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gripefroot · 3 years

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The Milan Job

The first thing Bucky notices about Stark’s Milan penthouse is that there are no doors.

Well, there’s a door to the bathroom. But there’s not a single bedroom - the main part of the loft is open and surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, and a set of glass stairs lead up to a balcony where a half-dozen bunks are lined up neatly, beds made and looking pristine.

Bucky hates it.

“Are we serious about this right now?” Sam blurts, rolling his suitcase in as he stares at the balcony. “Because I did not come prepared to listen to Steve snoring for the next four nights.”

“I don’t snore,” Steve protests, walking in behind Sam. He takes a look at the sleeping arrangements, and grimaces.

“Wear ear plugs,” Tony says from the open kitchen, where he’s mixing himself a drink. “All the hotels are booked for fashion week - this is all we got last minute. For the record, it’s normally just a king-sized bed up there, because Pep and I don’t usually invite guests to our vacation homes. If you don’t like the bunks, we can switch it out and get sleeping bags.”

“Oh, a sleepover!” Your gushing voice enters the penthouse next, trailed by Natasha. Bucky presses his lips together as he runs his fingers through his five-hour-flight hair, wanting to joke with you but feeling rather constrained in the setting.

So much for mission sex.

“I don’t believe you for a minute,” Nastasha slides her sunglasses up on her face, arching a brow at Tony. “If you wanted to get us hotel rooms, you could have.”

“Maybe,” Tony says with a sly shrug. “But this is like a team-building activity. Six adults, one bathroom. If we can make it through this, we can make it through anything.”

“So no hot dates, Sammy,” you tease, wandering over to admire the city view. “A city chock full of models, and you’re on a chastity leash.”

“Aw, c’mon, 28,” Sam protests, as Natasha sniggers and even Bucky cracks a smile. That open bar Tony has stocked is looking mighty fine. “Where’s your imagination?”

You turn, back to the windows as you send Sam a sly smile - your eyes flicker to Bucky. There’s a funny feeling in the region of his stomach, and he smiles back.

“I wonder,” you say woefully.

“This place is tiny,” Natasha reports, measuring her strides from one wall to the next. “Are you even allowed to have six people here?”

“You don’t call the fire marshal on my penthouse, and I won’t call the police on those knives you snuck through security,” Tony deadpans, taking a sip of his drink.

Natasha rolls her eyes.

“Anyways, we’ll have a briefing tomorrow morning from my friend,” Tony adds, striding around the bar and into the living space. You’re still standing there, arms crossed, and Bucky fancies that you’ve been admiring his behind. Makes him wanna wiggle it, just to hear you laugh. Can’t do that here. “Then we start our patrols in the evening. White tie, remember.”

Bucky remembers. He’d packed the tuxedo Stark had made him buy two years ago when he’d first joined the Avengers.

“This place is whack,” Sam complains. “What’s the use in keeping an eye on bad guys if I’m being suffocated by a bow tie?”

For once, Bucky agrees with Sam.

“I don’t remember you telling us white tie,” you interrupt, attention now on Tony as a little frown forms between your brows. Still cute. “I brought my normal gear.”

If we’d packed together like we normally do, I could’ve reminded you, Bucky thinks, but doesn’t say.

“Milan Fashion Week has strict dress codes,” Stark explains. “All security is in Armani, minimum.”

“Does Pepper keep a suit here I could borrow?” you ask.

“No, because when I bring Pepper to Milan, she’s not on duty.”

Bucky sees Steve’s face pinch and his ears turn bright red all the way across the room - and the temptation to laugh is quickly smothered into a cough.

“Come on, 28, we can go shopping,” Natasha suggests. “Scope out the town. Rustle up some food. Leave these bozos in this shoebox to smell each other’s breath.”

“Excellent idea.” Your smile is beaming. Bucky feels like scowling - losing you already? Not fair. And he’s stuck with Steve and Sam and Tony - even worse. He doesn’t support this idea, not one bit.

He supports it about fifty minutes later, when his phone dings and he gets a text from you: a picture taken in a fitting room, involving a red dress that shows off your legs and thigh holster - a little coy smile on your face, as if daring him in some way or another.

Bucky coughs, nearly launching himself off the couch where he’s been lounging since you left. His face feels like it’s burning. Quickly he shuts off the screen, and tucks it back in his pocket.

“So, long story short, he fixed up my jacket and I gave him a bottle of whisky, and we’ve been friends ever since,” Tony explains of his friend Auernon. “Gave him a ref to get into fashion school, and so here we are. It stands to reason he would call upon an old friend when those bomb threats started rolling in…”

Bucky’s phone dings again. He’s gonna have to silence it. But curiosity overwhelming his caution, Bucky pulls it out of his pocket ever so slightly, staring at the picture that pops up. A teal dress this time, one that flows to the floor but shows off your shoulders. That smirk in the mirror - to die for. You know what you’re doing. He gulps thickly.

“Sorry,” he mutters, aware of Steve’s eyes on him. Quickly he shuts off the sound, adjusting the way he’s sitting ever so slightly as he pretends to be interested in Tony’s story.

