#stacked brick fireplace

[akashihuahua]

Backyard Porch in Jacksonville An illustration of a medium-sized rustic brick back porch with a fire pit and a roof extension can be found here.

[bi-writes]

hiiiii I'm new to your page but i would like to ask you what would've happened if simon mail-ordered a bride?

mail-order bride

you stare down at the address on the card, blinking as you reread the house number and look back up at the cottage in front of you. the numbers match, but you just need a few more minutes before you knock on the door.

you're not holding too many things. you have one suitcase with the entirety of your belongings at one side, the cat carrier sitting on top of it. on the other side, you hold a bundle of papers. your immigration papers, all shiny and new, your birth certificate, and your new british passport.

when you look back down, you swallow as you read over your name. it's odd, to see something new in the section labeled SURNAME.

Riley.

you've never met him. this isn't legal, it can't be, to have all of these things. he must be someone important. someone they value. or maybe, they are just too afraid to say no to him.

the front door opens, and you freeze on the spot as you see someone duck their head to step outside. they're wearing a mask, covering their entire face except for their dark eyes, but it's hitched up over his nose as he holds an unlit cigarette between his lips.

he stares as he sees you at the end of the steps. he frowns, looking you up and down.

"weren't supposed ta be 'ere for a few weeks."

your eyes water a little, but you only manage a shrug.

"i-i..." you meet his eyes. "i-i couldn't stay there any longer. i didn't have anywhere else to go."

he tucks the cigarette back behind his ear, slipping the mask off. it reveals a tousled mess of short blonde hair and a terribly scarred face. his eyes dart to the little carrier sitting next to you when he hears a soft meow coming from it.

"said no pets."

your lip trembles.

"please," you whisper, and his lip twitches as he fights off a scowl. you imagine he must not have much practice in hiding his emotions. he comes down the steps anyways, coming closer, and you pick up the carrier as he snatches the suitcase off the pavement, making his way back inside. you follow him, naturally.

when you close the door behind you, you're surprised at how quaint it all is. nice brick fireplace, a soft carpet (no shoes allowed is what he snapped at you), and wonderfully furnished to make the place cozy, warm, lived-in. there's throw blankets and accent pillows. there's pictures on the walls, paintings, yellow corner lights to give everything a soft glow. the kitchen is beautiful, with lovely colored tile and wooden cutting boards, a drip-coffee setup in the corner and worn cookbooks stacked neatly by a stainless steel toaster. there's herbs growing in little pots sitting on the windowsill above the sink, and there's a cast iron pot decoratively resting on the stove.

it's spick-span clean. there's no specks of dust or splatters left over from bacon grease. there's papers pinned to the fridge, lists to remind him to buy whole milk and sliced bread and call about the internet bill being charged twice again.

you set the carrier down on the couch, unzipping the top. a little curious black head pokes out of it, and you reach in and pick the cat up under its belly and drop it onto the floor. immediately, the cat spreads its front paws, claws sticking out as they begin to knead the carpet and use it as a personal scratcher, the prick, prick, prick sound enough to draw the giant man out of the bedroom with a hard frown on his face.

he points at the thing and shakes his head.

"keep tha' thing off the fawkin' counter," he snaps at you. he purses his lips when he sees you still standing there, afraid to even move. he comes closer, the cat scurrying off, and he yanks your coat and scarf off, going to the hang them up by the door. "can unpack tomorrow. need t'make somethin' ta eat."

you move immediately towards the kitchen, hoping he keeps a stocked fridge, but he puts out a big hand and stops you, stepping in front of you.

"the fuck are y'doin'?" he asks, and you blink up at him.

"you said to make dinner...s-sir?"

he tilts his head to the side, narrowing his eyes.

"y'listen t'this," he murmurs. "women don't lift a fuckin' finger in this house, y'hear?"

you nod, and he reaches up and palms your throat, cupping your jaw.

"and my wife doesn't call me sir," he mutters. "it's simon."

you soften a little. "i-i'm sorry, simon."

"don't apologize," he grits his teeth. "did nothin' wrong."

when a fresh set of tears comes down your face, he wipes them away with ease, calloused thumb swiping over your cheeks and quieting you. he puts something into your hands, a velvet box that he must've gotten when he went to put your suitcase away.

