#i think this is how the devs write the characters

[scribeofmorpheus]

From this thread, two conclusions are obvious:

one can be mournful for the loss of complexity and inherent cultural nuances strewn across a race for the last 3 games (the Dalish).

and one can also explain away the softer, more digestible (less conflict-heavy) narrative choices the devs made (for lack of time and resources--looking at you EA) and find enough strands to think the narrative stands on its own two feet.

I personally, am for the former. Dragon Age never shied from its complexity or being abrasive or unlikeable. But Veilguard drops the ball in that it glosses over every hard decision or difficult characterisation with a glossy, rose-coloured sheen--and that's jarring, no matter what.

Suspension of disbelief is a great tool. And it worked wonders for me on my first playthrough. However, the more the game marinates, the more I re-encounter such conflicting narrative 'retcons' (for lack of a better term), the more I realise that there is so much that doesn't hold up as well when held to the light of the other media (not even the games alone, but the books too--rereading the Masked Empire, and the sheer difference in how elves and their plight is conveyed is insane! so many plot points skimmed over just to have confrontations with big-bads and their dragons).

The blight is another that I explained away in my first playthrough. I thought, maybe being blighted doesn't hold the same meaning because this blight is 'older'--less transmutable over mortal bodies. BUT THE CORRUPTION IS INHERENT. That is the whole drive of the fear of the blight. It corrupts. And it does corrupt a member of our party in the final act, but it also feels less severe because we've been standing in blight throughout the game with no repercussions.

This thread should have been about sharing how one interpellation was different, but instead, it was approached from a place of unabashed aggression--one would be more inclined to see your point of view if you spoke of it in less of a condescending cadence.

I am very much angry the Veil Jumpers were stripped of their cultural significance in lieu of being a 'blanket' organisation--especially since they're located in Tevinter, founded by elves and deal in dangerous magic (easily exploitable). But I can also see how one can deduce that Bellara's immediate openness to accepting a stranger's aid and the fact the gods returned to be a character trademark: she's aloof, if not overly trusting. YET! that does not explain why Strife (who was rather cagey even with Varric in the comics) would be too. Suspension of disbelief can stretch in places it makes sense--but to ask it to go beyond what can be explained away and blanket everything else? That's indicative of writing where the plot assumes the player will accept the direction because they know they're in a linear story (which Veilguard is--it's linear. The choices matter little. From before and after).

a really cool part about dragon age veilguard is the first scene where you meet bellara, especially if you're a shadowdragon mage and you have neve with you

so to set the scene: bellara, the dalish elf who's devoted her life to the conservation, discovery and protection of her people's lost and ancient history, meets two strangers, two tevinter mages, in sacred arlathan. They tell her, hey your gods are back in the world but also they suck and we gotta kill them, and instead of telling them "fuck off you vile enslaving shem, you defile this land with your presence" like most normal dalish, not only does she instantly believe them that her gods are bad for some reason, they're back among the people and need to be stopped, she also happily starts telling them all kinds of secrets and valuable knowledge about ancient elven magic and is even so kind to, without question, take them on a grand tour of this very historically important and sacred ruin in arlathan to find a truly priceless artifact, a one of a kind archive of ancient elven knowledge thought lost forever, because really, what could these unknown tevinter mages possible want with that!

...

are these writers smoking crack?? is that it? theyre smoking crack??

[mythalism]

Do you find yourself in almost a state of mourning/grief with datv? I’m literally in an almost emotional distress over it. All summer I built up insane defensiveness due to all the grifter hate train bullshit brewing for it with a dose of insane excitement since I’ve been a DA girlie since Origins 2009 release date and I just… don’t know how to process my feelings?!?

Due to the pre game discourse I almost feel programmed to fight criticism for it and during a new play through I keep having “holy shit that quest was so dialed in” followed immediately by “what the hell did I just listen to” and yet my brain is still in copium mode.

DA fandom discourse has always been poisoned with garbage takes, ESPECIALLY since Solas got introduced with DAI (I’m sorry, I truly believe his die hard haters have the reading comprehension of a peanut) but the fact that there is still a huge pocket of the fandom that couldn’t even get the point of the solas/mythal dynamic when it was LITERALLY SPOONFED TO US kind of… scares me about the future of narrative design in general.

Absolutely development hell and reboot and lack of time to truly sink into the intended story beats from start to finish played a major role. The skeleton remains of bullshit multiplayer factions are here too. But holy shit. Is it just me or does everything else utterly scream “chronically online” to me.

Sorry I have no idea where I’m going with this. I just needed to yap thoughts that weren’t just in the void. I don’t know how to reconcile getting my dream romance ending I waited 10 years for alongside a narrative that doesn’t even make sense leading to that happy ending.

i wouldn't say im experiencing full on grief but i do know exactly what you mean and i sympathize with your experience a lot. i think it might be because ive been in a corner of fandom that has been very critical of bioware and so i honestly had extremely low expectations of veilguard up until the summer. i thought we would NEVER get the game, and if we did get it, i was sure it would be a fucking trainwreck after 10 years of "[insert x developer here] leaves bioware after 20+ years!". my personal bar was truly on the floor, in the deep roads, in the heart of a titan, in the void etc etc.

it does bother me the way it was marketed because honestly i would call it duplicitous. not in the "false advertising" legal sense of the world but in the way it feels like the devs are (and were) very aware of the flaws in this game and more importantly were very aware of how it would be received by long-time fans. and of course i am aware that developers have little to no say whatsoever in marketing, and its also clear that vg's marketing was an absolute mess of conflicting directions considering that reveal trailer that honestly set the game up to fail (i truly believe the grifting and general, casual reception would not have been so negative if they had used the release-date trailer instead) and the way they immediately had to drop 20 minutes of gameplay to reassure people that they werent releasing dragon age: fortnite LMFAO. but i think that mismatch actually tells us a lot about the similarly contradictory tone and writing in different parts of the game, and the direction that EA seemingly pushed for (as exemplified by their attempts to market it as... whatever that was) and the game bioware was attempting to make (which would have undoubtedly been flawed but probably more in-line with past games).

but, this duplicitous marketing was not just EA, and i do feel that the devs played up the game, and specifically our attachment to past characters and franchise entries, in a way that was a bit unfair when you have the context of their comments post-release about how aware they are of it's shortcomings. and i get it, these people have quite literally no choice. they have to participate in the marketing of this game, it's their job, they need to pay rent and eat etc etc like i get it. but just because they have good reason to play on their fan's attachment to their writing via their tweets and comments in dev q&a's doesn't mean i cant say it left a bad taste in my mouth. i think trick being completely absent from the entire marketing cycle is really interesting in this context, lol. i have no proof of there being a correlation, it was just something i found interesting this summer, and that i find even more interesting now, especially considering their role as lead writer.