The phone vibrates another half-dozen times. A velvet burgundy suit, with a slit in the white blouse down to your navel. A gold ball-gown, regretfully captioned with ‘can’t take down bad guys in this.’ An emerald green number that Bucky supposes is meant to look old-fashioned, with a bright-pink petticoat showing beneath the hemline. It makes his mouth water, thinking of getting his head beneath that skirt…

Anyway, Bucky didn’t listen to a word of the conversation.

Six hours later and the skyline is getting dark, Stark has ordered a dozen pizzas (ten and a half of which are gone), and you and Natasha finally return. There’s a bustling of bags and packages, and giggles, and when you stride into the kitchen to dump a tower of boxes on the counter, a complaint:

“You guys only saved us anchovies?” you protest. “Rude.”

“Double rude,” Natasha agrees. “Would be a shame if those fishes slithered into certain pillows, tonight.”

It’s been long enough since your last photo that Bucky is comfortable enough to stand - which he does, carrying his plate into the kitchen as he eyes you up and down. There had been no indication which dress you had bought - and by the sparkle in your eye as you meet his for the tiniest moment, Bucky can’t help but feel a sliver of anticipation.

“Sheesh, you buy enough to outfit the entire team?” Sam asks, refilling his drink as he pokes around some boxes.

“Nope. White tie at a fashion show is no joke,” you inform him.

“That’s true,” Natasha says. “Just don’t tell the Depression Grandpas how much you spent. We’ll be up all night arguing economics and moralities.”

“Since we’ll all be up all night listening to Steve snore, anyway,” you joke.

Bucky leans over, trying to peer into a bag - but you reach over and snap it shut.

“Nice try, Barnes,” you way warningly. “But that’s private.”

He likes the sound of that.

“Did you call me a ‘depression grandpa’?” Steve asks with a frown, moving towards the kitchen as well. “What’s that supposed to mean, Nat?”

“Only that you’re stingy.”

“Cheap,” you add.

“Obsessively frugal.”

“Miserly.”

“Tacaño,” Sam offers, and the room silences. At the confused glances his way, he shrugs. “Four years of high school Spanish, baby.”

“28 spent nine hundred euros on her dress alone,” Natasha informs the group at large.

“Nat! I told you not to tell!” you protest, but you’re laughing at the general shocked outcry. Now Bucky has to see the dress - it had better be worth it.

“Was that really necessary?” Steve asks, brows furrowed. Bucky answers in his head: yes, and he hasn’t even seen the dress yet.

“Wow, even I’m shocked,” Sam says.

“When in Milan,” Tony calls over from the living area. “Nice work, 28. I look forward to seeing it.”

“At least someone’s supportive,” you say tartly, sending Steve and Sam (and Natasha) all severe glares. Then your eyes land on Bucky - he quirks a brow, ready. “And doesn’t Grandpa Two have any reprimands for me?” you ask sweetly. Bucky interprets this as, “Did you like the pictures I sent?”

“Several,” he says, when in fact meaning, “Thanks for the public boner, babe.”

Your smile stretches across your face as Sam starts to snicker.

“You could’ve fed three families with that cash for a year in my time,” Bucky begins. His intended response: “I just wanna eat you up right now.”

“Times have changed,” you point out, and he sees the glint in your eyes: “I wouldn’t complain in the slightest.”

“Still could’ve done something better with that money. Donated it. Saved it.” Bucky is grinning, hoping you hear the hint: “When are you gonna let me take it off of you?”

“I suppose,” you allow. “But I needed a dress, and now I have something to wear to all future work functions.” Oh, he loves this playing. He knows exactly what you mean.

“Anytime.”

Bucky is so ready. To show you how much he enjoyed those pictures, to wrap his fingers around Tony’s throat for booking lodging with no freaking doors.

“Can we see it, at least?” Sam asks.

You grin, and pick up the boxes to take up the stairs. “You’re gonna have to wait for the mission, Wilson.”

Oof. Bucky doesn’t like that. Without any privacy, he’s going to have to wait, too.

He hates this mission.

The next evening’s security set-up at the catwalk doesn’t lessen Bucky’s disgust. Sam was right about the bowties - Bucky is sliding his index finger beneath his collar every ten seconds just to try to get some air. Not that the air is any good, anyway; it stinks like too many people and too much perfume. There’s sweat on the back of his neck, and the com device in his ear isn’t staying put. He can still hear Stark’s voice, though. Hard to ignore, unfortunately.

“Can we please try not to kill anyone today?” Tony sounds peeved. “I know you’re scowling, Barnes. This is my friend’s first show and no one wants a bomb.”

“Well, you’re no fun,” Natasha says sardonically. “You mean I don’t get to use my knife for anything more exciting than cutting grapes?”

“I want a bomb,” says your voice, stationed somewhere else. Bucky suppresses a sigh. “I haven’t seen a single suspicious person. This is boring.”

“Keep your eyes up, 28,” Tony barks. “No jokes.”

“Wow, this must be serious,” Natasha says dryly. “Stark can’t take a joke. Oh wait - he never can.”

There are grumbles from Sam in agreement. A trace smile flicks at Bucky’s lips - but he continues to stand stoically, eyes on the opposite wall as frivolously dressed models and uptight makeup and hair artists follow them around. There’s at least four people crying; someone is shouting, and he’s pretty sure that girl that just walked past in towering heels has a sprained ankle. Too late to back out of the show, though.

