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

18 | Alright

It was a chilly morning, and you were in class, half asleep, but awake enough to smell the delicious pastries that Marinette’s dad was making. Every week or so, he’d come in, and give you all a cooking lesson, which was nice enough, and if you had the time/energy you’d try it out yourself.

But people, unsurprisingly, liked Starbucks. So your hands were full with coffee cups and kettles.

It would’ve been a nice start to your day if Chloé didn’t shut the fuck up.

“Do they seriously think I’m going to get my hands dirty cooking like some maid?! If I want a croissant, I just make my butler get it,” she scoffed, flipping her hair over her shoulder, giving the 32nd irrelevant comment within the hour.

You were this close to losing your temper.

“It’s all done with the flick of a wrist!” Marinette’s dad spoke, still whisking vigorously. The rest of the class looked on with interest, save for Chloé, who just ended up talking again.

“And soil my pants?! Who’s he kidding?!”

33rd comment now.

Your eyes rolled upwards to the sky, and you drew your lips into a thin line, tilting your head back, attempting to control yourself. A hand placed itself on your shoulder, and you glanced to your left, to see Adrien, who was offering you a sympathetic look; he seemed to have noticed your annoyance.

“Is it bad that I want to kill her?” you whispered to him.

Adrien blinked, before having to hide a laugh at your remark. “Yes, and no,” he responded through chuckles.

“Ok, so… say I borrowed Mr Dupain’s ladle, and hit her with it, would that cause her significant brain damage?” you asked quietly, well aware you were speaking in English; you wanted to check something.

“Please don’t do that,” Adrien shook his head, with a sigh, in the same language.

Bingo.

“I didn’t know you could speak English, Mr Agreste,” you turned to him, folding your arms, faking surprise; “how long have you been keeping this talent from me? I certainly would’ve had less trouble talking to you.”

Adrien choked, and swiftly waved his hands in defence, smiling anxiously, “Uh, well, I’m not very good at it! I only know simple phrases…”

“Huh,” you mused, refocusing your attention to the pastry lesson — Adrien stiffly turned as well, though he spared you a nervous look.

(Well, if your theory wasn’t coming together quite nicely.)

All of a sudden, the lesson was interrupted by an alarm bell; smart aleck Chloé had called the damn fire department, in order to put a stop to the entire thing. Why? Who the fuck knew, she was as spiteful as a feral raccoon, she’d ruin everything and anything, apparently. After a brief argument, Chloé was then excluded from the punishment given to the entire school for wasting the firefighters’ time, all because of her damn father.

That punishment was to clean the entire school; and Chloé, that little brat, just got to sit back and observe. Who did she think she was, the queen of rap? She was not the new Nicki Minaj, no one could be the new Nicki Minaj.