It was supposed to be chill. Just a regular night at Ash’s.

Ash came back from his shower, dressed in grey sweatpants, shirtless as he was looking for his hoodie. He went to the dresser, didn’t pay any attention to you first. He rummaged through clothes until he accepted his defeat. He turned his head to look at you to ask you if you saw his hoodie.

There it was.

You were wearing his hoodie. He could have said it didn’t make him feel anything. Liar. You were sprawled out on his bed like it was yours, wearing his damn hoodie like you didn’t even realize what that did to him. You were scrolling on your phone like nothing in the world mattered. It was the way you acted like it belonged to you.

And Ash ? He was on the edge. Watching you, jaw tight, brain loud as hell.

“You think it’s yours ?” He asked with a nod from across the room, voice low, coming out firmer than he planned. It almost sounded rude.

You didn’t look up. Just smirked, letting out a breathy scoff as you casually answered, “Well, you left it here, so it kinda is now.”

Oh, she wanna play that game ? he thought.

He walked closer, slow, quiet, still shirtless. You still didn’t even look up.

“Take it off.” he said in a warning tone. Last chance.

He wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t messing with you.

You finally met his eyes, raising an eyebrow, that damn smirk still there. “Make me.”

And it was all it took for him to snap. His toned arm flexed as he grabbed yours. Not roughly, but strong enough to force you to stand up and let your phone drop on the bed. Forgotten. He kept you close, your back against his chest as he tried to take off the hoodie, while your laughters were filling the room.