Under the Influence (and the Mistletoe)
12 Days of Caprimas: Day 5
Teacher!IsadoraCapri x Teacher!Fem!Reader (Romantic)
Warnings/Tags: Teacher x teacher (romantic), Alcohol consumption (wine), Tipsy!Reader, Flirty teasing, Close physical contact, Kissing, Slightly suggestive sexual tension, Mutual pining, Staff party, Soft dom energy (Isadora), Second person POV, Mistletoe shenanigans :)
The teachers’ lounge glowed warm and gold...
Fairy lights strung across bookshelves, garlands wrapped around banisters, and at least four poorly hung paper snowflakes drooping from the ceiling. Half the faculty was already tipsy. The other half was lying about not being tipsy.
You were determined to remain sober.
Which lasted until Isadora Capri drifted through the crowd, caught your wrist with two elegant fingers, and pressed a wine glass into your hand without breaking conversation.
A soft, amused “Drink,” was all she said.
And… well. What were you supposed to do? Say no!? You weren’t insane.
So now you were slightly tipsy – warm in the cheeks, giggly, pleasantly unsteady – and Isadora Capri was laughing at everything you said like it was far more charming than it really was.
Her arm brushed yours as she leaned in to speak. Your hand grazed her waist when you turned. She caught your elbow when someone bumped into you. You touched her bicep for balance exactly one time and then refused to let go for ten straight seconds because you were a clumsy drunk and she was very, very stable.
“Steady,” she murmured, catching you again when you swayed. “Honestly, darling. One glass?”
“It was a large glass,” you attempted defensively.
She laughed – soft, low, devastating. You instantly forgave her for teasing you.
You wandered together – talking, drinking, half-flirting, half-pretending-you-weren’t-flirting – unaware of your surroundings because she made the room feel like it had narrowed to just the two of you.
You didn’t realise where you were standing until a voice behind you shouted:
“HO HO HOLY SHIT – YOU’RE UNDER THE MISTLETOE!” (help me-)
You froze.
Isadora froze.
The entire room turned.
Someone started clapping. Someone else wolf-whistled. Someone near the food table yelled “FINISH THE JOB!” and was immediately shushed.
Your heart shot straight into your throat.
“O–Oh,” you squeaked. “W–we didn’t… I mean– we didn’t notice–”
“You absolutely noticed,” someone mumbled.
Isadora lifted her chin with a faux-prim expression. “I assure you, we did not.”
The problem was: She said it with that voice. The one that sounded like velvet, sin and a dare.
You felt her eyes on you even before you looked up. Warm. Expectant. Amused.
You swallowed.
And then – in a fit of panic and tipsy bravado – you leaned forward and pecked her lips.
A tiny kiss. Barely-there. Cute.
Too cute.
The room cheered.
Isadora… did not.
She blinked once. Twice.
Her jaw tightened almost imperceptibly before she exhaled like that small, innocent kiss had just lit a fuse inside her.
You turned away quickly, cheeks flaming. “See? There. Festive! No big deal.”
Her hand caught your wrist.
Firm.
“You,” she said, voice low and dangerous, “have no idea what you just started.”
Oh no.
Oh no.
She guided you – gently but unquestionably – out of the center of the room, toward the quiet corner near the old bookshelf. Each step made your pulse stutter faster.
“Isadora? Isa? W–where are we–?”
“To talk,” she said simply. But her fingers interlaced with yours. And that was not a “talking” grip.
You were barely out of sight before she pressed her hand to the wall beside your head, caging you in with the softest, deadliest smile you’d ever seen.
“You kissed me–” she murmured.
“I– I just– people were looking–”
“You kissed me,” she repeated, slower this time, her other hand finding your hip like it belonged there. “And then you turned away from me.”
“I wasn’t turning away–”
“You were escaping, sweetheart.”
“I didn’t–”
“Shh.” Her forehead brushed yours. “Look at you.”
You were breathless. Shaking. Very warm. Very tipsy. And very trapped in the best possible way.
“Isa–”
“You’re flushed,” she whispered, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. “You get flustered so easily. It’s adorable.”
You made a sound that did not belong in public.
She leaned in – lips grazing your jaw, breath warm against your cheek.
“If you wanted to distract them…” she murmured, “you should have kissed me properly.”
Your legs gave out.
Her arm caught you around the waist.
And then – finally – she kissed you.
Not soft.
Not shy.
Slow, deep, hungry in the way that made your knees buckle and your grip on her sweater tighten. Her mouth moved against yours with exquisite, devastating precision – coaxing you closer until you were all tangled breath and trembling hands and the quiet, desperate sounds she kept stealing from your throat.
Her thigh nudged between yours.
You gasped.
She swallowed it greedily.
When the kiss broke, you were both breathless.
“Isa…” you whispered, dazed.
“I know,” she murmured. “I know.”
A thunk behind the bookshelf startled you both – someone dropped a biscuit tin.
You stiffened.
Isadora pressed one last soft kiss to your lips, then your cheek, then pulled back slowly, smoothing your hair like she was wiping evidence off your face.
“We should… rejoin the party, eventually” she said, voice still thick with heat.
“Eventually,” you echoed.
You returned far too late to be subtle.
---
A while later Ames looked up from the snack table. “Ah! Capri! Your mistletoe placement is beautiful this year.”
You blinked. “Her what?”
Ames grinned. “Oh, she insisted on hanging every last sprig herself. Said it ‘encouraged a festive spirit.’ ”
Murmurs of agreement. Nods from several teachers.
You turned your head.
Isadora Capri was sipping her wine behind you.
Not hiding her smile.
At all.
“You–” you hissed. “You planned this?”
She tapped her glass to yours. “I merely decorated.”
“You put mistletoe in every doorway we passed!”
“Mm.” Sip. “Decorating.”
“You trapped me!”
At last, she leaned down, lips brushing your ear.
“Darling…” Her voice dropped. Dangerously. Warm. Claiming.
“If I really wanted to trap you, we wouldn’t be back at the party yet.”
You nearly combusted.
She smirked.
---
The snow outside was soft and fresh by the time you two stepped out into the quiet courtyard, the party still humming behind you.
You were tipsy. Warm. Floating.
Isadora tucked your hand into her coat pocket with hers to keep it warm.
You leaned into her shoulder automatically.
She chuckled. “Careful. You’ll fall.”
“I am falling,” you mumbled.
Her steps faltered.
Slowly – very slowly – she looked down at you.
“…For me?” she asked, voice soft but sure.
You blinked, heat blooming across your cheeks. “I umm- I meant literally, but–”
Her fingers tightened around yours.
“That answer works too,” she murmured.
You hid your face in her arm. “Isa!”
She kissed the top of your head, smug and affectionate. “My sweet, tipsy girl.”
“I’m not that tipsy.”
“You tried to unlock the snowman with your room key.”
You groaned. “Stoppp…”
She laughed, warm and lovely in the winter air, guiding you home through the softly falling snow.
Halfway there, she said – like it was a casual observation – “I’m kissing you again when we get inside.”
Your heart flipped.
“Is that a threat or a promise?” you whispered.
She smirked.
“Yes.”
And snow fell quietly around you both as she led you home.
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AHHHHH 🦋🦋🦋
Day 5 of Caprimas, hope y'all are enjoying it 💙
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bvnny 💛
