The red strings of Fate
For my dear valentine @captainswansettingsail, i’m sorry for not being the best cssv, but i hope you’ll like this gift.
Friends to Lovers ⚜ Soulmate AU ⚜ 2k words ⚜ Fluff/Angst ⚜ Ao3
The Red String of Fate exists, and only some people have the ability to see the strings, and these people can actually cut strings and knot other people’s strings in to alter the soulmate laws. Your best friend’s wedding is tomorrow and they know you can see the string. They ask you to help them defy the laws of the universe and help them be with the person they love even though they know that’s not their soulmate. You know they love each other so much so you help them, even though the person your best friend’s marrying/your best friend is your soulmate.
Experience has taught Emma Swan that sometimes, most of the time, love happens to not be enough. Love, not matter how fierce, cannot help but kneel in front of life.
Human’s devotion does not overcome Fate.
(Fate cares little that the shade of his eyes is still printed over her heart, this warm chocolate with green sparkles, that his perfume causes her to stop mid sentence, a lump in her throat, that her entire being yearns for him and he is gone.)
When she falls in love with Graham, she knows she must ensure their future.
She knows she must face Fate with her hands fisted, jaw clenched, and her heart on her sleeves.
His name is Doctor Jones. There are few people like him: he is able to see the red strings of Fate, and play with them.
“He is the best on this matter, Emma,” assures her Elsa, a warm hand over her anguished heart. “He will make sure everything goes just the way you want it to.”
If his science is admitted as one per see, Emma has always been one to be sceptical.
Therefore, as she stands in front of a lovely wooden door where golden letters give away the name of her doctor, she is frowning furiously. A so-called slogan causes her to cringe and roll her eyes: “A man/woman unwilling to fight for what he/she wants, deserves what he/she gets.”
It is a beautiful day of summer, the breeze a tender and lukewarm embrace against her bare arms. In the park surrounding the cabinet, birds are singing playfully. She cannot seem to feel as light; there is this heavy burden on her shoulders, the thought that she might fail.
There’s bitterness on the tip of her tongue.
“Miss Swan,” a British accent cuts her in her thought, and she looks up to discover a friendly smile, “you may come in.”
He smells good, spices and leather and something childish, a little bit of chocolate. There’s something very soft in the waves of his gaze, a rest of childhood at the corner of his eyes, while the fullness of his pink lips seems to give away innocence. It contrasts with the arsh lign of his brows, with how absent his gaze can get, a grey veil prevailing over azul.
His voice, too, is disconcertingly tender as he explains to her the extent of her demand with a smile she cannot quite comprehend.
“…it will be inalterable. Your life will be forever tangled together, and of course, you will-” his tone gets unsure as he quits her gaze to look at his shoes.
There are roses on the desk between them, and their hue is reflected on his cheeks.
She frowns, licks her lips. (Finds him endearing.)
“I will, doctor?”
She swallows as he pours his eyes in hers again; they seem lost and agare, and she wonders why she feels so connected to this stranger.
“ -you will lose any possibility to share your life with your true soulmate.”