#rainbow six siege thatcher | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ghostiex0 · 1 year

Note

Could i request some Thatcher x reader where they're at a bar with the rest of the SAS and Reader asks thatcher to join them in the bathroom where it wnds with thatcher bending the reader over the sink counter and fucking them?

Mike Thatcher x reader smut

First post in a good while lol. Old man Thatchers character is kinda hard, but enjoy! Gender Neutral reader

Warnings: N//SFW below, semi-public sex, no protection (he pulls out). Readers cocky.

“-then the bastard tried to act all smug, the hell else was I supposed to do?” Mike was quick to defend himself.

James had gotten on his case about the reputation he now had in pubs around the area after apparently laying into some ‘bastards’. Hearing about the throw of the pool ball made you cringe. From Mike’s story, it did sound like they deserved it at least. “Could’ve called me up!” Light laughter followed James’s comment. “I don’t blame ya, just think it’s funny.” Maybe he realized how he was getting the older man a little too riled up, backpedaling on his previous statement.

Mike took another swig of his drink, not bothering to give a response. Under the protection of the bar table, your hand slid over to his thigh. His eyes looked down at your hand, then flickered to your face. You had to bite back a little mischievous smile. He let you off the hook for a good few minutes, conversation carrying on around the table. You yourself falling victim to a few bad jokes here and there. After those few minutes though, Mike shifted in his seat, his eyes no longer looking at yours but his body language told you he was all too aware of your hand placement. You wondered if the stiffness in his body was still from his annoyance, or now from how your thumb gently rubbed against his thigh, slightly gravitating towards his crotch.

Your wrist was quickly snatched in his large hand, the tightness not enough to hurt, but enough to tell you to cut it out. Sadly, it only amused you further. His eyes turned to glare at you when even while he gripped your wrist beneath the bar, your fingers angled downwards to rub as much of his thigh as you could reach. It seemed to be enough to set him off.

“We’ll be right back.” Mike announced, suddenly standing up from his stool at the bar, his co-workers seeming stunned at the sudden movement. You didn’t blame them, not as he pulled you out of your seat as well, your heart racing in your chest, your feet barely keeping up as he brought you to the bathroom.

“That was sure bol-“ “Shut it.” The older man cut you off, pushing you into the one person restroom, quickly locking the door behind you both. “You think touching me like that back wouldn’t have any repercussions?” His voice almost as heavy as his steps as he approached you, making you walk backwards until you hit the cold surface of the sink. Your hands grasped behind you, the chill stinging against your hot palms.

Mike was always so easy to rile up. Lightable temper and years of pent up sexual frustration, a perfect target for your needs.

“You even listening to me?”

“Maybe not. But I can tell you’re stressing yourself out more than you need too.” You pointed out bluntly, a small smirk on your face as a sort of flabbergasted look crossed his face. “Let me help you?”

Something inside of him snapped, his lips smashed against yours. The scuff of his facial hair prickling against your skin. With your hot breath mingling he grunted, your lips pulling away from his. Mike’s erection, hard in his jeans, pressed into you, providing your own needy body some sort of relief.

“Turn around.” He was good at commands, you’d give him that. He gave you enough room just to push off of him and shift your body around, your stomach thankfully covered by your top, protecting you from the freezing cold surface of the sink. Your hips were pulled back in a matter of seconds, forcing you to bend down slightly, ass curved up to pressed into Mikes crotch.

“Seems like you want me too, huh?” His words mingled with his heavy breaths, his hands wrapping around your waist. In a second your bare ass was on display for him, his large hands gripping onto your skin, forcing you to arch your back up more.

Your head was foggy, you must have not been able to hear his pants unbuckling with your heavy breathing, but you could clearly hear your own desperate noises as the tip of his cock pushed up against your hole.

“Seems like you’re the one who needs help now, sweetheart.” Thatcher chuckled to himself, purposefully teasing you for a few more seconds. His hands suddenly squeezed your hips tighter before his hips snapped forward, his cock hitting deep inside you.

As his thrusts increased, your legs slowly deteriorated, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip to quiet any noises. Though there was nothing you could do about the distinct sound of his skin hitting yours.

The coil in your stomach snapping, a long drawn out noise leaving your lips as his own thrusts got sloppier. “Fuck…” You heard Mike’s strained grumbles, feeling his cock pulse inside you. He slipped out just in time to cum on you, instead of inside.

A good few minutes passed, your upper body still resting against the sink as you finally caught your breath. He had been kind enough to wipe you up without saying anything. His large fingers hooking into your bottoms and sliding them back up on you.

The silence was almost deafening as you finally let your body relax itself, pushing up on the sink to stand up straight. You turned around him, dazed yet still smug.

“Wasn’t that a good stress reliever?”

