Annie left the Mississippi Delta with a broken heart and a full-ride scholarship, determined never to look back. Now a celebrated professor in Chicago, she’s called home to care for her mother—and the last thing she expects is to run straight into him.
Elijah "Smoke". Her first love. Her first everything.
He disappeared the summer after graduation, leaving only unanswered calls and a goodbye she never got. Now he's back in town, running a moody, magnetic blues lounge with his twin brother, playing late into the humid Southern nights like he’s pouring his soul out just for her.
Annie wants to hate him. She wants to forget the way he made her feel. But one look from those stormy eyes, and she’s seventeen again—burning, aching, and lost in the man he’s become.
He left without a word. But now? He wants to finish the story they never got to end.
Characters: Annie x Elijah " Smoke" Moore (Modern AU)
Themes: Angst, Fluff, Mention of Abuse, Vulgar Language, Sexual content & more...
Chapters: PART (1), PART (2)
A/N: Thank you for all the like and comments! It you did not get tag please let me know. I will definitely try get a list started soon. Enjoy!
NOT EDITED
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The gravel beneath Annie’s tires crackled as she eased her car into a tight spot beneath the blinking neon sign of The Cypress Lounge. Purple and gold light shimmered on her windshield, casting a soft glow across her cheekbones. She killed the engine and sat in silence for a moment, gripping the wheel like it might talk her out of going inside.
She could hear the low thump of music seeping through the club walls, steady like a heartbeat. Faint laughter spilled out every time the door opened. It sounded like the kind of place where memories waited, curled in the corners like cigarette smoke.
Annie stared out the window, her stomach fluttering with nerves she hadn’t expected. She hadn’t been back long. And even though this was her hometown, nothing felt the same. Should I even be here?
But then she thought about Pearline’s laugh, the way it used to echo down school hallways like a warning and a promise. She thought about how long it had been since she let herself breathe around old friends, let alone dance or sip something that burned going down but warmed her chest. And of course—she thought about Smoke.
I deserve this, she whispered to herself, adjusting the strap on her heel. One night. One laugh. One damn drink.
She grabbed her purse, pushed open the car door, and stepped into the thick Mississippi air that curled around her like warm breath. As she headed toward the entrance, her heel clipped the edge of the sidewalk.
The music spilling out from the double doors was smooth, tinged with soul, and paired nicely with the scent of sweet cigars and barbecue drifting on the warm Mississippi air.
The neon sign above the door glowed deep blue, like twilight caught in glass, and beneath it stood a bouncer with arms like tree trunks and a face she hadn’t seen in years.
“Cornbread?” Annie blinked, pausing just short of the rope.
The bouncer turned, squinting. Then his face lit up like a porch light. “Well I’ll be damned. Lil’ Annie Marie from Mrs. Griffin’s fourth grade class?”
Annie laughed. “Ain’t nobody called me Annie Marie in years.”
Cornbread chuckled and pulled her into a quick, friendly hug. He was heavier now, broader in the shoulders, but his round face and easy smile were just the same.
“I heard you went off to college and never looked back,” he said. “Where you been hiding all these years?”
“Chicago,” Annie said with a smile. “I’m a professor now. I teach Botany at the University of Chicago now.”
Cornbread let out a low whistle, clearly impressed. “Oh, we got a brain in the house tonight! Look at you. Smart and still fine.”
She smirked. “You always were full of compliments. How about you?”
He puffed out his chest with pride. “I’m married now. Got my first baby on the way.”
“For real? Congratulations, Cornbread. I’m happy for you.”
“Velma finally said yes after all them years,” he said, beaming. “And now we nesting and everything.”
Annie laughed. “Velma must’ve gotten tired of running.”
“Nah, I just got too good to resist.”
They both shared a laugh before he stepped aside and gestured toward the entrance. “Go on in. First round’s on me, just tell Pearline.”
She gave his arm a friendly squeeze and stepped into the Cypress Lounge.
The interior took her breath for a moment.
It was two floors of elegance dipped in Southern charm—dark wood, golden accents, lush velvet curtains, and soft lighting that made everyone look like a movie star. A spiral staircase curved toward the second level where a live jazz trio played, and the bar below was backed by mirrors that stretched up to the ceiling. Everything about it said grown, sexy, and proud.
She still thought of them as the boys with scraped knees and crooked grins, hustling at corner stores and making mixtapes off the radio. But this… this was grown-man status. No shortcuts. No half-steppin. They’d built something that felt good, something that welcomed people in and made them want to stay.
They really did this, she thought. Elijah and Elias Moore weren’t just the twins from math class anymore. They were businessmen. She took a slow, admiring look around, taking in the laughter, the clink of glasses, the way people were moving like the whole lounge had a pulse.
