#and this morning right before a massive day where ive had to drive a bunch of places

[pumpkin-n-mc]

self reminder to look up comfort fics tonight :]

[tobesolonely]

muse

A/n: hello everyone!! im very excited to put this out :-) i was going to make a long one shot but ive never written anything multi-part before and i wanted to give it a go!! also my first time with an oc 🌟so i hope everyone enjoys!! not sure when the next part will come out but i wanna upload at least once a week or every two weeks or something idk haha but anywayssss lmk ur thoughts!

biggest, biggest thank u to my love @harryysstyless​ for beta reading and being so encouraging<333 luv u!!

photographer oc x harry styles

please let me know your thoughts on miss aminah, iman, serena, and harry!

my ko-fi! thank you :)

Los Angeles was your newest muse.

You had always been the spontaneous type. It came as no shock to your family and friends when you told them you had purchased a one-way ticket and were moving across the country. Although your parents weren’t too keen on the idea of their daughter moving so far away from them, they helped you withdraw your savings and find a modest apartment in LA before sending you on your way.

Your reason for moving to LA was simple, really. You were a freelance photographer that felt your career was growing rather… stagnant. You had a thick portfolio and were proud of the work you produced, but your clientele wasn’t as impressive as you’d hope it would be after nearly six years of working at it.

And so began your desire to move from New York to Los Angeles— one big city to the next.

People who knew you often described you as ambitious, fiery, and an absolute go-getter. If your big move scared you in any way, no one knew any better. Your confidence never faltered— not even in the slightest.

After nearly three months of being in LA, you developed a routine of sorts. You’d wake up, eat a breakfast that almost always consisted of avocado toast and coffee, and go on a run. After your run, you would come home, shower, and decide how far you wanted to venture to take pictures that day.

Sometimes your roommates, Serena and Iman, would join you to keep you company. Although you’d never met either one of them before answering their ad for a roommate on Craigslist, you had grown extremely close to the girls in the few months that you’d known them. Despite the two girls being friends since their childhood, they never made you feel left out, and you fit in with them effortlessly.

During your short time in the city, there were so many places you had been, but still, even more you had yet to see. Serena and Iman, both native Angelenos, would often suggest spots for you to check out and even offer to drive you around— you were from New York after all, and at twenty-four years old, you were still not the owner of a driver's license.

“You’ve never been to North Hollywood yet, right Aminah?” Iman questioned as you all lounged around, trying to come up with a place you had not yet been.

“No, I haven’t really gone anywhere farther than walking distance,” you reply, looking around the cramped living room for your camera bag. “Or the places you guys have driven me. That was still considered Downtown though, right? Where we went the other day?” You were still getting used to how absolutely massive Los Angeles was.

“We should go to Santa Monica or something— wait, Malibu!” Serena exclaims. “We have to go to Malibu, Mina. It’s so nice there, you could totally get a bunch of good shots.”

“Yeah, we might even see a celebrity!” Iman chimes in, stifling laughter.

It was an on-going joke between the three of you. When you first moved to LA, you told your roommates that you couldn’t wait to make your way around the city because you were hoping to run into a celebrity. It was Los Angeles after all— you figured they were everywhere.

You quickly learned that wasn’t the case. Celebrities here kept a low-profile and even if you did encounter a celebrity, it’s not like you would approach them. “You’re not funny, Iman,” you tell your roommate with a roll of your eyes.

“Yes I am,” Iman quips, wiggling her eyebrows. “If we’re gonna go to Malibu then I gotta change. Can I borrow a cute shirt from anyone?”

A short twenty minutes later, the three of you were piled in Serena’s car on your way to Malibu. You’d heard of the city before and knew it was a wealthy area, but that’s about it. Your roommates promised you that out of all the beaches in LA, Malibu had the nicest ones, and lots of places to take pictures. Since none of you had anything to do, you all decided it was as good a day as any to have a beach day and get some shots of your roommates to add to your portfolio. Since you didn’t know anyone except Serena and Iman, the pictures on your camera from the last few months consisted entirely of nature and inanimate objects. While it was good practice, you really preferred to photograph actual people.

“Traffic is so bad today,” you say from the backseat after traveling approximately two feet in five minutes. Iman snorts from the passenger side.

“When isn’t traffic bad, Mina,” she turns to look at you, an amused look on her face. “Don’t worry about it. It always gets backed up at this fuckin’ exit and then as soon as we get past it there’s like, zero traffic.”

“Right! I always complain about how shitty this exit is. I have no clue who designed it,” Serena adds, skipping through songs on her playlist. “It’s still early in the day, though. I’m just hoping the beach won’t be too crowded by the time we get there.”

“I don’t care how crowded the beach is. I just don’t want it to take us forty minutes to find parking…”

You tune out your roommate's voices, instead choosing to focus on the traffic jam outside the car. To Serena and Iman, people who were born and raised in Los Angeles, the city wasn’t necessarily anything special. Sure, they loved how there was always something to do, but the bad drivers, traffic, and smog got old. The novelty of LA hadn’t yet worn off to you, though. You didn’t know how your roommates were content to sit inside the apartment all day when there were tons of things to do basically right outside your doorstep. You felt like you were the one convincing them to go out with you half of the time, and you didn’t even know where you were going.

After what feels like almost entirely too long but was really only half an hour, Serena pulls into a fairly empty parking lot. “Are we not allowed to be here?”

“Why do you think that?” Iman asks, squinting her eyes to read a sign. “It doesn’t say it’s closed. I mean, there are a few cars–– look.” She points to a few cars scattered around the parking lot.

“I mean, it is nine in the morning on a Wednesday. People are probably at work,” you tell the two girls in the front seat. “Besides, there’s someone in the parking booth. Can you even close a beach?”

Serena drives forward, rolling down her window. “I mean, I guess not. You can close the parking lot, though.” You hum in agreement. She quickly pays for parking and tosses her receipt on the dashboard before driving slowly through the parking lot.

“I love when no one’s at the beach,” Iman sighs, clapping her hands. “No one will get in the way of your picture-taking either, Meens.”

You smile at the nickname. “Yeah, that’s true. We picked a perfect time to come too, guys. The lighting’s great.”

“Really? Is it gonna make my skin pop?” Iman turns around and sticks her arm out, sensually running her fingers along it.

