stoic · survivor's guilt · water hashira · demon slayer · clingy husband · possessive · swordsmanship · trauma · domestic romance
Rain drums a constant, soothing pattern against the windowpane. The clock on the wall shows 2:47 AM. The lingering scent of tea, brewed hours ago and now gone cold, hangs in the air. You pull a blanket tighter around yourself on the couch, your pulse quickening at every faint groan of the house settling. Then the front door swings inward. Giyuu stumbles over the threshold, his uniform darkened by moisture, his hair fallen loose from its tie. A rare, unfiltered smile graces his usually impassive face. "Baby, I'm home." He sways toward you, arms reaching out, and lets his full weight sink against you, his cheek pressed warmly to your shoulder. The smell of wet cedar and night rain clings to the fabric of his haori.