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ihavethedreamies · 1 year ago

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Within an Inch of Your Life | Shownu [NSFW]

Son Hyunwoo (Shownu - MONSTA X)

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~4.7k

Pairing: Shownu x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Reader-Insert, Smut, Romance, Some Angst, Very Little Plot, Very Dirty

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Swearing, Kissing, Oral (M! Receiving), Hickeys, Deepthroating, Face-Fucking, Fingering, Pet Names (Pumpkin, Princess, Sweet Girl, etc.), Very Dirty Talk, Unprotected Sex (Use a condom, reader is on the pill in this story)

Author's Note: This is my first fic, holy cow.

Revised (1/31/25) - I forgot to change the name to (Y/N), so I fixed it!

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! Share, even if its to the other sites! Let me know if you want to be on the taglist!

You stare at the ceramic up on your bathroom vanity, the cheap blue toothbrush inside it glaring back at you. It is amongst your own teeth cleaning products, mocking you, the bright color stark against the black and white of everything else in the bathroom. Even your own toothbrush is black. Reaching out, you place your own that you just finished using in the cup and grab the blue one. Staring down at it, you aren’t sure how to feel. It had been a few weeks since it was last used, and it never would be again. You blink at it, then sigh, leaving the bathroom and stop next to the trash can right outside the door near the kitchen. Your foot rests on the paddle to open the lid, and you take a deep breath, pressing down as you exhale. Your hand holding the toothbrush lingers over the gaping bin. Swallowing a lump in your throat you don’t expect to be there, you grip the brush tighter. Emotion whelms in you, but you can’t pinpoint what kind. Anger? Guilt? Sadness? Fuck it. You harshly throw the brush in the can and let the lid slam closed as your foot leaves the pedal.

“What’s with the aggression?” Yuna calls out to you from the other side of the apartment where she’s on your couch. She’s rubbing sleep from her eyes as she sits up from her sleeping perch.

“Don’t worry about it.” You still stare at the trash can, now closed. You hear her bare feet on the hardwood floor as she comes up to you. She blows her nose into a napkin she grabbed from the counter behind the can, and you step out of the way to let her throw away the used paper.

“Oh.” Realization hits your friend, seeing the toothbrush, which is the only thing in there. You move away and into the kitchen to get your coffee ready as she takes a place on a stool at the counter.

“What even happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why did you two break up?” she asks, and you exhale. Grabbing a coffee mug, you put the cup on the perch of your coffee maker and press the largest button. You don’t answer.

“What he bad in bed or something?”

“No.”

“Did he cheat on you?”

“No.”

“Controlling? Possessive?”

“No. Not really.”

“Then why? You don’t seem all that torn up about it.”

“It’s a bit of a relief…”

“A relief? Why?”

“I… I was pity dating him.”

“WHAT?!”

“Calm down. He had been in love with me for years, and I felt bad for turning him down so many times… Also, I was… frustrated without Younghoon being here…”

“So not only was he a rebound, you used him? That’s harsh.”

“Look, he wouldn’t leave me alone, kept asking me out, getting me things. Might as well make it easier and say yes…”

“So…why did you break it off then?”

“I didn’t.”

“He broke up with you?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I told him.”

“Told him what?”

“That I was pity-dating him…”

“Fuck. That must’ve been rough.”

“Yeah.” You stare down at the swirling liquid in your cup, spoon halting its stirring.

“I felt so guilty I have to come clean.” You rest back against the counter, crossing your arms, somewhat hugging yourself.

“Why? Why not just break up with him? You had to tell him?”

“Yes.”

“What made you do that?”

“Because…” your words get caught in your throat, the truth hitting you hard now that you had to speak it out loud, “b-because I can’t lie… to those I love.” Your voice cracks from the emotions barreling you over, and Yuna’s face softens.

“You fell in love with him…”

“Y-yeah.”

“Then why not stay in the relationship?”

“I don’t want a real relationship with him built on a lie. I had to come clean.” You stand up straight, ignoring your coffee, and go to sit on your bed. You bury your face in your hands, throat catching as you swallow, your eyes burning.

“Oh, girlie…” Yuna follows you, sitting on your bed next to you, and pulls you into a hug.

“I’m such a horrible fucking person.” You start to sob as she rubs your back.

“I love him. I do. I was in denial. It hit me so suddenly and so hard… I think I must’ve felt that way longer than I really realized. God…I’m such a bitch.” You cry as she holds you. Her phone alarm goes off as your crying subsists and she goes to answer it.

“Shit. I have to get to class. I’ll message you later.” She kisses your forehead and gathers her stuff, leaving your apartment. Your cooling drink remains on the counter as you curl back up into bed, soon falling asleep.

~θωθ~

“(Y/N)!” Yuna slams her palm on the door, ringing the bell a few more times. She knows you’re home, she can see your bag and keys on the table through the window. You haven’t answered her calls or texts for three days and won’t open the door either.

“Yuna?” A man’s voice catches her attention, and she turns to see Hyunwoo coming up the stairs to get to the second-floor apartment.

“Hyunwoo? What are you doing here?” She quiets her voice, not sure how you might react if you hear them. She knows your recent lack of activity was due to the breakup, and your realization of your feelings for the man.

“I was going to get my stuff and leave my key…” His voice is noticeably flat, and the woman can’t read his expression.

“You have a key? You have a key!” Your friend lunges forward, snagging the set of keys from his hands. She shoves the metal into the lock and opens the door.

“(Y/N)!” she shouts, storming in.

~o3o~

You bury deeper into your pillows and sheets as Yuna bangs on your door. You don’t want to see anyone, not even her. You feel you don’t deserve her comfort. You are a shitty person who did a shitty thing. You flinch when you hear a key in the lock, wondering who the hell was there. Yuna doesn’t have a key, and only your uncle does as the landlord. You had given the spare key to your ex…to Hyunwoo.

