Rules ❤︎ Ao3 ❤︎ Wattpad ❤︎ Quotev
About Me!- She/Her/They- Born in 2000s- Multi Fandom Writer (Lovin me some MBJ Tho) I write for pretty much most of my fandoms
Here is a Masterlist of all the series/oneshots/imagines and blurbs
🌸- Fluff
🌧️- Angst
🌶️- Smut
💀- Dark
Series
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Actors
Michael B Jordan
🌸🌧️🌶️Scripted Chemistry- In Progress
Marvel
Erik Killmonger
🌸🌧️🌶️ 💀 The Exception: In Progress
Creed Series
Adonis Creed
More Than A Headline:
Sinners (2025)
Elias "Stack" Moore
Years Between Us:
Temptation and Desire:
Fox and the Hound:
Elijah "Smoke" Moore
When The Smoke Settles- In Progress
Will You Ever Love Me?
Synopsis: Seven years after leaving Mississippi behind, Willow Cole's quiet life in Chicago is interrupted by two brothers
Warnings: Murder, Real History, Assualt
Chapter One---Chapter 2 (Coming Soon)
Willow was never a city girl. From the moment she was born, her world had been the cotton fields and dusty roads of Clarksdale, Mississippi. She grew up on a plantation where work began before sunrise and often lasted until the sky turned orange with evening light. Life was simple, but it was never easy.
Her home life was even harder.
She lived with her father and stepmother, a woman who seemed to hate the very sight of her. Willow never fully understood why. As a child, she thought if she worked harder, stayed quieter, and caused less trouble, things would improve. They never did.
What Willow didn't realize until she was older was that she was a constant reminder of another woman. Her father had loved someone before his second wife—Willow's mother—and no matter how many years passed, her stepmother could never seem to forgive her for it.
Still, Willow tried.
She picked cotton in the mornings and afternoons, carried goods to market when needed, and made herself scarce whenever she returned home. She learned how to move through the house without drawing attention, how to stay silent when tensions rose, and how to disappear into the background whenever possible.
Her father remained largely unaware of the hostility brewing beneath his own roof. After long days in the fields, he cared more about resting his aching bones than noticing the cold stares or sharp words exchanged between the women in his life.
Willow knew her family wasn't perfect, but things truly changed when she entered her teenage years.
Her body began to mature, and suddenly people started noticing her.
The men working the fields who had once paid her little attention now greeted her with compliments. Women at the market would smile and tell her how much she resembled her late mother. They admired her rich brown skin that seemed to glow beneath the Mississippi sun and her warm eyes that looked like dark molasses until the light struck them just right, turning them the color of honey.
Every compliment directed at Willow felt like an insult to her stepmother. Arguments became more frequent. So did the slaps.
Willow never raised a hand in return. She endured it quietly, carrying swollen cheeks and bruised pride through her days. People noticed, of course. They would glance at the marks with concern before offering kind words or compliments, but nobody ever asked too many questions.
And Willow never volunteered answers. By the time she reached her early twenties, she could no longer bear it.
One evening she packed what little she owned into a worn travel bag. A friend of hers was leaving town, heading north in search of opportunity, and Willow decided she would leave too. She wrote her father a heartfelt note, thanking him for everything he had done for her. She left nothing for her stepmother. Then she boarded a train and left Mississippi behind.
For years afterward, she would sometimes wonder if that had been a mistake. Chicago had promised opportunity. In many ways, it delivered. For the first time in her life, Willow found herself surrounded by Black families who could vote freely, send their children to decent schools, and earn honest wages in factories, stockyards, and domestic service jobs. There was pride in that. Hope, too.
But Chicago had its own ugliness. And Willow quickly learned that opportunity came with limits.
Most Black residents were confined to a narrow, overcrowded stretch of the South Side known as the Black Belt. Housing discrimination and violence kept families trapped there, packed into neighborhoods that grew more congested with every passing year. Landlords charged outrageous rents for cramped apartments because they knew people had nowhere else to go.
The city wasn't the freedom she had imagined. Sometimes it felt like a different kind of prison. She and her friend rented a tiny kitchenette apartment, little more than a single room divided by thin cardboard partitions. Privacy barely existed, and the walls seemed to hold the exhaustion of every family that had lived there before them.
Still, Willow endured it for the sake of having a life outside of the Delta. She worked. She saved what she could. She survived for seven long years. Then came the summer that changed everything. Willow remembered hearing the name Eugene Williams whispered throughout the neighborhood. A Black teenager. A swimmer. Dead because he had drifted across an invisible line in the water that white beachgoers believed belonged only to them.
His death ignited a fire that spread across Chicago. For thirteen terrifying days, violence consumed the city. White ethnic gangs swept through Black neighborhoods, attacking homes, businesses, and anyone unfortunate enough to cross their path. Sadly Willow lost more than her sense of safety during those riots.
She lost her friend during all of that, dragged from his automobile by a mob and beaten to death in the streets, he became one of countless victims swallowed by the hatred consuming the city. Afterward, Willow found herself alone.
The kitchenette suddenly felt larger than ever, its silence suffocating. Her friend was gone. The city felt hostile. And her landlord cared little for grief. Every week he appeared at her door demanding rent, his hand outstretched before she could even think about mourning.
Chicago had promised a better life. Instead, Willow often felt like she had traded one hardship for another. Perhaps the combination of loss and anger is what made her stand out to the most dangerous mobster in Chicago.
She was working as both a singer and a waitress at a Black-owned club on the South Side. The pay wasn't much, but it was enough to keep a roof over her head and food in her stomach. More importantly, it gave her something she hadn't had in years and that was a place where she felt like she belonged.
Willow quickly became one of the club's biggest draws. People came for the music, but many stayed because of her. Her voice carried through the smoke-filled room like warm honey, rich and smooth, capable of settling even the rowdiest crowd. When she sang, conversations quieted. Glasses paused halfway to lips. For a few minutes, people forgot about their troubles and simply listened.
Word traveled fast through Chicago, especially when money was involved.
It wasn't long before the club's growing reputation reached the ears of a man who had built an empire on knowing exactly where people spent their time and money. Al Capone. One evening, Capone arrived with several of his men. They occupied a large table near the back, drinking whiskey and observing the room. Most people either didn't recognize him or pretended not to. In Chicago, that was usually the smarter option.
Capone listened to the music, watched the crowd, and studied the employees moving between tables. Most of the waitresses wore practiced smiles, laughing at jokes they had heard a hundred times before in hopes of earning a larger tip.
One woman stood out. She wasn't rude, wasn't unfriendly. But she didn't bend as she carried herself with a quiet confidence that seemed completely natural. She spoke politely, smiled when she meant it, and ignored men when they mistook kindness for an invitation. Capone didn't know her name yet, but he found himself watching her more than the performers on stage.
She was beautiful, certainly, but that wasn't what caught his attention. He had seen beautiful women his entire life. Married the most beautiful there was. No, there was something else. A spark. Something steady beneath the surface. The kind of thing that couldn't be taught as it was something that could make people remember a place.
He was still watching when the trouble started. The front doors burst open and a group of drunk white men stumbled inside. Their laughter was loud, their speech slurred, and the smell of liquor seemed to arrive before they did.
The mood of the club immediately shifted as people looked away while others lowered their heads. Everyone knew what kind of night this could become. One of the younger waitresses nervously approached the men to take their order. She couldn't have been older than eighteen. Within moments one of them grabbed her wrist as another reached for her waist while the others laughed. The girl's face immediately paled as they spoke vile to her, almost like snakes wrapping around her body.
Capone watched the room. In all his years running his business he learned that fear had a way of rooting people in place. But not all people as he witnessed Willow step forward. She moved calmly through the crowd until she stood between the men and the frightened waitress.
"Look at you boys," she said, folding her arms across her chest. "Loud as a Sunday morning and twice as cheap." The room went silent as everyone looked to the scene in front of them but Willow was far from silent. "You come down here because your own neighborhoods are too dull to entertain you, and the first thing you do is start causing problems." Her gaze swept over them. "Leave the girl alone. She's trying to earn a living."
A few people nearby exchanged nervous looks.
"Drink your liquor. Listen to the music. Keep your hands where they belong."
One of the men laughed bitterly.
"You got a lot to say for a colored girl."
Willow tilted her head slightly. "And yet somehow I'm still making more sense than all of you combined." A few snorts of laughter escaped nearby tables.
The drunk man's face darkened.
"You think you're funny?"
"No," Willow replied evenly. "But I do think you're embarrassing yourselves."
The man's chair scraped loudly against the floor as he stood.
The room tensed. For the first time all night, Willow felt a flicker of fear but not enough to back down. But she knew this could end badly. The man stepped toward her, towering over her.
"Maybe somebody needs to teach you some manners."
Before Willow could respond, another voice cut through the room.
"That's enough."
The authority in those two words was immediate.
Everyone turned and saw that Capone had risen from his seat. Gone was the relaxed man enjoying a drink. What stood there now was the man whose name carried weight throughout Chicago. The drunk man's confidence vanished almost instantly. Capone adjusted his jacket and took a slow step forward.
"You came into a place trying to enjoy itself and decided to act like fools." His voice remained calm, which somehow made it more intimidating. "Now you're harassing women and threatening employees."
The man swallowed as Capone's eyes narrowed.
"You're ruining my evening." A long silence followed then Capone smiled...It wasn't a friendly smile. "If I were you, I'd leave before I decide to charge admission for this beating."
The men didn't need to be told twice. Within moments they were backing toward the door, muttering curses under their breath before disappearing into the night. The entire club seemed to breathe again and then applause broke out from several tables.
Willow looked toward Capone.
"Thank you."
Capone waved the gratitude away.
"Nah. You handled yourself just fine." His eyes studied her for a moment then he smiled.
"Tell me something, sweetheart. Ever thought about working somewhere bigger?"
Willow frowned at that.
"What do you mean?"
Capone gestured toward the room around them.
"I've got a new Black and Tan club opening soon. Bigger crowds. Better pay. Better opportunities."
Willow stared at him.
Chicago's most infamous man was offering her a job. Seeing her hesitation, Capone chuckled.
"You can sing. You can work a room. And judging by tonight, you've got enough backbone to survive this city."
For the first time in a long while, Willow felt something she hadn't felt since leaving Mississippi.
Hope. And that maybe Chicago wasn't done with her yet. Willow began working for Capone not long after that night, and to his credit, everything he had promised turned out to be true.
The club was bigger, busier, and far more successful than the one she had left behind. From the outside, however, it didn't look nearly as impressive as people imagined. The building itself was a long, low brick structure that had once served as a commercial automobile garage. Most people walking down 35th Street would never guess what was hidden behind its walls. The only hint of luxury was the massive illuminated marquee stretching out over the sidewalk, glowing against the Chicago night like a beacon.
At the entrance stood a pair of polished mahogany double doors that looked expensive enough to belong in a mansion rather than a nightclub. On either side were enormous Black bouncers dressed in custom-tailored tuxedos, checking names and invitations with the kind of seriousness usually reserved for banks and government buildings.
Willow found comfort in that as the men at the door didn't let trouble stroll in off the street. Anyone who crossed those doors either belonged there or had business with Capone himself, and very few people were foolish enough to cause problems once they were inside.
The interior was what truly stole her breath. Every wall was covered with vibrant Art Deco murals painted in rich golds, deep blues, and warm terracotta tones. Stylized jazz musicians played brass instruments frozen in paint while dancers with flowing feathers seemed to move beneath crescent moons and glittering city skylines. Even after years of working there, Willow still found herself admiring them during quiet moments.
The air was perpetually thick with cigar and cigarette smoke, creating a bluish haze beneath the warm glow of brass chandeliers hanging overhead. Amber-shaded table lamps cast pools of golden light across crowded tables filled with businessmen, musicians, politicians, gamblers, and socialites.
People from every walk of life gathered there. Some came for the liquor, others came for the gambling. While many came for the music. That was where Willow belonged.
The bandstand dominated the room, elevated above the crowd like a throne. Night after night she stood beneath the lights and sang until her throat ached. The blues flowed through her veins as naturally as breathing. She sang about heartbreak, loss, hope, survival, and every hardship life had thrown her way.
People listened and for the first time in her life, Willow felt seen. The money certainly didn't hurt either.
She made more in a month than she had once made in nearly a year. After so many years of scraping by, she was finally able to breathe. She paid her landlord months in advance and still had money left over. The old man nearly fell over when she handed him the stack of bills.
Willow could tell exactly what he thought and he assumed she was selling herself. A lot of people did. But she wasn't though she was selling her voice. She was selling long nights, sore feet, aching muscles, and every ounce of passion she poured into that stage. Every dollar she earned came from hard work.
Years passed like that. Then one evening everything changed.
"Ya hear?" Betty asked while they wiped down the bar after closing. "Capone's opening himself another place."
Willow looked up from the glasses she was drying.
"Seriously?" she asked. "Well, he's always got something going on."
She wasn't upset by the news. In truth, she liked Capone more than she probably should. He had given her an opportunity when nobody else would. Whatever people said about him—and they said plenty—he had always treated her fairly.
Betty leaned closer.
"Apparently he's stepping back from this place."
That caught Willow's attention.
"He is?"
"That's what everyone's saying."
Willow frowned.
"Who's taking over?"
Betty grinned. "Some new fellows. They call themselves the Smokestack Twins."
Willow paused.
"The Smokestack Twins?"
"That's what I heard."
The name sounded ridiculous. She imagined a pair of soot-covered factory workers with rough hands and dirty faces. Nothing particularly intimidating or impressive about that Which was why she nearly choked on her drink the following evening when she saw them walk through the front doors.
The room seemed to notice them immediately. As conversations dipped while heads turned. Even the musicians on stage appeared distracted for a moment. The twins looked nothing like Willow had imagined. They moved with the effortless confidence of men accustomed to being watched. Expensive suits hugged broad shoulders. Their polished shoes gleamed beneath the chandeliers. They looked dangerous in the way sharp knives looked dangerous—elegant, controlled, and fully aware of the damage they could do.
The similarities between them were obvious, but not identical. One wore his confidence openly, smiling as he surveyed the room like he already owned it. The other was quieter, his sharp eyes taking in every detail while speaking very little. And honestly neither man looked old enough to command the kind of respect they immediately received.
Yet people moved out of their path without being asked. That alone told Willow everything she needed to know. The Smokestack Twins weren't simply replacing Capone. They were becoming something powerful in their own right.
Willow did her best to avoid the Smokestack twins.
Not because she was afraid of them. Lord knew she'd dealt with dangerous men her entire life. She'd grown up around men who carried trouble in their pockets and violence in their eyes. The twins weren't anything new in that regard.
No, she avoided them because she knew better.
Men like that always came with complications.
The problem was that avoiding them became a whole lot harder when they owned the place she worked.
What made matters worse was that the brothers had somehow figured out she was from Clarksdale. Ever since then, they seemed determined to drag her into conversation whenever they crossed paths. They spoke with the same Mississippi drawl she grew up hearing, and every time one of them opened their mouth, she felt a little piece of home she wasn't sure she wanted to remember.
Tonight, however, it seemed her luck had finally run out.
Willow arrived early, as she always did. The club wasn't open yet, leaving the building unusually quiet. The cooks were laughing about something in the kitchen while waitresses prepared tables for the evening rush.
She had dressed for the stage. A silky black dress hugged her figure before flowing down to her calves. Around her shoulders rested a feathered black boa that swayed whenever she moved. Under the warm lights of the club, she looked every bit the star her customers believed her to be.
