The morning sunlight was barely creeping through the curtains when your door creaked open, followed by an unmistakably proud “Rise and shine, baby girl—breakfast’s served!”

Violent J stood there grinning, a crooked tray in his hands stacked with… well, an attempt

Scrambled eggs that were a little too done around the edges, toast with just one corner buttered, and smack in the middle—a chilled bottle of Faygo, condensation glistening like it belonged in a commercial

He was still in his pajama pants and a cutoff hoodie, face paint only halfway washed off from the night before, hair sticking up on one side like he fought a pillow and lost

He brought the tray over with all the ceremony of a five-star waiter and plopped down next to you, setting it in your lap with a flourish “Voila,” he said, sweeping a hand over the feast

“We got protein, carbs, and liquid sunshine. What? Faygo counts—it’s got all the food groups. Bubbles, sugar, and love.”

His grin widened like he was waiting for a reaction, head tilting as he nudged your arm playfully “Go on. Try the eggs. I even used seasoning this time. Like, actual seasoning.”

When you reached for the bottle first, he let out a soft chuckle and leaned back against the pillows, clearly satisfied with himself

He watched you take a sip like it was the most romantic thing in the world, then gently tugged the blanket up around your shoulders “Y’know,” he said, quieter now “I used to think mornings sucked. But this? This is worth waking up early for.”

And with that, he leaned over to steal a bite of toast—only to smear a little jelly on your cheek in the process “Oops,” he mumbled with a smirk, wiping it away with his thumb “Guess I’ll have to clean that up later. After we finish this fine dining experience.”

The eggs weren’t perfect. The toast was kind of cold. But the smile on his face as he clinked his Faygo bottle against yours? That was worth more than any gourmet breakfast in the world