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kookslastbutton · 6 months

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Guilty Pleasures ༓ jjk, kth (m) | ch. i

✑ Summary: Three years of being Seoul's power couple earns you nothing but a big fat divorce settlement and your face plaster on every gossip column around town. You're angry, hurt, and desperately want to move on, but worst of all? You're still in love with the man who started the whole mess, even though the most he can ever see you as is a friend. The renowned actor you've hired to be your company's new endorser seems to have a soft spot for you though. He's easy on the eyes, you'll admit, but who actually wants a divorcee like yourself? It's unrealistic really.

pairing: ex-husband ceo!jungkook x ceo!reader, slight actor!taehyung x ceo!reader

genre/AU: angst, smut, loverstoexesto ?, unrequited love

word count: 3,328

Warnings: oc and jk are both 30, mention of gossip columns and unequal treatment of how oc is portrayed post-divorce, hint of differences between men and women in the business world, oc struggling to be professional, both care about each other and are not toxic but oc fell in love, oc has the need to groom him a little out of habit, talks about Bam, feat, Namjoon and Taehyung, and sexual content

sexual warnings: dom!jungkook, sub!reader, desk s*x, d*rty talk, oc is on bc, handjob, swearing, making out, neck kisses, clothed s*x, impulsive s*x, light praising, growling, some minor petnames (baby, Kook), mention of threesome, recalling of past sexual events

playing: Unkiss Me

a/n: uh…this one has been in my drafts and idk its kinda angsty but I decided I will share it. Enjoy! 🥰

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From the moment he stepped into your office, Jungkook could tell every ounce of color was drained from your face. All except for your puffy red eyes that is, which he knows you've been rubbing fervently to keep your tears from rolling down your cheeks.

He doesn't blame you for it though–you're his ex-wife.

Recent ex-wife that is.

For three years the two of you masqueraded as the perfect power couple; appearing completely in love to the public eye in hopes of forming an unshakable business partnership (transaction more like). You attended charity balls together, collaborated on several work projects, and attended countless corporate functions to establish both your presence in your respective industries.

That's right, you and Jungkook were in an arranged marriage and it would have flourished into a classic love story if it wasn't for one obvious detail–you're the only one that fell in love.

Despite all the times he's called you "stunning" when you dolled up for formal events or that you "feel so good" during late-night sex, Jungkook never truly loved you. He cared about you, did his best not to intentionally hurt you, and even tried loving you back; thinking he could fall for you with time.

But the most he could ever see you as is a friend, a beautiful friend, though a friend nonetheless. He knows how much it pains you, especially after you've held out hope that he'll want you the same way someday. This one embarrasses you the most which he wishes it wouldn't.

Well, Jungkook doesn't want to trap either of you in a loveless marriage any longer. So even if it means being the center of gossip columns for a while, he's giving you a divorce so you can find the right person to share your love with.

After all, you deserve it; you both do.

Today's day one of looking at one another as exes and it's bittersweet, to say the least. The only factor that would make this worse is if children were in the equation, but there aren't any.

"Thanks for letting me swing by __," he speaks first, doing his best to conjure up a genuine smile. The black floral button-up he's wearing suits him well and his smooth chest peaking out near the collar is far too tempting, yet you know better than to let your eyes linger.

"Of course," you answer and grab a small box from behind your desk. "These are 100% yours so I wouldn't keep them from you." Jungkook takes the box of belongings from your hands with slight hesitation. You're keeping a brave front for the sake of civility and professionalism.

He doesn't blame you for that either.

As a CEO of a large multinational corporation himself, Jungkook's no stranger to the age-old philosophy that that office is no place to let your personal woes get out of hand; you have a team to lead and a reputation to uphold. The latter is proving to be harder for you than him, however, being that the media is portraying you as some kind of she-devil, spinster, or worse of all—a cheater.

Jungkook plans to personally make sure those articles get removed from the public eye before the end of the week. (Not that he'll tell you though.)

"I still could have dropped by the house to pick these up if it'd been easier. I feel bad for interrupting your work day over a couple of old books, records, and dog toys." He watches you nod silently as he vocalizes the inconvenience of it all; he really doesn't have to but he does it anyway.

"No, it's alright. You haven't been to the house since you moved out, so I thought it'd be better if we met here instead." You pause to check the time. "If there's anything you think of that you might've forgotten later, just let me know. In the meantime, I have a meeting in twenty so..."

"He misses you."

"I'm sorry?"

"Bam, I mean." Jungkook throws the box under an arm and pulls out his phone. He scrolls through his camera gallery until he gets to one particular photo of a red and tan Doberman. "He hates the new place and all he does is sulk by the door."

Your heart's already struggling to settle down from the painful reality that the man you love is leaving you, let alone being reminded of another forced separation. Bam's the closest thing to a baby that either of you ever had and he was one of the few things that bonded you and your now ex-husband together.

Being Jungkook's dog, however, he couldn't stay with you. That means no more visiting the dog park, sneaking treats behind Jungkook's back, and snuggling together in the king-size bed after a stressful day.

"I'm sure he just wants his favorite chew toy that's been held hostage at the house," you joke lightly, thinking it simpler to spin the topic. It's similar to what Jungkook does when he uses flowery language to soften the cold hard truth of your divorce; that he doesn't love you and he can't ever. "Give Bam a lot of attention for me. I miss him too."

"Of cour—shit!" When Jungkook moves to slip his phone back into his pocket he loses his balance, causing the box with his belongings to spill out on your office floor. Naturally, you kneel down to help him clean up the mess. It's not until your fingers reach for the same item and come into contact with each other that you quickly retract your hand. "Sorry, did I shock you?" He asks gently and tosses the last item into the box before standing up.

"No, you didn't." You rise to your feet as well, until you're face to face with him. This time it's closer than before. His hooded eyes stare straight into yours and you can't believe it takes being inches from his face to notice how bloodshot his eyes are. "You look exhausted. You should go home and rest Kook." The petname is out before your brain tells you to stop.

Jungkook's eyes widen, the corner of his lip subtly quirking up for the first time since the start of the conversation. "Don't worry about me __. I probably get more breaks than you do. But thanks." He briefly glances at the ticking Snoopy clock behind you, a Christmas gift he gave you as a joke last year. "You still have that?"

You look over your shoulder at the small, Snoopy-shaped digital clock on your desk. Ten minutes until your next meeting. "It's cute and it makes for a great conversation starter with clients so I guess so. If you want me to give it ba—"

"Keep it," he interrupts. "Please, it was a gift and I'd like you to have it if you enjoy it." Jungkook gnaws on his lip before continuing. "Speaking of clients and business partners, I should make myself scarce now shouldn't I?"

"Yes. I do have that meeting soon." But once he leaves, neither of you is sure when you'll see the other again aside from the odd charity event. The Annual Winter Gala in December is one that particularly comes to mind.

Most high-ranking executives like yourselves attend the function to keep up appearances and to network with other professionals. Last year, you and Jungkook were the center of attention however now that you're divorced, you fear you'll be avoided like the plague—they always preferred Jungkook over you anyway.

"You're forming a new partnership with that actor, right? Kim Taehyung? I read an inkling about it online yesterday." He also read his whole biography too. The man is equally handsome as he is altruistic and kind.

"Nothing's signed and sealed yet. I'm sure you've heard that he's gotten dozens of other offers on the table. To be honest, I'm surprised you haven't nabbed him yet."

"Yeah, we don't need...wait sorry, let me rephrase that. We aren't ready for a new partner or merger yet."

You can read between the lines despite Jungkook's correction. His company is thriving more than yours in every way, so he doesn't need the help of a third-party endorser...like you. Well, you're not doing too shabby yourself and this isn't simply about fame and fortune you want to argue.

The head poking through your door stops you from following through on that last line.

"Mrs. Jeon—shit." Your secretary Kim Namjoon screws his eyes shut at his drastic misstep. "Ms. __, Kim Taehyung called and said he'll be a bit late due to unexpected delays during his filming today. He apologizes profusely but is on his way over now. Sajangnim," he bows at Jungkook respectively.

"That's fine, Namjoon, thank you. You can send him in whenever he gets here. Mr. Jeon was just about to leave and I had the rest of my day cleared."

"Of course. I'll let him know to come in." Your secretary nods and shuts the door. Jungkook shifts between his feet once Namjoon is out of sight, a habit he's picked up that tells you he has more to say.

"Was there anything else, Mr. Jeon?" You shuffle a few files on your desk, prepping for your meeting with Taehyung. At this point, you're not even looking at Jungkook.

"Mr. Jeon? I think I prefer when you call me Kook more," he mutters, allowing his line of sight to catch a glimpse of your lips. "Can I...kiss you? Before I go."

The question knocks the wind out of your lungs and you instantly lift your head up toward him. "Kiss me?" You gulp slowly, then shake your head. "No, I'd rather we not. Goodbye kisses aren't really my thing." You couldn't be a bigger liar, evident from the sudden churning in your gut. Having Jungkook's lips on yours was the best and worst moments of your entire relationship but you have to fight yourself....your innate desires that tell you to say yes.

"Okay, I understand. What about a hug?"

"Jungkook..."

"I'm sorry, I'm pushing. Thanks again for my stuff." He gestures at the box under his arm. "I hope your meeting with Kim Taehyung goes well. Maybe I'll see you both at the next Winter Gala." He makes a beeline for the door.

"Wait!"

Jungkook stills in his tracks as he watches you stride in front of him. He's unsure what you stopped him for until your hands reach out towards his shirt collar, smoothing the delicate material down. A light smile plays on his face as you do this, though he says nothing aside from a simple 'thanks'.

"It was bothering me the whole time." You finish fixing his collar and peer up into his Bambi eyes. Out of all the potential suitors, you wish Jeon Jungkook didn't become your husband. It's not like you got to keep him or anything.

Jungkook once again flickers his gaze toward your barely parted lips. And this time, you do the same for him. Before either of you have time to back out you lean forward and kiss him.

It's a hard kiss too. Painful but so inviting that neither of you pulls away.

With his free hand, Jungkook snakes a hand around your waist to hug you close. Having his fingers pressed against the small of your back is so familiar and all you can do is deepen the kiss.

You're obviously not the only one that gets a sense of pleasure from this because, in a matter of seconds, the box from under Jungkook's arm falls to the ground. He then places his second hand on the side of your neck and jawline which you lean into, exposing the other side of your neck.

"Jungkook," you gasp when his lips attach themself to the soft skin, sucking lightly. His teeth come out and nip too. "Wait, we can't do this, we shouldn't. Taehyung, he'll be here soon."

"That would have sounded so convincing if you didn't just moan the words, baby." He walks you backward until you're forced to sit atop your mahogany desk.

"Don't call me that." You allow him to push up your pencil skirt and spread your thighs until your panties are the only material he sees. You decided to go with black lace today, his favorite now that you think about it.

"Did you—"

"No, they weren't for you."

A brief growl leaves the man's rose-tinted lips. "In that case, we don't need them." He places both hands on your hips and brings you into another kiss, messier than before. His tongue shoves between the seam of your lips to lick every crevasse he can. He hasn't kissed you like this for months and to be brutally honest, he's missed it as much as you.

Jungkook hasn't been with anyone else since marrying you either, which means he's completely adjusted to your body, your preferences, and what turns you on. The same applies to you so while he's busy shoving his tongue down your throat, you palm his half-harden bulge through his trousers.

"Mm," he groans and bucks his hips into your hand. You smile at how well you've managed to draw a response from him. With a little burst of confidence, you hastily move to unbuckle his pants. "What are you doing?" He mumbles between kisses.

You decide not to answer, preferring to reach inside his trousers to take his length out. You make sure to pump it a few times until he's fully hard. Jungkook has a gorgeous dick, and that takes a lot for you to admit.

"Fuck, that's it." He says with gritted teeth, now watching your hand as it moves up and down his cock. "Get me how you want me."

"We don't have much time." You slide your panties down your legs and spread your thighs wide apart, which makes Jungkook's eyes dilate about 10 meters. "Fuck me, please." One last time. Make love to me one last time.

"Are you sure? I don't have a condom."

"It's okay, I'm on birth control. As long as you're still clean then its fine."

"I am. I got tested recently. But are you sure you want this?"

You glance at his pulsating length, tip leaking with pre-cum, and swallow hard. "Hurry."

"Fuck, okay." Jungkook wastes not another second and guides you flat on your back, his hands resting on either side of your body. The coolness of your desk has you shiver slightly. He then urges you to raise your legs until they can wrap loosely around his slim waist. And as if second nature, you link your arms around his neck as he eases him into you. He's able to bottom out without much effort thanks to how wet you've become.

"Oh god." Your back arches off the surface of your desk as Jungkook thrusts into you. They're only practice thrusts at first to get you re-adjusted to his size, yet the pleasure zipping down your spine already has your eyes rolling up.

