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

Chapter Forty Four: To Be Queasy

A/N: Hi guys. I've been sick for the past 2-months. It's awful and I'm absolutely exhausted. But I'm not dead, so I guess it could be worse lmao 😅 Anyways, I hope you enjoy this self-indulgent, fluffy-angsty mush and thank you for your kind words, love and patience. It means more than you know. 😭💖

I'm sorry this chapter's so short, I'll try my absolute hardest to make the next one longer for you all, I promise.

**TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of illness, vomiting. insomnia and night terrors.**

__________

Your eyes snapping open, you barely have a second to blink before you're wrenching yourself from Alcina's arms, staggering out of bed and stumbling in the darkness to the bathroom.

Falling to your knees in-front of the toilet, you pant as your stomach churns and clenches, your forehead and hair matted with sweat. Reaching up, you rub at your burning, exhausted eyes with trembling hands, listening vaguely as your wife's long strides sound behind you. Her large, warm hands settle across your shoulders and you swallow, struggling to speak around the nausea currently making your throat hitch.

"I-I didn't—I didn't puke this time—" You manage to say with false enthusiasm, listening as your Lady clicks her tongue above you. You swallow again. "That's good, at least—"

"You're still feeling ill." Alcina says, her hands kneading gently across the tense muscles of your back and shoulders and you whimper at the ache. Leaning down, she kisses your temple in apology, her lovely voice filled with concern and loving exasperation. "I would call that anything but grand, my one true."

"Didn't say 'grand' —" You argue, clenching your eyes shut as another harsh jab of cramps make your stomach ache. Groaning softly in pain, you hunch your tense shoulders, leaning over the toilet in case your gut decides to betray you. "F-Fuck—"

"Oh, my beloved." Alcina coos, brushing back your hair and taking a seat next to you, her long legs pulled underneath her. Her nightgown, the white one that reminds you a little of her wedding dress, glows in the dim bathroom light and you force yourself to focus on that as your head spins. "It's alright, sweetheart. Just breathe for me, it'll pass, shh."

"It hurts." Your voice is a whine, breathy and labored. Reaching out, you blindly grapple for any part of your wife to hold, needing the comfort. Clutching at her offered hand, your chest hitches in a tiny sob. "I-I don't—I don't understand, M'Lady, I thought it was—I thought I'd be better by now—"

"I know, comoara mea. I thought so too but the doctor said it's going to take a-few-days. Pneumonia. Intestinal Candidiasis. They don't get better overnight, beloved. The medicine he gave you, it's working, right?"

You nod. "Uh-huh. Probably why I haven't actually thrown up tonight."

"Your insomnia?"

"Eh." You shrug, reaching up to itch your nose, trembling a little. "Haven't had a bad dream in a while, at least. I think it's been—two nights?"

"An improvement, yes." Your wife tuts, clicking her tongue. Her pale skin gleams in the muted bathroom light and you watch with your vision swimming slightly as she kneels over you. Her nostrils flare as she scents you, her beautiful eyes narrowing at the bitterness of your illness. "The headaches are still progressing. I can smell your pain, sweet girl."

"They're getting better, though. More—More manageable, at least."

"Hmm." Alcina hums, her free hand gently pressing against your forehead, trailing to the back of your neck and you shiver a little, nuzzling against the sweet caress. "You still feel warm."

"And sweaty. And gross."

"Never gross, my love. Beautiful, exquisite. "

"But I am sweaty."

"Nothing a bath won't fix, darling. You're ill, it's a natural response to running a fever."

". . .You're going to be taking that bath with me, right?"

Tutting and playfully booping your nose, your Lady draws your smaller body back into her embrace once you lean away from the toilet, your stomach stable enough now that you don't feel as nauseous. Rising back to her full height, she gently carries you back to bed, tugging the covers up over the two of you. Tucking your head into the crook of her neck, you sigh as one of her lovely hands rubs at your stomach, trying to sooth the ever-present ache.

"If this continues to persist past the next two days, my dove, I'm going to be calling the clinician again."

"Yeah." You mutter, yawning around the word. Drawing your knees up closer to your chest, you clutch at your wife's sleeping gown, pressing a tired kiss against her collarbone. "S'fine with me, M'Lady—"

"I'm glad we're in agreement, little love. Although I'd be contacting the doctor even if you disagreed." Alcina rumbles and you snort, blinking up at her through the bedroom's silver darkness. Her golden eyes glow, shimmering in adoration and concern. "Now hush, save your strength."

"So I can puke again?" You quip, whining softly at the way your Lady pinches your side. It's not nearly enough to hurt, more of a warning for your attitude and you pout, making your eyes extra wide and glossy. "That hurt."

"Minx." Alcina huffs without any real heat, drawing you closer and wrapping her tall, strong body around you. "My sweet, little bratty angel."

Leaning down, she trails her soft, ruby lips down the bridge of your nose and across your red, blotchy cheeks, ending with a kiss against your own lips that you can't help but whimper into. Pulling back after a-few-seconds, your wife kisses the tip of your nose, her amber eyes soft and warm, her grip around you possessive and loving.

"Go back to sleep." She orders, pulling the blanket up so that it's tucked under your chin. "Let me hold you, beloved, let me soothe you."

"Hm, please—"

"Shhh." Her hands run gently down your sides, gripping your hips and you shiver in bliss, feeling your eyes start to droop. Her sweet, cooed praises, her soft promises of love, are the last words you hear as you finally drift off. "Te iubesc, draga mea, te iubesc. "