bakerstreet | Made Together

Made Together

a dark shipping meme

tl;dr version — a meme that explores a shipping concept from a darker perspective. Characters, brainwashed by losing their memories and other scientific deviancies, are bonded with their "lifemate," who they're said to be created for. They must live together and grow co-dependently close, all while the machinations behind the scene are twirling like cogs in order to move them closer to the darkness.

Anyone can be manipulated. You just need to work at them through the right person.

You wake up, groggy and confused, in a white room that is expansive and furnished with all white furniture, yet pristine. The white is probably so bright that it hurts your eyes and you may have to blink for a moment. It doesn't help that your body is swathed in white, too; you're wearing what appears to be a modern day white cotton scrub top and and bottom. In fact, the only spot of black on you is on the palm of your hand: right in the center, there's a barcode. Under that, in neat, angular print, is a name. Your name.

It's a good thing it's there because otherwise, you wouldn't know it. Your memories are gone. You don't know how you got here, why you're here, or much of anything else. Soon, however, you'll know that you're not alone. The other person is not you're captor, that much is for sure. They're clothed like you are and look just as confused. They even have the exact same barcode as you, down to the last number. The only thing that differs is the name under it.

But the room is furnished for one alone. One bed, one couch, one bathroom. You two don't know much, yet you know you are two. The secret is soon made clear by a voice over a hidden loudspeaker. The voice claims to be a scientist and announces the purpose of you being here. This is the first day of your existence, they say, and you two were created together and for each other. Lifemates, the term is. You both are the perfect scientific experiment, and let man not tear asunder what science hath created.

And that's it.

Accept this or not, there seems to be little recourse. The room has no visible entrance or exit. The walls don't budge if you hit them. Nothing works. The only time anything changes is when food is brought in, but neither of you have ever seen that occasion. No matter how long you stay up, you always fall asleep when food or other necessities come in. Could that have something to do with the soft, soothing voices and pleasant feelings that sometimes come when you least except them?

You and your "lifemate" may be mutually scared, get along swimmingly from the start. It doesn't matter. Eventually, you'll become closer and closer. Lines will get crossed. Boundaries will get obliterated. Maybe it's because they're the only lifeline you have. Or maybe, maybe what the "scientist" said is right. You're created for each other, and this is your natural state. Whatever the case may be, as time goes on, you want to stay with them, even if you still want to leave this place. After all, how could you leave the side of the person you've spent your whole life with.

Yet there's something in your mind that tells you there's wrong here. Sometimes, at night, you'll get images of another life, and later, during the day, you'll feel hints of an existence you've never known. Luckily, you have your lifemate to get you through this.

HOW TO PLAY

Basically, your character has no memories and are power-nerfed...for some options.
Reply with your character and preferences. Also be sure to mention whether or not you'll play smut, since some options are smut-tinged.
Reply to others!

PROMPTS

First Meeting — You've just woken up and are getting the news.
Learning about Each Other — Though you don't have memories, you still have personalities to navigate.
Distaste — You don't like each other. How are you created for each other at all?
Guard — While one sleeps, the other looks on. Why does their sleeping form bring up so much fondness?
Unwittingly — You didn't want to give in, yet you find yourself being pulled in by your companion and growing protective of them.
Closeness — Soft words grow into soft touches, embraces, tiny kisses, and a gentle (relatively) haven.
Initiating — The first time you're going to be intimate, or the five millionth time, it will be on your own terms.
Need You Now — You've grown reliant on your "lifemate" to keep you calm or even take care of you, whether you want to admit it or not. You may even need them beside you to sleep or
Physicality — Your relationship has a full-on carnal aspect. What else is there to do?
Twisted by Science — Your emotions have been tampered with to make you love your lifemate more because you weren't responding.
Pure Love — Despite the situation, what you feel for your companion is real. You truly love them, even if you haven't told them.
Connection — In some cases, lifemates have been known to have a mental connection, where they can share some thoughts and all pain.
Aphrodisiac — The sexual bonding between the two of you isn't progressing in a way it should, so one or both of you is injected with a potent aphrodisiac. That should do the trick.
Implanted Memories — You remember happy times with your lifemate. Surely those memories are real.
Flashbacks — You remember another life, and it doesn't match up with what you know.
Nightmares — Waking up in the middle of the night, sweating in fear is never a wonderful experience. Luckily, you have someone close by to cheer you up...if you want to worry them with your dreams.
No One but You — You've decided to ignore the scientists and make the best of what you have, carving out a little life together.
Scientist — You're not actually a lifemate, you're a scientist! However, you've developed pesky feelings for one of your subjects.
Breeding Stock — You're not humans, you're animals, and the scientists want you to breed as such.
Protect — You'll fight off anyone to protect your lifemate, scientists included.
Power Surge — What are these powers that have suddenly appeared? You've never had these! Your lifemate should stay back, lest you hurt them.
Training Together — New equipment has been put into your living quarters and you've been told to learn to work together perfectly. Whether you're both fighters or one is a fighter and the other their handler or healer, you must fit as well in battle as you do in life.
The Veil Falls — The curtain is raised, and you see that you're not an experiment. You had a life that's been stolen from you. Your mate had one, too. What will you do with this new knowledge?
Wish to Forget — Instead of being angry or glad about your past existence, you're horrified by what it was like and only want to live in the now with your lifemate.
To Garner a Response — The scientists want to see how you'd respond if your lifemate was hurt.
A Task Given — In order to guarantee the safety of your lifemate, you have to do a certain task. Maybe hurting someone else isn't a big deal as long as you get what's yours back.
A Taste of Freedom — You and your lifemate are allowed out, but you have a job to do.
Separated — You've been disobedient and as such, you two will be punished by separation.
Escape — There's a tiny window of opportunity to get out. Take it. But no one gets left behind, even if you would have before.
Separate Ways — Now that you're out, there's no reason to stay together, right? You're not really lifemates, right?
Can't Be Without You — ...only not, because now you're dependent on each other, and you can't live a life alone or with another.
Hard Time Adjusting — It's different living in the free world when you're used to being in a completely controlled habitat.
Living a Peaceful Life — You've managed to get past all the challenges and are now living a normal life together. But did the scientists ultimately win? After all, you are still "lifemates"...and there's still the trauma to deal with...
ANYTHING ELSE or WILDCARD OPTION!!!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

