³ see also: delusions, daydreams, and midnight thoughts.
webmaster ⎯⎯ 03/06/03 + brown lipliner + tropical redbull + the luckiest girl + brown eyes + african american & jamaican + tyler the creator's twin + crk and overwatch addict + proud yumeshipper + vanilla & amber + spit it out by BBpanzu
I love loser Tim as much as the next guy, but Stalker!College!Tim Drake? I wanna take bites outta him.
Stalker!Tim Drake who’s a smart guy. Smarter than most. Always thinking about the logistics and results of any algorithm he runs…
Stalker!Tim Drake so you can imagine his surprise when one day you sit beside him after transferring schools…
Stalker!Tim Drake who reverse searched your name, and found every class you attend. Before memorizing your schedule to a T…
Stalker!Tim Drake who happens to be friends with one of the frat brothers whose house parties you commonly attend…
Stalker!Tim Drake who whisks you away from your friends, claiming “this isn’t his scene” and how he rather be doing/watching (one of your interests)…
Stalker!Tim Drake who gets your socials, and constantly slides up on your stories/notes (not in a creepy way) to offer his assistance or a compliment or two…
Stalker!Tim Drake who offers to tutor you after you post about your “asshole professor who enjoys failing their students”…
Stalker!Tim Drake who’s seen your apartment way before you formally invited him over…
Stalker!Tim Drake who learns that you hate your roommate and always offers you a place at his...
Stalker!Tim Drake who laughs when you say that you’ve been on more study dates with him than actual dates with anyone..
Stalker!Tim Drake who plays coy and offers to take you out on an actual date…
Stalker!Tim Drake who while you’re in the bathroom (on said date) implements a virus that allows him to hack your devices…
Stalker!Tim who after dropping you off, rushes back to his apartment and learns that you like him almost as much as he likes you…as if that’s possible…
Stalker!Tim who’s confident he’s got you exactly where he wants you..after all his math is never wrong…
Goddd I just wanna smoke with Andrew Cody. I want him to roll up for me (cause I’m a lady /j), as he rubs my legs. AND THEN when the blunt gets too low he takes over and blows the smoke into my mouth. Like OMGGG GIMME THAT MAN!!
I’ll come back to this when I get my thoughts together.. (;_;)
The COD men (Price, Johnny, Simon, Kyle, Philip, etc.) with a pretty young thang who has her life together and looks good while doing it…
warnings/tags: no use of y/n, fem-presenting reader, fluff,/sfw
I imagine they met at a bar (typical, I know). He’s expecting a regular night, watching the game, sharing a few laughs. Nothing crazy. Until you walk in.
Dressed all pretty and confident, you just kind of glide up to the bar. The bartender slides you your drink, and before you can even grab it, he’s already asking to put it on his tab. You try to politely decline before it turns into a conversation, and suddenly, you two are talking all night.
By the end of it, he offers to drop you home, already thinking maybe he’ll get lucky. Instead, you give him a kiss on the cheek and a soft “thank you” before he’s just standing there, staring at your closed apartment door.
He’s a little strung up, sure, but he’s a gentleman. So he leaves.
When he gets back to his car, he notices a piece of paper tucked under his windshield wiper. He rolls his eyes, thinking it’s some random complaint or kids messing around, but when he pulls it out… It’s numbers. Your numbers.
And yeah, that definitely works too.
You two text back and forth for a couple of weeks before finally deciding to go out again. Brunch this time, somewhere you suggested.
He shows up early. Although it’s clear it’s not early enough.
You’re already there, sitting outside, waving him over like you’ve known him forever. You’ve got on a simple yellow maxi dress, hugging you in all the right places, the color sitting so nicely against your skin.
You stand up when he gets close and pull him into a quick hug like he’s an old friend.
And God…you smell just as good as you look.
The two of you talk, eat, and grab a couple of drinks. It’s easy. Comfortable. Then you mention you have to run a few errands at a nearby shopping outlet and ask if he wants to come.
Of course, he says yes. Anything to spend a little more time with you.
Somewhere along the way, he gets a little handsy. Nothing too much, just his hand on the small of your back while you walk through crowds of people. You don’t pull away, so he takes that as a good sign.
Eventually, you lead him into a designer store, mentioning you had a bag being repaired. He’s barely paying attention to that, though. He’s too busy watching you move around the store, picking things up, putting them back, talking about what you like and what you think is downright hideous.
