Limitless [One Punch Man reader insert]

Not Over Yet

That day, when Saitama felt the relief through your warmth, he slept peacefully by your side when the cold night struck. He rested his calloused hands and tucked them between his cheek and pillow, his eyes open as he gazed at your closed lids enlightened by the bright moon's ray of pale blue.

But, something changed in your peaceful feature that somehow calmed Saitama's stirring heart. The beating began to race once more in fear as he looked at you warily.

He eyed your straining expression as concern gradually changed his neutral face, realizing that you were probably having a nightmare. The hero then shifted his gaze at your clawing hands.

If he were to clutch them gently, will you be relieved, just like what you did last time?

-He wavered for a second, before thinking.... You probably needed it.

So, he did it. He spread out his arm, and carefully placed his hand over yours. Naturally, your hand's muscles flinched at the contact, making Saitama jolt his own as he frowned, sighing afterwards.

But, his troubles were quickly, instantly washed away as he felt your fingertips ghosting his knuckles, too weak to even clutch them with dear life.

He widened his eyes at this, before smiling a little as he entwined his own fingers with yours, softly as he breathed out,

"Good night, (Name).... Sleep tight."

Saitama had a good night's sleep, and so did you.

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.... As good as the hero's sleep was, he still woke up with a baffled, ridiculous look on his face, standing idly with his pajama's ruffled. He still felt half-asleep, as his eyes widened at the welcoming aura his gloomy, lonely apartment seemed to take while he was still off to dreamland.

"Oh, uh... Su'p?"

Your voice erupted in the middle of his silence, enlarged eyes in question as you sat there awkwardly with a slumped pose of a middle-aged man, despite the hot milk flowing into your tongue as your cup brushed against your lips.

Still, his puzzled look went unfazed. Despite the savory aroma dancing around the whole, small apartment, and the sumptuous breakfast spread out in front of him consisting of a simple healthy omelette for two, and a cup of coffee for him, he still payed attention to your face ridden with a cold sweat.

-You still wore your tattered clothes from that day, and your hand was still covered with that dirty black finger-less glove, the seams coming off in different directions as he stared.

-You were also wearing your bloodied ripped jeans, and your dusty shoes as he trailed your body from down, to your thin dark jacket turned grey from all the dust.

You looked him in the eye in confusion, but as his face darkened, you found yourself averting your gaze with an apologetic smile, more cold sweats forming on your temples.

Then, you swore you heard the usually docile man snarl at you with a scolding tone.

"(NAME), WHAT DO YOU THINK ARE YOU DOING!?" He grimaced, charging at you as he tried to pry you off from the chair and you desperately tried to balance your milk as you panicked, question marks almost visible above your bedhead.

You screamed, "WHAT DO YOU THINK!? I MADE BREAKFAST, WHAT'S THE PROBLEM, YOU'RE SCARING ME??" as your tone rose at how bemused you were from his sudden outburst.