#Box Flowers

[bixels]

There's no such thing as overpreparing for love.

Happy (late) Rarijack Valentine's.

[thehobbitchronicles]

[echoes-of-the-unknown]

Happy wedding day!!!

Clear of text below the cut

[vintagehomecollection]

Antiques at Home, 1989

[snowlattes]

☀️🌧️

is it almost the end - of the rainy, sunny summer?

🌸🌻🍁❄️

carrd | twitter | instagram | inprnt | store | portfolio website

[freshcut77]

Buket bunga wisuda

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[deceased-bunny]

"Where we always wanted to go"

[fleur-aesthetic]

instagram | sparrowinlondon

[mspaint-flower]

フラワの誕生日おめでとう

[ireallyymissu]

happy monday guys ✨

if you love me

[shitpostingkats]

Every time I think Brennan Lee Mulligan has made the saddest, soggiest, most miserable little scrimblo to ever exist, I watch another dimension 20 show and get immediately proven wrong

[vulcanautus]

"I have to carry on, and do everything he planned to do."

[vintagehomecollection]

Low-level warmth. Following the gentle slope in a series of broad platforms, this deck incorporates a brick firepit into its lowest level. The zigzag pattern of floorboards and planters adds visual interest on the path from the shade pavilion to the lounging area around the firepit.

Deck & Patio Styles, 1996

[reaping-the-benefits]

found your medic reader x price au yesterday and to say i have been OBSESSED is an understatement.

got me thinking about price getting invited to a dinner with the bigwigs, commendation for a job well done. after dinner the when they’re all loose lipped from good whiskey, some of the men start making crude comments about medic reader. how lucky the 141 is to have a good bit of eye candy, handy for a lot of things out there wink wink. and price just listens to them calmly, puffing away at his cigar until they run out of jokes and start to realize he’s not laughing.

“that’s my wife you’re talkin’ about.”

Anon, you got me giggling and kicking my feet. I haven't had any proper time to dedicate to their story (want to write how they met maybe, if anyone's interested.) And I love love LOVE this idea!!!

Content warning: MDNI suggestive content, misogynistic comments, drinking and smoking, brief mention of violence.

Price never really cared for these stupid dinner parties. It's like that one saying: if you've been to one, you've been to them all. And if he's being honest, he'd much rather be at home, with you and the cats.

But the task force has been doing exceptionally well, catching terrorists and breaking up crime rings, so it's about due time that he gets invited to another one. Technically, he could decline his own invite, send Ghost to it instead. But that feels like a punishment for Ghost, and Price isn't looking to be dealing out punishment. Or dealing with a pissed off Lieutenant.

So, here he is, dressed in a suit and sitting in some stuffy parlor. The only good thing about these events is that the Colonel has good taste in cigars and whiskey. For the most part, Price can drown them all out, thinking about you while he's sipping his whiskey.

You. The sweet thing that keeps his bed warm and only occasionally drives him up the wall. You, who had been on your knees not even ten minutes before he was supposed to leave. Your hands on his belt loops, a pretty pleading look in your eyes, your mouth on his -

A cacophony of laughter breaks Price from his thoughts, He blinks, turning his attention back to the group of men he's sitting with.

"Lost in thought there, Captain?" one of them asks, humored by something Price must've missed.

"Cut him some slack. I would be too, if I worked so closely with that pretty medic of theirs," another says.

"Pretty, but they've got such an attitude," the first one comments.

"Bratty thing like that just needs to be bent over the Captain's knees."

"Or a desk. Isn't that right, Price?"

The men laugh again, the sound filling the parlor. And it's only when they settle down, laughter dying in quiet chuckles, that they realize Price isn't laughing along. In fact, he's holding onto his glass so tightly, it's a miracle that it hasn't broke yet. Before any of them can say anything, Price tells him, his voice low and tone full of warning.

"That's my wife you're talkin' about."

These men might be above him in rank, but Price has never really cared about any of that anyway. The 141 doesn't run the way it does by following the rules. Getting things done, regardless of any of the rules one might be breaking, is how the world runs.

They could've talked poorly about him, talked poorly about the 141, and he wouldn't be as seething mad as he is now. But no. Your name came out of their mouths, followed by blatant disrespect for you and all your hard work. As your husband, Price will not be letting that slide.

And as he slams his knuckles into the Colonel's nose, Price thinks of you. The pretty little thing he's got waiting for him at home. Maybe he should bend you over his desk. Heaven knows you're overdue for a good fuck in his office. But that will be after you bandage up his hands, chiding him softly for hurting himself. He won't tell you what happened at the dinner party, or why he came home with bloody knuckles, but the flowers you receive from the Colonel a week later gives you all the insight you need to know.

[thoselovelythings]

[freshcut77]

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