🧸ྀི donquixote doflamingo x f!reader. part two.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺. I’m still mad that tumblr shadow banned the first part of this story but oh well, I’ll live, this is the second part! I’m obsessed with this plot but I don’t know where it’s going but life is a journey, so are the stories we write! I’ll take it as it goes. see pinned post for info on banners and fanarts! warning: mention of sexual harassment (reader’s friend says it) uh doffy tries to kill reader/choke her out (fails #fuckubitch) and doflamingo is a warning in itself lol so proceed with care and caution! oh, and reader works at a jazz club/plays tennis in her spare time!
With your legs propped up on the counter, hands behind your neck, you watch as another customer was tossed out of the club, thanks to your spitfire of a friend.
"Seriously," She seethed, dusting her hands as she made her way back to you as drunken eyes followed her. "Is this a Jazz Club or a sexual harassment club yer fucking cunts?"
The air was stuffy, and the musicians worked their magic to soothe the troubled souls within the sector. But no amount of jazz could soothe you and the problem at hand.
"What's yer fucking issue?" You friend frowned, downing a bottle, her eyes on the jazz musicians. "Been acting all gloomy since our King spoke to yer."
Your fingers twitched at the mention of him. He hasn't sought you out for weeks, and you were growing tired of it. Why?
You lock eyes with Señor Pink who sat, indulging the women around him, but his eyes were on you in warning.
He's been following you, per orders, and you were sick and tired of it.
No drink could make you drunk, you were as sober and alert as ever. You drink your favourite drink, eyes on Señor Pink. "Been thinking."
"Ya think too much." Your friend chuckled, unaware of the company. "Yer won't tell me what he says to ya, but yer'll sit there and glare at the wall. Daft cow."
She gets up, tatted arms flexing under the bar lights. You turn your eyes to her.
"Go take a break, boss, I'll handle 'em fools."
You were surprised. "You sure?"
She chuckled. "Yer never like this, lass. Always the optimist. Now get a move on before I change ma mind."
You rise to stand, grabbing your coat from the hook, and slipping it on. "I'll be back in an hour."
Hands buried deep in your pockets, a cancer stick hanging loosely between your lips, unlit, you make your way to the tennis court to blow off some steam. Of course, Señor Pink had followed you, but he was nowhere in sight.
Tennis was your lover by sunset, and Jazz was your lover by night.
The power you felt when holding the ball, tossing it in the air, waiting for it to come back down and kiss your racket just for it to kiss the racket of your opponent symbolised the situation you were in with the king who stays but always leaves. Doflamingo was like a piece of Jazz; It sings to you, opens up your soul, then reminds you that your situation is unchanged, romanticised, and cursed at through instrumentals.
Jazz was noise pollution to those that could never understand, and was for the troubled only and you my friend, were insanely troubled.
You raise the ball in the air, watch as it kissed your racket, then left to kiss the wall.
With every swing, your movements became more ravenous, needy, and in a rage, you had hit the ball so hard, it broke the racket. The ball went off centre and didn't hit the wall. You didn't hear the sound of the tennis ball hitting the ground.
With a scowl you turn around, about to scold Señor Pink, but it wasn't Señor Pink.
"Doflamingo." You straighten, glaring at him.
No glasses. Curse this stupid soulmate bond!
He grinned, chuckling. Tossed the ball your way and you caught it.
"I thought I might find you here."
"Yeah, because your dog told you. What do you want?"
"Oh? Straight to the chase?" He chuckled darkly, moving towards you. You had spare rackets in your bag so you pick one up, and play again. "Tell me about Akagami."
A vein threatened to throb on his forehead.
"Woman," Doflamingo's voice was dangerously low. "You're lucky I'm even keeping you alive."
"You can't kill me. Or did you forget?"
He grinned. "Oh? Are you in a sour mood because i’ve barely acknowledged your existence?”
Bastard. You weren’t going to let him win this stubborn battle. It was your turn to grin.
"I'm in a mood because I'm soul-tied to you of all people. Why couldn't it be someone like Crocodile?"
His hand went to your throat immediately. You laugh. Gotcha. He let out a tsk. Let you go.
"Why so stormy, blue eyes?" You stick your tongue out at him.
"You shut up." He barked. "And tell me what you know."
You hum. "Lets see... Oh, I know."
He wasn't looking at you.
Doflamingo dragged out another sigh, and another vein throbbed on his forehead. He tilted his head in your direction.
“You’re not going to co-operate?”
You ignore him and play the game. He looked at the racket. Then at your face.
“I don’t betray those who I am acquainted with,” You say, hitting the ball. “It’s not my place to reveal things you wish to know.”
Doflamingo wasn’t sensible like you. If he wanted something, he’d take it either by force or through murder but neither catch seemed to work on you. It was either admirable or real fucking stupid.
“Hand me a racket.” He says, and you looked surprised.
He stuck his hand out. You hand him a racket. He went to the other end and got into position.
No movement was needed aside from the occasional shuffle. He was a calculating man, tall at that, so of course his moves would be precise. You call out the labels for each shot: "love" "15" "30" "40" "game" and would restart.
The ball was the string that pulled you both together. No longer were you angry, you felt calm. At peace.
Neither of you spoke to each other and played the game.
That was sufficient enough.
When you made your way back to the club, Doflamingo had invited himself. Said he needed a drink. You agreed, and the rowdy clients were no longer drunkenly slurring or starting fights in this cosy club and took their arrogance elsewhere.
"Yer fucking mad." Your friend huffed, leaning against the bar. "Yer bagged the sexiest man that just so happens to be the fucking king."
He was sat, arms crossed, head lowered to hear Diamanté's report. Some women were there, Monet and Violet, and you could tell they were talking about you. Nothing bad, but it seemed as though they were interested in striking a conversation with you.
"I didn't bag anyone." You roll your eyes.
Your friend chuckled. Knew not to comment further. Then nods to a man sitting alone. "12 o'clock."
You already noticed him when you walked in with Doflamingo. His cloak was up, calmly taking a few sips, and in dire need of a refill. You could tell who it was by the red of his hair, and the way that he carried himself.
"Need more?" You ask, not waiting for a response, and poured him his fill. You place the bottle down. "What's a fella like you doing in a place like this, Shamrock?"
He smirked. "Smart girl."
Took a sip. Placed it down.
You knew what he was here to do.
"You should know your place in this world."
"It rivals with the gods of this world," You take your gun and cock it, the sound reverberating throughout the room. "You really want to do this here?"
"Your soul tie is watching." He stood up. "Here."
He tossed a book your way. You frown. Look at the title. There was nothing but the smell of old wine and vintage, a nameless binding.
When you look up, he was already out the door, and with a tsk you put the safety back on the gun.
"Drinks on me!" You slam a wad of cash on the counter and the place erupted into cheers.
Your eyes linger on the door for a second too long. Another tsk left you when you pick up the book, nodding at your friend who nods back.
You weren't in a cheery mood, and neither was your soul tie, who had sent one of his guys to follow the mystery man, only to come back empty handed.