You shouldn't be doing this at all. Your conscious whispers to again to which you blindly dismiss. You'll enjoy it now and tomorrow, start a new—another lie you tell yourself.

"Fuckfuckfuck, you're so wonderful for me," he chants while pushing his cock in and out of you, the speed of his movements picking up to an insane rate. Jungkook never had an issue with quickies so he's likely in his element now. "You know what this reminds me of?" He cocks a smirk and kisses down your neck.

"Hm?"

"That time when we were abroad for a weekend conference. Remember when we stopped at my second office to pick up some files? You were so horny that day that you pushed me into my chair and demanded that I let you ride me. It took the wind right out of my sails to see you like that, so confident and in control." He prys apart the top button of your blouse until he can slide the material down your shoulders. He doesn't take it off completely, favoring the chance to place kisses on your newly exposed area instead.

"I was beyond stressed that day. It was the first time I had to speak at that conference and you looked so good with your freshly slicked back hair. I couldn't stop myself—oh fuck! Right there Kook, don't slow down. Please." Jungkook grunts at the use of his petname and fucks you rougher, sweat forming around his forehead as his dark hair dangles messily over his eyes.

You manage to sneak a glance at the time on your Snoopy clock between thrusts. "Shit, I need to come soon, or Kim Taehyung's never going to agree to do business with me." The man laughs and buries his head on your shoulder.

"You never know, he could be really into threesomes."

"Fuck! Don't joke about that." You claw at his back and surprise both of you with the unexpected clenching of your pussy.

"You're right, I take it back," he groans and continues to snap his hips. "Looks like he's not the one who wants a threesome after all, considering your body's response to the suggestion. You wanna ask him if he walks in?" He whispers in your ear and you're embarrassed that your cheeks burn at the thought.

Of course, Kim Taehyung was sexy and you've rehearsed to yourself dozens of times not to let yourself get any crazy ideas about him. Still, one unrequited love is enough for you; Taehyung wouldn't want a divorcee. You shake the train of thought before it has time to go any further. "Make me come, Kook. Need you to finish too. It's not just Taehyung who could walk in at any second."

Jungkook grunts and continues to thrust into you, bouncing you up and down his thick length as the desk shakes underneath you. He feels you getting closer and closer by the sporadic clenching of your walls squeezing him. A big part of him doesn't want this to end but it has to....he doesn't love you. He only wants to make you feel good before he has to say goodbye. Both of you come just before Namjoon calls your office phone, giving you a heads-up that Taehyung's about to enter your office.

Jungkook shoves his pants back on while you button up your blouse and fold over your skirt. You decided to shove your underwear in your bag with the lack of time. No one has any business digging in there anyway.

"How do I look?" You turn around to get a quick once-over from Jungkook but he's already out the door. Now the person standing in front of you is Kim Taehyung who has nothing but the most genuine smile.

"You look lovely as always Ms. __. I'm so sorry I'm late by the way. I feel terrible about it so I brought you these." Taehyung whips out a large bouquet of your favorite flowers. "Hope you don't mind that I did a little research on you ahead of time. I found out these have a special place in your heart."

You smile and accept the bouquet with thanks. As you set them on your desk, a messages comes through your phone. You manage to give a quick look.

Unknown Number: Sorry I had to duck so fast! I know it looked rude but Taehyung was already opening the door and you were dressed so I thought it'd be better if I left. Hope you're meeting goes well! And thanks for everything today ;) if you need anything, you have my number.

You flip your phone over and invite Taehyung to have a seat. Business is business, and you have to carry on even if your heart has completely sunk to the ground. Kim Taehyung is sweet anyway, so you'll enjoy his company.

Too bad you don't realize how much he enjoys yours as well.

a/n: so, yeah... there's a potential for our Jk to actually love oc and not realize it but either way he does care about her (despite the impulsive sex). And yes, taehyung likes oc... it's like a double unrequited love 😔 okay bye lmk what you think, thank you! 😘

Also, lmk what you think about jk in this poll!

masterlist

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

#jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #jungkook imagines #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #bts smut #bts angst #bts au #bts imagines #bts fanfics #bts x reader #fic:guiltypleasures #kookslastbutton

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rowenablade · 6 months

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Okay. I’m going to wait to do a second watch before I articulate most of my other feelings here, but I want to address one thing.

I’m seeing a lot of posts like, “I related to Izzy because I am also queer and older/disabled/depressed. By killing him off, the writers are saying that I deserve to die.”

Guys.

I’m not saying your feelings aren’t valid. I totally understand grieving a character that you relate to. But speaking as a writer, I just want to point out that trying to write with the shadow of “what is the absolute worst and most harmful way a reader can interpret this” will smother your ability to create. Twisting yourself in knots, trying to think up the worst-faith takes possible and scotch-guarding all your writing decisions against them is exhausting to the point of making you just not want to write anymore.

And we’ve seen the writers deliberately choose not to do this in Season 1. Remember all those terrible “Izzy is racist” takes that the writers and cast seemed completely blindsided by? That happened because the writers and directors and actors weren’t going over every scene with a fine tooth comb, ferreting out every shot or line of dialogue or micro expression that could possibly be interpreted as racist, and scrubbing it off. Because there comes a point where your story is what it needs to be, and you have to accept that some people will interpret it in ways you didn’t intend them to. And if you can’t accept that, you’ll never find the courage to put your work out there.

The point of diverse casts and writing teams isn’t to achieve a state of, “Nothing bad ever happens to a character from a marginalized demographic ever again.” It’s to achieve a status quo of these types of characters just being people in the world of the story. Not symbols, not representation boxes to tick, not tokens that you can point to so that you can say, “Here, we acknowledged this type of person exists, now where’s our woke points?”

OFMD is full of characters of color, queer characters, older characters, characters of differing body types. And in stories, things happen to characters. Some fall in love. Some make the same mistakes over and over. Some turn into birds. Some die.

Izzy’s character represents a lot of things, but he does not represent every older, disabled fan or fan who has struggled with suicide, any more than Jim represents all genderqueer fans, or Olu represents all black fans. That’s not how the writers were handling him. They were handling him like a character, because that’s what you have to do.

Again, I understand being sad. I am so, so fucking sad. But this idea of, “Any time something bad happens to a character I relate to means that the writer thinks I deserve these bad things to happen to me,” will poison everything you engage with eventually. Because stories are full of things happening to characters, and they won’t all be good things. And the more representation we get, the more often bad things will happen to characters we relate to.

But good things will happen too.

Queer couples get married. Disabled women run off with their favorite husbands. Middle-aged characters change careers. A multiracial polycule finds a home at sea. A fat man covered in tattoos stars in a drag show and all his friends cheer. All these things happened in the same show as Izzy’s death. This is what this world is.

Anyway. I know emotions are running high and I’ll probably get blocked or unfollowed by a few people for this. But I’m just trying to find my peace where I can, and if anyone else finds this useful, cheers.

#our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd s2 spoilers #izzy hands

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creatingblackcharacters · 1 month

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"It takes HOW LONG?" Black Hair is an Art (pt.2)

(This is part two of the hair lessons, focusing on writing/narratives. If you want to know how the styles LOOK, refer to part 1 and its addendum)

Now that you know what our hair actually looks like, we’re going to discuss incorporating that into your writing (original fic, fanfic, webcomics, anything with a narrative). You don’t HAVE to give us a dissertation on "how you studied 'The Black People’s Hair'" in your story. That’s not what I’m asking you to do. I’m just asking you to CONSIDER the effort and existence of it. The same way you put effort into discussing nonblack hair textures? Should be the sort of tenderness and care you put into discussing ours. It does not stand to reason that I have read thousands of stories describing "the silky, black/blonde tresses/waves that fell down their pale back as their lover ran their fingers through them", but Black readers have nothing of the sort to compare to without seeking our own authors out. Our hair deserves some loving and adoration too!

This is a very long post describing hairstyles and how they can correspond to your character's design and decisions, so I'll put a read more here. The sections are organized into 'Twist Out', 'Afros', 'Locs', 'Braids', 'Black Men', and 'Straight Hair' if you Ctrl F. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE take your time to read all of this at some point though, as I put a lot of resources and explanation into this. I'm trusting you!

The History

As I discussed in the last lesson, our hair is incredibly important to us, and part of that includes the vulnerability and trust that comes along with access to it. This is due to a long history of oppression. There’s a racist history of making Black women hide our hair, as if it would ‘tempt white men’ away, regardless of it were due to actual attraction or the (more likely) rape of Black women. There’s a racist history of touching our hair, as though we are animals or zoo exhibits. We aren’t just going to let anyone touch our heads, so DON'T write that, unless you are doing so to show that it is a microaggression towards your character. Even now, cultural appropriation is rampant. If I were to wear cornrows with hoops, it'd be seen as 'ghetto' or 'gang-like'. Meanwhile, it is a fashion statement for white women. When Miles G Morales showed up in Across the Spiderverse, animators specifically chose cornrows for him, but many people mistakenly took it to me that he was 'rougher and tougher' than the original Miles. This was a racist perception! Hearing the Fade get hyped up in the news as the 'Travis Kelce', when Black men and especially NFL players have been wearing it for DECADES to crickets... it hurts lmao. Point is, you can describe and respect Black hair without being racist about it. Okay? Okay.

Vulnerability

YOUR CHARACTERS NEED TO BE CLOSE BEFORE ALLOWING THEM TO TOUCH THEIR HAIR!!!

It needs to be someone they TRUST wholeheartedly. Again, do NOT let a stranger touch their hair unless it’s meant to be an uncomfortable situation!

Consider CONSENT! Consent is ALWAYS beautiful! Have your other characters (Black or not) ASK to touch your Black characters’ hair! And not in the ‘Oh can I touch it?’ way. But if they’re really close friends or dating, have them ask to help do their braids, or wash their hair, or even just to stroke their hair and face! Or if your Black character is injured with a head wound, and they have to tend to them, have them ask! The asking shows a level of care and respect for your Black character and their body! At any point the consent may be revoked, and that needs to be respected! If they let them tend their head wound, but then smack their hand away after, that’s not ‘rude’- they’re allowed to do that, especially to signify that they aren’t at that level of trust yet. That's still angsty!

One great example of love from a Black character is doing their partner’s hair, or allowing their partner to do their hair. The ‘Hair-washing’ fic is a common thing in fanfiction; we all understand how that shows the depth of the trust in the relationship between the characters. How would you write about that trust with a Black character, if you don’t know what goes into taking care of their hair? If you don’t even know what their hair looks or feels like? The lack of awareness will show, and what should be a beautiful, deep moment will fall flat for Black readers. I wrote one once for my character with locs, and it honestly made me tear up because I realized that I’d never seen one, at least not in the majority white spaces that the fandoms I was in were.

Think about it- how often have you read a hair-washing fic with a Black character? Was it accurate? Would you know if it was accurate? Have you spoken to or heard anyone Black in your fandom space talk about it? Do you know anyone Black in your fandom space to ask? It’s things like this that we have to consider!

If you have a character that is nonblack in a relationship with your Black character, that honestly reveals even more trust because there’s a long history (again) behind that NOT happening! In life, we can’t go to the same places. I can’t go to a white hair salon or barbershop. They won’t know what to do! People are allowed to go through hair school without learning how to work with different, thicker textures. It’s not right nor fair, but it’s a part of the casual, systemic racism in our lives.

My feelings on what Lestat symbolizes aside, the scene where he plays with Louis’ curls in AMC's IWTV was an intelligent way to show that closeness, and how a nonblack character would affectionately play with a Black character’s hair! How he works with the curl in his fingers, rather than trying to pet Louis or run his fingers through- it was an intelligent move on Sam and Jacob’s part as actors to understand that THAT’S how that would go down!

If you have a character that wants to show a violation of your Black characters’ space, touching/harming our hair is cruelty on a very personal level that will generate an extreme reaction.

Think About Your Character!

When thinking about your Black character’s hairstyle, you need to think about your character themselves! What do they do every day? What are their hobbies? Are they Type A, Type B personality? Do they have a lot of time? Are they always in a rush? Are they noncommittal? Are they self-conscious? Artsy? Serious? Are they in a time period where the means to care for their hair are limited?

People make jokes and comments about how Black women don’t like getting our hair wet and dismiss our concerns. But it’s not out of ‘silliness’ or vanity. What you consider ‘just hair’ may have taken days of planning in advance and HOURS of our time! We put a lot of thought and effort into our hair, and it will easily shatter the illusion for your Black readers if you describe our hair poorly or create an unlikely scenario with it. It’s not a joke!