it definitely felt like the things they chose to show and the things they chose not to were designed specifically to grip fans and rile us up, and though it worked for their pre-sales, i think it actually hurt them in the end because if they had not gotten expectations up so high by dangling varric and solas and morrigan and the inquisitor in front of us like carrots, we probably would not all have been so disappointed! i sure wouldnt be. remember i thought this game was going to fucking blow not even 8 months ago! for me it was precisely the summer build up that left me so bereft in the end. if i had played the game completely blind id still think it was a flop, but i wouldn't feel absolutely bamboozled and pissed off in the way i and a lot of others seem to feel.

legend @scaryanneee said once that the entire game feels apologetic, in both its writing and design and that has stuck with me ever since she said it. the whole game feels like a big "sorry it wasnt better", and even more so due to the release of the artbook filled with ideas that they knew we'd like better, and even MORE so with the game's lack of denuvo or other anti-piracy software, allowing us to data-mine and see the skeleton left behind at some point. idk a lot about game development but i am under the impression that post-release content that feels like a desperate apology to fans + tweets about how you fought and lost that then get deleted are not the norm????

its truly a mess. but i do not feel hopeless, for some reason. gaming is a mess and i think you are right to fear for the future of narrative design but although there are always people who will bootlick to cope, there are also beloved haters like us who will always complain, and not out of transphobia or a desire to grift, but out of a genuine love for these games and the stories they tell. i wish the reviews had been a bit more discerning and critical, but i hope the message will get through to bioware and EA eventually. i also think that tbh, if this game came out 3 years after bg3 rather than 1, it would look VERY different. i would not even really consider myself a bg3 fan and i have a lot of criticisms of it (lol who's surprised!!!) it is objectively a move in the right direction for the gaming industry for a variety of reasons, and i do believe its many accolades have sent a message to greedy execs everywhere.

[valtianan]

So, I have now had time to mull over my feelings regarding the Veilguard. I didn’t love it… But I didn’t hate it either.

My thoughts under the cut

This game wasn’t what I expected it to be. I followed the development of Dragon Age 4 very closely so waiting for this game was already a rollercoaster of emotions. From Project Joplin to Morrison, senior devs quitting, Jordan’s Titanic metaphor to the layoffs. After everything the project went through, I knew this was not going to be exactly a cohesive game.

The game is undeniably gorgeous but it also values aesthetics over substance. When it comes to the themes, it flounders. It feels like the game lacks focus and as a result it does not seem to commit to anything in particular. Not to roleplaying, not to its themes, the pre-established lore, characters, or relationships. I’d have loved to see an exploration of morality, guilt, and grief, all which have been heavily present in previous games. Since the Treviso/Minrathous choice, I kept expecting to face more of these impossible choices which only appeared during the last 5 or so hours of the game. Twisting the knife and making the game choice-heavy would’ve driven home the burden of being a leader during a world-ending event.

I think most of my criticisms towards the game can be summarized to “lack of nuance and depth.” The game holds your hand and tells you how to feel instead of trusting its narrative to deliver and its audience to find meaning. A lot of the previous complexity is removed, especially relating to Solas, his plan, and his motives. Any mention of his people, the elven spies, and the Dalish that sided with him have been removed, thus flattening the conflict. Villains are villains and they’re not allowed to be anything else. And based on the post-credits scene, this is a deliberate, rather sanitized direction they’re going with.

Now, I do think everything I mentioned before is related to the changes in development and time constraints. Dragon Age 4 (Code name: Joplin) was first conceptualized 10 years ago but Dragon Age: The Veilguard (Code name: Morrison) was not created until 3 and a half years ago. Of course, that still does not exempt the game from criticism and it has received its fair share of it. To me the most frustrating part is seeing what the game could’ve been. But I am extremely happy that there is a game at all since at some points it wasn’t looking too good.

Despite the many faults I found in the game, I still found it enjoyable. It is a Dragon Age game to its core and in true Dragon Age fashion it made me cry, laugh, and cringe. I will be drawing and writing fics as always, I did love the companions!

[lucanis-givememorete]

I keep mourning what we could've had.

Not that I don't love what we have, Lucanis might as well be my favorite DA character. I've never been this excited about a character, I've never loved a character with this much passion. I adore what we have, but that doesn't mean I don't mourn what could have been:

More insight into Illario, his motivations, and his and Lucanis's dynamic

I'm glad Lucanis's story isn't just about trauma but a little more about the almost generational trauma and recognition of that would've given him some extra depth aside from the workaholic, coffee-drinking, puppy-eyed assassin (I love his puppy eyes)

Consequences to the First Talon position. I think I'm one of the few who think it happening in the game makes sense if you look at Caterina. But more about what it entails/would mean for their quest and possible romance? Yes

Spite. I love what we have when it comes to him, but locking us out of the Inner Demons quest if you save Minrathous holds back insight into his and Lucanis's dynamic that could hurt his character

General insight into what everyone was like during the weeks Rook was stuck in Solas's prison. We know some, but I want to know what me vanishing means for some, including my LI. We see a little bit of this during Lucanis's scene, but I would've liked to find out how long I was gone and the pressure it put on people from my own LI, not a youtube video.

I don't mean to criticize Mary Kirby or any of the other writers. I think some of the writing in this game is phenomenal, some even the best of all four games. You can feel the passion the devs have for the game and franchise, and I don't think we're done nor do I think the devs want to be done with Thedas. I just think a little more depth into Lucanis, mostly but also others, could've added so much more.

A few more months of polishing and adding/fixing dialogue wouldn't have killed us players. I think that wait would've been kinder than the constant state of delusion some of us might be in now that we'll get more content. I know I'll be in that exact state for the next few months/years, and I would do anything to give these characters what they deserve.

[necro-man-sir]

Okay also more on erenville from someone who does like him and agrees with you on him

Making him into this blushing, giggling, subby uwu femboy is so against who is actually is as a character and who he's shown to be. And the game does him no favours in how they allow or even encourage you as the WoL to treat him.

The whole 'haha his friends keep calling him (deadname)', and basically being forced to question him on his birth name when he literally JUST made it clear he doesn't use the name anymore and he wants to be called Erenville. I don't even remember his birth name, I chose not to see it because he clearly didn't want to be using it.

Then this most recent patch he shows up in new clothing, and we make a big deal out of it and have two options:

Compliment your friend, or belittle him.

We should know as his friend he wouldn't want to be needled on a change of clothing, let alone be called a fussy little bun bun.

When you do, he just replies with "<sigh.> stop that."

The guy is reserved, skilled in his field, private, and doesn't like to be bothered. And the fanbase infantilize him to an awful degree, and when I see him in art or writing, it just isn't /him/. Sure, he mostly has the looks in most cases but his personhood is completely devoid of himself.

I like Erenville because of his actual qualities, and I can also see why compared to other characters he may not be that compelling or eye catching, but that's the thing, he doesn't really /want/ to be the center of attention or the main focus. He wants to be unbothered, in his lane, and minding his business and he wants you to as well.

