#steve is a dumbass

[incorrectmarvels]

Steve: What’s your type?

Bucky: Kind, smart and also dumb, brave, and a good fighter.

Steve: That kinda sounds like me. Too bad I’m not a woman.

Bucky: Did I mention dumb?

Steve: Yes.

Bucky: Good. Just making sure.

[agnessintheocean]

Steve: stay still, you’ve lost a of blood

Eddie: I didn’t /lose/ blood. I know exactly where it is

Eddie: *points at blood puddle*

Eddie: right there

[ms-spkhd]

Steve settles against the back of the couch and says, “I got a question, Ed.”

“Yeah?” Eddie replies and tries very hard for Steve not to notice that he spent the last fifteen minutes either picking at a loose thread on his jeans or sneaking surreptitious glances at him.

“And be honest with me. No deflecting.”

“Uh-huh. Go ahead.”

“Do you…” Steve pauses, and he’s got this look where he’s tossing the question around like a salad over and over in his head, like he hasn’t gotten it right quite yet. “Do you think Arnold Schwarzenegger is hot?”

Eddie blinks. This cannot be his real fucking life. 

Steve’s still looking at him expectantly, as if the question that just left his lips wasn’t affixed between world-endingly stupid and nuclear bomb-levels of disastrous to Eddie. It’s…he’s so blase about it, too. Completely unaffected! As if he didn’t just drop that question onto the gay friend he’s conveniently, y’know, swapped bodily fluids with. 

“Excuse me?”

Steve shrugs. “So you’re gay, right?”

Alright, foot-in-mouth gold medalist Steve Harrington expertly sticking the landing as always. It’s curious, Eddie thinks, out of all of his friends, Steve should be the one most well-acquainted with the sheer magnitude of Eddie’s gayness and the biblical nature of it–what with the whole dick in ass thing.

Eddie purses his lips and tries not to play the cynic, the you of all people perched on the tip of his tongue. The last thing he wants to do is scare him off again, not with their shoulders pressed against each other like this; the closest they’ve ever been since that night. He axes it before it goes any further and causes trouble. “Well shit, what do you think?”

“Alright, dumb question,” Steve concedes, though there isn’t any shame in his voice. He smiles that golden smile of his and waves his hand at the screen, where Arnold and the fussy flight attendant are busy studying a piece of paper evidence. They’re an odd pair. “So, does he do it for you or not?”

Eddie blinks, takes a sip of his High Life and purses his lips in thought. “Nah, not really.”

Steve’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline and his eyes dart from the screen to Eddie’s apathetic expression. “Really?” “Don’t act so surprised, man.”

Steve shakes his head and looks away from Eddie, chin resting on his palm. “No–no, I’m not surprised or anything–”

“Well, girls like pretty boys, so…”

“But you’re not a girl, you’re a gay guy.” Steve scoots to the side, fully facing Eddie, and gestures wildly at the vague wholeness of Eddie’s body, like he’s the representative for every homosexual man northwest of Lake Michigan.

“Last time I checked.”

“Gay guys like macho dudes, right?”

Eddie grimaces at Steve’s naive brightness. There’s a decently well-oiled machine that whirrs away in his head, but Eddie is absolutely and positively dumbstruck, and operations screech to a halt. If things go any further, it’s going to reach triangle-shirtwaist levels of disastrous. What the hell does Steve Harrington–homecoming king and president of the Key club fucking Steve Harrington–know about what gets gay guys’ rocks off? I mean, yeah, he’s wandered into ‘have gay sex and only acknowledge it as a mistake’ territory, but far be it for him to thumb open a copy of Blueboy or–God forbid–fully understand the concept of a leather daddy.

“You’re…serious…?” Eddie ventures.

Steve’s mouth twists and scrunches at the corner as he wilts slightly, lost in the proverbial woods.  “I’m pretty sure I am, yeah.”

“Okay, well”--Eddie scoots forward in his seat and knocks Steve shoulder with his fist in a semi-decent attempt to lighten him up– “think of it like this: attraction isn’t a monolith.”

Steve’s eyebrows scrunch curiously. “Right.”

“Right. So some chicks like macho guys like Arnie and other chicks like prettier guys like…uh.”

“Iceman?” Steve supplies helpfully.

“Yeah. That guy.”

“Val Kilmer.”

