With Love Comes Magic
IsadoraCapri x Fem!Reader (established relationship, AU)
Warnings/Tags: Mom!IsadoraCapri x Mom!Reader, Romantic established relationship (married💍), Suggestive content (non-explicit), Domestic intimacy, Parenthood & young children, Mentions of nudity (non-graphic), Soft teasing and affectionate physical touch, Fluff and comfort, it's also long again... oops.
(Also y/n wears a dress in this because I stand firm in the belief that Isadora Capri would fall head over heels for a woman in a summer dress.)
The morning comes in gently, like it knows better than to rush them.
Sunlight filters through gauzy curtains, pale and warm, striping the bed in gold. The window is cracked just enough to let summer air drift in – fresh grass, distant water from the stream beyond the trees, something floral and wild.
Y/N is half-buried in sheets, one leg tangled with Isadora’s, bare skin warm and relaxed in that delicious way that only comes after a rare, uninterrupted night of sleep.
Isadora is already awake.
She always is.
Her curls are loose and wild against the pillow, dark and soft, one ringed lock brushing Y/N’s shoulder as she leans in. She presses her mouth to Y/N’s skin – slow, unhurried kisses along her shoulder, her upper back, the curve of her neck. Not trying to wake her so much as remind her.
“Mm,” Y/N hums, shifting closer on instinct, eyes still closed. “Isa…”
Isadora smiles against her skin. “Good morning, sweetheart.”
She kisses her again, softer this time, then murmurs an estimate: “We have an hour.”
That gets Y/N’s eyes fluttering open.
“An hour?” she asks sleepily, lips curving. “You’re certain?”
“Very.” Isadora nudges her nose along Y/N’s jaw, teasing. “Leo and Stella stayed up far too late stargazing with you last night. They won’t stir for a while.”
Y/N laughs quietly, rolling onto her back, sheets slipping lower in a way that makes Isadora’s gaze darken – fond, appreciative, hungry in that slow, married way.
“Well,” Y/N says, voice still thick with sleep, “that would be rude to waste.”
Isadora hums her agreement, leaning down to kiss her properly this time – unhurried, familiar, all warmth and promise. They trade lazy kisses, murmured teasing, Isadora whispering praise into Y/N’s skin that makes her flush and bury her face in Isadora’s neck.
The world is quiet. No feet pounding down the hall. No voices calling for breakfast.
Just them. Sheets. Sunlight. Love.
Until-
“Mama!”
The door flies open.
Stella Capri stands there in her pajamas, curls a perfect mirror of Isadora’s – chaotic, defiant, glorious – hands on her hips like she’s caught them doing something deeply suspicious.
Isadora groans softly and rolls away, already sitting up. “Good morning, darling.”
Y/N squeaks, scrambling for the sheet, absolutely not decent enough to greet a toddler.
Stella squints. “Mommy's naked.”
“Thank you for the observation,” Isadora says mildly, already swinging her legs out of bed. “Go wash your hands. I’ll start breakfast.”
Stella beams. “Pancakes?”
Isadora smiles. “Your favorite.”
That’s all it takes.
Stella is gone in a flash, feet thundering down the hall.
Y/N collapses back against the pillows, laughing. “That was too close.”
Isadora leans down, kisses her once more – slow, lingering, meant only for her. “Get dressed, pretty girl. I’ll save you fruit.”
---
Y/N throws on the cotton shorts and tank top hanging off the chair, hair twisted into a messy bun that’s already threatening rebellion. She pads down the hall barefoot, pausing when she hears laughter drifting from the kitchen.
Isadora and Stella.
The sound wraps around her chest, warm and grounding.
When she reaches the twin's room, she moves softly. He’s curled in on himself, thumb near his mouth, lashes dark against his cheeks.
“Hey, baby,” she whispers, sitting on the side of his bed. “Morning.”
He stirs, frowns, then reaches for her immediately.
“Mommy…” His voice is small, still half in dreams.
“I’ve got you,” she murmurs, lifting him easily onto her hip. He tucks his face into her neck, heavy with sleep. “Mama’s making breakfast.”
“Pancakes?” he asks, hopeful even through the fog.
She smiles. “With strawberries.”
That does it.
By the time she carries him into the kitchen, Isadora looks up – and melts.
Her eyes soften at the sight of them: Y/N all rumpled and warm, Leo clinging to her like she’s his anchor. Stella is already at the table, face smeared with batter somehow, curls bouncing as she chatters.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” Isadora says quietly, stepping close to press a kiss to Y/N’s cheek. “Good morning, honey.”
Leo slides out of Y/N’s arms the second he sees his plate.
Y/N and Isadora lean against the counter together, sharing a bowl of cut fruit. Isadora passes her tea without a word, steam curling between them.
“Thank you,” Y/N murmurs, kissing her cheek in return.
Isadora tilts her head. “What do you want to do today?”
Y/N shrugs, sleepy smile tugging at her mouth. “Just want to be close to you.”
Isadora smirks, stepping closer. “Feeling soft after last night?”
Y/N laughs, nudging her. “Isa-”
They kiss anyway, quick and sweet, until-
“Ewwww!” Stella groans. “That’s gross!”
