#new homeowners tips

[missycaulk]

What Every Homeowner Should Know About Homeowners Insurance

Key Facts Discover the differences between Named Peril and Open Peril coverage options. Learn about common policy exclusions and claim limits for specific items. Understand how Replacement Cost and Actual Cash Value impact your financial protection. Navigating homeowners insurance is essential for new and existing homeowners alike. Understanding the basics of what your policy covers helps you…

[beetle-blogging]

I think Delia would make a fantastic poltergeist.

She wanted her body to be a canvas, imagine what she would come up with now that she can shape her body like clay. We've seen her sculptures, she'd easily come up with some terrifying shapes. Plus she has a good voice for scary screeches and is stubborn af.

[soovyclub]

6 Tips for New Homeowners - Steps Every New Homeowner Should Take Discover tips for homeowners to help you settle into your new home with smart steps to prepare property owners when moving into a new house and the important things to consider and how to get ready for home maintenance by learning basic DIY skills. https://www.soovy.club/blog/tips-for-new-homeowners-steps-every-new-property-owner-should-take-moving-house

[calyptramoths]

How to save money:

The most cost-efficient way to wash your clothes is to keep them on in the shower, and wash them as you wash your body.

Try to use plumbing less. Put plastic tubs under every faucet in the house to save as much water as possible. Plug the tub during showers.

Turn off the well.

[thewordharbor]

13 home design tips for new homeowners

Moving into a new home is an exciting journey, but it can also be overwhelming when it comes to making your space truly your own. Let’s face it—there’s a lot to consider! That’s why having a solid set of home design tips can be a game changer for new homeowners. Whether you’re decorating your living room, sprucing up your kitchen, or creating a cozy bedroom retreat, we’ve got you covered with…

[bestcleaningguide]

As you embark on this exciting homeownership journey, deep cleaning is one crucial step that often gets overshadowed amidst the chaos of moving. While it may not seem like the most glamorous task, investing in a thorough move-in deep clean can set the stage for a fresh start and a comfortable living environment.

[attapullman]

If Only the Neighbors Knew | Neighbor!Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: A month of stolen kisses culminates in Robert hosting the HOA meeting and getting you on his couch. The ladies of the neighborhood may make him blush, but only you can make your sweet neighbor weak in the knees.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings + Notes: Robert "Bob" Floyd x f!reader, 18+ only folks, swearing, unprotected pinv, oral (f!receiving), self-indulgent as per usual, too many italics. Oh, I am blushing and humbled at all the love that Neighbor!Bob has received! It's exactly a month later and now he's back and making us collectively drop our panties again, as well as all the other women in the neighborhood! But don't worry, he's only got eyes for you ;) Happy Holidays, my dears, thanks for reading!

meet Robert From Next Door here

He’s setting up refreshments in the dining room. The perfect viewpoint to where you perch on his slate gray sectional, making small talk with the neighborhood. Knees primly crossed under your skirt, smile wide as you laugh about the neighbor kids’ shenanigans. And all he can think about was when you walked in, the soft flush in your cheeks when you said, “Hi, Robert,” and gave him the lightest peck on the cheek, as if you did it all the time. As if it didn’t make him weak in the knees.

The only perk of hosting the HOA meeting is that you’re in his home. The fact other people are also here? Not ideal. It’s been a month since he had you straddled on his lap, sweetly moaning into his mouth, and frankly he wants to send everyone home so he can try the same thing on his couch. 

But he offered to host because it’s the neighborly thing to do. Swung by the market on the way home from base and grabbed crackers and cheese, mixed nuts, and too many bottles of wine because once someone brings up the length of grass everyone turns to drinking.

He’s replenishing the plastic cups and water jug when he catches your eye. The small quirk of your smile, a silently flirty hi, has him flustered. Time to start this godforsaken meeting so he’s closer to getting you alone.

“So, Lieutenant Floyd, what’s new with you?” Mrs. Jacobs has already helped herself to enough wine by the time he joins the neighborhood in his sitting room. She’s flanked by her cronies - minions in matching sweater sets - and all instantly turn their attention on him. While not someone who normally turns heads, the day Robert Floyd bought his little bungalow with the creaky porch he was instantly the talk of the street. A young single Naval officer? The women could barely believe their luck. They were all married, but shameless flirting had never been out of question.

He takes a slow sip of his iced tea, biding time. On the other side of the room, he can feel your amused smile. The rumor mill would churn violently if anyone found out what was going on with you two. So you had been sneaking around the last few weeks. A few stolen afternoons kissing on the couch, errand trips turned into steaming up his truck’s windows. It’s been the best month of his life.

The WSO is spared answering when the president of the homeowner’s association clears her throat to start the meeting, shushing her grumbling husband. The collection of husbands sat at the back with their beers, arms crossed, giggling like schoolgirls at their comrade’s chiding. Normally Robert sat with them, but felt bold and came to sit near you on the sectional, one large decorative pillow acting as a barrier.

As expected, the meeting is trivially boring. While he tries to focus on repair costs and chimney safety, all he can think about is your hand only inches away. If he only shifted a few inches - only a few, it would be subtle - he could run the tips of his fingers along the back of your soft hands, intertwining your fingers and rubbing his thumb soothingly along your wrist. And if he was that close, he might as well dip his face into the crook of your neck, where the scent of your perfume was strongest and most delicious. While he was there, it would be so easy to press a k-

“Anyone have any questions about this?” He’s abruptly distracted from his daydream by several neighbors raising their hand, disgruntled by potential disruptions to their homes.

You catch his eye, eyebrows raised, curious on his thoughts about filter replacement. Or if he's as bored as you are. But he simply gives you a dazed, shy smile, his eyes lingering just a second too long on your lips.

The meeting adjourns - thank god - and neighbors create their cliques to download. It feels safe to start your own conversation (the first the two of you have spoken since you pressed a kiss to his cheek) and you turn to him eagerly. Just as you’re about to compliment his selection of cheese, a manicured hand reaches past you and touches Robert’s bicep.

