#you guys make fun of Narrator for being a housewife and I get to write dialogue

[gothic-mothic]

Whiteboard doodles yay !

Sillies

[xenoblademisadventures]

I’ve been thinking about how Xenoblade 2′s character writing and why it doesn’t work. It's not uncommon in animes, especially ones with large casts, to make characters with a handful of really loud and obvious character traits and then have one extra character trait that the viewer can only learn about by spending extra time with them. For the sake of convenience, I'm going to call these "surface traits" and "hidden traits." To use Nia as an example, her surface traits would be that she's a snarky and sarcastic cat girl who is slow to warm up to the party while her hidden trait would be her fear of persecution over powers that she didn't ask for. Every major character in Xenoblade 2 does this.

This type of character writing has a lot of advantages, disadvantages, and requirements to make work effectively. The big advantage of writing characters like this is that they're easy for the audience to follow. This also usually results in characters who are easily identifiable among a large cast because you can list 3 or less surface level character traits and you'll know who's being talked about. When talking about Xenoblade 2, I could talk about a "super powerful hot-head," "talks like a butler," "flirts constantly and is uncool," and you can probably guess which character I'm talking about. This can also be really good for characters that the player isn't supposed to spend a lot of time with but the writers still want to leave an impression. The Rare Blades are good examples of the type of character where writing them like this is a good idea, especially since it's not guarantee that the player will do their sidequests or h2hs after getting access to them. This style of character writing also doesn't prevent writers from making interesting or complex characters. Pyra and Mythra are actually really good examples of characters that fit this style of character writing but are still super complex. When a story has a lot of these types of characters, they become interesting by having those attributes intersect with and synergize with as many other elements in the work they're a part of as possible. 

The reason why Pyra and Mythra are able to be extremely complicated characters that still follow this model of character writing is because the traits that the writers decided to give Pyra and Mythra feed into both the other character, the individual character, the plot, and the gameplay, but also it's possible to trace how the traits of other characters interact with them. Addam is a reluctant hero, normally that's seen as a noble trait in fiction. But in Xenoblade 2, Blades are emotionally reliant on their drivers to such a massive extent that it can shape both how a Blade views themself and how they view the world as a whole. So, Addam being scared of Mythra's power, having only resonated with her out of the necessity to defeat Malos, and often referring to "the Aegis" as "Malos, the guy who sinks continents for fun" all feeds into Mythra seeing herself as something that is dangerous and can only cause harm. This also feeds into the gameplay. Pyra and Mythra are presented as glass canons who deal nice crit. However, building Mythra towards being a dodge tank or giving her a crit heal build can make her really powerful defensively. Pyra's a lot weaker than Mythra because her attack doesn't reach the same levels as Mythra's and she doesn't have a lot of utility outside of dealing damage. This synergizes really nicely with their character arc because, for Pyra, it shows that Mythra really did see herself as only a weapon when she created Pyra, so Pyra, alongside being a lot weaker, is also a lot more limited to that role. While Mythra, while powerful offensively, becomes broken when used defensively. Which mechanically synergizes with her learning that she isn't an evil ball of destruction. They also have the potential to synergize nicely with the majority of the party. Rex doesn't know about the Aegis war gets to know Pyra as Pyra rather than as the Aegis. Azurda was there for the Aegis war and really should have something to say about Mythra blowing up Torna. Nia's character arc also involves her sealing away her powers because of a fear of being judged for them, Dromarch is an emotional support to Nia, Tora is responsible for creating a blade that can rival Mythra in power and Poppi is that Blade (considering how Pyra and Mythra feels about their own power, this could go somewhere), Morag and Brighid both rub the Aegis war in Pyra's and Mythra's face (Morag initially opposes Rex because she believes the Aegis is too dangerous to be left unsupervised and she's scared of the Aegis's power, which is a parallel that could be drawn to Addam's own attitude towards the Aegis, while Brighid was not only there for the Aegis war, she was extremely judgy and one of the people responsible for Mythra turning into Pyra), and Zeke and Pandoria don't really have any immediately obvious connections, which can be nice if Pyra's and Mythra's relationship with every other character is so closely related to the heavy topic that is her hidden trait. Of course, Xenoblade 2 doesn't do anything with most of these potential synergies, so they don't exist in the context of Xenoblade 2. But they are very useable and potentially very powerful in the context of fanfiction, which is why I made that comment. Mythra's already one of the most complex characters in the game and the writers only really did anything with her potential synergies with Pyra, Addam, and maybe Rex (which could have been further explored). In turn, Pyra and Addam are more interesting characters than they would have been had Mythra not been written to be a part of the story. If Xenoblade 2 had taken more advantage of the potential synergies between different members of the cast, the character writing would be a lot better than it is in the game.

