Hello! My old intro got lost in the void so I'll just make a new one.
I'm Emmy or Em, I'm just here to practice my writing and improve my style! I used to have another blog but moved to this one.
I'm currently obsessing over One Piece/ Resident Evil so that's mostly what I'm writing for right now! I don't really have any select fandoms I'm writing for; just kinda doing my own thing. There are mega anime/manga spoilers on this blog!
The tag #my writing is how I usually tag all my writing stuff!
I also follow from uhohitsemmy
You guys can send stuff in any time, I like seeing people's ideas.
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It's rare for you two to be alone together. Sam being Dean's shadow and Dean being Sam's. In a way, it's hard to imagine the two separated. As if the two being apart will tear a hole in the world and disrupt every natural order.
You take what you can get.
It's foggy on the road, tiny rain drops paint pictures on the windows of the Impala. Usually, during road trips such as this one, you'd find yourself staring at your own reflection. Harboring memories of the past, comparing them with the present. Life has a funny way of ripping the normal right from under you. It wants you to believe it will go a certain way, only to show you your plans were not important in the slightest.
"What're you thinking about?"
Instead of seeing yourself in the reflection, you see Dean.
He's still got his eyes on the road, fingers drumming along to a tune you can't hear. His green eyes glance to you every so often, and you can't help but wonder what he's thinking about. Well, hunting is definitely one thing. What Sam's doing is probably another.
You want to believe he's picturing Sam being trapped in the motel room scouring through books, calling him a nerd or dork in the brotherly way you expect him to.
"I keep losing you," Dean says, small smile acquitting his features. His dimples are more prominent now. "You're just as bad as Sammy."
"At least we can hold important thoughts," you retort, biting your tongue as he scoffs.
"Whoa, hold up, I hold important thoughts all the time."
"Mhm," you hum. "I bet you're thinking about getting pie when we get back."
"No. But that does sound good."
"What are you thinking about?"
"Don't turn my question back on to me," his smile grows a little bigger, but his eyes don't quite match it. "You were thinking so loud I could hear them gears turnin'."
You shrug, tasting the words in your mouth before letting them spill. "Just thinking about how weird life is."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," you let out a huff of air. "You know, hunting beings who are supposed to be bedtime horror stories you tell at camp isn't exactly how I pictured my future."
Dean's silent for a moment, and you wonder how dramatic you sounded. As if you were genuinely reading off a hidden script.
He speaks after a beat. "That line of thinking isn't worth it with this type of gig. Not anymore."
"What do you mean?"
"Gettin' caught up in your head, thinkin' and wonderin' about the past. It's distracting, and it will only get you killed." His voice is stern, no longer the playful glint you saw earlier. It's not a scold but a warning. "I don't blame you, though. It's hard not to think about it."
"You think about it?" You finally look at him. Your heart stutters a little.
"More than you'd think I do." His voice is final. As if dropping a pin. "Sam likes to talk to me like I wouldn't want a different life, but who wouldn't?"
When you have problems, it's easy to believe others around you wouldn't have them, too.
You take one last look at Dean before falling back to the reflection on the window. It's less foggy now. His features are more detailed than they were with the grey and the dew.
"Sorry," you murmur.
"Nothin' to be sorry for. Don't turn into Sam on me now."
You snicker, and he chuckles in return. It makes your heart sing.
You love this man.
The thought makes you pause. Like a bullet, it hits you sharp and loud. The metal of it echos inside your mind until it's the only thing you can hear.
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You were right. About what? About me and Dad. I'm sorry that the last time I was with him, I tried to pick a fight. I'm sorry that I spent most of my life angry with him. I mean, for all I know, he died thinking that I hate him. So, you're right. What I'm doing right now, it is too little. It's too late.
Dean Winchester is the type of man who will not tell you he loves you until the very last second. The moment the string of possibility is about to snap--or perhaps, what he would describe it as inevitable. The inevitability of you walking out the door and never speaking to him again.
He mutters the three powerful words almost like he's whispering the world's most powerful secret. And when you ask him to repeat himself, the words are caught in a net. He struggles. Dean bites his inner cheek, tasting iron, before repeating himself in a much higher tone. He didn't mean to practically yell it out, but if he didn't, he wouldn't have been able to say it again. Ripping the bandaid or the square of duct tape.
His confession is ripe and pulsing. Like a festering wound. It still feels really weird in his mouth. He can say it to Sammy, but that's Sammy. You're...different. Different how he can't exactly explain. He's never been good at that. Explaining.
You're quiet now. His heart is racing. The anticipation makes his hands clammy. He almost can't take it anymore but then you sigh--it almost sounds like a chuckle.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