Mrs. Jacobs and company have returned. “Lieutenant, before I head out I wanted to thank you again for taking care of my lawn last week. Such a big help.”

The tips of his ears blush pink, the tone of his neighbor’s voice a tad too suggestive for a simple chore. Mr. Jacobs was nearing his sixties and spent most of these meetings complaining about an old sports injury. It seemed the least the young WSO could do was offer landscaping help after all that rain last week. His mower was already out and he’d mown the Jacobs’ lawn without a second thought. 

It had helped you had been outside planting bulbs. He liked the eye candy in your slightly too tight jeans.

The women continue to praise him and his generous ways. His cheeks on fire as Mrs. Connelly gushed about how great it was to have a big, strong Navy man in the neighborhood. As much as he wants to look at you, the embarrassment flooding his system has his eyes glued to the hardwood.

“You know,” Mrs. Branaugh began, exchanging an excited glance with her friends, “the city hall fundraiser next month is a little short on volunteers for our auction. Any chance any other lieutenants would be available?” Her eyes shamelessly rake down his chest, practically salivating at the idea of fighter pilots parading around in suits. 

You feel the licks of jealousy itch at your palms. 

He sputters out words, unsure if they’re agreement or excuses. Robert’s suffocating on his embarrassment. Mrs. Connelly and Mrs. Jacobs delight in his blush. The latter gushes, “I’d be happy to pay any of them to mow my lawn this summer.” She turns to her friends and winks. “Shirtless, of course!”

You nearly spit out your drink. The host of the evening looks moments from passing out. Your middle aged neighbors are cackling, lost in their tipsy fantasies. It’s time for everyone to go home.

Thankfully most of the men are ready to leave the gossip fest and return to their abodes. Gathering up their wives and thanking Lt. Floyd for his hospitality, the neighborhood departs the tidy bungalow, calls of, “Come over for dinner sometime!” thrown over their shoulders.

Amongst those leaving is you, slipping on your winter jacket and adjusting a thick scarf for the short walk. Barely recovered from his neighbors’ lascivious comments, he’s sad to see you go. Wishes you would straggle behind and pretend to help clean up, only to ignore the dishes and catch up in the biblical way. He can practically feel your soft skin in his hands. But you give him that sweet smile of yours and follow Mr. Sampson out the door, the promise of another time.

He’s never hosting these meetings again.

After much coaxing from her husband, the last of his neighbors finally leave and he’s alone in his bungalow again. Finally. The cheerful oxford blue walls, the hand-me-down dining chairs, the framed photo of his squadron above the mantle. Being permanently stationed has its perks.

He makes quick work of cleaning, bringing the remnants of his makeshift cheeseboard to the kitchen before wiping down the dining table and straightening the couch cushions. The multitude of empty wine bottles are taken out to the recycling before turning off the porch light, ready to retire for the night. He’s getting a glass of water when a sound pricks his ear.

The faintest knock. So quiet he would miss it had he been anywhere else in the house. Instantly on the defense, tall, broad frame coming to its full height, he’s prepared for the worst as he approaches the back door that leads to his small yard. 

Another timid knock. 

The biggest, warmest smile takes over his face as he opens the door and sees his visitor. There you stand, cheeks pink with cold and your lip trapped between your teeth. You sneak. 

Robert quickly invites you inside, enveloping you with his warm body once you’ve toed off your boots. The hug has tension escaping every muscle, finally back in each other’s arms as it should be. The secrecy, while necessary, is the worst.

“Did you forget something?” His deep voice mumbles into your hair. You push back to look at his face, but his hands are steadfast on your hips, holding you exactly where he wants you. In the month of shared kisses and lighthearted flirting, he’s never had you alone in his house.

Resigned to resting your cheek against his shoulder, you reply, “Didn’t want anyone suspicious if I stayed behind.”

“Ah, so you did the ol’ double back?" You nod. "And you’re sure no one saw you?” His mischievous smile shows he’s all jokes, but in the back of his mind he’s curious if any of his neighbors saw you in the minute gap between your backyards. The same trek he’s been making for weeks after all the lights on the street are out.

You shake your head against his soft crewneck. It’s been three days since you’ve felt his warmth and you’re melting. The faint smell of sage and citrus - and a tinge of jet fuel - flooding your senses and you’re so glad you risked sneaking over. 

Watching him host the HOA meeting with his little refreshment table? So hot. 

While you both want to sit down over a cup of cocoa and catch up on how silly your neighbors are, something else is on your minds. It’s been lying dormant for weeks now, awaiting the moment to rear its head. And in the dim lighting of Robert’s house, on a quiet winter Friday night, the moment is just right.

The first kiss is intended to be innocent, lightly brushing his lips against yours to remind you of his affection. Enjoying the plush softness of your glossy lips. But when the softest of moans leaves you, desperation hits.

He needs you.

The two of you have been playing it safe - you are neighbors after all - but as mere mortals there are needs to be met. The softness of your skin. The broadness of his shoulders. The tension that has been building and building since he watched you dunk that tea bag and knew it was now or never.

You tear away from his face, as painful as it is, to rasp against his jaw. “Robert, your house is so nice. Can you show me your bedroom?”

Squeals of delight bounce off the hallway walls as he all but drags you to the other side of the house. His fingertips dig into your hips, a little too eager, his glasses slipping down his nose as he steals kisses. As he showers you in affection, you appreciate his home out of the corner of your eye. The small collection of black-and-white snapshots from different naval bases he’s worked on. A pencil holder that looks handmade. Your heart lurches for this man whose heart is too big for this bungalow.

Feet slow at a doorway, his hands steadying you against the frame. As you look up into his sky blue eyes, nerves shoot down both your spines. The delicious thought pops into your head that you’re finally going to see him naked and you feel lightheaded.

He can’t let himself think about your body or he will pass out.

His bedroom fits him. Lamps cast a cheery glow onto the mahogany dresser where he keeps a majority of the US Navy paraphernalia he’s been collecting since he was a child - little figurines and framed airshow stills. A large wingback chair sits cozily in the corner, laden with a flannel he had debated wearing; you’re glad he stuck with the buttery soft crewneck you can’t help running your palms over. And the main event, against the far wall, looking as inviting and luxurious as anything, is Robert’s king size bed. He prides himself on the curved wood headboard he spent a summer working on.

