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@hecticromantic
⠀ 🌙 ⠀ ⠀ * ⠀ ⠀hecticromantic.⠀ ／is a selective, exclusive and low activity multi-muse with original characters. 27. cst. mun goes by ash or maple. they/them. mature themes and potentially triggering content. 21+
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"fuck -- off!" nish wrenches his head back, strains away, digging an elbow against the meat of dylan's chest. he doesn't get anywhere. not really, not when there's a fist against his scalp, and another knotted into the bunched fabric of his collar. they're tied overall, folded together like unattended wires, electricity still buzzing, humming in the air. they could suffocate like this. there's enough unspoken weighty tension to drown them both, heads securely anchored under water. worse still -- worse than being taunted, restrained, cussed out and threatened with teeth -- with hot, hot, tongue -- is when a shiver zips through him. it plunges downward, sinking to the mess of thigh and ankle and hooked knee, and nish has a fucking headache still. there's a thrumming all over, a stuttering pulse that quickens, that throbs from neck to wrist to stomach. and dylan is a furnace, eyes bright and confusing like an apparition. (his throat is parched. he has a fucking headache and his throat is newly parched.) "is that what it'll take for you to fuck right off? knowing isla has me between her legs?" he whispers this, a private secret to be shared, to be used as bait. "you need a lewd -- perverse -- description of it? is that it?"
his fingers merely clasp tighter at the roots of nish's hair, jaw and tongue working as he stays anchored to the ground even with an pointed elbow digging into chest uncomfortably. none of this was about comfort. hadn't been, since isla entered the picture. dylan could feel nish's pulse quicken under his lips, out of trepidation or anticipation, he doesn't know. he barks another laugh, untangling his fingers from nishanth's hair and holding onto him through the knotted fabric of his shirt, fabric dylan wants to shred if only so he can feel the satisfying jump of nish's pulse again, skin to skin. "christ. you're fucking relentless. go on, then. tell me, paint as vivid a picture as you're capable," dylan goads, eyebrows raising expectantly along with the curve of his mouth. even if nishanth's able to paint a picture, could he paint one that depicts him as actually enjoying it? this was all so cruel and unusal, dylan doesn't know what to do about it all, except that they should stop. he doesn't want to stop. he allows the baited trap to nip his fingers. "what do you know about perverse? i could give you a few pointers, if you'd like. i know you and isla probably keep it tame -- in reality." his tongue darts out to wet his lips, giving an encouraging bow of his head to motion that nish should continue.
his stomach swoops and then rises -- crests forward like a wave -- one built with matchsticks, with heated coal. he's already irritable, temple thrumming with cruel reminders of their shared humanity (and non-existent resistance to liquor) but dylan still wants to push him. he always wants to fucking push him, peel at the plaster and dig his sharp teeth, his pointed nail right in. it's vampiric -- it's fungal. nish wants to accuse him of both, except there's some truth to the flustered blame dylan spits in return. somewhere in between the headache that is their bloody friendship -- nish had kissed him. their teeth nearly collided and there was spittle, wet, at the corner of his lip, but it had happened. it didn't come and leave like a relief -- it stayed -- it sits still, present, a threat and a warning when dylan responds, crowds him. the weight of his voice anchors him to the floor, and he's gritting his teeth so hard, punishing with it. "what are you playing at, asking me such things?" he has his left hand braced and fisted into dylan's shirt, his right clenched, knuckle first against the meat of his stomach. they feel minutes away from swinging, minutes away from tearing at skin, minutes away from falling, sinking into something unmentionable. they're shaking, shivering too much for it to be a stand still. "is that what you think about? is that what you're so -- buried in? -- so busy moaning over what happens behind my door, our door -- thinking about it hard enough to do all this?" he shoves roughly, not rushed enough to topple dylan, or even crowd him in turn, but they hover in between counters. he doesn't think he's breathing -- he mostly spits. "you want to be me? is that it?" he swallows, accusatory, narrow-eyed. "you want to be her?"
