Another one! I spent way too much time without updating this, but I was actually preparing a new jeankasa blog.
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The length and rating may vary from drabble to drabble!
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Comfort
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Mikasa stormed inside her bedroom, shutting the door behind her with an enraged cry and punching the stone wall with enough strength to break her fingers. Her knuckles were visibly red and bruised, but she didn't wince and if anything the pain only fuelled her rage. How dare- How dare Eren- She punched the wall again, ignoring the pain that shot through her fingers.
How dare Eren something like that!? How dare he-
She pulled away from the wall and covered her eyes with her palms, then wiped her tears away. Eren was stupid and reckless when he wanted to be, and when he was agitated and angry he used to say things without thinking – usually, those things weren't true, but as she sat down on the edge of her bed and choked on a sob, Mikasa couldn't help but wonder if this time he was telling the truth.
Hunching forward and burying her face in her palms, Mikasa let the tears flow freely and her body shook as she sobbed, ignoring the creak of the door when it was opened. She didn't need to look up to see who it was; the characteristic smell was enough to make her want to squirm, the quiet but long footsteps were easily recognizable now.
The visitor sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress shifted under the new added weight. "Mikasa, don't cry." His touch on her back was hesitant, but his desire to comfort her was crystal clear. She noticed how his voice got smooth and low, calming and comforting, how his fingers gently glided on her back in soothing circular motions, making shivers run through her body. "He wasn't thinking when he said that."
"I know," she said meekly, propping her elbows on her thighs and dropping her hands.
He knew how to handle this situation well by now, so he gently gripped her shoulder and pulled her into a hug. Her damp eyelashes tickled his skin every time she blinked, her nose buried in the crook of his neck breathed in as much of his scent as possible. "Jean," she murmured, lips barely brushing his shoulder as she spoke, "do you think he regrets saving me?"
With a shake of his head, Jean leaned back on the bedpost, Mikasa still secure in his hold, and he placed a soft kiss on the crown of her head. "Of course he doesn't," he whispered, long fingers combing her dark hair.
She hummed in response, burying her face deeper into the crook of his neck, enjoying the sensation of his fingers running through her locks. Eventually, her breath slowed and his hand dropped, coming to rest on her waist. It was an awkward position, they'd probably regret it in the morning, but it was warm and it was comforting and it was just what she needed.