#my brain cannot decide if it’s soft or sadistic tonight

[partickleaccelerator]

“Do you have a favorite past time?”

Making her cry with my hands.

[katehuntington]

Title: As I Live And Breathe Fandom: Supernatural Characters: Dean Winchester, Y/N, Sam Winchester (mentioned) Pairing: Dean x female reader Words: ±3100 words Description: Y/N and Dean go out after a case in need of unwinding. But when they arrive at the motel after a night full of beer and shots, they decide to unwind some more. Warnings: NSFW, 18+ only! Language, alcohol intoxication. Smut, slightly dom!Reader, striptease, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex, begging, fluffy end. Author’s note: Served up, drunk smut topped off with fluff. Thank you, @littlegreenplasticsoldier and @hannahindie for being awesome betas! Hope you all enjoy!

     The brisk air hits Y/N like a wall, as she stumbles out of a local bar in Fort Benton. Autumn has opened the door to the first cold nights of the season in the state of Montana, where the Winchesters and herself just rounded up a Wendigo hunt. She needed to be among people after having spent three days in the woods off the grid, but now that she’s struggled through the suffocating crowd inside the apparent place-to-be in this small town, it’s liberating to be alone and out in the open again.

     Carefree, she spreads her arms and stretches her back, the alcohol coursing through her veins a perfect pain reliever. Thin air mattresses, uneven ground and restless nights have taken their toll, but right now, she feels peaceful. Content, she closes her eyes and turns her face skyward, enjoying the cool night air.

     “Hey, wait up!”      Dean’s voice interrupts her moment of bliss and she turns towards him, her body two beats behind on her vision. God, she really shouldn’t have downed that eighth shot just to prove to the oldest Winchester that she is not a lightweight.

     The hunter slows his pace when he’s next to her, carrying a shit-eating grin as he attempts to stay on the sidewalk, despite the sway in his step. Seems like Y/N isn’t the only one who had a little too much to drink.

     “If it isn’t our damsel,” he challenges.      “I’m not your damsel. I could have had that guy with ease,” she sneers at him, referring to the big bloke that made a move on her at the bar.      “The guy was taller than Sam!”      “So? I didn’t need savin’ by you,” she mutters, her speech lazy. “I was fine. If he had touched me, I would’ve given him hell.”      Dean chuckles. “Really?”

     A glare at the sarcasm comes his way, then she lingers, taking her partner in. His spiked hair is tousled, Jack Daniels hazing his eyes. She cannot help but to notice the strong line of his jaw, nor the three day stubble. If it wasn’t for the scar tissue on the edge of his brow and his chin, he could have tried a career in modeling for a brand like PME, or Levi’s. Yes, Dean is a handsome man, and he knows it.

     “You know staring is impolite, right?” Dean catches her in the act, as he fiddles with the keys to room 110 of the Pioneer Lodge Motel.      Y/N shrugs, not flustered at all. With a personal best when it comes to her blood alcohol level, confidence is not something she lacks right now.      “I’ve never been a girl of etiquette. I can admire the view whenever I want, Dean.”

     Struggling to fit the key in the lock, he laughs, the sound rumbling in the back of his throat. It triggers something inside her, a knot forming in her lower abdomen, but she suppresses the signals received by her brain.      “Just admiring?” he tests, finally pushing open the door.

     With a scoff she shakes her head. Boy, he really doesn’t know boundaries, does he? But before she can throw back a witty comment to let him know that it’s not going to happen, Dean closes the door behind them with his hands flat on the wood, trapping her between his strong arms.      “Because you can have a taste if you like,” he challenges, his voice even lower than usual.

     Stunned, she stares at him, her eyes bouncing between his. All of a sudden, Dean seems less drunk than he did a moment ago in the streets. He’s waiting in suspense, a speck of nervousness seeping through the arrogance.

     Every ounce of self respect yells at her to push him off, get herself a tall glass of water and sober up. It’s Dean, for fuck’s sake, the one person she butts heads with most, the one guy she can’t get a grip on and surely will drive her insane one day. Of course she’s not going to take his offer. Right?

     But her body responds differently. That knot that she only slightly felt earlier, grows larger, tighter. It needs unwinding. Now.

     Dean expects her to have a counter ready. Yet this counter isn’t one Dean predicted. More smart talk, more sass; absolutely. An assault on his lips? Not in his wildest dreams. And yet it’s exactly what she does and before he can blink, he feels her mouth on his. Despite the surprise, he responds in an instant, kissing her back fiercely. His stretched out arms that cage her buckle, allowing her to fold hers around his neck, her fingers carding the hair on the back of his head. All brakes are off, because she opens her mouth for him and allows his hungry tongue to dance with hers.

