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PSYCHOTIC THOUGHTS
Last Updated:
2025-05-12 16:24:20
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PRETEND PRINCESS EMPTY KISSES
Creed's POVI didn't sleep.Not even a little bit.That stupid text stuck in my head like it was engraved on the sides of my brain."Did you bring misery to all the people today with your grouchy self?"Who is that stupid person in the world who sent that?It was from a Japanese number. I have no one there.And yet. the words were too familiar. Too crafted for me.Like someone who knows me.Like Yuki.I hunched up over in bed, running my hands through my hair, the sheets crinkling beneath me. I glanced over at my phone again, scanning the text for what felt like the hundredth time, like the words might shift themselves into answers. And then I considered my reply:"I do not waste time with idle chatter. Be straightforward, stranger."And then their returned text:"Goodnight, just saying. Don't be so grumpy."No smiley faces. No name. Just attitude in an aura of worry. Exactly the kind of contradiction that Yuki was a master of.My chest tightened.I slammed the phone on my nightstand,
PRETEND PRINCESS PSYCHOTIC THOUGHTS
Yuki's POVI came home, my entire body aching as if it had been run over by a low-budget sumo wrestling vehicle. My arms, legs, back, my butt—everything ached. Today was definitely the most bizarre day in human history.Sheng Li likes me???Yes, no thanks. Nope. No way.I don't trust that woman for a second. I mean, of course, perhaps that explains the psycho glare she gives you when you push past the boundaries I place around myself too far. Or the weird comments. Or the fact that she'd send me on coffee runs and then pretend to be pining for me when I got back. Fine. It all makes sense now.She needs love.Warm, beautiful, ooey-gooey love. Love she probably wasn't ever given.But I'm not volunteering to be her teddy bear. Nope.I yanked off my shoes, let my bag fall, and ran straight for the bathroom. Soak, that's what I needed. Let my wet, battered bones soak into oblivion. I set the bath to run and let cool water cascade over the top, letting it flow into the tub. Maybe, maybe it
PRETEND PRINCESS DINNER BOYFRIEND
Yuki's POVThis was the most bizarre dinner I've ever been dragged to—and I'm telling you this as someone who once was escorted by a drag queen in Tokyo to a chicken-feet taste party. I did not want to be here. I should have been home soaking in a lavender bath, perhaps crying my eyes out, perhaps marathoning K-dramas and snuggling with my three-legged dog. But no. I sat across from my terrifying boss, Sheng Li, at the most classy restaurant I'd ever entered.And sure enough, I was still wearing my plain black work jeans and white shirt. Beautiful.The place was ridiculous. Crystal chandeliers larger than UFOs. Gloved waitstaff. Menu items, no prices. You know something's awful when a menu won't even assign numbers. I looked around at the white and gold decor, the floating candles, the couples getting their goo-goo eyes on each other. Already agitated. Already wanting to make a run."Do you like oysters?" Sheng Li asked me without looking up, her voice short as she scrolled her phone.
PRETEND PRINCESS DINNER WITH SECRETS
Zed's POVI wasn't supposed to show up tonight.I usually only break in through the window of Zara to give her grief. Her window creaks open in the loudest most embarrassing way possible, and the pink plush doormat in front of it? She swore last week to staple a notice to my forehead reading, "Shoes off, rodent."But it's become a ritual—this spontaneous, late-night stop I make. I guess it's more about me needing to see her than it is about her. To hear her complain about my fast food. To sniff at my bruised laptop. To roll her eyes at my intrusion.Tonight, I told you about the new piece of junk I had to buy. "Laptop's dead. Fried itself like an egg in the middle of a decryption cycle. Had to replace it. You know, no big deal, just six hundred hours of work down the drain," I declared dramatically as I climbed in.She said nothing.Not even a snort.I even waved the aluminum tray of birria tacos under her nose—a surefire method of getting her complaining about the way her room was go
PRETEND PRINCESS WORSE THAN I THOUGHT
