To say my grandmother was eccentric is an exercise in gross understatement. Particular to the point of painful, she needed everything done just so, or she would throw impressive fits, and claim she would never speak to the perpetrator again.
As far as Destiel goes, I am super torn between shipper Sam, and totally oblivious Sam:
Either, he has known they love each other for years (longer than Cas and Dean even), has been trying to drop subtle hints for ever, is so done with the staring and sexual tension whenever they go anywhere, owes his perfected eye-roll to these two idiots, probably has an account on some Supernatural fan site where he vents, has already half written his best man speech, and is THIS close to locking them both in a cupboard until the penny drops.
Or, he has always prided himself on his observation skills as a hunter, but where his brother and the angel are concerned he doesn’t have a clue. Dean gets up with a hickey on his neck and Sam wonders when the hell he had time to go out last night. They are sitting, staring at each other, and Sam just thinks, thank God for some quiet, I can get on with this research. He does frown when Dean insists on booking a separate motel room to him, but Sam’s got a cold at the moment so hey, maybe his brother doesn’t want to listen to him snore. In the end, it’s a tiny thing that gives the game away. The faintest brush of Dean’s fingers over Cas’s knuckles as he serves dinner one day in the bunker. And every little thing from the last six or so years suddenly slots into place, and Sam almost falls out of his chair laughing.
So, I never wrote a Namjoon vanilla scenario but it had to be done so here it is. I tried my best to make it perfect and I am seriously sorry if it’s not. Please take a bit of time and read it! It will mean a lot to me! And so so soooo sorry this is so long :(
Genre: Fluff,Smut | Teacher!Namjoon
Pairing: Namjoon x Reader
Word count: 3036
“Good Morning, Class!”
the professor said when he entered the room.
“Who is this?” you
asked yourself, eventually looking at the teacher’s desk. A tall man, young and
slim with blonde hair stood still, next to the desk. He placed his books and
papers on the table when everybody eyed him.
He turned his
attention to the class again, this time attacking everybody with a toothy smile.
You found yourself staring at him, at his face, analyzing every feature.