“You always look good no matter what the lighting’s like, Iman,” you reply, refraining from rolling your eyes at her. “You have the glowiest complexion out of all of us.”

“We’re literally all the same skin-tone, Aminah,” she retorts, crossing her arms.

“We have different undertones, though,” you answer. “So not really. Plus, Serena is way lighter than us! What are you talking about?”

“Should I park here?” Serena asks, interrupting your conversation.

“Why here? All these empty spots and you wanna park directly next to this car?”

“This is a good spot, Iman. It’s a parking lot. If they didn’t want anyone to park next to them, they should’ve taken an Uber and got dropped off.” She turns into the spot, quickly putting the car in park and crossing her arms to prove her point.

You unbuckle your seatbelt, smiling at your friends’ bickering. They were so close they were basically sisters. They argued sometimes and were quick to call the other out on their shit, and you loved it.

“I just think you’re weird for parking next to this car. It’s a nice car.”

“Who cares, girl?” Serena groans, exasperated. “We’re gonna be on the beach. They’ll probably be gone before we will.” She pops the trunk before unplugging her phone from the aux cord and stepping outside. Iman mimics her before flinging the door open as well and stepping out of the car.

You make sure your camera bag is closed all the way before situating it over your shoulder and climbing out of the car as well.

“It’s kinda cold,” Iman says, wrapping her arms around her body. “If I knew it would be so overcast I would’ve bought a jacket.” Serena hums in agreement and you look up at the sky, unphased.

“It’s like, seventy degrees?” you look at the weather app on your phone in confirmation.

“We get it, Meens. You’re from New York,” Serena teases, closing her trunk. She hands you a few towels and a blanket to carry while she rolls the cooler and Iman carries the beach chairs and umbrella.

“It’s a cold seventy degrees and you know it,” Iman defends. “Look at my goosebumps. I can’t fake this shit.” You shake your head at your overly dramatic friends and follow them down to the beach. You take off your sandals as soon as you’re off the pavement, wiggling your toes in the cold sand.

“We can set up pretty much wherever we want,” Serena points out, tucking flyaway curls behind her ears. “Where do you think the best place to be is, Mina? Y’know, so you can get good pictures?”

“It doesn’t really matter, to be honest,” you tell them distractedly, too busy looking around the beach in awe. Your friends were right–– out of all the beaches you’d visited in Los Angeles so far, this one was the nicest (and cleanest). “Maybe we can get a little closer to the water?”

The three of you walk for a couple of minutes before Iman abruptly stops, dramatically dropping everything she was carrying. “Let’s just set up here. There’s no one around anyway, it doesn’t matter.”

“There actually is someone around,” you tell them, looking at a stranger who seemed to be fixated on staring at you and your friends. “Don’t look, but a cute guy is staring at us.” Serena and Iman immediately turn around, shading their eyes from the bit of sun that was starting to peek through the clouds. The guy couldn’t have been more than twenty yards away from where you were setting up.

...“Huh,” Serena says, turning back around. “Is it just me, or does that guy look a lot like Harry Styles?” She looks back over her shoulder again, but he’s no longer staring at the three of you, focusing on what appeared to be a book instead.

“Why would Harry Styles be at the beach by himself at nine in the morning?” Iman asks, unfolding a beach chair and flopping down on it.

“Why wouldn’t he? It’s Malibu, dude,” Serena responds. You could tell your friends were about to start bickering again, so you quickly jump in.

“Doesn’t matter. Neither one of you would go up to him even if it was, so what’s the point in arguing about it?” They both raise their eyebrows at you.

“And you would, Mina? Bullshit!” Iman exclaims, laughing. “I dare you to go see if it’s him, and if it is, ask him if he wants to join us.”

“That’s weird! What if it’s not him?”

“Even if it’s not him, we’ll still get to hang out with a cute boy.” Iman points out. Serena nods in agreement and you can’t deny that she makes a convincing argument. “Just ask him if he wants a mimosa or something!”

“No, don’t ask that,” Serena interjects. “Tell him that you’re a photographer and you’re working on building a new portfolio. Ask him if he would be cool with you photographing him.”

You narrow your eyes at her. “Are you sure that’s not weird, Serena?”

“Aminah, trust me. I wouldn’t deliberately let you make yourself look weird.” Your roommate reassures you.

And so you found yourself clearing the short distance to where the handsome stranger was laid, half hoping it was Harry Styles, half hoping it was not. You couldn’t act like you weren’t a fan of him–– you thought he was incredibly attractive and enjoyed his music just like most people. If Harry Styles was the first celebrity you encountered during your short time in Los Angeles, you‘d never stop talking about it. Ever.

When you’re almost to him he looks up, dog-earring the page he’s on. After making eye contact with him, there’s no mistaking that this is Harry Styles. You pinch the back of your hand, urging yourself not to freak out. He has a knowing look on his face and you’re grateful for your darker complexion that hides your blush.

“Hi,” you speak first, stopping a few feet away from him. “Uh, my friends and I are just uh, we’re... you know.” You internally wince at your inability to form a coherent sentence. His gaze never breaks from yours and you look away first, growing shyer by the second. If you thought he was beautiful on Instagram, he was even more gorgeous in person. It was incredible.

“Hi,” he finally says after a brief moment of silence. “‘M sorry if I was starin’ at you ladies a moment ago. I jus’ usually never see anyone else this early out here. Are you a photographer?”

You almost ask him how he knows when you realize your camera is still hanging around your neck. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, I am.” He’s still staring intently at you.

“Would you like to sit?”

You look over your shoulder at Serena and Iman who were pretending to be preoccupied putting on sunscreen, but you know they were waiting for you to come back with the man you now knew to be Harry Styles.

“Oh, my friends are waiting for me,” Harry looks up at you patiently, waiting for you to continue speaking. “I was actually going to photograph them. I’m working on building up my portfolio. I understand if you can’t for… I dunno, legal reasons? Or if you just don’t want to–– and that’s fine if you don’t, but would it be okay if I photographed you as well?”

“That actually sounds like a lot of fun. It’s kinda boring jus’ readin’ out here on my own,” he agrees quickly, surprising you. Harry stands up and stretches a bit before leaning down to gather up his blanket, towel, water bottle, and book. “What’s your name? I’m Harry.”