#r6s #r6s x reader #rainbow six siege #thatcher x reader #Mike Thatcher x reader #sas x reader #r6 smut

94 notes · View notes

grezzirossi · 2 years

Photo

My fave R6 defenders are besties <3

#marius streicher #mark chandar #mute r6 #r6s jager #rainbow six siege #r6 #finally posting some siege stuff #nonsense stuff but still stuff lmao #r6 mira #r6 dokkaebi #r6 twitch #r6 thatcher #won't tag everyone name lmao #too many names CX #videogames #mycryptidart #I love the genius bois #they're bbf in my hcs uheheuheu

221 notes · View notes

nouveaullo · 1 year

Photo

merry yaoimas

#rainbow six siege #r6s #thatcher #thatcher r6s #thatcher r6 #mike baker #thermite #thermite r6s #thermite r6 #jordan trace

108 notes · View notes

melodygatesauthor · 1 year

Text

Holiday SAS Headcanons

You guys seem to enjoy these, and I'm enjoying writing them! These are gifts that I think the members of SAS would get their SO and how they would treat their SO in cold weather (warming them up, what food they'd make them, e.t.c.)

Mute - Mute would surprise you with a thoughtful gift...days before Christmas. He wouldn't admit it was because he was impatient and excited to see what you thought of it. He would also be the last one to want to help decorate. He enjoys the holidays, but doesn't really have the ambition to spend time hanging lights and whatnot. He might help you put ornaments on the tree if you give him the puppy dog look that melts his heart every time. If you begged him, he would be inclined to go to your best friend's ugly Christmas sweater party. As long as he puts a smile on your face, he's down for anything at the end of the day.

When it's cold out, Mute will love spending time curled up watching TV with you. As a bit of a history buff, he would enjoy seeing some of the local sights while covered in snow. Surprisingly he is oddly really good at making snowpeople, and you don't judge him for the five he built in the yard after a big snow storm. He even puts little scarves and hats on them.

Smoke - He is always going to make sure you are spoiled. He's the kind of guy to give you love coupons for Christmas and actually follow through with the items on said coupons, particularly the ones that are hands on. He would love to see you and his daughter getting along on Christmas morning, and the look on both of your faces when he surprises you both with your very thoughtful gifts. He also has a cookie recipe that honestly yields the best cookies you've ever tasted, and would love nothing more than for you to decorate them with him.

He really likes going to do things as a family with the two of you. It doesn't matter if it's ice skating, sledding, or just walking downtown and sipping hot cocoa. Of course he would be down for some really cozy cuddling on the couch. His favorite pass time would be silently laying on the couch with your head on his chest while you admire the tree you decorated all together. He wouldn't even complain in the morning when he woke up and his back hurt because you both fell asleep on the couch.

Sledge - Sledge is going to lose his mind trying to figure out what to get you. He would be stressing last minute because his mother will have him second guessing every gift he bought you, despite deep down him knowing that he got you something you will probably like. He prefers Christmas morning to be just the two of you, but will be happy to visit respective families after your personal festivities are done. He's also the type to propose on Christmas morning. You could literally buy him anything and he would be thrilled.

Sledge really likes shoveling, for no good reason other than it's good exercise, and he loves his shovel. He refuses to buy a snowblower even when you tell him he should. He made his own shovel, it looks oddly familiar...Caber 2.0? He will also insist on snowball fighting with you outside after every snow storm, and then he will make it a full time job to warm you up when you lose and your body is nearly frozen and drowned under snowballs that he pelted you with.

Thatcher - He knows how to spoil his SO to the moon and back. Whatever you like, there will be lots of it under the tree. He will also remember one jewelry store you said you liked four years ago and he will continue buying you a new piece of jewelry from that store for every occasion, even if you don't care for the store anymore. You just don' t have the heart to tell him to stop when you see how happy he is to give you the gift. He actually, surprisingly, has a thing for Christmas crafts. He will enjoy working on them together and using them to decorate rather than going to the store to buy decorations.

Thatcher won't admit it, but he loves peppermint hot cocoa and you smirk when you see empty cups in the trash can from his little secret. He will make sure your car is always cleaned off and that there's always a fire in the fireplace on exceptionally cold evenings. While not particularly fond of tech, he secretly appreciates the smart home thermostat so that he doesn't have to get off the couch and stop cuddling with you in order to turn up the heat. Really big fan of classic Christmas movies.

Who should I do next? Christmas is right around the corner and I may not have time to do more beforehand, so maybe we can look at New Year's, or who cares, Christmas headcanons are fine with me any time of year honestly.

63 notes · View notes

wastedr00k · 2 years

Text

“private but never a secret” - SAS

- in which they make your private relationship feel like a secret -

genre: angst

bad liar - imagine dragons

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

Mute / Mark R. Chandar

mark oh, mark. why must you hold your tongue so much? when will you see that it’s not your personality that makes others avoid you, but rather, it’s your unwillingness to open up.

everyone knew that Mark was a man of few words, that is on the rare occasions that he chooses to speak, short and concise replies. and that’s one of the qualities that you loved him for, even without words, Mark never fails to show you the untouchable spot that you hold in his heart and his loyalty to you was never questioned.

but some days, you wished that he uses his words instead. some days where everything is a blur, where everyone’s action doesn’t seem to reach your hazy mind, some days where the world seems to be against you and only you.

on the days where you reached for his hands or even his pinky in silence, only for him to push it away as everyone continued chatting in the canteen and gave you a side eye of disapproval. when you leaned on his shoulder after a particularly tiring mission, only for him to jerk his shoulders up and lightly shook his head as he kept his gaze forward.

you understood, you really did. being in the military, love wasn’t frowned upon but everyone knew the baggage that love would bring, you knew that love would only complicate things on the battlefield and get in the way of operations. but was it so hard for Mark to give you even a little reassurance, if everyone was okay with it, why wasn’t he?

so as you watched everyone pick names from the cup for this ‘7 minutes in heaven’ challenge, fear started to fester in your heart, what if Mark picked another name that isn’t yours? would he reject and let everyone know about the two of you, or go with it.

everyone knew what this challenge was, pick a random piece of paper, read the name on it, get into the room for 7 minutes and whatever happens in there, stays in that room and between the two.