Tentatively, he takes your hand and invites you over the threshold. Your eyes rake over everything to find any red flags (none found - it’s okay he has a lot of plane figurines and not a lot of houseplants - he’s gone half the year, those plants are gonna die) before you let your fingers brush over the blue gray of his heavy plush comforter. Similar to his living room walls.

“You must like blue.”

Cerulean eyes sparkle. His fingers tangle in the cobalt cashmere of your sweater. “I really like blue.”

This time, your lips brush his. The softest sweep before letting yourself lean into him, greedily running your tongue across his thin lips, begging for entrance. His cheeks the softest mauve as he opens his mouth to groan his pleasure. Despite your new surroundings, it feels like home when your tiny pink tongue finds itself nestled against his.

A bolt of heat travels down your spine and your hands fist in his crewneck, torn between enjoying the soft fabric and wanting it off. While your hands are desperate and needy, running up and down his torso in indecision, he’s so soft and gentle with you. Fingers tracing the delicate slope of your jaw, a warm hand on your hip teasing the skin above your skirt. Sweet noises blown directly into your mouth as he savors your taste.

The past month has built this up. That year of tension? Absolutely nothing compared to the burning heat across your skin every time you see him now. You know how he tastes, how he smells, how he whines when you lick the spot behind his ear. The itch consuming your body needs to be scratched, needs to be tamed. You need him.

He seems to be on the same wavelength as you feel his hands lead your hips toward the bed, legs awkwardly backing up until they hit crisp bedding. The man keeps a tidy bed. You’re hopelessly more attracted to him.

Tenderly Robert lowers the two of you to the bed, your back relaxing against the blanket as your hair frames your face. The tips of his fingers trace your cheek as he appreciates how beautiful you are. Embarrassed by the attention, you pout until he brings his lips to yours again, loving the way his entire body encloses around you, keeping you safe.

Your legs have a mind of their own as they wrap around his hips, arms sliding down his torso. His cheeks heating as he catches onto you, his own hips rolling into yours. The low noises escaping your throat as he grinds against your bare thigh, turning him on even more. Your chest pressed against his, the swell of your breasts as your back arches - it’s heaven. If it weren’t for your grounding presence stroking a hand through his hair he would think Phoenix crashed the jet that afternoon.

Finally too impatient to wait any longer, you tug on the hem of Robert’s crewneck, silently begging for it to go. He sits up - awkward to do when his pelvis is glued against yours - and pinches the neck of it, shrugging it off his solid frame. Knocks his glasses askew a bit. When he turns back to you, white hot desire slaps you in the face. This six foot pilot, shirtless, with smoldering blue eyes behind fogged glasses and mussed hair? There are no words.

Who would have thought peppermint tea would lead to all this?

You lose yourself in his kisses again, running your hands along the smooth expanse of skin now available. Your hips desperately rutting against his for more friction, a pool of arousal settles in your underwear with how fucking good he looks covered in your affection. Your lips find his neck and suck, the sounds emitting from him indecent. His hands settle at the hem of your skirt, brushing the skin of your thighs as he worries the fabric, contemplating his next move.

“Please.” It’s quiet, but your plea nearly echos in the room. His eyes meet yours. “Please touch me.”

There’s no going back anymore. Reluctantly pulling away from your body, he lowers himself to his shins, large hands smoothing over your thighs. As he rubs soft circles into your muscles, the hem of your skirt shifts higher. His heart thuds at the sight of your gorgeous, soft thighs, completely on display for him. Tentatively he presses a kiss to your inner knee. When you don’t shy away, he pecks another slightly higher. His nose skims the thin skin and you whimper. It’s music to his ears.

Your skirt is nearly around your waist, delicate panties in view. Robert’s heart violently slams in his chest and his erection throbs, begging to be freed from his jeans. He can’t help but focus on the spot that conceals your center, your arousal wet and dark. 

His lips kiss your inner thigh again, just inches from where you desperately want to feel them. “May I?”

You’re frantically nodding, your fingers crashing into his as you work in tandem to get the offending little piece of lace off. As they come down, his kisses trail up, teasing the skin to elicit tiny whimpers. Hot breath skims your pelvis and it’s torture. He delicately places your knees on his broad shoulders, warm skin on warm skin.

Propping yourself up on one elbow, desperate to see his face, his pretty blue eyes smile at you as he finally, finally licks one broad stripe up your folds.

Your brain effectively short circuits.

Like a broken dam, once he’s had a taste there is no going back. Hot, thick swipes over your wetness, desperate to soak up your sweet arousal. Unintentionally his nose crashes into your clit, his messy tongue work bringing him deeper and deeper within you. Above him, you’re singing his praises, mouth open wantonly. “Right there! Right there!”

The hours he’s spent wondering what you taste like, if you’re even sweeter than your kisses, have paid off. He’s addicted. Wrapping his arms around your gorgeous thighs, obscene sounds squelching from his lewd tongue, he brings a thumb to your clit to draw deliciously tight circles. The way your back arches has him panting. 

It’s hard to tell whether it’s the tingle in your toes or the fiery knot in your stomach that grows faster. The way his tongue flicks over that ring of muscle has your head spinning. His lips capture a fold and suck, moaning at how sweet you are for him. 

“Taste so good, baby. Knew you would, my sweet girl.”

Your head falls back when a finger prods at your opening, slipping through your silky wetness. If his tongue was good, his fingers are a gift. A thick digit that reaches deep, finding that spongey spot that makes your stomach curl. It works its way back and forth, bringing moans to your lips and entrancing him as he watches you take him so easily. He can barely help himself when he slips in a second, salivating over how effortlessly you stretch for him.

“That’s my girl, so good.”