Next thing he knows, you’re at the counter with a new perfume in your hand.
For a second, he wonders if this was all part of the plan. Not that he’d mind. He’s already reaching for his wallet.
But you don’t even look at him.
You ask for your repaired bag, then tell the clerk you’ll be paying cash. You pull out a couple of crisp hundreds like it’s nothing and finish the transaction just like that.
And yeah… that pretty much does it for him.
Now he just knows he needs to smell that new perfume on you.
summary: after a chance encounter, you become all andrew thinks about while he's in prison. once he's released, he does whatever is necessary to make you his
pairing: andrew 'pope' cody x reader
words: 4k
chapter tags: 18+, stalker!pope, pervy!pope, obsessive behaviour, possessive behaviour, andrews special interest is no longer crime - it's you, stalking, breaking and entering, clothes sniffing, male masturbation
authors note: this is part 1! also PLEASE read the tags, and also let me know what you think!!
join my taglist!
One moment of kindness, that's all it took for Andrew to become obsessed with you.
It happened just one day before Andrews disastrous bank robbery that landed him in federal prison. He was at a flower stand, buying a bouquet for Cath and he was stuck between two options. Cath had been cold to him ever since their drunken one night stand and he wanted to smooth things over with flowers. Somewhere in his mind, he was buying the flowers in hopes of wooing her away from Baz.
"Can't decide?" A beautiful, almost melodic voice said. Andrew turned to his left to see you standing there, a small bouquet tucked in the crook of your arm and a kind smile on your face. Andrews eyes moved over you quickly, methodically cataloguing everything. You were wearing a long flowy dress in a light blue colour that complimented you perfectly. Your hair was out of your face so he could see your brilliant eyes and full lips clearly. You were staring expectantly at him and he looked back down at the two different bouquets in his hands.
"I'm not sure which one she would like more."
"Tell me about her." You said, offering some help. Andrew paused for a moment, thinking, before he told you about Cath. The way she looked and her personality, and with a few curious questions from you, he told you what kind of a mother she was and how she decorated her home.
"That one." You stated confidently as you pointed to the flowers in Andrews left hand. "They're as bright and strong as she is." You gave him a smile before moving over to where the flower stand owner was with his money box. Andrew stared at you for moment as you talked to the owner before looking back down at the bouquets in his hands. He decided you were right and placed the other bouquet back where he'd grabbed it.
"She's a lucky woman," You called out to Andrew as you moved away from the stand, walking backwards. "Have a nice day!" You walked off with a happy skip in your step and Andrew watched you go as he stepped up to the owner, his hand reaching for his wallet in his coat pocket.
"It's already been covered buddy." The owner said, making Andrew look at him.
"What?"
"That lady paid for your bouquet for you." He replied nonchalantly.
"Why?" Andrew asked, genuinely confused. Why would you do that? You didn't even know him.
"She said you looked down and upset," The owner said, gesturing at Andrews face. "She thought paying for your flowers would make you smile." The owner shrugged, not interested in the act of kindness in the slightest. Andrew turned around looking for you but you'd disappeared into the crowd. He stood there for a moment, scanning the street for your blue dress, hoping to see you. But you were gone.
Andrew didn't know what to think of your kind gesture. He'd never experienced something like this before. Every nice deed done for him was always followed with the expectation of a favour in the future. Nice deeds were conditional and transactional in his life, they were never given to Andrew without strings attached. Nice deeds were never actually nice.
But what you'd just done for him was.
You had no ulterior motive, you left the stand without even waiting for a thank you from him or an acknowledgment of a good deed done. You didn't even know Andrew. You did something nice, not knowing you'd affected Andrew deeply. You'd just been another costumer, someone picking up a bouquet of beautiful flowers on your way home, who decided to show Andrew some kindness just because you felt like it. Who paid for his flowers because you thought it would make him smile. Who thought he was deserving of a nice gesture.
Andrew thought about you for the rest of day, even when he gave Cath the flowers, even when he and Baz went over the details for the robbery. Andrew thought about you after he was arrested, arraigned and sentenced. He thought about you all 1,123 days of his prison sentence, about your smile and your eyes and your voice. He imagined you as he fell asleep and you were his first thought in the morning. He created a fantasy to help him through the tedious days, the madness of solitary confinement, the torture from the guards. He told the other prisoners about his kind girlfriend who loved flowers and making people smile who was waiting for him on the outside. Andrew thought about you so much until he genuinely believed that you were his, that he was meant to meet you right before he was arrested, like a guardian angel who would help him survive the last 3 years. Even if you didn't know it.