“oi mate, who did cha’ get?” Porter asked as he nudged Mark’s shoulder, peering over to see the name written on the tiny piece of paper, “i’m hoping ta’ get **, i’ve been wanting ta’ ask them out for so darn long.”

you watched as Mark slowly opened the paper and Porter’s reaction anything but reassuring, and as the chemical engineer started to nudge Mark and started to bounce in his spot and chanting, “no way, no fuckin way mate!” .

Mark shook his head and folded the paper, then looking down at his phone.

“alright guys! let’s start with ** , who you got?” Grace beamed as she turned to the person on her right as they looked up slowly then your partner’s name left their mouth.

everyone hoots and yells filled the room, as you watched your partner stood up. maybe it was wishful thinking on your end to think that Mark would announce to everyone that the both of you were dating. but your heart dropped as he looked towards them and nodded silently. there was no way you could stay quiet this time and let this slide.

“Mark.”

your voice made everyone quiet down, their curiosity peaked.

“you’re going through with this, this game?” you asked, hands slightly balled up.

he stood and looked at you, quietly as usual.

“i wasn't planning on doing anything.” as usual, short replies and straight to the point, only this time you couldn’t tell if he was being honest.

you could only stare at him, speechless. did he really think that going though with it and no doing anything was a better option that just letting everyone know?

Porter watched as the pieces began to click in his head, “the both of you together or somethin' ?”

now, more than ever, you wished Mark used his words instead. but he stood quiet, just standing there as he always does.

** spoke up as they felt the tension between the two of you, “hey... let’s move on to the next person alright?” as they slowly made their way back to their seat.

“no.” you whispered, “no, its fine,” louder this time, “if this is how Mark wants to be, then so be it.” you aired as you turn your gaze to Mark who was still rooted in the same spot,

“have fun doing nothing in that room.”

as you made your way out of the room, Mark never head footstep so loud and for the first time in his life,

he wished he said something.

this is the sound of walking away.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

Sledge / Seamus Cowden

seamus oh, seamus. why must you always be the life of the party? there’s nothing wrong with being a wallflower. when will you see that it’s okay to lay low and be the one laughing at jokes and not be the one telling it.

true to the opening that Elena wrote in his biography, “coming through!” would be enough to describe Seamus. his kindness and loud personality is what makes Seamus uniquely him. there isn’t a single person in the base that hasn’t heard his voice, everyone knew who Seamus Cowden is, the life of the party, the hammer in Rainbow. always the one to break out, create a path for others to take, the one to lead the way.

and tonight, it was truly the time for his personality to shine. Harry held a celebration, a party if you would call it that, after the victory that Team Rainbow clutched, a warm get together is only right. not to mention the new blood and talent that Harry recruited, this was a good opportunity for them to integrate themselves and get to know their future teammates.

Seamus, being himself. was the life of the party, ushering in new operators and familiar faces. shaking hands and heartfelt hugs to everyone and you were no exclusion.

hugging you tightly against his chest, he gave you a soft kiss on the top of your head, “darlin, i’ll be right with you, tonight is going to be so fun! i would love to spend the night with you but there are VIPs and new faces that i have to bring in.” and just like that, you felt his warmth leave your body as he made his way though the crowd and soon your eyes lost track of him among the people.

the night went on even without Seamus by your side but the company that your fellow operators gave you was enough. but the longer you pushed into the night, the louder the crowd seemed to be and the more you longed for the safety of your partner’s arms.

but whenever you managed to find him among the crowd, the same excuse would always leave his mouth.

“i’d love to keep your company but i have some things to settle, i’ll be right with you okay?”

and just like that, you’re on your own.

here’s the thing about Seamus, he’d rather have the spotlight alone than be around others in the audience. there’s nothing wrong with that, but when you wanted his company, he’d rather run around and keep others warm and welcomed than you.

and right now, you’re trying your best to persuade him to not do this stand up set and come relax with you for the night.

“babe, listen i promised Harry that i would, and plus i already have the materials ready!” he replied as he kept his eyes on the cars in his hands, “and no one knows about us, it’ll be weird for me to be all up on you.”

and you’d be lying if you said that his statement didn’t hurt you.

“then let’s use this time to let everyone know, i don’t like this hiding game we’re playing,” you pleaded with him, the tiredness of the night starting to settle in, “and wouldn’t Porter and Craig also be having their own sets tonight? i’m sure Harry wouldn’t mind if you sat this one out.”

“ we talked about this before.’ he gritted through his teeth, “i’ll be with you when this night ends okay. i gotta make everyone feel at home.” he sighed.

and just on time, Harry called his name from the stage, “it’s my time to shine, see you later.”

and without waiting for your response, he left and took his solo spotlight on the small stage.

retreating to your spot among the audience, you dropped down onto the seat in defeat, looking up at Seamus, it almost seemed like it’s a little too lonely on the stage.

his words and jokes were all a blur to you, all you knew is that if he’s going to choose everything over you, then so be it.

standing up to leave for the night, and uber already booked. you spared one last look at Seamus, who still was soaking in the glow of the spotlight before leaving the chalet. this is defeat for you, he can have the spotlight alone.

