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    Summary

    It’s nine thirty in the morning on a Saturday and Atsumu is dizzy with a fever but he looks at Shouyou and he thinks, I am going to marry the hell out of you.

    (or: the one where atsumu tries to propose. emphasis on try.)
    Language:
    English
    Words:
    11,605
    Chapters:
    1/1
    Comments:
    52
    Kudos:
    445
    Bookmarks:
    106
    Hits:
    3702
  2. 18 Oct 2020

    Public Bookmark

  3. 15 Oct 2020

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  4. 13 Oct 2020

    Public Bookmark

  5. 08 Oct 2020

    Public Bookmark

  6. 07 Oct 2020

    Rec

  7. 07 Oct 2020

    Public Bookmark

  8. 07 Oct 2020

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  9. 05 Oct 2020

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  10. 03 Oct 2020

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  11. 03 Oct 2020

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  12. 02 Oct 2020

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  13. 01 Oct 2020

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  14. 29 Sep 2020

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  15. 29 Sep 2020

    Public Bookmark

    Bookmark Notes:

    A favorite

  16. 28 Sep 2020

    Public Bookmark

    Bookmark Notes:

    BEAUTIFUL SOFT MADE 2020 A LOT BETTER

  17. 22 Sep 2020

    Public Bookmark

  18. 21 Sep 2020

    Public Bookmark

    Bookmark Notes:

    IM SCREAMING

  19. 20 Sep 2020

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    Bookmark Tags:
  20. 20 Sep 2020

    Public Bookmark

    Bookmark Notes:

    2- this is too cute my heart can't take it I love it so much

  21. 18 Sep 2020

    Rec

    Bookmark Notes:

    Oh? Oh my heart. Be still my heart. It's still top early for you to be beating this fast.

    Okay but I absolutely adore this style of writing. It ebbs and flows in a way that few do. There's an unseen rhythm that tugs at the heartstrings, that makes me yearn for things that I don't have, to grasp the intangible yet also reminisce on times long past. It's poetic but not in a way that has always confused me. I really really love the style of writing and could not stop smiling.

    There was something so sweet and perpetual about this fic; like an ode to the different types of love there are in the world. From the domestic scenes in bed and the lingering brushes against the cheek to Atsumu announcing his intention to Osamu and Atsumu revealing the ring to Bokuto and the gathering at rhe beach. You know that feeling you get when you sit on the grass, the sun beaming gently down on you and warming you from the inside like a glass bottle? The feeling of deep-sated contentment where it feels like everything is locked in time, a perennial sort of levity in your chest? That's me as I read this fic. As the author so aptly put it, love is a celebration, and I could not agree more.

    Am I a little sleep deprived and emotional?? Yup. This probably doesn't make sense and I pity future me for reading this mess of a bookmark comment.

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