Isadora laughs. “Oh? Is it, darling?”
“I’m sorry, baby,” Y/N says solemnly, teasingly, holding back her laugh.
Isadora wraps an arm around her waist. “Can’t help it when your mommy’s so beautiful.”
She gives Y/N an exaggerated kiss, sealed with a mwah, just to make Stella squeal.
Worth it.
---
The day drifts by in pieces.
By late morning, everyone is finally dressed. The sun higher and bolder, heat settling into the ground like a held breath.
The four of them drift outside barefoot, the back door left wide open. Stella bolts ahead immediately, curls bouncing, shrieking something half-formed and delighted. Leo lags behind, crouching near the edge of the grass.
"Bug." He announces with deep concentration.
"A very important one?" Y/N asks, crouching beside him.
He nods. "I think he lives here."
"Well," Isadora says, slipping her hand into Y/N's as she stands back up, "we should be good guests then".
They wander through the field slowly, Y/N's dress brushing her thighs teasingly with every step. Isadora's fingers tighten around hers, thumb brushing her knuckles.
"You're enjoying yourself," Y/N murmurs, amused.
Isadora leans in, voice low. "You look unfairly beautiful in summer."
Y/N hums. "That sounded like a compliment."
"It was a warning," Isadora replies, eyes flicking deliberately to her hemline, pulling her closer by the small of her back. "You're distracting... dangerous."
Y/N laughs, swatting her. “Behave.”
“Trying.”
Ahead of them, Stella suddenly charges at Leo, who squeals and takes off running.
"Stella!" Isadora calls. "Darling- gentle!"
"I am gentle!" Stella yells back, running faster to catch up to him.
It's a good five seconds before Stella trips over herself, down into the grass.
There's a moment - too quiet - before both of them start crying. Stella more startled than hurt, Leo teary on her behalf.
Y/N is there first, hands quick and careful, brushing grass from Stella's curls. "Hey, hey- baby, I've got you."
Isadora drops beside them once gathering Leo in her arms, her presence steady and grounding. "Are you hurt?" She reached over, wiping a tear from Stella's cheeks.
Stella sniffles, collapsing dramatically into Y/Ns arms, small hands gripping her Mommy's necklace, "I didn't mean to."
"I know," Isadora murmurs softly.
Leo's lip wobbles. "She fell."
Isadora squeezes him close "and you're very sweet to worry."
"It was just a surprise," Y/N added, pressing a kiss to Stella's hairline, "You're okay though, aren't you baby?"
Stella looks up, big watery eyes, nodding, "Yes mommy – I'm okay Leo," turning to look at her brother before hiding her face in Y/N neck.
Within minutes, they’re both quiet again – warm, clingy, exhausted in that specific midday way.
Isadora glances at the sky. "Lunch?"
Two small heads lift instantly in agreement.
---
Lunch is simple – cool fruit, little sandwiches cut into uneven shapes, water cups sweating onto the table. The kids grow slower with every bite, eyelids drooping.
Y/N watches them fondly. “Nap time is going to be easy.”
Isadora smiles. “Famous last words.”
But it is easy.
And by the time the house is quiet again, Isadora sits at the piano bench and pats the space beside her. “Come here.”
Y/N does, leaning into her shoulder as Isadora plays gentle, wandering notes, Y/N trying to add to the melody.
“You’re off-key,” Isadora murmurs.
“I’m... expressing myself,” Y/N replies.
Isadora chuckles. “After all these years, still hopeless.”
“Sounds like a teaching issue.”
Isadora’s voice drops. “Are you calling me a bad teacher?”
Y/N’s breath hitches – but she rallies. “I’m saying the responsibility isn’t always entirely on the student. It's shared.”
Isadora turns fully toward her, one hand sliding to Y/N’s waist, thumb pressing gently into warm skin. “Oh really.”
Y/N hums, leaning in, "really."
They kiss–
slow and unhurried, like they’ve got nowhere else to be. Isadora’s mouth is warm, familiar, her hand firm at Y/N’s waist, pulling her closer until Y/N’s fingers slide up into her curls, tugging lightly.
Isadora makes a soft sound into the kiss, barely there.
Then–
“Mama? Mommy?” Leo calls from upstairs, voice drifting down, sleepy and small
They pull back, foreheads touching, both smiling.
"I'll go," Y/N whispers, stealing one last kiss. "You stay."
---
Leo doesn't go back to sleep. Cranky but comforted quickly, curling into Y/N’s side on the floor while they work on a jigsaw puzzle together.
“This one?” he says, frowning.
“Try turning it,” Y/N suggests gently.
It fits. His face lights up.
When Isadora comes back from her shower – hair damp, curls tighter, t-shirt clinging slightly – she stops dead in the doorway.
Y/N is on the floor with both twins now.
Paint everywhere.
Stella is proudly holding up blue-stained hands. Leo has green smudges on his cheeks. Y/N has streaks across her arms, her hair, her face.
Isadora’s heart does something ridiculous in her chest.
“…I left you alone for fifteen minutes,” she says faintly.
Y/N looks up, sheepish and glowing. “Art happened.”
Stella beams. “Mommy let us be messy!”