Two fingers deep and a hot mouth on your clit, the world is careening around you. All sense of direction lost, too hot in your sweater, hips desperately following his lips and fingers. Your hand shoves in his hair, holding him there because it feels so good. He thrusts deeper, stretching his fingers within your tight walls. The pressure against your cervix and clit make your head pound. And then suddenly…

“R-Rob-by!” You wail into the bedroom, voice lost amongst the hot air and salacious sounds coming from between your legs. Thighs tightening around his cheeks, knees buckling as you bring your legs to your torso, curling into yourself as your orgasm blindsides you. Your brain dizzy with pleasure and relief as he keeps working his tongue within you, one hand stroking your stomach soothingly as the other disappears over the edge of the bed.

Time disappears as you lazily ride his tongue until the oversensitivity kicks in. As your hips squirm away, he presses one last kiss to your clit before dragging himself up to stand. Despite only having two brain cells left after your orgasm, you’re instantly wet again watching how he grinds his palm against the thick bulge in his jeans. 

“That feel good?” Your eyes droop happily as you nod, a little sheepish. “You are so gorgeous, so good for me. I’m a lucky man.”

As you sit up on boneless limbs, he swoops down to press a kiss on your sweet lips. The tangy linger of your taste coats his mouth. By itself it’s sexy, but then you see the wet smudges and fog of his glasses, askew on his nose from where he pressed so hard into your cunt, and a deep groan escapes as you attach yourself to him again.

Reaching down, your fingers are desperately working the button of his jeans - the need to feel every part of him against you so dire - but he’s stilling your hands, kissing along your neck. A little flushed at how close he is to cumming at the thought of your hands on him.

His lips brush your ear. “Want to enjoy your mouth any other time, but I really need to be inside you. Please.”

You’re both openly moaning out your insatiable hunger as you fall back and scoot toward the pillows, sitting up on your knees to unzip your skirt and discard it and your sweater. His hand dips beneath his jeans as he soaks up your skin, the way your bra just barely covers your nipples. He makes no show of pushing down his jeans, pulling them from around his ankles along with his socks. His mind is carnally focused on getting you completely naked as he tugs the front of his boxer briefs down to relieve the pressure on his cock.

The two fingers suddenly make sense. Robert is a big guy - not quite as big as the rest of his squadron, but naturally takes up space with his broad shoulders and large hands - and you feel silly for not connecting the dots. His cock is thick, veiny and red tipped, balls bulging with cum. You gulp down a thick breath knowing he’s about to cram every inch of it into you. This is what you’ve been waiting for.

Since the moment Robert stood on your stoop and introduced himself, the magnet between you has fought harder and harder to bring you together. Pulling by invisible strings, bidding their time, until they finally snapped and you gave into your desires, hands rushing all over while taking time to learn the curve of each other’s bodies. Finding the freckles on his shoulders. Exploring the dip of your back. And as you lay beneath your next door neighbor, breaths heavy and nervous and excited, you allow the magnets to snap together fully as he slowly thrusts his hips until they mesh into yours.

He’s deliciously thick, stretching every part of you as he pants heavily into your neck. Kisses sooth your skin while your nails mark his. In the low light of the room, he gazes at you, so enamored with the way you look taking him. The obscene wet sounds of his hips meeting yours, slow and steady so he can savor the way you squeeze him. Your whimpered noises spurring him on.

You bring a hand to his cheek, using every ounce of will to focus on his sweet face. “This is…this is even better than I imagined.”

He couldn’t agree more. Paired with the dreamily debauched smile on your face, his hips piston faster, arms squeezing tighter as you moan wildly. Bodies vibrating with pleasure, your legs wrap around his thighs for the leverage to meet his thrusts. He grunts as hands tangle in his hair, pulling lightly. The eye contact is intense, unable to look away as you both feel the build up. God, his eyes are the perfect shade of blue.

Your fingers slip to your clit, ready to propel you to the finish, when his thumb knocks you away. His circles are tight and rough as he gazes at you with desire-dark eyes. “It’s okay, let me help you.”

Your kind and overly helpful neighbor. Who lends you his lawn mower and hangs up Christmas lights. Who always compliments your coffee. Who times his thrust with a harsh push to your clit and has you immediately careening off the cliff, seeing bursts of light as your second orgasm of the night envelopes you.

His mouth attaches to yours, tongue lapping up your taste, as you moan through your aftershocks. His cock is still deep, stroking that spongey wall as he works you through and chases his own pleasure. You’re still so tight around him and he’s ready to cum. Making sure his lips don’t leave yours, he draws back and thrusts deeply, watching the way your body surges with his strength. Once, twice, and your eyes roll back as he lets go, filling you with his spend so you have everything he can give.

A streetlamp flicks on through the window. You’re only just catching your breath when Robert slips from the bed. A tap turns, there’s some rustling, and he returns with a soft cloth to help you clean up. Too tired to speak, the two of you just exchange sweet smiles as he once again comes to your aid.

The bed dips and he’s back against your body, cocooned in his dreamy coverlet, clean-shaven face pressing kisses against yours. His cheeks the lightest pink as he lowly whispers, “Hi.”

You can’t help the wide grin that overtakes your features. “Hi.”

No other words are needed to express the satiated happiness bursting through your hearts and every pore. His arms wrap around your bare shoulders tighter. A full year of pining for you, of making any excuse to help out to be in your presence…so worth it for the way his whole body feels whole when you’re around.

Sleepy eyes flutter up at him, trying so hard to stay awake and enjoy this time together. He presses a kiss to your temple, letting his lips linger on the light layer of sweat his deep thrusts caused. If only his squadron could see him now, his sweet little neighbor half-asleep after a night with him.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he mutters into your hairline as he pulls the blanket around your shoulders. You barely hear him as you begin to dream about a sandy-haired man who brought you the sun, the moon, and the stars.

When the first streams of morning light begin pouring in - because someone was a little too busy doing the deed to close the curtain - two sets of eyes pop open. You’re facing each other, foreheads rested upon the same pillow, eyes half-slits as you adjust to the light. Robert radiates heat, and you curl even closer into him. His lips turn in a satisfied smile as you burrow into his chest.

