1. ♡ kissing their forehead to check for a temperature when they’re sick - with Hangman pls 💗
of course, anon!! 🥰
Jake was never the one to get sick. Out of all the members of the Dagger Squad, he was always the one to remain healthy while the others battled sniffles, sneezes, coughs and colds. Last year, when a stomach bug threatened to compromise a mission, Bradley, who seemed to always get the worst of any illness that swept through the base, had questioned him on how he managed to be the only one able to move without the room spinning.
“How the fuck are you the only one not sick, Bagman? You got horseshoes up that blonde little ass of yours?” He grumbled, partially out of annoyance at being sick, and partially out of jealousy over Jake’s record of perfect attendance.
Jake had simply shrugged his shoulders and flashed his signature smirk.
“Texas men are built different, I s’pose,” He laughed before watching as Bradley ran off to find the nearest bathroom.
That’s why when Jake merely groaned and rolled over in bed this morning when you tried to wake him up for training, you knew something was immediately wrong. His usually sunkissed, golden skin was looking gaunt and pale, his bright green eyes appearing duller and tired, and his smirk nowhere to be found, instead replaced by two dry, pink lips, resting in a thin line on his face as he tried to go back to sleep.
“I feel awful,” he whined, shaking his head as he buried his face into his pillow.
“Let me check your temperature, ok?” You frowned, watching as he reluctantly rolled onto his back, a low grunt escaping his lips as his lashes fluttered open as much as they could to look at you.
You pressed the back of your hand to his forehead. Unable to get a feel for whether or not he was burning up, you moved your hand before ducking your head down to press your lips to his skin. Your kiss was gentle and tender as you lingered on his forehead for a moment. Humming as you pulled away, you nodded your head slowly.
“I think you have a fever, darlin’” you nodded your head, your brows knitting together as you watched Jake groan again.
“I don’t get fevers,” he said matter-of-factly, “Us Texas men are built different. We don’t get sick, ‘member?”
“I hate to break it to you, Jake, but I think you may be wrong on this one,” you chuckled as you reached over to your nightstand, pulling the drawer open. You grabbed the bottle of ibuprofen out of the nightstand, twisting the cap off and handing Jake two of the pills. You passed him his glass of water from last night and watched as he took the medication in hopes it would lower his temperature and allow him to rest comfortably.
“Do you need anything, sweetheart?” You cooed softly, stroking his blonde hair as you sat on the edge of the bed beside him.
“Just you, darlin’. And maybe to not leave the bed for a little bit,” Jake replied, a weak smile appearing on his features as he closed his eyes again.
You pressed your lips affectionately to his forehead once again, brushing his hair back off of his face with your hand, your fingers combing through his thick honey hued locks as you fussed over him. He hummed softly as he drifted off to sleep. You curled up into bed beside him, cuddling up to him and pulling him in close to you. For all the times Jake had to care for you whenever you’d managed to get sick, you knew this time, returning the favour wouldn’t be a difficult task at all.
This is a selection of some of the requests I did over on Patreon since the time I designated one or two days a month to take suggestions from my patrons as prompts. Doing these is a lot of fun because it challenges me to create drawings I might otherwise not, while in the meantime I get to offer more tailored content for my supporters as a kind of thank you gift.
I also provide work-in-progress picture sets, sketches, and more insight into my progress. One dollar a month is not much but it is a means of support for me, since I took the scary leap and quit my 9-to-5 job to focus entirely on my art. A dollar is not just money, but also immense moral support! Consider taking a look over at patreon.com/mrgabel - a link you can also find in my bio. Thanks so much! And have a great start into September!
i got u dude. mikey picking fights when he knows he wont win or mikey feeling like he isn't really contributing to the group (hope you feel better btw)
rottmntverse human au because that makes this even more fun :3c
((trigger warning for a brief homophobic slur, avoidable if you look for the paragraph becoming italics.))
In Mikey’s opinion, it doesn’t make sense. He reasons thatpeople should want to avoid startingfights with the biggest guy in the room, not actively try and do just that.
Raph isn’t the one who ever starts it. Donnie sometimesstarts things, mostly by just being his lovable prickly self, and occasionallyLeo blunders through a conversation badly enough someone has steam coming outof their ears about whatever dumb thing he’s said this time. Raph, though?
Raph doesn’t pick fights. Fights pick him.
It sucks, because Mikey knows that even though Raph is big,and a little awkward, and kind of intimidating if you don’t know him- Mikey’s oldest sibling would rather just get along with everyone. Wants to, even.
It’s probably because none of them fit the mold, the four ofthem. The only other person they hang out with is April. Mikey is fairlycertain half the reason people get pissed off at them is because they just.Don’t need anyone else.
Or maybe they’re just assholes, jostling and elbowing Raph inthe subway station they all have to share. Leo ditched school halfway throughthe day to go see Donnie at hisschool, which is the university halfway across the city. It’s just Mikey andRaph here today, waiting for the train, trying to wait out the snide remarks andcomments and rude as hell insinuations. No one is even noticing Mikey, sinceRaph made himself a barrier between Mikey and everyone else.
Mikey doesn’t even know what it is today. Why this ishappening at all. It’s Friday, theyall definitely have better stuff to do.
He’d had his earbuds in before this started, swaying to his private concert while he waited next to Raph, but he took them out the second he noticed shit starting to happen. Mikey is listening, and growingfrustrated, and hating every new minute they spend standing here. Raph says toignore them, they’ll lose interest eventually. (They never do.) They don’t haveto stoop to their level, says Donnie, like the hypocrite he is. (Donnie would fistfight older students in uni over scientific theory if he could.) They don’t wantto draw any more attention to themselves than they already do, says Leo, whenhe’s sobered from his bravado of keeping an air of lazily not caring. (Leo and his barest hints of mascara and meticulous eyeliner, Raph and his little sewing crafts in his backpack, Mikey and hisglittery binders he couldn’t resist getting and now regret having done so, for the eyes that stare and stare and stare at them all.)
