#to be fair. the plan was always to take shakespeare next semester. the plan has been to take the shakespeare class since i started undergra

[kalashtars]

planning classes has me going "hehehe *kicking my feet*" but i know as soon as i actually have to attend those classes my brain is going to be like "😐😐😐"

[namjoonsteeth]

HONEY - (Bangtan Boys mini series)

A/N: not fully edited yet

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Genre: Smut; enemies to lovers

Word Count: 7.6k

Joon always reminded me of honey, smooth and wet. From the way he spoke to the way he moved. 

Even as we both trade abrasive words in class, rallying back and forth as we try to make known our top tier positions academically. Namjoon is far smarter than me. This much I know. The guy is an actual genius with which that could not be argued with. He corrected professors, he pointed out contradictions in course material, and more often than not he made his disdain for me known whenever I went up against him. I picked fights with him. It was clear to everyone. He’d say one thing, and I made it my sole purpose to side with the opposite. It was petty and completely unnecessary; I’m sure our professors found our sparring to be a waste of time on most days. 

“Which is why the statement “Shakespeare is overrated” is neither accurate nor is it valid, Y/n. Not only has he contributed many words to the modern English language, its undeniable that he has changed the way authors and playwrights tell stories,” he ends his ten minute rant by shooting me one last look of distaste.

I irritate him. I’m mostly ok with that considering that any attention from him is good attention. He’d reminded me of honey, and the only time I could get his eyes on me was when we were fighting. I’d relished in the times that he’d narrow his dark brown eyes on me, his full lips going a mile a minute as he’d battled my made up opinions. He talked slowly but quick all at once. He’d take long beats of time to formulate his attacks before spewing them out without even a breath in between. If I was anyone else, If I didn’t love every bit of attention he’d given me, maybe he would’ve broken me semesters ago. 

“One day you’re going to make him snap,” Seokjin smiles while we walk from European literature. 

Namjoon  left before us, knowing that his friend would walk me to my next class after we grab something to eat. I think it further irritated him that I found a way to be friends with all of his roommates. He’d refused to both join a fraternity as well as leave his friends alone to fend for themselves. He’s the most responsible one out of all seven boys, even managing to keep the older ones in line too. That’s just how Joon is, he’s in control of most things in his life. 

“That’s the plan,” I smile brightly up at him. 

“Why are you such a brat, Y/N-,” Seokjin winces immediately after speaking as a hand slaps the back of his neck. The younger boy joins us naturally, a sweet wide smile on his face while he teases his friend. He shakes his dark hair out of his face before tucking his hands into the deep pockets of of his oversized black hoodie. 

“Hey, Jeon Jungkook, I’m older than you, you know?” Seokjin says knowing that it’ll start a fight. I sigh waiting for the inevitable; JK hits Seokjin, Jin reminds him that he’s five years older than him and demands respect, JK pretends like none of that matter, chaos ensues until another boy shows up to break it up.

“And you still don’t know how the talk politely to women,” JK clicks his tongue and shakes his head.

I watch the two of them bicker back and forth, trading neck slaps and dodging each other on the crowded sidewalk. I watch as the other students get out of the way of their playing, not batting an eyelash as JK dramatically rolls on the ground to dodge Seokjin’s attack. 

The Bangtan boys have always been a spectacle. In the beginning they were foreign exchange students who seemed to be good at everything all at once. They were all so close that everyone thought that they were real brothers, no one really bothered to correct them because for all intents and purposes, they are. Seokjin quickly became the lead of Thespian Club, Yoongi an irreplaceable shooting guard on the school’s basketball team, JK and Tae have founded a whole gaming club as well as being members of the men’s choir, and Jimin is student body president as well as the co leader of the dance team with Hoseok who is also a member of the diversity board. As for Namjoon, there isn’t enough time to list all of his accolades. 

He’s a genius. Not even speaking in terms of comparability to the other students at the university. Namjoon is a genius compared to the world. With an IQ of 148 he surpassed me easily. I think that’s why I liked to mess with him so much. I know that I can never beat him academically. We both know, but I think it annoyed him that I wouldn’t stop trying. 

We finally get to the sandwich restaurant on campus. We spot Jimin and Taehyung easily. All the Bangtan boys have a draw to them. Invisible halos that draws the eye the minute they enter a room. They could be doing the most mundane thing in the world, like sitting at a restaurant with their noses buried in One Piece, and they’ve got the whole room’s attention. Jimin with his high cheekbones that cause the apples of his cheeks to puff up when he smiles and silver hair, Tae with his angular features that no doubt belong on a runway. It’s hard not to look at them, What’s worse is that all seven boys hold the same charm. Gazes move from the two young boys in the center of the lunch room toward the two boys who are still fighting playfully as we make our way to our friends.

“Y/N, are you coming over tonight?” Jimin asks, while leaning forward to see me past Tae. 

I shake my head as I pull out my buzzing cellphone. It’s Hoseok, telling us that he’s buying us all burgers and if we want something else it’s a little too late. The boys all ignore the text, fine with anything as always. Yoongi tells us that he’s skipping lunch to go work on some music before his game tonight. I see Namjoon’s floating icon pop up, showing that he’s read the message. It’s been weeks since he’d had lunch with us. Usually he’s able to ignore me and focus solely on the boys. Out of the blue he’d started going to the library during the first break in his schedule.

“I rather not sit through passive aggressive Namjoon finding different ways to express his hate for me without being too obvious,”

Hope brings sets two trays full of food in the middle of the booth table we’re all sitting at. His hair is back to black meaning that he’s either changed the girl he’s sleeping with this week or his preferred dance style. He’s entirely too predictable and he’s fine with it. He catches my eye as he slides into the booth beside me and passes JK a drink.

“Oh, he 100% hates you,” he says seriously. “Hey, Jeon Jungkook, I only got you one burger. Don’t eat too fast,”

JK smiles around his already full mouth. He sips at his drink to wash his food down so he can speak. “It’s ok. Jin Hyung will get the next round,”

“What do I look like to you, huh?” Seokjin points across the table at JK who laughs at having riled up the oldest again. “I spend so much money on you, neglecting the other maknaes all in the name of putting food in front of you,”

“Maybe if you weren’t old you wouldn’t have to bare the responsibilities that come with being the eldest,”

“Hey, Jeon Jungkook!” 

The rest of the boys ignore them as they get into another round of bickering. It escalates when Jin reaches out for a neck slice which JK dodges easily. Hope rolls his eyes and pulls out his phone. 

“Hyung, doesn’t hate you,” Tae says not looking up from the graphic novel in his hands. He opens his lips wide as Jimin shoves a French fry into his mouth. 

