Can we please ship Mickey Smith and Reinette? Just do yourself a favor for a second and imagine:
it’s Mickey’s first trip to outer space in the TARDIS. They find the fireplace, and good old tin-dog Mickey knocks the wrong thing and wheels around into 1700s France
he sees this little girl (and Mickey is good with kids), and he hears the clock—and he’s a mechanic, he knows a six-foot sound when he hears one—he is scared out of his mind, but Mickey Smith is not one to leave scared little kids, his grandmother taught him better than that
and there’s THE AUTOMATON. Mickey Smith, panicked in trying to protect this kid and not get killed in his first outing, catches the Automaton’s attention and gets it over by the fireplace and hooked to the ledge
Frantic, he smacks the thing that got him here and he’s back at the spaceship, automaton in tow, Ten mildly shocked but happy to play with more robots if Mickey will go get them
Ten is so distracted by the robot that he doesn’t notice a certain somebody pressing the thing again—Mickey wants to make sure the little French girl is okay—Rose’s “wait!” falls on empty air.
and oh shit, Mickey is met by this gorgeous woman, who calls him her imaginary friend and seems to remember him as a hero, an angel, not a scared guy—and oh no, this woman is Madame de Pompadour, isn’t she?!
quite a start for your first adventure
And when Mickey gets back through the fireplace, Rose and the Doctor have wandered off—of course they have, that’s what they do—so Mickey, looking for them, wanders through another door and into France again, and meets Reinette some more
and more automatons, of course; but Mickey’s a mechanic, he knows his way around those; delicate parts snap easily
Reinette is a delicate part, and wants to dance
Meanwhile, the Doctor and Rose are working it out from the ship—Reinette being 37 is what the droids want; and oh, no, the droids are about to strike.
Mickey doesn’t consult them. He has a horse (after all, he’s let Rose keep the Doctor), he has a mirror, he has Reinette—
Reinette, the only woman who has focused on him, and seen the hero he could be.
Reinette, so loyal that she rejoices even if he only shows up every few years.
Reinette, who is treated as an object by the droids just as much as he is treated as a tin dog by the rest of his life.
Mickey Smith jumps through the mirror, riding a horse. He and Reinette drink wine, and count the stars they would like to visit but never will now.
One wrong fireplace and Reinette is gone forever. Mickey reads her letter in the TARDIS. The Doctor and Rose leave him alone (alone, again). Mickey decides he will be the hero Reinette saw him as.
Next adventure, Mickey defeats thousands of Cybermen.
So I know a lot of people are doing these, but I really wanted to contribute because I have too many feelings about this Trash Prince™. (Also I’m altering history slightly to make this work).
Adam’s father is the Duke of Anjou, King Louis XV’s younger brother, while Adam’s mother is an infanta of Spain (who became the Duchess of Anjou). The marriage was political, and there was no love in it at all. The Duke of Anjou kept many, many, mistresses, while the duchess preferred to spend time in the library and reading to her son (this is where Adam gets his love of books).
Because of this lineage, Adam is a prince du sang, meaning a “Prince of the Blood” - a title given to direct descendants in a male line of the King. Adam flaunts this title a lot.
Adam’s full baptized name is Charles Alexandre Adam. His father was very controlling and a traditionalist, so he gave his son two traditional noble French names (the former after himself, and the latter after the King’s middle name). Adam’s mother, however, was very religious and had the name Adam put in (despite great protest from her husband).
His mother always called him “Adam” to differentiate him from his father. Also because the couple basically hated each other, and she didn’t want to be reminded of him when he looked at her son.
Whenever Adam attended parties at Versailles (which wasn’t often because the parties weren’t celebrating him), he was the biggest shit disturber. He would fabricate rumours and constantly get all the other courtiers riled up. He would also gamble. A lot.
Adam also hated all the protocol at Versailles, another reason why he rarely visited. He much preferred his own castle, where he was the centre of attention and all the courtiers revolved around him.
On one occasion when Adam was visiting his family at Versailles (he was forced to go), Lumière organized a ball for the servants to take place in the grand ballroom (which was strictly off-limits to the lower-ranking servants) so he and Plumette could share a proper dance. The rest of the servants were thrilled, but Cogsworth very much opposed the idea, and tried to order everyone back to their duties. It didn’t work. Lumière, obviously ignored him, saying the prince would never find out. Cogsworth remained in the ballroom for the entirety of the servants’ ball, and the smallest smile crept up on his face as he watched Lumière and Plumette dance.
Adam commissioned many paintings to be done with his likeness on Greek gods and Roman Emperors (à la Louis XIV).