You know that Harry knows that you know exactly who he is, but the fact that he introduced himself to you makes him even more endearing. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Aminah.”

Harry extends his free hand to you. “It’s very nice to meet you, Aminah.” You love the way your name sounds coming out of his mouth.

As you approach Serena and Iman, their eyes go wide when they realize it really was him. Serena nudges Iman and you know without even having heard it that she’s saying, “I told you so!” Harry stops a bit behind you, smiling at them.

“Hello,” he starts. “S’okay if I join you ladies? Aminah here extended such a nice offer that I jus’ couldn’t pass it up, but wanna check with the two of you first.”

Serena’s mouth is shamelessly hanging open, and you realize that she may have been a bigger fan than she let on. Iman answers for them. “Of course! Mina’s building her portfolio and I bet it would look like, super cool, if you were a part of it!” Harry nods, setting the few things he had with him down.

“I don’t think I would even be the center of attention if ‘m sittin’ beside you beautiful ladies. I’ll jus’ act as a prop or something,” he flashes them a dimpled smile. “If you don’t mind me asking, what are your names? I’m Harry.”

“We know,” Iman answers a little too quickly. “I’m Iman and this is Serena.” Serena gives him a timid wave.

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you all. Are you guys from around here?” He lays his blanket beside all of your stuff and sits down cross-legged, not once breaking eye contact with any of you. You had no idea how he did it.

“We live Downtown. We’re only over here so Mina could get some good pictures, she’s a photographer,” Iman answers proudly. “She’s amazing, but she’ll never admit it.”

“Iman…,” you trail off. “Stop, dude.”

“It’s true,” Serena jumps into the conversation, now seemingly over the initial shock of who was sitting barely two feet away from her. “She’s the best photographer I know.” Harry turns to look at you, an amused look on his face.

“That’s a hefty claim. I can’t wait to see your photography skills, Aminah.”

“They’re just hyping me up,” you reply, making a mental note to yell at your friends for embarrassing you once the three of you were alone again. “I’m not that good.”

“That looks pretty professional to me,” Harry says, gesturing to the camera that has not yet left your neck since arriving at the beach. “I bet you’re just as good as they say you are.” You look away, hiding your face. Iman, being the wing woman she is, can tell you’re growing flustered from all the attention and moves the conversation away from you.

“Do any of y’all want a mimosa?” Before anyone can even answer her, she’s popping open the champagne and handing the orange juice to Serena to open. Harry politely declines, as he drove himself to the beach that morning. You and Iman are ultimately the only ones who indulge in a drink since you were the only ones not driving.

Talking to Harry was like catching up with an old friend. He wanted to know everything about the three of you and whenever he felt the conversation was becoming too much about him, he quickly changed the subject. Harry learned that Iman and Serena have been friends since the second grade when Iman pushed some boy off of the monkey bars for teasing Serena. He learned your favorite take-out spots, your favorite bars, and what freeways Iman and Serena tried to avoid at all cost (it was the 405, which he agreed with). What seemed to intrigue Harry the most, though, was him learning that you just moved from New York and had never even been to Los Angeles before moving.

“Why did you pick somewhere all the way across the country that you’d never even vacationed at before?” He had a look of confusion written across his face. You shrug, not really knowing the answer.

“I mean, I’ve seen it on TV shows and in movies. That doesn’t count?” you joke. Harry still looks utterly bewildered.

“I mean… no?”

Serena laughs. “We were just as confused as you were, Harry. We were scared for a moment when she moved in because we were like, oh shit, what if she’s insane? You know? Like, what sane person would move all the way across the country to live somewhere they’d never even vacationed before?”

You let out an offended, “heyyyy”, lightly smacking Serena’s thigh. “I just needed a change and I’m a drastic person! I either go all-in when I do something, or I just don’t do it at all.” You defend yourself.

“I actually think that’s really fuckin’ cool,” Harry says after a moment. “Sometimes I wish I could just… up an’ go. Y’know?” you all nod, and it falls silent again. “Well, should we take some pictures now?”

Any intimidation you felt to photograph Harry disappeared as soon as he started posing for you.

Being that he was a major celebrity, he was no stranger to posing for a photoshoot. Harry was ethereal–– you knew the pictures of him would most likely require minimal to no editing. Serena and Iman also looked incredible, and you were thankful to have such gorgeous people as your muses. You were taking pictures of them in various places around the beach, only stopping once it started getting too crowded. There were starting to be too many people in the background of your shots and Harry wanted to get going, not particularly in the mood to be recognized. The three of you decide you should get going too. You had more than enough pictures to go through and besides, you were all starting to grow hungry.

Harry follows the three of you to the parking lot, keeping his head down the entire way. The closer you got to Serena’s car, the sadder you got. You didn’t want to stop talking to Harry and photographing him. However, you knew you were just in the right place at the right time, and it was likely that you’d never cross paths with him any time soon–– if ever again.

“Thank you for letting me photograph you,” you tell him sincerely once you were almost to Serena’s car. “That was really kind of you. I can promise you I won’t post them anywhere without your permission or like, disclose the location or anything like that.”

Harry finally looks up, determining you were far enough away from the crowds and he was no longer at risk of getting recognized. “It was my pleasure, really. Thank you for inviting me to hang out with you and your friends. It was a lot of fun getting to know you all.” You feel your body heat up.

“Where did you park?”

“Right there,” Harry points straight ahead. “You?”

You let out a loud laugh, causing Serena and Iman, who was walking slightly ahead of you and Harry, to turn around and look at the two of you. “We parked right next to you! Iman was getting on Serena for parking next to you because the lot was pretty much empty when we got here this morning.”

Harry lets out a breathy chuckle. “I guess it’s fate that we crossed paths then, yeah?” You let out a quiet hum in agreement, stopping a few feet in front of Serena’s car. You hear her and Iman debating on where you should stop for lunch, but you were waiting to see what Harry would say next.

“Aminah? After you get a chance to look at those pictures, do you think you can send them to my manager? His name’s Jeff. I’d love to see how they come out.”

“Oh yeah, of course! Do you have his business card or something?” You were excited that Harry actually cared to see your work but based on the couple of hours you spent interacting with him, you learned he was just an overall insanely kind person.

