weewookinkmeme | Kink Meme

Kink Meme

So how does this work?

1. Anonymously post a short prompt. It could be shippy, porny, weird, fluffy, angsty, gen, or whatever else your heart desires.

Remember that a short, open-ended prompt is easier to fill than something highly specific. E.g. "What if Buck and Eddie had exhibitionist sex at the gym?" is more likely to get a fill than "What if Buck and Eddie had sex at the gym, Buck came first, then someone walked in and they never spoke of it again. After a slow burn, they get together while Maddie is giving birth to her and Chimney's third child."

2. If you see a prompt that strikes your fancy, anonymously fill it. Your fill could be 200 words written straight into the comment box, or it could be a multi-part epic. Multiple fills for one prompt are not only acceptable, but awesome.

Note: Deanoning your fic, or posting it to your namespace AO3, Tumblr, Twitter, or any other account, is completely fine, but please wait a week or so to do so, so it can belong totally to the kink meme for a bit. Kink memes are not only for fic, they are also communities; we want to celebrate your fic that you made for this community for a bit before it's released into the wider world.

Second note: Deanoning is NOT required. Your fic can live as an anonymous fill for as long as you please. :)

3. If you post a prompt, try to fill one if you can!

4. Comment on things you're excited about and start discussions. The conversations can be the best part of being on a kink meme! And part of the benefit of being on Dreamwidth is that we are all completely anonymous, so you can deep discuss anything you please without shame.

5. Don't troll, wank, or start discourse. If you don't like a prompt/fill, scroll on past and post something you do like. Treat people well. Harassment will be deleted with prejudice. If you see someone treating people poorly, you can report it here.

Edit: Feel free to post prompts for RPF ships. Let's make sure to only prompt about actively famous people, not relatives or friends of famous people (unless they're famous in their own right), and avoid RPF prompts about real life minors.

Second Edit: Just a reminder to be careful to write out "omegaverse" or "alpha/beta/omega" instead of using the letter abbreviations, as it's a very nasty slur in some parts of the world.

It's that simple! Here is a list of kinks for inspiration, get prompting and have fun!

If anyone is totally new to HTML, I've written up a quick tutorial here; click to expand.

Basic HTML is pretty easy! This is how you make words bold, italicized, underlined, bigger, smaller, etc. You use what are called "tags", and surround the words you want to be affected.

<i>Like this</i>

<b>Or this</b>

<h1>Or this</h1>

That's the raw HTML. When you post a comment, it will change the text. So when you post, the three HTML tags I'm using there would look:

Like this
Or this
Or this

<i></i> = italics
<b></b> = bold
<u></u> = underlined

That's the very basics, and probably all you need for commentfic. Here is a more in-depth guide, and here is the HTML that is usable on Dreamwidth.

You can see new fic in the fills thread, or on Pinboard for clickable links (If you're using a phone, Pinboard will probably be easiest.).

AO3 Collection

~~I'm testing out another journal style, since a couple anons pointed out that the current one is hard to navigate on mobile, don't be alarmed! Edit: ugh, I hate what I've created. Bear with me.~~ Okay, I'm just gonna go with the site default, I think, since it's nice and functional. Apologies to anyone who witnessed the various in-between stages of the journal, lol.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Hi there! Hope this is somewhere in the vicinity of what you were looking for. Thanks so much for the prompt!

Title from Eartha Kitt's "I want to be evil." If you haven't heard it, you should.

Disclaimer: None of this is real. I do not know if Ryan Guzman likes chocolate cak, nor do I have any knowledge about the motivations for the casting and creative decisions on the show.

This got SO MUCH LONGER than I was expecting it to. Nevertheless, I have now dipped my toe into the Ryliver fandom and the water is indeed fine. :)

Content warning: While I wouldn't call what Ryan experiences in this story to be disordered eating, I also acknowledge I am far from the expert on this. There is also a brief discussion of ED. If you are triggered by this topic, you may want to avoid this story just in case.

that dark brown taste
by anonymous

When Ryan gets the pages at the end of a neverending Tuesday shoot a couple of episodes into Season 9, he's surprised.

Well, not surprised surprised; he's known this day was coming since the move to ABC, when Tim had taken him aside and asked him if he was still willing to run with a Buck-Eddie romance.

“Yeah, of course, I mean, I'm not homophobic,” Ryan said.

Tim shook his head. “It's not a question of prejudice, it's a question of whether you're committed to stretching as an actor.”

“I think I've shown over the last five years I'm willing to do that,” Ryan said. “But if we're talking – uh, intimacy, how much stretching can we do on an 8 PM network slot anyway?”

“Fox had us on a pretty tight leash,” Tim conceded. “ABC? Totally different ball game. Your ass isn't going to be hanging out, but there could be some – well. I haven't written it yet, and I need to lay the groundwork before we get there, but as much as we can get away with.”

“Huh,” Ryan said. He honestly hadn't been expecting that, but whatever, it was fine. He'd done things for a paycheck that were a lot more exposing than kissing a big British vegan. “Well, count me in.”

If you'd asked him then and there, he'd have guessed that 'laying the groundwork' wouldn't take any more than a season, but it's an ensemble show and Tim keeps getting distracted by paying homage to his numerous influences, from Hitchcock to slasher movies to schlock disaster flicks.