A common issue with writing characters like this is that they can easily feel one-dimensional or tropey. These types of characters work best if you imagine any individual character as a puzzle piece rather than a whole thing to be viewed in isolation. Going back to the example of Pyra and Mythra, if you were to write Pyra without having Mythra or any of the stuff going on there, she becomes a boringly written character that only really plays into the sexist ideals of what makes a good housewife, with her surface traits being that she's demure, sexually innocent, and good at cooking. So by not making those connections and synergies when writing these characters, they become weak characters. The issue becomes worse when the characters synergize badly with other elements of the work they're a part of. This is an area where Xenoblade 2's big issue of its pieces not fitting well together comes to bite the character writing in the ass.

For example, one of the reasons Rex suffers as a character is because the writers tried to make him a weak child character who barely scrapes by most of his encounters, but this does not work well with Xenoblade 2's cathartic combat system. Xenoblade 2's combat system does a lot to make the player feel awesome. It has the flashiest attacks in the series so far, it has some narrator going "excellent" "awesome" "amazing," and it emphasizes the player juggling a lot of simple to execute ideas at once, which makes it extremely satisfying when the player successfully juggles those things and makes big numbers that go brr. This makes Xenoblade 2's combat really unique and fun (easily my favorite moment-to-moment combat in the series). But in relationship to how Rex is written, it's really bad. Gameplay is as much a part of the story of a video game as the writing is, so if the gameplay says "the party is an unstoppable, epic, flashy, and cool and this is a power fantasy where the party can handle anything (that doesn't instantly kill them)" while the story says "the party barely survives the majority of their encounters and the protagonist is way in over his head," then there's going to be a disconnect and players are likely either going to react by believing Rex is terrible protagonist who constantly loses or they'll lean towards believing that the gameplay isn't canon. Neither of these are good results.

The character designs are another aspect of the game that screws over the character writing. For these types of characters, they need to be accompanied by character designs where you can know at a glance what they're all about. This can mean having over the top character designs, but that isn't always the case. If you want some examples, the Fire Emblem series is generally very good at conveying information about its characters through its designs without needing over the top designs. Full Metal Alchemist manages to convey a lot of information about it's characters through their designs even with the majority of them wearing the exact same uniforms. Xenoblade 2 utterly fails at this goal when making its character designs. Pyra's the worst example of this, so I'll use her design to get at what I mean. She's a shy, modest, carries a lot of guilt with her, and is shown multiple times to either be ignorant or disapproving of horniness (mostly shown in H2H's involving Tora). Those are all pretty surface level traits about her, which her character design should convey the most loudly. Alongside that, it's also important that her design connects her to Mythra in some way since their relationship is extremely important to both of their arcs. Because Xenoblade 2 has a mechanical focus on dividing ether in different elements, it's a good idea for Pyra's character design to say "I'm a fire type" in some way. It may also be good to have the design imply that Pyra is a weapon and that she is sealed because that's also relevant to her character arc. Because the Aegis and the Monado are supposed to be connected (but that connection is a massive spoiler), Pyra's design should also have something subtly tying her to Malos and the Monado. Out of those things listed, Pyra's design does convey a connection to Mythra and it does say that she's a fire type. It either doesn't do or does an extremely poor job at conveying everything else. If Pyra is supposed to be demure, why is her design so flashy? If Pyra is going to have multiple lines of dialogue where she explicitly says that she doesn't like horny clothes, why is her design so heavily sexualized? Her flashy design works really well with the flashy gameplay and the sexualized design works well as a waifu collection gacha game, but that comes at the massive expense of the character. The character design and combat animations imply that Pyra is supposed to be cool and sexy, but the character writing says that she is not remotely close to that. If the purpose was to make the character design intentional contradict the character, then a point should be made about that rather than leaving it to the viewer to piece together whatever explanation sounds the smartest to them.