Seamus watched from his peripheral version, and he couldn’t ignore the clenching of his heart. he knew what he said was wrong but in his mind, the show must go on.

and finally he knew the meaning of what you would always tell him,

the bottom is lonely, and so is the top.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

smoke / James Porter

james oh, james. why must you be so reckless? being cautious is never a bad thing, it’s okay to have a plan, life isn’t always meant to be filled with surprises. when will you see that a little thought, planning, thinking before talking will lead you further than reckless adventures ever will.

keeping your relationship a thing between the both of is something that the both of you agreed on. you both agreed that it was going to be a private thing, but never a secret, if someone were to ask the both of you agreed to tell.

it wasn’t a bad thing, but some days you wish that the two of you could just act like a normal and open couple and today was one such day.

turning your head from the sounds of the clinic’s door slam open only to watch James limp into room while keeping his arm around Mark for support made your heart ache, but made your body move even faster as you rushed to your partner’s side.

“what happened?” you rushed, quickly holding James’s hands in yours as you examined his face then body for wounds as Mark slowly sat James down, looking up at him for an answer.

“he detonated a smoke canister, blocking his view from an oncoming R4C.” Mark explained, then looked at Santiago stood at the door who had his head down.

you nodded as you started to undress James to better access his wounds.

“you need to take better care of yourself.” you said, eyes on the wounds and mentally counting them.

“less talkin’, more fixing yeah?” James grunted, his arms going up to cover his eyes.

clicking your tongue, you began fixing your partner up, “i am your-”

“nurse, doctor. i get it.” James cut you off before you could finish your sentence as he looked around the room, hands waving you off and shutting his eyes once more, “whatever”. he knew that that wasn’t what you originally was going to say.

“still being stubborn even with a gash this big?” you bit back at your partner, typical James.

continuing to sterilize his wounds, you looked around the room to see if the other operators are still there. yeap, Mark was sitting in silence, watching from the corner of the room while Santiago stayed leaned against the door, still thinking of an apology.

“James, please look after yourself more, i won’t always be around to patch you up.”

“there are other doctors and nurses here, you’re not the only one.” James groaned as he felt the alcohol start to sting into his skin.

maybe it was the pain or the frustration making him behave like this but either ways, you weren't going to let him speak to you like that.

“well,” you grit as you applied more pressure to his wound, making him hiss in pain, “i wouldn’t talk to the person who’s treating you in that manner.”

here’s the thing about James, his bark is worse than his bite. always talking to cause the most damage as possible without thinking of the repercussions, he’ll deal with it when it comes.

“you’re just a doctor to me, just do your job.”

the silence that followed brought tension along with it, your movement stopped as you turned to look at your partner who has a scowl on his face. you knew that he was just saying it in the moment and it was just his reckless behavior coming through, but it sure did hurt. plus, this wasn’t the first time he had snapped at you.

the rest of the patching up was done in silence, all the fight you had in you had left, as you’re going to do exactly what he asked you to. just do your job, since you’re just his doctor to him and not a lover that would bend backwards for him, a lover that would do anything for him, a lover that was his lover.

placing down the bandage, you took off your gloves and turned away from James as you wrote his prescription form,

“bring this to the pharmacy, they’ll dispense the necessary medication to you. take care.” you stated as you passed the form to him.

and for once, James could feel the coldness coming from you. every time in the past where he snapped at you, you would just let it slide, using his personality as an excuse. letting him weasel his way back to you with sweet nothings and little punishment but this time was different.

“come on James, let’s go. i’ll let you use me as a crutch.” Santiago joked, trying to lighten the mood.

but James shook his head, “i think i got an std, i’m gonna use this opportunity to get it checked out.” as he turned to you, “privacy please.”

Mark just nodded and stood up to leave while Santiago was trying his best to hold in his laughter, “ppft ,sure thing man. could have told me this before i let you tap it last week.” and quickly making his way out before James could give him a good smack.

ignoring the banter, you continued your work at your station.

“love, i’m in pain. could i get some extra tender loving care?” James whimpered as he limped to your side.

but the response he got anything but tender.

“don’t call me that and it would be out of the scope of my duty as a doctor to do that.” you stated, standing up to leave the room, “but if you feel like the steel surgery bed gives you what you need, be my guest to sleep on it.”

before you left the room, leaving James on his own, you spoke once more with your back faced towards him,

“i’m just your doctor, i’m just here to do my job.”

as James stood alone in the room, he started to remember the moment where the both of you would hang out here, eating together and chatting while the both of you were still lovers, the room was nothing but home to him.

and now this room was nothing but a room to him. he never knew that he could find home in someone, sadly he had to learn this way.

the same recklessness of his that brought him so far could only carry him for so long before it turned on him.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

thatcher / Mike Baker

mike oh mike. why do you always hold grudges? people do us wrong and sometimes, they never meant to do so, even if they did, it isn’t always your job to even the playing field and get even with them. when will you see that the grudges that you’re holding onto is only hold you down.

one thing that was clear to everyone about Mike was that he held grudges. no matter how far away from the future it was or how small it was, Mike had to get even. being born from a place of expectations where his real dreams were stripped away from him at a young age, he knew nothing but grudges against those who made him where he is today.

however, the grudges he carry also played a part in landing him the position he is today, highly respected and even envied by many. Mike is able to channel his anger to make it work for him and to those who have wronged him or anyone he loves.

but it doesn’t always work in his favor, this is where his grudge becomes a double edged sword, his habit does not discriminate. despite his love for you, you’re not spared against it.

