pairing : wife! caitlyn x reader
♡⸝⸝ synopsis : your daughter cassie comes across a stray kitten and asks for your help to keep a secret from caitlyn.
♡ content info !!! modern au, pre-established relationship, you and caitlyn have a kid, her name is cassie, after cassandra, so cassandra is prolly dead idk what i was thinking when writing, the cat is named after another character, innuendo, oh and lots of fluff, oh and i also havent posted since the summer
The evening settled over Piltover with the kind of calm that made even the city’s constant hum feel distant, like it had paused just outside the Kiramman estate.
Inside, everything smelled faintly of polished wood and leather, the lingering aroma of Caitlyn’s perfume teasing the edges of your awareness.
You were perched on the sofa, thumbing through a book you weren’t actually reading, while your daughter, Cassie darted around the hallway with the kind of energy only a nine-year-old could generate after school.
“Cassie?” you called softly, raising an eyebrow.
Her head popped out of her bedroom before you could blink.
Her jacket sleeves were far too long, dragging over her tiny hands as if she were hiding something inside.
She froze mid-step, blue hair tousled, eyes wide, cheeks pink like the sunset streaming through the windows.
“Uh… nothing!” she squeaked, trying to sound casual, though her voice wavered.
Too late: a soft, pitiful meow escaped from somewhere in the folds of her jacket.
You sighed, exhaling a laugh you didn’t entirely manage to hide.
One look at her eyes - wide, earnest, pleading - and you already knew there was no hope.
“Cassie… that’s definitely not nothing.”
Her mouth opened, then closed again. She shuffled backward, one hand nervously tugging at the hem of her jacket.
“I- I found him outside,” she confessed, her words spilling out in a rush.
“He was all alone, and… and I couldn’t just leave him!”
Nine years old, and she already knew how to push every possible emotional button.
You crouched down, lowering your face to hers, and saw the tiny bundle wriggling gently against the fabric.
A small, scruffy tabby peeked out with large, wary eyes, its fur slightly matted and coated in the faint dust of the streets. Tiny ears twitched; whiskers trembled.
Cassie’s hands tightened around the cat instinctively, as if it were a fragile treasure.
“Please,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Don’t tell Mom- I… I can’t let her know yet. I just-”
You pressed a finger to your lips. “Shh. Okay, okay… we’ll figure this out. But we have to be careful.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Really?”
“Yes,” you said, smiling despite yourself.
“But you need to understand… Your mother notices everything. Everything. A stray hair, a faint noise, a shadow moving wrong. If she even suspects…” You let your voice drop to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s over before it even begins.”
Cassie’s eyes widened at the gravity of the statement. “Then we have to be sneaky!”
You nodded, already imagining the week ahead: muffling tiny meows, sneaking food into the closet, redirecting Caitlyn’s keen attention.
It was going to be chaotic.
The cat, meanwhile, seemed entirely unconcerned by the high stakes.
It mewled softly, stretching its small paws toward you. You stroked its fur lightly, marveling at how fragile and tiny it was, yet already possessed of a kind of streetwise bravery.
“What should we call him?” Cassie asked, peeking into the jacket. She had obviously given this more thought than she would admit.
You shrugged, letting the cat crawl a little further into your hands. “He looks… like a Heim. Maybe Heimerdinger?”
Cassie grinned. “Perfect!” she said. Her eyes shone with determination, as though naming her made her own mission more official. She gently pressed the cat against her chest, whispering, “You have to be brave, Heimerdinger. Mom can’t know yet.”
The sound of a boot against the polished floorboards made both of you freeze.
You felt her presence even before she appeared in the hallway - precise, commanding, faintly intimidating - yet tempered with warmth that only family could feel.
She had a way of existing in a room without needing to speak, her eyes scanning, noticing, calculating.
Cassie pressed the cat closer to her chest, muttering to herself, “Hide, Heim! Hide!”
You crouched behind her bed, trying to appear casual, though the tiny meows and the slight rustle of the blanket gave away your presence more than you’d like to admit.
The cat wriggled slightly, sniffing the air as if sensing the nearby threat.
Caitlyn’s shadow passed the doorframe, and your stomach tightened.
One glance from her - one tiny flick of her eyes - and this entire mission could unravel.
She stopped just outside Cassie’s door, perhaps hearing something subtle: a quiet rustle, a soft purr.
She didn’t enter. Not yet. But the mere fact that she could - that she noticed everything - was enough to keep your heart pounding.
