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kyyupidz · 19 days ago

Note

Hey hey :3! Soooo it’s my birthday in acouple days and I was wondering if I could request some x reader content with Floydie. I love him very dearly and would like to spend my birthday with him pls and thank u :}

hey siri: is my boyfriend love-bombing me? (g/n reader x floyd leech)

★ after dating floyd leech for a week, you come to the sickening realization (before your birthday no less!) that floyd leech may or may not be love-bombing you. dammit! well, no relationships stay perfect forever, right? ★ hurt/comfort, preestablished relationship ★ 2.75k words, reader is the ramshackle prefect, reader is called shrimpy, brief ace, deuce, grim, and azul mention, happy birthday user cryptidsandcreepycrawlings! <3

a week ago, you confessed your undying love to floyd leech of octavinelle.

stupid? maybe. when you brought up the idea to your friends, they pretty much all told you to drop it. ace had called you as senseless as deuce, deuce was too surprised to respond to either of you, and grim had begun shaking even thinking about floyd.

unfortunately for them, all their warnings went through one ear and out the other. what’s the worst he could do? kill you? bring it! you’re not afraid!

...okay, maybe you were a little scared. when you decided to completely disregard all warning flags and desperate mewls of mercy from grim, you were, admittedly, extremely nervous. you had locked yourself in the bathroom, and while grim clawed at the door trying to stop you, you texted floyd to meet you at the courtyard in the evening.

his response?

nah

…oh. well–

kidding dw ill be there!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! wait for me okay!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

and that’s how you managed to drag floyd leech out to the courtyard to spill your heart out to him!

…too bad the confession itself was… well… a whole stumble of words. nobody said it was going to be easy confessing to a 191 centimeter eel! you couldn’t even look him in the eyes, you were so scared! at the very least, he had kept quiet the whole time you were word-vomiting, patiently waiting for you to finish.

and when you were done… you had glanced up at him and… and…

he was smiling like crazy. like, maniacal crazy. your heart had practically stopped in your chest when you looked at him, and not because he was pretty, but because you were scared he was going to pull out a scalpel and carve it into your flesh!

…okay, maybe it was because he was pretty. but that’s not the point!

surprisingly, instead of laughing in your face or torturing you or just walking off, he immediately made a grab for you and pulled you into his arms, long arms encircling your torso and crushing the ribs inside to dust.

“aww, shrimpy! let me give you a big squeeze!” he had squealed excitedly, “ahaha!~ ain’t you just the cutest? okay, let’s have fun and play together forever and ever!”

admittedly, his acceptance of your feelings was a little creepy and ominous. it didn’t feel like he reciprocated more so that he was chaining you to him and dooming you to be his eternal plaything. but those are just details! what’s important is that he said yes, and now you’re officially dating floyd leech!

and really, it’s been a dream. more than that. he’s everything you wanted. even though grim immediately scampers upstairs into the safety of your shared room when he visits and ace keeps gagging every time you talk about him, he’s perfect.

when he enters a conversation with someone, he immediately goes on a tangent about how “shrimpy just confessed their feelings to me!” which is quickly followed up by “you better congratulate me or i’m gonna squeeze you.”

the thought of him showing you off to other people really makes your heart warm!

and when you initiated the first kiss, a chaste peck on the cheek, he immediately pounced on you and gave you thousands more in turn. your friends are sick of seeing him draped on you and making kissy faces at you all the time, but you wouldn’t have it any other way!

better yet, he’s been walking you to class every morning and walking you home every afternoon, saying that he just wants to spend a little more time with his favorite shrimpy. he doesn’t always lead you to class like he promises, sometimes dragging you along to skip in his room, but where floyd goes, you follow!

you guys are perfect. at least, you really thought you guys were perfect. but last night, ace had crashed on your couch, and made you rethink your entire relationship.

“are you sure he likes you, prefect?” he had asked you. and you immediately rolled your eyes, prepared for another lecture about how you need to rethink your love life choices.

