Uptown, Downtown (Chat Noir x Reader) - Book 1

16 | Rain On Me

You stared ahead in an exhausted manner, prepping a cup of coffee, at around 3 pm, on Valentine's Day. It was way into your shift at this point, and you were tired as hell, but you continued to serve the masses, who poured in on the Friday afternoon in numbers untold.

What was even more unnerving was that Chloé sat in the corner, tapping her foot angrily. She'd come in, wanting her signature drink, and had ordered the "peasants" to move out of the way for her; in response, you'd told her you wouldn't make jackshit for her if she didn't shut up and wait her turn.

You didn't exactly say it like that, but British passive aggressiveness seemed to work in any language.

Her mood was fouler than usual as well, which wasn't surprising, considering she looked like she'd been run over by a truck, her blonde hair in disarray and her face streaked with dirt.

"That will be 2 euros," John droned, ringing up the customer you'd just served — surprisingly enough, you two had become close enough for him to switch work places, so now you two spent the afternoon together.

You'd learned he was a student, 19 years old, fresh out of high school, who was planning to attend university in a few years, after he gained some work experience. You were quite surprised by his choice to go to a foreign country, but he didn't seem all that attached to the US all the same.

Britney Spears had become a constant in your life after that. You weren't complaining, though.

"Alright, Chloé," you sighed, at last having finished, leaving her as the only person in the shop. "Come on. It's your turn."

"Your French disgusts me," she sneered, but she got up from her table nonetheless, and approached the till.

"I don't mean to be rude, but why do you look like you just got thrown into a pit of compost?" John asked, as he took her money.

Chloé gasped, "How dare you! Do you know who I am?!" she exclaimed furiously.

John turned to you, "(Y/n), who is this bitch?"

"Some kid in my class who likes frappuccinos," you responded dryly.

"Sorry, but you don't seem that important. Would you answer my earlier question now?" John asked, clearly not giving a shit.

"Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous!" Chloé exclaimed, folding her arms, and groaning dramatically, "Ugh, first Ladybug ruins my outfit, then my hair gets ruined, and now you won't let me have a drink!"

"Who said I wouldn't let you have a drink? Madame, you paid me," John retorted, waving the receipt in her face for good measure.

"And didn't you publicly humiliate Kim?" you asked bluntly, showing her Instagram picture of the poor boy, looking completely miserable, as he clearly tried to confess to her.

Chloé winced, and looked away, "Well, there's a picture of me looking like merde, so we're even now," she scoffed, hiding her face.

(You were a bit shocked — Chloé Bourgeois seemed genuinely... ashamed of what she'd done.)

"Don't look at me like that," Chloé snapped, in response to your questioning stare. "It's what Mum would've done."