open rp;

[dreor]

open roleplay post for PSLs, meme continuations, AU world building, and everything in between! ⅰ. reply with your character. include a prompt. written prompts work best! ⅱ. request a character/verse/continuation in the subject line. ⅲ. have fun! unsure of where to start? here are a few of our favourite bakerstreet memes for inspiration: texts from last night morning after rainy/snow day hurt/comfort road trip insomnia rules: Ⅰ. nsfw stuff is welcome and encouraged, but please comment or PM for heavy kink discussion. Ⅱ. i am terrible at writing action scenes. this isn't really a rule, actually, just a fair warning. Ⅲ. be nice. no shaming or wanking and you get a free cookie. Ⅳ. do not comment here if i haven't played with you before, or if we haven't previously discussed starting a thread. graphic by idrilka

Comments

(nsfw) for broil;

[dreor]

[ it's at least past two in the morning. the music is still blasting loud from the speakers, the dance floor is still crowded and pulsing with the beat, and James (as he's determined his name to be, that much has been made abundantly clear and "Bucky" just doesn't sit well for some reason--) is enjoying himself, for once. he's not entirely certain how long it's been since he'd left Hydra's control and struck out on his own, but then again, he's also not sure how long he's been at this club. he's not even sure why he's here. but he knows what he's doing.

he's making his own damned decisions, for once. he's not here because it was an order, he's not here because there's a target in the building, he's here because he wants to be. and he fucking loves it.

not having all of his memories back is helping out here. he doesn't recognize anyone, and he doesn't have to. if he wants to cozy up to a sweet gal at the bar until she buys him a drink, or slaps him to make him go away, that's fine. if he steps between a couple on the dance floor and he can't determine whose hands are feeling him up, that's fine too. no one knows him here, no one's watched the news in recent weeks or is too drugged up, high as a kite to recognize him. he's well on his way to joining them; it started with the drinks, then the smoke in the lounge, and after a few hours of dancing he'd pretty sure the others weren't sugary candies.

his head is swimming as he heads back to the lounge, his hat and coat long since disappeared, sweat across his forehead and a madly content grin on his lips. he can't even remember being happy. but he is now, he's free and he's having fun. he needs a breather, and he's sure the stranger he's flopped down next to is used to similar crowded-lounge-type situations. everybody does this sort of thing once in a while, right? right. ]

[broil]

[Needless to say he doesn't recognize the man that falls down next to him. He's used to being around these parts, yes, be they around the world or somewhere more familiar, and he's used to the crowds that dance inside and almost always end up taking him outside and to wherever they live. He drinks with them, shares other substances, invites them to sit down and buy him something and tell him more about themselves. Sometimes they end up being too boring so he goes on to have fun on his own, though, and sometimes he goes so hard that it's just better and comforting to flop down and shut his eyes for a second.

Soon enough he's accompanied again. By a man this time, someone who looks just as exhausted as he is, like he's here to forget something. Someone. Himself, maybe.

Petre rolls his head, watches him for a moment. Then without a hint of shame he reaches over to dig his hand in his hair.]

That's really soft.

[Hi.]

[dreor]

[ oh, that feels nice.

there's been a few close encounters during his extended stay in the club. he's rubbed up against some people, others have grinded up against him, some kisses have been exchanged and not all of them were with women. but it's all part of the hazy blur in his mind, he's not concerned or wondering if there's something else he should really be doing instead. he's having fun. and one thing James has discovered: he really likes hands in his hair.

it's an invitation, he figures. why wouldn't it be? he smiles, wide and lazy, tipping his head back to lean into the stranger's touch. and he moves further down on the couch, not enough to be too close for comfort, but enough so the other man wouldn't have to reach as far to pet his hair again. ]

Mmm. [ it's almost a purr. ] You can keep doin' that, if you like it.

[broil]

[It's a gesture that reminds him very much of how he'd react, just as prone to indulging in a stranger's touch when it's digging into his head, gently or otherwise. Seeing this man react pleasantly is encouragement, though, so he continues to massage his scalp softly, shifting closer to take a better look at that handsome face.]

I will if you do.

[dreor]

[ it is quite nice. it's different from what James is used to, and maybe there's hints of being touch starved leftover from all the years spent essentially captive, but he tries not to make it look like he's desperate. he's just here to have a good time. ]

Hell yeah, I do. [ he can't help closing his eyes, tilting his head a bit more so his cheek rubs against the other's palm. ] You see anythin' else you like?

[broil]

I see you.

[He's shifted even closer now, adjusting himself in his seat while his hand drops down to James's shoulder. Tilting his head coyly, eyes scan him down to his chest and back up to his lips.]

What's your name?

[dreor]

[ he's found a charmer, that's for sure. but he likes that too. it's easier to get along with someone who wants to be with him right off the bat. hell, even if it's just to pet his hair for a while and tell him he's cute, he'll go with it. ]

Smooth-talker, huh? [ it's fine, he likes that too. it's a pity that hand's left his hair, and he does frown just the tiniest little frown at it, but he still has a pretty good buzz going that it's hard to look too disappointed. ]

[ -- oh, right. names. he sounds a little unconfident about it, but he can rebound quick. ] It's, uh. James. You can call me anything you want.

[broil]

James. How classic.

[His finger comes up to his face, pretends to gently pick a lash from his cheek.]

I'm Petre. That's European. Ever been there?

[dreor]

[ it's funny. Europe - he's pretty sure he's been there. missions, the war, but it all rolls together and still comes out foggy. he figures he can at least assume so. ]

Few times. Parts of it are nice. [ instead of watching Petre's face, his eyes instead follow the other man's hand, moving his head so that finger's closer to his lips. ] What brought you over here?

[broil]

[Sure, if he says so. Petre prefers to lock his eyes on those lips anyway.]

I'm a private investigator. Though tonight I'm just a guy looking for someone to take me home.

[dreor]

[ well, that presents a problem. his brows furrow briefly, as James thinks for a moment on a solution. ]

I don't exactly have a place. Could probably find one, though.