Multiverse One Shot Collection - Reader Insert

Rainbow Six - Providence

"Twenty-seven days! You survived for twenty-seven days on your own—how remarkable is that? Can we get a round of applause for the survivor, please!"

The lights blazed hot, cutting through the shadows like searchlights. The thunderous applause erupted from the audience, a roar that pressed against your temples. You forced a smile, lifted a hand in a half-hearted wave, and sank deeper into the plush chair. The bright lights burned your corneas, your teeth gleaming like a polished trophy in the glare.

You hated this.

The interviews. The talk shows. The relentless questions about how everyone else died. It wasn't admiration; it was morbid fascination, the kind people only had for disasters.

And every time, it brought back the guilt. The crushing weight of it. You just—

"So, tell us," the host's voice cut through your spiraling thoughts, his dazzling smile as practiced as his tan, "how did you find the willpower to drag yourself through the mountains in such low temperatures? Not many could accomplish a hike like that, even in proper attire."

His eyes betrayed him—flat, uninterested. He wasn't here for your story, not really. He was here to keep the viewers glued to their screens, waiting for the next commercial break.

Your fingers gripped the armrest as you forced the words out, your voice tinged with a half-hearted chuckle. "Ah, well, you know how it goes. They make you a SEAL to carry the world on your shoulders, and then they make you a man by bringing you into Delta."

The joke landed like a snowflake in a storm—soft, fragile, but enough to fill the awkward silence. The audience laughed on cue as the "LAUGH" sign blinked overhead, and even the host offered a hearty chuckle, though his smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Oh, I don't doubt it!" He gestured toward your arms with exaggerated flair. "I bet this is what you ladies think a real man looks like, huh?"

The audience cheered, and a few women in the crowd whistled.

You smiled politely, your gaze dropping to your lap. The heat of the lights was nothing compared to the warmth crawling up your neck.

The snow crunched beneath your boots as you stomped off the icy crust, leaving muddy impressions that would vanish with the next storm. The air was sharp, biting at the exposed skin of your face, but you didn't feel it. You never did. Your focus was on the task ahead. Routine. Just another day in the cold.

A tap on the back of your cap made you glance over your shoulder. Nienke stood there, her expression a mix of amusement and exasperation. She always had that look when she talked to you, like you were somehow both endearing and infuriating at the same time.

"Come on, Arctic. This shit's routine. Two more missions until your promotion, right?"

You managed a faint grin despite the unease twisting in your gut. Routine didn't mean easy—not out here. Not with what you'd seen. Still, her confidence had a way of settling your nerves, even when your instincts screamed otherwise.

"Yeah, something like that," you replied, your voice steady but softer than usual. The weight in your pack wasn't just gear—it was the little box tucked in the side pocket. 

The ring. 

The thing you'd rehearsed giving her a hundred times but still hadn't worked up the courage to do. "Just don't be late, yeah?"

Her laugh was warm, cutting through the freezing air like a lifeline. She stepped closer, her gloved hand brushing yours, the faintest touch that made your heart skip a beat. "Don't worry," she teased, her lips quirking into a smirk before pressing a quick, chaste kiss to your lips. "We'll be right behind you."