tension between them crackles in the air like lightning before a storm, barometic pressure spiking twofold when nish turns his line of questioning around on dylan, glancing down at the hand bunching up the fabric of his shirt as if in disbelief. if nish means to lay hands on him, he's fucking loonier than dylan even thought. he lets out a harsh little laugh. "you're really, really gonna regret that, nish," he mutters, a friendly warning in as much as it is a threat. dylan's crossed a line, but he always crosses a line. it's hard to say what their friendship can't definitively recover from when it's been a struggle from the start, they'd never had an easy time understanding eachother, but on top of nish's marriage and how little they'll see of another once it's all done with, dylan really feels like they're reaching the end of the road. how much more of a push can this precarious house of cards take before it all topples over? his face goes slack, blatant disdain wiped clean to be replaced with such non-expressiveness it can only be described as shock. dylan's eyes are wide, blue and deceivingly innocent, and he feels like he has to repeat the words in his mind a second time to make sure he's hearing them right. "fuck you. fuck you. for real, mate. you haven't got the right to accuse me of being buried in anythin' when we both know where you've been burying your head. somewhere new, not under the sand anymore, that's for damn sure." he laughs again when nishanth pushes him, smile wide and unkind. dylan's chest is rapidly rising and falling, not even noticing the adrenaline beginning to course through his veins and make the blood rush away from his head. he's not thinking clearly, a veritable fact, so he entertains the thought of tangling fingers in soft jet black curls and pulling harshly so dylan can nip at and mark his neck. mouth at his jugular, carotid -- leave blooming bruises for him to explain away to isla. but why should he be wary of his worst impulses, when nishanth is no longer minding his own? dylan gives a little shake of his head, mirroring nishanth's grip on his shirt so they're all tangled up in one another -- neither one can get away without getting hurt, and pulls nish's body flush against his own. he could tear the fabric if he used the right amount of force, with how he's anchoring nishanth's body here so he can tip his head forward and attach lips to his neck. it's a mess of more lips and teeth and the slightest bit of tongue, no finesse involved, but with vengeful jealousy driving the path forward it's unnecessary. dylan cradles the back of nish's head, fingers interwoven tight in the locks to allow minimal movement as he sucks hard at his adam's apple, breaking away with a thin thread of spit connecting their skin. "explain that," he breathes, sounding pissed and jubilant simultaneously.
@clearwinged: [ surprise ] a sudden kiss to catch the partner off guard ( nish to dylan / about that tylenol & bachelor party plot !! )
dylan knows nishanth's head must be pounding right now, that his throat is probably parched and tastes like an ashtray because of the late night they had, so when he encounters a groggy nish in the kitchen of the airbnb dylan decides to act fast. nishanth has been avoiding him, and as they say, desperate times call for desperate measures. he plants his feet in front of the fridge to block access and swipes the communal tylenol bottle, tauntingly waving it above nishanth's head. "i know you've been avoiding me. so come on, fess up," dylan accuses, expecting a swift denial. they start squabbling, like children, dylan squirming and standing on his tiptoes to hold the medicine even further out of reach with a hand lightly pushing on nishanth's chest. then, there's a brief press of lips to his and dylan is so surprised that his fingers unfurl from around the bottle, dropping it. there's a shaky exhale of breath and the sound of it clattering against the tile, wide blue eyes regarding nishanth differently. traitor. liar. asshole. goddamn unfair, is what that was. dylan is all of these things too, but he didn't expect such underhanded tactics from nishanth. "that was uncalled for," dylan murmurs through half-lidded eyes, like nish is doing this specifically to spite him. right now, it feels like nish is doing a lot of things to spite him, actually. he can only endure so much cruelty, intentional or not. dylan inhales, so close to his friend he's practically breathing his air too and he grips the back of nishanth's shirt to pull him aside, swapping their positions so nishanth is the one backed against the refrigerator and countertop. there's still liquor on their breath, dylan's head pounding as he accidentally knocks a magnet off the fridge with the clumsy placement of his hand behind nishanth's head. he shouldn't have taunted dylan like this, they could have just merrily went on and enjoyed the rest of their trip whilst ignoring the elephant in the room but that's not what nishanth did. so now dylan's urge to kiss him, to bite his ears, to take what he truly wants, is no longer subdued and reverbarating loud in his head. "tell me what you're playing at, nish. or -- nah, better yet, tell me what isla does to get you to come. does she boss you around? verbally humiliate you? you like being taken care of?" he fires off a rapid-fire round of questions, nishanth unwittingly landing himself at the receiving end of dylan's sadistic desire.
