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after-witch · 11 months

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yandere kaveh & alhaitham imagine

word count: 2700ish

Synopsis: One of the stickiest ideas for a yandere Kaveh and Alhaitham sharing a darling that I have is Kaveh's softer nature and tendency towards soothing the understandably distressed darling, especially in contrast to Alhaitham's no-nonsense take on things, backfiring on Kaveh at some point.

notes: kidnapped reader, mentions of control & other kidnapping related elements

Let's say you're having one of your regular crisis moments over the realization that you're more or less stuck inside the house indefinitely. Sometimes, Alhaitham lets you go outside, but you basically just get to stand in a corner of the yard that's protected from all view so you can get a bit of sunlight every day. He holds your hand the entire time.

It's a bit of torture--you want fresh air, you want the sun, but you sure as hell don't want Alhaitham's hand on yours the whole time, grip tight, eyes scrutinizing. But he refuses to let Kaveh take you outside because he thinks (rightfully) that Kaveh will be too permissive with your ability to roam outdoors, so you have to put up with it even it makes your lips curl downward and your stomach roil.

But of course, standing outside for a little bit while Alhaitham breathes over your shoulder is not the same as getting to leave the house. Getting to have a life. Getting to experience the world.

So you're crying about it. And Kaveh is there to pull you into his lap and rub your back and let you rest your head on his shoulder as you sniffle and sob your way through everything bothering you.

And you sputter out that a certain festival is coming up, and it's one of your favorite things, and you've never missed it and now you'll never get to see it again!

You burst into sobs, almost hysterical ones, that take Kaveh so aback that he simply holds you tighter in his embrace. Tears come to his eyes at seeing you so upset.

"It's not practical, is it? Alhaitham wouldn't let you out of the house in your... current wardrobe." He gestures to your outfit, which is not something you (or Alhaitham, or Kaveh) would want to go out in public wearing.

Because right now, your clothing mostly consists of loose tops that barely cover your ass. The dresses and skirts and trousers that Kaveh bought for you were relegated to the locked storage in the basement after you had a particularly nasty tantrum about Alhaitham's penchant for under-dressing you, and you'll have to earn them back over time.

Such a thing is not something Kaveh approves of--he thinks you should be able to wear whatever you want, and he can't fathom why Alhaitham doesn't appreciate the way your eyes sparkle and your face lights up when you wear something that you actually enjoy. Especially something flouncy and frilly and colorful. But it's not his choice, and all he can do is grimace and pat your shoulder in sympathy when you continually tug the top of the shirts down to give yourself more modesty.

You sniffle, a bit of snot bubbling in your nostrils, and if it was anyone else, Kaveh would shudder. But it's you, so all he does is lean over and grab a tissue to hold it to your nose and let you blow. He kisses your forehead once you've done it.

"At... at the festival, you're supposed to wear clothes with certain flowers on it." Your voice is still choked with emotion, but you're calming down, which is good.

So he lets you keep talking, rubbing your back, trying to keep you calm. "That sounds pretty. It's a shame you don't have anything like that to wear." And he softens his voice so much, that even though his words might sound like a barb if they were coming from anyone else, to you it's just another sign that Kaveh is on your side.

He always plies his voice with sympathy and clucks, all things he knows help bring you back from your emotional ledge.

"But... if I had something to wear, I could go?"

You look up at him with such wide eyes, all glassy from your tears, and you look so damn pretty. He smiles, that little smile he gets on his face when you're getting in trouble and he's not allowed to stop it. His sympathy smile. His we're-in-this-together smile, as if you two were anywhere near close to sharing the same experience in this house.

And the words come out soft and fluid and not thought through, at least not in the way he should have. "Well, of course."

They're meant to soothe you, but they're not true. Because he knows that Alhaitham isn't going to buy you festival attire. And since he knows Alhaitham would never agree to such an outing, Kaveh won't buy it for you either. He also knows that you--sweet thing that you are--won't ask him to buy it for you, because it might make Alhaitham mad at him.

That's one blessed, beautiful thing about you... you never push Kaveh to do more than what he himself is willing to do on his own. Sneak you treats. Buy you pretty things. Let you stay up late when Alhaitham isn't home. All of these, he's willing to do, because Alhaitham will grumble and tell Kaveh he needs to stop pampering you or you'll never accept your proper place with them... but he won't do more than that.