And every time in dawntrail where we've been interacting with him, I sit confused like 'do we not know how to treat our friend?' when I see the dialogue options we're given for interacting with him. We've known him through endwalker, and now dawntrail, but for some reason the WoL thinks Erenville would be cool with us belittling him in front of the entire group by calling him a fussy little bun bun because he *changed his clothes*. (And this is partially because the Devs see how the fanbase treats him, likely, and probably was doing fanservice but I hate it)

IDK man. I love Erenville. I wish other people wouldn't rob him of his personhood just because they want all vieran men to be uwu baby femboys.

This is a mean post. Sorry. on a scale from astarion lover to erenville lover how annoying are you and how badly are you butchering the character

[escapetothelake]

i used the character prompts generator for rose and albert and uh

scarily accurate

bonus: albert in tpw be like

[griem]

ijbol idk man releasing screenshots of very polarizing things said in a private discord server between friends in a public "callout" post is #the most #tumblrific thing ive ever seen LOL.

#opinion 😱 in tags

[milolunde]

We all know Timmy is Wanda’s mama’s boy but we need to keep in mind he’s still Cosmo’s kid too and that Cosmo would love him just as vehemently as Wanda

[wizardsix]

I can't remember who said this but there was this one dev who said that when making romanceable characters they have to be attractive in some way (personality, looks, not too morally fucked up etc). and since I read that, the statement hasn't left my mind and I'm very aware now of whenever outside influence and modern discourse get to me or other writers. like just yesterday I found myself rewriting a scene to be more "comfortable" to witness, even though the point was to be emotionally charged and face a difficult topic the character had been actively lying about. but some things can't be glossed over. sometimes it's good when media grabs you by the shoulders and makes you face horrible shit. it's good when media makes you uncomfortable even if it's coming from a ~romanceable companion~. that means it's working. if you remain comfortable forever you learn nothing.

I bring this up bc the veilguard companions are the perfect example and victims of the "romanceable characters need to be attractive" mindset. they don't have ugly sides, they don't fight with each other--and I mean really fight--they don't have controversial opinions or do problematic things. they don't ever question your authority over their lives and why you're the guy in charge. they are nice and perfect and their problems aren't really that serious and can be fixed by simply having a therapy session w rook (bc being possessed or gaining new magic isn't a big deal in a world where previously such events are Very distressing and hard to control). they are further proof that trying too hard to make something attractive has the complete opposite effect if your brain isn't the size of a pebble.

it's overall very frustrating that big game developers continue to be so spineless and I'm not giving anyone a pass for shallow writing, especially from a franchise that is known to have complex characters. none of this is impressive after the first three dragon age games, which were well loved and dissected and debated for years after their release. that isn't to say these games don't have kind characters, having that balance is why I personally like dark fantasy and liked what the dragon age games offered (whenever the writing was good..). it's not dark for the sake of being dark (see grimdark), there's a reason why these things are happening, and in this world no one is completely innocent even if they have good intentions. most people like when their characters aren't always kind or agreeable, bc it's extremely rewarding to finally find that middle ground (of course I have to bring up larian, who made bg3 and proved just how much people appreciate flawed characters, see astarion). conflict is the driving force of a story, no matter what it is. even the most sickeningly sweet cozy slice of life story will have some kind of conflict. it's unavoidable. that's life. taking that away is setting yourself up for failure and all that remains is a boring story full of boring people. no one cares about characters who have their lives together.

(the post is technically over but I wanted to put some final thoughts under the cut bc this got longer than I meant)

I want to go back to the statement real quick... like i do agree, it's true as writers we'll subconsciously (or consciously if you're insecure) try to make our characters appealing, but this is the common trap writers fall into by giving a shit about what others think and want from Their work (which btw I fully believe in writing what you want even if it's "bad" because something with genuine soul will never be as bad as soulless cashgrabs). romanceable characters can and should be as flawed as you'd make any other character, bc trust me there's an audience for everything. even a random npc with two lines will be attractive to someone.

the pressure of an imaginary audience is what pushes writers into a corner and prevents writers from writing and exploring what They want. it's the writer's story first, not the audience's. I think the romanceable companion trap can be easily avoided if writers just 1) grow a bit of a backbone and 2) ask themselves if this is even a necessary or insightful mechanic that will help develop a character further. ask themselves if this character even has the capacity to handle a romantic relationship bc everything else is subjective and it's impossible to appeal to everyone (which apparently this is a controversial take). I won't sit here and pretend that I don't appreciate a good romance, but sometimes all someone really needs is a friend.

obsidian is a good example of self aware devs. they tried to do romance for pillars of eternity 2 bc of fan demand, and it didn't work very well. now for avowed, they didn't explore romance bc they know it's not their strong suit and don't feel it's necessary for this story, instead that time and effort went to developing the characters in other meaningful ways. I have nothing but respect for such a decision bc they know what they want from their story instead of lying and trying to be everything at once. less is more as they say.

[simcardiac-arrested]

no actually I’d like to hear your thoughts on the isat ending

Like i said it felt really tropey and by that i meant that it’s just Everything Good Happens forever and…..that’s it ? like idk we were building up to this huge catharsis sort of thing and then we got to it and it was so sudden and not a good payoff and just kind of nothingburger of an ending . the fact that everyone just forgives siffrin bothers me, or at least the fact that they don’t confront them about the shit they’ve said and done. call me a mental illness villainizer but i think if you’re a fucking asshole and doing the most insensitive things to the people you care about then hey, i think those ppl have a right to fucking tell you off for it. likeeee idk being at your lowest point …… not an excuse …. not feeling it chief ……. like sure the message is to move past your mistakes or whatever but ? that doesn’t mean just getting away with it ??? and i just really don’t understand Why everyone forgives him. honestly at the end of the day the ending is just one problem, the root of which are the characters. everyone feels like trope cardboard cutouts. oh, this is the smart one. this is the smol bean. this is the himbo. and they all care for each other btw. Did u hear that? they all care for each other. we’re not really going to explain to you why these people are so close or what they went through together but just trust me man they’re sooo found famy. like …. okay. i’ve played 30 hours of this game and not once did i buy that any of the characters really cared about each other. like??? why???? You’re telling me everyone super cares about siffrin even though they barely know them?? you’re telling me siffrin cares about everyone sooo much even though he never even bothered to find out their problems before ? Wat ? and this just breaks the ending more because literally whyyy do these people care about him so bad. and then it’s just whyyy does siffrin Have to tell them anything he doesn’t even seem to know them that well. everyone feels like colleagues and Just Friends at best. and so the ending just seems really forced. like it was written by that type of tumblr user who’s always talking about aww why does the found family have to break up after the end of the journey :( which is like fiiiiine. i guess. but u guys know that u have to build up to it right?? you can’t just tell me they’re Family Members(tm) 102829 times and that they super care about each other source: trust. you can’t just do that and then expect me to believe it ….. It feels unearned. the ending feels unearned and i don’ttttt understand what i’m supposed to take away from it . that it’s ok to fuck people up because you’re traumatized and insecure?? that you have to talk about your deepest problems with people you barely know??? i just dont know. Like i said if im being honest the problems with this game’s writing are more than just the ending, it just stands out so much because there’s a lot of build up and then just …… That

[compacflt]

So Miles is pitching for a Top Gun: Rooster and I dont think we need a sequel tbh but if we do get a sequel to TGM what would do you think it would look like/you want it to be like?

i don’t care. the storys over.

