#marvel cinematic universe incorrect quotes

[autumnistic-danmei]

Tony: Peter noticed only today that he can label his email inboxes, but he took apart his entire bloody laptop two weeks ago.

Natasha: This reminds me of the Peter who couldn't turn on the coffee maker, but remembers about 500 digits of pi.

Tony: I'll be delighted to inform you that this is the very same Peter.

[loversrocktvgirl2]

im loving all your fics so far !!! ♥️♥️♥️ especially taxi driver! tony, he's so adorable 🥰 ♥️ can i request a soulmate au with tony or rdj ? 🥺🥺 maybe it's cute and cliche, or maybe they get off on the wrong foot with each other and kinda deny it for a while but then something brings them close ? idk if im making sense, im super sleepy 😴 and thank you so much for your writing !!!!♥️♥️♥️

my mini multiverse of madness…

Maybe Just A Little Bit (Barista!Young!Tony AU x Reader)

Every single morning at 7:19 sharp, you walked in to the coffee shop down the street from your apartment complex. Did it cost you a fair amount to have a nice coffee every morning? Yes. Yes, it did. But you had your priorities and you cut corners where you could, and therefore, you could afford to work a regular nine to five job and have your nice coffee (or as you thought of it, caffeinated motivation) every morning. 

There was a guy who worked there who you saw most mornings, and often, who made your coffee. You’d been coming to this coffee shop for the past three or so years, and he’d only been working here for six months. He was cute—standing at about five foot eight, if you had to guess, fluffy brown hair, big puppy dog eyes—and you wouldn’t have minded him most of the time. He would’ve just been another recognizable face; someone who made you coffee in the morning, gave you a curt nod, and accepted your cash. Except the first day you met him, you got into a bit of a debate. 

A regular barista who you’d seen before was the one who was making your coffee that day. He took your order for an iced carmel macchiato (you really only loved sweet, cold coffee, which did raise the debate if it was even to be called coffee) and you stood there a little awkwardly as he began making it. “So, uh… Chiefs beat the Steelers last night,” you said casually, trying to soften the silence. 

Tony, who was also behind the counter, spoke up when he heard you say that. “Yeah. It was pretty damn stupid if you ask me, the refs always side with the Chiefs.”

“That’s not true,” you argued. You liked the Chiefs, enough to even own a few sweatshirts with their emblem on it. “There was that one play in the second quarter, three minutes before halftime? That one totally should’ve gone to the Chiefs, and it went to Pittspurgh.”

Tony rolled his eyes at you. “Whatever. Point is, the Steelers are better than the Chiefs, and they lost because the refs are biased.” 

“Look, no game is ever totally 100% fair, since it’s almost impossible for humans to be entirely objective, but that was a pretty fair football game, and the Chiefs won, so,” you shrugged. 

“You just like them ‘cause of Taylor,” Tony said as the other barista handed you your coffee. 

You thanked him and then returned your attention to Tony. “Don’t make assumptions. I’ve liked ‘em for a while.”

But Tony just snorted. 

And so the games began. 

Every single morning, there was something for Tony to argue with you about. Sometimes, it really got on your nerves. You were used to teasing. You could handle teasing. But occasionally, he crossed the line. One time, he made a comment about the kind of music you listened to without really knowing what you did listen to, and it pissed you off. It pissed you off enough that you didn’t go in to get your coffee the next day. But caffeination withdrawal is no joke, so you came back the following morning. 

You grew both weary and excited to see him. He agitated you sometimes, but he was a worthy opponent, and you did enjoy having someone to talk to every morning. You knew you’d miss him if he wasn’t there, but you weren’t really ready to accept that fact. 

You walked into the coffee shop at 7:19 exactly and walked up to the counter, where Tony was standing behind an ordering tablet. “May I please get the iced cinnamon dolce latte?” you asked, opening your wallet. 

“Fancy,” Tony smirked. 

“Shut up.”

“$6.44.”

“Really? Okay,” you pulled out the exact change and handed it to him. “Did y’all up your prices recently? Feels like it’s getting more expensive.”

Tony shrugged. “Inflation.”

You snorted. 

“Catch that new Bob Dylan movie?”

“Yeah, I thought it was really good. I’ve been listening to ‘It Ain’t Me, Babe’ all week.”

“Really? I think Chalamet’s overrated. Coulda been a better film.”

“Better…? He literally studied that role for five years.”

“Guess he shoulda studied harder,” Tony shrugged.

You rolled your eyes and took the coffee. “Thanks,” you said, in reference to the drink. “And you’re kind of an asshole.” 

Tony laughed. “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.”