But you never ask him for things that go Beyond that Point. You never ask Kaveh for your freedom, you never ask him to stop Alhaitham from belting you for wayward transgressions. Because you know that Alhaitham would be absolutely furious with him for doing such things.

And so, he knows you won't outright ask him to buy you an outfit for the festival. And since that's your only avenue for getting such an outfit, there's no harm in letting you hope for it, like you sometimes hope for other things. Like freedom.

Your eyes flick to and fro after he says this, and then you smile, a rare toothy smile that makes you look relieved and innocent. You wrap your arms tighter around him, and he's more than happy to return the embrace.

He strokes your hair and lets you calm down further, soothed at the thought of maybe attending this festival. He assumes in time, you'll forget. He'll get you something sweet from a local restaurant tonight, or offer to paint your nails a pretty color, and do his best to keep you occupied from your sadder thoughts.

And the matter is forgotten. Or so he thinks.

There's an interesting change in you after that conversation. Small changes, slow but sure.

You begin to sit quietly in the evenings while Alhaitham reads and Kaveh creates, working on your own little projects. You draw. You write. You started taking up embroidery, and Alhaitham (to Kaveh's surprise) agreed to get you some materials since you'd asked him in a shockingly submissive, subdued manner. It meant you were learning, Alhaitham said, and that deserved a reward. Most evenings you settle down and embroider large swatches of fabric, drawing on designs first before meticulously stitching them.

You don't argue as much. When it looks like you might lose your cool, Kaveh can see you biting your lip, clenching your fists, fighting down the words you want to say in favor of working with whatever Alhaitham wants you to do.

You start to talk more at shared mealtimes, even engaging Alhaitham in conversation on something that isn't "give me my freedom, you unbelievable asshole." You politely ask what he's been reading. You ask him his opinion on fireworks or how good he is at games of chance. You ask Kaveh the same.

It's cute. Kaveh thinks you're starting to get more used to the pair of them, even Alhaitham, and while he has no qualms about taking advantage of your aversion for Alhaitham to gather you in his arms, it is rather nice to see you getting along with scribe instead of spitting at him like a half-wild cat.

Until one morning when you waltz into the dining room wearing an outfit that neither one of them has purchased for you. An outfit made from familiar fabric, all decorated with embroidered flowers. Your hair is styled, and you've decorated your face with some of the makeup Kaveh has bought for you over time, even decorating your cheek with a pretty little flower drawn with a brush and potted eyeliner.

Alhaitham's eyes immediately narrow and look to Kaveh, as if he knows (and he's right) that Kaveh is to blame for whatever is going on. Kaveh's throat is so tight that it hurts when he swallows.

You're oblivious to it all, wearing a smile that can only be described as "drunk with happiness." You look at Alhaitham and then at Kaveh and ask the simple question--

"Are you ready to go?"

Alhaitham sets down the mug of coffee he'd be cradling and merely stares at you. His question is slow and careful.

"Where do you think we're going?"

There's a little hitch in your breath. Kaveh sees how one of your legs takes a half-step back, faltering. But you recover quickly and smile, eager and bright.

"The festival." You gesture to your clothes, and pat your hair, looking a little self-conscious. "Sorry, I overdid it a little. Um, I can paint flowers on you too, if you want them..."

Alhaitham doesn't respond, and you must take it for irritation at your suggestion, because you duck your head and apologize.

"Or-or not. Sorry. I didn't know if you'd want to dress up." You smile a thin, almost prim smile, and Kaveh can see the nervousness that's crept into your face, your body language. You know something's amiss, but you don't know what just yet.

Alhaitham keeps his face remarkably neutral when he delivers the first blow.

"We aren't going to any festival."

It stings, it really does, that your first instinct is to look at Kaveh with your wide, confused eyes.

"But Kaveh said--"

Alhaitham's head immediately snaps back towards Kaveh and if looks could kill, Kaveh would be dead on the spot.

"It doesn't matter what Kaveh said. I didn't agree to go to any festival."

Kaveh can see the way the bottom of your jaw begins to quiver, the way your bottom lip trembles with it. You swallow and wrap your arms around yourself in a protective gesture.