Still, Ryan starts thinking about what it might be like to kiss Oliver. He hasn't done a lot of on-screen kisses, and never with another guy. He starts getting bogged down in the logistics. Where do the noses go? His isn't small, and Oliver's is huge. How would Eddie kiss Buck? Would it be soft and romantic, cradling his face in his hands, or would there be a lot of – well, manhandling?

He wonders if Oliver is thinking about the same things. He decides against asking him, because it would get weird if he hasn't been thinking about it.

They bring back the Hulk's kid during the Poseidon Adventure opener, and he's going to kiss Oliver instead. It's fine, it makes sense, you can't just turn them both gay overnight. Ryan finds out from Lou that Tim had been planning to make Eddie gay first, but flipped a coin or something. Ryan admits to himself he's not all that crazy about kissing a lot of different dudes so maybe it's better this way.

He doesn't tell Oliver that, because then he'd get all up in his space and murmur 'you want me to be your one and only, that's so sweet' with that lopsided smirk of his, and Ryan would have to go back to his trailer and bang his head against the wall until he fucked up his makeup.

Lou likes to name drop. Of course, his own name is technically a name drop, so Ryan supposes he comes by it naturally. His dad used to hang out with Schwarzennegger when Lou was a kid, so he’s got the impression down pat. It wears thin pretty quickly.

Being British and under fifty, Oliver has never heard of the original Incredible Hulk show. Ryan privately finds this hugely funny.

The set is closed for the first kissing scene between Oliver and Lou, and Ryan's not on set that day anyway. When the episode finally airs, he finds himself making note of Lou's technique. He's not impressed. The finger under the chin thing is cheesy, in his opinion.

He would have done it differently, is all.

There are other kissing scenes, even a (pretty tame, Oliver says) waking up together scene, but most of them get cut. And then Tommy dumps Buck in 8A and right after that scene Buck heads to Eddie's place, where Eddie has been dancing in his underwear.

“One thing we can always count on,” Oliver says, chuckling as he and Ryan run the blocking before the first take, “is that this show is as subtle as a sledgehammer to the face.”

He's looking at Ryan's thighs as he says it, then jerks his head up like he's just realized what he’s doing. Ryan smirks, and Oliver rolls his eyes.

“Like what you see, big boy?” Ryan asks. He does a little shimmy, still loose from the dance, which of course is another shameless movie rip-off. He doesn’t mind because it was ridiculous and fun and – freeing, which is weird when you consider he was gyrating to Bob Seger in front of a bunch of grips and cameramen. Well, and Oliver, who he thinks was there for most of it.

“Shut up,” Oliver says, putting the emphasis on the first word and smashing it into the second, really emphasizing the 't' instead of softening it into a 'd' the way an American would. SHUTup. Ryan doesn’t know if it’s pathetic that he’s starting to recognize some of the quirks of Oliver’s particular variety of London accent, but he is.

He laughs. “Okay, Skepta.”

“That’s Stormzy, man,” Oliver sighs, but he’s smiling as he says it. He’s been initiating Ryan into the world of UK grime music, which Ryan has to admit is pretty good. He’s even done a little dancing late at night to a couple of tracks.

Ryan feels lighter, like they're finally moving forward again. All signs are now pointing to 8B – he and Oliver both agree they seem to be headed in that direction at full speed.

And then Tim decides to kill Bobby. Not pretend kill him to bring him back like they always do on this Looney Tunes show, but honest to god kills him, gives him fucking rat pox of all things. Besides being a complete shock to everyone, it turns the back half of the season into a rushed, tangled mess, and the train they thought they were on gets derailed and goes flying over a cliff.

Morale on set is most definitely affected; Ryan can feel it in the air, even though nobody seems to want to talk about it. They tiptoe around each other and around Peter, who's putting on a brave face like he hasn't just been kicked in the teeth after giving eight of his best years to that character. The days get even longer in the mad dash to meet production deadlines around the changes. For the first time since his modeling days, Ryan starts to dread going to work.

It fucking sucks.

The Saturday after Peter's last scene, Kenny invites Ryan and Oliver to come to his place and get shitfaced.

“Creative decision my ass,” Kenny mutters darkly. “He fired Pete because he didn't like him standing up for the cast and the crew, trying to push the directors to limit the number of takes. And now he's made it clear to all of us what happens if you step out of line.”

Oliver shakes his head. “You honestly think that's why – did Peter say anything to you? Did Tim?” He's drinking another one of those disgusting black beers he likes, the ones that are most of the way to flat the second they leave the can. Luckily, Kenny has also laid in plenty of normal booze too, along with the bottle of Clase Azul reposado Ryan's brought with him.

“No,” Kenny admits. “Pete's still saying there were no ulterior motives. And I might be talking out of my ass. But I've been around this industry too long to be anything but cynical right now.”

“Fuck me,” Oliver breathes.

“Nope, that's my job,” Ryan hears himself say. He's been on the tequila for about an hour, and if he's fully sober come 6 AM Monday it's going to be a minor miracle.

Kenny's staring at him, and Ryan frowns and waves a hand. “I mean, Eddie's job. Either way, I guess there won't be any fucking. This isn't HBO. Third base, tops. Or not. At this point, I don't have a clue what's going to happen next.” Maybe I'll be the next one out the door, he thinks. Not for stirring shit, just for being shit at my job.