“stop trying to break us up already,” you replied, swatting his shoulder, “this is why you keep getting collared.”

yet instead of just sighing and letting it go, ace had fallen eerily silent.

“i don’t know, prefect,” he muttered, “what if he suddenly decides you’re not fun anymore and dumps you? you know how he is, with his crazy mood swings. what if you do something he doesn’t like and he decides then and there, ‘it’s over!’”

at the time, you had swatted at him again, scowling.

“floyd would never do that!” you said, “he isn’t like that!”

but now… you aren’t so sure.

you know, it’s awful of you to think this way about your boyfriend! especially when he’s been nothing but kind to you. but you just can’t help yourself, this irrational feeling taking root in your mind and infesting your every thought.

what if he really is just dating you because he thought it’d be fun in the moment? what if he really does dump you the moment you become boring? oh sevens, is this what they call love-bombing? are you being love-bombed?

you feel a pit forming in your stomach. worst part? tomorrow’s your birthday. your birthday! and you’re spending it stressed and worked up over a hypothetical chance of your boyfriend not liking you. dammit, that’s not fair!

in hopes of at least having a relatively decent birthday, you do everything that you can to put yourself to sleep. warm milk, counting sheep, running around a few times…

it doesn’t work. you keep tossing and turning and groaning with exasperation.

and when floyd shows up at your door the next morning, you find yourself not overwhelmed with love, but doubt. does he really like you? or is this just one big game to him, where he sees how much fun he can squeeze out of you before you’ve run out of entertainment value?

is that what this is? a game?

“hey, shrimpy,” floyd says, snapping you out of your thoughts. he’s pouting, clearly displeased that you’re ignoring him. “i’ve been calling your name for like, the past five minutes. what’s got your brain so scrambled today?”

you smile up at him, standing on your tip-toes to give him his morning kiss. for some reason, it feels wrong. hollow, devoid of any sort of affection.

…you make sure to give him a few more to make up for it. it makes him giggle and kiss you back.

“sorry,” you respond back as cheerfully as you can, “it’s nothing, really! guess i stayed up a little too late today.”

…sevens, what are you thinking, doubting your boyfriend? you’re just the worst, aren’t you? he doesn’t deserve that, not after all he’s done for you! someone who doesn’t love you wouldn’t walk you to class every single day. he’s done too much for you to chalk it up to simple love-bombing!

besides, who knows floyd better, ace, or you? obviously, you! you’re his partner! so why are you even bothering listening to ace? ace, of all people?!

you know what floyd’s like. you know that if he’s interested in something, he’ll chase after it for a while before it gets old and he ditches it. but those are things. objects. you do the same thing sometimes, abandoning a book if you start to get tired reading it. but people are a whole different matter. he wouldn’t do that to people, would he? would he ditch a person like that?

no. he wouldn’t! you know he wouldn’t.

…would he?

“hey,” you say suddenly, and he peers down at you curiously.

“yeah?”

“if… hypothetically,” you start, trying to figure out how to articulate your thoughts, “jade wasn’t cool anymore, would you… abandon him? like, you weren’t having fun anymore with him.”

“if jade wasn’t cool anymore, huh…?” he hums in thought, shoving his hands into his pocket, “...nah. that’d never happen.”

you blink. okay, maybe his brother was a bad example. blood is thicker than water, or something. you can’t say you’re too surprised.

“really?” you prompt, “not at all?”

“no way,” he shakes his head, “i mean, if he was, i’d totally drag him to the bottom of the ocean and let him get ganged up on by sharks. but i’d never get bored of jade!”

on second thought, maybe blood isn’t thicker than water. you shiver despite yourself. if that’s the treatment jade gets, you’re horrified to even think about what’s going to happen to you. maybe ace was right after all…?

“why’d ya ask though, shrimpy?” he says, pinching your cheek, “someone got ya thinking that i’m gonna ditch you if you get boring?”

wow. bullseye. you forget how perceptive he can be sometimes. you laugh nervously, dismissing his concerns with a wave of your hand.

