So I'm gonna do NaNoWriMo

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@junebug-writes
So I'm gonna do NaNoWriMo
So, I saw you were doing something like "Send me AU's and I'll give you 5+ headcannons about it. Are you still doing that? If you are still doing it...Then I submit a coffee shop AU for legend. You don't have to do it, but the AU would also work for other fandoms so you could use it for those. Okay, that's all. But I would love it if you would do that AU!
HOLY FUCKING YES
Day and Tess have worked at the same coffee shop since high school and they never fail to remind each other that they’ve been working together since high school
(Tess is literally a senior in high school. Day graduated two years ago.)
Kaede is their manager and every wlw girl comes in and is like “w o w” seeing her.
June visits this coffee shop while studying in college because she is going to be a PhD and she is going to do it better and faster than everyone else.
She orders anything with caramel and adds four shots of espresso.
Day draws hearts in her lattes.
Tess draws rabbits.
Sometimes, June’s study buddy Anden joins her, and Day “”””conveniently”””” has to go “get some more fucking beans” from the back whenever “that asshole” shows up.
Day writes his number on every cup of coffee he gives June.
When he actually asks her out with words and not coffee, she says she’ll check her calendar. He laughs.
She takes two minutes but eventually tells him that she’s free on Thursday from seven until ten and not ONE MINUTE MORE.
He keeps her out until 10:01.
I Am Not Yours
This was originally going to be for Han/Leia Week, but I’m on vacation, so that deadline got fudged. But here’s this short little fic for the prompt “Lost Together” that was absolutely inspired by a song.
On ao3.
“I am not yours, not lost in you, / Not lost, although I long to be”
-Sara Teasdale, “I Am Not Yours”
His eyes have always been her undoing. In the split second it takes to find his gaze, a thousand possibilities run through her head, but of course it’s this one that comes to fruition. Her footsteps stall the moment she meets his gaze, and she’s nineteen and twenty-two and twenty-four and thirty and forty-six and however old she is all at once. What year is it? When was the last time she saw his eyes? The holos she keeps in secret are nothing compared to this, compared to looking him in the face across the battlefield.
It always was battlefields, wasn’t it?
Keep reading
Six String
This was, again, going to be for Han/Leia Week, but I, again, am a dumbass. I’m also an asshole because this is for both the “Space Roadtrip” prompt and the “AU” prompt. It’s actually part of a multichapter fic I’m planning that takes place in 1969.
On ao3
“Hey.”
Han looked down from the roof of the Falcon and found Leia, hair tied back, in jeans and a blouse that looked as though it used to be professional. But, hell, everything she wore looked professional or expensive or… He stopped his thoughts before he could finish that one and instead looked at her. “Hey yourself. What are you doing up?”
“I could be asking what you’re doing out of the driver’s seat,” she said, giving him a little of a rare smile. Jesus Christ.
Keep reading
So for tomorrow, we have the options of fluff, angst, or more angst
send me an au and i’ll give you 5+ headcanons about it
Again
Leia Organa loses everything. Twice.
(Leia-centric angst because I have no self control. On ao3.)
In the same way she’s been able to feel things her entire life, Leia feels Alderaan turn to ash and dust. It’s a hole in her chest, it’s a blade in her lung, it’s a million screams in one cacophonous harmony.
Until it isn’t.
Keep reading
Hello!
guess who’s still alive
also
I’ve got an original thing going on, and that’ll get posted here.
to anyone who followed me for the Legend thing: sorry
I don't know where the new followers are coming from, but hi! Welcome to a world where I can't decide between present tense and past tense what the fuck! <3
You have serious writing talent!!!!! Love your work keep it up :3
WHO IS SENDING THESE MESSAGES AND HOW DO I SEND YOU FRUIT BASKETS
YOU’RE LOVELY
I LOVE YOU
THANK YOU
YOUR WRITING IS AMAZING OH MY GOSH I LOVE YOU😍
THANK YOU SO MUCH?
LIKE
WHAT
THANK YOU OH MY GOD
Metaphor - Hawkeye
on ao3
“My boss. Right? Kind of? The guy that’s kind of my boss? He’s…like, a human car-crash. And I just have to watch it happen again and again. It’s depressing. He depresses me.” -Kate, Hawkeye #10
Homecoming - Clintasha
on ao3
Days pass. Days and weeks and nearly a month since the fiasco in Washington. Natasha isn't sure how much she has changed, but she still sleeps with a gun under her pillow, her fingers wrapped around it as she never quite slips into REM.
I’m With You - Clintasha
on ao3
SHIELD often forgets how fragile, how explosive, how catatonic its agents are. They train for the field, not for what comes after. Agents wade into war, guns blazing, but they are afraid of the dark.
SHIELD is excellent at using its resources.
Natasha Romanoff knows St. Petersburg like the back of her hand. Natasha Romanoff is the best assassin in the world. Natasha Romanoff works well with Clint Barton.
So, they get on a plane and go to Russia and execute the mission perfectly. They sit on opposite rooftops, comms in their ears, but their silence is typical and comfortable. She takes the shot, and Clint doesn't need to see to know that the target is dead.
"I knew him," whispers Natasha, "when I was younger."
Clint can't find words, knows she wouldn't want them anyway. He says nothing when she takes his hand in hers, nearly breaking the skin with her nails.
That night, he wakes to her straddling him and pulling back for a punch. He catches her fist, but she's ahead of him, she's nailing him in the throat.
"Natasha!" he chokes as she hits him again and again and again. "It's me! It's Clint!"
She pauses for half a second before gritting her teeth and slamming his head into the headboard. He curses under his breath. "Please, Tasha, please, please."
And then she collapses into him. It's without grace. She simply goes limp and falls. She's dead weight on his chest, as if she simply ran out of battery. After a moment, she says, "Clint?"
The breath leaves his lungs, and she sags further. "Yeah, yeah, you with me?" It's their phrase, their fail-safe, their go-to for panic attacks and anything else terrible and unseen.
"I'm with you," she murmurs, voice strained. She starts to push herself up, but he can see the terror in her eyes, so he pulls her back.
"C'mere, Tash. You're alright."
"I hit you." She sounds as if she shot him, not punched him.
"I get hit a lot, it's okay."
"I thought you were..."
"It's alright. You're okay. You're safe." He can feel her skin trembling as her fingers find his shoulders.
"Clint," she whispers, fingers curling against his chest. "Oh, Clint."
"It's okay, Natasha. I'm right here. I'm not leaving you." His hands move through her hair, curls catching on his fingers. "I'm gonna stay right here until you don't need me."
"I'll always need you."
Part of him hears it as her being too scared to make sense of herself, part of him thinks it's too late for it to mean anything. But in the back of his mind, he understands that it's a confession, that it's a prayer.
"I need you too, Tash. Always will."
so has this been done or
Crickets - A Clint Barton Fanfiction
The Battle of New York takes its toll on everyone, but Clint's never allowed himself to cry before. Hell, he doesn't deserve it.
[warnings include death, alcohol/alcoholism, child abuse, knives, choking, nightmares, PTSD, and a baby bird breaking his own wings. yeah, that was a metaphor]
May 12.
Exhaustion plagues Clint's shoulders. The first week has been interrogations and intense medical exams. Being surrounded by one-way mirrors and cold faces and hidden handguns sure doesn't feel like sick bay. He hasn't been permitted to leave SHIELD headquarters for eight days post-battle, eight days post-Loki.
Just to make sure he's alright.
whenever you write angsty fic and tell your friends about it