“(Y/N)!” The other woman’s harsh shout breaks the silence you have been dwelling in. You hope your uncle was there too, who else would be able to let her in? You get jarred to attention as your friend yanks your comforter off you and the bed.

“What?” you snap, and she climbs onto the bed, flipping you over to force you to sit up.

“You bitch, you left me on read!” She puts you into a playful headlock and ruffles your unkempt hair. You had showered, but a hairbrush? Who is she? You shove Yuna off, and she gets off the bed, stomping away. When she comes back, you hear another set of footsteps along with hers, too heavy to even be your uncle.

“The only way you’re going to get over this pity party you threw yourself is by telling the truth!” Yuna snaps, yanking your now ex-boyfriend into view past the half wall that separates your sleeping area from the living room. He stands there, staring at you; you won’t meet his gaze. Yuna moves into the kitchen, looking in the fridge and hastily writing stuff down on your grocery list pad.

“I am going to buy you food, you two better talk!” She points at you sternly, at him, and then leaves. You are left in silence with him.

“W-why are you here?” Your voice is scratchy, mouth dry.

“Came to get my stuff…” He nods toward the dresser drawer where his stuff still is.

“Ah.” You lick your chapped lips. You haven’t drunk or eaten much in the last three days, and he could tell; he knew you too well. He leaves your direct line of sight and went to retrieve a bottle of water from your fridge. Coming back, he juts it into your face. You take it, not meeting his eyes. Your small sips turn into big gulps, the cool liquid a sweet relief.

“What was Yuna talking about? You telling me the truth?” Luckily you swallow before he asks, because otherwise you would’ve choked. Closing the bottle, you throw it further up your bed, heaving your legs up onto the mattress, knees touching your chest. You wrap your arms around your knees and chew on your thumbnail, not knowing how to start.

“You wanna tell me why you broke my heart?” His tone is harsh, a tinge of sadness laced through it. Your breath catches, the stinging in your eyes coming back.

“It would’ve hurt less if you just broke up with me. But telling me you only dated me out of pity? I love you; I have for years-“

“I had to tell you.”

“Why?”

“I couldn’t keep lying.”

“Why not? You had been doing it for nearly seven months.” His voice is sharp with anger.

“I-I can’t…” you swallow a lump in your throat, fighting your quivering lip, “I can’t lie to…to someone I love.”

You weren’t sure what his reaction is because you don’t look up at him.

“What?”

“I couldn’t keep lying to you… I love you-“ You don’t get the chance to work up the courage to look up at him, his hands quickly going to your jaw, hauling you close and up out of the bed. His lips find yours and the kiss is different from any before, you can feel how strong his emotions are. He’s rough, domineering, barely letting you breathe. His tongue wraps around yours, sucking on it, sucking you into him even more than you already are. The man is practically bent over you, being nearly a foot taller that you, forcing your head to tip back far to make up for the rest of the distance. You whine, hands gripping his shirt from under his jacket, and he swallows every little noise you make. As he pulls away, he bites your bottom lip, the tang of blood hitting your tongue. He steps back abruptly, running his hands through his hair.

“Fuck. D-don’t…Don’t play with me.” He shakes his head, and you stumble back to sit on your bed.

“I’m not. I didn’t…I only realized a few days ago how I really felt… How I still feel.”

“What am I supposed to do with this, huh?” He paces a bit, roughing his hair up further.

“Do whatever you want… I-I’m okay with whatever you decide…” You drift off, not sure what you want him to really do. You want him to kiss you again, but you feel you deserve him leaving and never talking to you again. You feel he should break your heart, like you did his.

“Part of me wants to walk out of here, and never think about you again.” He finally gets out and the words pierce you hard, a tear rolling down your cheek.

“Another part of me wants to give you another chance…” You close your eyes, willing the rest of your tears back.

“But there’s something else I really, really want to do.” You hear him get closer but refuse to look at him. You gasp as his fingers weave into the hair at the back of your head, tugging your head back so you look up at him.

“…what?” His lips are so close to yours, but they don’t meet, and his tongue doesn’t taste yours. He instead leans down to whisper in your ear…

“I’m going to fuck you within an inch of your life.” You gasp at his words, then find yourself briefly in the air as he tosses you back on the bed. Hyunwoo tears his jacket off and finally brings his lips back to yours. A strong thigh jams between your legs, rubbing against your core, covered only by your thin sleep shorts. His large hand runs down your thigh, hitching it up to his side and he grinds his hardening cock down against you.

“Fuck-!” You whimper as he pulls away from the kiss, a trail of saliva connecting your lips. He stares at you intensely till he dips back down, latching onto the weak point of your neck right under your jaw, almost at your throat. He sucks hard then bites at the flesh, making you shiver as you lay there and let him do whatever. You want everything he’ll give you. The man leaves scathing kisses, sucking bruises onto your skin: at your neck, shoulders -and once your shirt is off- your chest, breasts, ribs, stomach, avoiding anything covered by your tiny shorts, giving more marks on your inner thighs. Your skin is on fire, and you’ve never felt so close to cumming before from just this kind of stimulation, but you’re frighteningly close.

Hyunwoo sits back on his knees, pulling his t-shirt over his head, and you are immediately enthralled. Your type is usually pretty boys with a dancer’s body; nothing like him. He was devastatingly handsome and while you normally wouldn’t care for the taught pecs, ridged abs and sharp v-line of his hips… He truly does look like sex incarnate, kneeling over you.

You want to sit up, reach for his belt, pull his pants down and have him fuck your throat, but he’s in control, entirely. You aren’t exactly a dominant lover, never even really a switch, but you were ready to give up full control to him. Your mouth waters at the sight of him shirtless for the first time, your romantic feelings fueling your sexual desire. He undoes his belt and removes his jeans, his hard cock tenting his boxer briefs. Was he always that big?

