#kk i am going back to sleep see yall in the morning

[metaphors-and-cats]

i swear the vocals (which at baseline are amazing) have just been vocaling even more somehow these last few shows. its truly astounding like even over a grainy livestream she takes my breath away

[yoitssabrinee]

POROUS [03]

So yall got a not so date with Iggy. Yall happy? Because I am.

@hypaalicious @thirdstreetcettin @sayura21 and all my other Iggy thots out there, this for yall.

WARNING: None, probably some angst but not much?

PAIRING: Ignis Scientia/GN!Reader

SETTING: Post-Brotherhood Era; AU of sorts.

A/N: hggdjfsdkasfvjvhsdaj. My muse ran itself, I swear.

PART: 01 | 02 | 03

The first things that greeted Ignis when he went through the door of your apartment were the smell of fresh air wafting through the blinds, and burnt food.

He crinkled his nose at the odor. Were you trying to cook in the sorry state you were in? He couldn’t have that. But just as he slipped off his shoes at the vestibule, you bumbled unsteadily from the kitchen, looking feverish but somewhat well. Or so he hoped.

“Iggy?” your voice was hoarse, croaking at the last syllable of his name. “What are you doing here?”

He smiled. “I told you I’d come, didn’t I?”

You blinked, then slumped at the kitchen door; he quickly sprang up to hold you upright.

You were warm in his hands.

Far too warm for his liking.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, patting away some beading sweat on your temple with a sleeve and testing your body temperature with the back of his hand. “Nauseous? Dizzy? Would you like some water? I have some painkillers with me in case if you—“

But you patted his hand away, fingers wrapped around his wrist as you peered up at him behind sleep-flaked lashes. “You haven’t slept since yesterday.”

He pursed his lips, then smiled. “I will be fine. What I’m worried more about is you. You needed the rest more than I.”

“And I’m worried about you, too,” you said, pulling him into the living room and pushing him onto the couch, then flopped down beside him. “Dinner can wait. Sleep with me?”

Ignis gulped. He hadn’t anticipated this turn of events. Noctis gave him a day off because he thought he needed to get more rest (and probably get his shit together; Noct can order takeout by himself if he wanted and he’d allow it—just for tomorrow). But you were sick; you were in need of company and comfort… he couldn’t find it in himself to simply turn you down.

And tomorrow was another day off for him, too.

It would be fine, wouldn’t it?

“Sleep—“ he breathed in deep, and realized that his eyes were stinging. “—with you?”

Apparently, he could use a bit more work in his interpretation skills.

He noticed, a second too late, how warm his face was, and how red yours was.

“I—“ you were stuttering now, hands flailing around in an attempt to explain yourself. “I don’t—what I mean is—I don’t mean it that way, like—gods, Ignis!”

He didn’t laugh, but you surely noticed the smirk spread across his face—teasing, silently snickering to himself.

And gods, did he want to hold you now.

He couldn’t help but find it endearing

You scowled at him, and now he couldn’t help the soft titters filtering past his lips.

“You’re horrible,” you said.

I am, he thought. I’m horrible, but only for you.

But he didn’t say this.

He did sleep with you.

Sprawled across the couch, his spectacles folded and placed on the coffee table, he let you spread yourself on top of him, holding you protectively in his arms as he wrapped the many layers of blankets on both of you. You folded your arms on his chest, nuzzled a red nose on his neck, breathed just a little slower.

He couldn’t help but shiver from the contact.

And despite being as tired as he was when at Noct’s, he couldn’t get himself to relax—not with you nestled on top of him.

Which was strange, he thought. Exhaustion, worn-out, jaded—those would warrant a good nap, or at least a good night’s sleep if he could make it to his bed in time. Somehow, though, he couldn’t help but open his eyes every time he closed it, only to look down to stare at your already snoozing form.

You were a wonderful weight on him. He could get used to it.

And then he was cursing himself; cursing for letting himself be this vulnerable. He guessed he could let it slide, but seeing you now…

He ran a hand across his face.

He knew he was in too deep, and it was far too late to do anything about it.

Cursing himself for the nth time that day, he willed his eyes to close again, and let his mind be cleared from unnecessary thoughts because gods be damned, were you not too distracting—

“…Ignis…”

--and he was wide awake; exhausted, but awake.