And okay, Ryan is not going to think about that, because he's still saving for two college funds. The rumors have been flying since the announcement, and he knows that’s been the theory among some of the crew who are more active in their unions. Ever since Rico was killed after falling asleep at the wheel, there was no denying Peter had been pushing to cut the hours shorter so that people weren't so exhausted when they went home. Which was kind of difficult when your showrunner was perpetually changing the script at the last minute so that they were often racing to make their air date. Ryan hasn't been aware of any tension between Peter and Tim, but then again he likes to stay as far away from drama as possible. He has enough of that in his private life.

Maybe Peter thought he was untouchable. Either way, Ryan has never been under any illusions about his own status. Some part of him still can’t believe he’s getting away with this shit and getting paid for it.

Kenny scrubs at his face. “Christ, the last thing I want to do after the wrap is go do press on the other side of the country.”

“If you keep crying in interviews, you won't have to worry about that,” Ryan mutters.

Kenny laughs bitterly. “Yeah, thanks for reminding me. What an absolute clusterfuck that was. I'm honestly surprised they're still letting me go to New York, though I know I don't have any more formal interviews lined up.”

Oliver lays a reassuring paw on his shoulder. “You're there to look pretty as fuck and don't you forget it.”

Kenny snorts. “Eye candy Choi, that's what they call me,” he says, taking another swig of his beer.

“Look on it as a free trip to New York,” Ryan offers. “That's how I'm seeing it.”

“Good point,” Kenny says, saluting him with his bottle. “And to my immense relief I won't be the one fielding dozens of questions on when and how Eddie and Buck are going to make it to third base.”

Ryan chokes on his margarita. “Jesus, Kenny.”

“That's the spirit. Every cloud, yeah?” Oliver says breezily, though when Ryan glances over at him his birthmark is practically glowing.

Three weeks later, Ryan's shitfaced again, this time on the East Coast. He should be worried this is starting to become a habit, but he can't be bothered to give a fuck.

It's weird being the popular girls at the Upfronts party – sponsors seem to be gravitating to them like the proverbial moth to the flame. Of course, Aisha is the queen of making everyone feel welcome, in no small part because she seems to know just about everybody. Kenny ensures everyone's well-oiled, helping the handlers coordinate drink orders for all the people coming to hang out at their table.

He and Oliver exchange looks over the course of the night, the disbelief he feels mirrored on his co-star's face. They're new to this level of industry schmoozing, especially considering they're helping to steer it instead of watching from the sidelines. While Ryan feels out of his element, though, Oliver seems to take everything in his stride. Ryan should be annoyed at that, but he can't be anything but happy for him. They all work their asses off, and it's nice to have that ass kissed every now and then.

Around drink number six, as Oliver's pressed against his side in their crowded booth, one of his orangutan arms slung across the back of the bench, Ryan starts thinking back to the thirst tweets taping last week. That had been – something. Oliver had seemed a little irritated so many of them had been about their characters, but for Ryan it was a blessing – it gave him a much-needed buffer between himself and some of the more, uh, intense examples.

Ryan Guzman, I give you consent to choke me the fuck out with those hands. Look, Ryan likes to consider himself a 99% straight guy, but he can't deny the remaining 1% sat up and begged when Oliver read that in what he can only guess is his bedroom voice. Ryan actually forgot how to speak for a few seconds.

And then – and then there had been the last one. There was no way in hell Ryan was going to let video of him reading those words get out there; it would have been shoehorned into sixty-two fan edits by the end of the day. He'd laughed after Oliver read it, to cover up the fact that his skin felt like it was about to melt off his face. Jesus, who put stuff like this out on the internet? Did people never have private thoughts any more?

He's not a prude, but he'd never really given much thought to the – uh, the mechanics – of gay sex, and now he was thinking about topping and the other guy getting bent almost double to – uh, to – you know. And Oliver always says flexibility is one of his weaknesses, so if the bottom has to be the bendy one Ryan guesses that means he's getting elected to the position by default –

And okay, he's going to stop thinking about that right the fuck now.

Once the party breaks up and Kenny fucks off early because he's afraid if he keeps drinking he's going to say some shit he and ABC are going to regret in the morning, Ryan and Oliver head back to the hotel to freshen up and change before the after party. Everything's definitely fuzzy by that point, so Ryan's a little off-kilter when they're ambushed by a group of giggly fans in the lobby of their hotel. He smiles for what feels like approximately seven hundred and twenty nine photos, after which he needs a breath of fresh air.

He's barely out the doors when he hears Oliver calling his name. He tries his best to ignore him, but there's a helpful woman just outside who smirks and tells him that his man is calling him.

Luckily, Ryan's just sober enough that he doesn't say what he wants to say to her, but he obediently turns on his heel – with difficulty – and marches back into the hotel.

“Jesus, Olli,” he mutters when he reaches Oliver. “I just wanted a minute.”

“Nah, nah, nah,” Oliver says, “you are not going to abandon me.”

“I wasn't abandoning – you know what, never mind.”

“Look, let's just take a few more and then tell them we have to run.”

“I have a better idea,” Ryan says, gently but firmly guiding Oliver away from the swarm (fan-nado?) and toward the elevators. He hears murmurs of disappointment, but at least they're respectful enough to not chase after them, which he appreciates.

When his back hits the elevator wall, Ryan lets himself slump down a little and closes his eyes. “Man, they really want Buck and Eddie to fuck.”

“I don't think it's just Buck and Eddie,” Oliver mutters.

Ryan cracks one eye open and raises the matching eyebrow.