And Andrew vowed that when he was released, he'd find you again and make you his.
And that's exactly what Andrew did. Find you that is.
After reuniting with his family and getting set up in a motel for the foreseeable future, Andrew returns to the street he first saw you. He even finds the flower stand and the owner, but the man is less than helpful and doesn't want to do Andrew any favours.
So Andrew wanders up and down the street, day after day, for a whole week, looking for you. He stays in the area and sits for hours on a bench in view of the flower stand, his eyes scanning the street for your beautiful face. As the days dragged on Andrew tried to not get discouraged by all the different possibilities in front of him. You could have moved away, you could be in the hospital, you could have dyed your hair and made yourself unrecognizable to him. Your trip to the flower stand might have been a fluke instead of something you did in your weekly routine, meaning Andrew probably wasn't going to find you again.
On Friday he decided to branch out, combing the adjacent streets for your sparkling eyes and bright smile. Around three in the afternoon he decided to stop inside a diner on the corner to grab a quick bite to eat before returning to his search. A bright red haired woman in her fifties behind the counter told Andrew to sit wherever he wanted as she busied herself with refilling the napkin dispensers during the mid afternoon lull. Andrew sat at a booth in the corner, his back to the wall and the whole room visible to him. He glanced down for a second at the menu already on the table and was disturbed a moment later by a beautifully familiar voice.
"Do you need a minute, or can I get something started for you?" Andrews head snapped up to look at the waitress standing next to his table and saw that it was you. The girl of his dreams, the topic of all his thoughts and fantasies for the past three years, the person who'd kept him going through all the pain and agony in prison was standing in front of him, real and alive.
Andrew was staring, he knew that he was, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. You were wearing a yellow waitress uniform, which you were of course pulling off well. Your hair was away from your face like last time, probably for hygiene purposes at work, and you stood ready to take his order with the tip of your pen resting on an open notepad. Your fingernails were manicured and well maintained and there was a freckle on the back of your hand that he'd never noticed before.
"Sir?" You prompted, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. Andrew blinked, probably for the first time in a full minute, and swallowed hard, doing nothing to sooth his incredibly dry throat. His eyes flickered to the neckline of your uniform and he could see a heart shaped locket around your neck. Were you a romantic? Was it a family heirloom, something sentimental? Or was it a gift from an old boyfriend? Or worse, a current one?
"Coffee, black," He managed to say, his heart beating rapidly against his ribs. "Please." He added on, remembering his manners. You gave him a tentative smile and nodded.
"I'll go grab that for you and give you some time with the menu." You spun around on your heel - you were wearing sensible, rubber soled shoes - and headed to the coffee machine. Andrew watched you go and noted the spring in your step that was identical to the one you had when he saw you three years ago. Was that how you walked all the time or did you only do that when you were happy? Were you happy right now?
You moved around the diner with ease, clearly comfortable here, and Andrew realized that you must have worked here for a while. You snagged a white coffee mug from behind the counter and poured Andrew a mug of hot coffee. He knew he only had about sixty seconds before you returned to the table but he couldn't bring himself to pull his eyes away from you.
This felt like fate. Andrew had loitered near the flower stand for almost a full week and the first day he explores the adjoining streets, he walks into your diner when you're on shift and sits in your section. There were so many things that could have happened differently and he would have missed you completely. But that hadn't happened. Instead he found you, and it felt the universe or God was telling him this was meant to be. That he was meant to find you again.
You set the coffee down in front of Andrew and raised your notepad again, smile on your face.
"Know what you want?"
"Um," Andrew clearly his throat as quietly as he could. He looked lamely down at the menu, unsure what to get. He decided to take a risk. "What do you recommend?"
"Oh I'd recommend any of the breakfast items, but that's because I love breakfast food. If you're looking for more lunch options I'd say the classic burger or the club sandwich is a good bet." Andrew glanced down at the menu and picked the first breakfast item he saw.
"I'll have the classic breakfast." His choice seemed to delight you, your smile transforming from a tentative one reserved for customers to a real one, big and bright. Your smile warmed Andrew like the California sun and he felt it all the way into his toes.