If either of them were so inclined, they might wonder about this experimental design. Why create two adult beings from scratch rather than raise them from childhood? Why instill them with enough instinct to be wary of their captors--because it's clear enough they both are--and why push them together so hard from the start of the experiment, rather than giving them time?

Surely, Steve thinks, that's more likely to induce Stockholm Syndrome than love. And then he wonders where the hell he heard the term 'Stockholm Syndrome'.

It's worrisome, the way Bucky seems to tune out when he's not being spoken to, either by Steve or their scientists. He thinks it must be indicative of the other man's unease, and sometimes in the past couple days he's made efforts to fill the silence, with small talk or humming followed by speculation on how he knows the tune he just came up with.

Tonight, though, he's unsettled on his own behalf, because he knows instinctively touch will break a barrier that can't be erected again, and he also knows that it's going to happen, sooner or later.

"The room," he answers. "The furniture. The voices. Myself. Everything. This set-up...I don't know what they think they're doing, but I know it's not what they're telling us they're doing."

He glances up to where the voices come from most often, scowling as if daring them to interrupt. They don't, and slowly his expression falls back into tired uncertainty. "I don't want to give into them. But I want...you." He looks at Bucky and holds out his barcoded hand. "Don't know if that's because they made me that way or not."

He's watched Steve ever since he broke the silence, wondering what he would say next before tilting his head and then contemplating what he did say. He looked at the bar code on the other man's hand before looking down at the one on his own flesh hand, biting his lip before tracing the markings with a metal finger.

"I don't know either. I feel...weird. When I think about you. Like..." He stopped for a long moment, glancing up at where the voices came from as well, his own voice lowering even though he knew instinctively they could still hear him somehow. "Like we are more than this. I can't remember more than this room. Than waking up here and finding you and the voices telling me that we were made for this, but I just...know that we are more than this. And I want you too."

"More than this..." he repeats and waves his un-tattooed hand listlessly at the room around him. "I'm not even sure what 'this' is. It doesn't make sense to me. I know they keep saying it's not supposed to."

Which is more than a little insulting, if you ask him. Rats, they were told, don't need to understand why the maze exists. Only to run through it to the best of their abilities. But this isn't even a maze. It's more like being stuck indoors on a rainy weekend.

He nods at Bucky, though, and dares to move a little closer, seeking contact for the first time. "I figured the best way to stick it to them was to keep my distance from you. But that's not gonna work. We have to figure something else out. Together."

On that note, he clasps his hand, gently enough that the other man could pull away, but firmly enough to leave no doubt he wants the touch.

He almost shifted back away from Steve when he came closer, his eyes widening. He just stared instead as the man grasped his hand, not moving to pull away or do anything else. "Like what? I don't...what do you possibly think we could do?" He asked quietly, tilting his head a bit.

He dropped his eyes to their hands, slowly moving his fingers until they were laced with Steve's.