“Come on, what do you think 'Ryliver' means?” Oliver asks.

Ryan feels his stomach flip over, flip back, then flip over again. “Oh. Christ, no.”

Oliver cocks his head at him and smirks, like he's enjoying watching Ryan's brain break. “How much you want to bet there's fanfiction?”

“If you send me any I'll –”

“You'll what?” Oliver asks, taking a step forward. The way Ryan's slumped against the wall, he has to look up to meet his gaze. “What are you gonna do, Guzman?” he growls, and Ryan realizes Oliver just said that in the bedroom voice.

Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.

Ryan's too drunk for this, or maybe he's not drunk enough. Either way, he's suddenly, inexplicably terrified. Not of the man towering over him, but of the images flooding through his head. What does he need a pornographic story for when there's been one on constant loop in his head for over a week?

And yeah, sure, mixed with the terror is definitely a healthy dose of arousal. Flexible or not, 99% straight or not, there are a lot of things he and that 1% could do to Oliver. A lot of things they could do to each other. He's not familiar with all the mechanics yet, but he's pretty sure he could have fun figuring it out.

But that doesn't change the fact it's still fucking terrifying.

The fear must be written all over his face, because Oliver swiftly takes a step back and shakes his head. “Sorry, I didn't –”

Didn't what? Ryan wants to ask, but before he can muster the courage the doors open and Oliver hustles out of the elevator like his ass is on fire.

It's a really good ass for a white boy, at least it has been since he started bulking up. Another image flashes through his head, Oliver describing an hourglass shape with his hands. Repeatedly. You got a little thing going on. Fuek.

Ryan bangs the back of his head against the wall once, then launches himself into motion, eeling between the doors as they begin to close. Down the hall, he hears another door click shut.

He stumbles, rights himself, hesitates. His alcohol-soaked brain is overheating at having to work this hard. There are two doors in front of him: his and Oliver's. One door leads to safety, sleep and Tylenol, the other to a short dive off a sharp cliff. Granted, there's also the potential for life-altering orgasms, but that sudden stop at the bottom is still going to be a bitch.

He might be drunk and horny, but he's also a dad with a mortgage and a desperate need to not fuck up a steady paycheck by shitting where he eats. And so he chooses door number one, and hopes like hell he doesn't end up regretting it.

The summer goes by more quickly than usual, maybe because for the first time Ryan isn't looking forward to going back to work. He takes a trip to Hawaii with his friends, paints two things he's happy with and one he's not, spends lots of time with his kids. He keeps in touch with Kenny and Aisha, and the three of them get together with Peter just before shooting starts. He's not surprised to learn Peter's been snapped up by another show launching in mid-January, but while Ryan's happy for him it's still a little disappointing. Some small part of him was hoping Tim had cooked up a crazy plot to get Bobby back, but there's no way that's happening now.

The one person he doesn't talk to at all during the hiatus is Oliver. Of course the guy spends most of his precious time off driving around in a van with his dogs again, this time in Canada. Ryan hears from Aisha he was almost trampled by a moose or some shit, which also doesn't surprise him. What do they know about big animals in England anyway, they hunted them all to extinction hundreds of years ago. Ryan hopes the guy never goes to Florida, he'd end up inside an alligator in the first three days.

This is exactly the kind of shit-talking he sends to Oliver when they're apart, but Oliver hasn't texted him in weeks and Ryan can't seem to make himself pick up the phone. What the hell is he going to say? Hey bro, just wondering if you were going to kiss me in that elevator the night of the Upfronts? I'm kind of curious because you were a sullen bastard the whole rest of the trip and on the flight home, and since then you've ghosted me for weeks? On the one hand, it would be straight up insane to do that, but on the other hand, it feels like the elephant in the room that's preventing them from going back to normal.

Instead, Ryan downloads every Stormzy album and finds himself singing along to Blinded by Your Grace in the shower, where he most certainly does not think about Oliver when he gets a hand around his dick.

Anirudh sends him a link to an interview with Oliver when Ryan's shopping for school supplies with his kids. If you get shot again, you're carrying your own ass, he writes. Ryan frowns and clicks the link.

Three minutes later he's furious, because of all the fucking stories to tell about their time on set, Oliver's decided to share the one about Ryan's little addiction, which is something he understandably isn't all that interested in sharing with the goddamn world. That wasn't his story to tell, he texts back to Anirudh.

Anirudh answers back with a clown face emoji. Jesus, you two really are weird about each other.

Shut up, Ryan shoots back, like he's twelve and has just been called out on his crush. He blames it on the overpowering smell of fresh stationery.

He asked me about you yesterday, if I'd seen you, how you were doing. Kenny said you guys broke up in New York. It's going to be shitty enough without Peter, please tell me this won't make it worse.

We're fine. Everything's fine. We've just been busy, that's all.

Good to hear. See you in a couple of weeks.

Ryan gives him a thumbs up, then groans and hangs his head before catching up to his youngest, who has predictably forgotten the assignment and is currently eyeing a massive candy display that some devil has put near the art supplies aisle as a trap.

So okay, maybe he doesn't have an addiction, but there's no denying he has this – this thing where he finds it soothing to stuff a decent-sized piece of cake – usually some variation of chocolate – in his face when he's seriously stressed. The first time he'd done it on set was during the shooting scene, when they hadn't gotten the pages for the season finale and he didn't know if they were killing him off. The second time was right before the Family Feud taping; he remembers shoveling it in like somebody was going to take it away from him. But then, there's nothing he hates more than being put on the spot to come up with an answer he hasn't been able to prepare in advance.

