#jalen hurts x black reader

[siribaes]

MISSED YOU

JALEN HURTS x blackfem!reader

SUGGESTED TUNES 💿: Freefall by Kaytranada & Durand Bernarr, I Miss You by Beyoncé, Backseat by Ari Lennox

WARNINGS: 18+, SMUT, Jalen being a low-key soft boy, praise kink, use of AAVE/N-word, etc.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this is my 1st fic, enjoy! (also this hasn’t been proof read so please ignore any typos lol) / GIF CREDIT: @fixedfour

“Arch it just like that…”

The sound of wet skin slapping against each other bounces off the bedroom walls. The comforter felt soft underneath Y/N’s grip, a perfect contrast to the rough one Jalen on had on her hips. The calloused pads of his fingertips swiped at the swell of her hips as he pistoned in and out of her….in and out…in and out…

“Fucckkk,” Jalen groaned, “A nigga missed you, you missed me huh?”’

Y/N felt her pussy flutter at the hoarseness in his voice. At had an edge to it, like he needed to hear her somehow, some way.

A smart slap on her ass interrupted Y/N’s drift in thought. She turned her head to look at Jalen, completely zeroed in on his torso. His skin glistened with sweat as his sculpted chest held a slight red hue. A gold chain glittery, shined brightly under the soft, candle light. The J initial swayed back and forth in tandem the rhythm of his strokes. Her eyes combed upwards. Y/N shuddered at the sight, his plump bottom lip was tucked tightly between his teeth. Yet, his eyes were round and saucer like. He gaze was so soft and held a such anticipation that he practically, begged for the words to come tumbling off her tongue. He needed to hear you say it, you missed him, you missed the he touched you, you missed the way he fucked you…

A small whimper escaped Y/N’s mouth as tears prickled in her eyes. The whole sight was so overwhelming but she loved every single minute of it.

“Babyyyy,” Y/N whined. She felt the familiar thrumming sensation as her orgasm quickly approached. Her walls contracted and squeezed around Jalen’s dick. “I missed you so much, baby, fuck! You fuckin’ me so good.”

Rewarding Y/N for her confession, Jalen fucked her harder, and deeper, while he rasped endless praises into her ear.

Fuck, you know I love you right.

You doin’ so good for me, takin’ me.

Pussy so tight, you squeezing me, Mama.

With his throwing hand, Jalen licked this thumb before he reached around Y/N’s stomach, towards her pussy. He rubbed lazy circles on her clit. Y/N felt something inside her snap, her orgasm hurdled towards the surface. Jalen continued to fuck her as she writhed and convulsed around him.

“Jalennnnnnnn,” Y/N moaned. She attempted to claw her up the bed towards the head board, only for Jalen’s quick reflexes to kick in as he snatched her back against him.

“Don’t run baby, you was doin’ so good,” Jalen rasped. He placed a sweet kiss on Y/N’s shoulder, that sent chills down her spine. “I’m almost there, mama. Fuck, just keep squeezing me like that.”

His normal composure was long gone as he pounded against Y/N’s g-spot. He relentlessly drove into her, completely lost in her warmth and wetness. A loud moan of his name, pushed him over the edge. Jalen’s hips snapped as he unloaded inside of the condom. His body convulsed as a slew of curses left his lips. Y/N’s moaned as she lazily grounded her hips against Jalen, secretly wishing there was no barrier between them. That she could feel all of him, his cum filling her up, warming up her insides. One day…

Despite Y/N’s whiny protests he slowly pulled out of her. Jalen sat on the side of the bed, he easily pulled the condom off, tied it in a knot, and threw it in the trash can. Y/N shivered from the after shocks of her orgasm as she turned and brought the comforter over her body. Jalen rejoined Y/N, he slid himself underneath the comforter, lying gently onto her stomach. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her close to him. With soft fingers, Y/N drew loopy circles against Jalen’s curls. He hummed, the vibrations sent shivers through her body.

“You missed me that much, huh?” Y/N teased.

Eyes closed, a sly grin grew across his lips. His eyes fluttered open, soft and thick eyelashes batted against the tops of his cheeks.

“Hell yeah, I did,” Jalen’s hands slid upwards softly cupping on of Y/N’s breast. Still sensitive, Y/N moaned in response. “So much, I think I got another round in me.”

[v6quewrlds]

‎ ‎ ⋆⠀⠀&.⠀⠀٬⠀⠀❝ V6QUEWORLDS NAVI. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉       

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀welcome to my blog! ‎ ‎ ‎ ゛cassie or cass 𓍼 black 20 yo libra 𓍼 joey b & various.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀requests are open. masterlist, #ficrecs, current wips. ‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀most recent works! last updated nov. 08, 2024 ...

infinity, joe burrow x reader. bad liar, andrei iosivas x reader. slim shady, joe burrow x reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀no nut november series. day five: mathew barzal ...

[chaneajoyyy]

There’s Jalen Hurts fanfiction

[tvchi]

The Challenge: About A Challenge

Disclaimers: DO NOT COPY OR REPOST MY WORK. DO NOT TRAIN AI WITH MY WORK.

Warnings: Mature Audiences ONLY: 18+, Minors DNI- Nudity, Sexual Intercourse, Profanity.

Pairing: Jalen Hurts, Trevante Rhodes x black female Word Count: 3079

A/N: This is PART 3 of the series and we are back to the long form content of it all. The plot does thicken here. As always, your feedback is greatly appreciated because I'm really trying to get better. So Like, Comment, and Reblog as the spirit moves you. It helps me immensely!!!! ❤️❤️🥰!

If you haven't already read Part 1 and Part 2, I suggest you stop what you're doing and read those before going any further.

Summary: As things start heating up with Devon, you start noticing that things are a little off. Once things start coming together, you are in for a BIG surprise. Meanwhile, in the present, you are trying to find out how to peace things up with James for the sake of the project and your grade.

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Two days later, I found myself wandering the halls of the library, looking for the required reading for Professor Martinez’s class. After finding them, I decided to head to the Tech Center and see if I could start the assignment. I hadn’t seen James around campus at all after that day. I had never really looked out for him before, either. With the challenge I agreed to, still lingering in the back of my mind, I had decided to briefly apologize and have some hightled text that we could use in the project ready to go. In the meantime, I would start writing about grief and what I understood of it. I arrived at the tech center and went to the far left in the middle corner, my favorite spot. I sat all the books down, took my computer out of my bag, and opened it to a blank Google document. Most of the pain in my life happened before I could even formulate the words to express and process them. Some of the pain had been buried so deep that it would hurt to unearth them now. After all, this was a class assignment and not a therapy session. Some of the feelings that I had couldn’t be described because they were no longer there. I felt a little numb to it. There was no pain I remembered more vividly than the day I found out that my entire relationship with Devon had been a lie. 

         I know that sounds crazy coming from someone who had to bury her mother, but as I said, I haven’t really processed and uncovered the magnitude of that day. We were made to busy ourselves with schoolwork and to make sure we got into the best colleges. My sister and I were made to join multiple extracurricular activities to be “well-rounded” candidates for college and beyond. We were made to be perfect. I don’t think there was any time for grief and mourning. Before I came to college, I asked my sister to tell me about what happened at the funeral and beyond. I couldn’t seem to remember, and I wanted to add it to my valedictorian speech. She told me that right before the funeral, I had sat for hours in front of my mother’s vanity in her walk-in closet, combing my hair. She said I was in a trance and wouldn’t answer when my dad called. He finally found me at the vanity. I still wouldn’t respond to him. I just kept combing my hair until I started to pull strands out. In an attempt to pull the comb out of my hand, he broke the comb, and I started screaming. She said I screamed for what seemed like hours, and my dad had to call some of my aunts to calm me down. I remember her vanity and the closet but not much about the broken comb. The day I do remember is the day I found out about Devon’s girlfriend. 