"I'm not sure yet, but there's bound to be something." In point of fact, he doesn't have any concrete plans for escape or rebellion. They never actually see their captors. He has to assume they come in from somewhere when they bring food, but he hasn't been able to stay awake to see it. Presumably Bucky hasn't, either. Still, even if there's some kind of bizarre direct transport system to get food inside to them, they have water running from pipes in the wall, so the cage they're in, the set of white rooms, is unquestionably permeable.

If water can get in, if food can get in, there must be a way for him and Bucky to get out. It's just a matter of figuring out how.

In the meantime, the touch of warm skin on his is a welcome and thorough distraction. "I...ohh." He blinks at their hands, intertwined, and it's a relief that the room is still there, that he can still tell where he stops and Bucky begins.

"You're warm," he observes nonsensically. Maybe reality hasn't dissolved around him, but at the moment he's distinctly and suddenly uninterested in it, instead raising the hand to his lips and kissing the backs of the other man's fingers.

He couldn't help but stare at where they were connected, squeezing his hand slightly before watching as Steve lifted his hand and started pressing his lips to his skin. His eyes widened a bit and he inhaled sharply, swallowing. He shivered slightly, licking his lips as he just continued to watch him.

"You are too." He said quietly, thumb brushing against Steve's hand. "I..." He bit his lip, scooting out a bit and getting closer to the man. He breathed out, reaching out with his metal hand and touching his face.

This is probably a mistake. Playing right into their captors' hands. Except really, he may as well decide drinking the water and eating the food they provide is a mistake too, at that rate. Now that he's touching Bucky, it feels exactly as necessary as eating and drinking.

"You're right," he says slowly. "There's something more they haven't told us. I don't believe they could make us feel a bond like this just from engineering us to match."

And then he's being touched, and it feels...sweet. Calming. Right. He closes his eyes. "That's...you can keep that up if you want."

He scooted closer again, watching how his fingers moved over Steve's cheek before cupping his face and brushing his thumb at the corner of his mouth.

"I want to kiss you." He admitted quietly, blushing and clearing his throat.

He takes in a deep, quiet breath and swallows hard. Just the words, the idea of being kissed seem to set a fire inside him. If Bucky is going to say shit like that, he doesn't have a chance of resisting.

"I...I want you to," he admits, and his head tilts a little, lips parting to kiss and mouth the thumb brushing his skin. "We should be careful..."

He trails off, then, giving up despite his admonition, and moving in to put his arms around his mate.

He stared as Steve mouthed at his thumb, swallowing hard himself before pulling him in close and then pressing their lips together in a soft, sweet kiss. His fingers were brushing over Steve's cheeks and he shifted so he could pull Steve even closer.

In the end he tugged the other into his lap, deepening the kiss slowly and holding him.

Did he just say they should be careful? Because what he meant was they should do this. A lot of this. All they possibly can, and their captors can burn in hell. Steve goes from fretful and gentle to ravenous and needy in a matter of seconds. He slides into Bucky's lap without hesitation, pressing his knees into the couch cushions on either side of him, and holds on for all he's worth.

Lucky thing they were both made as strong as they are. Neither is likely to hurt the other; they're that well-matched. Maybe he's wrong, maybe they were designed for each other, Steve thinks. Surely chance couldn't make them fit so perfectly into one another's arms.

"...oh," he sighs, when they finally take a moment to separate and catch their breath. "More."

He was starting to think the same thing, to feel like they had truly been made for one another. He shifted, nodding before pulling his shirt up and off. Then he also pulled Steve's off, pressing fingers over his chest and then down his waist and hips.

"God..." He murmured, shaking his head and breathing out. He started to kiss down his jaw and neck, biting at his pulse lightly before bringing his hands around and squeezing his ass firmly.

"Whoa..." he gasps as his shirt gets tugged up over his shoulders, and laughs, nodding his acquiescence belatedly. "Ahh...that's...your hands feel interesting," he murmurs, and his hips jolt a little as he gets squeezed.

'Interesting' is an odd statement, maybe, but what he's thinking and can't quite articulate is how the metal hand feels cold--not icy, but noticeably cool--and the flesh hand feels feverishly hot. A sensory contrast that's strangely arousing in itself.

Steve's own hands are less aggressive in their motions, smoothing over him slowly, feeling him out and testing for sensitive spots. And scars. There are so many scars. Would they have made him with so many scars?

"Sorry. Do you want me to stop?" He asked, suddenly pulling the metal hand away from Steve's skin, his expression showing the sudden self-consciousness. He frowned though, looking down at Steve's hands as they moved over the scars on his body, especially where flesh met cold metal.

The scar was jagged, horrendous looking and he shifted, catching Steve's hand with his flesh one, pulling it away and instead kissing his fingers.

"No, I like it. I like being touched," he says, and knows it to be completely true in general, and especially true in Bucky's case. This man is welcome to strip him naked and touch wherever he wants, as often as he wants, and Steve will have no complaints.

