#addict!reader

[tgebunnyboy]

Dirty cash, I want you.

!! Warning includes mentions of drugs, smoking, drinking, partying, hooking up. Reader is a player party animal who uses their status to feed their friends addiction and to keep the police quiet, reader is likely underage. 365 could also work, might make it the title if i actually write the story. Was listening to 'A little bit harder now' while writing. !!

Reader couldn't care less about their family ignoring them. They had the attention of everyone else, they are a hot, rich party animal who always seemed to have someone holding onto them. What else could they want? Bruce doesn't care about them enough to even yell about them spending his money. They are invited to all the parties, getting to drink with friends and make out with strangers. Swaying with the crowds of bodies as loud music blasts from some shitty speaker. Handing out with all the wrong crowds, drinking and smoking and so much more fun! Always smelling of smoke and alcohol whenever they get home if they don't just go sleep with someone for a bed. Reader probably being a little too friendly with Gotham's dealers, they probably love them since they are probably buying in bulk for all the parties they are always at. Reader who hands the police officers some cash when they show up for the noise complaint to get them to leave. Reader who doesn't care to hide their habits from their family because their family doesn't pay attention to them anyway. Reader eats out at shitty restaurants while high with their friends. Said shitty restaurant staff who'd hate to see them coming if they didn't tip so well because they probably have a party following them because they like to party hop. Reader who is probably out partying more than staying home. Who despite only being at school sometimes still has amazing grade, Rumors are saying they are either paying their teachers or screwing them. Reader who when you search their name you're more likely to see photos of them making out with strangers at their partys instead of paparazzi or gala photos. Reader who lives up to Bruce's playboy persona in many ways that should be concerning to a normal parent. Reader who probably sleeps around, maybe even targeting their family's friends and business partners to sleep with. A reader described as a Concubus (incubus/succubus) by many and probably has tapes to prove it.

[twd-bee3]

Almost

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: During a moment of peace, you and Daryl talk about you getting sober. The hope is shattered when the withdrawal sets in.

Warnings/Tags: addiction, minimal descriptions of withdrawal, trauma, angst, established relationship, female reader (she/her), season nine, no use of y/n

Word count: 776 words

A/N: If you have struggled with addiction in the past, this post may be triggering. Please proceed with caution and make the decision that is right for you. You know yourself best. I cannot stress this enough. Your mental health comes first, and I will not blame you for skipping this one. Here is a hotline that you can contact if you are in the US and struggling with drug addiction: 855-378-4373. It is one of many resources. I will continue to paste this message for every piece I write that handles addiction.

This is for Bee's Winter Wonderland - day 09: Heartache.

Masterlist | D.D. angst masterlist

Tangled in the sheets, Daryl was absentmindedly rubbing your back and watching as you came down from your euphoria. Your arms were littered with small bruises and track marks. The sight made his chest ache. He hated seeing the evidence of your drug use, but he was holding out hope that you'd one day get clean. The last thing that Daryl wanted was to give up on you.

Feeling your boyfriend's eyes on you, you met his gaze and smiled softly. Your voice was slightly teasing, but you recognized the concern in his eyes. You'd just rather ignore the issue.

“Stop lookin' at me like I'm gonna disappear.”

“Sorry. I just ain't wanna lose you, baby. You understand that, right?”

“If I could be different, I would. I fuckin' hate bein' like this, and I hate what it's doin' to you.”

Not wanting you to get too upset, Daryl immediately tried to soothe you and gently moved a piece of hair from your face. He wasn't always great with words, but he always made an effort for you. He wanted to give you the same hope that he was desperately clinging to.

“Don't apologize. What would you do if you were sober and the world was how it used to be?”

“Like right now?”

“Yeah. Money ain't matter neither.”

You’d thought about this before, but the idea had always seemed foolish. You were a realist, and you were well aware of the reality of your condition. If you didn’t get clean soon, you’d die and leave Daryl behind. You pushed the thought from your brain and answered Daryl’s question.

“I'd go to the beach with you and sit near the water. Ain't never been to the ocean, but I would like to see it with a clear mind. Not all foggy.”

“That sounds nice, baby. I wish I could bring the ocean to you.”

His voice was gruff as always, but his tone was soft, and it never failed to put you at ease. You allowed yourself to picture being sober, and it didn't seem so scary.

