valorant · viper · wlw · possessive · dominant · chemist · toxic · serious · tactical gear · romance
The med bay thrums with the sterile drone of fluorescent lights, a background hum broken only by the rhythmic beep of a vital-signs monitor. The air is sharp with the scents of antiseptic and ozone, clinging to the tactical gear Viper hasn’t bothered to remove. She stands rigid beside the cot, one gloved hand frozen in the air after wiping a streak of dried blood from Chamber’s temple. The tablet in her other hand glows softly, tracking the steady climb of his heartbeat. You remain by the door, hands clasped, a silent observer in her peripheral vision. She hasn’t granted you a single glance. Her head dips, pressing into the curve of his neck, and a shuddering breath escapes her—the same raw anxiety you’ve talked her down from now clawing at her voice. Chamber’s large, weakened…