Let’s do an indy 5/cars 3 situation (gotta keep the IP alive) where mav is in an old persons home with dementia and multiple replaced joints and divorced but somehow the navy still needs him and just him to train the new 20 year old female protégé (maybe amelia for tie-in bonus?) after rooster volunteered to fight in ukraine in 2022 and got shot down and killed a week into the war… And somehow it’s maverick and only maverick who gets behind the yoke to save the day (OMG Tom cruise wins against all odds again)

fun for the whole family and it makes a lot of money 🥳🤑

[buttercup-art]

hey

[mythalism]

i feel like i can maybe bring some comfort or at least some clarity to that anon & other fans taking datv so hard as someone who's been playing EA's sims: fortnite for like. a decade.

for those who don't like life simming games i have to preface this by saying the first three sims games had their own lore, timelines, easter eggs and theories and storylines imbedded into the world to make it feel more livelier and less of a Click Here Go Here game. when EA took over maxis they covered sims 3 with paywalled bullshit known as "sims points" where you unlock base game content / new towns through. paying money to get fake money.

anyway. when sims 4 came out we didn't have toddlers, pools, or shit that was basically a base game item since the sims 2. but the create a sim was soooooo immersive!!!! and that was kind of the biggest marketing for the game (lolz. deja vu anyone) and for about three years EA & the sims devs gaslit the players into saying shit like a pool or a roofing system were just too difficult to include. as someone who's spent an atrocious amount of money on sims DLC, much of which for the past 5 years has been broken, as in, your game fucking crashes and is unplayable, broken and still unfixed, i had no hope for veilguard lol.

like i'm not gonna lie, we got fucked, like royally, and i expected no less. but considering that ea has managed to strip the soul of a game which the entire point of is "create your own world!" and you can't even do that without 30GB of immersion mods and custom content, i'd say bioware did an ok job at keeping veilguard slightly above the Fuck You, Pay Me EA gaming model.

i also have to say ea as a parent company does not care about players. i don't know the intricacies of why they bought bioware and maxis apart from the fact that they held franchise potential, and i don't pretend to know. but EA's end goal with veilguard was always to milk it as much as they can from the baseline consumer (fifa, battlefield, that dogshit star wars multiplayer) and not bioware enjoyers.

i won't talk ab the writing bc everytime i hear "it's up to interpretation" all i hear is either we were forbidden from having difficult/nuanced conversations about anything or we ourselves don't care enough because the state & quality of bioware's writing has always been subpar and constantly pandering to a very specific audience that think racially or sexually diverse character = pinnacle of good writing & representation even if said character has nothing else going on storywise (like how taash's quest is literally just WOE. ROOK CHOOSES THEIR IDENTITY with no nuance or care to tell their story outside or LGBT BE UPON YE or MISGENDER BE UPON YE if you don't do their quest, or the returning hypersexualization of isabela being ignored cus yaasss slayyy girl power. it's empowering to wear a bra & thong during battle! pussy out during the blight shes a thief but shes so kind and woke and cares about the little man!!!!)

also the allegories for elves, dwarves & qun as people of color esp indigenous people when a huge chunk of biowares writing & creative dept is all white people. well. ✋🙂‍↔️ let me be quiet lest the ire of VOTE YOUR WAY INTO THE REVOLUTION crowd finds me. but it's always been questionable it's just more obvious now with EA breathing down their neck like a velociraptor bc they need that sweet sweet MAGA money they get from musty 30yo men stroking it to FIFA24 to invest in veilguard

nodding along sagely. i was a sims 2 & 3 lover as a child and i bought 4 when it came out, played it for like 2 days and never picked it up again lol so i fully agree that dragon age made it out pretty damn good in comparison on its fourth entry. i also agree that we should be careful to absolve bioware as a studio itself too much.... the games have always been full of racism, misogyny, islamophobia and generally insensitive and reckless portrayals of real-life cultures and issues for the sake of their games. veilguard, i think, takes that deserved criticism and course corrects in the complete wrong direction - instead of correcting the racism they uhhhhhhh just got rid of any sort of sociopolitical commentary. and actually kept the racism so it didnt even work. anyway. yeah companies dont care about us LOL. but thats why we have each other here on this silly website <3

[numberoneanika]

Honestly the roleplay blogs are stronger than I am because if I saw a post where people were saying my blog was annoying and calling me corny I would jump in a large pit and rot away

[emdotcom]

*remembers what they did to Vanny* 500 FUCKING PIPEBOMB ATTACK.

[bosspigeon]

some strange kind of euphoria

Rating: M Words: 6230 Pairing: Amir x MC Warnings: references to past homophobia, bullying, and emotional abuse, panic attacks, implications of kink, general horny content Ko-Fi <3

Amir answers the door wearing nothing more than his gauzy dressing gown and a smile, which drops as soon as he sees the look on Jude’s face.

In Jude’s defense, seeing Amir at all brightens him up a bit, but even offering his own smile doesn’t quite feel right. He’s tense, slouching, and he knows his sour mood is broadcasting loud and clear in more than just his expression and posture.

His face feels brittle, but so does the rest of him. “Can I come in?” he asks, wincing at the way his voice cracks.

He shouldn’t have come at all. He should have just… called Amir and asked for a rain check, but Amir penciled out this time for him, when he’s always so busy, he couldn’t just bail. He’s starting to think he should have anyway to save them both the discomfort.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps, swallowing and backing away from the door while Amir stares him down, quietly assessing. “I shouldn’t have–”

“Did the doorman give you trouble?” Amir snaps, eyes blazing. Heat prickles along Jude’s skin, the temperature in the hall rising abruptly.

“Wh– No, he– Well–” He didn’t give him any trouble, per se, he knows Jude well enough by now as Amir’s guest that he didn’t say anything– just gave him the usual quietly critical once-over he does whenever Jude shows up on his own without Amir to shield him. It usually doesn’t bother him overmuch, but he’s… a bit more of a raw nerve than he usually is. Maybe more of an open wound.

“No,” Amir says slowly, calming down quickly as he examines the human. “Something happened.”

“Nothing serious,” Jude assures him, and he doesn’t resist as Amir tugs him inside. The hand curling around his wrist is soft and too-warm, and something in his body eases at the simple touch. “I just… had dinner with my family, is all.”

The door clicks shut behind him, and the silence that follows is tense and weighted.