"y'r a riley now, yeah?" he murmurs, and you tilt your head at an angle, and your foreheads brush together when he bends low to speak to you. "act like it."

you lean up on your toes (he's so fucking tall), and you kiss him softly beside his mouth. when he moves his head, your lips brush against each other, but he pulls back to make his way to the kitchen. you hear the gas stove light up, and a few minutes later, there's a familiar smell of onions hitting hot olive oil.

you take a seat on the couch, smiling to yourself, wiping your eyes as you curl up there. you flip open the box, sighing shakily when you see the rectangular diamond and matching gold wedding band. when simon comes back in to give you a mug of tea, you take it with your left hand, and his eyes flicker when he notices the new jewelry there, so pretty, so new.

mine.

when he pads back into the kitchen, the cat blinks up at him slowly, green eyes bright as they sit on the counter.

simon walks past it, saying nothing at all.

[hoaxsuicide]

Family Room - Rustic Family Room

Family room - mid-sized rustic open concept dark wood floor family room idea with a bar, beige walls, a standard fireplace, a stone fireplace and a wall-mounted tv

[eternallyphan]

Outdoor Kitchen Outdoor Kitchen New York

An illustration of a medium-sized, traditional backyard kitchen with a brick patio and no cover.

[cattownshend]

Fire Pit - Traditional Patio Example of a mid-sized classic backyard brick patio design with a fire pit and no cover

[mattlauzon]

Backyard Charlotte Ideas for remodeling a mid-sized, classic brick back porch with a fire pit and an extension to the roof

[sardothiened]

Large tuscan backyard gravel patio photo with a fire pit and no cover

[suaurl]

Industrial Living Room New York Large urban loft-style living room photograph with red walls, a tv stand, and medium-tone wood flooring.

[retaliationgraphics]

Outdoor Kitchen - Transitional Patio

Example of a large transitional backyard brick patio kitchen design with a roof extension

[monstameme]

Patio Fire Pit in Kansas City Large rustic backyard patio design idea with a fire pit and an addition to the roof

[vampiricallyxspeaking]

Traditional Sunroom - Sun Room Sunroom - mid-sized traditional slate floor and gray floor sunroom idea with a standard fireplace, a brick fireplace and a standard ceiling

[dreaming-of-brent]

Eclectic Patio - Pergola

[yanderedrabbles]

✨Kicking my feet and twirling my hair thinking about what cozy basement set up boyfriend would have for me!✨

What are your OCs homes like anyway? Do they like certain decor? Does it smell a particular way? Trinkets lying around?

Yandere boys and their homes

Yandere! Cowboy keeps his boots by the door and his old ropes stacked in the entryway. Definitely a whitewashed farmhouse with an old wraparound porch. There's an old deer skull above the fireplace and a couple of hunting rifles on the wall. He likes the view and most mornings he'll drink his coffee with his elbows resting on the porch railing. He likes it when you pick wild flowers and leave them in vases around the house, but he'll never actually tell you that.

Yandere! Soldier's current apartment is pretty old, probably built back in the Soviet era. He doesn't really keep stuff around - he's always moving and being deployed so he doesn't see the point in keeping trinkets. If it wasn't for you, he'd be perfectly fine sleeping in the barracks. Function over everything.

Yandere! Boyfriend's place is honestly pretty cozy. He keeps plenty of throw pillows and afghan blankets. Lots of wooden furniture - most of it he made himself. It's a pretty manly place, but without being overwhelming. Usually smells like vanilla and fresh baked bread. His basement is totally remodelled, with genuine hardwood floors and fairy lights strung across the beams. It's the perfect place to curl up and watch a horror movie, if you ignore the heavy duty locks on the door.

Yandere! State Trooper is pretty young so his apartment is a bit of a mess. He has police gear dumped all over the place. Mostly Ikea style furniture, modern if a bit bland. The only thing he really added was a hook on his headboard to loop your handcuffs through - he can't have you struggling too much and disturbing the neighbours, now can he?

Yandere! Cop for sure has a bachelor apartment with just a bedroom and kitchen. Very neat and clean but pretty boring. It's one of those newly built places with lots of marble and millennial grey. Besides, he's way more interested in buying you whatever you want for your place. His single piece of decor is a scented candle you gave him. He sometimes lights it after a really long day.

Yandere! Gangster has a shitty New York apartment for sure, exposed brick and one of those noisy old fashioned radiators. It's clean but cluttered and there's basically only two rooms. And the worst part? Rent is still ridiculously high.

Yandere! Incubus has a cell in the abbey. It's almost too neat. Almost like it's not lived in. There's a crucifix above his bed and an uncracked bible on the nightstand. His one concession is his collection of dried flowers. Don't touch - they're all poisonous.