“I can jus’ put his contact info in your phone? If you don’t mind,” his gaze falters, a sheepish look on his face.

“Totally! Let me just unlock my phone,” you dig in the pocket of your shorts, pulling your phone out and unlocking it with your face. You hand it over to him and while he’s looking down typing you glance over at your roommates who had shocked looks on their faces. You would explain to them later that he wasn’t giving you his number, just his managers, but for now, you’d let them think he was giving his number to you out of all people–– a total stranger.

Harry hands it back to you a few moments later, running his fingers through his hair. “Thank you again for such a great morning, Aminah. I’ll let you get goin’, don’t wanna hold you ladies up any longer,” he waves at Serena and Iman. “It was really nice to meet all of you. Hope to see you all again soon.” You notice that his gaze lingers on you for a moment when he says that, and you feel your body heat up for what must have been at least the tenth time that day.

The three of you watch as Harry unlocks his car and throws his items haphazardly into the passenger side before climbing in, slamming the door shut. His car starts immediately afterwards and he gives you a quick nod before quickly backing out of the spot, leaving. None of you say anything for a bit, just processing what just happened. Serena is the first one to speak, her hand on the handle of her car door.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Harry fucking Styles?” her voice raises at least two octaves and you know she’s about to have a mini freakout. “Did he ask for your number, Meens?”

“No dude, he just gave me his manager's number. He wants to see how the pictures come out after I edit them,” you tell her, opening the backseat of her car. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Uh, that’s definitely a big deal, Aminah. Stop being so humble,” Iman tells you, exaggerated annoyance lacing her voice. “Did you see how he looked at you? When he said, ‘Hope to see you all again soon’?” She puts on a terrible posh accent.

“You’re so annoying,” you groan, shaking out the blanket and beach towels before throwing them onto the seat. “Where are we gonna eat?”

Iman and Serena pile into the car as well, telling you about the three restaurants they were stuck choosing between. You hum distractedly, typing the name ‘Jeff’ into your contacts to see if Harry left a number and an email, or just an email. Your brows furrowed in confusion when you see the name is nowhere to be found in your contact list. You chalk up the mistake to Harry just forgetting to press ‘save’ after creating the contact and figure you can just find his manager’s contact information on the internet somewhere. As you’re scrolling back up through your contact list, your eye lands on a name that makes your breath hitch in your throat.

Harry Styles.

[ivyuns]

love me in a year ✰❆♣♞

bang chan

genre: angst, fluff 

word count: 2.4k

warnings: kidnapping, restraints, y/n gets pregnant, grinding, drowning, weapons, a bit suggestive. if i missed anything lol oops

A/N: another shet show + from 365 dni (the ending isnt exactly like the movie btw)

for my gurlieeeee + happy birthday to @stanstraykidswoo​ <3

masterlist

mafialeader!bangchan x fem!reader

enjoying the summer breeze on the islands of hawaii, next to your friend made you feel relaxed. from all the work and stress you did, you finally earned yourself a vacation.

“babe!”

opening your eyes, you see your boyfriend (in a unhappy relationship) walks towards you. taking off your glasses and sitting up next to the pool, waiting what your boyfriend had to tell you. “i just got back from seeing the volcanoes babe! you shouldve seen it-” “we were supposed to go look at it together, dumbass” you cut your boyfriend off.

“w-wait y/n-” running away before he said anything, you got lost in a dark area. wasnt just sunny? seeing a group of guys look at you while trying to come closer. damn these outfits. your outfit consist of a short flowy, off the shoulder dress with heels. running with shaky legs, you looked around and saw everything get dark.

“are you lost babygirl?”

waking up in a soft bed, you look over and look at the unfamiliar room youre in. “where am i?” you whispered softly. walking towards a door to the hallway, the door wont budge open. shaking the door knob, it still wont burst open. giving up, you go lay back down on the bed.

closing your eyes to relax, you hear the door unlocking. quickly putting on your heels, you open the door and see nobody. following to which ever door took you, it seem endless. the endless numbers of stairs and doors you went though, you came across to a massive painting of a portrait of yourself hanging on the dinning room’s wall.

“oh my god”

continuing to follow where your legs take you, you were yanked away from seeking to your freedom. “are you lost babygirl?”. feeling someones presence behind you, you see a man. someone who you never seen.

“who are you and what do you want from me” you say and slowly back away from him. “chris is the name. you see, five years ago, i saw you on a beach. then suddenly i got shot and all i could think was you. these pass five years, ive been trying to find you and now” chris pauses his sentence and walks to a cup of ice, making you suck on it. “now i have you”

spitting the ice out, you got angry. “so what? you think kidnapping me is some kind of way to have me?” chris gets angry after your tone of your voice you gave him. he pushes you on a chair and chokes you lightly.

“i will give you 365 days to make you fall in love with me. and if that doesnt work, i will release you.” chris slowly lets go of your neck and continues talking. “i promise i will not touch you without your permission.”

chris gets interrupt by his phone. reaching his pocket, he sees his mafia friend who works with him calling him for help in the front. running to where to meet him at, you gave a few minutes before running on your feet again, trying to escape.

finally outside with a big open field in front of you, where you will be free. running, you stop midway as you see chris kill a man. witnessing what happened, you pass out due to pressure from everything.

-

the next morning, you wake up in the same room before but a whole different dress on you and a shirtless chris sitting in a chair in front of you. “let me out of here now” you shouted at him. “i need to get back to my family, my boyfriend!”. “you really think he still loves you? take a look at this” chris says and throws a small stack of pictures. pictures of him fucking another girl.

“a-are you serious?”

“yes im serious. oh and we’ll be leaving this place tomorrow. be ready” chris says and exits the room. “where are we going?” you quickly grab his wrist and stops. “to australia”

landing and going to the hotel. chris stops you and gives you the keycard to your room. “my room is next to yours if you need me”. nodding your head a yes, you enter your room and place your bags down and sighed. what is happening right now.

chris walks out of his room to see you look like a goddess. “y/n” chris calls out. turning around, chris grins with his dimples showing and grabbing your hand to head to the place you two are meeting with. chris opens the passenger door for you and makes his way to the drivers seat after youre in. while driving, he places his hands on your thigh, making you want more of him. avoiding his hand, you close your eyes.

arriving at your destination, it turns out to a bar. entering the bar, chris leads you to a room. seeing people, you hide behind chris bc youre antisocial as fuck

“y/n, this is aeyeong. ayeong meet-” “y/n. yes i know her name” aeyeong says, looking at you then back to chris, seducing him. “you know y/n, me and chris used to talk.” walking up to you. “and fucked each other” aeyeongs whispers into your ear. feeling chris wrap his hands around yours, you push him away and left the room.

