack in his lap. “I… I might need you to help me up,” she admitted, embarrassed.

“Already making demands of your Emperor, hmm?” At his teasing, Letha looked over to where he’d laid his laurels. He followed her eyes. “Come on,” he urged, lifting her up off his lap. She pushed off from the couch, allowing him to move out from under her.

Geta stood, his long legs and narrow waist on display as he reached down for Letha, helping her to her feet. It was a lot for her to take in, but she looked away quickly so he couldn’t accuse her of staring.

“Are you okay?” he asked, watching her for signs her legs might give out. She nodded, avoiding looking at him. Satisfied she was stable, he picked his robe up off the ground, throwing it on and holding it closed. He took a moment to pull some of her dress back down, ensuring she was covered.

“We should check on Caracalla,” she suggested.

“It’s on the way to the baths.”

Letha assumed he was already planning to check in, even before she asked. Of course he was.

“Can you hold on to this for me?”

At his question Letha turned, looking up at him. He held the golden laurel crown in his hands and set it reverently on her head, his hands falling to his sides once he was done placing it.

It meant nothing, she told herself. It’s just a symbol, a symbol of a kingdom she wasn’t a part of. But she was, wasn’t she? She was here. There wasn’t exactly anything to return to, even if she wanted to.

And here was this man, treating her well, looking out for her. Offering to slay a man responsible for so much direct harm in her life. Placing a crown atop her head, and looking down at her as if he meant forever.

Gods, it stung.

“Geta, I need to tell you something,” she spoke, her heart pounding.

“Let’s check that my brother is sleeping soundly first.”

His smile was so pure, so pleasant. How could she shatter his worldview now?

The morning. She could tell him in the morning. Just enjoy the rest of the night before it all gets ripped away.

[ Part XI ]

#emperor geta x ofc #emperor geta x reader #gladiator ii x reader #gladiator 2 x reader #emperor geta #joseph quinn x reader

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tastic-in-its-finest · 1 month ago

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Frew Up

Summary: When you're barely a teenager and a small child helplessly relies on you. Basically Janus taking care of a sick Virgil.

Word Count: 1363

Warnings/Tags: a LOT of mentioning of throwing up/vomiting, slight mention of spiders

Ao3

…

“...I frew up…” a small voice mumbled and croaked by the doorway.

Deceit grudged open his eyes, what does a side need to do to get some sleep, his body completely ready to succumb to sleep again. But since his body is facing the doorway, he could see the tiny spiderling shaking slightly in the darkness, clenching a large spider plush, dead silent and scared, looking to him for help.

“It's ok, Anxiety. Come here,” he grudges and pushes down any frustration for being woken up so early, or late as Anxiety waddles over cautiously. The little guy looked exhausted, his eye bags larger with redness over them.

“Where did you throw up?” He sighs.

“I don't wanna talk about it,” he hugs the plush closely.

“Do you feel like you're going to throw up again?”

He taps his fingers, “...maybe.”

…

“Stay here. If you feel sick, go to the toilet,” Dee whispered as he led Virgil into the yellow bathroom. The bright light stinged his squinting eyes, rubbing the crust from them.

Was Dee going to leave him here all night, is he going to sleep in the bathtub? He can barely sleep on the couch so he probably won’t get to sleep in a tub. What if he needed to throw up again and couldn't reach the toilet in time? Would he have a blanket or shiver all night???

A tissue wipes a dribble of vomit from his chin, blink blink, oh, Deceit's cleaning Virgil's mouth. There was still vomit leftover on his jacket as he wiped his mouth after– puking… he didn't know what else to do. Until he remembered there was a side down the hall he could talk to, which, took a lot of effort to muster the courage to wake Dee up. Dee always liked sleeping so Virgil didn’t want to make him mad by waking him up.

Deceit threw away the wipe, offering his gloved hands.

“Don't worry I'll take care of her,” Virgil looks down to his spider plush, Lila. His voice sounds smooth, sweet, caring that Virgil doesn't have a second thought about holding her out as she's cradled then put to the side. With two extra arms, Deceit asks to lift his jacket, he does and it's folded neat and with care- but he can tell Deceit is avoiding to touch little bits he left there.

He's left in a t-shirt, leaving his arms naked and goosebumps to travel up his spine. Virgil tries to warm them up the best he can without his warm, fuzzy, and huge jacket but he can only do so much.

…

“I'll be right back,” Anxiety pouted, yet didn't seem to fully disagree, so Deceit took the short window he had to put the jacket in the washer, hand scrub the plush with warm water and soap, drying her quickly but quietly so Vee wasn't alerted Deceit's water boarding his toy.

It wasn't a surprising guess to think Virge launched his dinner out in his room down the hall. Even with the door slightly cracked open, the pungent smell of stomach acid wafted as he walked by, plugging his nose and swallowing his bile.