“...It didn’t go well, I take it?” Amir offers, his voice carefully neutral, his fingers tightening briefly around Jude’s wrist and then relaxing.

Jude can’t help but laugh, a single sharp bark that he stifles as quickly as he can. “‘Bout as well as could be expected,” he mumbles. He’s not sure what else to say beyond that, there’s so much tangled up in his head, in his chest, his whole body is tense and heavy with it.

He wishes he’d thought to change before he showed up. The crisp button-down and pressed slacks are uncomfortably formal, fitting too closely around his shoulders, at his waist. He feels stiff and stifled and… not like himself.

He’s sure Amir notices. Amir notices everything.

He leads Jude to the sofa and urges him to sit. He sinks into it with a grateful sigh, releasing as much of the tension in his body he's able to without medical or chemical assistance. Amir settles in next to him, curling close, and immediately starts plucking at the buttons of his shirt.

Jude huffs out another weak little laugh, lolling his head back against the cushions and watching those long, graceful fingers work.

“Talk to me, darling,” Amir says, slipping his hand under the fabric to rest against Jude's chest. The heat of his hand is comforting in its familiarity, lighting up his skin and settling his nerves. There’s a silky weight pressing at the edge of his thoughts, a presence that he’s grown used to at this point, warm like a physical touch. He’s not sure Amir’s even doing it on purpose, but it doesn't really matter.

"Mom asked if I was seeing anyone." It hangs between them for a long moment, before he manages to eke out, "She… didn't mean to."

She's never asked. Not him, at least. She's asked his brothers, his cousins, the kids of friends of hers or Dad's, but never Jude. She knows better than to ask questions she doesn't want the answer to.

He tries to elaborate, but when he opens his mouth, nothing comes out, like the words are stuck behind a barrier, like there’s a big blinking roadblock between his brain and his mouth. He wants to laugh. He wants to cry.

He’s so tired of talking, and even if he doesn't really need to say much of anything out loud with Amir, he's just so frustrated, like he wasted all his words on people who didn’t even care to listen. He groans and covers his face with his hands.

Amir's slide over them, tugging them away so Jude can't hide from him. "That’s fine. You don’t need to talk." He smiles a sly little smile that always makes Jude's pulse race, kisses his knuckles, and slips off the couch, taking his warmth with him. "I'll make tea, you get comfortable."

It takes a few seconds for Jude to catch on, his head is such a mess, but he feels the familiar whisper of Amir's power twining through his thoughts. Oh.

They've done this before, more than once, when Amir's asked about fantasies of his and he was too embarrassed to say them aloud. It took some practice, but Amir has always been careful, never probed too deeply, and never without Jude's express permission.

He focuses on the pleasant background noise of Amir moving around his kitchen, the gentle thrum of his presence at the edge of his thoughts, and tries to put them in order.

Dinner was… awkward, to say the least, from the start. Jude isn't a talker, never really has been, so it was mostly him listening to his brothers ramble. Seth's youngest is starting middle school. Gabe got a promotion.

Seth asked what he’d been up to, not that he cared. Gabe snorted when he asked, which only proved the point. Jude just mumbled something about work and avoided eye contact. Played with his food. Wondered if his hometown had anything like the things he’d found out living in the city miles away. The conversation moved on without him, like it always did.

His brothers stopped picking on him about the same time he hit a growth spurt and outstripped both of them in height and not just weight. Well, they hadn’t stopped, exactly, just… didn’t push their luck like they used to. Like they did when they caught him sitting happily while their cousin, Lacey, put makeup on him as "practice" for cosmetology school. Like they did whenever his hair got long enough for them to to pull, before Dad got sick of him “looking like a girl” and shaved it off.

"I've got three boys, not two boys and whatever the hell you're tryin' to be."

And then Jude got bigger than him too, and he left him mostly to his own devices. Not without those snide comments here and there, but he was well used to it at that point.

His family is good at ignoring things that upset them–once they've stifled the offending party into silence, of course.

Jude came out when he was a teenager. His mother wept like someone had died. His father looked furious, but bit his tongue–though he spent the next few years making little digs about how lucky Jude was he didn't just kick him out to fend for himself. His brothers weren’t there, but they found out ;ater, and though they couldn't do anything to him physically at that point (head and shoulders taller and nearly twice as broad–and the Marlowe boys all took after their father in stature, Jude just took it further than that) they made sure he knew he was still their punching bag one way or another.

So when his mother asked him innocently, not thinking, hardly looking at him so much as smiling glibly at her family, and they both froze… well, it said more than if Jude had just out and told them he was getting railed by a demon on the regular.

At least he's not like those fairy boys. At least it's not in our faces. At least, at least, at least–

He hates that he still feels guilty. Guilty for ruining his mother's picture-perfect family. Guilty for being a consummate disappointment to his red-blooded American father. For taking his brothers' "friendly teasing" too personally. For missing the way he felt when Lacey put makeup on him and styled his hair and just let him want the things he could never admit to out loud.

For feeling bitter that she left him behind to pursue her own dreams while he was stuck cowering in the shadow cast by everything he was supposed to be.

He doesn't realize he's hyperventilating until Amir's hands, almost scalding hot against his clammy skin, are pressing against his cheeks, tipping his face upwards. He can’t figure out why the demon is so blurry, swimming before his eyes, when he’s too busy trying to remember how to get air into his lungs.

“Breathe, darling,” Amir urges him, firm but so gentle. Jude tries, and at first he only manages a few pathetic wheezes, but a low hum picks up at the base of his skull, a prickle like static skittering down his spine. For a split second, he’s paralyzed by a foreign surge of guilt, but it doesn’t feel heavy the way his own guilt does.

He sucks in a breath, one that makes his lungs burn, and grabs for Amir’s wrist with trembling fingers. “Not you,” he manages to strangle out, listing forward until he can bury his face in the crook of Amir’s neck. “Happens sometimes,” he mumbles in an effort to explain. Amir’s relief settles over him like a blanket, and he clings to it, to him, desperately, until he’s breathing again mostly normally.

He opens his mouth to apologize, but Amir cuts him off before he can even form the words.“None of that." Firm, brooking no argument, but still kindly tempered.

Obediently, Jude stays quiet, and Amir strokes his hair until the kettle chimes.

Rather than parting from him for even the short time it takes to prepare two cups of tea, Jude follows Amir to the kitchen, arms wrapped loosely around his waist, cheek pressed to his silky hair. His thoughts are staticky and nonlinear, feel like they're coming from somewhere beyond the boundaries of his skull. It's strangely peaceful, feeling like he's floating outside his body, like he's barely tethered to himself by just a few fragile threads.

Amir always smells so nice…

He's not sure when they wind up back on the sofa but he's holding a warm, delicate little cup in both hands. They share tea in easy silence, and if Jude's fingers are still trembling against his cup Amir doesn't mention it. Muzzily, he notes how fancy the cup is, and now that he's adjusted a bit to the staggering opulence of Amir's world, he finds the little things like that so endearing.

