#and its cool they give you pills you can crush and snort for it

[spaceandbones]

People think adhd is a mental illness where you cant focus up but its actually when youre born with 1 very mean devil on your shoudler who tells you everyone thinks youre gods embodiment of Sloth sent to remind people of why jesus died for them and then another 1 devil on your other shoulder who makes you lookb away from the roaf while driving so you hit the curb really hard and fight for your life to remember how to check the tire preasure monitor on your dash because you think yhat if the tire pressure is all the same then the curb you just hit at 60 mph cant possibly have done any damage to the car because its not your car and if your mom realizes you hit the curb going 60mph then the other devil iwll have accomplished its mission of letting everyone know that not only are you Sloth you are also Idiot and its secret second mission is also convincing you that you stripped naked in front of the security cameras at work but just forgot about it so when you clock in tomorrow at 4pm your boss is going to show you the footage of your horrible naked body at work and fire you even though you have literally never once gotten even a little bit naked at work

[yoitssabrinee]

POROUS [02]

I cranked two chapters in a single day. I am ashamed proud of myself tonight.

Now my head hurts and I want to write more.

WARNING: None, probably some angst but not much?

PAIRING: Ignis Scientia/GN!Reader

SETTING: Post-Brotherhood Era; AU of sorts.

A/N: it really got a brain of its own, idk what happened

PART: 01 | 02 | 03

You woke up to the smell of fried eggs, and the sound of Ignis cursing to himself.

Bright light was streaming from the curtains, parted to allow the flow of air from the open balcony. It was strangely humid, and the breezy wind coming from outside wasn’t enough to cool the heat. Taking another moment to re-orient yourself, you realized that you were sweltering under a thick layer of blankets.

Pushing the fleecy materials off, you sat up, noting that the plushy thing you’ve slept on was actually the couch of your living room. The apartment still smelled of fried eggs and something that reminded you of sausages, but you were too drowsy and lightheaded—plus still groggy—to stand up and find the source. But even then, you hadn’t need to, because someone’s footsteps were making their way through the hall, and then Ignis was right beside you, balancing a tray on gloved hands.

“Good morning,” he said, his tone light and soft. “I made breakfast. Would you like to have any?”

“Ignis?” you said, rubbing a bleary eye with one fist to wipe off the sleep. “W-why are you here?”

He put the tray on the coffee table before you, and it was then you realized the television was on; it was playing the morning news, though the sound was muted. You took note of the items displayed on the tray before you—thinly sliced ham on toast, fried egg on top, a block of butter complete with its own knife at the side, grilled cocktails, and a jug of warm milk.

Even in your state of disorient, you were touched—Ignis remembered your favorite breakfast.

“You were feverish,” he said, pulling off a glove and placing a cold hand on your sweating temple; by then you suddenly felt a sharp spike in your head and winced, and he grimaced. “You must have been in the rain for far longer than I thought. My apologies for not coming for you sooner."

You blanched at his words. Rain? You were soaked in rain? Another sharp throb and you winced again, and suddenly Ignis was clutching your wrist, gently pushing you down to lay on the couch again.

“Easy,” he said, then leaned back to grab a glass of water and a couple of white pills from the tray before handing them to you. “Here, swallow these before you eat. Slowly, now…”

You downed the pills, and then the water, and then you were handing an empty glass back to Ignis, who took it and placed it on the table. He was still holding you by the wrist, but his hold was gentler.

You looked at him, and he shot you a warm smile.

He asked, “Now, how about that breakfast?”

It took a while for your brain to reorganize itself, for it to pick up tidbits of information that were once holes in your memories, for it to register and process the emotions behind them as realization dawned on you, and nearly made you bawl again.

It pained you.

You knew it pained Ignis, too; seeing you broken and exhausted and sick, of course he’d want to know what had caused them. Yet he never said anything about, never asked you anything about what had transpired on that night. He simply hovered close by, asking if you needed this and that, disappearing for a few hours afterwards to cater to Noct before a meeting, promising to come back to cook dinner for you.

He hadn’t slept a wink; the angry red irritation in his eyes was proof of that.

You felt awful, even as you soaked yourself under the shower’s warm pour, dousing yourself in bliss. You should have known this would have happened; you should have picked up the signals before, but you didn’t, you didn’t, and now it was all your fault that Ignis had to stay awake the whole night to tend to you while you wallow in self-pity. Just because of—

Just because of—

A pang in your chest made you hunch over the tiled wall. It hurt to breathe, when your brain began replaying the scenes of that awful night. Furtive looks, sneering glances, a concerned waiter asking if you wanted a refill, and then—

And then—

You saw Ignis.

“Would you like another glass, ma’am?”

The waiter meant well, you knew. He didn’t mean to come prying into your personal space every half hour, trying to keep you company in his own way even when he was attending to other customers, but you knew.

You knew better.

And you should have known earlier.

Another call went unanswered; that was the twentieth voicemail you’ve left when you realized your date was late. An hour and a half late. You’ve ordered some snacks because you took pity on the loitering waiter who kept glancing at your table with hopeful looks, and because you were really, really hungry; you had refused Ignis’ offer to cook you dinner before, and now you were regretting it. His panna cotta would have been a great dessert in a sweltering environment such as this, but it wasn’t even humid or hot, it was almost night-time, and the atmosphere was becoming quite chill…

You squirmed in your seat; the clothes, while they accentuated your every curve and appeal, and was tailored to fit your size—courtesy of the prince’s chamberlain, because of his connections—was making you uncomfortable. Your skin was itching, sweat made the material slide on your body like rough parchment, and the whole thing was downright unbearable.