Unluckily, the vomit is in the purple bed, on a very unfortunate spot. Located right over the comforter, popping on the black sheets, and slightly somehow the pillows. He sighs swiping and trashing away the big chucks with disgust. With a little vinegar, shake of baking soda, and a used rag, he scrubs away the stains. Scooping the comforter, unfolding the sheets, removing pillow cases, cramming into the washer.

He grabs another one of Anxiety's hoodies– a clean gray striped one from the closet. Not his favorite but the kid can't be picky at the moment.

By now, Lila is dry, if not slightly wet but Deceit furiously towel dries her till she's deemed dry enough for Anxiety to cuddle up with her again.

When he got back to the bathroom, Anxiety's staring at the inside of the toilet.

“I did it again…”

“In the toilet this time?”

“The toilet.”

Good, he thought to himself, less cleaning, helping dress Anxiety with a content expression, the kid happy to be a little warmer. Then springing to life when he shows him a clean Lila. But he frowns again.

“Do I sleep there tonight?” He pointed to the tub.

“God no Anxiety, you're not an animal,” Deceit didn't mean to say so harshly, but Anxiety has been around him enough to understand that.

He sulked as Deceit gathered a few things into the living room.

Fluffing one of his pillows onto the couch and sliding a warm blanket, Deceit presents a bed, “There,” Anxiety fiddles with his fingers, looking a little disappointed at the bed. Somethings missing, “Do you need me to read a story for you?”

“Can.. um, can I sleep somewhere else?”

“Where else?”

“Not on the couch,” he shyly taps his feet, “Can I sleep in your bed tonight?”

Deceit has a confused expression, “What's possibly wrong with the couch?” Anxiety looked regretful he'd even asked, ready to take back what he said. Oh, he raised his eyebrows, it probably has nothing to do with the couch.

“Forget I said that. Of course you can Anxiety… you should have just said so.” Before he needed to dismantle his bed.

Dismantling aside, the pillow is secure under his arm, handing the blanket to Anxiety.

He fluffs his pillows to be extra comfortable. Anxiety wordlessly watching until Deceit scoops him up into a big hold, “Deeee, put me down,” he whines, pushing his face away with as much force his little hand could manage.

“How can I when you're just so huggable??” He launches him onto the bed, a few giggles out of him as his face is buried in the soft pillow.

Deceit crawls in bed, mindful of the tiny lump fidgeting next to him waiting until he's settled to wrap himself in a fuzzy purple blanket, wildly contrasting the yellow decor.

Deceit ruffles Anxiety's hair, slightly combing through the small black strands. The little side sighed and yawned into the blanket, his eyes lidded.

When Deceit sees the kid barely able to stay awake after only a few seconds, he summons himself a water and stops the combing. As Deceit reaches for the lamp, he feels an urgent tug on his sleeve, “Can the light be on tonight?” Deceit raised his brow, “For the monsters,” his already mumbly voice is muffled by Lila. No doubt one of Morality’s or Creativity’s stories scared him. They never knew how sensitive he was.

“I'm sorry,” Anxiety mumbles. Deceit didn't realize he made a face with Virge mistaking his anger for him. Deceit immediately patted his head, shoving down his negative feelings.

“Shh, it's alright Anxiety,” he smiles, “The monsters aren't real.”

He could immediately tell Anxiety tensed, “How do you know?”

“I don't leave the light on and no monsters have attacked me yet.”

Anxiety squinted. Why did Morality have to make the kid doubt him?

“I promise, ok?”

Anxiety didn't buy it.

Fine, you win Morality, “Ok, I’ll leave the light on all night. No monsters will ever get you when I'm around Anni.”

Anxiety blinked, and finally he eased into the blankets, “You're sure?”

“Mhm, I'll make sure nothing harms you,” he ruffles his hair again because he can’t help himself, it’s like petting a cat, then lets Anni lay more comfortably on the pillow.

“Can you stop me from throwing up?”

… “Uh, no.”

“Cause i’ hurts.”

“I bet Anxiety.” Deceit fully enveloped himself in the covers, mindful to not stretch out too much to disturb Anxiety. Who is surely but shortly falling asleep.

“Mmm goodnight Dee, I hope the monsters don't get you.” Anxiety nuzzled and fully settled.

“Goodnight… Anxiety.”

Deceit struggled to fall asleep, now with the light, but somehow he managed. He heard Anxiety's small breaths and mumblings as he drifted, which made him feel lighter knowing the side is sleeping soundly without waking up terrified from a nightmare, or the need to vomit.

He was going to have to talk to Morality later though, he thought, before succumbing to sleep.

#gasp a sanders sides fanfic in this economy??#sanders sides #virgil sanders #janus sanders #kid virgil #kid janus #platonic anxceit #anxceit #fanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #fanfic #one shot #tw vomit #tw spiders #tw throwing up #this is one of my favorites that ive written :)

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