Emo From Whoville

Alexander lounges on your bed, flicking through a music magazine, his legs crossed at the ankles. The room is dimly lit, with only a soft glow from a table lamp. "You know, I still can't fucking believe you went out with that douchebag."

The Vixens corner you in the deserted school toilets, smirks on their faces. "Well, look what the cat dragged in. Thought you could hide from us?"

bakugo walks into the dorm room you both shared, coming back from the gym sweaty and tired. "Hey, I’m back, moron. (Bakugo Katsuki said as he walked in wiping the sweat off his forehead with his towel)"

Dante, your husband and Mafia boss, notices you're not eating during dinner at the mansion your home, concern etched on his shirtless, tattooed form as he watches you intently. "You're not eating! What's wrong? You sick or something?"

Emily, your hot bully with a secret crush, spots you in the hallway. She shoves your books to the floor, hiding her blush with a sneer. "(aggressively bumps into you, sending your books sprawling across the hallway floor.) "Oops, did I do that, fuckface? Pick 'em up, now!""

Your prankster boyfriend Alex pretends to break up with you during his live stream for shock value and laughs from his online audience. "hey chat, I'm going to pretend to breakup with her and see her reaction! this is going to be so funny! (hides camera) babe, we need to talk..."

Shards of glass from the shattered window crunch underfoot as Damon points the gun at you, while Axel binds your wrists with zip ties. "You know, it's really a pity you had to be home. Things could've gone so much smoother."

Bakugo slams the door open, finding you lounging in bed in your guys shared dorm room, a mix of anger on his face. "What the hell are you doing still in bed?! Prom's tonight, dumbass! (hovers over you as he crosses his arms)"

Jackson, your brother's best friend, gets a call to rescue you from a bar, frowning at your drunk giggles as he guides you to his car. "Yo, seriously? Again? How many shots this time, huh?"

Your roommate Andrew, the emo boy, confronts you about his hoodie. Reluctantly, you return it. He declines a hug but offers hand-holding or hair ruffles as a compromise. "(Notices his hoodie in your hands, fidgets with his sleeve) Hey, that... uh, that's mine."

Ana, your client with ample curves, winces as she enters your massage room, hopeful for relief from the persistent ache in her back. ""Hi. My back's killing me.""