Comfort item🧸
It has been a hell of a day. Early rise and a late finish, with maybe 5 minutes worth of a lunch break in between few cigarettes stops. Getting on the jet felt like finally being able to breathe. The unsub was caught, the case cracked, justice served. That’s what you signed up for. As you open your backpack in your seat, you rummage around in the depths of your bag, a deep sense of guilt and disappointment hitting the pit of your stomach.
You pale, realising you’d left your one comfort item at home.
The whole team had one, Reid had his blanket, Morgan his headphones and JJ a book to read. Yours was rather particular and could not be replaced, your stuffed animal, but he was more than that. He is an Eeyore plushie that you’ve been inseparable with since the day you received him as a birthday gift. Over the years he’d been ripped and sewn up, every time you pretended to give him anaesthetic for his surgery. He’d been with you, through all the nights you couldn’t sleep, the nights you’d cried yourself to sleep. He’d even shared the bed with your ex boyfriends, much to their dismay.
You knew this journey home without Eeyore would be a sleepless one.
"Hi."
Hotch slips himself into the seat next to you. He notices her sitting curled up on the seat and he can't help but notice how miserable you look, curling herself into a ball to almost hide from something.
"Are you doing okay?"
He asks, keeping his voice low to not disturb the others. You whisper in response, just muttering something about being tired.
"You look it. This was a tiring case. You should get some sleep."
He looks across to the others playing cards. Reid was almost definitely cheating again he assumed, as Morgan stared across the table with eyes like daggers, Emily’s head rested on his shoulder as she laughed at the confrontation in front of her.
"They'll probably keep going for a couple more hours if you can ignore them."
You pout, Hotch would be a safe person to share this problem with. He has a child so he’s definitely seen similar conundrums, maybe Jack wasn’t as much as of a baby as you are at the grown age of 22.
“I- I can’t sleep. Not without my Eeyore.”
You mutter under your breath, praying Aaron hears it. Admitting the fact again would be too embarrassing to endure.
He chuckles lightly at her choice of sleep companion.
"And your Eeyore toy is at home?"
He looks down at you, lifting your chin up with his thumb so you look him in the eye. You nod shyly in response, slipping into a nonverbal headspace.
Aaron looks sympathetic as she nods with a frowny face, but he still can’t resist teasing you.
"Aww, you miss your stuffed animal."
He smirks, making a little teasing remark. He matches his facial expression with yours, both modelling pouty frowns. Staring into each other’s eyes, you’re not sure how you started this game of getting the other to break the act and laugh. But you were certainly losing. Your lips curl up into a smirk and you let out a soft breathy giggle, your smile growing when he smirks back.
"Lie down then, come on."
Hotchner pats his lap, offering for her to rest her head on it. He adjusts his position so he's sat more comfortably and begins to gently run his calloused fingers through her hair, gently stroking it.
“This should help you fall asleep, hm?"
You feel the breath you’ve been accidentally holding release, your shoulders fall and for the first time all day you feel calm. You practically purr under his touch, smiling up and nodding at him.
Hotch glances down fondly as his hand continues to gently run through her hair.
"Good."
He lowers his voice to a hushed whisper as to not disturb the other members of the team who are a few seats down.
"You are adorable, you know that?"
You feel your cheeks burn under your new found blush, rolling your head inwards to hide your face in his stomach. You squeal internally, realising you’re basically putty in his hands.
"Hey, what's wrong, hm?"
He questions, still keeping his voice gentle as he glances back down at her, his arms wrapped around her in a tight yet still comfortable hug.
“Nothing.. I- I miss Eeyore, but this is nice too.”
You manage to blurt out, half in nervousness and the other in honesty.
“When you get home, you can tell Eeyore all about how brave you were on your adventure without him. And you’re right, this is nice. Sweet girl, just needed to cuddle up and get a few head scratches. It’s cute you know? It’s precious. Having a comfort item, it doesn’t make you weak.”
