Summary: pastel!Dan has to sit next to the new student on the coach on their journey to a school field trip. cue jealous boyfriend punk!Phil. There’s also a food fight and protective!Phil.
Word count: 1600
Warnings: miniscule violence.
“Daniel, come here” Mr Lewis said as the year eleven students began to make their way on to the coach.
Dan walked over to the teacher. He was stood with a rather nervous looking person who he’d never met before. They were looking down at the hands that they kept lacing and un-lacing.
Mr Lewis began to explain, “this is Christopher. He is a new student here and I thought that you would be the perfect person to introduce him to the school, especially as we are taking a field trip today. I would like you two to sit together on the coach”.
Dan smiled at Christopher in an attempt to make him feel less nervous, however the boy didn’t smile back but just stared blankly at him. Almost a scowl. That didn’t effect Dan’s attitude towards welcoming him though, he just needed someone to warm up to, Dan thought.
They entered the coach where most of the students were sitting in the seats towards the middle and back. Christopher decided to sit right at the front, so Dan just followed and placed himself in the seat right next to him. It was a pity that the coach didn’t have a side with three seats, Dan thought as he watched other students file in. What was Phil going to think?
It was just as he thought of Phil when the said person stopped abruptly beside them, causing a few people to bump into each other behind him. He placed his hands on the top of the seats either side of him and exclaimed “is this some kind of joke?”.
Dan looked up, now slightly anxious about the seating arrangement. He put his hand on top of Phil’s (which was on his seat). Phil’s harsh expression faltered for a second as he brushed his fingers against Dan’s hand, holding it delicately. His voice a contrast to his previous actions, Phil aimed his question at the boy sitting next to his Dan “who the fuck are you?”.
“Phil, this is Christopher. Mr Lewis asked me to sit with him as he’s a new student” Dan explained, more confident now that he knew that Phil wasn’t too angry with him. He just gets very jealous.
The people that were stuck behind Phil were all watching the scene unfold. Some were whispering things; ‘looks like Phil is gonna punch the poor guy’, ‘unlucky, being on Phil’s bad side on his first day’. A teacher at the front realised that there was a hold up and shouted “come on, sit down now everybody. We’re going to be late”.
Phil whispered something to himself about talking to Mr Lewis later. He knew that Dan was just trying his best so he lent down and kissed his nose, then the top of his head. He whispered “I’ll see you later, sweetheart” to Dan then walked to the back of the coach to join his ‘gang’ mates.
As soon as everyone was seated, the coach started to move out of the school car park and they were on their way. Christopher turned to Dan.
“Hey” Dan said a little apprehensive as he was embarrassed about the whole Phil situation.
“Who was that guy? Your cousin?” Christopher questioned bluntly.
Dan blushed. Did this person think that Dan was not good enough to be Phil’s boyfriend? And anyway whos cousin calls them sweetheart? “Urm, no. Phil is my boyfriend”.
Christopher just looked him in the face. He looked somewhat shocked.
“That’s okay isn’t it?” Dan asked. Oh God, what if this boy was homophobic?
Christopher shook his head and quickly answered “oh, yeah of course. It’s just. Well. You’re-”
Dan looked down to what he was wearing. A grey long sleeved t-shirt and white skinny jeans with lavender coloured ‘vans’ shoes. He also had a small pink hairclip in to keep his fringe from annoying him in the journey and matching pink circle earrings.
This was very different to the first impression that Christopher had had of Phil. The leather jacket wearing guy who had a dyed blue fringe and black eyeliner. The guy who had almost punched him in his first encounter with him.
“You know, he isn’t as scary as he seems”, Dan attempted to defend his boyfriend.
Christopher laughed, “sure, tell me that again when I’ve seen him and he doesn’t look like he wants to knock me out”.
It was about twenty minutes through the hour journey when Phil went up to Dan again. He wasn’t stopped by the driver who was too focused on the road, and the teachers were all chatting amoungst themselves.
He was taking Dan some food as they weren’t allowed any on the coach, so he figured Dan hadn’t brought anything. “Here you go, love” Phil whispered as he dropped two packets of Dan’s favourite flavour crisps (chips, for you Americans) and a twix on to Dan’s lap.
“Don’t worry. You can eat them now, no one will notice. And if they do then you can come to me”. Phil spoke the last few words loud enough for Christopher to look away from them and gaze out of the window.
