Howdy everyone. As many as my regular readers know, I'm writing fanfics as a tribute to Taylor Swift and my favorite album by her, Red. This is the fifth fic in the series, based on one of my personal favorites, All Too Well. If you'd like to check out my other fanfictions based on Swift songs, my first work in the miniseries is state of grace, which is written for the PJO fandom (the pairing is Percabeth). My second work is red, written for the Merlin fandom, based on Gwen's suffering after Arthur's death. My third is treacherous, which is based on Holly Black's book, The Coldest Girl in Coldtown. My newest ficlet is called i knew (you were trouble). It's a Rise of the Guardians and Brace crossover, focusing on the Jarida ship.
Title: all too well.
Summary: It was raining when he found her (it was sunny when he left her). [In which Emma meets a playboy and falls for him anyway. Oneshot. Angst.]
Pairing: Captain Swan.
Word Count: 1,390.
Songs Used: Basically the whole Red album, but it's heavily inspired by All Too Well.
WARNING:This fic is very angsty, and it contains crude language. I ship Captain Swan with my soul, but writing angst is my specialty. Please note this is an AU fic, where Storybrooke is just an itch and one's mind.
all too well.
by clarabella wanderling.
"Well, maybe we got lost in translation, maybe I asked for too much.
But maybe this thing was a masterpiece, til you tore it all up.
Running scared, I was there, I remember it.
All too well."
~Taylor Swift, All Too Well.
It was raining when he found her.
His dark hair was swept in an unkempt manner, a dark leather jacket shrugged onto his shoulders and the smile of a playboy resting on his lips. Emma Swan was sitting in a coffee shop and Killian Jones, as was his name, saw her, deciding that the game would be fun, and bought her a muffin, unbeknownst to him that she loved muffins (but then, didn't everybody?).
She honestly did not mean to fall for him.
Right off the bat it's clear that he'll leave her, and maybe that's what's so appealing about the whole situation. She has a chance to tie down a playboy, a player, a fuckboy, and if there's anything Emma likes, it's a challenge.
So they get to know each other.
And she falls for him.
(He doesn't return the favour.)
...
"Do you have a strong stomach?" He asks her, his voice teasing but gentle as they walk towards his sister's house.
"Killian." Emma replies, her tone full of amusement. "She can't be that bad."
"Ariel is... interesting." Is all the man replies, and his fingers play idly with her scarf, an old white thing that brings a contrast to her black attire, an attire that matches his almost completely if it weren't for the white converse and scarf. Always was a little innocent, come to think of it.
Ariel is nice, though she looks at them a bit sadly, like she knows their story too well and it doesn't end well. Half-way through the comfortable evening, Emma spills some hot chocolate on it. It's only a little stain, but Ariel insists that she'll wash it and return it, brand new.
So Emma hands the scarf over, and never sees it again.
...
There's another time, not long afterwards, when they're somewhere in upper Maine, the trees whizzing by as Killian drives, recklessly, towards nowhere and everywhere. He's staring at her like she's his everything and Emma stares right back, "Cat got your tongue?" She teases.
"No, I, um-" He gulps, and Emma turns her attention to up ahead, her eyes widening as she screams out, "KILLIAN!" In a voice that's shrill and fearful. The man slams on the breaks, skidding to a stop just as the lights of an intersection turn green, giving him the go-to sign.
Emma laughs and Killian shakes his head.
Some days Emma wishes that they'd run that light.
...
When Emma meets Mrs. Jones, an elderly woman with gray hair and eyes a little too sad, she's greeted by the scent of cookies and the feeling that Mrs. Jones would be a good grandmother. The lady hugs her, a light thing that damn near breaks Emma's heart, and Killian ushers her inside, flicking Emma's hair, which is locked in it's ponytail.
Later in the evening, they're eating chocolate chip cookies and coffee when Mrs. Jones sets down an old photo album. Killian groans, "Shit, no, please Mom."
"Language!" Snaps his mother, and Emma giggles.
"I'd love to see the pictures," says the younger woman, and Mrs. Jones' face softens.
As they flip through the photos, Killian's cheeks dusted pink, Emma thinks that maybe they'll be okay.
(They weren't.)
...
When he stops by her apartment, it's one in the morning and it's like he reads her mind, because she's watching old Friends episodes (she's on the one where Rachel kisses a hot Italian in the dark and Ross is absolutely heartbroken), contemplating on the meaning of life, when he's just there like an angel in black leather. Really, that should have been her first warning.
Angels don't wear black, and they don't dance like the devil.
But she lets him spin her in his arms, anyway, determined to see his smile mirror hers. And, to Emma, it does mirror hers. To Killian, however, it's mere acting and he's just a little too good, that's all.
...
It is sunny when he leaves her.
The birds are chirping and she's perched on the same seat of the coffee house where they first, months ago. When he strides in, his face is set in a grim, determined line and Emma immediately feels her heart sink. Killian approaches her. He smiles, a quick, false thing, "Hi."
"Hello."
Then, just as quickly as it comes, the smile fades and he puts his hands in his pockets, not meeting her gaze. "I'm breaking up with you. I'm sorry. We're just -we're not good together anymore. I hope you understand."
Oh, Emma thinks.
"Oh." Emma says. Her voice is faraway, eyes rapidly dimming and she wonders to God why they had to meet in her favorite coffee house.
She'll never be able to step foot in it again.
"Goodbye, Emma Swan." Killian Jones says, and pats her on the shoulder awkwardly, before walking away in the shameful fashion that suddenly suits him.
Without thinking, Emma responds, "Take care of yourself, Killian Jones."
She doesn't think he hears her, but he does.
...
She thinks that maybe she just asked for too much, yeah, that's it. That's why he left.
But then she thinks that it was all perfect, like one of Vincent van Gogh's painting, until he came along and decided that they were junk and threw them away.
She knows which one is true.
After all, she was there.
...
He calls her a month after their depart, voice alluring and sickeningly sweet. "Emma," says he, "Come back to me."
She almost does.
But if Emma Swan knows one thing, one goddamn thing,it's that running back to someone who left you causes problems. Yeah, Emma Swan knows that all too well.
"Goodbye." Emma says, even though it breaks her.
She hangs up.
...
Long after he's gone, she realizes he still owns her scarf. Emma wonders if it's still with Ariel and decides, nah, she got under his skin just enough for him to want that scarf. It still smells like her, after all. Innocent and happy.
He still remembers, she thinks. A little too well, perhaps.
Oh. Emma thinks.
That makes two of them.
"Hey, you call me up again, just to break me like a promise.
So casually cruel, in the name of being honest."
~Taylor Swift, All Too Well.
Alright, so thank God that Captain Swan didn't split up, and that they are still together (I think. If I'm caught up on episodes). I'm just good at angst, so angst I write.
Reviews would be lovely.
Blessings,
Joss.