#cat cafe

However I do not want to go to a gay bar because I do not, nor will I ever, drink alcohol. I do not particularly want to be around drunks.

So instead of a gay bar, I propose a Queer Cat Cafe.

Hypoallergenic cats ofc

There's a section of the cafe where the cats can't go if you don't want cats near you. That section is the library.

There are lil pride flags everywhere, even the obscure ones.

They sell pride pins for 90pish each at the counter.

There are LED lights.

It's autism friendly, lights can be toned down if needed and everything is neatly spaced out

You can have a sticker to write your pronouns on

Mostly queer artists/songs played

cat cafe fan art 🐈

Acerby viscously mauled by wild creature at cat cafe

Tabby Cat Tea Room | Cat Cafe | No CC

A functional (with businesses and hobbies) cat cafe for Henford on Bagley, come on in and have a cup of tea and a snuggle with one of our furry residents. An apartment for the owner is upstairs

Fully furnished and playtested

Name: Tabby Cat Tea Room World: Henford-on-Bagley Type: Residential with Small Business EA ID is TheSeptemberSim

If you would like to download this build please use the links below, or via my origin ID above. Although all my builds are no CC, I use a custom thumbnail so make sure 'modded' is checked to see this in your game.

Download (sfs)

If you would like to support me, use creator code:

THESEPTEMBERSIM

when purchasing on the EA app or thesims.com. Please note, this is not a discount code

Bob Reynolds x Fem!Reader

Masterlist

Bob hadn’t gotten out of bed in two days.

The apartment was dim, quiet. Your soft footsteps echoed against the hardwood as you moved through the rooms, arms crossed against the heavy silence. No news reports blared. No glowing golden aura pulsed under the bedroom door. He hadn’t even turned on the shower.

The only sign he was still there—still breathing—was the quiet creak of the mattress when you gently opened the door.

He lay curled toward the window. Bare-chested. His hair tangled. Eyes sunken. The soft, broken golden glow in his chest barely flickered beneath his skin.

You didn’t say anything at first.

You just sat down beside him and laid your hand on his back.

“I can’t move,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “I know I should. But I can’t.”

“I know,” you said softly. “You don’t have to move. I’ll help you.”

He didn’t answer. But he didn’t pull away.

You brushed his hair back. “You don’t have to fly. Or fight. Or save the world today. Just let me take you somewhere quiet. Somewhere soft.”

He blinked. His jaw tensed. “I’ll ruin it.”

“You won’t.”

“I’m not good to be around when I’m like this.”

You slid your hand down to his. Interlaced your fingers.

“Then I’ll be around you like this.”

It took an hour to coax him up. Another to help him into the shower. You combed his hair with gentle fingers, buttoned up the navy sweater you’d set out for him. It hung loose on his frame. His eyes never quite met yours. But he let you hold his hand the whole way there.

—

The cat café smelled like cinnamon and coffee and vanilla beans.

Bob froze in the doorway at first. There were four other people seated around small café tables, warm drinks in hand—and a sleepy gray tabby sprawled across one customer’s lap. Two black kittens wrestled near a scratch post. And one curious orange cat immediately padded over to sniff Bob’s boot.

You smiled.

“Let’s get you something sweet.”

You sat him down near the window, the softest corner of the café. Ordered him a honey latte and a slice of banana bread. And when the orange cat climbed up onto his lap—Bob didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t breathe for a second.

Just stared down at the tiny creature now purring against his thigh.

“I think they like you,” you said gently.

He blinked. Lifted one shaking hand. Let the cat press its head into his palm.

“Why does it feel like this?” he whispered. “Like… I can breathe again.”

“Because it’s not asking you to be anything but here.”

You wrapped your hands around his coffee and guided it to him.

The first sip made him exhale. The cat curled tighter against his body. And you watched Bob Reynolds—glowing god, weapon of mass destruction, too much and too empty—start to soften.

—

He didn’t want to leave.

Not because he was scared anymore—but because he was peaceful.

“Can we come back?” he asked quietly.

You smiled. “Actually…”

You opened your bag. Reached in. And pulled out a small purple carrier.

Inside was a kitten. Pure black. Tiny. Sleepy.

“Her name’s Nova,” you said softly. “She’s yours.”

Bob stared.

Completely still.

Then his lips trembled. “You—you got me a—?”

“For the days you can’t move,” you said. “She’ll lay with you. Purr with you. Just like I will.”

His breath hitched.

He looked down at the sleeping kitten. Then at you.

“I don’t deserve this,” he whispered.

You reached up. Touched his cheek. “You deserve softness, Bob.”

His arms wrapped around you—tight, trembling.

And in the safety of your arms, with Nova asleep in his lap and coffee still warm in his hands, Bob Reynolds let himself cry.

Not because he was broken.