       We had been in a “fuck-a-thon” for weeks since we met at the gallery opening. I wanted to be around him. Smell him. Crawl into his skin. I hung onto his every word. I would only leave his apartment to go to class. Even in class, I barely paid attention. I was on my phone looking at pictures of him or reading through old text messages, re-imaging scenes from the night before. Although, I really didn’t need to re-imagine. We recorded ourselves for our viewing pleasure almost every week. I was in heaven. I only visited my apartment to get a change of clothes, do most of my grooming, pick up packages with new lingerie in them (since mine were getting torn every night), and pick up mail. Weeks turned to months. My friends were teasing me, saying that I turned into the girl who left her friends for her boyfriend. Even Reneé slipped in a slick comment or two about my escapades. 

       “Not y'all being jealous!!! I thought you all would be happy for me,” I exclaimed jokingly.

       “We are, girl! Trust! I like that you're not all up our asses. But, you know, come up for air more frequently,” said Reneé.

       “If you all miss me, just say that. There's no need to come for me! I’m here now,” I replied.

       “We miss you, and we are glad you’re here. So, are you guys official yet? Should I invite him to the monthly game night?” Amber asked.

       “Ummm, we don't. Ummm, we. We don't really talk much,” I laughed.

       The girls exchanged glances at each other. So this is what this meetup was all about. They wanted to know whether I had vetted this guy and whether I was getting played.

       “Before y'all start going crazy, I’m serious. We haven’t talked much about things. We’ve been eating, going to shows, hanging out, doing…things. If it makes y'all feel better, I’ll have a conversation with him tomorrow night when I see him.

       “Mmmhm,” said Reneé as she looked at Sara.

       The next day, I had repacked my weekly “weekend” bag. I will see Devon tonight and ask him about our relationship status. What the girls were insinuating at lunch yesterday was getting to me. I’m usually the one who has all her ducks in a row, and I’m very big on knowing where I stand with people. I had let all my inhibitions go with Devon. I had finally gathered my laptop and my folders containing the assignments that I was going to do while at Devon’s when I got a text. 

         “Hey, babe, I’m running a little late, and now I’m headed to the restaurant to get some dinner for us. Just use your key.”

        I smiled. I had a key. There’s no way that he wasn’t going to make me his girlfriend if I wasn’t already. There are girls still waiting to find out where their “man” lives, and I have an address and a key! He also let me drive his car to close-by appointments or to go to the store. His boys always teased him about how smitten he looked now that he was with me. I overheard some of his classmates asking him why he hadn’t attended certain shows in a while. He would just smile and nod in my direction when I was around. People on campus saw us together and often. I wasn’t worried. I had no reason to be. 

       I arrived at his loft around 6:30 pm. I remember the time when I took my phone out to text him that I was there and I’d be waiting for him. I opened the front door and went up the stairs. As I went to insert the key into the inner door, I noticed that it was already open. My body tensed. I thought that we were being robbed or that someone was waiting to harm him. I considered dialing 9-1-1 but thought that I should crack the door just wide enough to see what was going on inside. I wanted to be able to give the police an accurate description of the assailant. When I cracked the door open, I saw a girl standing over the stove. She seemed to be cooking something. Whatever it was wafting over me the more I cracked the door open. It smelled…good. I looked around to see if I saw anyone else inside the apartment, but there wasn’t anyone else that I could see from my view. I sized her up. Deciding that I could take her if it came to blows, I decided to walk in and ask her what she was doing in the apartment. She looked up at me, startled. It was then I noticed that she wasn’t wearing any clothing under her apron. 

       “Who are you, and what are you doing in my man’s apartment?” I spat, trying to remain calm.

       “Oh shit! You scared me! For a minute there, I thought you were the police,” she said.

       “I’m about 10 seconds away from calling them. Who are you?!” I asked again, this time raising my voice.

       “Relax,” she giggled “Devon, didn’t tell you?”

       “Devon didn’t tell me what, bitch?” I retorted.

         She shook her head and sighed. She turned down the stove and took off her apron. She walked towards me stark naked. She was a redhead with light freckles on her cheeks. Her lips were full, fuller than I have seen on a white girl since Angelina. She was very slim, but her breasts rivaled mine as they hung and bounced as she walked. Her abs were toned. Her mound was freshly waxed with a small tuft of hair cropped and cut in the shape of the letter “D.” Her legs were perfectly sculpted and toned. 

          “Devon isn’t your anything. We have an arrangement where when I’m off modeling overseas, he gets to stay in my loft and screw whoever until I get back. And I am very much back,” she scoffed as she leaned into my face.

        I felt my face drained of all color. My stomach started forming knots. There was a sharp pain in my chest. I wondered if this is how one felt when they were dying. My ears began to ring. My breaths started getting deeper.

        “What?” I managed.

        “Yeah, it seems like you’re already too attached and hard of hearing, so I’ll give you the cliff notes. Devon is my man. He’s been my man since we were freshmen in high school. Our parents are business partners in the electric industry,” she started as she walked around the apartment, fingering furniture. “I’m supposed to marry Devon after he finishes college, lets go of the stupid art thing, and goes into the family business. I model and have a skincare brand, so I’m not in the country a lot. As I’m sure you’re aware, Devon has an insatiable appetite. So do I, quite frankly, so we made a deal. While I'm away, he can choose one girl of his liking to be with. While I’m overseas, I can have a guy. Between you and me, I have two or three, but let's not tell him that. Then when I come home, he’s all mine, and I am all his,” she continued, looking at me tauntingly. “I can see why she chose you. You’re cute. Your body is incredible. I’d be jealous if he weren’t already mine. She walked back to me. She got so close that we were chest to chest. Then she leaned over and whispered, “It’s too bad you came all this way with your trash bag full of things just to get back on the school bus to whatever dorm you came from. I hope it’s not too late for you to catch dinner alone in the café.”

        I don’t remember much after she said that. My memory throws glimpses of Devon calling out to me and picking me up from the floor from time to time. There were other flashes of me looking down at my hands and noticing some blood and some strands of red hair. I don’t remember how I got home that night. But for three weeks, I didn’t leave my dorm. I didn’t answer any calls. I don’t think I spoke. How could I? My air was gone. 

About A Challenge

       Remembering the events of that sent an uneasiness through my spine. I opened another tab on my web browser and did what I always did when I felt uneasy…: I shopped. I looked at some designs from some of my favorite fashion houses. Some I could afford, and others I added to my wishlist in hopes of one day owning them. I got lost in deep thought about color schemes and pairings.

        “So this is how you write a straight-A paper?” I heard.

        I turned around, and there he stood with a bright smile. Today, he donned a white cotton muscle tee tucked into well-tailored black slacks. Silver chains hung from one belt loop to the other, complementing the silver-linked chain he wore around his neck and the three silver rings he wore on his left hand. His black leather loafers still smelled brand new. I looked back up at him into his brown eyes. 