    The two colleagues are about to take a side road they have never dared to explore, but both are desperate for some kind of release after months of monster hunting and no personal space. Cramped motel rooms, Dean’s provoking comments and Y/N’s sassy remarks. The tension, always the tension.

     Dean’s never kept it a secret that he finds her attractive. If it wasn’t for their clashing egos, they would have reached this moment a long time ago. Maybe it’s exactly because of their contradicting characters that this feels so electrifying.

     His hands move down her waist, following the curvy lines to the small of her back, until he can fully palm her ass. He steps back without ever removing his mouth from hers, almost stumbling from intoxication. Y/N, however, is able to multitask despite her alcohol consumption. Lasciviously, she pushes the plaid flannel off his shoulders, the fabric falling to the ground, as they shuffle across the room.

     The kitchen counter hits his lower back hard as she shoves him, but Dean doesn’t even wince, too busy releasing the woman before him from her shirt. Breaking their kiss, he pulls it over her head, immediately picking up where he left off the moment the top is discarded. They pause when his T-shirt ends up on the floor too, the reveal covering the hunter with as many goosebumps as he has freckles.      They gaze at each other for a few seconds, curiously taking each other in. Dean’s eyes roam over her body, from her denim clad legs up to the scars on the skin now revealed - without a doubt a result from years on the hunting - to a pair of gorgeous breasts cupped by her black laced bra. Nothing can prepare what he is about to witness in her eyes. Lust in its purest form has darkened them so wholly, that he’s about to yell  ‘Christo’ at her, but Dean knows it’s arousal that causes her pupils to dilate almost fully.

Y/N watches the hunter, who is apparently unable to focus on anything else but her. Dean stares at her in a way no man has ever looked at her before, but she cannot help wonder; This must be an act, right? He’s like this with all the women he spends his nights with. Could he actually be this turned on by her? The woman he challenges, insults, argues with all the fucking time?      Her gaze lowers down to his crotch, where his hard member stretches the fabric of his jeans. Oh my, she’s certainly doing things to him. Wonderful, wonderful things. Then she realizes that all this friction, all the frustration and the high voltage, it needs an outlet. Being each other’s antipode is creating a pull that is impossible to deny, nor resist.

     Her eyes meet Dean’s again, a devilish smirk adorning her face. Slowly she steps back. Calculated, she takes off one boot, then the other, and continues to unbutton her jeans, running down the zipper tortuously slow. Her hands move behind her back, unclipping the black laced bra she wore just in case she would get lucky tonight, and she slides it off her arms, revealing her breasts and hard nipples. Last but not least, she hooks her thumbs inside the waistband of her jeans and pushes them down together with her matching underwear, stepping out of the puddle of clothes at her ankles. The private show she gives her partner is much appreciated. She doesn’t have to be a psychologist to determine that much.

     Dean’s jaw had dropped during the striptease, his dick still growing at the sight of her. Unable to hold back any longer, he pushes himself from the counter, dashes over and crashes his lips to hers. He needs to feel her, taste her, run his fingers down every inch of her body.

     As they maneuver towards the bed, she runs her palm over the bulge in his denim, pulling an grunt from deep within him. Grinning almost sadistically, she does it again, forcing him to break the kiss and close his eyes. Needing to keep her mouth busy, she presses half a bite, half a kiss behind his ear, dragging her teeth down Dean’s neck.      “Fuck, Y/N…” he breathes.

     With a skillful flick of his fingers, he unbuttons his jeans one-handed, offering enough space for Y/N to press her hand flat on his lower abdomen and slide it into his boxers. The skin-on-skin contact makes his head spin and the woman that is working him over like she has done so her entire life, muffles another one of his groans with her soft lips. Jesus Christ, the things she’s doing to him.

    She kneads, grinds, then drags her hand up and down his rock hard shaft, first slow, then faster. When he shudders and moans louder, clearly worked up by her attention, she slips her hand out and kneels to pull his jeans down. What springs free causes her eyes to grow big at the sight, and Dean grins mischievously at the surprised expression on her face. Blessed with being bigger than average has its perks, especially combined with the set of skills he’s picked up along the years. Dean’s sure this is going to be a great night.

     Seductively, Y/N glances up from her position, meeting his eyes, and Dean smiles down in awe. Having the huntress on her knees in front of him is something he never expected to experience, but here she is and it humbles him. Waiting for her to make a move, he cups her face, swiping messy strands from her cheek. There they are again; those mesmerizing, captivating eyes as if he’s looking into those of Medusa herself. One certain part of him has definitely turned to stone with not much more than a look.

