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r6s-imagines · 1 year

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jackal x reader >> quit your squirming

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MASTERLIST

warnings: swearing, light injuries, tiny bit of nsfw, makeout sesh

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summary: jackal needs more practice perfecting his appearance, and the organization pilot happy to provide assistance.

notes: LOL I STARTED WRITING AGAIN VINE BOOM

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your knees wobbled from the lack of movement as you stood from the foam pad on the pavement floor, wiping your forehead and leaving a thin streak of grime onto your skin. rainbow should invest more into their vehicle care than their damn firing range, you thought. what good is aim if you can’t take it anywhere? bias aside, your error report was due to the director and you felt your joints cry out as you took slow steps back into the facility.

the universe had oddly comedic timing, making you climb up three flights of stairs to get to the drop-off destination. your eyes traced the fine stripe running alongside the wall, catching each door label and looking for the right one.

having been employed there for a large part of your working age, the door placements were almost muscle memory. marius’s mechanics office was fourth door down the south wing. you’d been there a million times, and when you swore you hit the fourth door, you knocked once and looped your arm around the knob, swinging open the door.

“marius, i have the--”

“carajo!”

a whisper-yell violated your ears and you stumbled, spilling the documents across the floor. the lone wolf jackal was sitting at his desk, chip up toward the ceiling and a large weathered hand concealing his neck. quite literally being the last man you hoped to meet in your condition, your temperature flared up and you could feel your underarms dampening.

the spaniard's hair was slicked back with curly flyaways, water dripping down his thick neck. his facial hair seemed to be taking over his face, though not too unkempt. you always considered him a perfect specimen, from his stone-cold perspective on extractions to the way he'd rest against a wall during a business celebration. "perfect," in your mind, did not mean flawless. he's slipped up, missed meetings, sometimes even forgotten his helmet for a mission. he was your hot, imaginary disaster of a boyfriend. in your daydreams, at least.

to those besides yourself, to call specialist jackal a disaster would be a practical understatement. sure, you’d catch his passing glance in the transport helicopter or watch his back muscles flex as he shrugged on his vest, but that doesn’t mean his interior was stable.

ramírez was a man past his prime, yet not weathered to the extent of being “too old.” your trusted co-pilot, jäger, called him your salt and pepper crush (for unclear reasons to you) to the point of you threatening to send the copter straight into the ocean.

"ramírez," your voice cracked. "sorry for the interruption. it seems i entered the wrong door. have a good day."

"i- no- wait-" he huffed, lifting his hand from his neck. he glanced in the mirror which caused his eyes to widen. ramírez reached out to you, quickly yet tenderly taking hold of your forearm. "could you... help. really quick. please."

it seemed like a cruel setup to an evil prank. you were too old for games, but you could name a few other operators that would seem up for such a thing. he continued.

"could you get me some gauze, l/n? a cotton ball. something. anything, por favor."

"are you okay?"

"yes. i cut my neck shaving," he looked up to your panicked expression. "just a little nick, don't worry."

you scurried toward one of the many first aid kits nailed to the wall. you flipped it open, fumbling for some sort of bandage. you paused, gripping it in your palm.

now's your chance, mein frund, you could hear jäger in your head. you nodded to yourself and reentered his room. jackal had not moved from his position but was now standing an inch from his mirror.

"gracias," he thanked, reaching out to grab the gauze from your hand. your quick thinking caused you to pull back.

"let me help," you said, with a light smirk. it had been some time since you last had the chance to flirt, with work and all clouding your mind since you got out of college. "i can see it better. sit."

he sat down, legs wide. you shuffled between his left leg, practically sitting on it. he readjusted in his seat. without even thinking twice, you held his chin and turned it upward.

"i can't reach it, it's like.. right under your jaw-" you mumbled mostly to yourself. you watched his jaw clenched and eyes glue to the ceiling and said nothing about it. it's working. "where is it?"

"here," jackal whispered back, placing his hand over yours and moving your hand to his pulse. you began to wipe at the blood, yet it never seemed to stop. fighting the frustration, you furrowed your brow and continued cleaning his neck, when suddenly, you heard a low groaning noise.

"quit your squirming," you instructed, holding him down with more authority. he continued to breathe through his teeth, and you felt his body heat radiating despite the gap. you began to get worried.

"is this okay?" you asked, referring to the cut. his breathing became heavier and body stiffer.

"yes... hhh—stay like that."

you raised an eyebrow, checking your surroundings. during your frustrations, you seemed to have taken a seat on his lap, with your hand applying gentle pressure on the sides of his neck. you soon realized he was not talking about the blood.

"me encanta esto." it was almost inaudible, said barely above a whisper, but you heard it.

for a moment, time stopped. you pulled your gauze-hand back, and truly seizing this glorious opportunity, placed it on his chest. it was just as amazing as you pictured it felt. was this actually happening right now? is he just really into this, or is he so uncomfortable he can't even speak?

he lowered his chin, meeting your eyes once before glancing down at your lips. you couldn't help but admire his long, dark eyelashes. his lips parted.

"can i kiss you...?" ramírez asked, fixated on your mouth. you nodded, slowly.

as if waiting a million years, his instincts took over as he grabbed the back of your neck and waist, pulling you in and smashing your lips together. you kissed back feverishly, holding the sides of his face and starting to slowly grind against his thigh. he tasted like minty rain and you loved every bit of it. after nearly a minute straight, you pulled away, taking a deep catching breath. you were so caught up against his lips you didn't notice the small trail of blood soaking into his shirt collar.

"ramírez—" you began, but he kissed you once more, just as deeply but as quick as a peck.

"thank you for the help," he replied in a low rumble. "i think i've got it from here."

you jumped up, remembering the report. you started to apologize before he grabbed your hand, squeezing it once.

"i'll be here. don't worry, i'll wait for you."

you nodded, closing his door behind you. it felt like high school prom! you cheered to yourself, throwing punches and kicking the air. who knew it was that easy?!

#r6s #rainbow six siege #r6s imagine #siege #r6s x reader #jackal siege #jackal imagine #jackal x reader #siege x reader #plague writes

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kiruuuuu · 1 year

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Siege the Valentine's, Day 11 💘

Hi all, you know the drill, follow @dualrainbow for more events like these and so you don't miss a single entry 😁 Thank you again to all the people organising this and thank you also to the participants!

My entry is a wholesome one (for once) about how Bandit and Jäger go on a date, but not really. I hope you enjoy it!! (Bandit/Jäger, Rating T, fluff, ~3.7k words)

“You better dress up for our date later.”

Bandit looks up only once his shoe is lightly kicked and greets his teammate with a wide grin, noticing how Rook’s head in the background whips around at the statement. “Rented a tux for you, babe. You better follow… suit.”

He earns a very satisfying groan and an eye roll, warranting no further questions from Jäger himself, though prompting IQ to lean over. “What are your plans for today?”

“Let’s see…” Bandit glances at the other man to check he’s not forgetting anything. “Early film, of course the most romantic one we could find, then a candle light dinner at an Italian place near the sports park, and if I play my cards right, it’ll turn into a sleepover with benefits.”

“Nice.” IQ nods in appreciation. “Learnt your lesson last year, huh?”

Bandit has long noticed they hold all the attention belonging to an increasingly confused-looking Rook who’s trying his best not to stare, so he hams it up even more. “Yeah, eating dinner first and then going to the cinema was a nightmare, we had to beg the waiter to rush our food even though they were swamped because the old couple who stole our table just wouldn’t leave and Marius was cranky the entire time. We only barely made the film and were too stressed out for any… other activities afterwards. Unlike today, hopefully.” He winks at Jäger and receives a sincere nod in return.

“I was in favour of just staying home and making some food ourselves, but he vetoed that. Vehemently.”

“Look, it would’ve been fine if you were still in your pickled phase, but fermentation?” Bandit makes a face in IQ’s direction. “You don’t want to know how much kimchi I’ve had to try in the last months. And those salty half-alcoholic fruits that never turned out right -”

“The kimchi was fine”, Jäger insists, getting huffy, “you’re just mad because I refused to make beer for you.”

“Absolutely no reason to just leave food lying around until it gets kinda mouldy. I don’t even like sauerkraut.”

“Soy sauce is fermented, actually, and you might as well drink the stuff with how -”

“You’re going on a date?”

