literature

DoflamingoxReader: Almost Lover (Songfic)

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His only weakness by Celesstia

Please play this in the background:              www.infinitelooper.com/?v=hp1-…    

           

Your fingertips across my skin

The palm trees swaying in the wind

Images

 

are what flicker behind your eyelids as you try to forget

Forget

Forget how you stumbled into his long legs that day

Forget his insistence of you playing his tour guide

Forget the dinner he invited you to

Forget promises that would never be fulfilled

 

    You pull out a bottle of white zinfandel, watching the liquid with the promise of escape slosh into your mug. Practically breathing in the pink liquid down your throat, tears escape the corners of your eyes as yet another moment visits you, one where you’re sitting at a white clothed table, glass in hand as you laugh with the long-legged man across from you. Slamming the mug down, you curl around the table edge, throat too tight to make a sound, choking on a new wave of tears. You desperately want to feel his large hands with their spindly fingers to ghost along your back, his deep voice whispering in your ear that this was just a nightmare. Yet the only thing there is a breeze blowing in through your open patio door.

 

You sang me Spanish lullabies

The sweetest sadness in your eyes

Clever trick

 

    Yes, how he made your relationship was a clever trick on his part. You became closer than friends, but not quite intimate partners. Was it the lullabies he sang to you in a language you didn’t understand that started your fall? Or the time on the beach where you learned he couldn’t swim? Laughter echoes around you at the memory of his flushed face, lips set in a firm frown. At the memory of his chasing you across the hot sands, you squealing and giggling at his empty threats to kill you.

    You fill up another mugful, draining it before the alcohol has time to settle. Tears continue to fall down your face, slipping into the blue darkness without a trace. A part of one of his songs comes to mind, as well as another moment where you were both kneeling, his thumb brushing across your cheek as he quietly sung, “Ay, ay, ay, ay, canta y no llores, porque cantando se alegran, cielito lindos, los corazones.” Hearing his soothing voice, your tears slowed, leaving you a hiccupping mess. After your tears ceased, you gave Doflamingo a small smile, showing you were better but not fully put back together. He pulled you close, hugging your small frame as if you were about to blow away in the wind. Surprised, you looked up to see tears silently flowing from under his sunglasses. Perhaps that was when you truly fell for Donquixote Doflamingo.

 

We walked along a crowded street

You took my hand and danced with me

Images

 

that never seem to leave you alone. You upend the bottle of wine, getting a mouthful in your mug. Swearing lightly, you shakily stand up and stagger to your kitchen. After you grab another white zinfandel and head back, you trip. Glass shatters and flies everywhere; wine spattering against your bruising arm. You lay there, unable to move as another moment in time where you almost trip overtakes you.

            You were at a street festival that night, and the only way you were able to move through the crowds was by letting him lead. Guitars thrummed in the air, causing it to shimmer in the glimmering lights. You were looking between the stalls set up on either side of the street and Doflamingo, curious as what to give him. He didn’t seem to show interest in much of anything, which frustrated you. You tripped in a pothole one of the times you were observing him. You reached your hands out, trying to stop your fall with anything that was available. Your fingers brushed against his feathery pink coat, which you gripped with all your strength. Instead of stabilizing you, it fell off his shoulders. Your landing wasn’t graceful, but the coat at least softened your fall against the cobblestones. Your world has become a hot pink feathery mess, his laughter at your sight bringing heat to your cheeks. Before you could get up and brush the dirt off his coat, he picked you up with his coat and pulled it out of your face. He asked if you were alright, his “graciosa cielito lindo”. You responded by blowing your mouthful of feathers into his face, waiting a moment to see his small frown before laughing.

            Setting you down, you continued walking through the festival. The further you went in, the more frustrated you felt, since nothing seemed to catch his attention. By the time you reached a town square, you were full on pouting. Seeing you like this, he asked what was wrong. Begrudgingly, you admitted to wanting something to give to him, and how nothing seemed to catch his attention. Smirking, he grabbed your hand and pulled you into a group of people dancing. While you were swaying and dancing to the beat, Doflamingo slowly pulled you closer and closer to him, lights appearing to spin around in a sphere. At the end of that song he finally held you against his broad chest, murmuring in your ear how the only thing that ever caught his attention was you.

