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The Social Network: the kink meme!

It's Complicated: But sexy!

Mark Zuckerberg
The Sarcastic Kitty oresteia wrote in tsn_kinkmeme
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[PART NINE] & Some News
Okay, I'm a little new at this so sorry if I mess this up first go. Because it's been 5 months since the last round even though we haven't been busy. I figured I might as well earn my keep and try to get this place alive again...




IMPORTANT: please DO NOT post prompts about any non-public people as part of a prompt. for example: randi zuckerberg is fine as she is a public figure both on the internet and on facebook itself. priscilla chan is NOT as she is not a public figure.

if you're in doubt, please message the mod or leave a comment in the discussion post.

♥ post requests and responses in the comments to this post.
♥ be respectful.
♥ both a pairing/character AND a prompt/kink must be posted.
♥ one pairing/prompt per comment please.
♥ you are encouraged to try and write a prompt for every request you make.
♥ we are slash, femslash, het, three-and-moresomes etc. friendly. (we are even incest friendly what with some of our characters being twins and all...)
♥ no pairing bashing, OK? no need to wank over ships.
♥ long and short fics welcome. multiple responses encouraged!
♥ please try to refrain from saying 'seconded!' as much as possible.
♥ on RPF: Please disclaim that it is RPF, a work of fiction and in no way related to the actual actors/persons/etc. (i wouldn't even try and discourage RPF from this meme ;))


♥ alphabetize pairings/threesomes/moresomes. (e.g. Eduardo/Mark/Sean etc.)
♥ put [RPF] before RPF prompts. (e.g. [RPF] Andrew/Jesse)
♥ for crossover prompts: "[Crossover], The Social Network Character(s)/Other Character(s), [Fandom]" (e.g. [Crossover], Eduardo/Columbus, [Zombieland])
♥ no "!" in pairings, only in descriptions. (e.g. Eduardo/Mark, FacebookCreator!Eduardo, CFO!Mark)
♥ anyone, everyone, no one? Use "Other." (e.g. Sean/Other)
♥ Please do not repost prompts from earlier rounds
♥ put [GEN] before GEN prompts.


♥ please don't embed. link to images/videos.
♥ no locked material. this includes communities, even if membership is open.
♥ fills can be posted anonymously or not.
♥ fills can be anything: fic, art, vid, fanmix, podfic, etc.
♥ all prompts are open to fills at all times, even if they have been filled in the past or are being currently filled by someone else. multiple fills are positively encouraged; if something appeals to you then do not be put off creating a new fill by the existence of a prior one.
NEW: ♥ PLEASE comment with the first of your fill to the PROMPT and then all future updates as a comment to the FIRST PART of the fill. this makes it easier for both the WIP spreadhseet and for archiving stuff on delicious. it also helps people who are trying to catch up on updates and don't have to look through every fill on the prompt (should it have more than one). thank you.

Hi, right now everyone is working on some changes so hold on new things are coming. In an effort to kick this place back into action, we're doing round 9. In a few days, we'll be setting up a fills post that hopefully will work directly for archiving and an overflow post. Also we'll be doing a friending meme at tsn_km_gather so be looking out for that. I know some of the other mods have plans of their own which will be coming soon.

If you have any questions or ideas that I can help you with, feel free to PM me. I'll be around.



have fun!

THERE WILL BE UNMARKED SPOILERS. enter at your own risk! :D


i know you guys are enjoying this meme and i appreciate that but please can you put the SUBJECT HEADER on your prompt. you would REALLY be helping me out if you could do that. it just saves time for me when i'm trying to tag everything in delicious.



AND PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE DO NOT repost prompts from parts three, four, five, six, seven, or eight. the delicious is around for people to find prompts they may not have already seen. We know there's been some issues but we're working on it with pinboard. No duplicates from this round either. THANK YOU.

Mark/Eduardo-Pushed in the pool!