“Annie!” a voice called out.
She turned and saw Pearline waving her down from the bar, her smile wide and full of surprise. Wearing her big hoops, big hair, and a beautiful yellow summer dress. She stood near the bar waving a menu like a church fan, her hips already swaying in time with the music.
Annie smiled and made her way over, her gold sandals clicking softly against the floor.
“I didn’t think you were gonna come,” Pearline said, pulling her into a warm hug.
“Honestly, I wasn’t sure myself. But I figured, why not?”
“I’m glad you did.” Pearline motioned to the seat beside her. “Come on, girl. Sit. I wanna know everything.”
They spent the next half hour catching up,;talking about old classmates, wild dating stories, and the rollercoaster of adulthood. Pearline shared how she’d done a few Broadway shows when she lived in New York but came back to the Delta for a breather.
“Too much fast living,” Pearline said. “I needed air I didn’t have to fight for. Plus, Mama guilt-tripped me into coming home.”
Annie grinned. “That sounds like something my mom would do.”
Pearline leaned in, sipping her drink. “And you? Are you really teaching college kids now?”
“Yep. Botany,” Annie said, smoothing the side of her dress. “Working on my Ph.D., too.”
Pearline’s eyes widened with delight. “So I’m supposed to call you Dr. Annie now?”
Annie laughed. “Not yet, but soon.”
Just then, a familiar voice chimed in.
“Dr. Annie, huh? That got a nice ring to it.”
They both turned to see Stack—Elias—sauntering over, a fresh drink in his hand, smiling as easy as ever.
“Hey, stranger,” Annie said, warmth in her voice.
“Damn, you look beautiful,” Stack said, eyes full of admiration. “And congratulations. That’s big. I’m really glad you came tonight.”
“I am too,” she admitted, her voice softening. “This place... it’s beautiful. You and Elijah really built something special.”
Stack beamed. “We put our backs into it, that’s for sure.”
Annie’s eyes scanned the room, just for a second, subtle and quiet.
Stack noticed. Of course, he did.
“If you were wondering,” he said, leaning a little closer with a grin, “Smoke’s upstairs.”
Annie rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Nobody is looking for him.”
Stack chuckled. “Sure. Okay. Women are always looking for a Moore man.”
Annie playfully smacked his arm. “Elias, go on somewhere before I hurt you.”
He laughed, the sound rich and warm. “Ain’t nobody called me Elias in years. You might be the only one that gets away with it.”
For a moment, he just looked at her, eyes full of something old and familiar. It was good to see Annie again.
“Well I gotta make my rounds ladies. Enjoy yourself. We will catch up later.”
Annie watched Stack walk off with that same confident stride he always had in high school—shoulders squared, slight bounce in his step like the world bent just a little to make way for him. She shook her head, a wry smile tugging at her lips. Same ol’ Elias.
But the Cypress Lounge… that was something else entirely.
She turned her gaze upward, admiring the chandelier that hung from the center of the ceiling like a cascade of gold teardrops. The soft lighting kissed the mahogany railings and velvet booths just right, casting shadows that made the place feel intimate, sultry even.
Jazz drifted from upstairs—a saxophone player melting notes like butter over a warm biscuit. Down below, glasses clinked, laughter rose and fell, and people moved through the space like they belonged to it.
Annie let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.
It felt good to be here. Not as the girl who left Delta, Mississippi all those years ago, but as the woman who came back wiser, sharper, still soft, but not naive.
“This place got layers,” she murmured to Pearline, who was now sipping a cocktail that looked too fancy to pronounce.
“Right?” Pearline said, nodding. “It’s like... upscale juke joint meets speakeasy meets a grown-folks lounge. Smoke had the vision. Stack made it real.”
Annie swirled her drink, a bourbon and honey with a twist of lemon. It was smooth, warming her chest.
Her eyes moved across the room, catching glimpses of small-town faces dressed in big city energy. Some she recognized from high school who were now older, with laugh lines and wedding rings. Others were strangers, out-of-towners, maybe tourists or weekend regulars.
She leaned back, soaking in the chatter, the jazz, the scent of expensive perfume and fried catfish floating in from the kitchen. A waitress glided past in sliver heels, her tray balanced with precision.
Pearline leaned in. “Tell me the truth. When’s the last time you felt like this?”
Annie looked at her, thoughtful.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re allowed to enjoy yourself,” Pearline said. “Like the night is just for you.”
Annie hesitated, then smiled softly. “It’s been a while.”
“Then let it be tonight,” Pearline said, raising her glass. “To feeling like ourselves again.”
Annie clinked her glass against hers. “To that.”