She had barely made it halfway across the floor when the door to the VIP room opened and Stack stepped out. The moment he saw her, his face split into a grin that revealed a flash of gold.
"Well now," he drawled. "Look what finally wandered in."
Willow immediately sighed. Of course. Stack chuckled at her reaction.
"See now, Every time me or my brother walk into a room, you start actin' like a cat lookin' at bathwater."
Willow rolled her eyes and continued walking. "Evenin', Mr. Moore." The formality only seemed to amuse him more.
"Mr. Moore?" he repeated. "Girl, you make me sound eighty years old."
She ignored him but unfortunately, Stack wasn't the type of man who accepted being ignored. A moment later he stepped in front of her path.
"Where you runnin' off to?"
"I ain't runnin' nowhere."
"Mhm." His grin widened. "Could've fooled me."
Willow folded her arms and let out a sigh
"What do you want?"
"Conversation."
"Well, you picked the wrong woman."
Stack placed a hand over his chest as though she had wounded him.
"Damn, Willow. That's cold."
"You'll survive."
"I reckon I will."
The amusement in his voice only irritated her more. Which only made her more irritated when Stack leaned slightly closer.
"Me and Smoke been wonderin' what we did to make you dislike us so much."
Willow laughed. A short, humorless laugh.
"You think too highly of yourselves. I don't dislike y'all. I just don't see no reason to know y'all."
"Now that's a lie."
"It ain't."
Stack pointed at her as she quickly went quiet.
"You avoid us."
"I got work to do."
"You leave every room we enter."
"Coincidence."
"You won't even look at us half the time."
Willow stared directly into his eyes. "There. I'm lookin'. Happy now?" For a second Stack looked genuinely surprised before bursting out laughing.
"Lord have mercy."
Before Willow could respond, another voice entered the conversation.
"You botherin' that woman again?"
She turned to find the other twin approaching from across the club and saw Smoke. Unlike his brother, Smoke carried himself with a quieter confidence. He wasn't smiling, but there was amusement in his eyes as he looked between them. Stack immediately pointed toward Willow.
"She mean."
Willow barked out a laugh before she could stop herself. as Smoke shook his head.
"You probably deserved it."
"See?" Stack complained. "This why I can't stand y'all."
"Because we tell the truth?"
Willow could feel herself relaxing despite every effort not to.
The brothers were dangerous men. Everyone knew that. Yet watching them bicker back and forth felt less like talking to gangsters and more like watching two stubborn cousins argue at a family cookout.
Smoke looked toward her.
"You from Clarksdale, ain't you?" There it was again, that question. Willow sighed as she really didn't like talking about it.
"Yeah."
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Knew it."
"How?"
"Way you talk."
Stack nodded.
"And that attitude."
Willow narrowed her eyes.
"What that's supposed to mean?"
"It means ain't nobody got an attitude quite like somebody from Mississippi."
For the first time all evening, Willow found herself smiling. Just a little.
Stack immediately pointed at her.
"There it is!"
"What?"
"That smile."
She instantly wiped it away.
"Don't start."
"Oh, I'm absolutely startin'." Willow groaned and pushed past him. "I got work to do."
Stack called after her obviously feeling himself
"That's the longest conversation you ever had with me!"
Without turning around, Willow lifted a hand and waved him off.
Behind her she could hear both brothers laughing. And despite herself, she felt the corners of her mouth tug upward again.
The next few weeks settled into a rhythm Willow wasn't entirely prepared for. The Smokestack twins were everywhere. Not in the way bosses usually were, hidden away in offices counting money and barking orders. Smoke and Stack were constantly moving through the club. Some nights they worked the floor. Other nights they sat with musicians discussing bookings, handled deliveries, spoke with security, or fixed problems before they became disasters.
It surprised Willow.
Most men with money liked being seen with it. The twins seemed more interested in making sure the place actually ran. That didn't stop Stack from becoming a nuisance as every single night he found a new reason to bother her.
"Willow."
She didn't look up from polishing glasses.
"What?"
"You smile today?"
"Go away."
"That's a no."
"Stack..."
"Yes, ma'am?"
"Go bother somebody else."
His grin flashed. "No." Then he'd laugh and disappear before she could threaten him properly.
The man was exhausting. But Smoke was different, he rarely sought her out the way his brother did. Most of their interactions happened naturally. A passing comment while she cleaned tables. A brief conversation after her set ended. A few words exchanged while the club settled into the quiet hours before closing.
At first, Willow hadn't thought much of it. Then she realized she knew things about him, just little things. But the dangerous thing about little things was how easily they added up.
She learned both brothers had served overseas during the war. The information surprised her. One evening she found Smoke repairing a loose railing near the stage.
"You know how to do that?"
Smoke glanced up from his work.
"Know how to use a hammer?"
"No."
"I know how to fix things."
Willow folded her arms as she watched.
"Where'd you learn?"
"Army."
She blinked. "You was in the Army?"
Smoke nodded.
"Me and Stack both."
That had opened an entirely different conversation. Willow found herself sitting on the edge of the stage while he worked.
"How come y'all never mention that?"
Smoke shrugged.
"Ain't much to talk about."
"You fought overseas."
"Yeah."
"And that's all you got to say?"
"What you want me to say?"
Willow stared at him. The man really was impossible sometimes. Over time she learned that was simply who he was because Smoke spoke when he had something worth saying. Everything else stayed inside. Stack, on the other hand, would happily fill any silence within a fifty-mile radius. It was through dozens of small conversations that she learned more about them.
They were from Mississippi. Born and raised in the exact same place as her and the realization had caught her completely off guard.
"No."
Smoke nodded.
"Yeah."
"You're lying."
"I ain't."
"Clarksdale, like Delta Clarksdale?" Smokes silent nod made Willow nearly drop the tray she was carrying.
"That's...Wow I never even knew y'all were born there"
Willow couldn't stop smiling. For the next fifteen minutes they talked about places neither of them had thought about in years. Roads, Churches, Stores, Food, The way summer heat sat heavy over the fields. The smell after a thunderstorm. For the first time since leaving Mississippi, Willow spoke to someone who understood exactly what she meant without needing explanations.
It felt strangely comforting. Dangerously comforting.
After that, conversations became easier. More natural. Some nights Smoke would sit near the stage after closing while musicians packed up their instruments and Willow would join him for a few minutes before heading home.
A few minutes became fifteen. Then thirty. One night she found him sitting alone with a cup of coffee.
"Coffee this late?"
Smoke glanced up.
"It ain't that late."
"It is for normal people."
"You work in a nightclub."
"Exactly. I know what late looks like."
That earned the smallest smile from him. She found herself smiling back. The conversation drifted aimlessly after that. Favorite foods. Bad jobs. Places they'd lived. Willow complained about Chicago winters. Smoke complained about Chicago drivers. Somehow they spent nearly an hour talking about absolutely nothing. Those conversations became her favorite part of the evening. Not because they were exciting but because that was their relationship. They spoke and learned about one another. She tried to fight the subtle attraction she felt for the man, she knew there was a lot more to Smoke then what was said but for some reason her initial plan of staying far away...Became a distant thought as she only wanted to get closer.
Far from Mississippi and the life she left behind, she's built a quiet existence for herself among the noise of the city. It isn't perfect, but it's hers. The last thing she expects is for two Mississippi twins to walk into her life and turn everything upside down.
Among them is Elijah Smoke Moore.
Quiet where his brother is loud, thoughtful where others are reckless, Smoke carries the weight of war and seven years of hardship behind his eyes. What begins as an unlikely companionship soon grows into something deeper, drawing Willow into a world she never expected to be part of.
When Smoke decides it's finally time to return home, he asks Willow to come with him. Against her better judgment, she says yes.
Back in Mississippi, Willow finds herself surrounded by old wounds, family tensions, and a community struggling to rebuild after years of change. As she and Smoke grow closer, both begin to imagine a future they never thought possible. But not everything can last forever.
Chapter One: City of Smoke
For as long as she can remember, Samantha Irwin has loved Elias Stack Moore.
She was there when he was just a boy carrying the weight of an abusive father. She stood beside him when blood stained his hands for the first time, and she waited for him through the long years he spent fighting overseas during the First World War. Through every hardship, every promise, and every dream of a future together, Samantha believed their love would survive anything.
Until the day she learned she wasn't the only woman in his life.
After overhearing Mary speaking about her relationship with Stack, Samantha's world shatters. The man she trusted above all others had betrayed her. Heartbroken and furious, she keeps her pain to herself until the day Stack plans to propose. Unable to remain silent any longer, Samantha exposes the truth and walks away from the life they had built together.
For seven years she ignores every attempt Stack makes to reach her. What he doesn't know is that Samantha left carrying a secret of her own. In his absence, she gave birth to their daughter—a little girl who became the center of her world. But happiness proves fleeting when illness claims the child's life, leaving Samantha alone with a grief too deep for words.
When Stack finally returns to Mississippi with money in his pocket and a determination to win back the woman he never stopped loving, he finds someone changed by loss, heartbreak, and years of silence. Samantha wants nothing to do with him, no matter how much he insists on earning her forgiveness.
But before either of them can truly confront the past, darkness descends upon the Delta.
Synopsis: As filming begins on Black Horizon, Zoe faces the pressure of her first major movie set while growing closer to the people bringing it to life.
Warnings: Strong Language
Pairing: Michael B Jordan x OC (Eventual)
Ever since the table read, time had seemed determined to move as fast as possible for Zoe. The days blurred together in a strange mix of excitement, nerves, and preparation. Every morning she woke up expecting the reality of everything to finally settle in, but somehow it still felt unreal.
The first check from the production had hit her account a few days ago. Eight hundred dollars wasn't a fortune by Hollywood standards, but it was enough to make her smile when she saw the deposit. After years of fighting for auditions and wondering where her next opportunity would come from, seeing money arrive because she had landed Black Horizon felt different.
Still, she knew better than to spend it carelessly. Most of it went directly into savings. The rest covered food, a few subscriptions, and other small expenses she couldn't avoid. Los Angeles had already made it painfully clear that it could drain a bank account faster than almost anywhere else in the country. If she wanted to move out of the hotel and into an actual apartment before filming wrapped, she needed to be smart with every dollar.
She had been lying across the hotel bed, lazily scrolling through apartment listings she couldn't quite afford yet, when her phone buzzed beside her.
The name on the screen immediately caught her attention.
MJ
A ridiculous grin spread across her face before she could stop it.
It still felt absurd seeing his contact in her phone. Not Michael B. Jordan the actor. Not Michael B. Jordan from movie posters or interviews. Just Michael. A real person who could casually text her on a random afternoon.
The message itself was simple.
You still free today?
Zoe stared at it for a second before typing back.
Nope.
A few moments later another message appeared.
Good. Coffee and line practice?
She dropped her face into a pillow and groaned.
This man was going to be the death of her.
Not because he was doing anything wrong. In fact, he had been nothing but kind since the chemistry read. The problem was entirely hers. Every interaction forced her to remember that the celebrity she'd spent years watching on movie screens was now her co-star.
After taking a moment to gather herself, she finally responded that she'd be there soon.
The coffee shop wasn't far from her hotel, so after changing out of her pajamas and into something presentable, she decided to walk. It would save money, and it gave her a chance to clear her head before meeting him.
The warm afternoon air was pleasant as she made her way through the city. People moved along the sidewalks, conversations drifted from outdoor restaurants, and somewhere in the distance music played from a storefront. Los Angeles had always fascinated her. It was chaotic and expensive and full of people chasing impossible dreams, but there was something undeniably exciting about it too.
As she walked, her thoughts drifted back to the script reading. More specifically, to the part Denis had mentioned before everyone left.
The intimacy coordinator.
At the time she had simply nodded along with everyone else, but now that filming was getting closer, she found herself thinking about it more often. She had never filmed a sex scene before...Never even come close. Most of her previous roles had involved Disney Channel levels of romance where the biggest concern was whether two characters would hold hands by the end of the season.
This was different. The thought of professionally filming those scenes was intimidating enough on its own. The fact that those scenes would be with Michael somehow made it worse. Or better. Depending on who was asking.
Unfortunately, her brain wasn't helping. Every time she tried approaching the situation professionally, some traitorous part of her remembered seeing him shirtless in Black Panther and immediately derailed the entire thought process.
"Get it together, Zoe," she muttered to herself while passing a pedestrian who heard her gave her a strange look.
Despite all of those concerns, excitement still outweighed everything else. She couldn't wait to play Elara. She couldn't wait to bring the character to life and watch the story unfold. Even if the movie somehow failed, even if audiences hated it, she would still walk away with memories most actors only dreamed of having.
A few more minutes of walking brought the coffee shop into view. The first thing she noticed wasn't the building, it was the crowd. People stood outside the windows, phones in hand, trying to peek inside. Some were pretending to be subtle about it. Others weren't even trying at all. Zoe knew what was happening and couldn't help but laugh under her breath.
Apparently Michael had arrived before her. Crossing the street, she began weaving through the gathering crowd.
"Excuse me."
A few people moved and others didn't.
"Sorry, can I get through?" Someone bumped her shoulder and barely acknowledged it. Another person rolled their eyes as if Zoe were the inconvenience but she decided not to take it personally, she understood that seeing Michael was a rare occasion
Eventually she reached the front door and grabbed the handle. Nothing happened. She frowned and tried again thinking she was just being a ditz but it didn't budge. Confused, she looked through the glass. Sure enough, Michael was sitting at a table near the back with a script open in front of him. A coffee cup rested beside his elbow while he focused entirely on whatever page he was reading.
"Hey, they're closed." Zoe turned toward the voice. A young woman with curly brown hair, cut short and framing her face stood by her and folded her arms. "You aren't getting in."
Clearly she thought Zoe was another fan trying to sneak inside. Technically, she was supposed to be there but explaining that felt awkward. So instead, she simply knocked on the glass.
The first knock went unnoticed. But The second didn't as it was way louder and thudded just enough to catch everyones attention. Michael glanced up, looked toward the door, and immediately shot to his feet.
"Shit Zoe!" In his rush, he nearly knocked over both his coffee and the script which he fumbled to catch the cup before backign away.
"Oh my God," Zoe laughed. The reaction from the crowd was instant when they noticed what was happening. People surged forward, phones appearing from every direction as Michael hurried toward the entrance. By the time he unlocked the door, Zoe found herself pinned between the crowd and the glass.
"Okay, this is ridiculous." Michael grabbed her wrist before anyone else could squeeze through and quickly pulled her inside. The door shut behind them and immediately locked again. For a moment they both stood there catching their breath.
"That was intense," Zoe said.
Michael laughed while rubbing the back of his neck.
"It gets a little crazy sometimes."
"A little?"
"Okay, a lot."
She looked through the glass at the disappointed faces outside.
"They really wanted to get in there."
"They mostly just want a picture or a story to tell later."
The two walked back toward the table. Zoe set her bag down and slid into the chair across from him and noticed that they were the only ones in here besides the nosey workers.
"I'm guessing you rented out the place."
Michael nodded. "I figured it would be easier if we didn't have people interrupting every five minutes."
"Honestly, that's fair."
He leaned back slightly and studied her for a moment.
"So how have you been?"
The question felt surprisingly genuine and she couldn't help but blush at it.
"I've been okay," she admitted. "Mostly trying to survive LA without going broke."
That earned a laugh. "I know exactly what you mean. This city finds new ways to steal your money every day."
"It's ridiculous. I saw a pair of heels yesterday that cost more than my first car."
Michael shook his head.
"See, that's why I stay away from designer stores."