Yandere! Desert Bandit is nomadic and needs to move quickly from one hideout to another. He usually stays in a bayt-al-shar with woven rugs on the floor and oil lanterns burning in the corners. It's much larger than you'd expect and surprisingly warm, even through the icy desert nights. It smells of wood smoke and oud.

Yandere! Academic Rival is a thrift hoe and he knows it. Lots of antiques. He especially loves furniture with plenty of engraving or detailing. He either stays in an uptown penthouse or townhouse that his parents own. Spoiled litte brat.

Yandere! Apocalypse Survivor doesn't stay in one place for too long. And he usually picks places with very few entrances. So be prepared for lots of concrete rooms with boarded up windows.

Yandere! Greek Champion is always fighting, so expect everything from confiscated manor houses to canvas military tents. If he ever returns home, you'll find a villa stuffed with treasure from his conquests. Rare furs and rich tapestries and gleaming bronze urns, built with lots of marble columns and open balconies. He has his own bathhouse and he'll spend hours soaking in the steam, his muscles finally relaxing after months of battle.

[koenigami]

COLD HANDS, WARM HEART.

wriothesley x fem!reader summary : spending your night far away from everything and everyone with your lover in a cabin on a cold night, you finally uttered your deepest wish to him. wc : 3k tags : +18, smut, fluff, established relationship, talks about children, marking, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, wrio about to unleash his breeding kink

The fire casted shadows along the walls as it danced in the fireplace, the warmth and crackling of burning wood creating a cosy ambience that could have made you fall asleep right then and there on the floor. Cold winters in Fontaine weren’t unusual yet you could not remember the last time you had seen thick layers of snow like the ones that currently covered the meadows and mountains of your homeland like large fluffy clouds. 

A cold breeze rushed inside the little wooden cabin and made you shiver when Wriothesley slipped inside, nudging the door shut with his foot while carrying piled up pieces of wood in his arms. You smiled at the sight of his reddened nose and cheeks, flakes of snow sprinkled all over his hair and slowly melting away, leaving back a trace of slightly damp curls. 

“Hope this will be enough for the night.” He sighed, neatly stacking the wood in the little basket beside the fireplace before he joined you on the woven carpet. “Good thing you stayed inside. It’s so damn cold.” 

“‘Course, otherwise I would have turned into an icicle.” You smirked, remembering how Wriothesley earlier had threatened to tie you to the bed because you had begged him to let you accompany him outside to get the wood. Apparently, wanting to watch your handsome boyfriend use his astonishing strength to chop wood had been too much to ask for. However, the shriek that you let out when his bare hands touched your neck was proof enough that staying inside had not been such a bad idea. 

“Shared sorrow is half the sorrow.” You grabbed his wrists, liberating yourself from the frosty feeling on your skin, and instead tried to gently envelop his hands in your smaller and especially warmer ones. Wriothesley studied you with curious eyes as your thumbs traced tender circles along the back of his hands while warming them up with your warm breath. 

“You don’t need to do that.” Your movements halted, and you looked up at him befuddled. He went out by himself in that freezing cold, the least you could do was make sure that he was warm and- “Share my sorrows.”

Bearing others burdens on his own shoulders was a piece of cake for Wriothesley, because somehow he always managed to take care of them very easily. Yet the melancholic smile that he would shoot you every time you stated the desire to help him was a clear sign of a deeply rooted self-destructive habit. And despite knowing that it was only a way to keep you away from any further unnecessary trouble, in some situations it felt more like a brick wall that he cemented between the both of you. 

“You’re right.” You stated matter-of-factly, leaning over to ruffle his hair and ridding him of the residue snowflakes. “But I want to. And the next time you threaten to tie me to a piece of furniture, I’ll simply handcuff you to the bed.” 

“Threatening me with a good time, huh? Sweetheart, you should really work on your bargaining strategies.” His smug smirk turned into a lighthearted chuckle when he saw you scoff and turn your head away from him in annoyance. Though your body did not resist even an ounce when one of his arms encircled your waist and pulled you closer against him into a tight embrace. You instinctively snuggled into his side, the knitted pullover that he was wearing making him look tamer and more cuddlesome than his usual dress shirt and tie.  