🐝 * ― 𝑰𝑻'𝑺 𝑵𝑶𝑻 𝑨 𝑷𝑯𝑨𝑺𝑬, 𝑴𝑶𝑴. ( a random assortment of various lyrics from emo songs. feel free to change pronouns if needed. )
❛ i know you well enough to know you never loved me. ❜ ❛ i am finished with you. ❜ ❛ you were the last good thing about this part of town. ❜ ❛ so don't go worrying about me, it's not like i think about you constantly. ❜ ❛ do you feel like a man when you push her around? do you feel better now as she falls to the ground? ❜ ❛ take back everything you ever said, you never meant a word for it. ❜ ❛ i'm glad i didn't die before i met you. ❜ ❛ say anything, but say what you mean. ❜ ❛ what the hell is wrong with me? my friends say i should act my age. ❜ ❛ it's no surprise to me, i am my own worst enemy. ❜ ❛ i'm sick of the things i do when i'm nervous, like cleaning the oven or checking my tires or counting the number of tiles on the ceiling. ❜ ❛ well, you treat me just like another stranger. ❜ ❛ but i don't wanna feel a thing anymore. ❜ ❛ doesn't it feel like your time is running out? ❜ ❛ i don't blame you for being you but you can't blame me for hating it. ❜ ❛ and up until now, i have sworn to myself that i'm content with loneliness. ❜ ❛ i'll keep you my dirty little secret. don't tell anyone or you'll be just another regret. ❜ ❛ and all the times you promised me that everything would work out in the end, you were gravely mistaken. ❜ ❛ thanks for the memories even though they weren't so great. ❜ ❛ i never thought we'd make it out alive. ❜ ❛ i know somewhere, somehow we'll be together. ❜ ❛ honestly? honestly, i can't remember all my teenage feelings. and the meanings. ❜ ❛ the more i try, the more i lose. ❜ ❛ why can't i feel anything from anyone other than you? ❜ ❛ second chances they don't ever matter, people never change. ❜ ❛ and the hardest part is letting go of the nights we shared. ❜ ❛ you contradict the fact that you still want me around. ❜ ❛ don't ever look back. they'll tear us apart if you give them the chance. ❜ ❛ you don't know what it's like to be like me. ❜ ❛ i kept my word when i swore that i would let you down. ❜ ❛ so let's just pretend everything and anything between you and me was never meant. ❜ ❛ and i fell for the promise of a life with purpose. but i know that's impossible now. ❜ ❛ glad the future didn't fail you like it failed me. ❜ ❛ but i wish that i'd never met a lot of the people that i've met. not because i don't like them but because i only let them down. ❜ ❛ don't waste your time on me, you're already the voice inside my head. ❜ ❛ can we pretend to leave and then we'll meet again. ❜ ❛ let's just forget everything we said and everything we did. ❜ ❛ i don't want to waste my time, become another casualty of society. ❜ ❛ so i told her i loved her, and she told me she loved me. and i mostly believed her and she mostly believed me. ❜ ❛ the truth is you could slit my throat, and with my one last gasping breath i'd apologize for bleeding on your shirt. ❜
🐝 * ― 𝑨𝑷𝑶𝑳𝑶𝑮𝑰𝑬𝑺 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑭𝑶𝑹𝑮𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑵𝑬𝑺𝑺 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺.