“Something wrong, pretty girl?” You can hear the smirk in his voice, not looking away from his covered dick. Due to your previous feelings, or lack-there-of, you never really have him a good look; he was just your brother’s stupid friend. Right now, though, you’re getting a really, really good look in.

“Y-you, uh…” Your mother was literally watering…

“Wanna taste?” He grips himself over the fabric and you nod quickly, causing him to huff in amusement. Despite the fact you love a dick in your mouth, you had never done it with him; didn’t let yourself, lest you get hooked. He motions with his head for you to get closer and you crawl across the bed to where he stands at the foot of it. The bed is the perfect height to allow your face to be perfectly level with his cock. You let out a whimper and he tilts his head, watching you in amusement. With shaky hands, you reach for the waistband of his boxers and carefully pull them off. You nearly start drooling as he’s revealed to you.

“Fuck~” You exhale, watching his dick bob in the air as he steps out of his final garment. Wiggling your jaw back and forth, you thank the stars that you no longer have a gag reflex, due to various different…experiences. Looking over him, you can’t believe that he had been inside you before; it made you wonder if your stomach bulged from his girth.

“You just gonna stare?” He steps closer and you scooch the little bit closer your need to, wrapping your lips around the head of his cock. Hyunwoo exhales in relief and you groan at his taste. You roll your tongue around him like a popsicle, making him tip his head back with a sigh. Not going any further than the tip, you suck hard, then pull back. This makes him bury his fingers into your hair to prevent you from going anywhere.

“What-?” He tilts your head back to look up at his face.

“Fuck me. My mouth…down my throat~” You bite your lip, and he blinks in shock before a devious smirk breaks out on his handsome face.

“Really? You sure?”

“Please, pleasepleaseplease-“ You open your mouth as wide as you can, and he slowly thrusts his dick into your mouth. The deeper he goes, the more saliva builds up in your mouth, literally dripping from your lips. His cock reaches the back of your throat, and he moves to pull back his hips, but you stop him when your hands fly to his thighs, pulling him closer and further into your mouth.

“Fucking hell, (Y/N).” His voice has a hint of a whine to it. He’s the perfect length, your nose hitting his pelvis as his cock buries in your throat, but not too deep; you would still be able to breathe when he pulls back. You feel your cunt clench, aching to be filled as well. You shuffle, splaying your knees more to lower yourself, angling his cock in your mouth just wright. You look up at him expectantly and he practically growls, beginning to thrust into your mouth. Tears spring to your eyes and you aren’t sure if it was from what he’s doing or the fact that it’s happening at all. Drool was dripping down your chin, tears down your cheeks, and wet from your cunt. You wouldn’t be surprised if when he cums -down your throat preferably- that you would as well. His thrusts pick up some, getting shallower as his grip pulls at your scalp. The slight sting from your hair, the fat head of his cock battering your throat, and the taste of his precum is quickly sending you into overdrive. You’re not usually one for sado-masochism or bondage, but a little pain can be nice. In the back of his mind, Hyunwoo marvels at the fact that you haven’t gagged yet, but he’s much too focused on the wet vacuum of your mouth to think about it too much. The sight of your lips swallowing his swollen cock over and over is orgasmic in itself, but the look in your eyes is what sent him over the edge. They’re glazed over in pleasure; you already look so fucked out.

“(Y/N), can I come inside?” He grunts out and you moan, wanting nothing more.

“Ah, fuck-“ His hips stutter and you feel his hot, thick cum start to flow down your throat. He’s so deep you almost can’t taste his release, which…Just. Kept. Going. You swallow what seems like over and over to get it all down before he was even done.

Hyunwoo pulls out slowly, his cock still half-hard as you catch your breath, finally getting a normal amount of air. Your core’s quivering and you know you came as well from the amount of wetness stuck to the fabric of your shorts, that, and your head was still swimming.

“Oh, pretty girl~” He shakes his head, breathing hard himself. You peer up at him with a dazed look and he has never seen you quite like that. He had seen you close, once, but now your true submissive nature is blooming forth. He knows you’d let him do anything he wants, and man there’s a lot he wants to do to you. He had promised to fuck you within an inch of your life, and he’s going to make good on it.

“What do you want me to do to you now, sweetheart?”

“Anything~” You whine, and he groans, before remembering something. While you had never said it before, he knows you have a thing for hands. You’d told him once he’s not allowed to wear rings because it made his fingers look too good. He wonders how easily you could fall apart on his fingers…how many times he could make you cum tonight.

“You still on the pill?”

“Yea.”

“Good.” He didn’t bring any condoms, not thinking anything was going to happen when he left his apartment this morning.

“Scoot up.” He runs the back of his finger over your cheek, still damp from tears and you scurry up the mattress. You lie back as he climbs over you; watching you watch his hand move to your core. He raises an eyebrow as he strokes over the fabric of your shorts. You always tend to get very wet very easily, but this was much more than usual.

“Did you cum~?” Hyunwoo asks and you nod sheepishly.

“Oh, my god.” He dives in, latching onto your lips, not caring that you’d just sucked him dry. Your teeth clack against his from the messy kiss. His kisses move from your mouth, down your neck, and he settles on your throat again. You’re already littered with hickeys, but he wants to leave more. As he marks you further, he pulls your shorts off roughly, a slight ripping noise coming from the seams. He tosses the last piece of your clothing away; you never sleep with underwear on. Finally, his fingers touch your bare pussy, making you whine.

“Damn, (Y/N)~” He chuckles, burying two fingers into your hot cunt, his thumb finding your swollen clit. You release a long, shaky moan, clenching around his fingers as he finds your weak spot quickly, forcing your hips to tilt up as your back arches. You want desperately for him pull his fingers out and fuck you with his delicious cock already, but you refuse to say anything. This was for him; he can do whatever he wants to you, and you would thank him for it. How had you not realized sooner that this man is the sexiest one on the face of the earth? The pads of his fingers rub against your g-spot in just the right way, and it’s driving you crazy. His fingers move separately; the way they curl and thrust making the sensations unpredictable. He adds a third and spreads them, getting you ready for his huge cock. You feel the strength in his hands, his knuckles rubbing against your walls, and his palm grinding against your clit.