— — — 

The next week, you came in to get your coffee and he wasn’t there. Surprisingly, it felt… off. Like something was wrong because he wasn’t there. You gave the barista who was there your order for an iced latte, then asked, “Hey, do you know where Tony is?”

The barista shrugged, and handed you your hot latte. Ugh, okay. 

You returned the next morning, 7:19, like clockwork, and still, Tony wasn’t there. Every day, you began to look for him when you went to get your coffee. And he wasn’t there. You asked whoever was working there where he was, and they never knew. By now, a whole week had gone by and he still wasn’t there. You were worried.

You walked in the coffee shop at 7:21 the next morning, and there he was, smirking. “You’re two minutes late,” Tony said playfully.

“Where the hell were you?” you asked, and Tony seemed genuinely surprised by the amount of concern the tone of your voice carried.

“Jesus, I was just sick, alright?” Tony chuckled, trying to play it off. He thought it was adorable that you’d worried about him. 

“Okay, okay,” you said, backing off. “Caramel macchiato, please. Iced.”

Tony nodded and made your drink. You went to grab the $6.44 you knew you owed him, but he stopped you. “Nah, it’s alright. It’s on the house. Come here every damn day, don’tcha? Store’s best customer.”

Your expression softened at that, and you let him give you the drink for free. Who would you be to say no to a free coffee? He handed you the iced drink and you took it gladly. 

“Miss me?” he asked with a playful smile.

“Maybe just a little bit.”

[avengerlevelthreat]

Tony: so what do you have planned for the future?

Peter: lunch

Tony: no, like long term

Peter: oh um... dinner?

[jjsmaybank20]

Clint: Where do you think you'll end up, hell or heaven?

Natasha: I hope hell. It's where all the gay people are.

Y/N: It's lit.

Y/N: Pun intended.

Clint: Y'all are weird.

[erroneot]

America: am I in trouble? Stephen: take a guess America: no? Stephen: take another guess

[you-have-a-metal-arm]

JAMES?

pairing : Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count : 1.2k

Warnings : Just general fluff

Summary : When you call Bucky “James”—a name no one else dares to use—he reveals to a stunned Steve and Sam.

Authors Note : Hey y’all i’m back!!! Enjoy this fic 🙈

You stood quietly in the doorway, arms crossed as you watched him. His hair was damp with sweat, clinging to his temples, and his jaw was set in that stubborn way it always was when he refused to admit he was hurting. You let out a soft sigh. You hated seeing him like this—so hard on himself, so weighed down by things he didn’t deserve to carry.

He didn’t notice you at first, too lost in his own storm. But you stepped forward, not hesitating for a second.

“James.”

Your voice cut through the room like a blade, soft yet sharp enough to reach him. The sound made him freeze mid-punch, his metal fist stopping inches from the bag. His head turned slowly, his stormy blue eyes locking onto yours. And in an instant, the tension in his shoulders melted. His gaze softened in a way that made your heart ache, because you knew—you knew—no one else ever got to see him like this.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice rough from exertion but laced with something warmer. Something vulnerable.

Steve, halfway through a set of sit-ups in the corner, dropped to the floor in disbelief. “Wait—what?”

Sam, leaning lazily against the wall with a water bottle in hand, nearly spit out his drink. “Hold the hell up,” he said, straightening. “Did she just call you James?”

Steve sat up fully now, wiping his forehead with his shirt and glaring at Bucky like he’d just witnessed a miracle. “She did. And—” his voice faltered as he pointed a finger at Bucky, “—you’re okay with it?”

Bucky glanced at Steve, then at Sam, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. But when he looked back at you, something in his expression shifted. He shrugged, completely unbothered. “Yeah. So?”

Sam’s jaw practically hit the floor. “So? You nearly ripped my arm off when I tried calling you that one time!”

Steve nodded furiously. “He’s not exaggerating. You said, and I quote, ‘Don’t ever call me that again unless you want to find out how fast I can break your jaw.’”

“Exactly!” Sam threw his hands up. “And now she just waltzes in here, says James like it’s nothing, and you’re—what? Cool with it?”

Bucky’s gaze hardened, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. “She’s not you.”

“Oh, no, we get that,” Sam said sarcastically. “But why the hell is she the exception?”

Bucky didn’t answer right away. His hand flexed at his side—flesh and metal both—but his focus stayed on you, his eyes tracing the curve of your face as if grounding himself. Finally, he said, quietly but with conviction, “Because she’s mine.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Steve and Sam exchanged a look—a mixture of shock, disbelief, and maybe even a little amusement—but neither of them dared to speak.

You, however, raised an eyebrow, lips twitching as you fought back a smile. “Yours, huh?”

