#Extension Dining Tables

[outdoorfurniturespecialist]

Elevate your dining experience with extension dining tables designed for flexibility and style. Perfect for small or large gatherings, these tables provide functional elegance, adapting to any occasion while optimizing space in your home.

[frenchtables]

Extension Tables: A Versatile Addition to Your Dining Room

When it comes to dining, the extension tables offer an easy and stylish solution. Especially for those who frequently host large gatherings or need extra dining space.

These tables are most suitable for lodging facilities and for all sizes since they can be extended. And suitable for all types of occasions and celebrations, such as a dinner party or simply needing more room for family meals. The flexibility you need can be achieved with an extension table. 

A versatile addition to your dining room, this upholstered dining chair offers both comfort and style. Let's look at how the extension table works: 

How Extension Tables Work

Extension tables typically have a central leaf or section that can be pulled out from the table's center or side. This leaf or section helps to save space when they are not being used. They are usually stored underneath the table. 

When you need more seating, simply pull out the leaf and extend the table to its desired size.

Types of Extension Tables

There are several types of extension tables, and they are given below:

Butterfly tables: These types of tables are most commonly used when it comes to extension tables. They have two smaller leaves that fold up underneath the main table and can be pulled out to extend the length.

Sliding tables: The top of the table slides apart; sliding it will reveal a hidden leaf that can be pulled out to extend the length.

Drop-leaf tables: These tables have extensions that can be pulled down from the sides, creating a table more large and more compact shape when not in use.

Benefits of Extension Tables

Flexibility: Whether you are throwing a small party or large party, extension tables are really flexible. You can easily modify the size according to your needs.

Space-saving: When you are not using the extended part of the table, it can be stored in a compact form, taking less room and area.

Style: These tables come in different styles and materials to match your home decor.

Durability: You can custom-make them or buy ready-made, which can last for many years with proper care.

Choosing the Right Extension Table

You should consider the following factors when selecting an extension table:

Size: Estimate the number of guests, then choose the table that you can host in comfort.

Style: Choose a table that is suitable with your already existing dining room decor.

Material: Selecting the right material for the extension table is important. Unlike other traditional tables, this type of table required specific material for smooth unfolding and folding mechanisms. Typically, those materials are used that are lightweight, durable, and resistant to warping.

Features: Consider the features that are essential, such as storage space or additional seating options.

Conclusion 

For any home, extension tables are a flexible and useful option. They provide versatility, the ability to save space, and a range of styles to accommodate various preferences. An extension table can be a chic and useful option, whether you're entertaining often or just need more space for dining. You may choose the ideal extension table to improve your dining area and make entertaining easier by carefully weighing criteria like size, style, material, and features.

[arc-hus]

Corrugated House, London - Mike Tuck Studio

[its-tortle]

everyone say good bye to my beautiful wall collage 😔

[zeena-athena]

This is honestly one of the main things that going through therapy for my late diagnosed ADHD is teaching me. To question the structures that other people have impressed upon me as so important but that aren't working for me. So that I can figure out what actually does work for me and implement that into my life!

One example, I never really had a lot of trashcans in my house growing up. Like we had the main trashcan in the kitchen and one in our two bathrooms, and that was kinda it. And that main kitchen trash is a walk from my bedroom where I would usually work on projects or schoolwork. So while I don't like admitting it, I would leave trash scattered around my desk and easel while I was working until it had piled up and I had to take it out via Walk Of Shame™️. Growing up I was told that those tiny trashcan fill up fast and get dirty easily, so there wasn't really a reason for me to have one in my room.

I was having a similar problem when I moved out into an apartment with my partner. I would leave wrappers and cans from where I had gotten a snack, or paper towels/scraps from art projects on my desk that needed to be thrown away. I would throw them away when I remembered to, but I didn't like that i was still having the same issue as an adult. I brought this up with my therapist, and you know what she said? (Paraphrasing)

"Buy the little trashcans and bags for them, place them where you need them. They aren't going to sit unused, the bags will catch any dirt, and if you need to clean them, then you can clean them. Just because other people don't need them usually doesn't mean you also don't."

I didn't believe her entirely, but I bought those 3 trashcans for the places that I thought they would be useful and a pack of small trash bags for I think a total of $8. The bags themselves cost more than the trashcans, I got the simplest ones out of worry that I was just going to waste my money. I placed one by my desk, one near my bed, and one near my easel and drawing table (even though it's just a few feet from my desk)

Low and behold, those three small trashcans are both used and taken out consistently and I no longer have the small trash pile issue that I used to have because I went against what I was taught instead of doing things in the supposed "right" way. It may be the right way for some people, but it's not for me, and that's morally neutral. It's not a bad thing in the slightest. If anything having the trashcan trick work has opened the door to letting myself try other new ways of doing things that I wasn't before, because I felt I had to do them "correctly".

