THE CAPTAIN MARVEL TRAILER MIGHT COME OUT TOMORROW IM GOING TO COMBUST

THE CAPTAIN MARVEL TRAILER MIGHT COME OUT TOMORROW IM GOING TO COMBUST

Wardrobe Appreciation: Bucky Barnes

[x]

girl, you know i already got it

Rumour Has It (2)

A/N: Here we go! The long awaited part two of Rumour Has It! Thank you so much for the support!

Rumour Has It Masterlist | Writing Masterlist | Writing Masterlist (mobile users) | Add yourself to the Taglist

Summary: You didn’t come to university to get picked up by some lacrosse jock but when Peter Kavinsky offers a chance to prove unflattering rumours wrong… well, you never were someone to back down from a challenge.

Characters: Peter Kavinsky

Wordcount: 2.6k

Rating: T (swearing, as always)

“Yo! Medusa!” As you slide your laptop into your bag, you raise your head to see none other than Peter Kavinsky with his friends. Sighing, you zip up your laptop and grab your notebooks to slide into the second zipper space. As usual, he’s wearing his trademark smirk paired with jeans and a jacket. If he wants your attention, he’s gonna have to come and get it because from where you are, you can hear his friends snickering and that isn’t shit you want to deal with. Ever.

“Do you need me to beat him up?” a girl asks from behind. You don’t know her name (it starts with a C, you think) but you know that she’s always reliable for any missed notes and assignments. Turning around, you shake your head with a smile. “Because I can. My sister is a personal trainer for like navy seals and quarterbacks and shit. I could get something together.” Her disgusted scowl directed at Peter Kavinsky makes you glad that someone’s on your side just in case.

“No, but thanks.” Sparing a glance at the jock, you see him getting tousled by his friends and let out a snort. “You know Peter Kavinsky?”

“Know? He’s basically shoved down our throats in the dorms. I swear, some girls have fucking posters of his face.” The girl lets out a whisper-scream at the thought, making a face.

“Admittedly disgusting,” you agree with a chuckle. Packing the last of your things, you take out your phone and check the time. 5:17.

“What’s he even doing calling out to you? He’s never bothered someone who sits in a front row before,” she continues and you shrug.

“I allowed him to call me Medusa,” you inform, defeated, and C (which is what you call her whenever you think about her) raises an eyebrow.

“You and Peter Kavinsky talked?”

“It’s shameful, I know,” you snort sarcastically and she cracks a smile.

“Medusa!”

“What, Peter Kavinsky?” you bark at last and he falters for a moment. His friends nudge him in farewell and leave as you sling your backpack on. C rolls her eyes and you send her a smile.

“I’ll see you Thursday.”

“Yeah, see you.” Heading over to the jock, you flick a hand. “Come along, Peter Kavinsky. We have to get going.” Heading out the lecture hall, you exit the building with him in tow as you walk the path back towards your dorm. His friends are nowhere in site. “How’d you get your lackeys to leave?”

“They’re my friends and they left because I asked them to.” His offended tone has no effect as you see your dorm building. “Why’re you so rude, anyways?”

“Why be nice to people who don’t deserve it?” you shoot back, swiping your card to get in. Opening the door, you’re surprised when Peter Kavinsky takes the weight and holds it open. Sending him a narrowed look, you enter and head for the elevator.

“Have my friends offended you in some way?” asks the jock and you let out a disbelieving scoff. “Did they bully you?” You don’t answer as you jab the 4 on the columns of buttons. He takes your silence as a yes. What are you gonna say? That one of his friends happens to be some stupid twat from high school who you used to date? “What for?”

“You realize that everyone has a reason to be bullied, right?” Yours used to be how gullible you were. God, you were part of the cheer squad. You were one of those girls who were deemed popular and were snotty about it.

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” he had said weeks after you two broken up. He had a new girlfriend then, the head of the cheer squad. What a dumbass. Clenching your jaw, you exit the elevator with Peter Kavinsky close on your tail.

“Yeah, but they’re my friends. I want us to get along.” Whipping around, you stop.

“Why? Because we’re friends?”

“Well, yeah.” A conflicted expression passes over his face and he frowns as you laugh. “We aren’t? Then, why am I here?”

“You invited yourself over. I’m not stopping you is all.” Grimly, you turn around and stop before your door. Unlocking it, you let him in first before closing the door and locking it. Unzipping your boots, you kick them off before walking in. Lucky for you, you have a single room to yourself but it’s still cramp as hell. Sitting down at your desk, you hear Peter mumble at what a mess it is.

“Have something to say?” you ask, turning on your swivel chair. He pauses mid step and smiles.

“Nope. It’s a perfect swamp.” Your arch an eyebrow at his reply. He collapses on the giant beanbag in the corner, grimacing when he reaches below his butt and pulls out a book. Setting it down by his feet, he glances up at you through his eyelashes and you shake your head when he catches you staring.

“I prefer lair.” Crossing one leg over the other, you tilt your head at him. Pressing your lips together, you survey what he’s doing. Currently surfing social media or something on his phone, he’s made himself perfectly at home. You had really expected him to leave already and have some alone time. “If you get hungry for dinner, you can leave.”