It just burst out of Rook – even he seems appalled at his sudden interjection yet his curiosity must burn too bright for he does not recant his question. Instead, his eyes dart between them, seeking a specific reaction, a revealing sign, anything.

“Yeah”, Bandit replies easily, “just one of many, you know.” He doesn’t need to look to know Jäger nods in confirmation. IQ probably does as well.

“So…”

No way he’s letting him off the hook like that. Instead of picking up on Rook’s non-verbal implication, Bandit simply raises his brows expectantly and waits. He’s going to make him say it.

After he’s fidgeted uncomfortably for a few seconds, he finally blurts out: “So you two are dating.”

IQ throws him a pitying look. He’s not the first and he won’t be the last, and this whole thing is part of why Bandit enjoys days like Valentine’s so much. His smirk is overly smug yet he makes no effort to reign it in. “Of course we’re not. Never have, never will. What makes you think that?”

And he just soaks up the mixture of bemusement and annoyance radiating from the young Frenchman.

He’d be hard pressed to remember all the details from their first ‘date’, though some aspects preserved themselves illegally in his mind: when he pictures it, all he sees is a lanky, withdrawn nerd who grimaces every time anyone mentions Christmas around him, so Bandit naturally did what he always does. He pokes and prods and rubs it in until he finally gets a straight answer out of his current object of curiosity, and the one they called Jäger admitted his long-term boyfriend recently broke up with him so now all their plans for the festive season were nullified, leaving him devoid of company. And hey, what a coincidence, Bandit’s then-girlfriend (not for much longer, obviously) had just accepted an invitation to her horribly backward, racist and homophobic family’s party and he’d been looking for a good excuse to ditch her.

So they did the most stereotypical shit they could come up with, watched Die Hard and ate potato salad and drank too much beer until Jäger passed out on his couch, and then they proceeded to not interact with each other for a long time. The chance never really came up, is the thing, and Bandit did an undercover gig and Jäger was sent somewhere else after and then a year had passed and Bandit asked for his plans for Christmas with a tongue-in-cheek comment, referring to the previous year and expecting a laugh and to be shot down (like Jäger usually does when it comes to social events with people he doesn’t know well, Bandit is aware and stopped inviting him without changing anything else about their conversations which somehow seemed to put Jäger at ease) – except Jäger is the one who suggests they celebrate Christmas like the Japanese and get KFC together.

And as a casual acquaintanceship slowly blooms into something more, they involuntarily learn a variety of things about each other. Bandit’s habit of putting a cigarette behind his ear, losing it almost immediately and complaining loudly while he calculates how much that single cancer stick cost him. Jäger’s preferences in food, which are as cryptic as they are manifold: sometimes he rejects dishes for consistency, sometimes for colour, sometimes for reasons unknown to everyone including him, and Bandit forgets them all the second Jäger divulges them which turns out to be fine as they keep changing from month to month anyway. Jäger tries futilely to convince him not to buy a new motorcycle whenever the urge overtakes him, and they inevitably end up tuning it together.

Eventually, Jäger readily offers advice whenever Bandit describes whoever he’s flirting with at that point, and Bandit talks a little about his night terrors (though not sober, he needs to be dead drunk, meaning the opportunity presents itself quite often), and Jäger laments his difficulties in finding anyone with whom he’s comfortable enough to start a relationship, and the two of them swap work stories that leave them the unhealthy flavour of desolate. But it’s either Bandit’s dry sarcasm or Jäger’s genuine enthusiasm about his current fixation that allows them to move on, and then one year, everyone brags about their perfect Valentine’s date, so naturally, Bandit and Jäger name each other as their Valentine’s. They go ice skating and Bandit ends up with a bloody nose and nearly a finger less than before and they conclude that next time, they’d rather do something more romantic.

It just escalates from there. Though they do spend significant holidays with their families or, rarely, their partners whenever possible, more often than not something comes up and they just celebrate together. By the time they can’t remember how long they’ve been friends they’re leaning into it all the way, sipping sickly-sweet cocktails on Christmas while slagging Hallmark-like films shown on TV, mocking the many advertisements in between to the point where Jäger is red in the face and can’t breathe anymore.

(When Bandit finds out Jäger is following him into Rainbow, he ends up crying. Could be all the gin and tonic, who knows, could be the relief of knowing he’ll have someone who has his back no matter what, but he knows he wouldn’t have done it if he hadn’t been pissed, and he certainly wouldn’t have done it had he known Jäger would mirror him. It’s not – not a sob fest or anything, they don’t cling to each other shedding tears of joy, it’s just annoyingly wet and a pain to wipe away of which he does a bad job of hiding while Jäger gets some tissues for himself, and they quickly change the topic afterwards.)

“I don’t actually know which film we’re seeing.” Jäger bounces on his heels in impatience, eyes darting around the lobby trying to find the poster that reveals whichever kitsch Bandit might’ve picked.

“You’re remarkably calm about that.” He’s busy operating the vending machine responsible for dispensing reserved tickets, a blessing as far as Bandit is concerned – he doesn’t need to talk to a human being and the poor cashiers don’t have to deal with his sorry attitude. “When I was sixteen, Ced invited my girlfriend and me to a double date and kept the film a secret. It turned out to be some fucked-up gory horror flick. I think I still have the scars from where my girlfriend clawed into my arm while trying not to scream.”

Jäger scoffs. “I would’ve dumped you for that.”

“Even though it wasn’t my fault?”

“No, because you probably laughed at her and brought it up at every opportunity. You told me how you were at sixteen.”

There’s no arguing there. Bandit grins and snatches the printed-out tickets before Jäger can sneak a peek. “I did, and she did dump me. Now she’s working as an accountant and has like three kids, so who really lucked out in the end?” His companion opens his mouth. “Don’t answer that. Let’s go.”

In true date night fashion, Jäger links his arm with Bandit’s and they meander through the floors together, commenting on a few cardboard cutouts and which one they’d put up in their homes if they had to choose. Eventually, Jäger voices a sudden oh! and yanks Bandit to a halt so abruptly he nearly drops the popcorn they’re going to share. “It’s this one, isn’t it.” He points to a pink-framed, mellow poster picturing a woman beaming up at a man at sunset. “This is the worst one I’ve seen so far. What is it called? Building a Bridge to Cloud Nine? Seriously?”

“That doesn’t sound OSHA-compliant.”

“If it’s about a career-oriented woman who falls in love with a builder, I’m walking out.”

“I bet it’s a really sexy quantity surveyor. His catchphrase is ‘let me survey your quantity’.”

Jäger beams at him with an amused and delighted expression not unlike the one displayed by the actress on the poster, and for a brief second, Bandit is filled with the sudden epiphany of this is exactly what I want. Followed by a derisive mental sneer, of course, because he’s far from being the romantic type – quite the opposite. Still, he can’t deny that he craves intimacy, however shape it eventually takes, and he’s secretly glad he didn’t actually choose a film that would fuel this particular desire.

Why can’t it ever be easy? Why is it always complicated, draining, requiring constant work and mental resources, why is being in a relationship so goddamn hard? Bandit has tried, couldn’t even count the attempts if he wanted, and there was always a wall they hit, sooner rather than later. He’s been accused as selfish, withdrawn, brooding, even his therapist complained about him not opening up enough. He doesn’t see why it’s necessary. There are people in his life who know enough about him so that nobody else needs to, like Blitz. Like Jäger.

Why can’t it ever be as easy as with Jäger? They settle into the loveseat like it’s the most natural thing in the world (and it was only last year that Jäger booked one for kicks for the first time though it turned out to be much more comfortable than they expected), and, because it’s Valentine’s and they have to keep the theme going, Bandit puts an arm around him and Jäger laughs but cuddles up to him and the point is making everyone around them think they’re a couple anyway. The gangly nerd is flexible enough to sit cross-legged and it almost feels like they’re just at home on the couch watching something in private. Very cosy.

The cosiness is only briefly diminished when a series of gruesome deaths happen on screen as a building collapses, impaling someone with a steel bar while someone else’s head gets squished between two concrete blocks. Jäger turns to him with a glint in his eye. “Is this the new Final Destination?!”, he whispers. His delight only grows when Bandit nods with a smirk. “I love them! They’re terrible.”

They are. Bandit figured there’s no better film to watch on the day of love than this schlock and, judging by Jäger’s thinly-veiled excitement, he’s not alone in this opinion. He pushes away his musings about relationships and the likes and leans back to enjoy the grisly spectacle.