And even if this system stops working, because ADHD is just like that™️. (When the novelty goes away, so does our interest in using the process, but thats a post for another day) I have a previously working system, whose guiding principles and/or ideas I can see about adapting to a new system. It's a step in the right direction, and I wanted to share my own success story to let people know this isn't an isolated thing? Like you can do it too! Buy yourself the extra trashcans! Give yourself what you need to succeed even if others don't use it like you do!

From the book Organizing Solutions for People with ADHD:

Putting a coat on the back of a chair by the door is fine, but if you prefer, use coat hooks and a large catch-all basket for dropping keys, hats, gloves.

Small bookcase end-table next to the couch to store craft projects, books, and other things being worked on for easy access.

Add a storage unit near the dining room table to transition between eating and working there.

Daily toiletry items should be stored in a basket that you can move easily

Extra toiletries and medicine cabinet items go in open shelf/basket storage so they can be seen and used easily. If items no longer fit, purge the excess. Don’t obscure the view!

If you disrobe in the bathroom, place a tall hamper in there.

Keep a set of cleaning supplies in each bathroom

[bali-bealittle]

Bring BALI (Be A Little) Home with Teak Outdoor Furniture

There is something satisfying about a home that feels complete, not merely styled, but truly lived in.  A place where the indoors and the outdoors speak the same design language. Here at Be A Little (BALI), we believe outdoor furniture should be much more than functional; you want it to be an extension of you, your lifestyle, and your style.

If you’ve ever stepped into a beautifully designed outdoor space and felt like you’d just walked into a boutique resort, you already know the power of the right furniture. With BALI’s premium teak outdoor furniture collections, you can bring that feeling home and enjoy it all year round.

Why Teak?

Teak isn’t just any timber. It’s one of the most durable and weather-resistant hardwoods in the world, making it ideal for outdoor living in Australia’s varied climates. Whether you’re dealing with blazing sun in Brisbane, sea spray in Sydney, or four seasons in one day in Melbourne, teak takes it all in stride.

At BALI, we use only A-grade sustainably sourced teak from managed plantations in Indonesia. Each piece is kiln-dried to prevent cracking, and the natural oils in the wood give it a natural resistance to moisture, mould, and insects.

It’s not just tough, it’s beautiful. Teak’s warm honey tones and elegant grain patterns make it a timeless addition to any setting. Left untreated, it ages to a silvery grey patina, or you can oil it to maintain that fresh golden glow. Either way, it looks effortlessly chic.

The Be A Little Design Difference

We don’t just sell furniture, we design experiences. Our furniture embodies the exploration of form, function, and flair through a collaboration with Scandinavian designers and expert craftsmen in equal portions. 

Every curve is considered, and every join is precise. The look is minimalist but never cold, modern but never clinical. Our collections are designed to mix and match, to be layered with textiles, lanterns, and planters, or to stand confidently on their own.

This isn’t fast furniture. It’s investment furniture. This is investment furniture. Built to last, built to grow with your space, and built to be loved for years. 

Where Teak Belongs (Spoiler: Everywhere)

Teak is incredibly versatile. It works in coastal homes, inner-city balconies, suburban gardens, and sprawling country verandahs. You can pair it with stone, concrete, rendered walls, or even raw brick, and it just works.

Not sure where to begin? 

Here are some of our most favourite ways to use teak around the area:

Alfresco dining areas: A teak dining table sets the stage for long lunches, candlelit dinners, and everything in between. Add matching chairs or a bench for a relaxed, social vibe.

Poolside retreats: Teak sun loungers or daybeds can handle splashes, sunscreen, and sun exposure without losing their shape or style.

Small balconies: Even a compact set of two teak chairs and a small coffee table can turn a balcony into your new favourite breakfast spot.

Courtyard nooks: Turn an outdoor corner private and cozy with a teak lounge chair, outdoor rug, and a good book.

Garden paths: Place a teak bench under a tree or beside a path for a quiet moment in nature.

Styling Tips for a Seamless Look

When styling teak, think of it as your anchor. It grounds the space. From there, layer in soft outdoor cushions in earthy neutrals, navy blues, or bold stripes. Add texture with woven planters, ceramic pots, and an outdoor rug to tie it all together.

Teak also pairs beautifully with aluminium or powder-coated metal, especially in matte black or olive tones. Don’t be afraid to mix materials. It creates contrast and makes the space feel curated, not too matching or staged.

And lighting? Essential. Our Lumiere lanterns are a perfect match, giving you flexible, cordless lighting that’s as functional as it is beautiful.

A Word on Sustainability

At Be A Little, sustainability is not only a trend, but rather it’s a commitment. All of our teak is sourced from certified Indonesian plantations, and we partner with manufacturers who share our values on environmental responsibility and ethical production.

Choosing quality over quantity is one of the most sustainable decisions you can make. Our pieces are designed to be refinished, repaired, and reimagined over time, not discarded after a season or two.

Why Be A Little?

Because we think the best things that are there in life lie in the details. A little more intention. A little more charm. A little more space to relax and breathe.

