TW: talk of violence and blood, anxiety, readers ass and cussing.
MDNI
He looks at the flowers like they are a grenade in his hand that he forgot he picked up.
He brings them to his nose and takes a deep and much needed breath in. The pungent scent of earth and sweet velvet.
He takes another deep breath in. A breath so deep it fills his stomach and he can almost taste the petals.
Creamy honey, crisp apples, juicy oranges, soft figs. Like the plates his mom used to bring him while he played in the dirt as a kid.
For a moment, it all goes away. The anxiety, the stress, the fear.
He feels it all melt away with every exhale. Finally a moment of peace in such a terribly loud place and a horribly loud mind.
Inhale the scent of home.
Exhale the feeling of drowning
Inhale
Exhale
In
Out
“Konig! The fuck are you doing?”
The soldier in him comes back to the surface and turns his whole body rigid.
He faces the familiar voice. “Horangi, finally. Got turned around and my comms must not work underground. Did you get eyes on the perp?”
Horangi stares at him for a moment, flowers and all. “Yeah.. Yes. We've been trying to give you direction but you stopped responding. They sent me down here to do recon.”
He knows. He heard. He didnt care. Not when the panic settled in his bones.
“Apologies. Like I said, comms must not work down here.”
“Yeah, well, we lost the target so we have orders to head back.”
“Understood.”
They begin to walk back to the entrance
“Whats with the flowers?”
“Dropped by a civilian.” he shoots Horangi a look that says ‘ask more, I dare you’
They walk the rest of the way in silence.
------------------------------------------------
Back at home base a shitty apartment with the thinnest walls he lays in his bed that he doesnt fit in with the flowers on his chest and his eyes closed, practicing the breathing techniques his older sister taught him.
Inhale for 5
Your smile
Hold for 5
Your eyes
Exhale for 10
Your voice
Hold for 5
Your ass
Repeat
He plays with the red beaded bracelet his younger sister made for him to fidget when his hands would shake. He needs to focus on this mission and getting his mind right. Kortac has been bleeding him dry for the last year. Mission after mission. Sleepless nights, confidential files, torture, meetings, memorize intel, phone calls, long flights, recon, knife wound, weeks at sea, bad intel, fights with Horangi, kill after kill after kill after kill after kill kill kill so much blood on his hands.
He just needs a break. And a good fuck
He needs to finish this op. Then he can breathe.
He hoists himself up off the tiny bed while still holding the flowers. While upside down something inside the parchment paper falls on to the floor.
He picks it up.
A little brown envelope.
He opens it and slips out the paper inside.
It’s okay to step away from the world sometimes but you don't have to suffer in silence. Life has a funny way of teaching you that being soft is a strength and that there is nothing brave in walking alone.
@ StrangeFlowers
Not sure when I’ll post part three I’m still working on it!
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TW: description of a panic attack. No mention of readers body…. Yet. Thats a threat ;P cussing.
AN: im alive lol. been a while, missed you:) i got this idea from those videos of strangers giving notes to other strangers. meet cute type shit ya know. hope you enjoy<3
MDNI
His hands are shaking, a layer of sweat coating his skin and his lungs burning.
He’s just gotta breathe. One breath. That’s all he’s gotta do.
Easy, right?
So why can’t he?
He finally feels his back slam against a wall.
Fuck, his heart is rattling his fucking bones.
Rapidly approaching a heart attack, he can feel it. Everyone can probably hear it but no one will help.
He can feel their stares too.
He crouches down to make himself smaller
‘Who’s this freak in the fucking corner. Can’t even breathe right. Gigantic idiot.’
They are all thinking it, he knows they are.
FUCK. Just breathe.
“Sorry could you hold this for me?”
Just focus on forcing some air int-
“They aren't heavy, I swear.”
His blood shot eyes dart to the most oblivious idio-
Oh.
“Schöner Dummkopf.” holding flowers. Right in his face.
“Bless you.” the flowers are tilted closer to him. “Hope you're not allergic, its just for a second. For some reason I decided to bring my entire apartment with me this morning, now I can't find my metro card and I can't miss the next train, I'm already running late.”
He stares at you, mouth agape and chest finally heaving. You've got about three bags dangling off you and you are trying to rummage through them with one hand.
He uncurls himself to his full height and reaches a shaky hand to the bouquet and takes them from you as you finally make eye contact with him. Well, with his chest. Your eyes finally find his after about a foot and a half of climbing. Its obvious you are trying to hide a reaction. You're the most beautiful idiot he's ever seen.
You snap out of the astonishment, “Thanks so much! You're a life saver.”
You start rummaging again and finally pull out your card. “Knew it was in here somewhere.” you flash him a smile that calms the shake in his bones.
Over the loud speaker, a disembodied voice announces the arrival of the train.
You readjust yourself and look up at him again. “Thats me, Thanks again!” you turn and rush off towards the turntables.
He watches you rush a few feet away before realizing he still has your flowers.
“FLOWERS” he says way louder than he meant to. The rush of the crowd stills for a moment at the boom of his voice, turning their attention towards him. He feels that familiar chill run up his spi-
“KEEP ‘EM” you scream even louder with the biggest grin on your face, the attention of the crowd dissipates and you disappear into the sea of people.
He huffs through a smirk and puts himself back against the wall.
Okay now hear me out… i know i havent posted in years. Lol
Ive been going THROUGH IT yall. Been missing u tho🤭
I will eventually be posting part two to my other Konig series
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his ears were still ringing as a certain silence fell over the house. broken glass digs into his skin, though it’s forgotten the moment his attention is drawn to that all too familiar scent. NO. he rises cautiously, malia’s body still pressed into his a guilty reminder that the blood couldn’t have been his. (why couldn’t it have been his?) and he’s sure that she could just feel the anxiety raging within him beneath her hands. adrenaline, panic, fear. GUILT. because he knows whose blood that is. ❛mom!! ❜ he feels like he’s moving in slow motion, treading through deep water as he makes his way to her. he sheds malia’s protective hands from his body with panicked clambering. he finds himself kneeling before his mother, body looming over hers as trembling fingers grasp her scarlet-stained hand. so many heartbeats create a steady pulsing in his mind. (someone call an ambulance. get me something to cover this, put pressure on it. make sure no one else is outside.) none of these words come out, none of these thoughts are formulated. he didn’t have a plan. ❛no, no... what happened?!❜
two stories and three extra goodnight kisses later, mateo had finally decided that he could go to sleep. with a cup of coffee in his hand (the villanueva house always had coffee, didn’t they?) he sat across from jane as the minutes ticked by. quiet nights spent with her were nights that he cherished. look how far they’d come. ❛so... how’s the book coming?❜