“Nah, don’t eat early.” Surprised, you turn to your notes and begin to pick up where you left off last night. Well, you suppose you don’t mind as long as he’s quiet.

“Me neither,” you say and you think you can feel his stare on your neck. Carefully, you turn your head to sneak a glance at him and you find your suspicions correct. When he’s caught, he simply smiles and resumes scrolling on his phone. Taking out your phone from your bag you had thrown onto your bed, you plug it into your charger. You take out your textbook as well and pull out your pencil case before beginning to scribble in notes.

“It was Pollock, wasn’t it?” asks Peter Kavinsky after a full hour of silence. You start. You’d forgotten he was here, so silent he was. “Jason Pollock?” Sucking in a breath, you debate on what to say.

“Who said it was?”

“I scrolled through your Instagram.” Raising your head slowly, you jerk your gaze towards him. He has one earbud in his ear, the other being rolled between his thumb and index finger. “I found a really old post, from like years back.”

“Oh, so you’re stalking me,” you snort sarcastically and he frowns deeply. You know you’re giving him more attitude than he deserves but you never wanted anyone to find that out about you. You’re better than that now.

“We follow each other. You - you followed me first,” he mumbles and you widen your eyes. Grabbing your phone, you whip out Instagram and click on your Following and search up his name.

ptkavinsky Peter Kavinsky

You really are following him. Clicking on his profile, you scroll through his pictures and realize you’ve even liked some of them as he continues to talk.

Peter Kavinsky UVC | #18 | Turned to stone 🗿

Your eyebrows knit together at his bio. You never noticed that before.

“Anyways, your first post…” He trails off and you turn around, leaning back into your chair. “In the comments. I didn’t mean to pry, I just wanted to know you better and I found it. I didn’t know you were a cheerleader.”

“Yeah, well, it isn’t something I’m proud of,” you growl, twisting to slam your textbook shut and getting up. You shove your backpack off your bed and lie down, head resting on your interlaced fingers as he stares at you, waiting for you to explain. “I dated Jason Pollock, so what?” He gets up and sits on the chair at your desk so he’s closer. His second earbud has fallen out and he unplugs the jack, stuffing them in his jacket’s pockets. His knee keeps jiggling and you can see it out of your peripheral as you continue to stare up at your ceiling.

“So, you were one of those popular cheerleader chicks.” 

You know exactly what post he got that information from. It’s the squad photo and you have the caption blazing in your head because it was so chic at the time.

yourinstagramname: SQUAD goals. Here we come provincials!

Groaning, you pinch the bridge of your nose. So stupid.

“I was,” you confirm, turning your head to look at him, and he has a soft smile on his face. It kinda puts you off because all you’ve ever seen is a huge smile that digs into his cheeks, that classic smirk, and even that half-smile he sometimes sends to girls you’ve worked with before.

You never thought Peter Kavinsky could look so… tender. Your heart squeezes at this new side of him.

But eventually, that soft smile paired with those chocolate curls and molten brown eyes has you questioning both your ethics and why he’s staring at you. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s just I can’t imagine you as a cheerleader.”

“Oh, I’m full of surprises.”

“And you’re not the face I imagined when Jason told me the reason why he doesn’t date anymore.” Shock freezes your blood and you have your jaw hanging off your face, mouth unable to work. Trying to form words, you fail spectacularly. He chuckles. “He’s - he mentioned this girl he used to date in high school. He said she’s the reason why he doesn’t have a girlfriend anymore, and I thought that girl must’ve been a bitch to break his heart so badly.”

Jason Douchebag Pollock had no right to tell lies like that.

“Oh, I broke his heart,” you drawl sarcastically, sitting up and glaring at Peter Kavinsky. “Right, you tell him that his poor little broken heart–” You pretend to pout– “that he got what he fucking deserved.” Trying to keep your voice level, you flop back down and find the anger you had stuffed so far down from years ago to resurface like a magnificent, snarling beast.

“You know what?” he starts, causing you to look at him again. He has an easy smile as he sits down beside you. Scooting over reluctantly, you push yourself up by your hands and lean back onto them as he shows you his screen.

He’s on the Following page of his own Insta profile and you furrow your brow when you see his thumb hovering over the Following button next to one name.

jzpol J A S O N P O L L O C K

“He’s cancelled.” With two taps, one to request, and one to confirm, Peter Kavinsky no longer follows Jason Pollock. Surprised, your mouth drops open as his eyes crinkle. He’s smiling that smile again and it unnerves you so much you look away.

“Why’d you do that?” you mutter, scooting forward and getting off the bed. He stares after you, absolutely bewildered. Instead of touched, you look vaguely offended. In reality, you don’t understand what you’re feeling. You hate the thought that he really did something so passive aggressive. By midnight, you’re sure you’ll hear gossip about some fight between Kavinsky and Pollock. Why else would Peter Kavinsky unfollow Jason Pollock?