“Aerials are clear,” Sam reports.

“Parking and valet are clear,” Steve next.

“Sitting in the audience is the most boring job,” Natasha states.

“Once I finish with Auernon, I’ll swap you,” Stark says.

“Basement is clear,” you say.

“Backstage is terrible,” Bucky mutters, hopefully not loud enough that anyone near him can hear.

“I’ll trade with you, Tin-man,” Sam jokes. “I’ll take models over electricians.”

“Let Bucky stay,” you insist. “He needs a date more than you do, Sammy.”

Wow. Just, wow. Bucky’s face is burning, but he’s struggling to suppress a smile, too. “I can get a date on my own, thanks,” he growls, and there are snickers audible from Sam and Nat. And you.

“Which means he won’t,” Steve clarifies.

“Ten minutes to showtime,” Stark snaps. “Stop bantering and do your jobs.” There’s a fizzle, and a click. Stark has left the conversation.

“Wow, tetchy much?” Natasha snarks.

There’s static in Bucky’s ear - he winces, and then your voice, whispered, comes through: “I got us a different frequency, Buck. We’re muted to the team.”

“Wow,” he murmurs back, impressed. “You must be bored if you’re fiddling with electronics.”

“And you’re having such a great time, huh?”

“No. I miss you,” Bucky says, and his voice is petulant - he doesn’t care. The night before had been awful; not just Steve’s snoring and Sam’s sighing and tossing and turning and Stark’s annoying watch lighting up practically the entire loft - but Bucky had been able to watch your bunk all night, but powerless to do anything. Not even to say anything. Yes, he’s grumpy - and he’s not even sorry.

“Oh, baby,” you sigh. “Don’t worry about that. The show’s about to start.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“You’ll see.”

Bucky likes the sound of that - and he’s smiling like a dope as models run off last minute towards the blaring music and flashing lights of the state. There’s still crying from inside the make-up room. It’s making his head hurt.

A voice can be heard from the main stage area now, jabbering in Italian over the speakers. Bucky doesn’t care to listen, so he doesn’t. Absently he turns to walk down the hall, peer down a corridor, take note of no bombs, and return to his place.

Boring. Completely boring.

No, not boring at all - exciting! Enticing! Captivating! Bucky’s jaw drops as he catches sight of you moving down the hall towards him, shaking back your coiffed hair as your lips curl into a smile. Forget the show. Forget the mission. This. This.

You had not sent him a picture of this particular dress - Bucky would’ve remembered it. Dark blue and glittering like stars with glitter all over - or whatever fashion people use to make dresses glitter - swooshing on the ground and showing off at every other step...a slit on the side, showing off your leg, and which goes…

...all the way up to your hip.

Bucky is drooling by the time you pause in front of him, his clasped hands covering his crotch and your eyes sparkling brighter than the glitter. Hands on your hips, and he drags his eyes away from the skin of your thigh. You must be wearing the holster on your other leg...he wants to find that out first hand.

“Worth a thousand dollars?” you purr.

“A million,” Bucky says, his voice thick and rough. “I want my head under there so bad - ”

“Bucky!” you interrupt with a laugh. “Save it for when we’re alone.”

“And when will that be?” he growls back. “Stark’s dumb penthouse - ”

But you don’t give him a chance to finish that rant - winding your fingers through his, you arch a brow in challenge and start to lead him down the hall away from the show.

Yep. Forget the mission.

“I’ve had a chance to scope things out,” you say over your shoulder with a grin. “Security here is pretty pathetic.”

“Not surprised,” Bucky says, but he doesn’t want to talk about security. He’s watching how you swerve and sway and sparkle and he wants his hands all over you about five minutes ago -

A metal door. You punch in a key code - and it swings open.

“Supply closet,” you whisper, dragging him inside and it clangs shut. “All the seamstresses have been sent off to the next designer. We’re safe here, for about twenty minutes. ‘Til the end of the show.”

Bucky is tracing around the curve of your waist and hips - not as smooth as your skin, but that dress. “Enough time,” he mutters, dipping his head to nip at the soft flesh of your neck and throat.

“Bucky…” It’s a sigh, and makes heat rush through his middle. His favorite noise in the world. “Don’t mess up my dress. I spent big money on this.”

“My reckless girl.” He trails hot kisses up your jaw, loving the way your softness melts into his arms. “Spending so much money on something that can get ripped up.”

“Buck, don’t you dare!”

“I was speaking generally.”

Your eyes are sparkling as he pulls away, grinning at your beaming smile. His metal hand slides between that slit in your skirt, and he nearly groans at how hot and smooth your thigh feels.

“Babe,” he says huskily, lips ghosting over yours as he tastes your breath. The tips of his fingers find lace blocking his way, and he nearly growls again.

“Bucky,” you coo back, your own hands tracing a pattern along the lapels of his jacket before moving lower. And lower. And finding his very apparent reaction to your appearance. Sucking in a breath, Bucky finds that his blood is rushing almost unbearably hot, his vision tunneling. Without thinking he gives the lace a tug, and it snaps apart in his fingers as you blink in surprise.

“Bucky!” you say, scolding now even as you laugh. “I didn’t bring a spare pair.”

