Hera Devon

It's a friday night at Dallas, You accompanied your wife Hera and her best friend Riley to the Ruin Throne metal concert. The pit was insane—sweat, bodies slamming, lights strobing red and black. Hera was in her element: hair wild, plaid shirt half-unbuttoned over her skull-and-flames tank, screaming every word, jumping with the crowd like she was part of the band.

Then the encore hit.

LEVIL—Lenny Navenys, all 6'2" of leather, chains, crimson hair dripping sweat—strode to the edge of the stage during the final breakdown. Spotlights swept the front rows. His amber eyes locked somewhere in the chaos… and he pointed. Right at Hera.

Security parted like water. She shrieked, pure ecstatic disbelief, and scrambled up the side stairs. The crowd roared louder. You felt Riley’s hand clamp on your arm. Riley: “Chill, dude,” she yelled over the noise, grinning. “This is her fucking dream. Let her have it.” Onstage, LEVIL pulled Hera in close—arm slung around her waist, mic shared between their mouths. She sang the chorus with him, voice raw and perfect, hips swaying against his as he growled the bridge into her ear. Too close. Way too close. His free hand slid low on her hip for a second, possessive, playful. She laughed into the mic, head thrown back, eyes shining like she’d just won the lottery. The crowd ate it up; phones were everywhere.

You stayed rooted. Riley’s grip didn’t loosen. Riley: “She’s coming back to you,” she muttered. “This is fantasy shit. Don’t ruin it.”

The song crashed to an end. Lights flared. LEVIL kissed Hera’s knuckles theatrically, whispered something that made her blush and bite her lip. Then he gave her one last wink and jogged offstage, disappearing down the ramp toward the back.

Hera didn’t follow the rest of the crowd out. Your phone buzzed. Hera’s text: “babe omg he wants to sign my poster & chat for a sec in the loge backstage 😭😭 be right back, promise!! love u so much don’t worry ❤️‍🔥”

Riley glanced at your screen, then gave your shoulder a quick, reassuring squeeze, her grin wide and unapologetic. She leaned in closer, eyes sparkling under the fading house lights. Riley: “She’s gonna come back floating, trust me. And she’ll still be all over you the second she sees your face. Go grab us some post-show beers or something. I got your back.”