paying ruggie to be your boyfriend ☺️ heres the thing: you like ruggie! but you arent sure if he likes you back :/ so you decide: hey. theres one thing ruggie wont pass up. its money (and food). so you come to him with a proposal: i pay you, you be my boyfriend. benefits are you get paid! i receive affection ;) whether or not ruggie likes you back at first is up to you. he could like you and play along, or he could slowly develop feelings for you over your kind of real kind of fake relationship ;)))) i love ruggie bucchi PLEASE ONE CHANGE RAAAAAHHHHHHH
pairings « ruggie bucchi x gn! reader »
✎Paying your crush to be your boyfriend! smart, right? ... right?
note: reader is an NRC student [your dorm is up to you to imagine], very, very slight angst at the end. might be ooc.
The heavy velvet pouch of madol hit the worn desk.
Across from you, Ruggie didn't even blink. His oversized hyena ears twitched instantly, pinning forward with laser-focused intensity as his eyes locked onto the drawstring bag. You could practically see the mental math happening behind his pupils, calculating exactly how many grocery trips or skipped chores that sound represented.
"I have a business proposition for you, Ruggie," you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the frantic throbbing in your chest.
Ruggie’s sly grin stretched across his face. He leaned back in his chair, interlocking his fingers behind his head as his tail gave a lazy, curious swish against the floor. "Shishishi! You certainly know how to get a guy's attention, [Name]. What’s the job? Need me to clean the whole dorm? Sabotage a rival? For a pouch that fat, I’ll even do your laundry for a week."
"Nothing like that," you swallowed hard, sliding a neatly folded piece of parchment across the desk right next to the coins. "I want to put you on a strict weekly retainer. In exchange for that pouch, and half of whatever home-cooked lunch I make… I want you to be my boyfriend."
The things Ruggie Bucchi would do for a handful of madol were honestly a little ridiculous. He’d clean the Savanaclaw dorm from top to bottom, do Leona’s homework, and run errands across the entire Night Raven College campus without batting an eye.
But this? This was a brand-new line item on his resume.
"So, let me get this straight."
"You want to put me on a weekly retainer... to do what, exactly?"
"To be my boyfriend," you repeated, keeping your voice level and professional, despite the fact that your pulse was roaring in your ears.
"You want to hire me? To be your boyfriend?"
"Strictly transactional!" you blurted out, trying to keep your voice from shaking. Your heart was hammering against your ribs.
Here was the truth you were desperately trying to hide under a layer of business jargon: you were completely, hopelessly head-over-heels for him. But Ruggie was a guy who viewed the world through a lens of survival. He didn't have time for romance. You couldn't risk ruining your friendship by confessing and getting rejected, but you also couldn't handle watching him from afar anymore. So, you resorted to the one thing you knew Ruggie could never turn down.
"You get paid a weekly stipend," you explained, holding up a list you’d meticulously drafted. "In exchange, I get boyfriend benefits. Walking me to class, holding hands, eating lunch together, and... you know. General affection."
Ruggie stared at the parchment on the desk, then let out a sharp, wheezing laugh that almost made a few nearby students look over. "Shishishi! You’ve gotta be kidding me. You're actually trying to bribe me into a relationship?" He snatched up the paper, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Well, look at that. The pay is good, and the benefits are delicious. You’ve got yourself a boyfriend, boss."
This was it. Your master plan.
What you didn’t know was that Ruggie’s heart had done a weird, sudden flip the moment you made the offer. He did like you. In fact, he’d been harboring a massive crush on you for months, but between his financial situation and his status as a zero-nonsense beastman, and the fact that he's a pick pocket, he figured he wasn't exactly "boyfriend material" for someone like you.
If they want to pay me for something I’d gladly do for free, Ruggie thought, stuffing the madol into his pocket with a smirk, who am I to argue?
The very next morning, he was waiting outside your dorm. The moment you stepped out, he didn't just wave—he slung an arm effortlessly around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. He smelled like... dandelion? and cedar wood.
"Morning, babe," he purred, leaning down so his fluffy ears brushed against your cheek. "Ready for class?"
Your face instantly flushed a brilliant crimson. "R-Ruggie! You don't have to start acting already, there's no one around—"
"Hey, a contract is a contract," Ruggie interrupted, though the tips of his own ears were tinged with pink. He reached down, sliding his hand into yours and intertwining your fingers. His palm was warm and slightly calloused. "Gotta make sure my employer is satisfied with the service and to make sure the campus sees what a great partner I am, right?"
"Just sit back and enjoy the premium service."
At lunch, the sweet torture only continued. You sat together on a wood bench in the crowded cafeteria, right in the middle, a prime spot for everyone to see. You handed him a container of fresh, homemade savory tarts you’d woken up at 5:00 AM to bake.