“Don’t care.” He tosses the ruined underwear over his shoulder, and steps forward until your back is against the concrete walls, eyes daring, and his thigh between your legs.

“So much for going fast,” you tease. “You could be here all night, huh?”

“Yup. You too?”

“Uh huh.” You slide down the zipper of his trousers, eyes never leaving his as he twitches painfully.

“Without messing up our clothes?” Bucky grumbles.

“We’ll manage,” you promise, your breath hot on his lips. That’s enough for him - he dives back in for a kiss, tongue tracing yours as he pushes back the rest of your skirt, tracing up your thigh holster as his throat closes over entirely.

“Babe,” he grunts, and as his trousers are pushed down to his knees, he hoists you up around the hips so that your feet are dangling, and your lip is caught between your teeth as your legs wrap around his waist.

“You really do like my dress, don’t you?” you purr, eyes all dark in the dim light. “Show me, Bucky. Show me how much you want me; how much it kills you we can’t be alone in the penthouse.”

A challenge. He likes that.

A little more roughly now, your back is pressed against the wall as Bucky guides himself into your already wet, heated core. His legs nearly gives out - but with a grunt he thrusts inside, and your eyes flutter shut with a whisper of a moan. Then the worst possible sound reaches his ears, and your eyes pop back open.

R - i - i - i - p.

Horrified, Bucky looks down - the slit hovering to your waist now where your skirt is riding up, is about an inch longer than it was earlier. He can see three or four popped seams, and he swallows.

“Bucky.”

“Shh.” He buries his face into your sweet-smelling neck, rocking into you as your thighs tighten around his hips. “I’ll buy you a new one, babe.”

A husky laugh from your throat, turned to a lengthy moan as Bucky speeds up. Can’t really help it, at this point.

“You sure you wanna spend money on that?” you gasp, fingers tight on his collar.

He manages somehow to choke out, “I only spend money on necessities. And you, in this dress, is more important than oxygen right now.”

Bucky is sounding like a clumsy idiot, he knows - but your giggle in his ear is worth it. Then there’s no more energy for teasing; he’s about ready to explode, and your breasts are heaving as you breathe, sharpening and growing louder and -

This time, his legs really do give out - with a grunt and a curse, Bucky’s arm tightens around your waist as he falls to his knees, dragging you down the wall as you laugh. Figures. But he’s spent and a little drained, and doesn’t move for a minute. No, he’s happy to taste the salty arousal on your throat, careful to leave no marks, as you pulse around his extra-sensitive bits, your fingers caressing the back of his neck, his ears, his jaw…

“Bucky…” a sigh, and your lips are on his cheeks. He grunts in response - he can hear the distant clamor of the show, but he doesn’t care one bit. Even if someone were to walk in right at that moment, he wouldn’t be the least bit bothered - unless it was Sam, of course. Bucky would not be ashamed for anyone else to know how lucky he is to have the best girl in the world, who wants him. Anyway, they’d probably be jealous, anyway.

“My dress,” you say mournfully after a few more moments, and regretfully Bucky pulls away from sniffing your hair, and examines the damage.

It’s really not bad. The slit is just higher than it’s meant to be, and without your underwear, a little too revealing. Well, a lot, in Bucky’s opinion. No one else needs to see you but him. He frowns as bit as he smooths over the torn seams before holding out a hand to help you to your feet.

“Wait,” he says, a sudden idea striking. Hurriedly he tugs back up his trousers, striding over to one of the many shelves. It takes only a half-second to find what he needs, and belt hanging loose, he kneels down in front of you and yanks a needle and some dark blue thread from the little case.

“Didn’t know you could sew,” you tease, and he pokes the thread through the needle.

“Used to repair my own clothes all the time,” Bucky replies easily. “Ma made me start doing it when I was eight. Got sick of reattaching buttons and fixing skidded knees. Then in the army, didn’t have much choice if I didn’t want a brisk Russian breeze ‘round my privates.”

“Well, it’s kind of you to make amends for ruining my dress.”

Bucky snorts, tugging the seams back together as you stand absolutely still. It’s an easy repair - only takes about two minutes until you’re appropriately covered again, and he smirks in satisfaction. And then slides the skirt aside again, to kiss your soft thigh several times in further amends.

“Hey,” you half-protest, laughing softly as he moves closer to your center - he doesn’t even care that you’re still hazy and loopy. He could drink you up all day.

“You wear this dress, you’d better be ready for me,” Bucky says matter-of-factly. “This is serious.”

“So serious.”

You’re salty on his tongue, and your voice sweet in his ears and Bucky is sure his trousers are gonna get a little dirty on the knees but he doesn’t care, and -

He pulls away, licking his lips as he tilts his head to listen. Already you’ve stiffened, a hand on his shoulder for support as the tromping sound of several heavy bootsteps are heard outside the door.

“Doesn’t sound like models,” you whisper. Bucky is already doing back up his belt as he stands.

“Finish later?” he asks lightly, as blaring alarms start to sound, along with shouts and screams. Your lips curl into a feral smile, and you whip back your skirt to tug out your little pistol.

“I’ll hold you to that, Barnes. Bad guys first.”

Bucky smirks, and yanks open the door.

