#idk it was just sittin in my folders

[kae-karo]

waffles - a lil phanfic

yo waddup i wrote this a while ago when i had a cute waitress at a diner (no, this isn’t what happened to me unfortunately lmao) anyway enjoy!

waffles - 1.8k - no tw apply. just a fluffy meet-cute

read on ao3

“M’name’s Dan and I’ll be taking care of you this morning,” the guy says, as if Phil doesn’t already know this, “can I get you something to drink?”

The voice pulls Phil from his menu-gazing, though it feels a bit more like glazing with the way everything keeps going blurry and his focus keeps slipping; to be fair, it’s quite early and he’s yet to have any coffee. He’d just been struggling to remember why exactly he’d woken up in time to see the sunrise on his way over to the diner when he’d looked up to find that very reason offering him a tired smile.

“Hi,” Phil mumbles with his best interpretation of a grin; it’s only the second time Phil’s met Dan properly, if sitting at a table and being waited on by someone can be considered ‘meeting’, but he’s been enamored since the first second he laid eyes on him. Even clearly exhausted with bags under his eyes and a heavily lidded gaze, Dan looks adorable - fluffy brown curls rest atop his head, stuffed under a black baseball cap with the diner’s logo, and they’re a perfect match for the dark coffee-colored gaze he fixes Phil with.

“Coffee!” Phil finally says in response to Dan’s question, cursing his slow brain and his naturally awkward demeanor - of course his single functioning brain cell had to go and get distracted by the warm curve of Dan’s lips, full and pink and begging to be kissed. Dan swipes his tongue across them and Phil wants nothing more than to copy the movement with his own tongue.

“Sure thing,” Dan’s mouth curls up in a smirk, and Phil wonders if he’s been caught staring; but then Dan’s gone, off behind some counter, and he ducks down and out of Phil’s line of sight. Phil stays focused on the spot, though, waiting for him to reemerge - it’s not that Phil’s obsessed or anything, that’d be weird. He just...really likes the waffles here. The waffles.

Which is the only reason he’d come back - his first visit had been an early-morning-out-too-late sort of trip that had led him past the twenty-four-hour diner on his way home. His rather unfortunate second trip had been the next week in the later morning - much more his preferred time for breakfast - but Dan hadn’t been working- er, rather, the waffles hadn’t been...as...good…

“Your coffee,” Dan’s back already, pouring the steaming caffeine source into Phil’s mug with his lips pursed in a way Phil has trouble deciphering. What he doesn’t have trouble deciphering is the dimple in Dan’s cheek, and it holds him transfixed until Dan turns, until brown eyes lock on his own and he’s left with a warm feeling that crawls up to his cheeks and settles there.

But Dan just keeps staring, then tilts his head in a way Phil realizes means something, and he coughs out a hum in question; he can feel his blush deepening - he just had to go and get lost in Dan’s eyes like a sappy teen falling in love, didn’t he?

“I said are you ready to order, or d’you need more time?” Dan asks, and this time the words actually make it to Phil’s ears.

“Waffles?” He manages to get out, which earns him a poorly-concealed grin from Dan as he jots a note down on his pad, and there’s that dimple again. Phil forgets how to form words, though he’s fortunately left with a ‘I’ll get that order in’ and another brief moment of eye contact before Dan turns, so he doesn’t need to really try.

He ends up following Dan with his gaze again, across the diner until he disappears into the kitchen, presumably to put in Phil’s order. At this point, he decides it’d be quite stalkerish of him - more so than it already is - to keep staring at the closed door and waiting for Dan to come back out, so he makes a grab for his mug of coffee and focuses on adding the proper amount of milk and sugar.

It’s not til he’s just lifted the drink to his lips, intent on taking what he hopes to be a steadying sip, that Dan finds his way into Phil’s field of vision again; he’s balancing a tray on his shoulder - full to the edges with plates for a surprisingly large table for just past seven on a Saturday morning - and expertly unloading each dish with practiced precision. For some reason, this simple and probably rather uneventful act holds Phil fascinated.