"You say that while wearing a shirt that probably costs more than my monthly groceries." The grin he gave her confirmed she wasn't entirely wrong. The easy conversation continued for several minutes, bouncing between acting, life in Los Angeles, and filming preparations. It felt natural in a way Zoe hadn't expected.
Eventually Michael tilted his head.
"So are you still nervous?"
"Absolutely."
The answer came so quickly that it made him laugh too.
"I'm excited, but I'm definitely nervous."
"That's normal."
"Easy for you to say you are-"
He pointed at her which made her quiet. "No, seriously. The fact you're nervous means you care and want to do a good job." He noticed though she still hadn't gotten a coffee,"You ain't thirsty? Go ahead and get a coffee from here" He said while shooing her away from the table. Zoe considered it while standing before breaking down and going to get one. At the counter, one of the employees immediately brightened when she approached.
"What can I get for you?"
"A mocha cookie crumble with coffee added."
She reached for her wallet but the employee quickly shook her head stopping her in her tracks.
"Michael already told us to put everything on his card."
Zoe glanced back toward him as he lifted his coffee cup in acknowledgment. Of course he had. Shaking her head with a smile, she looked back at the employee.
"In that case, make it a large." If he was paying, she wasn't about to waste the opportunity.
The coffee didn't take long. Within a few minutes, her drink was slid across the counter, and Zoe happily accepted it before making her way back to the table. The cool sensation of the cup settled nicely in her hands as she dropped back into her chair across from Michael. With a small smirk tugged at her lips.
"I gave her a big tip."
Michael glanced up from his script and snorted.
"Did you now?"
"I did."
"Well, she's been pretty helpful. I'd say she earned it."
Zoe took a sip of her coffee before raising an eyebrow at him.
"So generous."
"I am generous."
The confidence in his voice made her laugh.
"Oh, absolutely. A true philanthropist."
"Exactly."
"Buying out coffee shops and paying for everyone's drinks."
Michael placed a hand over his chest dramatically.
"Thank you for finally recognizing my contributions to society."
That earned another laugh from her, and for a moment she completely forgot why they had even met up in the first place. The conversation flowed so easily that it felt less like sitting with one of Hollywood's biggest actors and more like catching up with a friend she'd known for years.
Eventually, Zoe noticed the script sitting untouched between them. And pointed at it with her coffee cup.
"Okay, Mr. Generous. We actually need to run lines, remember?"
Michael followed her gaze before letting out an amused sigh. "Right. That's why we're here." He picked up the script and flipped through a few pages before settling on a section marked with several notes in the margins.
"Honestly, there are a couple scenes I'm struggling with." That caught Zoe's attention.
"You? Struggling?"
"Believe it or not, yes."
She leaned back in her chair. "Well, now I have to hear this." She said surprised while Michael smiled and tapping the page.
"It isn't really the dialogue. It's figuring out where Jace is emotionally during certain parts of the movie. The action scenes are easy. The mission stuff is easy. But some of the quieter moments..." He shrugged. "I don't want to play them wrong."
Zoe nodded in understanding. That actually made sense. Action heroes often looked simple from the outside, but the emotional side of those characters was usually what made them memorable.
Michael continued. "One thing I learned a long time ago is that it helps to talk about the characters outside of the script. Not as actors reading lines, but as people trying to understand them." He looked up from the pages. "I want to know how you see Elara. Not just what's written here." He tapped the script again. "I mean how you see her."
Zoe glanced down at the pages for a moment. That wasn't a question she had expected.
"I'll tell you how I see Jace," Michael continued. "You tell me how you see Elara. Sometimes it helps you get into a character's head in a healthier way. Makes them feel like actual people instead of words on a page."
Zoe slowly nodded. "Yeah, that actually makes a lot of sense." For a few seconds she thought about it. Not about the scenes, or the dialogue, but about Elara herself. The woman she'd spent the last several days obsessing over.
"I think she's lonely."
Michael's eyes lifted from the script.
"Lonely?"
"Yeah." Zoe nodded. "Everyone keeps calling her brilliant, but nobody actually listens to her. They praise her intelligence when it's useful, but they ignore her when it's inconvenient." The more she spoke, the easier the words came.
"I think she's spent so much of her life trying to convince people she's right that she forgot how to just be a person. She doesn't really have friends. Doesn't have much of a life outside of her work. Then suddenly the worst possible thing happens and everyone expects her to save them and others blame her for what happened."
Michael listened quietly.
"That's why I think she's always tired," Zoe continued. "Not physically but emotionally." She smiled softly. "Honestly, I don't even think Elara sees herself as brave. I think she's terrified most of the time. She just keeps going because if she doesn't, people die."
For a moment Michael didn't say anything. Then he nodded. "See, that's exactly what I mean."
"What?"
"That isn't in the script."
Zoe frowned and realized she was rambaling about a character and it made her blush and try to cover it up.
"It is."
"No," Michael said with a grin. "Pieces of it are. But the rest is you." He pointed at her. "That's your interpretation. That's how you understand her. That's the stuff that makes a performance feel real."
Zoe couldn't help smiling at that. "Okay, then what's your read on Jace?"
Michael leaned back in his chair and rubbed his jaw.
"Honestly?"
"Obviously."
"I think Jace is exhausted."
That immediately made her laugh.
"Everyone in this movie is exhausted."
"They really are." He flipped the script closed. "But seriously. I think he's spent his entire life believing there was always a solution to every problem. You train harder. Fight harder. Work harder." His expression softened slightly. "And then the aliens show up."
Zoe nodded. "And suddenly none of that matters."
"Exactly." He pointed at her. "Elara understands the problem." Then he pointed at himself. "Jace understands how to protect people." A small smile appeared on his face. "But neither of them can survive without the other."
Zoe found herself smiling back. When he put it like that, the relationship suddenly made even more sense. Not just the romance but the partnership and the trust. It's the reason those two characters found each other in the middle of the apocalypse and refused to let go. For the next hour, the scripts remained mostly forgotten as they bounced ideas back and forth, discussing motivations, scenes, and moments that weren't even written yet. By the time they finally started running lines, Zoe realized something surprising.
Michael was no different than any guy, he might make millions of dollars, have oscars and amazing looks. But he was a man just like any other, and that was what made him special in her eyes.
A few days had passed since the coffee shop, and Zoe had to admit something had changed between her and Michael. It wasn't some dramatic shift where they suddenly became best friends overnight. It was subtler than that. The texts became more frequent, and before long they weren't just talking about scenes, scripts, or character motivations anymore. They talked about themselves. Like their families, their childhoods, Even the weird experiences that came with acting.
One conversation somehow led to Michael admitting that he was a huge anime fan, which had surprised Zoe far more than it should have. She still remembered staring at her phone when he'd casually mentioned rewatching Naruto. Apparently, he loved Naruto and Dragon Ball Z, and once he realized she watched anime too, he had launched into a passionate rant about newer series she apparently needed to watch.
Zoe had spent most of the conversation laughing while he enthusiastically explained plotlines and characters she had never heard of.
"I don't have time to watch all of that," she'd argued and could hear him suck his teeth.
"You have time."
"No, I don't."
"You watched all of game of thrones on repeat"
"That's different."
"It absolutely is not different."
She could practically hear the grin in his voice during that conversation. Truthfully, she liked moments like that. There were no cameras, directors, expectations. Just two people talking. It helped that she didn't really know anyone in Los Angeles yet. Most days she went from the hotel to the studio and back again. Outside of work, she spent more time alone than she'd expected. Having someone to text throughout the day was nice.
By Monday morning, however, all those pleasant thoughts came crashing down. She was deep in sleep, dreaming about whatever she was dreaming of when her phone rang at four in the morning. The sound tore through her sleep like a bomb that made Zoe groan and blindly slapped at the nightstand until her hand finally landed on the device. Without opening her eyes, she accepted the call and pressed the phone against her ear.
"Who is it?" she mumbled, her voice rough from sleep.
"Where are you?"
Bekah's voice immediately cut through the fog clouding her brain.
"What?"
"Hair and makeup need you. Filming starts in a few hours. Where are you?"
For a second, Zoe just sat there. Then her eyes snapped open as the realization hit her like a truck. She looked at the date on her phone and felt her stomach dropped.
"Oh my God."
Today was filming day. Today. Not tomorrow. Not later this week. TODAY!
And she was late!!
"Wait, wait, wait!" Zoe scrambled upright, nearly dropping her phone. "I'm so sorry! I'm up! I'm awake!"
"You better be."
"I thought filming started tomorrow!"
"Zoe."
"Okay, yeah, that's my fault."
Bekah let out a long, exhausted sigh. The kind of sigh that came from someone who had already been awake for several hours.
"Hurry up. Hair and makeup have been asking where you are."
"I'm coming right now!"
The call ended, and Zoe practically launched herself out of bed. There wasn't time for a proper shower and not like breakfast was made yet. And honestly it felt like there was barely time to breathe. She threw on deodorant, brushed her teeth at record speed, splashed water on her face, grabbed her bag, and ran out the door while still wearing her Hello Kitty pajama pants, a pink tank top, and her bonnet.
Halfway down the hall she remembered to lock the hotel room. The elevator ride felt painfully slow but the moment the doors opened she bolted outside and started power-walking toward the studio. An Uber would've been faster, but she didn't have time to sit around waiting for one to accept the ride. Thankfully, the hotel was close enough to the production lot that she could make it on foot.
Still, she looked ridiculous. The cool morning air hit her face as she hurried down the sidewalk. Every few steps she mentally blamed Michael as this was clearly his fault because if he hadn't kept her awake until nearly midnight FaceTiming and running lines, she would've been asleep at a reasonable hour.
Sure, she could have ended the call. But that wasn't important right now!
By the time she reached the security gate, she was slightly out of breath. The guard took one look at her outfit and immediately started laughing.
"Sleep in?"
Zoe pressed her hands against her knees and nodded.
"Way too much." The older man chuckled while punching in the code. "I figured."
"You're supposed to be supportive, Carl."
"I'm supportive of you getting more sleep."
Despite her panic, Zoe laughed. "Fair enough."
Carl waved her through the gate.
"Have a good day, Ms. Bennett."
"You too, Carl."
The second she entered the lot, she picked up her pace again. Crew members were already everywhere. Equipment was being moved between sound stages. Production assistants hurried around carrying clipboards and coffee. Lights were being adjusted. Someone in the distance was shouting about cables. For the first time, it truly felt like filming day. Zoe pushed through the doors leading to wardrobe and makeup. The room was already buzzing with activity. Actors moved between stations while stylists rushed around carrying brushes, makeup palettes, clothing racks, and enough coffee to keep an entire city awake.
Most of the cast was already dressed, their costumes neat and pristine before filming inevitably destroyed them throughout the day. The moment she stepped inside, several heads turned. A few people laughed. Zoe immediately knew why. She was standing in the middle of a major Hollywood production dressed like she was about to spend the day binge-watching cartoons.
"Don't say it," she warned.
That only made a few people laugh harder mostly Michael who was snickering in his seat which earned him a middle finger which only made him laugh louder.
"Zoe!" Jasmine's voice cut through the room. The costume designer was already standing beside Elara's rack with an outfit draped over her arm. The second she spotted Zoe, she pointed toward the changing rooms. "Come here."
Zoe obediently shuffled over. Jasmine looked her up and down before shaking her head.
"You look like you got attacked by your bed."
"I basically did."
She shoved the outfit into Zoe's arms. "Go put this on and come back. Hair and makeup are already threatening to hunt you down. Now go get dressed before Bekah has an aneurysm."
Honestly? That seemed like a reasonable concern. So with her costume in hand and her dignity hanging on by a thread, Zoe hurried toward the changing room. Thankfully it was just her sweater and jeans with a lab coat, she didn't have to wear the heavy military gear yet so it took her no time to finish and rush to hair and makeup to get set up, but she did have to hear a few lectures along the way.
❄️➖❄️➖❄️
The transport aircraft groaned and rattled as it forced its way through the Antarctic storm, buffeted by violent winds that seemed determined to tear it from the sky. Snow slammed relentlessly against the reinforced windows, obscuring the outside world until nothing remained but an endless blur of white and gray. Every so often the aircraft shuddered beneath a particularly strong gust, drawing a few uneasy glances from those aboard.
Inside the cargo bay, the atmosphere was heavy with anticipation. The usual chatter that accompanied long flights had long since faded, replaced by a tense silence. It wasn't that anyone was calm. Far from it. Every person aboard knew they were flying toward something unknown, and uncertainty had a way of quieting even the loudest room.
Commander Jace Holloway sat nearest the rear ramp, his elbows resting on his knees as he studied a tablet displaying satellite imagery of their destination. The dim red emergency lighting cast sharp shadows across his features, emphasizing the scar that disappeared beneath the collar of his cold-weather jacket. It made him appear older than his thirty-eight years, worn down by experiences few people could imagine.
Across from him, Sergeant Cole Bennett stretched comfortably in his seat, looking far less concerned than everyone else.
"Y'know," Cole said, finally breaking the silence, "when they told me Antarctica, I figured there'd be a lot less chance of dying."
A few heads turned toward him. Jace didn't even bother looking up from the tablet.
"You still have time to stay on the plane."
Cole snorted and shook his head.
"Not a chance. I already packed my winter coat."
The remark earned a few quiet laughs from nearby personnel. Beside him, General Victor Hayes sighed heavily.
"Somehow I expected more professionalism from this team."
Cole pointed at him. "Sir, professionalism died somewhere over the Atlantic." This time the laughter was louder. Even Marcus Reed, director of the expedition and one of the few civilians on board, allowed himself a reluctant smile. Jace finally lowered the tablet and looked up.
"Everyone enjoy themselves?"
The amusement died almost instantly. Cole raised both hands in surrender.
"See? That's the look."
"What look?"
"The one that says we're about to walk into something terrible."
Several people exchanged uneasy glances. Marcus leaned forward in his seat.
"Tell me you don't actually believe all the rumors."
Jace studied him for a moment.
"Depends which rumors."
Marcus sighed.
"The signal. The artifact. The disappearing research teams."
A flicker of turbulence rocked the aircraft before Jace could answer. The transport lurched violently to one side, causing several people to grab for handholds. Equipment rattled against the walls and a few curses echoed through the bay.
Jace barely moved. Instead, he returned his attention to the tablet resting in his hands. The satellite images cycled across the screen. A lonely research facility sat surrounded by endless miles of snow and ice, appearing almost insignificant against the vast Antarctic wilderness. And yet somehow it had become the center of global attention.
Three weeks earlier, all communication with the station had abruptly ceased. Two weeks earlier, a recovery team sent to investigate vanished without a trace. Six days ago, intelligence agencies intercepted a classified signal originating from somewhere deep beneath the ice. Now every major government wanted answers. The problem was that nobody seemed to have any.
A warning light flashed overhead. The pilot's voice crackled through the intercom.
"Five minutes to landing."
The mood inside the aircraft shifted immediately. Conversations and jokes ended, weapons were checked, equipment straps were tightened, and the final moments before deployment had arrived. Jace rose to his feet, steady despite the turbulence beneath him. The simple movement drew everyone's attention.
"You know the objective," he said. His voice remained calm and measured, carrying easily through the cargo bay. "Secure the facility."
His gaze shifted toward General Hayes. "Locate any survivors." Then toward Marcus. "Determine the source of the signal."
Finally, his attention returned to the rest of the team. "If anything feels wrong—"
Cole groaned dramatically.
"There it is."
A few smiles appeared around the cabin. Jace ignored him.
"—it probably is."
The rear ramp began lowering with a metallic groan. Instantly, a blast of freezing air surged into the cargo bay. Several members of the team visibly regretted volunteering for the mission as temperatures plummeted. Snow swirled through the opening, carried by howling winds that sounded almost alive.
