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acupofqueercoffee · 3 months

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“Everywhere I go leads me back to you”

Farah Dowling x Female Specialist Reader

wc : 3000+

cw : smoking cigarettes // soulmate identifying marks // not actually unrequited love but kind of an ambiguous ending

i’m currently in my eve best brain-rot era and this is just a little something to blow off steam before i continue brainstorming for rhaenys. there is an awful lack of rhaenys x female reader stories, so if you are in need of some just like i am, you can come yell your ideas at me. farah breadcrumbs are welcomed too 🤲🏻

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There is a terrible ache dancing along your legs, pain faintly pulsing across the plane of your back. Behind the security of your palm shielding the unruly breeze, the cigarette which hangs between your lips is ignited by a spark from the lighter, made only brighter by a breath that you subsequently inhale. It burns your throat, but in a way that you are well accustomed to unlike the vexing agony that has found home on your body as of late.

This sensation, one that breeds irritation, is nothing akin to the pleasant soreness that you are used to feeling after every training session during your time in the Solarian Army. While, in the past, you go to bed satisfied despite your aching limbs, an indication to a day purposefully spent, now you brood over the state of your body. It is, after all, one of the telltale signs that you are not in your pristine condition, which has also brought you to once again roam these grounds that you have so intimately known and walked to begin with.

Getting severely maimed during a mission has led to you getting temporarily dismissed from your duties. Rather than taking leave as is suggested to you, you have instead requested to be sent to Alfea, your former school, to both recuperate and share your combat expertise with the students as a temporary instructor, not being entirely too thrilled at the idea of wallowing in bed-rest after days of rigorous trainings to hone your skills, or perhaps if you are to be unabashedly honest, out of a profound yearning of your heart.

A chuckle bubbles in your chest, bitter, tinged with self-mockery. It is with an exhale of breath that you distract yourself, expelling the uninvited thoughts along with a cloud of smoke that escapes through your nose, through the crack of your lips, and they swirl around your head. After taking a final, languid drag of the cigarette, you toss it to the ground, effectively dousing it with the heel of your boot.

You are in desperate need of a drink, preferably alcoholic, but given that work is in progress, not to mention a class that you have to supervise alongside Headmaster Silva at hand, you opt for something less strong. About a couple of minutes later, you find yourself in the staff lounge. With professors busy at this time of day teaching their respective classes, the room is empty, and you walk to the counter to brew yourself a nice, hot cup of coffee.

The aroma of freshly ground beans is rich, but richer still is the perfumed air that pleasantly tickles your nose. It smells of books, of sunny afternoons, of jasmines in full bloom, of a love left buried.

“You reek of cigarettes.”

At the familiar voice, amused rather than displeased, that spreads over you like a warm blanket, you cannot help but let loose a little grin, recalling many a time during your school years when you have suffered an earful from the woman herself for your misbehaviours.

“If you’re going to reprimand me for it, you should have known better by now, Headmistress, that it’s no use trying.”

“Even the mountains will eventually crumble, will they not?”

Amusement tugs on one corner of Headmistress Dowling’s lips by the time you turn to face her. She gestures to you with a small tilt of her head. “Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.”

“Coffee? I just brewed some.”

“Please.”

After pouring the freshly-brewed coffee into two porcelain cups, you put sugar and a splash of milk into one cup while keeping the other black. You carry them to where the Headmistress has seated herself on a nearby couch, handing the sweetened one to her.

“Here it is, my lady.” Your playfulness earns you an eye roll. “A cube of sugar and a splash of milk if I remember correctly.”

With a delicacy that you are sure only she possesses, she cradles the cup in her hands with a whispered “Thanks.”

“You remember correctly.” A blossom of a smile grows on her lips, beautiful and dizzying, but the soft tummy-butterflies inducing moment is abruptly eclipsed by the pain that suddenly flares across you ribcage.

Try as you may, you fail to rein in your emotions it seems, for one moment, the mind fairy is sitting, and the next, she is on her feet, the cup hastily discarded on the table. Her hands are poised to steady you should you falter on your feet. You stop her with a gesture of a hand, a chuckle freed from your throat as a sorry excuse of a reassurance. Although unconvinced, she makes no further moves, says nothing, only quietly observing you with her eyes as you move to sit on the other side of the couch. She retakes her seat.

“How are you finding your new job so far?”

“It’s…different. Slower than what I’m used to in the army. But the students are eager to learn and-” You take a sip of your coffee, chance a glance at her, and see that she is taking a delicate sip from her own cup. “-it’s good to be back here.”

As much as you like to believe that the last part of your confession is the product of it, the more logical part of you argue that it is the mention of her students that has her wearing a ghost of a smile, pleased.