“- look, just stop me if you don’t care about this stuff, but I need to tell someone how wrong they got it”, Jäger blabbers, still exhilarated from the film, “because buildings don’t work like that. Not the one they chose, anyhow, there’s not just… air between the floors, there’s wiring and -”

Though it’s the last thing Bandit wants to do, he interrupts his companion with a gentle: “I think you should order.” He’s already conveyed his choice of food and drink through a series of subtle pointing, acknowledged by the amused waitress with a nod as they’re both subjected to one of Jäger’s famous rants. It usually takes every new person in the engineer’s life about two to three months before they get to witness one since he watches himself carefully around casual acquaintances, which means most people experience him as a friendly and modest co-worker with no noteworthy eccentricities.

But once he’s thawed enough and one of his current pet peeves is brought up (they change depending on his current fixation), there’s no stopping him. He’s never angry, just passionate, with an overwhelming urge to share his grievances with anyone willing to listen, and they’re always factually flawless. Bandit couldn’t name half the topics on which he became an unwitting expert purely by existing around Jäger for so long.

When he loses his train of thought, however, is distracted or interrupted by anything, Jäger deflates instantly and requires a few sincere prompts to start up again. And as much as Bandit loves listening to him, he is quite hungry.

The peppy waitress, who takes it in stride and seems to find the whole thing extremely cute, helps Jäger pick something with no fuss and promises them a short wait time despite the busy restaurant. Seems like they chose well, the service is fast and friendly and the other customers appear satisfied with their dishes.

Jäger comes to the same conclusion and comments: “Nice place. How’d you find it?”

“They offer a discount for couples today.” Bandit winks at him, making him laugh.

“Do I need to start calling you ‘babe’ now so we don’t strain your wallet too much?”

“Oh I think we’re plenty convincing already.” From the few glances and smiles they’ve earned between entering the restaurant and now, he’s sure they have everyone fooled. “We’re like an old married couple who managed to keep the magic alive and still go on dates together.”

His friend shrugs. “We might as well be.”

Yeah. It’s not that far from the truth with how much time they spend in each other’s presence. “Alright, so back to the structural integrity of an office building”, he changes topics and Jäger’s face lights up instantly.

“Don’t be ridiculous”, Bandit grumbles as they walk arm in arm through the brightly-lit and pink-clad shopping centre as a shortcut to his car. It’s already dark and though they’ve got to work the next day, they’ve both decided on watching another film in Jäger’s apartment to conclude their ‘date’.

“I don’t make the rules – I get the bill, I’m the top.”

Outraged, he tries to nudge Jäger into a potted plant but his companion merely spins them around it, laughing. “I’ve always gotten the bill before. Every waiter and waitress we’ve had decided I’m the top, the outlier today means nothing.”

“Maybe she just wanted to show her support of top twinks who are as vocal in bed as they are in conversation.”

“Or she didn’t like me and wanted to piss me off.”

“Or she wanted to introduce you to new opportunities, you know. She figured we’d discuss it and I’d get a chance to say I’ve secretly wanted to top you for years now but didn’t know how to bring it up -”

“Marius, you’re so experienced I’d let you top me in a heartbeat if you asked.”

Jäger is about to retort when a blonde woman with a camera addresses them, and Bandit is almost glad for the distraction. While they’ve talked about plenty of sexual escapades before, it was never really about them and something about it made him… uneasy. As if they’re toeing some kind of line. Which is nonsense, they’ve been close friends for so long now that if anything was going to happen between them, it’d have happened years ago, they know too much about each other.

“Sorry to bother you”, the young woman says, eyeing them with a smile, “I’m a freelance photographer and I’m working on a personal project featuring couples of all races and genders – would it be alright if I took a photo of you two?”

The option of correcting her doesn’t even enter Bandit’s mind. He flashes her a winning grin and drags Jäger to a more favourable position next to him. “Of course, go ahead. Today is probably the perfect day for your project, hm?”

“I don’t really like having my picture taken”, Jäger mutters in protest but lets Bandit move him around anyway.

“Babe, you always look camera-ready.” The two of them exchange a look, Bandit innocently smiling and Jäger with a dark scowl, which is exactly when the woman photographs them. “Wait, take another one, you didn’t catch his beautiful smile.”

Somehow, this does not seem to lighten Jäger’s mood. The woman, being a professional, seems to sense his discomfort with presenting himself for other people and opts for a different tactic: “Do you want to try kissing?”

Hell yeah. This will make for a fantastic story tomorrow and even more in-jokes between the two of them, so Bandit doesn’t even think twice about it. He catches sight of a raised eyebrow and curled lips and assumes Jäger is once again reading his mind, as he always does when Bandit is up to his shenanigans, and then he’s already pulled the other man to his chest and locked lips with him. They barely manage a proper kiss at first because Jäger pulls away as soon as Bandit’s tongue touches him, but when Bandit quietly calls him a chicken, Jäger returns with a vengeance. Fully aware of their audience, they violently snog while refusing to allow each other the upper hand and Bandit has to exert immense self-control not to burst out into laughter. He’d love it if they made it into some sort of exhibition among all kinds of other couples with this.

And then he notices he’s wrapped both arms tightly around the other man, and Jäger’s hands are sneaking into his biker jacket to stroke over his sides, and somehow…

It’s not the same, kissing Jäger versus kissing anyone else, though he’s not really sure why. He’s a good kisser, now that the initial playfighting has turned into something more cooperative, and he smells nice, and the faux fur of his jacket is tickling Bandit’s cheek, and their lips are moving against each other like they’ve done it a thousand times before, and this kiss has lasted a long time already, they should probably stop. No use in milking it any further. They got their material, time to move on.

Jäger’s tongue curls against his own and he’s left wondering why it’s so good to feel him in his arms like this, why it felt so good to spend a whole film with Jäger snuggled up to him, why he couldn’t stop smiling as Jäger pointed out all the flaws afterwards, and there’s really only one explanation for all this, the only one that makes sense, and then somebody wolf-whistles them.

Without a second thought, Bandit breaks the kiss to turn in the direction of the whistle and yell out an instinctual: “Fuck off!” He regrets it instantly as he spots another gay couple grinning at them over their shoulders while walking away. So… no sarcasm, instead probably a show of appreciation. “Damn, they were really hot, too”, he mutters, feeling Jäger shake with silent laughter. The photographer has disappeared entirely; she likely figured they needed some privacy.

And all of a sudden, this is extremely awkward. He turns back and Jäger is still smiling though there’s a decidedly lost quality to his features, as if he didn’t know what to do with himself either.

When the prolonged silence of them hugging and gazing into each other’s eyes helplessly becomes too unbearable, Jäger utters aptly: “Well. Whoops.”

Bandit snorts and tries to hide his burning face in the side of Jäger’s fluffy hood. “Fuck, man.”

“I don’t think I can pretend that didn’t happen”, Jäger mumbles to Bandit’s relief as he feels much the same way. “Were you – did you know -”

“Let’s not talk about it here, alright?”

A nod. “Alright.”

They both take a deep breath before separating and though Bandit misses the physical proximity straightaway, the dull yearning is alleviated by fingers interlacing with his own. If this is what’s been going on with the two of them, without them being aware of it, it would explain a lot of things. He tries his best to calm racing thoughts, not very successfully, and a random one pops into his head, unbidden: if Rook gets wind of this, he’ll have a field day.

“You know”, Jäger says, cheeks red and not looking at him, thumb stroking over the back of Bandit’s hand, “if this turns out to be our first proper date, it was a pretty good one.”

“It was”, Bandit agrees. Now he just needs to play his cards right.