“What do you mean? You don’t like him, so I unfollowed him.”

“He’s your friend.”

“He was an ass to you,” exclaims Peter. You open your small closet and grab the first jacket you see, the camo that’s too big for you, and shrug it on. Rolling up the sleeves, you search for your combat boots. “He’s always been an ass and I shoulda stopped him when he started calling you Medusa but I didn’t because I didn’t know you. But I knew him and I trusted his judgement. I didn’t know you guys were a thing.” Turning around, you frown at his words. “Now that I know you better, I feel like I have formed my own opinion–” You let out a sharp ‘hah’ at his choice of words. How funny of him to use your own words– “and have therefore acted on it.”

Still, one piece of info burns and melts the ice in your veins. “He started the Medusa thing?” Disbelief clear on your face, you grab your boots and collapse on the beanbag, pulling the left one on. Like Pollock had any reason to make your life even worse. God, so you have him to thank for making you known on campus. Great. “You know name-calling isn’t exactly a good thing no matter the circumstances.”

“He was my first friend here,” he says. “Not that it excuses anything. I just thought it wasn’t my place.”

“It’s always your place to call out someone’s bullshit,” you comment bitterly, tying your boot tightly. Sitting up, you pin him down with a stone-inducing glare. “You know what? Why do you believe me, anyways? How do you know I’m not just making it up that Pollock screwed me over?”

“Because you’re honest.” Tossing him an unimpressed look, you allow him to continue. He seems to have the sense to realize you don’t want to talk about Pollock anymore and diverts the flow of conversation to the very reason why he’s even here. “You were right. We aren’t friends - we’re just two people who agreed to a challenge. So I get to be honest with you, and you get to be honest with me. Deal?”

“Deal.” Like you aren’t already honest with everyone you’ve ever met. You shove your foot into your right boot before starting to lace it up.

“To complete this challenge, I think we have to know what rumours we have to prove wrong. So, what are the rumours about me?”

“What, are we playing Truth?” you ask sardonically, finishing up your last boot and standing up. He gets up and shoves his feet into his sneakers before grabbing his bag.

“Yep. We each get a turn,” he says as you grab your keys and your card to get into the dorm building. Grabbing a small leather backpack, you stuff your wallet and a portable battery inside and sling it on while your other hand pockets your phone. He doesn’t even ask where you’re going and you don’t question why he follows as you two exit your room. “After I go, you go.”

“Okay, fine.” Searching your mind, you pull the threads of gossip you heard in passing and try to summarize it in a brief sentence. “They say you’re a tease, a flirt, that you can’t hold down a serious relationship with a woman for whatever reason and still for some inconceivable reason, girls still fling themselves at you.” He juts out his bottom lip, mulling your words over before nodding.

“Fair. Those are the rumours that we have to break, then,” he says with a glance at you. Your answer is a nod and a one-shouldered shrug.  Then, an idea pops in your head.

“If I asked if you wanted to eat dinner with me, would you? You know, if girls heard you ate a platonic dinner with a girl and that you have friends of the female gender, then maybe they’ll realize that you, A, don’t have commitment issues, and B, are an actual human being behind all that flirting and shit,” you explain slowly, trying not to get his hopes up that this is a date. It is not. So you clarify this to him. “This is not a date. I am putting boundaries down. I have drawn them with a extra-thick Sharpie, in bold black, between us and if you cross that boundary, I will immediately block you from my life.” He blinks and then that stupid soft smile appears again.

“Girl, you had me at ‘eat dinner with me’ and ‘platonic dinner’.” Rolling your eyes, you press the elevator button. “You basically said we were friends,” he added triumphantly. Again, you over-exaggeratedly roll your eyes. “I can drive us. Where’re we going?”

“Does Chipotle sound good to you?”

“Sounds perfect.”

TAGS: @teawithbucky @shadowsndaisies @jcc04220 @uhltrons @goldenariana @http-natiii @yourwonderbelle @poseidons-lil-bitch @beyond-the-ashes @fallen-imagine-angel @dontstopxx @always-fletcher

Thank you for this! ILY2 JESS 💖💛

☀️ Bucky ofc 💖 congrats on 3.5k!

Url: I don’t get it || dope || amazing || Steve Rogers would be proud 😍

Icon: not my thing || good stuff || angelic || Thor would hug you 😮

Theme: not my vibe || cute || true beauty || Bucky Barnes would love you 💗

Mobile theme: Standard || groovy || phenomenal || Shuri would do finger guns for you 👉🏾

Content: not one of my fandoms || quality || brilliant stuff || Valkyrie would do a shot for you 🥃

Overall: not my vibe || sick || you’re an idol || Tony Stark would buy you a car (out of appreciation and love) 🚗

Following: Nah, but I appreciate u || I am now || yah dude || never gonna give u up, never gonna let u down 💕

ILY IRIS 💕💕 You’re a gem x

Blog rates and ships No more, please!

One day the God of Mischief felt like playing a trick–to cast a spell on every Avenger. Somehow the magic worked on himself as well. Voila, meet the Dog Avengers!