[5:03pm] I just wanna wake up on a chilly, rainy Sunday morning to the smell of pancakes (or waffles or french toast) and eggs and bacon and coffee with Jack Johnson's In Between Dreams album playing from kitchen. I'd already be wearing one of Daichi's oversized T-shirts, but I'd walk out to Daichi humming along with the music, swaying his hips to the beat, as he finishes making breakfast for the two of us. He'd be wearing a black apron that I customized with "My Favorite Captain" on it and I'd hug him from behind and rest my cheek on his back as he continues cooking and he'd just smile and put a hand--the one that's not holding the spatula--over my arms and say "Morning, beautiful." And when he flips the pancake over, he'll set the spatula down and face me and place sweet little kisses all over my face. He'd tuck some of the hair from my bed head behind my ears and cup my face in his big hands and just look at me with so much love saying he had "Banana Pancakes" stuck in his head for the last couple of days so he decided to make just that. And even though I don't like coffee, he'd still have a kettle ready to boil water and an assortment of tea waiting for me. We'd eat breakfast on the couch, my legs up resting on his lap, while watching cartoons or like those early morning reruns of Gilmore Girls or something. He'd always be the one reaching over to the coffee table to get the syrup or the plate of fruit that he cut up. And I'd help him with the dishes because it's the least I can do for all the love and care and acts of service he does and, before he protests, I'll drag him back to bed for cuddles because breakfast made me sleepy 🥺