Mrstelford - Dakota Wolfskill

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Riders on the Storm

This is part of @band--psycho​’s 1.5K Followers Bingo Challenge! For this challenge, I wrote only characters portrayed by Tommy Flanagan. Some of written for before and some I haven’t.

Prompt:: Kidnapped

Pairing:: Markus x Reader

Movie:: Killers Anonymous

Warnings:: violence, swearing

After taking another blow to the face, I spat a mixture of blood and saliva onto the floor. Looking up at the masked face, I growled, “Yer gonna regret that.”

“Why’s that?” he asked, leaning close to me.

“D’ya know who my brother is?” He nodded, reaching over, stroking my hair. “He’s gonna kill ye,” I smiled.

He chuckled, “Well, I hope he does come here. Because I need to have a few words with dear ol’ Markus.” He hit me again, and I groaned, turning my head away from him. “You know, I’m surprised you lasted this long. Never had a damsel in distress stay strong and not cave for two days.”

I sneered, “It’s in my blood.” Backhanding me, I grunted from the shooting pain in my head and spat again. “I hope he kills ye slow, makin’ sure ye feel everything’ he does to ye.” I heard the door kick in, and we both turned to look. Markus strolled in, calm as ever, gnawing on a toothpick. I smiled up at him. “Yer in deep shite now.”

I watched as Markus circled around, staring down at the guy who kidnapped me. “Ye a’right, Y/N?” he asked. I nodded up at him. “Yer face looks like shite,” he laughed.

“I need to talk to you,” the man said to Markus.

“Oi!” he yelled. “I’m talkin’ to her!” He glanced down at me and asked, “Ye sure yer a’right?”

I nodded, “Aye, I’m fine. Never been so glad to see yer ugly mug.”

“Good,” he smiled. “Now…I can deal with this fucker.” Markus threw his hands up and asked, “Wha’ the fuck ye need to talk to me abou’ tha’ involves my sister?” The guy was about to speak, but Markus stopped him. “Take the fuckin’ mask off.”

The guy pulled the mask off his face, holding it in his hand. Markus scoffed, looking over his face. He must’ve recognized him. “You owe me twenty thousand pounds.”

“Tha’s a bunch of bull shite,” he chuckled. “If any money is owed…ye owe me. I did the job.”

“You killed two guys that weren’t supposed to die,” the man said. “I’m only paying for one.”

I interjected, “How abou’…ye let me go while ye two work this shite ou’?”

The guy shook his head, “No, you’re not going anywhere. Not until I get my money.” He took a step over to me, and Markus pulled out his gun, aiming it up at him. “Oh, big brother…” he chuckled, staring up at Markus.

“Touch ‘er again…I’ll fuckin’ kill ye,” he growled.

The man stepped behind me, out of my sight. I watched Markus’s face, how his eyes grew wide and filled with anger. The man grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back.

“I’ll give you…one hour,” the man said. I could hear the smile in the tone of his voice. “If you don’t have my money in one hour…I’m gonna kill her.”

Markus smirked, “An hour?” He nodded, looking around the room. “A’right.”

He walked out, slamming the door behind him. The man let go of me, throwing my head forward. “Let’s see if big brother can pull through,” he chuckled, walking in front of me.

“Ye should’ve let me go when ye had the chance,” I smiled. “Yer no’ gettin’ outta here alive.”

He hit me again harder than all the times before as the door swung in again, bouncing off the wall. Markus pulled the trigger, sending a bullet into his leg. The man fell to the ground, screaming and holding his leg. I watched as Markus walked over, slowly, calmly, determined.

He grabbed the guy’s shirt, lifting him off the ground, punching him over and over again. The guy started fighting back, putting his hand on Markus’s shoulder, but Markus just turned his head, biting down on his hand. He kept wailing on him until he thought he had enough of a beating. Standing up, he stepped over to me, untying my wrists from the chair.

“Took ye long enough,” I sighed, rubbing my sore arms.

“At least I came back,” he scoffed, scrunching his eyebrows together.

I asked, “Wha’ do we do with him?”

Markus chuckled, “We’re no’ doin’ anythin’. Yer goin’ out to wait by the car.”

“The fuck I am!” I scoffed. “I’ll kill him myself. Gimme yer gun.”

“No,” he chuckled. The guy rolled onto his back, groaning the whole way. He stared up at us as we argued about who was going to kill him. “I’m fuckin’ doin’ it,” Markus said, raising the gun and pulling the trigger. The guy fell down on the ground, blood flowing over the floor, forming a massive puddle. “C’mon, darlin’. Let’s ge’ ye home.”

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Preventing Nightmares + Going Back to Bed Afterwards for Littles

To prevent nightmares:

🌟teach your stuffie an anti-nightmare song so they can sing it while you sleep, but make sure they don’t fall asleep on the job!

🌟cuddle with your stuffie, they’ll protect you

🌟same goes for blankets

🌟a calming smell, like lavender, before bed can relax you

🌟don’t drink caffeine or alcohol too close to bedtime (2 hourish range) and don’t eat too much sugar

🌟don’t watch or read scary or upsetting movies, shows, books, etc.