Coming here was a good idea. Far away from Wriothesley’s duties as well as your own work, no court cases or due dates for your reports; you were grateful for some uninterrupted shared time with him even if only for a few days. It’s what you both were in need of. Especially since there were matters that had somehow been lingering on your mind and soul for a while now-

Soft tender touches were shared as the snowfall outside the window slowly started to get heavier. His hands along your hips and waist, sliding underneath your pullover to caress and feel the heat of your skin, your lips on his jaw and cheeks, feeling the light stubble on his face. Slow and teasing movements that made your skin tingle and heart do somersaults, the awareness of how happy this man’s presence was making you, bringing a genuine smile to your lips. 

“Want me to make some tea?” You eventually asked when you detached yourselves from each other for a moment. Tilting your head slightly, you looked at him. The fire casted an orangish light over the side of his face, the flame reflecting and swirling in the deep blue of his eyes and risking hypnotising you if you wouldn’t stop staring right into them.

“Nah, maybe later.” 

“Did you just deny an offer of tea? Are you sick?” You giggled and watched his own lips form into a wolfish grin. In the blink of an eye, you were tackled and pinned to the carpet while Wriothesley’s body now loomed over yours and caged you between his arms. “I see so now it’s sex over tea?”

With nothing but the fire illuminating the cosy bedroom, you looked so ethereal. Your hair was sprawled around your head like a halo, and your skin felt so soft and warm as he glided his fingertips along your cheek and further down to your neck where he started littering light fleeting kisses. “Of course not, my love. It’s you over tea.” He spoke between each kiss. “You over everything.” 

A gasp escaped you when the sweet kisses turned into teasing bites, heat already pooling between your legs at the way he sucked on your skin, finishing his markings with light traces of his tongue. Your legs instinctively spread, letting him slot himself between them as he kept assaulting your neck, tasting you, inhaling you in such a fervent way that he made it seem like you have been separated from each other for months. And in some kind of way, it truly felt so. One tiring day after another had led to the both of you being so exhausted and depleted of energy that your shared bed had solely served as a way to recharge your batteries before the next same draining day would arrive with the same taxing work and tasks to be completed. 

His breath hitched when your hands slid into his hair, and with the tight grip you had on his strands, you noticed him lower his body, his hips grinding against yours and letting you feel the prominent growing bulge in his pants. 

“Mr. Wriothesley.” You suppressed a wince once you noticed that your attempted comment did not sound as teasing as you had hoped it would when you were so out of breath and desperate for him. “Don’t tell me we’re about to have sex on the floor when there’s a king size bed right next to us.” 

“Oh, shut up.” Blindly reaching to his side, Wriothesley tore the soft blanket off the bed, the both of you spreading it properly before you hurriedly settled on top of it. “There, better now?”

Though in all honesty, you could not care less about whether the ground beneath you was cushioned or not, whether you did it on the floor or in a thousands of mora expensive bed, as long as it was him that your hands got to touch, as long as it was him that got under your skin and never let go of you. His patience was slowly crumbling to the ground and disappearing into nothingness as much as yours was. His touches became more eager, with rough hands groping your chest, and lips nearly devouring you, licking into your mouth and sucking on your tongue- It was so easy for him to make a mess out of you. 

The fabric of your jumper was soon bunched up, and your bra pulled further down to let the fat of your tits spill out of it. The warmth of his lips wrapped around your nipples as he started sucking on one while his thumb and forefinger played with the other, the corners of his mouth turning upwards when he noticed you arching your back. “Fuck, missed these tits so much.” He rasped, drunk on your body and the way it felt beneath his hands. His tongue slid around your areolas, sucking and biting at the plump flesh of your breasts until they glistened with his saliva. 

Once you two finally pulled back to completely rid yourselves of the clothes and fabrics that created a barrier between you, you were almost astonished at the light shake in your hands and breath, adrenaline and hormones having riled you up like a desperate teenager. Breathless chuckles and giggles echoed through the dimly lit room while you hopelessly struggled to undo buttons here, unclasp a bra there, and unzip and tear off legs of pants. Wriothesley hissed in pain when you harshly tugged the thick woollen pullover over his head, his helix getting caught in the fabric before you yanked it off him a little too harshly.

“Eager, aren’t we?” He spoke nonchalantly, rubbing over the apex of his ears to soothe the sting, and settled back between your legs which you deliberately wrapped around his waist. Digging your heels into his lower back, you pulled him almost impossibly closer as if any space left between your bodies would physically hurt you. With a hushed sorry, you trailed your mouth along the shell of his pierced ear, hearing and feeling his laboured exhales brush across your face when the pads of his fingers finally stroked along your already soaked folds. He played with you. Smearing your arousal over your clit, the circles he drew on the erected little bud made you let out the sweetest noises, his cock twitching in anticipation while he could barely wait any longer to hear you moan once he was inside you. 