“Mike!” you yelled as you chased after your partner after the stunt he just pulled, and when you finally catch up to him, you yanked him by his sleeve to make him face you.

“hands off,” Mike ruffed as he shrugged your hold off of him, “what do you want from me?”

baffled by his response, you furrowed your brows, “what do i want from you? i want you to explain what the hell you just said just now!”

Mike just started to straightened his sleeve, “i meant it when i said that having you on my team is a terrible decision.” without looking back at you, he stretched his back and arms before continuing his sentence, “and i’m not apologizing for not telling anyone that we’re together.”

“what’s so wrong with letting others know about us?” you gasped, “why do i always have to be kept as a secret?”

keeping his silence, Mike just turned away and started to walk away from you, “and you started it first.”

now he's really pushing it too far, as you wreck your brain for a possible reason that 'you started it' , thinking back on the times where you perhaps had stepped on his tail, be it knowingly or unknowingly.

"Mike! is it the time where I called you old fashioned in front of your friends?"

when he kept his silence and gaze forwards but stopped in his tracks, you knew you had hit the nail square on the head.

"that was so long ago! and I have already apologised for it mulitple times!" you stated as you walked in front of him to face him, "but if you want me to apologise again, I will. I'm sorry Mike, it was really rude of me to say that and embarass you like that in front of your friends."

taking his hands in yours, you hoped that it was enough to get through to your partner and his nature.

"fine." he grumbled as he pushed your hands off his and continued to walk back to the canteen, "I'm tired, let me go and rest."

as he walked further and further, leaving you behind, still rooted into the ground,

"I said I'm sorry Mike!", hoping that he'll turn around and take you along with him.

he just nodded and waved you off.

even though he had got more apologies than needed from you and the score had already been more than settled, and he won.

yet the same weight still weighs his heart down. the weight of holding a grudge way past it's expiry date, this is the loneliness only he knows, the loneliness only he can get rid of.

he won the battle but lost the war, the battle being his pride and grudges, and the war?

you.

#rainbow six siege #rainbow six #rainbow six x reader #rainbow six siege imagines #smoke/reader #mute/reader #sledge/reader #thatcher/reader #smoke #mute #sledge #Thatcher #r6siege #r6s #my writings #rainbow six siege x reader

104 notes · View notes

jollybone · 1 year

Text

forgot to post this until now 😅

my contribution to @bl-beater and @r6shippingdelivery 's R6 collab on twitter :)

Thatcher | Fuze

click for better quality

#rainbow six siege #rainbow six siege fanart #r6 #r6siege #r6 fanart #r6 thatcher #mike baker #r6 fuze #shuhrat kessikbayev #fanart #they on a hiking trip :)#Fuze brought his cluster charges 😌#jolly art

56 notes · View notes

gloombride · 2 years

Photo

I’m an apologist for these two specifically

They’re both so fuckin’ pretty aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

#rainbow six siege #r6siege #rainbow 6 siege #r6s thatcher #r6s sledge

76 notes · View notes

kiruuuuu · 10 months

Text

Sun's Out, Guns Out - Day 5!🌈

Hi all, this is your quarterly reminder that I'm not dead 😊 As always, @dualrainbow has organised a Pride event and I'm happy to participate! Give them a follow and check out the other entries 💖

Since I tend to resort to my favourites when I can't write what I want to write (motivation, thy name is fickleness), this one features Thatcher and Lesion trying to figure out a few things. Well, mostly Thatcher. Please enjoy!! (Rating G/T, fluff, ~3.3k words)

Mike Baker has always had a knack for teaching. Born from the addicting sensation of being smarter than everyone, he quickly realised there’s actual merit in passing on hard-earned knowledge founded on a mixture of theory and painful experience. It took him a while to suppress the resentment of witnessing others, armed with his wisdom, excel immediately where he had to struggle for much longer, but once he overcame that particular ego trip, he started receiving heartfelt compliments.

And, well, he likes those.

Suddenly, he played a part in many success stories, was cited as a major influence by skilled operators around the world, and shook hands with others whom he admired on equal footing. There are other advantages as well, like broadening his horizon through exchanges with young minds from vastly different cultures, many of which left him befuddled at first yet enriched in the long run. He’s often called old school, a term he wears with pride instead of embarrassment seeing as it stems from his conviction that advanced technology might be useful but ultimately a crutch. He’s opened many eyes to the old ways and no doubt saved countless lives by empowering others to acquire survival skills not reliant on newfangled tech.

This, too, he learnt the hard way. After the disaster in ‘92, he vowed never to allow something like it again.