#rainbow six siege #fanfic #oneshot #event #bandit/jäger #bandit #jäger #I imagine bandit went on one of these with blitz and blitz HATED every second of it #he had to correct so many people and listen to bandit bitching about how this isn't how this works

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amagicalunicorn · 10 months

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Help last night I had a dream where the characters from The Little Mermaid played Rainbow Six Siege, and when I woke up, that was like the only thing I could think about and I just kept giggling to myself like a little girl while I was eating some croissants. 💀💀💀

#just imagine what that'd be like #the little mermaid #rainbow six siege #disney #help #cursed #weird dreams #storytime #story time

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unbindingkerberos · 10 months

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🐤🐤💕

#rainbow six siege #rainbow six oc #henry babel adler #r6 oc babel #im imagining Henry just rolling his eyes as he types this to Val #he's like: “im so tired of this silly baguette's problems”

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wynvyuu · 2 years

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Hello! I was wondering if you’d write something for Maverick from r6s? I feel like he’s a little unpopular :( I’m open to anything you wanna write! But if you need ideas: him and reader relaxing/bonding after a mission; “there was only one bed” trope (a fav); or him showing reader how to work his torch and it’s a little *heated* (get it? because it’s a torch?) If you don’t wanna I understand! Thanks either way 🌈💜

Hi there, Anon!! You’re so right, Maverick seems so unpopular and I don’t really get why omg 😭 😭 😭 I’m always happy to add to the Mav fics, especially with a ‘there was only one bed’ trope involved >:) lotsa good suggestions you gave here, I tried to include as many a possible!! Hope you love 💖

tw// alcohol usage in a recreational setting with no severe drunkenness

it’s dark when you get into the inn. hot, too. you’re in the dead of summer, and sweat clings to your skin and clothes and makes it difficult to maneuver the ancient key into the inn room keyhole. even worse, you know your partner is staring at you, watching the way your hand shakily fumbles with the doorknob. maverick doesn’t say anything, ever polite (if not austere and quiet), but you know he’s looking. it’s hard not to—his eyes have that quality to him, burning and bright, just like the cattle brand he’s named for.

his gaze remains even as you finally manage to get the door open. it swings inward and reveals a dark, dusty space, an artifact from an earlier time. you’re worried already—though darkness shrouds your vision, shadowy outlines further in suggest only one blocky mattress instead of two. your heart pounds. when arranging this inn stay, six repeatedly confirmed two beds instead of one. how could this one aspect of your mission have gone so astronomically wrong?

maverick, ever the empath, recognizes your hesitation even before you do. he bumps your elbow with his, shifting his lips beneath dusty blonde stubble. “we going in or sleeping outside tonight?” he phrases it as a joke, but you know as well as he does that sleeping outside is always an option for him.

in lieu of true comfort, you stumble over a laugh, and keep your voice steady through sheer willpower. “no, we’re… we’re goin’ in.”

you’re the first to take the plunge. in you go, hands fumbling over a 50-year-old lightswitch on the left wall in the process. with a click, illumination floods the bedroom with brilliant radiance, albeit smoky and flickering, emanating from fluorescent lights spotted over with dark patches overhead. in the dappled half-light, your worst fears are concerned. once dark outlines elevate into full images—just as you suspected, there is only one bed, and it leers at you from its spot in the bedroom’s center, as if mocking you with how much space it takes up. when maverick takes a spot at your side and drops his bags down near your feet, you hear his lips part. he must be imagining the same thing you are. he inhales sharply in preparation to say something, but you cut him off long before he has the chance.

“wine?” you turn to him after unearthing a bottle of cheap cabernet from your pack, unopened and gleaming beneath the sickly fluorescent light.

he laughs, just a little. you like hearing that from him; maverick’s more stoic than you think he should be. if all were right in the world, he would be smiling and laughing all the time, in that low, chuckling tune that rumbles in your chest. not all is right, though. this night is the first of many that you two will be behind enemy lines, intelligence agents risking your lives to get vital information back to six. you don’t know what tomorrow holds, nor what the day after that will. tonight, however, is peaceful; nice. if this is that last night that he laughs in a while, you want to make it a good one. hence, wine. a silly sentiment, maybe, a bottle grabbed off empty shelves moments before you left the hereford base in preparation for your assignment, but a sentiment that he seems to appreciate nonetheless. both of you know from experience that the nights before danger are the best for indulging in creature comforts.

a nod and a few murmured words sees the two of you sitting in rickety wicker chairs on a dirt-caked balcony staring out over the sonoran desert, a world of stars and wilderness. a smattering of constellations and distant worlds illuminates your bodies and the bottle of wine that hovers uncertainly between you, half-downed. idyllic is hardly a word to describe such an environment, and yet your eyes burn maverick’s profile into your brain. somehow the stars only enhance his rugged features. the stars conferred with each other to knit him together at this moment as if he’s always belonged here with you since his conception. you’re buzzed from the wine, certainly, but deep, deep down, you know you would have ogled him so fanatically even if you were sober.

the wine seems to have dulled his senses too. normally he notices when you look at him this way, but a lull in his permanent state of vigilance sends his eyes to the stars. so thoughtful, you think to yourself. what could possibly enrapture him so?

“what are you thinking about?” you wonder, voice soft. he turns his head to glance at you, the faintest hints of a smile on his lips.

“the stars,” he murmurs finally, sending one last look to the heavens. “constellations are the same everywhere, but the meanings change.”

he smiles up at the sky and deep down, you wish he was smiling at you too.

“the latin world was so obsessed with the bigger picture; ursa major, the great bear,” he continues. it occurs to you that this is the first time he’s spoken at length about the nebulous ideas within his brilliant mind. “the middle-east wasn’t, though. put a lot of damn importance on the value of the individual. named every individual star, but not how they came together. al-qa’id, ‘the leader’, at the vanguard. al-hawar, ‘the white of the eye’, right there.”

he indicates something far above you, but you can’t quite catch the meaning. in an effort to reach closer to the deepest corners of maverick’s thoughts and dreams, you point up at what you think to be the constellation he’s referring to, palm wavering against a dark, glistening background. “there?”

he chuckles at your side. “close, but no cigar,” he murmurs. in a confidential meeting of skin, he gently takes hold of your palm with his own, and a quiet adjustment places you in the same realm he’s in. you can’t help the flush in your face as he does so; all you can do is trace the tattoo of kabul on his thick forearm as it slowly fades from your touch. “there we are.”

you smile at him, and he smiles back. it’s mystical how the desert air tousles his dusty blonde hair, scattered throughout with the messy aftermath of a long trek through what amounts to a wasteland. maybe it’s the wine that makes you say what you say next, though in the annals of your own experience, you will always know that this question has been on your heart long before this moment.

“you never talk about what happened in kabul, when you disappeared before six,” you finally manage. “you lost contact for two years. you could have been gone for way longer—it would have been easier, too. no courts, no trials, no questions. why’d you come back?”

he pauses. maverick’s so used to listening, so shy of talking. his mind is a fortress you’ve thus far failed to crack, but as you see the wheels turning in his head, you finally feel the seals on the edges of his identity begin to peel away.

“it’s easy to disappear if you put your mind to it,” he begins, slowly. “it’s harder to realize that you can’t kill every part of your old self. some part of you will always go back. I had people to help; to save.”

he exhales. “and sometimes… sometimes you need to become a ghost to understand how ghosts live.”

“and how do ghosts live?”

he smiles this time. the spark’s back in his firebrand eyes. “very carefully.”

you laugh with him, a melody in the stiff summer air. it’s only a moment though. reality sets in soon thereafter. “we should sleep,” you insinuate suddenly. “early morning tomorrow.”

his laugh fades. “yeah. yeah, we should head in,” maverick murmurs, gathering the wine bottle from the end table beside both of you. “I’ll take the floor.”

“no, you’re not,” you interject quite suddenly, standing from your chair. “we need to be on our best for this mission. you can’t get that if you’re sleeping on the floor.”

“I’ve slept in worse places,” maverick grumbles, already gathering his things in preparation to return to the hotel room from the balcony. “the damn floor’s nothin’.”

you reach out, arm moving faster than your mind can keep up with. you slot maverick’s wrist into your grip, and the ferocity with which you grab at him forces him to look back at you and address the fire in your eyes. “I’m serious, mav,” you insist. “either we both sleep on the bed, or neither of us do.”

he takes a moment, eyes meeting in the liminal space of an argument staked on the wellbeing of the other person. it’s an intense, passionate tryst of the eyes, one that maverick ends up losing. he breaks before you do, turning his head to force your eyes apart while his free hand moves to rub against the back of his neck. you can feel the blush cross his hands, and you know it touches his cheeks as well. “fuckin’ a,” he grumbles. “okay, okay. you win. don’t say I didn’t try though.”

you remove your hand, a self-satisfied smile replaces it. the sweet rush of victory, however, cannot extinguish the flame now ignited in your heart. “I’m nothing if not stubborn,” you call back as he turns to enter the bathroom.

