Summary: Marinette's dating Chat Noir, a secretive man who seems to meet her in the darkest alleyways away from the public eyes. That might have something to do with the French police after him, since he works with the Opposition. But there are reasons for the police not warning the public, surely. When Marinette's captured by the police, Chat Noir realises that the girl needs to know he trusts her- but will she join the Mafia with him or turn him in?

Warning: Language and violence

Might turn into a multi-chap story- Write your opinion in the reviews.

Marinette brushed her hair, pulling it back into a simple ponytail. No, too simple to meet her secretive boyfriend in the alleyway with. She had spent an entire two hours just choosing clothes- she decided on a pair of black jeans, a red sheer blouse and a pair of heeled knee height boots. She redone her hair, with bunches instead. Great. She put lip gloss on her lips, smiling slightly. Well, she looked natural, makeup wise, and left the house. She was nineteen, and had decided that it was time she didn't rely on her parent's having to check on her every two days, and locked the door behind her. A hand grabbed hers, and pulled her into the side of her house.

"Hello." Breath tickled her ear.

"Oh- Chat Noir." She sighed in relief.

"Actually, no, it's not." She pulled away, and she realised her mistake, it was a police officer. "But you know him, so we're taking you downtown, to answer some questions." She yanked at his grip.

"Stop! Get off!" She screamed, and placed a pair of cuffs on her. She shrieked, and struggled against him.

"You're under interrogation." He pushed her in the car. She felt awful; what did she do now? And why did they seem so pressed to know what she knew about him, anyway? It wasn't like he was a bad guy. When they first met, it was because he was saving her from a gang of criminals; elite, upperclass, men who'd decided they wanted a nice young girl for dessert.

He had nearly killed them bare handed.

She was nervous though.

Maybe that was why they wanted her to be questioned. She made a silent vow to not mention that; only that he protected her. That was the truth.

She was dragged out the car, taken to a small, rectangular room, with glass that she knew they saw her through but she couldn't see them through. She somehow maintained an air of calm.

"So, Miss Doupen-Cheng, you know Chat Noir?"

"Yeah." She replied coolly, "Didn't know that was a crime."

"Do you know he's a member of the Mafia- Son of the leader of the Opposition?" She must've looked shocked.

"He'd have told me- he trusts me!" She covered her mouth.

"What is your status with Chat?" He asked. She couldn't lie, not outright to him. She couldn't lie.

"I'm his girlfriend." She murmured, her eyes on the floor. "So yeah, don't mind my reaction, because I had no idea." She snapped.

"Next question." He shuffled papers.

Chat Noir had planned on stopping the car. But it didn't matter, because all they'd do was tell her. She'd never want to speak to him again now. He opened the door, and stormed through the building. He had a group of men wearing black behind him, holding guns. Never had he expected storming a government building like a police station to be so easy.

"Where's a girl?" He demanded, holding his gun, clicking it in place.

"There are many girls here." An officer replied, "You're going to need to be more specific, Kitten." He pressed the gun to his head.

"Don't mock me." He hissed, "A bluenette, with blue eyes. Pale skin, and... The hottest body going." He grinned.

"She's with Captain Roger." He answered, and Marinette walked out, with a cop. Of course, his old friend Roger.

She met his eyes, and averted her gaze.

Hurt filled him, but he knew why she was upset. She knew his dirty little secret.

"Marinette, don't even think about it." The officer held her arm, tightly.

"Chat..." She whispered, her eyes wide. He held the gun to his head, cocking it in position. "I love him." She yanked her arm free, and Chat watched her. She closed her eyes, painfully remembering his gentle touch.

"Mari... I'm sorry, I know I've hurt you." He whispered. She shook her head; she wasn't stupid, she'd always known something was up with him. He was always secretive, and she'd known he must have had a background. What hurt was that she wasn't trustworthy enough to know what's going on. "I'll explain everything when we're out of here and into HQ, okay?" He whispered in her ear, and she nodded, holding her hand out. He looked at the gun in his belt, and then back at her hand. With his free hand not holding the gun to the officer's head, he handed her it. She raised it, looking at Roger with firm eyes and an almost steady hand.

"We're going, right now, and if you try stopping us, then he dies." She announced, calm. "I'm not bluffing, or anything." She was throwing her career away. Chat, looking at her, closed his eyes in pain.

"You should collapse. When you 'come round' say you were under the illusion that I love you." His hand brushed her cheek, "I do love you, okay? I just want you to not throw your life away for me." She looked back at him, and squeezed his hand, sighing.

"When you're in love, you do stupid things. And I'm madly in love with you, so I'm probably doing the most stupid thing I'll ever do." She smiled slightly, her pulse racing where their hands met. "But life's too short to pretend that we're not in love with each other." She sighed, when they heard a gunshot. Chat pushed her behind him, possessively growling.

"Don't kill any of them!" Roger yelled. The next minute was a blur; she let out a shriek as the gun was fired- it burned her shoulder. Her hand flew to her shoulder, her hand was covered in blood.

Her own blood.

She felt faint, and Chat swore loudly, lifting her in his arms. She was breathing shallowly, and he shouted out orders for everyone to follow. Marinette was too hysterical to notice anything else happening around her, just that she had been shot. Cold air hit her as he climbed out the window, and she swayed as Chat carried her to safety.

The Headquarters was large, and Marinette woke up in a room with rows of beds. She woke up, screaming for Chat. A young man with blonde hair and green eyes, wearing a simple T-shirt and jeans, watched her. He held her hand, using his thumb to rub her hand in circles.

"Oh, sweetheart, you're awake!" He embraced her, "I thought you were dead." He had red, puffy eyes.

"I-I'm sorry." She replied, "Are you okay?" He dusted his shirt off. An older man sat next to him, his eyes scanning her.

"No, I'm sorry." He murmured, "I didn't confide in you my secret, then none of this would have happened." He stroked her cheek, and kissed her hand.

"Chat?" She shrieked. He nodded, slipping his gloves on. His eyes weren't on hrs, and he looked bashful.

"Marinette, this is my father. Father, this is Marinette." She peered at her shoulder, and sighed. She offered her hand, before blushing crimson, suddenly. "What?"

"I'm- I'm not-" She blushed, realising she was completely naked.

"You're?" He raised an eyebrow, confused.

"I'm not wearing anything." She blurted out. Adrien chuckled, and rolled his eyes, peeling his shirt off. Her eyes widened, and if possible, she turned more red.

"Put this on, then." He chucked it at her, "We'll turn around if you want, Marinette." She nodded, and Adrien bit his lip, trying not to laugh at her innocence. She squeaked in pain whilst trying to put the shirt on.

"Fuck." She swore.

"Need a hand?" He asked, "I promise I'm not going to look, I'll just help you." She started smiling slightly, and he helped her into the shirt, whilst keeping his eyes on the wall.

"Thank you, Chat." She whispered, leaning in to kiss him. He stroked her cheek, whilst watching her.

"It's Adrien."

"Huh?" She asked him, drawing back. The man turned around, and looked at her, his eyes skeptical.

"My name is Adrien Agreste. Like old rouge probably told you, I'm the son of Gabriel Agreste, head of the Opposition." He answered, "But that doesn't change the fact I love you." Her fingers moved through his hair, and she shrugged.

"I guess it doesn't matter whether you love me or not," She replied, pressing her lips to his, grinning, "Because you're stuck with me."

"Well, well, well." The teenager's mouth was curved in a small smile, "I guess that makes you a mafia girl."

"I guess it does." She winked, "Or maybe it'll make me a member."