It’s a sunny morning at Avengers Tower two weeks later; you’ve been enjoying a lazy breakfast with Natasha (Bucky is in the gym, unfortunately), when one of the peons from downstairs comes up the elevator with a massive white box, wrapped in pearl-sheened ribbon and a tidy, though enormous bow. “That must be for me,” Natasha says, hopping down from her stool at the kitchen bar.

“Agent 28,” the peon says, reddening slightly.

Oh! A surprise. You stand to take the box from the peon, who is breathing heavily as they return to the elevator. A smile tugs at your lips as you give the box a once-over.

“They scan for bombs and other tech downstairs,” Nat informs you.

“A perk of living here, really,” you joke, tracing your fingers over the ribbon. “That and all the pizza Stark buys.”

Natasha peers over your shoulder. “Well, what is it? Let’s see.”

“I really don’t know,” you admit. “Wasn’t expecting anything.”

With a swoosh and a swipe, the knife at your waist has cut through the ribbon. Absently you push it away, sliding the knife back into its holster. The lid slides up easily, and a crinkle of tissue paper makes your heart skip a beat as Natasha gasps.

Folded neatly beneath the layers of tissue - burgundy layers of chiffon and silk with a high-end brand stitched into the nape of the neck. Very impressive. As your heart begins to hammer in your chest, you bite your lip and tug out a thin white card tucked inside the blouse. Typed in 12-point Arial font, probably on any old computer, reads:

Amends.

You laugh.

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miraculoussideblog · 7 years

Text

The Harder They Fall Chapter 21

Chapter [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20] [you are here]

[AO3]

Chapter Twenty-One

This was a nightmare. Marinette had less than twenty minutes to get to the rec center for semifinals. She planned to make her escape ten minutes ago, but Donna would not stop talking. All Marinette could do was smile and listen to her drone on and on about her latest collection of hats. She didn’t want to be rude, this woman had influence in the fashion industry. One wrong comment and she could kiss her perspective internship and career goodbye.

There was no sign of Adrien to rescue her either, whatever the phone call was, it had to be important. No. Marinette had to get out of this on her own.

The bartender refreshed Donna’s drink. “Are you sure you don’t want anything to drink hun?” Donna asked.

A lightbulb popped over Marinette’s head.

“Yes, I’ll have a Pinot Grigio,” she said to the bartender. She watched as the man poured her drink and slid the glass in her direction. She reached for the stem and knocked over the wine onto her lap. “Oh no! I can be such a clutz sometimes.”

“Let me grab some more napkins.”

“No,” she said, a little too quickly. “I’ll get a damp cloth from the kitchen staff, I know the fabric and it needs to be treated before it dries. Thank you so much, it was nice talking to you.” Without letting Donna get in another word, Marinette bolted.

Without a second thought she headed straight to the coat check where she dropped off her gym bag. She changed quickly in the bathroom, the wine stain on her new dress was a travesty, but she had less than fifteen minutes to get to the rec center before the game.

Once changed, she booked it to the rec center as fast as she could. It was already pretty late, and the sidewalks were relatively clear, she slipped on her mask the final leg of her journey.

Volpino intercepted her coming through the front door.

“Where were you?” Volpino asked.

“Like I said, I had errands to run.”

He inspected her closely. “Your lipstick is smudged.” He pointed to the corner of her mouth. Marinette tried wiping the remaining lipstick from her lips with the back of her hand. Volpino shook his head. “Listen, I won’t tell Fu, but you and Chat Noir need to stop screwing around and get your head in the game.

“We are not screwing around, I haven’t even seen him since quarterfinals.”

“Sure,” he crossed his arms over his check. “You two just happen to disappear without a word, and conveniently show up within five minutes of each other…”

“Purely a coincidence,” she shrugged.

“Whatever you say, but please don’t let your relationship drama ruin our chance at Nationals.”

The two made it to the court for the rest of warm ups. Everyone greeted her with a sly smile, Marinette felt her cheeks go red. She didn’t have time to nip this rumor in the bud, maybe she’ll set the record straight after Sectionals. Right now she had to focus on one thing and one thing only.

Defeating team Antibug.

Team Antibug seemed like a carbon copy of Team Miraculous. Everyone was masked and had a nickname. The ones who stood out most were The Antibug and L'Imposteur. L’Imposteur wore almost an identical mask to Chat Noir’s they even had the same messy blond hair, the similarities were astounding. Antibug on the other hand was the exact opposite of Ladybug. She wore a black mask with red spots. Her blond hair was pulled back high into a ponytail.

Antibug’s eyes locked with Marinette’s as the referee blew their whistle. Ladybug, Chat and Antibug met with the ref, Trixx to go over the rules. Antibug’s glare never left Marinette’s, almost as if she had it out her her.

The team took to the end of the court, placing their fingers on the wall, waiting for the whistle to blow.

Antibug grabbed two balls right off the bat, she tossed one aside to her teammate and threw the other one full force at Marinette. While the throw was powerful, her aim was off. Marinette slid to the right to avoid the hit, but a second ball came out of the blue, hitting her on the shoulder.