     She keeps a hold of his gaze, inching closer. Then she places a gentle kiss on his base, right where the vein runs up, her tongue peeking past her lips. He stiffens and cannot help but to buckle forward slightly when she takes him into her mouth. He fights to stay upright, his core is so tight that it hurts. Just bearing witness to how comfortably Y/N pleasures him, an act so intimate, it overwhelms fast. Shit, he can’t take much more of this.

     His fingers get stuck in her hair and he squeezes it tight into a fist,  trapping the locks between his digits. Dean then tugs gently, requesting her to stand.      “C’mere,” Dean murmurs, his free hand slipping to her neck, guiding her lips to his again.

     The action is genuine, tender and almost lovingly, and it catches Y/N by surprise. Not sure what to think of his affectionate ways, she allows him to guide her towards the bed, the two of them almost slow dancing. His calloused hands explore her shapes and curves, the trailing touches feather light. Then her calves hit the bedside and she topples back, pulling him with her as she squeals. Dean braces himself to prevent crushing her under his weight. Still influenced by the alcohol, she giggles unstoppable, drawing a wide grin from her partner as well.

     Look at her, just look.

     The know-it-all tough chick that screams ‘don’t mess with me’, sprawled underneath him in her perfect, naked form, all giddy and smiling eyes. Dean wishes he could stay here with her forever.

     The curve formed by Y/N’s arched lips evens out as she drowns in his green irises. A flutter in her chest erupts, one that she has felt before. She knows that the path she’s following is a doomed one, but she refuses to dwell on that thought. And so she leans up, drawing him close and taking him down with her, kissing him deeply. She feels his arousal twitch against her inner thigh while his fingers trace her breasts, massaging them. Dean grinds into her, eager for friction, desperate to get inside.

     Without moving her lips from his, Y/N reaches between their bodies, guiding him towards her entrance. Slick with arousal, she clenches around his length as he slowly pushes in, his groan of relief hanging in the air of the motel room. Dean filling her completely triggers his bed-partner to lay her head back, sighing with pleasure. Her bare throat invites him, and as he rolls his hips, he buries his face in the junction between her neck and shoulder. Kissing her burning skin, he picks up the pace, bottoming out completely.

     “Oh, God…” she moans as he runs into her sweet spot again and again, like a beating drum.      “You may call me Dean,” he teases.      “Shut up and keep going,” she gasps, getting lost in the build up.

     He doesn’t have to be told twice and drives into her again. The friction is almost too much to handle, the heat close to unbearable. The little spark that she felt the moment he offered a taste of him, has grown into a firestorm and it will not take long for her to explode.

     Somewhere far in the back of her mind, she knows she’s baring her soul to her colleague. Hunting is a terminal profession. Most hunters don’t make it to thirty-five, the ones who do, die alone. To compensate for a short life full of terror and pain, she decides to make every moment count. She needs to live, Dean and her both do. And if they aren’t living right now, they never will.

     Dean’s fingers press in the hollow between her shoulder blades as she arches into him. Bucking up to meet his thrusts, she folds her legs around his waist, changing the angle slightly. Eyes closed, he manages to pull in sporadic breaths, trying to last as long as he possibly can, but Y/N’s intensifying moans don’t exactly help, neither do her walls, which tighten around him.

     “I - I’m right there,” he breathes.      “Talk to me,” she whispers, the request coming out more like an order.      “You feel so good… Fuck, I’m gonna...” he pants, shuddering. “Please… I need to c--”

     His plea is cut off by a satisfied, long groan, louder than all the others, when Dean comes hard, filling her up with a few more thrusts. Y/N isn’t far behind. Despite his own high, Dean slips his fingers in between their bodies to find that sensitive bundle of nerves, circling it rapidly. It triggers a series of moans to leave her plumped lips, each one a little higher, sounds of pleasure filling the room as a mind-blowing orgasm rips through her.

     He slowly works her through it, aware how sensitive she is right now. As he does he watches her, sprawled out under him, bare breasts heaving as her chest rises and falls, her eyes closed in bliss.      “Holy... Fucking… Shit…” she utters, out of breath.      He chuckles as his fingers leave her heat. “No argument there.”

     Dean pulls out reluctantly, laying his drowsy head on the pillow as he waits for the pumping muscle in his chest to calm. It takes longer than usual, and he knows in the back of his mind it has nothing to do with endurance, nor with the alcohol. It’s her. She’s the reason why his heart continues to race. Because deep down, he wants so much more than this.