"Excellent choice, I'll get that started for you. Just flag me down if you need anything else." You spun around again and headed off the the kitchen, the skirt of your uniform swishing as you walked. Andrew blinked once you were out of sight, coming back to himself. He turned his attention to the steaming mug of coffee in front of him and played the interaction with you over and over in his head.
The way your eyes crinkled as you smiled. How you tapped the tip of your pen on your notepad when you answered his question. How you liked breakfast food.
Andrew filed all of this information away in his brain. There was still a lot that Andrew needed to learn. Your name was one thing. None of the waitresses were wearing nametags so Andrew would have to ask you for your name or figure it out some other way. Andrew also needed to learn what your work schedule was so he could return to the diner on a day you were working.
You brought out Andrews plate of food after a few minutes and ended up making his life easier by offering your name up voluntarily to him. You told him your name and told him to raise his hand or call out to you if he needed anything. And just like that you were gone again, off to refill coffees for the handful of other people in the diner. Andrew said your name softly to himself, rolling the letters around his tongue and lips, getting used to the feeling. He liked how your name sounded, he felt like it fit you well.
Andrew ate slowly over the next hour, doing what he could to prolong the meal and keep observing you. After getting over the initial shock of seeing you he started to regain his composure and watched you the same way he would case a joint before he robbed it. He was careful to not look too long or draw attention from you, the staff, or other costumers. He made note of how the other staff interacted with you and how you behaved with the other costumers. When he needed coffee refills, he called you over by catching your eye and raising his hand, and he kept the small talk light and short. All the information was filed away and stored for whenever Andrew might need it.
By the time Andrew finished his meal the dinner rush was just starting to trickle in and he knew he'd have to observe you from outside the diner for the rest of the evening. He stood, pulling out his wallet and dropping a wad of bills on the table while you were seating an elderly couple and hanging up their jackets for them.
Kind as always. Andrew thought to himself.
Andrew passed you as he walked towards the exit and your head snapped up towards him, probably concerned he was dining and dashing. You looked over at the table he'd vacated and saw the stack of bills, your concern evaporating. You wished him a good day and headed to the table to grab the money.
Andrew moved to a spot across the street where he could see you through the diner window but you couldn't see him. He watched as you counted the bills three times, your brows furrowing more and more with each count. You looked up and out the window, your eyes scanning the street for Andrew but you didn't see him.
He'd left a fifty dollar tip on a fifteen dollar meal.
Andrew wanted you to have it. Pretty soon he'd be paying for everything for you and you wouldn't have to worry about making ends meet, he'd take care of you. But for now he could help you out with some cash.
Andrew spent the rest of the day watching you from a spot that couldn't be seen by security cameras in the area or by people passing by. He didn't want anyone to notice him or question what he was doing. At the end of the night when the diner closed at ten, you walked to your car alone in the dark. Andrews mouth twitched in annoyance, his feet begging to move forward and escort you to your car but he stayed put in the shadows.
You shouldn't be walking alone in the dark anywhere, much less in the parking lot after work. Anyone could be waiting for you in the dark, hiding just out of sight. Andrew would fix this habit soon enough. He'll walk you to your car after every shift, hell, he'll pick you up after every shift and drive you home himself. You shouldn't have to drive yourself home after a long day spent on your feet. If you'd let him, Andrew would carry you around after your shifts so you could rest your aching feet.
Andrew noted the make and model of your car and committed the license plate to memory. The next day he was back, but he didn't go in the diner, he didn't want to draw attention to himself just yet. Andrew watched you from his truck the whole day, making note of the time you arrived at work and when you left. He did this for two weeks to get a good sense of your schedule and on the second night he followed you home, at a discreet distance.
You lived in an apartment complex that required a key fob to get in, which Andrew appreciated. Any obstacle he ran into was one that a predator would also run into if they were trying to follow and hurt you. But a determined man could get around any obstacle if they were smart enough and Andrew proved this when he was able to enter your building by following closely behind another resident who was going inside.
You'd entered the lobby moments before Andrew had and he watched from a distance as you walked onto the elevator. He watched the electronic numbers above the elevator go to the sixth floor so he slipped into the stairwell and ran up to the sixth floor to follow you, taking the stairs two at a time. He watched from the tiny window on the stairwell door as you turned right out of the elevator, passing by Andrew, who ducked down to avoid being seen, and opening the apartment door that was two down from the stairwell.