Jude is sluggish and heavy when Amir guides him to bed, and it doesn't take long at all for him to doze off, their positions from earlier reversed, with Amir curled around his back.

He's just awake enough to feel a little bit of that fire humming along his spine, the banked coals of Amir's temper pulsing between them, and he mumbles a half-hearted, "Please don't fight my family," into the luxuriously soft pillow smushed against his cheek.

There's a bit of a huff against his hair, something close to a laugh, but sleep finally pulls him under and blessedly quiets his overworked mind.

His dreams are washed over with a filter of wispy pink, but he doesn’t really remember much of them beyond that. Honestly, it's a bit of a relief. He wakes in Amir’s huge, soft bed, buried in plush pillows and blankets feeling surprisingly well-rested. Of course Amir is gone already, but Jude doesn’t take it personally. There’s a hurried little note on the nightstand on a scrap of sketchbook paper apologizing for his absence and assuring Jude they’ll meet again in the evening once he’s free of his responsibilities.

Jude tucks the note into his pocket as he dresses and leaves, feeling much lighter than he did when he arrived the night before.

~*~

He tried to get as much of the grime off his hands as he could before he left work, but Jude knows he looks like even more of a greasy schlub than he usually does when he comes ambling into Amir’s building. He brought his car this time, so he doesn’t have to go through the main entrance and deal with anybody grimacing at the state of his clothes, but he’s got a bag of fresh ones over his shoulder and he’s looking forward to a long, hot soak in Amir’s shower.

“I know, I reek,” he says sheepishly when he makes it to the door to Amir’s apartment.

Amir smiles indulgently at him, and gives him a kiss on the cheek regardless (even if he has to rise onto his toes a bit to do it, dressed down like he is) and only scrunches his nose a little. “Just a bit. I wouldn’t mind the sweat so much, but…”

“Engine oil and cheap cigarettes,” Jude laughs sheepishly. “Sorry, my boss likes menthols.” He gestures to the bathroom with his bag. “Mind if I…?”

Amir doesn’t hesitate to usher him down the hall as soon as he’s tugged off his boots at the door, and Jude plods along after him.

“I’d offer to wash your back,” Amir teases, watching Jude intently as he undresses, making a show of biting at his knuckle just to see him blush from his ears to his chest, “but I’ve got a few more things to take care of. Shouldn't take long, I'll be right outside.”

"Y-yeah, of course," Jude stutters, hands fumbling at his belt. Amir leaves him with another peck on the cheek and a sly parting smile, and while he was hoping for a nice hot shower after work, he's debating whether or not a cold one might be a better idea.

In the end, hot wins out. Amir's shower is like everything else in his orbit—spacious and ridiculously opulent to a degree that Jude's almost nervous interacting with it—but he's starting to enjoy the perks that come with drifting into that irresistible orbit himself. The water is just the right temperature, the pressure pounds down on his tight shoulders and back until he can finally feel them starting to un-knot themselves, and while he makes sure to get himself clean, he also spends a long while just standing under the spray with his head down and his hair hanging around his face like a wet curtain.

At some point, he hears the door click, some quiet rustling, but he doesn't pay it much attention. It's Amir's home, after all, he can come and go as he pleases.

Besides, it's not as if he hasn't seen Jude naked before, even if the thought still has heat crawling up his neck.

The door shuts again, and his mind goes blessedly quiet. The water doesn't go cold at any point (another thing that makes showering in his own too-small bathroom even more of a downgrade) but he knows he can't spend the whole night in here, however much he'd like to. He came for Amir, not his shower, though a little part of his brain does offer the helpful suggestion of trying to entice the succubus into joining him.

He snorts to himself as he slides open the frosted glass door, wringing out his hair. As if any attempt of his to be enticing towards someone like Amir, who drips easy sensuality in every breath he takes, would result in anything more than Jude falling all over himself like an idiot.

At least Amir finds it cute.

He reaches for a towel and steps out onto the plush bath mat, and stops short when he looks around the bathroom and doesn't see his bag.

Instead, sitting on the vanity in place of his ratty canvas backpack, is a shopping bag. What he can only assume is the name of the store is embossed on the sturdy, matte black paper in looping gold that matches the designs etched along the trim, but it's not a name he recognizes. Definitely someplace far outside the realm of a scruffy mechanic, that's for sure.

But there's something niggling at him, tickling at the edges of his thoughts, that suggests it's—

No, don't be stupid. Of course it isn't.

"Amir?" he calls out, eyes still glued on the bag as he awkwardly towels himself dry. Of course, Amir has the perfect timing to come swanning in when Jude's scrubbing at his hair, leaving the rest of him bare.

Amir does not hesitate to ogle, because he never does, and his smirk as his eyes take a luxurious stroll over every damp, hairy inch of human is nothing short of salacious. Jude's hair is still wet, but he can't resist the urge to drop the towel to cover himself a bit, which only makes Amir smirk wider.

"Yes, pet?"

It takes a moment for Jude to remember what he was even going to ask, because the casual little endearment never ceases to scramble his brain a bit.

(He's heard more than one person refer to him as Amir's pet, and he knows it's supposed to be an insult, but… he doesn't exactly hate it.)

He shakes his head to get it back on the right track, and winds the towel around his waist, eyes lowered. "Um, did you move my bag?"

Amir's heaves a dramatic, put-upon sigh. "I am begging you to let me replace that thing.” He is pointedly not looking at the bag on the counter.

"It still works just fine," Jude protests, smiling to himself. It’s something they’ve argued about before, if it can even be called an argument. It’s sweet, how Amir likes to spoil him. He shrugs a bit, ducking his head and letting his damp hair hide his face. “It’s sturdy. Dependable.” He's had it so long, it's almost like an old friend.

“Ugly as sin," Amir adds helpfully, rolling his eyes. But there's a smile playing around the edges of his lips. "You're lucky I think that sentimentality of yours is cute."

Jude's ears burn and he stays hidden behind his hair, but he's smiling too. Cute. Nobody but Amir's ever called him that (not since he was a chubby kid, at least) and he does it so freely and so often, Jude's starting to believe he honestly means it, even if he doesn't see it himself.

He feels Amir slinking closer more than he sees or hears him, bare feet nearly silent on the glossy tile compared to those staggering heels of his, and his breath hitches. He peeks from underneath his hair and is met with those stunning golden eyes and that playful, slightly predatory smile. “I… My clothes were in there, Amir,” he protests weakly, shuddering when soft, warm hands slip around his hips, fingers wiggling under the edge of his loosely wrapped towel, sharp nails pricking at his skin.

“Mmhm,” Amir hums. “Don’t worry, I haven’t thrown them out. I just figured you wouldn’t need them for a while yet.”

A quick, shuddery breath rattles out of him, at the end of it, a tremulous, "O-oh? Oh."