As they toasted, the jazz upstairs slid into a slow, dreamy groove. The kind of music that made couples drift toward each other. The kind that made people believe in second chances.
Annie caught her reflection in the bar mirror Fuchsia dress hugging her just right, gold jewelry gleaming against her brown skin, her natural curls framed in a soft updo like her mother suggested. For the first time in a long time, she saw a woman who was present. Glowing.
And maybe, just maybe… open.
She didn’t come here looking for anything. But maybe something found her anyway.
From the second-floor overlook of the Cypress Lounge, Smoke leaned against the railing, a lowball glass resting in his hand. The golden lights bathed the crowd below in a soft, romantic haze. But his eyes weren’t on the stage or the bar.
They were on her.
Annie.
She stood near the bar with Pearline, her laughter catching even from where he stood. Her fuchsia dress clung to her curves like it had been sewn just for her. Gold jewelry shimmered at her ears and wrists. Her hair in those soft, coiled curls swept up and off her neck looked like something out of a dream. Or maybe a memory.
He didn’t realize how long he’d been watching her until Elias—Stack—appeared beside him with a drink of his own.
“Nigga, you gonna burn a hole in her,” Stack said with a smirk. “You gon’ keep staring or go down there and say something?”
Smoke didn’t answer right away. His jaw ticked slightly as he watched two men approach Annie and Pearline. Locals, dressed clean, full of confidence.
He watched as one leaned in toward Annie, all teeth and charm, nodding to the dance floor. She smiled politely, shaking her head with a laugh, while Pearline entertained the other man with a teasing smirk.
Another song kicked up, an old school groove that had couples sliding onto the dance floor like butter on grits.
One of the men offered Annie his hand again, clearly trying harder. And this time… she considered it.
Smoke straightened just a little.
Stack chuckled under his breath. “It’s funny. All these years, all them women, and look at you now. Jealous like a boy with his first crush.”
Smoke shot him a side glance. “Ain’t jealous. Just observant.”
“Mmhmm,” Stack said, clearly amused.
But Smoke’s gaze returned to Annie.
She looked so at home in the lounge, like she’d never left the Delta. Like she belonged there among gold light, rich music, and warm laughter.
And maybe she did.
But something in his chest pulled taut as he watched her lean closer to say something to the man again. Not because he didn’t want her to enjoy herself. He did.
He just didn’t expect it to feel like this.
In the supermarket, seeing her again had stirred something, but tonight, seeing her radiant, laughing, shining. She wasn’t the memory of the girl he once knew.
She was a woman. and maybe, it was time he stopped watching and made his way downstairs.
Annie’s laughter floated effortlessly into the air, carried by the soft thrum of music and the low hum of voices all around the lounge. She leaned against the bar, a fresh glass of sweet wine in hand, her gold bangles catching the light as she talked animatedly with Pearline.
She hadn’t felt this light in years.
No papers to grade. No office hours. No revisions staring her down.
Just music, good drinks, a beautiful lounge, and the warm comfort of old friendship.
“So, Professor Annie…” Pearline teased, tossing a curl over her shoulder, “…you just out here mingling with the common folk now?”
Annie rolled her eyes and sipped her wine. “Girl, please. I barely got out the house without guilt. Between teaching full time, writing this dissertation, and managing my apartment, this is the first night in months I’ve done something that didn’t involve caffeine and footnotes.”
Pearline beamed. “Then tonight, we dancing.”
As if on cue, two sharply dressed men approached them. Both tall, with easy smiles and that smooth Delta charm that didn’t have to try too hard.
“Excuse me, ladies,” the taller of the two said, his voice velvet-rich, “but we been standing over there trying to figure out how long it’d take to work up the nerve to come speak.”
Pearline smirked. “Well, it took you long enough.”
That made them all laugh. The other man turned to Annie, extending a hand. “Name’s Darius. And you must be… trouble.”
Annie quirked a brow but smiled. “Annie. And I prefer Doctor Trouble, if we’re going there.”
Darius chuckled. “Doctor Trouble? Lord have mercy! Smart and fine.”
“And you are?” she asked, sipping her wine again
“Darius Jackson. Contractor. Work out in Clarksdale. This here’s my cousin Quincy. He owns that new vinyl shop down on Main.”
“Pearline,” her friend chimed in, shaking Quincy’s hand. “Actress, singer, Broadway star. For tonight, your favorite dance partner.”
“Then can I have the honor of the first dance?” Quincy asked smoothly, extending his hand to Pearline.
“And the second,” Pearline replied with a wink, taking it.
Darius looked back at Annie. “What about you, Dr. Annie? Can I steal a dance, or are you one of those women who’s too smart to let a man lead?”
Annie let out a rich laugh, full and unbothered. “Darius, I came out tonight to have fun. I’ve earned that much.”