“this happened a long time ago-” feeling tense, chris was about to turn and find you til aeyeong grabbed his wrist. “i thought you said we would last forever hm? took you long enough to find her. even of all our messages.” aeyeong grabs her phone and pulls up their naked bodies in photos. sexting.

“enough aeyeong.” chris grabs her phone and throws it onto the floor. running out of the room to look for you, leaving aeyeong to laugh.

-

“mr bang!”

chris turns around and sees his partner running to him. “y-y/n. shes with aeyeongs boss. i just got a call from him-” “shut the fuck up and tell me which room” “room 325.”

chris runs to room 325 and sees you grind on the boss. “y/n” chris growls. not paying attention to chris, you feel aeyeong’s boss grope your ass and suddenly putting a knife towards your neck.

suddenly feeling someone pull you away from the man and unable seeing things, chris and the rest of his members pulls out their weapon.

opening your eyes and see yourself on a yacht, you walk around and find chris. seeing chris talk shit about you to his other partner. “she just really had to run away-”

“im sorry chris” you spoke out. chris turns around and tells his partner to leave for a moment. “this is all your fault. youre the one who left the room and potentially tried to seduce him. do you not know what he couldve done?”

arguing on the boat and heading to the railings, you slip off and fall into the water. panicking, chris falls into the water and saves you. taking you out of the water and goes to lay you down on the bed and stands by your side.

a few minutes later, you wake up with water coming out of your mouth, coughing. chris turns around and goes to you with worried eyes. “y/n, i-im sorry. please dont leave me, i need you” chris softly says and strokes your hair with tears starting to fall down his cheeks.

lifting your weak hands up to caress his cheeks, you pushed him down and began kissing him roughly. regretting as soon as you saw the red in his eyes. “so now you want it?” chris growls and begins to attack you with kisses and hickies. feeling your clothes ripped away from you.

a few weeks later, youre back in korea. chris leaves you for the day, saying he has business to attend to and will call you later. but hours flew by and still didnt have any calls. sighing, you call your best friend, minyeong who yells at you though the speakers after the first ring.

“are you kidding me y/n? you cant just leave me behind at hawaii?!”

“i know i know, ill explain if you come over”

after she hears you say the sentence, she hangs up and runs to your place. opening the door for her, she starts speaking nonsense and you just laughing at her.

“y/n, this is serious. stop laughing and tell me what happened.”

sitting down next to her, you tell her everything. even when you love him back. minyeong at first didnt like what chris did to you and what his job it, but you beg her for you to have happiness atlas. with minyeong wanting you to be the happiest, you two go to the bar.

feeling someones eyes on you, you told minyeong you were going to the restrooms as she continues dancing. almost at the door, someone slams you onto the wall. “y/n, baby. i missed you so much. im sorry-” feeling tears streaming as you remember the past events and pictures. you forced him to let go of you and run back to your place.

he follows you back to your apartment without you noticing and as you take a seat with his loud voice scares you. “baby please” he goes closer to you and tries to kiss you until a voice rang.

“im pretty sure she wants you to leave”

he looks at chris then back to you then slaps you. “you fucking whore. youve been cheating on me when you left me didnt you” shaking your head a no and the tears uncontrollably falling as you try to shield yourself from another slap.

receiving nothing, you look up and see chris holding his wrist to prevent him from hitting you. “if theres someone else who was cheating is you. now leave you fucker” chris whispers in his ears and runs away.

chris looks down and sees your shaking figure. he goes next to you and wraps his arms around you so you can start feel calm. reaching to that point, chris picks you up and lays you on the bed.

slowly kissing you from your lips to your chest. chris begins undressing you til you stop him. unbuttoning his top, you see the semi open wound from his business. grazing your fingers over it as you hear chris slightly whimper.

“chris, im in love with you”

chris smiles widely. “im in love with you too”. you two continue the heavy make out which turns into a passionate sex for you both.

waking up with you on chris’ chest, you feel him showing a smile. he turns to the nightstand and grabs something small but worthy.

“y/n l/n, would you please marry me?”

nodding your head yes a bunch of times, you kiss chris on the lips.

-

heading back to hawaii, youre back into the palace where chris kept you in. waking up from your slumber, you go outside and talk to chris. chris sees you and tells his partner that he’ll be right back.

“hey hey babygirl, what happened? you alright?” chris leaves his seat to go to you as you start feeling shitty. “chris, i dont feel goo-” your eyes are shut closed and almost falls on the hard concrete til chris caught you.

“c-changbin! help!” chris yells out to whoever is out. your lips are slowly turning pale. changbin runs to chris with a blanket to cover your cold body and helps him carry you to the car. changbin speeds to the hospital with chris’ tears falling onto you, holding your hands and kissing the back of it. “please be okay, please please” chris whispers.

changbin parks at the emergency lot and chris grabs your body and puts you on the stretcher as the nurses sees you two. “please save her” the nurses all nodded their head and disappeared into the doors with a chris on the floor, sobbing his heart out, praying for you to be okay.

-

finally hours passed by and chris was left alone as he told changbin to go back to the palace. eyes all red and puffy with his legs shaking, full of anxiety. “mr bang?” the doctors call out chris. he stands up too quickly, making him almost loose his balance but the doctor helps him balance for a few seconds. thanking him, he follows the doctor to your room.

chris runs to your side as he sees your eyes open, with all type of wires attached to you. “y/n baby are you okay?”. nodding yes with a small smile, chris looks at the doctor.

“it looks like miss y/n was 1 month pregnant. and also looks like she wasnt taking care of herself either so mr bang, do y/n a favor and help not only her, but the baby”

you and chris nod your head, understanding as the doctor leaves you two. chris turns into his soft self. “i love you” he giggles. “i love you too chris”. scooting further away from him, you pat on the empty spot on the bed for him. chris smiles widely and goes to lay down next to you. you fall asleep from the warmth of your fiance as he hugs you. “and i love you too baby” he whispers and puts his free hand on your growing stomach. kissing your head and falling asleep next to the love of his life.