Visibility outside was nearly nonexistent. Beyond the ramp stretched an endless white void. Jace stepped forward first. The storm roared around him, fierce and unrelenting. Snow whipped across the frozen landscape in violent waves, obscuring the distant lights of the research station. For a brief moment, he stood at the edge of the ramp and stared into the blizzard.
Something about the place felt wrong. Not dangerous, just wrong.
The sensation settled deep in his chest, impossible to explain and even harder to ignore. It reminded him of walking into a room moments after an argument had ended, when the tension still lingered in the air despite the silence. As though something had happened here. Jace pushed the feeling aside. Mission first, Questions later.
He adjusted his rifle and stepped down into the snow.
"Move out."
One by one, the team followed him into the storm. Behind them, the transport disappeared into the swirling white darkness. And far beneath the Antarctic ice, something ancient stirred from its slumber.
❄️➖❄️➖❄️
"And cut! That was perfect, guys."
Denis's voice carried across the set as a few crew members broke into applause. The tension that had filled the room during the scene immediately melted away as actors relaxed and crew members began preparing for the next setup. Zoe remained where she was, watching everything with quiet awe.
Even without the CGI, the massive visual effects, and all the editing that would eventually bring the film to life, it was incredible to witness. The way everyone slipped so effortlessly into character felt almost unreal. One second they were laughing with each other between takes, and the next they became entirely different people. It was something she deeply admired.
"Alright, Zoe, you're up." Her attention snapped back to Denis, who had stepped away from his chair and was already directing crew members toward the next section of the set.
The nervous excitement she'd been keeping under control immediately returned. This was it, her first scene. Before she could start spiraling, Michael appeared beside her.
"Hey, that was great." Zoe smiled as she looked up at him. "You were amazing out there."
A grin spread across his face. "Thanks." He rubbed the back of his neck before nodding toward the area being prepared for her scene. "You're gonna do great too."
"I hope so."
"You will."
The confidence in his voice was annoyingly reassuring.
"Do you know what scene you're doing first?" he asked.
Zoe nodded. "Yeah. It's just Elara's introduction scene. Nothing major." At least, that was what she kept telling herself. Michael seemed to catch the uncertainty hidden beneath her words and chuckled.
"Nothing major," he repeated. "Only the audience's first impression of the main character."
"See? When you say it like that, it sounds terrifying."
"Because it is."
She lightly shoved his arm, earning a laugh from him.
Together they followed the movement of the crew as cameras, lights, and equipment were repositioned for the next setup. The organized chaos of filmmaking unfolded around them, everyone knowing exactly where they needed to be and what needed to happen next.
Michael glanced toward the set before looking back at her. "I can't wait to see you in action." Before she could respond, he gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze and let his hand briefly rest against the middle of her back.
The gesture was simple, friendly even, but it was enough to make her stomach do an embarrassing little flip.
"Go be Elara," he said with an easy smile. Then he stepped away, heading toward the monitors to watch the scene. Leaving Zoe standing there with a racing heart and just enough time to gather herself before the cameras started rolling.
❄️➖❄️➖❄️
The observatory was quiet except for the soft hum of computers and the rhythmic tapping of keys. Most of the building had emptied hours ago. The handful of researchers who had remained late into the evening had long since gone home, leaving only a skeleton crew scattered throughout the facility.
Dr. Elara Vance barely noticed. She sat cross-legged in her chair, one hand wrapped around a mug of coffee that had long since gone cold while the other navigated through pages of astronomical data. The glow from her monitors illuminated the otherwise dark room, casting pale blue light across stacks of notebooks, scattered research papers, and the collection of half-finished projects that had slowly taken over her desk.
A digital clock in the corner of her screen read 2:17 A.M. She sighed seeing that as it meant another night gone. Not that she was surprised. Sleep had always felt optional whenever she was chasing a question. And tonight she had more questions than answers.
A sharp knock against the glass office door pulled her attention away from the monitors. Elara looked up to find Dr. Evelyn Hart standing outside. Evelyn raised an eyebrow when she saw Elara still wide awake.
"You know normal people went home hours ago."
Elara glanced toward the clock.
"Define normal."
Evelyn entered carrying her purse and car keys.
"I've worked here eight years and I still haven't gotten used to finding you here at ungodly hours."
"I could say the same thing about you."
Evelyn smiled. "Difference is I'm leaving." She pointed toward the monitor.
"What are you staring at?"
Elara turned the screen slightly. Several lines of data scrolled endlessly down the display. Radio frequencies, signal patterns, background noise collected from a network of deep-space listening stations.
Evelyn squinted. "Please tell me you're not still looking at that."
"I think something's wrong."
"With the equipment?"
"No."
Elara leaned forward.
"The data."
Evelyn groaned.
"Elara."
"I'm serious."
She enlarged one section of the screen.
A repeating waveform appeared. It was subtle and easy to miss. But it was definitely there.
Evelyn folded her arms.
"It looks like interference."
"That's what I thought."
"And?"
"And it shouldn't be repeating."
That got her attention. Evelyn stepped closer as the two women stared at the monitor. The pattern repeated again, then again. It did it perfectly and almost rhythmically. A silence settled between them before finally Evelyn shook her head.
"It's two in the morning."
"There it is."
"There what is?"
"The part where you tell me I'm imagining things."
Evelyn laughed softly.
"Because nine times out of ten you are."
"Only nine?"
"Maybe nine and a half."
Elara rolled her eyes. Despite herself, she smiled.
Evelyn checked her watch.
"I have a six o'clock meeting. Whatever mystery signal you're trying to solve can wait until morning."
"Probably."
"Promise me you'll go home."
Elara looked back at the screen. "Eventually." Evelyn pointed a finger at her with a stern expression
"That's not a promise."
"It's the best you're getting."
With a defeated sigh, Evelyn headed toward the door.
"Goodnight, Elara."
"Night."
The door clicked shut behind her. Once again, silence filled the observatory. For several moments Elara simply stared at the monitor and watched the repeating pattern remained. Her fingers moved across the keyboard. More windows opened as additional data streams appeared. She looked for anything that might explain what she was seeing, but nothing did. The deeper she looked, the stranger it became.
A knot formed in her stomach. The kind that every scientist secretly chased. It was familiar to the feeling that you were standing on the edge of a discovery. Elara zoomed in further and then the signal sharpened. Numbers and symbols scrolled rapidly across the screen.
Then suddenly—The monitors flickered. The lights overhead dimmed for half a second. The sudden shift made Elara freeze as she looked around. Soon the signal spiked and a shrill tone echoed through the room which made her wince and cover her ears. Every screen around her illuminated simultaneously.
Warning notifications appeared across multiple displays. "What the hell?" She quickly set her coffee aside and leaned forward. The waveform had changed. And the repeating pattern was gone. In its place was something far more complex. It made Elara's heartbeat quickened as a cold chill ran down her spine. Slowly, she reached toward the keyboard. The signal pulsed again. And somewhere beneath thousands of miles of ice in Antarctica, something answered.
❄️➖❄️➖❄️
"—and cut!"
The tension that had been sitting in Zoe's shoulders immediately released.
For a second she remained frozen in place, still half inside Elara's head as the bright set lights beat down on her. Around her, crew members began moving again, talking over one another as equipment was adjusted and notes were exchanged.
Denis looked up from the monitor with a pleased smile.
"That was excellent. Let's do one more for safety."
One more. That she could handle. The second take went even smoother than the first. By now the nerves had settled into excitement, and Elara's introduction flowed naturally. When Denis finally called cut again, he seemed more than satisfied.
"Perfect. That's the one." Zoe let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. A few crew members clapped while others gave her encouraging nods. It wasn't some grand standing ovation, but for her first real day on a blockbuster set, it felt pretty amazing.
Michael, who had been watching from behind the monitors, gave her a thumbs-up. Zoe rolled her eyes but couldn't stop smiling. As the crew began preparing for the next setup, Denis stood from his chair and stretched.
"Alright everyone, great work this morning. Let's break for lunch."
Those four words might have been magical. Immediately the set came alive. People who had spent hours focused and professional suddenly relaxed. Crew members abandoned equipment. Actors drifted toward one another in conversation. Somewhere nearby someone actually cheered.
"Food!" Florence announced dramatically from across the room. Lupita laughed.
"You act like they haven't fed us all week."
"They haven't fed me in at least three hours."
"You're so brave."
Zoe found herself laughing as everyone began moving toward the catering tent outside.
The California sun greeted them the moment they stepped out of the studio building. It was warm without being unbearable, a welcome change from the freezing temperatures they'd kept the soundstage at. The smell of food hit almost immediately. Now that filming had paused, Zoe realized she was starving.
"Come on, rookie."
She looked over to see Winston Duke motioning for her to follow.
"Rookie?"
"That's what you are."
"I've been acting for years."
"Not on this scale."
"...Fair."
Together they joined the growing line forming near the catering tables. Actors, crew members, stunt performers, and production assistants all mixed together. It was one of the few times during the day where titles didn't seem to matter much. Everyone was just hungry. By the time Zoe loaded her plate and found a seat beneath the large tent, most of the main cast had gathered around the same group of tables.
Pedro was already telling some story that had John David Washington laughing. Giancarlo Esposito sat nearby with a coffee in hand, looking as composed as ever. Florence had somehow accumulated enough food for three people.
Lupita immediately pointed it out. "That cannot possibly all be yours." Florence glanced down at her plate.
"It absolutely is."
"It looks like you're preparing for winter."
"What if I am?"
"What exactly are you storing fat for?"
Florence gasped in mock offense.
"I can't believe you would body shame me in front of my peers."
The table erupted into laughter.
"You're ridiculous," Lupita said.
"Thank you."
"No, that wasn't a compliment."
"It sounded like one."
Zoe laughed into her drink. She was beginning to understand why everyone loved Florence. A few seats away, Winston was already launching into one of his stories.
"I'm telling you right now, that horse hated me."
Pedro immediately leaned forward.
"Oh this is going to be good."
"It hated me."
"Horses don't hate people."
"This one did."
"It absolutely did not."
"It absolutely did."
The argument continued before the story had even started. Michael slid into the empty seat beside Zoe, balancing a plate in one hand. "Did I miss anything?"
"Winston got bullied by a horse."
"I did not get bullied."
"You literally just said the horse hated you."
Michael grinned at that before adding his two cents "Sounds like bullying." Winston pointed a fork at both of them.
"I don't appreciate this treatment." Nobody looked particularly concerned. The laughter around the table only grew louder.
As everyone was sitting and laughing she and Michael shared a small look to one another before laughing at something that neither one of them has said.
"Oh lets take a selfie!" Florence said while pulling her phone out,"Hold up damn!" Lupita was wiping her face before turning to the camera. Everyone around them flooding in as much as possible, Michaels hands came to Zoes hips and she wasn't sure what it was but the feeling of his fingers touching the bit of skin that was not covered made her face hot, and stomach twist and flip.
"Cheeese"
Once the picture everyone pulled away but Michael...His hand stayed there for a second longer, their eyes lingered on one another until they pulled apart by the sound of Denis approaching. "alright guys lets get back to it" He said with a clap which made Florence whine.
"Noo not yet!"
"Yes, now come on"
After lunch the afternoon slipped away in the same blur that was loud, fast, slightly chaotic, and somehow still perfectly controlled beneath it all. By the time Denis finally called for the last setups of the day, even the energy in the air had shifted. The jokes were slower now, the laughter a little softer at the edges. People were still talking, still teasing, but there was an undercurrent of exhaustion.
It was the good kind of tired, though—the kind that came from doing something that actually mattered.
Zoe felt it settle into her bones as she stepped out of costume and back into her own clothes, just no bonnet included, the weight of Elara slowly peeling away with each removed piece of wardrobe. For a moment she just stood there in the dressing room, staring at her reflection like she was trying to catch up with herself.
Then reality caught up instead. “Alright, that’s a wrap for the day!” someone called down the hallway. That was it.
The set exhaled all at once. Crew members started breaking down equipment. Lights dimmed. Walkways filled with people stretching, yawning, laughing tiredly as they gathered their things. Conversations overlapped—plans for tomorrow, complaints about sore feet, promises to sleep for twelve straight hours. Zoe stepped out into the hallway, adjusting the strap of her bag when she heard footsteps behind her.
“Hey.”
She turned slightly, already recognizing the voice before she even saw him. Michael stood a few steps back, jacket in one hand, the other shoved loosely into his pocket like he wasn’t in any rush at all. He looked just as tired as everyone else, but there was something calmer about him now that the day was over. Less performer, more person.
“You heading out?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Zoe said, shifting her bag higher on her shoulder. “I think if I stay any longer I’m going to collapse somewhere and become part of the studio set permanently.”
He huffed a quiet laugh. “That bad?”
“It’s not bad,” she corrected, then paused. “It’s just… a lot.”
“Yeah,” he nodded like he understood that more than he was saying. “First days always hit different.”
A beat passed between them, easy and unforced in a way the earlier rush of the day hadn’t allowed. Michael glanced toward the exit doors where the last of the crew were filtering out into the evening light.
“You survived though.”
Zoe let out a tired breath, adjusting her grip on her bag. “Barely.”
For a second neither of them said anything. The noise of the studio behind them softened into background hum—distant voices, closing doors, the final shuffle of a long day ending. Then, unexpectedly, Zoe laughed. It was short, surprised, like it slipped out before she could stop it. Michael looked at her like he hadn’t expected that either, then smiled.
“That laugh sounded like survival to.”
“Because it was,” she said, still smiling as she shook her head slightly. “I think I blacked out at least twice during blocking.”
“That’s a good sign,” he replied seriously.
“That is not a good sign.”
He laughed again, quieter this time, and for a moment it felt like the entire day finally loosened its grip on both of them.
Zoe shifted her weight, glancing toward the exit again. “You heading out too?”
“In a minute,” he said. “Just wanted to make sure you weren’t, like… face down somewhere in a hallway.”
“I appreciate the concern.”
“Professional courtesy.”
“Uh-huh.”
There was another small pause, comfortable this time instead of awkward. The kind that didn’t ask for anything to fill it.
Michael nodded toward the doors. “Get some rest.”
“You too.”
“Yeah,” he said, then hesitated just long enough to add, “we do it all again tomorrow.”
Zoe exhaled through her nose like she was already accepting her fate. “Unfortunately.”
That earned another smile from him. Then she started walking again, slower this time, not because she was in a rush anymore, but because the day had finally allowed her to be. Behind her, Michael lingered a second longer before heading out in the opposite direction but for a moment he paused and looked at Zoe as she left, giving one of the crew members a smile as she slipped through the doors. The warmth of her skin still lingered on his finger tips and he wasn't sure why he felt the urge to feel her again. He swallowed it down and turned to head to the parking area.
Synopsis: Jade Lincoln's world is turned upside down when a debt she never knew existed comes due.
Warnings: Kidnapping, Forced Marriage Arrangement, Organized Crime, Murder, Strong Language.
Pairing: Erik Stevens Killmonger x OC (Eventually)
If there was one thing in the world Jade hated more than anything, it was lies. Her whole life had been built on them. The very people who created her, loved her, raised her had lied to her from the start.
Jade had grown up sheltered to the point of suffocation. A mansion that looked like luxury from the outside but felt more like a locked cage from within. She was homeschooled by private tutors, supervised by maids who never left her side for long, and only allowed outside under watchful eyes. The world to her was something she saw through screens and filtered conversations, never something she actually got to touch on her own terms.
