1 - 20 of 40 Works by 5280ft
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Will ends up with his face pressed to Hasan’s thigh, and as prone to fidgeting as Hasan is he ends up with his hand in Will’s hair, strands of it getting caught on the damn rings he already put back on, but Will can’t find it in him to complain. If he thinks about the state of everything for too long it gets a little terrifying, the gentle tug on his hair, the warm body next to him, how much he craves to keep it, so he resolves not to think about it at all.
In which Will crashes a couple of couches, participates in a dark ritual known as girls’ night, and wrings blood out of the stone that is Hasan Piker. In that order.
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“That’s what your problem is. That’s not…” 5up shakes his head and smiles back at the ground, like Steve said something terribly silly. “Tennis isn’t about, you know. Going pro or playing college or whatever. Really, it’s about… fifteen seconds. Fifteen seconds when you’re on the court with somebody, and it’s just— it’s like— it’s a relationship. Sort of. Fifteen seconds where you understand somebody completely and nothing else matters. Like you’re in love.”
break point (n.) — a situation in tennis in which the receiving player can win the game by scoring the next point.
Steve and Apollo go chasing after pipe dreams, tennis balls, 5up, and each other for thirteen years. A lot can change in a decade. But a lot can stay the same, too.
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Michael wraps his arms around Chris’s neck and leans forward enough to hide his face so that he can’t see his head spinning. It’s this, exactly this— this is how he wants it to be with Chris, all the time. Quiet and certain and warm, Chris’s stubble scraping his cheek when he kisses his jaw and his hands hot where they sneak under Michael’s shirt, fingers pressing into his bare skin.
Maybe that’s what it is. Maybe it’s not really believing that Chris might not want him anymore, but fearing the possibility of it. The possibility of ruining it all. Losing a good thing he’s managed to stumble his way into.Michael worries, until he doesn't.
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Chris’s cinematography leaves much to be desired, but it’s enough to see the scene of the crime: him and Michael leaning on each other, yelling incomprehensibly and stumbling through jokes. Blurry flashes of Tomar and Lyle, trying to either steady them or push them over. Pews. An altar. Shitty pink wallpaper for a shitty pink chapel. An honest-to-god Elvis impersonator. Somewhere along the way from adolescence to adulthood, Zach’s life became a wacky series of stereotypical sitcom mishaps, or perhaps a poorly-received remake of The Hangover (2009).
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“You know you want to!” Zach drops the voice, pulls back from the camera. Some part of him is still putting on the dramatics, but he knows it doesn’t do much to hide how genuinely he means it. All of it. Because surely he does want to, wants it like Zach does, sick of the timezones and the back and forth and the goddamn absence. Ditch the jokes; Zach would, in fact, like to turn over in bed and be able to see somebody. Is that so fucking crazy?
(Zach has a question. Michael may or may not have an answer.)
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"I've never felt so comfortable in my own skin -- I feel like this is how I'm supposed to look."
Will looks at his reflection.
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hopefully more of the former than the latter, yeah?
a drabble for the word of the day, for 100 days.
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Hasan isn’t inclined towards jealousy. At least not like this. Otherwise they wouldn’t have gotten this far, would they? Yet Will thinks he might have preferred if it was that way, the easier fix, the way where he wasn’t hurting over it.
Of course, it could just be that he’s drunk and overwhelmed and thus more inclined to fits of discontent, and he’ll be fine in the morning. But it could be perfectly sober thoughts given expression when otherwise they’ve been desperately smothered. Will isn’t going to gamble on it. -
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With that comes not only flocks of birds flying south, but flocks of humans. They gather at the shores in droves, loud and bright and raucous from dawn to dusk, especially for one night in particular, though Baycon has no clue why.
Hafu always guessed it was some festival for the onset of summer. Apollo just thinks they’re all high. Whatever the reason is, Steve loves it, and Baycon does not. Breaking glass bottles over heads? Setting sandpits alight and shooting fire into the sky? He’ll fucking pass. If Baycon gets really crazy maybe he’ll celebrate the season by sunning his top half on a nice rock. That’s if he’s crazy. -
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Will gives the goods another appreciative squeeze and cackles up at him, sprawled out on his back on the bed. “Yeah, and?”
Hasan closes his eyes. “You are so stupid.”
Stupid, Will thinks, is a harsh word— because what else are Airbnbs for, if not fulfilling carnal pleasures of the flesh? He had posed the wise question to Hasan, who had said ‘literally anything else?’ but it takes two to tango, buster, and look who’s starting to dance. -
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He cups one of Hasan’s hands in both of his, holding on for as long as he can and batting his eyelashes while he slowly steps away from the bed. “Stay strong for me.”
“I’m not even sick!” Hasan calls after him, exasperated. Then, thirty seconds later, staring into the digital face of the thermometer that Will fished from who knows where, he grumbles: “Goddamnit.”
