those boots again

blainesfunnyfuel  asked:

Could I pretty please get some Blaine smut where he dresses up for Reader after she mentions she likes cowboy boots~~ please and thank you!!!

A/N - And here we are, the last of this batch of prompts! After this, we’ll be starting on the new ideas that you lovely people sent my way! Always a pleasure to write for ya, buddy! Especially because I know how much you love Blaine and cowboys ;P Hope this is what you wanted!

Pairing - Blaine x Reader

Warnings - Swearing, sex

Word Count - 1, 825

Keep reading

A very hot  day and we were working under the sun all day. This fellow’s feet burn inside his rubber boots. I give faith, the smell in the van when we got back from work was awesome, even for me.
Tomorrow he will wear those boots again. I think is a great idea. I’ll do the same and share the pain with him.

“Leaving footprints all over the world,
in this together, we’ll never let go.”

L+H advent calendar: Day 7. :)

Bam stood watching you as you stomped through the light snow. Your hands were hidden behind your back and your bare feet left deep impressions on the ground as you tromped along the path.

“Where are your boots?” Bam’s voice was loud in the stillness of the woods.

“Ummm.” You hesitated and then slowly brought your hands around to the front, showing him your new snow boots, one clutched in each hand. “Here they are.”

“You have to respect the danger, girl.” He pointed a finger at you as he leaned casually against the tree. Your breath quickened as he began to smile.

“I’ll be fine.” You grinned and ran the rest of the way to him, throwing your arms around his waist and snuggling into the softness of his blue plaid jacket.

Bam shook his head and planted a light kiss on your lips. When you pressed closer, he surprised you by swinging an arm under your legs and lifting you up in his arms.

“If you won’t wear your boots then I guess I’ll have to carry you.” His half-smile sent your heart soaring.

Smiling back, you tossed your winter boots to the ground and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling his face close.

“Then I’m never wearing those boots again.” You whispered as your mouth settled on his.

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,
And Mourners to and fro
Kept treading - treading - till it seemed
That Sense was breaking through -

And when they all were seated,
A Service, like a Drum -
Kept beating - beating - till I thought
My mind was going numb -

And then I heard them lift a Box
And creak across my Soul
With those same Boots of Lead, again,
Then Space - began to toll,

As all the Heavens were a Bell,
And Being, but an Ear,
And I, and Silence, some strange Race,
Wrecked, solitary, here -

And then a Plank in Reason, broke,
And I dropped down, and down -
And hit a World, at every plunge,
And Finished knowing - then -

—  Emily Dickinson
Beware of Meister

I’m getting back into writing and have a longer Soul Eater fic coming out soon, but I need a bit of a warm up. Just a short little one shot inspired by a reoccurring conversation between my roommate and myself. 

Posted both on here and


It felt like years since they were last home. Granted, they’ve only been gone a few days, but tracking a pack of crafty pre-kishin through the wilderness of the northern reaches of the Rocky Mountains drained them both into lethargy. Their eyes dull with fatigue, they dragged themselves up the stairs leaning on each other for support.

Once inside, packs are discarded, tattered clothes are removed, showers are taken, and their custom injury kit is brought out. Between their being accustomed to the other’s body and the exhaustion, they didn’t shy away from helping the other clean up, though pink dusted their cheeks with no small frequency throughout the  process.

By the time they were finished cleaning the various scrapes they’d accumulated and treating the painful collection of blisters on their feet, it was closing in on 2 am. After Soul declares his intent to ‘never wear those fucking boots ever again’, he stands with Maka’s help and they make their way to his room. Soul settles in and Maka crawls into bed after him. He didn’t ask and she didn’t supply a reason as they curl into each other.

Soul pulls her close and presses a kiss to her temple as he drifts off. Content in the warmth of her partner, Maka lays her head on his chest and her eyes slide shut.

The sound of glass shattering moments later has them snapping back open. Maka meets Soul’s eyes as she pushes herself up off the bed. They listen to an intruder’s footfalls roam about the other rooms of the apartment.

Maka’s expression shifts into an one that Soul recognizes well from all his years of aggravating his meister and watching others do the same. Maka was positively thunderous. She’s on her feet and storming forth to confront their burglar in the next breath. 

They found him rummaging through the living room, seemingly oblivious to their presence. Soul watches as whatever mercy Maka held in her heart dissolves. Exhausted Maka is a ruthless Maka. It is in that moment, the thief turns and catches sight of them. The three stare at each other for a few beats before the man pales and sprints for the door.

Soul didn’t know whether to be pissed that some punk decided that he could break into his and Maka’s apartment or sorry for the stupid bastard. He didn’t have long to ponder on that as Maka takes off after the invader, the thickest and subsequently heaviest hardcover book in the house clutched in her hand and a hoarse battle cry on her lips.

Soul sighs and calls the police before following after her to ensure that his feisty, sleep deprived partner doesn’t add murder to the list of crap they would have to deal with.

The cops arrive on the scene about 20 minutes later to find the poor man with his skull almost perma-chopped into a bowl of grey matter cowering in the stairwell. Maka stood looming over him brandishing her book threateningly every time he tried to escape from the blonde firebrand. At the sight of the officers, the man practically begged to be taken to the precinct.

Soul gives them a quick statement and follows Maka back upstairs after instructing them to return in the morning. If he had to remain upright for one more minute, he’d finish what Maka started with what had to be one of the most unlucky thieves in history.

The pair fall back into bed together and are sleeping the sleep of the dead before their heads even hit the pillow.

A few days later, Blackstar presents to them a black sign declaring “Beware of Meister” in bright orange, cackling as he flees the blows descending from on high in the form of Maka’s textbook.