So, in this scenario the night Mark forgets Wardo at the airport it's not raining. Instead of having their whole fight in the hall they go outside by the pool. Eduardo gets frustrated and pushes Mark in the pool, only to find out that Mark can't swim all that well. Eduardo jumps in after him and saves him obviously, because he's mad but he'd never want to hurt Mark. He's all worried after and apologizing, practically forgetting why he pushed Mark in in the first place, maybe it's the shock of the water or just him finally taking a moment to realize, but Mark knows Eduardo cares about him and he explains his whole feelings of why he really just needs Eduardo there, not just for the company, but for him. It's sappy and they're dumb and maybe Wardo kisses him.

-Or, a 5 times fic where every time they kiss it's in a pool or around the pool and they get together in the end without managing to drown eachother.
-I just want something summery because it's cold.

Re: Mark/Eduardo-Pushed in the pool!


Re: Mark/Eduardo-Pushed in the pool!

I have wanted Mark/Eduardo pool fic for the longest time for absolutely no good reason, but this just builds on that want! Why do I want drowning!Mark so badly.

Fill: charting waters (1a/3)

doesn't follow the prompt that closely, but I tried...

Eduardo was a forgiving person.

But even he couldn't say that it didn't tire, didn't hurt, didn't anger him every time he watched cars pass by, each one picking up people that were pointedly not him. And when the minutes piled up and he grew tired in both EST and PST, and the cars were scarce and the rain was soaking his carry-on and the pushy taxi driver with horrible personal hygiene watched him mockingly, waiting for him to give in any second now, his patience wore thin.

Thinner when Sean fucking Parker opened the door to him, a telephone against his cheek, looking innocent, feigning innocuousness, like it was natural for him to be there. Whereas it was completely silly that Eduardo was in California at all, soggy, exhausted, moody.

"What's up?" Sean had asked.

"Mark was supposed to pick me up at the airport an hour ago - I've been calling his cell."

Eduardo pushed past Sean, scanned the room for Mark, but there were so many people who weren't Mark. Faceless interns, wasted girls lounging on the couch. To his left, Dustin wired in, to the front, glass doors looking out at a pool, to his right, an empty hallway.

He watched as the pool collected rainwater, and suddenly recalled the way Mark had said, back at the dorms, that he'd found a house for rent on a street two blocks from Stanford campus. How it was perfect and how it had a pool.

Like Facebook needed a fucking pool.

"Wardo," Mark said. He was in a t-shirt, he was coming down the stairs, a Red Vine in his hand, he didn't even look mildly ashamed.

"I waited an hour for you at the airport," Eduardo said.

"What time is it?"

"Midnight. 3AM in New York where I just came from."

"You've got to see the new stuff we've got."

Eduardo shook his head. "Mark, you were supposed to pick me up."

Mark barely glanced at him. "It's called The Wall. You've got to see it, Dustin, show him—"

"Mark," Eduardo reiterated. The syllable came out a little louder, a little more broken than he had intended. Dustin was the only one who looked visibly unsettled, but he didn't say anything.

"Forget the wall," Sean stepped in. "Tell him about the meeting I set up with Peter Thiel. You know him?" and before Eduardo could answer in the negative, or not answer at all, Sean continued. "No reason you should, he just runs a two-billion-dollar hedge fund called Clarium Capital."

Eduardo didn't bother honoring that with an answer. He turned his attention back at Mark. "Mark. Want to talk to me alone for a minute?"

Sean put his hands up and made a stupid face. "Right. Good talk guys. I totally felt like I was a part of this conversation." He air-quoted the word 'conversation'. Frankly, Eduardo couldn't believe Mark would allow someone like Sean stick around in a two-mile radius from him. Wasn't stupidity contagious?

Fill: charting waters (1b/3)

Eduardo wasn't entirely sure why he dragged Mark outdoors for their talk. Maybe it was because he wanted to get away from Sean, maybe it was because the drumming rain could give them some privacy, give them some space, out here, where no one else was.

"It's raining," Mark murmured, pulling his arm back from Eduardo's grip.

"An enlightening observation, Mark," Eduardo replied curtly, watching rain twist into Mark's curls, watching his oversized t-shirt turn a darker color.