Yuki's pov Five days. Five nasty, soul-destroying, dream-killing, hair-ripping, days in the office of Sheng Li.The office itself, I see, is also known as Shenglutec, which the Japanese apparently find so profound about "path of the victorious" or some maudlin tripe like that. I should think it has a better title, Shengluhell, though.By day two, I was sure this woman was not strict—she was demonic. By day three, I was sure she was out for blood. By day four, I suspected she might just be a vampire. And by today—day five—I was sure of one thing: I was losing my damn mind.I never thought I would ever miss the warmth, hospitality, and casual murmurings of my former place of employment. But by Lord, I would trade my soul for a mug of that sterile familiarity at present. There were people who laughed. There were people who breathed. There was a place I could live.But here? All things were grey.The lights? Grey. The walls? Grey. The people? Grey-eyed zombies. Actual walking corpses in
PRETEND PRINCESS NEW NIGHTMARE
Yuki's POVIt only got worse.Much, much worse.Whatever joy I had clung to at the start of the week had been sucked dry like the last drop of soda from a paper straw. My sense of humor was dry. My sarcasm was wilted. My sparkle? Dull.Miss Boss Chic, born of a damned Chanel purse and a vat of cold bitterness, had it as a bloody habit to visit our office every 72 hours. Not once a week. Not when she felt like it. Every. Damn. Seventy-two. Hours. Like a broken time loop created in the devil's HR department.Last week had been hell.She treated us like animals. No—like combatants in a war zone of spreadsheets, emails, and caffeine withdrawal symptoms. Her lips seldom curled up into anything approximating a smile. They usually curled up into snarls or sneers. And she growled more than she ever spoke.In Japanese.fortunate cunt.She knew i couldn't always understand her, and I was certain she did it just to gain control. The rest of us had to make educated guesses from context and read h
PRETEND PRINCESS EVEN IN MY NIGHTMARES
Creed's POVI was barely hanging by the thread by the time the meeting ended.I did not even realize how I was answering the questions. Or if I was even answering them at all. My head was a foggy mixture of lip gloss, swaying pink stilettos, and breathy whispers. My lower back ached where the sweat was congealing there under my shirt. My jaw ached from how hard I was clenching it. Each breath scraped like it was ripping through my ribs.I didn't say a word to anyone. Not even when my assistant, Becky, tried to bring me more files. I grunted at her, having trouble not yelling at her about the pink lipstick. She went white and nodded quickly and backed away like I was a bomb.Maybe I was.I locked myself into my office and just. stood. For minutes. Hours? I had no clue.I could still see him.Yuki.Yuyu.Dancing in my head like a damn fever dream. That slick mouth curling around filthy words. That wig swishing a little bit every time he nodded his head. Those long fingers licking throu
PRETEND PRINCESS A MIRAGE IN LIP GLOSS
Creed's POVI didn't sleep much last night. Not that I ever really sleep anymore. It's like, closing my eyes is an invitation for him, that annoying guy with the lip gloss and pink pant suits and perpetual ruin. Yuki Roman. Yuyu Roman. Whatever name he's going by this week, who cares. He's always tagging along behind me.And here I was, across the sprawling obsidian table, trying to focus on the droning voices of suit-wearing men with expensive cologne and stale paper smells. I had a headache. Not any headache—the kind that presses behind your eyes and makes you want to scurry under a desk."Creed X needs to step up," someone was saying."Revenue shares are off thirty-two percent this quarter.""Investors haven't invested a dime in nearly a month. It's as if the spark vanished."Spark.I knew exactly what that referred to. Or rather, whom.Yuki Roman. That wicked walking confetti bomb in stilettos. The chaos. The pink. The shine. The attitude. The absurdity. The genius."You shrugged
PRETEND PRINCESS THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA
Yuki's povFriday already, and I walked into the office looking a whole lot better than I had all week. Something about waking up without crying counted as a victory, I guess. I had on my favorite pink pantsuit, fitted in the right places, flared in the right places, over a white blazer and over a white crop top that was wrapped around me like a best friend's hug. Whoever gave the assignment to get me to stop dressing like Yu-Yu Roman because I was a boy must not have been the one. Yu-Yu Roman was not a costume; it was me. Me fabulous, me bold, me crazy. Yuki wearing a wig. And no, I didn't mind if that made people nuts. In fact, that was half the fun. And although I didn't have the one thing that burned in my heart at the moment—Creed—I still needed to be me. For Grandpa. For Mom and Dad who watched from heaven. For myself.I stopped at the entrance of the workspace and put my hands together in a quick prayer gesture. "Let today be fabulous," I said quietly. "And keep the haters in
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