     She glances his way, aching to have him inside again. Seeking some sort of physical connection, she turns towards the hunter. Propped on her elbow, with her chin resting in the palm of her hand, she lays her other hand on his chest. His heart is still beating fast, but it gradually steadies. Eyes closed, he reminisces over what just happened, the corners of his mouth drawn in a small smile. Y/N huffs, amused, watching the handsome man, because he’s not wrong. God, that felt amazing.

     “Dean?”      “Hmm?”      She moves closer, drawing circles on his skin.      “That guy who made a move on me back in the bar… Did he make you jealous?”      He opens his eyes and glances at her from under his long lashes. “Why would you think that?”      “Because you came to the rescue,” she elaborates. “Even though I could have handled him with ease.”      “Then why didn’t you?” Dean wonders.      “I dunno…” she answers, shrugging. “Sometimes it’s nice to be a damsel.”

     He smiles at that, lifting his arm to fold it around her shoulders, pulling her into his chest. She tucks her head in the crook of his neck, snuggling into him as she kisses his pulse point. Suddenly she becomes aware of how intimate this is, and how she wants to stay in this new favorite place. It scares the hell out of her. Nervous, she contemplates, allowing a silence to become evident between them. What if their actions caused a shift?

     “Tonight doesn’t change anything, right?” she checks with him.      “It doesn’t?” he mocks. “I quite like the sound of you calling me God.”      She punches him in the stomach and Dean lets out a ‘hmpf’, laughing at her fiery counter attack. The sound warms Y/N’s tired muscles and sobers her up as it sheds light on her clouded soul. That’s when she begins to grasp what Dean does to her, what this could become, and for a short second, she’s brave.

      “Do you feel it too?”

     It remains quiet for a few dreadful long seconds and her courage seeps away. As she thinks of an attempt to cover the misstep, Dean places his curled index finger under her chin, lifting her face to his. He doesn’t say anything, just gazes into her eyes with an adoration she hasn’t seen in them before. Unable to believe the message in his evergreens, she excuses his behavior.

     Remember that he drank a lot, Y/N. He might not even remember this in the morning. This is the alcohol talking, not Dean.

     Not wanting to get her hopes up, she keeps repeating the mantra in her head, but he cuts her off. A tender kiss brings every thought that was swarming in her head to a screeching halt and all she can feel is him.

     Dean wouldn’t flat out admit he loves someone. He doesn’t know how, never having learned how to express himself in that way. But the hunter doesn’t need to tell her with words, actions speaking for him. His nose nuzzled against hers, the brush of his lashes on her soft cheeks as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. His thumb tracing her soft skin, the look he gives her when they part again, full of hope, endearment and warmth.

     She knows what he can’t voice.      Dean feels it too.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if  you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work  or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page).

[dietarysalad]

Street War – Chapter 19

“Gin-chan, you idiot!” Kagura yelled, to the agreement of most of the rest of the Yorozuya members in the room. Their hideout was well-sized, having been repurposed out of an abandoned school building, and comfortably fit the entirety of the Yorozuya. It did not take much effort to round up all of the members – outside of the Yorozuya activities, no-one had much to do.

“I cannot believe that you let yourself be played by that Shinsengumi dog!” she continued, her voice grating against Gintoki’s ears. “And you call yourself our leader?!” Gintoki sighed. “Now, now – I’m drunk and I don’t need my daughter adding to my headache,” he declared, massaging his temples with his index and middle fingers. “What’s done is done, and it’s not like I can go back and undo it now. We’re just gonna have to fight and deal with whatever consequences come out of it should we lose.”

From her seated position by the window, Otae scoffed. “My, my,” she haughtily breathed out, her arms crossed over her weapon of choice – a long wooden rod. “Kagura-chan’s right. I cannot believe our leader has become such a weakling.” “Huh?” came Gintoki’s confused reply. Next to Otae, Shinpachi fixed the positioning of his glasses. ““Deal with whatever consequences come out of it should we lose”, you say?” the bespectacled boy reiterated. “You sound like you’ve lost your will to fight, already.” There were murmurs amongst the Yorozuya. Gintoki’s eyes narrowed. ““Lost [my] will to fight”? I’ve got enough will for the lot of you!” he proclaimed, standing up to address the entirety of his gang.