“Thank you” Dan said, wrapping his arms around Phil’s neck so that he would kiss him.
“Alright, make sure to tell me if you want something else. We have loads more. And if you want to come and sit down here I’m sure someone will move” Phil made sure to tell Dan, even though they were only a few meters away from each other.
“Love you” Dan said happily, opening the twix.
“I love you too” Phil replied, starting to walk away. Although he couldn’t help but glare at the back of Christopher’s head when Dan offered him half of his twix.
It was another twenty minutes later and the back few rows of the coach had delved into a food fight. Empty wrappers of sweets were thrown. Half full packets of crisps were having their remaining contents emptied onto people’s heads. Even drinks bottles and cans were being thrown. Somehow the teachers had managed to remain oblivious to the whole scene.
Some of the more obnoxious people were throwing things to hit students that were sitting in the middle and front of the bus. One bottle knocked a girls glasses off, to which she looked back angrily at them.
In a rather unfortunate circumstance. The moment that Dan decided to stand up to straighten out his shirt, was also the moment that a guy decided to throw a full can of coke in his direction. And of course, it was just his luck that it hit him right in the back of the head.
It wasn’t quite enough to knock him out, but it was a hard hit and it hurt like hell. It caused a few people around Dan to turn and mumble to their friends; 'isn’t that Phil Lesters boyfriend?’, 'who threw that? Well they’re in for it now’.
Dan closed his eyes, putting his hands over his ears that had started ringing. The back of his head was pounding, but it also felt numb and weird. Christopher was sat next to him attempting to gather his thoughts on what he should do.
A few tears slipped from beneath where Dan had his eyes closed. Christopher placed his hand on Dan’s shoulder, Dan moved a little closer and mumbled “Phil”.
Christopher moved a hand from Dan's ear to whisper “do you want to go to Phil?”
Dan nodded his head, to which he immediately regretted when it made him feel even more dizzy. He tried to open his eyes but the light seemed blinding, so he shut them again. Christopher held his wrist as he led him to the back of the coach which was still in chaos.
When Phil saw the state that Dan was in, his eyes widened but then narrowed a few seconds later. “What the hell did you do?” He directed at Christopher.
“It wasn’t me, one of your mates threw a can of coke at his head” Christopher answered defensively. He handed the can over to Phil.
Phil looked turned around and shouted “who the fuck was this?!”, effectively ending the food fight. He held the can of coke and pointed at Dan who was now whined 'oww’ at the loud noise Phil had made.
A boy called Tom seemed to recognize the can that he had thrown. He mumbled “oh, Shit” when he saw who it had hit.
Phil noticed and walked over to grab the front of his jacket. He said “move, now. And don’t think this is over”. Tom quickly got up and tried to find a seat that wasn’t occupied.
Phil also made the two people that had sat either side of Tom move so that he, Dan and Christopher could take their seats. Phil between them. “You okay now, baby?” Phil asked Dan.
“Better” Dan happily mumbled.
For the rest of the journey, Dan leant on Phil, wrapped up in his arms. Phil slipped his hand under Dan’s t-shirt so that he could rub circles into his tummy. Phil’s hands were warm and relaxing, paired with the quiet hum that could be heard from the coach, making Dan feel more and more tired until he eventually fell asleep with ten more minutes of their journey left.
Phil decided to make conversation with Christopher, who he found out was actually pretty cool. He made great jokes. He’d also been the person to bring Dan to him when he was hurt.
Maybe first impressions weren’t that reliable.
A/N: I’ve been wanting to write one that is set on a coach for a while now. And I got a really great reaction to the last pastel/punk fic that I wrote so here’s another! Thank you so much for nice comments and all of the reblogs! It really motivates me :)
Also, remember that you can prompt me something that you’d like to read.