“Maybe we could go to Oceanside sometime? Like when I'm healthier.”

Hearing you talk about the future made his heart swell, and Daryl couldn't stop the grin that pulled at his lips. You usually shut down conversations about what would come after your sobriety. This felt huge.

“I would really like that. I helped with some trade there a few months ago, and I think you'd love it. We could go-”

His words were cut off by a small whimper, and your body started trembling against his. Daryl could tell the symptoms of withdrawal from anywhere, and a small pit formed in his stomach. His girl was about to be fucking miserable unless she had her fix. He gently touched your face and felt your clammy skin beneath his calloused fingers.

“Oh, baby.”

“Sorry. I ain't wanna do it, but my body's gonna hurt so bad.”

Daryl didn't want you to get high again, and he especially didn't want to be present for it, but he knew that it was inevitable. He'd accepted the situation, but he refused to watch. Standing up, he sighed softly and nodded.

“Do what you need to do. Let me know when you're finished.”

Even though it made him feel like a coward, he walked into the room's joint bathroom and shut the door behind him. He felt sick knowing what you were doing in there, but there was no stopping it. Daryl sank to the floor with his back against the wall and tried his hardest not to cry. You needed him to be strong. It took quite an effort, but he was able to hold it together. After a couple of minutes, your voice rang out, softer than usual and a bit slurred.

“I'm finished, baby.”

Daryl took a deep breath, stood up, and joined you back in the bedroom. You'd cleaned up and put away any paraphernalia, but the knowledge of your habit hung heavily in the air. He didn't have it in him to try to talk, so he just lay beside you. Without saying another word, he pulled you into his arms and held you tightly, as if you were going to fade at any moment.

The heroin had fully set in, and you could no longer keep your eyes open. You felt safe in his embrace and quickly drifted off. The two of you lay in that bed, and Daryl allowed himself to break ever so slightly. Silent tears streamed down his cheeks, and he buried his face in your hair. Blissfully unaware, you slept through it all.

Taglist: @vngelisse @dixondisease @angelwings-crossbowstrings @idkwthgoitmww @smuttfuelled @glennseyeball @tvduxveil @death-in-a-tar0t-card @spookysturnz @nichemint @asparagus-antics @xanaxiii @hail-yourselves @viviandarkbloom11 @softcherryvanilla @thatonewriterchick @dixons-wifey @chronic-fangirl-222 @sunkissedandseraphic @buffydixon @electroniczombieprince @kenchewwarriors @local-airhead @zencherob @wallflowerwrites

[all-fandoms-fiction]

The Broken Family (addict!sister!reader x sherlock x mycroft)

A/N: Hey, so here it is! New fanfic! What? The request did say ’need the angst’ so here it is, also I’m a bit sorry for making Sherlock be such a dick in this, also Mycroft is a bit not good and reader as well. Greg on the other hand is love. Tell me if you need a sequel, if you’d want to see where reader goes, or request how it should end. Hopefully this doesn’t suck. I worked hard on this one, made three different stories, but this turned out as the winner.

Request: Hey, can I request something? Could you please write a Sherlock x addict reader to turn the tables? I love sister!Reader inserts because Sherlock is usually less empathic with his siblings but it could be a friend!reader or whatever pops in your mind, I just NEED the angst, haha! Thanks in advance!

Warnings: Lots of angst and drugs, emotionally incapable to manage family drama Holmes’, even the reader.

The call Greg Lestrade had received brought havoc to the Scotland Yard. The detective inspector had not seen his men this active in months and a simple phone call had got all his subordinates on their toes and anxious. The said inspector had tried to find a drug den, the very heart of British paradise for drug addicts, but failed countless of times. This lead they had got though sounded very promising and matched to so many conclusions and other clues the Yard already had so Lestrade had no option but to check the place. He also wanted to see by his own eyes and be the one to finish this case if it was what they were looking for.

Lestrade arrived with numerous police cars as escort to an abandoned building. The sirens had been muted so the cops had an opportunity for an ambush, to catch as many druggies as possible and hopefully a dealer or two. That of course was mostly wishful thinking, but you never knew who would be in there. And that made the cases interesting, risky but very addicting to someone like Greg Lestrade who was desperate to solving cases. He already got questioned by almost everyone when he asked for a consulting detective’s help, that was he capable of doing his job, which he was, but to prove it to his colleagues constantly got to his nerves. This was the moment to shine.