He flicks his strawberry pink bangs out of his face and focuses on his story. That’s how Tae is. Either he’s completely absorbed in our conversation or he’s only giving us half of his attention. He’s almost done with his book, so I expect by tonight he’ll be the center of chaos with JK. 

It’s not that I actually think Namjoon dislikes me. He wouldn’t let me get to him so much if there isn’t just a hint of fond there. At least, I hope so. I hope there’s a part of him that likes going at it with me as much as I do. Still, sometimes it feels like he’d give anything to get me to shut up. Or maybe it’s that he wants to be the one to do so. Again, I hope so. God, I really want him to. 

It isn’t news that Namjoon is attractive. Whatever trait you’re into, he has it. He’s incredibly intelligent, able to outsmart just about anyone on campus. He’s physically attractive, slightly tan skin, tall, large just about everywhere. He’s funny when he’s with his friends, protective, sensitive, and just about anything else you could think of. God, I sound like I’m in love with the guy. If I’m honest, maybe I am a little. Maybe that’s the point of all of this.

“This is dangerous territory,” Hope warns looking a up form his one and at his friend who don’t seem to have a problem with spilling all of Namjoon’s secrets. His warning seems serious but he speaks around a large bite of the burger in his hands. There’s sauce on his cheek, JK reaches out to wipe his jaw quickly before going back to his own meal. 

“I think he wants to sleep with you,” Jimin proclaims before wincing as Hope and Seokjin hit either side of his shoulders at the same time. “Hey, why should I lie?”

“Where’s your loyalty, Jimin,” Hope asks frowning at him. 

Jimin shrugs. 

“With whoever is in the room I guess. And I’m not betraying Joonie Hyung. I’m taking the steps he’s too prideful to take,”

It would be funny if I wasn’t too focused on how all five boys look to be hiding something. It’s not fair for me to exploit Jimin’s weak ties, right? I’m going to do it anyway. As smart as Namjoon is, he’s not necessarily right about everything. I can’t imagine I’ve done something so bad for him to avoid me so much that he’d sacrifice spending time with his friends. 

“Which are,” I prod. 

JK covers Jimin’s mouth to keep him from speaking. If there’s anyone loyal to Namjoon it’s going to be the youngest. He’s shown a reverence for the other boy plenty of time, even refusing to take my side on most occasions. I can’t expect him to tell me what’s going on without a little work. 

“JK,” I say pushing my lips out in a pout. 

He’s young, not quite accustomed to the charms of women. Though he knows he’s incredibly attractive, he’s not quite sure how to act around girls yet. His cheeks turn red as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. Like a deer in headlights, he looks a little innocent and a lot startled. 

“Don’t fall for it, Kookie,” Hope warns again. 

I roll my eyes and try again, blocking Hoseok’s strict expression with my hand on his face. He makes an obnoxious noise of anguish before quieting down. Satisfied, I remove my hand and let him eat in peace. Tae continues to ignore us, Seokjin watches in silence as Jimin’s eyes light up in mischief. 

“You know I like your hyung, JK. It’s not like I’ll use anything you tell me against him,”

That’s only half true. I’m going to get Kim Namjoon to admit to liking me even if it’s just a little bit. That’s my mission.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, but Mon Hyung would kill me-,” JK curses as Jimin bites his hand that’s still slapped down on his mouth. He shakes the sting off as Jimin shakes free of his hold.

“You made out with him at a party last Summer and he thinks you’re purposely ignoring it,” Jimin rushes out quickly.

More curses, this time from Seokjin, Hope, and JK. Tae smiles to himself but only flips the page of his book, completely unbothered and only slightly entertained. I knew I can count on one of the younger boys. I make a note to address JK’s misplaced alliance later. 

“I kissed Namjoon?”

Jimin shakes his head. “I would call it more foreplay than a ‘kiss’, if I’m honest. It was at one of our house parties and I honestly felt like I was watching a very well shot, very realistic dirty movie,”

I look at Seokjin who only shrugs. “It was intense,”

“We didn’t-,”

Hope shakes his head. “You passed out before anything could happen. Namjoon took you up to JK’s room and that was it,”

“Last summer?” I ask, still trying to piece it all together. 

The memory doesn’t even seem remotely familiar. I’d passed out in the bangtan house more than once, crashed in JK’s room even more times than I can remember considering he has an aversion to his own bed. This could have happened at anytime.

“Either you’re repressing the memory or you actually don’t remember,” Hope says while going back to stuffing his face. 

“Why am I only finding out now?” I frown. “I’ve been asking you guys what I’d done wrong for a year and a half now,”

“Namjoon Hyung is scary when he wants to be. We all promised we wouldn’t say anything. Jimin, whatever he does to you, you deserve it,” Tae contributes while closing his book. 

I agree, the recent turn of events are more interesting than anything else. I’ve been friends with these boys for just over three years now. I’m without a doubt the closest friend outside of the seven of them that they have. They’re my best friends, all of them; even Namjoon if he would stop acting like a dickhead all of the time. 

Jimin shrugs and has the nerve to look smug. “I’m his favorite. He won’t care,”

He’s  right. Jimin won’t get in trouble for spilling Joon’s secrets. 

I eventually agree to go over tonight. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve seen Yoongi with how busy he’s been with practice and working on music. Still, it’s Namjoon that my heartbeat doubles for. I haven’t spent anytime with him outside of class in a while. Granted usually our time is spent sitting on opposite ends of the couch and shooting each other passive aggressive jabs. Still, I miss him.

Ironically, its Joon that opens the door when I get to their shared house. I’d decided to confront him about the whole “kiss” from last summer, still not completely believing the boys. I can’t imagine touching Namjoon at all and being able to forget about it. I needed an upper hand with him, though. I may annoy him most of the time with my picking and what not, but there’s still a part of him, even if solely on the physical level, that is attracted to me. I use that small fact to my advantage.

“You’re here,” he says. 

It’s hard not to respond to him. I feel my body heat as he looks down at me. He speaks slowly like he’s not in a rush to let me in; typical. His body stays in the door way, blocking me from entering. We play this game every time I come over. His arms cross over his chest like he has no plans of letting me in anytime soon. As always, I look forward to it. We aren’t in class now, he’s free to let me have any insult he wants. 

“Don’t let anyone tell you that you aren’t observant, Kim Namjoon,” I smile up at him.

He looks at my attire, the dusty pink dress stops right at the top of my thighs showing more skin than not. I watch his eyes rake over my body before he frowns at me again, a ‘W’ shaped line in the middle of his forehead. His jaw ticks once before pushing out just a bit. 