Some Terms:

Protective styles- a style that allows our hair to ‘rest’ with minimal manipulation

‘Tender-headed’- some people’s scalps are more sensitive to the tightness of styles, so it’ll hurt a little bit more and require some more gentleness (Regardless it’s still going to hurt for a bit after a fresh style)

Bonnets- a silk/satin cap of varying lengths that we wear at night to protect our hair and keep the moisture in

Loc Sock- same idea, but for locs

Durag- keeps short haircuts protected; can even help create the wave pattern that many Black men enjoy

Scarf- same idea as the bonnets, except scarfs can be used specifically for straight hairstyles to wrap them up to keep it straight and neat

(It'll seem real legit if you include your Black characters wearing their headcoverings at night! I remember laughing while reading Twilight because I knew that if Edward snuck into my room at night, he'd see me in my scarf or bonnet lmao.)

General Hair Care:

While I don’t completely agree with some of the advertising in this first one (it’s the internet. Can’t go nowhere without someone trying to hawk something) it’s cool in general to explain how our hair looks the way it does.

If you have Black children OCs, it’s important to consider that their parents have to do their hair, and how that will be its own experience! (It can be very stressful for Black children to get their hair done, as it takes a long time and can be physically uncomfortable. There are plenty of stories of burnt ears and tugged tangles and not very nice old women. Children are children! Keep in mind how they may behave while getting the style of your choice.

Moisturizing to keep healthy

Twist Outs

Cute twist out styles

Twist outs are a style that takes overnight to hold, or maybe even a few days! The cool thing is that the twists themselves can be the style! So the tighter you want their curls to be, the longer they’ll wear the twists in. If you want to describe your character with tighter curls, there needs to be a section of time where their hair remains in the twists! If your character has an event, and they want twists… this needs to be done in advance. Your character will NOT untwist them the day of, unless they want weak, limp curls (or you want the scene to compose of them having weak curls).

How long they'll last depends on the activity of your character! If all they do is work a desk job, or they don’t sweat very much, the twists can last some time! But if they sweat, or wear hats or caps, it’s not going to last long. Maybe a week.

Pros: Very versatile! If you have a character that loves trying new looks and enjoy being spontaneous, twist outs are for them! Easy! If your Black character is younger, or haven’t done their hair before, this is a great way for them to start working with their hair! Doesn’t take long (to do)! If your character is in a rush, and they do their twists, they can go just about anywhere. If they’re not self-conscious, this will be just fine.

Cons: It cannot get wet again, or the style will puff up back into your natural texture. It does not last long enough to say “oh my character went on a two year long fantasy adventure with this style.” If you want your character to have a twist out the whole time, they’re going to have to take time to do it. It would be cool if you incorporate a scene where they’re working on their hair, maybe in the background while everyone’s discussing plans or something. Just a reminder that their hair isn’t just staying magically twisted (unless they have the magic to do that).

Afros

Afro Style Guide, Style Guide for Men (works for any gender though)

Wash & Gos are just that- wash it (or really, condition it, you don’t have to shampoo it every time) dry with a t-shirt (to prevent breakage), put some oil and a light crème on it, fluff it up and you’re good to go! Maybe an hour at max and can be done while getting dressed in the morning!

Pros: Easy! If they’re doing a full, combed out afro, it’s not as simple, it will take more time. And at night it has to be plaited so that it maintains its length, otherwise it will tangle. But other than that, that’s still not all that hard. They can show off their curls! Black characters can and should have pride in their hair. It’s beautiful. This is the opportunity that you as an author can describe the pure texture of their hair, how it shines in the light, how the coils look, how soft it is! Romanticize Black hair the same way you do anyone else’s!

Cons: None really! Afros are wonderful! Just make sure that your character has a way to keep their hair from getting tangled. Just because it’s easy doesn’t mean there’s no maintenance! A pick, a bonnet, oil and water go a long way!

Locs

Five stages of locs

A person who does locs is a loctician.

Can be palm-rolled or interlocked/crocheted

I cannot emphasize enough that you do not want just anyone doing their locs! They can really mess up someone’s hair if they don’t know what they’re doing. I say that to say, for your character, if they don’t trust the person doing their hair… they should. They should not be walking into anyone’s place to get their hair locked; they’d do research first.

The time it takes locs to ‘bud’ (that is, to actually form the loc) depends on the texture of their hair. But it can take up to 3 months to even a year for them to actually ‘loc up’. So if your character just got locs, they’re not going to look neat. They’re going to be frizzy.

As long as they’re washing their hair, keeping it moisturized, and not using wax products (DO NOT HAVE ANY BLACK CHARACTER USE WAX PRODUCTS IT IS BAD FOR BLACK HAIR) it’ll last forever! Locs are incredibly strong, especially the thicker they get! It is recommended that locs are retwisted every six weeks, but if your character has freeform locs, doesn’t have the money or time right now, or they just aren’t that pressed, they can grow indefinitely.

Something cute to write in your stories: sometimes locs do just… fall out. Not the whole thing! But the same way thin hair gets everywhere… sometimes the ends of thin locs just… fall off! You’ll find little buds on the ground. This happens especially in the budding stage.

Pros: Very low daily maintenance! At most they’ll need a bonnet or loc sock, and oil/water mix to spritz and massage in. Strong style that can hold any look- buns, curls, etc. They can be dyed, though it will take a long time to do so. I say that to say, if you want your character to have bright green locs, go for it!!

Cons: Low daily, but HIGH wash day maintenance! So if your character has a fancy date or something to go on, they should not be getting their hair retwisted the same day, or at least not so close to. It’s going to be shiny, oily, and tight, which can cause discomfort. Give them the day to let the hair settle!

Locs are PERMANENT!! This isn’t a bad thing, as much as it is a ‘KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING BEFORE YOU DO IT’ thing. Technically they can be combed out, but that would take a very long time and very precise effort, and most people aren’t going through all that. They’re just going to cut them off and start fresh. If you have a character that would balk at such a choice, locs aren’t for them. If you have a character that’s picky and choosy, that likes versatility, that can’t make up their mind, do NOT give them locs unless they’re making the conscious choice to commit. (Again, this is subjective! Maybe they have locs because their mother died and it reminds them of her! Okay! That works!) If you have a character that’s vain, or at least doesn’t like looking awkward… unless they’re going to style up the awkward stage, they’re not going to want locs. (Awkward stage: the first two stages get considered awkward because the locs look messy. This is because they’re turning from curls to locs!)

Braids

Styles

How long braids can take depend on the style. Box braids can take 10-12 hours to do! Microbraids? You HAVE to have multiple people or you'll be there for damn near a day (and that's assuming you have a masterful braider!)

How long they last depend on your character! If they're like me as a kid, I didn't care how I looked, so my mom got me cheap braids and let me run free for two summer months. So if your Black character is a carefree child! Go for it. But if they're a teen or adult (or are very concerned about how they look) a month to six weeks is about how long braids can stay in before your new growth shows. A character that is usually trimmed and proper having loads of new growth over their braids may symbolize that they don’t have it all together anymore.

Pros: Protective style! Great way to let your character have minimal daily maintenance; oil and water and something to cover it. SOME braided styles allow for high activity and even rain without changing. It depends on the hair that’s been braided in, as well as the style. Incredibly versatile! They can have multi-colored braids, long braids, short braids, beads, trinkets… if your character is creative and bubbly and likes to experiment, the sky is the limit! That can symbolize their artistic expression, just by describing what they look like! So long as they have the time, they can have any look and style they want. No need to commit too long.

If your character is capable of doing their own braids (and locs, btw), they’re amazing. Like… that’s mad respect for them. If you describe your character being able to do their own braids, they’ve got amazing arm strength, patience, and skill. That skilled dexterity can be revealed as a trait of theirs through that alone.

Cons: They take a LONG TIME. Your character is not going anywhere. If they’re getting braids… they’re not going anywhere. If you write your character doing anything fancy the day of, depending on the type of braids, Black readers are not going to believe you. Even if it did get finished, it would be very tight. I currently have a poll going on, and so far, a good majority of the 10+ answers are braids! It cost MONEY. It is NOT CHEAP to get braids done! If your character is poor as a church mouse, they will be doing those braids with their friend in front of youtube. Because it can be in the hundreds of dollars. (Don’t get me started on hair culture right now; BACK IN MY DAY IT COST-)

Hairstyles on Black Men

I want to specifically give space and applause to these hairstyles on Black men, because we REALLY don’t give Black men enough credit for all the creativity they show with their hair! And again, with The Killmonger being the choice style in all these damn vidya games despite almost no Black man I know choosing it as a look… PLEASE LOOK! WE HAVE OPTIONS! Try describing how gorgeous these looks can be on your Black men characters! It would be very nice.

Straight Hair

Well, I was going to explain, but ol ‘Guest Writer’ here pretty much lays it all out! So just go ahead and read this article lol.

Just to re-emphasize, straight hair is NOT something that just grows out of our head that way! It takes effort! So if you have a character that doesn’t feel like maintaining straight hair, they shouldn’t have it! If your character has natural hair and lives in a rainy or humid city, they’re going to be fighting that weather to keep it straight- make sure that’s consistent with their personality!

My best friend used to wash and flatiron her hair every day. Like, laser focused on looking that good, Type A shit (she’s a top money banker now, so I guess it worked out). If you have a character like that, it’s fine! If they’re lazy any other time of the day, they’re not suddenly going to be waking up at 5am to flat iron their hair. It’s not consistent.

Conclusion

That’s pretty much what I have! I’m not the guru on all things Black hair, and I obviously cannot encompass every potential scenario you may have for your characters. Really, my intention here is to get you to think about how our hair reflects our character and personalities, and how when you write and/or draw a Black character, you have that ability! And when you’re able to incorporate that naturally, it makes your Black readers feel seen, like you actually cared about that character enough to give them just as much description as your nonblack characters. You don’t have to be a master at it! Just… occasionally the little things that we can go ‘oh, yeah!’ at would be nice. An equivalent effort would be nice.

Remember, it’s the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!

#creatingblackcharacters #black hair #black art #black characters #character design #black writers

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charmedreincarnation · 8 months

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My sucess story

Trigger Warning: Abusive, homophobia, mentions of suicide

Hey there, Maya! I just had to take a moment and express my appreciation for all the fantastic posts you put out. I can now confirm, without a shadow of a doubt, that shifting is real, manifesting is real, and so is the void. Our desires and ambitions aren't in vain.

I've been part of the shifting community since 2020 when it exploded on TikTok. It might not matter much, but as a gay man, I rarely saw other guys in the community (though Reddit and Amino have a more diverse crowd). I've always felt more comfortable in women-centric spaces because they tend to be less judgmental.

I never saw success stories from guys, especially the kind I wanted to see - like waking up in a new world, not just manifesting money or a girlfriend (or boyfriend in my case >.<). I've always been spiritual and interested in witchcraft, voodoo, deities, and now manifesting and shifting. But it felt like nothing would let me shift.

Growing up with homophobic and physically abusive parents, struggling with poverty, depression, homelessness, anxiety, suicidal thoughts, and more, I began to feel like you could only manifest and shift if your life was okay. I didn't have the luxury of time or safety to practice methods, constantly dealing with noise, verbal abuse, or physical violence.

Then, I read this post

https://www.reddit.com/r/shiftingrealities/comments/14v4lw3/how_to_shift_the_next_time_you_go_to_sleep/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=ioscss&utm_content=2&utm_term=1

It led me to your Tumblr because OP used some of your old posts and talked about the concept of the void. All searched lead to tumblr. A couple of months ago (2.5 ish) after one of the worst days of my life, I went to bed sobbing, trying to block out the noise around me, praying and crying for anything - death, shifting, a new identity...

Everything around me started to fade - it was as if I was being engulfed by a white, serene blanket of nothingness. It was completely silent, and I couldn't see or feel anything. The only thing that seemed to persist was my awareness.

Now, I've read about the void before, but mostly in the context of it being a black, empty space. So, I'm not entirely sure if what I experienced was indeed the void or something altogether different. The concept still baffles me a bit, but I'm learning and growing through these experiences.

Regardless of where I was, my heart was set on reaching my dr.I kept praying and hoping, to wake up in my DR.

I woke up in my Twitch streamer DR! I found myself in a completely unfamiliar yet perfect place. My room was equipped with a high-end PC, top-notch gaming gear, and quaint decor items. Milo, my dog, was there too. I was sharing a mansion in LA with my boyfriend and four other streamers. The house was beyond my imagination, and streaming here was a dream come true. As night fell, my friends and I explored the vibrant LA nightlife, creating lasting memories.

After a week, i can’t lie I almost forgot I had shifted here. Then, I set an intention to shift back into this reality but where I had moved out, lived with my best friend and their supportive parents, mastered shifting and manifesting, had my desired looks, and money came easily to me. And it worked!

Since then, I've been living my best boujee gay life, and I shift all the time. I even created a waiting room where I'm immortal and use it whenever I need a break. I wish I could offer better advice, but like everyone says, there isn't a key to shifting. It's different for everyone. But you can and will shift. You can manifest your dream life. You can and deserve to be happy

Oh my god, I'm so happy for you, love 💕💕. I also completely related to what you felt. I know it can seem like your circumstances are holding you back, but believe me when I say this - that couldn't be further from the truth.