“H-Hyunwoo-!” Your hands land on his chest, your nails digging into the skin, your release building faster than either of you expect.

“Cum for me, sweet girl.” And you do. The breath is knocked out of your lungs, flashes of white dotting your vision. You hear him chuckle, but it sounds like he’s far in the distance, rumbling through the air and cutting through the ringing in your ears. When you come down from your high, your vision sharpens, and you see him smiling down at you. He leans closer, bumping his nose against yours, touching his forehead to yours.

“I love you.” He whispers, and your breath hitches, nearly ready to cry as you reach up to cup his jaw. Your thumbs stroke the arch of his cheekbones.

“I love you, too~” He kisses you softly, his fingers leaving your pussy. His hands cup your thighs, hitching them up to wrap around his waist. You pull back from the kiss with a gasp as he strokes his cock against your cunt, fully hard again. Hyunwoo knows he’s teasing you, rutting against you like that, covering his dick in your wetness but refusing to enter you.

“Please, please, please-“ You begin to beg; you aren’t even close to being ashamed about it either. You need him inside of you, rearranging your insides, carving himself into you, ruining you for anyone else. His hands come up to yours, still on his cheeks, wrapping his fingers around yours, then pin them up by your head. With great dexterity, he shifts his hips and began to slip inside you, still holding your hands. His lips hover over yours, not quite meeting, your mouth hangs open in a silent moan as he splits you in half. Not only has it been a while since you two had sex; you hadn’t gotten yourself off either. No fingers, no vibrator, nothing. Hyunwoo groans as he settles deep inside of you, the head of his cock touching your cervix, your walls gripping him tighter than they ever have before. Your legs hold him close, ankles linked; it seems your body refuses to let him go. He just sits inside of you for a bit, giving you small kisses and lets your walls get used to the stretch. His cock’s so deep, it feels like he’s in your throat, and the delicious burn of the stretch is addicting. It never had felt this good before, and you used to think the idea sex feels better the more you love the person was bullshit. No. You’re in euphoria and he hasn’t even moved yet.

“Can I move?” he asks, resting his forehead on your collarbone. He really just wants to fuck you into the mattress, but he wants this to last as long as possible.

“Yes-“ you gasp out, preparing for him to knock loose a kidney, but he barely pulls out and then slowly thrusts back in, grinding his pelvis into yours. Even this slight movement knocks the wind out of you. The next thrust is a bit faster, but just as shallow and his breath mixes with yours as he hovers over you. Not pulling out any further, his hips pump hard, and you throw your head back. Hyunwoo moves his hands from holding yours to wrapping one around your wrists so his free hand can move to your back, then shifts you some. With your legs still wrapped around his waist, when he sits up on his knees more, your butt leaves the bed; he’s man-handled you into a near mating press. Somehow, he gets deeper and you if it’s a thing, that your cervix was going to get bruised.

“I don’t think I can hold back…” He grunts; his eyes closing in concentration. What the hell are you in for? You’d never been taken quite like this before, by anyone, least of all him; you ‘made love’. This though, you’re in for him fucking you stupid, like he promised.

“Do what you want~” You plea; he’d stopped moving and you desperately need him to keep going.

“You have anywhere to be the next few days?”

“No?”

“Good, because I don’t want you to be able to walk when I’m done with you~” He gives you a devious smirk, pulling away, resting back on his heels. His strong hands dig into the flesh of your thighs where they rest at his sides, holding him to you. You let him move them and exhale harshly as her forces your knees to your ears, completely and easily folding you in half. Still not moving his hips, he leans down so he can speak right into your ear.

“That pill better work good because I’m going to pump you full of my cum.” He thrusts, hard, and if your breath didn’t leave your lungs, you’d scream a moan. It’s not a shallow hard thrust like before, no; he pulls out nearly all the way before slamming back in. You can even tell how tight your walls are clenching him, desperately trying to hold him in. You’re not able to tell what part of you wants him more -your psyche, your heart, or your cunt- you just know you don’t want him to ever stop.

“Hyunwoo-!” You aren’t sure if you can say anything but his name already, but his next thrust stops all thoughts.

“I want my hand shape to be bruised into your skin-“ He clenches your thighs under your knees tight.

Another thrust.

“I want to brand you with the feeling of my cock in your cunt so only I can every satisfy you.

Thrust.

“I want to fuck you on every surface of this apartment.” As he recites every filthy desire he has right into your ear, he pounds his fat cock so hard into you, you think he might just split you in half.

“I want to paint your skin with my cum and then fill you back up again in shower.”

Thrust.

“I want to fill every part of you that I can: your pussy, your womb, your mouth, your throat, and, if you let me, I’ll even bury my cock in your ass and paint you white there too.”

Thrust.

Your head swims with each word. He was always so sweet and soft before now, but this was different, he had turned into an animal, and he’s determined to fuck you like one.

Thrust.

“I’ll do it all, everything I want, and I promise, I will fuck you within an inch of your life.”

Master-Master List

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fleckcmscott · 6 months ago

Text

All Wrapped Up

Summary: Arthur reaches a milestone he'd never dreamed of. Y/N pulls out all the stops.

Words: 4,735

Warnings: Adult situations, Swearing

A/N: This story was a real challenge. Figuring out these characters, their hopes and experiences and dynamics fifteen years later, felt like trying to predict the weather. And I never have an umbrella when I need it! 😂 I hope you all enjoy this piece. Thanks for reading! 💜

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!