Unsurprisingly, he'd been utter dogshit on that show, but he'd had fun anyway. Watching Oliver do his cocky London schtick had given him the urge to put his hands on him, and he'd done at every plausibly deniable opportunity. The Buddie girls on Twitter made gifs, it was disturbing as hell. He hadn't known at the time that some of them (and Anirudh, apparently) thought he and Oliver were fucking.

An itch starts under his skin after reading that interview, but it's fine, he never explained to Oliver about the cake thing so he drew his own conclusions. He'll be over it by the time they're back on set.

(He will not, in fact, be over it.)

Oliver is polite to him when they see one another again in the makeup trailer in the middle of August, which is completely fucked up because contrary to the stereotype, Oliver is not polite. He's the passive-aggressive flavor of British person, to the point where when Ryan first met him he didn't know if he was an asshole or not. (The answer was yes, he sort of was, but considering his people have spent centuries elevating it to an art form it's hard to get pissed off about it.)

This pod person Oliver is just annoying, and Ryan's already annoyed with him – with both of them – for the lack of communication since the Upfronts. So when Ryan finally gets the pages confirming Eddie and Buck are finally going to get together in the next episode, he's even more annoyed, because after seven years they're being called upon to turn on the chemistry – just when their chemistry is going to shit.

He buttonholes Oliver as he's leaving the makeup trailer. “So you want to come to my place this weekend to talk over the scene?”

Oliver blinks at him like he's just spoken Mandarin. “Uh – why?”

“Didn't you get the pages for 902?”

“Yeah, but I don't know if we need any advance prep. In fact, I think it might be a mistake.”

Ryan folds his arms. “How you figure that, exactly?”

“Well, it's supposed to take them both by surprise.”

“Them. Not us. It's called acting for a reason.”

Oliver rolls his eyes, and seeing a quick flash of the familiar smartass underneath makes Ryan's pulse jump. “I don't think either of us is winning an Emmy anytime soon.”

Ryan grits his teeth. “Fine,” he says. “I can't force you to come.”

Oliver's eyes widen slightly, and Ryan sucks in a breath. “They're probably gonna offer us an intimacy coordinator. You want one?”

Ryan shrugs. “You decide. I don't care one way or the other.” He turns on his heel and heads for the set, then realizes he's going in the wrong direction and turns back. “I hate this new lot, Jesus,” he mutters as he marches past.

Oliver's smarter than he looks: he keeps his mouth shut.

It'll be fine, Ryan tells himself. He'll be fine. Everything is fine.

Six days later, Ryan is absolutely, definitely not fine.

It's seven-thirty in the morning and he's currently sitting in a quiet corner of the sound stage containing Eddie's house as he enjoys his second piece of Ancho Chocolate Cake from the Guatemalan bakery near his cousin's place. In an hour, he's going to kiss Oliver Stark for the first time, on camera, in front of a lot of hairy crew guys and he needs a little boost because this is going to suck balls.

Okay, so that's a bit of an exaggeration: not all of them are hairy. It's still not ideal, especially since the blocking Tim rewrote last night calls for Oliver to hoist him up, carry him and drop him on the bed. Which means a lot more intimacy than Ryan was expecting, not to mention a stunt coordinator. Christ, is Oliver going to have to get his hands on his ass? Is he going to have to wrap his legs around Oliver's waist? How is this even going to work?

“Fuck me, not again,” Oliver sighs as he approaches.

“Wh't?” Ryan says, because of course he's only halfway through chewing his latest mouthful.

“Every time I have to pick you up, you're eating.”

Ryan swallows, washing the cake down with a tamarind Jarritos. Fuck it, he's going to need a lot of energy for this day. “Yeah, thanks for telling the whole world about that, by the way.”

Oliver folds his massive forearms, and Ryan can see Makeup has been busy covering all the new tats. Dimly, he wonders if they've done the same with his chest. “I didn't think it was a big deal.”

“Yeah, well, it isn't, except that it's my private business,” Ryan says, setting his plate down on the nearest surface with a clatter.

Oliver shakes his head. “What do you mean, your –”

“I eat chocolate cake when I'm really stressed, okay? It's like a – a comfort food. My abuelita used to make it for me, it reminds me of her, I guess. And I love chocolate, especially with chili.”

Ryan can practically see the gears turning in Oliver's skull. “Oh shit, the shooting – you didn't know if you were getting killed off.”

“Yeah.”

“Is it –” Oliver makes a complicated gesture with one hand. “Is it, uh, serious?”

“Like eating disorder territory? I don't think so, I've only done it a handful of times. Maybe – eight or nine now over nearly twenty years? But I'm aware of the potential issues, I have a cousin who struggles with that. If it starts happening more often or if I’m putting away an entire cake on my own I'll get some professional advice.”

”Jesus, and I've been around for three of those times?”

“Yeah, well, may I remind you that it's not all about you, Buck.”

Oliver snorts at that. “Sorry, I didn't know.”

“Because I didn't tell you. It's fine,” Ryan says, and means it. “Anyway, what are you worried about a little cake for? You can deadlift four hundred now, right?”

“Four oh five.” Oliver cocks his head at him. “Oh, somebody's been keeping up with my interviews.”