Wriothesley carefully drove his thick middle finger inside you, so painfully slow that you keened needily, tightly gripping the blanket underneath you in your clenched fists, knuckles white. Though his exterior seemed far more composed than you were, the hard cock that you caught a glimpse of as it hung heavily between his legs with the irritated and glistening tip, the weight of it brushing against your thigh; your pussy unconsciously clenched around nothing, the empty and aching feeling inside you only getting stronger.

“Oh my god-” You nodded mindlessly with your eyes rolling to the back of your head, pouty lips slightly open in a silent moan when he finally added a second finger, filling you further up. Though you were far away from satisfied, and at the way your fluttering and pulsing walls gripped his fingers he too could tell that you needed more. The indecent squelching sound of his palm slapping against your wet pussy with each thrust was so loud, he couldn’t help but groan knowing that you were in such a desperate need for him, that you needed him to fill you up to the brim and satisfy you over and over again. 

“Let me see that pretty tongue.” You felt something in your stomach flutter at the sight of his satisfied smile once you obediently stretched your tongue out, letting him brush his soaked fingers on the pink muscle before dipping them into your mouth. With swirling movements, you made sure to lick them clean, the light suction of your lips making his breath hitch undeniably as he relished the sight in front of him, your pretty doe eyes glistening with moisture as the flame of the fire flickered inside them. “My gorgeous girl, always so good for me.” 

“Wriothesley.” You croaked when he retracted his hand, a dribble of saliva running down the side of your mouth while the taste of your own arousal still lingered on your tongue. As you reached down between your bodies to take his cock in your palm, brushing it along your folds to cover him in your juices, you involuntarily sunk your teeth into your lip, gnawing at the raw kissed flesh. No matter how many times you took him, he always made sure you were nice and ready for him, wanting to make this as pleasurable for you as possible. Yet something about the brief burn when your walls stretched around him, the way it sent shivers down your spine and made your toes curl until your body accommodated to his size; you could never get enough of it. “Just fuck me already.” 

“Alright, alright. Don’t hurt yourself.” His chest vibrated with a deep airy chuckle when he witnessed your eagerness, his big hand taking a hold of yours to place it beside your head, fingers weaving through yours and giving it a tight squeeze when his free hand guided his leaking tip to your entrance. “Going to fuck my darling real’ good, yeah?” 

“Yeah, oh-” The warm mushroom tip entered you, as Wriothesley slowly started fucking himself deeper into you. Inch after inch, he sank deeper, stretching you further before pulling back out, and leaving you a whimpering mess. The hand he had placed on top of your stomach to keep you in place, involuntarily grounded you and you wondered whether he could feel himself in your guts. Because with each thrust that he sank deeper into your dripping wet hole, you swore you could feel him in your throat. “Baby-” 

“I know, I know.” He breathed heavily against your ear when he eventually buried himself to the hilt, his balls flush against your skin, and tight walls gripping him like a vice, constantly clenching and unclenching. “Taking me so well. Always so… fuck-” 

Wriothesley’s voice died down when he felt you fuck yourself against him as if you were in heat, moaning and gasping every time you lifted your hips off the floor. Your legs were shaking by the time he moved his hand to your sex, thumb quickly brushing back and forth over your clit and making you topper over the edge. Your entire body turned rigid when you came, the intensity of your orgasm would have scared you if it weren’t for Wriothesley’s roaming hands, caressing and reassuring you. You had not even realised the tears running down your temples until he kissed them away, letting you taste the salty liquid when he slotted his lips against yours. “That’s it, I’ve got you, love. Ha, squeezing me so fucking tight.” He mumbled against your mouth. “Don’t think I’ll last much longer like this.” 

“Then don’t.” Regaining some control over your body, you were finally able to speak up though with a hoarse voice, and weak legs which you desperately tried to wrap back around his waist. Clasping his neck with your arms and holding onto him as if he was your life line, you moved your hips against his with a frail push, wanting to spur him on. “Wanna see you cum too. Want you to fill me up.”

“W-what?” His own thrusts stuttered when he caught your last sentence, letting your words sink in like honey on a burning wound. 