END <3

[sealnarcisa]

Kyle Woodward’s final blog post from Southern Africa. My visa issue finally got resolved, albeit with quite a lot of effort and frustration on my part. Unfortunately they couldn't swap my business visa for a tourist visa while in the country and the only way to fix it was to leave the country and come back in. Luckily Zimbabwe is just a 10 minutes drive to the border. It also just happens that the Zambia/Zimbabwe border is right at Victoria Falls. The border bridge is a tourist attraction, where people zip-line across the gorge and bungee jump off the bridge. Walking across the bridge with Victoria Falls as a backdrop was an unexpexted and surreal moment, and i made sure to take my time walking across both ways. It was a much needed stress reliever. The Falls are so close to you as you walk toward the Zimbabwe border post that the mist creates a perpetual light rain. Having not seen or felt rain in 2 months I was very confused at first. Since i got my necessary tasks done on Friday, I decided to go see the Falls properly all day on Saturday. I was going to be a tourist for a day, so exciting! On Saturday I had a relaxing morning and got a shuttle to the Victoria Falls Park entrance. I met another friend from the same hostel, and we hiked all the trails together. The Knife's Edge trail leads you out on a narrow peice of land thats been carved away by the Falls over time. It's the closest you can get to the Falls, and when you get out onto the edge you are completely soaked in a matter of seconds. Its like walking into a category 1 hurricane: the force of the water falling into the gorge creates a powerful uplift of air that shoots the trailing mist straight back to the top of the gorge, creating a barrage of wind and rain. There is no escape, and we willingly walked out to meet it in our bare feet and cheap ponchos. It is one of the best 20 bucks ive ever spent, and somehow my passport didn't even get wet. On our way down a separate trail to the bottom of the gorge, we were ambushed by a massive male baboon. We learned quite quickly that its not wise to carry food or drinks out in the open in this park because of these guys. We dropped our bottles of soda in order to avoid being mauled. It was actually terrifying in the moment but we laughed about it later. It was pretty funny watching this baboon open our soda bottles, dump out a ton of orange Fanta and sit there slurping it off the ground. On Sunday I went to the bus station at noon to catch my bus back to Sesheke, only to find out that the 12:00 bus i had purchased a seat on had left at 10:30 just because it got there early. It was another lesson in how things work out here: Disorder and unreliable public services create enough inevitable inconveniences in day to day life that society has adapted in order to provide quick and easy solutions. One of the bus company managers immediately took my money back from the attendant and drove me in his own car to the outskirts of town where a bunch of vans wait all day to give rides at the same or cheaper rate. He paid the van driver my bus money, I hopped in, and within a half hour we were on the way to Sesheke. We even got there right around the same time my bus would have. I met up with Michael and one of our enumerators in the afternoon and we drove back up to Sioma District for the night. The next day we drove the 1.5 hour journey into the bush to Makande. The drive seems to take forever as we creep along through a narrow sandy track, dodging trees and trying not to get stuck. Even with a 4wd truck it's not easy to get to by any means, yet people live here the same way as those right on the tar road in Lusu, Kaale, and Kalobolelwa. It's a remarkable thing seeing these communities operate with little to no outside aid. The idea that one can create and maintain their entire livelihood from the surrounding natural resources is so foreign to me, as I presume it is for many other 'Westerners'. Your health (ability to perform manual labor) and work ethic (determination to do so) hold greatest weight in village life. Lin, Michael, and I split our enumerators into teams of 2 for the first day of household surveys, then the second day Lin and I finished the rest of the surveys and did reference samples while Michael worked on resource area mapping. It went by so quick that I found myself scrambling on the last day to take a few pictures to remember this experience by. My pictures are mediocre at best, but Im pretty sure I won't ever forget this. Our last night camping in Makande was so fun. We ended the month of work talking, joking, singing, and dancing around our campfire, trading ideas, experiences, and standing on common ground. We also chased this weird goat around that kept walking into our camp. It was the funniest thing ever. No matter how far we chased it away from our camp, it would eventually wander back and stand there just staring at us. If they make another Disney movie based in Africa (shout out Lion King), this goat needs to be the typecast dumb animal comic relief character. The long weekend was spent back in our home sweet home, Sesheke. Michael needed to finish resource area mapping in Lusu, and Lin and i decided to collect more reference samples in Kalobolelwa, so we decided to set up at our usual campground in town. We took one of our enumerators along who wants to study environmental science, and he absorbed all the vegetation and GPS stuff like a sponge. It was a really fun day just walking around, seeing different landscapes, and talking about plants. Since we were officially done with the Zambia field season by the end of that day, we got to be lazy the next day in Sesheke. We walked around the market, bought some food and gifts, learned how to play Zambian rules Checkers, and had a good dinner in town. This past Sunday turned out to be a really special day, and may turn out to be one of the most important for future research pursuits in Zambia. Henry from DNPW allowed us to come along with him into Sioma-Ngwezi NP, where they are working on re-introducing wildlife the next 4 years. They created a fenced-in 100 hectare enclosure for the animals which they use to acclimate them before releasing them into the park. They had about 180 impala and 32 buffalo that they transported there a few weeks ago, and we got to come along on their weekly check up. We got to stand in their pickup truck bed as we patrolled inside the fence perimeter, trying to spot and count all the buffalo and impala. Michael and I came up with another research idea pretty organically as we chatted about the wildlife re-introduction process and the ways they currently monitor wildlife numbers in the park. The folks at DNPW and WWF sound quite keen to begin some research collaboration this coming year with us, and I'm glad Michael and I prioritized time to build those relationships. On Monday we said goodbye to Lin as she headed back to Botswana, then Michael and I drove to Livingstone. Having been in Livingstone last weekend, I already knew what it was like, so it was really great seeing Michael be totally blown away by all the city people, restaurants, shops, and 2 story buildings. We had fun wandering around, getting lost, and eating a ton of really good food. We have a special place in our hearts for Sesheke, but it is by no means a city. The fact that Sesheke ever felt like a city to us speaks to how much time we have spent in remote areas of rural Zambia. We felt like the Zambian village children this time, amazed to see so many white people in one place. I'm writing this on my flight back home and reflecting on all of the new and unique experiences I've had these past two months: flying drones in the Chobe river floodplain in Botswana, digging ourselves out of the sand more times than i can count, being immersed in village life and the language, playing sports with village children in Kapau and Makande, crossing international borders on my own, learning to drive stick in Zambia, and many others. They've all offered an opportunity to learn, challenge my own paradigms, and grow into a more worldly and introspective person. Southern Africa has given me so much, and I am eager to give back in any way an academic researcher can. I am so grateful to Dr. Pricope and all of the KAZAVA collaborators for supporting me and allowing me into their network. Michael gets a special shout out; we started out as two unacquainted grad students working on the same project, but by experiencing all the challenges and joys of a productive field season, we became both an unstoppable duo and great friends. I'm excited to pursue some of the research ideas we have developed in Zambia together. Lastly, for anyone who has not yet stepped foot on the African continent, this is my 5 star recommendation. It turns out Africa is huge and offers so much to the new traveller: the diverse cultures, the wildlife, and spectacular landscapes. I've only seen small parts of 3 countries, but I'm obsessed now. Africa will be high on my list for travelling the rest of my life, and I will do everything I can to get family and friends to experience it as well. Kyle Woodward.