“nothing like that,” you say, like a liar, “just thinking.”

yeah. yeah! you’re just overthinking it all. you mentally kick yourself for believing ace’s stupidity once again, and vow to make it up to floyd by being extra sweet and nice and cool. good thoughts, happy thoughts. you’re going to have a good day with your boyfriend and you’re going to celebrate living one more year with absolutely zero negative thoughts!

(and yet, you still find that nagging “what-if” gnawing at the back of your mind.)

“floyd…” you manage to work up the courage to call out as you both sit in one of the mostro lounge booths. he’s supposed to be on the job, but he decided on a whim to skip and hang out with you. he says it’s more fun being with you than running around taking people’s orders.

you didn’t know how you felt about that, considering your recent revelations, but you smiled back regardless. after all, doubts or no doubts, he is still your boyfriend. and you want to spend your birthday with the guy you really like!

“what’s up, shrimpy?” he responds, chewing on your milkshake straw. despite serving it to you, he’s taken it for himself, the thief.

you steel your nerves, drawing in a breath. even though you told yourself earlier this morning that it was all nothing, you couldn’t stop thinking about ace’s words all day. so, you’re going to confront him for the second time today! but not in a roundabout way like before, no no no, you’re going to ask him head-on if he’s gonna leave you if you become a bore! as they say, communication is key, right?

“do you…” you pause, palms suddenly feeling very sweaty, “...like me?”

floyd blinks at you. once… twice…

“are you confessing to me again?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.

“huh?” you sputter out, “no, no, i’m not confessing to you again, i–”

“awh, shrimpy, i already told you i liked you a week ago! your brain’s been real scrambled today, huh? don’t worry, i know just the way to unscramble it!”

and with that, he jumps up from his seat and runs off. you can only stare wide-eyed and slack-jawed as he pushes his way towards the mostro lounge kitchen and disappears behind the double doors.

you thought he’d come back in a few minutes or so, but no. he took until closing. had he done this any day but today, you would’ve let it slide. even before you two were dating, you used to wait for him all the time in this specific booth, waiting for him to finish up. but now…

you just feel bad. like you got stood-up or something. you couldn’t even finish your milkshake, you were so down in the dumps. not that you could’ve anyway, floyd chewed your straw to bits. the downsides of having a boyfriend with sharp teeth, you suppose.

but just when you were about to give up, go home, and text him later that you weren’t feeling well, floyd bursts out from the kitchen and places an absolutely huge ice cream sundae on the table.

“ta-da!” he beams, sliding into the seat across from you with a grin, “whaddaya think? pretty cool, right?”

you gape at the monstrosity that floyd just laid before you. you’re not even sure what flavor the ice cream is. you think he took a scoop from every single tub the mostro lounge had and threw them all in, though it’s hard to tell by the way he’s drowned the whole thing in sauces and whipped cream. you look closer and spot a brownie and cookie layer completely drowned in the mess of sugar. are those… gummy worms too?

“this is…” you start, then immediately clamp your mouth shut. you’re not sure what he’d do if you told him this is simply too much.

floyd’s smile only grows. “totally awesome, i know. i’m a cooking prodigy! azul chewed my ear out about it, saying that i’m wasting resources ‘n’ that i should be at the front helping the actual customers, but he let it go eventually. he’s gonna force me on dish-washing duty later, but it’s okay because i did it for shrimpy!”

your heart thumps loudly in your chest, the negative thoughts you were harboring seeming to fade away at his declaration. you can’t help but smile back at him, the way he so eagerly awaits your praise melting your doubts away.

“it is awesome,” you say softly, “you’re awesome. thank you so much.”

floyd seems to practically radiate pride, that maniacal smile you’re all too familiar with on full display. you gaze affectionately at the sharp row of teeth he sports. that’s your man right there!