The previously downcast mood of the room suddenly changed, doubtful murmuring switching to jubilant cheers. All of the members of the gang rose and either struck their weapons together or crossed fists in glee. “Don’t worry, Gintoki! Even if you’re an idiot, we’ll still follow you to the ends of the Earth!” At Gintoki’s side, Tsukuyo and Kamui smiled as they watched the members of the Yorozuya show their delight with violence and skinship. Both turned their gaze to the man who stood tall at the forefront of the Yorozuya. This was the man that they had chosen to follow – only the White Demon could tame this pack of ruffians with little more than a few words in their direction. “Those Shinsengumi dogs had better watch their tails, tonight. We’ll paint Tokyo’s streets with their defeat!” A chorus of cheers erupted as the members of the Yorozuya began splitting into their assigned combat groups in preparation for the fight.

Gintoki and Kamui began their walk amongst the groups, maintaining order throughout the chaos. Tsukuyo made to join them, when she noticed a momentary look of conflict flash across Kagura’s face. “Kagura?” Tsukuyo asked, her eyes carrying with them a look of concern. “Is there something wrong?” Kagura looked up, her lips turning upwards in a grin. “Just planning ways to kill that Sadist,” she answered. Tsukuyo nodded. “I see.” Without wasting too much more time, Kagura bounded off towards Shinpachi and Otae, while Tsukuyo trained a worried glance in her direction. Her eyes didn’t smile at me like they usually do.

Sougo watched lazily as Hijikata addressed the other members of the Shinsengumi. He breathed out a deep sigh, tempted to pull his eye-mask down onto his face to take a quick nap. However, he knew that Hijikata would kill him if he even moved to do it, so he decided that he would be a good boy for once and just sit still. Sougo only vaguely listened to the words coming out of the older man’s mouth and could somewhat gather that Hijikata’s actions were fuelled by Mitsuba’s death. “We’ll honour Mitsuba’s wishes and end this fighting! As soon as the Yorozuya are out of the picture...” or something along those lines, Sougo thought to himself.

In Hijikata’s eyes, Mitsuba’s wish for the fighting between the two gangs to stop could be granted if one of the two gangs was chased off the streets for good. That was Hijikata’s reason for calling such a high-stakes street war between the two gangs. That idiot thinks that taking out the Yorozuya is the way to go, huh? Sougo sighed. He, at least, had enough sense in him to realise that what his sister wanted was not this. He thought back to the day when his sister met with Kagura and how she had expressed a hope that the two gangs would be able to get along. There isn’t much hope of that happening now, sis’.

Sougo’s train of thought halted as his sister’s words made their way into his mind. “Then, if you two get married, will the two groups end up merging together?” He blinked at the memory and quickly shook his head, startling Saitou as well as a small number of Shinsengumi members who were sitting beside him. Gently, he massaged the crease between his eyebrows and as he sighed in frustration at his own brain. There isn’t much hope of that happening, either.

It was a couple of minutes after midnight when the Yorozuya members showed up in the back alleys of Tokyo to start their final street brawl against the Shinsengumi. When the ragtag gang eventually arrived, they found that the members of the Shinsengumi had already showed up long before to set-up shop on the fighting grounds. The men were spaced out behind garbage cans and parked motorcycles. Some crouched in groups out in the open while others lurked in the shadows of the alleyways, their dark outfits making it a little difficult to pick out the gang members from their surroundings.

Gintoki led his gang confidently into the middle of the group of Shinsengumi, his head conked to the side as he gazed lazily at Hijikata. “Even in the bitter end, you still don’t show up on time?” Hijikata mocked, a smoke in hand. “Well,” Gintoki drawled, a little upset that his headache had not quite subsided. “I did say that it’d be at the ‘same time, same place’, and this is the same time I usually show up. Have you never heard of being fashionably late?” “Hmph, don’t play smart with me.” His hand clenched around the baseball bat that he was holding, prompting Gintoki to shift into fighting position with is iron pipe.

“Kondo-san’s pulled some strings tonight with the cops,” Hijikata continued. “I hate to ask him, but we can at least be assured that we won’t be interrupted tonight.” “Oh my,” Gintoki exclaimed with mock disbelief. “The stiff Hijikata-san is playing dirty with the police? That can’t be good for your track record.” “Well, it’s fine to loosen up every so often,” explained Hijikata, allowing his cigarette to drop to the ground. “Like right now!”

Without further warning, Hijikata leapt towards Gintoki with his baseball bat raised high in the air. At his movement, both gangs sped into action. There was very little confusion as the members of each respective gang quickly met in combat with a member of the opposing gang. As the clash of weapons and fists echoed throughout the moonlit streets, Gintoki pushed back against his foe. With practised grace, both the ‘Kings of Tokyo’ leapt over their fallen comrades as they engaged in close-combat, aware that the initial casualties would be high due to the large number of the weaker members of each gang being weeded out.