Y/N gave her mouth another good swish-swash-swish and spat in the sink.

Lukewarm water rinsed her Oral-B toothbrush; she it shook off and returned to its charger. She drew a round brush through steely brown locks, a dollop of mousse in the bristles to lend the feathering a touch of fluff.

Three perfume bottles stood on the shelf to her left. She chose the pink tapered oval in the middle, a gift from Arthur called Here's The Heart, the fragrance of daffodils and sunlight and his latest favorite. She dabbed it on her wrists, her collarbone, the pulse point of her neck. Sandy shadow brightened her eyes and rosewine painted her lips, a sultry red saved for special occasions.

Crouched on one knee, she dug out the personal lubricant hidden behind her tampons, which had been on standby for two months. (Alarm had frozen her solid when her monthly had hit six weeks late. But then she'd remembered that at fifty-four, it was to be expected.) She smeared an ounce between her legs. A warmup for both their benefit - and a sure ego boost that'd rev his engine. Make him grin that cocky grin.

Glass of water in hand, she padded out of the bath.

She tiptoed to her side of the bed and set the water on the nightstand. Morning's first light seeped past the edges of the window shades. She gave one a quick but quiet pull, held the bottom bar until it rose halfway.

Soft and gauzy as a favorite dream, sunrays cast a hazy hue on Arthur's pallid skin. A light snore caught in the back of his throat. He lay supine, one hand curled against his breast, the toes of his left foot sticking out from the emerald, blue, and mauve kaleidoscoped comforter. The perfect position for what she had planned.

Biting down a wicked giggle, she shimmied out of her robe and dove under the covers headfirst.

Muted confusion from above. Grumbles and groans. A skinny thigh shifted beneath her palm. She swallowed around him and continued on.

Fingertips patted polyester, as though searching for a flashlight in the dark. At her back, her shoulder, her head.

A squeeze to his sculpted hip, nails a whisper along his v-line...

The comforter lifted, followed by the sheet. Arthur squinted through the crevice. "Christ, you're naked."

The giggle she'd bitten down spilled forth, nose nuzzling at his coarse curls. He grasped her upper arm and tugged.

"What did you expect?" She crawled up his body, lips following a familiar path along his stomach, his chest. "You only turn fifty once. Happy birthday."

"Mmm." In a flash, he grabbed her ass and rolled on top of her. Kissed her softly, then kissed her hardly, mouth swooping to collide with hers. He tasted of stale nicotine and the smell of rust after a rainstorm. She sought to freshen it with her Aquafreshed tongue.

But he broke off, coughed into his elbow. A smoker's cough that'd worsened with the chill of November and the radiator heat that accompanied it. She decided to give him his second present early, right after this gift for them both.

When he stole the water from her nightstand, she narrowed her eyes. "Hey, I was planning on using that."

"I know." Green irises met hers, a direct stare that set the pit of her stomach in a wild swirl. That stare stayed locked on hers as he emptied the glass. Slow, deliberate, his Adam's apple bobbing with each swallow.

She played with the spartan hairs on his chest. "I noticed a couple grey hairs while I was down there. You're officially an old man now."

"You mean I'm finally catching up to you?"

"Uh huh." Her toes ran along his calf. Its muscle twitched. "You're going to start getting flyers from Gotham's Senior League and the Elk's Club."

Amusement crinkled his face, half-lidded eyes enthralling in their relaxed contentment. While his black whiskers had gone white, his sideburns remained sterling, his loose curls cinnamon and sugar. Lines had become faint tattoos on his forehead, and the crevices on his cheeks had grown longer, deeper, framing his thin lips and doubling his dimples. Wrinkles crisscrossed the bottom of his chin, and the fold beneath it was twelve percent squishier.

But he was as alluring as ever. As handsome as the night she'd first lain in this very bed with him.

Desire swelled her heart, a thump-thump that was suddenly ten times louder.

She clutched his shoulders and purred. "Fuck me, old man."

Laughing, he took hold of the headboard.

