๐Ž๐๐“๐ˆ๐Œ๐”๐Œ

By thefinestprincess

46.9K 2K 3K

๐๐„๐˜๐๐ˆ๐Š๐€ ๐Ž๐๐„๐’๐‡๐Ž๐“๐’ โžท ________________________________ ๐™ข๐™–๐™ฎ ๐™˜๐™ค๐™ฃ๐™จ๐™ž๐™จ๐™ฉ ๐™ค๐™› ๐™จ๐™๐™ค๐™ง๐™ฉ ๐™จ๐™ฉ... More

๐™„ ๐™’๐˜ผ๐™Ž ๐™„๐™‰ ๐™‡๐™Š๐™‘๐™€ ๐™’๐™„๐™๐™ƒ ๐˜ผ ๐™Ž๐˜ผ๐™‚๐™„๐™๐™๐˜ผ๐™๐™„๐™๐™Ž
๐˜ฟ๐™„๐™‘๐™Š๐™๐˜พ๐™€๐˜ฟ
๐˜ฟ๐™„๐™‘๐™Š๐™๐˜พ๐™€๐˜ฟ ๐™„๐™„
๐˜ฟ๐™„๐™‘๐™Š๐™๐˜พ๐™€๐˜ฟ ๐™„๐™„๐™„
๐™ƒ๐™Š๐™ˆ๐™€ ๐™Ž๐™’๐™€๐™€๐™ ๐™ƒ๐™Š๐™ˆ๐™€
๐™Ž๐™๐™ˆ๐™ˆ๐™€๐™ ๐™๐™€๐™‰๐˜ผ๐™„๐™Ž๐™Ž๐˜ผ๐™‰๐˜พ๐™€
๐™ƒ๐™Š๐™‰๐™€๐™” ๐™Š๐™‘๐™€๐™ ๐™Ž๐™๐™‚๐˜ผ๐™
๐™ƒ๐™Š๐™‰๐™€๐™” ๐™Š๐™‘๐™€๐™ ๐™Ž๐™๐™‚๐˜ผ๐™ ๐™„๐™„
๐˜ฝ๐™€๐˜ผ๐™ˆ ๐™ˆ๐™€ ๐™๐™‹ ๐™Ž๐˜พ๐™Š๐™๐™๐™” ๐™„๐™„
๐˜ฝ๐™€๐˜ผ๐™ˆ ๐™ˆ๐™€ ๐™๐™‹ ๐™Ž๐˜พ๐™Š๐™๐™๐™” ๐™„๐™„๐™„
๐˜ฝ๐™€๐˜ผ๐™ˆ ๐™ˆ๐™€ ๐™๐™‹ ๐™Ž๐˜พ๐™Š๐™๐™๐™” ๐™„๐™‘
๐˜ฝ๐™‡๐™Š๐™’
๐™๐˜ผ๐˜ฟ๐™€๐˜ฟ ๐™‹๐™„๐˜พ๐™๐™๐™๐™€๐™Ž
๐™๐˜ผ๐˜ฟ๐™€๐˜ฟ ๐™‹๐™„๐˜พ๐™๐™๐™๐™€๐™Ž ๐™„๐™„
๐™๐˜ผ๐˜ฟ๐™€๐˜ฟ ๐™‹๐™„๐˜พ๐™๐™๐™๐™€๐™Ž ๐™„๐™„๐™„
๐™๐™ƒ๐™€ ๐™ˆ๐˜ผ๐™๐™๐™„๐™ˆ๐™Š๐™‰๐™”
๐˜ฃ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ฎ ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ถ๐˜ฑ ๐˜ด๐˜ค๐˜ฐ๐˜ต๐˜ต๐˜บ-๐˜ถ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฅ๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ฆ.

๐˜ฝ๐™€๐˜ผ๐™ˆ ๐™ˆ๐™€ ๐™๐™‹ ๐™Ž๐˜พ๐™Š๐™๐™๐™”

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By thefinestprincess





𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐌𝐞 𝐔𝐩 𝐒𝐜𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐈














𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚟𝚘𝚝𝚎 & 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔!

𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢!

——————————————————————














𝐵𝑒𝓎𝑜𝓃𝒸é ♡





With one swift turn of the wheel in my all black  2023 Tesla, I parked my vehicle in a sudden manner, slamming on the brakes due to the rare—very rare tardiness I'm experiencing this rising. To know me, is to understand that I hate being late, no matter the circumstance. On time? That is also considered unpunctual in my book. I prefer to at least be thirty minutes present than the expected arrival time. It's a reflection of responsibility, and competence.

Some call it just being Beyoncé, but who am I to listen to their opinion? Those same people, more than likely, blend within the late spectrum.

I flipped open my mirror, attached to the roof of my car, quickly applying my favorite satin red lipstick, Ruby Woo, which happened to coordinate perfectly with my matte red interior. You'd think it's my favorite color the way I always incorporate the bright hue into my day-to-day wardrobe, and that's never the case. Red simply compliments me and my aura, very well. I'd consider the first color of the rainbow, more so an accent color, if you will.

My phone alarm began to loudly echo in my ear, insinuating I had about eight minutes left to spare, to lock up my vehicle and travel swiftly to my office. I quickly slid off my cozy Yeezy slides, and traded them for my favorite sliver Loubs, accompanied with a gloss red coat on the bottom. Of course.