Someone shoves Raph hard enough he stumbles backwards,knocking into Mikey and nearly toppling them both. Their train still isn’there. None of the adults waiting for it look like they’re going to step in. Everything about this sucks.
Mikey has to jump away to avoid Raph’s wrong footed retreat; his brother,though he’s at least a head taller than everyone here, keeping his clenched fistsat his sides as some jerk Mikey doesn’t know tries to physically push Raph intolashing out.
And Raph won’t,because he can’t, it wouldn’t matterthat he’d been goaded into it, everyone would blame him and wouldn’t ever lethim forget that he’d hit back. Onceit’s done, it won’t ever go away, and no one knows that better than Raph himself.
So his fists stay by his sides, and the split second they’reraised it’s to block a punch aimed at his chest. Raph’s expression is tight andangry, trapped like he is as the crowd of boys press closer, taking turnsshoving him, calling out names, laughing at his lack of reaction. You scared? Are you scared? You even got anythingdown there, or did ya get ‘em chopped off like your fag brother-?
The biggest kid, next to Raph, winds up to throw anotherpunch, and Mikey can already tell that it’s going to make contact with hisbrother’s face.
Raph doesn’t pick fights.
Sometimes, when he has to, though… Mikey does.
He’s half the size of everyone else, maybe smaller, but hisknuckles still impact against the asshole’s jaw and sends him reeling. Mikey shriekswordlessly and throws himself at the crowd of bullies, knowing he’s got theedge of surprise and nothing else. For a few seconds, he manages to hold hisown.
Then, someone with a lot more muscle mass than him socks himacross the face, then the stomach, and Mikey chokes on his own spit.
He breathlessly tries to keep going, but he’s thirteen andeveryone here is fifteen and older. Not to mention outnumber him almost a dozento one.
It’s a blur of pain for a minute there, fireworks of lightflashing behind his eyelids every time someone punches him. Fists and feet hittingwhatever they can of his skinny body. Then, something grabs him by the collar,and pulls him out of the fray with strength far greater than anyone else’s.
The guy who started it all swims in Mikey’s vision, rightbefore a big shape obscures it and picks him up with ease.
Mikey coughs on the blood of his swelling nose, and staresalong with everyone else as Raph holds their leader almost a foot off theground.
“Gonna say this once,”Raph growls out. “Piss off, or I throw you on the tracks.”
He drops the other kid, tossing him away a few extra feetfor good measure. The asshole lands poorly and has to be dragged to his feet byhis friends, wide eyes staring at Raph as he folds his arms and glares.
Their train finally arrives, coming up to the platform withthe usual shrill sound of its braking. What few other people that’d beenwitness to the whole fight stow their phones and get into the train cars,sensibly getting away.
Mikey and Raph reach for each other at the same time, andboard the train, too.
Raph’s bullies don’t follow.
“You gotta stop doin’ that, Mike,” Raph scolds anxiously,pressing another band-aid over a cut Mikey hadn’t noticed himself getting in thefight. “You don’t have to get caught up in that shit. I can take it. You’re gonna break yourhand one’a these days and then where’re you gonna be? You can’t do art if youcan’t use your hands.”
“Eh, I’d be fine. It’ll be a good time to try feet art,” Mikey says, sitting on their bathroom counter while Raph half-kneels, not even wincingas his banged up knee is taken care of. He’d almost ended up on the floorduring the fight, which could’ve had the whole thing go way worse for him. He’s lucky he got out of that with just a fewdark bruises and bloody scrapes, even if they’re turning nasty purple and redcolors against his dark skin.
Raph glares at him, mouth in a terse frown. Mikey pretendsnot to notice, and puts a cheerily colored band-aid on his brother’s cheek. It’sgot a fading bruise from a different fight still, now mottled with yellow, and Mikeyfeels a little lonely, being the only one in the room with bright littlepatches all over himself.
Raph doesn’t even try to move away from the band-aid as it’sapplied to his face. He just sighs long-sufferingly, like all of Mikey’s olderbrothers do sometimes, whenever he’s done something like this.
“You can’t keep pickin’ fights you won’t win,” Raph says,staring hard at Mikey’s bruised face. He looks so sad it makes Mikey sad, too. Whichwon’t do at all.
Mikey gently slaps his hands on either side of Raph’s face,and grins. “I only pick ‘em ‘cause I’m with you guys, and if I’m with you guys I’llalways win. Four against whatever, plus one when we got April. Sostop being a sadsack already and feel loved ‘cause I’m willing to punch stupidpeople in the face for you.”
Mikey’s smile is opening the split lip he’s got all overagain, but it’s worth it to see a hint of an echoing smile twitch on Raph’s face.
“Stupid,” Raph mumbles as he ducks away from Mikey’s hands,and Mikey doesn’t comment on the gloss his brother’s eyes have before he rubsat them. Mikey just hums and leans on Raph’s head with his elbows, idlythinking about changing the slivers of red wraps around his brother’s longdreads again. Maybe using a brighter red this time instead of a subdued maroon.
It might be something akin to waving a red flagin front a bull, but Mikey doesn’t mind playing bullfighter if it’s for hisbrothers.
if you’d spare some change to a writer who’s trying to build up finances after not getting paid for nearly three months, spec’s kofi tip jar would appreciate it,,
Hey there, kiddos!! Life has been kicking my ass and I haven’t been super active as of late, and that bums me out!!!!! So I’m doing a mini request night tonight. Send me some requests and when I get off work I’ll start working through them!! It’ll probably just be pen and ink sketches, but hey.