“now I know,” he returns, his last reply before the two of you finally decide to turn in for the night.

and soon enough, the two of you are in the same bed, peering at each other from under half-lidded eyes in sheer darkness. you trace the curve of his brow, the touch of his nose, his lips with your eyes, and you notice he does too, albeit under the influence of far more sentimentality. you feel desperately close even on separate sides of the bed, and the heat generated from such close personage is enough to send sweat down your spine. the warmth grows ever brighter when maverick’s hand snakes forward. you melt into his palm as it cups your cheek. this is the most intimate and sentimental you’ve ever seen him.

“thank you,” he murmurs. “thank you for listening to me. for letting me talk.”

“anytime, maverick,” you stammer in response. “i think you should talk more.”

#rainbow six siege #r6s #maverick #imagine

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soup-mother · 1 month

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I'll preface this with saying tom Clancy has the most straightforwardly militarist "soldiers and cops are all sleek professionals who are perfect and good, but politics and civilian oversight keeps stopping them being perfect baddass awesome guys" bullshit imaginable and it's no surprise that "the counter terrorism team was deactivated so bad terrorisms happened" was a plot point in that game but anyway :

hey does anyone else remember how rainbow six siege hard pivoted from "counterterrorism against chemical weapons" into "these guys are an airsoft eSports team now!"? like i feel like I'm going insane (neurodivergent) here like it went basically regular tom clancy plot, zombies mode, "elite counterterrorism units do Airsoft and have team rivalry in a big stadium".

#my post #rainbow six siege

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sinnful-darling · 9 months

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how i think levi would handle someone raging and insulting him after he wins a match:

games included: cod + dbd + apex + siege

tws: toxic gamers are a tw of their own, slurs sent by said toxic gamers, levi is called a weaboo and otaku in a degrading way, kys is used (not by levi), rando wishes death on levi’s mom (he doesn’t have a mom), insults sent and received, at the end levi gets a lil toxic bc he’s fed up

COD WARZONE:

levi using proximity chat after having a godly KD ratio: gg guys!

some random person that was on the other team: kill yourself, i bet you hack and camped for that win. i hope your mom fucking dies, you piece of shit.

levi trying not to laugh as he cracks his knuckles: lolololol ur so mad bro. if u got better, maybe u wouldnt have lost. gg tho.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

DEAD BY DAYLIGHT

a survivor that levi hooked post-match: ur a hacker bro imagine not being able to hook survivors without hacking 😂

levi after hooking all of the survivors within five minutes in a dbd match: u mad? lol

the same survivor from before: lmao u fr think i’m mad u hooked me wen ik u hacked tht?

levi laughing his ass off: lolololol u just suck.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

APEX LEGENDS

some rando on the second to last team: worthless cocksucker. you are a waste of oxygen. enjoy your life never amounting to anything but a piece of shit no one likes. do your best to try and piss me off. i make 100k grim a year. work out everyday. and have a girlfriend. worthless fuck.

levi zeroing in on one comment in specific: u want me to degrade u ? lolololololol u a masochist or smth? lolololol

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

TOM CLANCY’S RAINBOW SIX SIEGE

a player levi no-scoped: i bet u hack you piece of shit. u look like i suck dick all day long and never brush ur teeth. i bet u smell like onion and cup ramen u weaboo otaku fuck.

levi fed up with shitty players insulting him: listen here you toe-eyed cabbage, i wasn’t born into this world so your fat ass could choke out low level insults to me. i hope you stub your toe in the dark and have to crawl around your bedroom at 3:47am in horrific pain after going to the kitchen for a midnight snack of cheese and crackers you absolute gormless minger

the player levi no-scoped in siege: sorry

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

some of these i had help with bc i have no idea what toxic gamers say. the last two are from screenshots my friend sent me when he looked it up for me.

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wastedr00k · 2 years

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montagne x reader ; limit - photosynthesis -

just like a plant, Giles grew.

as his heart and body changed, so did his feelings towards everyone and he soon grew a ‘hero complex’ , thinking he has to protect everyone in the face of danger, everyone except you. as he grew, you shrank. the more the shined the duller you become. and yet, the more he took from you, the deeper your love for him.

as the scythe he carried grew heavier and larger, the smaller your wings span shrunk, the more feathers you lose.

but you didn’t mind, you were here to support him in the spotlight, not steal it from him. you didn’t mind that the feathers on your wings has long fallen off from the arguments and from his growth. it was almost comical, the way you used your own shine to nurture him at the cost of yourself, they’ll grow back anyway. it was what you owed him after all.

but it’s worth it right?

it was worth it watching him fall in love with someone else, to watch him go crawling back to him every time, to watch him turn away whenever she kissed another guy, to watch him destroy himself while you, oh foolish you, kept giving all that you have left.

because he’ll come to his senses one day, right?

“you know what she’s doing, stop turning away from it Giles.” you yelled as he continued to run with all his might, in hopes that he’ll forget.

struggling to keep up with him, your hands always seem to be mere inches away from him. “Giles! please stop, you know that it isn’t worth it, she isn’t worth it!”

halting in his steps, he turned around to face you with nothing but anger in his eyes, “she isn’t worth it? how dare you say that?” he thundered towards you, “you know who isn’t worth it? you!”

you stopped as your hands went up to clutch your chest in shock, tears already welling up in your eyes as your feathers started to sting again. but it didn’t matter to Giles, he was taking his anger out on you, ruthlessly.

“you did nothing for me my whole life!”

did he forget when you held him in your arms and wings as he cried for the whole night after finding out she slept with someone else for months behind his back?

it’s okay, he’s just stressed out

“you were never there for me in any way!”

did he forget when you watched with pride as he collected his graduation certificate, or that time when you pushed him out of the way of an on coming car, or when you took notes for him while he slept during his classes?

it’s okay, a little more and it’ll be over

“you were nothing but a burden to me in my whole damn life!”

were you a burden when you lend him a shoulder to cry on, when you gave him advice, when you told him that it was all going to be okay?

it’s okay, this will help him feel better

and finally, silence.

Giles’s chest heaved as he kept his brows knotted, fist clenched and teeth gritted and feet firmly planted into the ground.

it was such a contrast to you, you who were floating above the ground, hands clutching each other, eyes widened with tears. your wings are now nothing but ashes, blackened from the venom that Giles spat at you.

as the both of you continued this silent stand off, you decided to back down, like you always do. with his scythe as your neck, you bowed in defeat, “i’m sorry, my dear.”

still fuming from his rage, still too prideful to lower his scythe and apologize, he turned away from you and continued to run, knowing he’ll have to make it up to you later with sweet lies, but for now, his own pride is still latching onto him. there’s no way he’ll bow to you now.

as you slowly recollected yourself, lifting your head to see him running further and further away from you, down a path of nothing but misery.

it was worth it watching him work himself half to death for a sliver of recognition, to patch him up whenever he came back bruised as the cuts dried on his skin, to watch as he hung more medals up on his walls. to watch him use himself as a human shield.

because that’s what makes him happy right?

as you floated above his bed, you watched quietly as Giles opened up his acceptance letter to the **** , his smile couldn’t be wider as he turned to you and brought the letter up to your face.

“I made it! they’re accepting me!” he beamed at you and continued texting everyone he knows about the news.

“why must you chase this?”

“why shouldn’t I? I’ve been dreaming of this for my whole life! since i was a kid and when i had my first toy tank, I knew that this is something I’m willing to chase.” he quipped back to you, “can you just support me for once? this is me doing what I love like you’ve always told me to.”

as your brows furrowed, you floated down to keep your eyes level with his, “i only told you to love yourself, my dear Giles.” reaching out to hold his hands in yours, as another feather starts getting corrupted with ashes.

“isn’t doing something I love a way of loving myself?” he shooed you away, like he always had, as his phone screen lit up with yet another person calling him to congratulate him.

“loving yourself? you call this loving yourself? you call sending yourself to war loving yourself? you’re not loving yourself, you’re loving the recognition, it’s not the same thing.” you muttered, hands softly touching the new scars on your wings, “i want to keep you safe, with me.”

just like a plant, he grew and just like a light source that couldn’t be keep powered forever, you became dimmer and dimmer.

“i don’t mind becoming dimmer, if it makes you shine brighter, my darling.”

