The Slumber Party Queen: A y/n and Beyoncé story

The ride home was quiet—but not awkward quiet. Anticipation quiet. The kind of quiet that made every glance louder, every brush of fingers on the center console feel like it should come with a warning label.

Beyoncé drove this time. YN offered, but Bey just looked at her and said, "You drive like you play Mario Kart," and that was that.

They pulled into the gated driveway. The house looked peaceful, still, like it had no idea what was about to happen inside it.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Beyoncé leaned against it. Just stood there for a second.

YN turned. "You okay?"

Beyoncé nodded slowly, like she was trying to find the right words and didn't want to say the wrong ones.

"I haven't let anyone in like this," she said, her voice low. "Not in a long time. Not like this. Not where it feels like... if you disappeared tomorrow, it would mess me up."

YN's heart thudded.

"I won't disappear," she said, stepping closer. "You've got me now."

Beyoncé looked at her like she was memorizing her face.

"You scare me," she whispered.

"Good," YN said gently. "That means it's real."

A pause.

Then Beyoncé surged forward and kissed her—hungry this time. Not the slow, teasing kind. The kind that said I want you here, now, don't move.

YN pulled her in tighter, hands slipping under the back of Beyoncé's hoodie, palms pressing against warm skin. Beyoncé's fingers found YN's curls, tugging just enough to make her gasp.

"Bedroom?" YN asked between kisses.

Beyoncé shook her head.

"Too far."

They stumbled to the couch, laughing as Beyoncé shoved pillows out of the way and climbed into YN's lap like it was her favorite seat in the world.

Clothes didn't fly off—not yet. It wasn't that kind of rush. It was a slow burn with urgency, like neither of them could get close enough no matter how much they touched.

"You sure you're ready for this?" YN asked softly, brushing her nose against Beyoncé's.

"I've been ready since the second night," Beyoncé murmured. "I just didn't know if you could handle all of me."

YN tilted her head. "Try me."

And Beyoncé did.

With her mouth, her hands, her whole heart.

No makeup. No glam. No stage.

Just Bey.

And YN held every piece like it was something sacred.

⸻

Afterward, they lay tangled on the couch, Beyoncé tucked into YN's chest again, just like that first night. But this time, the silence was filled with something new.

Security.

Peace.

And a little bit of "damn, that really just happened."

"Wanna know something wild?" YN said after a beat.

"What?"

"My best friend's gonna cry when she finds out you climbed me like a tree."

Beyoncé snorted. "She deserves a gift basket."

"A signed photo? A fruit tray? Your Netflix password?"

Beyoncé yawned into YN's neck. "Nope. I'm keeping the password. But she can have one thing."

"What's that?"

"My eternal gratitude for putting you in my life."