A couple of metres away from the brawl between Gintoki and Hijikata, Kagura’s attention was focused on the ‘mob’ members of the Shinsengumi. As she obliterated them without a second thought, a chill ran up her spine and she quickly stabbed behind her with her reinforced umbrella. Sougo moved quickly to dodge, using one of his fallen gang members as a spring board. “Christ, China,” he called out with a weary façade. “Slow down, would you? We only have so many members for you to beat down.” “Hmph, are all you Shinsengumi weaklings?” she huffed, glaring at her rival. “I’ve hardly broken a sweat.” Sougo smirked. “Why don’t we change that, then?” Kagura blinked as Sougo rushed in.

While she would have, once, been able to fend off such an upfront attack, Kagura’s whirling emotions dulled her fighting prowess. The closer Sougo’s face got to hers, the less Kagura was able to think rationally. She recoiled as she took more and more hits from her rival, unable to fight back against the young Shinsengumi’s unrelenting attacks. Sougo, on the other hand, was thoroughly confused by the way their fight was progressing. Eight, nine, ten. Ten hits? And she’s hit me – what – once? Usually, their fights were more balanced than this. Feeling a little frustrated, he landed a solid kick to Kagura’s abdomen which knocked her a couple of metres away. “Oi, I hardly think that today is the day to be going soft on me,” he advised, approaching her as he twirled his iron pipe.

Groaning, Kagura slowly stood up. She was definitely a wreck, much more so than Sougo who barely had a speck of dust on his jacket. “Who said I’m going soft?!” she yelled, rolling up her sleeves. Sougo scoffed. “No-one needs to say anything. You’re a loser, sure, but you don’t usually lose this badly.” Kagura dropped her head at his words, her eyebrows knitting together in frustration. In a moment of carelessness, a member of the Shinsengumi gang silently crept up behind her and rounded on Kagura with their wooden board. Sougo’s eyes widened. “Oi-!” However, before his call could make its way to Kagura’s ears, she caught a good hold on the assailant’s weapon and lifted her head toward her rival. A strange look of determination crossed her previously downcast eyes. With as much strength as she could muster, Kagura hurled the Shinsengumi member that had attacked her over her shoulder in Sougo’s direction.

Flinching at the unexpected attack, Sougo was driven back by the force of Kagura’s throw and the weight of the man that had just been thrown at him. In the time that it took him to stand up and push the man’s weight off, Kagura had crossed the few metres separating them and hurled a straight punch into his abdomen. Having been winded by his impact with the ground, Sougo left plenty of openings for the refuelled Kagura, who had abandoned her umbrella in favour of a close-quarters brawl instead. She alternated her punches with kicks, the majority – of which – hit straight on their mark.

However, in the midst of her barrage of attacks, Kagura missed the look of ecstatic glee that flickered on Sougo’s face.

Eventually, the tussle took to the ground as both parties tried to get the upper hand on the other. It was when they had tumbled into an empty alleyway that Sougo was able to pin Kagura’s limbs beneath him. However, in doing so, his own appendages were locked in place. A little unsure as to how to proceed, Sougo could only take the time to catch his breath. If I let go to try to knock her out, I leave her with a free arm. Then, the question is who is faster-?

“Oi, Sadist.” Sougo looked down, startled by the suddenness of Kagura’s words. Slowly, he felt the tension in Kagura’s arms dissipate as she allowed her muscles to relax, her eyes staring straight up at Sougo’s face. “When this fight ends, regardless of who wins or loses, what happens?” she questioned, her voice strangely quiet. He blinked. It was too dark in the alleyway to see Kagura’s expression, so he had no idea of what she was thinking. His mind raced for an answer as a bead of sweat began to trickle down his forehead. What is she trying to say…? “Hey,” Kagura called out once more, her voice bouncing off the enclosed walls of the alley way. “What?” responded Sougo, his voice coming out a little harsher than he had intended.

“Without whatever the hell this is, what exactly am I to you?”

Sougo blinked. Seeing no need to maintain their current position as Kagura had already stopped struggling, he released her and sat back slowly onto his heels. In a crouched position, he rested on the balls of his feet as he watched Kagura sit up slowly. “The only reason we even look at each other is ‘coz of these squabbles,” she mumbled. “We aren’t friends, or anything gross like that. When all this ends, there’s nothing left between us, y’know?” “”Nothing left”…?” he repeated quietly. Kagura looked up at him. “So, what am I to you?”

