Chapter Text
[Saitama x Reader]
"Once upon a time, there was this girl studying for finals. Then, the finals destroyed her brain, and she died. The end."
"Uh, babe, call me crazy, but I don't think finals can kill you."
"Yes, they can."
You felt a chin poke your shoulder, as Saitama glanced over the enormity of your text book.
"No," he stated again, randomly whipping to the next page. "You just need to chill."
You blew a long strand of air from corner of your mouth. His expression remained as blank as ever. Normally, you never cared about that. In fact, it always brought you amusement, especially in the face of the gravest of dangers. You envied that courage. You wished you had even a fifth of that cool and calm.
Especially when tests loomed around the corner...
"I know," you grumbled as you returned your attention to your book and he to his television watching.
Once more, you lost yourself in the words, in the ridiculous amount of information. You considered yourself a relatively descent student. No, you procrastinated. You dozed off. You lost yourself in the realms of the internet and your entertainment when you should have been studying. But, in the end, you still pulled out with descent grades.
Finals, however, always filled you with panic. They always seemed to set you up for failure, scheduling them all so close together. How the hell were you supposed to give equal attention to each subject with them so close together!? All you knew to do was either push forward, or bury your face in your hands and scream.
How close were you into initiating the latter...
Words...
Words...
More words...
So much damn information...
Your head throbbed. Your heart pounded. Your forehead broke out into a sweat. Your body danced between the realms of hot and cold. Your throat tightened and ached, as you fought with the urge to cry.
You needed something, something to touch, hold onto, wrap around you.
Ah, a blanket. Perfect.
Eyes still glued to the book, you mindlessly reached over to clutch the glorious, comforting softness you so craved. Fingers outstretched, they swam through the air, searching for your lucky blanket. But, honestly, too captured were you by your textbook, you barely noticed your mindless actions...
Until you felt something warm...
Warm and smooth...
You blinked, and your fingers traced over the mysterious surface; warm, smooth and strangely silky. No, it was not your beloved blanket, but it brought you an odd sense of peace.
For a moment, you completely forgot about your stress, and you just focused on the nice texture.
Until...
“Uh...babe?”
Your blood ran cold, and your heart nearly stopped. Slowly, your eyes shifted over to the direction of your hand, your fingers...and you felt yourself perish internally.
Saitama blinked at you, the intensity of his gaze causing you to shift awkwardly. Then, he glanced at your palm as it rested promptly upon his shining head. He raised his finger and pointed at your wrist.
“Why are you-?”
“Nothing!!” you yelped, jerking your hand away.
Cheeks reddening, you turned your back towards him and buried your face in your book.
Why was it such a big deal? You’d been together for some time, and you kissed, touched, hugged, just like any other. But, his condition, his lack of hair, he was very touchy and sensitive about. As occasional bystanders and even villains used it for their mockery, you dared not even touch the subject yourself.
However, you unintentionally took a violent plunge into those waters. Now, all you could do was let it ride.
Saitama still stared at you; nothing. No confusion, no irritation, no anger, no nothing.
Your nose still pressed into the crease of your book, unable to make out the blurbs that the words became.
“I was trying to get my blanket,” you murmured. “That’s all.”
No response.
You gulped. Surely, you were doomed.
“Sorry I touched your head,” you mumbled.
No response.
Shit.
Squeezing your eyes together, you awaited your fate. Whatever came your way, I’m sure you earned it, being such a touchy topic and all.
But, much to your surprise, you noted something soft and fuzzy draped around your cold shoulders. Your head popped from your book, a piece of your notes stuck to your forehead.
So...you weren’t about to be destroyed...?
When you glanced behind you, Saitama lazily flipped through the channels just as he had done so before.
“Can’t have you catching a cold before your first final,” he stated simply, a small smile stretched across his lips.
“Saitama...”
“Hm?”
Before you could speak, the stupid piece of notebook paper fell in front of your face, causing you to jump in your seat. Lucky for you, he was there to catch your wrist before you could fall from the couch. Immediately, you were pulled to his chest, your forehead on his shoulder.
You could feel a chuckle rumble in his chest.
“Never mind,” you moaned. “I’m just stupid.”
“Pffft, not at all,” he rested his hand on the back of your head, petting it gently. “I think you just need a dinner break.”
Sticking out your bottom lip, you released a thin whine.
“That sounds amazing,” you practically whimpered.
He continued the small gestures, mimicking the same circular motions you performed on his own skull. You had to admit, it felt kind of nice.
Guess that was why he didn’t get mad.
Maybe he didn’t mind it after all.
To say the least, you were lucky.
"Hey," you said after a relaxed exhale. "Thanks for not punching me or something."
All he could do was laugh in reply.
"Let's just say," he said. "that it was for good luck, 'k?"
And you chortled in return. Suddenly, the upcoming weeks seemed a little brighter than before.
"Perfect.
“Now, how about Chinese?”
“YES.”
“On me?”
“Well, since you’re offering.”