“Oh! The hot guy from Willow. Anyways, gay guys are the same, we’re not all just into Arnold Schwarzenegger ‘cause he’s got muscles. Some of us also like pretty boys. Hell–ugly guys are on the table, too. It’s open season, man!”

The corners of Steve’s mouth twitch upwards and his basset hound eyes brighten a fraction in relief. Eddie lowers his hand to his lap, taking it as a personal victory. Well, the word ‘victory’ is a bit of a reach, all things considered. In those massive Merriam-Webster dictionaries he used to leaf through to understand the books Wayne would lend him, ‘victory’ was defined as an achievement of mastery or success in a struggle or endeavor against odds or difficulties. Explaining the ins and outs of gay sexual attraction to some haplessly gorgeous straight man like multiplying fractions to a fourth grader was the farthest thing from a victory. Especially since Eddie’s unfortunate enough to be halfway in love with said haplessly gorgeous straight man, what with his kind eyes and swoopy hair and disarmingly boyish charm. But! A success it does make. 

Christ, it’s a sacrifice nonetheless.

“Okay, new question,” Steve prompts, because apparently he’s fixing to be this decade’s new Sherlock Holmes. Or Colombo. Eddie tries to push the rapidly materializing image of Steve wearing a tan trenchcoat and loosened tie with a cigar pinched between his teeth to the back of his mind because–to the surprise of absolutely no one–he finds it devastatingly sexy. He shoots a cute little message up to God in his little corner of the sky (or whatever primordial being is running this fucking hellscape) begging to grant him some actual, discernable relief.

“You’re a curious cat tonight,” Eddie says after his brief yet exhaustive prayer.

“What can I say,” Steve replies with a shrug, “I like to get to the bottom of things.”

“Go ahead, champ.”

“So…Val Kilmer, huh? You like pretty boys?”

  Eddie has half a mind to jump onto the couch, take Steve by the shoulders with an iron grip, and shake him around wildly, screaming and spitting, “You’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever met! And handsome! And sexy! Beautiful! Every synonym in the Goddamn thesaurus!”

Thankfully, Val Kilmer is a high enough jumping point for Eddie to prevent himself from swam-diving and landing face first into the bottom of the figurative ‘I’m so deeply in love with you it’s not even funny’ pool.

“Hell, I’d never say no to Madmartigan.” Eddie tips his head backwards against the couch headrest and fans at his face, all hot and bothered. “He could do whatever he wanted to me.”

Steve rubs the back of his hand against his lips and his breathy laugh clips at its edges. “What about sexy naval fighters? Tom Cruise in a uniform do it for you?”

“Nah, too establishment. He may be hot, but I’m not tripping over my feet for the military industrial complex. But if you want me to be honest…” Eddie’s eyes drop to his rings, his fingertips brushing against his nickel plated rings. They start twisting the scratched and worn things before he looks up at Steve’s expectant expression.

“I like honesty,” Steve says.

“Well there’s this movie, The Sting, it’s one of Wayne’s favorites–saw it in theaters and recorded it when it showed on TV Christmas day of, ‘79, I think. Could’ve been watching It’s A Wonderful Life or whatever, but the old bastard wanted to watch some movie about these two con men bullshitting an Irish guy. Anyways, Wayne loved it, so he’d play it all the fucking time, but I wasn’t complaning, like, at all, because the main character was the hottest man I’d ever seen in my life.”

“Wow.” Steve blinks. “All that talk and I don’t even know what he looks like.”

Eddie releases his grip on his rings and drums his fingers against worn denim instead. “Well, he’s Robert Redford.”

Steve shrugs smugly, because of course he doesn’t know who Robert Redford is. Eddie’s so Goddamned charmed by it.

Eddie hums, leans back, and rolls his head towards Steve. “Tall. Chiseled jaw”--he lists the traits with his fingers– “Blue eyes. Looks insanely handsome in a dress shirt with rolled up sleeves. Blond, which is curious because I don’t particularly care for blonds, but I think the hair thing is pretty much null and void because I like the devil-may-care attitude.”

“So you like bad boys, then?”

“Depends on your definition of bad. Rebel without a cause? Hell yeah. Downright war criminal? Not advisable.”

“I didn’t know war criminals were on the table.”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“Alright,” Steve says, clapping his hands with finality, and straightening himself on the couch.. “You say you like pretty boys, but generally go for more handsome, refined guys.”

“Who said I like handsome?” Eddie interrupts..