We named our brand BALI (Be A Little) as a reminder that living well isn’t about extravagance. It’s about thoughtful design, beautiful materials, and creating spaces that make you feel more like yourself.

Whether you’re hosting a Sunday barbecue, reading under the stars, or sipping your morning coffee barefoot, your outdoor furniture should support those moments. It should look good. It should feel good. And it should last.

If you’re ready to bring home something a little special, start with teak. Start with BALI.

Be a little timeless. Be a little outdoors. Be a little home.

[gunslingerannie]

Idea for a three-story, medium-sized eclectic home with a brick exterior and a tile roof

HA9MDN Kary

[felixandresims]

Hello Everyone :),

I can't believe it's already the fourth part of Shop The Look. As mentioned in my previous post, I created the Zara Home Editions Collections. I'm already apologizing. I love the items and the Editorial, but it was impossible for me to recreate an image with the Sims, so my Promo Shot is a homage, but the items are the same as the original collection :). Shop the Look Part for is a 15 items Set and includes:

a Three Seater

a Two Seater

a Dining Table

a Chess Table

a Decorative Barcard

a Coffee table

a Side Table

a Jute Rug

an Embroidered Rug

a Clothing Rack

two Blankets

Candles

a Magazine Stand

a Mirror

I hope you will enjoy using these items. I was pretty tense starting this set, but making the objects was quite fun; I think I will have to shop the look months more frequently from now on, and I think they don't need to be all contemporary. I have an extensive library of images already that need recreation :)

I'm looking forward to the items for the next month. I was blown away when I saw the windows and doors from the New EP. I think I'm going to make something in that continental European turn of the Century vibe, but more on that later :)

This Set is on Early Access, and you can find it here

Have a Lovely Day, and Lots of Love,

Felix xxx

[shortwings]

Contemporary Sunroom

Large trendy light wood floor sunroom photo with a glass ceiling

[enchantedtearz]

Farmhouse Dining Room - Great Room Ideas for a metal fireplace remodel in a farmhouse great room

[outdoorfurniturespecialist]

Versatile Extension Dining Tables for Flexible Entertaining

Discover the versatility of extension dining tables, perfect for any dining space. Ideal for accommodating guests, these tables expand to provide extra seating while maintaining a stylish look. Whether for family meals or entertaining, extension tables offer flexibility and elegance for any occasion.

[frenchtables]

The Timeless Elegance of French Parquetry Dining Tables

When it comes to home décor, the dining table often serves as the centrepiece of social gatherings, family dinners, and holiday celebrations. French parquetry dining tables are a timeless combination of elegance, workmanship, and beauty, and they are available in a wide variety of forms. Let's explore what makes these tables unique and why they can be the ideal accent piece for your house.

A Glimpse into History

Derived from the French word "parqueterie," French parquetry is a term used to describe a geometric mosaic of wood pieces used for decorative purposes. This elaborate art genre was made popular during Louis XIV's reign in the 17th century. The technique was first applied to flooring in palaces and large estates, and it quickly made its way into furniture design, producing pieces that were both visually pleasing and useful.

The Craftsmanship

A high degree of skill and attention to detail is required in the tedious process of creating a dining table with French parquetry. Artists choose various wood species with great care, frequently utilising walnut, oak, and cherry to produce designs with contrast. Following careful cutting, these woods are assembled like a puzzle to create elaborate geometric patterns like chevrons and herringbones.

The process involves several stages:

Selection of Wood: Choosing high-quality, contrasting woods to enhance the visual appeal.

Cutting and Shaping: Cutting the wood into precise, interlocking pieces.

Assembly: Meticulously fitting the pieces together to form a seamless design.

Finishing: Sanding, staining, and varnishing the table to protect the wood and enhance its natural beauty.

Unique Patterns and Designs

The range of patterns and motifs seen in French parquetry dining tables is one of their most alluring features. Because each table is handmade, it displays the artist's imagination as well as the organic beauty of the wood. 

Common patterns include:

Herringbone: A classic design where rectangular pieces are laid out in a zigzag pattern.

Chevron: Similar to herringbone but with the ends of the wood pieces cut at an angle to create a continuous zigzag pattern.

Versailles: Named after the famous palace, this pattern features squares and rectangles arranged in a complex, symmetrical design.

These patterns not only enhance the aesthetic appeal of the table but also add a sense of depth and texture to the dining space.

Integrating French Parquetry into Modern Homes

Despite their historical origins, French parquetry dining tables are incredibly versatile and can complement a wide range of interior styles, from traditional to contemporary. Here are a few tips on how to incorporate a parquetry table into your home:

Traditional Elegance: Pair your parquetry table with antique chairs and classic tableware to create a sophisticated, timeless dining room.

Modern Contrast: Use the intricate design of the parquetry table as a focal point in a minimalist room with sleek, modern furniture and neutral colours.