“Did you have a date?” He’s obviously only pretending to care. I can tell by the sarcastic way his eye brow raises. 

I raise my eyebrow back at him, unable to stop a smirk. “You care?”

“Does it matter?” he challenges, grating my nerves. Sighing, he smiles while giving me a scathing look. “Besides, it couldn’t have ended well if you’re here begging for attention as always”

“From who exactly,” I ask while crossing my arms over my chest. I don’t miss how his eyes flick down to my chest. His gaze lingers longer than he’s ever allowed himself to. 

“It’s whom,” he corrects. “From whom is the proper-,”

“You don’t ever shut up, do you?” I interrupt becoming irritated. I shouldn’t be surprised. This is us. It’s dysfunctional and very stupid, but its how we’ve done things for the majority of the time that I’ve known him. 

“Namjoon, we both know that you don’t like me enough to care what I do,”

“Stop telling people I don’t like you,” he frowns as if he’s just remembering something. “And stop grilling Jimin for information,” 

He turns, leaving the door open, finally letting me in. 

“The guys aren’t here,” he calls over his shoulder. 

I follow him to the kitchen where our friends usually gather. He’s right, no one is home. This kind of seems like a set up. Just a little.

“Yoongi hyung has a game, Seokjin hyung and JK are there. Jimin and Tae are seeing a movie and Hope left an hour ago,”

Very convenient. I’m in the middle of sending a heated text message to the group chat about leaving me alone with Namjoon after telling me about you kiss last summer. Unfortunately for me, Namjoon is the type to talk about everything. Even if he’s not particularly fond of me, I can sense a discussion on the horizon. At least if the boys were here I’d have a bit of backup. This feels like an ambush with nowhere to run.

He hands me a bottle of water as he pulls one out for himself as well. I take a seat on a stool at the island counter in the middle of the kitchen. Namjoon leans against the refrigerator, his eyes on me as he takes a sip of water. His eyes never leave mine and its pretty hard for me to look anywhere else beside the deep dimples around his mouth that appears as he gulps down water. He uses the back of his hand to wipe his upper lip 

I can’t remember the last time I’d been left alone with Joon. It was never awkward between us, but I was definitely closer to any one of the other guys than him. But he was also the only one of the Bangtan boys that I was ever attracted to. He just wasn’t approachable in that way, though He was always doing his own thing, always studying, tutoring, working on music. It wasn’t standoffish, he was just busy. Then it became that he’d rather do anything other than spend any amount of time with me.

The more I think about it, it was last year that we’d started losing patience with each other. As irritating as he is sometimes, I still like him. I really like him. His peach colored hair is starting to grown out just a bit already, darkening at his roots. He’s wearing his glasses, so either he was studying or working on something. Whichever it was, he looks incredibly domesticated in his t-shirt and sweatpants. I look at his feet to see his favorite character on his slippers. Its cute. The hidden parts of Namjoon that he hides away from everyone else but has no problem showing the other boys. I find it endearing. 

“So are you going to stay until they get home or what?” He breaks me out of my thoughts of him.

“We’re friends right Joon?” I ask without really meaning to.

I’ve been thinking of our strained relationship all day,  not really able to focus on anything else. Because at the end of the day, I want to be friends with Namjoon. If nothing else, we could get back to how things were when they first showed up. 

“We used to be able to at least hold a conversation without jumping down each other’s throats,”

“Friends?” He raises an eye brow at me before taking a few steps forward, and leans against the counter, taking me by surprise. 

Namjoon doesn’t have an ordinary face. I can’t explain it. He’s rough, hard angled , but he’s also soft. I know if I would reach out he’d feel the same way against my finger tips.

“You do everything you can to piss me off, and you want to be friends?”

I shake my head, unable to take my eyes off of his mouth when he’s this close. 

“I want you to remind me about last summer, actually,”

He draws back slightly, looking almost..embarrassed. God, he really does think I’m purposely ignoring the supposed kiss. I thought I was being immature by purposely getting under his skin sometimes, but this is beyond childish. Unless he thinks that I actually regret it. Can’t regret anything you don’t remember Namjoon. 

“I don’t remember the kiss, Joon,” I tell him quietly.

He rolls his eyes and draws back further. His chin juts out; a sign that he’s agitated. I’m getting on his nerves again, not in the banter-like way, more that he’s ten seconds away from throwing me outside. 

“That’s supposed to be better?” He frowns while crossing his arms over his wide chest. “Because it isn’t, by the way. That was just a rhetorical question,”

Smart ass.

“Which one hurts your feeling more, Namjoon,” I can’t but sound bitter. He’s being mean. He’s always mean, but now it feels like he’s purposely trying to hurt my feelings. I’m done pretending like I don’t care how we treat each other. 

“The option that you think it matters to me either way,” he snaps at me. His eyes narrow at the counter between us. 

“You’re lying,” I counter. 

“Why, because I don’t care that you were too drunk to remember that you kissed me? It’s irrelevant,” He looks back up at me and his eyes are dark. I like it. I like it entirely too much. 

“And you’re so sure that I kissed you first?” I scoff, walking around the counter to stand in front of him. I can feel heat rolling off of his body like he’s putting in extra effort to control himself. If only he knew that its the very opposite of what I want him to do. 

“Yes, because I wasn’t blacked out,”

“I’m going to do it again then,” I take a step so that my toes line up with his slippers.  

“What-,”

I press my lips against his softly, forcing myself to take in every detail about how his mouth feels against mine. His lips are cold from the water he’d been drinking, his tongue is too. He taste sweet. Honey. All of him reminds me of Honey. Sweet, slow moving, packing more flavor than first expected. His hands move up my hips, drawing up the fabric of my dress. When his hand touches my thigh, it electricity right to my most sensitive nerve endings.

I want him. All of him. I’m sober and tired of pretending that our back and forth exchanges are enough. I press my body tighter against his, shaping every curve to his body. I expected him to push me away by now, but he holds me closer, hands moving all over me. At some points he seems hesitant, he pulls back, his eyes moving over my face as if he’s checking that I’m still here with him.

I’m here, and as good as he feels, his mouth isn’t enough. I don’t think it ever was. I’ve envisioned Joon’s body against mine more times than I can count. It’s the little doses of his skin that he’d show on occasions that started it. Glimpses of the tan skin of his neck as he scratched at his collarbone in glass, the pull of his lip between his teeth when he was thinking hard about something, his large hands and long fingers; they were all puzzle pieces of a whole that made me want every part of him touching me. 

“Touch me,” I whisper against his mouth. 

He lets me drag his hand up the side of his thigh. He takes the hint, fingers inching up my dress until he traces the waistband of my underwear. He’s so close, all he has to do is go a bit further, but he stops.

