۶۟ৎ a mission where you make a close call worries your husband and in the suffocating quiet of the debrief room, the distance between you two has never felt wider.
૮ ․ ․ ྀིა fem!reader, angst, sova loves hard hhh, worried husband
The doors to the debrief room slide shut with a muted hiss
You don’t sit. And neither does Sova. The hum of the lights fills the space between you, thick and suffocating. Outside, the other Valorant agents are still moving about. Phoenix’s laughter is too loud for someone who almost didn’t make it back. And Jett’s voice carries too—joking, deflecting. But both still alive
Because of you
Sova’s jaw is tight. He hasn’t taken his gloves off yet. That’s how you know he’s angry. Not explosive—never that—but restrained, pulled so taut it could snap, just like his bowstring
For a moment, neither of you speak. “What happened out there today…what you did was reckless,” he says finally
You blink. Once. Slowly
“They were cornered,” you reply. Your tone is even. “I made a call.”
“You broke formation.”
“I pulled them out.”
“You exposed yourself.”
“And yet they’re still breathing.”
Then silence. Heavy. You can feel your pulse behind your eyes, the lingering ache of overused radiant energy humming under your skin. You’d felt it tear through you when you reached for them—when you bent space, just enough to drag Phoenix and Jett out of the line of fire
Sova exhales through his nose. “You always do this.”
Your shoulders stiffen and you softly scoff. “Do what?”
“Decide alone.” His gaze sharpens. “You don’t signal the others. You don’t warn us of your next move. You just—act. And the rest of us are left reacting.”
“You trust my aim on the field,” you say quietly
“I trust your skill,” he corrects. “That is not the same thing.”
That lands harder than you expected
You look away, jaw ticking at that. The wall is bare, sterile, safe. Safer than his eyes right now. “If I hadn’t—”
“They almost died,” he cuts in
You snap your head back to him, an 'are you serious' expression etched on your face. “I know.”
The words come out sharper and harsher than intended. For a moment, something flickers in his expression—regret, maybe—but it’s gone just as fast
“You could have died too,” he says
There it is. Not anger. The fear.
“And I didn’t,” you say
“But you could have,” he insists. “You keep pushing like you’re expendable.”
“I’m a Valorant agent. It’s my job.”
“You are my wife.”
Your voice drops. “We’re agents first in the field. You know this.”
“And off the field?” His tone hardens. “Do you remember that then?”
You swallow
The younger agents look up to you. To both of you. The perfect pair. The composed strategist and the quiet powerhouse. Proof that love and duty can coexist in this world
You keep your back straight. Your face neutral
“I did what I had to,” you say
Sova steps closer. Not invading—just enough that you feel him. “And if next time you don’t make it back?”
“Then they live.”
His breath stutters
“That’s your answer?” he asks incredulously
You almost hesitate
Then something in him shifts
“Why did I even marry you,” he says quietly, “if you are so willing to throw your life away?”
The way he speaks to you is soft
But his words devastate
You feel it then—the crack. The fracture running straight through both your carefully built facades. Agent. Radiant. His wife
Your hands curl into fists at your sides
“I didn’t know loving me meant owning my choices,” your voice slightly wavers
“That’s not what I meant and you know that”
“But it’s what you said.”
Silence again. Much thicker now
You force yourself to breathe. Slow and steady. Back in control. You will not break here. Not when Viper or Brimstone or anyone could walk in. Not where the myth of you could shatter
“I saved them,” you say, voice steady despite the tremor threatening beneath it. “If that’s something you can’t forgive—”
Sova’s shoulders sag, just a little. The anger drains, leaving something raw behind
“I’m afraid,” he admits. “And you make it easy to be cruel when I am.”
That almost hurts more
You close your eyes for a moment. When you open them, the shine is gone. The mask is back in place
“Fear doesn’t give you the right to question why you chose me,” you say softly. “Especially when I chose you knowing exactly who I am.”