Andrew stepped out into the hallway and took note of what door you'd gone into - 628. He stopped dead in the hallway, the numbers sending a spike of shock through him. If Andrew wasn't already sure that the two of you were meant to be, this confirmed it for him.
Your apartment number was his birthday. June 28th. 628.
At the soonest opportunity, Andrew broke into your apartment.
He knew you were at work and he simply picked the lock on your apartment door to gain entry. He was quick about it, making sure to not be seen by any other residents. The cameras in the hallway didn't bother him, he knew from his canvas of the building that they were fake and just there as a deterrent.
Andrew slipped inside your home and took a deep steadying breath at being in your personal space. Being here in your home, in your private space, felt very sacred. Andrew knew from watching you the past two weeks how important this place was to you. You spent most of your time here, rarely going out except to work or to grab a meal with friends. As far as Andrew had observed, you didn't have a boyfriend, so most of your evenings and weekends were spent in your apartment. Being here in your apartment was new for Andrew, he was going to take his time and be respectful of your space.
Your apartment was like looking into your brain and Andrew was overwhelmed by the information he was learning. It was a small, one bedroom apartment, with a little living room area, kitchen, bathroom, and one bedroom. The place was neat and orderly, not quite up to Andrews standards but you were far from a messy person and you'd done your best to brighten up the place as much as you could.
Posters and framed pictures covered the walls above a small, two seater couch. The books stacked on your coffee table were worn and well loved, with bookmarks sticking out of them and a peppermint scented candle sitting next to them. There was a homemade, crocheted blanket on the couch next to some decorative pillows. Andrew wondered if you'd made the blanket yourself or if it'd been a gift.
Moving to the kitchen, Andrew spotted another peppermint scented candle - must be a scent you liked - and a vase of fake flowers on the counter that separated the living room and the kitchen. Andrew would make sure you had enough money for fresh flowers, he knew they made you smile. He noted the food in your cupboards and fridge, cataloging the snacks you enjoyed most. There were post cards stuck to the fridge door and when Andrew lifted them carefully to read the other side he saw that they were from you. You'd written and sent yourself a post card from each trip you'd taken in the past few years. That told Andrew you were sentimental and you liked to receive things in the mail, considering you could have bought the post cards and just brought them home instead of mailing them.
In the bathroom he found dark coloured towels that matched the bath mat and shower curtain. That told Andrew that you planned ahead and were thoughtful about your decorative choices. He found mild scented shampoos and conditioners in the shower, with various body washes, soaps, and lotions lining the tub. Andrew was suddenly struck with the thought of you standing naked in the shower, lathering your soft skin with the body wash and he felt lightheaded thinking about the bubbles sliding down your body.
Backtracking out of the bathroom and making sure not to leave a trace behind, Andrew had one room left to explore.
Your bedroom.
Andrew pushed the door open carefully with his black gloved hand, a precaution he took to not leave fingerprints. Your room was a little messier than the main area of your apartment, with sweaters hanging off the back of your desk chair and makeup scattered across the desk pushed in the corner. But your bed was made and your other clothes were hung up in the closet. Andrew brushed his hand across the shirts in the closet, the hangers clinking together. There were two pairs of shoes haphazardly thrown into the closet and it took everything in Andrew to not straighten the pairs. He had to leave everything where he found it.
He turned away from the closet and moved to the dresser. Your university degree was framed and displayed neatly above the dresser, surrounded by photos of family and friends. Andrew felt pride bloom in his chest, of course you were a university graduate, you were smart and beautiful. With a smile tugging at his lips Andrew looked over the jewelry covering the top of your dresser, making a note of which type of metal you preferred and what kind of jewelry you had most of. He pulled the drawers open, just planning on glancing through them for anything noteworthy when he came face to face with a drawer full of your panties.
Andrews breath caught in his chest, his mouth going dry as he stared at the wide array of pairs. Like with the bathroom, his imagination assaulted him with images of you putting these panties on - the flesh tone pair, the black lacy pair, the light blue pair with bows - sliding them up your bare legs and pulling them over the curve of your ass to settle the elastic at your hips. Andrews cock throbbed in his pants as all the blood in his body rushed south. Andrew pinched his eyes shut and tried to push the images away so he could stay on task.
