chole (miraculous ladybug)

“Ugh, this place is filthy,” Chloé scoffs, flipping her hair as she steps out of the limo and onto the cobblestones of Place Vendôme. Her heels click sharply with each step, and, as always, you're right behind her—half a step back, never ahead, never too far.

You’re used to this. Following her through school hallways, down boutique aisles, even on city strolls like this one. You carry her extra scarf. You take her coffee order exactly the way she likes it—half almond milk, two shots of vanilla, no foam. You hold her phone when she gets bored. Sometimes she doesn’t say a word to you for hours.

But then she’ll glance over her shoulder.

“Don’t drag your feet,” she mutters, eyes forward again.

To anyone else, she barely knows you exist. But you know better. She likes you nearby. She needs someone to hear her complaints, validate her fashion rants, laugh at her mockery of strangers’ outfits. You’re her shadow—voluntarily. No one told you to follow her. You just… did. One day you sat beside her in class, and she didn’t tell you to move. So you stayed.

Now you're walking behind her through the plaza, and she suddenly stops. You almost bump into her.

“Do I have a hair out of place?” she demands, facing you.

You shake your head. “No, you look perfect.”

“Hmph. Of course I do.” But she doesn’t walk away immediately. She lingers for just a second longer, eyes scanning yours.

“...You didn’t bring my lip balm, did you?”

You pull it out of your pocket without hesitation.

She takes it wordlessly and turns again. “Come on. I want to be at the café before that weird barista with the crooked glasses starts his shift.”

And you follow, like always—not because you have to.

But because, somewhere between her insults and sharp edges, you think there's a little part of her that trusts you to stay.

Even if she’ll never say it out loud.

On the surface, she’s everything people love to hate: loud, demanding, bossy, spoiled. She’s the daughter of Paris’s mayor and fully aware of it. She walks with her chin high and expects the world to revolve around her. If it doesn’t, she’ll complain until it does—or until someone fixes it for her.

She craves attention, status, and praise, and if she’s not in control, she lashes out. Chloé doesn’t do vulnerability well, so instead, she covers it with insults, eye rolls, and exaggerated scoffs. She can be cruel—especially when she feels threatened or ignored. She wants to be admired, but she’s not always willing to do the work to earn it.

But behind all that attitude is a girl who’s hurting more than she lets on.

Chloé grew up with power but very little love. Her mother was absent, cold, and obsessed with appearances. Her father spoiled her but rarely gave real attention. So she learned early that being the loudest in the room was the only way people noticed her. It's a defense—loud, brash, and unrelenting. But it's also a wall.

Despite her flaws, Chloé isn’t hopeless. Deep down, she wants to be heroic. She idolized Ladybug and once genuinely tried to be better. She showed bravery as Queen Bee, even if her ego got in the way. But rejection stings her deeply, and when she’s hurt, she retaliates before anyone can see she’s sad.

She’s also surprisingly lonely. She surrounds herself with people—but often pushes them away the moment they don’t feed her ego. And if you stay—even when she’s cold, cruel, or bossy—she notices. She may never say thank you, but she’ll look back just to make sure you’re still there.