 

And when you left you kissed my lips

You told me you'd never ever forget these images, no

 

for you certainly didn’t. They flicker fast through you deluded brain, brief instances popping in and out while you struggle to stand up again.

 

… Sharing strawberry ice cream under swaying palms… Flying with him, you on his back, pink feathers fluttering in the wind… Meeting his crewmates on his flamingo shaped ship… long thin fingers across your sensitive skin, tickling you without mercy… Picnic at night in a meadow, fireflies blinking in and out in front of a forest backdrop… Being caught from falling off a rooftop where someone pushed you… Grimacing as you pulled bullets out of him with tweezers, bullets he willingly shielded you from… Laying in bed together, fully clothed and tired, him whispering promises in you ear, you snuggling closer into his chest…

 

            Upright again, you barely feel the sting from your small wounds. Bleary eyes roam around your room; the table for two, one chair twice the size of the other; the cramped couch in front of the fireplace, where a smaller one existed before he replaced it; the patio covered in plants, where he would knock at the sliding door to surprise you; the kitchen where your home cooked meal for two burned disastrously by his flirting; to your bedroom, filled by a bed that had to be assembled inside, with your bathroom beyond, where he’d walked in while you were showering once. You struggle to get to the front door of your apartment, ignoring the glass slicing your bare feet as you walked over the remains of what would have been your fifth bottle of wine.

            Leaning against the door, you sob. The most painful image comes back to you here, since it was here that he said goodbye. You’d just spent a simple evening together, dinner remaining on the table where you left it. He fell asleep on the couch, you leaning on his chest watching the fire embers glow and crackle. Your heavy lids almost closed together before you noticed his breathing becoming irregular. Concerned, you propped yourself up and looked at Doflamingo’s face, watching sweat pour down his face, a grimace twisting what once was peaceful sleep. His breathing was erratic, flipping between moments of hyperventilation and choking constriction. You called out to him, softly saying “Doffy, Doffy, Doffy.” He began twisting, trying to avoid something you couldn’t see. You brought a loose hand towards his face, hoping to gently wake him. Your fingers just grazed his skin when you assume his eyes opened wide, with him whipping the both of you off the couch. You slammed into the hard floor, pinned under the larger man. You wait, afraid what he might do next.

            A few moments later, he appeared to realize what was happening, since his iron grip on your arms relaxed. Standing up, he helped you up from the ground, asking if you were alright. You tried to assure him you were, even though you could feel bruises beginning on your arms where he gripped you. Doflamingo merely frowned, stepping back and thinking about something. He brought up a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, eyes closed, and let out a long sigh. You asked him if it was a nightmare about his childhood, walking close as resting a hand on his arm. He waved you away, saying it wasn’t anything for you to worry about. You frowned, but there wasn’t much you could do when he didn’t want to talk about something. Instead you hug him, nuzzling him with your face and muttering how you loved him. You felt his body vibrate from his chuckling, a hand petting your head. Grabbing the sides of your head with both hands, he made you look up at him, smile on his face while yours was turning pink. He bent down, lips meeting your own in a sweet kiss. After releasing, he quietly sang, “Ese lunar que tienes, cielito lindo, junto a la boca, no se lo des a nadie, cielito lindo, que a mí me toca.”

 

I never want to see you unhappy

I thought you'd want the same for me

 

    How wrong you were. He never came back after that day, or the day after that, or the day after that. You weren’t worried at first, since there were times where he disappeared for days on end, only to catch you when you least expected. Yet this time was different, because no one was delivering little gifts of chocolate or bunches of flowers at the end of the first week. Anxious, you began trying to keep an eye out for your close pink-feathered friend. Each day that passed started closing your throat more and more, till you thought you could hardly breath at the end of the second week. You started asking people by then if they’ve seen him, desperately hoping to hear where he has gone. Yet every time you were told “No”. Your heart chipped, pieces flaking off and drifting as ash. You wandered the island, calling out his name in the abandoned places where you’ve snuck off to before. Each flash of pink would catch the corner of your eye, causing you to whip around and find a person with pink hair, or someone carrying a pink stuffed bear.