“You when you said you had a thing for rolled up dress sleeves,” Steve says, self-satisfied. “And you like ‘em bad. Not bad bad, but like, a realistic amount of bad. Spray paint and knife fights, not like. Uh.”

“Mussolini?” Eddie offers.

“Not like Mussolini.”

(It's wip wednesday when I say it's wip wednesday (it is currently friday), so here's another snippet from my fic Stand There, Looking Backwards. i'm almost at the homestretch of the second chapter so. big if true.)

[radioactive-yuri]

looking back on tfatws post-thunderbolts is so funny, because like. despite being an absolute self-righteous asshole, before lemar's death, john walker was also always a bit of a dumb puppy. like when he was on that truck trying to convince sam and bucky to let him and lemar give them a ride. constantly like "hi :3 hi guys :3 im the new captain america :3 isnt that cool :3 do u think im cool" to the two marvel characters that have the absolute most baggage related to steve rogers. he wanted their approval sooo bad but alas....he forgot his situational awareness at home </3

[incorrectcompoundnotes]

Clint, crying: This can’t be happening

Steve: What’s wrong?

Clint: Nat says I’m pregnant! I’m not ready to have a baby!

Steve: …Clint-

Clint: I don’t even know who the father is!

Steve: Clint, you-

Clint: Tony won’t let a little Barton run around, absolutely not-

Steve: YOU CAN’T GET PREGNANT, CLINT!

Clint, looking at Steve before smiling: Oh…thank fuck.

[mrsjellymunson]

🍦Keeping Score (Eddie’s version)🍦

Written for the @steddiemicrofic April prompt ‘Score’. WC target: 351 | Rating: T | POV: Eddie Munson | Tags: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Gareth Emerson, Jeff, Grant (unnamed freak), Pre-S4 | CW: mentions of food and eating, light swearing | A/N: This is the companion piece to Keeping Score (Steve’s version)

“… so I shove past the cheerleaders - there’s no way I wanna be stuck behind them - and then it… happened.”

“You mean, Steve Harrington just asked? For your number?”

“Is that really so hard to believe, Gare, that someone hot asked for it? Don't answer that… Anyfuckingway, one minute I was innocently ordering something sweet, and the next he’s got my number tucked away in that stupid little uniform of his!”

“Innocent. Is that what you call making him climb for those fancy crackers so you can ogle his ass from behind?”

“Shut up, Jeff. Anyway, it works, doesn’t it?”

Gareth continues interrogating. 

“So tell me again exactly what happened.”

“Well, there’s this scoreboard, right? That they think nobody can see but we all totally can. And he was obviously angling for some big sale or something because he was all ‘ahoy sailor’ and being super-flirty and shit.”

Grant encourages, hopefully,

“And you flirted back. Right?”

“I— I, uhh…”

Gareth takes no prisoners.

“You flubbed. You so flubbed!”

“What? No!”

“You did! I bet you never said two words to the guy the whole time.”

“Well, maybe words didn’t need to be said, Mr Emerson. You ever heard of non-verbal communication?”

“So, you froze. Ha, you froze - like the ice cream!”

“Shut up, Grant. Don’t tell me you’re taking their side, damn. So, I make him wait as I sexily take a bite of my dessert—”

“No way, man, you totally panicked! Nothing stops you from talking. Wait, you didn’t get brain freeze, did you?”

“Shut UP, Jeff! No way, I was smooth as fucking silk! So anyway, I make him wait, and then I write my number on this napkin, and he grabs it and shoves it down his goddamn shirt. Fuck, what I wouldn’t give to be that napkin right now….”

Gareth and Jeff simultaneously sigh obnoxiously, feigning looking wistful and proud. Gareth clutches Jeff’s arm dramatically as he lifts his voice and warbles,

“It’s finally happened.”

Eddie frowns.

“What has?”

Jeff laughs, raising his hand towards Eddie, inviting a high five,

“You fucking scored, man!”

Thanks so much for reading!

