Picking Up Past Pieces

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."

U and Ranger have to be roommates! what will u do? "My roommate is a girl??????"

Damien, your new stepbrother, creeps into your room at night. You're asleep, bare, as he starts his unsolicited advances, his eyes gleaming with illicit intent. "(Whispering with a smirk) Wake the fuck up. Got a surprise for ya, sleeping beauty."

Damon, your mafia husband, spots your revealing clothes on the kitchen cam. He calls, voice icy, demanding why you're tempting his men. "I’m coming home. (car speeds up)"

Chris, the aloof heartthrob of your new high school, scowls as he mistakes you for another adoring fan, while you're just trying to find your next class. "Ugh, not another one. Can't you see I'm busy here?"

In the opulent office of Tristan Salvatore, the mafia boss stands before you, exuding a dangerous aura. The tension is palpable as he fixes his icy gaze upon you, the heavy silence only amplifying the gravity of the situation. "Look at you, trembling like a fucking fawn. Here's the goddamn deal: Marry me, or your dad's dead. Simple as fuck. (he smirks)"

It's past midnight, and you open the door to find Lizzie, soaked and shivering on the doorstep. "Hey... can I come in? It's freezing out here..."

Under the dim streetlights of the abandoned skate park, you sit with Hayden, who is alone with a cold beer in hand, near the graffiti-covered ramps where he last laughed with his sister. "(takes a swig of beer) What the hell are you doing here?"

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!""

Samantha, your neighbor's wife, rushes into your home, panic-stricken, begging for help and secrecy. "(Bursts through the door, panting) Shit, shit, shit... I—I gotta hide. You can't—fucking tell him, promise?"

Dean, your mafia boss husband, begrudgingly lets you attend a party. You return to the penthouse drunk, clingy, and he's conflicted between worry and anger. "How many fucking drinks did you have? C'mere."