❛ i'm sorry for everything i said. ❜ ❛ i just made a stupid mistake, okay? ❜ ❛ will you ever be able to forgive me? ❜ ❛ i already said i'm sorry! ❜ ❛ how many more times do you need me to apologize? ❜ ❛ it's gonna take a lot more for me to be able to trust you again. ❜ ❛ you can't just come in here and say sorry like it was no big deal! ❜ ❛ i accept your apology. ❜ ❛ i'm not the person you need to apologize to. ❜ ❛ you don't need to apologize, i understand. ❜ ❛ everyone makes mistakes sometimes. it's human. ❜ ❛ don't you dare tell me you're sorry! ❜ ❛ are you really sorry or are you just pretending? ❜ ❛ i don't believe your apology. ❜ ❛ do you really think a simple apology is gonna make everything okay again? ❜ ❛ ii never meant to hurt you. ❜ ❛ can't we just forget this whole thing and move on? ❜ ❛ what more do you want me to say? ❜ ❛ i'm sorry i didn't listen to you sooner. ❜ ❛ you were right, and i'm sorry i ever doubted you. ❜ ❛ let's just forgive and forget. ❜ ❛ i don't think i'll ever be able to forgive you for what you've done. ❜ ❛ someday i'll surely forgive you ... but that day is not today. ❜ ❛ let's just forget all about it and pretend it never happened. ❜ ❛ what else am i supposed to do or say for you to believe me? ❜ ❛ why can't you just say you're sorry? ❜ ❛ i'm still waiting for that apology ... ❜ ❛ that wasn't so difficult now, was it? ❜ ❛ i'm begging you, please forgive me. ❜ ❛ i promise you i'll never make the same mistake again. ❜ ❛ that was the worst apology i've ever heard. ❜ ❛ really? that's all you have to say for yourself? ❜ ❛ you already broke your word once, who's to say you won't do it again? ❜ ❛ will you just apologize already? ❜ ❛ i don't need an apology from you. ❜ ❛ i didn't mean what i said ... i'm sorry. ❜ ❛ you need to be honest with me. ❜ ❛ there's nothing to apologize for. ❜ ❛ i've already forgiven you, you idiot. ❜ ❛ i know you probably won't believe me, but i truly am sorry. ❜
🐝 * ― 𝑫𝑰𝑭𝑭𝑬𝑹𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑾𝑨𝒀𝑺 𝑻𝑶 𝑲𝑰𝑺𝑺 𝑺𝑶𝑴𝑬𝑶𝑵𝑬.