“People keep sending me links.”

Oliver sticks his tongue between his teeth, fighting a smile. “Uh-huh.”

“At least you're back to being a dickhead,” Ryan mutters. “I was beginning to think you'd been replaced with an alien who drinks his tea with his pinky finger sticking up.”

Sobering, Oliver runs a hand through his hair. “Listen, yeah, I know things are – off between us. And that's not been ideal.”

“No, that's true. It has most certainly not been fucking ideal.”

“I know I screwed up, and all I can say is – I'm sorry.”

Ryan frowns; he hadn't been expecting that. “What are you apologizing for exactly?”

Looking around, Oliver grabs a folding chair and pulls it up close, then leans in, his voice low. “That night at the Upfronts. I was drunk, but it's not an excuse. I didn't mean to – to make you feel unsafe.”

Ryan stares at him. Blinks. Stares some more. “You think I – felt threatened by you?”

“I think I came on to you like a creep,” Oliver says dully. “And I'm not going to guess how you felt about it, but I could tell it wasn't positive, and I don't blame you at all.” He bites his lip. “It was a shitty thing to do to anyone, let alone a friend, and I can't tell you how much I've been regretting it.”

Ryan shakes his head. “You mean this has been eating at you since May? Why didn't you just talk to me?”

Oliver looks at him out of the corner of his eye. “Reckoned you didn't want to hear from me.”

Ryan blows out a breath. “Man. And here was thinking you were pissed at me.”

Now it's Oliver's turn to look confused. “Why would I be pissed at you?”

Ryan raises his eyebrows and thinks, fuck it Picking up his plate again, he snags a forkful of icing, then darts his tongue out to lick it clean. When he meets his gaze, Oliver looks as shocked as if Ryan had just lit a match and set himself on fire.

Ryan leans in close and murmurs, “Because I didn't follow you that night and fuck your brains out like you wanted me to.” He takes a deep breath, then steps off that cliff. “Like I wanted to.”

Oliver's jaw actually goes slack. Ryan's never done that to anybody before, it’s kind of cool.

“Uh, Ryan? Oliver?” They both look up to see the runner standing about fifteen feet away, looking a bit nervous. “The stunt coordinator's ready any time you are.”

Oliver clears his throat. “Yeah, uh, thanks. Be right there.” He stands on his giant giraffe legs and turns back to Ryan, his gaze a mixture of confusion, amusement and something darker. Something with promise.

Ryan's lightheaded. He's gone from the depths of chocolate-flavored despair to ancho-fueled horny elation in about five minutes. He should be terrified again, but – and maybe this is the sugar talking – he honestly doesn't give a shit. He hasn't felt like this in ages. Maybe, just maybe, it's worth the risk.

And if it isn’t? The director is about to get an Emmy-worthy performance out of him.

“All right,” Ryan says, grabbing the plate of half-eaten cake to take with him. “Let’s go sell this thing.”

Five hours later, Ryan’s kissed Oliver for the first time, and the second, and the third, and the fifteenth time, all in front of cameras. The set is fairly closed down but it still feels like there are a hundred pairs of eyes watching their every move. When this airs, millions of people are going to see it. There are going to be interviews, media articles. There’ll be dozens of edits, maybe hundreds, using this scene, a lot of them to Taylor Swift songs for some reason Ryan doesn’t fully understand. God knows how many words of porn will be written.

He’s got beard burn. It’s a new sensation. He can’t really enjoy it. He thinks he might, if it were just the two of them.

Maybe Oliver will put his mouth on Ryan’s thighs later, rub his cheek against it as he moves higher. That’ll be new.

It starts in the kitchen of Eddie’s house, which feels like such a full circle moment for these characters. There’s a decent approximation of evening light streaming through the windows lending a warm, soft glow to the scene, and Buck’s got Eddie’s face in his hands as he kisses him.

“Okay?” Buck asks when they part. That’s not in the script.

Eddie nods. “Better than okay. More.”

Buck obliges.

Tim has gotten his indie director buddy from 817 to shepherd this one, so it’s all very artistic, with close-in hand held camera work like they had in the kitchen divorce scene. Ryan’s sure you’re going to be able to hear every gasp and sigh and groan, which is pretty exposing considering some of it is definitely not acting at this point.

However, he’s finding it hard to be a hundred percent in the moment, too, because Jonathan keeps making suggestions that don’t fit Buck’s and Eddie’s characters. Which is understandable considering his first foray into 911 was only a few months ago, but Ryan finds he’s still lowkey annoyed by that suggestion he punch Oliver back in the last ep. As if Eddie would ever do that, or if he’d ever be a suitable romantic partner for Buck if he did.

They finally move on to the carry to the bedroom (they decided to start with Eddie sitting on the counter to save Oliver's back from the multiple takes, and yes, Ryan’s legs are wrapped around him). “Okay, so maybe this time, try throwing him a little harder,” Jonathan’s suggesting to Oliver before they start the third run. “Think you can make him bounce the way the coordinator showed you earlier?”

“I – don’t know if that’s – something Buck would do,” Oliver says hesitantly.

Jonathan smiles thinly. This isn’t the first time one of them has said something like that today. “Why don’t we try it and see how it feels?”

“The last time he was that physical with Eddie, he nearly broke his ankle,” Oliver explains.

“Yeah, I’ve watched the key episodes, thanks,” Jonathan says, irritation creeping into his tone.