And then Dan turns, tray tucked under his arm, and his eyes land on Phil. Who’s not even attempted to hide the fact that he’s been staring, not until he’s been very obviously caught; he lifts his mug the rest of the way to his lips, dropping his gaze to the coffee and trying not to think about how if he’d just added the slightest bit less milk, the liquid would be a perfect match for Dan’s hair.

He sips until he’s absolutely certain Dan’s gone, then waits another few seconds before lifting his gaze to scan the diner again - sure enough, Dan’s nowhere in sight, and Phil takes the time to collect himself; he really needs to not act like he’s quite so obsessed with Dan. He’s just here for the waffles, he tells himself again.

To be fair, they are quite good.

Phil busies himself alternating between taking sips of coffee and playing with the empty packet of sugar, commanding his thoughts to focus solely on how delicious his waffles will be - he does not let his mind wander to Dan, who seems to have disappeared for the time being, not that Phil’s thinking about that at all. Or wondering where he might’ve gone to, or wondering if maybe Dan’s already finished his shift and gone home and Phil’s botched yet another chance to-

And then he spots Dan carrying a couple plates, walking in Phil’s direction, and his worries evaporate and resolidify in the form of nerves mixing with the coffee in his stomach. Or maybe they’re butterflies instead of nerves, he has a tough time telling.

With every step that Dan takes closer, Phil expects him to stop staring, to turn his gaze toward another table - maybe that couple that looks far too perky for being up this early on the weekend, or the mum and her kid sat in the corner, both coloring on a placemat with tired smiles on their faces.

But he doesn’t, just keeps on walking right toward Phil until they’re both sort of just watching each other, and Phil has a very hard time tugging his gaze away from Dan’s. But he does, eventually, trying his best to pretend the dregs of his coffee are a decent replacement for Dan’s warm chocolatey eyes; because if he doesn’t, he’s sure Dan will frown, will think he’s weird, will tell him not to come back.

It’s a silly thought, Phil knows, but he has it anyway.

“Your breakfast,” Phil loses this pathetic little battle with his heart when Dan speaks, when he sets a steaming plate of waffles in front of Phil. But he has to look up, because curiosity wins out: Dan had been holding two plates, but Phil’s fairly certain he’s the only person here by himself.

Phil watches as Dan sets the other plate at the opposite end of the table with a clunk.

“Oh, I didn’t order-”

“Nope,” Dan interjects before Phil can properly argue that he’d only ordered a single plate of waffles - although, he was sort of too dumbstruck to say anything aside from ‘waffles’ so maybe Dan had just gotten confused; frankly, Phil wouldn’t blame him. He knows he’s not the most direct person.

Before Phil can properly ask, Dan’s pulling out the chair opposite him and settling in. It’s only now that he’s staring straight at him that Phil realizes he’s lost the hat and apron, just sporting a red and black jumper with his curls let loose in a messy fluff on his head. Phil must be staring, as Dan ducks his head and runs a hand through his hair.

There’s a moment - or several, really - of silence, then, as Phil does his best to process what’s happening; while he does, Dan’s cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink, and he bites his lip while he stares down to his plate. Then his hands grip the edges of the table, and he shifts like he’s about to stand.

“Sorry, this was- fuck, this was really awkward of me to assume- I’m not, I mean- fuck I’m tired and I really should just go, I don’t-”

“Stay?” Phil says before he can stop his mouth from moving, before he can let his still-sleepy brain think too hard on whatever’s happening; the only clear thought he’s got at the moment is Dan’s sat here, and he’d very much like him not to leave.

Phil’s actually quite surprised it worked - why, he’s not sure, but it’s rare for him to get what he wants, so he’s shocked this time seems to be an exception. But he’s certainly not about to complain. No, instead, his heart decides to race and remind him just how nervous he’d been to see Dan to begin with. And now Dan’s just casually sat across from him, offering a small smile and grabbing a fork and knife. Phil suddenly feels quite like curling into a ball and disappearing - he’d barely had a plan for what to say to Dan when Dan was just his waiter, now he’s got to hold a conversation? About what? He doesn’t even know why Dan bothered joining him.

It’s not til Dan lifts a bite to his mouth that his gaze meets Phil’s again, and Phil realizes he’s not blinked in quite a while.