"But he said... he said if I had something to wear..." Your fingers play with the hem of your sleeves, which you embroidered with a spray of wildflowers. "So... so I made something."

You look up at the scribe hopefully, but Alhaitham doesn't budge.

"I never permitted any festival trip. You know that you aren't allowed out of the house. Now go take that off and--"

Your voice is choked when you interrupt, and you raise your tone at Alhaitham for the first time in a long time. For the first time since Kaveh told you that you could go to the festival, if you had something to wear.

"No!" The word is unacceptable, and you know it, and Kaveh knows it, and Alhaitham knows it, but you say it anyway. "Kaveh said we could go to the festival if--"

You stop when Kaveh says your name. He rarely interrupts when you and Alhaitham are going at it, because it's not his place, but this time.. it's his mess, for once, and he is the one who needs to pick up the pieces.

You look to him, a tearful sort of hope in your eyes. You're probably thinking that Kaveh is going to step forward and tell Alhaitham that he did say that, and that you will go to the festival. Maybe you think he'll talk Alhaitham into it, promise that you'll stay by their side the whole time, or only stay for a few hours before leaving. You think, regardless of the details, that for once Kaveh is going to stick up for you.

You don't think it for long.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that you could go to the festival. I wasn't thinking." Kaveh offers a frown. "I didn't think you'd be able to get an outfit together."

His voice is soft and measured, but he can see the way his words hit you, all the same.

"But I did make one and--"

Kaveh holds up his hand.

"I know. And it's very pretty, and you did such a wonderful job. But we can't go to the festival. I'm sorry. It's my fault."

You look at him and then at Alhaitham and back to him in quick succession.

"But you said." The last word is pinched and tight and Kaveh can see your throat working, swallowing, barely able to get the words out due to your emotions.

Kaveh offers his sympathy smile, but you're like a frightened deer, too wild and upset to take anything from it.

"I know. I was wrong." He gestures to your outfit. "Take it off, and we'll get you dressed in something else and have a nice quiet day together, okay?" He thinks to promise you treats or something from the market, but a reminder that you can't leave the house might not be the best idea.

It doesn't matter.

You shake your head. Your eyes are glassy again, full of pain and something that makes Kaveh's stomach feel sick--the hurt of betrayal.

"Kaveh, you said... you said we could go."

He repeats your name, a bit firmly now, and holds out his hands for the outfit you've made. And you're so unused to Kaveh talking with you with anything resembling sternness that you let out the softest little gasp, a hiccupping little cry that feels like a knife in his heart. Poor him. Poor you.

Your hands shake terribly as you undo the outfit you've made, pulling at straps you've stitched in to tie it altogether. Some of your tears drip onto the fabric.

The outfit slips off your body, and Kaveh takes it and drapes it over his arms, leaving you standing in front of them in your undergarments, arms limp at your side. The simpleness of your underclothes contrasted against the pretty way you've done your hair and the makeup on your face is striking.

The radiant smile and jubilant energy that has been replaced with you crying, body shaking with sobs that come out all choked, is painful to see. So is the way that the flower on your cheek has become distorted from tears running through it. It's an almost ridiculous visual representative of what is swirling through your chest and heart and soul right now--another dream of yours, taken away, crumpled up, ruined.

Kaveh wants to comfort you. Wants to hug you and kiss away those lovely tears. But he knows it would only hurt you more.

For once it's Alhaitham who directs you. Not in the sweet, soft way that Kaveh might have. Alhaitham doesn't wipe away your tears and kiss away your sorrows. But he puts a hand on your shoulder and pushes gently, redirecting you to the bathroom, where he will no doubt have you remove your makeup and undo your hair and tell you to remember that he's doing all this for your benefit.

The "I told you so, I told you that you'd spoil them too much one day" look Alhaitham gives him hurts, because for once, his landlord-roommate-captor-in-arms is right. He shouldn't have told you whatever you wanted to hear, just to calm you down. He should have thought things through, been more careful with his wording.

Hearing your choked sobs from the bathroom, only dimly muffled by the running water of the sink, is more than enough evidence.

It wasn't fair to give you hope that things were going to change for you. Because, as wrong as Kaveh knows it is, you're going to be with them for a long, long time. But you won't be living an open life. You won't be going to festivals or attending the markets or strolling the public gardens, talking to neighbors, making friends. You'll be here, with them and only them, where you belong, always and forever.