And worse yet, the looks thrown your way hadn’t eased the nervousness seeping in you. They were deriding, taunting snorts, and unheard whispers behind jeweled fingers; the restaurant you’ve picked was, after all, a high-end one, so of course someone of low class like you shouldn’t be here. But your crush—your date—seemed like the person worth the money you’d spend for, and if only they would show up now—

Until you chanced a glance outside the window—the spot you’ve reserved for that specific occasion—and you felt your blood turn cold.

There they were, your supposed date, strolling at the other side of the road, with someone else wrapped in their arms.

Immediately you turned your head the other way. It couldn’t be them, could it? They had promised you a date, and they were supposed to be here near two hours ago, but that person… it couldn’t be them. It couldn’t be.

You turned to glance at them a second time and—

There they were, looking straight at you, flashing white teeth behind a smile that had charmed you before. It didn’t charm you now.

The smile felt mocking, jeering, insulting.

And their partner was looking at you, too, flashing the same smile, white teeth and all, and you felt—

You felt—ridiculed.

You leaned in your seat, feeling hot and cold at the same time. Outside, thunder reverberated through the sky, signaling the oncoming rain, and you knew you should make it home before it poured; but somehow you remain rooted at your chair, sipping wine and taking bites out of the second snack you’ve ordered that night.

It felt like a long, long time, before you finally thanked the waiter for his hospitality, paid and tipped him with what’s left of your wallet, and made your way out through the entrance, ignoring all the glances thrown your way as you went past them.

Your supposed date was gone.

And just as you stepped out of the restaurant’s lounge, it started raining.

The can made a crinkling noise, the hand clenching it tossing it into the waste bin as the other reached out for another can.

Noct eyed that can warily.

Ignis couldn’t really give enough of two fat chocobo turds to care about the situation; he was tired, he hadn’t slept at all, and Noctis was trying his best to help him out despite being entirely incapable to do so while being lazy at the same time. And Noctis had always been lazy.

But this time, he couldn’t really have it in him to care about whether or not his charge was burdening him with yet more tasks to do.

Solid evidence was the piling mountain of empty Ebony cans currently deposited inside the waste bin, and he was prepared to drain another as he ran through the half-assed notes Noct had written for the report he sent last night, biting back a curse at a slight throb behind his eyes.

The two dozen boxes of Ebony cans he’d bought blocked the sunlight from irritating his eyes further.

Noct was still eyeing the can in his hand warily.

He heaved a deep sigh, pulled his head from its awkward position of ducking down to read the notes splayed on the table, and fixed Noct with an even look. “Anything interesting plastered on this thing, Your Highness?”

Noct pulled his eyes away from the can and shot Ignis a look with his brows furrowed. “You okay, Specs?”

Ignis sighed. “I’m in perfect condition, Noct,” he said in a clipped tone. “You would do best to care more about your gods-forsaken notes than my well-being at the moment. Your handwriting is horrendous.”

Noct winced, hissing behind clenched teeth even as his face remained impassive. “Ouch, Igs,” he said. “That stings. What’s got your knot all tangled up?”

“Nothing.” Ignis was fast to respond, and the dark-haired prince narrowed his eyes at him in disbelief. “It would be imprudent for you to try to prod me for information that doesn’t concern your future as crown prince of Lucis, Noctis. I am fine.”

Noct hissed again, but this time it was more grimace than impassiveness. “Geez, dude,” he said, leaning back on his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “You coulda been nicer ‘bout it.”

But Ignis didn’t say anything.

In retrospect, he knew he was crossing a line; taking a jab at Noct’s status as the sole heir to the throne and pressuring him about it was probably as far as he dared himself to make in this state, but he knew he had offended his charge, if Noct had shown any signs of being offended. Still, he was irritable, he was being irrational, and he had one too many cans of Ebony to even think straight anymore—

He slammed a hand on the papers, and Noct nearly jumped out of his clothes.

“Whoa there,” he said, eyeing the hand. “That’s… kinda-“

“-rude, I know,” Ignis cut him off; he had settled his other hand on the bridge of his nose, glasses off now. “My apologies, it seems that my bearings have gone off track as of late. May we continue this when I’ve finally gotten myself together on a more appropriate-“

“Dude, no,” Noct cut him off before he could go on. “Go home. Take the rest of the day off. Tomorrow, too. I’ll tell dad myself.”

Ignis, too surprised to respond properly at first, looked up from his position so fast his head felt as if they were spinning. “I beg your pardon?”

Noct was grinning now, leaning on one arm as he fingered his notes with the other. “I mean it, go home, help yourself with some well-deserved nap or whatever, do anything you want, I don’t care,” he said, not looking up from the papers littering the table. “You really look like you need it. So, uh, yeah, do whatever, I’ll tell dad you’re taking today and tomorrow off because you’re sick.”

And Ignis could only stare at him, surprise evident on his face.

“My word, Noct,” he said after a long moment of silence. “I never thought you were capable of such compassion, considering you liked to put your subjects under dire stress.”

“What was that supposed to mean?!”