She placed her glass on the bar and took his hand. “Let’s dance.”
From above, Smoke watched her move onto the floor, her fuchsia dress catching the light with every sway of her hips. He watched her laugh, watched Darius lean in to say something, watched her throw her head back in amusement and move like she hadn’t been holding the weight of the world for years.
She looked free.
Beautiful.
Untouchable.
Yet, the heat that rose in his chest wasn’t from the whiskey anymore.
It was something much older.
Much deeper.
He didn’t like the way Darius held her waist.
Smoke gripped the railing of the upstairs balcony so tightly, his knuckles paled. The drink in his free hand had long since gone warm, untouched as he stared across the dance floor below.
Annie was glowing.
Her body moved like it remembered music in her bones. Swaying, dipping, rising again with ease. Her laughter floated up to him through the air thick with cigar smoke, sweat, perfume, and bass. Her dress, that vibrant shade of fuchsia, clung to her body like a second skin. Every time Darius’s hands rested lightly at her waist, Smoke’s jaw clenched tighter.
It was like watching someone slow dance with his oxygen.
That was his girl.
At least... she had been.
Back when they were sixteen and stupid and brave. Back before life threw bills, heartbreak, and distance between them. Back before the Cypress Lounge and Bo Chow’s and all this damn noise.
The DJ faded Lucy Pearl into the first few notes of “Love of My Life (An Ode to Hip-Hop)” by Erykah Badu, and that’s when it hit him like a punch to the gut.
He was right back in Annie’s living room.
It was a warm Friday night in the Delta, the kind where cicadas buzzed like static in the trees and the stars seemed to hum. Annie’s parents had left earlier that evening for a friend’s wedding in Jackson, and Elijah had ridden his bike over just as the sun tucked itself behind the pine trees.
Annie had on some worn cotton shorts and a tank top, curls tied up in a puff, and barefoot. They’d spent the last hour curled on the sofa, knees touching beneath the quilt her grandmother made, watching Brown Sugar on DVD. The part where Dre confesses his love for Sidney had just ended and the credits began to roll.
The silence between them was warm, not awkward. Just the kind of quiet that came from being understood.
“You liked it?” Annie asked, brushing popcorn from her chest.
“Yeah.” Elijah nodded. “I like stories that know what they are.”
Annie chuckled, nudging him with her elbow. “You so deep, Eli.”
He shrugged. “Just honest.”
She looked over at him, eyes soft in the dim lamp light. “Say somethin’ honest now.”
Elijah turned toward her fully, his breath catching. The air shifted. Time slowed.
He was a boy raised by a father who didn’t believe in softness or being vulnerable. But Annie? She was soft. She was the center.
He fidgeted with his thumb, gaze dropping to the curve of her knee, then back up. “I... I been tryin’ to say something for a while now,” he said, voice low, like he was scared to speak it too loud would break the magic.
She didn’t blink. “Say it.”
Elijah swallowed. “I love you, Annie.”
A beat passed.
Two.
Then a small smile broke across her face, slow and sure. “I know.”
He blinked. “You know?”
“I was just waiting on you to know,” she said. “Took you long enough.”
She leaned in, kissed his cheek—soft, then firm. Her lips rested near his ear. “I love you too, Elijah Moore.”
And that was the first night Elijah knew what it meant to truly be seen.
Smoke’s jaw flexed as he watched Darius lead Annie into a playful spin. The way she smiled at the man. His girl smiling at someone else caused an ache in his chest to expand until it became unbearable.
He looked away, muttering to himself, “She is still mine. She gotta be.”
The music pulsed. The past bled into the present.
Elijah Smoke Moore realized that no matter how long it had been...Annie Marie Baptiste still had his heart in her back pocket.
The song faded into the background as Annie laughed, her chest rising and falling with breathless joy. Darius thanked her for the dance with a charming smile and a hand squeeze before heading back toward his group of friends. Pearline, mid-conversation with another admirer, gave Annie a knowing wink.
Annie smoothed her dress down, her skin warm from movement and her heart still fluttering from the rare sensation of being completely free.
Then she felt it that unmistakable pull.
She turned.
And there he was.
Smoke. Elijah.
Leaning casually against a column near the bar, half-shrouded in the lounge’s moody amber lighting, his dark eyes locked on her like she was the only person in the room. He hadn’t moved a step, yet the energy between them shifted like gravity realigning itself. Her throat went dry.
“Elijah,” she said, more breath than word.
He pushed off the column and made his way toward her, slow and deliberate, the crowd parting instinctively. When he stood in front of her, time compressed into that heartbeat of silence.
“You still dance like you got magic in your bones,” he said, voice low and velvety.
