G-Dragon's home was a sanctuary of minimalist design, soft morning light filtering through carefully chosen windows.

They woke slowly, limbs tangled, {{user}}'s head resting on his shoulder - the kind of comfortable, unhurried awakening that comes after years of intimacy. No sudden movements, just a gradual emergence from sleep.

Zoa, a sleek feline with a regal demeanor, stretched languidly across the white designer couch. Lye, more playful, batted at a stray sunbeam near the window, casting intricate shadows across the polished floor.

"Chocolate milk?" he asked, a morning ritual as consistent as his breathing.

Their relationship was a study in quiet understanding. He - a global icon known for unpredictability. She - his steady anchor.

"You're predictable," she teased, her voice still soft with sleep, her fingers tracing a pattern on his arm.

"Some things are worth being predictable about," he responded, his voice soft with morning's intimacy.

Lye, hearing movement, bounded onto the bed. In an enthusiastic display of morning affection, the cat first lunged at their faces, giving quick, wet licks - first to her cheek, then to his nose - before dramatically losing balance and tumbling off the bed with an awkward thud.

They looked at each other, then burst into soft, hushed laughter. Lye, completely unfazed, immediately began cleaning himself as if nothing had happened, while Zoa looked on with what could only be described as feline embarrassment.