“They are, aren’t they? And they’re fortunate to have someone with your experience as their instructor.”

After a beat, she adds. “And…how are you faring?”

The question has you hesitating for a moment, not wanting to appear weak, but nothing will come of lying to a mind fairy, much less someone who bears your name, the mark of your soul on her body.

“Recovering. Slowly. But it’s hard to stay still after being on the front lines.”

“I understand. Sometimes the hardest battles are the ones we fight within ourselves.”

Her face is unreadable, a masterful deceit, but you suspect there are hidden depths to her words.

“Last I recall, you weren’t a fan of coffee.”

It is with her own words that you begin your response. “You recall correctly, but many a white night has left me relying on it. And I’ve grown rather fond of its company.”

She levels you with a reproachful lift of a brow.

“You consume coffee, black I might add, because you can’t sleep? Aren’t you going around in circles?”

“I need it to keep me alert. Also, in case you forgot, I’m no longer your student, Headmistress.” Your reply comes out more venomous than you have intended it to, years of bottled up emotions suddenly coming to a boil.

“That doesn’t mean I’ve cared for you any less.”

Although the confession is but a murmured breath, the force of it is colossal against you, filling your mind with what-ifs upon what-ifs. With an exhale and a squeeze of your eyes, you hurriedly stand, a string of words fleeing your lips as you leave the room in a haste.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have a class to teach.”

The brain may forget but the heart always remembers. She has eyes the colour of rich honey, brown at first sight but drenched in sunlight, swirls of greens and specks of oranges dance and mingle, a beautiful, enchanting lake that makes you want to drown in it. Although she carries herself with an authority as befits a Headmistress, her students matter to her above all else. She cherishes her job to a fault, so much so that once upon a time, she has simply dismissed the soul tie that you share without so much as batting an eyelid.

The class passes in a blur. You guide, you demonstrate, you regale them with tales of your battles all the while drowning in your own memories. Even as the last class of the day is dismissed and dusk sets in, you remain on the training grounds, practicing, fighting imaginary opponents, in hopes of giving your mind something else to focus on, which you find to be failing miserably.

From the very first moment you have met her all those years ago on your first day of school, there has been an inexplicable connection, a feather-light touch of magic that softly caresses your skin. “Sup.” has been your very first words to her, admittedly not the most ideal greeting of a new student to her Headmistress. A look is all she gives you, unimpressed, understandably so, and given that your class is mainly supervised by Headmaster Silva, you seldom cross paths with her after that. On rare occasions when you do cross paths however, despite your greetings, she refuses to acknowledge you as though you are invisible to her.

And finally, finally, when she decides you worthy enough to grace you with her words, it has been to scold you. On that fateful day, you have been standing on the sidelines as two of your classmates are locked in a fight on the platform. It just so happens to be one of those days where Headmistress Dowling is present on the training grounds to spectate the progress of the students.

When a dagger has flown astray from the middle of the fight, it aims at one person, who at present has her back to the imminent threat, trapped in a conversation with Headmaster Silva, you realise in trepidation. Without thinking, you leap, an arm darting out to catch the weapon in your hand. Inwardly, you marvel at your own reflexes, finding it hard to believe that you have stopped a weapon with your bare hand, albeit not without consequences. With your palm cut open, blood has oozed, and the thick liquid drips down your wrist.

The close proximity of the Headmistress to you is felt in that spine-tingling, knee-weakening way, and smelt in the fragrant wind, before her voice finally reaches your ear in the form of your name. The pleasant surprise that takes hold of you at her knowledge of your name is quickly overshadowed by annoyance at the tone of her voice, equally as annoyed, her displeasure apparent on the hardened plane of her face once you turn to greet her.

“A thank you would be nice. I just saved you after all.”

“Which was utterly unnecessary I might add. Don’t mistake recklessness for courage.”

Ouch! That hurts. Even more so than the dagger’s mark that has permanently found home on your body.

“Greenhouse, at once.”

It is amidst getting your wound treated that you notice something that has not been on your skin before. On the delicate flesh of your wrist appears a name in a beautiful cursive. Farah, it reads, but judging by the reaction of the earth fairy before you, unfazed and composed, you reckon that this must be for your eyes only.

No sooner have you had your wound properly dressed than you are seeking out Farah, determined to confront the reality of your bond. You find her in her office, standing by the window, looking out over the grounds.

“Headmistress,” you say, stepping inside. “We need to talk.”

She turns to face you, her expression a mask of cool detachment. “There's nothing to discuss.”

“How can you say that?” You have demanded, stepping closer. “We both know what those marks mean.”

Farah sighs, closing her eyes for a moment before meeting your gaze. “The revelation changes nothing. I do not own you. Don’t let mere words bind you to me. I’m only your headmistress and you are merely my student. And that is where this ends.”