“Okay,” you whispered, once the hallway was quiet again, “we have one week. Seven days - at most! That’s all we get before your mother notices something’s… off.”
Cassie’s eyes widened, her mouth dropping open in excitement. “Really? Seven days?”
You nodded, trying to mask your own thrill with a tone of seriousness.
“One week. We have to be smart. Plan where he sleeps, where he eats, and how we keep the noises down. And remember - Mom's attention to detail is terrifying.”
She shivered dramatically, clutching the cat. “We can do it. I’ll be sneaky!”
You couldn’t help but laugh. “You better be. And I’ll help. But we need rules. No meows after lights out, no scratching the furniture, and absolutely no letting your mother catch us in the act.”
Cassie saluted, almost militarily, before hugging the cat even tighter. “Understood!”
The cat, unimpressed by all this planning, crawled onto Cassie’s shoulder, kneading her hair gently with tiny paws, matting the blue strands into knots. Its purring vibrated through the strands, a comforting, grounding presence.
You spent the next hour improvising hiding spots, from behind bookshelves to under the bed, testing how quiet the cat could be while munching on a small bowl of scraps you’d hastily assembled.
Cassie was in her element - whispering instructions, placing little blankets for comfort, and even suggesting code words to keep each other alert.
By the time the first real shadows of night pressed against the windows, the two of you were sitting on the floor, exhausted but triumphant.
The cat purred on Cassie’s lap, eyes drooping in contentment, while you couldn’t stop glancing at it, thinking about how easily a life could be changed by a small act of kindness.
“You know,” you whisper softly, leaning back against the bedframe, “if your mother knew you’d done this for a week, she’d probably… sigh, louder than usual. And then somehow love you even more, you have her heart and determination for sure.”
Cassie pressed her cheek to Heimerdinger’s fur and whispered back, “You’ll be safe with us. I promise.”
The first morning of your secret mission starts with an immediate crisis. Cassie bursts into your room, hair sticking up in all directions and eyes wide with urgency just a bit before dawn - but late enough for Caitlyn to already be enclosed in the chambers of her office.
“Quick!” she whispers, almost tripping over her own feet. “Heimerdinger needs breakfast!”
You groan, rolling out of bed despite the chill of the floor against your bare feet. The tabby’s tiny meows echo from Cassie’s backpack, which has been designated as the temporary dining table.
“You do realize your mom's office is only two rooms away?” you mutter, frowning at the bundle. “If she hears even one meow…”
Cassie rolls her eyes, already unzipping the bag with the skill of a seasoned operative. “We’ll be fine! Quick, quiet, stealthy! I’ve been practicing!”
You exchange a glance with her, half amusement, half horror.
Nine years old and already a master of deception.
The tabby hops out of the bag on its own, tail twitching like it’s in on the secret.
You pour a tiny bowl of milk and some scraps of food, and Heimerdinger licks eagerly, purring so loudly that you nearly spill the contents.
Cassie shushes you with exaggerated urgency, pressing a finger to your lips. “Don’t expose us!"
By the time the last crumb is consumed, you’ve both become acutely aware of how quickly the day will unravel if Caitlyn notices.
She hasn’t appeared yet, but the soft click of her door closing, and the distant hum of her work always seem to remind you of her constant vigilance.
The day passes with small disasters.
You forget to close the closet properly, and Heim squeezes out, leaving tiny paw prints across the polished wood.
Cassie, panicked, drags it back into hiding before Caitlyn can see.
You have to stifle a laugh as Cassie scolds the cat like it’s a trainee soldier failing basic protocol.
“You can’t be seen!” she hisses, holding the tabby like it might dissolve into the floor.
You and Cassie rotate hiding spots, move blankets around, and even resort to whispering code words like “Operation Muffin” to refer to feeding.
Every sound outside the room makes your heart jump - a chair scraping, Caitlyn’s faint cough, the soft exhale of someone walking past - and you realize that hiding a tabby in the Kiramman estate is basically impossible - especially with a clingy wife like yours.
Yet somehow, despite the chaos, the warmth of the secret is undeniable.
Cassie curls up beside you on the floor, the cat between her legs, and whispers, “I think he likes me. Really likes me.”
You ruffle her hair, careful not to disturb Heim. “He’s smart, that’s for sure. But he does like you. And he likes us too, apparently.”
By evening, the strain of the week begins to show. Heim meows in his sleep, stretching one paw out and knocking over a stack of books. Cassie scrambles to catch it, murmuring apologies like the cat understands her panic.