Instead of snatching the box and inhaling it like he usually did when you gave him scraps, Ruggie meticulously set the container on his lap. He broke one of the warm tarts in half, blowing on it gently before holding it right up to your lips, his eyes locked onto yours with a sharp-toothed, playful wink.
"First bite goes to the investor," he murmured, his voice dipping into a low register that carried over the chatter of passing students. "Come on, open up. It's bad for my reputation if my partner looks malnourished."
You bit into it, your chest aching with a mixture of absolute butterflies and quiet misery. To make it fair, you took the other half of the tart from him and held it with your fingers, placing it on his lips.
He leaned over and took a bite right out of your hand, keeping his eyes locked onto yours. You nearly choked on your own breath. Ruggie swallowed, laughing softly at your panicked expression. "Mm, delicious. Thanks, honey."
He's just acting, you reminded yourself, your chest aching slightly even as your heart raced. He's just doing it for the money.
By the second week, Ruggie decided your arrangement needed some "active marketing" to look authentic. His chosen venue? The alchemy lab, right in the middle of a joint class with half of the sports club present.
"Hey, [Name], pass me the mandrake root, will ya?" Ruggie asked, leaning over your shared workstation.
When you handed it over, your fingers brushed against his. Instead of pulling away, Ruggie caught your hand entirely, squeezing it firmly beneath the edge of the desk where only your immediate neighbors could see. He didn't let go, even as he casually continued stirring his cauldron with his free hand.
"Ruggie, let go, Riddle is looking right at us," you hissed, your face instantly flaring a brilliant crimson. Why am I feeling flustered when this is part of the agreement?! "You don't need to do this during a graded lab assignment!"
"Relax, I'm just making sure everyone gets the memo," Ruggie teased, his wheezing chuckle vibrating low in his chest. He lifted your captured hand right in front of his face and pressed a quick, feather-light kiss to your knuckles, his eyes glinting with pure mischief. "If we're together, we're together. No half-measures."
You swallowed hard, your heart thumping violently. He's keeping up his end of the bargain, you told yourself bitterly, trying to ignore the lingering warmth of his lips on your skin.
By the third week, the neat boundaries of your business deal had completely dissolved into something chaotic and confusing.
Ruggie stopped waiting for you to initiate the "boyfriend benefits." The transactional nature of your meetings began to bleed into your everyday life until you couldn't tell where the contract ended and the real Ruggie began. He started showing up at your dorm on weekends completely unprompted, carrying a basket of laundry or a handful of tools, claiming he was just "doing a maintenance sweep of the premises to add value to the contract."
One rainy afternoon, the two of you were studying in a quiet alcove of the library. It was a cold, absolutely miserable day, and the draft coming off the stone walls was making you more miserable.
You wrapped your arms tightly around your torso, shivering slightly as you tried to focus on your history textbook.
Something warm settled over your shoulders. You looked down to find Ruggie’s oversized Savanaclaw jacket draped over you. He was sitting next to you in just his thin shirt and vest, his arms crossed over his chest, his fluffy tail twitching irritably.
"Ruggie, take it back, you'll freeze," you whispered, trying to slip the heavy fabric off your shoulders. "Look around us. We're in the back of the library. We are completely alone. There's no people here, no one from your dorm or mine. You don't need to waste your energy on the acting there's no one around to verify it."
Ruggie went entirely still. His arms tightened around you, just by a tiny bit.
"Who says I'm acting?" he muttered, his voice dropping to a low hum.
"Nothing," he sighed, burying his face into the crook of your neck. You could feel the soft puff of his breath against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "Just shut up and let me keep you warm."
You could only nod dumbly as he finally pulled back, though he didn't move his chair away from yours for the rest of the evening.
Ruggie was pushing the boundaries of "general affection" so far that
you felt like you were living in a constant panic attack.
It wasn't just about walking to class anymore. During a late-night study session in your dorm room, you had fallen asleep at your desk, completely exhausted from midterms. When you woke up in the middle of the night, you weren't slumped over your textbooks. You were tucked neatly into your bed, the covers pulled up to your chin.
Sitting on the edge of your mattress was Ruggie. He had his knees pulled up to his chest, his eyes fixed on the moon outside your window. When he heard you move, his ears swiveled back toward you, and he turned around with a surprisingly soft expression.
"Hey," he whispered, his voice incredibly gentle. "You were completely out. Didn't want you waking up with a stiff neck."
"Ruggie... did you carry me?" you asked, your voice small and thick with sleep. "You didn't have to stay. The contract doesn't cover overnight shifts." Why am I sounding like Azul? Somewhere behind your mind whispered.