Without moving too much, Sougo glanced off to the side and asked as appropriate a question as he could think of. “Why do you want to know?” he murmured, partly at her and partly for his own sake. Kagura remained silent, the back of her neck sweating as she chose her next words. “Because I want to crush you?” she managed to squeak. Sougo raised an unconvinced eyebrow. “Do you mean you have a crush on me?” he spoke slowly, leaning in close. Kagura blushed. Now that his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, he could clearly see the red sheen darken Kagura’s cheeks. There was no question about it. He smirked and sorely hoped that she would not notice the heat on his cheeks, either.

“Well, if you must know…” Sougo said through his sly smile. He aimed a kick at her side, which was neatly dodged by Kagura who pushed off the ground into a somersault. “For a piggy, I think you’re pretty cute.” Sougo was not sure of whether or not Kagura had completely registered his words when she aimed a fly kick at his shoulder, knocking him out of the alleyway. The angered and embarrassed look on her face, however, told him that she had at least heard the ‘piggy’ part.

Grabbing her umbrella as she ran out of the alleyway, Kagura made to strike down upon her ‘hated’ rival with her favourite weapon. Sougo jumped up to dodge the incoming umbrella, which he was sure weighed more than a couple of kilograms. He landed in front of Kagura and aimed a punch at her face. Taken by surprise, Kagura did not have the time to dodge and only managed to block his incoming attack with her arm. The crack that she heard echoed loudly and she quickly roundhouse kicked him in the shin in vengeance. The resounding crack from his leg satisfied her as she leapt backwards in a wary fashion. “Both you damn siblings…!” he swore as he lowered his stance to place some stress off his leg. “My stupid broken arm just healed, China!”

From the way that he was favouring his right leg, Kagura could tell that Sougo would not be getting much use out of it for the rest of the night. She tested her left arm and found its movement stiff. Same could be said for me. From the corner of his eye, Sougo noticed her dilemma. “Don’t tell me we’re both out of commission for tonight,” he hissed, placing his arms up in a guarded postion. She turned angrily to point at him with her umbrella using her good arm. “Well, it certainly is not my fault!” she yelled. “You broke my arm first – you got what you deserved!” She lowered herself into a fighting stance, twirling her umbrella threateningly. “And I only need one arm to beat the stuffing out of you, anyway.” He scoffed. “Hardly.”

Quickly, Sougo scanned the streets. While the Shinsengumi far outnumbered the Yorozuya, Gintoki’s gang members were all well-seasoned fighters. Even with lower fewer members, they had managed to dwindle the numbers of the Shinsengumi. After a half an hour into the fight, it seemed that the majority of each gang had been taken out. On the Shinsengumi’s side, only Kondo, Sougo and Hijikata remained standing. The Yorozuya only had three members remaining, as well – they were Gintoki and his two children. As far as Sougo was concerned, the match between himself and Kagura could only end in a tie. That meant that whether or not the Shinsengumi would win would be decided by whether or not Kondo and Hijikata could push Kamui and Gintoki to the ground.

Having been ganged up on by a large number of the Shinsengumi beforehand, Kamui had been tired out and was having a bit of trouble fighting back against Kondo. His fists did not carry the same impact that they once had and the older Shinsengumi member was quite well-equipped to fend off Kamui’s offences. Kagura, having noticed this fact, eyed Sougo warily before sprinting towards her brother. Sougo’s eyes widened with the startling realisation that Kagura had disappeared and, with his limp, he was unable to catch up to her as she flew over to Kamui’s aid. Moving swiftly, Kagura made use of her athleticism and used her good arm as a brace on the ground to support her weight. She lifted her legs and made quick work of kicking away Kondo’s fire-extinguisher. Kondo’s surprise allowed ample time for Kamui to knock the larger man out with a swift, hard kick to the temple.

“Kondo-san!” called out Hijikata as his friend went down. With Hijikata’s loss of attention, Gintoki took the opportunity to wrestle the Shinsengumi leader’s baseball bat from his hands, tossing it to Kamui. After he had successfully removed Hijikata’s weapon, Gintoki struggled against his rival in close combat, eventually managing to lock Hjikata’s arms behind his back. “Two against three,” Gintoki announced, glancing at Sougo as his two children ran to his side. “You’re weapon-less and the boy over there isn’t faring too well, either. There’s no need to continue on with the pointless fighting.”