“Cassie,” you sigh, ducking to catch a tumbling notebook, “how are we going to last seven days without her noticing? It's only been a day and I'm shaking with nerves!”
Cassie’s eyes gleam with a mixture of defiance and excitement. “We’ll be sneaky! Like ninjas! Like spies!”
And for a few moments, as you watch her strategize and whisper to the cat about spy tactics she's 'studied', you see a reflection of Caitlyn - sharp, clever, uncompromising - in your daughter’s determined expression.
It makes your chest swell with pride but also, guilt for hiding something from her.
Each hour, Caitlyn grows a little more observant.
She notices the faint smell of cat food, the occasional misplaced blanket, or the slight scratches on Cassie’s doorframe. But she never confronts you – yet.
Her presence is a looming shadow, precise and calculating, and you are acutely aware of it in every creak of the floorboards and whisper of a meow.
Still, you can’t resist these small moments of joy.
One night, after Cassie has fallen asleep, you sit on the floor with Heimerdinger perched on your knee, purring like a tiny engine.
You think about how small, chaotic, and beautiful this little family moment is - hiding a stray cat in a house ruled by one of Piltover’s most observant figures.
The second night of the week approaches slowly, with more suspense than you imagined. Caitlyn’s footsteps echo a little longer, a little louder, a little closer than usual. Cassie hides under the blanket fort you two built, whispering to the cat about the “mission finale.” You clutch your hands together, praying no one knocks on the door.
And then, just before lights out, Cassie leans into your shoulder, whispering, “Do you think mom would… like Heimerdinger?”
You pause, stroking the tabby’s head. “I think… Once she knows the whole story, she’ll love him. But for now… let’s keep our secret just a little longer.”
Cassie sighs, content and mischievous at once, and nestles against the cat. You watch them drift off to bed together, and for all the sneaking and scheming, you realize this week of chaos has already bonded your little trio in a way that no normal routine ever could.
The Kiramman estate feels too still after Cassie went to bed.
The kind of quiet that makes every sound suspicious – the clink of dishes, the soft pad of your slippers on marble, the faintest creak of the bedframe from Cassie’s room.
You’re rinsing the last plate when the air shifts – a familiar, precise rhythm of footsteps down the hall.
Even half-asleep, she moves like she’s tracing invisible lines only she can see: measured, deliberate, graceful.
And moments like this still knock the air out of you – the quiet way she moves through your home, the warmth in her voice meant only for you, the steady, patient strength she carries without even thinking.
Sometimes it hits you so suddenly you almost laugh: that’s my wife.
The woman looking for tea in the half-light.
The woman whose footsteps you recognize instantly.
The woman who somehow became the mother of your child and the calm you reach for without thinking.
You don’t know how you got so lucky, how a life like this - a family like this - ever became yours.
But watching her now, framed in soft light and suspicion and love, you feel it all at once: the wonder, the disbelief, and the aching, overwhelming certainty that you chose right.
She stops in the kitchen doorway, her lean silhouette framed by lamplight. “You’re awake again,” she says, voice low, smooth – more curiosity than reproach.
“Couldn’t sleep,” you answer, too quickly, flushing at the rare sight of your wife disheveled beyond the walls of the bedroom you share. “Thought I’d clean up a bit.”
Caitlyn crosses the room with that quiet authority that still makes your pulse jump. She’s shed her work clothes, bearing her nightdress that you've grown quite fond of over the years. There’s a looseness to her posture – the day’s discipline softened, but not gone.
“Hmm,” she hums, setting a kettle on. “Cassie’s been restless, too. I’ve heard her door open the past few nights. Little footsteps. And…” she glances at you over her shoulder, the faintest curve tugging at her mouth, “another sound. Something softer. Like purring.”
You freeze halfway through drying a glass. “Purring?”
“Mm.” She pours the water, casually, but her eyes never leave yours while she begins to steep the tea. “Almost like there’s a creature hiding in our walls.”
You manage a weak smile as she walks closer to you, wrapping her arms around you, suspending you in the moment. “Probably just the plumbing,” you offer fragilely.
Her brow arches – simultaneously beginning to slowly rock with you in the dim kitchen, with music absent to the moment. “Ah, yes. Piltover’s renowned for its feline plumbing.”
You snort before you can stop yourself, lifting your arm as high as you can for her to spin under it – though she has to duck down to make it work- but she lets it happen, flashing her gapped smile that you adore so much. “Could be a new invention,” you suggest.
