prompt : in the hallway between the front room and the kitchen + “what part of ‘i love you’ do you not understand?”
frankly, ruby isn’t always the easiest personality to deal with. she’s stubborn and snarky and mean. she’s not mean to you, of course, but she is a demon after all. but you can’t deny that it’s all part of the reason you love her. you’re stubborn too. her snarkiness matches your own sense of humor; it’s cute, even. and she’s extra mean to the people who dare to cross you. secretly, she gets very protective.
she likes when you call her pretty, when you cross lines, when you tangle your hands in her hair and slot your hips against hers, but it turns out that she doesn’t like the big three words. they fall from your tongue, murmured in the softness of that afterglow, your lips brushing against her ear as you hold her naked form close.
when she hears that, she stills, then shakes her head. “no, you don’t,” she whispers back, almost sounding guilty. you thought she liked having you wrapped around her pretty little fingers, and that those words would be the ultimate expression of your willingness to be hers. you don’t expect her to say it back, at least not today, but she’s impressively fast to pull her clothes back on a rush out the bedroom. you follow, more clumsy than her, bewildered by her reaction.
“ruby, wait,” you call after her, stopping her in the hallway between the front room and kitchen of your apartment. your fingers wrap around your wrist.
“you shouldn’t say that,” she tells you, frowning, and much more serious with you than she usually is.
“i didn’t expect you to say it back,” you explain, “and i’m sorry if you didn’t want to hear it.” you frown back. “but i meant it, and i’m allowed to tell you what i feel if i want.”
she shakes her head again. “this isn’t that,” she says, and it is mean to you.
“it is to me,” you insist, “i mean, jesus, what part of ‘i love you’ do you not understand?”
“none of it!” she snaps vehemently, “i’m a demon.”
“i don’t think that’s true,” you retort, “i think you remember more about being human than you let on, i think you actually care. you’re acting like you know exactly what i mean when i say that, and like i shouldn’t feel that way about you. ruby, i don’t give a damn that you’re a demon, that you’re not a good person, or whatever. and maybe you don’t love me back, but you like me and it scares you, doesn’t it?”
she glares at you like you’re right. “i can’t be what you want. i don’t want to be what you want,” she says plainly.
“you don’t know what i want,” you insist, “and i don’t care. i’m not asking you to be what i want. i’m not asking for anything back. but it’s stupid to pretend that you’re only here for the sex. you kiss me like you mean it.”
ruby’s the type to keep arguing, but she also knows she can’t convince you otherwise. “i’m not–,” she huffs out a sigh, not even sure what her counterpoint is supposed to be. this whole time she hasn’t tried to move away from you. her small wrist is still in your hand. her fingers itch to thread through yours.
“that’s fine,” you insist, because you mean it regardless of what she could’ve finished that sentence with. whatever it is, it’s fine. you just don’t want her to walk away. “and baby, you left your panties and bra on my floor.”