It's that same resilience, and your ability to persist despite the odds, that paved the way to your dream life. There’s nothing, I mean nothing that can stop you. Not wavering, crying, or doubt. Nothing. If you want it, it’s yours.

#law of assumption #manifesation #manifesting #void state #reality shifting #shiftblr #void success

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callsignvenomcod · 4 months

Text

a soft life

Prompt: Retired! Simon Riley. A slow life in a Manchester farm.

warning: mentions of PTSD, mentions of cartel related violence, mentions of violence, MDNI.

PS: Opening line is from the book "Jarhead" (2001) by Anthony Swofford.

______________________________________________________________

A story.

A man fires a rifle for many years, and he goes to war. And afterwards he returns the rifle in at the armory, and he believes he's finished with the rifle. But no matter what else he might do with his hands, love a woman, build a house, change his son's diaper; his hands remember the rifle.

Sometimes he could still hear the bullets.

For a long time, it was hard to convince himself he deserved to grow old. It might have been a given fact to some other people but not for those in the military, not for Ghost, at least; not after Tommy and Beth, or Las Almas or Johnny. It took him a lot of time to be grateful to be almost 40. For several reasons, he never saw himself living past 20.

And now he was opening up the crates of the chickens he kept in his very own farm, a piece of land he actually owned, without a mask on, very far away from the bullet sounds and a barrack, from the mud and the camo, away from everything and everyone, not sound in the horizon but the chickens and Riley, the border collie dog he got, barking at a three somewhere in the distance.

He retired the summer he turned 40, there was a ceremony and everything, with Laswell and Price and he got more chest candy that would eventually end up in a wooden chest, never to be seen again, under the bed. There wasn't a reason, he just had to. He was in his prime, physically, but his mind was made of glass lately, everything rubbed him the wrong way, couldn't even train recruits without snapping too hard at them, making them quit, yell at them too much, scare them too much, beat them up to a pulp too much.

Every man in the military had a story. A life before, a life after. And in the middle, sand, or mud, or just camo. A war that last years, a mission that lasts hours. Silence and nosie.

He, like other recruits, like other Sergeants, Lieutenants, Colonels, had shadows over them. It took months for him to stop looking over his shoulder while doing the big shop on a sunday, started going to those overnight groceries store to shop alone instead. The butcher's reminded him both of his adolescence and the carnage he had caused, flinched whenever he saw a mohawk kid walking down the street, looked twice sometimes only to find a stranger.

Sometimes he could still hear the bullets, aye.

He turned in his paperwork and retired silently with lots of medals under his name, lots of dead men and probably women under his knife, missing friends, missing nerves and too scarred to be a model now. Ha.

Oh, and Y/N's wanted to get away at some point anyway.

Y/N. The last drink he never should have had, the cut that made him hide his face, and the party that made him feel his age. Pulp's words, not his. All it took was a few nights shopping at the Tesco she was working in as a cashier, late night shift, for them to become acquainted.

A year of mutual pinning, a single night in which Y/N placed the bourbon bottle and the batteries inside of the paper bag and looked up at Simon, change in hand (because he paid in cash always, no traces behind) and smiled at him. COVID had made it easier to transition from the skull balaclava to a medical mask and then to a bare face, so Simon looked at her behind the black medical mask and stared at her while she opened her mouth.

-Why do bees have sticky hair?

Simon blinked, looking down at her. -Pardon?

No line behind him. It was the first time the cashier talked to him other than "Goodnight" and "Drive safe", or "It will be 5.66, please". There was a faraway sound of some sort of 80's American pop music, something to pass time by. Simon had noticed her since the first time he came into this very same Tesco a few months ago, had noticed how she sang along whatever music was on, how her Tesco blue uniform looked too big on her, making her look insanely small and slinky. He noticed how she was always almost without a medical mask and whenever she used it, it was laced around her chin; he noticed short, clean nails, and a heart necklace over her chest, a pair of dazzling dove eyes, full hips, a belly.

He really noticed the full hips.

The girl fucking giggled and repeated. She must had a bit of Irish in her judging by the sound of her accent. Simon felt as awkward as a teenage boy in front of any girl ever -Why do bees have sticky hair?

The man shook his head, still confused, a quid in his hand.

-Because they use a honeycomb.

Ah, a woman after his own heart. Such a lame joke.

He snorted out a laugh.

It simply slipped and he memorized the name tag before grabbing his shopping bag and shaking his head, hearing her giggle behind him as he exited the store, and he came back two days later after convincing himself he needed two jars of red bean jam instead of the usual one.

Sometimes he could still hear the bullets.

And now she sleeps here; and Simon had stared at her sleeping form wondering how much time it would take for her to start hating his way of loving, of being, how many times he would go silent on the phone, a bad texter, a worst caller, how he hated crowded places and loud noises and most of their dates happened in her flat, when her roommate was out, staring silently at a film on TV, her friends thinking she's getting her brains fucked out by an experienced, older, lust thirst Vet when in reality, Ghost was gathering up the courage to wrap his arm around her shoulders.

And now she sleeps here.

In the crook of his neck, his thigh over his hip, wild hair all over the bed, sometimes inside his mouth because he stopped using a mask a while ago.

In the mornings, tangled in their bed, warm sheets, the soft breeze of Riley sleeping under the bed, her sweet sweat and vanilla scented skin under his, it took Simon a few seconds to realize he was sleeping in the company of someone; in the arms of a woman and in his own bed, a king size bed with soft white sheets that were washed and changed every 5 days, not a twin bed in a barrack, that his years of active service were over, not forgotten, as if, but that he could allow himself to become whatever he might end up becoming if the 141 didn't happened.

-Come here, boy. Come here, Riley. Yeah, yeah...- said Simon scrunching down to caress right behind Riley's ear, the dog sticking out his long tongue and barking of joy mixed with the hyper sense of his breed, the soldier being careful not to break the eggs he held in a small basket. Simon had found him a puppy a few months ago, seemed like years really, in a litter box with 6 of his brothers and sisters, a beat-up cardboard sign reading "For adoption." And Simon picked up the only one with a lazy ear. He knew deep down that Y/N would appreciate that and simply put him in the passenger seat of the black Bronco truck he owned and drove all the way back home. -You're up early, eh? You having breakkie with us?

He had fallen into a comfortable routine now. He would wake up, crawl over Y/N's sleeping figure, careful not to wake her with the crack of dawn, 5AM with the BBC on his headphones, a 6'2 shadow jogging through the hills of the outskirts of Manchester, for an hour only the dark of the road, the eventual baby blue of the sky, the warmth of the sun. Sometimes Riley was up for it, sometimes he stood behind cuddled up in their room. And upon his return he would work out in their driveway for another hour, noticing the growing presence of what the media now called a "Dad Bod" (Y/N's words, not him) and eventually hearing soft barefoot steps coming from the room.

There was tea for two before he had to head out, get some tasks done, and a soft kiss hanging from Y/NS plush lips, and he would always try to push it, try his luck. He would smile against it, whispering "Good morning..." with a lazy voice, hands on Y/N's full hips, kneading them, in need of them, and Simon would press up with hard on against her stomach, while deepening the kiss.

It never failed to make her wet. It never failed to make her forget the kettle on the fire for a minute and simply give into his kiss, his embrace; him, overall. Simon would pick her up, easily, laid her on the counter, and her robe would open for him, with or without his help, and she was always so wet for him, so ready to do it.

-Simon...- she will say. - Breakfast...

And he wasted no time into twisting her words, dropping to his knees as if he was in the presence of a saint, of a virgin, of the end of the world, staring at her glistening cunt first thing in the morning, looking up with the adoration she deserved; she would gulp and argue it was not what she meant but she would recoil and whimper when Simon stuck his tongue inside his cunt anyway, overlapping her folds, blissfully eating her out before the sun was completely out.

The dog kept barking all the way down to the house, past the barn and the driveway, the small stable with the one horse they had, the pen he was building to eventually own sheep, and Simon felt the cold breeze of the early morning seeping through his black knit sweater and his jean jacket, as he walked all the way across the grass fields and into his porch, the swinging chair Y/N liked to read in, in a need of a reparation.

-Right...- he whispered to himself seeing the hammer he left outside to remind himself to fix the damn chair, bloody hell. Riley's nose peeked through the front door, opening it with ease and technique allowing themselves in, and the cold of the outside world was quickly gone.

Simon stepped into a cozy home, with a color palette he would have never picked, all warm yellows and oranges, pinks and whites, and soft cushions, warm blankets, a picknick turntable in the coffee table; and music, soft music he didn't recognize coming from it, a spinning record on it with yellow and pink lyrics, a girl signing about a loved one, and another voice, a present one, horribly trying to sing along.

He snorted out a laugh when Riley started barking and the voice was interrupted abruptly.

-Simon?...- Radio silence. -Babe?

Oh, the sound of his name in her mouth.

He crossed his living room, stepping into the kitchen, holding four eggs in a small bowl, one from each hen they owned, and he stood in the door frame, just a tad taller than him, admiring the view. He had endured white missions in the Russian winter, literal months of the gruesome torture and gory tasks and they all suddenly made sense because there was a girl.

Ah, there was a girl, alright.

Today was English breakfast. No peas for him, no sausages for her. It was stereotypical but easy to make and no one was around to judge them anyway. Next house was a few miles down the road, and even the road was far away, the town was a 30-minute ride. It was their little bit of heaven. The man stepped in, handing her the basket like every other day and kissed her temple, as she grilled some tomatoes slice ups leaning back against him. His hands would find her hips again and she would yawn with intimacy, hair still a mess, thighs still sticky. -Teas on the table, love. It's gone get cold.

-Ah, it's alright...- he said, hugging her tightly, as she kept leaning on him. -Slow morning today, eh...

She had been there and stuck around whenever the PTSD started acting up. She was the one that loved him when he started going fucking mental; and stuck around when she found her burning up SAS gear, a lost look in his eyes as he did so. He would throw in a Ghost mask and watch it burn for a moment, before murmuring a shocked sob and reaching out into the flames to retrieve it. She stuck around while he drank too much bourbon sitting on the porch, skull mask on, his dogs' tags held so tightly his knuckles will go white with force. Y/N even stuck around when the nightmares came, and she would wake up to Ghost whimpering on his side of the bed, breaking a cold sweat, his jaw tight and her brows furrowed, screaming out "Johnny! Johnny!" before waking up in tears, in raged hot tears down his cheeks, short of breath, his head a full of bullet noises and sirens wailings, pictures of his team and the blood and the grease paint. A mess. A shaking shadow.

Every October 11, she will make sure to hold him a little tighter, kiss him a little softer, love him, if it was possible, a little louder.

And she was here now, cooking breakfast, no peas for him; now he was living a soft life, with tea every morning, and a dog named Riley, with soft hands that wondered around his chest whenever he thought about Soap too much, about Gaz and that helo. But she was here now, and she had no sausages today, as they sat down on their small chair in their small kitchen in their small farm. He was living a soft life, and he didn't think of himself as worthy of it, but he must have been done something good to have her cooking breakfast and sleeping in their bed and caressing their dog under the table.

Tomorrow, Ghost would ask her to come out to the porch to find her reading swing fixed and a wedding ring.

She's going to say yes.

He didn't heard the bullets anymore.

_____________________________________________________________

Hello! Venom here.

Thank you so much to anyone that's been liking my story.

Happy 2024!

#simon riley #cod headcanons #cod mw2 x reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty smut #cod x reader #cod #simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #cod mwii #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #ghost cod #modern warfare #mw2

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icyg4l · 1 month

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Pick-A-Girl Group: What Purpose Do the Women In Your Life Serve?

Continuing on with my Women’s History Month series, I am going to do a reading on how the women in your life feel about you and the effect of these feelings. I am going to be using the True Heart Tarot Deck and the Archetype Oracle Deck. These readings are supposed to uplift, relate to and inspire women so I hope they serve their purpose. I Without further ado, please pick your pile. 🫶

***Disclaimer: Regardless of your gender identity, the women that are in your life deserve to be celebrated as long as they have pure intentions. Much love. 🩷

Left-to-Right (1-4):

Pile One: If you resonate with the image of FLO, then you deserve the whole fucking world. Pile One, the women in your life absolutely adore you. You probably resonate with the song’s theme: recognizing beauty in yourself when everyone is against you, specifically as a black woman. You have come such a long way. The women that are currently in your life have seen you make mistakes and allowed you to do so. They recognize your evolution. A lot of you have a best friend who you’ve been friends with for a long time and she is so proud of you. She is proud of the person that you have become. This pile has some cheerleaders around them. I feel like the women in your life are meant to take inspiration from what you are going through right now. I think that you may be going through your redemption arc.You’re forgiving yourself for a lot of things that you’ve done in the past. The women in your life see that and are following suit. After all, living life does mean not being a robot. These women who are around you are all ears, very receptive to what it is that you are doing with your life. You’re like their Oprah, lol. If you have a story to tell, share it with her. She may need to hear it. I channeled the show: Beyond Scared Straight; specifically the parts where the prisoners talk to the kids about their life stories and the reasoning for why they should not end up in jail. I feel like you could be someone’s mentor, whether they’re younger or the same age as you, perhaps even older. You are someone’s Reesa Teesa too, lol. I get the feeling that you need to be talking about yourself, Pile One. There is an audience full of women who are willing to hear you out and listen. When I pulled from the oracle deck, I got the following cards:

God: Benevolence and compassion. Recognizing the eternal force within yourself and others/Despotism and cruelty. Using power to control people

Mother: Nurturance, patience, unconditional love. Joy in giving birth to life/Smothering or abandoning children. Instilling guilt in children for becoming independent.