She hums while pulling away from the contact to resume making the tea. “Mm.”
She picks up the prepared mugs, hands your tea to you, fingertips brushing. The contact is fleeting but warm. “You always get jumpy when you’re hiding something,” she murmurs.
Your cheeks warm. “I’m not hiding anything.”
Caitlyn steps closer, until there’s only a breath between you.
“No?” Her voice drops lower, intimate now. “Because you’ve been avoiding my questions, and I’m rather good at reading people. Especially you.”
You swallow, trying not to look guilty – or stare at the way her hair’s fallen loose near her temple. “Maybe I just like keeping some mystery.”
She laughs softly, the sound a quiet ripple that fills the space between you. “You forget, I’m a detective. I live to unravel mysteries.”
Her hand settles lightly on the counter beside yours – not trapping, but near enough that the warmth of her skin brushes yours. “So tell me,” she says, eyes searching your face, “what secret are you and our daughter keeping from me?”
You hold her gaze, heartbeat drumming. “If I said it’s harmless, would you believe me?”
She tilts her head, studying you with that maddening precision that always makes you feel seen: entirely and inescapably.
“I might,” she says after a pause, “because I know you. And because whatever it is…” Her tone softens. “It’s coming from love.”
You blink, surprised by the tenderness threaded through her calm.
She smiles faintly, almost to herself, and leans in just enough that you catch the subtle scent of tea and rain on her collar. “Just remember, darling – I always find out eventually.”
You don’t even think before leaning in, pressing your lips gently against hers in a quiet, unhurried kiss – soft, warm, the kind that carries everything you feel but rarely say.
She stays still for a heartbeat, smiling into the intimacy, then the faintest return, subtle and perfect, letting the world shrink to just the two of you in the room.
When you pull back, your foreheads nearly touch, and for a moment, you can hardly believe it:
The brilliant, precise, unshakable Caitlyn Kiramman.
The mother of your child, the center of your life, standing here, letting you love her like this.
Your chest feels impossibly full, amazed that someone this incredible is yours, and that somehow, your small, messy, beautiful family is real.
Then she reluctantly straightens, brushing her fingertips lightly against your hand before turning toward the hallway with a wink.
"Come to bed soon, love," Caitlyn says with a gentle smile on her lips
You nod while you watch her go, the sway of her walk, the quiet confidence in every movement.
The doorframe catches her in a wash of amber light before she disappears down the corridor.
A soft mew drifts faintly from upstairs.
You groan under your breath. “We’re doomed,” you whisper.
From somewhere beyond the hall, you hear her sweet, knowing chuckle – low, amused, and far too affectionate to be truly threatening.
The morning starts like any other — deceptively calm. You and Cassie have grown experts at moving silently, hiding food, and muffling tiny meows, but the comfort of routine is a dangerous illusion. Caitlyn, as always, is precise. She notices the faintest discrepancy: a slightly misaligned book, a whisker that shouldn’t be there, the subtle shift of a blanket that smells faintly of cat.
You’re in the kitchen, trying to pour a cup of coffee without spilling a drop, while Cassie tiptoes around with her cat perched on her shoulder like a tiny, furry parrot.
“Careful,” you whisper, nodding at her. “Caitlyn’s office door just opened — she’s probably heading to the study.”
Cassie freezes mid-step, wide-eyed, and Heim emits a tiny, imperceptible meow. You both stare at the hallway. A shadow passes: Caitlyn. One hand brushes against the wall as she walks, her expression neutral, but there’s a subtle tension in her stance. Every small movement she makes says, without words, that she knows.
You swallow. “She’s observant,” you murmur. “Extremely observant.”
Cassie’s grip tightens on Heim. “Do you think she knows?”
You shrug, but you already know the answer: yes.
Now that Caitlyn is already aware of the cat's existence, you don't feel a crazy need to hide it while Cassie is at school, leaving the act to pick up once she's home.
You’re straightening the living room, tidying small things you’ve already tidied twice, when you feel her presence behind you.
“Come with me,” Caitlyn says softly, voice low, teasing, entirely in control. You glance over your shoulder and catch that faint curve of her lips – the one that makes your chest tighten every single time. “Alone.”
Your pulse jumps. “Alone? Babe, if this is some weird sex thing – the house is kid-free the whole weekend.”