Andrew shut the drawer a little harder than necessary, making the dresser shake. He turned around and crossed the room to go to the desk, putting distance between himself and the drawer of temptation on the other side of the room. He looked over the desk, a little frantically since the images of you in just a pair of panties still spun around in his head. He noted that you had an older laptop, something he could replace for you easily. You had a whiteboard calendar with some scheduled tasks and outings above the desk that Andrew took a picture of with his phone, something to analyze later.
Andrews eyes fell to the sweaters on the back of the desk chair and before he knew what he was doing, he picked the top sweater up and pressed it to his nose. Andrew took a long, deep breath in, filling his nostrils with the intoxicating scent of you. He'd seen you in this sweater yesterday, you'd worn it to and from work in lieu of a jacket and you clearly had deemed it still clean enough to stay out of the laundry hamper. But Andrew could pick up a very light tang smell of sweat, just under the floral scent of your deodorant. The strongest smell was one that was entirely you and Andrew could feel himself getting addicted to it. It was fresh and bright, like grass and mint, but heavy, coating every strand of the fabric, making his mouth water and his cock twitch.
Before Andrew could think better of it, he turned around to look at your bed, so perfect and inviting. He knew better than to lie down on it or do anything else that mess up the covers but he couldn't help sinking to his knees and pushing his face into the edge of the mattress, breathing deeply. The sheet smelled like your laundry detergent and that fresh smell that was all you. Andrew groaned into the bed, his voice muffled against the sheets.
His cock was painfully hard in his jeans and Andrew, surrounded by your scent and your things, couldn't stand it any longer. Against his better judgement, Andrew undid his belt and pulled his aching cock from the confines of his pants. He sighed in relief as his hand ran over the shaft, the pad of his thumb grazing the top of his cockhead and smearing his leaking pre-cum back down the shaft.
Armed with his imagination, Andrew began pumping his hand up and down his cock furiously as he thought about you and your perfect smile. He did his best to make no noise but it was hard, you filled his head and all his senses and his moans threatened to come out of his throat as he jerked off at the foot of your bed to the thought of you. He pressed his forehead against the edge of the mattress and panted as he quickly stroked his cock.
It didn't take Andrew long to build to his orgasm, it was always quick when he thought about you. He fisted his cock desperately and lifted the sweater still clutched in his other hand to his face so he could breath in the scent of you as he came over his hand.
And for the first time since he met you three years ago, Andrew finally knew what name to say when he came.
Summary: Clark becomes the most loyal customer at your kissing booth; he’s more than happy to spend every last dollar if it means he’s the only one kissing you tonight.
Pairing: Cowboy!clark kent x reader
Tags: kissing ofc, est. relationship, jealous clark (yummm), fluff, sexual implications
Wc: 1.3 k
clark kent masterlist
The town square is alive with the golden chaos of the annual Smallville Harvest Festival. String lights crisscrossed between old oak trees, casting a warm glow over the bustling crowd. The Ferris wheel turned slowly against the twilight sky, and the air smelled like fried dough, kettle corn, cinnamon, and fresh-cut hay. Laughter and upbeat country music drifted from every corner, but the longest line by far snaked in front of the bright pink kissing booth set up near the center of the square.
You were seated behind the wooden counter in a soft white sundress that fluttered gently in the evening breeze, a little silver “Kisses – $1” sign swinging above your head. Your lips were already tingling from the last few customers; mostly sweet, quick pecks from shy teenagers and a couple of polite older men who tipped their hats and thanked you like proper gentlemen.
You were laughing at something old Mrs. Jenkins had said, her cheeks rosy from the apple cider, when you felt it. That familiar prickle of awareness along your spine. Clark was here.
You looked up, and there he was, standing at the very back of the line in his worn blue jeans, white button-down with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and that old brown cowboy hat tilted low over his eyes. Even from twenty feet away, you could see the way his jaw flexed when the teenage boy in front of him stepped up to the booth and leaned in for his kiss.
Clark’s arms were crossed over his broad chest. To anyone else, he looked calm, maybe even a little bored. But you knew that little tick in his cheek. He was jealous. Just a little. Just enough to make your stomach flutter with affection.
You bit back a smile as the boy gave you a quick, nervous peck on the cheek and scurried off, ears bright red. The next person in line stepped up, a middle-aged farmer you recognized from the feed store. He grinned warmly, handed over his dollar, and planted a respectful kiss on your cheek. Clark’s eyes narrowed just a fraction.
