Y/N Imagines

Beyonce (The Writings on The Wall) part 4

Everything changed after that night.

Not in a loud, dramatic kind of way. It was quiet—subtle. But I felt it in everything we did. The way Beyoncé looked at me a second longer when no one else was watching. The way her fingers brushed against mine like a secret only we understood. The way our hearts moved in sync without needing to say a word.

We were closer. Closer than I thought we could be.

She was my best friend before she was my girl, but now... she was everything. And the scariest part? No one could ever know.

Especially not her dad.

Mathew was sharp. Always watching, always two steps ahead. Now that he officially brought me on as his mentee and trusted me with real responsibility, I knew I had to stay on point. One slip-up, one too-long stare or accidental brush of hands, and everything we built could fall apart.

So I kept my head down.

I focused on helping the girls with whatever they needed—mic checks, outfit coordination, vocal warm-ups. I took notes in meetings with A&Rs, made phone calls for promo spots, carried bags, whatever he asked. I made sure I was valuable. Invisible but essential.

Meanwhile, Bey would sneak me those smiles from across the room. The kind that made my stomach flip, even when I was trying to keep my face neutral.

Kelly knew. She could read the energy a mile away, but she played it cool. She was our shield sometimes—our silent support system. If Mathew came too close or asked too many questions, she'd shift the conversation or call Beyoncé away. I owed her more than I could say.

At night, when the bus was quiet or we were alone in a hotel hallway for a split second, Bey would steal a kiss. Whisper something like "I'm yours" against my neck, and it made the whole balancing act worth it.

We were in love. Real love. That deep, soul-tied kind of love that made everything else blur.

But still... I knew one wrong move could cost us everything.

So I stayed focused. I played my part.

And at the end of each long day, when she found me—when her fingers slipped into mine under the blanket of darkness—I knew I'd do it all again just to keep loving her in secret.

It happened faster than I could process.

Beyoncé and I had been in her room—just a moment of peace in the chaos of the tour. We were supposed to be resting, but it was hard to keep my hands off her, hard to pretend like I wasn't entirely in love with her when she was so close, her scent filling my senses. She kissed me first, pulling me toward her without hesitation. I kissed her back, completely lost in the way her lips moved, how everything else faded when we were together.

But the sound of the door opening hit me like a bucket of cold water.

The door swung open. No knock. No warning.

Mathew stood there, his eyes immediately locking onto us.

Beyoncé and I froze, staring at each other for half a second before we jumped apart, both of us scrambling to sit up, to act normal, even though nothing about the situation was normal.

Mathew's gaze was icy, cold. His jaw clenched tight, and I could see the wheels turning behind his eyes.

"What the hell is going on here?" His voice was like ice, a quiet fury simmering under the surface.

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. I couldn't breathe, my heart was hammering so loudly in my chest.

"What are you doing, YN?" Mathew's voice was sharper now, the words accusing, like knives. "Why the hell were you kissing my daughter?"

Beyoncé jumped to her feet, her voice frantic. "Dad, please—"

"Shut up, Beyoncé," Mathew snapped, cutting her off. His attention never left me. "What are you doing? After everything I've done for you—everything—you cross me by messing with my daughter? I trusted you, YN. And this is how you repay me?"

My throat went dry. "I—I never meant—"

"No," he interrupted again, taking a step closer. "You're messing with her head. I knew something wasn't right. I saw it in you. You're just using her for some kind of game, trying to get close to the group for your own benefit, and now this?"

I felt my chest tighten, my hands shaking, but I couldn't look away. He was accusing me of things I didn't even know how to respond to. But I knew I had to defend us. I had to say something.

Beyoncé's voice broke through the chaos, her voice full of pain and defiance. "Stop, Daddy! Just stop!" She stepped forward, her voice louder, more forceful than I'd ever heard it. "I love her. I love YN. You can't talk to her like that."

Mathew's eyes narrowed, his frustration growing. "You think I'm just gonna stand here and watch you mess up your life because of her? You're not thinking clearly, Beyoncé. This isn't some game."

"I don't care!" Beyoncé's words hit like a punch. "I don't care if you don't understand. I don't care about anything except that I love her. I want to be with her."

The words felt like a weight lifted off my shoulders, but also like a new kind of fear settled in. Mathew's expression turned darker, angrier, but Beyoncé didn't back down. She was standing her ground, her eyes locked with his, no hesitation. She wasn't afraid anymore.

For a long, painful moment, there was silence. Mathew didn't know what to say. His anger boiled beneath the surface, but there was a hint of something else. Disappointment, maybe? Hurt? It was hard to tell.

"Go pack your things, I'm sending you right back to Texas" he'd ordered.

"She's not going anywhere!"

"Beyoncé, stop it. You know damn well I'm in control here. I built this. I made sure you got here. And if you're going to throw that all away over some girl, then you're out. I'm not letting you ruin everything I've done."

I froze, knowing how much this was hurting her. I could hear her shouting back, trying to stand her ground.

"You can't do this, Dad. I'm not a child anymore. I'm not going to let you control me like this. I love her. And that's not something you get to take away from me."

"Watch me." Mathew's voice was ice, cold and final. "Go pack your things, YN. You're leaving."

Beyoncé's anger melted into something raw and desperate, and I knew that I couldn't stand by and let her face all of this alone.

"It's fine Bey." I try to reassure her, but my heart was breaking.

I could barely hear what was happening behind the closed door, but I could tell by her voice that she was fighting everything—fighting for me, fighting for us, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she was struggling with something bigger than both of us.

I could still hear her voice, breaking through the tension.

"Stop it, Dad! You don't get to take her away from me. I'm not letting you. I love her!"

I knew she was crying now, I could hear the shaky breath, the cracks in her voice. My heart broke for her.

But it wasn't enough. Her father wasn't done. And no matter how hard she fought, he wasn't backing down.

I couldn't bear to stay. I couldn't bear to watch her cry. So, I kept walking, my steps heavy, my mind a whirlwind. I went back to my room and packed my things.

I left. I had to.