“And you still talk like you trying to put a spell on somebody,” Annie replied, steady, even as her pulse betrayed her.
Smoke’s eyes drifted over her face, then lower, pausing at the way her gold jewelry shimmered against her skin. “Didn’t expect to see you out tonight.”
“Pearline invited me. I needed a night out.” She tilted her head. “Stack inviting me too, if you remember?”
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I remember. Didn’t think you’d actually come.”
“I almost didn’t,” she admitted.
“Why’d you change your mind?”
Annie hesitated, her mouth parting, then closing. “Because I deserved to have a little fun. Been working too hard not to.”
Smoke nodded, something unreadable flickering in his expression. Then, softer, “You look good, Annie.”
“So I’ve heard,” she said, half-smiling. “But thank you.”
They stood there, the hum of the lounge pulsing around them. Two old lovers suspended in time, surrounded by music, memory, and everything unsaid.
Smoke leaned in slightly. “I ever tell you how much I hated seeing another man with his hands on you?”
Annie raised a brow. “Elijah—”
“I know,” he said, holding up a hand. “You don’t owe me anything. Not tonight. But I can’t lie and pretend it didn’t mess with me. Not after the way we ended. Not when I still…”
He stopped himself.
Her voice softened. “Still what?”
He didn’t finish. Instead, he glanced down at her hand, then back to her eyes. “You still wear your scent the same. Citrus and shea. Smells like home.”
Annie swallowed hard. “Elijah, don’t start something you’re not ready to finish.”
His gaze lingered a beat longer. “Maybe I came tonight ready.”
She blinked. For the first time in years, she didn’t know what to say.
From the bar, Pearline’s voice floated over, playful and teasing, “Annie, girl, you better not be fallin’ under a Moore spell again!”
They both laughed, tension breaking like steam rising off hot asphalt.
Annie stepped back slightly, her smile edged with caution. “I came to dance, not to rewind the past.”
Smoke nodded. “Then let me make it simple.” He extended a hand. “One dance. No spells. No promises. Just music.”
Annie stared at his hand… then slowly placed hers in it.
“One dance,” she warned.
“One,” he echoed, leading her toward the floor. But in his gut, Elijah Moore knew one would never be enough.
The moment Annie placed her hand in Elijah’s, the room shifted. “Soul Sista” by Bilal poured over them like honey, thick and slow, syrupy with nostalgia. They moved toward the center of the floor where the lights dimmed just enough to blur the lines between memory and moment.
As his hand slipped around her waist, Annie felt the warmth of his touch seep through her dress. Her other hand rested on his shoulder, reluctant, but steady.
“You always wore gold like it was made for you,” Elijah murmured.
Annie looked up, raising a brow. “We’re starting off with compliments now?”
He smirked faintly. “Just telling the truth.”
They began to sway, the beat guiding their steps in time with the ache that had been living in the space between them for years. The hush of the lounge faded into the background, as though the music had built a room just for them.
Annie kept her eyes on the dance floor behind his shoulder. “So… what is this, Elijah? A peace offering?”
He pulled her in a little closer, not enough to provoke, but just enough to be felt. “No. It’s a moment. That’s all I’m asking for.”
Annie sighed, a soft huff of breath between them. “Funny how you ask for a moment now… after disappearing for years without giving me one.”
Elijah stilled. Just for a second. The weight of her words hung in the air like smoke.
“I know,” he said, his voice low.
She dared to meet his gaze. “Do you? Because you left, Elijah. No note. No call. Not even a rumor. I thought something happened to you. Then I realized… something did. You just didn’t think I needed to know what.”
The music swelled. “You’re my soul sista…”
His grip on her waist tightened with emotion. “Annie, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“But you did.”
“I know I did.” He pulled back slightly, just enough to see her full face. “And I’ve carried that every damn day since.”
Annie’s lips trembled, but she held firm. “Then why? Why didn’t you say anything? Why just vanish like I never mattered?”
Smoke’s jaw clenched. His eyes, usually calm, stormed with guilt.
“Because I was scared. And selfish. I didn’t know how to be everything you deserved. I was seventeen with a thousand demons and no answers. And you… you were brilliant. Focused. Full of light. I thought leaving would protect you from me.”
Annie blinked, stunned. The raw honesty in his voice cut deeper than she expected.
“You didn’t get to make that decision for me,” she said quietly.
“I know that now.”
They moved slowly, their bodies pressed close as the song continued to pour through them. “...Ooh, you’re my soul sista…”
Smoke lowered his forehead to hers for a beat, their breath shared in silence. “Annie, I’m sorry. For all of it. For leaving. For hurting you. For not being man enough to look you in the eye and tell you goodbye.”
