Fluffy Ignis x Reader? Just morning cuddles.
(this is kinda angst-adjacent because that’s just…..what happened while I was writing it lmao can’t teach a sad bitch new tricks i guess)
Every morning you watch Ignis breathe like it’s your own personal miracle. You see him and you remember, you remember the times you’ve seen him close to death, the shallow rise and fall of his chest so subtle it might as well be wishful thinking. You remember the bite of panic, the moments out there in the darkness when you knew, you just knew the luck that had stretched so thin to protect both of you had finally worn through. And despite all of this, despite the number of times you’ve been certain you’ve lost him, he always comes back to you, and every time you hold him longer than the last, the two of you all bruised ribs and shaky laughter.
There’s something fierce and wonderful about the desperate way in which you and Ignis have learned to love one another. It’s raised an edge in you that you never knew was there, and with it an incredible gentleness you wouldn’t have expected from yourself either. You lace your fingers with his and close your eyes, focusing on the soft warmth of his breath on your face.
And then there’s you.
Ignis looks at you and sometimes it still doesn’t quite process, the concept of the protector himself having earned a guardian angel. You are, to him, exactly that—sometimes he tells himself you can’t be real, that he has to be steeled to wake up and find that you were nothing more than a trick of the light, but then you reach for him and the light touch of cool fingers on still-burning scars is as close as he ever needs to get to heaven.
He brushes the hair back from your forehead. You open your eyes and for a moment you study each other, and it’s a promise and a dare and a confession all wrapped up into a single flaring look.
It’s I love you.
It’s I’ll keep you safe.