Oliver’s chin goes up a fraction, and Ryan tries and fails not to find that hot. “Add to that the fact that he knows this is Eddie’s first time with a man, and there’s just no way he’s going to be rough with him.”

“Listen, the fans want you tearing each other’s clothes off, and that’s what we’re –”

Ryan laughs. “Clearly you have no idea what they want.”

“Not that that’s what we should be aiming for,” Oliver says, “but yeah. They know these characters as well as we do.”

“And you know, it’s entirely possible that Eddie and Buck will eventually be getting to that stage of their relationship –”

“If my back holds out –”

“But,” Ryan says, shooting him a glare, “they’re not there yet.”

“Whoa,” Jonathan says, holding his palms up. “Two against one.”

Ryan glances at Oliver. “We need to be a team on this. And – it’s important to us we get this right. For the fans, for the characters – and for us.”

Jonathan’s expression softens, and he nods. “Fair enough. So why don’t you show me?”

Ryan's barely inside the door when Oliver's coming at him like a big, sexy truck. Before he can say anything, the truck is bending down, scooping him up effortlessly in a fireman's carry like a fucking maniac.

“Wow, you recover fast,” Ryan observes. They'd had to cut the shoot short when Oliver claimed his knee was starting to act up – though Jonathan said they had enough in the can to work with and praised them for their dedication before he called time.

“It's a miracle,” Oliver answers, chuckling. Ryan pokes his ass experimentally with one finger, which he figures is only to be expected considering Oliver put it right in front of him.

“Oi,” Oliver says, laughing as he carries Ryan down the hall to the bedroom.

Unlike Buck, Oliver has no problem dropping Ryan onto the mattress so hard he bounces, not that Ryan's complaining. He pushes himself up, already reaching for the hem of Oliver's t-shirt.

“I should feel bad for lying, but I can't be arsed,” Oliver growls. “If that scene had gone on much longer, there's a good chance I would have actually buggered my knee.”

“If that had gone on much longer, I would have had to strap my dick to my leg with duct tape,” Ryan says.

Oliver gets his good knee up on the bed and uses it to nudge Ryan's legs wider. “Oh yeah? Starring in your own porno does it for you, huh?”

“If you think that's porn, I'm in for a disappointing night.”

Oliver bares his teeth, then splays his big palm over the front of Ryan's shorts. Ryan's hips roll up and he gasps, already getting hard again.

“I guarantee you're not gonna be disappointed,” Oliver says, leaning down. Right before he connects, though, he hesitates, mouth hovering over Ryan's. “This okay?”

“Jesus, we've been kissing all day.”

“Buck and Eddie have been kissing all day,” Oliver says. “I wasn't sure if you –”

And that, Ryan decides, is enough fucking talking. He surges up, kissing him open-mouthed and filthy in a way that Disney would definitely not approve of.

“Mmm,” Oliver hums appreciatively. “You got any more of that cake?”

Ryan nips at Oliver's sinful mouth – your lips are too plump, bro – before pulling back. “In the kitchen. Why?”

“You tasted like chili and chocolate all morning, I think you rewired my arousal response.”

Ryan grins and stretches under him. “Did I give you a new kink? You want to get some of that icing so you can lick it off me?”

“You – uh.” Oliver looks like his whole brain just turned to oatmeal. “Maybe? I'm a little scared I'll get addicted.”

“Mmm, I get that,” Ryan purrs. Slowly, he slides his leg up until he's hooked it around Oliver's ass. “I could get addicted to this.” To you, he doesn't say, but he's got a feeling Oliver picks up on it.

After that, it's a whirlwind of frantic hands and grunts and apologies. Ryan's never had to contend with someone bigger than him in bed, and the logistics of where all the elbows and legs go is difficult enough even before –

“Shit,” Ryan says, because right, it's like he's forgotten until this moment that another dick was going to be involved. Well, he remembers now, because there it is. There it most definitely is.

Oliver looks down, clearly confused. “Something wrong?”

Ryan opens his mouth, closes it again. Looks. Looks some more. Oliver's uncut, like him, and he's big but not – you know, freaky porn movie big – and it's flushed and dark and –

“You're a redhead?” Ryan blurts, because he can also see that Oliver's pubes are the same shade as his patchy-ass beard when it comes in.

“Secret ginger, busted,” Oliver says, laughing. “You have no idea how much shame that carries back home. I spent my secondary school years avoiding communal showers.”

“Looks like Ed Sheeran down there, man,” Ryan says, and Oliver groans and faceplants into the mattress.

“Are you trying to kill my boner? Fuck me,” Oliver's muffled voice emerges from the pillow.

“I think if anyone's boner is going to be killed here, it's mine.”

Oliver turns his head and scowls at him. “You're great for my self esteem, you know.”

“Don't be that way. I can close my eyes and think of the Queen.”

With a growl, Oliver rolls on top of him and pins him to the mattress, and wow, Ryan really likes that. “She's dead.”

“Better a dead queen than a live Ed Sheeran, babygirl.”

Oliver grinds his hips against Ryan's. “Mmm, seems like you don't mind as much as you're pretending.”

“I expect I'll make a full recovery,” Ryan says, biting his lip to keep from groaning.

“Very full,” Oliver vows, letting go of Ryan's hands as his mouth begins a meandering journey down Ryan's body.

Ryan's right. Beard burn on his inner thighs? Fucking amazing.