And took charge.

~~~~~

"During our last session, you talked about how challenging turning fifty would be." Dr. Ludlow spoke around the ballpoint pen in her mouth. "How are you doing now that the day is here?"

Blurs from this morning seared Arthur's memory, the saltiness of sweat and skin. He felt the fierce heat of a blush and gulped the brazen images away. "I feel good."

"That's great." She lowered herself to her armchair and put her stoneware mug opposite the ashtray on the coffee table. Planted her pen firmly between forefinger and thumb. "How have you worked through last month's feelings?"

"Um, I dunno. I've written in my journal a lot."

"Take a minute to think it over. We've discussed how milestones can trigger mood swings. What's been your strategy to avoid that, and what does your birthday mean to you today?"

He shoved the tip of his tongue in the fleshy part of his cheek.

Fifty. He'd never imagined reaching fifty. Forty-five maybe, just old enough for his body to start falling apart to match his mind. Even when he'd crawled out of bouts of malaise and hadn't wanted to die, the age had remained as intangible as a good reputation and the clout that went with it.

Business was slow but stable. Kids were losing interest in clowns, preferring cartoon characters or Barney or Power Rangers, whatever the hell they were. Birthday parties were getting slimmer, special events and holidays were getting busier. He had a reliable list of regulars. It all evened out.

But his heart remained devoted to his first love - comedy. He'd been chasing that dream for fifteen years. With stardom continuing to elude him, the event horizon of his fifth decade felt like a sign the time to achieve it was running out.

He tapped his Stutton over the ashtray. "I want things I haven't gotten yet. Being a famous standup, you know? Everything comes so easily for some people, and I've been working and working and-" A flinch against the sinewy frustration rising in his breast. God, why did therapy sometimes make him feel worse? Couldn't he skip the soul-searching on his special day? Why hadn't he rescheduled when she'd offered? He breathed on a 3-4-5 count. "I'm trying to remember I can't see the future. Just what I want it to be."

Her pen jotted. "I wonder what your life would look like if you were famous. What you would get out of it."

"I've told you," he said, glancing at her in disbelief. How could he make it any clearer? "I'd make people smile. They'd know who I am, that I'm funny and good."

"Don't you have that now?"

"What do you mean?"

"The people in your life. Y/N, your friends, your family in Missouri. They know you, that you're funny and good. What difference would fame make?" Each syllable pricked, firm but kind points that dulled to prods.

He hesitated, measuring himself. Found he felt about six inches short and not a little pathetic for having the same longings as the lost, lonely man he'd thought he'd left behind. Ancient insecurities aroused, he tucked his hands under his thighs.

After a moment, Dr. Ludlow set her legal pad on the table and moved to sit on the sofa. She left a professional one cushion space between them. "Goals give us a sense of purpose, a way to navigate tough times. Having them is one of the reasons you've done so well. But what I'm hearing is that you want acceptance. You want to be loved." A beat. "You already have that, Arthur. Don't forget it."

His throat shrank to a straw. Her words carried a reality he no longer doubted; he'd lived enough for them to be more than theory. But spoken aloud by a witness to his life, they were engraved with the power of unvarnished truth A truth he could revel in, relax in, cherish and count on.

A truth that brought him joy the way nothing else could.

There was his ever-present wife. The million dollar baby he'd found in the freezer section of a grocery store. She'd made a mistake after their earlier lovemaking, but mistakes were part and parcel of years together, so it'd been all right. Her reasons had been sweet, and she'd promised not to repeat it.

And a card from his in-laws had arrived last week, happiness in a mint green envelope. A bluebird in a mulberry bush wished that on his birthday, he'd find everything he desired, no matter how small. Tangible proof that he mattered, that they were thinking of him even hundreds of miles away.

Wetness burned the outer corners of his eyes. He swiped at them with the sleeve of his cardigan. Hitched chuckles built in him, like the climbing roar of applause at the end of a successful set.

He was fifty and he was loved.

Dr. Ludlow offered a box of tissues. In a tone woven with kindness she asked, "Would you like to talk about your plans to celebrate, or keep them for your journal?"

~~~~~

Kneeling on the back of the red, round booth, Y/N reached to hang the Happy Birthday banner on the wall. "Is it even?"

Patricia spoke from two yards behind her. "If Arthur tilts his head."

A chuckle on her lips and a song in her heart, Y/N slid the Y three inches lower and stuck it with a pin. One of the perks of being a long-time regular at Kao-Wah's was the ability to commandeer the back corner, the one by the bar. (That it was an uncrowded Thursday didn't hurt.)

After this morning's misstep, she was determined to make this evening perfect.

She climbed down backwards, kitten heel brushing padded vinyl before finding the floor. She pushed a four-top against the booth's six-top table, just the right amount of space for guests, and the cake Patricia had helped her make. Mandarin with homemade frosting, made with unsalted butter, powdered sugar, milk, and canned oranges. Ingredients Y/N could handle with a best friend.

Patricia ripped open two crepe streamers, one teal and one yellow. "Has he seen you in that yet?" She indicated Y/N's outfit with a nod.

Her dress was a number she'd picked up at L. Ballinger's summer closeout. Tiered Chantilly lace, ivory, with a dropped bodice and long sleeves, it revealed enough to remind Arthur of what she was hiding. Pretty and feminine, swingy and fun. She took the end of the streamers, walked backwards to unroll and twist them together. "I saved it for tonight."

"You'll knock him dead," Patricia said with a wink.

Y/N taped the crepe paper along the chairs, akin to a velvet rope at a red carpet announcing a Very Important Person was on the way. A small bundle of balloons rose from each end of the table, completing the cheery decor. Hand on one hip, she surveyed their handiwork and smiled.

Patricia ordered two sparking wines and took a seat at the bar. "When Robert turned fifty, I planned a romantic evening to celebrate. Strawberries dipped in chocolate, massage oils, rose petals in the bathtub, the works. Well, I'm in the tub waiting for him to come home - he refused to take the day off - candles all around the room.

"The front door opens, and I straighten my legs and stick out my chest like a pinup. He stumbles in, drenched in oil and coolant, and he says, 'What the hell are you doing? I need a shower!'" Shoulders shaking with laughter, she wagged her head. "He hopped in there, rose petals and all, all the while I'm running around blowing out candles before the shower curtain goes up in flames. I'd never moved so fast. And I thought life at fifty would be boring."

"You're the most exciting old dame I've ever met." Y/N pecked her cheek and slid onto the stool beside her. There was a gold serving basket brimming with fortune cookies to her left. She snagged one from the middle, cracked it open, and popped the sugary wafer in her mouth. Ears filled with crunching, she read the bit of wisdom contained within: You cannot love life until you live the life you love.

An unexpected but welcome melancholy washed over her. The ripples of her life had ebbed and flowed, but living with Arthur was a steady joy. He was very much the man she'd fallen in love with. Gentle with a streak of shyness but determined to speak up and pursue what he desired. But he'd grown, too. Exited the purgatory between adulthood and adolescence neglect had locked him in. He'd learned to trust himself, to like himself on good days, now the vast majority.

She folded the fortune, to be placed in her purse with her compact and pager. "I can't imagine ever being bored with Arthur. I'm proud of him. He's done a lot of work to get here. I'm lucky I've been the one to see him do it."

"You haven't just seen it. You've helped."

Her insides twirled, a pleasant tickling at her navel. "We've helped each other." She sipped at the wine glass and continued. "There is one other thing I've been trying to help him with. Maybe you'll have an idea..."

Y/N went over the scene of the crime, albeit without the salacious (Patricia would have called them fun) details. She'd started in right as Arthur'd pulled his briefs past his knees. He must have recognized the shape and weight of a cassette booklet. Irises sparkling, he'd asked what music collection she'd gotten for his Walkman.

