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

Chapter Seventy One: To Be Bruised

SUMMARY: Prompt by the lovely @slaypookieslay: Reader faints and hits her head making her bleed when she gets up to get a drink while her daughters and Alcina are there. (It's family night)

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A/N: Hi guys, happy Monday! I hope everyone enjoys this chapter and thank you so so SO much, as always, for the love and support! 🥰 If you've requested a prompt already, I'm still absolutely writing it, just please give me a while since I'm only writing a single chapter a week 😅💖 Anyways, please enjoy and don't be afraid to let me know what you think! 💙💚💙💚

**TRIGGER WARNING: slight blood, minor injuries, swearing**

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"Daniela, I swear to fuck, if you don't move your stinky ass feet away from me, I'm chopping all of your disgusting toes off."

"Oh, says you. Need I remind who's taking all of the fucking blanket to herself because it's not me or Bela, dumbass."

"Every single last toe, Dani. Every— ow!" Yelping as her younger sister kicks her in the side, Cassandra hisses and leans across the blanket-nest at the foot of the sofa, gripping a fist-full of the red-heads cloak. Pulling on it, unbothered by the choked and gargled growls Daniela lets out, your middle daughter laughs. "Not so tough are you now, bitch?"

"Hey." You chide, reaching out with your foot to poke your middle daughter. Rolling your eyes when Cassandra pays no mind, you glance over at Bela, laughing at the way she curls up tighter in her portion of the blankets, Finch sprawled, out-cold asleep, across her lap. "At least you seem to be comfortable, Bela."

"I would be if Cassandra would stop taking all the blankets." She says, hissing when her sister turns her glare toward the blonde. "It's true, stupid. I wouldn't have any if I didn't steal one."

With a grunt and a lunge, Cassandra turns her attack to Bela, grabbing her cloak instead, Daniela joining in after a second with a gleeful cackle. All three of them roll around for a minute, uncaring at the way you try to call their names, the old Disney movie you'd finally manage to convince Alcina to sit down and watch pausing as you find the remote with a sigh.

Speaking of Alcina, it seems she's finally had enough.

"Daughters." Your wife's voice, a deep rumble against your cheek as you settle back into her arms, causes all three Dimitrescu sisters to immediately freeze. Holding up one large hand, her beautiful face hued by the television's blue glow, Alcina snaps her fingers. "Enough."

"Yes, Mother." In a chorus, your daughters duck their heads and obediently sink back into the pillows and blankets surrounding them, looking like reprimanded, gothic kittens.

Satisfied that her children aren't at each other's throats for the time being, Alcina hums as she wraps her arms around you again, kissing your temple and hitching you back onto her strong thighs. Her chest is a warm weight against your back, and you sigh sweetly, giving her collarbone a grateful peck. Turning back toward the paused The Little Mermaid, you side-eye both Cassandra and Daniela before clicking play again, double-checking they're behaving before the movie starts.

"Mother, I think you should sing this song for our next family concert night." Bela says as the last few notes of 'Poor Unfortunate Souls' play out, and you feel your wife hum in consideration above you.

"Perhaps."

"Mama—" Daniela, sitting up a little and reaching out, points to where your feet are covered by the blanket draped across you and Alcina. "Your socks match the film."