Annie didn’t respond right away. Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she closed her eyes trying not to let the years of confusion and hurt unravel all at once.
“I waited for you, you know,” she whispered. “I waited and I wondered and I hated myself for not being enough to make you stay.”
He pulled her tighter then, unable to pretend anymore. “Don’t ever say that. You were everything. I just… wasn’t ready to stand beside someone like you. I was broken, Annie.”
“You still are,” she said, not cruelly—but with painful truth.
“I’m trying,” Smoke replied. “I came back because… I couldn’t stay gone anymore. Not when every place I went, I still saw you. Heard you in the music. In the quiet. You were always with me.”
The song reached its final stretch, winding down into soft, soulful notes. Their steps slowed too, until they were nearly standing still, holding each other in the middle of a dance floor full of strangers who felt a world away.
Annie’s voice cracked as she looked up at him. “You don’t get to walk back into my life and expect me to pretend none of that happened.”
“I’m not asking you to pretend,” he said. “I’m asking you… to let me earn your forgiveness. One step at a time.”
Silence bloomed between them.
“I don’t know what I’m ready for,” she admitted.
“That’s okay,” Elijah said. “I’ll wait. However long it takes.”
The music faded completely, and still they didn’t let go.
Not yet.
Not while something between them fragile and undeniable had finally been spoken aloud.
The music drifted into silence, replaced by the soft hum of the lounge around them. She gently pulled her hands away from Smoke’s and the space between them stretched wider with each step back.
“I need a minute,” she said softly, almost to herself.
Smoke didn’t stop her. He only nodded, his eyes following her with an intensity that burned hotter than anything the music could offer.
Annie turned, her heart thudding loud and uneven as she weaved through the crowd. The lights of the Cypress Lounge, golden and low, swirled above her, but nothing felt steady. Not her breathing. Not her thoughts. Not the aching press of Smoke’s words echoing in her chest.
He had said sorry. Really said it. Not in the casual, rehearsed way people apologized to ease their own guilt, but in a way that cracked open something she had sealed years ago.
She made her way to the upstairs lounge. A quieter, more intimate space with plush velvet chairs and soft jazz playing in the background. Her heels clicked against the hardwood as she approached the bar, signaling the bartender with a flick of her fingers.
“Just water,” she said, her voice a whisper.
The bartender nodded, sliding her a tall glass filled with ice and lemon.
Annie took it with shaky hands and sat near the corner, facing out over the balcony where she could still see the dance floor below. She watched people laughing, swaying, living like they didn’t have history haunting them.
Her eyes, inevitably, found Smoke.
He hadn’t moved from where she left him.
He stood still in the middle of the floor, hands in his pockets, head bowed slightly as if replaying every word they had just exchanged.
Annie exhaled, long and slow.
She sipped the water and closed her eyes for a moment, leaning back in the chair. The memory of his voice clung to her skin like heat.
“I’ll wait. However long it takes.”
God help her… part of her wanted to believe him. Part of her wanted to melt into the space between those words and everything they once were.
However, the wiser part of her, the woman who had spent years rebuilding herself from the absence he left behind. She needed more than beautiful words. She needed proof.
Still, she didn’t move.
She just sat there, watching him.
Waiting to see if he would follow.
Waiting to see if maybe...he meant it.
“Girl,” Pearline said, breathless and curious, as she slid into the seat next to Annie on the velvet settee. “You damn near flew off that dance floor like it was on fire.”
Annie gave a tired smile and sipped her water. “Maybe it was.”
Pearline tilted her head, scanning her friend’s face like only a true friend could. “You alright?”
Annie didn’t answer right away. Her eyes drifted over the balcony edge, down to where Elijah still stood like a statue in the middle of the lounge. His head had turned slightly like he felt her eyes, like he knew she was watching.
“I’m trying to be,” Annie said softly.
Pearline followed her gaze. “He’s been staring up here since you left.”
“That sounds about right.” Annie turned her attention back to her drink. “He’s good at showing up just a little too late.”
Pearline reached over, resting her hand on Annie’s knee. “But he said something, didn’t he? Something real.”
Annie nodded slowly. “Yeah… he apologized.”
“Did it feel real?”
“That’s the problem,” Annie whispered. “It did.”
Pearline leaned back, letting out a low whistle. “Whew. Now I see why you dipped.”
They sat in silence for a few beats, the jazz from the overhead speakers settling into their bones.
“Pearline,” Annie said, voice barely a murmur, “I spent so long trying not to think about him. Not to wonder why he left. Then tonight… it’s like none of that time passed. He touched me and I—”
“You felt it.”
Annie nodded. “Worse. I wanted to feel it. I didn’t want to, but I did.”