Hi my name is Ebony Dark’ness Dementia Raven Dun and I have long ebony black hair (that’s how I got my name) with purple streaks and teal tips that reaches my mid-back and icy blue eyes like limpid tears and a lot of people tell me I look like Melanie Martinez (AN: if u don’t know who she is get da hell out of here!). I’m not related to Josh Dun but I wish I was because he’s a major fucking hottie. I’m in the phandom but my teeth are straight and white. I have pale white skin. I’m also a witch, and I go to a magic school called Hogwarts in England where I’m in the seventh year (I’m seventeen). I’m trash (in case you couldn’t tell xD) and I wear mostly black. I love Hot Topic and I buy all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a black clique as frick tee with a fob jacket and a black skinny jeans, a grey beanie and black vans. I was wearing dark blue halsey lipstick, black winged eyeliner and nude eye shadow. I was walking outside Hogwarts. It was snowing and raining so there was no sun, which I was very happy about. A lot of fake fans stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them.
AO3 LINK Genre: Fluff, AU Warnings: Alcohol Mention, Swearing Word Count: 6017 Summary: As cliché as it sounds, Dan kind of got into punk music because of a certain wildly attractive lead singer.
a/n: basically, pastel!dan finds out about punk!phil’s band and they start talking and Dan decides to surprise him by showing up to one of their shows. this took me about two weeks to write due to lots of writers block and procrastination, but I’m content with the finished product.
Spock fucking shredding it on an electric guitar. His eyeshadow is vibrant blue and he’s got black eyeliner with wings out to here. He’s all tight t-shirts and black jeans and knee-high black boots as he calmly plays the most beautiful, heartwrenching, earshattering melodies.
McCoy on drums pounding away with his classic Bone drumsticks like a boss. He looks like something out of the 1970s with his huge gold pendant around his neck and his eggshell white bellbottom onesie. He carries the beat like nobody’s business even as everyone swoons over the lead singer.
Who you know has to be Kirk in a flamboyant green wrap top, hair feathered lightly, winking at every opportunity. Singing about stars and love and beautiful women and all kinds of stuff like that.
Meanwhile, in the back McCoy is rolling his eyes at maximum velocity and Spock is raising an eyebrow, wondering at how illogical it is that their fans think they have a chance with Kirk when they know very well he has two boyfriends.
Lana, who is of Scottish descent, said she wrote her first song at 11 years old. “It was called ‘China Palace.’ It was about being a princess.”
“I’ve always written. It’s the only thing I’ve ever been good at. It’s not difficult, like math. I’m not bad at it, like I am with everything else. But it didn’t have to be music. I like to sing. I also enjoy editing, splicing films together. And so I’ve been doing all those things, but my only ambition was to be a great writer.”
“I’m one of those people who believe that words are some of the last forms of magic that exist.”
“It definitely is an interesting experience to sell a lot of records, but not at the cost of having people question your authenticity when that’s something that means a lot to you as just a writer, which is what I considered myself to be.”
“I was in more of a sardonic mood,” she says of writing Money Power Glory. “Like, if all that I was actually going to be allowed to have by the media was money, loads of money, then fuck it … What I actually wanted was something quiet and simple: a writer’s community and respect.” She talks about that frequently: craving a peaceful life in an artistic community, away from the glare of a media that “always puts an adjective in front of my name, and never a good one.”
“I’ve been sad for different reasons. I have my own personal reasons. I was disappointed when I was criticized early on for those records that I was attached to because I considered myself a writer. Maybe the way I looked got in the way. That was disappointing for a few years.”
“The point is, I know what I like and what to write about thematically and I have integrity in my musical choices and I’ve stuck to that and I think it’s a nice gift for me because I have stuck to my guns about what I want to hear sonically, so at least I’ve done that right.”
“Writing to me doesn’t feel that much different from talking, and my new shrink says that I talk differently from most people he sees. Maybe that has something to do with why the songs sound unique. I knew how the songs felt to me, but I was surprised when they translated the right way to other people. It’s the only thing I’ve ever done the right way.”
“It’s a form of escapism for me in some ways, now that I don’t go out much. So, definitely, if you’re lucky enough to do what you love, it can be your whole life. I’m very lucky. I like to be in love when I’m writing. I like anything tropical and exotic, anything Tahitian, Hawaiian.
It’s a form of escapism for me in some ways, now that I don’t go out much. So, definitely, if you’re lucky enough to do what you love, it can be your whole life. I’m very lucky.
If you can alter people’s feelings through rhymes, couplets and melodies, it’s really a fun job to have. I find myself sometimes going back and forth between writing autobiographically and living vicariously through my own lyrics.
I like to write at night. I lived in New York for 10 years. I never thought I’d move to the West Coast. Now that I’m in California, I find that I actually love writing when it’s really hot.”