"It's almost midnight. Our daily schedule ended hours ago. You're completely off the clock."
"Yeah, well, I was heading back to Savanaclaw and saw the lights still on," he said, rubbing the back of his neck as a faint, dark flush crept across his cheekbones. "Besides… who says I only want to hang out with you when I'm getting paid?"
You just froze there like a taxidermy.
Ruggie let out a very quiet, breathy laugh, leaning over to brush a stray lock of hair away from your forehead. His fingers lingered against your skin, warm and comforting. "Shishishi... consider it an investment in my favorite client. Go back to sleep, boss. I'm right here."
Eventually, the guilt became too heavy a burden to carry.
Every sweet glance in the hallway, the way his hand held yours during assemblies, and every time he pressed a lingering kiss to the top of your head felt like a beautiful, expensive lie. You were paying for his affection, and it was breaking your heart into pieces. You couldn't bear the thought that he was only holding you because he felt legally and financially obligated to do so.
So, you decided on a Friday afternoon that you met him behind the botanical gardens. Instead of handing him his weekly pouch of madol, you held out a piece of white paper.
Ruggie tilted his head, his ears twitching as he eyed the paper with confusion. "What's this? A new itinerary? A list of demands for our next weekend date?"
"It's a termination notice," you said, your voice cracking on the syllables. You kept your gaze locked firmly onto his scuffed boots, utterly unable to look him in the face. "I want to end the trade, Ruggie. I'm letting you out of the contract. You don't have to pretend to like me anymore. You keep the madol from the previous weeks, obviously, but... you're free."
The easygoing aura around Ruggie vanished in a split second. The air between you grew mysteriously cold and the chirping of nearby birds suddenly fading into the background. He didn't touch the paper. Instead, his hand shot out, his fingers firmly locking around your wrist with a grip that wasn't painful, but completely unyielding.
"Pretend?" Ruggie echoed, "What the hell are you talking about?"
"I can't do this anymore!" you cried out, the tears you’d been holding back finally spilling over your cheeks. You tried to wrench your wrist free, but he held fast. "I proposed that stupid trade because I’ve been completely in love with you for months, Ruggie! I knew you'd never look at me that way unless there was money or food involved because you're always so busy trying to endure hardships just to survive! But it hurts too much knowing I have to buy your affection! I can't keep pretending this is real when it's just a job to you!"
Silence stretched over the gardens, broken only by the sound of your ragged, trembling breaths. You closed your eyes tight, bracing yourself for the rejection, for him to laugh his adorable wheezing laugh and walk away with his hands in his pockets.
Instead, you were suddenly yanked forward. A pair of trembling arms wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. Ruggie buried his face deeply into the crook of your neck, his breath hitching as his small tail tried wrapped around your leg.
"You are an absolute nightmare, you know that?" Ruggie groaned, his grip tightening until you could barely breathe, his fingers digging into the fabric of your uniform. "You think my feelings are that cheap? You think I can just be bought by anyone with a bag of coins?"
"But... you took the money..." you stammered, completely bewildered.
"Because I thought it was the only way you'd let me near you!" Ruggie yelled softly, pulling back just enough to force you to look into his eyes.
His face was completely flushed, a deep, furious red that extended all the way to the tips of his ears, which were pinned back to his head.
"I've been crazy about you since last semester!" Ruggie confessed, hearing his voice shaking with an emotion you’ve never heard from him before. "When you dropped that pouch of madol on the table, I thought Christmas had come early. I thought, 'Great, now I have an excuse to hold them, and walk them to class, and kiss them without scaring them away.' I thought I was tricking you into letting me be your boyfriend!"
Your jaw dropped, mind completely stalling. "You... you liked me?"
"I love you, you dummy," Ruggie corrected, his thumb gently catching the tears falling down your face."I don't care about the madol. I don't care about the food, even if they taste good. I just want you. I've wanted you this whole time."
Before you could even process the confession, Ruggie leaned down and captured your lips in a kiss that completely shattered any lingering doubts. It wasn't the "contractual" kisses he'd given you before—this was deep, heavy with unspoken longing from the both of you, and entirely real. He groaned softly against your mouth, pulling you impossibly closer as your fingers finally found their way into his soft, sandy hair.
When he finally broke away for air, he showed genuine smile lighting up his face. He reached over, snatched the termination paper from your trembling fingers, and ripped it in half, letting the pieces flutter carelessly into the grass.
"The contract is officially void," Ruggie whispered, his nose brushing against yours "From now on, I'm your boyfriend completely free of charge. Real deal. No refunds."
Ruggie is slowly becoming my favorite character because there's a handful of y'all requesting him. [ that I'm too lazy to write sobs ]