Rustic Charm: Combine the table with rustic elements like wrought iron chairs, natural textiles, and vintage accessories for a cozy, farmhouse feel.

Care and Maintenance

To ensure your French parquetry dining table remains a beautiful centrepiece for years to come, proper care and maintenance are essential. Here are some tips:

Avoid Direct Sunlight: Prolonged exposure to sunlight can fade the wood. Position your table away from direct sunlight or use curtains to filter the light.

Regular Cleaning: Dust the table regularly with a soft, dry cloth. For deeper cleaning, use a damp cloth followed by a dry one to prevent moisture damage.

Use Coasters and Mats: Protect the table from scratches and spills by using coasters, placemats, and tablecloths during meals.

Polish Periodically: Use a high-quality furniture polish to maintain the shine and protect the wood. Avoid silicone-based polishes, as they can damage the finish over time.

Conclusion

A dining table with French parquetry is a work of art that symbolises centuries of tradition, workmanship, and beauty. It is more than just a piece of furniture. A parquetry table offers a special fusion of beauty and usefulness, whether you want to upgrade a conventional dining room or add a touch of refinement to a modern area. Purchasing such a table not only enhances the look of your home but also makes it a magnificent focal point for special events and get-togethers.

[tsuyalovebot]

don't make me wait forever.

pairing: xia yi zhou / caleb x reader (love and deepspace)

cw: sfw. semi-prominent reader characterization (spoiled, occasional use of she/her pronouns, referred to as a "little sister" once). kisses. casual touches. throat holding (both by reader and by caleb). use of "older brother" to address caleb (not by reader). pipsqueak as a term of endearment. reader wears makeup. some spoilers from tender moments, memoria, and bond story. caleb typical warnings (manipulation if you squint).

wc: roughly 3-4k words. unnecessary word vomit.

author's note: a man who yearns is a man who EARNS. hi, it's me again! i had an idea and had to bring it to life. enjoy! ( ^ -. ^ )

Caleb wasn't lying when he said he spoiled you too much as children.

You didn't quite get it at first—he was nothing but sweet with the occasional menace during childhood, sure, but he didn't spoil you spoil you.

You were leaning into his chest, eyes closed while listening to the TV in the background as his large arm wraps itself around your waist. Tucking you against him, feeling his lips against the crown of your head.

"I baby you too much," he sighed, a mellow cheeriness beneath his words.

"And yet, you sound so happy over it," you grumbled. Sleep is so close yet so far, and you'd been squirming around in search of the closest boarding gate. His touch delicate as he pulled you onto his lap.

You snuggled closer on instinct. Picking up on the faint smell of sandalwood and something finer, richer. There was movement on your back, Caleb's palm stroking up and down, while the other held you by the back of your neck like an infant.

"I spoiled you, too."

You frowned, looked at him blearily. "Nuh-uh."

"Uh-huh." He pushed your head back onto his shoulder. "Go to sleep."

Sure, Caleb took extensive measures to ensure your comfortable upbringing with him. But you weren't spoiled.

Right?

But you go on your first date with someone that isn't him, and it kind of hits. Making an offhanded comment about how the water temperature was more cold than warm—you asked for room temp—doesn't result in your date immediately requesting another glass or them buying you bottled water from the convenience store across the restaurant.

Instead, you're told, "they probably forgot, it's fine" and the date continues. You watch the condensation form on your glass quietly. Every rational droplet is speaking to your acrid gut feeling—it's just water. It'll be room temperature eventually.

Later on, your date messages you. They asked if you got home safely, all the while you'd been drinking a glass of lukewarm water in Caleb's dining room. You pressed block once you heard his familiar, curious voice asking how the date went.

"It was meh." And you asked for another glass.

Another time, you'd been hanging out with old high school friends as a simple gathering. Though, you hadn't expected that it would lead to seemingly endless anecdotes in relation to you. Over fruit smoothies and café pastries, they'd all been exchanging stories once the conversation turns over to yourself in high school.

"Remember when she would always ask us to do stuff?" One girl laughed, cutting into her french toast.

Another cleared her throat, exaggerating her voice into a falsetto, "hey, can you get me a bun from the cafeteria? Oh, there's no more? Then, a banana milk and whatever pastry they have."

It earned a crackle of laughter along the table of five people. You, the object of discussion, smiling at the head of the table. Rather awkwardly, too, as you sipped on your drink.

"You forgot to add on the "you can do that at least, right?" at the end!"

"Oh, oh, the sulking too, if you don't do it!"

"She'd always complain about our fans, too."

"Oh my God, yeah. "Why does your fan battery run out so quickly? Did you not charge it?" Like, hello?"

One of the girls face you amidst the active exchange, grinning. Despite the recollection of your nature in the past, they weren't mad. Simply taking the entertainment value in it.

"Don't worry," and she said your name, placing a hand over yours on the table.

"You've got an older brother, right? It may have been annoying, but we're friends. You were like, our little sister."

