#play fights

[fitveganlifts]

Fighting

[fanesavin]

Faye

Is @faye-andrews Someone You:

Would Kiss: Yes

Would Date: Yes

Would Make Friends With: Yes

Would Adopt: No

Would Marry: Yes

Would Sleep With: Yes

Would Live With: Yes

Would Cuddle With: Yes

Would Fight With: Yes

Would Trust: Yes

Would Dance With: Yes

Would Bathe With: Yes

Would Die For: Yes

Would Ignore: No

Would Not Care For: No

Would Laugh At: Yes

Would Cry With: Yes

Would Cry For:  Yes

[imagine-loki]

Play Fight

Inspired by (X) & (X):

Imagine feeling close enough to Loki – even if you don’t have a romantic relationship … yet - that, when he aims a teasing barb at you – and you have teased each other mercilessly from the moment you met – you round on him with your fists up, eyes narrowed, growling the low warning, “Them’s fightin’ words, mister!”

You adopt a fighting stance, trying to look as fierce and threatening as you can, although you’re also having to suppress a grin at the same time, because you know just how absurd it must look to him for you to confront him like this.  You’re five-two at most and very slightly built.  He’s probably close to twice your weight – especially in his armor – and he literally towers over you.

Still, he’s grinning as broadly as you won’t allow yourself to because he loves your spunk, and although you’re a complete amateur at it, he assumes a defensive stance and play fights with you for a bit, actually allowing you to make contact with a few punches and badly overreacting to them to make you laugh.  He takes a couple of comically dramatic swings at you – while making appropriate sound effects to accompany them - but very carefully never hurts you, and you realize that you’re pulling your punches, too, although you know there’s no need.

It ends when he lets you “knock him out”, sprawling – somehow managing to do so elegantly, of course - on the floor with a suitably histrionic groan, his overacting making you dissolve into giggles on the floor next to his supposedly unconscious body.

But he remains still for longer than you thought he ought to, and your giggles disappear as you try to shake him – with minimal results; it’s like trying to shake a boulder – awake, and the longer he remains still, the more concerned you can’t seem to help becoming.

Leaning closely over him, you reach down and pat his cheek gently.  “Loki, Jesus, are you okay?  I didn’t even hit you -”

Suddenly, his arms wrap themselves around you, pulling you down so that you have no choice but to stretch out  - almost fully - on top of him – feeling a very prominent part of him pressing insistently against your hip - one hand coming up to bury itself in the hair at the back of your neck as he catches your eyes while giving you a reassuring - if unapologetically wolfish smile.  “I am fine, dearest heart.  But I shall be exponentially better once I’ve tasted your lips,” he whispers huskily as he slowly brings your mouth to his … 

[couplecentral]

I take one look at you and can’t help but wonder how I got to be so lucky.

[sassycassie-s-writing]

Play Fights

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): Vine/YouTube/Thomas Sanders

Rating: PG

Original Idea: Some time before I went to bed.

Notes: (Masterlist)(About Me) FLUFF AHEAD!

^^^^^

Thomas woke up before his wife for the first time since they were married. Her back was to him and she was loosely curled up on her right side. Her left side rose and fell slowly as she breathed deeply and calmly. Thomas smiled. Even when he couldn’t see her face, she was beautiful.

His eyes turned down from the back of her head to her back. There was a scar just above her left shoulder blade that shimmered a pinkish silvery in the pale light of the early morning sun drifting through the window that the sporty down-the-spine cut of the tank top she wore as pajamas left exposed. Part of him felt a bit sad every time he saw that scar, and part of him felt amused, remembering the conditions in which she got it.

Yes, it was his fault, but no, she didn’t blame him for it.

They were making a Vine back when they were first barely dating. Thomas was supposed to spin her under his arm and then bend her back over his leg in a dip. They’d rehearsed it several times and nothing had ever gone wrong. They were outside so in case one of them fell, the grass was at least a bit soft.