Pearline sighed, taking her friend’s hand in hers. “That man has loved you since we were kids, Annie. I saw it. Everybody did. But love don’t excuse leaving without a word. Love don’t excuse silence.”
Annie blinked back heat behind her eyes. “Exactly.”
“But,” Pearline added, squeezing Annie’s hand, “maybe this ain’t about what he feels. Maybe it’s about what you want now. Do you want answers? Closure? A second chance? Or do you want to finish that dissertation and leave this night as just a beautiful evening with some damn fine music?”
Annie let the question settle in her chest. Heavy. Unforgiving. True.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I just know I don’t want to run anymore.”
Pearline smirked, bumping her shoulder gently. “Then don’t. Stay. Be still. Let him be the one who has to move this time.”
Annie smiled faintly, the first real one in a while. “You always know what to say.”
“I’m gifted,” Pearline said dramatically, flipping her curls over her shoulder. “And I’m also about to go get another drink. You want anything?”
“Just another water.”
Pearline winked. “Playing it safe. I respect it.”
As Pearline walked away, Annie looked down at Smoke one more time. He had finally moved, and he was heading toward the stairs. Her chest tightened.
She wasn’t running.
Not this time.
That’s when a voice broke through the velvet hum of the lounge. It was deep, smooth, laced with charm.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Stack’s voice rang out from the stage mic below, drawing the attention of the crowd like a magnet. Annie and Pearline both leaned over the balcony railing, their eyes catching the soft golden glow of the spotlight that now bathed Stack’s confident figure.
Pearline grinned. “And here goes your other boy…”
Annie smirked faintly, grateful for the distraction.
“Now I don’t usually get on this mic unless the bar is low or the crowd is too quiet,” Stack began, earning chuckles from below. “But tonight, we got a little treat for y’all.”
The crowd leaned in, drinks stilled mid-sip. Upstairs, Annie felt her shoulders ease.
“This here,” Stack continued, “is my cousin Sammie. He flew in from Memphis just for tonight. Brought his guitar and a little heat to share with y’all. Don’t let that shy face fool you. He been pickin’ strings since before he could spell his name.”
More laughter. Anticipation crackled through the room like static.
Stack stepped aside, motioning toward the tall, lean man who strolled into the spotlight, a well-worn guitar slung over his shoulder. Sammie tipped his hat to the crowd before settling onto a stool, adjusting the mic.
“I wanna give y’all something gritty,” he said into the mic, his voice rich and slow like molasses. “A little something that reminds me of Mississippi swamps and kitchen radios… a piece of my soul.”
Then he leaned forward, plucked the first mournful note, and launched into his own haunting rendition of Smokestack Lightnin’ by Howlin’ Wolf.
The sound crawled through the lounge like smoke through a keyhole. It was bluesy, raw, mesmerizing. The guitar wailed under Sammie’s fingers, and the crowd fell into a reverent hush.
From the balcony, Annie felt it thrum deep in her chest.
Pearline whispered, “Damn… this boy ain’t come to play.”
Annie said nothing.
For the first time all night, the music wasn’t just background, it was speaking to something buried inside her. Something that's aching. Something that wants to be awakened.
Sammie sang that rough, aching chorus, as Elijah finally reached the top of the stairs.
I was doing some research on Ogun and came across this. The writers clearly did their homework because is this not low-key Annette’s season 2’s journey? I really appreciate the thought and care they’ve put into her character
I feel like I'm the only one who keeps thinking about this, so I have to ask...
Was anyone else slightly annoyed that Annette doesn't get to fight against the final bosses in both season finales.
In season 1, she can't fight against Drolta because she's in charge of destroying this big night creature making machine (which she fails to do) and in season 2 she doesn't get to fight against Erzsebet because she's renting her body to Sekhmet and instead has to fight some lion monster thingy.
I don't know, I just find it kinda dissapointing how everyone, and I do mean everyone, even the guy that killed Ritcher's mother, gets to land a couple of cool hits against the two big bosses, but Annette is stuck somewhere else.
I kept thinking, "Oh! Maybe they're gonna have her pull some really cool earth moves like a mix of Edward and Toph! It's gonna be awesome! Or maybe they'll combine her rocks with Ritcher's ice and make some sort of giant frozen meteor or something! 😢✨️"
And then she didn't...
I don't know... I'm aware that this is a nitpick, but I'm just wondering if anyone was kinda hoping for a little more with her in the final battles.
I’m so glad someone finally voiced what I’ve been thinking. That’s exactly one of my main critique of the show. I love her writing, arcs and the care has been put into her character, but it’s frustrating that they’ve twice found ways to sideline her from fighting the final bosses. I didn’t mind it as much this season since the focus was on her spiritual journey, and she got the main love-interest treatment, something Black female characters rarely get, plus it didn’t overshadow her own personal arc.
