Aurorakingsley - AuroraKingsley

I got to see the haikyuu movie in theaters and it sent me spiraling so I decided to redraw old art from 2017 to celebrate how far we’ve all come ✨🧡🖤

𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 — 𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐤𝐢

𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦. gintoki sakata x fem!reader

𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲. fluff with a sprinkle of angst, mentions of violence, blood and scars, gintoki has a few injuries and still manages to be a flirt

𝖲𝖸𝖭𝖮𝖯𝖲𝖨𝖲. you tend to gintoki’s wounds after another battle. while scolding him for his reckless behavior, you accidentally confess your love for him.

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖧𝖮𝖱'𝖲 𝖭𝖮𝖳𝖤. i still can’t get over the lack of fanfic in this fandom, so i’m here to bless you with another fluffy fic for gintoki. i had so much fun writing this and hope you enjoy this as much as i did

𝖫𝖤𝖭𝖦𝖳𝖧. 2.661 words

MASTERLIST

Blood seeps through the thin fabric of his white yukata that he slips off his body and throws into the corner of your otherwise clean room without care, bunched up with his signature black suit next to the muddy pair of leather boots he wore only minutes ago. When did he get here? 

It’s already dark outside, the sun has settled behind the skyline of Edo and marks the rise of the colorful nightlife that sweeps through the lively streets with a muffled buzzing, happy laughter mixing with the sound of clinking bottles. Time seems to slow down, seconds melt into minutes, minutes alter into draining hours and the night just doesn’t seem to find an end or perhaps it has only just begun. He doesn’t know.

Everything feels heavy, so heavy and terrifyingly surreal, limbs numb with fatigue and defeat. There is no fear, no pain, just exhaustion that crawls deep into his wounded skin and whispers empty promises of eternal rest and a better world into his ears if he just closes his eyes for a passing moment. A dangerous temptation he can’t withstand much longer,

“You’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days, Gin.” Your voice pulls him back to reality, a sweet warmth lacing the admonishing words that flow from your tongue like strawberry milk, even when you’re scolding him for the second, no, third time this week.

As you give him a pointed look over your shoulder, you prepare the medical equipment you need to treat his injuries, calmly sterilizing the thin needle which is going to pierce through the first layers of his skin and pull thread through his body to close the deep cuts littering his scarred torso.

Clean white gauze and a bowl of cold water are carefully placed on the floor next to a washcloth and shirt that doesn’t belong to him. The blue cotton is soft to the touch and light like a feather almost feels like nothing at all under his fingertips and Gintoki supposes that it’s meant for him to wear after you stitched him back together like a cheap ragdoll. “There’s a hospital in Edo, too. I hope you know that.”

Gin grunts in response. It’s a struggle to shift his arms and move into a comfortable sitting position - the fight really took a toll on him this time, he has to admit that as he glances down to inspect the damage the blade of his opponents caused, though he barely has the time to gape at his slashed torso before you swiftly push him back into the futon with a disappointed tut.

“Don’t move more than necessary or you’re going to bleed out on my floor,” you grumble next to him, kneeling down and slowly sliding closer within reach to examine his injuries. The cold of the damp cloth pressed to his side without a warning causes him to yelp in surprise, quickly merging into a groan of pain when you clean the deep cut on his toned abdomen. The sudden sting lets nausea bloom in the pit of his stomach and tears prick at the corners of his eyes, clinging to his silver lashes and blurring his vision until the contours of your room dissipate into a pool of various colors. “Oi, quit it! Were you whining like that during that stupid fight, too?”

Arching your brow, you lean forward to get a better glimpse of the cut you decided to treat first. Delicate fingers ghost over his abused ribs with caution, caress his bruised chest with tenderness and skim over the swollen edges of the cut to spread the skin enough for you to see how deep the blade slashed through his flesh.

By now, this is already routine — inspecting each wound, treating each cut with the utmost care, and keeping him alive until Kagura and Shinpachi drag him to your doorstep in a few days again. If you’re lucky, he spares you the weekend and acts on his reckless instincts a week later, though you won’t place your trust on a spark of naive hope to get some peace and quiet.

“Hey, stay with me,” you remind Gintoki softly when you notice his eyes fluttering close in exhaustion, gently slapping his pale cheeks until his crimson gaze is focused on you once more. His state is worse than you initially thought. Shit. Worry settles in the back of your mind like a starved predator, lurking and waiting hungrily at the sight of feverish sweat glistening on his forehead, drenching silvery strands of his disheveled hair while a deathly sallowness takes over his handsome features.