Amidst the coaching, he endeavours to learn from his students just as they soak up his advice. Not always successful, he still tries to grasp their differing world views and outlooks, attempts to understand how they developed and why his own rarely match. Finding similarities is easy, there’s timeless topics such as cars, sports and physical fitness, and beyond that cyclical trends materialise and disappear over the course of a decade or two – whisky, gardening, woodworking, it all recurs.

But the longer Thatcher pushes his retirement, the more he perceives a rift forming between his generation and the younger ones. Not having any children himself (or any friends who do), he’s reliant on his work relationships to keep him up-to-date, and while there’s no shortage of sensible, eager young men in the SAS as a whole, Rainbow generally features established, well-adjusted operators who need little guidance.

So… maybe it’s the small sample size. In any case, Thatcher is increasingly perplexed when Mute mentions most of his friends don’t even own a car anymore. Or that they have no notion to buy a house and settle down – even Thatcher considers marriage optional, seeing as his own crashed and burned spectacularly, but not wanting to own property? And the absolutely disrespectful way Mute speaks of national treasures like the Queen and Thatcher’s namesake (which, alright, he’s had long discussions about this and maybe she wasn’t the progressive saint he once thought she was, but still – defacing her monument just isn’t funny).

At first he was filled with a giddy sort of glee when the taciturn, serious young Brit opened up to him, heeded his advice and even looked to him first when he was unsure about anything work-related, but the longer they spend conversing about their private lives, the more Thatcher wishes he’d never asked in the first place. He’s fairly sure he will never understand the point of ‘memes’, no matter how often Mute tries to explain.

And one day, a humid, muggy Friday in June, Mute approaches him with a problem for which Thatcher has no answer ready yet. So he does what he always does when he’s unable to process news or make his mind up: ask the one person for help to whom he’d entrust his life without a second thought.

~*~

“Mark thinks he’s gay”, says Thatcher, apropos nothing, as he turns the page from sports to local news. ‘Hotel California’is softly pouring out of the radio next to the toaster – the classic rock station isn’t his favourite but one meaningful glance over Simon & Garfunkel incentivised him to switch to it. He didn’t want to be accused of being a lonely old man again.

Across the table, Lesion visibly smothers his initial reaction, whichever it would’ve been; there’s an unnatural half-blink and an almost imperceptible pause in guiding the ham-topped croissant to his mouth. And Thatcher thinks: here we go.

They haven’t fought in a while. Not for the entire year, actually, if he discounts their usual bickering (and he’s inclined to, it barely counts despite the awkward atmosphere it forces bystanders to endure, which is incidentally Thatcher’s favourite part). He regrets having to sacrifice their harmonious breakfast which, apart from the at-times questionable songs wafting over, is nearly perfect where he’s concerned. Lesion bought fresh muffins for Thatcher and croissants for himself, Thatcher provides good-quality cold cuts, they share a pot of tea and discuss whatever is new either in their lives or the world. It’s idyllic.

Sadly, he’ll have to ruin it – for the greater good.

Could he introduce the topic in a less inflammatory way? Sure. Would it have the same result, i.e. a quietly destructive Lesion who chooses his words so carefully it’s hard to imagine he’s simultaneously holding himself back from throttling Thatcher? Absolutely not. And therefore this is the only option remaining.

Once Lesion has bought himself some time to process Thatcher’s remark by carefully chewing for an inordinately long time, he avoids his gaze and asks, very calm: “Did he drink too much and say a few things he now regrets?”

Deflection. With a joke, at least, Thatcher taught him that – when they first met, Lesion would raise his brows and change the topic when confronted with anything he did not want to comment on. Either he’s attempting to save the mood or his brain is working overtime to figure out how to respond. Good. So he doesn’t know what to think about this either.

“Nah. We both know the lad barely drinks.”

Lesion begins pushing the crumbs on his plate into a neat pile. “He does when James is around.”

And this is why Thatcher chooses him for any difficult topic. Lesion has mastered the art of being unobtrusive and inoffensive to the point where everyone around him either forgets his presence or believes him to be an accomplice of sorts, thus dropping all inhibitions. His skills in information gathering and observation are unparalleled and Thatcher enjoys making use of them, even if it’s for petty purposes.

Well. Especially for petty purposes.

He’s right, of course, he always is: Thatcher retroactively analyses Mute’s behaviour around his colleague and concludes that yes, Mute does indeed let Smoke be a bad influence on him.

“Tell me what happened.”

Somehow, the initial friction has disappeared and though Thatcher would prefer a sharper exchange of words, he plays along for now. “Julien dragged him to a Pride event last week and some bloke there talked Mark into believing he fancies James. He’s not fully sure, though, so he poured his little heart out to me.”

He spots the tell-tale crease between Lesion’s brow. He’s getting pissed – even though Thatcher isn’t entirely certain why. But that’s what he’s here to find out. “I have additional questions”, Lesion states after a moment, “but I think it’s best if you tell me your thought process first.”

“On what?”

“You seem to disagree with him. I’d like to hear why.”

“With whom?”

Lesion refuses to take the bait and get angry over stupid details. His patience is another virtue Thatcher admires greatly. “With Mark’s assessment of himself.”

“That he thinks he’s gay?”

“Yes.” He takes a sip of his tea. “That.”