Hotch speaks earnestly, running his fingers through your outgrown fridge and tucking the hair behind your ear.
"And I, I'll happily keep doing this as long as it keeps you sleepy. It's kind of cute how much of a baby you are and how easy it is to send you to sleep with a gentle head rub.“
Aaron’s voice sounded like silk, so soft and calming. It makes your eyelids feel heavier until they close. It can’t be that bad to take a nap on your bosses lap, can it?
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thinking about that bkdk edating in middle school trope, except they're amino boyfriends 💀
they meet on an all might amino community. katsuki is one of the community mods, and izuku is the leader of an analysis club on there. izuku's posts were often featured and very popular in the community (he was def a microcelebrity), and katsuki always gave him a ton of amino coins on his posts.
for a challenge he's hosting for his club, izuku makes a huge deep-dive post analyzing all might's rise to fame in his bronze age. this post gets close to 10k likes, and katsuki gifts him 5k amino coins on the post. when izuku sees that number, he freaks out and assumes it must be a mistake since that's a huge number, who in their right mind would give him that much money??
he messages katsuki (who's username is 𝓓𝔂𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 ⛓️💥) (LMAOOOOO) and asks if the amount of coins was a mistake + offers to give them back. katsuki tells him that there was no mistake, and that he just really liked izuku's post. izuku is really flattered that this guy liked his analysis so much, and they continue texting back and forth for a while.
they follow each other and put each other in their bios under "bffs," and a month or two after that, they officially become boyfriends. izuku buys amino+ using all the coins katsuki had given him (katsuki keeps spending his allowance to buy more amino coins so he's super rich). they start matching profile themes after that, switching to a new theme every month. they have matching profile frames and chat bubbles and everything, and izuku makes a sticker pack of all might faces to use when texting katsuki (sometimes katsuki uses the stickers too, but only when texting izuku)
everyone on all might amino knows they're dating, since they're both such high-profile people in the community. they become the community's it-couple, and people love commenting on their walls how cute their matching profiles are. katsuki comments under all of izuku's posts praising his analysis, and izuku always replies with a string of all might heart-eye stickers.
6 months into their relationship, izuku tells katsuki he can call him by his real name. up until now, izuku had gone by the nickname "golden" in honor of all might's golden age. when izuku tells katsuki his name, though, he doesn't get a response. the next day, izuku wakes up to find that katsuki's profile has been deleted entirely.
izuku feels like throwing up. he doesn't know what happened to dynamight, if he caused this, what could have caused this. he debates deleting his account too, ashamed and confused and hurt, but ultimately decides against it. he changes his profile theme back to an aesthetic picture set of all might in his iconic golden age pose, and continues posting on all might amino as if nothing happened. he doesn't reach out to new people on amino again.
when izuku gets into ua and his workload drastically increases, he stops finding time to post on amino, eventually deleting the app entirely (his profile stays up, though).
in second year, izuku is sitting in the common room with his friends, somehow having been roped into a conversation about dating. "you've never been in a relationship before, have you, deku-kun?" uraraka asks him.
his friends' eyes all focus on him, and he blushes. "well, i had an online boyfriend in middle school, but i'm not sure if that counts." his friends gape at him, clearly surprised. some other people lingering about in the common area also tune into the conversation. katsuki is one of them.
"really, midoriya-kun?" iida says, doing his best to hide his blatant shock. "i must say, that sounds rather out of character for you!"
"did you guys break up or something?" todoroki asks.
izuku grimaces, remembering what happened. "i told him my real name, and then he deleted his account. i think it was because of my name, but I guess i don't know for sure."
uraraka frowns. "that sucks! he didn't deserve you anyway. what an asshole move." the rest of izuku's friends nod in agreement at that. out of the corner of his eye, izuku sees katsuki get up from his armchair and storm out of the room.
months later, izuku and katsuki finally start dating for real. izuku is so overwhelmed with happiness, and katsuki's eyes light up every time he sees izuku. one night, though, katsuki pulls him aside. "there's something i need to tell you."
izuku frowns in confusion. "what's up?"
katsuki takes a deep breath. "...i'm dynamight."
this does not clear izuku's confusion. "um... yeah, i know what your hero name is."