As the sun rises higher in the sky, the two of you continue chatting in low voices. Legs tangled under the sheets, Robert’s head propped up as he listens to your story about accidentally setting your old kitchen on fire trying to make pancakes. His deep laugh crinkles his eyes, pausing to press the lightest kiss to the corner of your pouting mouth. 

You’re just starting to lean into the kisses - hard not to when he looks so kissable - when a grumbly gurgle sounds out from below the covers. Both of your eyes shoot toward your abdomen, a hungry monster in the midst.

“You hungry?” His eyes are so impossibly sweet. You nod slightly, embarrassed at your crass stomach. But he’s already giving you a kind smile and helping you out of the bed, finding a pair of sweatpants and a weathered soft hoodie to keep you warm. 

In plaid pajama pants, your neighbor guides you to his kitchen, with the cheery maple cabinets and old-fashioned diner clock, and settles you onto the bench seat in the breakfast nook. “Coffee? Tea…peppermint tea?”

It should actually be illegal how good he looks when he winks at you with that little smirk shirtless. 

“Coffee is fine,” you reply, your cheeks hot. He busies himself with coffee and contemplates what he has to constitute for breakfast, and you busy yourself with the day before’s paper. He’s started the sudoku, but abandoned it when his sister called. 

Vaguely familiar with the puzzle game, you look at the little scribbled numbers in the boxes to see where he’s left off. Either the mind-blowing sex or lack of caffeine has gotten to you, because you haven’t a clue where to start from.

A steaming mug is placed before you before an arm wraps around your shoulders, looking over your progress. “Yeah, I was stumped too.”

He walks you through his thought process, thick, long fingers tracing over the paper as he points out what should fill out each box. Your eyes stray to him over and over, enjoying how passionate he is about his daily activity. Watching him blush and tilt your head back to the puzzle every time he notices you staring.

You’ve finally gotten a few boxes sorted out when you remember your coffee. Placing a thankful kiss to his cheek, you take a small sip. 

“I don’t know how to say this nicely, but this is the worst cup of coffee I’ve ever had in my life.”

Your expression is neutral, trying to keep the disgusted look off your face (unsuccessfully) and he bursts out laughing. Pushing the mug as far as possible from you, missing the delicious imported coffee in your own kitchen, you gladly accept the kiss he presses to your cheek as an apology for the worst thing you have ever consumed.

“How about you are in charge of drinks from now on and I’ll be in charge of food?” 

You eye him wearily. “If that’s how you make coffee, I’m scared to see what your cooking skills are like.”

He promises you that his mom requests his lasagna recipe every time he’s back home, and that he’s fairly capable of putting pre-made things in the oven. Good enough for you. Leaning in and molding your mouth to his, the two of you share enough kisses that his bad coffee grows cold.

Turning your attention back to the sudoku puzzle, eager to finish, Robert tightens his grip on your waist. Appreciates the way you look in his clothes after spending the night in his bed. The excited look in your eyes as you solve another box. God, you look so good in his life.

He muses privately that you should just sell your house. He has no plans to ever let you go.

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[solarmorrigan]

Warm Me Up

For the @steddie-spooktober day 21 prompt: "It's warm in here..." Rated: T | Words: 610 | CW: None | Tags: established relationship, modern AU, homeowners steddie, unfortunately they have a HOA, they are also disgustingly in love, fluff Divider credit: @steddiecameraroll-graphics

“It is unreasonably cold for October,” Eddie declares as he comes banging in through the front door, the redness in his nose and cheeks lending credibility to his claim. “Why did I have to rake the leaves today?”

Steve watches with amusement as Eddie sets about staggering out of his boots and shedding his numerous outer layers. It’s all well and good for Steve; today is his day off, and he’s been enjoying it to the fullest – that is, he’s been lying on the couch all afternoon with a blanket and the fall issue of Better Homes & Gardens (shut up, they have good recipes). Eddie, meanwhile–

“Someone had to rake them up before the HOA came after us,” Steve ignores Eddie’s reflexive hiss at the mention of their neighborhood Homeowner’s Association, “and you lost the coin toss.”

“I still think you cheated,” Eddie grumbles, hanging his coat on the coatrack and stomping over towards the couch in his sock feet and sweater.

“How?” Steve asks.

“Somehow,” Eddie decides, before tugging at the blanket spread over Steve’s legs. “Now let me in.”

Indulgently, Steve puts aside his magazine and lifts the blanket so Eddie can lay down on top of him, tucking the blanket back in around them both when he’s settled.

“Owning a house is for the birds,” Eddie says, his face buried in Steve’s chest.

“That’s not what you were saying when we first moved in,” Steve reminds him with a smirk. “If I remember, you were very excited to own a house. And christen just about every surface in it.”

Eddie harumphs into the fabric of Steve’s sweatshirt before looking up at him, chin balanced on Steve’s sternum. “I like you. Anywhere I get to be with you is a place I’m excited to be.”

“Not when you have to rake the leaves, though,” Steve says, because if he melted every time Eddie made a sweet, sweeping declaration of love like that, he’d never get anything done.

“Not when I have to rake the fucking leaves,” Eddie agrees vehemently. “I’m still cold.”

Steve’s intended reply—a pat on the head and a coo of “poor baby”—is lost when Eddie abruptly scooches downwards and disappears beneath the blanket.

“What’re you– hey!” Steve yelps as the hem of his sweatshirt is lifted and Eddie unceremoniously shoves his head in. “Will you get out of there? You’re– ohmygodyournoseiscold!”

From beneath Steve’s sweatshirt, where he’s just pressed the cold tip of his nose into the soft stretch of skin above Steve’s bellybutton, Eddie cackles. Steve smacks the vague shape of his head.

“Get out of there!”

“Nooo, don’t make me go,” Eddie whines, wrapping his arms around Steve’s hips and scooting a little further up under his shirt. “It’s warm in here.”

Steve huffs. “You’re stretching out my sweatshirt.”

“I’ll buy you a new one. I’ll buy you ten new ones. I’m cozy,” Eddie insists, nuzzling in against Steve’s sternum; his nose has warmed a bit by now, but the fan of his breath against his skin still makes Steve shiver.

