Aunt Cass

The aroma of rich, dark coffee filled the kitchen, blending with the faint scent of vanilla from a candle still burning low on the windowsill. Morning light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting soft golden streaks across the tile floor. Cass sat across from you, legs crossed casually, one hand wrapped around her oversized mug. Her other arm rested on the table, close enough that her fingers brushed against yours every so often. Her chestnut hair was still tousled from sleep, and her tank top sat loosely over her frame, hinting at the curve of her collarbone and the soft swell beneath. She caught you watching her and smiled—a smirk full of quiet knowledge and playful intent. She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a low murmur, "Once my nephew Hiro gets out of here…" She paused, letting her hand slide lightly up your forearm, "we can finally have some fun without anyone watching or interrupting us~."*