The very first take when they were recording it though, Thomas slipped. His grip wasn’t as strong as it should have been and when she bent over his leg, she slid out of his hold and fell.

Her left shoulder had landed on a rock they hadn’t even realized was hiding in the grass, cutting open her T-shirt and her skin. She was brave—only crying on her body’s instinct and making it stop as quickly as possible—and toughed it out as she pulled her T-shirt up in the back to reveal the cut so Thomas could clean it out and put disinfectant on it before covering it with lots of Band-Aids. He still felt bad about it, even though it was years ago.

He lifted his left hand as though to touch it, wedding ring catching the pale morning sunlight. Gently he rested his finger on the scar tissue, feeling how the texture was different to the rest of her skin.

Her back pressed against his fingertip as she took a deep breath and woke up. Slowly she turned around so that she was facing him. There was a grin on her lips.

“Do I love you because you’re beautiful—or are you beautiful because I love you?” Thomas sang, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. She grinned and rested her hand on the side of his head, stroking his cheekbone with her thumb. Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella was one of her favorite Broadway musicals. “Am I making believe I see in you—a girl too lovely to—be really true?” They were both smiling tiredly. “Do I want you because you’re wonderful—or are you wonderful—because I want you?” He ran the backs of his fingers down her cheek, eyes searching her tired but happy morning face, taking in how she was still just as beautiful as the day he met her. “Are you the sweet invention of a lover’s dream—or are you really as beautiful as you seem?”

There was only a short pause before the tiny, sleepy grin on her face widened. “Am I making believe I see in you—a man too perfect to—be really true?” she sang, her voice a bit hoarse from a night of disuse. “Do I want you because you’re wonderful—or are you wonderful because I want you?” She slid some of her fingers through his hair, playing with it idly as his own smile widened.

“Are you the sweet invention of a lover’s dream—or are you really as wonderful as you seem?” they sang together, harmonies imperfect but neither of them caring.

“Good morning, my love,” Thomas commented.

His wife scooted over so she was close enough to kiss him. “Morning,” she greeted. “Shall I make some breakfast?”

“You? Make breakfast?” he teased. “The last time I trusted you with anything more complicated than cereal you almost burned the house down.” She defensively nestled her head against his chest, tickling his neck with her messy bedhead hair.

“How long are you going to bring that up every time I try to be helpful and want to make you breakfast?”

“Probably until we die,” he remarked nonchalantly. Thomas teasingly pushed her away and whacked her with his pillow, gently. Her mouth fell open and she gasped, sitting up a bit.

“Oh so it’s to be a pillow fight, huh?” she demanded, grabbing her own pillow.

Both of them scrambled out of their bed and started to swing their fluffy white pillows at each other, laughing and yelping when either of them actually landed a solid blow. They chased each other around their room, wildly. They were probably going to drive their neighbors insane with all the noise, but for the moment, they didn’t care.

Finally, Thomas grabbed his wife around the waist and pulled her down onto the bed on top of him so he wouldn’t crush her. He gave her a kiss and wrestled the pillow from her hand before throwing his behind him somewhere. He just held her to him. “How did I get so lucky to land you?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I think I was the lucky one,” she answered. She kissed his cheek and rolled off of him to lie next to him on the bed, even though they were sideways across it.

“No. I’m pretty sure I was. And I’m going to make breakfast. I love you, but I don’t trust your cooking. Stay out of my kitchen,” he pressed, leaping off the mattress and rushing out of their bedroom and into the kitchen. He could hear her shout of protest before the headboard of their bed creaked, signaling that she was following him. He was already pulling out the waffle maker that her aunt had given them for their wedding, giving her a very pointed look as she tried to follow him into the kitchen. She relented and sat down at the breakfast bar.

“And what shenanigans are we getting into today?” she inquired, wrangling her messy hair into submission distractedly.