Poet: Expresses soul insights in symbolic language/Turns a lyric gift to negative or destructive effect.

Cards Used: 2 of Swords, 4 of Discs, 9 of Cups, Prince of Wands (RX), King of Discs, Four of Cups, Temperance.

Pile Two: If you resonate with the photo of Destiny’s Child, you got some ride or dies around you for real. I think that you’ve been through hell and back with the women in your life and they do not play about you. I think the women in your life want you to know that you are so worth it. I’m not going to lie Pile Two, it sounds like you’re in a toxic love situation and your girls want you out of it. Your friends, cousin or little sister could have told you that you need to exit stage left multiple times. They absolutely believe you deserve better. Hypothetically speaking, If y’all fell out today and an emergency happened tomorrow, they would be on the way to the hospital. I feel like family is so important to you. They feel like you’ve forgot about them but I don’t think that you have. Circumstances make it difficult for you all to see eye-to-eye. The women in your life want you to know that you are not alone. They will forever be there for you no matter what, even if you have lost your damn mind. These challenging times will make the bond between you and these women stronger. When I pulled from the oracle deck, I got the following cards:

Artist: Expressing a dimension of life that is beyond the five senses. Inspiring others to see life symbolically / Using talent as an excuse to mistreat others. Posing as the Starving Artist to elicit pity.

God: Benevolence and compassion. Recognizing the eternal force within yourself and others / Despotism and cruelty. Using power to control people

Goddess: The feminine expressed through wisdom. Nature, life force, and sensuality / Exploitation of the female nature and form

Cards Used: Ace of Discs, 9 of Swords, Princess of Cups (RX), Prince of Discs, The Hierophant, Princess of Discs, 4 of Cups (RX), The Devil (RX), 10 of Cups.

Pile Three: If you resonate with the photo of TWICE, you got the grandmother spirit around you. Did you grow up in the church? Or at least with a god-fearing grandmother? I feel like the women in your life hate to see you unhappy and this is what you’re feeling right now. I think that you may be uninspired/unfulfilled with what life is giving you right now. It’s not an uncommon feeling. But smiling can make all the difference. The women in your life want to see you smile, make you smile and laugh. They want to be there for you like how your grandmother was. No one will ever replace Granny but her presence is always there. You may be questioning God/your higher powers because of something that deeply affected you. But the women around you want you to not feel ashamed or want you to feel like they are judging you. They have been in the same predicament. They only want to see you get better. They hate to see you like this. It may be hard to do this but look at the glass half full, rather than half empty. They want you to get back to yourself, the version of you that isn’t defeated. When I pulled from the oracle deck, I got the following cards:

Child: Nature: Friendships with animals. Communication with nature spirits / Tendency to abuse animals, people and the environment.

Destroyer: Releasing what is potentially destructive. Preparing for new life / Intoxication with destructive power. Destroying others’ dreams or potential.

Child: Magical: Seeing the potential for sacred beauty in all things. The belief that everything is possible / Pessimism, depression and disbelief in miracles. Believing that energy and action are not required for growth.

Cards Used: The Devil, Princess of Cups, The Star, Judgment, The Moon, Temperance, Seven of Swords.

Pile Four: And lastly, if you resonated with the photo of the Spice Girls, you seem very sensual. Are you a SWer? Do you attend pole dancing classes for fun? Do you know someone who does either of these things? I feel like the women in your life appreciate how physical you are. You’re probably an artist and you're sensitive about your shit too. The women in your life feel as though you have a lot of talents. You’re very multifaceted and they love to brag about it, especially the older women. You could been the cousin who had to show off the latest dance move. So as a result, you became the leader of the pack. You can be naturally nurturing but it can drain you. The women around you feel like you need to put up some boundaries so that you can still worry about you. They respect your quality of being a giver, but do you even respect yours-[GUNSHOT]. There is a woman that you are close to that admires a quality that you hate. She compliments it any chance she can get because she wants to uplift you. I feel like people always try to touch you, whether it’s your hair, your arms, or even your butt. The women around you could immediately shut it down or call them out or defend it. They want to protect your innocence. Even though you are grown, you have that ingenue within you. They know how you can get (especially while under the influence) so they refuse to let you get that way. When I pulled from my oracle deck, I got the following cards:

Servant: Delight in serving others with a free and loving heart / Using the lack of money as an excuse not to move forward with life

Bully: Highlights your tendency to intimidate others. Helps you confront the inner fears that bully you / Conceals deep fears behind verbal or physical abuse.

Hedonist: Inspires creative energy to embrace the good things in life. Celebrates the beauty in yourself / Pursues pleasure to the detriment of health. Indulges at the expense of others.

Cards Used: The Star, The Lovers, Judgment, The Emperor, 7 of Cups, 10 of Swords, Ace of Cups, The Moon, 8 of Cups (RX).

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chrollosbm · 5 months

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Sunflower Fields: a Choso Love Story Chapter Eleven

art cr: shijoula on x

You're broken from a past relationship, thinking you only deserve the worst. Choso comes along, making you realize you deserve the world and more. Will your ex-boyfriend let you go without a fight? (Choso x black!reader, yandere Choso)

Previous Chapters

pls support me on ao3, it would mean the world to me

Choso was currently standing cluelessly in a bar he’d never frequented, let alone heard of, in a pile of bodies with people he would never, ever, even associate with. The place was full of obvious college students who’d just hit the legal drinking age, or were either too young to be in a bar in the first place. The bouncer seemed sketchy to begin with, barely checking IDs as he chatted up younger women who were barely adults. He felt gross, gross to be standing in here as the air was muggy, it smelled like it hadn’t been cleaned in ages, and the music was absolutely terrible.

But, he was doing this for you. This small, crowded establishment that was driving him insane was right across the street from the far more luxurious club you were in. Thank God. He felt like he would have a heart attack if he knew you were in attendance of this low class bar, knowing you were way better than this.

Choso couldn’t even spend five minutes in this setting before he realized he couldn’t take much longer, so with great effort, he pushed through the sea of bodies and made his way outside, to the front of the trashy spot where he found a vacant bench to sit on. He sighed as he sat down, legs sprawled out in a manspread position, annoyed with his plan to begin with. He could’ve just done this from the start, as he had a clear view of the club from here, although it was more risky as there was a higher likelihood of him being caught by you. He deemed it worth the risk though, as he only wanted to protect you. You would understand that, right?

A feminine voice snapped Choso from his thoughts. “Mind if I sit with you?” The voice said, and he turned his head to find a pale woman with long brown hair, dressed in club attire, a cigarette hanging from her mouth, waiting for his answer.

He simply shrugged, not bothering to change his position to make room for the stranger. He couldn’t bring himself to pay attention to anything but the surroundings of the establishment you were in. The streets were filled with loud, drunk people, the night’s lights were bright and sounds of laughter, screaming, and music filled the air. Choso hated it. He hated the amount of people, the noise, the smell, everything. Once again though, he was out here doing this for you, to stand guard, to be sure you wouldn’t come into harm whatsoever.

The scent of cigarette smoke and vanilla filled Choso’s lungs as the strange woman sat down next to him, taking another puff of the cancer stick, the aroma surprisingly not foul smelling. He had immersed in smoking as a teen as part of his rebellious phase, only stopping because of the growing dent in his pockets due to the habit. He never picked it up again after that, as he knew it was bad for his health, and he didn’t want his younger brothers to pick up the habit as well.

A hand holding out a pack of said cigarettes was now in his view, distracting him from his surveillance on you. “You smoke?” She asked, offering him one.

Choso turned to look at her and shook his head. “Not anymore.” He answered, taking one anyway, actions contradicting his words.

The woman gave a chuckle and pulled out a lighter to light the cigarette currently hanging from Choso’s full lips, before taking one final drag of hers, tossing it carelessly in the already littered street afterwards.

“I’m Shoko.” She said, monotone laced in her voice, and Choso mentally rolled his eyes.

Not his type. Not you.

“And I’m not interested.” Choso responded, not caring about the clear lack of manners he was giving to this stranger that was kind enough to offer something of her possession to him, something he was currently relishing in. He could physically feel the stress lifting from his body with each inhale, suddenly feeling less tense about the entire situation. He had a full view of the entrance and exit to the club, so he would know when you left. He needed to relax.

Her loud laugh interrupted Choso’s thoughts and he cringed, annoyed at the volume of her roar. You were the only one whose voice he loved hearing at that amplification. “Oh, relax.” The woman he now knew as Shoko’s voice was still filled with humor and he wanted to leave immediately. He didn’t want to entertain this conversation any longer.

“I’m not trying to get into your pants. Yours has something in it that I’m not too particularly fond of.” Her face read disgust as she looked the man up and down, a smirk on her face as she reached his eyes again.

Choso’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, suddenly feeling a twinge of guilt for his bluntness a few seconds ago. A twinge.

“My bad.” He said, casually, exhaling the smoke from his lips with an ‘o’ shape, away from the woman’s stature, a small smirk remaining on his face from the tranquility of his old habit and the fact he’d just mistaken the woman next to him for flirting with him. It happened pretty often that he rejected others, so it was just a habit, not cockiness at all. He tossed the still-lit stick into the road, mocking Shoko’s previous action. “I’m just used to rejecting women is all.”

It was her turn to shoot her brows up in shock at his statement and she folded her arms and placed one leg over the other, bouncing it up and down, her knee-high boots moving in the air. “Cocky bastard, I see.” She let out nonchalantly, causing Choso to let out a genuine laugh at her boldness before she continued. Who the hell was this crazy woman? “I think we’re gonna be friends.” She finished with a smile and he tilted his head in confusion.

Friends? Choso didn’t really have friends, more like acquaintances, coworkers, and you. His brothers were his friends, but he knew that didn’t really count. He didn’t really trust anyone enough to have close companions, afraid that everyone ended up leaving, anyway. The man had always struggled with that part of himself, as he of course had some fear that you could leave him at some point. He of course wouldn’t let that happen, like he’d pondered before, he would die before that dilemma occurred. Choso was afraid of what he would do if you expressed or gave off any sort of disinterest in him, knowing he wouldn’t let you go, no matter what he had to do to stop you from leaving him.

As scary as the thought was, he knew he would take drastic measures to make sure you stayed his, even if that meant corrupting some of the morals he wasn’t even sure he had.

He needed you and you needed him. You two were going to be connected, forever.

“So, what are you doing out here all alone?” Shoko asked, calming his sinister line of thinking. Choso stared blankly at her, not sure exactly what to say. He couldn’t just outright say he was tracking you, keeping tabs on you even though you weren’t aware of his actions. That would come off as stalker-ish. Choso wasn’t a stalker, he just wanted to confirm your well-being. “I’m meeting an old friend. Although, it is getting kind of late for my liking.” She let out breezily with a sigh when Choso didn’t answer quickly enough, and he mentally sighed, knowing he wasn’t in the spotlight anymore.

He quickly composed himself at her statement before responding, taking a piece of his makeshift bang from his signature buns to twirl in his fingers, feigning nonchalance. “Oh nice. A girl?” He smirked at her and she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“Boy, do I wish! Just going clubbing with one of my friends from high school. Haven’t seen him in a while and he’s been going through it because of his ex or some shit.” She shrugged. “Oh, I think that’s him now!” Her voice was filled with enthusiasm as she pointed to the familiar man walking down the street and Choso couldn’t believe his fucking luck.

Walking only twenty feet from him, was Suguru fucking Geto. The man who broke your heart more than once, cheated on you, betrayed you, stalked you.

Suguru was stopped in front of Choso before he knew it, a cocky expression on his features, looking down at the sweet woman he was meeting for the night. “She bothering you?” He asked Choso jokingly, obviously having no idea who he was and it took every fiber in Choso’s being not to knock him out on sight. Choso was livid, he knew it by the heat inside his body, no matter how freezing it was outside, it felt like a hot summer day by the way he was sweating. His knuckles were paler than usual with the way he was clenching his fists, ready to swing at any given moment. He couldn’t though. How would he explain this to you? He just so happened to be at a bar across the street from the club he knew you would be at? No, you wouldn’t believe that for a second. You were too damn smart for your own good.

