#haloshornsglitter

I WAS HOPING THAT SOMEONE WOULD ASK FOR THIS ONE. I’ve got a plaaaaaaan. Also, I love your avatar. So much. 

If it's still running could I get an Obey Me match up? She/her, iridescent black (like an oil slick), 😅

thank you!! i’m matching you with LUCIFER

your song rec is Denial - The Vaccines

Imagine returning home after a long, exhausting and stressful day. You sling your backpack off your shoulders, letting it drop onto your carpet. Approaching your bed, you all but plonk yourself into an undignified heap, arms and legs sprawled out ungracefully as you lay on your stomach. You shut your eyes, hoping for a quick slumber to bring an end to your chaotic thoughts. The minutes pass at an agonisingly slow rate until you come to the unhappy conclusion that you're in for another long night trapped with your uninterrupted stream of bleak thoughts.

But tonight is a little different. 

You gasp when you feel a heavy hand touch your back and you're about to roll away when a familiar grin keeps you in place. 

"Strife?" you crane your head over your shoulder to see him lowering himself to sit beside you.

"Someone seems to have had a rough day... again," the horseman chuckles.

You sigh at that, lacking the energy to respond verbally.

So you close your eyes and turn your head to face the other way.

Again, you feel that heavy hand return to your back. 

“Strife?”  

“Sshh, you’re meant to be tired.” 

You snort lightly at that. “Goodnight then.”

You give a small start when you feel his firm knuckles press with the right pressure into your tense muscles, proceeding to gently knead away the stubborn knots. It's enough to make you melt and hum appreciatively.

"So easy to please," Strife teases.

Had you the required energy, you'd have lightly rebuked that he was no different from you but for now, you decide to simply enjoy his soft, tender attention. Besides, you’re meant to be tired. 

You feel his long fingers begin to crawl up past your shoulders, the featherlight ticklish sensation it sparks on your skin elicits a giggle from you. Reaching the nape of your neck, Strife’s large hand cups around its width, applying gentle pressure that generates instant warmth in your being. It remains in that position for a few more seconds before it moves to your head. His fingers lightly ruffle your hair, playing with each of your strand. Throughout the entire time, Strife is relishing your tiny sounds of contentment.

He finishes by softly running his palm over your head, in a similar manner to caressing a cat. His other hand is settled on your back, enjoying the sensation of your body pressing into his palm with every breath you took. 

Strife doesn't need to check to confirm that you've finally succumbed to sleep. So he spends a while simply staring at you in your most peaceful state before fully climbing into the bed and laying down behind you. Snaking his arms around your waist, the horseman gently pulls you to him, never once disturbing you. 

haloshornsglitter requested a Bones x Reader quickie where reader was injured on an away mission and Dr. McCoy provides some comfort.  I don’t know if this was what she was looking for, but I hope she enjoys it!

You just couldn't believe your terrible luck.  It was finally your turn on rotation to go on an away mission, to visit a planet never before seen by humans, and what happened?  You'd gotten distracted by this alien flora and managed to trip, tumbling ass over teakettle down a rocky outcropping.  By the time you landed, you knew something was broken, maybe even multiple things, but at the very least your forearm which to your horror you found had an extra bend in it where one definitely should not be.  

To your shame, after first aid treatment including some pain relievers, you were summarily ordered back to the Enterprise by the team's commanding officer, who made a bigger deal of it than necessary by sending a comm to the transporter room requesting someone to escort you to Sick Bay upon your return.  Apparently he thought you couldn't even manage that without hurting yourself further.  It didn't alleviate your frustration when you were met by a junior security officer and a nurse to usher you to the infirmary, the former of which not trying to hide his disdainful amusement at your failure.

Dr. McCoy was standing in the med bay, checking the calibrations on one of the sickbeds when you were brought in.  He was already prepared for you, equipment at the ready, obviously made aware of the situation.  When you were finally laid on the bed in front of him, he fiddled with some buttons while asking in his gruff voice "What happened down there?"