Ryan's expecting the morning after to be awkward, but it's not. Oliver's out at some ungodly hour to run home and let his dogs out and work out like the weirdo he is, then lets himself back in around five and crawls into bed with a shit-eating grin and a small bowl of icing he probably scraped off the cake.

“You're a maniac,” Ryan grumbles, but he lets Oliver smear it on his dick and blow him into next week because he's generous like that.

Afterward, Ryan moves to reciprocate, but Oliver shakes his head. “I, uh, I already –”

“You – oh, man,” Ryan says, feeling a little bad he didn't notice Oliver rubbing one out, but to be fair it's still dark and he's half-asleep. “You gotta let me watch that next time.”

“You want a next time?” Oliver's voice is soft, suddenly stripped of his cocky confidence.

“Uh. You don't?”

“I didn't say that,” Oliver shifts on the bed. “I – wasn't sure if you were getting something out of your system.”

“Like the exorcism of Buck and Eddie?” Ryan says, chuckling, but then he realizes Oliver's gone completely silent. Reaching over, he flips on the bedside light to see Oliver watching him warily.

“Holy shit, man,” Ryan murmurs, pushing himself up. “What do you take me for?”

Oliver shrugs. “It's not that deep.”

“It is, though. I wouldn't do that.”

“It's called character bleed.”

“I know what character bleed is, just because I didn't fucking go to drama school –”

“Neither did I,” Oliver shoots back. “Look, I'm not trying to – impugn your character or –”

“Oh my god, impugn.”

“Fine,” Oliver says, levering himself up.

“Where are you going?”

“I have to be out of here by six so I can get back to mine before the shuttle shows up. We don't want tongues wagging.”

Ryan laughs. “ You think tongues aren't already wagging after yesterday's shoot, you're delusional.”

Oliver throws up his hands. “I'll see you at the studio, yeah?”

As he's turning to go, Ryan grits, “You ever think we're the ones who are bleeding?”

Oliver stops in his tracks, turns back around. “What?”

“You think we wanted to fuck because Buck and Eddie did. But what if it's the other way around?”

Oliver takes a sharp breath in through his nose. “I hadn't – thought of that.”

“Yeah, well it's sort of just hit me too, so give me a second.” Ryan scrubs his hands over his face. “I mean, I'm pretty much straight. Like, I was a model. I had lots of opportunities to fuck other guys, believe me. But I didn't. Not once.

“And then I joined the show and met you. And we are – very different people, in just about every way imaginable. But we clicked.”

“Chemistry.”

“Up the proverbial wazoo,” Ryan agrees, and Oliver chuckles. “And for better or worse, the viewing public picked up on it. And since then? It's been really hard to tell where Buck and Eddie end and we begin.” He blows out a breath. “And where the fans' fantasies end, and mine begin.”

“Ryan,” Oliver breathes.

“So I don't have all the answers for you yet. And I don't have a clue where this is going. But I do know – I don't want it to end. Unless you do. In that case, we just chalk it up to a really horny shoot and move on with our lives.”

Ryan doesn't hold his breath waiting for Oliver to speak, but he does feel a little lightheaded when he does.

“Okay.”

Ryan frowns. “Okay what?”

“Okay, let's see where this goes.”

“Okay,” Ryan says. There's a smile spreading across his face he's sure makes him look really goofy, but he doesn't give a shit.

Oliver twitches his head toward the door. “C'mon. We have just enough time for you to make me a fancy espresso drink from your ridiculously complicated machine.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” Ryan says, climbing out of bed and stalking toward him, completely naked. “You only want a barista.”

“Don't be silly,” Oliver says, fitting his hands to Ryan's waist and pulling him closer, “I want a barista who's hot as fuck.” He slides his palms down over Ryan's ass, and Ryan arches against him. “With a little thing going on.”

“I got a better idea. You're gonna go get us two coffees and some conchas from the panaderia on the corner, and I'm gonna wash the last traces of chocolate off my dick.”

“You don't want to smell like chocolate the rest of the day?”

“It's the ancho I'm more worried about,” Ryan admits, winding his arms around Oliver's neck and reeling him in for a kiss. He can taste the chocolate and the chili, and a little bit of himself. He can feel the tingle of Oliver's beard, which he never bothers to shave before he gets in the trailer. It's new, and still a little terrifying.

But as Oliver gives him one last squeeze and a wink before heading off to do as he's told, Ryan decides that maybe a little fear isn't always a bad thing.

oh yeah, bravo!
love how they defended what buck and eddie would do, and how they are so different than them. the character bleed going the other way! so so horny for each other!
yay!

good work, thank you!

Yay, thank you! Glad to hear you enjoyed.

LOVE

Heee, thanks <3

I never read RPF. Ever. Not even when my best friend was writing nothing but PATD and MCR RPF and wanted me to read her big bangs.

I read this and ate it up like it was chocolate cake. My god, I don’t know anything about these men except the little I got from the recent interviews but this was amazing.

Thank you for this delicious cake.

Wow, that is a huge compliment, thank you so much! I get that RPF is a bit of a hard line for some people (I think it used to be for me at one point, but this is now the fourth fandom I've written it for so that ship has long since sailed). I kind of resisted writing it for 911 but after that completely unhinged round of interviews there was no way in hell I could resist. I'm glad to hear you found it delicious <3

Yes! YES! YES!!!!

Hahaha, thank you so much :D

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