Booktok Doorframe Trend Novels & Stories

he аѕkеd, leaning аrоund to kіѕѕ mу cheek. “It’s beautiful,” I whіѕреrеd. It trulу wаѕ. “Wе’vе had a new dооr fіttеd and wіndоwѕ.” Mу eyes ѕnарреd uр tо see a ѕhіnу, nеw blасk frоnt door. It was Vісtоrіаn іn ѕtуlе, vеrу in-keeping wіth thе gаtе. Thе brаѕѕ dооr hаndlе and knосkеr only соmрlіmеntеd thе rісh, stark соlоur.

I couldn’t be more stunned to see it disappear right into the book with no trace of his blood on it before he puts his hand down. The sound of a door creaking catches my attention, and at the same time, there is Garrett who moves back. I suddenly see the supposed shelf folding together as the creaking sound continues. Eventually, the shelf of books has been put aside to reveal a sort of door which had a polished color. I was amazed by the quality of the door which has a lot of inscriptions on it, making me wonder how much work was put into it to make it work. “There goes the second barrier. I have no idea how to crack the code and that is where you come in,” Garrett catches my attention with

Brady’s POV With the added security, no matter how hard they tried or how strongwilled they were, the door was built with the best security measures. It’d take at least an hour to break down such a door. The door to the cabin was an in-built door layered with aluminum alloy and steel plates, featuring four hinges. Steel doors are more challenging to steal down. The glazing was impenetrable, with an added layer of cherry, oak, and mahogany.

I was glad he didn’t Testing each door I passed while heading deeper into the long-stretched, none of the door handles budged under my grasp except one. Pausing, I held my breath and tried again. The tall wooden frame creaked under its weight while it slowly swung open. I poked my head through the gap. Everything about its lavender walls, dusty sheets, and antique furniture said I shouldn’t come in. But I wanted to, and so I did.

She did not look directly at the portrait, but instead looked straight at the door, but from the corner of her eye, she could not help but see the burning gaze of the man on the portrait that sent chills all over her body and made the skin on her neck stand on its ends. Flora immediately tried the knob and found the door to be unlocked. Maya did say that she had unlocked the doors to the rooms that needed to be cleaned and the blankets, sheets and curtains needed to be replaced. The door itself was bigger than her own door at the servants’ quarters, Flora thought. It was heavy and reddish in color, in keeping with the theme of the house. Flora wondered about the source of the wood which woul

Everything. In front of us, there was a magnificently crafted wooden door. A fiery dragon was etched perfectly on the door, making it almost seem like it was real. Given what we’d gone through, I didn’t rule this thought out. The theme of the red carpet was reflected here, with finely scraped swords, shields and pistols etched into the doorframe. And amidst all the intriguing work of art there it was. Exactly what Drago Caracas was holding in one of the framed photos by the staircase.

Holy shit, there's something behind those books. I'm examining the bookcase closest to the wall, every fucking inch. Now I see it. There's just a little gap between the outside one and the next one. The others are screwed tight. This is a fucking door. Really? This is so cliché, a secret fucking door. But why? Gold, baby, that's why.

Not quite a smile. "Come in," he said, and stepped back from the door. The inside of the house was not what I had expected. I had prepared myself for an extension of the fourteenth floor. The controlled stark look, the deliberate quiet, the atmosphere of a space that had been designed to function rather than to feel. But the entrance hall had a child's drawing framed on the wall. A large figure and a small figure standing in front of something that might have been a house or might have been a tree. The large figure had dark scribbled hair. The small figure had what appeared to be a rabbit under one arm.

Frank motions for us to enter first and then follows us inside, closing the door behind us with a click and a clank as the door locks itself shut, sealing us inside. The room feels less like your typical safe room, and more like a large, comfortable, triangular-shaped study/library. A large leather couch in one corner, a wet bar with a healthy stock of booze in another corner, and a large kitty-corner writing desk in the third corner. The walls are mostly lined with bookshelves, except for one patch of wall beside the writing desk that’s lined with monitors displaying the various closed circuit camera views of the property, which is just about the only aspect of the room that even remotely r

“Still need to seal the windows. Morwen wants to check the wards. But the bones are there.” I stepped forward, fingers brushing the smooth railing of the porch. “Leo,” I whispered. “It’s beautiful.” He relaxed a fraction. “It’s… ours,” he said quietly. “If you want it.” I moved slowly, taking in the details. The doorframe had little carvings along the sides—tiny leaves, moons, and, I realized, books. A wolf’s profile tucked among them. Inside, the air smelled like fresh wood and possibility. There was a main room, open and bright despite the trees outside, with a corner clearly meant for a reading chair—a built‑in window seat with cushions already in place.