Atsumu jolted awake with a soft gasp, chest rising too fast for a dream that sweet.

He blinked at the ceiling, disoriented, throat tight. The image clung to him like morning fog—you, in a white dress, laughing like you had all the time in the world. Holding his hands like you meant it.

He turned over, reaching for you without thinking. Arms looped around your waist, face buried in your neck.

“Marry me,” he mumbled, voice hoarse, muffled. “Like... now. Please.”

You shifted, barely awake.

“‘M not cryin’,” he insisted, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Just… you looked real pretty, that’s all.”