Her parents couldn’t fully erase reality, of course. She had the internet, television, fragments of a world they couldn’t completely shut out. But even that was controlled in subtle ways, and it was enough to keep her boxed in. She didn’t have friends her age. Didn’t go anywhere alone. Didn’t leave the property without a full security detail trailing behind her like a shadow she could never shake.
And every time she asked why, she got the same answers. It’s for your safety. The world is dangerous. You’ll understand when you’re older. Excuses stacked on top of excuses until she stopped believing they meant anything at all.
Then she turned sixteen, and everything broke.
She woke up with her body aching, wrists bound behind her back so tightly her skin burned. Her vision blurred as she tried to move, panic already clawing up her throat. A gun pressed against her forehead. The man holding it didn’t care that she was shaking, didn’t care that tears were already spilling down her cheeks, didn’t care about the bruise forming on her face where he’d hit her when she first woke up and screamed.
“Tell me where the safe is or I will blow your brains out,” he growled.
Jade sobbed, frantic, confused. “I don’t—I don’t know! I swear to God I don’t know!”
And she didn’t. She had no idea what safe he was talking about, no idea what he wanted from her, no idea why she was the one tied up on a cold floor like this.
The gun pressed harder under her jaw. Her breath hitched as she was forced to tilt her head back, staring straight into his eyes. She could feel her whole body shaking, every instinct screaming at her, and for a second she was sure this was it. This was how it ended.
Then the shot rang out.
But she didn’t die.
Warmth splattered across her face, and the man above her went still. His body dropped beside her with a heavy, final sound that didn’t feel real. Jade couldn’t even bring herself to look. All she could process was movement—someone grabbing her, her father’s voice cutting through the chaos, a jacket thrown around her shoulders as she was lifted and rushed out of the cargo hold and back into a car waiting like it had always been there.
After that, she went quiet. Not just for hours, but for days. She sat in silence, staring at nothing, trying to piece together what her brain still couldn’t fully accept. Her wrists were raw from the rope burns. Her cheek stayed swollen and bruised. Her knees were scraped and aching from hours on the ground. But none of it compared to the feeling that something had stayed on her, like that moment had left a stain she couldn’t wash off. Like blood had become part of her even when it wasn’t there anymore.
Her parents tried to reach her. Tried to talk, to comfort, to explain without really explaining. Jade didn’t respond. She wouldn’t. Not until someone told her the truth.
It took days before it finally happened. She was sitting at the dinner table, barely touching her food, pushing steak around her plate when her father finally spoke. His voice was different that night. Lower. Heavier.
“Jade… your mother and I think it’s time you know what’s going on.”
She looked up slowly.
Her parents were holding hands across the table, tight enough that their knuckles were pale. For the first time, they didn’t look like they had control of the situation. They looked afraid.
“We should’ve told you sooner,” her father continued, exhaling through his nose. “But we were worried. We didn’t want you feeling like you had to be part of it when you were too young.”
Jade didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just watched him.
He finally let out a breath, like he’d been holding it for years.
“Jade… we run a business. A very dangerous one.” A pause. “We hurt people for money. We do illegal things to maintain the life we’ve given you.”
Her stomach dropped, but he wasn’t done.
“That man who took you… he was part of something called the Brotherhood. Low-level. Probably desperate. He thought if he grabbed you, he could get access to one of my safes and buy his way back in.”
Her mind struggled to catch up, everything clicking into place in ways she didn’t want it to. The guards. The silence. The rules. The way people around her home never questioned anything.
“Daddy…” Her voice cracked slightly. “Are you saying… we’re criminals?”
A beat of silence.
“Yes.”
That was the moment something in her changed permanently.
Jade hated lies after that. Not just disliked them—hated them. Because one lie had nearly gotten her killed, and the truth had only come when it was almost too late to matter. If she’d known sooner, maybe she would’ve understood the world she was in. Maybe she would’ve been prepared. Instead she had been a child in a locked house pretending everything outside wasn’t real.
When she finally left for college in Atlanta, it wasn’t a fight. Not really. She was old enough by then, stubborn enough too. Her parents didn’t want her going alone, but Atlanta was far enough, and eventually they let her go. Even then, they made sure she was taken care of. Money appeared in her account like clockwork. Rent paid. Tuition handled. Food never an issue.
For a while, it was almost normal. Then the money started slowing down. Smaller amounts. Longer gaps. By the third year, it stopped completely. She never said anything about it, but she noticed. She always noticed. And every time she called, her parents told her not to worry, that everything was fine, that money would be sent soon. And every time, she knew they were lying again.
The anger came back in waves, quieter than before but sharper. She was grown now. Twenty-two. Old enough to handle the truth they kept avoiding.
But she still didn’t push. Not until graduation.
She stood there with her veterinary degree finally in hand, years of work finally paying off, and when she found her parents in the crowd afterward, something in her chest tightened. Her mother pulled her into a hug immediately, crying as she said how proud she was. Her father stood just behind her with a bouquet of roses, smiling like he had been waiting for this moment for a long time.
But they looked tired. Deeply tired. Like something had been wearing them down for years.
“I’m so proud of you, baby,” her mother whispered.
Her father nodded, voice soft. “You’re going to do great things.”
Jade hugged her mother back, but when she looked at her father, she couldn’t ignore it anymore. The sadness behind his eyes. The weight he was carrying even now.
Something in her finally cracked in a different way.
“I think…” she said slowly, hesitating for the first time in a long time. “I think I’d like to come home for a little while.”
The change was immediate. Her mother’s face lit up like she’d been given something she didn’t dare hope for. Her father’s expression softened in a way Jade hadn’t seen in years. Relief. Real relief.
“Of course,” her mother said quickly. “Of course, baby.”
And as they stood there, Jade couldn’t shake the feeling that going back home might finally give her the answers she had been avoiding her entire life.
Coming home felt normal at first. Her parents were attentive in a way that almost made her uncomfortable—not in a bad way, just unfamiliar. She didn’t want them to act like she was something fragile that needed constant care, like they had to tiptoe around her existence. But part of her couldn’t deny it still felt… nice. A little spoiled, even.
Still, there was something off about the house like there was a strange absence where there used to be noise. There weren’t as many men around anymore. Fewer guards. Fewer staff. Even the maids weren’t there in the same numbers she remembered. The kitchen, once always alive with cooks preparing meals at all hours, now only had her mother in it most days, trying out new recipes like she was relearning how to do it all herself.
Five-course dinners had turned into three.
The mansion was the same size, the same wealth, the same silence—but it felt different. Quieter in a way that wasn’t peaceful. And her father…That was the biggest change. His hair, once always kept down to the skin had started to grow out. His beard came in thicker now, untrimmed. His eyes looked heavier every day, like he wasn’t sleeping properly—or like he hadn’t been for a long time. Jade noticed it all. She just didn’t ask.
Instead, she kept herself busy. Looking at apartments. Scanning job postings around Atlanta and nearby cities. Trying to build something that didn’t feel like this house. One afternoon, while walking past her father’s office, she heard voices shouting
“You tell that Killmonger that if he wants a war, he can have one!” Jade froze when she heard her father screaming.
A second voice answered, calmer. Controlled. “I don’t think that’s wise. You owe him a significant amount of money, and he’s only giving you one chance—either you pay him, or you follow through on what was agreed months ago after he took control.”
She slowed, moving closer to the door without thinking, pressing her ear lightly against it to hear the two of them better, what was this money and what was agreed on?
“This isn’t right, Zuri,” her father snapped. “How does he just take over and act like I owe him anything? I don’t owe him shit. I will not give him a dime or—”
“He’s leaving you no choice, Kwame. You pick one by the end of the month.” Silence followed. Then the door opened. Jade barely had time to straighten before a heavyset man in a purple-and-black suit stepped out. He paused when he saw her and for a split second, his expression shifted—surprise, recognition… and something like sadness.
“Ms. Lincoln,” he said quietly. Then he walked past her without another word. Jade stood still, watching him go, unsettled by the way he looked at her like she was something he already understood something she didn’t even know about herself.
She had never seen him before in her life. So why did it feel like he knew her?
And what kind of name was Killmonger?
That night, she didn’t let it sit. Dinner was quiet, like most dinners had become again—forks against plates, no music, no real conversation. Just the weight of things unsaid hanging over the table. Jade finally looked up as she gathered the courage to speak
“Who is Killmonger?”
The shift was immediate like It was like she had spoken a trigger word. Her father stopped mid-motion and the air in the room tightened.
“What did you say?” His voice had gone cold.
Jade didn’t look away. “I asked who Killmonger is.”
Her mother’s eyes dropped instantly to her plate, tense and silent. Her father set his fork down slowly.
“Don’t ever bring that man’s name into this house.”
The way he said it wasn’t just anger.
It was fear and for the first time in a long time, Jade felt something familiar settle in her chest.
So it was real.
“So we’re just going to lie again?” she said, sharper now. “Make excuses again? Dad, I thought we were past this.”
“This is different, Jade.”
“How?”
His jaw tightened. “Because he’s… evil.”
She almost laughed at that.
“And that’s even more reason to tell me who he is, right? Or did you forget what happened the last time you kept me in the dark about danger?” That landed and it caused silence to stretch between them, heavy and suffocating.
Her father pushed his chair back so hard it scraped against the floor. He didn’t even finish his meal. Just stood and walked out of the room without another word. Jade stayed seated, staring after him, something cold settling in her stomach. So some man named Killmonger had him scared like that?
She finally looked at her mother.
“Who is he?”
Her mother hesitated, lips parting like she wanted to speak, then thought better of it. She stood instead, quiet and shaken, and left the room without answering. And just like that, Jade was left alone again.
The following weeks after that conversation were rough.
Her father barely spoke to her, and while she tried talking to her mother a few times, the woman would only look at her before bursting into tears. At first, Jade had been angry. Then frustrated. Now she mostly just felt sick. Maybe she had been too aggressive and she had pushed too hard. But she had spent most of her life being lied to. Every answer she'd ever gotten had come wrapped in excuses, half-truths, or outright deception. How was she supposed to react when she knew it was happening again?
The worst part was the feeling hanging over the house. Like a bomb was suspended above all of them, dangling by a thread no one was willing to cut.
Her father spent more time on the phone than ever before. Her mother could barely look her in the eye. The entire house felt tense, everyone waiting for something that never seemed to come. Jade tried convincing herself it was because of the argument. Her mother was upset that she and her father weren't getting along, and her father was too stubborn to admit he was wrong. That had to be it.
But deep down she knew better. Something was happening and it was something bad.
It finally came to a head during dinner. Like always, dinner seemed to be the only time she could corner her father long enough to get a straight answer before he disappeared for "work."
The three of them sat around the large dining table in silence. The only sounds were forks scraping against plates and the occasional clink of a glass. Jade finally had enough.
"What is going on?"
Both of her parents looked up.
"What do you mean, Jade?" her father asked.
Jade stared at him in disbelief before gesturing toward her mother, who was already trying to discreetly wipe tears from her eyes.
"What do I mean? Look at Mom."
Both parents went quiet.
"She cries every time she sees me, and I don't know if you've noticed, but you've been drinking a whole lot more lately."
Her father immediately looked guilty. The slight flush in his cheeks told her he'd already had enough alcohol to feel it. He lowered his head and rubbed his forehead while her mother struggled to compose herself.
"If somebody died, then just say it." Honestly, that would've been easier. "No one died," her father answered.
The words should've been comforting. Instead, they somehow made things worse. Especially when her mother let out a broken sob the second he said it and her father shot her a look.
Jade sat there watching the two of them fumble through emotions neither seemed capable of controlling anymore.
Eventually her mother broke. "I'm sorry, Jade." The words came out between sobs. Jade actually flinched while across the table, her father looked stunned that his wife had finally reached her limit.
"Me and your father have been struggling financially," her mother admitted. "Ever since the Panther Syndicate found new leadership, most of our people left and went to them. Our business... it just fell apart."
Jade didn't know every detail of what her parents did. She knew it was illegal and she knew it made them rich. That was about it.
But suddenly the empty house made sense.
The missing staff.
The missing guards.
The silence.
People had moved on and found better opportunities.
"No..." Her mother swallowed hard. "Well, yes. But that's not all of it." She looked down at her plate. "We've been in debt to the Panther Syndicate for years. Back when T'Chaka ran it, we were making payments and slowly working our way out."
The bitterness that entered her mother's voice was immediate. "Then he showed up." Jade glanced at her father. His jaw had tightened so hard she thought his teeth might crack.
"Killmonger?"
Silence.
That was all the confirmation she needed. The mystery man finally had a name. And apparently her father was terrified of him.
"So you owe the debt to him now?" Jade asked slowly. "And the guy who came here the other week... he works for the Panther Syndicate?"
Her father nodded once. "I wish it was his son that took over" He spoke bitterly
"T'Challa could've taken over," her mother said quietly. "But he chose a different life."
Jade respected that. If only her parents had done the same.
"So how much do you owe?" Neither parent answered immediately but then her father spoke. "We owed twenty-five million."
Jade nearly choked.
"Twenty-five million?" She stared at him.
How the hell did someone even get that deep into debt? But something about his wording caught her attention.
Owed.
Past tense.
"Owed?" she repeated. "So it's paid off?"
The moment she asked, her mother started crying again.
Jade closed her eyes as at this point the crying was becoming more frustrating than reassuring. She still had no clue what was actually happening.
"We..." her mother began shakily. "We did."
Jade stared.
"Then what the hell is the problem?"
Her father's chair scraped against the floor.
"Language, Jade!" His voice boomed through the room. "You do not raise your voice at us."
"I wouldn't have to if you'd stop lying!" Years of frustration exploded out of her. "For years it's been lie after lie after lie. I'm tired of it, Dad! Just tell me what's going on!"
The room fell silent...Her breathing was heavy...Her mother was crying...And her father...
Her father just stared at her. The look in his eyes made something cold crawl down her spine.
Then he spoke...
"We sold you to Killmonger."
Everything stopped for the moment as Jade blinked, waiting for a gotcha moment, "We had no choice."
Surely she'd heard him wrong.
Sold?...Sold?!
Like she was property?! Like she was some object to be traded away?!
Her mouth opened but nothing came out. Across the table, her mother looked completely broken. Her father looked furious. Not at her but himself...The room was quiet minus the sobs as Jade just couldn't believe what she was hearing.
Then headlights appeared outside the window was enough to cut the emotions as Jade turned and saw Several black SUVs rolled onto the property. The vehicles came to a stop and men began stepping out. Suits cleaned and sharp with weapons on their person, not even bothering to hide it.
Her stomach dropped.
"Daddy..."
His expression shattered hearing the fear in her voice
"I'm sorry, Jade."
"How could you do this?"
"I promise it won't be bad."
The words did absolutely nothing to comfort her. The front doors opened before anyone could knock and not like anybody stopped them. The house that once housed an army of guards no longer had anyone left to resist. Jade remained frozen in her chair, staring blankly at the untouched food in front of her.
Sold...She'd been sold. Why had she come back? Why hadn't she stayed in Atlanta? God, she should've stayed in Atlanta. Heavy footsteps echoed through the dining room as a shadow loomed over Jade.
"Zuri." The name was familiar. Jade looked up and immediately recognized the man from outside her father's office. He looked tired. Older than she remembered. And deeply uncomfortable.
His eyes found hers. For a moment neither spoke. They didn't need to. The apology was already written across his face.
He was sorry...Sorry for whatever came next.
"We're here to collect Lincoln," he said quietly.
"I understand. I informed her as best I could." Not that it had helped. Jade could barely breathe.