“Shit,” she muttered as he stepped to the sidelines. Marinette studied the other team’s attack patterns. When Antibug chose her targets, she would aim low and then from out of nowhere, Vanisher would appear to get the player out. L'Imposteur and Chat Noir went head to head, L'Imposteur, true to his name, copied Chat’s style to the T. He studied his attack patterns as well. Like always, Chat was most vulnerable after getting another player out. L'Imposteur used that to his advantage to hurl a the ball directly at his midsection.

Marinette managed to get back in thanks to a catch from Paon, but the second she stepped back on the court, Antibug was on the attack. Dodging her throws, Marinette didn’t notice Vanisher’s ball aimed straight for her hip.

“Damn,” she clinched her fist tight. It wasn’t looking good. Team Antibug wasn’t powerful, but they were smart. If Team Miraculous didn’t step up their game, they could kiss Finals goodbye.

Marinette stood next to Chat on the sidelines, arms folded across her chest. She stared intensely at the remaining players in the game.

“What’s bugging you?” Chat whispered.

“It’s not the time for puns, Chat,” she muttered.

“It’s always the time for puns,” he winked.

“I don’t get it,” she said. “They’re just barely getting us out. With the exception of Antibug, all of their throws are weak. If her aim gets better we’re screwed.”

“You know, she kind of reminds me of you,” he smirked. “She has this fierce determination about her, it’s scary, but you can’t take your eyes off her.”

“Chat,” she hit his arm.

“Jealous?”

“No.” She turned her attention back to the game.

Antibug struck Paon’s foot, taking him out and leaving only Volpino left against Antibug and Vanisher. Antibug threw the red rubber ball at Volpino ’s feet, he jumped to avoid it, but Vanisher’s attack quickly followed, hitting him right in the gut.

“Shit,” Marinette muttered. Adrien was probably wondering where she went by now. She couldn’t check her phone and send a message either. If they won the next one, they would have to play a third game and Adrien would be waiting even longer. She had to get back to him soon.

There was another option. Marinette cursed at herself for even thinking of Le Papillon’s offer. No, she would not give into his scare tactics. Her team came first. Continuing the legacy of Team Miraculous in the dodgeball community was her number one priority.

“Language, M’lday,” Chat said. “It’s only the first game, we’re still in this. Go give the team the pep talk they need and go kick some ass.”

“Right,” she nodded. “Everyone gather around.” she waved the rest of the team over. “Listen, we played a good game out there. While we do have stronger players and better accuracy, they studied us and our patterns. We’re going to run into this a lot now that we’re this far into the Sectionals. But we can use this to our advantage. If we change up our routine we can throw them off guard and pick them off one by one. For example, Chat stay back when the whistle blows and focus more on dodging and catching. You’re such a close range player that I bet L'Imposteur can’t get to you from that far.”

“Got it,” he nodded.

“And everyone, watch out for Vanisher. She’s well named, she vanishes until right before she strikes. Good luck everyone, don’t forget we’re still in this.”

The whistle blew to signal the next game. Everyone took their places at the back on the court. The whistle blew again.

Marinette sprinted to the front line, her eyes locked with Anitbug for a brief second before grabbing a ball and stepping back. Her first target was Vanisher, who cleverly hung out behind Antibug. Marinette ran to the faked right, Anitbug fell for it, clearing a path right to Vanisher. She hit her right in the stomach.

The ball rolled back to Marinette, she scooped it it and smirked at Antibug before hurling it right into her stomach.

With two wins in a row under their belt, Team Miraculous advanced to the finals. Marinette couldn’t stick around to celebrate, she raced to the locker room to check her phone and wash up.

“Ladybug,” a voice called from behind. Marinette glanced behind her shoulder. Antibug was running towards her, waving and smiling. “Ladybug, great game.”

“Thanks,” she continued to walk to to the locker room, Antibug followed.

“I never thought dodgeball could be this fun, even if we lost it was still a great match.”

“You sound like this is your first tournament.”

“It is technically, I got recruited after Regionals, when a couple players dropped. I joined with Vanisher so I could get better and challenge this annoying girl to a rematch. I’ve got a long way to go, if I can top you I’m sure I can beat her. You are amazing, I can understand why Le Papillon wants you out of the running.”

Marinette froze. “Le Papillon?”

“Shit,” she covered her mouth. “Forget I said that.”

Marinette took Antibug’s hand and dragged her to the locker room. Once in the clear, she loose her grip. “Do you know who Le Papillon is?”

“Yes and no,” Antibug said. “Le Papillon put the team together and showed up to the few practices, but he can’t officially be our coach since he’s coaching another team. He’s like a sponsor. He’s paying for everything and he’s determined to take Team Miraculous down. No one knows his identity since he wears a mask, he gives the team so much no one ever asks.”

“Is that all you know?”

“It is, I wish I could be more help.” Antibug looked up at the clock on the wall. “I need to get going. I have one more thing to do tonight. It was great meeting you, I hope we could play together in the future.” Antibug wrapped her arms around Marinette.

“Yeah, same here,” Marinette peeled the girl off her. “Goodbye.”

Once Antibug was out of sight, Marinette opened her locker and grabbed her phone. She had a lot of apologizing to do, hopefully Adrien would understand. She glanced down at the phone.

No new messages.