Her words cut deep, but you refuse to back down. “Farah, you can't just ignore this. It's not just about words or marks. It's about what we feel.”

“What you feel,” she has corrected you, her voice firm. “I am responsible for the safety and education of all my students. I cannot afford to let personal feelings interfere.” And in that no-nonsense way, she adds, “Also, it’s Headmistress Dowling to you.”

With a shake of your head, frustration and hurt well up inside you. “It's more than that, Headmistress and you know it. We have a connection, something real and undeniable. Why are you so afraid of it?”

For a moment, you see softness in her eyes, revealing a flicker of the pain she is trying so hard to hide, but it is gone as soon as it has come. “Because if I acknowledge it, everything changes. And I cannot allow that.”

“You're wrong,” It sounds unconvincing even to your own ears, but a desperate murmur. “Ignoring it won't make it go away. It just makes us both miserable.”

She turns away, her shoulders tense. “Go back to your training. Focus on becoming the best specialist you can be. That's what matters.”

You have stood there for a long moment, dared to entertain the fool’s dream in which she turns back, says something, anything to acknowledge the truth you both feel. But she has cut that little thread of hope by remaining silent, a statue of unyielding resolve.

Finally, you turn to leave, your heart heavy but your resolve unbroken. “This isn't over, Headmistress. Not by a long shot.”

So you have declared but deep down, you have always known that you are doomed to failure from the start. And before you know it, the graduation day dawns bright and clear upon Alfea, a stark contrast to the turmoil inside you.

Students and faculty have gathered on the grand lawn, the air filled with excitement and a tinge of sadness as friends prepare to part ways. Farah Dowling stands at the podium, her regal presence commanding attention as she addresses the graduates. You stand among your peers, listening to her speech but barely registering the words. Your heart is heavy with the decision you have made. Despite all your efforts, Farah has remained resolute in her stance, keeping the walls between you impenetrable.

As the ceremony eventually comes to an end bringing with it your inevitable departure, you have caught the Headmistress’s gaze from across the stage. Her eyes have lingered on you for a moment, a flicker of something unspoken passing between the two of you. Then she looks away, and the moment is no more.

In your dorm room, your belongings are packed and ready, each item a reminder of the years spent at Alfea, of the bonds formed and the love left unrequited. Your friends try to convince you to stay, to join them in their adventures, but you know that you are in desperate need of a fresh start, far from the memories that still haunt these halls.

So, with your bags slung over your shoulder, you make your way to the gates of Alfea. Behind you, the school stands in all her majestic glory, a place of learning and growth, and of heartache. You pause, taking a final glance, realising with a hint of melancholy that you are not only leaving a place that has been your home for three years but also a part of yourself behind.

You have not been expecting a farewell, one last goodbye, but there she is, standing tall and composed at the gates. A spellbinding beauty, you think stupidly.

Your name spills forth her lips, dainty and delicate in appearance, but you have not been given the chance, nor will you ever be allowed to find out how they feel against your own, a forbidden fruit. When she speaks, her voice is firm, genuine. “I wanted to wish you well in your future endeavours. You have been an exemplary student, and I have no doubt you will succeed in whatever path you choose.”

“Thank you, Headmistress. Alfea has been…” You pause, swallowing the lump in your throat. “everything to me.”

For a moment, she hesitates, then steps closer, lowering her voice to that excruciating, dizzying timbre. “I hope you find what you're looking for, wherever you go.”

You look into her eyes, searching for any sign of the connection you feel, but her walls are fiercely in place. With a heavy heart, you breathe. “Goodbye, Headmistress.”

By the time you turn to leave, once again, her voice halts you.

Your name leaves her lips in a soft murmur. You turn back, hope blossoming in your chest, only to have it crushed by her next words, both a gentle and a cruel finality to your fated encounter. “Take care of yourself.”

A sad smile spreads across your lips. “You too, Headmistress.”

With every step you take away from Alfea, and from her, a mixture of sorrow and determination burns in your chest. It is finally time to bury the past, to lock away the love you feel and move forward.

Months have passed as you travel, exploring new places and honing your skills. The pain of leaving Alfea and your beloved Headmistress, although duller than they use to, never truly vanish. You throw yourself into your new life, hell-bent on building something worthwhile.

One evening, in a small village nestled in a valley, you find yourself sitting by a tranquil river, the water reflecting the fading light of day. You trace the mark on your wrist, Farah’s name forever etched into your skin. Try as you may to lock away your feelings, the bond still remains, a silent testament to what could have been.

With a sigh, you close your eyes and let the cool breeze wash over you. The past is behind you, and while the future is uncertain, you know you have the strength to face it.