The room suddenly felt too small. Too warm. Too suffocating.
"Good," Zuri replied. "We should leave soon. Mr. Stevens will be arriving shortly."
He placed a hand on her shoulder. And every survival instinct she had exploded at once. Run. Jade shoved her chair back and bolted. She had no destination but just get away. Behind her she heard both her father, mother and Zuri telling her to stop and to tell the men to grab her. Thick heavy arms wrapped around her waist.
She screamed and fought immediately, biting down on someone's arm hard enough to make them curse.
"Shit!" The grip loosened and for one glorious second she thought she was free. Then two more men caught her, they kept well away from her teeth and locked down her legs before she could kick them.
Jade thrashed anyway, fighting like a wild animal as panic consumed every rational thought she had left.
"You can't do this!" Jade's voice cracked as she screamed the words, struggling against the men holding her even though she already knew it was useless. "I'm not something you can just sell away when it's convenient!"
Her eyes locked onto her parents. Her mother was crying so hard she could barely breathe, while her father couldn't even look at her. The sight only made the betrayal hurt more. For years they had protected her, claimed everything they did was because they loved her.
And now they were handing her over. Like she was nothing. Like she was a bargaining chip.
"I hate you!" she screamed. The words ripped themselves from her throat before she could stop them. "I hate both of you!"
Tears streamed freely down her face now. The fight slowly drained from her body, leaving behind nothing but heartbreak and exhaustion. Her knees threatened to buckle, and if the men weren't holding her upright she would've collapsed onto the floor. Neither of her parents responded. That somehow hurt the most.
Zuri let out a quiet breath before looking toward her father. "We'll be leaving now." Jade heard her mother break into another sob. She couldn't bring herself to look at either of them anymore.
What was the point? Her whole world had shattered in the span of a few minutes.
Her career. Her apartment plans. Her future.
Everything she'd worked toward suddenly felt meaningless.
The men escorted her outside while she stared numbly ahead. The evening air felt colder than she remembered, the breeze brushing against her skin as they guided her down the front steps. She didn't fight this time and what would be the point? The people who were supposed to protect her had already made their choice.
She was led to the first SUV and helped inside. The leather seat felt stiff beneath her as the door shut with a heavy thud. Moments later, Zuri climbed in beside her. The convoy began to move and Jade kept her eyes fixed on her lap. She couldn't bear to watch her childhood home disappear behind them. Couldn't bear to see the place she'd spent most of her life growing smaller in the distance.
After several minutes of silence, Zuri finally spoke.
"I know my words probably won't help right now..." Jade didn't respond. "...but it won't be as bad as you're imagining."
That almost made her laugh. Almost. Instead she continued staring at her clenched hands.
Zuri shifted uncomfortably beside her. "He can be... difficult." That got her attention. She slowly lifted her eyes toward him.
"Difficult?"
The older man grimaced.
"A little aggressive."
"A little?"
"He has a temper."
Jade snorted bitterly.
"Wonderful."
"He also tends to be stubborn. Impatient. Hotheaded."
Each description somehow made her situation sound worse. Zuri rubbed the back of his neck.
"But he does have a good heart."The hesitation before he said it was impossible to miss. "Deep down."
Jade stared at him. Even he didn't sound convinced. The silence stretched between them for a few moments before she finally asked the question that had been clawing at her since dinner.
"Am I being trafficked by this man?"
The words felt disgusting leaving her mouth but Zuri immediately shook his head which made her let out a breath.
"No." For the first time all night, Jade felt the smallest amount of relief. It wasn't much, but it was something.
"Then why?" she asked quietly. "What could he possibly want with me?"
Zuri looked out the window for a moment before answering.
"You'll be marrying Mr. Stevens."
Jade froze. The city lights outside blurred together, for a second she wondered if she'd heard him wrong.
Marrying? No. No, she definitely heard him correctly. The word echoed through her mind until it drowned out everything else.
"You'll become his wife," Zuri continued carefully. "The marriage settles the debt and creates a formal union between families."
A union. Like this was some medieval kingdom. Like she was livestock being exchanged between powerful houses.
Jade felt sick. Her stomach twisted violently as she looked away from him. Twenty-six years old. A veterinary degree. A future she'd built with her own hands.
And none of it mattered.
Outside the window, the lights of the city stretched endlessly into the darkness ahead. Jade rested her head against the cool glass and closed her eyes. Part of her wanted to run and fight. She even wanted to wake up and discover this had all been some horrible nightmare.
But deep down, a terrible feeling had already begun settling into her chest.
This wasn't the end of her problems. It was the beginning. The beginning of a life she never asked for. The beginning of a darkness that had been circling her since birth, patiently waiting for the moment it could finally sink its claws into her. And somehow she knew that even if she ran, even if she fought with everything she had, even if she managed to escape...
Power, control, strategy those are the only things Erik trusts in a city built on violence and loyalty. As a crime boss operating in the shadows, he’s learned that weakness gets people killed, and emotions are just another liability.
That belief holds steady until Jade.
She wasn't supposed to matter. Not to him. Not to the system he runs. But a union between two rivals leads to him having a bride and their first encounter shifts something in his carefully controlled world, and for the first time, Erik finds himself paying attention to someone who refuses to fear him the way everyone else does.
What begins as curiosity turns into something far more dangerous. Protection becomes obsession. Distance becomes possession. And somewhere in the middle of power struggles, rival factions, and threats closing in from every side, Erik is forced to confront the one thing he’s never been able to control.
Because in a world where everything can be taken, She might be the only thing he refuses to lose.
DNI IF UNCOMFORTABLE WITH DARK/TOXIC MATERIAL! OR UNDER 18+
This is a SFW/NSFW Blog that can dive into dark elements periodically. You will get a warning before you read so you don't read something you don't want but there should be some rules before you follow:
Dont harrass me for a update. I am so happy you guy like my stories but I also don't want to feel rushed because then it kills my drive to write for you guys.
I love all types of stories no matter how dark it gets...Sometimes but before you read one you will be warned. So please don't feel turned away if one story is dark when five others are not.
Please leave comments, I love comments! I love engaging with you all just don't be a scammer or just constantly spam next part?!?!
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I will probably add more rules as I continue this writers journey ♡♡♡
Chapter Synopsis: Zoe's first official day on Black Horizon introduces her to the cast, the crew, and the reality of blockbuster filmmaking. Between costume fittings and rehearsals, she begins to see Michael B. Jordan as more than the celebrity she's admired for years.
It wasn't every day someone could say they had landed the lead role in a major Hollywood film, surrounded by a cast stacked with talented actors and actresses. A girl who had started out on Disney shows and smaller productions was now leading one of the biggest movies currently in development.
Even now, it felt unreal.
When she'd called her mother with the news, Zoe had expected excitement.
She hadn't expected screaming...Or crying...Or the loud, unintelligible sobs that had come through the phone as her mother broke down from sheer happiness.
Her baby was going to be a star was shouted over the phone like a chant. And that was before she'd learned Michael B. Jordan was involved.
Zoe still wasn't sure how her mother hadn't passed out from excitement.
Now, though, reality was beginning to settle in. This warm Tuesday morning marked the cast's first official script read-through. Everyone would finally meet, go through the entire film together, discuss character beats, and finalize any last-minute adjustments before filming began the following week.
And Zoe still hadn't found a permanent place to live.
Most apartments within a reasonable distance of the studio were far outside her current budget, and the few affordable options were either unavailable or had waiting lists. For now, the hotel would have to do. Once filming started and the paychecks began rolling in, finding an apartment would be much easier.
At least that was what she kept telling herself.
The Uber ride to the studio was familiar by now. When they arrived, she thanked the driver, left a tip, and stepped out into the California sunshine. The security guard at the gate recognized her immediately.
"Morning, Ms. Bennett."
"Morning."
She flashed her laminated studio pass and continued through.
The lot was already alive with activity. Crew members hurried between buildings carrying equipment. Golf carts zipped along designated paths. Someone was adjusting a lighting rig while another group wheeled set pieces toward a nearby soundstage.
It was chaotic. Like organized chaos and it was becoming more like the kind Zoe loved.
"Zoe!"
She stopped and turned seeing Rebecca was making her way across the lot toward her. Today her blonde hair was pulled into a neat bun, and a pair of glasses rested on her nose.
"Hey, Rebecca," Zoe greeted. "I was just heading to the script read."
"Perfect. Before that, I need to steal you for a few minutes." Immediately Zoe wondered what she'd forgotten.
Rebecca seemed to notice. "Nothing bad. We think one of the wardrobe tops may have been fitted incorrectly. We just want to double-check before everything gets finalized."
"Oh. Yeah, of course." Wardrobe was important. Painfully important, sometimes.
Zoe had lost count of how many interviews she'd seen where fans dissected outfits down to the brand of socks a character wore. Half the time the characters were supposed to be broke, and yet somehow they were wearing clothes worth thousands of dollars. Hollywood was funny like that.
As they walked toward the wardrobe department, Zoe noticed several promotional posters hanging throughout the building.
Not official character posters yet. Just atmospheric artwork like a dark horizon with Alien structures. The title Black Horizon stretched across the center.
"We'll be doing photoshoots soon too," Rebecca explained. "Marketing wants plenty of material before post-production starts. Gives the editors more time to avoid mistakes."
She sounded exhausted. Zoe couldn't help but laugh softly.
"It really shows how many people are involved when you walk around here."
Rebecca snorted. "You have no idea."
Years of experience sat behind those four words.
Zoe could only imagine the number of moving parts required to make a film like this happen. When they finally reached the wardrobe department, familiar faces immediately came into view.
Assistants hurried between racks. Designers discussed fabric samples and rolling clothing racks filled the room. One section held everyday costumes. Another held action gear with everything labeled according to character and scene number.
Zoe's eyes landed on several name tags.
Zoe.
Michael.
Sterling.
Rebecca.
Her eyebrows lifted. "Wait. You're in the movie too?" Rebecca blinked before laughing. "No. That's for Rebecca Ferguson."
"Oh."
"She's playing Dr. Evelyn Hart. Elara's former mentor."
That made a lot more sense. Though Zoe had to admit she was starting to lose track of the Rebeccas involved in this production.
Rebecca must have noticed her expression.
"You can call me Bekah if it helps."
The relief on Zoe's face was immediate. "Thank you."
Bekah laughed as they approached the lead costume designer.
The man was very casual but had a spark of highlight as his hair was frosted but slicked back. He spotted Zoe and visibly relaxed.
"Thank God." That was never a reassuring opening.
"Uh... should I be worried?" Zoe asked as she rose a eyebrow "No." He waved dismissively. "One of my co-designers thinks she may have entered the wrong chest measurement during your fitting. We just want to verify it ourselves before we finalize everything."
Zoe shrugged as she has dealt with wardrobe fittings her entire career.
The women in her family had all been generously endowed, and costume adjustments had become a normal part of her life. The designer pointed toward a private fitting room.
"If you could just step in there."
"Sure."
Zoe crossed the room and knocked lightly against the door waiting for a reply.
"Come in!"
She recognized Jasmine's voice immediately. Opening the door, she found the younger designer waiting with a measuring tape draped around her neck, Red hair frazzled and a very concentrated look on her face as she was looking at the notepad.
"Oh, hey, Zoe!" Jasmine said finally giving Zoe her full attention. "Sorry about this. I think I accidentally entered the wrong measurements, and I'd rather double-check than have wardrobe hate me later. So you don't mind?"
"Not at all."
With that, Zoe stepped fully into the fitting room and closed the door behind her.
Zoe slipped off her shirt, grateful she'd chosen to wear a more fitted bra that morning. Normally, measurements could be taken over clothing, but for the most accurate fit it was better to wear something form-fitting—or nothing over it at all. Her loose shirt definitely wasn't helping.
Jasmine glanced up and immediately groaned. "Can I just say I'm jealous of your boobs?" Heat rushed to Zoe's cheeks, though she laughed.
"Trust me, I hate them. Do you know how hard it is to run with these things? I risk giving myself a black eye every time I go jogging."
The joke earned a laugh from both of them as Jasmine wrapped the measuring tape around her chest.
"I wouldn't know," Jasmine said. "The Itty Bitty Titty Committee allows me to run without fear of a concussion."
That sent them both into another round of laughter.
A few moments later Jasmine checked the measurements and threw her hands up triumphantly.
"Ha! I knew I got it right the first time."
"What?"
"Braydon thought I'd entered the numbers wrong because they seemed too big."
Zoe sighed. Unfortunately, that wasn't a new experience.
"Well, I'm glad that's settled."
She pulled her shirt back on as Jasmine grinned.
"Oh! Do you want to see the wardrobe designs? You're going to love them. I made sure the colors and styling really complemented you."
Zoe immediately brightened.
"Absolutely."
Jasmine led her back into the main wardrobe area and over to one of the costume racks.
"Did the measurements change?" Braydon called from across the room.
Jasmine shot him a thumbs-up. "It was right!"
The visible relief on his face was almost comical before he immediately returned to organizing outfits and discussing alterations with another designer. Jasmine guided Zoe toward a rack labeled with her character's name. Several versions of the same outfits hung together, each one distressed differently to reflect the wear and tear throughout the film. There were flashback outfits, casual clothes, field gear, and farther down the rack sat a sleek black tactical suit.
The moment Zoe saw it, she smiled. She remembered the concept art as the first time she saw it she immediately fell in love with it.
"Overall, Elara's wardrobe is pretty simple," Jasmine explained. "But when it's all put together, it tells the story of someone who's been fighting to save humanity for years."
Zoe nodded thoughtfully as her fingers brushed across the sleeve of a burnt-orange sweater.
The material was unbelievably soft. She could already picture Elara choosing something like this on purpose. Not for style, but for comfort. For warmth. For something familiar in a life that had become anything but.
"It's beautiful," Zoe said honestly. "You really captured the character."
Jasmine's face lit up.
"Thank you. That means a lot."
Before the conversation could continue, a throat cleared behind them.
Both women turned and saw that Bekah stood there, tapping the face of her watch.
The script reading...Right.
Zoe winced and let out a bashful, "Sorry."
"It's fine," Bekah said as she didn't mind but time was running short for them.
Zoe turned back toward Jasmine.
"Thank you again. Hopefully we get a chance to talk more later."
"I'd like that," Jasmine replied.
With a final wave, she disappeared back toward Braydon, who looked seconds away from having a wardrobe-induced breakdown.
As Zoe and Bekah left the department, a question that had been bothering her resurfaced.
"I've been meaning to ask something."
Bekah glanced over to the actress while they walked
"What's up?"
Zoe hesitated for a moment before glancing to Bekah.
"Why did you pick me?"
Bekah blinked.
"For the role."
"Yeah." She shoved her hands into her pockets. "There were three other incredible actresses in that room. Why me?"
For a moment Bekah looked genuinely surprised by the question.
By now, she seemed to think the answer was obvious.
"Your chemistry with Michael."
Zoe sighed. Yeah she'd heard that part already.
"Okay, but they all had chemistry with him too, didn't they?"
Bekah nodded.
"Of course."
"And?"
"And it wasn't the right chemistry."
Zoe frowned while Bekah thought for a moment before explaining.
"With Naomi, it felt more like siblings. There was affection, trust, history—but not romance."
Zoe nodded.
"And Ayo?"
"She was good. Very good, actually. But there wasn't enough spark. Nothing that really lingered after the scene ended."
"And Sophie?"
Bekah smiled slightly.
"Sophie's chemistry with Michael was intense. Maybe a little too intense."
"Too intense?"
"It felt dark. Like two people dragging each other deeper into a bad situation."