"no, it's-" katsuki cuts himself off, then starts again. "i was dynamight on amino, too."
izuku feels his heart drop. he's not sure what katsuki is saying, why he's bringing it up. "you... we were... you mean we dated back in middle school?"
katsuki nods, eyes on the floor. he doesn't say anything else.
"why did you..." izuku licks his lips in apprehension. "why did you delete your account?"
katsuki is silent for a moment. "i freaked out when i found out who you were," he finally says. "i mean, you know how i was treating you in real life back then. and we had been texting all that time, and i had been comforting you from the bullying you were going through, only to realize it was me who was- i didn't... i didn't know what to say. and obviously i was really immature at the time and wasn't ready to process my feelings yet. but that whole thing helped me realize my feelings for you, even though i didn't want to accept that at the time.
"but," katsuki continues, clearly on a roll now, "that still doesn't excuse what i did. it was a shitty move. and i know i've apologized for how i bullied you before, but i'm sorry for this, too, izuku. i know i hurt your feelings. i swear i'll be a better boyfriend this time, i promise. uh- only if... if you still want to be together."
izuku can't even think of what to say for a moment, still silently reeling at katsuki's confession. eventually he says, "no, i- i get it. we were both pretty immature at the time, and to be honest i kind of got over it a while ago. but," he smiles, "that apology really means a lot to me. and of course i still want to be with you."
he leans in to kiss katsuki briefly. izuku doesn't think he'll ever get used to that.
katsuki rests his forehead against izuku's, eyes taking in izuku's face. "i swear i'll be an even better boyfriend than dynamight was, golden."
and then they lived happily ever after :>
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SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Hello again, gendarme.” He smiles at you— not from his usual post, but from one of the cafeteria tables. A small sketchbook is laid out in front of him, along with some odd gray sticks.
ENCYCLOPEDIA — Compressed graphite. Not quite as bold or blendable as charcoal, but certainly less messy.
EMPATHY — Garte will appreciate it.
“I’d like to talk about the case again.”
“You moved! I didn’t know you could do that.”
“What are you drawing?”
SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “That’s the question, isn’t it?” His smile turns a little rueful. “I found one of my old sketchbooks and thought I’d like to fill the last few empty pages, but I’m finding myself a little… uninspired.”
CONCEPTUALIZATION — The accursed artist’s block. Staring down an empty page only for it to stare back, mocking you.
EMPATHY — He is unsure of himself. He said this was an old sketchbook. Maybe he’s afraid of drawing something new beside his old work and seeing that nothing has changed.
“Ah, yes. Artist’s block. I know it well. In fact, I don’t know when the last time that I actually *made* any art was.”
“You could draw the cafeteria.”
“You could draw one of the other diners.”
SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “A life drawing exercise, huh? And who would you pick as a subject, gendarme?”
“I don’t know. You’re the artist.”
“Maybe Garte? The skua could be a fun challenge.”
“You should draw the guy with the wig and sunglasses over there. He looks pretty funny.”
“Lena! She’d probably love to model for you. It would take her mind off things.”
“Kim, how about you pose for him?”
[Suggestion - Medium 10] “Why not me?”
KIM KITSURAGI — “No.”
He has nothing more to say on the matter.
“Aw, why not? You’d make a great model!”
Let it go.
KIM KITSURAGI — “I do not get paid to model for portraits. I get paid to solve murders. Such as the one we came here to investigate. Several days ago. Which has not been solved yet, for some mysterious reason.”
ESPIRIT DE CORPS — In case you couldn’t tell, that was sarcasm.
“Come on, Kim. You’re the perfect subject! A true man of the people. And there’s this sort of radiance about you… I can see the portrait already, just looking at you. Really clearly, actually.”
Maybe don’t say that. He’s just not gonna get it.
SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He shrugs. “Sorry, gendarme. It’s not right to use someone’s image without permission, you know? Maybe some other time.”
KIM KITSURAGI — “No.” And then, a little awkwardly, “But thank you.”
“I don’t know. You’re the artist.”
“How about Garte? Though, you’d have to draw the skua, too…”
“You should draw the guy with the wig and sunglasses over there. He looks pretty funny.”
“Lena! She’d probably love to model for you. It would take her mind off things.”
“Kim, how about you pose for him?”
[Suggestion - Medium 10] “Why not me?”
CHECK SUCCESS
YOU — “Why not me?”
SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He considers you with some amusement, but still, he does consider. “You’re not too busy?”
“On second thought, you’re right, I have some work to do right now. Another time, maybe?”
“Nope. Not at all.”
KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant sighs audibly.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS — What did I *just* say?
SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He chuckles to himself, apparently quite tickled by the little comedy act you two are making of yourselves. “Beautiful. Why not? Have a seat. I’ll try not to keep you too long.”
KIM KITSURAGI — “Much appreciated,” he says drily.
YOU — [Take a seat.]
SAVOIR FAIRE — Time to strike a pose. Let’s go with something cool. Something that really captures what you’re all about.
ENDURANCE — But make sure it’s something that you’ll be able to hold comfortably.
Wink and shoot him your signature finger guns.
Look at him with big sad eyes like a shamed puppy.
Look thoughtfully into the middle distance, as if contemplating your own future masterpiece.
Stare straight at him with eyes that have seen how this world will end.
Hold your head up high. With *honor.*
Just sit and act natural. No need to put on airs.
SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He looks you up and down, thumbing his bottom lip. His eyes look brighter and more alert than you have ever seen them. And then, he picks up his graphite and begins to work.
His eyes dart between you and the page, his hand sweeping across the page in bold, practiced strokes. All traces of his earlier hesitation have vanished.
VOLITION — Sometimes, a little push is all we need.
SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — Every now and then, he pauses to look up at you, and it’s almost unnerving to be the subject of whatever calculations are going on behind his eyes. He holds out his graphite, squinting just slightly.
VISUAL CALCULUS — This is called sighting. He’s roughly measuring the relative proportions of your figure and checking them against his sketch.
KIM KITSURAGI — Even the lieutenant is watching now, interested in spite of himself.
“Are portraits your specialty?”
“Have you been drawing anything for school lately?”
Better not distract him.
SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Hmm…” He ponders this for a moment, not looking up from his work. “Not exactly. I’m more interested in the graphic arts than this sort of thing. But it’s best to build a strong foundation before branching out, you know?”
YOU — “Graphic arts? Like what?”
SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Printmaking.” A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he speaks, seemingly without him even noticing. “Monotype, especially.”
ENCYCLOPEDIA — Monotype is a printmaking technique that is singular from other techniques, in that it produces only *one* unique print, rather than an edition of multiple prints.
YOU — What, really? What’s the point of printing it, then?
ENCYCLOPEDIA — I don’t know. I didn’t invent it.
“Why monotype? Wouldn’t a different technique be more… practical?”
“I see.” [Drop the subject.]
SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He shrugs slightly, smudging a bit of graphite with a bare finger. “Depends on how you define practical, I suppose. If I had my own studio, and I was selling my prints, then maybe. But we make do with what we have, gendarme.”
EMPATHY — And what he has is very little.
SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Besides, I think monotype has its charms.”
The young man does not elaborate, instead focusing on the work at hand. He picks up an eraser that has been shaved down to a point for fine detail work, and begins on what are likely the finishing touches.
EMPATHY — He has already talked at uncharacteristic length about this. It’s making him a little uncomfortable.
SAVOIR FAIRE — He doesn’t like to share too much about himself because it makes him feel *uncool.* He prefers to maintain an air of mystery.
RHETORIC — It’s safer, too, that way. He’s learned that passion exists to be exploited. False promises and admiration are the offerings of Sunday friends.
