Gintama x Reader One Shots

Sakamoto Tatsuma x Reader: Just Tatsuma

Annoying. Stupid. Airhead. Those were all words used to describe Sakamoto Tatsuma, and while he may have appeared cheerfully oblivious, he most certainly was not.

Perhaps Sakamoto was actually quite mature. He had realized early on in his childhood that he could never please everyone, so he resolved to be as happy as possible regardless. He joined the war, and left the war. Formed the Kaientai, and watched as his own crew lost all respect for him. He noticed how annoyed Gintoki became whenever he entered the room, and how Mutsu inwardly sighed every time she saw him. Despite this, he knew they still loved them in their own way. At least, he hoped they did.

Maybe that's why he fell in love with that girl.

(L/N) (F/N) was different from everyone else. Every time she saw him, she would beam and wave, a smile lighting up her face. If they hadn't seen each other in a while, she would greet him with an enthusiastic hug. None of her smiles were fake or forced, and Sakamoto genuinely enjoyed the time they spent together.

Still, he couldn't shake that thought from the back of his mind. The one telling him that someday, she would come to treat him the same way as everyone else.

~o0o~

No matter what happened, they wouldn't stop coming.

Sakamoto cut through every amanto in his path, chest heaving. The constant stream of enemies gradually blurred until they were little more than faceless blotches. He was aware of his comrades beside him—screaming, crying out for help—but he couldn't move, and the sounds faded into the distance until he was alone. All alone except for one single voice.

"Tatsuma! Tatsuma!"

Sakamoto awoke to the sound of someone pounding on the door. He leapt out of bed, pausing only to grab his gun from the nightstand, and ran to the door. When he opened it, he would see one of two things—a friend, or the creatures from his nightmares.

When the door swung open, he found a familiar face—(F/N), slightly hesitant, glancing at the gun in his hands. Her expression betrayed obvious concern, but when she looked up at him, he saw no signs of fear or anger, only worry.

"...Tatsuma?" she said, tilting her head to the side. "Are you okay? I heard you scream, and I thought maybe—"

The gun clattered to the floor, and he pulled her into his arms. Her frame was so small compared to his, and she had to stand on her tiptoes to get her arms around his neck. Even so, every little thing she did made him feel safe.

"Are you okay?" she asked, face buried in the crook of his neck. "Do you need anything?"

"It's okay," he whispered into her hair. "I'm fine now."

"...Would you like me to stay the night?"

"Yes," he admitted, "That would be nice. Thank you."

~o0o~

There was something strange about Sakamoto.

(F/N) noticed it for the first time that morning. When she awoke, tucked in bed, hand holding his, he suddenly got up and left without a single word. When she found him later at the breakfast table, he refused to look her in the eye, avoiding any questions with his usual laugh. (F/N) decided to ignore it at first—maybe he was just flustered after they'd shared a bed the previous night. Yes, that might be it.

But the habit continued through the afternoon, and on into evening, and when he refused to answer her text for the third time that day, (F/N) decided she'd had enough.