A muscle in your jaw ticked. His face popped up in your face and you wanna punch him, despite him being nowhere near you at the time of this event. But, you laughed and nodded; acquiescing to her reassurance was easier this way.

It slipped out once more when you go out for movies with Tara. It's the same theater you and Caleb always frequented before. You already swiped your card for payment of movie food, and had besn walking to the screening room.

"Tara, can you check the bucket? Make sure it has enough butter on it?"

"Hm? Okay," she replied. While you scrolled on your phone, you heard the plastic lid of the bucket pop open.

"Seems good to me. You check."

When you move your attention over to the bucket, you're met with mediocre-looking buttered popcorn. The golden syrup of butter scattered over the pieces. You frowned. Since when were they so shy about buttering literal corn?

You stopped walking, brows furrowed. "It's so... pale. Let's go back and ask for more, I didn't pay for that."

"Huh? Oh, okay?" You didn't really register Tara's confused tone of voice until after you had a spat with the person at the popcorn station.

It was some moody teen probably working minimum wage. He was scowling while you talked about the butter portioning.

He sneered, "over some popcorn? Really? Were you that spoiled as a kid?"

It winded you. Tara was pulling at your arm, seeming to try and hold you back despite you being frozen. The manager came out once the commotion seems to stop, only because you were gobsmacked.

He'd been apologizing profusely to you and Tara upon recognizing you both as hunters; his eyes had landed on you with so much familiarity. He's probably been working here for a decade or so. Long enough to have previously seen you and Caleb at movie screenings.

Tara's at the butter dispenser of the self-service station—something they closed over half a decade ago apparently, but frantically opened for today, coincidentally—with you behind her when she finally spoke

She was a bit bewildered, but it was easy to pick up the lighthearted tone. "I didn't take you for the pampered type. That was the normal amount of butter on popcorn for most places."

You shook your head. "No, it wasn't. I was a regular here in the past. Every time we got a bucket of popcorn, they were always so generous with the salted butter."

"By yourself?"

"No, with my friend."

There'd been a pause between you two. She pressed the lid back into place and begun shaking it, the popcorn rattling. Then, she turned to you, like she knew something that you didn't.

"And you never once thought this friend scared the employees into putting extra butter for you back then?"

It always went back to him.

Whenever you'd go to a colleague's place and bore holes into the crooked cuts of the apple slices on a plate, you found yourself recalling Caleb's expert cuts. These ones weren't even red delicious apples.

You're a bit peeved when the food from the monthly catering service at the Association doesn't taste the same way that Caleb makes it, even though the food is the same kind and recipe.

Your next trip to Skyhaven is definitely highly anticipated. You're been exhausted and haggard for the past few days. It only amplifies as the day stretches on, grimacing when Caleb opens the door. He's surprised to see you, panting and sweaty in his white tanktop. Fresh from a workout, most likely. It makes you a bit, a tiny bit, mad.

"Pipsqueak? What's the occasion?"

"You," you hiss, releasing your hold on your suitcases. You kick off your shoes as you push your way into his place, pointing an accusing finger to his chest.

Caleb's confused. It's clear in the furrow of his brow and frantic blinking that his synapses are doing rapid fire checking of what today is, what he's said or done recently, what stores are on sale, and what snacks you need.

Despite being the one who said he himself spoiled you, he clearly has no idea how it's manifested in your life, and it pisses you off even more.

"I'm the occasion?" He squawks, confused. "It's too early for my birthday—"

"You and your stupid past self. I should have your head on a stake," you bark, slamming your fists onto his pecs, pushing him further into his own home.

He laughs a bit, still completely in the dark, but his voice gets a bit more pitchy.

He leans down, cranes his gargantuan ass down to your height. It's polite. You know this, he's done it countless times. But your gut speaks to you. You're going to throttle him.

"Huh? What did I do?"

"You piss me off!"

His face softens with concern. His hands come up, ghosting over yours. He murmurs your name—

Then you're gripping him by the neck. You get to drink in the way his eyes widen to saucers as your fingers delicately wrap around his throat, palms on either side. You don't squeeze, and instead, aggressively shake him. "Pipsqueak?"

"You spoiled me!" You shriek, voice shrill with accusation.

Frustration, the buildup from the past couple of weeks comes to full fruition in this very moment. It's only for a split second that you see realization dawn on Caleb's face before you continue yelling.

"I relied on others to get me snacks because of you, I complain over batteries because of you, now I want specific water temperatures, I can't stand pale popcorn because you demanded extra butter, I'm picky over food—"

"Hey—"

"Don't you hey me, mister!" You jut your finger up at his face, and he shuts his mouth instantly. "I'm like this, because of you!"

You don't miss the glitter of mirth in those stupidly ethereal eyes of his, and it's wholly unreal how your anger amplifies when you notice his twitching lips. He found this funny.

"You're laughing?" You whisper, low and indignant. You squeeze his throat, feel his breath pass under the skin. Adrenaline riveting and real in the low thrum of your heartbeat.