Zoe considered that. It made sense.
"And me?"
Bekah didn't answer immediately. Instead, she looked ahead as they continued walking. When she finally spoke, her voice was simple and matter-of-fact.
"It felt like love."
Zoe nearly tripped over her own feet as Bekah continued walking as if she hadn't just dropped a bombshell into the conversation. Meanwhile, Zoe's brain completely short-circuited. Part of her—the embarrassing part that had spent years watching Michael B. Jordan movies and pretending she wasn't crushing on him—was internally screaming.
The other part of her that wanted to be professional and not let the past make a fool of herself, wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out again.
Because apparently the entire production team had watched them together and thought:
Yep. That's what falling in love looks like.
And somehow that was even more terrifying than the audition itself.
When Zoe arrived at the building, she immediately noticed several actors and actresses had already gathered for the script read.
The sight alone nearly made her turn around and question if she belonged there.
Standing near the refreshments table was Sterling K. Brown, who she knew from This Is Us and Black Panther. In Black Horizon, he would be playing Director Marcus Reed, the head of the Black Horizon Program. He appeared deep in conversation with John David Washington, known for The Piano Lesson and Tenet, who had been cast as Captain Damian Cross, Jace Calloway's right-hand man.
A little farther away stood Lupita Nyong'o and Florence Pugh. The two women were chatting comfortably with one another, already looking like they'd known each other for years. Lupita would be playing Dr. Amara Okoye, while Florence had been cast as Lieutenant Ava Mercer.
Zoe's eyes kept moving around the room.
It felt less like a script reading and more like a gathering of Hollywood's elite.
Before she could fully process that thought, the doors opened again.
Pedro Pascal walked in. Almost immediately, several people greeted him as he made his way through the room. He would be playing Gabriel Ortiz, a man whose loyalties remained questionable throughout much of the film.
Not long after him came Giancarlo Esposito. The actor carried himself with the same calm confidence Zoe had seen in countless interviews. He had been cast as Dr. Eric Voss, a scientist suspected of hiding crucial information about the alien threat.
And that was only a fraction of the cast. Everywhere she looked, there seemed to be another familiar face.
Award winners. Box office stars. Actors she'd watched for years.
Meanwhile, she was somehow standing among them. The realization made her stomach flip. She was so busy staring at everyone that she almost missed someone stepping up beside her.
"Feeling overwhelmed Elara?"
The familiar voice made her jump. She looked over and found Michael standing there with a coffee in hand.
"A little bit, can you blame me Jace" she admitted with a smile as she played around with him using her character name.
Michael laughed as he took a sip of his coffee while looking at her with a smirk already clocking her sugar coating it
"A little?"
"Okay, a lot."
That earned another chuckle from him. Zoe looked back around the room.
"Do you ever get used to this?"
"Honestly?" Michael shrugged. "Not really. You just get better at pretending you're not freaking out."
That made her laugh.. Because for the last five minutes she'd been convinced everyone in the room could hear her heartbeat.
"Trust me," Michael continued. "Half the people in here are probably feeling the same way."
Zoe glanced over at Sterling K. Brown.
"I somehow doubt that."
Michael followed her gaze and grinned.
"Okay. Maybe not Sterling."
For the first time since arriving, Zoe felt some of the tension leave her shoulders. Maybe she did belong here.
At least enough to sit at the table. The rest she would figure out as she went.
The observation deck was rarely busy after midnight. Most of the facility's personnel were either asleep or buried inside laboratories chasing answers that never seemed to come. The Arctic sky stretched endlessly beyond the reinforced glass, stars glittering against the darkness while snow swept across the frozen landscape.
Dr. Elara Vance stood at the window, a tablet balanced in one hand. The signal had been silent for six hours and that should have been reassuring. Instead, it felt like the calm before a storm.
Behind her, the door slid open.
"Please tell me you're not still working."
Elara glanced over her shoulder. Dr. Amara Okoye stepped inside carrying two steaming cups of coffee.
"You know," Amara continued, crossing the room, "normal people sleep."
"Normal people aren't trying to decode an alien transmission."
"Excuses."
Elara accepted the offered coffee anyway and Amara smiled victoriously.
"Thought so."
The two women moved toward the glass, watching the snow dance outside. For a few moments neither spoke. Then Amara nudged her shoulder.
"He's worried about you."
Elara immediately knew who she meant.
"I'm not having this conversation."
"You knew exactly who I was talking about."
"I work with a very limited number of people."
"Mhmm."
Elara rolled her eyes but Before Amara could continue her interrogation, the doors opened again.
Captain Damian Cross entered first. Behind him came Jace Holloway.
The two men were in the middle of an argument.
"...because that's a terrible idea."
"It's the only lead we have."
"It's also how people end up frozen to death."
"Good evening to you too," Amara called out as Damian sighed dramatically.
"See? This is what I deal with."
Jace ignored him though as his gaze immediately landed on Elara. Eyes moving over her with a quick check and making sure she was alright.
The look lasted barely a second before he turned toward the windows. Amara noticed though and unfortunately for Elara, her grin widened and no amount of glares took away the fact that Amara looked delighted by this.
"Where's Lieutenant Mercer?" Elara asked deciding to ignore how Amara was trying to make something out of nothing.
"Still in Communications," Damian answered. "Apparently half the satellites are trying to point themselves north again."
The room fell quiet as that wasn't normal. Nothing involving the signal was ever normal.
Jace crossed his arms as he frowned "What caused it?"
"No clue."
"That's becoming a pattern."
Damian pointed at him. "Exactly what I said." Before anyone could continue, the observation deck doors opened once more.
Lieutenant Ava Mercer hurried inside carrying a tablet.
"Found you." Everyone immediately straightened. They noticed how Ava was out of breath which was not a good sign.
"What happened?" Jace asked.
"The signal."
Elara's pulse quickened.
"What about it?" she asked, walking over as Ava handed over the tablet.
"The array picked up a burst twenty minutes ago."
The room instantly shifted. Elara scanned the data and couldn't help but feel her stomach drop.
"That's impossible." Jace moved beside her. "What is it?"
"The signal wasn't transmitting." Ava nodded as Elara was catching on now with the problem.
"It wasn't." Elara zoomed in on the waveform as her fingers tightened around the device.
"It was responding."
Amara leaned in to look at the waveform herself while feeling her mouth going dry, no longer grinning.
"Responding to what?"
Elara looked up. Outside the glass, the communications tower stood against the frozen horizon. Red warning lights blinked rhythmically. One....Two...Three.
A thought struck her and it was a horrible one. The realization hit so suddenly she nearly dropped the tablet to the ground as her head shook.
"No."
Jace noticed immediately the distress which made him approach her with concern.
"What?"
Elara looked at him. For the first time all evening, genuine fear crossed her face.
"The satellites aren't pointing north."
"What are they doing then?"
Her voice was barely above a whisper as the bombshell shattered above them
"They're looking at us."
The observation deck fell completely silent. Outside, snow continued to sweep across the ice. Far above the Arctic sky, unseen by any of them, dozens of satellites slowly adjusted their positions.
Watching and Waiting.
And for the first time since the mission began, every person in the room understood the same terrifying possibility. Something was no longer sending a message. Something was listening.
The script reading turned out to be a huge success. There had been laughter throughout the room, a few tears during the heavier moments, and more than one shocked reaction when the story's biggest twist was revealed. Even some of the veteran actors looked genuinely surprised, which made Joe look ridiculously pleased with himself.
But the moments people seemed most invested in were the scenes between Elara and Jace. Every time Zoe and Michael shared a scene, she could feel eyes drifting toward them. Not in a judgmental way but like everyone was trying to understand what the casting team had seen during the chemistry read.
Zoe barely noticed most of it. Once she started reading, she had fallen completely into Elara's mindset. The room, the actors, the pressure—it all faded away until there was only the story.
"That's the end."
Denis closed his script and set it on the table and the spell immediately broke...Already? Zoe blinked and sat back in her chair. A smile spread across her face.
"That was beautiful." Several people around the table nodded in agreement.
"It was good," Pedro said. "Really good. I think you've got an A-list movie on your hands."
Joe immediately looked like someone had handed him a winning lottery ticket.
"Thank you," he said. "I put everything I had into this script."
Then he pointed around the room. "But you all brought it to life. Seriously, you guys nailed your roles." He clasped his hands together and gave a small appreciative bow that earned a few laughs.
Once the room settled again, Denis stood. "We'll begin filming next week. Wardrobe has been finalized, schedules have been distributed, and production is ready to move forward."
Everyone seemed relieved to hear it.
"Oh, and one more thing." The room quieted.
"We'll have an intimacy coordinator on set for anyone involved in the romance subplot. Make sure you check in with Samantha Isles before filming begins."
A few people nodded knowingly. Zoe did her best to remain calm. Inside, however, she immediately remembered the existence of the romance subplot and the scenes attached to it.
Don't think about it....Too late. Denis clapped his hands once.
"That's all for today. Enjoy the rest of your afternoon."
The room immediately erupted into movement as chairs scraped back and conversations resumed. Zoe packed up her script and slid it into her bag. She had barely stood up before a familiar voice called out behind her.
"Hey, Z."
She turned and saw Michael was leaning against the table, a grin already on his face.
Zoe raised an eyebrow.
"Nicknames now?"
"Yeah."
"Since when?"
"Since about five seconds ago."
She rolled her eyes despite smiling at how charming he naturally was
"What is it?"
For a brief moment, Michael looked oddly uncertain. The hesitation was so unexpected that it caught her off guard.
"I was wondering if you'd want to run lines together sometime before filming starts."
"Run lines?"
"Mostly our scenes," he clarified. "I just want to make sure I'm ready."
Zoe stared at him.
Him?
Ready?
This was Michael B. Jordan! Meanwhile she'd spent half the morning wondering if she was going to accidentally embarrass herself in front of an Oscar-worthy cast.
"Yeah, totally," she said. "I'd be happy to."
His shoulders visibly relaxed.
"I'll text you when I'm free."
"Sounds good."
There was a brief pause and neither of them seemed in a hurry to leave. Eventually Zoe cleared her throat and adjusted the strap of her bag.
"Well, I should get going."
"Yeah."
She took a few steps backward before pointing at him.
"See you around, Jace."
The grin that crossed his face was immediate.
"See you around, Elara."
Zoe turned and walked away before her face could betray how much she enjoyed that.
She kept her pace steady. She needed to stay professional and not make a complete fool of herself. Only once she was halfway across the room did she allow herself a small smile because despite everything, her heart was racing all over again.
Here is the chapter list for Scripted Chemistry (Micheal B Jordan x OC) Romance/Slice of Life Story.
Synopsis:
Zoe Bennett lands the role of a lifetime as the female lead and love interest in a major Hollywood action film called Black Horizon. What’s meant to be a career-defining project quickly becomes more complicated than she ever expected when she finds out her coworker is none other than Michael B Jordan
On screen, their characters are partners. Off screen, Zoe and Michael are constantly thrown together through stunt rehearsals, press events, and emotionally intense scenes that began to beat down on them.
At first, Zoe is determined to treat the job professionally, refusing to be intimidated by Michael’s experience and status in the industry. But as filming continues, the line between character and reality starts to blur. The connection they’re supposed to perform begins to feel increasingly real, and neither of them is fully prepared for it.
Chapter Synopsis: Zoe Bennett gets a call back to do a Chemistry Reading with the one and only Michael B Jordan
Warnings: Mention of the word Sex
Pairings: Eventual Michael B Jordan x OC
This is one of the many passion projects of mine so please enjoy <3
Chapter One--- Chapter 2
Ever since Zoe could remember, she wanted to be an actress. She didn’t care about becoming a star or having her name in the Hall of Fame or etched into the sidewalk. She didn’t even need to be an A-list celebrity. She just wanted to bring joy to the people who watched movies to escape their own lives—to see her on screen and feel certain, even for a moment, that the film they were watching was going to be good.
And that’s what Zoe tried to do.
It was a passion she never let slip away. Every chance she got, she went from audition to audition. And each time, she was met with the same harsh reminder—watching the beautiful blonde with porcelain skin get picked, or the woman with a thinner frame, or someone who simply had enough money to buy their way in.
Zoe learned quickly that the film industry had a type, and she didn’t fit it.
But she didn’t give up. Young and still eager, she found herself auditioning for a Disney show: Starlight Harbor, a Disney Channel teen movie about a coastal town where stars “fall” into the ocean and grant small magical effects.
She had only planned to start small, aiming for a background role. But they liked her energy—how full of life she was—and instead cast her as Erica, the main protagonist’s best friend: a grounded, ambitious girl who discovers she can “read” star fragments. It became her breakout role.
From there, things took off. She was soon picked up by Disney again to star in a series called Brightside High, where she played a student counselor with a surprising singing voice.
For years, she worked steadily, building her career and living her life. By her early twenties into her early thirties, she had appeared in multiple films and series—Glass Houses, After the Lights, Redline Protocol, The Distance Between Us, Neon Hearts, and most recently, Empire of Ashes.
Zoe Bennet became a household name, and she lived her dreams to the fullest.
But now...
“Zoe Bennett!?”
Zoe froze at the sound of her name over the phone. The ringing in her ears faded as she blinked, trying to process what she’d just heard.
“Oh—uh, sorry… did you just say I got the part?”
Black Horizon. The biggest film of the year. A high-stakes action thriller and espionage disaster movie. And her? Zoe Bennett was being considered for the female lead: Dr. Elara Vance, a brilliant scientist with a rare talent for deciphering and translating alien languages.
A soft laugh came through the line.
"Ha, thought we lost you there. But kind of. Denis really loved your take on Elara, and so did Mary. We were actually hoping you'd come in for a chemistry read with the male lead."
Zoe's stomach immediately twisted with nerves. She was so close. Chemistry reads weren't something she'd had to do often throughout her career, and now everything suddenly felt real.
"Oh, yeah, I can do that! When would you like me to come out there? I'm in Atlanta right now, so I'd need to fly to LA."
She slipped out of bed and reached for the planner tucked away in her bedside drawer.
The woman hummed thoughtfully. "Could you make it this Friday?"
Zoe flipped through the pages. Her schedule was clear, and she had more than enough money saved for a flight.
"Yeah, of course. That's completely fine with me."
She grabbed a pen and quickly scribbled a note across Friday's empty space.
"Amazing. Well, we'll see you then."
After they hung up, Zoe let out a long breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Almost immediately, she pulled up available flights to Los Angeles.
She wasn't about to get ahead of herself and start apartment hunting or making filming plans. If there wasn't chemistry between her and the male lead, she could still lose the role. Nothing was guaranteed yet.
Still, she couldn't help but feel optimistic.
The chemistry read should be simple enough. Elara didn't have a love interest in the script. If anything, she was treated more like valuable government property—someone whose knowledge was too important to lose. The male lead, Jace Calloway, had been assigned to protect and escort her throughout the mission.
There weren't any romantic scenes. No dramatic kisses. Nothing like that.
In fact, the dynamic reminded her a little of The Last of Us—two people forced together by circumstances, learning to trust one another while trying to survive.
She just hoped the actor playing Jace was nice.
Once her flight was booked and her suitcase packed, there wasn't much else to do. She decided to sleep on it. There would be plenty of time to overthink everything later.
After all, Friday was only two days away.
The plane ride wasn't bad at all. Zoe kept in contact with Rebecca, letting her know she'd arrived safely and checked into a hotel only a few minutes from the studio lot. Rebecca sent over the gate passcode she'd need to get through security on Friday morning, along with a reminder of where to report once she arrived.
That left Zoe with an entire day and night to herself in Los Angeles.
