Y/N Imagines

Sanaa Lathan (Love & War)

A/N: This was requested. Enjoy

The first time I saw her, she didn't smile.

Sanaa Lathan sat in the middle of the room like a damn queen... legs crossed, silk blouse hugging her body like it had been made for her, and that energy that made everybody move a little quieter, like church when the pastor walks in. I'd grown up watching her movies. She was the woman people called iconic. And now she was sitting ten feet away from me, looking like temptation wrapped in authority.

Except her eyes? They weren't kind.

She didn't look at me right away, too busy talking to the director in that calm, honeyed tone of hers. And not just any director... Gina Prince-Bythewood. Yeah. The genius behind Love & Basketball. The woman who made some pretty amazing film... And now she's running the show here, putting me in the same space as the woman every Black girl in my generation wanted to be.

And when her gaze met mine? Cold. Not icy.... that would've been easy. This was controlled. Like she'd already made up her mind about me and it wasn't good.

Gina broke the silence first. "YN, this is Sanaa. I'm sure you two already know of each other."

I forced a smile, stepped forward. "Of course. Big fan of your work."

"Mm." Her eyes didn't blink. "YN, right?" Her voice was smooth, but there was an edge to it. Like velvet with glass underneath.

"That's me."

She tilted her head, lips curving into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Congratulations. Big role for someone... new."

I froze for half a second. New?

I fought the urge to laugh out loud. Was she serious? After a hit show that ran four seasons and a box-office smash with Zendaya that had critics calling me "Hollywood's next big thing," new felt like a slap.

"New?" I echoed, letting the word roll slow off my tongue. My smile didn't drop, but I sharpened the edges. "That's cute. Guess you missed my last movie... the one that sold out theaters? Or maybe you don't watch TV."

Her eyebrow arched, just barely. "Oh, I watch," she said, voice smooth like she hadn't just tried to play me. "I just haven't seen much of you."

For a beat, the table went silent before Gina cleared her throat. "Alright, let's get to work. Table read scene fifteen, page twenty-two. YN, Sanaa you're up first."

Perfect. First day and I'm toe-to-toe with her.

And for some twisted reason, my pulse was racing... not from anger. From something way more dangerous.

I flipped to the page, ignoring how fast my pulse was. Scene fifteen. Heated argument with my character accusing hers of betrayal. I breathed, locked in, and delivered the first line with all the fire I could muster.

Then Sanaa spoke.

"Don't come in here acting righteous when you've got your own blood on your hands."

Her voice was lower than I expected—smooth, steady, like silk draped over steel. And those eyes? They pinned me down like she could see every weakness I ever tried to hide. Suddenly the script didn't feel like paper; it felt like a live wire.

My next line stuck halfway up my throat. "I—" I cleared it quickly and pushed on. "I trusted you when no one else would, and—"

I fumbled. A word out of order, another lost completely. My cheeks burned.

"Cut," Gina said gently from the head of the table.

"Sorry." I muttered, flipping through the script like the words had disappeared.

"It's okay." Gina said, calm as always.

But before I could reset, Sanaa leaned back in her chair and spoke, her voice soft but carrying across the room like a blade sliding free. "Don't worry. You'll get it. You're still... learning."

The way she said it... like it tasted sweet on her tongue made my jaw lock.

I forced a professional smile, even though my pride was kicking and screaming inside me. "Appreciate it."

She tilted her head, that almost-smile again. "Just trying to help." Except now her tone felt like anything but help.

Gina restarted the read. I nailed the next take, line for line, like my life depended on it because damn if I was gonna let her rattle me again. But the damage was done. The sting of that little comment lingered like perfume.

The table read wrapped an hour or so later. Scripts closed, chairs scraped, and everyone filed out, tossing casual goodbyes like the tension in the room wasn't thick enough to choke on.

I stayed behind, packing my bag slow... not because I needed more time, but because I needed space to breathe. My pride was still stinging from that still learning comment, and the last thing I wanted was to storm out looking like I cared.

I felt her before I saw her. The faint click of heels on hardwood. The shadow stretching across the table.

"YN."

Her voice slid through the quiet like velvet and glass. I looked up, and there she was... Sanaa Lathan standing so close her perfume curled around me like smoke. Warm, soft, intoxicating.

She didn't smile. Not even a flicker.

"Gina fought for you to get this role," she said, low enough that it felt private but sharp enough to cut. "That means something. Don't mess it up."

I blinked, gripping the strap of my bag tighter. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." She tilted her head, eyes sweeping over me in a way that felt both measured and personal. "This isn't about trending on Twitter—X—or whatever the hell y'all call it now. This isn't about hype, or a cute viral moment, or one good movie. This role? It's weight. And if you can't carry it, everyone will know."

Her words hit like a cold splash of water. My chest burned, but I forced myself to stay still, to keep my mouth shut, because if I opened it right now, something unprofessional would come out.

"Consider this a warning," she added, stepping closer. Her voice dropped, softer now but heavier somehow. "Don't make me regret being professional with you."

Then she turned and walked away, heels clicking like a mic drop.

"Hey."

I turned and saw Jude Demorest leaning against the doorway, her wild curls framing her face, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. Right behind her was Letitia Wright, cool and effortless, a script tucked under her arm.

"You good?" Jude asked, her voice easy, warm.

"Yeah," I said, my throat tight. "I'm good."

"Don't let her get in your head," Letitia said, stepping closer, her accent soft but firm like steel wrapped in silk. "She does that to everyone. It's her thing."

Jude grinned. "Yeah, she tried that on me first day too. I almost quit. But now? We're cool. Just... keep showing her why you're here."

"Why I'm here," I repeated, mostly to myself.

"Exactly." Letitia gave my arm a light squeeze. "You earned this. Don't let anybody make you feel like you didn't."

They both smiled before heading out, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the faint echo of Sanaa's warning curling in my ears like smoke.

And underneath the frustration, the fire, the pride bruised by her words... was something else. Something hotter.

I wanted her.

God help me, I wanted her.