“They guys could walk in,” he says, pulling away fully. 

Now that I have him this close, I’m not going to make it easy for him to let me go. I’m here for one thing. Namjoon. 

“Well then lets go to your room,” I grab his hand and lead him out of the kitchen and toward the hallway that leads to the room he shares with Taehyung. 

“Why so suddenly?” He tugs at my hand, stopping me from entering his room. 

“Huh,” I look back at him.

I don’t really know how to answer his question. The only difference between today and yesterday is knowing that our first kiss happened already. Still, that hadn’t really made much of a difference. I’m emboldened by the sheer fact that he wants me at all.

“All this time and now you want to fuck,”

“Does it matter?” I shrug, hoping that for once he can just let it go.

He does. He nods for me to push the door, letting us both into his room. As expected of Tae, it’s a mess. Unexpected of Namjoon, his side is also a mess too. Wires and equipment take up most of his desk, piles of clothing on the computer chair in front. For someone so uptight in every other aspect, his room is the complete opposite. Not to say that I’m attracted to unkempt men, but it’s a little reassuring for some reason.

He pushes my back against his wooden door interrupting my scan of his room. His mouth trailing down from the corner of my mouth down to my neck. As if he can’t stand to be away from my lips for long, he kisses my mouth again, his tongue forcing its way between my lips. His large hands smooth over my bare thighs roughly. He touches me like he’s annoyed with himself, like he’s mad that he wants me in this way. I love it because I’ve known all this time. 

One hand reaches up to lightly cup my throat, his hand is so big that his thumb can reach the hair that sticks to my lip gloss. He brushes it away with his finger as he looks down at me. He looks partially surprised that we’ve ended up like this. I want to remind him that that theres a thin line between fucking and fighting, but he’d only scoff and tell me to stop stealing corny lines from Jin. 

“Are you going to keep touching me or is this it?” I ask him, trying my best to drag a breath into my lungs. 

He rolls his eyes and presses his lips against mine to shut me up. I close my eyes, trying to commit the feel of his lips to memory. Things like this are volatile. There’s no way of knowing just how much Joon will give me tonight let alone if I’ll ever get to have him touch like this again. His bottom lip works with his teeth to bite at my sore mouth. He feels dirty, and uneven, like he’s not even trying to make this neat like everything else in his life. Just like his room, his intimacy style reveals who he truly is. The truth beneath Namjoon, he’s a mess, he’s sort of a freak, and he’s making everything up as he goes. There’s a certain charm to how well he’s gotten at getting everyone to believe that he knows exactly whats going on, when in reality he’s just as clueless as the rest of us. 

“And If I tell you that I want you to leave?” He breathes heavily, only leaving the smallest space between our lips. 

“You’d be lying,” I tell him while I reach up to brush his sweaty bangs off of his forehead. “But if you’d asked me to leave, I would go,”

I lean back, putting more space between us. I’ll give him one formal chance to change his mind, one chance to act like this never happened, because once I get permission to stay, he’ll have to try really hard to keep this dress from hitting his floor. I tilt my head as I size him up one last time. There’s still a possibility that he’d put an end to this. I’m measuring my odds. Going by the press of his dick between my legs from beneath his sweat pants, I know that physically he wants me. That could only go so far. I don’t think I’ll survive a come to senses moment in the middle of all of this. 

“Joon,” I call running my hand down the front of his t-shirt. “Make up your mind. Either put me out or take my clothes off,”

He looks frustrated. I can tell its mostly at himself. That doesn’t make me feel any better. I want to be in his bed, only if he wants me in his bed. Of course it would be easy to settle for a one time hate fuck, but he doesn’t hate me. At least, I don’t think he does. I’m really hoping he doesn’t. 

He grips my fingers right as they curl around his waistband. He takes a full step back, causing my feet to land fully on the floor. I don’t like this at all. I want to go back to having his mouth on me. I watch as he takes a seat on the edge of his bed. His hands scrub over the top of his scalp, running through the peach colored locks. Am I stressing him out? Am I having an effect? I hope to god I am. For the sake of my insistent need to have him, I hope that how much he wants me is driving him crazy. 

He leans back on his elbows and I see the switch. His eyes trace over my body. I can almost feel them seeking out bare skin above anything else. His gaze is so potent that I feel goosebumps rise to my skin only from him watching me. 

“Take your panties off, Y/N,” 

His voice has become even deeper. It seems almost impossible but he sounds gruff, the arrogance from earlier is gone leaving me with only a matched need to have him inside me sooner rather than later. 

As always, I don’t do as he says. I like our games. I like when he looks at me like I’ve hit every nerve possible. I like the attention. Only this time there’s no classroom. There’s no professor to break up the tension, no students to make snide remarks about how we’re destined to butt heads. It’s just Namjoon and I this time, and the feel of his shag carpet between my toes as I make my way over toward him. He’d told me to take my underwear off, but I do the opposite when I stop in front of him. I grab the edge of my dress in my hands before pulling it up over my head. I watch his eyes follow the material as it drops to his floor. 

“If you go back now, you’ll never live it down, Joon,” I straddle his lap, planting my knees on either side of him on the mattress. “No matter how much you beat me in the class room, if you don’t fuck me tonight, I win,”

He reaches up with two hands to cup my jaw. When he kisses me this time, it’s almost too soft to believe. He’s too gentle, too immersive. As much as I want this, I wanted to keep my head, but right now everything feels a little incoherent. Nothing makes sense. The fact that I’m even here with him doesn’t make sense. But its Namjoon, and I’ve spent the better part of the last two and a half years wondering if his lips taste as good as they look. I’m finding that they don’t; they’re better. 

His hands go to the back of my bra, undoing the latches before dropping it down to the floor with my dress. He pulls back, looking at my chest like he’s mesmerized. I didn’t realize just how much I’d wanted his eyes on me like this. The high I got from sparring with him in class is nothing compared to the way his eyes smooth over my chest, his tongue flicks over his bottom lip so quickly that if I hadn’t been staring at his mouth, I would have missed it. 

I don’t know what it is about having his unwavering attention, to have him one hundred percent focused on me. Something about his gaze on me makes me want to make sure it doesn’t stray. I guess this is my chance to cement his eyes on me. If tonight is all I get, then its my mission to make it so memorable that he’d have to actively work to forget me. 

I move first, leaving the warmth of his lap and crawling behind him into the middle of his mattress. I kneel behind him, running my hands across his broad shoulders, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. I get to do this. For so long, I’ve imagined it. I’d spent hours in class wondering what it would like to touch him like this, and to have him touch me. His honey colored skin rises in goosebumps as I kiss him, moving pass the collar of his shirt. 