        “Sometimes. It helps me streamline my thinking,” I replied. 

        “Mmm. Right. Seems like you needed a distraction from writer's block, Miss,” he said as he pointed to the blank Google doc. He pulled up a chair next to me and sat. He placed his leather satchel down on the table and turned to me. 

        “So what were you going to write about?” he asked. I paused for a minute and turned my body fully to him.

        “Look, I may have been a little harsh to you the other day after class. I wanted to say that I’m…” I started.

       “Yea. Cool. But what were you going to write about that made you so sad that you started looking at Marni designs?” he interrupted. I looked at him, impressed that he recognized a Marni design, and filed that information in a section of my brain that would remember to ask him about this fact a little later. 

        “I'm not sure I’m ready to talk about it, let alone write it down for other people to read. I was trying to have something written before I got up to look for you, and I guess I failed,” I said, looking back at the Google Doc. 

       “I get that. What if I talked about my shit, and maybe after you hear some of my story, then you could think of something you’re comfortable with talking about” he offered.

       “Okay,” I said with a slight smile, appreciating the undeserving olive branch he extended.

       He started by telling me how he met his best friend, DJ, in middle school. James was fresh from Mississippi and knew no one in New York. His mom moved them both up there for new opportunities. While she was out working all day, he stayed home bored. In order to keep him out of trouble, his mom signed him up for football, and that's where he met DJ. He found they had a lot in common down to their moms. DJ’s mom moved from Kentucky to New York, too, but they had a little more money than James’ family did. They became inseparable. Joined at the hip, the two did everything together. They went to the same schools and the same summer camps. They even wore similar clothing. People started thinking that they were brothers, and they never bothered to correct them. 

        The summer before their senior year of high school, they cut football camp early after their 2nd practice to play video games at DJ’s house. They had been doing two-a-days getting ready for their championship game. Their coach decided to let them ditch film because they had been working so hard all summer. Before they reached the house, James spotted his mother arguing with some strange man. This was odd to James because his mom was supposed to be at work. He started to go over to her to make sure she was okay when he heard shots fired. He froze. It was like his feet were cemented to the floor. His body was strict with fear and horror as he watched the man step over her body and into a black Cadillac within seconds. He wanted to cry out, but no sound came out of his throat. DJ reached him and helped him move. When they got to her body, she was still warm, but the light she used to carry in her pretty green eyes was gone. 

        James continued to tell me about how it was hard to let her go or even play football after that. He said that he wouldn’t be here today if it weren't for DJ and his family helping him get his football scholarship, even though he sat out of the championship game that summer. They helped him pay for his mom’s funeral cost, and they even offered to be his legal guardian while he finished his senior year. He moved in with his aunt after graduation. He also told me that he got a work-study job because he wanted to start a foundation in his mom’s honor. She always wanted to give back to her community but always felt like she couldn't afford to show up like she wanted to. She always volunteered at homeless shelters and soup kitchens. She always read to kindergarten students and even sometimes enlisted his help at toy drives during Christmas. It always amazed him how she gave back to so many people even though no one ever gave back to her. So, after classes and football practice, he would work a campus security job on one of the northern campuses. He was tired but determined which made him sleepy during class. He said that while his story was tragic and he still felt a huge void in his life now that his mom was gone, he wanted a nice ending to the story by highlighting how strong his friendship with DJ became.

I completely misjudged him. He was so different from what I thought he’d be. I was waiting for the hood kid with ball dreams trope to come to the forefront of his story. Either that or the “wannabe thug” that some of these athletes try to be. Here he stood, missing a piece of his heart, just like I was. I wanted to know more about him. From how he handled his day-to-day stresses to how he felt being the center of attention at a big university where the majority of students didn’t look like him. I wanted to know how he got that scar on his right arm or what made him smile. After the way I treated him after class, I was lucky he was talking to him at all. Feeling a twinge of guilt, I moved to apologize profusely and share that we had a similar commonality with both of our mothers being gone when he motioned for someone to come to him. 

“That’s crazy, here his doofy ass come now. DJ, this is my classmate Adaobi. Adaobi, this is my best friend, DJ,” he said. I looked up, getting ready to shake the hand of James’ savior, when my heart dropped to the floor.

“Hello, beautiful,” Devon said.

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Quick aside: I usually write in bulk (lol). Meaning I write the entire short story or the part I've fleshed out all together and break it into parts. This means I'm not sure when I'll get back to Devon, James, and Adaobi and their journey's. It may be next week, it may be June 2025. However, if you have some suggestions on what you would like to see in their stories, NEVER hesitate to comment below.

Click here for Part 1 Click here for Part 2

As always if you would like to join the tag list, message me which fandom you would like to be added to.

Tags: @thecapodomme @writers-of-tmblr @melaninpov @spaceslutsworld @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @mymusicbias @the-black-label @master-builder42 @miraculously-dumb-bitch @megamindsecretlair @hopefulromantic1 @tranquilfandomer @thadelightfulone @vivalaorgasm @hotgrlcece @planetblaque @blackgurlnhermoods @sweettea-and-honeybutter @andriaharris @kumkaniudaku @theblacklewinsky @nun0ir @iloveorangesworld @cocogoddess0g

[zxddy-panther]

Real Love

College AU

T’challa x Black Reader

A/N: Hey guys I’m back with another story ayyye. Lol um i’m not sure if i wrote this one too well. I’ve been working on it for dayyyyys guys. I hope it’s decent. Also sorry about the spacing between paragraphs. Tumblr was saying that i reached my limit so i had to squeeze.

You pace back and forth in your college dorm nervously awaiting your best friend's presence. You needed to talk to him desperately about a topic that has been torturing you mind for a few months now. His advise was very much needed in this situation. The doorbell sounded, signaling his arrival. You ran up to the door and opened the door to your bestie of 6 years holding vanilla ice cream and some other sweet treats.

You sighed in relief, "Ugh Udaku. What would I do without you."

"Nothing. You would be practically hopeless" You laughed pushing him softly

The two of you headed to your bedroom and T'challa could already see your uneasiness. You walked with your eyes pointed towards the floor, fiddling with your fingers as you did so.

Finally reaching your room T'challa spoke on his observation. "Y/N are you alright."

You turned towards him and spoke. "Yeah I just really needed your advise on something. Um so you know Jalen right?"

T'challa rolled his eyes in disgust. He wasn't too fond of your boyfriend but never told you that because he would never intentionally hurt you like that. He just made sure that he wasn't in the same vicinity as that idiot.

"Yes. What about him?" he said in an annoyed tone

You paused for a second, trying to figure out how to say it.

"Well a few months ago he um...... actually cheated on me and-"

"He WHAT!" Tchalla exclaimed

"Yeah but" you fiddled with your thumbs some more. "He's been calling me and asking me to take him back, saying that he's really changed and all of that. I mean, should I?"

Tchalla's heart was beating 10 times faster than normal. His anger and hatred for Jalen just become more a lot stronger. He just doesn't understand why you would want him back.

"Y/N, are you hearing yourself? You know he doesn't love you."

"Ok Ok T'challa you can stop now." You murmured but he just kept going.