The tips of your fingers, now trembling with agitation, are already stained red, the coppery smell of blood lingers in the air and stings in your nose. With a shaky exhale, you stop your administrations for just a fleeting second to collect your raging thought and push the welling fear of losing him into the shadowed corner of your head.

You can do this.

And even if you can’t, you have to.

“You won’t die on my watch, Shiroyasha,” you growl with new composure and although he barely understands what you’re saying, Gintoki still manages to nod his head in affirmation. The sound of your voice is enough to weigh him in a soothing sense of safety as he studies your face with astonishment.

Yeah, okay, he’s a little dazed and unable to respond properly because of the fair amount of blood loss he endured and the consistent lack of adrenaline drags him into a pit of consciousness and weightlessness (maybe you drugged him), but he’s certain that you’ve always been this beautiful even while your hands are covered in blood and you’re stitching his wounds together with composed steadiness, working over his drained body with skill and precision. “You’re going to live, so I can kick your ass for being so reckless.”

He won’t die.

Gintoki trusts you and your experience, he really does, but he’s so tired and his vision begins to grow blurry with each passing minute. Just give in, a voice in the back of his head whispers, just close your eyes and sleep. Far away, you call out his name, shaky and weirdly scared, yet he can’t find the power in himself to fight the overwhelming darkness any longer, engulfing him and pulling him into an icy sea of nightmares.

Shiroyasha.

He wakes with a jolt that sends a blazing fire through every fiber of his being, wide eyes and a bolting heart, the smell of blood and smoke lingering on his skin. War. Zura yells his name and Takasugi’s war cries still ring in his ears, the clashing of metal against metal sends sparks flying through the smoke, swords and dead bodies cover the ground. No. No, no, this can’t be, please—

“Oh, you’re awake.” His panicked gaze wanders to your welcoming face. A timid grin traces the corners of your mouth at the relived whisper of your name that leaves the depths of his throat as his shoulders relax. No war. Just you and your gentle hands, gliding over his heated skin and offering him a glass of fresh water which he empties within seconds. No war. “You scared me there for a second, Gin. Thought I lost you.”

“How…How long was I out?” He croaks and coughs hoarsely while carefully shifting his body, sliding back until his broad back meets the cold wall of your room. Everything hurts, muscles straining and protesting at his rapid movements, yet he doesn’t care. There’s worse than a little ache in his arms and legs.

“Only a few hours.” You press the palm of your hand against his forehead. A sigh of relief leaves your chest when you notice that the fever plaguing him during his slumber has finally subsided. Carefully, you lean over his waist to undo the bandages around his torso to change them, since the sterile fabric is long soaked in sweat and the remnants of blood that seeped through the stitches and stain the gauze.

The wounds aren’t infected, though the skin is still tender to your touch, irritated and swollen around the edges. “You really have to be more careful. I know you’re just trying to save the day and you don’t care about your own life,” you tilt your head to catch his gaze with a soft smile. “But I do.”

It’s quiet for a while as you clean some of the dried blood around the stitches that keep his cuts together before turning back to the bowl of water next to you. Rinsing out the washcloth, you watch how the drops of red dissipate in the water. His blood. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, the mere thought of Gintoki in pain and although you’ve seen him in this state plenty of times, you still can’t get used to it.

The kids always bring him to you since they meet you and learned about your medical skills, always asking for your help with quivering lips and tears in their eyes, still holding a childlike gleam of hope to suppress the agony of losing him in the open palms of death. As much as it hurts to admit this, but if Gintoki continues this pattern of carelessness and idiocy, he will die.

Sooner or later, he will.

Taking new gauze and clean bandages, you begin to wrap it around his chest and abdomen, gently smoothing the fabric and securing it by tucking the loose end under the wrap. “Have you ever thought about the kids? What are Kagura and Shinpachi supposed to do without you, huh? You can’t just leave them behind because you thought it would be funny to bleed out after a fight.”

To emphasize your scolding, you smack his shoulder before he can open his mouth to argue with you. The audacity of this man, unbelievable. “You’ve never seen their faces when they bring you to me, have you? Because let me tell you one damn thing, Sakata Gintoki, the looks on their faces break my heart every fucking time.”