Letting you pretend otherwise is just cruel.

#yandere Alhaitham #yandere kaveh #yandere genshin impact #yandere imagine #afterwitch writes #me: I'm gonna post these things!#also me: actually I'm gonna start what was meant to be a quick imagine and write #like 2000 words on it #also this imagine would not exist without j0succ's kaveh & alhaitham posts because those puts have their CLAWS in me

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 4 months

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The Hat Stays On. Joel x Reader (PWP)

Thanks to this ASK

This blog is a 18+ space, Minors, do not engage. If you are under the age of 18 you are not welcome here. Your reading and consumption of my work is your responsibility but I will endeavour to mitigate any discomfort for you, the reader, as possible. Once again, this is a 18+ space and minors should not interact. Specific Warnings: sub/dom dynamics, Sub!Joel, Switch!Joel, Public sex, Bathroom Sex, Squirting, orgasm denial(mention). Purely Porn with no Plot.

Thanks again to @angelofsmalldeath-codeine for taking a quick look over this one. 2500~ Words [Read on Ao3]

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

You sit at the bar, the screams of the bachelorette party too loud for you sober ass. You’re babysitting your sister and her friends tonight. Fulfilling your maid of honour duties and all the fun that comes with being the Designated Driver.

“Nice hat,” you hear the Southern drawl as he sits down next to you. You adjust the well-worn black cowboy hat on your head as you swivel on your seat to address him. You raise your eyebrows in surprise, the guy’s actually pretty hot. You take in his patchy beard, strong nose, and plush lips slowly. You’re making a point. Then you meet his soft brown eyes, looking a little sheepish, flustered even.

“And you’re too pretty to be using pick-up lines at a dive bar.”

“Pretty?” He laughs, “That’s a new one on me.”

“What’s your name, pretty boy?”

“Joel, and what about you, cowgirl?”

“Alright. I deserved that,” you roll your eyes and give him your name. You look over your shoulder as a cry of “Shots!” comes from the party table.

“I keepin’ you from somethin’?”

You shake your head with a rueful smile on your face as you hold up your glass of soda.

“I’m the DD, sister’s getting married next week.”

“Congrats, I best let you get back to it.”

“I dunno,” you purr, taking off the hat from your head, placing it on top of Joel’s soft curls. It suits him, “The bathrooms in here are individual cubicles, if you catch my drift?”

Joel splutters as he tries not to choke on his whiskey, his eyes are wide, and you don’t miss the way he shifts on his chair. He blinks at you a few times and you smile sweetly up at him, leaning forward to whisper in his ear.

“Wait a few minutes, then follow me, cowboy.”

You hear his breath hitch, and you smile to yourself at how easily flustered he is. He smells good. You linger for a moment, your nose ghosting against his cheek before turning on your heel and strutting off to the bathrooms.

Your sister looks up as you pass the table, then back to the bar and she rolls her eyes dramatically at you. She knows what – and more importantly who – you’re going to do.

You stop at the sinks, checking for hat-hair in the mirror as you wait. The swing of the door catches your attention as you look out of the corner of your eye. You’re about to scold him for being too eager. You stop yourself as you realise that it’s not Joel.

“Hey there, sis,” your sister purrs as she saunters – a little unsteadily – to the basin next to you, pretending to check her make-up as she glances at you knowingly. Her faux feather-lined bridal hat looks ridiculous.

You had insisted on a proper Stetson if you were going to entertain the “Cowgirl” theme of the night. The rest of the bachelorette party are wearing hideous bright things with matching feathers to match your sister.

“Mandy,” you grumble as you try not to sound as pissed as you feel.

“I see you and Joel are up to no good,” she tuts as she points a finger at you, “Again.”

“Come on, we’re just fooling around, I’ll be out before the rest of them notice I’m gone.”

You bargain, knowing none of your sister’s friends will have noticed, they barely know your name.

“Fine,” she sighs dramatically as she adjusts her bright white bridal hat in the mirror before turning to leave, “Don’t have too much fun.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you grunt as you watch her leave.

You run a hand over your face, growling to yourself in frustration at her inability to let you do anything without her approval. It’s almost killed the mood completely and you consider just heading back out and telling Joel to go home. Is it a little irresponsible to fuck your boyfriend in a bar at your sister’s bachelorette? Sure. But you’re horny and bored, how harmful would a quickie in a bathroom stall really be?