" Y/N, you don't deserve to be treated the way he treats you! That is not love! You need to be shown what real love-"

"T'challa! Stop." All was silent and tears began to well in your eyes. You moved across the room and turned your back towards him. "Can we not talk about this? I don't want to talk about it with you anymore."

"Ok then lets not talk." Fast footsteps was all that could be heard until you felt him slip his hands around your waist. The feeling sent a shock of electricity through your body, a foreign feeling to be exact. This was something you've never felt with Jalen and you wondered why. Once T'challa made you face him he looked at your lips enticingly and leaned into you slowly.

"Aye aye. What are yo-" . T'challa placed his hand at the back of your neck and pulled you into a passionate kiss. Your eyes fluttered shut. His soft lips massaged yours in a very slow and gracious manner. Your body was being set ablaze by his touch. Any section of his smooth skin that touched your own helped to  spark a sensation that was unexplainable. He ran his hands down your body and hugged your body close to himself, like if he didn't hold on tightly to this moment it'll disappear. The sudden movement caused you to release a small moan against his lips. Tchalla pulled away from you slowly and sighed in relief.

"Tchalla. Wha-what was that." You would have never imagined that you'd someday be kissing your best friend. T'challa stood in front of you, staring at the floor.

"Y/N.." He paused and took a deep breath. I love you a-and I'm sorry for doing that. I just couldn't help myself. I've felt this way for a long time now but I just couldn't bring myself to tell you. Everyday it became a battle within myself to confess my feelings towards you. I'm also very sorry about what I said before. I shouldn't have spoken that way to you or about Jalen."

He bent down to retrieve his book bag from the corner of your room. With a sadden spirit, he began treading towards the door. "I'll just let myself out." T'challa reached for the door knob and headed out, but not before he could get one last glimpse of your face for the last time. "Good bye Y/n.." he whispered as he shut the door.

Your heart dropped from your chest and started beating in your fingertips. You blinked several times to make sure that you were not dreaming. Emotions were running wild and thoughts were jumping off the walls. Who do you love?

5 months ago

"Jalen why the fuck is my cousin blowing your phone up with nudes and text messgaes! What the hell!" You stormed into the living room where your lazy ass boyfriend laid playing on his second phone. Jalen quickly looked up at the sound of your heavy footsteps.

"Y/N what the hell are you talking about."

"My cousinnnn is sending nudes to your phone! You dumbass. Would like to explain to me how she got your number and why-" The phone chimed alerting a new message. "Oh here's and heres a new text. Lets read it. 'I want to feel you inside me again.' AGAIN?! You fucked my cousin Jalen?!" You shoved the phone in his face.

Jalen stood up and suddenly snatched from your grasp.

"Yo what the fuck did I tell you about being on my phone bruh! Should've taken your finger print off a long time ago." Jalen growled. Your blood was boiling and the rage began to build.

"Are you kidding me right now. You fucking cheated on me with my cousin of all people and you're worried about my finger print? So you're CHEATING cheating?!" Jalen looked up at you a scoffed, a smirk spreading across his long face.

"That's it! Im done." you screamed. "After all the years we've spend together! You go and do this to me?" Tears began to sting at your eyes. You ran to your room and began to pack up your things. There was no way in hell that you were staying here another second with this idiot. The muffed sound of Jalen's footsteps followed after you.

His voice come out in a deep growl, "Where the hell do you think you're going." You stood up and turned to face him.

"I'm getting the fuck away from here. You went lower than low Jalen. Do you really expect for me to sit up under this roof with you and act as if everything is ok? Hell no! There is no way I'm going to stay and let you treat me like this. I'm leaving."

He let out a dark and sinister laugh. "No you're not"

You scoffed, "Oh yeah?  And who's gonna stop me." He stared you down as his eyes began to turn dark and before you knew it you were being lifted from the ground. Jalen had a strong grip around your torso and was persistent on keeping you in the room. "Let me go!" You kicked your legs rapidly and tried to pry his arms from your body. Your back hit the hard mattress in a matter of seconds. Jalen held your arms about your head tightly, leaving you unable to move your wrists.

"Mmm you're not going anywhere baby 'cuz you mine." He bent his head down and started licking at your neck, sucking the skin harshly. His hands ran up your shirt and felt cold against your warm flesh. He squeezed your breast and began sucking your sweet spot. The same gestures that were usually done during intimacy between the two of you used to be so pure, so full of love but now all you can feel is utter disgust and anger.

"Jalen move. I don't want to hurt you." You wiggled your body under his in an attempt to slide away. He pressed his body against your right leg to get you to stop moving. He picked his head back up to face your tearstained face.

"I'm never letting you go." He pressed his lips to yours in an unwanted kiss, forcefully sticking his tongue into your mouth and invading your space. With a swiftness you used your right knee to severely hurt his groin. Jalen let out a load groan and fell onto the floor, finally releasing you from his vice grip. You jumped up fast, grabbed your bag and headed for the door. Grabbing your keys from the counter you removed his dorm key from your keychain and removed your dorm key from his own key chain.

"Never fucking contact me again!" you screamed and slammed the door.

7 months ago

"Give it back Y/N. Im serious." Tchalla yelled as he chased you down the hallway of his dorm room. You ran into his living room giggling and sat yourself on his plush carpet. You held his mini journal high above your head, teasing him.

"You're not serious look at that big smile on your face" You laughed. He looked down at you and smiled.

"Just hand it over."

"Come get it." You continued to tease. Tchalla leaped on top of you, causing you to fall onto your back with laughter in your voice. Finally grabbing the book Tchalla hovered himself above you.

"Ha. Got i-" he didn't realize the vulnerable position the two of you were in until the games ended. Looking up at him made your heart begin to beat faster. There was tension in the air and you both could definitely feel it.

You couldn't deny your feelings for Tchalla had been developing during the years of friendship the two of you shared. He was always there for you and cared so much about you. He would never go a day without calling or texting you to see if you were alright, even if there was nothing wrong. His big heart was starting to make you fall for him.

He quickly removed his body from yours, allowing you to sit up as well. You stared at the back of his head for sometime before you spoke.

"Tchalla?'

"Y/N I-I'm sorry about that."

You found his shyness adorable as you began to smile.

"Its ok silly." You stood up and walked in front of him with your hand held out. Slowly lifting his head he looked back up at you. "Lets go eat. I'm starving." He took your hand and laughed.

Present

"What the hell am I doing." You asked yourself. "I have a man who actually loves me and I let him walk out the door." Your legs moved before you could even make them. You swung your front door open and looked down the hallway. T'challa was there, walking slowly with his head down until you called out to him.

"T'challa wait!" He turned and stopped in his tracks as he watched you run to him. When you reached him you jumped into his arms, causing him to stumble back as he, surprisingly, caught you.

"It was you. Its you...Its always been you." you said as you hugged him tightly.

"Y/N what are you talking about." Releasing him from your hug you looked deeply into his eyes. "I love you too T'challa"

His eyes lit up and his smile grew wide. Hearing those words from you brought life to his heart again. He brought his hands to the sides of your face, his warm touch bringing you comfort in the moment.

"May I." T'challa asked while still staring into you. "Yes you may" You giggled as he leaned forward to kiss you once more. The kiss got more heated causing T'challa to back you up onto the hallway walls. His hands went down to your backside, rubbing and sqeezing it softly. You broke the kiss in laughter and rested your forehead against his.