Another way that Xenoblade 2′s characters falter is that their hidden traits often don’t come into play outside of the moment when they’re established. Making anything like that just results in something where there’s a lot going on but it isn’t very interesting. Tora is the worst offender for this, he’s a super-genius, has a strong admiration for Rex because he’s a driver, is overweight, and has a maid fetish. This could easily lead into him having an arc where he has to learn to see Poppi as a real Blade or as a person (and it could synergize nicely with some of the later plot twists about all Blades being artificial lifeforms). It could put an interesting spin on the maid fetish aspect of his character because Poppi is on the receiving end of that most of the time. It could also work nicely with Mythra’s character arc because she has experience being seen for what she is rather than who. It could lead into Poppi having a character arc. Tora could also easily have an arc about learning to believe in himself. Which could work nicely with Rex’s development, or even Pyra or Mythra’s arcs. Instead, Tora gets all of his development in Chapter 4 (which really wasn’t a good time for it because there was a lot that needed to get unpacked with Mythra’s introduction and that gets sidelined a lot quicker than it should have been). And it focuses a lot on how Bana kidnapped his father and forced him to make a bunch of Artificial Blades and also finished Lila. There’s a lot of extra information added about Tora, but the game never draws a connection between Tora’s existing character traits and the new information, nor does it do anything to link those traits. So, a lot of people will see either Tora as a character as “the creepy Nopon with a maid fetish” or “the super-genius who wants to be a real driver.” The deeper stuff about him missing his dad and wanting to honor their memory by finishing a multi-generation long project barely has anything to do with any of his actions outside of this one arc. Alongside that, this hidden trait doesn’t synergize with his surface traits. It’s not that these character traits can’t reasonably coexist, but they also don’t feed into each other very well. And connections absolutely can be made between these traits, but the game opts not to make them.

Azurda is a character who suffers from the game not exploring its characters as much as it should. He is old and he likes to tease Rex but genuinely cares about him. Those are his surface level traits. His hidden traits are that he knows a lot more about the backstory than he lets on and withholds a lot of critical information from the characters because he doesn’t trust Rex to respond rationally with that information. There’s a lot that can be done with that, but the game does nothing. Azurda never expresses any opinion about Rex being Pyra’s driver despite having seen for himself how badly Addam’s partnership with Mythra went. Even if his opinion is that he’s chill with it, that’s something he should have been asked to elaborate on (probably by Pyra?). Instead, he doesn’t serve much of a purpose to anything. Brighid, Poppi, Morag, Dromarch, and Pandoria also suffer from a lack of being properly explored by the writing.

Another issue that Xenoblade 2 has with its character writing is that it turns some of the most important aspects of its characters into late-game plot twists. The advantage of plot twists is that they’re exciting, can carry huge implications for earlier parts of the story that the player can notice upon revisiting it, and can change the trajectory of the story in interesting ways. The problem is that these character plot twists tend to also be at the end of their arcs. The audience doesn’t know about Nia being a Flesh Eater or that she struggles with fear of rejection because of how people have reacted to her being a Flesh Eater until that conflict has already been resolved. We don’t learn about Pyra and Mythra being suicidal until a minute before it’s resolved. That’s a problem because all of the potentially interesting character stuff happens off-screen, which means the player doesn’t get to see it (unless they read fanfictions that specifically address these topics). I already talked about Pyra and Mythra, so I’m going to talk about Nia. Up until a bit before the Flesh Eater reveal, she largely plays straight-man to everyone else’s bullshit and makes a few funny snarky comments. Her role in the party comedically works really well. She is comedic gold and plays especially nicely off of Zeke. However, when it comes to her non-comedic writing, she struggles to be interesting. The first potentially interesting thing we learn about her is that she was allies with Torna (but didn’t know that they kill people? or did she just not think they’d murder a random innocent kid?) The game doesn’t use Nia’s former allegiance to Torna to progress her character, especially in the early game. Nia has been on the run from Indol for years and caused her so much fear that it prevented her from saving Vandham, that should have been a huge deal in the moment, that Nia could have saved him but didn’t. But because Nia being a Flesh Eater isn’t revealed to the audience until much later, the best we get is being able to see her hesitating and clutching her chest and that becoming significant on rewatch. Putting this plot twist so late also means that Nia doesn’t react to Mor Ardain capturing her, Cole openly revealing himself to be a flesh eater, Fan’s powers (in Chp. 4), or her having to exist in Indol nearly as much as she should have. It also makes her join Azurda in the ranks of having known critical plot information but chose not to share it party. The flesh eater reveal happens at an awkward time. Players will either realize early in Chapter 6 or in Chapter 7, depending on whether they caught on during the Niall revive scene. Either the plot twist comes out of nowhere and proceeds to not get addressed or receive any context until midway through Chapter 7 or it comes at a time when the viewer should be concerned about Pyra and Mythra and draws a bunch of attention away from that. Either way, Nia being a flesh eater only manifests in the story as an OP power-up after the reveal. This comes at the expense of certain scenes. For example, Nia soloing Malos visually looks really cool, but because the writing never puts any time on Nia’s relationship with Torna or how that impacted her views of herself as a Flesh Eater, there isn’t any emotional pay-off to this encounter. Her revealing herself as a flesh eater also falls into the same category. The scene is mostly known for “I love you and all you guys!” If the game revealed to the audience that Nia was a flesh eater and spent most of her life having to hide that fact or else be forced to go on the run or get taken advantage of for it, then her character development wouldn’t have to be all cramped into Chapter 7 and her two major scenes there could start to have some emotional payoff. Revealing her status as a flesh eater to the audience early on would also allow for Nia’s arc to compliment Pyra’s and Mythra’s. It could even allow Dromarch to have moments (since a lot of his character is based around him being a support for Nia). Unfortunately, the most interesting aspect of Nia’s character doesn’t get explored, doesn’t show up until really late in the game (late considering that she’s the second party member), and it gets crammed into a spot where the story should have been focusing on Rex and his ability to function without Pyra and Mythra’s help. 