Here’s Steve’s version of the same incident

Tagging my usuals, you fabulous peeps (list is open) @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @guiltyasquinn @madaboutmunson @airen256 @sunshinepeachx @the-unforgivenn @skrzydlak @comeonatmebruh @jamiecb66 @80s-addict @abellmunsonmovie @definitionwanderlust @sheneedsrocknroll92 @munson-blurbs @wonderlanddreamer @daisy-munson @maedesculpaeusoubi @kurdtbean @mediocredreams @in2tswft @micheledawn1975 @littlebebebunny @12thatsanumber @alastorssimp @the-baby-angel @eddie-is-a-god @wolfqueenxxx @losingmygrasponreality @richter-raccoon @1deverland @evileyeandthecattywhumps @3rd-conchord @bellalillyrose @katethetank @justalotoffanfiction

[plistommy]

Steve: Hey, hey, Robin. Is there dirt on my jeans?

Robin: Why?

Steve: ’Cause everytime I turn around, I see Eddie staring at my ass and then quickly looking away like he’s embarrassed. Maybe he doesn’t wanna tell me?

Robin:

Robin: I love you, but you can be so oblivious.

Steve: What? What do you meeeean? How?

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

I just KNOW that takin his whole stupid gang to the charity shops to make sure they were actually wearin the right clothes for the season was an ordeal darry took VERY seriously

[communitypoolswimlessons]

You know, I like fics where Robin is sort of the queer guide to everything queer ever in most Steve coming out fics, but I think, objectively, it would be funnier (and more realistic but who cares about that) for her to know next to nothing. They tour Indiana's gay bars picking up pamphlets on the various identities. They try to workshop their own word for how Steve feels about his sexuality. "Semi straight? Does that work?" "Gay Lite? Like Miller Lite for the gays?"

They learn and grow into who they are together.

[curtis-brothers-hug]

Soda: “where are you goin?”

Steve: “where are you goin?”

Soda: “I was followin you.”

Steve: “I was followin you.”

::both kind of stand there awkwardly::

Steve: “let’s never tell nobody about this.”

Soda: “uh huh.”

[erroryeswifi]

Call me crazy but Mr Small’s canon human design isn’t even bad, you can’t convince me he wouldn’t be the most hilarious drama teacher

[hot-patootiee]

Steve: I’m straight.

Eddie: No, you’re not.

Steve: Yes, I am.

Eddie: Then why do you do gay shit?

Steve: I don’t

Eddie: MY DICK WAS JUST IN YOUR MOUTH!

Steve: I don’t know how you could possibly think that’s gay.

Eddie: So you just get fucked by the homies because you have a hole?

Steve: Yes

Eddie: That’s gay

Steve: I have no idea how you could possibly think that.

Eddie just hyperventilating into the blanket, both of them both still completely naked.

[agnessintheocean]

eddie: well, if you ever want to talk or anything, i’ll always be inside you.

steve: uhh?

eddie: *screams* i mean, beside you! not— not that! beside you!

steve: ……well, if you’re offering….

[glassshine]

[sjsmith56]

A Better Man - Complete

Summary: Bucky Barnes, a shy general contractor who also provides services for criminals, falls in love with the single mother of a baby girl. The father works for one of his rivals, and wants nothing to do with the woman or the baby. Can he be the better man for her?

Length: 10 parts

Characters: Bucky Barnes, named OFC, named OCC, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Winnifred Barnes, May Parker, Natasha Romanoff, Brock Rumlow, various Avengers in minor roles.

Warnings: Childhood trauma, angst, cursing, conflicting emotions, criminal behaviour, violence, no smut.

Author notes: This AU started out as a one shot but I got carried away and it just grew. A bit of a slow burn between Bucky (who is a softie) and OFC. There is some humour in this, as the guys of Barnes Contracting are sometimes dumbasses, but with hearts of gold.

All MCU character names are the property of Marvel / Disney. Original characters and the plot are the property of the author and all rights to those aspects are claimed by her. I DO NOT give permission to copying and pasting of any portion of this story into any other app or platform.

Listing of parts titles after the break. 🛠️ 👷‍♂️ 👩‍🍼

Part 1. Preparation

Part 2. Foundation

Part 3. Structure

Part 4. Connections

Part 5. Warmth

Part 6. Transformation

Part 7. Appearances

Part 8. Attachments

Part 9. Clean Up

Part 10. Walkthrough

Short Fiction Masterlist

Please support the author by reblogging.

[cap10wilson]

it really takes me by surprise when someone doesn’t see the connection between steve rogers and bucky barnes and they’re just like “yeah they were really good friends” like, actually dum dum dugan and sam wilson and tony stark and natasha romanoff were steve’s friends, whatever there was between him and bucky was an entirely other thing