Breathlessly he said "Say it again"

"I really love you T'challa Udaku"

A/N: If you like it repost it. And please message me if you want to be part of my taglist☺️

Taglist: @chaneajoyyy @wakandaking12-blog @wakanda-4evr @sisterwifeudaku @tchalla-and-mbaku @wakandankings @wakandamama @melaninmarvel

[spidermando]

“Best Friends” Pt. 5

Pairing: Peter Parker X Reader

Word Count: 1200+

Warnings: Just some stuff from the movie once again.

A/N: HI THERE! I’m super proud of this chapter and I’m excited for next weeks update. If you want to be tagged then leave a comment below or DM me! I’ll add you to the tag list on this chapter, which is added to every chapter after this one (if that makes any sense). 

Masterlist

[Prev] [Next] 

“…later that day they also defeated death.”

The words rung in my ears, as I watched the footage on screen. It was true, we had defeated death, but it was all thanks to Spider Man.

“Thanks to the Spider Man…. Thank you, Spider Man.”

A laugh escaped my mouth, as I shook my head and turned away from the TV screen. ‘The Spider Man.’ It felt so surreal, being saved by a superhero not once, but twice. Let’s be honest, there’s probably going to be a third time too. And as silly as it sounds, I’m not scared or sad to think of the next time. I like spider-man, plain and simple.

The next lesson I have is Spanish, which we have a test for today. I’m not that good at Spanish, but I’m more than ready to give it a try. Maybe the teacher would slide me extra points for almost dying. And if he didn’t, I could always use it as an excuse for why I did poorly.

“Hey, uh, Y/N.”

The familiar voice caught me off guard. Turning in the direction it was from, I came face to face with Peter. I hadn’t talked to him since we walked home together. He didn’t even ask if I was okay after dangling from a web in an elevator shaft. I knew he was angry at me, but god that hurt. Clearly, he didn’t care if I lived or died.

“What?”

My harsh voice clearly caught him off guard, as he jumped slightly.

“I-uh, I- j-just wanted to – uh-“

“Spit it out.”

Peter tensed once again, before letting out a breath. “I just wanted to say I’m happy you’re okay and that I’m sorry I didn’t ask sooner.” His words sounded genuine, as a small smiled graced his lips.

“We’re all lucky Spider Man was there that day.” The words still came out hard, full of anger. “And I’d forgive you, but I’ve never been so disappointed in my life.” Stepping closer, I placed a hand on my chest. “I almost died, we all almost died.” Taking my hand off my chest I placed it on his. “And you couldn’t even be bothered to come over and ask if I was okay. Some ‘best friend’ you are.”

With nothing else to say, I shoved him slightly while shaking my head and then walked down the hallway to Spanish. My chest ached, like it always did when I had an argument with Peter. But I pushed the feeling down and repressed it, why should I care about him when he didn’t care about me?

“I don’t understand why I had to go to school, only to be pulled out half way through the day.” I mumbled, taking my seat on the staten island ferry.

“Because you had a Spanish test.” My mum responded, taking the seat next to me. “Look, I know it’s been a hard few days for you. With the elevator thing and all, but it’s important to stick to the routine.” Mum was genuine, like always. I know she cares about me, which is why I didn’t tell her about my first encounter with Spider-Man. God knows how worried she would’ve been.

“I know, mum.”

The trip was going as usual, as I stuck some earphones in and watched the river roll. We usually caught the ferry to get to my aunt’s place. My mother is very close to her sister, my aunt, so we visit her weekly. However, we haven’t gone during a school day since primary school. Mum believes in a proper education, so when school got serious, so did she. No more days off, unless I was sick, and no half days.

We were halfway across the river, the statue of liberty straight ahead, when pillars of blue lights appeared. They went from the floor to the roof, almost as if they were cutting through the ship. But surely, they weren’t… were they?

People yelped, as parents grabbed their children and everyone fled as far from the rays as possible. I looked outside the window, hoping to see anyone or anything that could explain this. What my eyes saw was unbelievable. The ship was surrounded by wave like things, as if the water was running away from the ferry. My eyes turned back to the ship, as the blue rays disappeared.

The screams died down, as people stared at the line in the ground. It was red swallowed by black, almost seeming like it had been burnt through. Some people dared to step closer, curious and confused. Despite my mums scared ‘stay here’, I joined them. What was this line, and how did it get here?

Something sounded on the floor below us, where the cars were held. I strained my ears to hear it, as the sound was dull and covered by the thick metal floor. It almost sounded like a burst pipe, but that was impossible.

Suddenly the noise built up again, a combination of metal on metal and people screaming in fear. I stared in horror as the ship split in two, now that WAS impossible. What blue rays could possibly tear a ship in two??? Nothing I’d never seen, that was for sure.

People once again backed away from the center of the ship, fleeing to the sides in fear. Wires and pipes dropped down, swinging from side to side in the gaping split of this once whole ship. In an attempt to help my mum, I tugged onto her shoulder and pulled her to me. I could protect her, I could make her feel at least a little save.

Suddenly, against all the odds, a blue and red clad superhero swung past. He shot webs from his wrists, mumbling to himself in a state of panic.

“He’s here to save us.”

I watched in awe as he tied the two split parts together, amazed and dare I say it… proud. It’s weird how I’ve built a personal connection to someone I don’t even know, and probably never will.

I stepped closer to the edge of the ship (well, the half I was standing on) to watch him as he disappeared from frame. There wasn’t an inch of fear left in me. I trust him with my life, as he’s saved it more than once. Maybe I should invite him around for dinner one day, I’m not sure how he’ll eat with the mask on though.

After the ship was webbed up, I stood even closer to the edge. Some people followed suit, standing behind or beside me. Spider Man watched from the top of the ship, crouched down. I could see his chest move, as he struggled to find air. He did it, like he always did.

I’m not sure how I knew it, but we made eye contact. A familiar feeling washed over me, almost like I’d seen him more times then I actually had. Almost like I had grown up next to him. His odd eyes widened, as he broke the eye contact and stood up, looking across the ship. A true hero.

“Yeah, spider-man!!!!” Some random man cheered.

Just as I was about to celebrated, the ship rocked back and forth. One by one the webs snapped, people started screaming again, as they rushed to safety.

Someone bumped my shoulder in the rush, causing me to stumble forward. Before I could catch my step, I was shoved once again by a different person. I stumbled forward once more, but this time there was no floor to catch me and I found myself falling to an intimate death.

Pt. 6 

Tag List:

@hoponthefandomtrain @sassykitten13 @jvghead-jones-iii@gabrielad16@lyssamorgan @arachnidscosmopoliton  @geeksareunique@petah-parkah-and-potahtas @xxangel-babexx @ccaammbbaallzzeerr@gaiasambuci@scorpiostunner1027 @fortheloveoflamp @timelord-lost-in-the-impala@fandomscombine @sammy-holland@musicnowandforever661@tmrhollandkay @fuckitilldecidelater@4ydan@purple-storm@emmatrashforfandoms @huggingholland @ownri @will-write-for-love @amillionfandoms-onlyoneme@pasteltreefuccer @bit-bot0711  @superwholocked221 @rose-coloured-me @trashy-jalen @rockagurl @spidergirl2017 @lookclosernow @smolbean-hoo-har-har @rmillerartemis@stilesxlydiaxshipper  @obscureowl @huggingholland  @gryffindorwithagedweyignasia  @harrys-bae1996  @morgannope @qtest-trash  @rose-coloured-me  @antisocialshipper @humorwitch @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @xoxcat101  @fazedphan @rebloggingtrash @steves-slut

[chaneajoyyy]

JALEN HURTS FANFICTION

recovery, orange peel theory, "let's cancel those plans and stay in instead", "you're so silly!", "don't make this about me", "i" knew i loved you then", “I thought a massage would help you babe.” , your camera roll when your dating jalen jurts- @vanwritesfan-fiction

missed you- @siribaes

jalen hurts as a boyfriend- @godsfavoritebabe

**HIT MY LINE IF YOU KNOW ANY MORE FANFICTION**

[tvchi]

The Challenge: About Him

Disclaimers: DO NOT COPY OR REPOST MY WORK. DO NOT TRAIN AI WITH MY WORK.