I took hold of my special edition Hermes Birkin, and Fendi shades, before rushing my extensive legs to the elevator. My golden locks bounced on my shoulder with each stride I took.

Eventually making my presence known on the top floor, I gained a few good mornings, probing my response of a toothy commercial smile and head nods. Reaching the end of the hallway, there stood my timid assistant with my black coffee in hand.

She had the audacity to wear pink today. Gross. I hate pink.

"Good morning Mrs. Fenty. Here's your coffee, black, 180° Fahrenheit, with three shots of espresso, as requested. Aaaand—here is your file for your first patient of the day, which consists of the required headshot photos, diagnoses, and introduction pages." She informed, handing me my coffee and the mere familiar manilla folder that I immediately tucked under my arm.

I furrowed my eyebrows, "Where's my raisin bagel and strawberry cream cheese, Lauren?"

"Um, y-you told me that you w-were fasting, and that carbs were apart of that list of goods to stay away from, ma'am." She gulped, as her bright dimpled smile soon vanished, becoming an expression of worrisome.

I'm not sure why, but I sort of felt like the villain here. Unbeknownst, they so happen to be my favorite character in every storyline.

"Okay? So if I'm fasting from carbs, then that should've given you an ounce of consideration to I don't know.. prepare me fruit as a great alternative. Hell, even a couple of scrambled eggs, well beaten. I can't only survive off coffee! I'd literally die, and then you'd be in jail for murder because you can't do shit right." I pinched the bridge of my nose, releasing a frustrated sigh. "Damn it, Lauren, get a clue!" I snapped. I instantly noticed wetness forming in her glossy brown eyes.

"I-I'm so sorry Mrs. Fenty! I can run down to the cafe—"

I eventually broke character, starting with a smirk forming on my lips, before bending over as laughter escaped my mouth. I held my belly as I stumped my foot because I was beyond tickled at my antics.

"Whew!" I stood up, wiping a tear. "I'm just fucking with you. Tighten up, London." I didn't really care to wait for her reaction, I just proceeded to my office and slammed the door shut with the heel of my pump.

"One day she's going to spit in my coffee. I just know it." I mumbled, sitting my items down on my desk, and removing my trench coat.

I put away my personal items into the metal steel storage I had recently bought from IKEA. I then marched over to my marble coated desk, plopping down into my office swivel chair gently, as I crossed one leg over the other. With on press of a button, and a simple swipe to my mouse, I summoned on my iMac monitor so that I could check my incoming business emails with the short amount of time I had ticking down my back.

I guess this would be a great time to formally introduce myself. My name is Beyoncé Giselle Fenty. Age, 29, and I am a crisis therapist, or psychologists, whichever you prefer. I typically take on clients whom already been diagnosed, and has lived with chronic mental illnesses. Some consider me as the big dog because, I mean, not to toot my own horn, but I do take on some of the hardest cases yet. It's a challenging work atmosphere, but I love what I do.

I am married to my gorgeous wife, Robyn Fenty, who has been recognized by the critically acclaimed, food network, as one of the top bakers in the country. We currently don't have any children as of yet, and that's due to us being highly career driven people. Our relationship is quite different than your typical partnership, but that's enough about me. Over sharing isn't my strong suit.

After dissecting a few emails, I logged onto my work portal. Although my assistant gives me everything manually within a folder, the exact same information is also sent to me virtually, directly from the patient. In this company, when being linked to the proper therapist for your current situation, we advise sending in the must needed information so that we perceive an overview of what to expect, ensuring we have the perfect person on top of their needs.

Because I deal with a lot of traumatic events, and a heavy work load, I take about three to four clients a day, depending on the requirements needed for each person. I have to wrap my head around a lot, as well as prepare a proper treatment and plan to get the patient to where they need to progress in life. All in all, our job is to be problem solvers, and not all hero's are draped in capes.

I clicked the profile of my first patient, Onika Maraj. I read that she is twenty-two years old, and was raised in Queens, New York. She has an associates in journalism, and has a pet frog named Bubbles.

Just reading her short bio left me intrigued on what I had in store for me today. Indulging a few sips of my coffee, I noticed she uploaded a video onto her profile for her proper introduction piece. Our patients actually have the option to either send in a typed introduction, or a video. Most patients send in a worded version, so I was surprised to see an actual video submission.

I soon clicked play.

"Hi!" She waved, wearing her black straight tresses in a neat bun, assembling herself in a white button down, and a gold plated necklace with her name across it around her neck. She appeared to be in bed. "My name is Onika, and I was diagnosed with Dissociative identity disorder at the young age of seven. I've always felt different than most people around me, easily being labeled weird, or even the word I hate most, crazy.

I have the biggest beef with society norms because I should, amongst others like me, be able to just express who I am without the sly remarks, and consistent judgement.

But because only Onika feels this way, I can't help how my other personalities react or interact. I have a total of four personas living within my one small body, and we can't wait to meet you Mrs. Fenty. I've read multiple articles about you, perceiving that you're the best at what you do. See you soon!" I watched as she bit her bottom lip, winking, as if a new personality took over before the video suddenly ended.

"Hmph." My mouth dropped to a frown. This might be my most interesting case yet.













𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝐵𝑀𝒰𝒮 𝐼 ♡








_______________________________

Thoughts so far?

There will be a part two,
or possibly a miniseries.

I also have 'honey over sugar II' sitting
in my drafts. lmk if you all would like that as well.














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Megyoncรฉ. StudentxTeacher