#rainbow six x reader #rainbow six siege imagines #rainbow six siege x reader #montagne/reader #montagne #Gilles Toure #gilles toure/reader #limit #r6s

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shuttershocky · 2 years

Note

The whole magic firearm thing makes Tuchanka kind of funny. Imagine having him deployed against Laterano executors, spraying 3.000 rounds per second while they're like "what the fuck is this guy made of?"

It's especially crazy because before the Rainbow crew arrived with their Earth weaponry, the only automatic weapon in Rhodes Island was owned by Exusiai, who is such a monster of destruction that the nation of maniacs actually celebrated her leaving.

You know what's funnier?

Tachanka's Light Machinegun? It's supposed to be a turret.

Tachanka was originally a turret character in Rainbow Six Siege, being inmobile but having a mounted LMG with some of the most powerful destructive capabilities in the game, tearing open walls with ease and ripping through Attacker Operators in just a few shots.

Ubisoft reworked him to be more mobile by changing his signature gadget to be a grenade launcher with fire bombs instead, but knew they'd be in deep shit if they took away the LMG that was so iconic to the character. Their solution? Tachanka just fucking carries it normally because he's swole.

For the Longspring villagers in Originium Dust that saw Tachanka bring out his LMG to battle with the horde of zombies attacking the village, it would have been like watching one of the Apostolic Knights of Laterano with their chainguns, raining fiery death on waves of corpse flesh, except there was no halo or wings or Latin from this guy, and there was no Arts being casted. It must have seemed terrifying and even alien to the Sargonians.

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redd956 · 3 hours

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Whump Prompt List Based on the Last 10 Video Games I've Played

Teehee, vidya game

1.) Whumpee stumbled back to Caretaker's doorstep. They wobbled as they knocked, and barely moved their head as if remaining stock still would stop the spinning and dimming. Caretaker gasped at the sight of arrows stick out of Whumpee's back. (Minecraft)

2.) Few dare to stay out there in the wasteland at night for even a minute. It had been hours now and Whumpee hadn't walked back through the bunker doors. Caretaker left without saying a word. They were equally speechless when they found whumpee slump against a set of stairs. (Metro Last Light)

3.) Leader's screams echoed throughout the empty halls, before being quickly muffled by a team member's hand. They already were about to lose one of them, they can't take the chance of whumper gaining an opportunity to hurt anyone else. (Rainbow Six Siege)

4.) "What are you doing?! Get off the ground-" The man shouting fell over, his new shiny gunshot wound of split throat raining blood all over the shell shocked whumpee. (Holdfast Nations)

5.) A battered tank that looked more attune to swiss chees than an armored military vehicle sputtered to a permanent stop in the country roads. Caretaker desperate for something to melt down, looked inside to find a still alive, barely, but still alive crew. (War Thunder)

6.) The boat looked awful for wear, and somehow Whumpee looked even worse. They staggered to the shore, before sprawling out along the sand, their bloodied wounds peppering the beach with splotches of red. (Dredge)

7.) Caretaker didn't understand how Whumpee continued to get such gnarly bruises and cuts. Sometimes they even managed to come home battered to hospitalizing conditions. They tried to imagine what kind of double life Whumpee was keeping from them, keeping from their partner. (Stardew Valley)

8.) "We have no choice." Whumper badly pretended to lament. They continued, "Your fingers are frostbitten black now. We have to remove them. You should've taken upon my second offer..." (Frostpunk)

9.) "I've changed!" Whumper voice cracked as they begged for their life, backing themselves up the stone walls. It had been decades since they've came across Whumpee, but the blood soaked blade in Whumpee's hands said everything Whumper needed to know next. (Wolfenstein II: The New Colossus)

10.) "What'll make you talk first? The pain of starvation? Or getting to watch everybody else eat whatever meals they please right in front of ya?" Whumper smiled before taking a bite of his own sandwich. (Red Dead Redemption II)

#whump #whump prompt list #whump prompts #whump ideas #whump scenarios #whump prompt #military whump #whumper #whumper turned whumpee #character death #cw character death

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kiruuuuu · 1 year

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Kiru's Advent Calendar, Day 16🏡

It's getting more and more difficult to set aside the time to write these, but I'm hanging on! To everyone who's shown support along the way, be it with reblogs, comments, likes or anything else, thank you so so much 😊 You have no idea how much you're helping 💕

Today is about Smoke and Sledge accomplishing a vital mission, enjoy! (Rating T, pure and utter chaos, ~2.2k words)

Smoke eyes the large, ominous building with a vague sense of dread. They’re out in the middle of nowhere, the nearest soul several miles away (so at least they won’t have to worry about causing too much noise). The windows are dark, the façade old and dirty, the path leading up to the house largely overgrown. Next to him, Sledge shifts his weight uneasily, probably experiencing the same foreboding feeling as his colleague. They’ve been on enough missions together to assess these things in sync.

“Alright”, he tries out his voice and doesn’t like how it sounds. “Give me the brief again.”

Sledge nods without taking his eyes off the stately home. “We’re looking for a standard passport. There are three possible locations: the bedside table on the second floor, a large trunk in the basement and a cabinet in the living room. We are to disturb as little as possible – ideally, nobody would be able to tell we’ve been here.”

They both take a deep breath. “… and?”

“And… there might be precautions in place. Of what nature, we’re not sure, but we should keep our eyes peeled.”

“Let’s do it, then.”

After an exchange of nods, Smoke sets foot on the small bit of stairs leading up to the main entrance, and instantly his eardrums explode. Or at least that’s what it feels like, the air is suddenly filled with the loudest shrieking he’s ever had to witness, rendering him incapable of anything other than pressing his palms to his ears and screaming in perfect tune with the noise.

Next to him, Sledge is doing much of the same, mouthing something at him he doesn’t understand, him yelling something back and earning nothing but a confused frown, and together they shuffle around the house on the lookout for something, anything to stop this torture. Eventually, after they’ve already cut two other wires running along the outside walls, they’re once again blessed with silence. Though to be fair, it doesn’t seem like it with how his ears are still ringing.

“Bloody hell”, Sledge pants, looking just as shocked as Smoke feels right now. “Who the fuck has an alarm for their stairs?”

“Well, we both know the answer to that. I just hope we didn’t cut anything important, but I suppose we’ll find out soon enough. After you.”

The Scotsman doesn’t seem to appreciate Smoke’s reluctance to lead, but he courageously climbs the stairs to the front door anyway. So far, so good. From as far away as he can, Smoke hands him the keys with outstretched fingers and considers diving into cover, yet deems it too dramatic. For now. Sledge carefully turns the main key in the lock, slowly puts his hand on the handle and slams the door in his face full force.

Smoke badly suppresses a snort.

“Who the fuck spring loads their fucking front door?!”, Sledge complains in disbelief, rubbing his forehead.

“Someone demented. Let me check if the coast is clear.” Smoke slips past him, entering the main hallway and expecting the worst. Both of them wait several seconds, uneasy, until they decide they’re good. “I don’t even know whether I’m supposed to be on the lookout for anything. You know, like some kind of trigger or pressure plate or shite like that. Maybe he only booby trapped the outside and we’re fine now. What’s the first location?”

“Living room cabinet. Should be over there.”

Smoke starts walking to where his companion pointed, cautiously followed by the very same, and though they keep scanning the floor and walls for anything suspicious-looking, Smoke runs head first into some wire installed at eye level. Before he can scream, they’re once again surrounded by noise – this time, however, there’s something satisfying to it, almost rain-like in its pitter-pattering as innumerable glass spheres are poured onto the ground, surrounding them.

“Marbles”, Sledge summarises succinctly and Smoke almost applauds him for the observation. “That’s fine as long as we don’t move. Don’t try to step on them, we should stay -” He’s silenced by a water balloon hitting the back of his bald head, failing to explode and falling to the floor impotently.

“I don’t understand how anyone can set something like this up”, Smoke remarks right before another bursts by his feet, spattering his legs with a black, viscous liquid. Its stench nearly makes him gag and all of a sudden, they’re filled with panic once more.

“Move, move”, Sledge urges him on, “skate over the floor so you don’t -” And the large Scotsman crashes to the ground before even finishing his sentence, having stepped on marbles that rolled away immediately. With him on them.

Smoke barely dodges the next balloon aimed at him, dragging his feet in an attempt to outwit the marble sea, and secretly thanks Ash for her relentless exercises in evasion. Behind him, he hears Sledge sputter and retch as he’s hit again but it’s every man for himself now, Smoke has almost reached his sanctuary, the door leading to their first potential target, he stretches out his hand, moves to open the door and -

- and smacks himself in the face with it. Hard.