Overall, the character writing in Xenoblade 2 is rather weak because while the characters do function well as comedic units, they try and fail to do anything deeper than that. Either the characters needed to have their deeper or more complicated features way more fleshed out (and also synergize better with other aspects of the game, such as the character designs and combat) or Xenoblade 2 should have backed off from its heavier themes and stuck to being a comedy. 

[fleckcmscott]

Out of Sight

Summary: Y/N has an unexpected dash of inspiration. Arthur doesn't require much convincing.

Warnings: Swearing, Smut

Words: 4,221

A/N: This fun little request comes from @sweet-nothings04​​. You're wonderful and I hope this meets your expectations. Thanks for the request - I can't imagine ever writing this without it! 🙈 Special thanks to @jokerownsmysoul​ for agreeing to beta!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Words didn't often fail Y/N, but the admission left her foggy, reminiscent of what she'd experienced after tipping over in a wheelbarrow race at a school fair. Her foot swung back and forth as she sat on the counter. Fiddled with the phone cord and twisted its beige, plastic curls around her fingers. Were there signs she'd missed? Was her gut right in insisting she was a terrible friend?

"Marriage counseling?" she repeated.

Arthur stopped filling his bowl with sandy, pecan cookies, alarm encroaching his features. She waved off his concern, mouthing "not us" before she spoke into the receiver. "I'm so sorry." With a grimace of understanding, he patted her knee and ducked out, sweets in hand. No doubt he'd ask her to elaborate. Not that she had anything to share. Not yet. "I had no idea you and Robert were having problems."

Patricia laughed lightly on the other end. "Neither of us have our bags packed." A whistle came from the background. Vague cheering. Then mild cursing about how terrible this season's Gotham Guardsmen's picks were. She sighed. "The little green monster's dropped-in since your wedding. Don't get me wrong. I couldn't be happier for you if you were my own sister."

Y/N wished Patricia was within arm's reach instead of all the way in Burnside.

"Next month we'll have been married thirty-five years," Patricia continued with a rare nostalgia. "We're a team, Robert and me. But we've both let things go, gotten old. I'd like the spark back before we lose the kindling."

Pursing her lips, Y/N bit back her qualms. Rebutting the steps Patricia had taken was uncalled for, and doubly so when she needed her support. Besides. Y/N understood them. She'd climbed them once, too.

When she'd begun to figure out the direction in which the weather vane of her life pointed, the comfort and confidence she'd shared with her ex-husband had started to wither. Transformed over the years into an awareness that her childish belief in love being enough was inaccurate. It was natural, she thought in hindsight. They'd wed at seventeen and twenty-one. But divorce had been uncommon back then, particularly in a small town in the Bible Belt. The night she'd moved in with a friend (a tactic to delay confessing defeat to her family), Jeff suggested they speak with a professional. Though her heart had known it was over, she cared for him. She couldn't deny them the chance to salvage their union, no matter how remote.

A solitary counselor was available, a disadvantage of rural living. The man claimed to be a pioneer in couples therapy, having begun his practice in the thirties. One forty-five-minute drive later and they'd found themselves squished into a leather loveseat in a smoky, cramped office. Diplomas and certificates covered the walls, the veracity of which she couldn't verify. Dr. Ellis's puffy pink cheeks and offer of sweet tea had been kinder than his approach.

Fountain pens and worksheets were provided with the mumbled instruction to answer honestly. But the questions had not fit her situation. They were for women who desired to be happy homemakers. To plan meals and do the weekly shopping. To nurse children and have dinner ready by six. Responsibilities and life stages that had given her mother purpose - a purpose that mostly eluded Y/N. Every comma and quotation mark inferred fault. And Dr. Ellis had read her responses like a disappointed teacher.

