Dakota Denise
Bio
Every story I publish is real lived, witnessed, survived, or confessed into my hands. The fun part? I never say which. Think you can spot truth from fiction? Comment your guesses. Everything’s true. The lie is what you think I made up.
Stories (42)
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Clip: Bloodlines & Ballistics. Content Warning.
Clip: Bloodlines & Ballistics Chapter 1: The Beginning We grew up in a house where the walls were thin, the fridge was never quite full, and the love was loud. There were five of us: four girls and one boy. Our mother raised us by herself on the South Side of Chicago. She worked two jobs, sometimes three, just to keep the lights on and food in the kitchen. And somehow, even with all that, she still managed to teach us the difference between right and wrong—though, as life would have it, right and wrong blurred sometimes.
By Dakota Denise 7 months ago in Confessions
The Fire Between Us. Content Warning.
Chapter one: The Fire Between Us Kansas City had a way of hiding its most dangerous temptations in plain sight. Some people found theirs at church, some on quiet streets, some in the middle of their own homes. Mine found me in a pool hall under buzzing neon, cigarette smoke curling through the air, whiskey staining the floorboards, and a man leaning over a table like he was born to conquer it.
By Dakota Denise 7 months ago in Chapters
Mind Yo Business Investigations . Content Warning.
Chapter 1: Bottom of the Deck Kansas City summers hit different. The heat stuck to your skin like cheap lip gloss, and the hustle moved through the air like bass from a car stereo. Skylar Nicole knew all about both. At 27, she was a mother of two, with a figure that made necks snap and a face that could stop traffic. But what most folks didn’t see was the weight she carried: the bills, the rent, the daycare, the shifts at that godforsaken casino—all of it riding on her back like it had paid rent to be there.
By Dakota Denise 7 months ago in Confessions
The Blazzed Ride. Content Warning.
The Key and the Curse Kansas City hummed with a quiet electric pulse, the kind that danced between the high-rise shadows and snaked through late-night alleyways. Imani Cole, 42 years old and a powerhouse in her own right, stood outside her boutique, Blazzup—Kansas City's only luxury 420-friendly fashion line. Her designs were bold, unapologetically Black, and infused with a laid-back elegance that echoed her spirit. But this night felt different. The air was thicker. The moon, unusually low, cast a haze over everything.
By Dakota Denise 8 months ago in Confessions
The Ghosts Don’t Whisper Here. Content Warning.
Title: The Message in Apartment 2B Serenity Black stood outside the aging apartment building in Bronzeville, her leather satchel heavy against her shoulder, the wind tugging at the hem of her coat like a child begging her not to go inside. She already knew what waited for her upstairs—death always left a scent, and Serenity had smelled it since dawn.
By Dakota Denise 8 months ago in Confessions
The Thirteenth Thread . Content Warning.
Chapter One: Messages in the Flesh New Orleans wasn’t exactly quiet, but tonight felt unnaturally still—like the air was listening. Serenity Black knew that feeling too well by now. It meant someone on the other side was trying to scream through the silence.
By Dakota Denise 8 months ago in Confessions
Chi-Town Smoke & Blazers
Fire in the Blazer The South Side of Chicago had its own soundtrack—one part hustle, one part heartbreak, and a whole lot of heat. Dakota Jean moved through it like she owned every block her stilettos touched. And in a way, she did. Her boutique, #Blazzup, was more than a store; it was a cultural landmark—420 fashion with an unapologetic edge. Her dispensary, 1st Ladies of Cannabis, sat next door like a quiet revolution. Dakota didn’t just sell clothes or weed; she sold power. She sold a vibe.
By Dakota Denise 8 months ago in Chapters
Puff Puff Twist. Content Warning.
Chapter 1: “Light That Shit” The blunt was fat, like *ignorant* fat—two grams easy, rolled so perfect it looked store-bought, but that’s how Rissa always did it. She called it her “therapeutic art.” I called it her only damn skill, but whatever. We were five hits deep in my living room, incense burning like somebody summoned the ancestors, and somebody—probably me—had just dropped Hot Cheeto crumbs on the carpet.
By Dakota Denise 8 months ago in Confessions
The Blazz'n Truth..
Dakota Blaqq wasn’t your average private investigator. Sure, she had a license, a loaded Glock in her glove compartment, and a smartphone full of shady contacts. But Dakota also ran a cannabis-friendly clothing line called *BlazzUp Boutique* and had a booming following on TikTok, where she spilled tea and smoked weed while giving life advice under the hashtag #HighStandards. She lived by her motto: "Stay lifted, stay woke."
By Dakota Denise 8 months ago in Confessions
The Messenger. Content Warning.
I’ve never liked the term *ghost whisperer*. It sounds like some gimmick you see on late-night TV—fog rolling in, someone murmuring to shadows. That ain’t me. I’m Serenity Black, and my gift? It’s raw, unfiltered, and doesn’t care who you are or how long I’ve known you. Whether I met you ten minutes ago or twenty years back, if the dead need to reach you, I’m their voice.