"Do we have to talk outsi—"

"Yes," Wardo affirmed. Mark flinched, then nodded quietly, pensive.

"Okay," Mark said. "How's it going? How's the internship? How's Christy?"

"How's the internship?" Eduardo exhaled, mildly incredulous. "We've talked about this over the phone, I told you I quit on my first day— were you even— the first day, Mark."

The fucking first day, Eduardo thought.

It hurt more than it should, even when Mark replied strategically with, "I do remember you saying that. How's Christy?"

Trust Mark to bring up everything Eduardo didn't want to talk about. Sean Parker, some dull Facebook feature called the wall (really?), an internship he quit on the very first day, and now his crazy girlfriend. "Christy's crazy and I didn't drag you out here so we could talk about how she frightens the hell out of me."

"Well, to be honest, this weather isn't exactly inspiring me to ask what you think should be the relevant conversational topics. I thought maybe the basic greetings would do. Was I supposed to be prompted?" Mark asked, flatly. And like that, the ball was back in Eduardo's court.

Eduardo exhaled so deeply his breath trembled. What had he expected from Mark? He eyed Sean, who was standing guard inside the house, and then said, "I do not want that guy representing himself as part of this company."

Mark blinked, distracted by rainwater, and then replied as dismissively as ever, "This is where it's all happening. If you moved out here, you'd understand."

Eduardo closed his eyes, shivered slightly from the cold and exhaustion. Would Mark be able to tell if he cried in the rain?

Who was he kidding. He wouldn't even be able to tell if it weren't raining.

"Did you hear what I just said?" he asked wearily.

"The connections, the energy—"

"Mark," Eduardo pleaded, but Mark went on.

"—everything's moving lightning fast. If you don't come out here, you're going to get left behind."

In the distance, something shattered. Probably a stray thunderbolt. Eduardo frowned deeply. "Wait— What did you just say?"

"It's moving faster than—"


"Sean thinks—"

Eduardo didn't want to hear another thing about Sean come out from Mark's mouth. If he wanted Sean's opinion on something, the guy was right fucking there, looking like an idiot standing inside the sliding doors gaping at them like he had absolutely nothing else to do. Oh god, wait, he had nothing else to do.

"Don't start your sentences with Sean," Eduardo said, almost belligerent. "What do you mean, get left behind?"

Mark eyed him for a beat before rephrasing. "We have over 300,000 members, Wardo, we’re in 160 schools including— 5 in Europe."

"I'm the CFO. I'm aware of the numbers. Why wouldn't I be aware of the numbers? I'm not, however, aware of how the CFO is going to get left behind when he's actually been working. Christ. Enlighten me while I'm still asking nicely, Mark."

Fill: charting waters (1c/3)

Mark bristled, but Eduardo wasn't sure whether it was because of the bigger drops of rain or because of what he'd just said.

"In consequence," Mark continued, his voice growing unsteady. "We need more servers than I envisioned. More programmers. And by extension, more money. So—" Mark seemed to have swallowed rain, or a word,"— set up the meeting with Thiel. And a lot of other meetings around town—"

"Who's set up other meetings?"

"As far as I can tell, I have been banned to speak his name."

Eduardo glared. "He has set up the meetings?"

"… Yes," Mark said. Water trickled down his forehead and he had to close an eye when it streamed into it.

"And you didn't bother telling me?"

"You were in New York," Mark stated.

Eduardo gaped at him. It wasn't the Ice Age, phones existed, hell, Internet existed. And words – yes, words. Can't forget those. Can't fucking forget those!

"Where I ride subways 14 hours a day trying to find advertisers!" Eduardo snapped.

Mark gave Eduardo a blank but also mean look. "And how's it going so far?"

Eduardo exhaled, looked away, into the pool, watching the ripples made by the rain. He ran his hand through his hair, his temper so on edge he was almost shaking.

"That—" Is that the fucking reason why you couldn't be bothered picking me up at the airport? "That doesn't explain why you didn't think I should know that he's set up meetings. It doesn't explain why I'm going to be left behind."