“Fucking bellend”, he curses through the pain, leaking more and more marbles into the new room and gets nailed by a paint-filled balloon to his back. At least, he thinks it’s paint.

… he hopes it’s paint.

It takes Sledge a few more seconds to come crawling in as well, looking like he went diving in a bog and panting hard, gratefully accepting the pack of tissues Smoke hands him. Right as he’s about to open it, he asks: “Did you have this on you?”

“Yeah, I -”

“Ow! Mother -”

“Uh, I meant to say, it got stuck to me when I stumbled in. Sorry.”

“He fucking booby trapped the fucking tissues!” Sledge pours out the thumbtacks hidden in the plastic packaging before inspecting each tissue individually. Once he’s mostly cleaned himself up, they regroup by patting each other on the back and improvising a small pep talk. They both needed it.

“I think that’s the cabinet there.” Smoke points at the object in question, a heavy-looking mahogany thing placed innocently next to a fireplace. “Want me to open it?”

“You have no idea how much I was hoping you’d say that.”

Smoke walks over, his colleague again following at a distance, and once he’s close, the fireplace predictably coughs out a large cloud of soot they both manage to avoid. Apart from breathing a lot of it in, of course. “We’re getting wise to these tricks now”, Smoke half-grins, half-croaks, reaches out and breaks the glass door with his forehead.

As he stands there, alternating between cursing and whimpering, Sledge drily mutters: “We should not open another door in this bloody house.” Heavy boots crunch over to where Smoke is brushing shards of glass off his clothes and they both begin rifling through the contents, making sure to lift everything and check for secret compartments.

“Looks like the only false bottom here is me”, Smoke announces, earning himself an entirely unamused glare from his companion that seems to say you wish. “So, downstairs or upstairs?”

“I’m more scared of this basement than usual. Let’s go up.” Sledge leads the way, both of them still trying to cough out the burnt ashes that are currently lining their lungs. It seems the balloon barrage has ceased and with the marbles populating the living room as well now, there’s enough space for them to tiptoe across the room without falling again. When they reach the foot of the stairs, they pause.

Look at each other.

A second later, Sledge holds out a flat hand just as Smoke offers a fist.

“Fuck”, Smoke grumbles and begins climbing the stairs in slow motion. He tests every single step before putting his weight on it, half expecting them to snap into a smooth surface so he slides all the way back down, and the next thing he knows is that he falls up the stairs – he’s able to catch himself before his poor maltreated face meets old wood, but his foot won’t lift off the stair regardless. He lets out a deep sigh. “Please tell me my boot isn’t superglued to these bloody stairs.”

“I can with a very clean conscience inform you that your boot is indeed not superglued to the stairs.” Sledge sounds sincere enough Smoke gets his hopes up until the added: “They do, however, look like they’re melting into them.”

“Holy mother Mary of god”, Smoke hisses as he unlaces his shoe in record time, slipping his foot out of it as fast as possible, only to realise that the step to which he jumped in order to escape melting himself is about as slippery as the bastard who set this all up. What follows then must probably look hilarious to Sledge who isn’t caught in a dance between life or death, with Smoke flailing all over the place, at one point probably lifting his foot higher than his head, almost falling about a hundred times as he slips and slides with an added soundtrack of similarly wobbly noises and indeed, when a strong hand grips his arm to finally put an end to his performance, it’s shaking with silent laughter. Just like the large man it belongs to.

Smoke really wants to strangle someone now, and he’s not sure it even needs to be anybody specific.

“I have an idea”, he discloses as they halt in front of the bedroom door. “Watch this.” Not fancying getting hit in the face again, he leans against the door with all his weight, pushing as hard as he can, and then presses on the handle, thinking himself a genius.

It’s a good thing Sledge’s reflexes are as trained as they are so the Scotsman manages to grab him before he flings himself full speed into the bed of nails placed strategically behind the door. The door that swings inwards.

“Fucking hell”, Sledge comments and Smoke can only agree.

They isolate the bedside table, the second possible location, with extreme prejudice, identifying a small explosive that would’ve gone off by opening it without care and disarming it while IQ coaches them on the phone, and eventually nod at each other. Sledge is brave enough to pull it open and reach in, only to yank his hand back with a yelp.

“What?”, Smoke wants to know, worried. “What happened?”

Sledge looks like he’s going to cry any second. “Paper cut”, he grits out before whining pitifully. And indeed, there’s already some blood visible on his fingers.

“Come on, that’s not so bad. Let’s just hope that we’ve… found …” Smoke trails off as more and more blood appears, pooling at the edge of Sledge’s hand, his wrist, disappearing into his sleeve.

“If it’s not in here”, Sledge hisses, waving his hand in an attempt to distract from the pain that must be immense, “I’m throwing myself out the window.”

Wordlessly, Smoke pulls the drawer out and upturns it. Nothing but a few loose sheets of paper. “Sorry, mate”, he mutters.

At least Sledge seems to forget his agony for a moment when Smoke slams the door in his own face as they exit the bedroom.

~*~

With a final-sounding smack, Smoke slaps the open passport onto the hood of Sledge’s car. Both of them stand there in companionable silence, flipping the badly-taken photograph inside the bird with such sincerity it makes him proud, continuing even as he waits for Harry to pick up the phone.

When he does, all Smoke forces out is a quiet: “We got it.”

A brief pause. “Great. I, um, trust there were no complications? He did say you might run into a few of his security features, but -”

“You need the number, right?” No time for chit-chat. Smoke just wants to walks the few miles down to the river so he can wash off the worst of the mix of paint, rancid butter and bird poo covering him head to toe, because Sledge is not driving him home like this. He reads out the passport number while Harry asks no further questions, ready to hang up without notice until something occurs to him. “You never told us: what even happened?”

“Well… Mike got himself arrested in Laos – don’t ask me how, don’t ask me why. I don’t know how he got there without his passport, but they won’t let him go until they have it so he can prove his identity. So in addition, you’ll have to mail it to him, I’ll send you the address in a moment. Thanks for getting it from his holiday home, in any case.”

“Sure”, Smoke says and means fuck off. After he’s hung up, he fills Sledge in and the two of them look at each other.

“How long will priority mail take? Two days with the express option, right?”

Smoke purses his lips. “I guess.” A pause. “But I mean… it’s pretty expensive.”

Sledge nods gravely. “And it’s not really a pressing matter, right?”

“He won’t mind waiting a few more days, I’m sure.”

Another, final nod. “Alright then. Snail mail it is.”

One last bird in the direction of Thatcher’s face and the two of them start walking towards the nearest source of water that isn’t located in a madman’s house.

#rainbow six siege #fanfic #oneshot #kac #smoke #sledge #I don't know why the sas is my go-to for chaos but here we are #I'm imagining the door situation like everyone trying not to have a thought in hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy #I love you all never forget that

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spishidden · 11 months

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Transformers Crossovers I Think Have Potential But I’m Too Lazy To Make Myself

Forgive me if some of these have already been done my imagination can’t control itself. If anyone gets inspired PLZ tag me with what you create I would love to see 💜

OR if there are fics/content for any of these crossovers feel free to share ✨

Transformers x Overwatch- Would there be an increase or decrease in robot racism?? Just IMAGINE the character interactions tho. Lots of angst and fluff potential here

Transformers x Splatoon- Only because I wanna see the giant robots play turf war. Also, custom transformers splat weapons>>>

Transformers x Assassination Classroom - I just think this would be really funny. I also wanna see Koro Sensei and Optimus interact somehow

Transformers x Toaru- SO. MANY. POTENTIAL. STORY. PLOTS.

Transformers x Steven Universe- Has this been done already?? If not, missed opportunity

Transformers x Guardians Of The Galaxy- I’ve seen a ton of Avengers and MCU stuff but not a lot of the Guardians stand alone. (Also volume 3 ripped my heart out and I need to cope)

Transformers x Slime Rancher- Someone can make this work. I believe.

Transformers x Ace Attorney- Pheonix Wright representing the Autobots in a fucked up court case PLEASE

Transformers x Saiki K- I don’t know what would happen, but I would love to find out

Transformers x The Lego Movie- Can this work?? PLEASE SOMEONE MAKE IT WORK

Transformers x Ninjago- Idk I never finished Ninjago but I want Zane to befriend Bumblebee or smth. Maybe Soundwave.