By the time the fourth person in line stepped forward, Clark had moved up significantly. He kept shifting his weight from one boot to the other, fingers tapping restlessly against his arm as he watched. When the man in front of him leaned in and gave you a quick kiss on the lips, Clark’s hand tightened around the single dollar bill he was holding so hard it crumpled in his fist. You had to press your lips together to keep from laughing out loud at how adorably possessive he looked. Finally, after what felt like an eternity to him, it was his turn.
Clark stepped up to the booth like he was approaching something sacred. He placed his crumpled dollar on the counter with two fingers, slow and deliberate, then leaned his forearms on the wood, bringing his face close to yours. His blue eyes were soft behind the brim of his hat, but there was a flicker of something hotter beneath them. “Hey, darlin’,” he drawled, voice low and warm, that country accent curling around the words like smoke. “One kiss, please.”
You tilted your head, pretending to consider it, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “You’ve been standing in line for twenty minutes, Kent. You sure one is gonna be enough?”
His gaze dropped to your mouth for a second, then flicked back up to your eyes. “Might need a couple more. Depends on how good they are.”
You leaned forward, resting your elbows on the counter so your faces were only inches apart. “Then you better make the first one count, cowboy.” Clark didn’t hesitate.
He cupped your face with one big, warm hand, thumb brushing tenderly across your cheek, and kissed you like no one else was watching. It was slow, deep, and so full of love it made your toes curl in your boots. His lips moved against yours with gentle hunger, tasting faintly of the root beer he’d been drinking earlier. When his tongue brushed yours, soft and sweet, you heard a quiet little sound escape him, almost a sigh of relief.
The people still in line let out a few playful whistles and catcalls, but Clark didn’t pull away. He kissed you like he had all the time in the world, like the entire festival could burn down around you and he still wouldn’t stop. When he finally broke the kiss, his forehead rested against yours for a heartbeat. His voice was rough, barely above a whisper. “God, I missed my baby today.”
You smiled, cheeks warm. “You saw me this morning.”
“Too long,” he murmured, stealing one more quick kiss before stepping back. He pulled another dollar from his pocket and placed it on the counter. “One more.”
You raised an eyebrow, amused. “You’re gonna run out of money, Clark.”
“Worth it.” He leaned in again, this kiss a little slower, a little sweeter, his hand gently cupping the back of your neck. When he pulled away, his eyes were darker, his voice lower. “One more after that.” By the fourth time he got back in line, people were openly teasing him.
“Kent, you gonna let anyone else kiss her, or are you buying out the whole booth?” someone shouted from the back.
Clark just tipped his hat with a small, sheepish smile, cheeks slightly pink, and stepped up again. This time, when he kissed you, his hand gently gripped your jaw, and the kiss lingered so long the line started clapping and cheering. When he finally stepped back, breathing a little harder, he looked at you like you were the only person in the entire town.
“Last one for now,” he said, placing another dollar down. His voice dropped so only you could hear. “But I’m coming back after your shift ends. And I’m not sharing you with anyone else tonight.”
You bit your lip, heart fluttering wildly. “Promise?” He leaned in one final time, brushing the softest kiss to the corner of your mouth.
“Promise, darlin’.”
He stepped aside, but he didn’t go far. Instead, he leaned against the nearby fence post, arms crossed over his chest, watching you with that soft, lovesick look that made your stomach flip every single time. Every time someone else stepped up to kiss you, even if it was just a quick peck on the cheek, you could see the tiny clench of his jaw, the way his fingers flexed against his arms.
But he never interrupted. He just waited patiently, eyes on you the entire time, like you were the only thing worth watching in the whole festival. When your shift finally ended, and the “Kissing Booth Closed” sign went up, Clark was already there, waiting with two cups of fresh lemonade and that crooked, sweet smile you loved so much.
He handed you a cup, then pulled you gently against his side, arm wrapping around your shoulders as you started walking through the fairgrounds together. “You know,” he said casually, voice warm with affection, “I think I spent about thirty dollars tonight.”
You laughed, leaning into him. “And?”
“And,” he continued, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “I’d spend every last cent I have if it meant I got to be the only one kissing you for the rest of the night.” You stopped walking, turned in his arms, and rose up on your toes to kiss him properly, slow, sweet, and full of everything you felt for him.
When you pulled back, you whispered against his lips, “Good thing you don’t have to pay anymore.” Clark smiled, warm and completely in love, and kissed you again, right there under the string lights, and for the rest of the night, he made sure you didn’t forget it.
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