Am I not your friend, first and foremost?

"No, I meant," Mark said, clearly more irritated, though Eduardo couldn't tell if it was with the rain or the conversation, "what have you brought to the table? It's a rhetorical question, Wardo," Mark said, unsympathetically, though he did seem mildly confused about what he was trying to get across.

Eduardo gaped at him for a few seconds before turning away, towards the pool again. He closed his eyes and tried to time out, pressed his fingers against his temples, felt how sore his joints were. Rage and exhaustion rose into his throat like bile, and he tried to swallow it down. But he was seeing red, and he was having trouble breathing.

Eduardo was a forgiving person, by nature.

But he had his moments.

Mark stepped forward (worried? concerned?) and said, in a much more hushed voice, with a face that was much less rigid: look, what I'm trying to say, is that if you don’t come out here, you’re going to get left behind. And I want-- I want--I need y— - but it didn't register at all in Eduardo's mind. It really didn't matter anymore.

Eduardo was stuck on get left behind, and it got to him more than it should have.

He could blame it on jetlag, on the roaring summer rain, on the fact that he'd been told about a dozen times now that he was going to be cut out of the picture, by his best friend.

So before he knew what he was doing, Eduardo shoved him. Hard.

And Mark slipped.

There was a moment where time slowed down as Mark toppled into the pool. The deep end of the pool.

And then, like a snap back to reality, the rain reverberated. Thunderous, deafening. Almost victorious.

Fill: charting waters (1d/3)

Eduardo stepped back, adrenaline still coursing under his skin, and he looked away, turned on his heel, laughed bitterly at the situation. "What do you mean, get left behind?" he said, scoffed, to no one in particular now. Maybe to himself.

He waited, a hand to his forehead, a sad smile to his lips.

But when the splashing behind him didn't stop, and when he heard Mark gasp distantly, he turned around, and almost immediately felt the blood leave his face.

He dived into the pool without taking his shoes off.

The cold pool water, his soggy clothes, the inexorable rain, the tears on his face, Mark's wet breaths against his shoulder. It was all a little redundant, but maybe that was how much was needed to cool off his anger.

"I'm so sorry," he said. When they got to the shallow end, and Mark's weight shifted to the tiled floor beneath them, Eduardo couldn't help but repeat, "I'm so, so sorry."

Mark let go of Eduardo in response, wrapping his arms around himself, wading through the pool until he reached the ladder. His eyes were closed, he was visibly trying to even his breath.

Eduardo said again, this time only a whisper, "I'm so sorry."

Would he have been sorry if Mark knew how to swim? It was a question that would haunt him for days. Years.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Sean called out, both his arms extended, palms up (a bizarre pose), in utter disbelief. He was outside the sliding doors now, but still a step away from the rain. Dustin came tumbling out with beach towels in his hands, bumping into Sean before clumsily delivering them to Mark and Eduardo.

"Jesus, Wardo," Dustin had murmured, frowning deeply, caught in a dilemma between being judgmental or worried.

"I was— I wasn't thinking and— I'm sorry. I won't— this won't— I'm sorry. Shit," Eduardo sounded stupid. He hid his face beneath the towel and followed Mark out of the pool. The rain had simmered to a drizzle, but the air was charged with tension.

It only took Eduardo a few steps out of the water before he understood that Mark was going to ignore him. For a while. For a long while.

It took a few more steps for him to also understand, following that realization, that the only comfort Eduardo was going to get that evening was that of the damp cotton towel pressing into his face. Soaking up rain, tears, and his wordless apologies.

Fill: charting waters (1e/3)

He didn't stay that night. No one insisted he stayed, though Dustin had looked torn. It didn't really matter to Eduardo though. Mark hadn't insisted. It was enough to make him leave.

The next morning, he froze the bank account. Out of spite? Puerile excuses? Maybe. It didn't really matter either. He liked to think it was because he had stopped trusting Mark.

Mark didn't call, didn't message him, for a couple of days, maybe a week. Eduardo refrained from reaching out even though he wanted to give in, wanted to send out an email, an apology, trigger a response, any response. But he thought, the bank account is frozen, Mark would come around, for better or for worse. So he waited.

