He Might Be The Love Of My Life

he might be the love of my life

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.”

GAY! 🫵🏾

blushing sakura in every episode (◕‿◕)♡ [1/?]

( ☆ ) — SILVER LOCKET

pairing: chishiya shuntaro x gn!doctor!reader

genre: hurt/comfort, angst, established trust

warnings: none

a/n: s1/beach setting. i really inserted myself as the reader here :sobs: i wanna comfort him so bad TT this is chishiya recognizing his obliviousness and realizing he cares for you hehe

his cold gaze followed your figure through the crowd of people. your unhurried stroll made you stand out amongst the other returning players who filed into the hotel hastily, rushing into the arms of those they lived another day to see. what caught him off guard wasn’t your ambling, but the faraway look on your face. your eyes pointed straight ahead as if there was something in front of you no one else could see. direct, but distant enough not to be confused with determination. you seemed distracted. at least, more than usual. it was as if you were completely disconnected from your surroundings.

“must’ve been a tough game.” kuina muttered through her makeshift cigarette, also taking in your strange behavior.

chishiya didn’t reply. even during particularly difficult games, you always came back surging with relief. tonight should have been no different.

kuina glanced at his furrowed brows in amusement. she chuckled. “if you’re worried, why don’t you go check on them?”

“i’m not worried,” he monotonously retaliated. “they’ll figure it out.”

and with that, the two allies parted ways. kuina took her leave to the mess of partiers near the poolside while chishiya sauntered on back to his room.

pale walls and dim lighting surrounded his path. but at the sound of a hauntingly familiar voice, his personal solace was destroyed.

was that sobbing?

chishiya wasn’t so easily fazed, this was the borderlands after all. except… it was coming from your room. the longer the cries continued, the further the chills travelled down his spine. what had him so affected by your muffled wails?

he halted his movements and listened intently from the other side. it was absolutely breathtaking to hear your carefully manufactured sanity collapse on itself. and behind a closed door no less, as to not alert others, made chishiya feel like he was now responsible for a secret. such noises heard between two people could only equate to intimacy.

and then he remembered the wall was still there.

how fascinating that one person could be aware of both at the same time the other was aware of neither.

cautiousness must have escaped you. otherwise, you would’ve picked a more secure spot to release your pent up sorrows. chishiya could only figure your tears let themselves out before you had a chance to truly process your emotions.

he was not quite sure what force pushed him to softly bang his knuckles against the door. the second he did, the sobs abruptly stopped — much to his dismay.

it wasn’t unlike chishiya to show up at your door unexpectedly, especially after a game. the knocking though, that was new. usually he would silently slither in and purposely startle you to catch you off guard.

“oh. hey, chishiya,” you greeted after opening the door.

he analyzed your appearance, taking note of the damp spots littering the cuff of your sleeve. waltzing in like he owned the place, chishiya took a seat on your bed while you opted to sit on the floor, knees huddled to your chest and your back against the wall. the two of you sat in a comfortable silence, waiting for the other to say something.

“i used to be a doctor in the real world.” you were the first to break it.

chishiya’s eyebrows raised slightly, indicating wonder, but something held his tongue from responding.

you continued despite his lack of engagement, “going into the field, i knew there were going to be times where i wouldn’t be able to save a life. no matter how much i desperately wanted to.” you paused for a moment and then opened your mouth again, “i guess i eventually got a handle over it back then. but now… i don’t know.” you let out a defeated sigh. “nothing could have prepared me for the mortality we face here. it pains me every time i witness a death that could have easily been prevented. it’s stupid, i know. i just think it’s been catching up to me recently.”

his lips formed a tight line in a sort of acknowledgment. of course you had been a doctor in your previous life. you had the intellect and the emotional capacity perfect for the job. him on the other hand…

chishiya lacked EQ, and he was aware of that. sure, he could evaluate emotions on a surface level and control his own without struggle, but beyond that his sincerity was merely a play. he could sweet-talk his way through the job, hiding his apathy behind an artificial smile. everything about being a doctor — being a human — felt mundane to him.

“i was one too.”

he noticed your face light up and something in his gut squeezed. why did he suddenly feel nervous?

“so, you understand then?”

he shook his head, blond strands heeding the pattern. he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “no… i’m not sure i do.”

you looked at him with confusion and his mouth began to move against his better judgement.

“i don’t care about patients. people in general. i have no interest in their struggles.”

and instead of laughing, instead of insulting him for being insensitive, your eyes held genuine curiosity. why were you acting like this was a normal conversation? like he was a normal human being? it utterly pained him, but that innocent glint only motivated him to proceed.