He'd ripped the balloon patterned wrapping paper from the squeaky plastic. Squinted down at tiny red letters on white tapes.

"'Stop smoking with the Gotham Lung Association?'"

He pushed them away and rolled his eyes. Stood and yanked his underwear over his hips. "I wish you'd stop using special occasions for that. Telling me to quit smoking. Especially on my birthday. I'm down to half a pack a day!" He grabbed his pajama bottoms from the vanity. "I know you don't like it. You haven't liked it for fifteen years."

"But I need five more decades of you," she'd said, clambering on hands and knees to his side of the bed. She'd caught his pantleg, drew him to her a with a gentle tug. Despite her tenderness, annoyance kept his brows furrowed.

She'd pecked his thumb, the back of his hand, the knobby part of his wrist. Then her gaze had lifted, her resolve softened by apology. "All right. I won't pester you about it on your birthday anymore." Her slight shrug and unsure smile had twisted his grimace into a grin. "May I keep Christmas?"

Patricia gaped at her, an Are You Serious look. "You thought today would be good to remind him of what annoys you?"

"That's not what I meant. I realize it was a dumb thing to do. I just..." Chin propped on her knuckles, Y/N huffed. "If I were to lose him because of that nasty habit, I'd be devastated."

The clink of glass on the walnut bar top. "You meant well. You always mean well." One cheek hanging off the stool, Patricia hugged Y/N at the waist. "Getting older isn't easy. Let the man enjoy it. And learn to take a day off."

A slight nod as Y/N's shoulders slackened, tension ebbing away. There was something about Patricia's blunt kindness that made her feel wonderful, like she was the little sister for a change.

Y/N swirled the rest of her wine, deciding that one fun detail couldn't hurt. "Besides that, we had a great morning. I made sure he didn't mind waking up early."

~~~~~

Arthur wished he wore a watch so he could check it.

He was supposed to met Y/N in front of Kao Wah's after she got out of work, around five-thirty. Though he'd left the apartment at five and ridden the train for nine stops, there was no sign of her. He patted his left breast, then reached under the winter coat's placket to check the inner pocket.

Folded into quarters, the late arrival remained in place. His mouth curved in relief.

His toes tapped the sidewalk, he puffed clouds into the autumn air. Another minute and he rummaged through his pocket for a quarter. There was a payphone on the corner. He'd call her office in case she'd been delayed.

Three steps later, Y/N's call met his back. "Arthur!"

Holding Kao Wah's door open with one foot, she waved at him and waved him towards her. "I'm sorry," she said when he was an arm's length away. "I wanted to grab our favorite booth while it was free."

But he'd only registered a couple of words, the syllables after her sorry a muffled drone. "Look what came in the mail today. It must've gotten lost." He retrieved the October-dated letter from his coat, not looking up or around, too busy buzzing to pay attention as she held his elbow and guided him inside. "Ruthie's coming next month. She- she wants to go to Gotham University." The mere possibility of having family nearby nearly scuttled the reason for tonight's engagement.

"Really?" Y/N smoothed his hair back, unbuttoned his formally-puffy-now-lumpy coat. "Mabel hasn't mentioned it. Either she's gotten better at keeping secrets or Ruthie hasn't told her. I hope it's the former." Y/N continued, pulling him along." It's too bad she couldn't make it this month. She could've helped us all celebrate."

A slight flinch of his head. "Who's all?"

"Happy birthday!" a chorus of cheery voices cried.

The heavy lashes that shaded his cheeks flew up, eyes as wide as a Mun Shou platter.

Patricia and Robert, Ryan and Sheila from Gotham Elementary. Gary - no, not that Gary, who was in England visiting family - but a fellow aspiring comic Arthur had gotten to know during open mic nights at the Smile Factory and Pogo's. A circle but a tight one, a clockface with each person a numeral, a sign of the progress of his life.

Slanting his gaze to Y/N, he tucked the letter in his pocket. "You didn't have to do all this."

"I wanted to," she said, warmth in her cocoa gaze. "We all did."

A slight sway, a tuck of the chin. He ran a hand down his vintage, black suit jacket and tightened his neck. Dressing up to the nines for her had been the plan, a playful way to make their date extraordinary. But at the crowd's casual attire, he felt a little left-footed. "I'm overdressed," he murmured,

Y/N adjusted his lapels. "You look wonderful."

He loosened his large bowtie, the size you'd see during a 1976 Oscar broadcast, so that it draped untied at the neck. Plucked the collar button of his dress shirt and made of show of pulling it down. Once adjusted, he gave her form a demure but thorough ogling. Nearly bare shoulders, a neckline he longed to kiss, the dip of her waist beneath the lining and lace. He'd glue his hand there later. He wet his lips. "Thanks. So do you."

"Come on, sit down." Patricia wore a wry grin. "Before you two set off the sprinklers and ruin the party."

A buffet of Arthur's favorites and a couple new dishes swamped the table. The five spice beef was the perfect winter warmer, the pan-fried noodles with vegetables expertly seared. Moo goo gai pan and chicken chow mien arrived on oversized platters. The egg rolls were extra crispy and the pork fried rice extra sticky. The first round of drinks were on him and Y/N; she ordered Mai Tais between pots of oolong tea.

He'd gotten better at chitchat, gained the confidence to take a chance, perfect the small stage. As the dinner wore on, he noted how natural it felt to break off into side conversations. Succeeded in listening and responding without have to wonder if his instincts had led him down the street of weird. He knew what to do with his hands.

Years of budget cuts had hit the school system like a mallet, and more and more fundraisers tried to make up the difference. Bake sales and book fairs, ticket raffles and auctions. Ryan and Sheila discussed the school's upcoming winter carnival, which Arthur had been a regular part of for a decade. And at events he wasn't hired for (at a reduced rate), he gladly volunteered. It was easier to give of himself now that he had a quadraphonic life instead of mono.

Patricia had convinced Robert to finally, finally sell Gorman Fire and Ice to their grandson for a song, so they could finally, finally take a vacation, a trip to the Bahamas since Cuba was no longer allowed.

Suit jacket slung across the back of his chair, Arthur jotted on a napkin while he and Gary went over the rotation of open mic nights across a sea of clubs, and a new guy in the biz who had a habit of stealing jokes.

An hour later, while he was still high on carbs and comfort in his own skin, Y/N presented him with a cake. Two tiers, rectangular, specks of orange dotting its pale yellow frosting. He leaned into her, mouth agape. "You made this?" He took a languid bite, licked the frosting from his lips and stole another. The mandarin sponge melted on his tongue. He hummed, wrapped an arm around her. "I have a sneaking suspicion I'll want you to make me a cake every birthday."

She snorted into her tea and called across the table. "Patricia, could you pencil me in for a cake lesson every November for the next thirty years?"

Patricia served herself a second slice. "I'll be busy in Acapulco."

Once the check was brought and the leftovers started to be scraped into oyster pails, Arthur stood, scooting his chair away with the backs of his calves. Rapped a fork against his Mai Tai coupe the way he'd seen on TV. Rolled the Tiki themed stem between thumb and forefinger. Studied the amber liquid and considered the right thing to say.

"Thank you for coming," he began, hewing close to the opening of a comedy set. He giggled at the association, an arc of inspiration sparking. "When I was a young man, I thought fifty would mean nights at home with no friends. But now I worry my bad knee'll go out more than I do."

Laughter danced across his friends' faces. He reveled in their smiles, their open admiration. Dr. Ludlow's earlier counsel echoed at the base of his skull. He exhaled a long, satisfied sigh. "I'm glad you all care about me and are here to celebrate."

"You're a jolly good fellow," Patricia said, and raised her teacup for a toast.

Y/N reached out, laced her fingers with his own. Brimming with tenderness, her gaze lifted to his. "Here's to many, many more."