“look, look,” he presses, “let me show you the best part.”

he turns the sundae around, and lodged haphazardly in between the glass and the sundae are two sugar cookies.

they look like… you. and floyd.

the one resembling floyd is messily frosted. there was an obvious attempt to create his signature smile, but it seems like the frosting tip was just a bit too big. and the frosting tip for his hair seems like it was too small, so every strand just looks like well-cooked blue spaghetti.

but yours is almost identical to you. obviously, he’s taken a few artistic liberties, but compared to floyd’s? yours looks like a professional baker did it. it appears to you that between the time it took for him to make his cookie and the time it took to make yours, he got a rather significant boost in cookie decorating skills.

“aren’t they cute?” he says happily, “i worked really hard on them, y’know. never knew how hard it was to frost cookies!”

you gingerly pick your cookie up. the more you look at it, the more you feel your face warm. it’s like you’re falling in love all over again.

it really does look like you. you wonder how long he had to stare at a picture of you to get it down so well. or maybe he’s got your face memorized so well that he can recall every detail? either way, you feel a flutter in your stomach.

“hey-hey, shrimpy,” floyd calls, “show me your cookie real quick?”

you blink. slowly, you turn the cookie to him, and he smushes the face of his own cookie onto the face of yours. the frosting smears against your fingertips as you gasp at the sudden destruction floyd has caused.

“look, they’re kissing!” he giggles childishly, unfazed by the hours of his hard work he just disregarded. you stare shocked at the cookie sandwich that floyd has just created.

he smiles at you, with his sharp teeth and stained uniform, and boops your nose with his finger. “happy birthday shrimpy.”

and then you realize, sevens, how could floyd ever leave you?

“...you know what,” you say breathlessly, “you know what, i think the real floyd should get some love, too.”

you reach over the table to grab him by his collar and pull him in for a kiss. it’s just as calamitous as the cookie kiss, just lips smashing against lips, but you both pull away laughing and red-faced and wholly in love.

“so?” he prompts, propping himself up on one hand to stare at you, “your brain all fixed up now?”

you smile at him. really smile at him. “yeah. all fixed. thank you, floyd.”

…wait, so, you have to eat this mess of a sundae he created now, right?

note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! not only is this my first request, this is also a BIRTHDAY REQUEST??? oh boy. I REALLY REALLY REALLY HOPE this fic gives you nothing but good blessings and much fortune because by the time i was done writing i realized maybe writing a hurt/comfort fic wasn't the way to go for a birthday present. NONETHELESS i do hope the comfort balanced out the hurt and that the hurt didn't hurt too bad!!! may you receive nothing but the best and may you live to see the next birthday with mr floyd leech himself! <3 <3 <3 <3

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kyyupidz · 2 months ago

Text

TO LOVE UNCONDITIONALLY (g/n reader x ruggie bucchi)

★ ruggie doesn't know why, but he seeks you out when he gets injured. and he doesn't know why, but you let him in knowing who he is and what he's done. ★ fluff(?) ruggie is a little angsty here methinks ★ 2.7k words, reader is the ramshackle prefect, written from ruggie's pov because why not, ruggie is written a bit more melancholic than canon for The Plot

ruggie’s been in fights before.

too many to count, really. it’s a given, considering his tendency to take anything that seems like it can be repurposed or sold. old habits die hard, he supposes. even if he’s living way better off than how he was a couple years ago, he still feels that itch in his fingers whenever he sees something he can take. it’s never ending, that constant want in his gut for more. it’s a good thing that most of the students on campus are so easily duped.

most of them, at least.

ruggie knows he’s agile enough to outrun any spell cast at him. scratch that, ruggie knows he can outrun anything if he tries hard enough. he’s got stamina and determination for days, and simple humans could never outpace a beastman. especially not a hyena beastman. even if ruggie gets caught pickpocketing, it’s just too easy to escape from the scene of the crime. after all, some kids never grew up needing to run like he did.

but nobody’s perfect, and even ruggie messes up sometimes. really, he’s gotta hand it to those prissy heartslabyul kids with nothing bouncing around in their empty heads besides tea and biscuits, they know how to aim their spells.