By Dakota Denise 8 months ago in Confessions
420 Private Investigators Presents: Undercover Lies: A 420 Investigator’s Tale"
Dakota never expected that a single date could turn into something so twisted. It started on Facebook Dating. After a few awkward matches and dull conversations, she stumbled upon James. He was charming in his messages—funny, confident, a bit cocky, but not obnoxiously so. A good-looking Black man in his early fifties who sold cars for a living. He had that salesman swagger, but with just enough humility to keep her curious. Their date was simple and perfect. They played pool at a local dive bar, then grabbed lunch at a barbecue spot downtown. Conversation flowed easily between bites of ribs and sips of sweet tea. They ended the afternoon browsing thrift shops, joking about the odd things they found. James mentioned he liked old vinyl, and Dakota picked out a Curtis Mayfield album just to tease him. There was chemistry, undeniable. Dakota, a Black woman with sharp eyes and a sharper wit, felt something electric in their interactions. She even told James that day, half-jokingly, that she might use him as inspiration for a character in one of her books. He laughed and told her she better make him a heartthrob. It was light, fun, promising. But something about him didn’t sit quite right. After that day, things fizzled fast. No arguments, no drama—they just didn’t click beyond that spark. Dakota, used to following her gut, trusted the feeling that James wasn’t someone she could see herself with long-term. What surprised her, though, was how quickly he disappeared from her real life and reappeared in her inbox—sporadic emails every few months, nothing romantic, just checking in. What she didn’t know then was that James had started dating someone else almost immediately after their date. Wendy. Wendy was white, worked in a call center, and had a kind of soft, clingy vibe that seemed to attract men like James. Dakota didn’t know Wendy existed until much later. James never mentioned her—because she wasn’t in the picture when he and Dakota went out. He jumped into that relationship right after, and maybe it was coincidence, maybe not, but Dakota always suspected that being with a Black woman made him confront something he wasn’t ready for. A year and a half passed. Dakota’s life had taken off. Her TikTok account exploded—she was pushing hundreds of thousands of followers now, sharing storytimes from her job as a private investigator. That was her bread and butter—Mind Yo Business Investigations, a firm she’d run for over twenty years. Dakota was sharp, experienced, and unapologetically good at her job. She used her platform to give tips on red flags, share wild case stories (without breaching confidentiality), and empower other women to trust their instincts. Then came the email. Subject: “Private Investigation Inquiry.” The message was from a woman named Wendy, who said she suspected her boyfriend might cheat if given the chance—and she wanted Dakota to test him. The job: pose as a potential temptation and see if he’d bite. Dakota had done this kind of job before. It was shady but legal, and sometimes the only way to give a woman the clarity she needed. When Wendy sent over the name and photo of her boyfriend, Dakota nearly dropped her phone. It was James. For a second, she laughed. Of all the people in Atlanta, Wendy’s man had to be the one Dakota had been on that one, strange, electric date with nearly two years ago. She debated saying no—this was messy, complicated—but something about the whole thing pulled her in. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was justice. She took the job. Dakota crafted the approach carefully. She reached out to James via email, under the guise of reconnecting. She kept it light, breezy. Said she’d been thinking about their old date, wondering what he was up to. He responded quickly—too quickly. Said he remembered her, thought about her often, and yes, they should catch up. That was her first flag. Over the next few weeks, they exchanged messages. Dakota was meticulous. She never pushed, only followed his lead. James flirted, reminisced, asked about her TikTok. He even asked if she could help him grow his own following—said he was thinking about starting something to boost his car sales. Dakota played along, dropping influencer tips, subtly pulling him in. All of it went into the report for Wendy. Then something unexpected happened. James mentioned her to Wendy. Just in passing, he told Wendy about a woman named Dakota he’d gone on a date with a long time ago, who was now a TikTok influencer and a writer working on a book. He mentioned—lightly, maybe even innocently—that Dakota had once joked about turning him into a character. And that’s when Wendy put the pieces together. Dakota. The same name as the woman she had hired. The same woman her boyfriend had gone on a date with. The same woman he was now emailing again. Wendy was furious. She never confronted James about what she realized. Instead, she ghosted Dakota completely. No final payment. No email. Nothing. Dakota waited for days, then weeks. Still nothing. She tried reaching out, but Wendy had vanished. And that’s when Dakota, fed up with being played, did what she did best—she got creative. She made a fake Facebook profile. On it, she posted screenshots of the email exchanges between her and James—blurring names and details, but leaving enough for Wendy to recognize the truth. She set the profile picture and cover photo as images from their flirty conversations. Then, she sent Wendy a friend request. Wendy accepted. The reaction was almost immediate. Wendy sent a message: “I don’t know who you are. Please tell me who you are.” Dakota didn’t respond. Another message came: “You must have something to say. You sent me a friend request, so go ahead and talk to me.” Dakota stared at the message. In that moment, she realized Wendy had flipped the script. Instead of acknowledging the truth, Wendy was acting like the victim—like Dakota had been trying to break them up for personal reasons, not professional ones. It was a slap in the face. Wendy had hired her. Wendy had gotten her feelings hurt. And now Wendy was pretending that Dakota was the villain. Dakota didn’t respond. She didn’t need to. Instead, she closed the case and moved on. She told the story—carefully anonymized—on TikTok. The video went viral. Thousands of women commented, sharing their own stories of betrayal, confusion, and clarity. The message was clear: women were tired of being gaslight, tired of being left with the mess. Dakota never heard from Wendy again. James never knew the full truth. As far as he was concerned, he’d just reconnected with an old flame who mysteriously vanished again. But Dakota knew what really happened. She’d done her job. She’d played her role. And she’d walked away on her terms. Because in a world where everyone plays games, Dakota played to win.
By Dakota Denise 8 months ago in Confessions
Hustle & High Heels: Love and Ambition, Blazz’d Empire Style. Content Warning.
The CEO Who Can’t Find Love The city of Kansas City stretched out before Dakota Blazz, its vibrant skyline bathed in the soft glow of sunset. From her high-rise apartment in the heart of Downtown KC, she could see the traffic snaking through the streets below, the sun casting long shadows over the iconic Power and Light District, and the bustling energy of a city on the rise. Kansas City was a place of reinvention—where ambition met opportunity, and where dreams could be built brick by brick. And Dakota Blazz was nothing if not a woman who had mastered the art of reinvention.
By Dakota Denise 9 months ago in Chapters