Caitlyn freezes for a fraction of a second, the faintest pink tinting her cheeks — a rare, almost imperceptible betrayal of her composure. Her sharp eyes widen slightly as she tilts her head, lips parting just enough to speak.
“Wh-what?” she manages, voice tight with amusement and mild exasperation.
Then, realization hits, and she lets out a soft, sharp laugh, shaking her head. “Oh! The cat. Not… whatever you were implying.”
She steps closer, still flustered, readjusting the collar of her shirt to tease her cleavage, and her eyes glint mischievously. “Though I suppose I could entertain other… distractions if you ask nicely,” she says, her voice smooth but teasing, just enough to make your stomach twist in delight.
Caitlyn exhales, smoothing her hands over her uniform absentmindedly as she regains her usual composure. “Now, lead the way. I want to meet the little troublemaker before Cassie comes home.”
Your heart lurches. Her and the tiny tabby, Heimerdinger. But there’s more than that in her tone – there’s warmth, almost mischievous, a private invitation meant only for you.
You follow her upstairs, moving silently, the air charged with quiet anticipation.
When you reach Cassie’s room, Caitlyn stops at the door, her gaze locking on yours. “Go on,” she murmurs, voice soft, intimate. “Show me.”
You kneel by the pile of blankets under the bed. Heim stirs, blinking up sleepily, tail flicking in curiosity.
Caitlyn crouches across from you, careful, measured, but with the faintest softening around her eyes.
“He's… Surprisingly cute,” Your wife says quietly, voice low and reverent.
Her eyes flick to yours, as you drape a blanket over her lap, and just for a heartbeat, and you feel the weight of all the unspoken things between you – the love, the laughter, the trust, the life you’ve built together. “Just like his owners.”
Though cheesy, the words linger, and your chest tightens.
She leans in slightly, so close that you feel the warmth radiating from her. The soft scent of her perfume – clean, faintly floral, unmistakably Caitlyn – makes your knees go weak.
Before you can think, you lean in, and she meets you halfway.
The kiss is soft, slow, tender, like a quiet confession: lips brushing lips in a way that preaches all of the unsaid things. Heimerdinger purrs softly, curling into the blanket on Caitlyn's lap – as if approving of this quiet miracle.
When you pull back, your foreheads nearly touching, Caitlyn’s eyes hold yours – sharp, precise, but softened with affection. Her fingers brush yours lightly, deliberately, lingering. Then, in a whisper, she says, “I trust you to keep our little secret.”
You can’t help but laugh softly, a little breathless. “Always,” you murmur.
Caitlyn smirks, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear, her thumb lingering on your cheek. “And you never tell me anything I can’t find out myself,” she teases, leaning closer, so close your lips nearly touch again.
You feel the curve of her smile, the warmth of her presence, and you press a soft nuzzle against her cheek.
She leans into it, letting her eyes flutter shut for the briefest moment, a rare softness breaking through her usual composure.
“I don’t deserve you,” you whisper, heart full.
“You do,” she murmurs back, tone teasing but honest, her hands still lingering against yours.
“You… you have changed everything for me,” she whispers, her voice low and trembling slightly. Her fingers brush yours and linger, grounding both of you in the moment.
“Before you, I thought my life was just about meeting expectations, being strong, being unshakable. I thought that was all I could be.”
She swallows, and her eyes search yours, glimmering with something raw and unguarded.
“But with you, I have learned I do not have to always be the strongest. I do not have to always carry the weight alone. You have made me realize that my life – our life – can be full of love. I can let myself lean on someone, let myself feel. Because of you.”
Her thumb traces gentle circles over your hand, and she leans in, a small, vulnerable smile touching her lips. “I love you. More than I thought possible. It terrifies me sometimes how much I need you, how much I want you.”
Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and you can hardly believe this is real. You swallow hard, trembling, your fingers tightening around hers.
“I love you. I love you so much,” you whisper, voice breaking slightly.
“I love you for saying that, for letting me in. I love you for being you, for letting me love you. I love you, I love you, I love you,” you repeat until you're breathless, while littering kisses all over her face.
You press your forehead to hers, closing your eyes, and the world narrows to the warmth of her, the weight of her hand in yours, and the incredible truth that she feels the same way.
“I cannot believe I get to love you,” you murmur again, “and that you… You love me back. I love you. I love you. I love you.”
Your lips brush hers in a soft, lingering kiss, desperate and tender all at once, a physical echo of every word you’ve just said.
The soft press of her lips against yours is everything you could have hoped for and more.