[ peck ] a quick, light kiss on the partner's lips or cheek [ french ] a deep, passionate kiss with the use of tongue [ forehead ] a gentle kiss on the partner's forehead, conveying care and affection [ spiderman ] an upside-down kiss, just like in the movie [ mistletoe ] a playful or romantic kiss under a mistletoe [ hand ] a chivalrous kiss on the back of the partner's hand [ lingering ] a long, slow kiss filled with emotion and desire [ neck ] a kiss or gentle sucking on the partner's neck [ nape ] a kiss placed at the nape of the partner's neck [ teasing ] a light brushing of lips against a partner's skin without fully kissing [ earlobe ] a light nibble on the partner's earlobe [ tango dip ] a kiss shared while one partner is dipped backward [ celebration ] a joyful and exuberant kiss to celebrate an achievement or milestone [ stolen ] a quick, stealthy, and impromptu kiss snatched in secret [ bite ] a playful kiss that involves some light biting [ goodbye ] a heartfelt kiss when parting, showing affection and fondness [ rain ] a romantic kiss in the rain [ scars ] a gentle kiss on the partner's scar(s) [ injury ] a careful kiss on a partner's wound to make it all better [ wedding ] a romantic kiss shared during a wedding ceremony [ comfort ] a tender kiss to provide comfort or reassurance [ sunset ] a kiss shared during sunset, often romantic and serene [ butterfly ] a light fluttering of eyelashes against the partner's skin [ seductive ] a deep, slow, and deliberately intense kiss filled with passion and desire [ shoulder ] a tender kiss on the partner's shoulder [ knuckles ] a kiss on each individual knuckle of the partner [ slow motion ] a kiss in slow motion, accentuating every moment and sensation [ reunion ] a longing kiss shared after being apart for a while [ passionate ] an intense and fiery kiss, expressing raw desire and strong emotion [ underwater ] a kiss shared while submerged in water [ wrist ] a tender kiss on the inside of the partner's wrist [ wake up ] a loving kiss to wake the partner up [ apology ] a kiss offered as a way to apologize or make amends [ hummingbird ] a series of light, rapid, and fluttery kisses on a small area [ trail ] a trail of kisses along the partner's jawline or collarbone [ blowing ] a kiss in the air and send of the gesture towards the partner [ surprise ] a sudden kiss to catch the partner off guard [ hickey ] a kiss that's supposed to leave a mark on the partner's skin [ single lip ] a sucking or nibbling of one of the partner's lips [ nose ] an affectionate gesture where partners rub their noses together
Jenny Xie, from "Zuihitsu", Eye Level
DAIR REWATCH ↳ 1.04 “Bad News Blair”
he clicks his teeth then, all playful irritation when he shakes his head at dylan's bemoaning quips. nish had never expected him to feel similarly -- he'd appeared incapable of commitment for a long time -- for most of their friendship really. charismatic? definitely. he was a natural charmer, a flirt and social butterfly. so margot came as a surprise to him, and in a way, he figured she was a surprise to dylan too. someone new but consistent. nish liked her, but at the same time, he never imagined them to last. she was cute, sure -- but a lot of dylan's one-off lovers were cute. the equation never seemed to add up. still, he focuses on the getting-married aspect of it all, and exhales long, wide-eyed. "yeah -- uh. yeah that's the plan. late may -- better that it's slowly getting warm than risk any rain, we figured. it'll be an outdoor wedding," he continues, before eyeing the array of empty glasses, brows lifting high with mild concern. nish wets the nervous, dry, crack of his lip, then slaps casual against the back of dylan's shoulder. "maybe slow down? -- don't think i want to celebrate tonight by capping it off with you blacked out, and me, dragging your limp body into a late night cab." murmuring, he adds, "plus, margot might blame me for your state."
margot had a more subdued personality, she wasn't shy but she was private and had a rational approach to things. a sweet wallflower that balanced dylan's impulsive nature. isla was much more outgoing and domineering in comparison --- and thank god for that, because dylan knows he couldn't deal with it. it was interesting to watch nishanth and isla bounce off of each other, because even if he doesn't like it, he can't argue that they don't have a connection. dylan comes back down to earth, the alcohol thrumming through his bloodstream and weighing him down to this moment, a focused gaze tracking the movement of nishanth's tongue. he grins, but it feels stiff as he nods his head. "right, you're the man with the plan. that's always been you," he mumbles, sounding a little dejected and regretful, and it's only then that he realizes nishanth might be right because the drinks are beginning to hit him like a freight train. dark brows knit together to form a wrinkle on dylan's face, shaking his head. "nah, margot's not like that. she's .. cool. she's a cool girl. i'm allowed to fuck up in front of her." he was allowed to fuck up and be a mess in front of nishanth too, and for whatever reason, this wasn't a connection he'd made until just now. the alcohol is making him feel hot and stuffy, too constricted, so he loosens his tie and nudges the glasses on the table away. dylan wasn't about to go and ruin nish's night. "sheesh, nish. i'm not trying to relive our college days, don't worry -- i'll sober up. wouldn't want to ruin your night," dylan says, teeth sheepishly digging into a plush bottom lip as he averts his eyes from nishanth's soft gaze to the glasses on the table. he sniffs, shoulders raising with a lackadaisical shrug. "so it's an outdoor wedding, but are you doing a location wedding? any plans for the honeymoon? bachelor party?" he wiggles his brows suggestively. dylan is assuming he's involved in this, and it'd be embarrassing to be proven wrong.