“I’m going to take your clothes off now,” I say quietly. 

He nods and lets me pull his t-shirt off. His shoulders are so broad, its hard to resist running my hands across his shoulder blades. My fingers trace over the beauty spots that dot along his collar bones. I want more time. I want to see all of him, to explain every inch of his tan skin. But I’m also a little impatient. 

I reach in front of him, slipping my hand passed the waistband of his sweats. He’s not wearing underwear, that much was clear from the minute he answered the door. Now, feeling him, running my hand over his silky soft skin. It’s a sin. For him to be so…perfect. It isn’t fair to me or anyone else he has gotten to feel him. 

“Is this ok?” I ask him.

“You’re asking for permission to touch my dick while you’re touching my dick?” He says like he still finds me incredibly exasperating. “You wouldn’t be in my bed if it wasn’t ok, Y/N,”

I sigh, rolling my eyes. How can he be annoying even now. Still, it does nothing to the way I need him. Feeling him has only made it worse. I won’t lie, the banter turns me on too. I don’t think it would be the same if Joon was too soft. It wouldn’t be him. 

“Stand,” I command. 

“Why?” 

“Just do what I say for once,” I frown when he looks back at me, still refusing to move. His defiance might kill this before we can even get started. I sit back. With his eyes on me, I pull my simple cotton underwear and throw it with the rest of my clothing. I cock my eyebrow as he watches my movements, seemingly shocked.  

“I’ll be here whenever you’re ready, Namjoon,”

“Where’s the thing?” He gestures awkwardly with his hands. 

God, he’s so weird. Still, I can’t help but think he’s perfect. His passive aggressive jabs and awkwardness may be his only flaws but I don’t think I’d want him any other way. I hand him the condom that I threw on the bed and wait impatiently. He finally stands and pulls his bottoms off, his hand going down to cover himself as he climbs above me. Even with the coverage of his hand, its not hard to see just how big he is. Its not like I’ve ever doubted, but seeing it up close it definitely more satisfying than I could have ever hoped. 

His lips touch mine again, as he opens the foil package and pulls the latex out. He has it on quickly, wasting no time lining himself up with me. His hands smooth over my thighs and pulls them around his hips as he pushes forward. My hands squeeze at his hands, trying to get a grip on something. He hasn’t moved yet and already I’m a bit delirious. Maybe it’s because I can’t remember the last time a person looked at me like they wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but right with me. Maybe it’s because I’m gathering that Kim Namjoon is really, totally, completely my type. 

“Why can’t I stop kissing you?” He frowns to himself before kissing me for the hundredth time tonight. 

“You like me,” I manage to tease while still getting used to how good he feels. I don’t think I’m ready for him to move yet. He’s already too much, and I refuse to give in the satisfaction of making me come so quick. Not when I’ve waited so long for this. 

His hips snap against mine, immediately forcing me to drop my smile as my lips part. He builds a slow steady rhythm. It’s too slow, too languid, like he’s willing to make this last as long as it takes to drive me out of my mind. His kisses become messy, as his own lips part, a low moan of air brushing against my mouth. His hips still move almost painfully sluggish, like a drag. 

Like honey.

I throw my head back into his pillow as he reaches between us to touch me softly. He’s too much at one. His large body covers mine completely, his awkwardly long legs tangling with mine. While he holds himself up on his elbow above me, his lips never leave my skin. I’ve never doubted Namjoon to have a side like this, I just thought that it would never be for me to see. Right now kind of feels like a necessity that I do. I need to feel his hips pull at mine. I need to feel his thick lips take mine roughly. I need to have him. Even if I only get tonight, I know that whatever happens later it’ll be worth it. 

“You were wrong about Shakespeare,” he says suddenly. His hips snap against mine like he’s punctuating the statement and handing the pulpit over to me. 

It’s such a ridiculous statement to make at this exact moment that I have no clue what to say. I’m stuck between forcing him off of me just so I can tell him how wrong he is about Shakespeare as well as let him know how completely absurd it is to bring it up mid-thrust. But, it’s Namjoon. I sort of expect nothing less than ludicrous musings at the least opportune times.

So I take the bait. 

“Shakespeare is trite and he isn’t even the best satirical playwright and yet we a society celebrate him as such-, Fuck Joon,” I breath out as the rhythm of his hips pick up slightly. 

“Who’s the best satirical playwright in your opinion,” his breathing picks up as we both start to sweat.

Our bodies are slick, moving together smoothly as we both chase after the rising feeling in our stomachs. He’s bringing me higher with each push/pull of his hips all while having a ridiculous conversation about playwrights and satire; which if we’re honest we couldn’t care less about. There’s just no other way to be for us.

I pull away from his lips that move against mine again, missing the taste of his tongue the moment he disappears from my mouth. I try to answer his question but it only comes out in a sigh as he hitches my thigh high on his hip. His fingers press tightly into skin as I close my eyes.

“Are you relenting?” I hear the smug tone in his voice. “Have I finally shut you up?”

I shake my head. Even now, I refuse to give it to him so easily; especially when I know it’s exactly what he wants. “No, I’m just in awe you’re finally asking for my opinion on something,”

“So, who then?”

“You’re incorrigible,”

“You’re deflecting,” he tells me.

“Moliere,” I say. “Moliere is the greatest satirical playwright of all time. Shakespeare wishes he could touch Tartuffe with anything he ever wrote,”

“There would be no Moliere without Shakespeare,” Namjoon counters. “And besides Shakespeare is a dramatist, satire was a hobby and even then Moliere barely measures up,”

He’s sort of right, but as always I’m not going to admit it. I counter attack by tightening around him. Moving his heavy hand aside, I take over touching myself as he continues to move against me. As expected, I’m quicker to bring myself over the edge than he is. He pauses as I come around him, unable to handle both sensations at once. 

He curses lowly but its an illegible mix of English and Korean that I can’t begin to piece together. His face presses into my neck, as he presses his hips against mine and withdraws quickly. His rhythm is a little stuttered as he chases after his own orgasm. The competitor in me wants to win. There’s no definition of winning and losing during sex, but with Joon and I, everything is a game. Especially this. I use all my weight to roll us to the side, straddling his hips  before he can protest. His large hands hover above my hips, not quite touching my skin. His plump lips form an ‘O’ as I lower myself back on him. 

“Was this necessary-,” he moans louder than either of us expects, sighing as I rock my hips above him.

You’re so easy, Namjoon. 

I press my chest against his, taking a turn to kiss him dumb like he’d done me for the last hour. Two hands move up my back and tangle in the hair at the nape of my neck. He pulls roughly as my hips start to pick up the pace, set on making him come for me. It’s all I really want. 