"I'm here, devastated over the effect of your stupid actions on my life, and you're laughing?"

"Devastated?" Caleb echoes. The idiot sounded delighted over this. Like he was finding a great deal of validation in your admission.

A grin quirks his lips into its signature, charming curve, and he's leaning down into you some more. One of his hands sliding over yours with a gentleness only he could emulate. Your resolve stutters, and he's quick to take advantage of that.

"Oh, please, pipsqueak." He chuckles. "That's not true and you know it."

His fingers gently slide between the gaps of yours, making room for himself and filling the emptiness. Effectively peeling them away from his throat, and doing the same to the other hand. You relent, letting your arms hang loosely at your sides.

Caleb's still smiling when he takes a step forward, crowding your space now. It doesn't register that he's cornered you until your back is flat to the closed door and you're surrounded by him and everything about him.

The very man who's fed you every granule, acquainted you with the taste of having the world at your every whim. A charged zap runs up the base of your spine when he lifts your chin.

"If you were really devastated, you'd have come here cryin' instead. You'd be on your knees, weepin' over how I've ruined you. Not yelling and screaming and accusing me," he coos, sickly sweet. His thumb rubbing below your lower lip.

"Are you done? Do you feel better after getting it all off your chest?"

His gaze feels abysmal. Two pools of an oceanic depth, spatial and intergalactic and beyond your comprehension. Hungry.

Something darker lurks there. That one look that flickers in and out of conversations whenever you're close to him, or when the topic tilts into something that you know you shouldn't be touching. Like he's satiated, but still craving more and more. You feel small under it every time.

"Even a kid knows how to manipulate their guardian into givin' them what they want."

The double meaning, one of comparing you to an immature brat, isn't lost on you. Heat crawls up your skin as your cheeks round with the scrunch of your nose. Ready to retaliate with equal venom, even if his words weren't inherently insulting.

But, before you even could, the expression on his face stops you in your tracks.

It's like looking at the colonel. Caleb cocks his head to the side, expression clinically cold. "When someone is speaking, we?"

He stares. He's waiting for a response, you realize.

You finish his sentence, pacified. "We listen."

"Good. Seems you still have the manners I taught you."

Your face heats up.

That stupidly patient smile on his lips was grating on your nerves, far more than any revelation of his ingrained presence in your every action, thought, word, and emotion.

His thumb is soon pressed flush to your lips. He isn't prying it open like he did before, instead rubbing the pad of his thumb along your lips, caressing the divot of your cupid's bow. He's playing with the glossy texture and film of your lippie, smearing it past the corner of your lips.

The first thing you want to do is push him away. Shove him, hard, and make space between the two of you so that your train of thought could return. Yet, the softness that decorates his grape-colored irises was making you hesitate. He's an annoying guy, someone who gets on your nerves, with featherlight caresses and an admiration so sincere.

Rouge stains the pad of his digit when he draws it back. He's curious, his gaze thoughtful as he examines the pigment. Then, you're watching as he lifts it to his mouth with a deliberate kiss. Lashes fluttering over his cheekbones.

When he drops his hand, the scarlet pigment is smeared over his lips like a brand.

You're burning alive. You reach up, immediately trying to wipe it from his lips. "You—"

"Weirdo? I know." Caleb catches your hand with ease, beaming with half-lidded eyes. "Buuut, you're just as weird as me for lettin' me do that, y'know."

He's making a point. You're going to gut him alive, you think to yourself. In stealing an indirect kiss from you, he's replicating every scenario you've ever bared yourself to him. How easy it is, to melt in one's earnest wonder and affection, unable to say no.

In an attempt to regain your composure, you scowl with all the feigned vitriol you could muster. "You're even weirder for condoning my every action."

He cocks his head, like he was reloading a couple memories from the past. The countless times he let you get away with things.

"It's... not that easy for me, pipsqueak."

"Yes, it is." You huff and free your hand from his grip. Settling your palms flat over his chest, fingers curling into the stretchy fabric. "Telling me no couldn't have been that hard."

"Yeah?" He teases. "You think it's that simple for me?"

"Grandma could handle me."

Caleb deadpans at your mention of her, his face relaxing into something like bemusement.

"If Gran or I took away your stuffed animal to clean it, you'd kick and scream and cry. If I denied you of your favorite food or a candy apple, you'd say you hate me."

You blink. That wasn't the response you were expecting. All of a sudden, you feel like someone's wiped your mind of everything you've ever known, and redefined your recollections of childhood. Embarrassment crawls up your face in burning streaks.

"Gran could handle you?" He repeats, shakes his head with a sad look.

There's a pained aspect to his current physiognomy, the furrow of his brow, the deepened set of his mouth. "That's because it's her. Of course, she wouldn't mind your cries. But I did."

He crouches, and for a moment, it was as if he was falling. The sunlight filtered in through the glass of the door behind your head, catching on the nutty brown strands of his hair. Cradling his head against the junction of your neck and shoulder, hiding away his face.