“If you say so.” [Back off.]
“What kind of charms?” [Press on.]
SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — His eyes flit back to you, sizing you up now in a different way. And then he looks back down at the page with a quiet bre ath.
“Well, it doesn’t take as much time or labor as other methods. Or expensive tools, or dangerous chemicals. Just paper, a plate, ink, and something to apply it with. And I can use the same plate over and over again, even use it to create different layers for the same print.”
RHETORIC — In other words, it’s cheap and can be done from home. An attractive option.
SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “And with monotype, it’s not so hard to go back and change your mind. You can start over as many times as you’d like, right up until the moment you lay the page on the plate.”
INLAND EMPIRE — That really does sound attractive. To be able to wipe the slate clean, over and over again…
SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “There aren’t as many limits on what kind of textures you can create, too. Brushstrokes and fingerprints… They can really come out beautiful.”
His brow creases a little, and he picks his graphite back up to rework a particular area.
DRAMA — He’s still holding out on you, sire. Too self-conscious to admit what he really likes about the medium.
YOU — Which is what?
EMPATHY — Fragility.
CONCEPTUALIZATION — An image which is only complete after being mirrored and translated, never to be recreated except as a ghostly afterimage. An exercise in surrendering to chance. What will be, will be. And then the moment will pass, and it will be time to start the next piece.
VOLITION — This man knows disappointment intimately. It is his closest companion. He has learned to make peace with it. He passes the time with his Sunday friends, lays his paper on the plate and hopes, despite himself, for the best.
YOU — Is that… a good thing?
VOLITION — …It’s hard to say. But we make do with what we have.
SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “There.” The young man sits up straight, and it’s only now that you realize just how close he brought himself to his work.
DRAMA — His face may not betray him, but the body does not lie. He was having *fun,* my liege.
SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “All done.” He tears the page from his book and holds it out to you with a small smile.
ITEM GAINED: Portrait of a Disco Holdover
SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Hope I didn’t keep you too long.”
KIM KITSURAGI — “Don’t worry about it,” Kim says, rather resignedly.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS — If you’d declined, the lieutenant thinks, my partner would have just found some other way to get sidetracked.
KIM KITSURAGI — Still, he cannot stop himself from glancing at the portrait over your shoulder.
PORTRAIT OF A DISCO HOLDOVER — It’s you! Unfortunately. Not even the most masterful hand could make the Expression less unsettling to look at. Your posture is poor, your face is swollen and blotchy, your hair is thinning, your clothes are shabby and out of place… I could go on.
Oh god, you could?
Please don’t.
PORTRAIT OF A DISCO HOLDOVER — But, you know… it’s nice. The smoker’s technique is bold and rather lovely, broad strokes of graphite intersecting in just the right places to create surprising depths. Somehow, even though it’s you… it’s not hideous.
EMPATHY — Because you’re seeing yourself through another person’s eyes.
CONCEPTUALIZATION — There is an odd tenderness to the portrait. Something amusing in your grimace, a touch of sympathy in your hunched shoulders. With the eraser, he has lifted small spots of pigment from your face, as if it were illuminated by flecks of light from the karaoke disco ball.
There are no disco lights tonight, but still, he sees them when he looks at you. Your moment has passed, but it left quite the impression. A ghost print, superimposed over you.
“Not bad, but the bicep girth is off. Right, Kim?”
“Oh god, is that really what I look like?”
“Hmm. It’s okay, but you should consider a backup career plan.”
“Whoa, you’re amazing! Can you draw me again, but this time in the costume from the cover of Man from Hjelmdall and the Devil Woman? And like, with a really cool warhammer? And Queen Lydiaana standing in the background, all like, ‘boohoo, where will I ever find another man like Ha— I mean, the Man from Hjelmdall?’”
“Beautiful.”
SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — His smile climbs up into the corners of his eyes, warming his entire countenance.
CONCEPTUALIZATION — If you were to capture a portrait of him in this moment, it would be beautiful, too.
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