Then, with a sigh and a roll of his eyes, Steve reaches up and tugs at the neck of his sweatshirt, scooting down until the fabric has gone up and over his head and he’s face to face with Eddie in the warm, shadowed space inside his shirt.

“Hi.” Eddie grins.

“Hi.” Steve can’t help but smile back.

Eddie closes the scant space between them, pressing his lips to Steve’s. “Fancy meeting you here,” he says as he pulls back.

“Well, I had to see for myself, but you’re right,” Steve admits, still smiling. “It is warm in here.”

[luveline]

hi honey, i love you so so much!!

what about stripper!reader with derek morgan?? he's on a case where strippers are being murdered, and while hotch is driving morgan calls you and tells you not to go into work because of what's going on, and emily is listening in on the conversation from the backseat and they tease him

thank youu!! love you!

ty for requesting lovely!! ilysm ♡

"I know you don't like listening to me, but could you do me a favour? Just this once?" 

Emily leans over in her seat so Spencer can see her side eye. "Who's Morgan talking to?" 

"Stay home tonight. No, this isn't a jealousy thing, you vixen–" 

Spencer shrugs. "No idea. But–" 

"But," Emily agrees. They've just left a crime scene with a specific victim, and now Morgan's on the phone asking someone to stay home. That someone would have reason to visit said crime scene's location, and the word vixen suggests female rather than male, which means, "Morgan has a secret stripper girlfriend." 

Spencer's entire face takes his frown, eyebrows pinched, mouth quirked into a telling line. "I like the implausible," he murmurs, "but that feels illogical. Where would they have met?"

"Uh," Emily says, widening her eyes at him. "Where do you think, Spence?" 

"Morgan doesn't need to go to a strip club." 

Emily understands what Spencer's saying. There are lots of reasons that people frequent strip clubs or gentlemen's clubs and none of those reasons apply to Derek. It's possible he could go socially, but it's just so unlike him, it doesn't add up. 

"I'm telling you the truth. I can't give you more detail than that, I just need you to stay home tonight." Derek pauses, laughs. "Alright," —his voice takes on a mechanical rendition, clearly having been fed a line he has to repeat aloud— "I, Derek Morgan, am an ignorant, jealous man, who can't cope with the fact that you don't want me, and am making up sad and childish lies to get you to stay home from your job. Is that what you wanted? Yeah, laugh it up." 

Emily laughs and grabs the headrest as he hangs up on you, pulling herself forward to taunt him as is required. "Care to explain yourself?" 

Derek sighs. "This is why I didn't tell you guys." 

"What!" Spencer says, though his smile is more audible than his incredulity. 

"So you have something to tell us?" Emily asks. 

Derek knows he can't weasel his way out of telling them, and he doesn't really want to. "I don't have a secret stripper girlfriend," he says, rolling his eyes, "she's not my girlfriend. She is an exotic dancer at one of the clubs downtown, and I met her at Home Depot." 

Emily isn't perturbed that Derek heard their gossiping. She's shameless. She doesn't even care that Hotch is frowning behind the wheel. "What was an exotic dancer doing at Home Depot?"

"Weirdly, Emily, she has a home. She wanted help finding renter friendly flooring." 

"Can we meet her?" 

"Never," Derek says with a smile. Emily couldn't know this, but he really likes you. You're sweet, super funny, and yes, you're a stripper. You work hard. Pole dancing is as physically demanding as any manual labour and you're damn good at it. "Ever." 

Spencer interjects the ensuing argument with a statistical analysis of strippers who are homeowners (unfairly few), but Morgan doesn't answer, trying to read a new text from you discretely. 

Sorry if I embarrassed you at work :( is it really not safe to go ?? Maybe u can come and be my bodyguard. I won't even make u tip me 4:10PM

He sends back, Really not safe. Stay home for me, relax for a few days. Call you tonight even if nothing changes 4:11PM

My hero <3 I trust u, but be careful OK ? and pls if it isn't too much trouble can u bring back some of those weird candies again? thank u thank u <3<3<3 4:14PM

Hotch makes a quiet sound of approval, eyes on the road. "The same girl you were with at Docklands? Rossi said she was cute." 

"She is." 

"Rossi met her?" Emily asks. "Oh, you're the worst."

[annabelle--cane]

mutual 1: why is my wifi always so buggy in the morning before school -_-

mutual 2: stop sending me messages telling me that my sexy baby halloween costume is problematic. I know.

mutual 3: check out my freshman to junior year glowup 🤪 god I was such a loser back then. I would kick my own ass now.

mutual 4: pourquoi devrais-je prétendre être français hahaha c'est une idée tellement stupide

mutual 5: [selfie in front of a burning building]

mutual 6: I know I shouldn't keep getting froyo so often if I'm lactose intolerant but a girl has to take her pleasures where she can get them in this day and age

mutual 7: [link to bob marley playlist] I was born in the wrong generation 😔

mutual 8: anyone have any tips on household upkeep for new homeowners? wasn't quite ready for this at 17 haha

mutual 9: week 28 of the #nopants lifestyle

mutual 10: okay since you all asked here's my annotated script from when I played juliet ☺️ I ran out of room for my character notes in the margins sometimes so I had to add pages here and there [link to 3.2 gb file]

mutual 11: [keanu reeves pfp] Click This Link To Buy Brand New Technology Proven To Improve Your Social Life!

[loveshotzz]

A/N:I was really struggling to write anything I liked tonight, so I sat in my backyard and opened up a blank word doc. Here’s the 535 words that came out, and of course it’s AIRWIY!steve. It’s pure fluff, and can be read as a stand alone. Just fire pit cuddling with your hot old man.

older!steve x fem!reader

The autumn air is crip on your skin, even breaching the thick fabric of your socks, chilling you down to your toes. An amber hue mixing ginger licks in the flames that threaten to go over the steel top of the fire pit. Warmth radiating from the crackling wood that battles against the cold you can start to see in your breath.