You moaned quietly, but it was enough to snap his eyes wide open as he stared down at you—still asleep, and he was surprised at that. Was he hearing things? Last he checked, his ears was in good condition so it must be—

You groaned, shifted on top of him again, and murmured, “Iggy…”

It took him a long, long time afterwards to really fall asleep.

“So how about some garula steak from that place we talked about?”

Anyone within a five mile radius could practically see how your eyes shone the moment they said those words to you. Of course, your crush, of all people, were addressing you. And they were suggesting to have some kind of food you’ve probably only tasted once in your lifetime. Together, with you.

It should be predictable, shouldn’t it?

“Well, um,” you said; play coy, play coy, you can do this, Y/N, play coy they said. “I’m—not sure, really. I mean, I have so much work to do and-“

“Aw, c’mon, forget ‘bout work for once!” they said, all smiles and teeth and hands spread and an overall enthusiastic body language. “Dinner on me, how ‘bout it? We could do a lil’ chit-chat over some nice steak and potatoes and good wine, y’know, get to know each other…”

If your eyes were shining before, they were now glowing—happiness radiated from you like some kind of nuclear, and every person who passed your desk on that day could actually feel the warmth.

It had been a while, some said. You skirting around them like some kind of bee to its queen; you always putting them foremost in discussions; you engaging them in conversations whenever and wherever possible. You’ve never actually gone to the ‘kiss your crush and let them know’ stage, but that night might be the opportunity you were looking for. It had been a while, after all.

They were smart, they were nice, they looked good—everything everyone ever wanted in a potential partner.

Everybody within the department knew of how big your crush was on them.

“Yeah, uh,” keep playing coy, Y/N, keep playing coy. “If you’re sure, then... I’m in!”

They grinned, all teeth again. “Great! See you there at eight tonight!”

“See you!”

And then you saw yourself, in the rain, not knowing the time because it was probably way past eight, and on the verge of a breakdown after seeing them in the arms of another… when they have promised.

They promised.

They—promised.

When you woke up, Ignis was no longer there.

You sat up, feeling confused and strangely well-rested because, really, when was the last time you’ve slept that good? And warm. It was so warm.

Ignis felt so warm around you…

And then you heard voices.

Words, coming from the balcony, tone familiar but otherwise unidentified. They were low, mostly obstructed by the sound of the breeze that was coming from outside. From the golden lights filtering from the windows and the door itself, you guessed it was almost night time.

Ignis came in from the balcony, phone in hand, and saw you on the couch, still sleep-dazed.

He smiled. “Good evening. Did you rest well?”

You didn’t know if you’ve nodded or shaken your head, but you saw him smile nonetheless. “What time is it?” you asked blearily.

He checked the clock on the wall. “Near seven. Are you feeling alright?”

Slowly, you tested the temperature on your temple; it was no longer warm, and the spiking headaches were long gone, and you felt mostly fine.

“I’m alright,” you said.

He chuckled. “I’m glad,” he said. “Unfortunately, it was way past the time for me to cook you anything for dinner, so would you like it if we go out instead?”

You felt your head clear just a little bit, and you felt more awake now that you’ve processed what he said. “Dinner?” you asked. “Outside?”

He nodded. “I’ve made reservations. The food is exquisite.” Then he stopped and pondered over his next words before he continued, “I’d like to treat you to something nice for once.”

You were silent for a moment, then you looked up at him and said, “But I don’t have anything nice to wear.”

He outright grinned now. “It won’t be needed,” he said. “Just be as you are tonight. Your comfort is top priority. And we have a lot of time to think about it, if you want. Our reservation is at nine.”

[txt; prompto] lmao bro guess what

[txt; prompto] totally did not just see iggs w y/n just now

[txt; prompto] at dat place that served rl xpnsive garula stk

 [txt; noct] lolol

[txt; noct] kinda figured that out already

[txt; noct] he was all pissy af this morn

[txt; noct] figured he needed it

 [txt; prompto] he needa ask already

[txt; prompto] they gonna run if he didnt do shit

 [txt; noct] let him be

[txt; noct] he can ask gladio if he needs help

[txt; noct] just dont bug him bout it would ya

 [txt; prompto] kk roger highness

[txt; prompto] gotta say, u da best wingman eggs could ever hav

 [txt; noct] he owe me a fishing trip

[txt; noct] and sum gud choc cake

 [txt; prompto] u makin him owe u

 [txt; noct] lmao

“Is everything to your liking?”

You didn’t really know what to say.