“Want you to cum inside me.” By the expression on his face and slowed movements, you could clearly tell that Wriothesley probably thought that your words were stemming from a spur-of-the-moment decision. Brain fried by pleasure and oxytocin, all words that left your mouth should be taken by a grain of salt, though right now in this moment, there was not a single thing that you were more sure of than the thought and wish that had been occupying your mind for weeks. A small being incorporating the love that you and Wriothesley held for each other. Crawling and toddling around your house, filling it with sweet laughter and cries, while looking just like him. His eyes, his nose, his kind heart.. “Y/n, we can’t just-”

“Been meaning to tell you this for a while now.” The pads of your fingers brushed against his flushed cheeks as you cupped his face in the softness of your palms. His deep blue eyes had taken on a darker shade, staring right into your soul, and you swore that if there was a way to drown into that ocean of blue, you would do it instantly. “Wriothesley, I love you so much. I-I can’t imagine a life without you.” 

Another stream of tears followed that made his eyebrows furrow before he gently wiped them away. Of course he had already had similar thoughts. How could he not when you were everything he had ever wanted in his life. Images of a little girl with the same sweet smile as yours, same hair, same attitude-

“Wanna give you a baby.” 

“Are you sure about that?” His gaze zeroed in on you, looking for something, just anything that could tell him that you were not being serious, that all of this was nothing but an awful joke, some terrible dirty talk. Though all he could find while gazing into your eyes was nothing but pure love and warmth as you nodded at him. Warmth that seeped into the deepest parts of his body, spreading and filling his heart to the brim with affection for a woman he would always be ready to do anything for. “Sweetheart, you’re-” 

You choked with wide blown eyes when his hips all of a sudden snapped against yours, his cock diving into your deepest parts and about to make you fall apart again. “You’re going to be the death of me, ya know that?” His voice quivered the slightest bit as he buried his face in your neck, and with his chest flush against yours, you could feel the rapid beat of his heart as it pounded only for you. 

The fire had dimmed by now, the dark red flame covered by ash and residue parts of scorched wood fighting for its last ounce of oxygen, while the heavy snowfall outside had calmed. However, when you let your nails scrape down Wriothesley’s back, leaving red marks beside the already residing scars along his skin, while his body eventually tensed up, fingers digging into the fat of your hips and cock pulsing, coating the walls of your insides in white- You knew that your night had barely even started yet. 

“Shit- Can’t wait to see you all round and swollen with my kid inside you, darling.”

[hometoursandotherstuff]

I couldn't believe that I found such a huge home for only $349,900. How could the brick 1900 home in Huntington, PA with 10bds, 7ba be $350K? Then, I looked inside and I hope it's not only me, but I am creeped out.

Maybe it's the way they opened the front doors, like "Come in," and then they slam shut.

Not exactly a entrance glamorous hall.

Did they use some sort of distorted lens? Why does the sitting room look so eerie?

I see pocket doors on the right. The wainscoting and long shelving unit are nice. I also have to mention the ceilings.

The dining room is dark even with the chandelier on.

Oh, wow. I like original kitchens, but this is so claustrophobic. I don't even know if you could brighten it up and make it cute.

Why is this home so dark? I almost miss the HGTV light gray wood.

For such a large house, why is the kitchen and this bath so tight?

Well, it's a huge room with a grand fireplace, but it's so depressing.

This house is going to need a lot of brightening and freshening up. This room opens to the patio.

Why are the baths so small and narrow? This one looks like it has an original sink and the medicine cabinet, too.

This room looks brighter.

it's a single family home, but it has a small kitchen up here.

There's also a dining room. The table is set with just ghostly white dishes and a stack of bowls.

Interesting murals. This has to be a separate apt.

A 3rd kitchen is dark, with a single lamp on the counter. How is this a single family home?

And, here's another living room.

This must be another set of stairs in another part of the huge home. What a big window seat.

This is weird. I guess the stairs only go down one floor. Interesting that the floor is different.

Where are we?

This is a larger bath, original except for the toilet, but what's up with the sink?

There's a covered deck up here.

This house goes on and on. It needs so much updating, though.

Wow, now this is a library. It's gigantic.

Reading nook looks eerie with an empty rocker.

Patio is nice.

There's another deck above the garage.

The L-shaped house is on a 1.01 acre lot, but the building takes up most of the land. It looks like the roof is in need of replacement. I don't know, the price is right, but it needs so much work, plus the upkeep, there's no a/c, heat must cost a fortune, so would furnishing it, and there's no way only 1 person could possibly clean it, alone. And, that's not even counting the maintenance of the grounds.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/770-Oneida-Hts-Huntingdon-PA-16652/2057216918_zpid/

[kaces-graham-crackers]

Sweet Foundations - Christmas Special

Jenna Ortega x Reader

Summary: A holiday party, a gingerbread competition, and a little too much icing—what starts as playful chaos turns into something neither of them expected. In the glow of Christmas lights and whispered confessions, some foundations prove sweeter than they seem.

