okay, it’s not that ashe spends all of her family’s money on you.. but it certainly is a lot. a large chunk of her money goes to paying for your clothes, jewellery, room decorations and plushies and lace pillows..

she does it coolly, too. she never complains or sings her own praises— just does it like that! for you, as if it were a part of her daily life.

which, it is. in a sense. taking care of you makes her feel needed.

…

“you look nice enough,” ashe comments briefly, gaze flitting between your choice of outfit and the phone in her hand, “it’s cold outside. are you sure you want to wear that?”

it sounds almost motherly, but it’s oddly.. comforting. ashe isn’t sure what she is to you yet— nor does she know what she wants to be.

“i like it,” you say, and ashe scoffs quietly.

“i can see your underwear, sugar. and your thighs are barely covered. hell, i can see your behind— your skirt doesn’t have any shorts built in to it, does it? i can tell.”

she’s talking about the red-black plaid miniskirt you have on. obviously.

“and your top,” ashe points out, “i can see more of your black, lacy lil’ thing than your actual top, baby.”