🌟don’t stay up too late (personally if I’m up after 3 I get nightmares)

🌟get enough sleep EVERY night or close to it, sleep deprivation can really effect your dreams

🌟get tucked in if you have a caregiver, or tuck yourself in with plenty of blankies and stuffies!

🌟know that nightmares are normal, it isn’t real, and that it can’t physically hurt you

🌟don’t eat too much sugar or consume alcohol a few hours before bed

🌟pro tip: remember that monsters are scared of monsters!

🌟try not to go to bed when really angry, scared, sad, or feeling strong negative emotion

🌟get a dream catcher

🌟having a nightlight can assure you that there’s nothing in the dark before bed (I get kinda scared before I go to bed if there isn’t a nightlight)

Going back to bed after a nightmare:

💤keep that nightlight plugged in!

💤call your caregiver if possible

💤practice breathing and grounding exercises

💤stay up for a little bit if you really can’t fall asleep - just don’t go on your phone because of the light

💤essential oils can also be calming (an essential oil diffuser is highly recommended)

💤drink sleepytime tea, hot chocolate, or warm milk (or any calming drink w/o caffeine)

💤wake up the stuffie you taught the anti nightmare song to - they probably fell asleep on the job, so they need to be woken up via cuddles

💤don’t try to force yourself to go back to bed, or go to bed before you’re fully calmed down

💤write down your nightmare if you can remember it, so when you wake back up in the morning you can reprocess it to see if it meant something

-on the same note, if you have them frequently and go to your doctor, you’ll have a good record of them

💤turn off your lights and turn on a fan or white noise for background noise, it makes it easier to go back to bed

💤have your caregiver rock you to sleep (if possible)

💤cuddle with your biggest stuffie

💤roll yourself up into a prince/princess/little burrito to be extra comfy!!

💤cuddle with pets if you have any

💤practice progressive muscle relaxation (fancy words for slowly tensing and relaxing your muscles to relax your body)

-Pumpkin and Blueberry 🧡💙

😂😂😂

🤤🥴🥰😍🥹🥵😈

Friends

Filip “Chibs” Telford x Reader - One Shot

Gif does not belong to me.

Moved from @spacedbrainnn .

Little Clay.

That’s what they called you, Little Clay. You were the daughter of Teller and Morrow, Jax’s half sister who was untouchable. You were a princess, the pride and joy of Gemma and Clay, and everyone knew not to flirt with you, unless they planned to be intimidated.

And threatened.

That’s why you’d been talking to Chibs. Late night drinks here, a smile there, a wink thrown in the mix and you found yourself festering with feelings for the man twice your age.

But, you couldn’t care less.

You’d never talked about anything exclusive. There were never any lines drawn, anything. So when you saw him with a Crow Eater hanging around his hips, you couldn’t be jealous.

But, everyone else saw it plain as day.

“Oh come on, Clay Jr.” Tig was dancing on your last nerve while you were attempting to finish up an audit for the garage. You sat in Jax’s mechanic shirt while you wrote on a clipboard and typed on your calculator. “Give me one chance.”

“I’m not in the mood, Tiggy.”

“Why do you gotta give me such a hard time?”

“Because I’m a giver. It’s what I do.”

“But one chance. Let me take you out on the dance floor. We can even dance around the shop.”

“I’ve got two left feet.”

“Please—”

“Alexander Trager.” You spat the words colder than you intended and he feigned offense.

“What? Can’t stand to see Scottie have another woman—”

“What about Scottie?” The thick accent boomed throughout the garage as his boots preceded him. You looked up and tried not to show that your heart was pattering for him.

“Nothing. Just talking.” Tig smirked knowingly as he backed up and walked off, a toothpick in his lips as he exited. You looked down at your paper and tried to force yourself to get back to work.

“Lass? He givin’ ye a hard time?” His accent was undeniably bouncing around in your head while you tried to focus, unsuccessfully, due to his intense stare.

“No more than usual.” You replied to him as your pen marked against the paper, before you looked at the calculator.

“Ye sure?”

“I’m sure.” You didn’t give him that pretty smile you normally did. Hell, you didn’t even hardly look at him.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

“Nothing.”

“Ye can’t lie ta me like that.”

“I’m not lying.”

It was becoming a war of who was more stubborn, who would outlast. He gave a sigh before you heard the flick of the lighter, then cigarette smoke filled the air and you felt the scent of tobacco wash over you.

“Ye can’t lie ta me.”

“I’m not lying, Chibs.”

That’s when he knew. He was always Filip to you. Always.

“Tell me what’s eatin’ that pretty li’l head up.”

Sighing, exasperated, you gave up. Dropping your pen down, you stared up at him as it clattered and rolled off the desk.

“What are we?”

“Whataya mean?”

“I mean, what the hell are we? You can’t tell me we’re just friends. You can’t tell me that we haven’t been shamelessly flirting, dancing around the idea that we’re not something. It doesn’t make any sense.”

Your eyes searched his dark ones as he sighed, before he took another drag of the cigarette.

“Lassie, ye’re…”

“Half your age. I know. I don’t care. What are we?”

“What do ye want us to be?”

“More than this. I want you to not have fucking women—”

You were cut off by his little smirk. “Is that what this is about? The women?”

“Shut up.”

His smirk widened before he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I’m yers, sweetheart. I’m yers.”

— end —