“Y/n,” he breathes quietly.

I pull back, moving his hands back to my hips, urging him to use my body to make him feel good. I watch as his eyes close and his head presses deep into his pillow. His lips part slightly as and he holds me tight. He’s so close. I want to kiss him again but he looks too good. I can tell when he’s about to come as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, biting down hard enough that his pink skin turns white. 

“Let go, Joon,”

For once, he listens. His hips meet mine as he comes finally, his breaths coming out fast like he’s trying to refill his lungs. Unable to resist anymore, I lean forward and press my lips against his. He kisses me back roughly, wrapping his arms around my back to hold my body against his. I roll off of him, tired as well. As nice as it would be to spend the rest of the night in his bed, I can’t.

As if I wish them into existence, I hear the front door open and the sound of rowdy boys. I freeze, instinctually pulling the sheet off the floor and over my chest. Namjoon doesn’t seem worried. Slowly he moves my hair out of my face and kisses my temple before sitting up and swinging his legs out of bed. 

“I’ll keep them distracted. Come out when you’re ready,” 

I nod as he disposes of the used condom in the bathroom. When he comes back, he pulls the sweats up over his hips again before leaving me alone in his bed with too many questions. Is he going to tell them? Should we? I don’t have much time to think. I’m not sure exactly how many boys are back but I rather none of them find me in Joon’s bed; naked. 

I run my fingers over my lips as I gather my clothing off the floor. He’s still on my mouth, I can feel him. I can’t get the taste of him out of my head. I can’t get any of him out of my head. I should’ve thought this through. I’m addicted now. I need more of him; more slow kisses, more of his hips dragging against mine. More honey. 

[smokeybrand]

The Fallacy of Education

I think elementary school is necessary to an extent but everything I've ever learned after probably the third grade, was during summer break at the library and then all of the time when my family got a computer. I never really learned anything “new” in a classroom setting, from probably the fourth grade and forward. Sure, it's dope to have someone bounce ideas off but you can do that with anyone. You can do that online. Hell, I DO that online now. SO what the f*ck is the merit of going through the tribulations of “school?” Capitalism. Capitalism is the “merit.” School is designed to break your spirit as a youth and train you to be a drone in the workforce. The structure of how education here in the US has been built, is designed to acclimate you to a forty hour work week early on. It's built to make you yearn for holidays and the weekends. It grooms you to raise your hands to ask questions and punishes those who deviate from the assigned tasks. Free thinkers are shunned and the arts are almost always removed in one form or another. Creativity is killed in service to conformity because capitalism needs that in order to function. The second it's removed, the second people questions the status quo, is the second they understand the terrible conditions in which they've been forced to exist. But, if you're not smart enough to ask the right questions, then there is no threat to the current class system.

When i got to fifth grade, i went to a substantially sh*ttier school than before. We move into a worse ghetto than the one I grew up in for he majority of my life and that was reflected in this school's curriculum. These kids were morons. That wasn't there fault, the system had failed them because it was assumed they weren't worth the investment. We'd all end up being thugs and criminals because that was what our zip code dictated. When I got there, I kind of f*cked all of that up. These kids were reading well under their grade, the “smart” one rad at a high school level if I remember but i could read at a college level. Indeed, I was well into checking out Shakespeare and Dante by this point. That was too much for my teacher. He graded on a curve because the kids were so stupid and, after that fist test where everyone failed but me because I got such a high mark, told me flat out that there was nothing he could teach me. I became kind of a TA in that class and never turned in another assignment for the entire year. He just gave me As on everything and apologized profusely for not being able to adequately challenge me. It was difficult to see because I would tell this dude loved teaching and he had an opportunity to rally flex his passion with me but the system in which he had to work wouldn't allow him to do any of that. Because the system, itself, isn't built to educate. Imagine being an educator trapped in that cage? Now imagine being a student trapped in there, too, oblivious to the handicap you've just been saddled with.

When i got to the seventh grade, i was put into remedial courses against my ill. We moved back to my old neighborhood ahead of my sixth grade year so I was able to return to my previous school where it was understood that myself and a handful of others were WAY too smart for our own good. They got us more advanced materials from the surrounding high schools and basically told us to teach ourselves. My then principal drove us over to a separate middle school because it was supposed to have better materials and more advanced courses than the neighborhood one. Our principal and the one in the middle school spoke, we all demonstrated our intelligence, and it was agreed we'd be placed in advanced courses in the coming year. When the new year started, I was not placed in those agreed upon courses. My zip code reflected the ghetto and not the bourgeois neighborhood this new school was in. They assumed i was an idiot, even though i was enrolled specifically for the more challenging curriculum, and dismissed my previous academic accomplishments without a word. My elementary school principal literally drove me over there and introduced me to that school's principal because she wanted to make sure the staff understood that i was wildly intelligent "for my age." Didn't matter. They saw a Meadowview zip and i was put into classes with a bunch of idiots. When i protested, they refused to change my schedule. It didn't take long for most of my teachers to realize I wouldn't be in such pedestrian classes but the administration refused to budge. I was ghetto trash and they didn't want to hear anything else, even if it was coming directly from the teachers in charge of me education. My science teacher literally had us coloring f*cking pictures as work assignments. I refused to do such ridiculous busy work, demanded that he teach me some sh*t and, instead, he suspended me from his class and threatened to fail me.

When i got to high school, i was wildly disillusioned by education and basically coasted my way through. I understood that i could learn more on my own and pushed to be home schooled. The way the that system works is you show up for in-class check-in on Monday and pick up a packet of schoolwork. You complete the school work through the week and turn it the following Monday. No classroom. No teachers. No fuss. All of my credits, and then some, and none of the the everyday baggage. I could excel at my own pace, which we have established far outstripped whatever the f*ck the curriculum is at any given time. Plus, I could return to proper coursework at any time. My plan was to knock out about three years worth of credits that first year and try to get into the off-campus internship with the State. It was called the Regional Occupation Program. I'd be paid to work for the State part time while accumulating proper work experience, and still have time to take some college courses at the local Community College. I'd still be able to come back and participate in all of the social sh*t like dances and games plus, I'd be able to walk the stage with my proper class. I'd be able to challenge myself, build toward my future, and still have that high school experience. But my mom refused. Everything i said here, I said to her, and she still refused. She's a slave to tradition and tradition dictated that i HAD to go to class everyday. The system HAD to be maintained. So i did and, as the years progressed, i went less and less. By senior year, i went just enough to keep the cops of her back and still graduated with a 3.8. I never one applied myself in high school and literally just showed up because cops, gym, and girls. Most days, i left early because f*cking why not? I wasn't learning anything. I wasn't being enriched in anyway. By my senior year, I had two Teacher's Assistant classes, two gym classes, Government and a creative writing course. I never went to that one because it was the last class of the day and Transformers came on halfway through it so I skipped it everyday. In order to pass, I just printed out a novel I wrote when I was in the eighth grade. He gave me an A, even though I was only there in person around thirty percent of the school year. I was writing high school level sh*t when I was thirteen. That's the story of my whole life and it didn't get any better when I got to college.

