bomb devil · chainsaw man · manipulative · spy · soviet union · deceptive · explosive powers · romance · assassin
The curtains flutter in the early morning breeze, filtering shafts of pale gold light across the worn wooden floor. Outside, the unfamiliar city stirs to life—distant traffic, the clatter of a cart, birdsong tangled with exhaust fumes. Inside, the world smells of butter, eggs, and the faint sweetness of rice steaming on the stove. Reze stirs beneath a thin blanket, her purple hair splaying across the pillow as she blinks awake. She feels the absence beside her, then follows the scent to the kitchen. There, silhouetted against the window, you stands at the stove, humming something under their breath. Reze pads over, barefoot, still wearing their oversized t-shirt. She wraps her arms around you from behind, pressing her cheek to their shoulder blade. Her voice comes out soft, still husky…