And Mark did. It came in the form of an impersonal email. Eduardo had opened it and laid it aside, tired, disappointed that it was no different from an automated message. For all he knew, Mark didn't even redact it. For all he knew, Mark was a heartless android.

To his surprise, Mark called that evening. Eduardo didn't know he'd missed Mark's voice this much, even if it was as detached as the tone in the email, even if he had absolutely no reason to miss it.

Mark didn't bother with anything irrelevant to his request, made it clear he didn't want to talk about good old times, let alone bad ones. He only needed his CFO in San Fran to sign documents because Thiel had made an angel investment.

He said he needed Eduardo, and that alone was enough for Eduardo to close his eyes and soothe his frown, forget that he was tired, or that his crazy girlfriend had just broken into his flat and set a scarf on fire on his bed, or that he was in a stalemate with his best friend.

Half a million dollars, he thought idly, and then he thought about that time they were in Kirkland, grinning – like fools – at an algorithm on the window. He smiled sadly.

He had been so blind—

But he had learnt his lesson.

Fill: charting waters (1f/3)

Over the years he would sometimes have recurring dreams of waking up on a water mattress with Mark trapped inside it, looking at him solemnly, almost peacefully, telling him, you were left behind.

Other times his dreams threw him back to that moment at Palo Alto, details vivid, except he'd never quite know what Mark had said before he pushed him in. Eduardo'd imagine someone hitting the mute button when Mark slipped, and Eduardo'd turn around, his back suddenly against the front of a couch, the setting having changed in the blink of an eye, and he whined and asked for the remote control, only to see his father's stern and disapproving eyes, watching him from above. The television gave off white noise that smelled like rain and chlorine, and it would wake him up. Senses buzzing, heart in his stomach.

He didn't like pools all that much anymore, nor beaches, bodies of water. Avoided them if he could, but didn't dislike Singapore as much as he thought he would. Maybe because Mark couldn't ever be near these waters. They reflected a backdrop Eduardo couldn't ever imagine Mark in, towers of gold in a foreign land.

It was two years after the settlement, five summers since the rainy day in Palo Alto, when Eduardo saw Mark again, at Park Hyatt hotel, New York.

"I specifically requested a room without a bathtub," Mark had said, his voice distinct over the lobby chatter.

Eduardo looked up from his mobile phone screen. He instantly recognized the curly hair. Mark was only a few yards ahead of him, standing awkwardly before a counter he seemed to refuse to lean against, his back to Eduardo.

The receptionist eyed her client, completely mystified. A blond – Chris, it seemed – started explaining something in a hushed voice, and Mark looked away, his profile the same as always, his hands inelegant at his sides.

And then he turned fully, and their eyes connected.

Nothing had happened. No fireworks, no epiphany. Just a gaze that lasted what felt like a decennium.

They didn't do anything beyond a nod however, and Eduardo figured Mark didn't tell Chris when they turned away and headed towards the elevators; Chris hadn't turned around to look at him at all.

The encounter only truly baffled Eduardo a few nights later.

He couldn't stop thinking about what he'd heard, couldn't help feeling insecure whenever he stepped into a bathtub, like suddenly he was the one with a bathtub problem.

He looked at his own reflection in the mirror and it dawned on him. He eyed his bathtub and a frisson seized his spine.

He knew what it was, he understood.

Eduardo broke down in his five-star hotel bed, trembling, crying against pillows that smelled and felt unfamiliar, sheets that didn't feel like home.

Sometimes when it was rainy and humid, and when he was waiting to be picked up or waiting for a cab, in the dead of night where it was quiet enough for anyone to hear his thoughts, he'd think, courageously, that maybe he had been too angry, too in love with Mark.

Rain did that to him more often now, so he didn't like it all that much anymore.

Consequently, he developed some kind of compulsion to check the weather forecast every thirty minutes or so. His PA had looked at him uncertainly when Eduardo said, mostly to himself, that he wanted to fly out for the rest of the summer monsoon.