#miraculous ladybug #ml fic #ladynoir #marichat #adrinette #le papillon #antibug #chloe bourgeois

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armstrong48-blog · 5 years

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Here's What I Know About Wrestling

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buddyrabrahams · 5 years

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Eight teams that could make a surprising run to the Final Four

No one ever wants to be the boring person who picks all top-ranked teams to reach the Final Four in their bracket. I’d much rather lose taking my chance at finding the needle in the haystack than not even really trying. History, both recent and ancient, suggests this is the way to go. Every single March we see a team or group of teams advance further than expected and shock the basketball world. How easy is it to find those teams who aren’t name brands and won’t be the favorites to win their region?

We can start with this list of eight teams, all of which are projected (by BracketMatrix.com) to be a 3-seed or lower, but who have the resumes, styles of play, and the attitude to potentially make a run this month.

LSU (Currently considered 3 seed)

For as good as LSU has been this season, the Tigers have been overshadowed by controversy in their largest wins of the season. When LSU defeated Kentucky at the buzzer, all of Big Blue Nation moaned about what should have been a basket interference call on the game-winning bucket. Later, when the Tigers topped Tennessee, the game was mired by a slog of strange calls, endless replay reviews, and an ugly overtime period.

After the Bayou Bengals beat two of the best teams in all of college basketball, there was almost no conversation about the strength of those wins or the LSU team that had won the games. Instead, each game was clouded by conversations about the sport, the refs, and the rules, leaving two of the best wins of the season as an afterthought.

Let’s remedy that problem. LSU is really good at basketball, as they proved in monster wins over SEC rivals. Will Wade has the Tigers playing aggressive, attacking offense every time down the floor. LSU has made more free throws than all but one team in college basketball. Unlike other teams who live at the charity stripe, there isn’t one or two players who do the Tigers’ heavy lifting from the free throw line. LSU has seven players averaging at least two free throws per game. Contrast that to a free throw deficient team like Wisconsin, which has just two players attempting two foul shots per game.

Buffalo (Currently considered 7 seed)

There’s no reason not to include a real wild card on this list, though maybe this isn’t as wild as it seems.

Ten of the last sixteen Final Fours have featured a mid-major program. Those numbers are slightly inflated, including some programs that have since joined power conferences in recent years. Regardless, in the recent era of college basketball, the Cinderellas have earned their way far more often than not. If fact, each of the last six Final Fours has included a team seeded 7th or worse.

So if there’s no systemic reason a team like Buffalo couldn’t pull off a run into the tournament’s third weekend, is there any basketball evidence holding them back? I certainly can’t find any.

KenPom pegs the Bulls as a top-20 team, thanks to how well they’ve played this season. Buffalo has lost just twice in the Mid-American Conference and represented itself well in the non-conference schedule, with wins over San Francisco, West Virginia, and Syracuse.

Coach Nate Oats has implemented an effective system, built around a high-tempo offense. The Bulls play at the 7th-fastest pace in the nation, but do so efficiently. Buffalo ranks in the top 25 nationally in 2-point shooting percentage and turnover rate. Despite pushing the pace, the Bulls are still finding the right shot every time down the floor. In a tournament setting, a team that has a defined identity like Buffalo can be a tough test. The Bulls will charge into March, ready to run teams off the floor.

VCU (Currently considered 10 seed)

Despite the program’s past success, the Rams have stayed under-the-radar this season. VCU is 22-6 with wins over (possible) tournament teams like Texas, Temple, Hofstra, and Dayton (twice).

Just like they did back in their Cinderella days, the Rams are winning with high-pressure defense. Head coach Mike Rhoades has “Havoc” back in action in Richmond. VCU is ranked in the top 5 in defensive efficiency, mainly due to its ability to force turnovers. Opponents cough up the ball on more than 23 percent of their possessions, good for 9th-highest in the country. Many teams that force turnovers press too hard or over-stretch their abilities at times, giving up good looks in exchange for the turnovers they create. VCU is careful not to do so. The Rams allow the 2nd-worst 3-point percentage in the nation and the 6th-worst shooting percentage from the field.

It’s not that hard to imagine the Rams blitzing their way through a region, riding Havoc to four wins and a trip to Minneapolis.

Syracuse (Currently considered 9 seed)

We don’t have to do the thing every single year where Syracuse surprises everyone with a run in March. At a certain point, in the same way we all look for Tom Izzo’s March magic to lead Michigan State further than we expected, Jim Boeheim’s Orange need to command the same respect. It’s not hard to understand why that should be the case.

No program in college basketball is more committed to one specific strategy than Boeheim is to his zone defense. Boeheim’s teams have been stumping opponents with zone since the year Virginia coach Tony Bennett was born. Preparing for a zone defense during the short period teams have between tournament rounds is a near death sentences for some teams.

Beyond that, this Orange team has the talent and the skill to push opponents. Syracuse has already beaten Duke, Ohio State, and Louisville this season. The Orange make any team change how they play. The gameplan from every other game has to be thrown out the window and even traditional stats lose value. The zone has Syracuse ranked as the 21st-best defense in the nation, despite allowing the 2nd-highest rate of assisted field goals. Teams are working against the zone to find a shot, but for some teams, who rely on isolation or pick-and-roll play, that style can feel unnatural and clunky.

This Orange team is far from Boeheim’s best, yet with high level athletes and the tallest team in the nation by average height, the legendary coach can guide this roster through the perils of March.

