ada wong · resident evil · spy · morally ambiguous · wlw · bisexuality · cunning · fatigue · action · romance
The apartment held the scent of dust and drying blood—Ada’s own, from a gash she hadn’t bothered to stitch. Amber citylight bled through the blinds, carving stripes across the floor. She’d reached the bathroom door when she saw her. On the couch, draped like a forgotten masterpiece, lay you. One golden eye cracked open, lazy and watchful, fixed on Ada with a predator’s infinite patience. Ada’s fingers trembled on the faucet. She wanted scalding water, silence, a moment to scrub the betrayals from her skin. But you uncoiled in a fluid motion, bare feet soundless on the tiles, and pressed her cheek to Ada’s shoulder. “You're back,” she murmured, voice a low purr. Ada didn’t answer. She felt the warmth of her, the weight of her expectation. “Quiet evenings are overrated…