Wait a minute. How did Suguru know you were here?

“Okay then…” Choso’s eyes snapped to the man as he spoke when Choso didn’t answer, knowing his face read nothing but pure hatred from the sudden unnerving aura in the air. “Let’s go, Shoko. This guy’s a fuckin’ weirdo.” Suguru continued and Choso absolutely lost it at the man’s bravery, obviously having absolutely no clue who he was dealing with.

Choso let out a disgusted scoff before standing to his feet quickly, choosing to land mere inches from your stalker’s face. “That’s fucking hilarious coming from you.” Choso’s words came out venomous, wicked really, as he looked him in his eyes, standing tall and proud, not caring how confused the man before him seemed.

“The fuck…” Choso heard from the bench where Shoko sat, obviously bewildered at the observation before her, head flicking from left to right. “You know my friend?” Her question was directed at Choso, who ignored her inquisition.

Suguru was clearly disoriented at the man before him’s menacing spirit, completely thrown off guard at his statement. “Yo, I don’t know who the hell you are, but back the fuck out of my face.” He moved closer to Choso, words contradicting themselves, chest equally as buff, almost touching his, with a haunting look plaguing his features, one that would’ve scared the average man. The being you were dealing with was not your average man though, Choso was a lot of things, he had a lot of positive traits that included caring, protective, kind, and intelligent, but there was a demented side to him, a side that contained vile-like behavior, vengefulness, manipulation, and acrimony. It only showed when he or a loved one was threatened or hurt, and as said before he tried to keep it under wraps, it wasn’t a side he wanted you to ever see.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Choso asked, cutting to the chase. Fuck the BS, he needed to know why he was here, about to attend the club you were currently in, celebrating your birthday. He continued when Suguru’s face quickly filled with skepticism. “You here for her? On her birthday?” Choso nodded his head across the street and not soon after, all the blood seemeed to rush from Suguru’s face.

When silence filled the air, nothing to be heard but their shallow breaths, Choso’s heaving getting louder by the second, Shoko cut in, finally seeming to catch on pretty swiftly. “Oh, you did not bring me here to help you stalk your ex-girlfriend, did you?!” She asked the gobsmacked man before Choso, who still had nothing to say. “Answer me right now, Suguru Geto!” Her voice came out, forcefully and the man she was speaking to’s jaw clenched tightly, obviously caught in his seemingly master plan.

“You her new boyfriend or something?” Suguru spat at Choso, ignoring his concerned friend who threw her arms up in defeat, before fuddling in her leather jacket to grab her pack of cigarettes, muttering something about her “friend” being shitty as usual. Choso would have to agree, maybe even taking it further to describe him as something far more cruel.

Choso smirked at him, almost laughing in the man’s face at his apparent stress. “All that matters is that you aren’t. She’s done with you. While you’re busy still pining after her, stalking her, she’s moved on, very happily at that.” Rage suddenly filled Suguru’s eyes, a burning fire seemingly in them as Choso continued, loving the way he was riling the man up with just words.

—--

The scene across the street from the club you were in, completely oblivious to the situation, was a sinister one. But, you were inside, trying to have the time of your life, but seemingly not being able to for a few reasons.

Number one: Andrea left quite some time ago. As usual, she could not handle her liquor. Before you all left the pregame at your apartment, she was already off her ass. She then proceeded to order three rounds of tequila shots, one after another, before she bolted off to the bathroom, prompting your older sister to run after your best friend, who was almost equally as drunk, but kept it under wraps with her super responsible oldest sister powers, as she called it. They didn’t spend too long in said restroom until Kento was waltzing into the establishment, an irked and distressed look covering his features. He took her home shortly after, but not before sending money for an Uber, since he was supposed to be your ride home. He sent more than needed, but you knew it was because he felt so horrible about the situation.

Number two: Not only did your best friend get absolutely hammered, but so did your younger sister. She drank more than Andrea, at both your apartment and the nightclub, but she seemed to overestimate her tolerance, as she was currently leaning on your older sister for support, still trying to dance, without any success.

Number three: There was something nagging in the back of your head. You didn’t know what, but since arriving, you felt…watched. It was like someone’s eyes were never leaving you and since around the time Andrea left, it got worse, making you feel almost naked. Your paranoia had driven you to search for the reason why you felt so uneasy, trying to lock eyes with the predator, but failing miserably. This was bothering you more than anything else, more than the people in your company irritating you greatly, which was a damn lot.

Your thoughts were interrupted when your older sister, your saving grace, and the only person not causing high emotion in you, Valerie, called your name in concern. You snapped your head to her to find her attempting to hold up your suddenly very drowsy younger sister, Opal, causing you to have those same powers your older sibling claimed to have, sobering up completely to help the youngest out of the club immediately.

Today was not a good day to wear high heels, with them being at least four inches tall and skinny, making it incredibly hard to help guide the grown woman out the night spot. You managed though, with the help of a security who came to save the day.

You were all now sitting outside on the curb, waiting for the Uber Valerie called while you were still inside, only to find out it was twenty whole minutes away. It was almost freezing outside and with your choice of attire consisting of a skimpy black dress that stopped at your mid-thigh, those heels that were open-toed, and only a fur coat that seemed to be your only intelligent choice of clothing on your body, you could not wait that long. You had half a mind to call Choso, but you knew it would probably take him that long to arrive anyway, plus he hadn’t answered any of your text messages in the past fourty-five minutes, so you assumed he was already asleep, (plus you would feel bad for taking the money Kento had so graciously given you just to not put it to good use.)

“How the hell is she in university drinking like a maniac every weekend, but can’t hold it together for a night out with us?” Valerie inquired from next to you, eyes on the scene beside her. Opal was leaning on the security guard for support, basically hugging him, with her eyes closed, ignoring his pleas for her to drink the water bottle he’d snagged from the front counter.

It was cute really, they had only just met, but by the rose tint on the man’s cheeks, you could very well tell he was into your younger sister. At first you thought he was helping out of kindness, which he still could have been doing, but now it looked like he was doing it for something more, with him promising to remain outside with you all until your ride arrived.

And why wouldn't he? Your sister was adorable, with her face almost an exact replica of you and your older sister's, her hair in a huge curly fro, dressed in the girliest, pinkest club attire, including her baby pink fur coat, which was the exact opposite of you and Valerie's. Valerie had chosen a warmer outfit, a tight, midi length sweater dress and high heeled boots, obviously the smarter of the three of you. Her hair was in black knotless braids, as it always was, being that it was easier to take care of since she didn't have the time to do her own hair, with her hands always in someone else's head.

You let out a snort, wondering the same thing as your older sister. “Who knows?” You turned and shook your head at Opal, who was now drinking the water, staring up at the man who was now pleased at her actions, praising her with a smile on his face. “She better get it together before tomorrow night. I’m not stopping the party again just because the two of them can’t hold their liquor.” You finished with a roll of your eyes. It was your birthday weekend, for Christ’s sake.

Your annoyance was cut short when Opal finally spoke, but it was in a panicked tone, and not to you, but the man beside her. “What the fuck is going on over there?!” Her words were slurred, but you followed her eyesight to the scene across the street to see two men beating the shit out of eachother-well one man getting his ass beat. A screech from the woman above them was loud enough to pierce everyone’s ears in a two-mile radius.

“Jesus Christ!” Valerie gasped next to you, covering her mouth as the man on the bottom’s face made a loud cracking sound as a fist connected to his jaw.

Your heart raced with adrenaline at the sight before you as you got up to get a closer look, despite both of your sister’s protests. You really should mind your business, but something was calling you to the scene ahead of you, an invisible force dragging you to the commotion that was drawing a small crowd, anyway. The security guard who helped Opal was running ahead of you towards the disturbance, having to abandon your younger sister for a more pressing matter.

You stumbled across the street, curiosity getting the best of you when you paused halfway there, to find no one other than Choso fucking Kamo getting yanked off of a very bloody man, who still had the nerve to be talking shit after the obvious ass whooping he just caught. The top Choso’s t-shirt was torn, exposing his tattoos and his silver chain, his hair was a mess with one bun hanging from his head, while the other had seemingly fallen. His face was tomato red in comparison to his pale body, and fuck. Why did he have to look so deranged and so sexy?

You snapped out your dirty thoughts and wanted to run over to Choso to figure out what the hell was happening, why he was fighting when you looked down to see that the man he was just hammering into the ground was no other than Suguru fucking Geto.

Your heart felt like it stopped beating with the way it dropped to the bottom of your stomach. What is going on? Why were they fighting? Did they know each other? Who is that woman? What were they doing here?

All of those questions were swirling through your head just as Suguru seemed to notice you, his facial expression turning from murderous to appalled, probably from your surprise appearance.

“Your boyfriend is a fucking psychopath!” He all but roared at you, looking disheveled with blood pooling from his nose and mouth and onto his neck as he attempted to get up, but falling almost immediately, causing the brown haired woman to help him up, grumbling obscenities underneath her breath. Was this his new girlfriend?

Ugh, who cares?

You didn’t know what to think and you weren’t sure how to feel, but for some reason the sight of Suguru on the ground, beat to a fucking pulp by Choso Kamo, pleading at your feet, lit something sinister in you. You didn’t feel angry, or disappointed, or sorrowful even.

What you felt was pure elation. Euphoric at the fact that he was practically crying and begging you to do something about Choso who’d just given him the ass whooping of a lifetime, probably at your expense, and outright in ecstasy at the sight of Choso, only ten feet from you now, a small amount of blood drooling from his gore painted lips, silently suffering, seemingly waiting for your reaction, as he was being held back from the pathetic man under you.

You couldn’t help the sinister grin that began to creep on your face, something that should have terrified Choso, or even yourself, but it didn’t. In fact, his large toothy, amused smile followed yours, and he looked the happiest you had ever seen him.

You didn’t know if that relieved you or fucking terrified you.

Chapter Twelve is Posted

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ride-thedragon · 1 year

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Now on to something entirely too personal. HBO, please hire black women to do black hair. Like the Bailey sisters have been on this earth long enough for you not to hate crime Rhaena and Laenor. Baela and Laena suffer from the white mom with mixed daughters' agenda. Corlys has his buss down, side part, lace front but it sits that way because Steve, the actor, is bald. There isn't a clear part in sight for the richest house in Westeros. I don't understand why the Velaryons have ash-gray roots. With Addam, Alyn, and Nettles dawning on us soon please do better. Some thoughts for your labour ahead.

Utilize the Bailey sisters and their contributions to styled locs for Rhaena’s sake.

2. Cut Baela’s hair. For her sake focus on braids and beads.

3. Allow her to usher in a wave for the girls with her appearance. Nettles would gag them.

4. Our last girl. The Princess Dianna of Westeros. Lady Laena deserved better while with us. Walk with me.

5. In a bigger step towards the right direction and with the pride black people have when it comes to hair, why would we not style the men's locs. Corlys will guide us.

6. Laenor sweetie I'm so sorry for the helmet wig they gave you.

7/8. The Of Hull boys will bring us hope and prosperity. Marilda won't have them looking messy on the Hull shores.

All in all, I hope the stylists use their time off to hire black people. Entire stories could've been told with Laena, Rhaena, and Baela’s hair on the show, same with Corlys and Laenor but instead, we went with inspired choices that fell flat with the execution. Locs are some of the most versatile styles and curls are stunning. Hair, especially textured hair care and styling is a labor of love and I hope it's shown in upcoming seasons.

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saturnville · 6 months

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40 days n 40 nights.

pairing; shuri udaku x black!fem!reader (kalila)

warning; toxicity. language. emotional manipulation. allusions to smut. descriptions of smut 18+ content.

reference; 40 days n 40 nights — mariah the scientist, vory

overview; in which two exes reunite briefly after ending their toxic relationship.

tags (people who recently interacted with my shuri fics): @neeville @pocketsizedpanther @l-o-v-e-galore @cosmic-parker

Toxicity used to be as foreign concept. At one point, healthy was all she knew. Open, honest, respectful communication and treatment from her partner to herself. It was easily acceptable. It was what she needed to thrive; it was what she required.

Kalila felt like a fool when she lowered the walls that guarded her soft heart. The sweet nothings and gentle kisses that the lips of the Queen shared, altered her brain chemistry in a way she couldn’t explain.

No longer was she headstrong and adamant about what she deserved. She didn’t stand on business. No, she was weak in the knees for the Queen, the Panther, for her. Whatever to keep her majesty satisfied, she was prepared to give it all.

Naivety was her downfall.

What she failed to understand, was that the deep desire to please her at any cause, stripped her of her dignity, honor, and self-respect. Subject to mistreatment as a result, Kalila’s eyes began to open. The rose-colored glasses fell and reality sunk in. Her loyalty was taken advantage of. Her kindness was laughed at. The love she gave was not enough. She was not enough. She came to be nothing but a body to keep the bed warm while the Queen did what a Queen had the pleasure of doing; whatever she wanted.