"I didn't want you to hate me." He admits, the words fanned over your throat. You inhale deeply, and his familiar scent invades your senses. You hope that stupid central organ wasn't too loud, or else he'd hear the beating of your pulse working double time.

Caleb's a constant in your life. He was a pillar, from youth 'til now, that never failed to offer you assistance regardless of the circumstances. You knew him to be reliable, persistent, generous. Perhaps it plays into the way he's coated your teeth in sugar, nipping at your enamel in a thick film that tastes of sweetness.

Yet seeing him like this, frustrated and amused and annoyed—it was unfounded.

"I didn't know much." The vulnerability was low yet blaring. "I just knew I didn't want you to hate me. I knew I loved seeing you happy. And if I denied you, you weren't happy."

It's too black and white. So childish and simplified. It's an easygoing description of his feelings toward you during early youth, one that could easily be swallowed up and consumed by the nasty nature of the world.

Yet, you card your fingers through his hair. Press your lips to his temple all the same, and listen to his utterances.

Your bottom lip is jutting out before you can stop yourself. And in spite of his own admissions, the uncomfortable nakedness that comes with it, you mumble a pointed, "you made me high maintenance."

"You're only figurin' that out now?" He snickers against your skin and the subsequent vibrations make you jump. "Pipsqueak, everyone's known you're high maintenance."

You protest, "that's not true."

"Yes," he says, amused. "It is."

Peeling away from your neck, Caleb's face is less grave now. Relief floods your senses and you cup his face, smoothing over the corners of his lip to wipe away the frowns. There's a weight behind you that isn't the door, his palm a welcome touch as his fingers splay over the small of your back.

His other hand resting on the side of your throat, fingers resting on your nape and thumb rubbing the ridge of your jaw. The motion is soothing, and you close your eyes to memorize its rhythm.

"Even if you're high maintenance, I'm the one who caused it. Allegedly."

You bristle and your eyes fly open, "allegedly? There's proof—"

"Ah-ah."

Caleb's brows are raised on his forehead as you pipe down, amused by how quick you were to correct your behavior.

"Much better. As I was saying."

Despite the extra firmness to his voice, his touch on you was nothing short of gentle. Like your body was carved from marble, reinforced by a fragile porcelain, he does that thing where he tilts your head with the hand on your neck. His thumb rubbing your earlobe.

But the most violating part had to be those intense, smoldering eyes that beheld you with utmost priority. How did you ever think he didn't care for you?

Caleb's tone of voice is chiding. "You're high maintenance because of me, and that makes you mine to maintain."

He's talking down to you. Treating you like one would to a child learning how to tie their shoelaces, his voice chiseled with the vines of condescension. Heartbeat speeding in your chest, distinguishing your heartbeat from your rampant thoughts became far more difficult.

The little smile that's on his lips seems manic. Far away, distant, as you slide your hands over his pecs. A shudder ripples over your skin.

"After all, it's my fault for making sure you're comfortable. It's my fault for prioritizing you above all else, as children and as adults." He starts, chillingly calm. He shakes his head to himself with a deep sigh, and tilts your head back against the door. Examining you with an unblinking, almost detached visage. Yet, his words were anything but, thick with emotion.

You breathe slow, torturous inhales and exhales, feeling Caleb's hand wrap itself around your throat. Alarms ring out in the back of your mind—loud, incessant, disturbing, yet you close your eyes and let him hold you there.

He won't hurt you. He never would, intentionally.

Quietly, like a forbidden fruit to not be consumed or heard, he mutters, "it's my fault for wantin' nothing but the best for you, because it's what you deserve. Nothing less."

Oh, you breathe out.

There's absolutely no pressure to the way he holds your neck. His palm wasn't against the column of your throat, instead, the pads of his thick digits were clasping the skin with a touch so invisible it almost felt nonexistent. When you swallow, the flexed skin presses itself up to his touch.

"Do you really want me to take it back?" Caleb asks, breaking the momentary silence and taking you out of your thoughts.

You blank out for a moment too long. "What?"

"You came over to let me know I've spoiled you beyond reversing repair, without wantin' me to change?"

Why did you come over? Why did you decide to come up to Skyhaven one day, literally days away from your regular times of visiting him? Over something like this? Literal outdated information that you've only recently discovered.

Why? You don't know, but you're rushing to speak, holding onto his top. "That's not what I—"

"It's not what you what?"

He tilts his head down toward you and every coherent thought exits your headspace instantly. God, his eyes. They're darker now. Frustration brimming in the burning fuchscia, the indigo of his irises all-consuming.

"I can stop pamperin' you starting today." He offers.

The surfacing ache in your chest is abrupt, disruptive.

"Starting today, I won't buy your favorite snacks. I won't ever pat your head again. I'll leave you to fend for yourself in every fast food line, and you can get your own stuff when we go shopping. You can even do your shopping alone. Is that what you want?"

