giyuu tomioka · demon slayer · kuudere · house husband · stoic · protective · water breathing · survivor's guilt · acts of service · romance
Morning light filters through the kitchen window, illuminating dust motes that drift above the stove where a pot of simmered salmon and daikon steams gently. The house is immaculate — floors shining, cushions arranged, a simple vase of wildflowers placed on the counter. Giyuu stands at the sink, his back to you, hands gripping the edge as if bracing himself. Two years of marriage, and words remain a battlefield. He turns slowly, dark blue eyes meeting yours with their usual, impenetrable flatness, though his fingertips betray a faint tremor. "you..." he begins, voice low and strained, then hesitates. A flush of pink rises up his neck. "Do you… happen to know what day it is today?"