“Fuck, I should’ve never returned to these godforsaken grounds. So much for leaving the past behind!”

Presently, you curse aloud as you slash nothing but air with your twin blades, reenacting scenes from your battlefield. The efforts with which you have made to keep your feelings buried have been for naught, for in the end, in a moment of weakness, you have listened to your heart, and returned to where it longs to be the most.

By her side.

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#farah dowling #farah dowling x reader #eve best #fate winx saga #alfea #winx alfea #winx specialists #character x reader #soulmates #unrequited love #unrequited feelings #not really #brainstorming

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evycloudberry · 1 year

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* note: I am writing this as (Y/N) being a fire fairy.

* note: I did not name the friends, so all readers can ‘personalize’ this story easily. They are mentioned according to their ability.

Disclaimer: swearing

Taglist: @slytherinambitious @ellatitanium @untalentedsideoffandoms

Back to the menu chapters

Begin Again (Part 9)

"Talk about the devil," her brother remarked, nodding towards the figure at the entrance. "That's definitely my cue to leave!"

And he hurried off in quick footsteps.

She approached him, smiling but a bit puzzled.

"I thought I'd check on you after today's events," he began.

"That's very considerate of you, Riven. You didn't have to," she said appreciatively.

"As crazy as this is going to sound, I care. I can only imagine what happened this evening, so I had to make sure to check on you," he replied sincerely.

"That's very sweet. I am fine. Thank you for taking the time to do that, especially after the hectic day you must have had yourself. You're a good friend," she replied warmly.

He chuckled nervously. "Friend... yeah. Well, this friend saw some pretty ugly shits this evening, and thought he might just take a another big risk before the next attack. We never know, I could run out of luck."

She frowned, puzzled. "I needed to make sure you know that I will fix whatever is going on. I guess it's a fucked-up way to teach me a lesson, but I am going to fight for you. Even if all our memories together are gone from your memory, even if I get erased, I will find a way to get back to normal. Our normal... now that sounded completely insane," he laughed, and she joined in.

"It absolutely did! And to be honest, I am not sure I understand" she admitted.

"Just try to remember that I love you, (Y/N)" he blurted out.

The silence hung heavily. "Your timing is very bad" she said with a low voice.

"And technically, you love me." He added

"You don't say..." she quickly responded, she wanted out of the awkward situation, and passing him, but she stopped abruptly upon hearing his next words.

"And, icing on the cake: You and I, we are dating! Or at least, we were... it's complicated."

"I can see that." She turned to face him

"I broke up with you."

"May I ask why?" she said in a harsh tone, feeling strangely hurt by the revelation

"Honestly, I'm not even sure anymore..."

"Are you doing this because you want closure?" She questioned her heart tightening, and accelerating. But she could not understand why. Could he be telling the truth? Why couldn’t she remember?

"No! I mean, honestly, this situation is fucking confusing..."

"You're a nice guy, Riven. But communication doesn't seem to be your forte. I'm going to assume this was a drunk conversation," she concluded, then turned and left for good.

As she approached her suite, she noticed a shadow at the door.

"This might be creepy, but I was hoping to see you before turning in," Zane greeted her.

"Zane, hey. You didn't have to. Funny, someone had the same idea."

"Oh. Someone I know?"

"Let's not go down that road... it's too late for heavy conversations."

"Well, let's not talk then," he smiled, opening his arms. "Sometimes all you need is a hug. And you look like you could use one right now."

She contemplated it for a moment before accepting. It felt nice—his strong yet gentle arms, his calm and soothing heartbeat, his regular warm breath on her head. It was pleasant yet oddly unsettling. As if this comforting moment was somehow wrong. For now, she decided to push those feelings aside. She was tired, emotionally stirred by her earlier conversations: her brother's warning and Riven's strange revelations had left her feeling on edge. So, she welcomed this support.

Zane started to rub her back and then her arms slowly and tenderly. She relaxed, wrapping her arms around his waist, savoring the moment. How could this be wrong? His lips brushed against her forehead, and he gave her a gentle kiss. She shifted her body slightly, just enough to look up. Only a few inches separated their faces, their noses almost touching. His eyes admired her features, eventually moving to her lips. With no opposition from her, he leaned in.

Her mind got hazy for a moment, enjoying the softness of his lips on hers, warm and gentle. She opened her eyes and gently pushed on his torso, creating some space between them. They gazed at each other, both smiling.

She broke the silence first. "I'm sorry. We have a rule about boys staying over that prevents me from asking you to stay the night..."

"Well, we could go to my dorm? Nothing frisky, I swear. It's just that... it would be such a shame to walk away right now," he suggested.

She laughed before agreeing. Before leaving together, she slipped into her room to grab some essentials for the next day.

Note: feel free to share your thoughts!

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