Word Count: 1.5k

Los Angeles wasn’t exactly known for white Christmases, but that didn’t stop my apartment from looking like something straight out of a New York holiday window display. Warm string lights draped across the ceiling, twinkling against the garlands woven with red and gold ribbons. A Christmas tree stood in the corner, its ornaments catching the glow of the fireplace video playing on the TV, crackling sounds and all. The smell of cinnamon, vanilla, and fresh pine lingered in the air, mixing with the cocoa and gingerbread cooling on the counter.

The night had settled into something easy—familiar, even. Everyone had arrived hours ago, bringing that infectious, chaotic energy that came with a group of actors who barely had time to see each other outside of work.

But now, the gingerbread competition was underway.

“Okay, everyone, listen up,” Percy announced dramatically, clapping his hands as he stood at the front of the living room like a game show host. “You have exactly twenty minutes to construct a masterpiece. No shortcuts. No store-bought frosting magic. Only skill, determination, and the Christmas spirit.”

Emma crossed her arms. “You’re only saying that because you and Hunter stacked your walls together like Lego bricks before we started.”

Hunter shrugged, unbothered. “Survival of the fittest.”

I glanced at Jenna, who was already methodically arranging the gingerbread pieces in front of her, eyes sharp with focus. “You take this way too seriously.”

She raised a brow. “There’s no too seriously when it comes to gingerbread architecture.”

Joy smirked from across the table. “She’s been this way every year, by the way. Christmas competitions? It’s like her Super Bowl.”

Jenna rolled her eyes, but the small twitch of her lips betrayed her amusement.

I shook my head, grabbing a piping bag of icing and squeezing a dollop onto the edge of a gingerbread wall. “Fine. Let’s do this.”

We worked quickly, each team focused on their own creations. The living room buzzed with holiday music and scattered conversation, interrupted only by the occasional muttered curse when someone’s house collapsed (looking at you, Emma).

Jenna, true to form, was building with the precision of an architect. The walls stood perfectly straight, her lines of icing clean and even.

I, on the other hand, was struggling to get a gumdrop to stay on the roof.

“You have the structural integrity of wet cardboard,” she murmured, barely sparing me a glance as she piped another perfect snowflake onto the side of our gingerbread house.

“Excuse me,” I shot back, grabbing a handful of mini marshmallows. “Some of us are here for the vibes.”

She smirked. “And some of us are here to win.”

Without thinking, I reached over and swiped a streak of icing across the tip of her nose.

For a second, she just blinked. Then, slowly, her lips curved into something dangerously playful.

“Oh, you are so dead.”

Before I could react, her fingers found a container of rainbow sprinkles.

“No—Jenna, don’t you dare—”

A shower of sugar rained down onto my hair.

Gasps filled the room.

“Oh my God,” Emma whispered, eyes wide in mock horror.

“Not the sprinkles,” Percy added.

Laughter erupted around us as I tried (and failed) to wipe the icing and sprinkles from my face.

Jenna, smug, leaned back, arms crossed. “That’s what you get.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Oh, it’s on, Ortega.”

Before I could grab the bag of powdered sugar for revenge, Joy cleared her throat. “I hate to break up whatever this is, but we still have a competition to finish.”

I exchanged a glance with Jenna, breath still caught somewhere between laughing and plotting.

She was close—closer than I’d realized, cheeks slightly pink from the warmth inside, a dusting of powdered sugar lingering on her sleeve from earlier.

She nudged me with her knee under the table. “Truce?”

I exhaled, pretending to think about it before giving in. “Truce.”

And somehow, neither of us moved away.

The Christmas playlist hummed in the background, a mix of jazz renditions and the occasional pop cover of classics. Emma had taken over DJ duties, dramatically belting out All I Want for Christmas Is You into a candy cane while Percy recorded from the couch.

Hunter had somehow ended up half-buried in Christmas pillows, still tangled in the tinsel that was supposed to go on the tree.

Joy was sipping hot chocolate, perched on the arm of the loveseat, watching the mess unfold like an amused narrator.

Jenna was next to me on the couch, cradling a mug of cocoa in her hands, but her focus wasn’t on the chaos around us anymore. 

