Oh, To Be The Lady's - [A Lady Dimitrescu/Female Reader-Insert Story]

Chapter Thirty Seven: To Be Frustrated

A/N: Hi guys, I'm not dead! 😅 But for real, I'm so sorry for how long it's been since I've updated, real life and work and a bunch of other things happened and I honestly did not have the time or motivation to write. This story, plus my other fanfics, will never be abandoned, I promise, please don't worry about that.

I'm still here, though, still in the fandom and writing and I've missed ya'll so much, thank you from the bottom of my heart for all of the wonderful comments and kudos that I've been gifted since I last updated 🥰😭 I'm going to try my very, very, VERY hardest to update once-a-week starting now (most likely on Mondays since that's my one day off of work).

Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this shorter chapter. More "actual plot" is coming soon, I just wanted to write something fluffy and sweet again, plus comforting, exasperated Alcina is always a joy haha But yes, please enjoy and don't hesitate to yell at me in the comments, I love hearing from you all! 💙💚💜💙💚💜

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"Come on—" Your voice is strained, arms shaking as you clutch the side of the sofa. Gathering another deep breath, you heave upwards, your knuckles turning a burning white. "Come on, come on, come on—"

It doesn't seem to do the trick, however, and the couch slams back down onto the ground with a sharp thud. Yelping, you just manage to wrench your foot from underneath the leg before it can catch your toes and you slip backwards, falling on your ass. Degraded, you sit there for a few seconds, your chest heaving in a mix of frustration and exhaustion and you can only glare over at the sofa.

All you wanted to do was sit in the small patch of sunlight to read your novel.

You're in the library, the fireplace a crackling warmth against your back. At first, it was a welcomed feeling. Winters in Romania are brutal, filled to the brim with ice and snow and winds so cold you can feel them down to your bones, even on the brightest of days. Now, however, the fire's stifling, too hot and you reach up, wiping away the sweat that gathers along your brow.

"Fuck—" Sighing, you rub at your face again before hauling yourself back to your feet, tugging your sweater back down over your sweatpants. "Damn it, fuck—"

You could get your wife. Alcina left a little while ago, muttered something about needing to go over some documents in her office before pressing a final, sweet kiss against your lips. You're pretty sure she wouldn't mind moving the couch for you, not really, but you want to do it on your own.

It's silly, kind of stupid and you curse your stubornness even as you grab at the arm of the sofa again. Bending your knees, you brace yourself for a few seconds before lifting, gritting your teeth as your arms tremble.

You manage to drag the couch a few inches before being forced to drop it again. Glancing behind you, the tiny bit of sunlight reflecting against the ground seems to sparkle, taunting you from where you stand a few measly feet away.

You flip it off.

Turning back to the sofa, you contemplate just sitting on the floor, maybe a pillow would work instead? It wouldn't be nearly as worth it or comfortable, though and you know for a fact that your back and neck will feel it in the morning.

With a harsh sigh, you grab the edge of the couch again, squaring your shoulders before lifting. It barely comes an inch off of the ground and your sound of frustration is more of an angry sob than anything. Stringing tears fill your eyes and you're almost embarrassed with how upset not being able to move this stupid fucking sofa is making you. Despite the hitch in your breathing, you try one last time, grunting with the effort.