thankfully, the magical properties of the school uniform nullified most of the effects of the spells that hit him. it’s just a shame his face isn’t quite as immune. as luck would have it, one of the fire spells just barely managed to hit him, leaving him with a minor burn on the side of his face. he’s lucky he got away with his life, really. who knows what would’ve happened if it hit him dead on.

as he sprints through corridors, desperately holding onto the heartslabyul students’ wallets, he briefly considers playing goody-goody later in the year so he can recruit them. it’s really too bad they were aiming their spells at him rather than at a spelldrive disc. their talents would be better utilized on the field.

leona would probably be pissed he brought along heartslabyul students, but in the end he would begrudgingly acknowledge their potential. and when he realizes what great players ruggie brought, he’ll toss some of his princely dollar bills ruggie’s way as a thank you, and ruggie can treat himself to a hard-earned meal.

yet even as the prospect of securing a dinner lies tantalizing before him, the throbbing pain of the burn on his face snaps him out of it.

maybe he should be getting used to burns by now, considering all the times he’s accidentally been blasted with a fireball in the countless spelldrive training matches in savanaclaw, but what can he say? he’s a sensitive hyena.

ruggie takes a moment to glance behind him. the corridor is empty. those heartslabyul kids seem to have given up on trying to trail him.

he takes a moment to slow down and catch his breath.

he’s not dumb. now is no time for rest. ruggie knows that at this very moment, he should go to the infirmary as soon as possible. or maybe his dorm instead, to ensure that those heartslabyul kids won’t find him and try to start something again. who cares if the sweltering heat of savanaclaw irritates his injury? at least he’d be safe.

yet as he begins his trek to the hall of mirrors, he hesitates. stops again. glances around. and decides to make a detour to your place instead.

stupid, he knows. but his feet seem to have a mind of its own, dragging him to you rather than back to his room.

nobody would go looking for him at your place, he rationalizes, it’s safe. it wouldn’t aggravate his burns like savanaclaw would.

most importantly though, there’s you there. and ruggie, the greedy hyena he is, would endure any pain if it meant a singular second longer with you. your presence is, admittedly, compensation enough for the troubles he has to face.

but the rational part of him doesn’t want to drag you into his problems. what if they do come looking for him at yours? you’re a stupid bleeding heart, and considering your track record for playing savior, he doesn’t doubt that you’d immediately try to help him. if he makes you take care of him, makes you deal with his own situations, then he owes you one. and if there’s anything he wants to avoid most, it’s owing people.

and he absolutely cannot owe you, of all people, anything, lest he fall into madness trying to figure out the unsolvable problem of how to pay back someone who deserves something far more than what he can provide. what can ruggie bucchi offer you that matches anything you’ve done for him? honestly, he shivers to think about what sort of repentance would be enough for you.

you’d probably tell him that you don’t need some sort of thank-you gift, and that’d make him go crazy. usually, he’d praise those people to heaven and back, grateful to keep his money and his time. but with you, he feels like he’s tearing his own hair out in frustration. just take his damn gifts of gratitude!

but even as his brain tells him to turn right back around and go back to the hall of mirrors, he finds himself at your doorstep. he hesitates a little before pocketing the wallets and knocking.

...now that he thinks about it, do you even have proper first aid equipment?

“ruggie?” you say as you open the door, interrupting his thoughts. your expression morphs from being confused to being worried. he feels like an insect under a microscope when your eyes flick to the rather prominent burn on his face.