Somehow the filmstrips, accompanied by a crackling LP, were worse. Mr. Provider and Mrs. Housewife were featured. He consistently came home on time. She always wore an apron. The narrator's spiritless voice contrasted with the cheery soundtrack while matching Y/N's mood. A lively ping! cued them to advance to the next still, a duty switched between her and Jeff to practice teamwork. At least the sidelong looks they shared could still connect them.

The slides, the homework, the speeches. They all pointed to one problem: her. Her parents were a model couple. Didn't she know encouraging her husband in his livelihood was her job? That his main obligation was to invite her to share his success? She had to mend her ways. Make herself more attractive. Be grateful he displayed his affection by returning to her after a long day at the office; he could just as easily hang out at The Rusty Boot.

Not a little indignant, she'd stared at Jeff's profile. Downcast eyes betrayed his regret and assured she'd maintain composure, for his sake if nothing else. She fixed her focus on Dr. Ellis and gave the situation a good, long think. Jeff had never questioned her ambitions. Who the hell was this jackass to judge?

She'd covered Jeff's hand, rubbed his knuckle with her thumb. "You're the expert here, doctor. But isn't it possible neither party is at fault?"

"Mrs. Thompson, I've heard that misconception from many of my clients. It's never led anywhere positive. Now-"

"But what if they're both good people?" she interrupted, hanging onto diplomacy by a thread. Her resolve stayed, even as her volume lowered at the prospect of wounding the man she'd loved as a girl. "Good people who've grown apart?"

Dr. Ellis took what she'd learned was his usual position on the corner of his cherry desk. "You're mistaking natural sex differences for incompatibility. Not every husband allows his wife to work outside the home." His paternal smile hadn't diminished the sting of his words. "If you want your marriage to thrive, I'd advise a little more maturity. And I think I have just the book to help you."

Twenty tons of silence festered on the ride home, louder than the pulse beating her eardrum. Distress distracted her from noticing the run in her stockings. And it was drizzling. She cracked the passenger window of the Lincoln Continental, anyway. Closed her eyes at the bite of raw air against her overheated face.

"Look, I don't agree with what that guy says," Jeff started. He pulled at the gearshift and flicked the turn-signal. "Not when it comes to you."

As the car came to a stop, she swiped at her eyes. "I'm not going again." The press of a napkin to her palm prompted a mix of appreciation and annoyance. For his courtesy and that he'd detected her tears. "Do you even like being married to me?"

"Y/N-"

"Please." She flinched at his attempt to embrace her. "Don't spare my feelings."

Headlights from a passing car flashed in the cabin, revealing his stretched lips. He raked back his thinning hair. The quiet shake of his head when he moved to gaze at her was a relief. "I miss the girl I fell in love with."

She offered a slight shrug and pulled the corners of the tissue. "I don't like it, either."

His rapid blink softened her posture, along with the recognition that the dream they'd had was also out of reach for him. "I'm proud of the woman you've become," he said. "Even if she's not what I need."

"I don't want to be a lawyer's wife." A quiet laugh bubbled up. "The oral arguments are terrible."

He checked his blind spot and put the sedan back into drive. "I'll file the papers tomorrow. We can tell your parents and sister together. If you'd like." After some seconds, she'd slid across the bench seat and put her head on his shoulder, heartened by an affinity she'd nearly forgotten.

Counseling techniques must have evolved, Y/N considered. Perhaps Patricia would find help instead of blame. If not, tips in women's magazines were a tacky if economical alternative. She'd have to check the breakroom at work for forgotten issues.

She hopped off the counter and poured herself another cup of decaf. "Let me know if we can do anything. And how it goes."

"The first few sessions were great. I picked up a few booklets. 'Modern Marriage,' 'The Complete Woman...' Oh!" Paper shuffled as Y/N put back the milk. "'Enrichment & Exploration: Tips for Bedroom Fun.' I tried reading it with Robert the other night, but he left when I mentioned massagers and blindfolds."

"He's sixty," Y/N snorted. "Give him time."