Warnings: Mature Audiences ONLY: 18+, SMUT, Minors DNI- Nudity, Sexual Intercourse, Spitting, Gagging, Profanity.

Pairing: Jalen Hurts x black female Word Count: 2139

A/N: Alright. Here is where the action is. This is Part 2 of the series. Please heed the warnings up top. This is actual pretty vanilla considering the other things I've written but if you are a minor, SCRAM. As always, your feedback is greatly appreciated because I'm really trying to get better. So Like, Comment, and Reblog as the spirit moves you. ❤️❤️🥰!

If you haven't read Part 1, stop what you're doing and read that first!

Summary: You're chilling with your friends as you update them on what went on in Professor Martinez's class with James. You get an earful about your behavior while they send you spiraling down memory lane.

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 I love hanging out with my friends. They just get me—maybe a little too much. So, naturally, I spoke to them about the showdown after Professor Martinez’s class, and I got an earful.

       “I know you lyin’,” Amber said. “She’s lying, right? I know she lyin’!”

       “So you mean to tell me that fine, chocolate demigod was speaking to you face to face, and you …you insulted him?” Reneé added.

       “It’s the ‘talking about the project’ for me! I wouldn’t be able to talk to that man about nothing except nuttin’. On God!” said Sara.

       “Yall are missing the point. What am I going to do? I can’t have him messing up my work.” I asked.

      “I think we are all in agreement when we say that not only should you make amends with this man, but you should invite us to the breakout session so we can talk about us being sister-wives. That man is F-I-O-N-E,” said Amber.

         I rolled my eyes so hard I thought they were going to get stuck in the back of my head. They all knew that I was on a strict track to get into law school and that I took my GPA seriously. I like to have fun, but I really don’t play about my work, and here they were acting like I was the problem.

       “You know we love you, right?” Sara started, “I just think that maybe you were way too hard on him and making a mountain out of a molehill,” she finished.

       “I’m just going to say it because I think it needs to be said, and I can be the ‘bad guy’ this round. I think you are hard on him for the same reason that you’ve been hard on everyone that has come your way in the past 3 months. You’re still pissed about Devon.” said Reneé.

      My head whipped around so fast to turn in the direction of the Judas in my presence.

     “What did you say?” I asked rhetorically.

     “This man did nothing to you. In fact, a very serious person presented with a group project would approach his or her partner asking about how they should divvy the responsibilities of said project in a fair and equal manner. You bit his head off because… what? He’s a jock. Jocks are students too. He has to get a grade too. I don’t think you’ve even dated and responded to a guy favorably in the last couple of months. I get it. But don’t be scaring off fine, eligible bachelors because of some asshole in your past. That’s crazy.” she rebutted. 

      As I tried to calm my growing resentment towards Reneé and carefully chose my words to reply to this wild accusation, I couldn’t help but think about him. 

      We met at the University’s gallery opening for all of the students in the Thomas School of Art and Architecture. I had taken some classes at the school, and extra credit was given to students who attended the gallery opening. Truth be told, I would have attended without the incentive. There were so many talented creatives at the school, and their work was phenomenal. From the students who wanted to create their own fashion houses, making life-sized framed dresses, to those who experimented with realism and painting life-like portraits. There was something from every different type of creative at this exhibit. Reneé had the dopest exhibit of them all. She made an art installation made entirely of broken glass from liquor bottles she gathered from the entire campus. She sculpted the pieces into a diorama of the university, staying true to the architecture of the different buildings on campus. There was even an interactive portion where you would be told your expected major by a glass representative at the bursar's office, depending on how you answered the prompted questions. As I stood to admire her months of hard work, I walked around the entire installation, and at the end, that’s when we bumped into each other. 

      He stood tall, towering over me. His eyes were deep, almond-shaped, and had a way of eliciting visceral responses that lay dormant in the depths of your intimate parts. His walnut skin gave way to soft facial hair that added a ruggedness to his otherwise clean features. He kept a close crop of hair that he often rubbed in a forward motion in times of nervousness. He had a lean build, doing just enough to make you look twice but not enough to be confused with a professional athlete. The noticeable veins on his forearm made you wonder what his other appendages looked like. 

        I apologized for my clumsiness and tried to move away. He grabbed my arm, pulled me in close, and told me not to leave. He told me that he couldn’t think of anyone he’d rather bump into at this exhibit. We walked around the entire gallery together, discussing pieces. We eventually came to my other favorite piece in the gallery. A bust of a black woman made entirely of rope. It was as technical and intricate as any sculpture or painting, yet the texture was unique. I gushed about the level of skill and patience the artist must have had to create this. 

        “I’m glad you liked it. I wasn’t sure,” he said.

        “Wait,” I choked. “This is you?” He smiled. 

        “I really love this piece, Devon. You really did your thing with this one. You definitely should show it at other galleries,” said a random white male, notably one of the school's instructors. 

        “Thanks, Dean Bright. That means a lot,” He replied coolly.

        As they finished speaking, I tried to saunter off to find Reneé and the other girls.

       “Where you going?” I heard.

       “Oh, I didn’t want to crowd you. I bet a lot of people will want to talk to you about your work. It’s truly amazing,” I said shyly.

      “How about this, I’ll let you know when I think you’re crowding me. But right now,” he stepped closer as he finished, “I need you with me.�� 

      He stared into my eyes. At that moment, the din of the room faded to a low, inaudible frequency. It was just the two of us and the silent conversation our eyes held. He took my hand, and we left. 

       We took his car up to his off-campus loft. When we arrived, he got out of the car and opened my door. He pulled me up out of the car and onto the sidewalk. I don’t remember him locking the door. I don’t remember how we got inside the apartment, actually. We crashed into each other in a full-on collision. He tore my dress off of me with brute impatience, leaving me before him in just a lacy thong and breathy anticipation. He smiled wickedly as he took me all in. Before I knew what was happening, my back was against the concrete wall. My legs found his waist and pulled him in close. I buried my face in his, sucking the moisture out of his lips. I wanted more. I craved more. And more, indeed, came. He moved my soaked thong aside and slipped himself inside of me. I gasped for air. His nature was thick and full. I felt every inch, and he found every crevice. I tightened around him. 

     “Shit,” he moaned. 

     He thrusted deeper, and I screamed in pleasure. My head fell back as I tried to steady my breathing. I felt my stomach sink to the bottom, my walls tightened, my eyes rolled back, and I erupted. 

    “Fuuuuuuccckkkk!!” I yelled. 

