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

Chapter Forty Five: To Be Anguished

SUMMARY: Okay, so I'm about 99.99999% sure that someone requested something like this chapter MONTHS ago and I cannot, for the life of me, remember who it was or find the prompt anywhere in my comment section. So if this chapter sounds like something you requested, PLEASEEEEEE let me know and I'll change this little note 😭💖🙏🏻 Thank you! 

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A/N: Two updates from me that aren't like, 3-to-6-months apart?? Yes lmao 😅 I've technically had the first half of this chapter written since like, January of this year and just never got around to finishing it until now, when I'm home sick from both of my jobs and actually have some time to focus (in-between coughing and sneezing lmao) on more than just making enough money to pay my rent and bills 😭

Anywayssss, as always, I hope you all enjoy this chapter and please, please don't hesitate to let me know what you think, I always love talking to you guys and hearing what you have to say! 🥰

**TRIGGER WARNING: anxiety, arguments and swearing**

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You aren't entirely used to punishing your daughters.

Normally, Alcina took on the more authoritative role, both because of her obvious height advantage, more dominating presence and the fact that the girl's have known her for much longer. It wasn't a disrespect issue, at least you didn't believe it was. All of your daughters respected the both of you the same amount, despite the dramatic flair and annoyed groans they would let out at any sign of parental resistance.

One daughter, in particular, much more than her older two sisters.

"Clean them, Daniella." Tapping your foot, you glance from your youngest, up toward where a gigantic portrait of her Mother sits, your wife's red lips adorned with a sloppy, hasty slash of black paint, the reminiscents of Dani's attempts at a mustache. Frowning when Daniella makes no move to rise from her stubborn place near the fireplace, you cross your arms, a rag and a small bucket of soapy water in your hands. "Now."

"I don't want to." Huffing and pouting like a stubborn toddler, the red-head instead pulls out her scribe, cleaning the surface of it with the edge of her dress, her golden eyes downcast and blazing. "How do you even know it was me, Mama? Cassandra—"

"You signed multiple of them, honey." Waving a hand toward a smaller picture decorated instead with crudely drawn devil horns on top of Alcina's hat, you squint toward the bottom, where Daniella's name is painted. "Not to mention, I walked in on you. And watched you paint for three-whole-minutes."

Huffing, Daniella rubs harshly at a particularly dirty spot on her scribe. "Scared me so bad I almost fell off the ladder too."

"You can fly, Dani."

Giggling, your youngest daughter rocks forward on her heels. "I am a fly, Mama. Or uh, many flies."

Biting at your own lip to stifle your mirth, you try your best to keep your face as stern and mature as possible. "Just please, clean the portraits so we can be done. You don't want to hear it from your Mother instead of me, right?"

Shaking her head, Daniella finally straightens up to her full height with a groan of annoyance, rolling her eyes as she practically snatches both the rag and bucket from your hands, holding them against her chest. "Fine."

Nodding gratefully, you step back as she stomps her way up the ladder she was on earlier, dripping water down the steps as she goes. Grabbing a book and sighing, you settle down on the couch, listening as Daniella curses and buzzes above you. You're barely done with the first chapter, however, when your youngest clambers her way back down the ladder, the bucket tilted carelessly, sloshing water along the marble floor.