I thought it was going to get better when i got to college. It did not. I had toured a few campuses around my neighborhood and even sat in on a course or two. I went to a few College Fairs and even got accepted into a couple of HBCs. After a I graduated high school I opted to go to a community college that was near by. I' m poor so I couldn't afford a proper school and the scholarships available to me were all partial. I didn't want to have to split time between working and college so I figured if I got the core courses out of the way early, I could lighten the load and have an Associates to take into a part time gig or something later. I had actually gotten into Stanford and wanted to go but the cost of living was WAY too staunchy so this Community college plan was the best option. I lasted a semester. That sh*t was like going back to high school but i had to pay for it out of pocket. I had dreams of debate and lecture, of challenging a professor who could challenge me in return What I got was more of the uniform apathy that has dogged me my entire education career, only now it was driving me into f*cking debt. I love learning. I love reading. I love thinking. None of that I was even conducive to school here in the states. Often times, it was objectively frowned upon. From kindergarten to literally college, I was always under the gun in that sense. To this day, my curiosity is insatiable and I research everything. I want to know all of the things and the big sh*t like theoretical physics or the math necessary to infer the universe before the big bang, is absolutely tantalizing to me. I was frustrated with the stifling rigidity of school f*cking twenty years ago. I can't even imagine what it's like for kids nowadays.

The education system in the US is f*cking ridiculous. It's not meant to build intelligence or free thinking, it's an assembly line method designed to acclimate you to a forty hour work week. It's supposed to get you used to sacrificing the majority of your life in service to capitalism, busting ass just to get to the weekend or next holiday off, because that's how you'll live the rest of your adult life. They're not in the business of education or teaching life skills, they're in the business of manufacturing more cogs for the great machine that is the “economy.” Why the f*ck do I need to know Algebra 2 when I can't do my own taxes? Why the f*ck do we have to spend three weeks studying the Crucible when I don't know how compound interests works? Parents should play a part in this, for sure, but how difficult is that for them to do? They are victims of the same system and have to sacrifice their liberty in order to pay bills, after being bludgeoned with that same aggressive system necessary for them to abandon their hopes. A smart person is a difficult person to manipulate. When people understand, or even have the ability to comprehend, the scales fall from their eyes. We're seeing that now with the “Employment crisis” and how no one wants to go back to being underpaid and overworked after a the Pandemic showed the world for what it was. It's in capitalism's best interests to make sure the masses are smart enough to produce but dumb enough to never understand that they control the means of production. Why do you think everyone wants the kids to "get back into the classroom" when it's obviously easier to "teach" kids over zoom? When it's obvious that they learn more and understand better at home? When entire grade averages have increased considerably, over the entire country, since kids have been studying at home? Because that structure is more important than the learning. Every kid has a phone, computer, or tablet at this point. Internet is everywhere. There's no reason to have in-class learning, especially considering how many f*cking classrooms get shot up around these parts. Especially considering that there are more kids like me thanks to the ready-to-consume inf oration at our fingertips. This one got away from me but i really, really, hate the "education system" here. It's so boorish and archaic, f*cking obsolete, especially in the age of the information, so why go back to that broken system? Because capitalism needs drones not dreamers. It needs conformists, not thinkers. It needs ignorance not education.

[privilege-archives]

VIOLA PEARCE ➝ FIRST SIBLING

I'M YOUR BIGGEST FAN

❖ FULL NAME: Viola Faith Pearce. ❖ PRONOUNS: She/Her. ❖ AGE: 25. (August 17th). ❖ BIRTH ORDER: First. Twin to Second Pearce. ❖ GRADE: Masters (1st year). ❖ MAJOR: Women’s Rights & Public Speaking. ❖ SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Fluid. ❖ ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Fluid. ❖ FACECLAIM: Brittany Snow.

I'LL FOLLOW YOU UNTIL YOU LOVE ME

If you would like to see a perfect mixture of both Bob and Lavender Pearce, you have to look no further than their eldest daughter. The first born into a political family, there was always a lot expected of Viola, and from plenty of different people. Her father would’ve loved for her to follow his lead, though would’ve never pushed her, while her mother would spend many a night telling stories about empowerment to her daughter, and drilling it into her head that she could do and be absolutely anything she wanted to. Lavender made sure to instill the idea of following your dreams into the child’s mind from as far back as Viola can even remember. Her maternal grandparents, of course, were a whole other story. They belonged to the DuPont family of Atlanta, Georgia, and were a pretty big deal in their town. They were also the only ones who really referred to her as Viola, with most people opting for Vi. Fortunately, Viola saw them very rarely, but when she did, they were legitimately the type of people who would have her balance a hardback edition of some big book on her head and keep it from falling to perfect her posture. To them, she was supposed to be perfect, so that a respectable man would want her some day. Perfection started from childhood.

Fortunately for the youngster, not only had she inherited her father’s argumentative, diplomatic attitude, but she’d been blessed with the carefree spirit her mother secretly harbored. She’d go along with her grandparents’ orders with a bright smile upon her face, then poke her tongue out at them behind their backs, which would have her parents laughing behind their hands. Viola had always been the type of person who could steal focus in a crowded room, and knew how to keep an audience hooked, whether intentional or not. Despite a little misbehavior here and there, nothing too terrible, she did incredibly well in school and actually quite enjoyed it. She loved to read and write wild stories, but never fell into the nerdy category. If anyone tried to brand her as such, Viola would be the first to tell them that there is nothing nerdy about a person being educated, and to come at her again once they were working for her. It would generally shut them up. She was always surrounded by friends of all backgrounds–though, in private schools, the students were much of the same–and once she hit her teens, she was known for her crazy parties and firecracker personality.