That said, they’re definitely not being creative enough with her powers. Someone who controls metal and earth should be doing so much more like shattering the ground, destroying buildings, creating sinkholes and quicksand, creating different metallic weapons. The world is literally hers to command, yet it feels like they’re holding her back, which is so strange. I really hope they step it up in Season 3 and let her powers reach their full potential
It’s the way Castlevania Nocturne did EVERYTHING right this season and more. I don’t think I’m going to get over the level of care and beauty put into Annette’s character. I’m seriously in AWE. Not shying away from the horrors of history while allowing its black characters to feel an apart of the fantasy. If there was EVER a shining example on how to write BIPOC characters please look no further than Castlevania. Like if there was anything I’ve ever complained about on this page, just know Castlevania does the exact opposite. I literally can’t tell you how good it feels have something you’ve grown up include people who look like you. I’m not over how well written Annette was. Ugh I will never be over this. Literally neverrrrrr.
I practically devoured the second season of Castlevania: Nocturne, such was my desire to see this continuation of Richter's story.
This year-plus wait was worth it, I was compensated with a season infinitely superior to the first in every aspect, but one of the points that definitely caught my attention the most was the development of Richter and Annette's relationship and the meaning of this relationship for both characters.
I love first of all how the approach of these two is totally different from that of Trevor and Sypha since these two were already slightly older than the couple in Nocturne, adults, basically. It's a bit of a cliché, but I love how Richter and Annette had almost or completely no previous romantic interaction given their difficult lives. I love seeing them blush at simple hand-holding or silly dialogues of the two laughing while hunting for food.
Loneliness and the loss of her mother separate Maria from Richter, but that same shared pain unites the young Belmont with Annette.
It is, however, interesting to also assimilate how these moments work the sense of one wanting to protect the other. It's lovely to see Annette protecting Richter from Alucard...
For me, the climax of this season finale, with Richter considering letting the world sink into darkness, just so he doesn't lose his beloved, only for his voice to bring her back from the spirit world and they can enjoy a moment of peace, is so... UUUUGHHHHH I LOVE THEM. I'M GOING TO EXPLODE.
I JUST FINISHED WATCHING SEASON 2 AND IT WAS INCREDIBLE!!! I AM LITERALLY SPEECHLESS—IT WAS EVEN BETTER THAN SEASON 1. THE LORE, CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT, ANIMATION, FIGHT SCENES, AND ROMANCE WERE ALL SO PERFECTLY DONE. I’M STILL TRYING TO PROCESS EVERYTHING WITHOUT SCREAMING!
The thing that's interesting to me about oshamir is they're both the best and worst thing that could happen to each other.
Like, from Osha's pov: She's killed Sol and lost Mae. She has no one and is in danger if the Jedi find out she killed Sol. With Qimir, she's not alone, gains safety, and training.
But, with Qimir she's also cementing herself on the path of the dark side. Technically, she could have left Brendok and tried to live a quiet life. Joining Qimir, she will always, in a sense, be in danger and/or on the run.
Granted, knowing Mae is with the Jedi and without her memories (for her!) she'd probably struggle to live any other way.
Then, from Qimir's pov: He essentially gets everything he wanted lol. A pupil and the power of two.
But, he's also been on his own for so long. Mae doesn't really count because he wasn't his true self. By partnering with Osha, he's in the most danger he's been in... probably ever. Osha will become his weakness and make him vulnerable because now he has something to lose. Prior, he doesn't care much about his own life. Look at how he acts in combat.
Vulnerability is not inherently bad, but when you're living in survival mode... it will shift his priorities in a way he didn't anticipate. That's when he's liable to make mistakes.
The Second Will Cost You - an Oshamir College AU - Chapter 2
Chapters: 2/?
Rating: Explicit
"I always feel like an imposter in places like this," Osha mutters, trying to shrink into his side. "I never feel like I belong." "Of course you belong," Qimir says. "I’m here, and you belong with me.” He smiles at her, and she smiles back, biting back the question that's been on the tip of her tongue for months:
Yes, but who are you, really?
It had taken a lot of sweat, some tears, and a little more blood than she'd expected, but Osha Aniseya has survived the agonizing process of reinvention. She'd set ablaze the carefully planned, meticulously organized life that had been plotted out for her and built something new from the ashes: a new apartment, new major, and a new boyfriend.
For a few weeks, in that magical warm haze of late summer, everything is perfect. But as the cold winds of fall and a new school year beckons, Osha starts to realize that when it comes to having someone like Qimir in her life, all of the chaos that they had gone through may have been just the tip of the iceberg.
turnnoffyourmind
jacobvanloon
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theartofmadeline
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dededos
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