“I write about what I know and I try and find the most beautiful melodies I can.”
“My lyrics are very similar to me, who I truly am, but I must admit that I’m currently trying to do some new things. It’s a bit surrealist, full of colors. I feel much more inspired by people like Mark Ryden, Fellini or Picasso… Oh, I’m totally fond of this documentary: “Fellini : I’m a Born Liar”, which explains that the film-maker was in love with his hometown, and each of his movies is like one of its facets. I like his idea, the fact that truth should never impede to a beautiful lie.”
“I’m not going to limit my lyrical content to things that don’t really relate to me or sing about things just cause they rhyme.”
“I want one of two things. I either want to tell it exactly like the way it was, or I want to envision the future the way I hope it will become. I’m either documenting something or I’m dreaming.”
She remembers spending long nights at a Chinese deli on 42nd Street. "They’d let me buy a banana and a coffee and stay there until midnight,” she says. “I would go over different rhymes in my head, like rhyming ‘disco’ with 'go-go,’ writing about girls with blue mascara and black eyeliner, and about all of the men I had met who I just loved.”
“I live in my obsessions and then the music comes from there. Living that way and writing from that place doesn’t make for a “color in the lines” mold. And yet, the songs and the videos and the image go together well because they all come from the same place. So, maybe I’m not deliberate about the packaging, but I am deliberate at trying to do things that I adore.”
“The thing about me is, coming from an alternative music background and singing for nine years, being basically invisible, I’m so used to writing for myself — and at the end of the day, I do it because I feel like I have to. So when I’m recording or writing, I don’t have other people in mind. It’s not always comfortable for me, but I don’t not say what I want to.”
“I think the biggest lesson I learned was there’s never a wrong time to write. Sometimes it takes years to make a record, and sometimes you write something right after you’ve released a record, but you’re crazy not to take advantage of the lyrical muse if it comes to you. Also, to not second-guess the direction that a record naturally takes itself—or a title for the record—if it presents itself to you. “
“Being a writer is more like being a director than it is like being an actor. You’re directing the script. Nobody’s telling you what to do and you choose where that lyrical story is going to go. As you’ve seen with the stuff I’ve gone through, you can’t control anything else that follows it. The story is in the record. It’s your decision as to whether that person is your taste or not. I mean, you can’t be everybody’s cup of tea.”
“I’ve been influenced by things I’ve read - that’s why I’m a writer - but I don’t think it’s ever made me do something I wasn’t going to do anyway.”
“First of all, when you’re writing a record alone, you don’t really think about the effect your music is going to have on other people. I’m not really the type of person to condone any behavior that would end up being harmful to anyone else but at the same time I’m not going to limit my lyrical content to things that don’t really relate to me or sing about things just because they rhyme. The further away I get from each record the more space I have to think about whether it’s important to be responsible. I still don’t know.”
“A lot of people have good ideas but it’s all about communication. With a lot of my songs, you don’t have to look much further. I’m right here. It’s right here. We could almost talk about anything else because I’m putting it all out there already. Any time you have a a question you can always refer back to the songs. Therein the story lies.”
“Very young. Poetry, then short stories, then finally songs, awful ones initially. I studied philosophy and metaphysics. This passion for words I own to my best friend Gene, my English teacher at the time. He showed me, when I was 15, the books by Jack Kerouac, Allan Ginsberg… Suddenly I no longer felt lonely, lost in my dreams. I finally knew that there were people like me, a bit weird, out of it. I really was saved by the beat poets. They opened a huge window for me, reassuring my mental health. In Lake Placid, there weren’t many people who shared my universe, so the books became my close friends.”
“I’m a pretty nocturnal creature. I write at night, outdoors, and often with a lot of noise in the background. Either with the radio in my car playing or in my house and the TV turned on, usually chain-smoking and drinking coffee…I drink tons of coffee!”
Being from the South, Bitty had been swimming since he could walk (it’s the best way to beat the heat in the summer, and the most fun)
When he was 5 he saw synchronized swimming in the summer Olympics and told his mom he absolutely had to do it. Thinking it was just a phase, she signed him up for formal swim lessons. He fell even more in love with the water and when he was 7, he joined the Peach State Synchro team, the first male on the team.