"I wasn't paying attention," you muttered quietly, feeling like an idiot.  "I stumbled and fell."

"So much for any more away missions," the security officer snickered.  And it cut you pretty deep.  Just about everyone on the ship knew how eager you had been to go, and now everyone would now you failed.

But Dr. McCoy's eyes snapped up to him, hard set, angry.  "Nurse, get this guy out of my sick bay before he becomes the next patient."

That startled him enough that the nurse, unfazed by the remark, barely had to do anything to get him to leave.  And you had to admit, it surprised you too.  The doctor had always had a reputation for being a bit of an abrasive personality with anyone besides his closest confidantes.  You supposed that's just how old country doctors were.  So, him coming to your defense like that was a new experience.

"Damned jackass," he grumbled under his breath.  McCoy went about a full body scan, though he did manage to quirk up the side of his lips at your scandalized expression.  "No one gets to insult my patients but me."

Perhaps it was the pain medication, but you couldn't help frowning deeply.  "He's right though.  My first chance and I failed miserably.  I'll never get to go again.  I'll be a laughing stock."

"Don't let what he said get to you," McCoy replied distractedly, keeping an eye on your read-outs.  "Looks like you managed to fracture both ulna and radius in your right arm.  And you broke a couple fingers, nothing serious.  You should count yourself lucky, kid.  Some people don't come back from away missions at all."

It was true.  There were a number of your colleagues that never made it back to the ship after being posted to the away team.  Still, at least they never made fools of themselves and lived to get ridiculed for it.  But that wasn't a very nice thought to harbor in the back of your head as Dr. McCoy worked setting your bones.  He took his time, hands firm, but gentle, checking your pain levels from time to time.

"There, that should do it," he finally announced, assisting you to an upright position and slipping a brace over your arm.  "You are gonna have to be on light duty for a while, but so long as you take it easy you should be all healed up in no time."

"Thanks, doc," you nodded, though his care had not mended how hard you'd be kicking yourself for the rest of forever.  He seemed to notice your downtrodden demeanor, because after a moment he gave a gruff sigh and ordered "My office, now."

You followed behind him, expecting another reprimand.  When the doors slid shut, he pointed out a chair to you and you dutifully sat across from him as instructed.  The surprise came when he reached down into an unseen drawer and produced two glasses and a decanter filled with a dark amber liquid.

"I'm no ship's councilor, but you look like you could use a drink," McCoy explained, sliding a tumbler over to you before pouring an inch of liquid in the bottom.  "And as your doctor, that's about as much as I'm comfortable letting you have after all those pain killers I gave you."

Eagerly, you picked up the smooth glass and took a sip as he poured himself a drink.  It burned over your tongue and down your throat, setting the most delicious fire to your stomach.  "Thank you, Doctor."

He took a sip from his glass, leaning back in his chair comfortably.  "Now, I'm just an old sawbones, kid.  And there are better people to see to help you through whatever you're feeling.  But you've caught me in a good mood, so anytime you need an ear and a few fingers of bourbon, let me know and we'll work something out, alright?"

"That's very kind of you," you blinked, somewhat surprised.  "I thought sure you were going to lecture me on how stupid I was."

"I don't think anyone could kick you as hard as you seem to be kicking yourself," McCoy said after another sip.

You smiled a little.  "You're probably right, Doctor."

"Leonard," he corrected, raising his glass slightly.  "You sit in my chair, you drink my bourbon, you call me Leonard, deal?"

PURPLE = I don’t talk to you but I really love your blog.

“I dunno, I love so much about her it’s hard to pick my favorite thing, but I guess it’s that we have a similar warped sense of humor. Her worst habit is constantly downing herself and doubting her own abilities.”

ULCERS SUCK SO BADLY OMG

I get them whenever I'm stressed. It's like 'hmm, this week's been hard, and now I can't eat anything with salt on it because my mouth is covered in icky fuckin wounds'. Bonjela and Iglu are good- check them out?