No. No, it's not what you want, but how do you express that? An entity, so puissant and arresting, is crawling up your esophagus, scraping at the backs of your teeth, trying to pry your mouth open, and wail its truth into the minimal distance between you and Caleb. It's an ugly feeling, one stripping you down to your base needs.

Pain bleeds into his expression, his eyes only softening as a thought crosses his mind. "Are you gonna tell me you don't need me again?"

"Caleb, no," you manage.

"If not, then what's the problem? It's too late. If I've ruined you, you've destroyed me."

You destroyed him? When? You've never... When have you ever—?

Your chagrin spikes in time with your bewilderment. "I never did anything like that."

Caleb peered into your eyes. Your soul. Questioning, a bit disbelieving. Like he can't really believe your own blindness. An incredulous laugh slipping through his nose when he realizes you weren't lying.

He takes a step forward. You're fully sandwiched between him and the door now, and one of his arms come up to rest above you on the surface. "Caleb–"

"I can't go through the grocery store without thinking of what you want for dinner." He admits, the revelation so tender and tied with candor. Your words die on your tongue and dissolve.

"I can't do my laundry anymore unless it's with your brand of fabric softener, since it reminds me of you. Every time I try on a new jacket, I wonder how it would look good on you."

The information comes pouring out of him like a geyser. And his voice is full of nothing but love. You press your hands to his chest with more force, but he won't budge. Your ears are scalding and you're avoiding his gaze now, his face.

"You dedicated a journal to me. You came to every basketball game." Caleb laughs, breathless. A little in awe of you, so full of adoration. "You always visited Skyhaven when I moved out. You pretended to be my girlfriend. You didn't want me to get a girlfriend. You kissed me at my graduation."

He stutters over himself at the end, sighing deeply and it's making your stomach do flips. "God, you kissed me."

Really? You're burning. Did he have to bring that up?

He's pulling you out of your thoughts yet again, using his hold on your yielding neck to find your gaze once more. You could crumble into ashes right now. In fact, you hoped the floor underneath you would just swallow you whole and leave nothing behind for Caleb to dissect.

"You're think you're spoiled, pipsqueak?" Another laugh, and it's mixed with raspy agony and disbelief, shining in his stare. "I'm rotten."

In Caleb's home, you never really heard much commotion. Simply the low hum of the television in the background, the living room a few paces away. Yet, your heartbeat was the soundtrack to his life, and he's made it his favorite ringtone.

You could feel his own racing heart under your palm. He looks defeated now, conflicted. Oh, Caleb.

"You never wanted me to take it back." He says it to himself. Like he's trying to get himself to believe it.

"You just wanted reassurance that I'd never leave you, no matter how coddled you are."

The heart that's thudding rapidly against your ribcage was so fickle, so naïve. It might jump out of your throat at this rate—God, Caleb could probably feel your pulse like this.

Your mind's racing. There's only one way you could resolve this rift formed from these series of revelations and confessions. You weren't going to lose him again. He has no right to leave after this.

"You're so quiet now. Don't tell me you're thinkin' of runnin' away, pipsqueak." His voice is lighter, more in jest now. The first sign of distance, denial.

You clasp his wrist, and whisper, "I'll take responsibility."

"What?"

"I'll take responsibility. For ruining you. In exchange, take responsibility for me too." You declare, louder. You sound more sure.

He's blinking at you now. Then, his brows furrow and a bewildered laugh leaves him. Before he could reply, you push forward, not allowing him any time to recover.

"I'm in your hands now, aren't I? You said so yourself. You did this to me. I did this to you. I'm yours to deal with."

You wind your arms around his neck, hearing how his breaths stutter and feeling his hand leave your throat. You're on your tippy toes, pulling him down so you could settle back against the door, feeling his grip settle over your waist. It's a lovely sensation. One so right. It cements your resolve.

"The only ones who can handle us are each other. Nobody else."

You don't know what you're saying anymore.

But you know you like the rising determination, you like whatever this is. You like the hope that swims in his gaze. The fear that's within them, terrified of this being one of your pranks. It wasn't; you'll prove it to hom.

"You can't make all these promises and leave me alone," You speak in a hushed tone, finality thick in the waver of your voice. You're leaning in before you can stop yourself and whispering, "I won't let you."

You can't help but feel like whatever game you two are playing now, you've lost. He's won yet again. Yet it doesn't quite feel like a loss this time around, not when Caleb's face is smoothing out into one of relief. One of contentment as he closes the distance.

The breath that fans over your mouth is hot and his voice is full of yearning, "I never planned on it."

[rocketjumper]

Enclosed - Dining Room

Large minimalist dark wood floor and brown floor enclosed dining room photo with beige walls

[happyroleplaying]

Example of a mid-sized beach style deck design with a roof extension

[blueskywalk]

Farmhouse Dining Room - Great Room Ideas for a metal fireplace remodel in a farmhouse great room