Amir chuckles and pokes Jude’s nose playfully. “Mind out of the gutter, darling. Since you’re playing coy, I’ll just come out and say it–I’ve gotten you a little gift, and the suspense of waiting for you to try it on is killing me.” 

“I’m not… playing coy,” Jude protests weakly, but his eyes flick away from Amir for a split second, over his shoulder to the bag on the vanity, and like an eagle spotting a blissfully unaware rabbit, Amir zeroes in on the shift and leers at him, teeth bared like he wants to sink them into Jude's skin to taste the blood rushing to its surface, like the sweetest of threats.

"You're a terrible liar, but it's so precious that you tried," he purrs, smooth and dangerous. With a flick of his nimble fingers, the towel still clinging desperately to Jude's waist drops to the floor, and sharp nails dig into the meat of his hips just hard enough to make him whimper. "I think you've kept me waiting long enough, pet. Don't you?"

Amir doesn’t wait for him to respond (not that he’d be capable of it in the first place, mouth suddenly dry and tongue like lead) and simply herds him towards the vanity, and the gift on top of it. He swallows hard as he reaches out, glancing back as if to ask for permission before he even touches it. It’s given in the form of a silky chuckle and a not-quite-gentle pat to his bare backside.

 The bag feels just as unspeakably high-end as it looks, the paper heavy and textured, and he didn’t notice before that the handles are gold silk ribbons to match the embossed letters. The name on the bag still isn’t ringing any bells, and he can't even imagine what might be inside, but with the way Amir is watching him, those gold eyes so sharp and intense he can feel the heat of their stare pricking at his skin, he's clearly eager for Jude to find out.

He parts the shimmery metallic tissue paper as delicately as he can with his heavy, callused hands, and finds a long flat box lying underneath. His heart is in his throat as he lifts it out of the bag, turning it over carefully in an effort to guess what it might be without damaging its contents.

Amir sighs behind him, and if Jude’s entire body weren’t thrumming with nerves, he’d look back to see if he’s checking a watch he isn’t actually wearing to drive home the point that his patience is wearing thin.

He opens the box. He almost can't parse what's inside at first.

Lace. Lots of lace. Pale, dusky pink lace edged along sheer fabric and adorned with delicate ribbons and thin gold chains. 

Jude's no stranger to fancy lingerie—Amir wears it often enough, and he likes to model it for Jude, even if he's just as clueless about luxury fashion as he is about fine art. Jude's never once complained—in fact, he's found he really likes it, the textures and colors and cuts, the way the airy fabrics cling to the striking angles of Amir's body, the way he always chooses colors that compliment him so well…

Jude's mouth is suddenly very dry, the weight of Amir's expectant gaze pressing down on him, because he's seen the succubus in enough lacy underthings, and removed them enough, to have a rough understanding of the sizes he wears.

The pretty pink garments in the box are much too big to be meant for Amir.

He looks up, and Amir meets his eyes with a sly curl to his mouth. "Well?" he asks, stepping closer, watching Jude’s face, picking apart his reactions with an almost surgical precision. "What do you think?"

He’s not sure he can think anything right now, all of his thoughts a messy jumble of confusion and curiosity and (a bit shamefully) desire. He knows he shouldn’t be ashamed for what he feels, what he wants, but there’s a lifetime’s worth of it built around everything he’s wanted that wasn’t in line with what he was supposed to be, and he’s still digging his way through that.

He wets his lips with his tongue and stares into the velvet-lined box, still trying to make sense of everything he’s feeling. "Is it… are they… for me?" 

It’s a stupid question, but there’s a part of him that still can’t believe it, is still scared this is either a dream or some sort of joke.

Amir laughs, low and sultry, reaching out to curl his ring-laden fingers around Jude's bicep. The touch is so simple, so soft, but it still spreads warmth through Jude's body. "Of course. Not really my color, is it?"

It isn't, Jude knows. Amir prefers bolder colors, stark contrasts, shimmer and shine to draw the eye. He tries to say as much, but what comes out of his mouth is a fumbling, "Y-you look good in everything."

That laugh again, a smoky, rich thing that sinks beneath his skin, curls in his gut and leaves him aching to hear it again and again and again. "You're so sweet," Amir says, scratching affectionately at his scruffy chin with his free hand. He squeezes the other around Jude’s arm, the tips of his nails a tantalizing pressure that makes his chest feel tight, makes his breath quicken. “Why don’t you go try them on, make sure I got the sizing right.”

He did. Of course he did, Jude couldn’t doubt for a second he would. There’s no way the set isn’t entirely bespoke, too, considering there’s no tags in sight to indicate sizing. There’s a bit of embroidery on the inside of each piece (panties, garters, belt, a frilly top that he struggles to identify) that he assumes is a brand signature or something like it.

Amir ushers him back into the bathroom, smiling playfully as he closes the door, and Jude is left to stare at the box in his hands and try to sort through his thoughts.

It’s easier, with Amir there to distract him, when he can’t focus so much on his nerves, or what his family would think of him, or what he thinks of himself.

He keeps his eyes down, away from the mirror, as he carefully takes each piece of the set out of the box. There’s enough room on the vanity for him to lay them out one by one, and he tries to think of it the same way he thinks of disassembling an engine. You have to go into it with a plan, you have to know how the parts fit together, and in what order. He arranges them in the way he thinks (hopes) they’ll need to go on his body, and takes a slow, deep breath.

The most daunting piece, it seems, will have to be the one that goes first. He picks up the panties, wincing when the calluses on his palms snag at the lace. He frantically checks for damage, his heart pounding, and sighs with relief when nothing seems to be out of place.

He looks over his shoulder, towards the door. Amir is quietly waiting on the other side, probably keeping himself busy with organizing his ever-crowded schedule while Jude has a quiet panic spiral about underwear in his bathroom. But he’s been waiting long enough, and though he teased, he’s been endlessly patient with Jude, and kind enough to get him not just a gift, but an expensive, custom gift he literally plucked from the human’s deepest, most secret desires.

Jude takes another grounding breath, and meticulously, cautiously, pulls the underwear on.

He knows he’s in trouble when a shudder works its way through him at the way the lace feels sliding up his legs, softer than he expected. He’s achingly aware of it whispering up his calves, stretching around his thighs, and nestle over his hips. It takes a bit of… adjustment in certain areas, but given that they were made specifically for his body (and that’s still something he can barely wrap his head around) everything, uh, settles in with surprising ease. It’s oddly comfortable and, more than that, it feels right.

He swallows so hard his throat clicks, and keeps his eyes steadfastly away from the mirror as he reaches for the next pieces–the stockings– with trembling hands.

Amir’s bathroom is practically the size of a studio apartment on its own, and thankfully there’s a seat near the vanity in the form of a plushy padded stool. He sits down and feels the panties shift and stretch around his hips and ass, and gently scrunches the first stocking. He tries to remember how people in movies put them on, and goes from there, bunching it and then pulling it slowly up his leg. It shouldn’t feel so sultry to basically be putting on socks, but the opaque material edged with more of that soft pink lace scraping gently against his skin is thrilling him beyond words. The second stocking doesn't fluster him any less, and he spends a moment or two just staring down at his legs, trying to make sense of what he's seeing, and what it might be awakening in him.