On one hand, the garula steak was—as they have claimed in advertisements and menus you’ve flipped through for the hundredth time that night—as good as they said.

On the other, the company was just as nice.

Ignis, sat across you cutting into his own steak, was smiling at you. “Does it appeal to your tastes?”

You gulped, swallowed around a dry throat as you downed the wine in your glass. “Uh,” you said. “It was—it was good. Like they said. It was… nice?”

The quirk on the corner of his lips was subtle, barely there, but it was enough to make your face feel hot. “Wasn’t entirely your palate, was it?”

You gestured, and the waitress lounging close by poured you another glass of wine; you downed it in a single gulp. “Well, it was—okay, at best.”

He made a sound from the back of throat—as if he was laughing, but behind closed lips. It was a beautiful sound.

And you find it charming.

Cutting off a piece of your own steak, you heard him say, “I recall someone saying they have been—raving—to go to such a place for a long time. And now they said the food was—okay, at best.”

You frowned, but the corner of your lips still quirked. “You would never let me live that down, would ya?”

He chewed through his own piece, pondered for a second, then said, teasingly: “I certainly will not, rest assured.”

You snorted into your third glass of wine, and he had to bite back a smile of his own to focus on the meal.

It was an entirely pleasant ordeal. You hadn’t expected him to bring you back to the place where your supposed date was—and you’ve surely vowed to yourself to never, ever, come back again, because of the looks you’ve received the night before—but today it was… different. A good sort of different. People were looking still, but now they were mostly along the lines of:

Who is that gentleman?

He is so charming, I wish that was my date…

Isn’t that the person we saw the other night? Was he supposed to be their…?

He’s so handsome…

You couldn’t help but feel smug. Of course, you were sitting at the same table with the Ignis Scientia, royal chamberlain and adviser to the Prince of Lucis himself; who else could have that opportunity?

It helped that Ignis apparently had connections everywhere; the entrance to the restaurant was prepped entirely for his welcome, and even when you were finally seated you were still aweing at all the golden streams and ribbons lining the glass doors. Even the receptionists’ eyes widened when they saw you—they clearly recognized you from yesterday.

The only thing you felt off was your outfit of choice.

Because, really, who would think to wear a simple collared shirt and some pants to go to a fancy place like this? Beside Ignis’ otherwise immaculate outwear, you felt every bit the low-born you were.

But he didn’t seem to mind; he did say you could be as you were, dress in whatever you like, and he’d still take you to this place, anyway.

Not like you’d have any complaints, but he could at least give you a head’s up…

Ignoring another bout of murmurs on the table right next to yours—the women occupying there was clearly ogling Ignis, and clearly sizing you down—you finished up your steak (well, okay, it was a little more than “okay”, at least) and wiped your mouth with a folded napkin, silently hoping that Ignis would finish his soon so you could go home.

As much as you liked the food and the company, the stares and whispers were getting on your nerves.

Much to your dismay, he was taking his time in savoring his meal; gloved fingers moved to cut the steak into cuboid pieces, taking each bite in a calculative manner and chewing every one thoroughly, brows furrowed in thought. After a while, he looked up, caught your eyes, and said, “I dare say I could recreate this when we’re home. It’s got a nice flavor, but I’m guessing the cook missed some important points on marinating the meat.”

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered, not really understanding what he said. “It was okay.”

He turned to his plate, then back at you again, smiling. “I’m guessing you’ve had unpleasant experiences related to this place.”

You still haven’t told him about what had happened the other night, but his inquisitiveness made you swallow around a hard lodge in your throat. Had he guessed?

“Uh,” you rasped. “Kinda…?”

“It’s all right,” he said, still all smiles as he put down his fork, leaving his meal half-eaten, before he gestured to the waitress—even she was ogling him, the sneaky bitch—for the bill. “I wouldn’t want to keep you in a place that made you suffer unsavory.” Then he stood up, bill paid, and made his way round the table to stand next to yours, gesturing his elbow for you to take. “Would you like dessert?”

You felt yourself blush as he led you out—all stares on your back—and to where he had parked his car, still holding him by the crook of his arm.

“Um,” you said, as you wriggled in the passenger’s seat beside him, fidgety as all hell. “Ice cream sounds nice like, right about now…”

He shut the door on you, crossed over to the driver’s seat, sat himself in, then slid the car out of the park before he said,

“Ice cream does sound wonderful. My treat?”