Every whispered “I love you” hangs between you, electric and unshakable, and in that moment, you know nothing in the world could ever be as right as this.
Heimerdinger meows softly, nudging against Caitlyn’s hand, and she looks down at the cat with a small, indulgent smile. Then her gaze returns to you. “Come on,” she says gently, “let’s see if she wants to be friends.”
You’re laughing quietly at something Cassie did – a failed attempt to teach Heimerdinger to “sit” – when the cat jumps from her shoulder to the countertop, knocking over the small bowl of food.
The crash is loud enough to make you all freeze mid-breath.
“Interesting arrangement,” a voice says from the doorway.
Caitlyn stands there, arms crossed, impeccably composed as always.
But the raised brow, the faint curve of her lips, and the intensity in her eyes tell you everything. She’s not angry — not yet — but she’s fully aware.
Cassie gulps, clutching Heim against her chest. “Mom… I-”
“You’ve been hiding something,” Caitlyn says calmly, each word measured.
Her gaze shifts to the cat, then back to you and Cassie. “I can see it in your movements, your pacing… the faint scent in the kitchen. It’s… unusual.”
You open your mouth to make a joke, then close it. Any excuse would sound ridiculous.
Cassie looks at you, panic rising, and you give the smallest shake of your head.
Cassie blurts, “I found him outside! He was all alone! Please don’t be mad!”
Caitlyn studies her, the sharpness in her eyes softening just slightly. “Mad?” she repeats, voice calm but tinged with incredulity. “I’m not mad, Cassie. It's more likely for you than anyone to take in a cat you found.”
You laugh, finally relieved of not having to keep a 'secret' and having to whack your wife's hand from your daughter's door just because she missed the cat despite it being less than 2 days before their official meeting.
Caitlyn approaches slowly, examining Heimerdinger as if the cat itself were an artifact in one of his cases. The scruffy little tabby purrs, undeterred, curling into Cassie’s arms.
“You hid her for 6 days,” Caitlyn continues, acting, tone flat but not unkind. She kneels slightly, bringing herself to their level. “Without telling me?”
Cassie nods vigorously. “We didn’t want you to get mad! I just… wanted to help him!”
Caitlyn’s expression softens.
For all her precision and exacting nature, there’s no mistaking the gentle crease of concern at the corners of her eyes.
She glances at you, and you shrug. “I couldn’t say no, honestly,” you offer, voice light, a small smile tugging at your lips.
For a moment, Caitlyn studies you both. Then she sighs – a deep, controlled exhale that somehow manages to carry both exasperation and affection. “You have a point,” she says quietly. “It’s… difficult to say no to a child with a good heart, I see.”
Cassie beams, relief flooding her features. “Really? Really?”
Caitlyn nods, though her sharp gaze lingers on Heimerdinger. “Yes. But there are rules. He stays inside, no climbing where he shouldn’t, and no more lying. Understood?”
Cassie salutes dramatically, “Understood, Mom!”
You chuckle softly. “Looks like you’ve got a new family member, officially.”
Caitlyn’s lips twitch into the faintest of smiles – a rare display of amusement – as she reaches out to run a careful hand along Heimerdinger’s back. The cat, apparently approving of the new order, arches into the touch and purrs.
“And I suppose… he can stay. For now.” Caitlyn says, her tone warm and jokey.
Cassie hugs the cat tighter, squealing in quiet triumph. “Thank you! Thank you, Mom!”
You and Caitlyn exchange a quiet smile, kneeling beside Cassie as she cuddles the cat, her laughter filling the room.
Caitlyn’s fingers brush yours, a small, grounding touch, and for a moment the three of you just exist in perfect, messy harmony – a little family bound by love, secrets, and soft, shared joy.
“You two are troublemakers,” Caitlyn murmurs, a teasing smile tugging at her lips, and you press a quick kiss to hers, heart overwhelmingly full of love for her and the family you've made.
♡ authors note : well won't you look at what the cat dragged in... sorry for the most random hiatus!! i got surgery and then i moved across the world after dropping out of school for this semester lol.. anyways i'm hopefully gonna be posting more!! maybe!! hopefully!! oh and yes i named the cat heimerdinger and started having a crisis over it! oh and i dont know whos on my taglist!
taglist : @miffyscakes @sevikas-whore @gwscloq @naponiac @halle5s @poeticrenaissance @riotstemple29 @bruisedbabydeer
FREAKYJORKER 2025 © all my work is my own, please do not translate, copy, or distribute any content without permission
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