“Hey, darlin’,” Joel’s voice breaks you out of your bitter thought spiral. You hadn’t even heard him come in. Your chest flutters at the sight of him.

You practically salivate at the way his white under shirt stretches across his broad chest, framed by his red flannel. His too-tight jeans hug his thighs just right as he saunters over to you. You smirk a little at the cowboy hat still perched on his head. The picture of a true Southern gentleman.

“Hey, baby,” you sigh, cupping his cheeks as he drops his hands to your waist. His legs slotting either side of yours as he leans down to look you over.

“She cause you any grief?”

“Just the usual shit,” you huff, “Sorry, baby, I shouldn’t have asked you to come, ‘was a stupid idea.”

“Don’t let her ruin your night,” he says softly as he nudges his strong nose against yours, “Let me make you feel good, yeah?”

You sigh as you press your nose back against him, fingertips raking through his patchy beard. The hat pitches back a little and he brings a hand to steady it.

“Wanna keep role playing?” You ask as you move your hands down to his shoulders, anchoring yourself there as you arch up against him. Your body thrums with desire as he places a soft, barely there, kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Whatever you want,” he murmurs against your skin, “Tell me what you want me to do.”

“Stall. Now.”

You push him back by the shoulders before throwing your arms around his neck, pulling him down to kiss you as he walks backwards into the middle stall. Your teeth clash as you stumble into the small space, your hands fumbling with the lock as he presses you back against the door.

“Need your mouth on my cunt,” you hiss through gritted teeth as you come up for air, immediately Joel drops to his knees. You hear the harsh pop from his right knee as he hits the tile.

“Careful, baby,” you scold him gently, your tone laced with disapproval, and he whimpers softly in response.

“Sorry,” he rests his forehead on your belly, rubbing his hands up and down your thighs, “Just got a little excited.”

“I know, baby,” you coo as you catch the hat as it threatens to fall from his head, “Want you to keep this hat on for me, can you do that?”

Joel looks up at you, biting his lip as he nods slowly. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes desperate as he holds your gaze.

“Good boy, now undo my jeans.”

Joel grins up at you as he makes quick work of your pants, pulling them down past your knees, your panties going with them. You let out a soft sigh as the cool air hits your wet cunt, a delightful shiver running down your spine. You step one leg out of your heels, followed by your panties and jeans. You want him to have full access.

“So eager, Joel,” you purr as you admonish him softly, “Did I say to take my panties down too?”

“No, you didn’t. Shit, sorry,” he mumbles as he looks down, away from you as he shifts on the floor. You know that he’s aching, cock pressed against the tight fabric of his jeans.

“Keep misbehaving and you don’t get to come baby.”

“I promise, I’ll be good, darlin’,” he drawls as he looks back up at you. His chocolate brown eyes wide with yearning as you press your thumb against his bottom lip, pulling on it softly.

“Make me come, baby,” you command as you surrender control to him.

He groans as he pulls one leg over his shoulder, his broad hands splaying across the sensitive skin of your thighs as he presses you hard against the door. You huff out a small sigh as you feel the scape of his beard as his strong nose trails up the crease of your thigh.

“Such a pretty little cunt,” Joel murmurs as his lips trail up towards your dripping folds. His hat tips back a little and he immediately moves to steady it. A smirk ghosts his lips as he hooks his arm around the leg draped over his shoulder. He secures the hat, making sure to trap your thigh against his bicep before humming gently just shy of where you want him.

“Gotta keep the hat on.”

He grumbles, almost to himself, and before you can say a word his mouth is on you. Hot and wet against your clit as his thick tongue glides through your folds, settling on your clit as you whine. You arch forward, your cunt pressed against his mouth as he drags his tongue in rough, slow circles around your clit. The hand not secured on his hat comes up to press firm on your belly, pressuring you just right that you squirm under his touch.

“Joel.”

You growl in warning as you feel a familiar pressure build in your core, the one that makes you gush.

“Hmmm?” he seems to be oblivious to your concerns, but you know that he’s aware of what he’s doing. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Don’t,” you pant as he licks a long, broad stripe up your slit. His lips mouthing and suckling as he goes, drawing all of the wet, lewd sounds from your pussy as you pant above him.