Alright then. If this was anyone else, Thatcher would refrain from elaborating, wave it off and attribute it to personal differences rather than risk offending or coming across as ignorant. The two of them, however, have known each other for such a long time that no such anxieties remain: they’ve both made idiots of themselves in front of the other, have supported each other through various crises, have become such an important and fundamental part of each others’ lives that he discards any vanities in favour of personal growth.

Most of the time.

Which doesn’t contradict his urge to exasperate his best friend. It’s almost… charming? Endearing? He’s not sure of the correct term, but it does leave a deep, satisfying feeling in the low of his stomach to watch Lesion ruthlessly apply logic to try and change his mind, working himself up to unmerciful gentleness with which he both ensures victory and that Thatcher’s pride isn’t hurt. These days, he rarely allows himself any indulgences, yet Lesion’s cutting rhetoric is too addicting.

He’s not proven wrong often, but with this man, he almost enjoys it.

“We’ve talked about it before”, he starts, Lesion keeping up eye contact now as he finishes the other half of his croissant, “being gay isn’t a choice.”

An encouraging nod. So far, so good.

“Either you’re born gay or you’re not.”

The nodding fades. Surely, he can’t object this early.

“So either you know that you’re gay, or you don’t know, which means you’re not. And yeah, there’s the bisexuals and whatever, but they know who they are as well. Mark on the other hand said he never really had any interest in anyone until now – but if he was gay, that wouldn’t have happened.” He probably should stop talking. Lesion is looking at him, mid-chew, the same way he did when Thatcher ranted about poor people always buying poor quality products even though purchasing slightly more expensive, higher-quality ones would last much longer.

Which, alright. He conceded the point eventually.

Another sip of tea after the croissant has disappeared. Lesion adds more crumbs to his pile. “Is it too late then?”, he asks, curious. “For him to realise he fancies men.”

“Huh? No.” Ridiculous. As if there was some kind of cut-off point where lads had to live as heteros because they didn’t claim their gayness fast enough. “No, what I mean is… he’s just not gay. He’s found a kindred spirit in James, somehow, and I predict he’s going to turn into an annoying little gremlin under his supervision, but he’s confusing a serious, close friendship with, I don’t know, attraction? Romance?” The more he scrutinises it in his head, the more sense it makes. “Yeah. He never fancied anyone before. How would he know what it feels like? I have the impression he just never had a friendship like that before.”

Actually, this is obvious – he’s almost embarrassed he couldn’t come up with the same explanation when Mark sought him out. No wonder the poor lad is a little lost, a shithead like Smoke will do that to an innocent soul.

Lesion is starting to shift now, sharpen around the edges, weighs his words more deliberately before he allows them to escape his lips. It’s reminiscent of how he is on the job, competent, no-nonsense. He might crack jokes and wear a smile but Thatcher’s gaze penetrates the thin veneer of jovial gestures to reveal remorseless efficiency. And though he respects that part of Lesion deeply, he also savours how pliable, how… domestic they are around each other. Lesion has saved his life more than once, and he’s helped remodel Thatcher’s bathroom. He asked Thatcher to test drive a used car he considered buying, and he’s killed with a smile and a shrug.

If he’s honest, Thatcher prefers his softer side. There’s something peaceful in sitting in his garden and trying to spot birds, even if they’ve had to wash blood off their bodies more times than they care to count.

“How did he come to the conclusion that he likes James?” Gathering more necessary intel. Thatcher suppresses a grin.

“I can’t recall his exact words, it was surprisingly flowery. Maybe he dreamt about kissing him, felt like he was having butterflies in his stomach whenever James texted him, something along those lines. Typical shite, you know. But I mean, that’s normal.”

Lesion’s eyes snap up.

Oh? He’s picked up on something though Thatcher wouldn’t know what exactly. They’re still dancing around the issue, Lesion hasn’t formulated his point yet so it’s difficult to tell what he’s thinking. It’s no fight yet.

“Normal stuff”, Lesion repeats and it sounds very close to a question. He must know what Thatcher means.

“Aye. Everyone has these kinds of thoughts, even if there’s some kind of stigma on it since blokes barely talk about it. It’s curiosity, nothing more, the brain latches on to something and you can’t get it out of your head for a while. Like buying a new car, innit? A mate gets himself a brand new ride and suddenly, you want one too. It’s almost impossible to push that thought away.”

“… a new car.” It seems Lesion has resorted to parroting bits and pieces of Thatcher’s speech. Again, with anybody else, he’d be upset that he’s opening up about a topic rarely discussed between men and met with hesitant mockery, but this is Lesion. His best friend would rather jump out the window than hurt him deliberately.

“Not the best metaphor maybe, but you get the gist. He’ll just have to pull himself together and realise it’s perfectly normal to have these kinds of, I don’t know, intrusive thoughts, and move on.”

Lesion’s face evokes the image of an exhausted mum debating internally whether she should let her child eat the crayons just so she can have a bit of peace and quiet. He’s still not contributing to their conversation which is frankly worrisome – not that Thatcher is apprehensive about what might be going on in his head, but he knows the longer he talks the worse it gets. The two of them have a code word for ‘you should probably shut up now’ and there’s a reason Lesion is the only one who uses it regularly.

“Do you not agree? Just because you think like this doesn’t mean you’re queer. Hell, most of the blokes on this earth would’ve ended up married to another bloke if they followed that line of thinking. The two of us might as well have married.”