Isadora crouches, brushing paint from Stella’s cheeks. "I can see that, darling,” she says softly, smiling, “what did you make this time?”
---
By evening, the sofa is full.
Stella is curled tight against Y/N’s side, fingers fisted in the fabric of her dress. Leo is tucked into Isadora’s side, head resting against her shoulder, Isadora’s arm secure around him.
Frozen plays softly.
“I miss winter,” Leo murmurs.
“I like summer,” Stella replies, thoughtful. “But I like snow.”
“Mommy,” Leo asks, eyes half-lidded, “can we make Olaf when it snows?”
Y/N smiles. “Of course, but it won't snow for a while now, sorry baby.”
“Could make him.” Leo suggests.
"With Mama's white stuff." Stella adds.
Isadora frowns gently. “My white what, darling?”
“The nail balls,” Leo says helpfully, knowing his sister's mind.
Y/N laughs quietly. “We can make Olaf tomorrow then.”
“Tomorrow?” Stella perks up.
“Yes,” Y/N looks down into Stella's eyes. “How about we do a Frozen day?”
“Olaf?!” one asks.
“Movies?!” the other asks.
Y/N nods before smiling, looking at the twins excited faces. “And... snow cones?”
"Really?!" They both squeal happily.
Isadora doesn’t speak right away.
She watches Y/N instead – the way she leans in instinctively, how the twins orbit her without thinking, how she turns an offhand suggestion into something that feels like a promise of magic. Something safe.
Then Isadora smiles, slow, fond, and unmistakably proud.
“Well,” she says, voice warm and certain, reaching out to smooth Leo’s hair before letting her hand rest briefly over Y/N’s thigh, grounding and intimate, “if your Mommy says tomorrow is a Frozen day, then it is.”
Her gaze lifts to Y/N’s face, softening even further. “She’s very good at making the ordinary feel special. You two are very lucky. We all are.”
Y/N’s breath catches – just a little.
Colour blooms across her cheeks, creeping up toward her ears. She ducks her head instinctively, embarrassed in that quiet, pleased way, lips curving despite herself.
“Isa,” she murmurs, half a laugh, half a protest.
Isadora’s thumb presses lightly where her hand still rests, a silent I mean it.
The twins glow at the praise like it’s theirs too.
“But,” Isadora adds gently, slipping back into her Mama voice, “Frozen days work best when everyone gets lots of sleep.”
Leo blinks slowly. “Early bed?”
“Mhm,” Isadora nods. “We’ll pause the movie here, get cozy in bed, and tomorrow we finish it together. Olaf, snow cones – all of it.”
Stella considers this very seriously, then sighs. “Okay… but only because it’s Frozen Day.”
Leo nods with solemn agreement. “Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow,” Y/N echoes, still flushed, kissing Stella’s temple as Isadora pulls Leo a little closer.
“Promise.”
---
Upstairs, the twins share a bed for stories.
Y/N sits wedged between them, back against the headboard, both warm bottles balanced carefully in her hands. Leo curls into her side immediately, small and instinctive, his head tucked beneath her chin as if he’s done it a thousand times before. Stella lies fully, feet resting in Isadora’s lap where she’s perched farther down the bed, knees bent, book open in her hands.
It’s close. A little tangled. Perfect.
Isadora reads in her low, steady voice, each word measured, unhurried. It fills the room like a lullaby, smooth and grounding, and Y/N feels herself sag into it without meaning to. Her eyes grow heavy as she strokes Leo’s hair absentmindedly, thumb tracing slow circles at his temple.
Stella’s toes flex once, twice, then go still against Isadora’s thigh.
By the third page, Leo’s breathing evens out. By the last, Stella’s lashes flutter once and settle.
Isadora closes the book softly.
For a moment, none of them move.
Then Isadora carefully shifts, rising just enough to lift Leo from Y/N’s side. He stirs, a quiet sound of protest leaving his throat, but doesn’t wake as Isadora carries him to his own bed across the room. She tucks him in with practiced ease, smoothing the blanket, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
Y/N leans down and kisses Stella’s brow, lingering there a second longer, breathing her in.
They swap.
Isadora crosses the room to Stella’s side, brushing curls back from her face, kissing her temple. Y/N mirrors her with Leo, soft and reverent.
As Isadora straightens, Stella stirs faintly.
“Mama…” she murmurs, eyes still closed. “Piano tomorrow?”
Isadora smiles, brushing her thumb gently through those familiar curls. “For you, anything.”
Stella hums, already drifting again.
At the door, Y/N reaches out and catches Isadora’s hand, fingers lacing together without looking. They pause, turning back once more – two parents silhouetted in the doorway, hearts full to the brim.
Then Isadora closes the door softly, and the house settles around them - warm, safe, with love.
◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊
My hearttttttt 🥹
I miss summer and baby sitting and yeah - this came naturally and AH I think I've officially melted... like Olaf 😭
Oh and I chose the names Stella and Leo coz Isadora is a werewolf and it felt very fitting ⭐💙
All likes, follows, comments, reblogs and requests are very much appreciated - I love hearing from you guys!
Much luv & thx!
bvnny 💛
