Imagines (Beyonce x y/n)

Rumors are True

The London air bit sharper than the humid embrace of Houston, but Y/N barely noticed. He was holed up in a plush hotel suite, the low thrum of the city a distant hum beneath the pulse of a bassline Jay-Z was dissecting. Jadon, Charles, Anil, and Oden, his crew, were scattered around, some playing cards, others just chilling. This was the calm before the storm, the Grammy storm, to be precise, and the Bey storm that often preceded it.

He'd been running on fumes for weeks, a whirlwind of studio sessions, label meetings, and impromptu performances. The upcoming awards were just another stop on the grind, albeit a significant one. Best Rap Album nomination wasn't something to sneeze at. Neither was the idea of seeing her again.

His phone buzzed, vibrating against the polished wood of the table. A familiar picture flashed across the screen, a candid shot he'd taken of Beyoncé during a rare, unguarded moment. He took a deep breath before answering.

"Hey, princess." He tried to keep his voice light, but the exhaustion was a heavy cloak.

"Y/N," her voice, usually a melodic lilt, was tight, thick with unshed tears. "I just... I just saw the news again."

He closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair. Here we go. "What news, Bey? I'm not even in the country."

"It's just... everytime I hear your name, it's not nice, y/n. It's hard knowing you're out there..." She trailed off, a sniffle confirming his suspicion. She was crying.

"I'm out here working, Bey," he interrupted, his own patience fraying. "I don't know how again to tell you that if you're taking the news word over mine when I'm tryna change my whole life around for you."

Silence stretched between them, punctuated only by her soft sniffs. The noise of his friends faded into the background. He could feel their curious glances, but he ignored them. This was between him and her.

"...I don't like that you're at clubs when I'm sleeping," she finally managed, the pout evident in her voice even through the phone. "All you say is you're working or going out for a bit with the guys, not where."

He rubbed a hand over his face. "I apologize for not telling you where. That's on me, princess. But I swear I'm not playing you. I know what's waiting at home."

"Whatever she meant by that, 'too much of a womanizer'..." He internally grumbled, remembering the last fight. It still stung. He tried not to let it bother him, but it did. "I'm not saying you are," she'd softened then, moments before this current accusation.

"And what you need to do," he shot back, his voice hardening, "is stop comparing me to that lil' ass boy you used to mess with. I'm a grown ass man. If you miss me, there was no need for the extra shit."

Another silence, then, "I do miss you." The simple admission disarmed him, if only for a second.

He hadn't told her yet, but he'd purchased a house in Houston. She wasn't sure if she was ready to leave, to fully commit to moving in with him in LA. Maybe this would show her. Maybe then she'd stop thinking he was trying to run game on her. He was glad to see her, despite the phone calls laden with accusations of him being trifling and her constant attitude. And her family was coming to the show, which was cool. He missed hanging with Solange; they were such opposites.

His actual manager, not his boys, burst through the door then, a whirlwind of nervous energy. "Y/N! The car's here. We need to go over the rundown again."

Y/N held up a finger, signaling he'd be off the phone soon. "Alright, princess. I gotta go. Just... try to smile tonight, 'ight? I can't wait to see you."

He hung up, the tension still lingering. His manager shoved a schedule into his hand. "Red carpet interviews. No talking about... rumors. Who you're wearing, who you're connecting with. Pre-show stuff. And remember, your seat's right next to Destiny's Child. And Jay-Z, since you're performing 'Big Pimpin'' with him."