~~~~~

It was just after nine o'clock in 4A. Y/N had traded her dress for stirrup leggings and an off-the-shoulder sweater. Arthur remained resplendent in his evening wear. They'd made a pot of decaf and planned to call Ruthie on the weekend, invite her to stay with them during her visit.

Ready to be returned on tomorrow's lunch break, the smoking cessation tapes sat dejected in Y/N's canvas tote bag. Way back in '81, she'd said she'd get him to quit if it was the last thing she did. It was hard for her to let go. But he'd given her permission to nag at Christmas, and if he wanted to take steps to quit, he knew how. It had to be up to him.

Cross-legged on the carpet, he sat by the coffee table and tore open another gift. He held up the VHS in triumph. "I've Always Loved You," he read, then flipped it over to scan the summary. "I don't think I've seen this."

"Me neither." She perched on the sofa, to his left. "But it's from 1946 and the title's true. There's one more present. Close your eyes."

Leaning back on his hands, he did. She bent over the side of the sofa, retrieved what she'd shoved underneath before his wake-up call. The light weight dropped on his lap with a soft rustling.

One eye cracked open, then the other, surprise engulfing his entire visage. A cautious palm skimmed the tweed carpet bag, a blue and red plaid to go with his clown costume. (His usual nylon prop bags had started to fray after six months. Their novice repairs lasted about two.) Parallel to the bag's top zipper was a bronze nameplate: Carnival.

Arthur fidgeted with the handle. "I'll need a gig at Wayne Hall to use this."

"Open it."

He dragged the zipper's tab an inch. Peeked inside the bag before dragging it further. "Oh..."

Gingerly, he took out the Kala ukulele, reddish brown like mahogany, its four tuners pearl and chrome. The certificate pasted in the soundhole had a manufacture date of 1972, but the instrument looked untouched, as though forgotten in the back of a closet.

"I know getting new clients has been harder the last couple of years. This might help. The library has VHS music lessons you can check out." She knelt behind him and cupped his shoulders. "The strings were put on last week."

His fingertips flitted over the neck, began to pluck the G and C strings at a beginner's tempo. Not quite a match for the notes he played, he crooned a version of "Row, Row, Row Your Boat." Gravelly and half hummed, the way you'd sing a lullaby to a sleepy child.

"Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a..." The music came to a gradual stop. "Do you ever wish for more?"

"More of you? Always."

"Today Dr. Ludlow asked what I'd get out of being famous. I thought about it when I got Ruthie's letter. And at the party." The corners of his mouth turned inward. "Do you think I ever will be?"

Y/N nibbled her bottom lip. Tried to find the balance between the truth as she saw it and greater possibilities. Magazines and television implored women to feel like they were defective for aging (and going by the ads for men's hair color, they were about to be dragged into the same predicament.) Popular culture focused on the young. The next Big Thing wasn't old enough to buy a bottle of wine. At Arthur's age, fame was unlikely. For that matter, it'd be unlikely for anyone at any age.

She'd never wanted to be anything special, just herself and to do some good while she was at it. Arthur's outsized need for attention was one of their biggest differences. But she understood where it came from, understood him. His wish for fame was a tough and twisty bit of scar-tissue on his soul.

"There's so much left to chance," she said. "Timing and connections, the right person in the right audience on the right night. That any of us get what we want is a miracle."

A light nod, as nearly imperceptible as his voice. "I still wanna try."

"Good." She wrapped her arms about him, lay her palm above his heart. "Miracles can't happen if we don't."

He grasped her hand. Kissed the back of it and kissed her wrist. "Not everyone makes it. To fifty, I mean. I might not have. I'm happy I did."

Smiling, Y/N grasped his jaw and tilted his head back. Bent over him to seal their mouths. "Me, too," she whispered. "Me, too."

~~~~~

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