1. ⥠kissing their forehead to check for a temperature when theyâre sick - with Hangman pls đ
of course, anon!! đĽ°
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.
âHow the fuck are you the only one not sick, Bagman? You got horseshoes up that blonde little ass of yours?â He grumbled, partially out of annoyance at being sick, and partially out of jealousy over Jakeâs record of perfect attendance.
Jake had simply shrugged his shoulders and flashed his signature smirk.Â
âTexas men are built different, I sâpose,â He laughed before watching as Bradley ran off to find the nearest bathroom.
Thatâs 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.
âI feel awful,â he whined, shaking his head as he buried his face into his pillow.
âLet me check your temperature, ok?â 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.Â
âI think you have a fever, darlinââ you nodded your head, your brows knitting together as you watched Jake groan again.
âI donât get fevers,â he said matter-of-factly, âUs Texas men are built different. We donât get sick, âmember?â
âI hate to break it to you, Jake, but I think you may be wrong on this one,â 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.
âDo you need anything, sweetheart?â You cooed softly, stroking his blonde hair as you sat on the edge of the bed beside him.
âJust you, darlinâ. And maybe to not leave the bed for a little bit,â Jake replied, a weak smile appearing on his features as he closed his eyes again.Â
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 youâd managed to get sick, you knew this time, returning the favour wouldnât be a difficult task at all.
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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 Mikeyâs opinion, it doesnât 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 isnât 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 heâs said this time. Raph, though?
Raph doesnât 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 donât know him- Mikeyâs oldest sibling would rather just get along with everyone. Wants to, even.
Itâs 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.Donât need anyone else.
Or maybe theyâre 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. Itâs 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 doesnât even know what it is today. Why this ishappening at all. Itâs Friday, theyall definitely have better stuff to do.
Heâd 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, theyâll lose interest eventually. (They never do.) They donât 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 donât wantto draw any more attention to themselves than they already do, says Leo, whenheâs 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 couldnât 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 isnâthere. None of the adults waiting for it look like theyâre going to step in. Everything about this sucks.
Mikey has to jump away to avoid Raphâs wrong footed retreat; his brother,though heâs at least a head taller than everyone here, keeping his clenched fistsat his sides as some jerk Mikey doesnât know tries to physically push Raph intolashing out.
And Raph wonât,because he canât, it wouldnât matterthat heâd been goaded into it, everyone would blame him and wouldnât ever lethim forget that heâd hit back. Onceitâs done, it wonât ever go away, and no one knows that better than Raph himself.
So his fists stay by his sides, and the split second theyâreraised itâs to block a punch aimed at his chest. Raphâs 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 âem chopped off like your fag brother-?
The biggest kid, next to Raph, winds up to throw anotherpunch, and Mikey can already tell that itâs going to make contact with hisbrotherâs face.
Raph doesnât pick fights.
Sometimes, when he has to, though⌠Mikey does.
Heâs half the size of everyone else, maybe smaller, but hisknuckles still impact against the assholeâs jaw and sends him reeling. Mikey shriekswordlessly and throws himself at the crowd of bullies, knowing heâs 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 heâs thirteen andeveryone here is fifteen and older. Not to mention outnumber him almost a dozento one.
Itâs 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 elseâs.
The guy who started it all swims in Mikeyâs 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.
âGonna say this once,âRaph growls out. âPiss off, or I throw you on the tracks.â
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 thatâd 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.
Raphâs bullies donât follow.
âYou gotta stop doinâ that, Mike,â Raph scolds anxiously,pressing another band-aid over a cut Mikey hadnât noticed himself getting in thefight. âYou donât have to get caught up in that shit. I can take it. Youâre gonna break yourhand oneâa these days and then whereâre you gonna be? You canât do art if youcanât use your hands.â
âEh, Iâd be fine. Itâll be a good time to try feet art,â Mikey says, sitting on their bathroom counter while Raph half-kneels, not even wincingas his banged up knee is taken care of. Heâd almost ended up on the floorduring the fight, which couldâve had the whole thing go way worse for him. Heâs lucky he got out of that with just a fewdark bruises and bloody scrapes, even if theyâre 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 brotherâs cheek. Itâsgot 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 doesnât even try to move away from the band-aid as itâsapplied to his face. He just sighs long-sufferingly, like all of Mikeyâs olderbrothers do sometimes, whenever heâs done something like this.
âYou canât keep pickinâ fights you wonât win,â Raph says,staring hard at Mikeyâs bruised face. He looks so sad it makes Mikey sad, too. Whichwonât do at all.
Mikey gently slaps his hands on either side of Raphâs face,and grins. âI only pick âem âcause Iâm with you guys, and if Iâm with you guys Iâllalways win. Four against whatever, plus one when we got April. Sostop being a sadsack already and feel loved âcause Iâm willing to punch stupidpeople in the face for you.â
Mikeyâs smile is opening the split lip heâs got all overagain, but itâs worth it to see a hint of an echoing smile twitch on Raphâs face.
âStupid,â Raph mumbles as he ducks away from Mikeyâs hands,and Mikey doesnât comment on the gloss his brotherâs eyes have before he rubsat them. Mikey just hums and leans on Raphâs head with his elbows, idlythinking about changing the slivers of red wraps around his brotherâs 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 doesnât mind playing bullfighter if itâs for hisbrothers.
if youâd spare some change to a writer whoâs trying to build up finances after not getting paid for nearly three months, specâs kofi tip jar would appreciate it,,
Hey there, kiddos!! Life has been kicking my ass and I havenât been super active as of late, and that bums me out!!!!! So Iâm doing a mini request night tonight. Send me some requests and when I get off work Iâll start working through them!! Itâll probably just be pen and ink sketches, but hey.
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