Washington (Currently considered 7 seed)

While you were sleeping, a few things have happened out West in the Pac-12. First, most of the league has been a disgrace. Per KenPom’s metrics, the conference has slipped not just to the back of the power conference pack, but beneath the American Athletic Conference as well. Those numbers show a narrow gap between the Pac-12 and the usually inferior West Coast Conference. When the two have matched up this season, the WCC has won 10 of 17 meetings. The entire situation is less than ideal for Pac-12 fans.

Except those in Seattle. Washington, in the program’s second season under Mike Hopkins, has been the best team in the Pac-12 by a wide margin. The Huskies have just two conference losses, on the road versus Arizona Stat, the only other possible tournament team in the conference, and at lowly Cal. Other than that, they’ve mopped up wins against the rest of the league.

Because the Huskies are skating through a weaker than expected conference, they have been overlooked. Let’s not forget: Washington is still 13-2 in the 7th-best conference in the country. Though they haven’t collected a top of the line, resume-defining win, the Huskies are 8-5 versus the KenPom top 100. Washington pushed Gonzaga to the buzzer in a two-point loss on the road at the Kennel. Clearly they are capable of hanging with top teams.

Washington’s success is built on defense, as the Huskies force the third-highest rate of turnovers in the nation. They also swat away the 2nd-most blocks in Division I. A team built on defense that’s won 14 of its last 15 games absolutely has a path to the Final Four.

Houston (Currently considered 3 seed)

I’d nominate the Cougars as the most undervalued team entering the month of March. Casual fans seeing them listed as a 3-seed when the brackets drop may be confused, but those who have seen the Cougars in action — including coaches — know that they are the real deal.

Houston is the final one-loss team in college basketball and hasn’t been coasting against an easy schedule. The Cougars have played the 114th-toughest slate in the nation, posting wins over opponents like Oregon, Oklahoma State, LSU, BYU, Utah State, Memphis, Temple, and Cincinnati.

Kelvin Sampson has his team succeeding in old fashioned ways, with defense and production from upperclassmen. Houston allows the lowest effective field goal rate in the entire country. The Cougars’ defense is relentless, allowing no easy buckets or even a moment of peace for an offense to operate.

JUCO transfer Corey Davis has turned from a solid secondary piece on last year’s squad to a real alpha dog scorer. He can get hot in a hurry, like when he hit 8 of 11 from long range at Tulane. Davis is also capable of attacking the paint, with multiple games shooting double-digit free throws. He’s joined in the backcourt by senior Galen Robinson, who dishes more than 5 assists per game, and Armoni Brooks, who hits 40 percent on more than 8 long range shots per game.

Guard play has always sparked runs in March. This trio has been excellent all season and is fully capable of keeping things rolling into the Big Dance.

Kansas State (Currently considered 5 seed)

It seems odd that the team currently tied atop the standings of the deepest conference in college basketball is looking at a 5 seed and a brutal first round match-up with a 12 seed. If this is the year a team like Kansas State can snap Kansas’ streak of Big XII titles, that would be quite the unfortunate reward.

The Wildcats deserve a bit more respect due to how they have traversed the brutal Big XII schedule this season. They find themselves tied at the top of the league in part because they have played well not just at home, but also in tough road games. Four of Kansas State’s wins in conference have come in the gym of a top 40 KenPom team. Come March, wins like that are proof of a team’s worth.

Kansas State’s success on the road has validated the age old cliché that “Defense travels”. Bruce Weber has his team playing elite defense, ranked in the top 10 in the nation. The Wildcats slow teams down with perimeter pressure that funnels to rim-protector Makol Mawein. Every player in Weber’s rotation is strong on the defensive end, challenging opponents for 40 minutes.

This program surprised people with a run to the Elite Eight last year. If they go as far or further this year, we shouldn’t be as shocked.

Texas Tech (Currently considered 4 seed)

Kansas State is joined atop the Big XII standings, and in the top 10 of defensive efficiency in the nation, by Texas Tech. In fact, Chris Beard’s Red Raiders are the top defensive team in college basketball this season, allowing just .85 points per possession. Texas Tech is a driven, physical, and well-coached team that has stumped most of its opponents this season.

The Red Raiders’ five losses this season have come to Duke at a neutral site, Iowa State at home, and three road games versus tournament level Big XII teams. Beard has the Red Raiders playing the kind of defense that is so strong it is effective against any level of competition or style of play.

Tech holds a leg up on Kansas State when looking forward to tournament play thanks to its best player, Jarrett Culver. The sophomore swingman is starting to earn legitimate buzz about being drafted in the top 10 in June’s NBA Draft, for good reason. Culver has the body, tools, and skills to get his shot against anyone. He finds ways to the rim, but can also step out to hit a jumper.

Few teams in all of college basketball can rely so heavily on a go-to-guy like Culver in crunch time. Texas Tech wouldn’t be the first team to ride one star and a strong defense to the promised land.

Shane McNichol covers college basketball and the NBA for Larry Brown Sports. He also blogs about basketball at Palestra Back and has contributed to Rush The Court, ESPN.com, and USA Today Sports Weekly. Follow him on Twitter @OnTheShaneTrain.

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