He doesn’t answer
You step past him, the door sliding open as you leave. The noise of the hallway rushes in—life, motion, proof that the mission didn’t go wrong enough to leave ghosts behind
Behind you, Sova remains in the debrief room alone
And for the first time, you wonder if the quiet distance between you will hurt worse than any battlefield ever could
───────
You’re holding site when it happens
Comms crackling with half-finished warnings as footsteps flood the choke. You don’t retreat. You can’t. Someone has to buy time
So you do
Energy burns hot under your skin as you brace against the wall, vision sharp despite the pain already screaming through your body. Your shoulder went out minutes ago—dislocated with a sickening pop when you were thrown back by an cluster grenade. You shoved it aside. No time. Scratches line your arms, bruises blooming dark beneath torn fabric
You hold
Shot after shot. Ability after ability. Every second counts
Your breath comes ragged when you hear it—Sage’s voice, strained, sharp with panic
“I’m pinned—can’t move—”
You can see her on the opposite site, trapped behind shattered cover, enemy fire chewing the wall to splinters. She’s crouched low, glowing faintly, healing herself as her weapon lay forgotten on the ground
You don’t hesitate
“I see you,” you say into comms. “I’m coming.”
You can hear Viper swearing through comms. Breach shouting a warning. And Yoru’s footsteps shift, trying to reposition himself to help you
You launch yourself forward anyway
The pain in your arm nearly blacks out your vision, but you grit your teeth and reach—space warping, force bending just enough. You pull Sage hard, ripping her from danger and dragging her into cover with you
She gasps as she holds onto you
And then—
A shot cracks out
White-hot pain explodes at the side of your head as the bullet grazes the left side of your forehead. It doesn’t lodge. But the impact alone sends you flying back, body slamming into the ground
Your head hits the floor with a sickening thud
For a second, there’s nothing
Then warmth spreads beneath your cheek
Too warm
Sage is screaming your name
Your vision blurs, lights fracturing as blood pools rapidly against the concrete, dark and unforgiving. You try to move. Your body doesn’t listen. The world tilts
“Stay with me—please—stay with me—” Sage’s hands shake as she pulls you close, glowing desperately as she presses against your wounds. “Backup is coming—just stay—”
You hear Breach’s explosives. Viper’s toxins hiss as she backs up to assist Sage. Yoru tears through space
Then nothing
You don’t wake up
Not on the transport. Not in the med bay
───────
When Sova returns from his own mission, it’s Sage and Viper waiting for him
That alone sets his nerves on edge
Sage looks wrecked. Blood still stains her hands, dried and dark. Viper’s mask is off, jaw tight, eyes hard—but there’s something shaken beneath it
“Sova,” Sage says quietly
He knows before she finishes
“Where is she?"
Sage’s voice breaks. “She saved me.”
The words feel distant. Wrong. Like they belong to someone else
“Where Sage,” Sova demands.
Neither of them answer right away.
Viper responds. “Intensive care.”
The world drops out from under him
You’re surrounded by machines when he finally goes to see you
IV lines run into your arm. A tube is inserted into your mouth, breathing for you with a soft, relentless rhythm. Bandages wrap your head, your shoulder, your torso—white against skin that looks too still. Too fragile
You don’t look like an agent
You look small
Sova finds himself stopping in the doorway
He can’t move. Can’t breathe. The words he threw at you replay in his head, sharp and merciless
Why did I even marry you
He steps closer, slowly, like you might disappear if he moves too fast
Your hand is so cold when he takes it
“I am sorry,” he whispers, voice cracking as he bows his head to your knuckles. “I was afraid… and I made it your burden.”
The machines hum and beep. Unforgiving. Steady. As if taunting him
“I should have said I was proud,” he continues softly. “I should have said I trusted you. I still do moya lyubov’”
His grip tightens, careful not to hurt you
“Please,” he murmurs. “Come back to me.”
Outside the room, the younger agents wait in silence. Neon and Jett picked out your favorite flowers, Sage herself insists on keeping a close watch on your vitals from the medbay
Inside, Sova stays at your bedside—watching over the woman who saved everyone else, hoping desperately she will save herself too