She wasn't much of a party person, never had been. Shopping, though? That was another story. It turned out to be the perfect distraction from the knot of nerves sitting stubbornly in her stomach.
With a pair of sunglasses perched on her nose, she wandered along one of LA's shopping districts, peering through store windows as she passed. Most of the displays made her laugh more than anything. Everything was outrageously expensive.
Five thousand dollars for a dress? Did it come with magical powers?
And don't even get her started on the purses. Or the shoes.
Zoe had money, more than she'd ever dreamed of having growing up, but she wasn't about to spend it on something she'd wear once before shoving it into the back of a closet. Even if the shopping was a bust, the food more than made up for it.
That evening she found herself seated at a rooftop restaurant overlooking the city. The skyline glowed beneath the setting sun, painting the glass towers in shades of gold and orange. She ate alone, but she didn't mind. Every now and then someone recognized her from a movie or television show and stopped by to ask for an autograph or a picture.
The interactions were always brief and respectful, and seeing how excited people got never failed to make her smile.
Los Angeles had always been fun. And if she landed this role, she could definitely see herself spending a lot more time here.
Eventually the evening came to an end. Back in her hotel room, she laid out her outfit for the next morning, checked the studio address for what felt like the hundredth time, and set three separate alarms.
Sleep didn't come easily. Every time she closed her eyes, her mind drifted back to Black Horizon. To Elara. To the chemistry read. To the possibility that everything could change tomorrow.
When morning finally arrived, Zoe was awake before her alarms had the chance to go off.
After a quick shower and a light breakfast she barely tasted, she got dressed, gathered her things, and headed downstairs. The California morning air was cool against her skin as she stepped outside and climbed into the car waiting to take her to the studio.
The closer she got, the faster her heart seemed to beat.
Soon the familiar studio gates came into view.
Taking a steadying breath, Zoe rolled down the window and gave security the passcode Rebecca had sent her.
The driver pulled up outside a small studio building. Zoe was already familiar with it, this was where she'd come for her last callback, the one where she'd performed scenes in front of the director and producer. After tipping the driver, she stepped out and made her way toward the entrance.
She needed to calm down. She had this, she'd studied Elara inside and out, spent weeks preparing, and watched countless films in the same genre. She knew the character and she knew the material.
Opening the door, she stepped into the green room—and immediately froze. Sitting inside were Naomi Scott, Ayo Edebiri, and Sophie Thatcher.
All three were incredible actresses and suddenly, Zoe felt very, very intimidated.
"Oh, hey! You're Zoe Bennett!" Sophie said with a grin. "I loved you in Empire of Ashes."
The compliment caught Zoe off guard, but she found herself smiling.
"Ah, yeah?"
The nerves in her stomach loosened just a little when Sophie nodded enthusiastically.
"Yeah! Me and my friend were obsessed with it. We were definitely shocked when we saw you naked, though. But hey, you've got a banging body."
Zoe laughed. "That was the first time I've ever been naked on camera. Thankfully everyone was really respectful about it. The final product turned out great, though." She paused. "That episode was one my dad definitely skipped."
"I can't blame him," Naomi said with a laugh. The room chuckled, and Zoe felt herself relax even more.
"So, have you guys gone in yet?" she asked. The three shook their heads.
"Nope," Ayo said, setting down a magazine and stretching. "We just got here. Rebecca said we're waiting on Michael before we start."
Zoe blinked. "Michael?"
"Yeah. Michael B. Jordan."
The name hit her like a freight train. Her brain stalled completely.
Michael B. Jordan?
As in Creed?
As in Black Panther?
As in that Michael B. Jordan?
He was playing Jace Calloway?
"M-Michael B. Jordan?" she repeated. "Like... Creed Michael B. Jordan?"
The other women immediately noticed the panic returning to her face. "Hey, it's gonna be okay," Sophie assured her, patting her knee. "He's actually really chill. Total professional."
Zoe quickly shook her head.
"Oh, no. That's not what I'm worried about."
The three exchanged curious looks.
Zoe dropped her face into her hands.
"I have the biggest damn celebrity crush on him."
The room exploded with laughter. "Oh, you poor thing," Ayo managed between laughs which made Zoe groan louder.
"No, seriously. This is a disaster."
"Could be worse," Naomi said, still smiling.
"How?"
"At least you'll get to act out the romance scenes with him."
Zoe looked up. "What romance scenes?" Naomi blinked and wondered where Zoe has been at. "You didn't hear?"
"Hear what?"
The actresses exchanged looks.
"Oh no," Sophie muttered.
Zoe sat up straighter.
"What?"
"Apparently they made script changes a few weeks ago," Naomi explained. "My manager told me they added a romance subplot."
"A romance subplot?" Zoe choked out with her eyes widening. "Yeah."
The silence stretched. "Is that why we're doing chemistry reads?" Zoe asked slowly. All three women nodded in unison which made Zoe's eyes widened.
"Oh no."
"There's supposed to be kissing scenes," Naomi added.
Zoe looked horrified.
"Oh no."
"And a pretty intimate scene."
"OH NO."
She buried her face back into her hands.
"I'm not ready for this."
Part of her briefly considered getting up, walking out the door, and pretending she'd never received the callback in the first place. Unfortunately, she didn't get the chance.
The door opened and Rebecca stepped into the room holding a clipboard. "Okay, ladies, ready?"
She paused when she noticed Zoe looking like she was in the middle of an existential crisis.
"...Everything okay?"
"No," Zoe answered honestly.
Rebecca laughed as she did not know and was not paid to ask. "Well, Michael's here and ready to start, so we'll be going alphabetically."
Ayo stood.
"That's me."
Rebecca nodded. "You're up first."
With one final stretch, Ayo rose from her chair and followed Rebecca out of the room, leaving Zoe alone with her thoughts.
Well, almost alone.
Naomi and Sophie were still there, but Zoe barely heard the conversations around her. Her attention remained fixed on the closed door. Every so often, muffled voices drifted through the wall, followed by the occasional burst of applause. Then Ayo emerged with a smile on her face, and Naomi was called in next.
The cycle repeated.
Wait.
Applause.
Door opens.
Door closes.
Soon it was just Sophie and Zoe remaining.
Sophie did her best to calm her nerves, but the relief never lasted long. Every reassuring word seemed to fade the moment Zoe remembered who was waiting on the other side of that door.
Michael B. Jordan.
By the time Sophie was called in, Zoe felt like she might throw up.
The room seemed impossibly quiet after Sophie left. Zoe sat alone, twisting her fingers together as her imagination ran wild. She didn't even know what scene they were reading. She hadn't received the updated script. For all she knew, she was about to walk into a full-blown romance scene completely unprepared.
When the door finally opened again, Zoe nearly jumped out of her seat.
Rebecca stepped into the waiting room.
"Zoe?"
Zoe was already standing.
"Uh, Ms. Sterling?" she started quickly. "I wasn't aware the scenes had been changed to include romance. I never received an updated script."
Rebecca didn't seem concerned in the slightest.
"It's fine. Denis will explain the scene, and then we'll have you perform it."
That should have reassured her but it didn't. Because explaining the scene wasn't the problem. The problem was that Michael B. Jordan was in there...Waiting.
Zoe swallowed hard and followed Rebecca into the room. Her heart felt like it was trying to punch its way out of her chest.
"Zoe Bennett," Rebecca announced. Zoe's eyes immediately found Denis Villeneuve, who greeted her with a warm smile. Beside him sat Mary Parent, who offered a polite nod while studying her carefully.
Then Zoe looked to the side. And there he was. Michael B. Jordan.
He sat comfortably in a chair wearing a simple black T-shirt and dark slacks. Nothing that screamed movie star and Oscar winner. And somehow that made him even more attractive.
Oh, this is terrible...So terrible
He looked up as she entered, their eyes met and for a moment neither of them looked away.
Zoe felt her stomach flip. Why was he staring at her like that?
The intensity of it made her pulse quicken, and she quickly forced herself to look elsewhere.
"Morning, Mr. Villeneuve. Ms. Parent."
"Morning, Ms. Bennett," Denis replied. "We're glad you could make it. We know this chemistry read was a bit spontaneous."
He gestured toward another man seated nearby.
"Joe felt there should be some romance between the leads. Something that would strengthen the emotional core and help bring in a wider audience."
Joe Robert Cole gave her a small nod.
"Oh. Yeah. Totally." Zoe nodded as though she understood, despite the fact that her brain was still stuck on Michael being ten feet away.
"So... how exactly does this work?" she asked. "Do we... uh... are we kissing?"
A small laugh escaped Michael, it wasn't mocking but held amusement. Still, Zoe felt heat immediately crawl up her neck.
Denis chuckled with a shake of his head.
"No, sweetheart. Nothing like that. We're simply looking for emotional chemistry."
Relief washed over her.
"We'll be reading a scene where the power has failed inside an underground facility. Elara and Jace are trapped together in a maintenance tunnel."
Okay. That she could do.
No kissing. No romance. Just plain acting. Zoe nodded and walked toward the center of the room. Michael rose from his chair and met her halfway and now up close was somehow worse...Or better. No, No Definitely worse.
"Hi," she managed.
"Hey."
The confidence in his voice was effortless. The kind of confidence that came from knowing exactly who you were and how to do your job.
"Don't worry," he said. "This won't be bad. You're a great actress. I've seen your work." The words immediately eased some of the tension knotting her shoulders.
"Thanks, Michael." She smiled before she took a slow breath.
One in. One out.
Then another.
The room faded away. The nerves. The pressure. Piece by piece, Zoe slipped into Elara Vance.
She lowered herself onto the floor, imagining the cold metal walls of a maintenance tunnel surrounding her.
Across from her, Michael did the same.
And just like that, the audition began.
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Emergency lights flickered overhead, one moment a harsh red glow, the next complete darkness, broken only by the faint green light of Elara’s tablet as it to cut in and out.
The walls groaned and creaked around them, the structure straining under whatever force was tearing through it. It felt like the room itself was closing in. Elara’s back was pressed against the wall. Across from her, Jace refused to look directly at her. And when he did, his gaze cut sharp—tight with suspicion, with anger she could feel even without words.
She wasn’t stupid. She knew he blamed her.
“Still think I caused all of this?” Her voice came out tired, strained, as she fought with the tablet in her hands. The device kept flickering, power stuttering like something was actively interfering with it.
Whatever signal the aliens were sending—it was corrupting everything.
“I think you’re hiding something,” Jace said flatly. His eyes stayed on her as she struggled, watching without offering help.
Frustration finally snapped through her. Elara let out a sharp breath and tossed the tablet aside. It hit the ground with a dull clatter, the screen flashing in and out like it was mocking her.
“Yeah, well, join the club. Everyone thinks that.”
She was used to it—people looking at her like she was the problem. Like her theories, her work, her very presence was what brought the aliens down on them.
“Maybe because you are,” he replied. The words landed harder than she expected. Elara went still. The red emergency light flickered again, strobing between light and shadow. Each pulse carved harsher lines into Jace’s face, sharpening his scowl into something almost unreadable.
She looked away, down at the broken tablet.
“Do you know what it’s like,” she said quietly, “to be the smartest person in the room… and still have no one who wants to listen?”
It sounded arrogant if you didn’t understand it—but that wasn’t what it was. It was exhaustion. Years of it.
“For ten years I’ve tried to tell them it wasn’t a power source problem. Ten years I’ve been saying something beyond our comprehension was trying to communicate with us.”
Her voice tightened.
“So I built this stupid device to figure out what it wanted. And it didn’t matter. Nobody cared—until things started going wrong.”
The lights flickered again. Red. Darkness. Red again.
Jace watched her now, really watched her. And for a moment, something shifted in his expression. The anger didn’t disappear—but it softened at the edges.
Tiredness. Recognition. She looked exhausted. Like she’d been running long before any of this started.
“You stayed,” he said.
Elara frowned slightly. “What?”
“If everyone ignored you… why stay?”
Silence stretched between them.
Then Jace moved closer, lowering into a crouch in front of her. The distance between them disappeared.
His brown eyes locked onto hers, steady and unblinking.
“Why did you stay, Elara?”
The way he said her name—no rank, no title—landed differently. Like it mattered and Elara swallowed hard.
“Because…” Her voice dropped. “If something happened because I walked away… I’d never forgive myself.”
The confession came out quieter than she intended, fragile in a way she didn’t like showing.
Tears gathered in her eyes, not from weakness, but from everything she’d been carrying. The exhaustion. The doubt. The years of being dismissed.
Before she could say more, the entire structure jolted violently. Elara reacted on instinct, grabbing his hand. Jace immediately moved with her, pulling her in close, one arm wrapping around her protectively as the world around them shook.
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Zoe caught a faint trace of his cologne as the scene settled around them—warm, clean, disorienting in the aftermath of the intensity they’d just played out. She was still half in it, still trying to come down from Elara, when the sharp clap broke the silence.
She blinked and pulled back. Denis, Mary, and Joe were watching them like they’d just witnessed something decisive.
“That was amazing—wow,” Denis said, leaning forward slightly. He glanced to Mary and Joe, who both nodded in agreement.
“You two have incredible chemistry,” Joe added, already jotting something down next to Zoe’s name. “Honestly… I think we found our Elara.”
Zoe froze. Her name on the page. And just like that.
After everything—the callbacks, the waiting, the doubt—it was that simple?
“She was a natural,” Michael said with a quiet laugh as he stood. He offered Zoe a hand up when she hesitated, still half-stunned. “I almost forgot we weren’t actually in a tunnel for a second.”
Zoe took his hand, letting him pull her to her feet. He noticed her expression and gave her shoulder a light, reassuring pat.
“Hey, you did great. I can’t wait to work on this with you. I think we’ve got something really special here.”
“Y-yeah,” she managed, nodding as she turned back toward the group.
Everything felt slightly unreal now, like she was still inside the scene and hadn’t fully stepped out of it yet.
“We’ll start filming in about a week or two,” Denis said, checking his notes. “We’re finalizing the rest of the cast. Both of you will need to come in tomorrow for fittings. Then we’ll do some rehearsal scenes and a script read on Tuesday.”
“Sounds great,” Zoe said quickly, a little too quickly. “Can’t wait.”
Inside, her mind was already racing ahead—housing, moving, logistics. If this was real, she wasn’t just visiting LA anymore. She was living here. Soon, the session wrapped and people began to disperse.
Zoe and Michael ended up walking out at the same time. Neither of them spoke at first. Zoe was flipping through the revised script Denis had handed her, already half-absorbed in the changes.
“Hey,” Michael said after a moment.
She looked up.
“What?”
He smiled slightly, amused. “You always get that deep in your head?”
“Oh—no. I just focus really hard,” she said, snapping the script shut. “Did you need something?”
“Yeah,” he said casually. “I was wondering if you wanted to exchange numbers. You know—keep in touch. We can run lines if we need to before filming starts.”
Zoe nodded immediately. “Oh, yeah. That’s smart.” She handed him her phone without hesitation. He added his number, then passed it back so she could do the same.
“All right,” he said, tucking his phone away. “See you around, Zoe.”
“Yeah. See you.”
He walked off toward his ride while Zoe stayed where she was for a second longer, watching him go before it fully hit her.
She had his number. Michael B. Jordan’s number.
She stared at her phone like it might disappear if she blinked too hard, then quickly saved the contact under “MJ” before she could overthink it. A breathy laugh slipped out of her. This was insane.
Her Uber pulled up at the curb, snapping her back into motion. She climbed in, already reaching for her phone again.
First call: her mom. She had news to share. Big news. And a life to start rearranging.