“One whole hundo,” Will says, like he can’t read the number himself. “Two big fat goose eggs. I knew it. I’ve got to make some calls because you’re not going nowhere, big guy.” -
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A humble s’more was all Steve wanted. Honestly, he would have been perfectly content with a s’mores Pop Tart. The whole fire on the beach excursion was all 5up’s idea, and he blindsided him with it to boot. Of course we’d do it in the summer, 5up had said. And we’ll get some people, yeah. Then it had taken all of maybe an hour for 5up to turn that into I wanna go now, don’t you wanna go nooooow?
To be fair, Steve barely put up a fight. “No” isn’t in his vocabulary too often when it comes to 5up, and something as fake as local laws isn’t going to change that. -
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“You know I have a boyfriend,” 5up points out. Hafu winces, sucks in air through her teeth, and nods slowly.
“Riiight,” she says, patting the back of his hand. “Your Californian 6’3” boyfriend who exists. Just give it a try, okay?”
She taps the phone screen pointedly. 5up thinks he might die right where he stands.
(His Californian 6’3” boyfriend does exist, and those are his defining character traits, thank you very much. It’s just unfortunate that when 5up talks about him, he sounds like some sort of ill and lovesick fool.) -
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He’s a little guy is the first thing Steve thinks, seeing him nearly drown in all of the fabric he has draped over his arms. His head is still turned down, busy fiddling with some sort of silk, his hair just long enough that the edges of his curls barely cover an eye. He flicks it to the side a couple of times, and it springs right back. Steve’s grinning already, God help him, and he can only hope he doesn’t make a fool out of himself. He has a penchant for doing that in front of cute men and intimidating women.
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the horizon tries but it’s just not as kind on the eyes by 5280ft
Fandoms: Video Blogging RPF, Polygon/McElroy Vlogs & Podcasts RPF
28 Mar 2023
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Pat had never been so forward in his life. He had only learned Brian’s name moments earlier. And still, he found himself twisting blades of grass between his fingers and asking, “Can I paint you?”
At once, Brian’s face lit up, impressed and preemptively excited. “Can you?”
“I think I can.”
Somewhere between the past and the present, Patrick paints a picture.
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toil & trouble by 5280ft
Fandoms: Video Blogging RPF, CollegeHumor, Dimension 20 (Web Series) RPF
06 Mar 2023
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Brennan mutters something that sounds suspiciously like don’t yuck my yum, bro, before piping up proper. “You should be accurate when you make fun of me. I honestly don’t know that much about social customs of the Regency era. Only the basics.”
Their metrics of “the basics” are wildly different. “Enough to argue about, I bet.”
“Argue? I would never argue. I don’t argue.” His tone is faux-lofty, obviously hoping to further argue about how he doesn’t argue. “I… debate.”
Lou laughs. “Like a scholar?”
“Like a scholar, exactly.” -
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Too restless to sleep, he climbed out of bed thirty minutes ago to enter his exile. When 5up kicked Steve’s shin and muttered stoppit, half-asleep, he figured it was time to slip out before he woke up in earnest. Partly because he doesn’t want to interrupt his sleep, sure, but also a lot because he doesn’t want to go through the inevitable interrogation. So to expertly avoid that, he sits on the kitchen counter in his boxers eating a carton of raspberries, like a normal man. A grown man of twenty-nine. For now. A man who doesn’t care about the unstoppable passage of time and all that it entails.
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Steve catches him around the neck with his arm and plants a big gross kiss on the side of his face, to which 5up yells and pushes him, though he's still laughing. When Steve pulls back, 5up catches his hand and holds it, resting their hands on the center console; somebody in the car next to them smiles at their nonsense. It could almost be like all of this isn’t on a timer that started with an airplane ticket.
I, I got a little paycheck / You got big plans, you gotta move
And I don’t feel nothing at all / And you can’t feel nothing small -
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All of it is sort of like feeding a wild animal, 5up thinks. You set food out enough times and they keep coming back around for whatever you’ll give them, and maybe they’re sweet enough to let you pet them or eat out of your hand, but at the end of the day they’re still wild and you’re not. At the end of the day you can’t really keep them, but, you know, if you’re cold, they’re cold, so you still let them inside.
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Apollo wouldn’t describe himself as a dog person, if you take “dog person” meaning he is someone who prefers to have dogs over cats. Surprise, surprise, considering everything about him, but he thinks it’s because cats were typically more like him. Quiet, aloof, prone to bursts of mania. Didn’t require you to watch them when they pissed. Never ran out into the thick of the woods in below freezing temperatures and made you hack through bramble bushes to find them.
But if you take dog person to mean “person that is a dog,” well. Things get slightly more complicated.