Imagines (Beyonce x y/n)

MIL 1

Los Angeles, CA

The glowing numbers on the nightstand clock read 2:14 AM.

In the quiet sanctuary of the master bedroom, the world outside was silenced by heavy velvet drapes and miles of private estate walls. Here, Beyoncé wasn't the icon, the monument, or the standard. She was just a woman buried beneath heavy linen sheets, her head resting on the steady, rhythmic rise and fall of Y/N's chest. His arm was draped lazily over her waist, his sleep-warm thumb gently resting against her hip.

Then, the sudden, sharp buzz of a cell phone shattered the quiet.

Beyoncé shifted, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she reached toward the nightstand. She squinted through the harsh blue light of the screen. The caller ID didn't say an assistant, a manager, or an emergency security line.

It read: Mom.

Instantly, the drowsiness burned away, replaced by the instinctual knot in her stomach that every daughter feels when her mother calls in the dead of night. She sat up, the sheets pooling around her waist.

"Mom?" Beyoncé whispered, putting the phone to her ear. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

On the other end, Tina Knowles's voice came through

not in a panicking scream, but in that frantic, highly dramatic, rapid-fire tone she reserved for home emergencies.

"Beyoncé! Oh, thank God you answered," Tina gasped, the distinct sound of sloshing water audible in the background. "Listen, the main pipe under the sink in the kitchen it's making this horrifying gurgling sound! And now water is starting to pool near the island! I called the emergency plumber, but they said forty-five minutes, and my hardwood floors are going to warp!"

Beyoncé rubbed her eyes, a mixture of relief and confusion washing over her. "Mom... it's two in the morning. Did you call security?"

"Security doesn't know anything about plumbing, Beyoncé, they're just going to stand there in their suits looking at it!" Tina huffed. There was a pause, a sudden shift in her tone, turning soft, expectant, and entirely shameless. "Is... is Y/N awake?"

Beyoncé blinked. "Y/N?"

Before she could answer, the warm weight beside her shifted. Y/N had lifted his head, his eyes half-closed, blinking against the dim light. He had heard the faint, high-pitched cadence of Tina's voice through the speaker.

"Is that Ms. Tina?" Y/N's voice was deep, rough with sleep. He reached out, gently taking the phone from Beyoncé's hand. "Ms. Tina? Hey. What's going on?"

Beyoncé watched in silence as the dynamic unfolded. She watched Y/N sit up, rubbing the back of his neck, listening attentively as her mother frantically explained the treacherous rebellion of her kitchen plumbing.

There was no annoyance on Y/N's face. No heavy sigh of a man being inconvenienced in the middle of the night.

"Okay, Ms. Tina, listen to me," Y/N said softly, his voice calm and steady an instant anchor against Tina's storm. "Underneath that sink, on the left side, there's a silver shut-off valve. Turn it to the right. Don't force it, just crank it until it stops... Yeah, I'll be right there. Grab a few old towels. Ten minutes."

He hung up, handed the phone back to Beyoncé, and immediately swung his legs over the side of the bed.

Beyoncé sat there, watching him pull a gray hoodie over his bare chest and step into a pair of sweatpants. He picked up his truck keys from the dresser, shoving a small portable flashlight into his pocket.

"You're really going over there?" she asked softly, her voice carrying a delicate blend of disbelief and tenderness.

Y/N turned back to her, stepping over to the side of the bed. He bent down, pressing a warm, soft kiss to her forehead, his thumb smoothing over her cheek.