Cat Noir Aesthetic Novels & Stories

But the smile did disappear almost immediately because my mind went right back to the wolf. Antonio had looked at my drawing like it had offended and fascinated him at the same time. And his own drawing… That damn cat. It had been beautiful. I hated that it was beautiful. The little creature he had drawn had not been weak at all. It had sharp eyes, arched shoulders, tiny claws bared like it was ready to attack anything that came too close. But still. A cat. A kitten. Mostly because I could not tell if I hated it because it was wrong or because part of it felt too close to being right.

Which is why Noah had chosen this one in particular. On the one hand, Soothers were bad for business because suddenly, the cat café became bare of cats for all other customers, but on the other hand, cats greatly enjoyed the company of Soothers and were in a better mood with one around. Even if that wasn’t so, baring Soothers from entering would be unethical. Thus, the cat café prepared a private room to isolate Soothers from the rest of the café and only allow a limited number of cats in.

I say. I probably shouldn’t be making suggestions and giving advice on stuff I have absolutely no idea about, but c’mon. It’s obvious. “You’re imagining things,” Kitty says. “Besides, he’s not my type.” “What is your type?” I ask, picturing Damon from The Vampire Diaries or some exquisitely chiseled fashion model in a men’s fragrance advert. “Clean cut,” Kitty says. “Polo shirts. Suits. Country club. Not artsy grunge. And not so… so… annoying.”

His soul was so ugly that I couldn't even see his physical beauty sometimes. Whenever I stare at him, I see a big, hairy beast with twelve horns and thirteen hands. Not the wolf kind of beast. No, I found wolves and leopards and other animals of the cat family attractive, but Cameron was ugly to me. Like a wild animal with a butt on his face that sucked human blood. Yes, I liked to think of him as a vampire, so I'd hate him more because, I hated vampires.

"It is just a cat." "Nina has been breeding them in the cellars," Novalee explains, her fingers rubbing at her temples like her skull is splitting open. "To clear the vermin from the lower vaults. The white ones possess a natural purity. Kori’s dark blood magic cannot take root in them. But the rest of the litter... they were pitch black. They were exactly what she needed for the sacrifice." "I do not know anything about your witch curses," I growl, my blood running cold as a sudden thought hits me. "But if the kittens are here, and the body was outside..."

People stopped us every block, an older woman cooing, two teenagers snapping selfies, even a delivery guy on his bike pausing to say, “Yo, cute cat, man.” “See?” Carolina said, pointing like she’d just proven some scientific fact. “He’s a gato mágico. I told you.” “Or he’s just a kitten.” She gasped like I’d committed blasphemy. “Just a kitten? He is destiny in fur. Watch, he’ll change your whole life.” I shook my head, smirking despite myself. “You’re ridiculous.” “Ridiculously right,” she shot back, scribbling something into her notebook mid-stride without even looking where she was going. I had to grab her elbow to stop her from walking straight into a mailbox.

Like I was just a name he needed to forget. As the pain of rejection twisted my guts, I forced the broom forward, harder this time. Sweeping away the remnants of the moment that no longer belonged to me. However, a soft meow broke through the fog of the memory. My heart raced as I turned to see a slender form weaving through the wild grass that lined the garden path. An elegant Balinese cat with a cream coat and dark chocolate points padded towards me. Her blue eyes fixed on mine with a gaze too knowing for an animal.

I may be wolfless, but I am not useless. The other woman dressed somewhere between a goth and cottage-core aesthetic sneers. “They probably only took you on because you’re an anomaly. Everything in fashion has its fringes and that’s you,” She says tossing her sleek black hair down her back.

The cat comes out purring rubbing herself against Ghost's long legs. "She's a Norwegian forest cat. White ones are rare. They're usually tri-colored or dark gray," Leelie tries to sell him on it. "Made a dent in your pocket," "You better keep the hair under control," he points at me. He steps back and is about to walk out when the cat meows loudly. He looks back at her. The cat goes over to him rubbing herself on Jayk's legs. Jayk crouches down to pet her and I swear she falls in love with him in that instant because she rolls over pawing at him. He smiles rubbing her belly.

There’s an old English proverb that states: "A cat has nine lives. For three he plays, for three he strays, and for the last three he stays". A common myth that we’ve all heard is that cats have nine lives. But where does this fiction of feline immortality actually come from? And why is it the number nine? Nine is considered a magical number, which could also be part of the reason cats are attributed with nine lives. Cats have been both worshipped and feared throughout the ages and are seen as magical creatures.