he wants to laugh again, wave his hand about in mock humility, but dylan teeters from enthused to sincere, and the years now feel like decades. at that very moment, he can hardly remember how he got here. how either of them got here. how they'd started out bickering, consistently put off by each other's preferences, how irritating dylan was, how irritating nishanth tried to be in response -- how certain he felt at points in his life, none of this would pan out. they fought too much to be best friends, and yet hung out too much to be rivals. there's a strange melancholia to the blurry years now -- a weird, perhaps youthful nostalgia -- bubbling and cresting with the 'maturity' of the celebration. and he believes dylan's sentiment, though somehow believing it feels heavy and surreal. so he responds the only way he knows how, wordless and with a mirrored smile of his own. nish takes the glass in his hand -- amber already drained -- and knocks it gently against dylan's. it feels like yet another graduation, one more for them to share. he clears his throat. "also -- isla isn't domineering! she's -- opinionated. in a respectful -- intelligent way," nish argues, mostly because this -- arguing -- quipping -- rolling his eyes -- is comfortable, familiar, like breathing. "plus, even if she was, i could stand my ground. we're two strong pillars coming together."
dylan knows that nishanth hadn't taken a shine to him right away, and it's not like he'd been making it easy for the guy, either. he was an acquired taste, he knows that. nish let him get away with far too much shit for far too long, in his opinion. but even after their tiffs and petty squabbles, he walked away feeling like he had a better understanding of nish. he hadn't expected this, though, but he supposes it was time. dylan scoffs, taking a sip of his drink as he looks at nish through half-lidded suspicious eyes. "right, mate. i'm sure she'll still let you piss with the toilet seat up by the time it's all over and done with," he taunts, dylan's unfiltered viewpoint on marriage flowing as freely as the alcohol. "i really am happy for you, y'know. despite what that means for me now -- highly doubt margot will be able to keep herself glued together from the excitement of your pending nuptials without also pressuring me to take the same leap." dylan's smile comes off as more of a grimace, and he tosses back the rest of his drink. perhaps he was coming off more sour than he was intending to. not good. he needed to play happy, cordial best mate right now. this wasn't supposed to be about him, nor his feelings about it, and as self-absorbed as dylan was he would at least attempt to not be miserable. "two strong pillars with a strong foundation, yeah? when's -- when's the, uh, date set? shooting for a nice spring wedding, i reckon."
nish is excited -- of course he's excited. years of focus, and dedication, and the occasionally unpaid hour of overtime, have led him here. walked him, hand in copper scented hand, to this particular bar, where he's storing liquor in his cheeks and gnawing on good news after good news. dylan is astute, as he is when it comes to social cues -- but the nerves are mostly misplaced. it's in his nature to be careful. proposals, and relationship milestones, are viable for some wariness anyway -- and it's appropriate to feel like he's buzzing, to feel halfway drunk and ecstatic and maybe, a little bit, terrified. he inhales -- head swimming fast enough that he misses the inquiry entirely. "isla and i are getting married," nishanth blurts out, eyes wide and brows raised, as if he himself is newly privy to the confession. it sounds strange in his mouth -- like headline tabloid magazine material -- bolded and stroked, littered with unflattering expressions. his lips break into a breathy laugh, and nish leans back, arms straight and stiff when he speaks again. "she uh -- she said yes. i proposed two days ago. we're... gonna be married." and then he's nervous again -- uncomfortable almost -- when he turns, expectantly, to meet dylan's eyes.