Sougo silently agreed with Gintoki. He glanced over at Kagura to check on her condition, only to find her giving him a nervous stare. When his eyes met with hers, she quickly ducked behind her brother. He raised an eyebrow as she furiously turned her head away from him. Feeling embarrassed already are we, China? However, he was brought out of his musings by Hijikata’s voice. “Hmph, I’d rather go down fighting,” the man declared as he began to struggle once more at Gintoki’s grip. However, the Yorozuya leader would not relinquish his hold. He used his leg to slide under Hijikata’s feet and pushed him to the ground, laying his foot carefully on the fallen man’s back.

After ensuring that he had locked Hijikata in place, Gintoki wrapped his arms around Kagura and Kamui, pulling them so that they both stood at his sides. “Listen, I don’t mind fighting. Trust me. However,” he gently pat Kagura’s cheek, which had begun to bruise. “Big, gigantic fights like this with actual stakes? No fun.” Hijikata stiffened. “The stakes were in place to get one of us off the streets, to stop this fighting in a satisfactory manner,” he rationalised. “Like Mitsuba would’ve wanted.” Sougo turned his head. “My sister wanted the fighting to stop, Hijibaka,” he deadpanned. “Trying to stop the fighting by using more fighting isn’t exactly gonna work.” Hijikata looked lost. “But… Fighting is the only thing that guys like us have ever known. How exactly are we meant to settle things without duking it out?”

Sougo thought back once more to his sister’s words. “Well, I suppose I could always marry China and merge our gangs that way-“ In half a second, Sougo was cut off by an iron pipe flying at his face. He narrowly managed to dodge it, his hands risen in surrender. “What. Did. You. Say?” Gintoki growled, clutching the very red Kagura to his chest. “I don’t think I quite caught that.” In response, Sougo acted out his best impression of a pure, innocent child while Kamui watched in amusement. “I wonder how monstrously strong your babies will be!” pondered the older Sakata sibling. “Oi.” “Yes, dad?” Kamui answered amiably. “Your sister isn’t marrying anyone until she’s thirty and especially not that Sadist King, okay?”

Hijikata glanced at the four, a little taken aback at how easily they managed to banter with one another. He looked at his shoes. “Merging, huh?” he murmured. Sougo looked back at Hijikata. “Well, both of our groups are pretty much doing the exact same type of thing, anyways,” he stated. “Merging wouldn’t be too hard. In the first place, I don’t think the Yorozuya boss’ group are as blood thirsty as the guys in our group, so we can expect very little protest on their end.” As he continued, Sougo’s eyes began to soften. “And, well, if they hear that it’s what sis’ would have wanted, I’m sure that our guys will be up for it, too.”

As Gintoki released Kagura, she turned in her father’s arms to face Hijikata. “Our boss is usually the stupid one, so I was surprised to find out that this whole ‘final gang fight’ was your idea,” she bluntly announced. At her words, Hijikata furrowed his brow and looked at the younger girl. “I only had to meet her once to recognise that she was as good a person as they come,” she continued, turning her head upwards towards the moon. “Even if she hated fighting, she understood that there was very little malice behind our usual gang rough ups.” She paused to look back at Hijikata who had turned back down to look at the ground. “I’m sure that, if she had to choose between our usual tussles and what happened tonight,” Kagura gestured to the bruised bodies lying unconscious across the street, “she would much rather our usual fights.”

Sougo whistled. “I guess even the idiot China can be smart sometimes.” Kagura glared at him. “Why couldn’t he have inherited some of his sister’s gentle and kind personality…?” she wondered aloud, bringing a hand up to massage between her eyebrows. Hijikata chuckled, tousling Sougo’s hair in the process. “Sometimes I wonder that, too,” Hijikata agreed. His young ward made a face that was not befitting of an eighteen-year-old and shook Hijikata’s hand away. Gintoki smiled at the scene. “Well, that’s it for tonight,” he declared. “Gather up the bodies and bandage them up. When you’re ready, contact me and we can talk about that gang merge. Which would you prefer – the ‘Yorogumi’ or the ‘Shinsenzuya’?”

Hijikata cocked his head and gave a defeated sigh. “Guess there’s no choice, huh?” he muttered. Gintoki turned, his kids having already run off to help the injured. Sougo stalked off to do the same for the Shinsengumi, shaking Saitou awake to give him a hand. However, before Hijikata could walk away, Gintoki spoke once more. “Oh, one thing.” “Hm?” “Can you, like, call or text me like a normal person? Letters are so twentieth century.”

Author’s Note

And--! That’s the end.

I’m just joking – goodness no! I’ve still got an epilogue coming after this one. So, if you’re not yet satisfied, please hold on!