“You safe-wording darlin’? I need to hear it,” he taunts, his dark eyes boring up into your own as he increases the pressure on your navel. You love the way he can switch like this on you. So subby one moment, then pushing you to safe-word the next. It’s intoxicating.

“Never,” you whine as you let him push you to the edge.

He growls into your core as he grates his teeth against your clit, his tongue soothing, hot, wet, in their wake.

You want to scream; you know what’s coming. You want to tell him to just fuck you, but there’s a fire building in your belly that you don’t want to quell. But you want him to have his fill, to make you melt under his touch.

His tongue is unrelenting as his palm presses down on your belly, pressuring just right. You whine as you feel the pleasure streak down to your core, you’re screaming silently as you feel the pressure build.

“Joel,” you pant as your walls quiver around nothing, “I’m gonna-,” you’re cut off as he groans and sucks your clit hard, plush lips suckling as his tongue pressing hard against your swollen bundle of nerves. You whimper and thrash as you gush into his mouth. You clench around nothing as you feel your legs go weak.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” Joel groans as you squirt over his shirt, he moves back enough to miss the worst of the splash zone, but he still gets enough on him to darken his collar and some of the front of his undershirt.

“Fuck, Joel,” you whine as you stutter through the aftershocks, your legs coated in your release as you pant, desperate to come up for air.

“Mmmm?” He hums, tongue gliding up and down the insides of your thighs as he laps up your juices.

“Fuck me.”

Your voice is a meek whimper as you feel your toes tingle as you flex and bend under the tremors that rock through your body.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He growls as he rights himself, the hat still firmly on his head as he hitches both your legs around his waist. His beard glistens as he presses you back against the door. You hear the clink of his belt, and you breathe a sigh of desperation as you wait to feel his cock notched at your core. His dark eyes meet yours as he leans in gently, his lips find yours in a soft, delicate press.

“Love you, darlin’,” he whispers against your lips as you feel the tip of his cock press against your core.

“Love you too, baby,” you whine as you buck your hips forward, pushing him inside as you moan for him.

“So needy,” he growls as he fills you to the brim and you gasp at the sudden intrusion. You’re so full, like every other time, but fuck, the angle makes it so tight.

Joel groans as he starts to fuck you at pace, you know he wants to kiss you tenderly, nip at your jaw and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. But this is fervent, desperate. He fucks up into your cunt as you clench around him; and you hear it, really hear it.

The way your cunt squelches around Joel’s thick cock at it splits you in two is all you can hear as you feel another orgasm building in your core.

“Fuck me, Joel, fill me up,” you gasp as you let him use you, fuck you until he’s spent. You feel every devastating thrust as he rolls his hips up into you, grinding deep inside you as you whimper and moan above him.

His breaths come in ragged gasps as he nears his release, you hold his hat firm on his head as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. He sucks and bites at your shoulder as his pace stutters. You cry out as he buries his cock deep inside you, his groans vibrating through your chest as he comes.

You cry out as he stills, pulsing as he comes inside you. You pull him from your shoulder, latching your lips on his as you battle with his tongue. You taste yourself on him as he languidly swirls his thick hot muscle around your mouth. You kiss slowly for a while, teasing each other through your own highs. He pants breathily as he presses his forehead against your own.

“That was so fucking hot.”

“Fuck, Joel,” you laugh, “Your shirt,” Jowl looks down, a wry smile pulling at his kiss-swollen lips.

“Let Mandy see it, might do her prude ass some good to see it.”

Joel jokes and you chuckle. Mandy being such the missionary vanilla princess will simply die seeing the mess you made.

“You’re a bad man, Joel Miller.”

“I’m your bad man, darlin’,” Joel grumbles as he grabs a few paper towels to pat your thighs dry. He pulls your panties and jeans back up before tucking himself back into his pants.

“Round two back at home?” You proffer as he grins at you, you prop the cowboy back atop your head. You’re a little sad to steal it back, it looks good on him.

“Always.”

Joel leans down to kiss you slow, tender as he dips his tongue down into your willing mouth. You don’t want to part but you know you’re already pushing your luck. You push gently against Joel’s chest and unlatch the door.

“Have a good night, darlin’, I’ll be waiting.”

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