He would spend so much money on clothes, wigs, makeup, and shoes that the king would write letters chastising him for his outrageous spending. Adam would almost never reply, and when he did he would say something along the lines of “well how much do you spend on your poisson?” (meaning Madame de Pompadour, the King’s mistress whose surname was “Poisson” and was seen as a disgrace at court because she was a commoner).
After balls and parties, Adam would bring a woman (or two) back to his bed, but he would never say a word to them and then would go off to the library before the woman woke up. This would happen so often that it had become a routine wherein Lumière would be there in the morning for the woman to wake up so he could escort her to an awaiting carriage.
Every trinket, every frame, every doorknob in the castle has to be spotless and shining. Adam also hates dust.
Welp, this was meant to be a Blancfortune oneshot. The me and @ladyofacat had some 3 AM talks and this turned into a villain!Ladybug au. Oops. Also, if you expect plot, leave the expectations at the door lmao. This story will mostly be sexual tension escalading and Miss Fortune/Marinette driving Chat/Adrien mad.
Chat Noir moved stealthily through the dark corridors of the Louvre. It was fights like this when he was truly grateful for his night vision. Fights in the dark were an advantage for him and he knew he needed any asset he could get when it came to fighting her. Because honestly, there was only one thief in the whole of Paris (and possibly Europe) that would go on a stealing spree without any care for the security system.
Chat’s grip on his staff tightened as he scanned the halls for his nemesis. She was the nightmare of Paris for almost six years now. And while she was not robbing simple people, there wasn’t any museum, gallery and private collection that had been spared. And more often than Chat would have liked to admit, she got away with it. He didn’t even want to think how many millions if not billions of euros had been lost because of her. Damn her.
Chat’s eyes scanned the hall he was in, feeling a little bit creeped out by the eyes in the portraits almost following him. He was never a fan of museums at night. Sometimes he wished he could just the exact place where Miss Fortune was. Not that he was worried she will escape. She never left without a fight. More often than not, Chat felt she was doing all these robberies with a clear purpose in mind: to drive him mad. Frankly, she was succeeding. With a sigh, he stopped in place focusing on the noise. His cat ears twitched as he heard a faint noise. from somewhere afar and a little to the west.
He sprinted down the hall until he was close enough to hear better. He began moving with stealth again, his steps trailing the little noises he was hearing. His tail flicked anxiously as he stepped in one of the big rooms of the basement. Boxes of all sizes, sculptures wrapped in sheets covered in dust and even some paintings lying around. The sight almost made him sad, but he didn’t have time to linger on that. He kept his guard up as he stepped further into the room, being prepared for any surprise attack. What he wasn’t prepared for, however, was a fancy chair that probably belonged in the court of Louis de 14th. Put in the middle of an empty space and illuminated strangely by some candles in the back. He immediately spun around, throwing his baton at the target behind him that triggered a noise just one second before. Only to see that there was nothing before him.
“What the… ” his curse had turned into a yowl as someone jumped into his back, managing to knock him off his feet.
A pair of soft lips brushed against his ear shell. “Hello, handsome.”
Chat struggled as she sized his hands behind his back, making it impossible for him to use them. With a grunt of annoyance, he rolled on is back, trying to get rid of her, but it only aggravated the situation as she copied his move. It ended up with a tumble on the floor, until Miss Fortune managed to tie his hands with the string of her yoyo. Chat growled as she forced him to sit in the chair and wrapped the string around his body, managing to tie him to the chair.
“You, know, I’m almost disappointed for how easy you fell for that, kitten.” she said with a pout while taking a bundle of rope off her belt. She took a few steps towards him, slow, almost teasingly. It wouldn’t be the first time when Chat felt like he was the mouse and she was the cat. “But I could forgive you if you meow for me a little.”
Adrien just glared at her, clenching his teeth. She always liked to play with him and he knew very well giving her a reaction would only make her satisfied with herself. And he was too stubborn for that. His lack of reaction seemed to only make her pout further.
“Well, then. If you aren’t in the mood of talking I’ll just get to action too. And when you think I even settled the romantic atmosphere with the candles.” with a dramatic sigh, she got on her knees in front of him.
He did his best to ignore the heat rising in his cheeks as he tried to kick her away. Miss Fortune grabbed his leg and pinned it back down with ease. Glancing up at him with a scolding look, she chided him. “Bad chaton!”
He huffed annoyed, before redirecting his attention to her, keeping a close eye for any chance to free himself. She looked away from his face, her gaze sliding over his torso and then to his crotch. And by the way her lips curled into a predatory smirk, Chat was sure he was in trouble. Humming amusedly, she settled her hands on his thighs before spreading his legs wide open.