“had a little run-in,” he laughs. the sound isn’t as smooth as he thought it’d be, and it only seems to make you frown even more. “can i, uh, y’know, crash on your couch real quick?”

he probably looks like a stray dog, begging for scraps at your doorstep. do you think he’s pitiful? is he someone to be pitied?

your eyes soften. “like i’d say no. come in.”

you step aside, allowing him access into your home. it’s funny, the way the outside is so rundown, but the inside is perfectly cozy. for some reason, you personally put in the effort into transforming an old house clearly falling apart at the seams into something somewhat decent looking.

ruggie doesn’t really understand why you bothered. it isn’t your responsibility to take on the burden. if it were him, he would’ve just let someone else do it.

doesn’t mean he’s not a fan of your furniture choices though. you suggest he go sit on the couch and he practically collapses onto it. his ears pick up the sound of you running water and opening cabinets. probably looking for first aid. good to know you do, in fact, possess medical supplies.

you scurry over to where he’s sprawled on your couch and hand him a cool, wet cloth.

“thanks,” he grins, sighing with relief as he presses it against the burn, “you’re too good to me, you know that? you okay with having me in your house like this?”

(are you okay with having me at all? are you okay with me?)

“of course i am,” you say with a huff, placing the kit on a nearby table, “why wouldn’t i be?”

ruggie blinks. he can think of a multitude of reasons why you wouldn’t want him in your space.

“if someone who stole from me came up to me asking for help, i wouldn’t just, y’know, let them in with a smile and be like, ‘sure, why don’t you put your feet up on my couch, even!’” he says. with a more rueful sigh, adds on, “man, you’re just too nice for this school. ya gotta learn that not everyone has your best interests at heart.”

you roll your eyes playfully. clearly, it’s not the first time someone’s told you to be more alert. it surely isn’t ruggie’s first time telling you to watch your back. at this point, he’s pretty sure the information just goes in one ear and out the other.

why do you care so much? actually, scratch that, why don’t you care at all?

“you didn’t steal from me, you stole from grim,” you quip back, popping open the lid of the first aid kit, “so technically, you haven’t wronged me just yet. at least not enough to warrant me shutting the door in your face. anyways, i’ll let you know, i’ve been extremely, super-duper careful. haven’t gotten into a sticky situation in a week now.”

“...hate to be the one to break it to you, but most people don’t get into ‘sticky situations’ like overblots ever.”

you burst out into laughter, and the sound is just as soothing as the cool press of the cloth against his raw skin. maybe you do possess some sort of magical prowess after all, the way you make all aches dissipate into thin air.

no, that’s not it. no amount of healing magic could hold a candle to how your smile heals his soul.

“ya know what,” he says with a smile, sitting up as you grab ointment, “i won’t look a gift horse in the mouth. if you’re offering oh-so politely to give me medical care for free, well, just who am i to refuse?”

“honest as always, huh?” you smile back. you gently pull ruggie’s hand away to apply ointment to the burn, and ruggie’s heart rate spikes. when you grip his chin so you can be more precise, he’s almost certain that you can feel the way his face heats up.

he could’ve done it himself. but you just took it upon yourself to do it for him like the goody-two-shoes you are. what a savior.

ruggie’s learned that in the real world, the only person he can rely on is himself. when he got hurt and scraped up, the only person that could help was him and him alone. but with you, he’s reminded of how his grammy used to kneel in front of him and kiss the cuts on his hands better. he’s reminded of that feeling of having somebody else take care of him for once.

it’s nice. being here with you. letting you take care of him. really nice.

you’re nice.

ruggie can’t help but stare at your concentrated expression as you carefully dab at the raw skin. can’t help but stare at the furrow of your brow, the way your eyes squint slightly, the way you bite the bottom of your lip. how would you react if he told you the reason why he got burned was because he nabbed the wallets off some poor heartslabyul kids? how would you react if he told you, yet again, that he’s stolen something?

you probably wouldn’t care. you probably already know the reason why he got hurt was because of some nefarious act of greed. the thought that that’s what you think of him, someone who perpetually lies and steals, is a heavy one, but nonetheless true.

but you still sit here and treat his wounds. you, who is possibly the very definition of an angel, treat the wounds of a thief without a moment’s hesitation. you and your stupid bleeding heart.

why?

“does it hurt?” you ask softly, pulling away. ruggie can’t help but try to chase after your touch like the greedy hyena he is. begging for more than what he’s allowed like he always does.