Peeking around the corner, she spotted Arthur in his writing nook. He stood to stretch, then grab his lighter and pack of Stuttons. The low sit of his pajama bottoms was enough of a temptation for her to tuck her lip. An unexpected spasm tickled her abdomen. "Brief me on the blindfold chapter."

~~~~~

Nervous anticipation had kept her feverish for hours, ever since she'd bid farewell to Arthur with a "Save a smile for me" on her way out the door. His clumsy smooch lingered as she changed the date on her rubber stamp. While she cleaned the office refrigerator, she spent a good sixty seconds pressing a cup of expired yogurt to her flush cheeks. When the shoulder strap of her canvas bag gave out, she shrugged rather than cursed and settled the tote in her lap. With her plan in mind, the corners of her lips refused to relax .

After working the grand opening of the Gotham Mall, Arthur had the workshop she'd registered him for, a beginners' seminar for stand-ups. He'd be home right around six. That would give her thirty minutes to change into her mini nightdress with the ruffled hemline, dab musk oil behind her earlobes, and put on an LP. Dinner would be delayed - neither of them would be in the mood if they were too full. If she remembered correctly, they had a pizza in the freezer, the good kind with the real pepperoni and rising crust. She just had to figure out if she should wait in the bedroom or lounge on the sofa like a poor-man's Lauren Bacall.

As she unlocked the apartment, however, there came a muffled phomp-phomp-phomp. The unmistakable sound of a sink plunger. Fuck. This was the third time this month. Pushing through the door, she hoped the super had called a different plumber. It had taken ages to clean up the stray sediment left behind by the last one. Upon entering, Arthur's plaid bag came into view, next to his keys on the counter. A glance into the kitchen confirmed he was trying his hand at the repair. 

"Hey." Y/N hung her coat, glad her consternation was hidden by the wall. "What happened to your class?" she asked with deliberate playfulness. "Did they decide you were too advanced?" She crossed her arms and moved to the doorway. Tried to hold onto the tendrils of fading arousal by taking him in.

A pleased chuckle. "The instructor left a message." Phomp-phomp-phomp."It'll be rescheduled."

"I know you were looking forward to it." The rolled-up sleeves of his shirt and flexing biceps were having the right effect. She ambled towards him. "Let me help."

"It's fine. I had to do this a lot at my old place." The set of his jaw tightened as it gave it another go.

They went through the litany of usual questions. Arthur contently reported the mall had gone well, except for a couple of teenagers who'd given him grief at the start. ("Nothing serious. They were just kids.") Her nine-to-five had been quite low-key, she explained, and had allowed her to catch-up on a backlog of paperwork. ("With the new judge, we keep having to file motions for correction.") But when he asked about this evening, she mused and tapped her fingertips on the counter. Horny, annoyed at her thwarted plan, yet nevertheless itching to seduce him

Water streamed as he turned the faucet's handle, followed by his satisfied hum. He tidied up, then washed to his elbows. Grabbed the nearby dish towel and pivoted on his heel to face her. "What is it?" he asked at her lack of response. He wiped his hands a little harder. "I thought you'd be glad I'm already here."

Seeking to allay his concern, she scooted next to him with a gentle nudge. "You know I am. You've been running through my head all day." She scrunched her nose. "I just had this idea for a romantic evening and wanted to surprise you."

"Oh." Pink colored his chiseled cheekbones and his eyes softened. "You still could. I'd like that." Ardor sparked anew in her belly. Unfurled as he leaned into her, grin cutting across his mouth and straight into her heart. "Would ten minutes be enough?"

Her toes curled. His enthusiasm for her, for them, had a habit of sending electricity up her spine. "Better make it eight," she pronounced.

A sharp nod and a pat to her bottom later, he dashed off. Once the bathroom door shut, Y/N rushed to rummage in his workbag, delighted when she found her prize. She scurried to the stereo and put on one of her soul records. Adjusted the volume to a suggestion instead of distraction. Though the genre wasn't his favorite, it never failed to induce the swivel of his hips. Unbuttoning, unzipping, she made her way to the bedroom. Yanked off her tan skirt and jacquard sweater before carelessly tossing them in the nearby chair.

She'd just gotten settled on the foot of the bed when Arthur sauntered in. Clad in his white briefs and wrinkled socks. "That was five," she said and wadded her pantyhose to hurl at him.

He dodged it easily, stepping forward to gaze at her with hooded eyes, their clear green darkened with need. He licked his lips. "I think it was four." Without further preamble, he knelt between her legs. Scrambling up the bed, she kicked subtly against his hold on her calves. Bit her lip on a giggle as he crawled over her lap to smother her with kisses. She rested on the headboard and nabbed his red and gold Carnival tie from under her pillow.

He quirked a dark brow. "What, you want me to wear it?"