Steve throws in the last of the bag of wood you bought from the store on your way home from dinner. Rolling his eyes with a grin in the car at your complaints of the lack of fall activities you’ve participated in and how it was almost the middle of October. Still, he pulls into the parking lot of the local market just the same when he sees the giant sign that says five dollars a bundle.

The fire pit was new, never been used, a spontaneous purchase you made together on your first trip to Home Depot as new homeowners. Love sick and giggling, and he just couldn’t stop kissing you, keeping you tucked against him in the space between his chest and the shopping cart the whole time.

The flames dance across his face, highlighting the salt and pepper scruff that lines his sharp jaw, hazel eyes glowing in the warm light. He smiles at you when he catches you staring, closing the trap door before wiping his hands on his Levi’s making his way back over.

“We got maybe another hour out here honey, soak it up.” Twigs crack under his tan smoking slippers with a matching pair of socks like yours on his feet. The last of the leaves on your big tree begging to come spinning down in the low breeze.

“Thank you handsome,” you lift the throw blanket you dragged out with you despite his protests with a thankful grin that makes his cheeks redden from something other than the cold.

He feels like the sun when he takes up the space next to you, one long arm wrapping around your shoulders to pull you to his side. His warmth makes your skin tingle, snaking yourself around his middle you press your cold cheek to the wool of his jacket to soak up more. He smells like the bonfire, and when you inhale deeply you can still catch the notes of pine and cedar that seem to never go away. The red wine from dinner still lingers sweet on his breath, fanning across the top of your head followed by the softest press of his lips.

His fingers find yours under the fleece, and they’re warm just like the rest of him. He doesn’t hesitate to intertwine, a small smile just for him when he feels the cool metal of your engagement ring against his skin.

“You’re so cold, pretty girl. I told you to bring a warmer sweater.” His voice drips with smoked honey, the tip of his nose nudging against your temple.

You crane your neck to meet his eyes, the crows feet that line the edges look deeper in the flickering light. The pad of his thumb adds pressure to your palm, relaxing your muscles before bringing your fingers to his lips. He kisses the tips of them with the utmost care, doing it a second time for good measure making you giggle something sweet.

“Guess I’ll have to warm you up myself.”

Who needs a sweater when you have Steve?

[nomaishuttle]

Why r they like 80 dollars.. whatever itll be a housewarming gift to myself

when i mov eout im gonna buy one of those anatomical skeletons and im gonna name him heironymous and hes gonna be my roommate

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.186 From legacy to lease

As soon as I was able, I went to Dad's house to prepare it for the new tenants. I stood out front for a moment, gazing upon this place where I arrived as a boy and left as a man. Given the things I've had on my mind lately, that thought made me feel warm inside, confirming the importance of my purpose. When Desi leaves us, I want her to be ready to take on the world. She can come back if she wants, but I want her to be in a place where she doesn't have to.

I thought I might feel sad being here again, but I could appreciate the memories I found in every corner. Those memories are precious to me, and I don't want my tenants tainting them, so I decided I should redecorate a little. I really wanted to do a complete refresh and make it near unrecognizable, but I'm not balling like that anymore after buying a third house. Besides, I want this house to continue its purpose and be a launchpad for a young family who wants a nice, safe place to raise their children. I wouldn't want to decorate so much and price them out of their budget, so I kept it modest.

Because I want to rent to a young family, I put two beds and desks upstairs for a couple of kids or teens and turned the office into a nursery. Once I was satisfied with what I had accomplished, I went home and walked Rosie. Afterward, I went to the rental website to see who was looking for a home. I thought about asking Dub if he had any tips about being a landlord, but he's so triggered by his tenants. It can't be that hard, though. Sadly, I didn't see any families. There were a bunch of singles and a pair of roommates. One old guy had four cats. I love the fur babies and all, but four of them? That's a bit much. And cats are different than dogs. Plus, I know this is bad, but I can't handle another death right now, so I was immediately disinterested in the old man. The roommates are young adults, and while I kinda want to give them a chance, I don't want to run the risk of them being party animals and destroying my dad's house. The safest bet seems to be one of the adults. One guy looks a bit older than us and gives the impression he's looking to get settled before retirement. Another one looks around my age. I imagine he's either looking to put down roots for a family or has been doing well in his career and wants to upgrade his living situation without committing to homeowner woes. Whatever their stories are, I hope they won't be any trouble.

[marlynnofmany]

Pro tip for anyone who lives in a building with a toilet: if the plunger isn't working, and you're tempted to leave the clog until the morning, make sure the water isn't still flowing into the bowl.

And make sure it's not on the ground floor of a two-story house, with a communal plumbing pipe that is now clogged deep enough for any water upstairs to come out that toilet.

...

Related tips:

Carpet that has been soaked in poo water cannot be cleaned by human hands, even with one of those steamer machines.

Drywall that has been soaked in poo water will need to have a one-foot "flood cut" carved into it, to remove the damaged area.

You know that part in ET where the house is covered in tarps because Biohazard™? The water damage people will need to recreate that, with zipper doorways and industrial dehumidifier fans roaring day and night for 3-5 days.

Cats can and will climb inside any holes in the wall. Yes, even that one. Yes, they can climb upward too.

Homeowner's insurance is GREAT.

This little misadventure will cost upwards of $17,000 to fix (but we only have to pay $1000 of it). That's still an expensive clot of toilet paper.

In other news, our new carpet is going to be a different color, and that's exciting.

[marzipanny]

out getting ribs

content warning: drug use (weed)

word count: 501

Manolo watches Javier's fingernails, grime-tipped and shining, as they pinch at the thin sheet of paper. It's tucked and sealed with a slow drag of his tongue, given a firm twist, then lit - the smoke from his joint curls into the frigid black sky and he finds himself feeling more relaxed than he has in weeks.

"What're the kids doing?" Javier asks between puffs. Out stretches his hand, blunt sitting pretty between those dirty, calloused fingers. Manolo takes a sip. The smoke clings to his rib cage and he flutters his eyelids shut with a soft exhale; long lashes fanned across frost-chewed skin. Weightless.

