bwrp starters

"Hey, can I have some of that?" Adeline stumbled toward the couches before collapsing down beside a group of girls she'd never met before. She was already far too drunk, her tolerance low and unchallenged — but now her heart was racing and the room was spinning and surely some more would help? Or not.

"You see the way he looks at me?" Bonnie was so caught up in preparing everything, it took her a moment to register what Nathan had even said. It certainly wasn't unusual for her to be hosting, she cooked for the pack practically every night, she loved providing for them. But tonight, the salad servers had decided to go missing, the meat never seemed to be ready no matter how long she'd kept it in the oven, and Nathan had been in her ear all night. As always, she tried to acknowledge what was obviously his insecurities, calmly reassure him and move on, but for some reason, he just wouldn't listen. There'd always been a degree of tension between her husband and her pack. Nathan wasn't bonded to them, but he'd never cared to be either, he'd never cared to try, and yet, it still seemed to bother him endlessly. "What?" Bonnie shook her head, distracted, pulling drawers open in an effort to locate the evasive utensils. "C'mon, you're not blind." He hissed under his breath, as if that made any difference with a house full of werewolves. "You see him, right? He's been staring at me all night." "— Nathan, what are you talking about?" Bonnie finally turned to him, her own voice low merely out of respect. No point riling up his human insecurities even more. "Is this about Garrett again?" Nathan scoffed in response, shaking his head, and Bonnie could feel his anger building. She felt it because she could feel her own, the tension from the evening taking its toll. This time, she started before he did. "Enough. I'm not talking about this with you anymore. You're being ridiculous." But it had been the wrong thing to say. His voice was noticeably louder this time, though he'd moved in close, still attempting to keep things private. "I'm being ridiculous?! Oh, yeah, okay, so they all just get a free pass to treat me however they'd like in my own damn house because, what? They're your pack?" About to snap, Bonnie took a step away from him, hands raising in surrender. "Stop! Just stop it! Nobody's treating you any differently. Nobody's staring at you. We're just having a normal family dinner, okay? Like any other night. Can we just do that? Can we sit down and eat and leave all of this behind?" His response came immediately, low and spiteful. "— They're not my family." The words floated around them. Petulant and resentful, it always came back to this. He was married to her, he had a child with her, and still, he felt like he didn't belong. He never made any effort to belong. Bonnie shut her eyes for a moment, trying to reel herself back in, trying to calm the wolf inside. "They're my pack. You're my husband —" "Oh, I am?" Nathan laughed, the sound bitter. "Sorry, it's so hard to remember that, since you never want me around. You don't even talk to me when they're here." It proved to be too late to try deep breathing. All the meditation in the world couldn't have pulled her back from her upset. Overwhelmed, Bonnie abandoned all human niceties, raising her voice at him. She could hear the pack's deafening silence anyway, all seemingly waiting with baited breath. There was no saving this dinner. "I don't talk to you?! I don't fucking talk to you?" Tears stung her eyes, embarrassed and frustrated. She never talked to the pack about her troubles with Nathan, she carried it all alone like a good and loyal wife, and yet here he was, confronting her in front of all of them. "We spend practically every day together, every night together, and you don't say a word. You look straight through me, like I'm some kind of ghost! Like I'm not real! Do you even see me?! Do you?!" But she didn't want to hear the answer. He wouldn't know what to say anyway. He never knew what to say. With a sob hiccupping through her chest, Bonnie walked straight out of the house, escaping into the cold night air.

Peeta awoke to the noise of jabberjays whistling through the trees, but in his lethargic state, sound wasn't the first sense he paid attention to. Instead, touch was his first signal, the stark contrast in temperatures on either side of his body. His right was chilled, arm bristled with goosebumps from the harsh morning air. His left was protected, warm, Gale's skin radiating heat into his own. He must've rolled over in his sleep, instinctively flinging his limbs over Peeta in an unconscious attempt to chase off the cold. It made the blonde smile, despite the fact that they'd spent the majority of the evening prior arguing between themselves. Peeta allowed himself to enjoy the rare calmness of it, nestling further into Gale's embrace, figuring an extra ten minutes of rest wouldn't hurt. They hadn't had any luck in the outskirts during their trip, and although it came as a disappointment, it wasn't unexpected. Jesus and Peeta had failed at successful recruitment plenty of times before. At the very least, Gale had managed to secure some meat to take home. A rabbit, a few squirrels. They'd almost caught a deer, but Peeta's heavy footing had scared the animal off before Gale had even pulled his bowstring back. They'd bickered about that, too. They'd barely made under the first concealment border before night fell, both driven by a desire to prove their own point. They were still snapping as they set up camp, and Peeta realised then that it was for the best they hadn't come across anyone seeking refuge. With how irritable he'd been, Gale would've certainly deterred them. Peeta was wrestling the return to sleep when he heard it, and his drooping eyes soon shot wide open, alert. Groans. Clicks. Several of them. As he focused, he noted they were nearing. The undead couldn't see them behind the magic, but most of them couldn't see much of anything. They relied on their hearing, and the concealment charms protecting them were purely visual. They wouldn't even have time to pack up, if the monsters were as close as Peeta suspected they were. Another tent wasted. They shouldn't have strayed so far out. "Gale," Peeta hissed, nudging his friend's shoulder as he quickly sat up, untangling their position. "Gale, get up. We have to go. Now," his sharp whisper was riddled with panic, as they were still a stretch away from the actual protective wards. They had to move quietly, and fast.