Before any reservation could resurface, she smoothed the broad neck of the tie over her eyes and secured it loosely at her temple. Hesitation floated through the air. Threatened to pierce the veil of desire that enveloped her. She wondered what he was waiting for. If he was wearing that wolfish grin he saved for the bedroom. Or if a modicum of anxiety had spawned. She had sprung this on him without prior discussion. The muffled music from the living room switched to the next song. She attempted to peek under the bottom of the makeshift blindfold, tried to make out more than a vague shadow in the muted light.

But then he sunk into her. Wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pressed her into the mattress. "If you're uncomfortable, tell me," he murmured into her mouth. "Please."

The implication of his request, albeit more loving than licentious, wracked her with want. She couldn't halt her shudder. Blindly, she reached to cup his face. "I trust you," she promised. To both him and herself.

His round nose dragged down the underside of her jaw. "Where'd you get this idea?"

The caress of his smile on the crook of her neck caused a delicious heaviness to settle in her center. "A pamphlet."

"On what?" He tugged at the knot between her ample breasts. Fondled her through the thin satin. "How to make your husband high-strung?"

She carefully skimmed the rigid bulge in his briefs with her knee. "It was actually on how to loosen him up," she retorted. He always loved it when she paraphrased one of his jokes.

Every hushed kiss, every whisper of him against her flesh was magnified. Forced her to concentrate solely on him, to pay attention to each move he made. His humid, hot breath teased her nipple, prompted it to pebble with a twinge. When she released an embarrassingly desperate whimper, he snorted lightly and slipped his palm to the middle of her back. Following his lead, she arched into him. His soft curls brushed her as he laved her areola, swirled his tongue around it, her skin coming alive at the contact. Weathered hands that had so eagerly learned how to touch her groped her neglected breast, rolled its peak between slender, nimble fingers. She fisted the pillow, tipped her head, and grasped his shoulder with a cry. "Arthur..."

Getting her going usually wasn't difficult. Especially when she'd been thinking about making love for an inappropriate number of office hours. But the suspense of not seeing where he'd next pet her, of every caress being a discovery, had her core already pulsing for him. The intrigue was a treat. The best case she'd ever worked on. His strokes walked a path to every clue.

His fingertips skimmed her inner thighs. Groaning, he hooked them under the waistband of her bikini, tugged until she lifted her rear. He pulled them off hastily. With a gentle pressure, he encouraged her to open herself to him. She did so gladly, splaying her legs without a hint of self-consciousness. The relatively cool temperature of the room hit her hot, swollen folds and she quivered.

Then there was an odd sensation at her clit. Scratchy. Rough like a canvas. And was that a corner? After a few seconds it was clear it wasn't doing it for her. And she didn't think Arthur was trying to wipe away her slick. Reaching down, she found a twisted bedsheet in his fist. She was relieved he hadn't run to the kitchen for ice.

"Not good?" he asked.

She softened the blow. "You feel better."

The pad of his thumb trailed over her patch of springy hair, a faint tease that sent a dizzying current racing through her limbs. She strove towards him but he didn't oblige. Rather, he took her hand and placed it on her labia. Guided her to dip within her inner lips. A short moan left her, at the sensation and the sound of his increasingly labored breathing, tinged by his deep voice. "You look like sex," he blurted.

Laughing, she halted. Whenever something brazen spilled from his mouth, however left-footed, she adored it. She clasped his sides. "What does that mean?"

"If I'd seen you in a magazine," he started, moving to settle over and straddle her. His hard-on grazed her abdomen, leaving a damp trail of his arousal in its wake. Even as she wondered when he'd taken off his underwear, her muscles tensed and she gasped. Playful pecks met her cleavage. "You'd be pasted on every page of my journal."

Her reply slipped out before discretion could take hold. "We better buy a Polaroid." A stitch of reluctance before she added, "Just keep them in your desk."

He uncurled her fingers and pressed her palm to his chest. "Touch me," he whispered, pleaded. Her pulse quickened. With an unhurried deliberation, he guided her over the peaks and valleys of his body. The lean pectorals she loved to nuzzle after a weary day. The freckled indent of his sternum. Downward, to the slightly loose skin around his navel, then the soft, toned curve of his abdomen.

Unable to resist, she stretched to chart the ridge of muscle leading to his groin. "You make me so wet."

He let out a bashful giggle, edged with excitement. The instant he rasped his next words against her forehead, she knew he was doing his damnedest to rival her. He pushed her hand to his erection. "You make me so hard."