Tilting his head, he gestures toward a window through which Gabe and Mariana can be seen playing cards; euchre, if the grin spread across Gabe's face is any indication. The kids are blanketed in a soft glow, courtesy of lights that'd been less than perfectly strung about the living room floor. They were excited to find the Christmas decor tucked away in the homeowners' attic - their dangling bodies, less so. Manolo tries to take solace in knowing they'd gone out on their own terms.

Next to the lights, an assortment of plush snowmen (now lovingly warming Mariana's lap) and candy cane shaped ceramics. Cute, but fragile; they'd attract muertos if broken, so the survivors let them be. There were ornaments but these, too, were left alone on account of the nonexistent tree.

"Feels good to get a break from the car," Javier chuffs, "but man, it's fucking freezing."

Manolo hums. It is fucking freezing. His hands travel the waistband of his jeans to his blood-crusted back pockets, hooking in the stiff fabric and tugging him close. A little warmer, he hopes.

It must be, because Javier grins, lifts his free hand to the puffy skin that cradles his eyes and thumbs at the ache in kind. "Y'know, I think we missed Christmas," he says, "but it's worth it, watching them put all that shit up. I haven't seen an ornament in years."

"Mhmm." A pause. "Seems late for New Year's, too."

"New Year's was always fun. Flew into Times Square one year to watch the ball drop."

"Y'all make resolutions?"

A fleeting shadow passes over his face and Manolo almost regrets mentioning it (God, everything holds bad memories for someone these days) before it passes and he nods. "Yeah. Yeah, mamá did. David 'n pa, though… y'know, me, I could’ve - should've taken some of mine more seriously."

"... most people didn't."

"Yeah."

Javier brings the blunt to his mouth, deeply inhaling. Fumes fill the pocket of his lungs and burn his throat—suddenly he's choking and sputtering, his teeth carving the smoke into a kind of jagged haze in the sky. He throws his head back and laughs, he laughs till tears come down his face. So Manolo laughs, tugs him by his belt loops, and he says:

"Let's go back in before you hurt yourself, tonto."

Javier breathes, "Fucking cold," and follows him inside.

[broomsick]

Hi, I just wanted to say that you have a lovely blog! I just bought a house(!!!) and I'm curious if you have any ideas for house blessings and land blessings?Thanks!

Hi there! That is a great question, I think you might find the answer quite fascinating!

First of all, congratulations on moving in! And thank you so much for taking the time to read my content, it really means a lot to me when people tell me they enjoy it. Now, house blessing is a broad topic when it comes to witchcraft and other such practices, and the possibilities are endless.

I'll start off with just a few personal tips, and then get down to more specific, detailed rituals! The first step I would suggest is to cleanse this new space that you'll be living in for years to come. This can be done using incense, resin smoke, or even simmer pots. If I were in your situation, I would probably light a few incense sticks and parade them around the house so as to cleanse every single room using its smoke. Another common cleansing method when it comes to the home is to sweep a broom around, cleaning the floors symbolically. It's also possible for you to recite a chant/song as you do so, asking for the home spirits to welcome you in this new house! You could look one up online or write one down, so as to tailor it specifically to your own wishes. This is an example of a great house blessing chant, which I found on this page! (If you open the link, you'll also find a very interesting house blessing ritual to go along with it):

Touch the lintel and touch the wall, Nothing but blessings here befall! Bless the candle that stands by itself, Bless the book on the mantle shelf, Bless the pillow for the tired head, Bless the hearth and the light shed. Friends who tarry here, let them know A three fold blessing before they go. Sleep for weariness - peace for sorrow Faith in yesterday and tomorrow. Friends who go from here, let them bear The blessing of hope, wherever they fare. Lintel and windows, sill and wall, Nothing but good, this place befall.

As a witch, something I like to do during ritual sweeping is to tie bundles of protective herbs as well as bells to the broom. Bells are a common cleansing tool.

The author Arin Murphy-Hiscock, who wrote The House Witch, advises new homeowners to take a moment to contemplate which part of their house feels like the heart of the home. The spiritual "center" of the house, so to speak. Oftentimes, people will choose the hearth or the kitchen, which provided heat to the household throughout history. But you could choose any room, or even any object which truly feels like the heart of the house. Once you've determined this "spiritual hearth", you can bless it using Murphy's method, which requires you to prepare: a bowl of salt, a bowl of water, a bowl of oil, a bowl filled with a blend of spices, a candle, and the means to light one.

Standing before this spiritual hearth, take 3 deep and slow breaths in order to calm your body and mind and to focus solely on the present moment."

Open your eyes and hold your hands out to the "hearth" you've chosen and say: Heart of my home, I recognize you. My spirit feels your warmth. My soul feels your wisdom. Sacred hearth, I recognize you.

Bow to the heart of the home.

Dip your fingers into a bowl of salt and say: Sacred hearth, the earth of my home recogizes your sanctity. Flick your fingers to scatter salt toward and over the hearth area.

Repeat using water, and say: Sacred hearth, the water of my home recognizes your sanctity.

Dip your fingers in a blend of spices and stir so as to release their scent, then say: Sacred hearth, the air of my home recognizes your sanctity. Waft your hand over the bowl of spices to move the scented air towards the hearth.

Light the candle and hold it toward the hearth, saying: Sacred hearth, the fire of my home recognizes you.

Place the candle on, or next to the spiritual hearth, and recite: Sacred hearth, I honor the sacred fire that burns within you. I thank you for the wisdom, knowledge and power that you will bring to this new home. May your sacred flame burn forever, and may my home ever be blessed by it.

Dip a finger into the oil, saying: Sacred hearth, with this oil I mark you as a symbol of our recognition of your sanctity and our gratitude for your many gifts and blessing. Lightly touch your oil-damp fingertip to the hearth.

Bow to the hearth one last time, and leave the candle burning if you mean to work in the room afterwards. Otherwis, snuff it out.

This just an example of what a house blessing may look like. I will now list a few good pages for you to browse more ideas!

The Pagan Library

Learning Witchcraft

Llewellyn

Sacred Hands Coven

Otherworldly Oracle

Learn Religions