“Are you gonna, like...eat?” Dan’s hand drops, the bit of waffle no longer poised in front of his lips - which, coincidentally, gives Phil a perfect view; they’re just a few shades darker than his cheeks, the ones that clearly haven’t yet cooled from his earlier- was he embarrassed? Did he actually think Phil wouldn’t want him to stay?

“Yeah! Yeah,” Phil rushes out, fingers fumbling to grab his own silverware and cut into the waffles. He shoves a not-syrupy-enough bite in his mouth as quickly as he can, both to break the awkward moment and to prevent himself from saying anything that might scare Dan away. Instead, he offers his best attempt at a closed-mouth smile as he chews. Dan just chuckles, but his shoulders relax and he points his fork at Phil’s plate.

“Good?” He asks, brows raised in a way that makes little lines across his forehead, but Phil’s more focused on the return of the dimple he likes so much. And chewing, which he should definitely keep doing. And he should swallow, too, he thinks, because that’s what a normal, not-obsessed person would do.

In lieu of attempting to respond - because there’s no way he can trust his own words right now - Phil just nods and hums out a sound he hopes Dan will interpret as positive. The waffles are really good. Which was definitely the reason he came here.

[themeganator5000]

Okay besties so here’s the sitch:

I got like a bunch of Luca-related words in my notes app (borderline oodles) and they’re just. sittin there. not being read by possibly half a dozen people online. And they’re pretty much all over the place, due to my mind being soaked in silly juice and all, so a lot of them were never AO3 bound in the first place.

So like, I’m gonna start posting ‘em here cause I don’t really have it in me to start an entire sideblog for them. I dunno if I’ll be putting all of them in the main tag tho, just cause I don’t wanna clog it up, so I came up with my own tagging system for them.

I’m gonna tag all Luca-related notes app posts as “Tails from the Notes App” because I’m creative and hilarious. The SFW stuff will be tagged as “Uwuca 🐟” and the NSFW will be tagged as “Hornee Fish Folder 📯🎣” because that’s EXACTLY what I have them as in my notes app and I was born without a shred of dignity.

Reblogs and likes are ALWAYS allowed, appreciated, and encouraged because I crave attention. And feel free to send me asks about them or whatever if you want. Honestly, I may be overselling this a bit, but idk we’ll see what happens.

They will be uploaded when the moon is high and my mind is fried, just as god intended.

[mego42]

For the WIP meme! Your monster looks like mine! Rio + Annie broTP! Annnnnd a number! #3!

ty ty welcome to the circus or whatever, hahaha. i’m still in sleep debt idk what i’m saying. 

OKAY! so, rollerskating on, your monster looks like mine is the sex pollen fic I keep banging on about. I decided if I was going to do a widely panned trope I was going to go big vs going home (see also: dean pov, overdoing it in the face of perceived adversary is kind of my thing) and am trying to give it a theme and an arc and a truly unreasonable amount of angst. 

it takes place not that long after s3 and the two of them are like, you know, fairly well marinated in their animosity for each other and get thrown into this situation where they have limited control over how they physically feel about their proximity (heyo sex pollen!) and by god if they’re forced to be even a little bit vulnerable with each other they’re going to make it count and like, forcibly rip each other’s secrets out of each other (the hitman! lucy! 213! 209!). the whole idea behind the theme (and title) is a kind of hazy like calls to like, they’re both monstrous in overlapping ways and how they recognize/react to it is at the root of how they act towards each other. also, it’s alternating POV. 

idk, I have ambitious plans, a sprawling notes document, and probably like a third of it drafted but it’s super rough and I was in a weird place when I wrote it so it’s probs going to get reshaped a lot once I have the full draft out and see what I’m working with, but I have dug out a snippet under the cut!

He shows up a good twenty minutes after he told her to meet him, not bothering to park, just pulling up next to the van where she’s still fuming in the driver’s seat and telling her to get in. She gapes at him through the window, mouth opening and closing while she cycles through her options, deciding how she wants to play it. Curiosity must get the better of her though, because she hops in the passenger seat without a word—a fuckin’ miracle in and of itself. 