"Okay, so," Allie took a breath, changing the subject, knowing they were both trying to protect each other from worrying but were both spiralling on the inside regardless. It was hard not to, being their first full moon with everybody on the cure. It had worked for other wolves, apparently, but who was to say it would work on all of them? What if they'd made a mistake? Either way, she was well aware they were running out of time to discuss it, the pain clear as day on Garrett's face even as he was trying to hide it. "I'm gonna meet you right back here at..." She glanced at her tablet again, squinting at the report that told them the times for sunrise and sunset. ".. 6:11am, on the dot." Allie wrinkled her nose at the prospect of a very early wake-up. She'd never gone to meet the pack immediately after dawn broke, the risk too great. She'd always had to lock herself away, keep herself safe from the people she called family. But hiding away from them had gone against every instinct, and despite her aversion to early mornings, Allie couldn't help but feel hopeful about the night ahead for all of them. "Never say I don't love you. I've gotta try and deal with this mane in the dark, and then come and deliver you pants? I should get sainthood." Al tossed her hair, sighing just to tease him. But the clock was ticking, so her expression soon sobered, reaching out to touch him lightly on the arm. "You gonna be okay?"

"Ah, the eldest Winchester. What a pleasure. I have to admit, I'm surprised to see you here, defending the very territory you once sought to turn to ash. Did you finally realise that any attempt at annihilating my species was futile?" Klaus smirked as he walked down the hallway, already preparing himself for an argument. He'd promised Elijah and the founders that he wouldn't murder the locals, but he'd said nothing in regards to verbal irritation. "You once had my younglings cowering in fear for their immortal lives, and yet now here you are, using your skills to protect the most bloodthirsty of us all. It's actually quite poetic." He paused then, casting his eyes over to the cell situated behind Dean, where Kol was stowed away. "Feel free to step aside. My brother's little murder spree is now a family matter, in which you bear no involvement."

“After these last few years, sitting around doing nothing is driving me crazy.” Allison sighed, and turned to face the person she'd addressed. “Do you wanna’ do something? Go for a run, or do some training? I need to keep my body busy.”

Holding out the tea she’d just prepared, Bonnie joined her alpha on her couch, eyeing him closely. He was in a good mood, that much was obvious, but considering they were still technically settling in around town, she was curious what had him feeling so happy. “What are you smiling about?”

Considering the giddiness she could still feel drifting through the bond, Bonnie was incredibly hesitant to get involved. For days now, Jackson had carried this endearing mix of excitement and nerves, the alpha smiling more than she'd ever seen before. And it had only been a week. It was only a crush. Bonnie, of course, had shared in his excitement at first, encouraging anything that would make him feel like that. But her enthusiasm lessened over the next few days, having overheard stories around town. Some drama had occurred in the bar, drama that directly involved a woman called Fiona, and it was apparently still ongoing. Still, Bonnie had held her tongue initially, Jackson's happiness her priority. It wasn't until she saw him working on what looked like a crib that she changed her mind. She knew her best friend inside and out, the pair practically raised together, but not once had she ever seen him in love. Bonnie wasn't convinced that's what this was, not yet, but she knew Jackson would stop at nothing to find out. He was stubborn like that. But Bonnie was equally as protective, and it was her love for him that ultimately put a stop to any other line of argument. He could make his own choices, she respected that, but she'd never let him make them uninformed, and without her two cents. That was just the way they worked. Putting on a brave smile, she approached with mugs in hand, interrupting his work. "Hey. Tea break?" Considering it a peace offering for what was to come, she held out a mug before taking a closer look at the woodwork. "This is coming up really beautiful, Jack. It's for Fiona, right? Her family?" Hearing his confirmation, and feeling the surge of nerves that came with it, Bonnie squinted at him for a minute, wrestling with her own sadness for having to be the one to have this conversation. "So... how much do you actually know about her? You've only met the once, right?"

