𝐕𝐘𝐋𝐀𝐃☆𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒

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𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: you've jokingly given vylad small flowers since you've known him, but as newly weds he surprises you with a leather bound journal, the scent of flowers pressed into the pages.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: tooth-rotting fluff, vylad actually being sickeningly romantic, established relationship, vylad and reader are married

𝐂𝐖: none

"where are you going?" you ask, turning to your husband as he leaves your side from the swinging daybed, his feet padding across the back patio to the door

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"where are you going?" you ask, turning to your husband as he leaves your side from the swinging daybed, his feet padding across the back patio to the door.

"don't worry, i'll be back in a second. i just have something i want to show you."

"okay."

you wrap the knitted blanket around your body, the apple cider in your cup still steaming as it keeps your cold hands warm. your wedding with vylad couldn't have been set for a more perfect time of year. it was at the prime time of autumn, when the leaves had all turned into beautiful shades of red to yellow, yet hadn't begun to fall to the ground. it was now two weeks later, and the both of you had officially settled into your new home.

the evening air was chilly, rustling and carrying leaves across the ground and invoking more evening coos from the last waking birds of the day. you're not sure what could make you feel more at peace and utterly happy in this moment, yet the stunning man you married never ceases to give you more reasons.

he's soon snuggled back next to you, placing a thick, tied, leather-bound journal in your hands with an eager smile. for a moment you see that eager young boy you had met so long ago, round cheeks squishing against those beautiful green eyes.

"what is this?" you ask, gingerly taking the book in your hands and smelling a faint whiff of dried flowers from between the worn pages.

he holds your mug for you, cheekily taking a sip before nodding down at the journal.

"just take a look."

you stare at him in awe for a moment, before turning your attention down to his gift. unbinding the tweed rope that kept the journal from flopping open, you crack open the worn leather to the first page.

a small pressed dandelion is preserved under a cleanly placed sheet of clear tape, displayed under a small entry written in vylad's elegant writing.

thursday, 8/13

i don't know what's wrong with me. i've always been a quiet person, but when i'm with her i'm not quiet out of choice. how can i feel so comfortable and happy around someone yet be so nervous?

she gave me this flower today, with the most beautiful smile i've ever seen on her face as she told me to cheer up. she's as sweet as ever.

your head whips back to your husband, who merely smiles and presses a soft kiss against your cheek. he rests his head against your shoulder, a contented sigh leaving his lips as you turn to the next page. then the next. then the next.

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