     I came so hard I thought that I was gonna pass out. He fed me. Repeatedly. As I tried to recover, lifted my waist up to his lips to drink from me. My head hung upside down while he hoisted me up, hugging my midsection to his chest tightly while my back rested up against his abs. He was still at full attention, making his presence known against the upper portion of my back. He ate as though he was starving. I couldn’t contain myself. Overwhelmed with so many sensations, I felt myself tightening again. 

    “Relax your body,” he said. “You taste so damn good. I want you to taste yourself. I’m going to drink from you. Imma spit it down, and I want you to catch it, okay.”

    “Mmmm…Don’t talk with your mouth full,” I managed in between moans. He smirked. 

     His fingers never stopped working as I dangled mid-air. He worked his tongue over my clit, making sure not to miss an inch of my pearl. He came up for air; he shot some of my sweet sap up in the air through the tiny space between his front teeth. The tiny fountain of nectar landed in my opened mouth as I made sure I caught every drop. He continued drinking from my well until I came again. He lifted me up. Lightheaded, spent, and weak, I stumbled onto him. He caught me and chuckled. He carried me into his bedroom and laid me down. My back hit the cool sheets as I try to make sense of everything that happened. He studied me intently. I wondered what he was thinking. I wondered if it was then that he decided that he was going to use me and leave me in a world of pain and confusion. 

        Amber was in front of me now. She was speaking about something that I couldn’t quite make out when Sara decided that we should all play a game. 

       “So it seems that we are collectively in a man rut,” Sara started.

       “Speak for yourself, hoe!” Reneé blurted out as she grabbed another drink.

       “ANYWAAAAY, “ she said as she rolled her eyes and brought her attention back to Amber and me. “ Like I was saying, it seems like we are in a bit of a hard place when it comes to men. I think maybe we are thinking too hard about everything. We are still young, and dating men should be fun—not a chore. So I propose that we do a challenge,” she finished with a gleam in her eyes. 

       “Uh oh,” I said, looking at Amber.

      “Girl, the last time you had us do one of your challenges, we were on the toilet for weeks,” Amber cried.

     “Here me out! What if we just said “yes” whenever we were faced with a proposition or a situation that we would otherwise say “no” to. Nothing too crazy or anything that would put our lives in jeopardy. No creeps, but what if we just said “yes” for like one month. Amber, you can say “yes” to going out with white boy Greg from Cali even though he’s white because life is short and meals are expensive. Adaobi, you can work on that couples project with fine ass James…” Sara said 

    “I am not dating him. Our thing is different. It’s a class project; he’s not my man, so I’m kinda exempt from this,” I interrupted. 

    “Nice try, but you don’t even look at men anymore, girl. So the fact this fine one is speaking to you at all, given the way you’ve been growling at every man in sight, is a miracle. You’re doing this challenge,” said Reneé.

     “Thank you, Reneé. And you, Reneé, maybe we should start a “no” challenge for you because we can’t keep up with your sexual exploits anymore. Ever think about saying “yes” to a friendship without benefits?” asked Sara.

    “Bite me, bitch! Hating is not a good look on you,” she sneered.

    “Are we all in or what?” Sara asked. 

    The whole room looked at me. It seems like I wasn’t getting out of this one. 

   “Fine,” I said begrudgingly.

   “Yay! It’s a go. Here’s to having fun again,” Sara said as she raised her glass of Bacardi and Coke to toast.

   “Cheers!!!” we all said in unison.

    As I sat my glass down on the coaster to my left, Reneé plopped down beside me. “And don’t think for a second you're gonna wiggle your way out of this. I got a friend that is cool with James and goes to your class. I’ll spy on you if I have to.” she threatened.

    The last time Reneé threatened me, she got two of her friends with benefits to break into my dorm, pick me out of bed, and hoist me into the tub, then she hosed me down while I was still in my pajamas. It had been five days since Devon and I refused to leave the dorms. I never saw her so angry in my life. I knew then that she was capable of setting the world on fire if she had to. I also knew that I would have to make nice with James.

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Here is Part 1 Click here for Part 3

Tags: @thecapodomme @writers-of-tmblr @melaninpov @spaceslutsworld @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @mymusicbias @the-black-label @master-builder42 @miraculously-dumb-bitch @megamindsecretlair @hopefulromantic1 @tranquilfandomer @thadelightfulone @vivalaorgasm @hotgrlcece @planetblaque @blackgurlnhermoods @sweettea-and-honeybutter @andriaharris @kumkaniudaku @theblacklewinsky @nun0ir @iloveorangesworld @cocogoddess0g

[tvchi]

The Challenge: About Loss

Disclaimers: DO NOT COPY OR REPOST MY WORK. DO NOT TRAIN AI WITH MY WORK.

Warnings: Mature Audiences ONLY: 18+, SMUT, Minors DNI- Nudity, Sexual Intercourse, Spitting, Gagging, Profanity.

Pairing: Jalen Hurts x black female Word Count: 2010

A/N: I wrote this because my book club is LIT (waaay better than yours) and we write our own short stories and present it to the group to read and rate. I thought I would just upload it on here for everyone to read. It's more romance than smut but I hope that yall like it! Your feedback is greatly appreciated because I'm really trying to get better. So Like, Comment, and Reblog as the spirit moves you. ❤️❤️🥰!

Summary: You're in class and are forced to do a group assignment. The absolute worse thing happens, you are paired with the most popular jock in the university. You can't risk failing this assignment. Will things heat up in the classroom? Stay tuned.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Good Afternoon, class! Today we are going to talk about loss!” she exclaimed as she slapped two large textbooks onto her desk. 

       Only Professor Martinez could be chipper about an otherwise dismal topic. This meant that a possible term paper was coming in the very near future. As her words still lingered in the air and the rest of the class began settling down, I went back to doodling on my page. I peered periodically through my curtain bangs at the board to see if she had written anything down, but the board remained blank. Some kids were texting and scrolling on social media, while others took this time to find the comfiest position for the best fifty-minute nap they were about to take today. The thing about Introduction to Medical Anthropology is it is kind of a bore. I mean, we are all required to take a “General Education” course at the College of Liberal Arts. My first choice was the class where they listened to vinyls all day and debated which was the greatest musical genre of all time, but I overslept on registration day, and it filled up. So, for the past couple of months, I’ve been here prying my eyes open through the medical corporate structure and its inner workings. I thought anthropology courses were supposed to be about the people, how they work, and all the stuff that tugged at heartstrings. You know, mushy shit. Instead, I’ve learned the quickest way to make a lot of money. It was giving “Who wants to be a Millionaire,” not Cumbaya. 

       I peered up once more at the board, and the word “loss” was written up in large capital letters. The room was now completely silent as if it held its finger up to its lips. I turned to get another pen and, as if right on cue, there he was. Eyes closed and head slowly falling forward, James Evans was never awake long enough for him to use any of those pens he was always borrowing from any one of the four girls he was always sitting next to. The college’s star athlete made sure he got his fifty-minute nap in, not wasting a minute. It must be nice not having people expect much of you academically. It must be nice having people offer you grades in exchange for physical labor. Or maybe not. I quickly grabbed my other pen, pushing thoughts of student-athletes aside, and started to take a couple of notes. Sometimes, I wrote notes not to remember key facts but because writing things down helped me stay awake. 