Having run into him at the Alibi, Fiona had known for a few days now that Frank had found his way to Alexandria. But she’d made no mention of it to anyone yet, not even her siblings, desperate to avoid the drama. The kids had finally settled in, she was settling in, falling headfirst into a relationship she’d never seen coming. She didn’t want the dream to shatter. She didn’t want her soul-sucking father driving them all apart. With all the kids now in bed, Fiona was spending quality time with Jackson on their couch, straddling him between her legs, perched on his lap, lips interlocked. They’d become insatiable for each other, every spare moment she found throughout the chaos of her days spent with him. Even when she wasn’t free, he was around, getting to know her family. If she’d given herself any more time to slow down and think about it again, she’d have been terrified. But nothing was getting in her way. Nothing, perhaps, except her father. The pair were only just warming up when there was a sharp knock at the door. Fiona elected to ignore it, muttering for them to fuck off; but Jackson seemed particularly curious by whoever was there. With a groan, she finally climbed off him, patted down her hair and answered the door. On the top step was the chief of police, and sprawled out on the bottom step was her drunken excuse of a dad. “— You’ve gotta be fucking kiddin’ me.” She spoke before Jim had the chance to, earning her some raised eyebrows in response. Waving off the explanation that followed, having heard it all a million times before, she thanked the officer, allowing him to leave. Now scowling at the figure at the bottom of the stairs, Fiona shook her head, completely forgetting she had company. “Nope. No fuckin’ way.”

Frankly, it was a miracle she'd ever managed to pull herself away, the pair literally entangled in each other. Fiona had never known her body could feel that good. But she didn't have the enhanced stamina Jackson did, and hours after she'd left Liam with Rose, when exhaustion finally overtook, guilt crept in. Promising Jack she'd return later that night, Fiona left him to check on the kids, finding Rose had also grown tired of waiting and eventually handed Liam over to Lip. Too tired to explain, or argue, Fiona ignored her brother's questioning glances and went about preparing dinner — frozen food chucked in the oven. Carl was ecstatic, and soon enough, the kitchen was packed with hungry Gallaghers, Fiona left watching on in the corner, rubbing at her chest. Actually, her chest had been aching all afternoon, but it was only now that she'd been dragged out of whatever haze she'd fallen into with Jackson that she'd noticed the sensation, like she'd been mildly burned. Suddenly overwhelmed by the mixed emotions and chatter in the room, she excused herself, locking herself in the bathroom.

“Fuck!” Incredulous, Fiona stared at the bottle of milk she’d just upended onto the floor, and all over herself. It should’ve come as no surprise, considering the morning she’d had. It seemed the day was set to be cursed. Her conversation with Jackson had left her feeling disoriented and unfocused, and poor Liam was now stuck dealing with the fallout, the hungry toddler whinging from his high chair. Turning to the sink, Fiona noticed the back door swing open and was relieved to see it was a friend and not someone else she had to answer to. At least Elena would be on her side. “Well, my morning’s goin’ great. Yours?”

It took longer than she'd hoped to coax Debbie out of the nest, her younger sister even more housebound than she'd been before the war. Fiona couldn't blame her, but she also couldn't let it be any longer, offering to accompany her to her first school party in the hopes she'd make some friends and get out of the house. The redhead didn’t leave her side for a while, clearly nervous, but once Fiona had helped introduce her to a few people, she’d finally gone out on her own. Fiona watched on fondly for a few minutes before she realised where she was, and who was around her. With a shake of her head, remembering herself, she swiped two beers off the nearest table and made her way back outside, sitting down in the gutter with a sigh. She had a long night of waiting ahead, and a cold one too, frustratingly having forgotten her jacket.

After all the drama Frank’s return had caused, Fiona was enjoying a well-deserved break, Jackson’s weight pressing down on her, the pair stretched out in her bed. But things never stayed quiet in the Gallagher household for long, and like clockwork, Liam began to cry. With a groan, Fiona eventually gave up, head falling back onto the pillow in defeat. “God damnit,” she muttered, grabbing her shirt from where it had been discarded earlier. Frustration had pulled her from the haze she’d fallen into with Jackson, and now she was able to focus on the toddler's cries, anticipating what he might need. It was only then she realised it wasn’t Liam at all. “The fuck?” Shooting her partner a questioning glance, she headed downstairs, finding the pair in the lounge room. A blonde toddler stared back at her. “... Debbie? Who the hell is that?”

Fiona had introduced them only minutes earlier, but Carl still stared in suspicion at the scruffy man in their kitchen, eating his toast particularly slowly without breaking eye contact. “— Is your name Steve? Or maybe Jimmy?” He couldn’t help but feel especially protective after last time.

“Oh, hey. You remember me, right?” Allison started as she crossed paths with Jessica, not having seen her for a while now. A long time, actually. Enough for Allison to forgive the tension that had stirred between the pair, anyway. “I’m sorry, about what happened before. I was grieving — in a weird place. It's not an excuse, I shouldn't have reacted the way I did. That's not... that's not me.”