She followed the bulging vein from base to tip, encircled him with a firm grip. The vibration of his harsh grunt rumbled through her and he jerked forward. Released her wrist to stroke her vulva and flick back and forth along her aching nub. Focusing on the satiny feel of his flesh, the heaviness of his length, she felt petite. Feminine. Powerful. Her hand glided between his legs, cupped the sensitive skin with care. His practiced rhythm faltered. The elbow beside her ear trembled.

While he was a captivating visual, one she missed, her imagination was determined to compensate for her lack of sight. Breathless moans spun her fantasies. Perspiration tickled her nose, woodsy and sweet, conjuring memories of his taste in her mouth. Then all at once he was inside her, going down on her, sucking at her while fucking into her. Impossible feats that nevertheless caused a fever in her brain. "Oh, god," she mewled. Her wanton writhing hastened. She ground against his thigh. "I want your cock in me."

He took hold of himself as she held herself open. The blunt tip of him slid just inside her entrance, a drop when she needed an ocean. She grabbed his hips and thrust upward, hissing as he stretched her completely. "You're fucking tight," he uttered through clenched teeth.

She smoothed her palms over his back, memorized each notch of his ribs. The odd angle of his distended shoulder. The strong tendons at the nape of his neck. He crushed her closer, until her mouth bumped his clavicle. She nibbled lightly, licked the salty sheen of sweat from its hollow, drawing her name from his lips and rapid bucks of his pelvis. "Fuck me," she said, a command and an appeal.

A creak came from above. She followed his taut arm to find he'd clutched the headboard. It occurred to her, then, that her inability to see had been liberating for him. Enough to let go of his inhibitions, to give voice to the bawdy, wonderful things he'd said, to not worry about his appearance.

She reached to swipe her clit steadily, relentlessly. Tears pricked her eyes as she became weightless. Her frame seized, and she came with a choked cry. She sniffled and laughed into his neck, overwhelmed by him. The way he made love to her as if he sought to erase her earlier trials and replace them with the present.

His throaty, punctuated groans, his fingernails digging into her ass divulged his approaching release. She ran her foot along his calf, relished in his body as its angles pressed into her. He balanced himself on his knees, snapping into her at an erratic pace. Then all at once he moaned sharply and went rigid, cock twitching. She cradled the back of his head while his essence marked her walls, closed her eyes when he sprawled on top of her.

Raking her hands through his loose waves, she swallowed thickly. Although she'd always enjoyed sex, exploring this way hadn't been conceivable with anyone else. Allowing that match to light, allowing herself to fan that flame had been unthinkable. She'd felt inadequate. Unable to live up to others' demands, especially her own. There'd been too many boxes to check. Revealing herself in that way would have been a demonstration of trust she wasn't quite ready for.

Being an established woman on equal footing with her partner wasn't something she'd believed possible. She'd been content to go without and find meaning through her work. Arthur had helped her augment that. She could be tough as old leather or delicate as gossamer without concern he'd see her differently. If expectations were left unmet, their easy discussions and compromises promised they'd never become resentments. They supported each other - authentically and as themselves.

For the first time, she knew she was loved for who she truly was. And she wouldn't have to change to keep it.

Choppy panting gradually ceased, replaced by leisurely, happy sighs. He skimmed her flank, then the curve of her hip. She tickled his midriff gently, only stopping when he reclaimed her lips and slid his tongue against hers. Tenderly, he loosened the knot at her temple. She blinked at the orange, evening light invading her eyes. When his came into focus, they were still dilated, a tad sleepy. And so full of affection her breath caught.

Cheek propped on the heel of his hand, he raised his eyebrows. "How was it?"

"You have to ask?" she chuckled, swatting his backside.

A stray lock tumbled towards her as he bent closer. "I wanna hear it."

"Wonderful." Her thighs tightened, keeping him within her. "What I've been craving all day."

His smile was a slow build, equal parts shy and deservedly smug. Then he stared at his tie. "I- I don't know if I'll ever be able to wear that again."

She snorted and looped it around his neck, secured it with a half-Windsor knot. "You're a professional, Mr. Fleck. You'll manage."

He rolled to her left and yanked open the nightstand drawer to riffle through its contents. "What else is in the pamphlet?"

"Hey!" She batted him half-heartedly, boosted herself on her elbow, and spooned him. "What if I had a surprise hidden in there?"

Undeterred, he huffed. "It wouldn't beat this."

"Patricia told me about it." He stilled and slanted his gaze her way. "I can get a copy."

At first, Y/N assumed he'd contradict her. That he wanted to keep their escapades private. But once a few seconds had passed, Arthur acquiesced with a smirk and snatched a nearby tissue. Wiped himself off and tossed it in the woven wastebasket. He reclined beside her, hands folded behind his head. "Okay. Just don't give away my whole act."

~~~~~

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