She holds it in for all of five minutes which, credit where credit’s due, is about four and a half longer than he was expecting.

“Where are we going?” 

She’s got that pissy little holier than thou tone going on, the one that always makes him itch to knock her down a peg or two.

“Bet you find out when we get there.”

The silence that falls between them’s thick enough it’s nearly tangible. Somethin’ ‘bout havin’ her in the car, even as big as it is, makes her feel closer than sittin’ next to her at a picnic table.

Rio takes shallow breaths, trying not to notice the hint of her perfume coating every inhale—something floral but not sweet, makes him think of night blooms and creamy, lush petals, makes him remember how much richer it smells right up against her skin.

He takes the next turn harder than he needs to, throwing them both around.

Elizabeth huffs and readjusts, making the leather creak. The tension radiating off her loosens his shoulders, and he relaxes back in his seat. He can see her drumming her fingers on her knee out of the corner of his eye, then smoothing her palms along her thighs like she’s trying to wipe something off. 

“Why bring me? Why not Mick or—or...any of your other guys?”

He scoffs, playin’ it up more than he needs to so she knows it’s a stupid question. “I roll in with back up, it looks like I think I need it. I roll in with you…”

He lets the sentence hang there, lazily turns his head to look at her and watch her bristle like a cat as she fills in the blanks. The funny part is of everyone he’s dealin’ with tonight she came the closest to finishin’ him off but he’s not about to tell her that. 

“‘Sides,” he continues, just to rub salt in the wound. “I need someone to take notes.”

“I’m not your secretary,” she snaps, that fake as hell yes sir, no sir mask she’s been painting on lately slipping and the tips of her claws coming out. Rio’ pulse jumps in answer.

“Yeah? You ain’t a sharpshooter either but you gave that your best go.”

That shuts her up for the rest of the ride. He’s almost disappointed. 

rio + annie brotp 

this one is just a concept as of now. the idea is rio and annie are roommates who maybe occasionally hook up when they’re bored, but mostly kind of just bump along sniping at each other and openly judging each other’s lives and choices but in a functionally dysfunctional sort of way, and their equilibrium is thrown off when annie’s older sister needs a place to stay for a while bc her life is falling apart. idk if/when I’ll ever get around to writing it because there is uh, lol, obvs some major yikes potential depending on what choices I make with different dynamics and I know rio and annie is v much not most people’s cup of tea for obvious reasons. I def want to write something with them being friends at some point though bc there’s a lot of comedic potential there that v much appeals to me.

#3

this is a dialogue prompt I wrote an opening for and then apparently abandoned it entirely with no notes to myself so thanks past!meg! you dick!

Beth knows that Annie and Ruby thought she was trying to be funny when she said Rio had a habit of popping up like a genie, and she was, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. 

She’s as used to it as it’s possible to get used to being caught continually off-guard. There’s a part of her that’s constantly on high alert every time she goes out, no matter where, scanning her surroundings, convinced that she’ll see him in the strangest of places. She never does though, and if she feels anything about that at all, it’s only relief and a continual low-level annoyance that he’s got her in a state of perpetual vigilance. 

It’s easier to convince herself of that when she doesn’t take into account those three months he was gone. How she couldn’t stop herself from looking, her attention snagging on all the different pieces of him she’d see in other people out of the corner of her eye: short dark hair, a slender build, a certain way of walking more liquid than anything else. Her breath would catch, her pulse would trip, but then she’d blink and the picture would become clear. It was never him, he’d never sneak up on her again because he was—

But he’s not, he’s here, in her kitchen, in the middle of the night Beth discovers as she screams, dropping the water glass she was coming in to refill in a move eerily similar to the first time she met him but with less groceries and more potential to cut her feet to ribbons.

“What are you doing here?” She asks, pushing past him to grab the broom and dustpan from the mudroom. He grunts as he shifts to the side, trying to get out of her way but she doesn’t think anything of it. “It’s three in the morning.”

why is Rio there? who knows! not me!

my wip folder is a mess and a mystery to me as much as you but ask me about any that strike your fancy anyway