“i assumed going into healthcare would help me determine if i’m capable of caring for others. but so far it’s only made me feel lost...” he trailed off and stopped himself before he could admit anything else.

your head tilted. “how so?”

chishiya internally kicked himself. even if he hadn’t said much, he didn’t meant to expose himself like that. you could practically see the aggravation radiating off of him as his jaw tensed. he swiftly stood up and avoided your gaze, dismissing the subject. “nothing. never-mind.”

and with that, he turned to leave. your eyes widened. “w-wait. wait, chishiya.” your pleads fell upon deaf ears as he began to turn the handle. “shuntaro.”

you both froze. that was the first time you had used his given name. at first, you instantly felt guilty about it, not knowing if it was appropriate to let that kind of intimacy slip. knowing him, he wouldn’t ever let it go. but you were so close to unlocking the parts of him that he normally kept hidden. you decided it was a risk you had to take.

“why…”

he cut you off, “i’m merely an imitation of human nature. a shell of a human being. it’s not worth trying to pry anything more from me.”

you rolled your eyes. “i think i can decide that for myself.” you grabbed his arm and dragged him back into the room. he was stiff but to your surprise, he gave up fighting back.

“why’d you bother to come here?”

why did he?

this seemed to be the first question chishiya encountered that truly had him stumped. no amount of IQ could solve whatever equation was being presented here. what variable was he missing?

“you’re wrong.”

you hadn’t even muttered anything about it and he was already denying you.

“what? i haven’t—”

“i know what you’re about to think. so don’t say it.”

you shut your mouth; a silent urge to get him to continue. he must’ve already been another step ahead, as he grew quiet too.

you started again, “i think you’re envious of something.”

well, that wasn’t what he had anticipated but you were right nonetheless. you took his silence as a confirmation. “sometimes i wish i could be as apathetic as you. weird, right?” you let out a halfway laugh and shook your head. “maybe it’s an asset in the healthcare world, but here, empathy is a liability. i guess we each want what we don’t have.”

you noticed chishiya frown for a split second before his face returned to a blank slate. “i’m fine.” but it seemed like he was reassuring himself more than convincing you of it.

you hummed. “your philosophy is flawed by the way.” you smirked at his quizzical expression. since when were you able to dissect him so effortlessly? “i know you believe you were only given life to prove something. about what, i don’t really know. you’re complicated, chishiya. but you’re not what you think you’re made out to be.”

chishiya stared at you like you were now some foreign entity with five heads. he scoffed. “i find selflessness pointless and kindness idiotic. i’m a hollowed out version of humanity’s worst flaws.”

you smiled. out of every action you could have taken against him, you smiled. you found his rare vulnerability endearing. but more than that, it comforted you that even people like chishiya, condescending and calculating as he was, could have moments of naïveté just like you.

“flawed, yes—”

he quietly took offense to that.

“every human is flawed. but hollow? yeah, you can be selfish and sociopathic at times. but there’s more to your character than that, you know? not everything about you has to be conventional for you to be human.”

as the moments progressed, you began to get the sense that it wasn’t his ego preventing him from realizing his faults. no, chishiya was scared to be proven wrong.

“you heard me crying. i could see a sliver of your shadow from beneath the door. you waited there for like, 5 minutes at least. i’d say sadistic, but i think that’s what you want us both to think. truth is, it’s not that simple, is it?”

“i told you to stop.”

“not explicitly. you told me i was wrong, which i know is a lie.”

his tone intensified. “what are you hoping to get out of this?”

“not me. you. why did you knock on my door?”

oh, but if he said it aloud, that would make it real. that was what scared him.

you saw the faintest twitch of his muscles relaxing. he felt safe here, in this room. safe, but all the more sullen.

when he came knocking on your door, how did he not see it sooner that it was you knocking through him?

like a silver locket, the guarded surface of his heart witnessed your desperate hand. searching, grasping for any line chishiya would throw your way. and once past the metal bars came your raised fist. your knock reverberated against his heart, echoing throughout the dark chamber.

maybe he was wrong. maybe he wasn’t the only one that felt lost. maybe you had been lost too.

yet, somewhere in that deep labyrinth, somewhere in the midst of his cold warmth, you found place buried between the crevasses.

and somewhere along the way, somewhere along the stethoscope that connected his beating heart to yours, he found you too.

© kzuromi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, translate, etc. reblogs are appreciated!

Harley & Ivy