As far as Viola was concerned, she’d grown up in a loving, happy home, so it came as a shock to her when her parents sat she and her siblings down to explain they would be getting a divorce. The whole thing seemed to be pretty amicable, though, and although it upset her a little bit, she never cried about it. Her parents’ happiness was a big deal to her, so if separating was going to bring them that, then she had no problem with it. Despite having been very strong willed her whole life, her mother’s courage in ditching the lifestyle she’d become so accustomed to to go out and take the acting world by storm served as a great deal of inspiration for the teen. Even now, with Lavender not in the best of places, she is still Viola’s main inspiration and motivation to do and be everything she wants to be. In fact, she’s so passionate about it that it became something of a goal to her to make sure everybody got to live out their dreams. Viola had never known for sure what her own were, but seeing the joy breaking out of her chains had brought to Lavender, Viola instantly knew what she wanted out of life. She wanted to be as inspirational to others as her mother was to her. She wanted to be the change that so many, herself included, wished to see. She wanted to motivate people.

Yet again, her grandparents had other ideas. With their daughter having disgraced them in her divorce and less than desirable antics, they felt it was down to her first born to repair the damages. Unlike most people who would be thrilled to learn that their children and grandchildren would be furthering their education, they didn’t see things that way. Instead, they wanted her to marry a respectable man, wait on him hand and foot and start popping out babies as soon as possible. She didn’t need a job, since that was the man’s responsibility. Duh. Viola was only sixteen when she begun dating her first serious boyfriend, and rather than worry about her being too young, her grandparents were thrilled. He was from a respectable family, and the DuPont’s would make constant comments about how perfect the two were for each other. It was all kinds of intense and weird, and they seemed more upset than he and Viola were when they eventually split amicably right around their high school graduation, as they would both be leaving for separate colleges. They tried their best to talk her into bailing on her college plans—she’d be going to Brown; something most grandparents would be proud of—and to follow him to New Hampshire where he’d be attending Dartmouth. Their efforts went to no avail, though, and Vi was off to Rhode Island in the fall to begin her first semester as an Ivy League student.

Luckily for her grandparents, it wasn’t long before Viola met another boy. His name was Raymond, and he seemed way too perfect to be true. It wasn’t like Vi needed a man in her life; in fact, she would’ve much preferred to have been alone, but feelings were a natural thing, after all, and who was she to deny herself of them? It was just a thing that happened, and Vi chose to go with it. She would’ve been the first to put an end to things if he’d gotten in the way of her studies or goals, but fortunately, he didn’t. As previously stated, Raymond was basically perfect. He was sweet, kind, compassionate, generous, and above all, he practically worshipped the ground Viola walked on. That was where, unlike most would, Vi drew a line. She didn’t like that kind of treatment, nor did she like the way he wanted to do everything for her. Viola had always been incredibly independent, so to have someone wanting to wait on her hand and foot just wasn’t her thing. It was impossible to ditch him, though. She tried, which didn’t justify the fact that she ended up cheating on him with her high school boyfriend. But, when she did and came clean the very next day, telling him it wasn’t fair of her to stay with him after doing something like that to him, and he begged her to stay and told him he forgave her, that was kind of the last straw for her.

Or so she thought, anyway. Somehow, both Raymond and her grandparents managed to convince her to stay with him, but Viola wasn’t happy about it. Evidently, Raymond was; so much so that during her graduation party, thrown at her grandparents’ house out in Georgia, he got down on one knee in front of all of her friends and family and proposed. Viola thought he was kidding at first, but seeing the ring and the hopeful looks on her grandparents’ faces, as well as the mental image of herself playing the part of the perfect 1950’s housewife, she freaked out. Naturally, her response was a firm no, and Viola didn’t even stay for the rest of the party. She packed up her things, hopped on a flight, and headed out to California to join her mother, who was anything but surprised by the whole thing. Lavender was willing to bet that her parents had encouraged the whole proposal, and Viola had to agree. Either way, she was eternally glad to be out of there.

As terrible as Viola felt about leaving the way she did, she was firm in her decision. She’d let herself slip off track a little bit, getting caught up in silly things like relationship drama, something she’d never cared about before, and now she needed to get things back in order. She was in California just in time to enroll at PSU to begin her masters in Public Speaking and Women’s Studies, two things she’d always been incredibly passionate about, but the latter more so lately than ever. Given everything with Raymond and her grandparents, Viola has pretty much sworn off dating for the time being, and is very much focused on being the change she always wanted to be. Most recently, she has participated in the political Women’s March, something that turned quite a few heads given who her father is, and spoken at a bunch of LGBTQ+ events across the West Coast. She is known for how outspoken she is, and often referred to as Girl Boss. Viola’s activism is her biggest passion, and her need to inspire and motivate others her greatest; that’s something that, despite any old distractions, never has, and never will change.

BABY, THERE'S NO OTHER SUPERSTAR

Standing at a modest 5'3, the William Shakespeare quote, “Though she be but little, she is fierce,” is basically the story of Viola’s life. Naturally beautiful, she doesn’t put much extra effort into her appearance, with heavy makeup being a foreign concept to her. That’s not to say she doesn’t wear light makeup most days, but the need for seemingly flawless skin and long, thick lashes is just not her biggest concern. Viola dresses pretty casually, wearing things such as skinny jeans and shirts or off the shoulder tees. There are plenty of casual day dresses among her closet, as well as a whole bunch of slogan tees promoting the different things she speaks out about and believes in. Viola’s hair is naturally light blonde, though she dyes it an auburn color, and generally wears it wavy. She has two ear piercings on each lobe, and a cursive tattoo across her ribs that reads, “To be inspired is great, to inspire is incredible.”

YOU KNOW THAT I'LL BE YOUR PAPARAZZI

Born to a well to do family in the heart of Atlanta, Georgia, Lavender DuPont was never going to be given the freedom to choose her own path. The DuPont men were all expected to be successful and powerful, while the women were supposed to marry into wealth and know their place in the background. Lavender had big dreams of becoming an actress or a pop star, but her family would’ve never even entertained the idea. Like all DuPont women before her, her suitor was chosen for her, and just happened to be everyone’s favorite politician, Robert “Bob” Pearce. He was a little older than her, but Lavender felt she had no choice but to marry him, move out to his larger than life home in Washington, and then begin to pop out babies just like she was supposed to.

Bob wasn’t the world’s most serious of men, and was actually quite likable as politicians went. He never treated his wife with anything but respect, and turned out to be a wonderful father to his five children, working his way up the political ladder. Lavender did a good job at keeping up the act of the perfect housewife, until it all became too much for her. She’d learned to love her husband enough to not want to tarnish his reputation, so had the curtesy to divorce him before going completely off the rails. She just couldn’t deny herself her dream of becoming the performer she’d always wanted to be. Now divorced, Bob has just finished his term as Vice President, while Lavender is known more commonly as her stage name of Vinny Pearce; the stage and big screen actress, whose name is constantly in the tabloids for her wild partying, DUI’s and alleged (but very much true) drug use.