#albaisyapping

when you are both cleaning up the house after one of your little‘s birthdays, the kids already sound asleep while the both of you gather up the confetti from the floor. you don’t miss the way her eyes dart over to you every now and then and you know there is something on her mind.

arlecchino on the other side is literally clawing into her pants. watching you on all fours, the way you purposely stick your ass out when you bend underneath the table to grab after a lost sock. she knows what you‘re doing. what games you are playing. but she keeps her hands to herself. if you truly long for her touch, you knew exactly what to say and do to her. the shared children didn’t come from nowhere after all, right?

i think the worst part would be parent evenings in the school/kindergarten when she picks you up in her car, dressed in a nice shirt and some fitted pants. the sleeves rolled up to expose enough of her tattooed forearms, multiple rings adorning her inked fingers as she watches you get into the passenger seat and she has to put both hands onto the steering wheel in order to not reach over and rest her hand on your thigh. the ride would be quiet, yet not awkward. she‘d ask a few questions if you have been well these last few days, how the kids are doing (they’re tormenting their babysitter aka uncle childe for the duration of this evening), just a bit of smalltalk, maybe a few jokes here and there. when you happen to stop by a traffic light for a bit longer she anticipated she‘ll say it.

„you look dashing tonight.“

crimson eyes never leaving the road before her but you knew she meant it. and it made your heart race with an unfulfilled desire. you only manage a soft smile back. when arriving at the facility, she‘d tell you to stay inside as she gets out of the car and walks to your side before opening the door for you. she has always been a gentleman. a divorce wouldn’t change anything. about that. you are still the mother of her children. and the love of her life

and my GOD when she refers to you as her wife during the conversation with the teacher. not ex wife. wife. her wife. completely unprovoked too. you don’t know if she just wants to keep up a good image for your kids or genuinely didn’t notice but it made your stomach flare up with tons of butterflies nonetheless.

so when she presses you against her vehicle on the dark parking lot, hands roaming and grabbing onto every curve on your body- you just give in. letting her tongue explore your mouth as she cups your ass in her palms, dragging a low moan from you. you don’t comment on the bulge pressing against you. (you would if you were up for yet another goblin running around the house)

you never talk about moments like these. it happens and then it is off the table. she fixes your hair and clothes before opening the door for the passenger seat once again and on your way home you‘d have to fight the ache between your legs.

and god forbid she can’t stop pressing gentle kisses onto the soft white bunch of hair. she‘d never admit it but she loves the way your baby smells. she could spend a whole day with her nose buried in her hair oh my fucking god i HATE her💔

While Zani might be a person to completely mask her emotions if necessary, there are moments when her tail completely gives it away. I‘m talking about straight up exposing her.

Walking into her on a random day or meeting her up for a date? That thing is wiggling from side to side, up and down as if she were but a puppy that’s reuniting with its owner😭 if she‘s quick enough she’ll probably hold it still by grabbing onto it with all her might and tug the end of it into her pants (which only ends up hurting her but in her opinion that’s better than letting you get wind of her feelings for you)

Scaring her by accident?? Straight as stone and she HATES it. The feeling of having her tail suddenly straighten itself, the individual muscles and bones piecing it together are too sensitive for her to NOT feel this ugly sensation run down her spine. You will get scolded by the way.

But what about freaky time nghavejwbeb…

@rapperiasgirl girl this is just for you because I feel sorry for starving you💔

But hngggvhhhh imagine Arle watching one of your various performances. The way those cursed eyes follow your every step over the dance floor as if you were but a star dancing across the nightsky. Her chest feeling tight, unable to tell where that feelings comes from she opens up the first buttons of her jacket, yet the rock that seemed to weigh on heart didn’t seem to butch the slightest bit. You were just so utterly mesmerizing, how the various colors of the surrounding lantern illuminated your features, the way your dress seemed to dance along with you. If she didn’t know any better, she‘d accuse of an assassination.

Her clapping at the end of your breath-taking performance wouldn’t be exaggerated, but loud enough for you to spot her in the crowd almost instantly. Her usual mask of a cold diplomat replaced by a look of pure adoration- the kind of adoration you‘d express for a lover. Warm and sweet. Arlecchino found these words unfitting for someone of her caliber, yet they described you perfectly in her eyes.

But the last thing the Harbinger would wish upon you is a target on your back for being affiliated with her. In the blink of an eye- the woman is gone leaving behind a hefty tip on her table along with a single note that’s been weighed down by the coins.

Dashing as ever.

11pm. Don’t make me wait.

You didn’t know how exactly she always managed to get inside your apartment without tinkering with the locks on your door or the windows. But who cares about that if the fourth Fatui Harbinger is whispering praises about tonight’s performance of yours. How amazing you looked. How perfectly controlled your every move was. How brightly your eyes were shining from committing yourself wholeheartedly to the dance floor.

She just couldn’t stop. Not when you were whimpering her name into the crook of her neck when her fingers slipped inside of you, that beautiful dress that was adorning your body mere minutes ago now carelessly discarded on the floor. It was music to her. Even better than the melodies you move your body to. Her work not often allowed her to be with your at all given times- but she also doesn’t have the heart to rip you away from your homeland, to steal you away and never return you. But she wasn’t exactly fond of that one bird in the mountains you call „Mother“ to suddenly appear on her doorstep.