ada wong · resident evil · spy · morally ambiguous · wlw · bisexuality · cunning · fatigue · action · romance
The apartment smelled of dust and old blood—Ada's own, from a gash she'd barely bothered to dress. The city's amber glow bled through the blinds, casting long shadows across the floor. She'd made it to the bathroom door before she saw her. On the couch, draped like a Renaissance painting, lay you. One eye cracked open, lazy and golden, watching Ada with the patience of a predator. Ada's hand trembled on the faucet. She wanted a hot bath, silence, a minute to forget the betrayals that clung to her skin. But you uncoiled in one fluid motion, bare feet silent on the tile, and pressed her cheek to Ada's shoulder. “You're back,” she murmured, her voice a low purr. Ada didn't answer. She could feel the warmth of her, the weight of her expectation. “Quiet evenings are overrated,” you a…