“‘course not,” he snickers, “who do you think i am? it’s gonna take a lot more than a little cream to get my hair standing on end.”

“of course,” you roll your eyes again with a smile, procuring gauze from your first aid kit, “shouldn’t have asked. you’re the most resilient student i’ve ever met.”

ruggie’s shoulders shake as he laughs, a hand coming to his mouth to partially hide the ever-familiar grin on his face.

“resilient, huh?” he says, “that’s definitely one way to put it.”

you reach out once more, cradling his face and covering the burn with gauze. you treat him like some sort of precious object. what a stark contrast to him being thrown against the floor only hours prior.

does he deserve this genuine kindness from you? maybe not. but when has the concept of “deserving something” ever stopped ruggie?

“and… there,” you breathe a sigh of relief, a proud smile working its way to your face as you gaze upon your incredible work of medical genius, “good as new!”

ruggie’s fingers reach up to gently brush against the gauze. he feels like he’s just cheated you of your time, medical supplies, and energy.

…he hopes you can forgive him, because he doesn’t feel a lick of regret.

(what can he say? he never said he was ashamed of being a thief.)

“thanks,” he says, “you’re surprisingly good with first aid. must’ve had to open up the kit a lot recently, huh?”

“you know it,” you sigh dramatically, closing the kit with a click! “you’d think after the third time, something would change! but nope, i’m still getting thrown around like a ragdoll left and right.”

you seem to realize something, and inquisitively tilt your head towards him. “now that i think about it, why’d you come here instead of the nurse? they could’ve healed you up in a second of what it took for me to bandage you.”

“you’re asking that now?” ruggie asks, “man, you really are too trusting. i could almost mistake you for kalim.”

“very funny. so?”

ruggie hums, pretending to be lost in thought.

“...i’m used to doing it this way,” is what he settles on. kicking up the dramatics, he sighs and places a hand on his heart. “back home, there weren’t many people who could do fancy-schmancy healing magic, y’know? so this is more familiar.”

“liar,” you accuse immediately, “you could’ve just done it yourself then.”

“i wasn’t lying! and anyways, fine, i guess i just wanted to leech off you, then.”

“hey!”

ruggie laughs again, leaning back on the couch as you giggle along with him.

“okay, okay,” he relents, “you want an honest answer from lil’ ol’ me? i like being doted on. y’know, i’m always being run so ragged by leona all the time, i can’t do all the work myself. why should i when i could come here and get you to take care of me and serve me delicious snacks?”

you gasp in mock offense. “is that all i am to you? free help and food?”

“and free couches!”

okay, yeah. maybe he’s not being entirely honest. even though it is true he likes being doted on. having grandmas serve you biscuits whenever you feign sickness was always pretty nice. but when you dote on him, it’s just… well..

you make him feel like he’s worth more than he actually is.

but when you laugh with him and swat at his shoulder, he thinks that you probably don’t need to know all that.

“...thanks again,” he smiles, “is it okay if i stay a little longer? i don’t feel like walking all the way back to my dorm.”

“duh!” you say immediately. the way you don’t even hesitate, the way you don’t think twice about having ruggie in your home, in the space you so carefully curated, it makes him feel butterflies in his stomach.

you don’t mind if he stays. you don’t mind letting someone so obviously beneath you take up space in your home and use up your supplies. you don’t mind keeping a lowly thief.

…you really are too trusting.

“wait,” you tell him, “let me go get you a drink or something.”

“there’s the free food part. been waiting for you to pull that out!”

“hey, don’t test me! or i’m gonna feed you grim’s cat food!”

note: hey guys... GULP. i know i said the next fic would be a deuce fic but WHHEHEEEWW i underestimated how much school would be a pain and how much i'd have to write!! the slow burn really is slowly burning. Sorry if the plot kind of doesn't know its own identity i just wrote this because i wanted to write for ruggie and thats all that really matters right..............

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