“What are you doing?” to his ultimate embarrassment, that was very much a squeak.
“Oh, but please, tell me, kitten. What happens usually when you have someone kneeling between your spread legs?”
Chat really wanted to give a witty reply, but frankly, he was pretty brain dead when she was staring at him with those bedroom eyes. Why was he cursed with a weakness for blue eyes?
And as if that wasn’t enough, she began running her hands up and down his thighs, agonizingly slow. And the suit wasn’t doing anything to decrease the feeling. It only stopped the pain from big hits, but gentle touches? They felt as if there was nothing between them besides a very thin sheet of silk. Chat beat his lips as she rested her head on his left thigh, her fingers trailing closer and closer to his crotch. He closed his eyes, trying to think about the most unpleasant things in the world, just not to get a boner. He could never forgive himself if he got a boner from her teasing in front of her.
(He got boners because of her before and he wouldn’t bother lying, but frankly, he was in private.)
She would never let him live it down. As if she didn’t wound his pride enough these years. That would be the last drop. He felt Miss Fortune shift and then, something being wrapped around his ankles. He opened his eyes only to find his ankles tied and Miss Fortune smirking up at him, some rope still in her hands.
“I liked you tied up.” he remarked casually before putting the rope over her shoulder and sitting in his lap.
Chat hissed. She was warm. And he had no doubt the way she was grinding on him, slowly was with a clear purpose in mind. Chat wanted to scream. Why couldn’t he have a normal enemy? One that found pleasure in kicking his ass, not in sexually frustrating him? No, apparently that was too much to ask for. When he accepted being a superhero he certainly didn’t expect almost six years of flirting, banter and sexual tension that just seemed to increase in the latest months.
Miss Fortune nuzzled his nose. That gesture was way too sweet for someone who looked like she was one step away from eating him alive while dry humping him. And there was so much he could do to stop his dick from going hard while someone was grinding on him and it felt very much like it was skin on skin. Miss Fortune seemed extremely happy with her results so far.
“Do you like this, kitten?” she whispered in his ear in a sultry voice as she increased her rhythm, her hot core moving faster against his boner.
Chat let out a moan, dropping his head against her shoulder. This was humiliating, but he couldn’t bring himself to care too much when he felt so good. He will regret this later, he knew, but frankly, he had limits where he simply couldn’t resist anymore. Miss Fortune was running her hands all over his body and Chat realized a few seconds too late she was tying him the rope and retrieving her yoyo.
“I fucking hate you.” he growled through gritted teeth. For what, he wasn’t sure. For being a nightmare to Paris? For humiliating him like that? For the fact that he was actually enjoying it? For outwitting him?
There was a slight gasp and soon all the warmth was gone. He looked up to see Miss Fortune glaring at him.
“That was the wrong thing to say.” she hissed before getting something out of a box on the side. “Bad kitties get punished.”
The next thing he knew was that Miss Fortune was leaning towards him with a piece of duct tape in her hands. She pressed it against his lips, before a smirk appeared on her face. She tilted her head, pressing her lips against his through the duct tape before gluing it to his face.
“That was for the language. You should learn how to dirty talk, kitten. ” she straightened her back. “You were very rude, I liked you better when you were moaning. And because you said that, then I won’t make you cum anymore.”
Going to another box that was laying near, she picked two pieces of jewelry. The turned to him, raising them for him to see.
“They supposedly belonged to Madame de Pompadour. And given you are here, I want to ask you for an opinion. Which one do you think fits me better?”
She raised each pair to her ears. “The sapphire ones or the ruby ones?” Chat gave an annoyed growl making er giggle. “Oopsie, I forgot I duct taped you. Oh well, nod once for sapphire, nod twice for ruby.”
She looked throughout amused as he didn’t react anyhow. “Well, I guess you are right. I should take both.”
Chat glared at her as she put the two pairs of earrings in one of her belt satchels.
“See you next time, beau gosse.” she said with a smirk, blowing him a kiss.
And with that, she simply strutted out of the hall, leaving a very annoyed Chat Noir with an unsolved boner behind.
Madame de Pompadour was her own greatest creation. It was Louis XV who turned Jeanne-Antoinette Poisson into ‘Madame la marquise de Pompadour’; but it was Jeanne Poisson who made Madame de Pompadour the dazzling personage known to history. She was, after all, an actress, and she assumed the role of mistress to the king with aplomb, as she did its subsequent evolutions. Whatever the heartache and disillusionment, the exhaustion and disgust, she stayed in character. She died convinced of the purity of her intentions, with a clear conscience, and with a control of iron over her life’s last act.
Madame de Pompadour: Mistress of France // Christine Pevitt Algrant