      “What’s the most gut-wrenching thing about suffering a loss?” Professor Martinez asked a now-settled down class.

      “I was wondering when we were gonna talk about Palliative care! Ok, when my aunt chose to be placed in hospice after getting chemo for 2 years, it was really hard for us. It was like she was giving up on herself. I was so confused, “ Kelly Gardner, the resident overachiever, replied. 

       I rolled my eyes. I mean, no offense to her aunt, but her niece is really annoying. Once she starts on one of her personal anecdotes, she never lets up. The class turns into this historical account of the Gardner family and all the shit Kelly doesn’t like. I mean with what I know about her family tree and her dog, she should invite me over for Christmas dinner. 

       “Thank you for sharing, Kelly. That must have been really hard. However, my line of questioning was more of a general question about loss, not hospice care. What about loss hurts the most?” said Professor Martinez. This time, her eyes scanned the room as if looking for someone whose face would betray them into sharing their familiarity with the subject. The room was quiet for what felt like ages. 

       “I think it’s the part where you remember something. Something really funny and you go to call them up. Then you remember that they aren't here anymore,” volunteered a small voice.

      I turned to face where the sound was coming from. A tiny girl that I never noticed before emerged from the sea of faces. She had a baby face that was smooth and had flush skin. Her hair was straight and jet black, arranged in two low,​​ neat buns. Her clothes were dark colored but neatly pressed. She wore a broach and other pendants around the breast pockets of her sweater. On her feet were leather combat boots with silver buckles, which I noticed because they almost swallowed her tiny legs that dangled in her chair, hovering over the floor. 

     “Nah, I think it's when you see pictures of them up, and everyone starts talking about them like they ain't here,” said another voice.

      “It’s the crying. Sometimes, you see or hear something, and you just start crying out of nowhere,” yet another voice said.

      “Holidays and birthdays”

      “Seeing the date of the last thing they posted on IG. Every time you go back to it, you start seeing how much time has passed. Like their last digital footprint”

      “How tight you get when you see the world going about its business like nothing ever happened. You start to do the same, and you find that you can’t move—not like everyone else,” said a deep, rich voice vibrating across the room. 

      I recognized that voice, but I couldn’t be sure. I turned my head to see who Loss had wrung a confession out of this time, and the voice came from James. He was looking intently at his hands, visibly frustrated. A silence spread across the room after that, each person presumably contemplating their own brush with Loss. 

    “Good!” Professor Martinez said, “Very Good! This week’s assignment will be to write about a time when you suffered a great loss. You will write about how you reacted, how everyone around you reacted, and whether or not any of those reactions coincided with any of the stages of grief listed in Kaufman & Morgan’s ‘The Anthropology of the Beginnings and Ends of Life’. You know, the required reading for this class.

      Groans were heard throughout the classroom. My attention turned from James to the front of the class, confused.

     “Yes, yes, yes, but what would life be without a graded assignment?” Professor Martinez sarcastically retorted. “What’s even better is that you don’t have to go through this alone. I will be assigning you all a partner! Please listen for your name and who you will be working with,” she finished as more groans were heard throughout the classroom. 

      And there it was. The dreaded group project. Something I’ve been avoiding all semester. Apart from the fact that I don’t like democracy, where my grades are involved, I’m not particularly fond of the talent in this classroom. 

     “Sarah and Sam,” Professor Martinez called.

     God, what do I have to do? I already call my grandmother four times a year and pretend to care about her prayer meeting gossip.

     “Celeste and Patrick”

      Fine, God! I’ll raise you another hour on the phone and pretend to care about the hymns for the Christmas choir selections.

     “Hunter and Malachi”

      Please, God, just don’t let her place me with someone dumb or worse…. Can’t read!

     “Adaobi and Jasper!”

      I stopped praying long enough to catch Jasper’s eye. We nodded at each other. Jasper wasn’t bad. I peer-reviewed a prose piece he wrote in another class, and it wasn’t that bad, actually. I can work with this. Thank you, God! 

    “Oh, I’m sorry. It was my mistake. I misread the names on the page for a minute. It’s been a long day. I meant to say Adaobi and James,” said Professor Martinez.

     My heart slowed to a halt. I peered over at James and then back down to my sheet of paper. This is when I started to question whether or not God actually loved me. I steadied my breathing and tried not to think about the cards I had been dealt. Instead, I would focus on how to make lemonade. I needed to get him comfortable with the idea that he had no input on this assignment and it would be a good idea for him to let me handle everything. Then, I would catch him up to speed when it’s done. I took a minute to draft and rehearse a speech, keeping in mind what I was going to say and when I would start working on the project. I pulled out my planner to look at upcoming deadlines.

    “Hi. I’m James. I guess we’re paired up,” he said, offering his hand and a quick smile.

     I quickly understood. What is it I understood? I understood how all people drooled and hung onto his every word. His waist, directly in my seated line of sight, was slim and fitted under his gray sweatpants. He stood tall, easily over 6 feet. He had a solid build, the kind all of the guys wanted and avid sports players had. Broad shoulders that looked like they could a pair of legs up and down stairs with ease. His Nike tracksuit remained open, revealing a white beater that hung onto his sculpted pecs and chiseled abs. His skin was a rich, dark chocolate hue and burnished. I’d never been this close to him before, and a part of me didn’t think it was safe to.

      “Hi,” I said. 

      “So, how did you want to do this?” he asked.

      “I don’t, but we have to. So this is how it’s going to go: I’ll write the paper and turn it in with both of our names on it. I’ll send it to you before I turn it in so you can read it and at least know what it’s about. Just try reading a page or two out of the required reading if she asks any questions. Outside of that, you can do whatever it is you do, “ I said matter of factly as I gathered my things to leave the classroom. 

     “Nah. I kinda fuck with this assignment. I wanna write on it too,” he said. I glared at him. 

     “Interesting, especially since I haven’t heard you offer up an original thought about any assignment in this class all semester. But how could you? You’re never awake. Look, some of us have to think about our GPAs for our future.” I retorted.

     “So you’ve been watching me?” he asked, looking intently at me with the corners of his mouth threatening to curl upwards. 

     “No one has to watch you. You do this thing called snoring, and it interrupts the conversations happening in the class. The class we paid to have.” I spat, avoiding eye contact, hoping he couldn’t tell that I may have over-exaggerated some details to prove a point. There was a pause for a moment.

     “Look, yeah, I sleep in class, but Professor Martinez could put a TV to sleep, and you know it!” he said.

      “I know that everyone around you hypes you and lets you do whatever you want because you’re supposed to save University sports and finally lead the football team to their first Sugarbowl ever,” I started. “But you can’t fall asleep in every class, not read anything, and expect to write a world-class paper just because you have a ‘dead homie.’”

      He glared at me. His eyes were fiery with rage enough to singe my face. His eyebrows furrowed, creating canyons of skin on his forehead. He gritted his teeth, tightening his jawline. I stared back, trying not to betray my pounding heart or sweaty palms. After an eternity, he dropped his gaze and headed for the door. I exhaled a breath I didn’t know I had been holding. Turned back to my desk to gather the rest of my things.

       “I’ll be at the tech center at 6 pm for the next two weeks if you wanna work on this together. If not, I guess Professor Martinez will be getting two separate papers”, I heard. Then the door closed shut. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Click here for Part 2 Click here for Part 3

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