Transformers x Hi-Fi Rush- music fight, music fight, music fight music-

Transformers x Arknights- LISTEN! Apocalyptic planet, high-end technology, civil wars?? They have so much in common (and if Rainbow Six Siege can have a collab then so can the giant robots let me manifest-)

Transformers x Barbie- this honestly just cause the Barbie movie and ROTB releases in the summer. Also ik for a FACT that Hot Rod/Rodimus and Ken would be an unstoppable duo

So yea. If I come up with more I’ll make a part 2

#i personally love crossovers #character interactions are super fun #transformers #maccadam #transformers crossover #transformers au #teritalks

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unbindingkerberos · 1 year

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Night Visitor

Words: 779

Warning(s): None

Tags: @poisonedtruth @unpetitoiseau @children-of-epiales @chadillacboseman @linoleum-ice

Henry finds himself gazing upon the human city. The winged siren would often leave his domain to watch the city from afar. He had always wondered what they do there in their own cities and those winding towers. A long time ago, he could still remember what the human cities were like then: small, insignificant, dull. Now their towers were tall enough to pierce the skies, a pinnacle of human advancements. It fuels their desire and arrogance, wanting for more. Henry sneers as he stares at the drifting waste.

Henry looks back at the object in hand, the metal called a "bullet." He remembers how he got it. He felt a disturbance in his waters some few weeks ago and flew to investigate. He was met with two groups of humans fighting amongst themselves and saw it as an opportunity to catch them off guard. Much to Henry's distaste however, the other group got away with their lives still intact. The tip of his talons tracing the engraved words.

R&D.

An idea pops in his mind.

With shifty eyes and cautious movements, Marius sneaks his way to the workshop. He had tried getting some sleep but the recommendations he received from Jordan and Elena couldn't wait for tomorrow. The thought had kept him painfully awake and he ultimately decided to work on it right now while the idea was still fresh. If a certain Frenchman had caught him in the act, Marius knows well he'd receive an earful. Finally, he had arrived and his hand hovered on the doorknob when he noticed that the door was halfway open, the darkness of the workshop peering into view. The German quirks a brow. Did someone come in and forgot to close the door? He could think of some possible culprits but he was sure that they were fast asleep. Or it's about time we have the hinges checked. Marius pushes the door open and turns to flick the lights on.

But he never does.

Amongst the scattered equipment and destroyed furniture, a large bird-like figure shuffled a drawer open. It had picked something up with its large, sharp talons that Marius knew well that it could tear him into shreds. Marius's eyes left the bird's hunched form and traveled to the large, gaping hole in a wall. Now despite his limited knowledge of birds, Marius knows full well that they weren't strong enough to break through a reinforced ceiling.

Perhaps he could continue the adjustments tomorrow.

He takes a step back but the creature lifts its head up, its body stiffens and feathers raised. The large bird slowly turns its head towards him and--

It has the face of a man and Marius feels his blood run cold.

The creature narrows its eyes and turns the rest of its form to Marius's direction.

The German moves to run but his feet stand still. Gritting his teeth, he repeats the action but still his body won't budge. The creature's lips part, uttering something Marius couldn't quite hear. Was it-- no, was he doing this to him? Did he put a spell on him? It feels ridiculous thinking these sorts of questions but at this point logic is seemingly thrown out the window. The man-faced bird is approaching him now, talons scraping against the floor. He again makes an attempt to move, to run, to act, hell even twitch but his form continues to defy him. The scraping stops. Wings spread to devour him and glowing yellow eyes stare up to his gaze all the while continue to mutter. Now that the creature was close, Marius could hear something now. Something faint.

Marius squints his eyes, trying to decipher whatever the creature was saying. A haunting and otherworldly melody blesses his ears. The creature was singing, Marius realized. His ears have never been graced with such a symphony. It was as if the ocean itself was singing to him. It was so--

"Beautiful."

The creature stops and steps back, baffled. "What?" Marius feels his body slowly regain control and nearly stumbles to the floor. Stepping away and back hitting against the wall, the creature puffs his feathers and raises his wings to the ceiling. The human face looked distraught, confused. "How dare you humiliate me." He sends Marius flying to the ground with a crack of his wings.

By the time he looks up the creature was long gone.

Beautiful.

That word was now wedged to his memory. Henry felt a disgusting warmth in his chest and shook it off, huffing. How dare that human make him feel… like this?

When he meets that human again Henry will make sure he'll pay.

#rainbow six siege #rainbow six oc #henry adler #r6 oc #henry babel adler #r6 oc babel #r6 jager #Siren AU #i just remembered that Marius is 5'11 and in both versions Henry is 5'4 #i like to imagine Marius is just staring down at Henry

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waheelawhisperer · 2 years

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How about a crossover of interests? Similar to rainbow six siege what if team rwby got isekaied to arknights? Who do you think team rwby would end up being friends with in arknights?

I'll go ahead and add how I think they'd play mechanically as well.

Ruby would absolutely adore Nearl. Nearl is everything a Huntress should be, every bit the hero Ruby wants to become. She'd probably also bond with Amiya over being a young leader who feels overwhelmed by her responsibilities sometimes but nonetheless steps up to the plate. She'd probably also get along quite well with Pinus Sylvestris and I'm sure she and Saileach/Blemishine would click pretty much immediately.

Weiss and Swire would be the best of friends. They're both tsundere rich girls who defied the expectations of their far-from-perfect families to carve out their own paths, and are both also very weak to the effects of hot women. She might also form a decent relationship with Cliffheart or Pramanix for similar reasons related to family pressure. I think she'd also be drawn to anyone who reminds her of her sister or her mother, but how well she'd actually get along with characters like Schwarz, Whislash, Ling, Dobermann, Gladiia, etc. is open for debate.

Blake would be delighted that she's no longer the only sexy catgirl around, and I think she'd fit right in at Rhodes Island. Blake is no stranger to fighting for the oppressed, so I think she and Blaze would get along swimmingly, though I can't imagine they'd be happy to hear everyone mixing up their names all the time. She'd probably respond very positively toward any of the characters known for fighting hard for the sake of the infected, including the weirdos like Mudrock. 100% asks Nearl for gay gay homosexual gay sex tips.

Yang would be buddies with all the Brawler Guards, all the Rhodes Island jocks who are always up for a fight, but I think she'd also find a great deal of common ground with the Defenders, given her well-established protective and self-sacrificial nature. She's besties with Indra for sure and probably also likes to hang out with Mountain and Gavial a lot. Hoshiguma would make a great mentor for her, as someone who has also learned to control her darker side, her desire for violence and the thrill of the fight, and channel it into something productive and devote herself to the defense of the innocent. Hoshiguma is actually a lot like Qrow, in the sense that they both have rather nasty, miserable pasts they aren't proud of and don't like revealing to the people around them and yet have grown beyond them to become better people and genuine heroes. Specter, on the other hand, teaches Yang bad habits exclusively. Saria would be the shitty emotionally distant mom Raven Branwen didn't put in the effort to be. Yang would also 100% ask Nearl for gay gay homosexual gay sex tips.

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I think Ruby would be either a Reaper Guard like La Pluma or a Deadeye Sniper in the vein of Fartooth, Ambriel, or Firewatch. I think she'd take some cues from Schwarz and Fartooth in the sense that at least one of her skills would let her take shots down a long, narrow lane.

Weiss is, perhaps, a Charger Vanguard, generating DP on kill, or maybe a Summoner Supporter (or a Bard because she sings). She'd probably have one very powerful summon available at a time, with her skills altering which summon she could pull out and what its effects would be.

Blake is probably an Executor Fast Redeploy Specialist or a Puller Specialist, either taking out priority targets or doing standard puller things. She'd probably play similarly to Phantom in the first case and Rope in the second.

Yang is first and foremost a Fighter Guard, her natural boxing/kickboxing-based style making her a natural fit for this class, but once she gets an Alter version, she'd be either a Juggernaut or a Fortress Defender, either mechanically making use of her Aura in the former case to let her heal up or block attacks and emphasize that she is the one who will protect her teammates or her rockets in the latter case to do AoE damage from range. Either way, this version of her would emphasize her desire to defend the people she loves and her conception of herself as her team's shield against the cruelties of the world.

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