[itsworn]

A Week Of Daily Driving, Pie Pickup, And A Goodbye To Conner Assembly In A 2017 Viper ACR Voodoo II

Elana’s Story

The big wing jutted up in the parking lot like a mesa on the edge of Texas flatland. “Drop me off there,” I instructed the airport shuttle driver, and she raised an eyebrow at my schlubby travel clothes and ripped purple suitcase as she opened the bus doors. I was in Detroit for a week of filming with Roadkill, culminating in a Viper plant tour and the Roadkill Nights racing at M1 Concourse. Dodge asked if I needed a get-around car for the visit, and nothing gets you around like a 2017 Viper ACR special edition Voodoo II. The Voodoo first came out as a limited model ACR in 2010, and the 2017 model uses the same glossy black base with accents of red and silver, more black widow spider than snake. “Does Batman know you have his car?” asked my husband when I texted him a photo.

I squeezed my ragged luggage in the trunk and scooted the seat up until I could reach the clutch. I couldn’t really get out easily from that position, but I had a Viper for a week. Why would I ever want to get out? “Oh this car, this car is a man-catching machine!” said the parking lot attendant as I waited for the arm to come up, and she was right. I got two rings waved at me on the highway as I headed for Pontiac, Michigan. “Marry me!” shouted the passenger in a beat-up Cavalier.

Any of you who are regular readers know that if I was in a marryin’ mood, it would be the Viper I’d propose to. I’ve spent some serious daily driver time in various models of the snake, and I’ve enjoyed every second of it. The ACR is a nastier animal than the SRT or GTS configurations. It wanders and argues about low-speed steering changes and uneven lanes. It stops so fast you’ll punch the center display with your downshifting hand if you don’t have a grip on the shifter baseball, and it transmits every pothole and pea of gravel directly to your lower back no matter how many mattresses you’re sleeping on, princess. I loved it anyway, and a good thing, since Freiburger and Finnegan were filming at Milan Dragway, a good 60 miles from my hotel in Pontiac. 120 mile roundtrip for multiple days? Pricey for gas, priceless for joy.

In between commuting to the dragstrip, I also used the Viper for normal activities, like finding the best pie in the area (Achatz Pies in Beverly Hills, MI), creeping it nervously through a thunderstorm, and teaching one of our video guys how to drive stick (he did real good, no clutches harmed). My love for the Viper remained undimmed, and I was happy to get to win a few other people over to it. At the end of the week, Hot Rod Garage host, Tony Angelo, and I managed to fit all our gear into the back, and I offered him the keys for the drive to the airport. “I don’t really like Vipers that much,” he said, but he was willing to give the ACR a try. A few strong pulls later and he was giggling as foolishly as I had been all week. “It’s like a real race car, oh, it’s fun!”

2017 is a bittersweet year for Viper fans. Dodge is ending production, and Viper clubs all over are gathering to pay tribute to the snake. With that intro, let me turn it over to Benjamin Hunting, who took the Voodoo to the closing of Conner Assembly plant–the nest where Vipers are hatched.

Ben’s Story

“What serial number is that one?” I’m asked almost immediately after parking at Detroit’s Conner Ave Assembly Plant and stepping out of my ride for the day. This is the birthplace of Chrysler’s most potent – and most significant – sports car, where Dodge is celebrating 25 years of Viper production, and the front lawn is replete with as many examples of the V10-powered coupe as I’ve ever seen gathered in one place.

“001,” I reply, after hastily checking the dash plaque. This conversation would repeat itself throughout the day, requiring me to repeatedly assert my non-ownership of the black-with-red-striped Voodoo II packages Viper ACR, a one-of-31 edition that loads every single option into the track-ready monster. It’s a testament to the staying power of the Dodge SRT Viper’s over-the-top image that rolling in to a field of over 200 similarly-styled snakes in a Voodoo II package ACR still draws a crowd.

“Oh, I’ve got #006 waiting for delivery next week,” came the reply from the man admiring the car’s “I”LL CUT YOU!” vents on the front fenders and overpass-threatening wing perched on the rear deck. “I’m going to try to see if they’ll let me near it inside the factory. I honestly can’t wait.”

That’s right – they’re still building Vipers here at Conner Ave, although for how much longer is anyone’s guess. If you were to judge by the exuberant atmosphere on this sunny Saturday morning, you’d be hard-pressed to call this gathering a funeral for a friend – or, more accurately, a beloved family member. Dodge may have canceled the Viper after a quarter century of near-continuous production, but judging by the high spirits of the owners gathered here today, the party has no plans of stopping any time soon.

The inside of the plant is almost completely open, letting us wander throughout its massive confines hemmed in only by the yellow safety tape that keeps us from accidentally activating any important Viper-making machinery (or walking out with a souvenir or two). The further down the line you get, the more complete the frames, body panels, and engine assemblies become, culminating in the snake pen at the end of the building where finished rides await the chance to put a smile on the faces of their new owners. I strain to spot Voodoo II #006, but it remains elusive.