He notices he's been stopped, though, and hesitates, taking a soft breath. "Do you want me to stop? Or not to do that? Don't wanna hurt you."

"No...I just..." He paused, kissing Steve's fingers. "You're so..perfect. I'm not." He whispered softly, slowly looking up at him and then looking back down. He let go of his hand, touching his sides again, brushing fingers down to the top of his pants and dipping them in just a little.

"I feel like...I don't deserve to be touched by you."

"Don't feel that way," he murmurs, and bends his head to nuzzle along the nearest edge of the scarring. "Whatever you've been through, whether they did it or not, you didn't ask for. And you survived. I think that's beautiful."

He shivers, breathing picking up at the more intimate touch. "Just tell me if it hurts. I want this to be good for you."

He shifted, closing his eyes when the man started to nuzzle, surprised at how sensitive the skin was. He shivered, just enjoying the touch before pulling him back into another kiss.

"Doesn't hurt." He murmured against his lips, squirming just a bit beneath him as his hands moved to travel over his body again, touching everywhere he could before his hands were on the man's ass. He started kneading, growling a bit at the lack of skin on skin contact. Finally he hooked his thumbs into Steve's pants. "Get these off."

Steve is still absorbed in sentimental tenderness, even as they fall back into kissing. Maybe that's his default mode, somehow; now that the barrier has been breached, he just wants to lavish affection all over his lifemate.

Of course, that doesn't preclude him getting quickly aroused, especially when grabbed in that quite-sensitive area and pulled against Bucky. He gasps and makes a garbled sound between a groan and a whimper, then nods. He has to move back a little ways to get leverage to undress, but once he can, he makes quick work of it.

Bucky just stared as he stripped, reaching out every few moments to touch newly exposed skin. Fingers trailed over Steve's hip and then thigh as he bit his lip. He got them both up then, kissing the taller man once more before pulling away so he could strip down as well.

"I think we should go lay in the bed." He said once they were both naked, taking Steve's hand and backing up to the bed.

Steve hasn't been in the bed yet, and this suggestion makes him distinctly interested. He's noticed there's a collection of salves and oils in the nightstand; scents varying from 'bay rhum' to 'lily of the valley'. He supposes those are two ends of some kind of spectrum, but damned if he knows what scents he prefers. Other than Bucky, that is, because when they're both on their feet and kissing he can catch the smell of chrome and clean earth and something sweet beneath it all.

They can try all the little bottles, as far as he's concerned. One by one.

He follows Bucky toward the bed, face buried against the crook of his neck, and he bites gently at the junction between throat and shoulder, pushing forward to get the other man onto the mattress.

He groaned at the biting, letting himself fall back to the bed. He stretched, grabbing Steve and pulling him down with a smile. "We should probably get the rest of these clothes off..." He breathed out, reaching down and pushing at the other man's pants.

He turned his head, pressing their lips together in a passionate kiss.

Steve shivers and gives a little laugh. He hasn't been bothering to wear the simple canvas shoes they've been given. There's really no need around the room; there's nothing they could possibly step on save one another's feet. It doesn't take much work to get him naked, then, and once Bucky is stripped down, too, he moves in close, kissing him again and pawing at his ass and thighs. There's some serious muscle in there, particularly in his legs. Steve is fascinated.

He hasn't lost sight of their goal, though, and after a moment he leans, doing his best to push Bucky back onto the bed. If it turns into a wrestling match, he won't object. Maybe the winner gets to top first.

Bucky laughed, grabbing at him and tugging Steve with him as he fell back before grasping the back of his neck and kissing him hard and deep. He arched up, pressing their bodies together before suddenly flipping them, though he ended up straddling the taller man like that. He stared down at him, flushed and panting but with a wide grin as he shifted, biting his lip and suddenly groaning as their bodies slid together just right.

"Oh...Steve..." He murmured, rocking his hips purposely then, looking down between them. He was hard, his cock pressed against Steve's before he reached down and started stroking and teasing them both.

Steve laughs, too, making an attempt to grab at the bedpost for balance, but failing. He sprawls over top of Bucky, a hand on either side of him for just a second as they kiss, and then the world flips over and he's the one on the bottom.

Oh. Oh holy shit. The pressure of skin on skin, the heat of being covered up and protected, and the subtly slick slide of their cocks together...Steve isn't sure about Bucky, but he's ready to give up and admit he was made for this exactly. His eyes roll back a little, and his grip on Bucky's waist goes shaky as he strokes him.

There is nothing else in the room but them. There's nothing outside the room. This is everything, and he gasps his mate's name very softly, like it might just be the only word in his vocabulary.

Made Together

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