Bucky’s ears turned a faint shade of pink, but he didn’t back down. His gaze was steady, unwavering. “Yeah. Mine.”

“God,” Sam muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “This is so disgustingly soft, I think I’m gonna puke.”

“Agreed,” Steve said, though there was a small, knowing smile on his face as he stood up. “You two can have your… moment. We’ll leave.”

As the door closed behind them, you turned back to Bucky, who was already watching you like you were the only thing that mattered. His expression had softened completely now, the rough edges smoothed out into something raw, something real.

“James,” you said again, stepping closer, and you saw the way his shoulders relaxed, the way his lips parted slightly like he needed to hear it just one more time.

“Yeah?” he murmured, his voice quieter now.

“You’ve been at this for hours,” you said softly, reaching up to brush a strand of damp hair away from his face. “Come take a break.”

He hesitated, his eyes scanning your face like he was searching for something. “I just… I didn’t want to bother you. I needed to work it out.”

“James,” you said, firmer this time, and his breath hitched like the sound of his name from your lips alone was enough to shake him. “You don’t have to do this alone. Not anymore.”

His chest rose and fell with a deep breath, and his hand—metal and warm and steady—reached up to wrap around yours. He held it there, against his cheek, like he was afraid you might pull away. “It’s not just the name,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible. “When you say it… it’s different. It feels… good.”

Your heart swelled, and you gave him a small, reassuring smile. “That’s because I love you, James. All of you. Even the parts you don’t think are worth loving.”

His eyes closed briefly, and when he opened them again, they were glassy, like he was fighting to keep the emotions at bay. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Stop it,” you said gently, stepping closer until your foreheads touched. “You deserve everything. And I’m not going anywhere.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. He just held you there, close, his arms wrapping around your waist like you were the only thing anchoring him to the world. And maybe, in some ways, you were.

“Say it again,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly.

“James,” you murmured, brushing your nose against his. “You’re safe with me. Always.”

A soft, broken laugh escaped him, and he pulled you closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “You’re all I’ve got,” he whispered, his voice muffled but full of emotion. “And you’re all I need.”

You held him there, running your fingers through his hair, and for the first time in a long time, he let himself just be. Vulnerable. Loved. Yours.

Thanks for reading 😁

[callmefirefly]

Joaquin: What are you writing?

Bucky: The government wants to know what kind of weapons we have in the house. I'm letting them know it's private information.

Sam, looking over Bucky's shoulder: This just says 'fuck around and find out' in calligraphy.

[vyynn]

Tony, texting in the avengers group chat: Good morning people!

Thor: Morning human

Clint: Good morning

Steve: Good Morning!

Bruce: good morning.

Natasha: Good morningg

Tony: You guys are boring, spice it up a bit for God's sake.

Bucky: I hope you mfs fall off a rooftop and die.

Bucky: Not Steve though, good morning Steve.

[chaxan08]

Some random agent dude: Do you like your coffee like you like your men, tall and dark?

Natasha: No, but I do like my coffee like I like my women: sweet, strong, and able to keep me up all night.

Some random agent dude: What?

Clint: What?

Maria: What?

Natasha: You all hear me.

[at1r1-p4rk3r]

Peter; at school and just got in trouble: I swear I'm innocent!

Principal; not amused: That's it. Your aunt passed? I'm calling your parents.

Peter: Haha, good luck with that!

Principal: What?

Peter: My parents are DEAD! *unhinged laughter*

Principal: but I have their phone numbers....

[autumnistic-danmei]

Bucky: *sees someone doing something stupid* 

Bucky: What an idiot. 

Bucky: *realizes it's Steve* 

Bucky: Wait, that's MY idiot!

[rexasaurus1]

(Part 3) @yourbasicqueerie I tried!!!

[five-milfs-and-a-twink]

Agatha: Am I straight? Jen: What? Lilia: No Alice: Nope Billy: No way, I've seen how you look at Rio Agatha: ...I meant my parking? Billy: Ohhhh *checks* Billy: Still no

[fandom-tornado]

Steve: Hey Buck? Bucky: yeah Steve: *makes eye contact for two seconds* Steve: ok thanks Bucky: mhm *goes back to reading* Sam, standing in the doorway: what did I just witness

(check out my blog!!)

[diaryoflife]

[The Avengers talking during breakfast together]

Tony, looking at everyone: What would you do if your partner stabbed you?

Y/N, talking about Natasha: If my wife stabbed me I’d thrust myself deeper into the blade just to be a few inches closer to her but that’s just me, I don’t know.

*Natasha smirks and hits the back of Y/N’s head whilst the team laughs*

[erroneot]

Stephen: where are your parents? America: what are parents? Stephen: that’s just about the saddest thing I've ever heard