It took months to build the courage to end the relationship. How easy could it be to remove oneself from the most intense union they’d found themselves in? The one where while the pros were numerous, the cons extended themselves past the acceptable limit.

The worst part was; she didn’t care. She had no interest in fighting to keep her, working to change. Kalila’s world crumbled. Her heart tore in two, her lungs constricted, and her mind fogged. Suddenly, substances were her lover and they fucked her good; to the point where she’d be in an orgasmic haze from the strategic stroking of her brain.

She mentally smacked herself each time she thought or her. The Queen, the Panther, Shuri. The best and worst thing to ever happen to her. Kalila wondered what she was up to. Probably living her life; on a flight to a new country where she’d serenade a woman into being her lover for the night before retreating the following morning, intrigued when the women followed her like a lost child. Kalila knew it all too well—it was once her.

The room spun. Substances and lack of sleep were a deadly combination. Kalila shook her head. 40 days and 40 nights of endless bullshit. All she had to do was let go. Could it be so hard?

Her music paused briefly at the indication of a text.

S. Udaku. Open the door.

Apparently so.

Kalila’s knees were weak as she stood in front of her. Her knees were weak, her heart pounding, and her most intimate parts jolted at the sight of her. She looked much different than she had a year ago. Her curls were much shorter—she’d cut them—now small tendrils on her head. She retired her tracksuit for a black suit with accompanying loafers. Kalila glanced at the wall clock. It was 9:41pm. Where’d she come from?

Shuri stepped into the apartment with an indescribable dominance that shifted the atmosphere. She was taller in stature, so her neck was lowered to glare into the eyes of Kalila. Both sets of brown eyes were deep and rich, but told different stories.

“What are you doing here?” Kalila’s voice was slow. The door closed behind her and and Kalila’s eyes followed Shuri as she stood in the middle of her apartment. Her long arms were crossed just underneath her belt, and her rings shone under the dim lights.

“Why’d you let me in?” Was the Queen’s response.

Because I missed you. Kalila’s eyes told it all before her mouth did. Shuri gave a humored chuckle, but the stoic look on her face didn’t change. Tight-lipped and unamused.

“Why are you here?” Kalila pressed once more. Shuri was now on the couch. Her long fingers flipped through the magazine on the coffee table. Essence. Then, they ghosted over the lit candle aside it. She didn’t flinch when the flame kissed her fingertips. Slowly, she leaned back against the couch, arm thrown over the back.

Shuri shrugged. “Was in the area. Wanted to say hello. Sit.” As if she was trained, Kalila sat beside her. This was what she wanted; to be next to her, in her presence once again. Why act shy now?

“I see you’re doing well. Business flourishing and all.”Kalila’s eyes snapped up. She started a marketing and consulting agency shortly after her college graduation. It was a rocky start, and Shuri had been there to connect her to the best in the business to assist in its development. Little did Kalila know, her efforts never ceased even once they split.

Kalila, however, was confused as to how she knew the way she was flourishing. At least on the outside. Then she had to remember, Shuri had every resource at her fingertips. Hell, she probably had someone keeping tabs on her at one point. She chose not to think about it further.

“Yeah, things are well.” Her answer was short. “Can you just…why are you here, Udaku? We are--there is no us anymore. You made it clear what you wanted five months ago, and it wasn't me. So, why are you here?" Her voice shook as she spoke, but she spoke with intention.

Shuri's chin raised and her eyebrow quipped. "I had a revelation. You didn't deserve what I put you through, and I'm aware of that. So, simply here to take accountability. That's it."

It was Kalila's turn to raise her eyebrow. It seemed too good to be true. Shuri sighed deeply and turned to face Kalila, whose distrust was written on her face.

"Do you trust me?" Shuri asked. Kalila's response was delayed. Did she? To protect her life, sure. But to protect and honor her emotions, her mental wellbeing, her heart? No, no she didn't.

"In some ways, yes. In others, no. And that's not my fault. It's yours/"

Ouch. Shuri nodded once. "Okay. Let me make it up to you." Those words were dangerous. They were the entryway back into the world of Shuri Udaku, and she wondered if she'd be able to take it.

Kalila spent time contemplating, and it did not go unseen by Shuri. So, the Queen asked her, "What are you thinking about?"

"How I don't want to be hurt by you again."

"I love you too much to hurt you again."

"That's what you said last time."

Silence.

"Let me prove it to you, yeah?" Her slender fingers danced across the roundness of Kalila's face. Fingertips grazed her lips until they fell down her neck. She gave it a soft squeeze. Kalila's eyes fluttered and she leaned into Shrui's body. Shuri took it as an opportunity to graze her lips over Kalila's, whose fell slack and a quiet whimper fell from them. Exactly where she wanted her.

Soon, clothes decorated the floor and their songs of pleasure were on repeat. High and low shifts in pitch and octave. Whistle register with voice cracks when it became too much. Sweaty bodies slipped and slid against one another. A glorious event.

"I love you," the Queen whispered breathlessly in Kalila's ear as she brought her to the edge. "I love you, I love you...it's just us. Always."

If only she stayed true to her word. Kalila woke up by herself. Every remainder of Shuri was eradicated. The only trace of her was the scent of her perfume; strong and dominant, just like her.

Her phone buzzed against the coffee table.

S. Udaku. I'll see you soon.

She knew what that meant. She'd return when she felt like it. That could be days or weeks. Kalila's eyes welled with tears. Another 40 days and 40 nights were wasted, just to start the process all over again.

#saturnville #original writing #original content #original story #black!reader #black love #fic inspo #black reader #queen shuri #shuri udaku #princess shuri #shuri x reader #black panther #shuri x afab!reader #shuri x woc!reader #shuri x black!reader #fic inspired by a song #fic inspired by music #40 days and 40 nights by saturnville

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olderthannetfic · 28 days

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I truly need US Americans to define what is/isn't racist for me. First it was racist when other fans didn't ship this black character with anyone. Now it's racist when I ship her as the one everyone is in love with in a poly ship. So it's racist for her not to have people in love with her, but having three people in love with her is ALSO bad? Is there a number of romantic partners it's unproblematic for black women to have? Because I saw someone else complain in another fandom that they hate when shows have a black woman who's just into one guy and doesn't date around, and people agreed that was racist, so clearly "zero", "one", and "three" are incorrect numbers of partners to have. Is two the magic number? Would THAT be okay?

I live in one of the most racially homogeneous places on Earth (that isn't Japan), I'm doing my best to not perpetuate racist tropes, but if she doesn't have sex, she's a prude, if she does she's a fetishized black woman, if she dates one person she's being too desexualized, if she dates no one that's even worse, if multiple men agree she's the kind of awesome where they're willing to talk shit out and work things out in order to all date her at once because they love her that much that's sexualization even without the sex being written but as we've covered not writing the sex AND writing the sex are both bad-

Genuinely, I see people in fandom who write her out of their stories and don't mention her at all getting zero hate comments and it's exhausting. "Center black women in fandom!" bro I tried and you all got way angrier at me than people who wrote her out of existence. Is there any way in which she can exist that's not going to make someone mad?

(For the record I am not about to stop writing this. Let her live out the ultimate dream of having dudes with personalities best described as Misplaced Shonen Hero, Icy One With A Heart of Gold and The Sunshine One all be into her. Somebody should get to, it might as well be her since she's friends with all of them canonically and she deserves good things.)

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thesarcasticreader · 1 year

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PAC: THINGS TO KNOW ABOUT YOUR FUTURE SPOUSE

These are general readings meant for entertainment purposes. You can partake in advice, but do not let it cloud your decision-making.

I do take paid readings. You can contact me for them. Make sure you have either Paypal or Gpay! DM for the price list!

(IMAGES ARE TAKEN FROM PINTEREST)

Pile 1:

Your person is very emotional or has a tendency to put family above all. It would piss you off sometimes that they give too much of themselves to others who don't deserve it but you admire this trait of theirs as well.

They are very good at keeping secrets and hiding their feelings. This is a result of being lied to very often. This trait will drive you nuts too but when you get into a relationship. People can grow and learn. Do not keep unrealistic expectations from relationships but if someone doesn't show signs of change. Talk to them and resolve the issues.

Your person is someone who will change a lot in their lifetime. They are capable of learning and growing.

This person loves cats a lot.

This person indulges in luxury quite a bit but stays within their means.

I am not seeing something about finances but this person is well-off. Not obnoxiously rich. But lives in a town with a cute two-story house that they own and have a shop where people from the town make purchases from. Very well off and can afford the best things.

Both of you are going to be from a well-off family. Affording Chanel is not all that there is in life. But I guess it helps 🥰🤣

You two are very likely to start a business together. You will end up leaving the place where you start at.

Say you live in a Town right now, you are likely to move to a bigger city to start your business with this person. For some of you, the business could revolve around event management or something to do with weddings and making wigs.

Looks like they could kill. Is a cinnamon roll.

Pile 2:

Your person was the heartbreaker of their time. This person had a bad childhood and they do not like talking about it.

Even though they say that it doesn’t bother them, it does.

They could even be in therapy for this too. And it is vital that their trust never be violated. This person needs a very emotionally stable person who is confident in them.

Your person could be argumentative too. It is one of the past influences that affected them badly. However, if they are made aware of the same. They will notice the pattern and actively try to change it.

This person is very lovely in a relationship. Their love will be displayed in their actions. It’s not always the big thing. The little ones like making sure your coffee is not too hot, shielding you from hitting your head in a corner, keeping you away from the roadside while you two are walking etc.

They are absolutely focused on you and they will do everything possible to make your life easier.

This person is very supportive and will persuade you to go after your dreams. This person is literally soulmate material. Even if their past has been jaded, they stand strong.

For this pile, I am seeing appearance more clearly. Stoic and strong build for men. Dark hair and prefers to wear a sleeveless T-shirt at home. Taller, likes going to the gym, likes coffee from a solid red cup (this was very specific for some reason), and probably has a home with ceiling-to-floor windows. Might be scared of heights.

For women, blonde to brown hair, the classic mean girl look on their face, insanely business-oriented, no bullshit attitude, people are scared of her, has a small smile, when she laughs her eyes wrinkle cutely, and black loafers

Looks like they could kill. They will!

Pile 3:

This is my sunshine pile. There is a lot of cute in here and that’s what your person is like.

This person is someone who would cuddle a raccoon. I am sorry, but that’s what came through 😂😂

They love animals and probably volunteer a lot at shelters or reduce them. If you end up dating this person, you can expect to foster a lot of animals.

This person is not all sunshine though. Life has dealt them a tough hand but they have persevered.

A lot of Fire and Water Energy in this pile. This has to be the happiest Scorpio pile I or most people have ever seen 😂😂

This person has a lot of energy. I know who this pile reminds me of. There is this girl on YouTube, Mikayla from SaveAFox. If you don’t know the channel. Go there right now. Get your immediate serotonin boost that even Masturbation can’t bring (I just had to) 😂😂

This is a relationship that will lead to marriage very quickly.

Your person is not concerned with material gains. They want emotional fulfilment.

This person feels like meeting an old friend after a long time. This person loves baking.

They prefer cute, handmade gifts and letters too. They are likely to give them to you as well.

Words of affirmation are their love language.

Early childhood may have included bullying in their case.

Looks like a Cinnamon Roll. Is a Cinnamon Roll.

The messages were flowing so happily and easily today. Sometimes it is so annoying that the thoughts just refuse to come to you and other days, I can basically pour myself into these readings. It is amazing afff✨🧿

IF YOU WANT MORE READINGS, YOU CAN CHECK MY INSTAGRAM: @A_sarcastic_Reader.

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mhsdatgo · 2 months

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Since GOT they’ve been using rape and abuse to humble or break a woman/Girl because they aren’t the “right” kind of woman. They don’t ride a dragon or yield a sword. They don’t fight against their period typical role in life that they were born and raised in. They’re not “A guys girl” or the “I don’t have any girl friends, they’re too much drama” types who prefer the company of men to women, who would rather train with a sword and not learn embroidery. They don’t have dialogue that vaguely sounds more 21st century than Middle Ages.

These women are seen as of less value than our little dragon riding, sword and fist fighting tomboys. So they need to be taught that if you had just been more like this or more like that you wouldn’t have been brutalized and abused. The things that were done to you by other people is all your fault and you deserved it.

This show/franchise is not even in the same room as feminism.

👏👏👏 Nothing more to add anon. No lie was told.

The sad thing is, this is not what I got from the books of asoiaf at all. Women's experience was never told in juxtaposition to others. There is no humbling or brutalizing other women as a "punishment" for not being better, more rebellious, or bolder than others. The books tell stories of suffering and that's it. The way shows and fandoms decide to try and force other characters into another one's story for the sole purpose of comparing them so they prove that stanning one means having a moral high ground over another character's stans is the most idiotic thing to ever have happened among fandoms, to say the least. Especially when the two characters in question don't even know each other.