“Well, we promised the internet we’d do a Q-‘n’-A sometime soon. If we’ve got nothing else to do, we could make that. But I also just wanna dance with you in the park and serenade strangers for a Vine or just drive around town singing show-tunes.” He sighed. “But Playlist Live is coming up soon so we also gotta get ready for that.”

“Let’s do it all! It’s Saturday. We’ve got all day!”

Thomas laughed. “But first, breakfast,” he remarked, passing her the first gigantic waffle and sliding the syrup jug down the bar.

“Can I at least make the chocolate milk?” she asked.

“Okay. That bit you’re better at,” he relented. One of her quirks was a distaste for plain milk, but she also didn’t like pre-made chocolate milk, so she always made it with cocoa powder or chocolate syrup. And somehow she’d figured out the perfect balance between milk and chocolate.

So she made the chocolate milk for both of them and they sat down to breakfast. Once that was all cleaned up, they got dressed. Thomas glanced at the scar on her shoulder blade as she yanked her tank top off—back to him—and put on her clothes. She glanced at him over her shoulder as he pulled her favorite blue T-shirt of his on. “What are you thinking about?” she asked curiously, buckling up the belt around her denim capris.

“I still feel bad about that scar on your back,” he answered honestly.

She smirked. “Well, don’t. It’s a memory.” Slowly she was brushing her hair out, attempting to tame it, before throwing the brush at his waiting hand. He pulled it through his own flop of hair and set it on their dresser. “I see it in the mirror every so often when I’m getting out of the shower, and it always makes me smile. You looked so panicked. That was the moment I knew we were gonna stay together.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. Any man that concerned about hurting his woman is a man worth keeping.”

That made Thomas laugh.

After a few minutes, they were sitting in the living room, in front of the camera on top of the tripod. “What is up everybody?!” Thomas and his wife greeted in unison.

“So, we wanted to do a Q-and-A for you guys since we’ve been married for a couple months now and you guys have been asking us a bunch of the same stuff so we figured we’d get it all out of the way for good,” Thomas explained. “So, this is my wife, Mrs. Sanders!”

His wife waved. “Hey everybody!”

“Shall we jump right in?”

“Absolutely!”

“Fantastic! This question came up for you the most since we announced that we were getting married,” Thomas told her, pulling up the list of questions on his phone. “And it’s a very legitimate question that I’ve even wondered but you’ve never said anything about. ‘Do you get jealous when you see Thomas kissing and professing love to other women on stage when he’s in a show?’” His wife bit her lower lip thoughtfully, searching her husband’s brown eyes with mischief in them.

“No,” she answered decisively. “Because I know that at the end of the day, he loves me more than any of his co-stars and likes kissing me the best.”

He gave her a hug with one arm due to how they were sitting side-by-side. “Aww!” he enthused. “You’re too cute. And one-hundred-percent correct. I do love you the most. And you’re without a doubt the best kisser. Definitely the most compatible with me.” She snickered. “The next one’s for both of us…”

The two breezed through the other questions, paying attention in the moment, but barely remembering it later. They spent the day packing for Playlist Live, driving to the park singing show tunes, dancing in the park to the delight of the elderly couples strolling, and dramatically serenading teenagers for Vines before driving back to their small house—still singing show tunes. Between the two of them they had a lot of Broadway, Disney, karaoke, and other minus tracks. Sometimes they sang with the original voices, sometimes they sang on their own.

When they got back to their house, their excited energy needed to break loose. It was still early September so the weather was pleasant and warm. They changed from their normal day clothes to bathing suits. Out on the front lawn, they had a water fight, with plastic water guns and the hose, squealing and giggling their heads off as they got soaked before collapsing on the grass in fits of laughter and hugs and kisses.

After they got over their amusement, they went and showered before getting back into bed. Cuddling, they kissed each other before going to sleep.

[silenceyells]

My new personal ad

[recklessatheartt-blog]

I just want to wrestle with you