nishanth has always been the type to get lost in his own thoughts, so dylan isn't exactly surprised when his friend skirts over his question. it does conversely, set dylan a little on edge and his palms begin to sweat, gripping the fabric of his jeans to absorb the moisture. dylan's heart is going rat-atat-rat-atat -- only for his pulse to slow when nish drops the bomb of his pending nuptials. his lips part into a surprised 'oh' shape, nodding mindlessly as dylan struggles to process this information. dylan shouldn't be surprised about this either, really. nish and isla were a match made in heaven. dylan should be happy for nish. he knows, and yet there's something sour sitting in his gut, green with envy and boiling with resentment. it's not nish's fault. he won't punish nish for things he's not responsible for. dylan shakes it off, pulls a wide grin and this time reaches over to give both of nish's shoulders a shake and squeeze. "that's crazy! i can't believe this... my little nishanth desai, all grown up and finally settling down. thought i'd never see the day," dylan teases, hands dropping to wipe away a fraudulent tear at the corner of his eye. when the bartender returns with their mules, dylan wraps a hand around the glass and enthusiastically downs his, head tilting back. it burns going down, but the numbness he feels after is like a balm to the sting this all is. "are you sure you're ready for the married life? isla can be quite domineering, and you, my friend.. are too nice, at times. you can't let 'er steamroll all over you," dylan advises him, bottom lip protruding slightly as he rambles. he clears his throat, meeting nish's gaze once more. "i'm really happy for you, nish. you're a good man, and it's about time she saw that you were a keeper." it's more intimate than he means to be, alcohol already loosening his tongue and flushing his countenace, but dylan would regret it more if nish didn't get to hear this from him.
─── ⠀ 🌙 ⠀ ⠀ * 𝐢𝐟 𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 ... with @clearwinged.
it's a rare night out for dylan. in the company of his friend from college nishanth -- affectionately dubbed 'nish', at least. they were out celebrating nish's work bonus at some skeavy divebar, which suited dylan's tastes just fine and he'd jumped at the chance to get some face time with his old friend. "so, what's the deal? you told me about what's going on at work, but you seem," dylan furrows his brows, hands gesturing nonchalantly, trusting nish to know what he means.
maybe if they ordered another round, nish would stop beating around the bush and have enough truth serum flowing through his system to say whatever he was holding back from dylan. he gnaws at his bottom lip, raising two fingers to summon the bartender back over to order some more moscow mules. "on edge? you should cut loose, nish. tonight, we're celebrating," he tells him with a grin, giving his friend's shoulder an encouraging squeeze. "ain't we?" dylan doesn't mean to create tension but when he meets nish's dark eyes, his stomach does a weird flip in anticipation.
he squints -- the terse smile on his features flinching with the taunt. and it must be that: a taunt. (does he look like the sort to indulge in such things? does he look perpetually bemused?) "well you're meeting me sitting down -- so any claims of lying about my height would be unfounded in the first place. you have nothing to compare me to. secondly, i didn't lie. how would i get out of a lie like that?" and because his mind begins to catch up with how incredulous that idea is, oliver's brows draw together and he rambles, attention expanding into some far distance. "why do celebrities do that? people see them all the time! those fibs can't go anywhere but out."
her smile threatens to split into a grin at his rambling, and she bites down on a lower lip before averting her gaze. she was about to laugh, finding that oliver was genuinely funny, but she didn't want him to assume she was laughing at him for the wrong reasons. mei lin's teasing remark about his height shouldn't be taken at face-value. "alright, you make a valid point. would you be at all suspicious if i asked you to play basketball with me on our second date? that'd be too on the nose, i think." presumptous of her, too. but you have to start somewhere, even if it means pulling the pigtails of your socially awkward date to get him to loosen up. "that's what i'm saying!" she laughs earnestly this time, nose scrunching. "it's like when they claim they haven't had any work done and the only reason they look different is all the hollywood air and green juice." not that mei lin has a dog in that fight either -- but the point remains, why lie about something so superficial? as a civilian, anyway. the unexpected and unfocused rambling has mei lin running her eyes over his features once again, endeared and searching for the subtle things she'd missed at first glance. she was a lot of things, but superficial wasn't one of them. "what about me, then? not worried about anything in my bio? which should be accepted as irrefutable fact, by the way."