Fill: charting waters (1g/3)

A tropical storm whipped at San Fran the next summer, and Eduardo had to hold his breath when he watched the latest news about it on the television screen, at the bar.

He wondered, idly, if Mark was doing alright, if Mark was also developing an aversion to rain.

It was 2013 and he was still thinking about Mark.

Dustin had left Facebook before the settlement, establishing another company called Asana. Eduardo came across him on a business trip to Chicago later that same year, and they exchanged emails and talked about the old days, careful not to mention Mark at first, even though everything between them used to almost always be about Mark.

It was inevitable that they would talk about him eventually or they'd run out of things to say. The minutes stretched and their conversation stilted, and Eduardo thought, well, there goes.

Before Dustin left the lobby, his smile faded. He shifted on his feet nervously and told Eduardo, his voice uncharacteristically shaky, "I can't help it. I think you should know. I think— I think it'll help if you know that— don't take this badly— but Mark—you have to know, I'm risking it here and maybe I'd be undoing all the work Chris has done in helping him, but I think you should know that—" Dustin couldn't seem to make up his mind about how he should word it, and stopped at that, pensive, gathering his thoughts.

Eduardo cleared his throat, and Dustin's eyes snapped back at him. "I saw Mark last year. Um, no, the year before."

Dustin's eyes brightened only a bit. "You did? Did you guys talk?"

Eduardo shook his head.

Dustin lowered his, then said, in an uncharacteristically quiet tone. "Chris wasn't there."

Eduardo frowned, a little confused. "Yes, um, he was."

Dustin shook his head lightly. "No, I mean, at Palo Alto. That night."

Eduardo didn't know where Dustin was going with that.

"But I was," Dustin continued. "And— maybe I didn't hear the full conversation you guys were having out there. But I was watching – a-and I was with Mark, afterwards, you know. He—"

Eduardo didn't comment, but it was mostly out of fear Dustin would stop.

"I blame myself, sometimes. Most times," Dustin said, amended. "All the time."

Eduardo put a hand on Dustin's shoulder, though he wasn't sure it was the best form of reassurance. "You had nothing to do with it."

"I could have intervened. It was clear you two weren't in your best minds at the time. You'd just flown in, you were drenched, angry because Mark didn't pick you up. And Mark had been on a thirty-six hour coding tear and he was still in his almost-carpal-tunnel and Sean-is-god phase. And yeah, maybe I was never part of the equation, but Wardo: what if I had stopped him from making you sign those papers?"

Eduardo hadn't been called Wardo in so long. He wondered what it would feel like if he could hear Mark say it. He ran a hand through his hair and said, "The milk is spilt, Dustin. It's not so much your fault than my own."

"Yes, well, whatever. My point is: Chris wasn't there," Dustin repeated. "He doesn't blame you because he can be rather impartial when he wants to, but he doesn't think you two are good for each other. So even if Mark has been wanting to reconnect with you—" Dustin paused, pensive, before amending, "so even if, very hypothetically, Mark has been wanting to reconnect with you—"

Eduardo shook his head. "Dustin, listen—"

"No, Wardo, you listen to me," Dustin said. "Mark. He— that night— He needed you. In more ways than one. And he was scared shitless— I'm sure he realized that too, that he needed you. In more ways than one."

Eduardo exhaled steadily.

"So just," Dustin lowered his head. "Just. It'll help – okay? If you… here. I'm sure you could Google it easily, but here. Please." He took out a business card, his own, and wrote down an email address, and Eduardo didn't have to guess whose it was.

Eduardo looked at Dustin, before the latter saluted him and said, amiably, "I'm really glad we met today. I think— it's nice to be able to talk about the old days. Anyways, I'm rooting for you both. Ten to one he'll respond within the hour."

Fill: charting waters (1h/3)


Eduardo didn't eat that night. He spent it typing and backspacing an email, trying to make up his mind whether or not he even wanted to send one.

It was when he was showering that he thought, trembling, even though the water was steamy hot, that he should. He should.

(last part of chapter 1)