You push a few strands of silver hair out of his crimson eyes and wipe the blood staining his porcelain skin, eyebrows furrowed as you think about your next words. Perhaps, you already said too much, because Gin has been awfully quiet for the past minutes, staring at you with such intensity that it makes your foolish little heart flutter in your chest like a fragile butterfly. “Listen, I’m glad to help wherever I can, but what if… what if one day, I’m not fast enough? I couldn’t live with myself if you died because of me.”

With a shaky sigh, you lift your hand to clean his split brow, but Gintoki catches your wrist before your fingertips can graze his skin. “Don’t say that,” he murmurs with a smile, gentle and kind, somehow reassuring. You’ve never seen that expression on his face before, though you could get used to it. Who knew his smile could be this bright? “You’re the best nurse I ever had. And a hot one, too.”

“I hate you,” you state with a furious blush tinting your cheeks. Unbelievable, this man. Despite losing consciousness less than four hours ago, he still finds the strength to shamelessly flirt with you — you’re not sure whether to be impressed or pissed off by his teasing.

Cocky bastard.

“That’s a little mean, don’t you think? Besides, you don’t really mean it.” A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth and he raises his arm to scratch at the back of his head, still holding your wrist in his other hand. Muscles bulge at the movement, a reminder of his capability to fight any rival and accentuating the strength and power he carries despite being the biggest idiot you have ever met. The white demon, that’s what they call him, the samurai. You’ve seen him wield a sword before — terrifying and lethal, though it doesn’t spare him from every injury.

Your gaze wanders over his biceps, following a prominent vein along his arm until your eyes meet his. Amusement glints in his dark orbs and a knowing smirk traces his lips. He caught you.

“Of course I don’t hate you.” Slipping your hand out of his grasp, you dip the washcloth into the bowl of water once more, before running it over his brow to wipe some dried blood off his skin. A small scratch decorates his temple, a wound you didn’t notice before and you have to physically retreat yourself, so you don’t act on the heat surging through your stomach and press a chaste kiss to the cut. “I’m just worried about you because I love you so much—”

Fuck. You freeze momentarily, eyes growing wide as you register what you just said. That wasn’t planned. Carefully, you tilt your head to study his face, trying to read his expression and figure out, what he’s thinking at this exact moment.

His pupils are dilated with shock and you can practically see the gears working in his head, processing the words that hastily spilled out of your mouth. Time slows down, the room appears to be spinning wildly while your heart rides a rollercoaster into your throat and back. Stammering, spluttering, gasping for air, you try to find a meek excuse, anything to explain yourself before he rejects you, but your mind is empty. Nothing comes out.

And so, you’re doomed to watch and wait. Dead eyes of a fish, you once heard the Vice-Commander of the Shinsengumi describe his eyes, but now? Now you see so much more in them. A battle with his own demons as he scrambles to think of an appropriate reaction to your confession.

Then his features soften. Another smile traces over his lips, his gaze finally focused on you and your heart staggers again, afraid, excited, wondering what his next words might be. Suddenly, a spark of hope ignites in your chest at the tenderness etched into his expression.

“Well, I’m glad,” he speaks quietly, pulling you into his lap and simply ignoring your weak protests. His cheeks flush under your stare, hot and searing, climbs to the tips of his ears as he lets the walls he’s built so securely around his heart crumble down, piece by piece. It’s a sight to see, truly, because he’s so beautiful when he’s calm and vulnerable in the comfort of your presence alone, it makes you want to kiss him more than ever before. “Good to know that you feel the same way. Almost thought, I was a hopeless case.”

The kiss that follows his voice is languid and loving, almost hesitant until you melt into his touch and cup his cheeks to pull him impossibly closer. His lips glide over yours smoothly, soft and warm and so addicting, you can’t bring yourself to pull away. Only at the burning of your lungs from the lack of air, you break apart to catch your breaths, only to bump your noses when he leans in for a second kiss.

This time, you stop him. Your hand is splayed over his scarred chest, halting his movements momentarily because you now notice his half-lidded gaze filled with desire and weariness. He still needs to rest, even if the heat between your thighs tries to convince you to soak in his longing touches for a while longer. “You need to get some sleep, Gin.”

“I don’t need to do anything,” he grumbles and tries to stifle a yawn. “I can think of much better things than sleep.” The wiggle of his eyebrows earns an exaggerated huff from you while you lean to his ear to whisper your reply.

“Gintoki, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but if you don’t go to sleep right now, I will punch the living daylights out of you.”

people are saying do it scared, but you also gotta do it alone. you'll miss out on so much you want to do if you wait til someone will do it with you. do it scared and do it alone.

he might be the love of my life