𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐓 | 𝐬. 𝐚𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐰𝐚

( XVI )

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AS SOON AS the window was opened, it invited the brisk autumn wind in. Thoughts and reality came in fleeting wisps because, admittedly, Shouta was kind of drunk, he knew you were worse though. Visiting him past midnight in your transformed state was proof.

His reddened eyes watched as you hopped down onto the floor and arched for a classic cat stretch. "Why stop by like this now? Why me?" he wondered but said nothing. The obvious explanation was that you drank too much for better rationality, but why not stay and rest in the comfort of your own dorm? If it were him, that's what he would probably opt for. Did you need something from him?

It was frustrating how he just couldn't grasp your point of view. Granted, he was never great at doing that when it came to you. The beer in his system didn't exactly help.

He squatted with one leg knelt to lower himself to your level. "Is there a reason you're here, Y/n?" he finally asked. You sat down and observed him with your e/c feline eyes curiously. The tips of his unmanaged onyx hair dangled past his shoulders, the slightly hazy look in his typically sharp eyes.

Without countering the impulse he had, he reached out and picked your front two paws up and held them in the air like a red panda. Neither of you could properly identify a reason for his doing. Though, his lips curled into the smallest smile—a huge grin by his standards—so who really needed a reason? Cats were his favorite. "Cute," he thought silently. 

You looked at him wide-eyed and let out a soft, "Mew," after a yawn. He let go of the little paws he held between two fingers and brushed his thumb between your triangular ears.

He stopped abruptly and pulled back after clearing his throat, "Sorry. Is it alright that I pet you? I should've asked."

You rubbed against his retracted hand, your head to your tail affectionately. The pleasantly soft fur against his rough skin, thick and calloused fingers after years of tireless working and tugging on the fabric of his capture weapon.

"Okay," he hummed at your apparent answer.

A strong hand of his pet gently as if you were fragile. You were shedding on him, little grey hairs began to float and stick onto his clothes. A familiar feline rumble left you.

"He smells so good," you purred, though 'good' was an understatement. That pine and rainfall stained scent on his skin, linen and coffee of his dorm, and the mature hint of cologne. Especially after being in the club, ambrosial was a more fitting description.

So many aromas surrounding a single person, overloaded one might be if they hadn't lived as a cat hybrid their entire life. His scent was nothing short of a natural drug to you. Rarely was anyone's scent alone so addictive, not to mention, comforting. Pheromones, extra scent receptors, and whatnot, you had a picky taste when it came to scent. Most didn't smell appetizing at all, honestly. Yet the blanket that smelled just like him was calling for you. What would a drunken mind do but follow?

"Do you want something to eat?"

Your answer was jumping onto his bed and ignoring him completely. One ear faced his direction so he knew you heard him. "Just sleepy," you thought to yourself as you kneaded the comforter until it felt right to be nestled in.

"Guess not." He rolled his eyes knowing he was going easy on you because of your cat form. Insolence would otherwise not be tolerated by him, he dealt enough with that from high school students. At that moment, he could let your ignoring go.

His eye bags felt weighted as he looked over at what you were doing. All was forgotten when you stretched out the way that cats usually do, then rolled on your back playfully like a kitten. He had done light research on cat behaviors but it wasn't coming to him what that meant. Alcohol had blurred his intellect annoyingly.

He left to get a glass of water, but it was the papers on his desk that sobered him greater. One pile of graded work he started and the larger of ungraded work he'd have to finish tomorrow. It clinked as he finished it and set it on his counter. Another tomorrow chore, he'd take care of that cup.

He complained about being tired before getting on the bed with you. His mind stopped moving ahead of him the second his back hit the mattress, the relief of not having to steady his drunken balance any longer. You had been quiet so he looked over to his right as you pawed at the old radio on his nightstand. One of the only non-necessity objects in his otherwise bare room.

"I usually have it on Present Mic's station. Right now it's just oldies," he explained. You stopped pawing when he turned the volume up.

The audio quality was terrible as it sang 'Ooo Baby Baby' by Smokey Robinson and the Miracles, shakily with the crisp white noise. Such lyrics seemed melodramatic to him and yet you looked content while the lullaby of verses played. He could appreciate the timeless tune that vintage music clouded the air with. An old achingly romantic mist of gold-flaked melody.

"In case you get cold," he lifted some of the blanket for you to potentially crawl under. The man was too tired to think through his words like he usually did. You could make fun of him for being a 'softie' in the morning, he was too drunk and exhausted to give a shit.

You instead took the opportunity to get closer and nuzzled next to his chest. His body heat drew the cat instincts in you like he was a fireplace in winter. "So warm," you purred as the last verse continued into the chorus once more.

As his breath tickled your ear, it twitched and you looked up at him. Light shone in your e/c eyes that flickered like ripples of the running river under the moonset. Like you were witnessing the entire world, but why would you look at him like that, he wondered. Drunk hallucinations, silenced himself knowing for fact he wasn't anything extraordinary. Not like other flashy pro heroes in the sunlight, which he was certain you wanted, he was only himself. A falsely labeled emotionless pro hero that caught feelings for his catgirl coworker who was probably here by an alcohol-driven mistake. Yet, what a rare peaceful moment you had given for him to lose himself further to your magnetism. Delude himself with your bliss-filled purring and the array of stars gleamed over your irises. Being with you made him feel light for once.

The outro came as he reached his other hand to pat your little head, you shut your eyes to his touch. "Get some sleep," was the last thing he whispered. Shouta lost his fight-less battle to sleep first, a gentle rumble with every deep breath he took knowing you were safe and right there next to him. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest soothed your little form. Leaden eyelids turned to dreams before you could even hear the hum of the next song.

Though no beat you'd prefer to hear than the steady one of his (secretly soft) heart.

« ——— ⋅. ᓚᘏᗢ .⋅ ——— »

Shouta wasn't expecting to wake up Sunday morning with you, not transformed, clung onto his right arm in that lace white outfit you wore the previous night. Thin golden rays of sun danced over your delicate skin as you slept.

Static hiss washed over the news playing from his radio and his eyes widened to reality. You were full of surprises.

None of it made sense in his hungover mind, but unfortunately, his body was more than willing to react in his stead. For the love of everything, he couldn't decide which of the three had gotten worse: his headache, the fevered blush that migrated from his ears to his cheeks, or the racing throb of his pulse.

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considers yourselves fed 🫶🏽 partially at least. . 
between next update i'll be making some revisions to previous chapters !
have a good day/night, take care of yourself and thank you for reading up to this point <3 it's almost valentine's day so i just want y'all to know i'm here spreading my love to you in case you need it xx