open to: anyone aged 30+ !! plot suggestion: oliver and y/m are on a first date via t!nder and/or a similar dating app. he doesn't use them often, and is generally unsuccessful due to bluntness & heavy opinion. ( feel free to make it onesided and/or platonic and/or scam oliver bc conflict is welcome !! )
"you said that on your bio. i remember this. -- i have an eidetic memory," oliver explains, the corner of his lip lifting with uncomfortable habit. there is dead air and his throat is dry and his knuckles rap twice against the table -- and does a root beer float actually take twenty minutes to make? he resists the urge to look over his shoulder. (his editor would imply that it'd be rude. oliver would call it a reach, except she's quite smart. and she's married -- which he'll admit -- proves her more successful in the relationship department than he is. he trusts her, reluctantly.)
the tension is thick enough to cut with a butter knife. "is that a humble brag? it's okay if it is, but you should know. not everyone tells the truth on the internet," mei lin warns, a singular brow raising in askance. her gaze flickers to the rap of his knuckles, clocking it as anxious movement. she doesn't mean to be intimidating, but mei lin doesn't like being dismissed or talked over either. she was going to elaborate on what she'd put in her bio, but wasn't given the chance. mei lin is fine with playing mysterious, anyway. "or within the first five minutes of a first date, either." she narrows her eyes. "was there anything you fibbed about in your bio? height?" mei lin guesses, a teasing smirk on her lips as she subconsciously mirrors his body language. "we're all friends here, you can tell me."
"mary toft! the woman who birthed rabbits -- or specifically convinced the world of it," oliver adds with a lifted chin and an enthused glint in his eye. he'd always liked this about youngbae -- the inevitable curiosity, and the similarity to which they pursued topics with controlled abandon. (a delightful oxymoron.) it felt akin to marathoning, verbal sparring but bigger than that -- more collective, more shared, more gritty. his synapses fired more efficiently back then, pride and determination goaded by the knowledge youngbae offered in passing. he's already smiling at this, lip curving into a half-dimple, when the young man continues -- ever particular with his words. "liquor?" oliver asks -- not exactly offering. there's a pattern to the sentence, a hint in youngbae's eyebrows, though neither seem very familiar. he'll make an assumption, if he's forced to. "can't talk to me sober? i'm not entertaining sober?" and oliver brings an elbow up to jab -- harder than necessary -- into a hoodie cloaked rib. there's no bite in his voice.
a wide grin dimples youngbae's cheeks when oliver seems to know exactly the curious incident he was talking about. his other colleagues and friends didn't always entertain the weird tangents he went on whenever he found something interesting, but in youngbae's experience, oliver had always entertained him. "the people of london must've been in such disarray. what are your thoughts on it? was she a con-artist, or just a poor woman trying to get a leg up in a world plagued by aristocracy?" youngbae prods, dark eyes focusing on oliver's face to watch him contemplate. youngbae blinks, then huffs a laugh. he's unsure where that implication came from. "liquor? no, i was thinking more along the lines of an espresso shot. i need to speed my mind up interacting with you, not slow it down. but it's interesting that's where your mind went... i've always wondered what's lurking down there, in the deep recesses of your mind," youngbae taunts with a sly smirk, shaking his head dismissively at the thought of alcohol at this time. "but perhaps some other night, if you um, give me your new number -- we can catch up over drinks." he casually slips his phone out of his pocket and opens up a new contact, handing it to oliver to input his info.