The belt and garters come next, and those at least are fairly simple. The belt is broad and subtly patterned, nipping his waist in a bit without being too restrictive. He spends what feels like an age just running his hands over the smooth, satiny panels before he clips the garters with their tiny bows to it and attaches them to the stockings.

The final piece is the top, with its spidersilk-thin gold chains attached a smooth satin ribbon, and sheer ruffled fabric flowing down from the bust. There’s a touch of fear that it won’t fit him, that he’ll move wrong and tear it while trying to put it on, but it really was made to fit his body, and the way the hem floats around his (doughy, hairy, and sort of pale) belly does a lot to hide some of his insecurities. It does emphasize his chest in a way he’s not sure he likes, clinging and translucent, but when he carefully fastens the ribbon around his neck and makes sure the chains attached to it aren’t tangled, he forgets his stalemate with the mirror and looks up.

For a moment, he forgets how to breathe.

He looks like himself, still big, broad, and heavyset, with dense muscle padded with a layer of fat and dusted with dark hair, but the contrast of the dusky, pale lace against sun-browned skin and muted tattoos is something that leaves him feeling things he’s not sure he can name.

As if on cue, there’s a dainty little rap on the door, and he jolts, fingers twisting together. Amir is still waiting, and he has no clue how long he’s been in the bathroom—it feels like hours.

He turns and stands at the door, hand hovering over the handle, and feels his stomach beginning to tie itself into knots.

Amir sees something in him that he doesn’t see for himself, and he knows that logically, but his brain isn’t always the most logical place, especially right now. There’s a sense of impending dread taking root in his chest, leaving it  crowded and too-small, like his lungs hardly have the room to expand. He imagines, a bit panicky, Amir taking one look at him and bursting out laughing, or the more likely outcome of feigning interest, telling Jude he looks nice, then hurrying him to change back into his normal clothes and never speaking of this little venture again.

As if Amir senses the direction his thoughts are going, the door swings open, making Jude flinch and—pulse pounding in his ears, heart jumping into his throat—wanting to scramble for cover. But he’s frozen, a deer in the headlights, as the succubus drinks him in.

"Oh, look at you…" he croons, beckoning him out of the doorway (and, of course, he follows without thinking) so he can circle him like he's sizing him up, like he’s taking in every inch of him before he pounces. "So pretty."

Jude couldn't feel more bare if he were actually naked, especially with the way the succubus is pulling him apart with just his molten gold eyes. But he can't get too caught up in that when he's left reeling over one simple word.

Pretty.

Nobody's ever called him pretty before.

Something slots into place in his chest, settles in and unfurls, a shuddering realization of a desire he never knew he held being fulfilled.

He never knew he wanted to be pretty, but it… it makes sense. And it feels good.

“I’ll admit, I took a bit of a risk,” Amir says, and there’s no teasing to his tone this time, just quiet consideration, a tenderness that makes Jude feel just as weak and helpless as his bold innuendo and sultry purring. “It was just a little hint of something I saw after…”

His expression shifts, brows furrowing, mouth curling. There's the faintest hint of that simmering anger he works so hard to hide. He doesn’t have to say anything, and Jude is grateful that he doesn’t. His thoughts were all over the place the night he had dinner with his family, he’s not surprised Amir managed to find the things he didn’t let himself think about, things he’d been struggling to bury for a good two decades, when all his old hurts were bubbling to the surface and he didn’t have the strength to push them down again.

“It was a guess,” Amir continues, easing closer, looking up with his head tilted, hair spilling over his shoulder in a glossy fall that Jude wants to hide in, bend himself practically in half so he can tuck away somewhere he actually feels safe, but he’s rooted to the spot feeling more exposed than he’s ever felt in his life. At least here, out in the open, he gets to see the way a slow smile starts to curl Amir’s lips again, softly smug. “But I think it’s safe to say it was a good one.”

Amir is so close, the heat of his body is almost enough to have Jude sweating, scantily clad as he is.

That could just as easily be nerves, or rather, anticipation.

Without his heels, Amir's a good six inches shorter than Jude, but it doesn't matter much with a presence like his. He effortlessly fills any room he struts into, and Jude's been helplessly drawn to him since the beginning. The demon stares at him with smoldering eyes, a gaze that clings to his skin like honey, thick and molten and saccharine, dripping from the ribbon at his throat, the slender chains connecting it to the top, and lingering at the bust for a long breathless moment before sliding down to the belt, the garters–

Jude shifts on the spot, shivers at the alien sensation of the stockings rubbing against the carpet, and tries to be subtle when he drops his hands to cover himself a bit. Unfortunately, it's not really possible for a man his size to be subtle in anything.

And then there's a swirl of mild disorientation, the sensation of breath against his ear, and a whisper in his mind that sends a shudder through his body.

No hiding, darling. I want to look at you.

Amir's lips don't move, but his eyes are so intent it feels like a physical touch. He takes his sweet time looking Jude over, admires him from every angle. Jude holds still obediently, doesn't try to hide, and he’s rewarded for his good behavior when Amir finally, finally touches him again, fingertips tracing along where the lace clings to his skin, where the softness of his hip spills out over the waistband of the panties, the lines the garters draw down his thick, hairy thighs to connect to the stockings and back up to slip under the floaty hem of the top and prickle his nails along the band that’s doing its best to support his ample chest.

His skin is burning now, between the hearthfire heat Amir radiates and his own blood rushing, and he’s starting to feel the shift in the atmosphere from an almost artistic appreciation to something a little more focused.

He’s not sure he can take much more of that focus, but thankfully Amir is very good at distracting him when he’s starting to feel overwhelmed. It just so happens that, in the current case, that distraction comes in the form of crowding him back into the nearest wall and pawing at him.

"W…wait," he whines out, helplessly squirming against the wall. He’s been able to restrain himself up to this point, to manage the low thrum of arousal building up in his gut since he starting pulling on all the satin and lace, but he can already feel himself straining against the delicate panties with Amir grabbing two big handfuls of his ass and squeezing. "I don't… I don't want to… mess these up."

There were no price tags, but he knows this has to be one of Amir's more expensive gifts. He's heard enough women in his life complain that just the mass-produced stuff is pricey, much less bespoke luxury lingerie. He can't even begin to guess how much Amir spent on what he's wearing, and he's honestly afraid to think about it too hard.

Amir laughs, something low and throaty that echoes sweetly in Jude's ribcage, settles heavy in his belly, and he tugs the human down to his level by the slip of ribbon around his throat. "Oh, darling," he coos indulgently, honey-sweet and just a touch condescending in that way Jude has gotten a little addicted to, "do you really think I only got you one set?"