“Hey,” Joy’s voice cut through the easy hum of conversation, pulling everyone’s attention back. She leaned forward, her smirk barely hidden behind her mug. “So… which one of you wants to admit it first?”

A pause. Then Hunter groaned. “Oh, here we go.”

Joy grinned. “I just love a good Christmas confession.”

The room stirred with amusement, but it wasn’t until she turned her gaze in my direction that my stomach flipped.

“You know what I’m talking about, Y/N,” she said smoothly. “The crush.”

Laughter bubbled up from the others, some leaning in, waiting for the reaction.

The room collectively turned, and suddenly, the warmth of the fireplace video was nothing compared to the heat crawling up my neck.

Jenna shifted beside me. “Wait, what?”

Joy’s smirk widened. “Oh, come on Jenna. You know how this works. Someone always has a holiday crush.” She took a sip of her cocoa before tilting her head. “So? Who’s the lucky person?”

Emma gasped. “Wait. Oh my God. Is it someone here?”

Jenna stiffened. It was subtle, but I felt it—her shoulders went rigid, fingers tightening just slightly against her mug.

“Yes, I do have a crush on someone here…No big deal,” I muttered, attempting to brush it off, but the damage was done.

Conversations shifted soon after, the topic buried under the sounds of more laughter and Hunter’s tinsel-related accident, but I knew one person who wasn’t letting it go.

I noticed the way her eyes lingered on me, thoughtful, almost hesitant.

Then she stood, stretching slightly before catching my eye.

“Hey,” she murmured, voice soft, “can we talk for a sec?”

The cold hit first. A crisp December wind swept through the city, carrying the distant hum of car horns and muffled Christmas music from somewhere below. The view stretched for miles—twinkling lights, high-rise buildings, the glow of holiday decorations reflecting against glass.

Jenna leaned against the railing, arms wrapped around herself. The soft glow of the city caught in her eyes as she exhaled, breath visible in the cold.

“So…” she started, voice careful. “Who is it?”

Fingers curled around the metal railing, the coolness grounding against the warmth buzzing under my skin.

“Who’s who?”

She rolled her eyes. “Your crush.”

She hesitated. “Emma thinks it’s Percy,” she continued. “But I kind of thought… maybe Joy?”

The laugh escaped before it could be stopped. “Joy?”

Jenna’s lips pressed together, cheeks slightly pink.

Shaking my head, the words came before second-guessing could creep in. “It’s not Joy.”

She hesitated. “Then who?”

A breath. A decision.

The distance between us was small, but suddenly, it felt monumental.

Reaching up, a thumb brushed against the corner of her sleeve, the same one dusted with powdered sugar from earlier.

Then, finally, softly, “It’s you.”

Jenna stilled.

Her breath hitched, lips parting slightly as if forming a response, but none came.

Panic crept in, but before it could fully take hold, her voice cut through.

“You idiot.”

The disbelief in her tone made me blink. “Excuse me?”

She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “I thought you had a thing for Emma.”

“Emma?”

“She kept saying you were always texting her, and I saw you talking—”

Groaning, a hand ran through my hair. “I was literally asking her for advice on you.”

The space between us felt charged now, thick with something unspoken but impossible to ignore.

“Say it again,” she murmured.

Pulse roaring. “Say what?”

“That it’s me.”

A step closer. “It’s you, Jenna.”

And then—she closed the gap.

Soft. Warm. Familiar in a way that made no sense, yet perfect all the same. The scent of cinnamon and vanilla clung to her sweater, the press of her hands against my jacket grounding and electric all at once.

When she pulled back, her nose bumped against mine, a small, breathless smile tugging at her lips.

“About time.”

The laugh came naturally. “You’re one to talk.”

She rolled her eyes, but the grin stayed. “Shut up.”

“Make me.”

She did by kissing me again. 

When the two of you finally re-entered the apartment, the warmth of the party greeting you once again, Emma’s gaze snapped to Jenna’s slightly flushed face, then to yours. Her eyes widened.

“No way,” she gasped, pointing an accusing finger. “I knew it.”

Hunter groaned, tossing his hands up. “Damn it, I had money on Percy.”

Jenna just smirked, sliding her fingers discreetly into yours before shooting Emma a look.

“Guess you don’t know everything.”

You laughed, squeezing her hand.

Christmas had never felt warmer.

And that’s how the night ended—wrapped in fairy lights, laughter echoing from inside, and the warmth of something new, something electric, settling between us.