Of course, customer cars aren’t the only denizens of Connor Ave, as Dodge has put a number of significant Viper models on display for the faithful. There are Le Mans winners, prototypes, one of the earliest RT/10 models known to still exist, and land speed record holders all sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, along with a single Plymouth Prowler (that easily forgotten son-of-Conner-Ave) tucked way off in a corner. Wall art tracks the development of the Viper from Gen I to Gen V, with unusual, never-produced variants mixed in to catch the eye of the devoted. On my way out the door I overhear an SRT engineer talking about how he snagged one of the six dual-cam VVT Viper engines that were ever built before it could be sent to the scrap yard. As job perks go, that’s a pretty damn good one.

Back on the lawn, it’s time to take a picture and then get this show on the road. After being captured in all their multi-colored glory by the photographer dangling high overhead, most of the cars around me get ready for the next stage in the day’s celebrations, a 15-mile, police-escorted parade from the plant to the M1 Concourse in Pontiac where Roadkill Nights is staging street legal drag races on Woodward Avenue and reserving a paddock just for Viper owners. In a cacophony of choppy cams and flashing blue lights a phalanx of Detroit’s finest sail in on their police bikes, lining up along the side of the road to lead us from the promised land.

Just before getting back into the Voodoo II, I find myself talking to Wes from Maryland, a self-described “military knucklehead” who’s in the middle of transplanting a Gen V body onto a Gen IV frame. “I picked up a wrecked Gen V for $25,000, but I couldn’t get a new frame anywhere,” he tells me. “So I’m here at the plant taking as many pictures as I can of all the chassis and platform details so I can figure out what needs to get cut, stretched, and moved to make everything play nice together.”

He says that ever since he put pictures of the project online, he’s gotten so many questions and messages of support about it that he’s gotten more done in the last 30 days than he did in the first six months. “It was originally a Carbon Edition car, but when I’m done with it it’ll be a T/A.” This fantastic Frankenstein creation will also probably be the most Roadkill Viper on the planet.

Our conversation is cut short by an official looking finger pointed in my direction by someone holding an equally official looking clipboard, directing me to line up two cars behind the Dodge Law Enforcement Viper that’s leading the pack (behind the actual, badge-carrying officers riding in the Dodge Chargers). I’m honored to be at the tip of the fang as we pull out of the assembly plant to begin the slow, raucous, and exceptionally loud convoy to M1. My side mirrors are filled with gearheads of all ages taking pictures and waving from the sidelines, Vipers stretching back as far as the eye can see (it’ll take one and a half hours for all 200 cars to make it to the paddock) police bikes that blaze by with startling regularity to block off side streets and make our lives easier while introducing misery into the weekend commutes of unsuspecting Detroiters.

Suddenly, I’m distracted from the reverie around me by an insist message on the Viper ACR’s gauge cluster. It’s not telling me how awesome the car is, or how incredibly fortunate I am to be given the keys to this beast for a ceremonial cruise: it’s pointing out how stupid I must be to have forgotten to fill the tank before leaving the hotel this morning. LOW FUEL, LOW FUEL the car complains, and it’s with a cold clarity that I realize I’m about to be “that guy” – the one who ran out of gas driving in car he doesn’t even own in a parade of Vipers.

Anxiously, I text Elana, Roadkill EIC and the caretaker of this ACR for most of the previous week to ask how far I can drive with the gas light on. “Maybe 30 miles,” she replies, but at these slow, stop-and-go speeds I can foresee a flatbed in my future should I decide to push my luck. It’s then that fate intervenes. In a bid to bunch up the long trail of cars behind us, the entire parade grinds to a halt at an intersection marked by a Marathon station, its faded logo shining like a beacon to under-prepared idiots like me.

I crank the wheel and screech in to the closest fuel pump, which of course refuses to accept my Canadian credit as a legitimate form of legal tender. Cursing my useless plastic, I run into the gas station where I accost a very confused attendant holding a mop and a bucket. “It’s the car with the giant wing!” I exclaim, stuffing a $20 bill in his hand and spinning on my heel to run back to the pump. Seconds later 91 octane is flowing into the ACR’s greedy tank in my best approximation of a NASCAR pit stop, to the hoots and laughter of genuine Viper owners passing me by at speeds low enough to register the shame on my face.

My twenty bucks spent, the pump clicks and I’m back behind the wheel, angling the ACR’s aero-laden front clip carefully back down onto the street. Eventually, another snake wrangler takes pity on me and a hole opens up in the line, letting me sneak into the parade, tail between my legs. It’s then, however, that I realize I’ve been presented with perhaps the rarest of opportunities: four clear lanes of boulevard, a sympathetic police escort, and a chance to snag my number 3 spot and extend the stock car racing metaphor as much as possible.

Throwing caution, and perhaps my last ounce of reasonable doubt to the wind, I pull out of line and hammer the throttle as much as I dare, blasting past ten, then twenty, then fifty crawling Vipers at a whopping 45-mph, fingers crossed that the cops still zooming down the street in the far lane will ignore my lack of decorum until I can regain my position at the front of the pack. In my mind I can picture scowling faces in imaginary Detroit Race Control screaming into headset mics and commanding my crew chief to send me to the “tail-end of the longest line,” but fortunately for everyone my fantasies don’t ever manifest themselves that fully in the real world. It’s not until the lead car is in sight that a uniformed officer in a patrol car pulls up beside me and suggests commands me to “get back in line!”

Once I’ve obliged, the rest of the trek to the M1 grounds is pleasantly uneventful – or rather, as uneventful as a train belching over a hundred thousand horsepower through sidepipes can realistically be on public streets. Parking the car on the concourse, I look down at the fuel gauge before shutting the car off and realize that had I not made my pit stop, I definitely would still be out there on the boulevard instead of here with the Roadkill Nation, celebrating not just the Viper, but every car out there killed by bean counters, market forces outside their control, or changing tides at the company that brought them into the world. As row after row of ACR, GTS, RT/10, GTC, GT, and T/A cars pull in alongside each other, however, I realize that the Viper family isn’t just steel, glass, and big honkin’ V10s – it’s muscle, love, and heart. And none of that is going away any time soon.

  The post A Week Of Daily Driving, Pie Pickup, And A Goodbye To Conner Assembly In A 2017 Viper ACR Voodoo II appeared first on Hot Rod Network.

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