    The third week was when you started crying by yourself, your heart deteriorated to an empty scarred lump. You’d look up to the moon during those nights, choking out words to another lullaby he’d sing to you. “Luna lunera… ve y dile a mi amorcito… dile que a mi lado debiera volver… Ay lunita redondita… dile… dile que.. dile que me has visto tú llorar de amor… Luna lunera… ve y dile a mi amorcito… dile que se apiade de mi corazón…” Yet there was never a response.

 

I cannot go to the ocean

I cannot drive the streets at night

I cannot wake up in the morning

Without you on my mind

So now you're gone and I'm haunted

And I bet you are just fine

 

    He was every where you looked; every wave crashing on the beach, every time a guitar twanged, every laugh that almost sounded like his. You’ve tried going back to places you loved, but every time you saw the ghost of a memory where it was the two of you doing something. There were other nights like tonight where you tried to drown in alcohol just to forget him, but each morning you reach out through the blankets looking for his warm frame, only to grasp nothing. Multiple months have passed since he disappeared, and your raw feelings began smarting less. You even chanced smiling now and again, but it would never last. You couldn’t drive away images of his smile, his smell, his laugh.

    Earlier this morning you grabbed the newspaper. Right on the front page was the announcement of him becoming the King of Dressroba, a Spanish speaking island. Your heart stopped for a moment, eyes lingering on his smiling face, crown tilted on the side of his head while draped on his new throne. The smile he wore wasn’t as kind as the ones you remember, nor did it look like he missed you at all. You spent hours sitting there, looking at his picture. Eventually you forced yourself to walk stiffly out the door, into the market to buy bottle after bottle of wine. Coming back, you set your bottles of wine on the counter, grabbed a large mug, and went over to the table with a bottle in hand to drink.

    Back at your current moment, leaning against the front door, you can’t help but wonder,

 

Did I make it that easy

To walk right in and out of my life?

 

            Pushing against the door, you amble to the kitchen, going past it and into your bedroom. Collapsing onto the bed, you try not to shed more tears. You feel like they slide down the back of your throat, into the bottom of your chest, rising again as screams of pain up into your throat. But they fail to get farther than that, with your throat clenching so tight you can barely breath. So instead your laments fall back down again, crashing and compiling with the tears. The only sounds you can seem to make is a quiet, high whistling like sound, with your voice crackling in once in a while. Even though you stop most of your tears, a number of them leak past your closed eyelids.

            You think back to your relationship with him again. You think back to how you’d imagine him asking you to be his lover, with steamy nights and a ring happening soon after. You’d imagine what the wedding would be like, what raising kids of some sort would be like, of holding each other long after everything was said and done. You scoff at how you were back then, yet to realize it was all for naught. How you wish to go back in time to warn yourself not to expect too much, not to fall too far, to back out before it led to this.

            Darkness nibbles around your consciousness, promising escape from the memories and images with him. Hiccupping, the last thing you mumble before the darkness takes you away again is

 

Goodbye, my almost lover

Goodbye, my hopeless dream

I'm trying not to think about you

Can't you just let me be?

So long, my luckless romance

My back is turned on you

I should've known you'd bring me heartache

Almost lovers always do

This is for :iconattacknotitan:'s contest! This is kinda around the idea of "A strong feeling for the one you love, even if they are no longer present." I heard the song and I reeeeeeaaaaalllyyy thought it would work well for the theme. 

If you want to see the full songs used in the story, here are the links to their spanish and english lyrics:
Cielito Lindo: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cielito_…

 
Luna Lunera: lyricstranslate.com/en/luna-lu…

Anyway, the image belongs to :iconcelesstia:
The song Almost Lover belongs to A Fine Frenzy
Doflamingo belongs to Eiichiro Oda, and you belong to yourself. Plot belongs to me.
Please leave comments about what went well and what can be improved. Thanks!
© 2015 - 2024 MunRan
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