This shakes Lesion out of his stupor. “Might as well”, he repeats, sounding oddly entertained. It seems he’s about to add something but decides against it, shaking his head a little before he takes a deep breath and gets up to pour himself another cuppa. Buying more time. This is getting serious. “Want the rest?”

Thatcher hands him his Arsenal mug, mulling over the phrase which seems to have sparked amusement in his best friend. There’s worse fates in the world than being tied to this man, he supposes – they get along better than any married couple he knows. Most days, their schedules are intertwined, they give and take in equal measure and have found compromises for all their differences in taste. “Might as well”, Thatcher mutters without meaning to and accepts the tea-filled mug with an added ‘ta’.

Instead of sitting back down, Lesion leans against the counter, fingers wrapped around the Winnie the Pooh mug he used to pick as a joke (and now defends from other guests), steady gaze resting on Thatcher without the hint of reproach. There’s a warmth in it he’s accustomed to seeing when it’s late and they drank a little too much. Quiet anxiousness rises in Thatcher; he can deal with exasperation but doesn’t do well with vulnerable sincerity.

“You’ve not talked about this with anybody else, I assume?”, Lesion asks.

“Of course not. If they’re all too embarrassed to say it out loud, I’m not gonna be the first one.”

An eternity passes while Lesion stands there, eyes drifting aimlessly around the cosy kitchen, and contemplates how to reply. Thatcher’s uneasiness increases with every passing second yet he knows better than to interrupt the other man’s thoughts. Despite his growing desperation to interrupt his own.

He has a feeling he won’t like what he’ll hear next.

“I wouldn’t call it ‘normal’”, Lesion starts hesitantly. “I do believe it’s not unusual to be curious in one’s younger years, but… dreaming about kissing your mates when you’re in your fifties is, um.”

Thatcher’s cheeks begin to heat up. He hopes he hasn’t committed a grave mistake. “Oh come off it – don’t tell me you don’t think about those things.”

“Ah…” The corners of Lesion’s mouth lift into a sheepish smile. “I do.”

“See!”

“But, Mike. I’m gay.”

Uh.

Thatcher’s brain screeches to a halt. “What”, he says and can’t keep the hint of anger out of his voice. Strangely, he feels betrayed rather than surprised, and it’s a tad odd to realise he’s genuinely upset over the fact Lesion never told him. He cares not one bit about his sexuality, Lesion can do whatever he wants, but Thatcher needs to be in on it. Still, it helps to distract him from the fact that Lesion’s earlier words open up an entirely different can of worms.

Which is that apparently Thatcher’s mind has significant overlap with that of a gay man, at least where other men are concerned, and he is not prepared to face this particular revelation just yet.

Maybe I should’ve married him, he thinks and suppresses the sudden, absurd urge to laugh.

“Do you want to talk about this?”, Lesion offers, still smiling, and it’s eerie how well he knows him – when conflicted, Thatcher tends to withdraw unless assisted, yet is too prideful to ask.

He appreciates the suggestion but appearances force him to weakly object: “Don’t you have errands to run today?”

Lesion shrugs. “They can wait. I’d rather make sure you don’t end up brooding the whole weekend.”

A fair assessment. Thatcher nods and is flooded with relief over having someone in his life so willing to talk about everything and nothing, except… Suddenly, there’s something else besides gratitude as well.

~*~

“… so, in conclusion, it doesn’t matter what you identify as. Just do what you feel is right, use your common sense – and I know you have a lot of that. If you feel an attraction, there’s nothing wrong with pursuing it without worrying about labels for the moment. Alright, lad?”

Mute stares at him in much the same way Thatcher’s family did on their last reunion when he asked for extra vegetables. He adds a mental note to teach Mute how to control his expressions better and keep his composure even when confronted with the unimaginable.

“Do I have something on my face?”

“No, I just -” The lad blinks a few times before starting to nod. “I mean, yeah. Thanks. That’s actually really helpful. I was worried about some of it, but what you said just… some things clicked.”

Boy does Thatcher know how that feels. “Don’t mention it. You got your head on straight, lad, keep it that way.” He realises too late and hastens to correct himself: “I don’t mean – well, you know what I mean.”

His awkward floundering earns him a grin he much prefers over the troubled look which has recently dominated the young man’s features. “Yeah. No worries.”

“Good man.” Thatcher pats his back and gets up, relieved their talk went smoothly and confident he’ll be able to manoeuvre similar conversations in the future. Which is a relief, because based on Mute’s memes, the entire younger generation is some kind of queer or other and he’s had his suspicions about Dokkaebi for a while.

“Just one question though.”

He turns to Mute, expecting anything from mundane to profound and certain he will be able to advise. After all, it’s his job to guide and teach wherever he can.

The lad points to Thatcher’s neck. “… is that a hickey?”

Alright.

Well.

Time to make up an excuse and get the fuck out of here.

#rainbow six siege #fanfic #oneshot #thatcher #lesion #smoke #mute #thatcher/lesion #smoke/mute #event #I either want to write 100% smut or 100k fics and there's no in between #so please accept this as an offering instead #inspired by comments about people who are ACTUALLY like thatcher and everyone hopes they figure it out eventually #lesion is starting to give me big kim kitsuragi vibes

12 notes · View notes