Just look at the way Sansa and Dany are treated in the fandom. Have a shot for every time Sansa in King's Landing is called a tradwife as if this wasn't a girl in middle school trying to survive they're talking about, or for every time she's called jealous of Dany. Imagine if a stranger girl with three dragons cames knocking on your door demanding that you and all of your people and their mama bend the knee to her and you are the jealous one and the villain because you just... Don't? Also, you deserve to be threatened with death when you pose a reasonable question, and you need to take it and be better and shut up. Then you're a "girls' girl" deserving of respect, etc.

We want strong female characters to think for themselves, except when that "thinking for oneself" isn't the same thing as kissing the ground the fan favourite girl walks on.

If only fandoms paid more mind to what makes a character likeable or unlikeable in their eyes BASED ON THE CHARACTER ITSELF, and not on their perspective on their faves, interacting with them would be way more fun. Books/shows like asoiaf/GOT or F&B/HotD aren't places where you just choose a character you like and that's it, she's an icon she's a legend and she is the moment. If it was, it would either be a story for kids or a hell for Mare Sues' fans. As long as you treat asoiaf characters like deities that can do no wrong and everyone else as villains in need of redemption, you should step back and read something else.

This is something that needs to be accepted even between writers and directors, btw. Just look at what F&B was turned into. Girlboss vs Girlfail. Blacks got the Girlboss, the virtuous rightful heir, good mother fine ruler, Greens' got the Girlfail, the rape enabler, the boy mom, the tradwife, you name it.

No, it doesn't matter that the latter is doing everything she can possibly do. She was a piece of shit the moment she stopped toiling behind the former because everyone is meant to be like or kneel before girlboss with dragon. Only then are your ambitions respectable. If not, fuck you, you're nothing. Everything that happens to you is your fault. I'll be in the front seats cheering for when everything you love is ripped brutally from you.

Even when your grown-up son rapes a maid. Even when girlboss with dragon threatens to put your people to the torch because you won't bend the knee.

TL;DR: There's no need to compare/stone certain female characters for being what they are instead of a completely different type. If all of them were tomboyish with swords or feminine with embroidery, it would be boring. You aren't better than anyone for having preferences. Also, learn how to blame men when they fuck up. It's great for the bowel.

#hotd #got #asoiaf #fire and blood #daenerys targaryen #sansa stark #alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen

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writtenbymisunderstoodnerds · 2 months

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The date (Sofia Huerta x Reader)

As requested this is part two of Not my best idea

I'm hoping to start working through some of my requests, but don't hold me to that, life is a bit busy at the moment.

I'm sick so this is not really edited. Hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: None

Words: 2.2K

There was a knock on my door at exactly 6pm. Sofia was waiting on the other side with a single red rose. I smiled as she handed me the rose, feeling butterflies erupt. Normally, I was the one giving flowers or organising dates. It was a nice change, but not something I wanted regularly. I loved organising dates and spoiling the women I was taking out. It was my love language.

"How long were you waiting outside to get here right on time?" I teased as Sofia blushed.

"Maybe a few minutes. I'm sorry I didn't get you more than one rose. You deserve the best, but the shop I went to only had ones that didn't look great."

"Don't be, I kinda dig the one rose. Let me get my jacket and we're good to go."

"You uh look good by the way."

I took a second to look Sofia up and down, taking her in. She had on black jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and a black leather jacket draped across her arm. Sofia looked beautiful, even though it wasn't anything extravagant. I didn't really like fancy first dates or fancy dates in general so Sofia had reluctantly agreed to a more casual date even though according to Sofia, I deserved to be spoilt. It was a warm night so I followed Sofia's lead, draping my jacket over my arm before taking hers as well.

Sofia protested, telling me she could carry her own jacket, but I shrugged, cutting her off, "You look good too Sof, like really good."

She blushed, clearing her throat, "Thank you. Shall we?"

I laughed, arm wrapping around her shoulder, "You're cute when you're nervous. Let's go."

We walked down the street hand in hand. Sofia was trying her best to hide the nerves, but her twitching fingers, the way she kept wiping her spare hand on her pants, and the way she wasn't speaking, gave away her nerves. "You know I don't bite. Well, unless you're into that."

Sofia turned red, looking away briefly, "Sorry, you just make me really nervous."

"You already embarrassed yourself and I kissed you regardless, so there's no reason to be nervous."

She groaned, covering her face with her free hand, "You don't need to remind me. I just want to impress you."

"Oh no, that'll be my go-to story. I'm just a regular person, you don't need to impress me. If I wasn't already impressed with you, I wouldn't have agreed to go out with you so please just take a breath and try to relax. Think you can do that for me?"

"I can try."

We stopped at a Mexican food truck, each ordering our food. Sofia paid before I had the chance to protest. I hated people buying me things even if it was just food. I pushed that discomfort aside as best as possible to enjoy the date. It was something I could bring up later if needed.

When we sat down to eat, I asked Sofia a few questions about being a professional athlete and her love for soccer. Knowing she was nervous, I decided to ask easier questions for now until she relaxed a bit. The more in-depth or family questions could wait. Sofia rambled on about her job with me listening intently. I was genuinely interested in what she had to say. The slight rasp in her voice already sucking me in. I knew I could listen to her talk for hours and not get bored.

Sofia's cheeks flushed light pink when she realised my attention was completely on her, "Sorry. Enough about me, what about you? Why did you become a lifeguard?"

"Don't apologise, I like hearing you talk about it. I can see how much you love what you do. Um, I never actually planned on being a lifeguard, it's only been a few months, but I enjoy it more than I thought."

Talking about myself felt awkward, something I was never very good at. I knew I should say more, I just kinda clammed up due to the awkwardness and not knowing what to say. It was definitely easier when more specific questions were asked.

Sofia giggled in response before asking, "What did you do before being a lifeguard? I assume you were doing something being 2- actually, I don't know how old you are. Sorry that was kinda rude wasn't it?"

I laughed at her getting flustered again. Some people probably would have found it rude how she asked. I was just entertained.

"You're okay. I'm 27 by the way. I was a wedding/family photographer before, well I still am and I'll go back to it. I just needed a bit of a break. Being a photographer is great, I do genuinely love it, but I was fully booked most of the time, traveling to many different states constantly. It got a bit overwhelming, I was burnt out and exhausted. Obviously, you need money to live so I couldn't just quit. My aunt owns this hotel and when I confided in her how I was feeling, she offered me the lifeguard job for as long as I wanted it. So yeah, I'll go back soon, maybe experiment with a different kind of photography while I have this job as a backup."

Sofia winked, squeezing my hand, "You make a very attractive lifeguard. Bet you're just as attractive with a camera. Maybe you should try sports photography. In all seriousness, I'm glad you got the break you needed, I understand how exhausting traveling can be. I would love to see some of your work sometime if that's okay?"

"You flatter me Sof. I have actually thought about sports photography, maybe you can be my practice. Also, I have a whole Instagram of my work you can look at."

"I would love to be your practice."

We spent another ten or so minutes at the food truck, Sofia scrolling through my Instagram while I sat there awkwardly due to the compliments. After a while, Sofia took my hand, dragging me away from the food truck. I managed to tone down my excitement when we stopped outside the arcade. "How did you know I liked arcades?"

"Um, I may have stalked your Instagram."

"Stalker."

---

For being a professional athlete, Sofia was surprisingly bad at throwing a basketball. I stood behind her, hands covering her hands, guiding her to throw the ball into the net. Sofia jumped excitedly, picking up the next ball.

"You're not pretending this time are you?"

"Unfortunately not."

My hands trailed down to her hips, settling maybe a little lower than they should. Sofia didn't stop me, instead leaning back into me. "Try yourself now."

Sofia missed again, leaning back into me with a groan, "How are you so good at this?"

I shrugged, guiding her to throw the ball again, "I dabble."

"In basketball?"

"Also volleyball and boxing currently. Soccer when I was a teenager."

"Wow. Where do you play?"

"It's just fun, mostly with my friends, sometimes like a fun community thing. I used to play more seriously in high school."

We spent a few hours at the arcade, playing all the games and getting to know each other. Touches became more frequent and confident on both sides as time went on. There weren't any proper kisses yet, only a few cheek or hand kisses. Don't get me wrong, I really wanted to kiss her and her lingering looks on my lips gave me the idea she wanted to as well. We were in public though so I decided to wait. PDA wasn't really my thing. Sofia was also a public figure which meant we had to be a little more careful.

It was about 10:30pm when we decided to head back. Sofia had the day off tomorrow, but I still had to work from mid-morning so I didn't want to be out too late. Sofia leaned against the wall of the hotel, playing with my fingers. "I had a really good time tonight. Do you want to come back to my room?"

I stepped closer, practically trapping her against the wall. "Me too," I whispered, leaning in capturing her lips with mine. My hand rested low on her hip, hers cupping the back of my neck as I deepened the kiss. Sofia's tongue ran along my lip, trying to coax them apart, but I pulled away before she could. "You are making me blur every boundary I created for pre and post-first dates."

"Sorry."

"No, you're not."

Sofia smirked, leaving a lingering kiss against my lips, "Not really. You're fun to be around and an incredible kisser Y/n, but I also don't want you to do anything you don't want to do or aren't ready to do."

"I never would, you'll soon learn I'm very stubborn. I'll come to your room, but things stay PG 13."

"Deal."

---

"Can I see you again?" Sofia asked, playing with my hair as I lay next to her, head resting on my hand so I could down at her.

"You're fun to be around, I really enjoy spending time with you-"

Sofia frowned before smiling sadly, "There's a but coming isn't there? It's okay if you're not interested in anything more than tonight, I had a great time regardless."

"No, it's not that, I would love to see you again. This isn't necessarily a deal breaker and I probably should have thought about this sooner. I know you're staying in the hotel for camp or whatever, but where do you actually live? Like uh, how far away are you from me?"

She giggled, pecking my lips quickly, "I thought I was the nervous one. To answer your question, about 25 minutes with no traffic."

"Wait really? Why are you staying at a hotel then?"

"Camp rules, better for team morale and bonding."

This time I leaned down, initiating a mini make-out session. It had been a week or so of knowing Sofia and I already knew I was screwed. I was drawn to her, she made me giddy and touchy. She was also a really good kisser, I already didn't want to leave. "In that case, I would love to see you again on one condition."

"What's that?"

"You let me plan the next date."

Sofia kissed me softly, "Anything as long as I get to do that some more."

---

Sofia and I had talked for a while last night before falling asleep cuddled up. Unfortunately, I didn't get to see her this morning because I had to get ready for work. As much as I wanted to wish her a good morning, I had managed to slip out without waking her, sending a text to assure her I had just bailed on her.

About midday, the group of women I was used to seeing entered the pool area, each claiming their lounger. My eyes met Sofia's sending her a soft smile as I approached the group.

"Good morning ladies, how are we today? Can I get you anything?"

"Morning Y/n, all is good. Are the umbrellas out today?"

"That was next on the list, I'll grab them for ya now."

Emily smirked, nudging Sofia's shoulder, "Sof will help."

I guess they didn't know about our date. It wasn't a big deal, I figured Sofia would tell them when she was ready. I chuckled turning to Sofia, "You don't have to, I got it."

Sofia looked at me for a second. A small, slightly shy smile was present before she spoke softly, "I don't mind."

Once we were away from the group, I discreetly squeezed her hand, "How did you sleep beautiful?"

Sofia smiled, squeezing my hand again, "Amazingly. You should know, you were there."

"Sorry, I had to slip out early. I didn't want to wake you up on your day off."

Sofia's hand rest on my arm, seemingly not caring if anyone saw, "It's okay. Was a bit disappointed not to get a kiss when I woke up. Maybe you could make that up to me now?"

"What about them? I assume they don't know about our date."

"They don't, but that was so they didn't annoy me about it while I was so nervous. Please don't tell them about how it happened yet. I can't face that yet."

I laughed, already imagining how much fun it would be to expose that down the line. However, right now Sofia was looking up at me expectantly. I cupped her cheek, lips connecting in a lingering kiss. I heard yelling from behind us as I pulled away, pecking her lips one more time. "That's all you get because you're technically a customer right now and I will get in trouble if I get caught."

Sofia pouted, but I refused to give in, shaking my head in response. Just because my boss was my aunt, doesn't mean I wouldn't actually get in trouble. "Fine. Do you want to come over again tonight?"

"I would love to."

We made our way back with the umbrellas, instantly being interrogated by Emily. "What the fuck did we miss? How did you go from a stuttering, red mess to kissing her overnight?"

Sofia shrugged, "We just talked after you guys left yesterday then ended up on a date last night."

Unfortunately, more people started showing up so I had to go back to my spot. I would have loved staying there with her and her team, but getting to watch her relaxing in a bikini, knowing I got to be with her after work, made it more tolerable.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #woso imagines #sofia huerta x reader #uswnt imagines #woso x reader

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