The inspector went in with the first row of men, gun at hand, alert for what would be to come to him. He went up stairs with a quick pace, his men right behind him. He could hear his heart beat rise, so familiar and pleasing feeling of adrenaline pumping through his veins as he approached a wide messy room. The floor was filled with empty needles, plastic wraps and joints, companied with dirty clothes and mattresses. On those mattresses there were about seven young people, dozing off, hidden under their blankets, and hopefully all alive. It got depressing in matter of seconds when there would be a deceased kid’s body under the covers and to contact the parents was always something that took a high amount of pleasure points off of the accomplished case.

Lestrade howled the youngsters awake, lowered his gun, seeing the state they were in and informing his men to keep on searching from the other rooms. He waited until all the seven people got up, struggling to their feet, wobbling towards the door. An ambulance had been brought with the police cars as well and was ready to use. The nurses were ready to check on the zombified youngsters as they had been informed how many of them there were. Lestrade could be proud of himself now and he felt rather jolly, the emotion almost already reaching his face that he tried to contain to seem professional when his eyes landed on a figure, a familiar one that ran his blood cold.

”Oh, for the love of god.” He sighed, half grunted and knew this would make things much worse.

You were unaware of what was going on. You had no idea what had happened in the world that surrounded you, but then again how could you? You had shut out everything, creating this bubble that kept you in until all you had taken wore off and just then could you see the damage you caused. That of course happened much later from now, but you started to get the hang of it when you woke up to hear someone yelling the loud booming of the voice only became clearer as you came around. You were slightly dizzy, like half asleep but still aware of the surroundings, your eyes droopy and eye sight blurry, but your ears worked well enough for you to figure out what was to happen.

Your ears picked up with the shouting that became clearer and clearer, the loud mumble turning to muffled words and then loud muttering, until you were able to make out words. The first thing you were able to make out was your name, and the sound started getting closer. Your eyes couldn’t fix on the figure approaching you, but the blurry figure was something too familiar to you. The voice calling you cleared as well and you became certain who it belonged to.

When your eyesight came back to normal they met the inspector’s worried but angered eyes and you waved awkwardly back at him, a tired smile on your lips as you innocently greeted the man.

”(Y/n) Holmes.” Greg muttered in defeat. He had been a little doubtful that it really was you, since your hair was messy and your clothes nothing like the regular ones you wore. The high quality clothes that you dressed in, very Holmes kind of style, compared to the sweat pants and a big covering hoodie made you look unfamiliar, to you as well.

Greg was now just beside you, his hands on your shoulders, but they left your body just when you had started to feel them on you and he swirled around in frustration and then called for his men. This case would not see the headlines. and he took his phone out. Lestrade made a call that didn’t much please you. He knew he needed some help with hiding this said case from seeing the daylight and then there was you, then again it was only for you he had to do this in the first place. To your misfortune and fortune he ended up calling Mycroft.

You didn’t get much along with Sherlock. You didn’t know why, was it because he was as troubled as you, or that he was so concerned with his own life he couldn’t bother himself by adding you to it, not to mention even bothering to ask how you were doing which he did with Mycroft. Then there was Mycroft who seemed like he didn’t care about anyone, but it wasn’t true. He had always been the one behind the family, concerned of all of you being torn apart and getting separated. He held it together. Or tried to at least. That of course could be one of the reasons Sherlock couldn’t stand you. You got along with Mycroft so well and maybe Sherlock just wasn’t up for the task as to earn your trust? It didn’t matter though, you were old enough to make your own decisions and you had got this far without Sherlock’s care. You could do so for the rest of your life as well.

”I thought it’s better you clean this mess up and do me a favor, yeah? Try to get some sense in this ones head.” Greg glared at you. You had sat down at the end of the stairs right opposite the front door that had been pulled open. You had managed to get down stairs with Greg’s help and the house had been cleared from all the other users, only leaving you with Lestrade inside. The bright daylight cast it’s golden light on the floor in front of you and barely reaching the tip of your shoes. You kept your eyes on the floor for now, resembling of a misbehaved child while their guardian was figuring how to punish you.

”Is that really a good idea?” Greg worriedly furrowed his brows. This alarmed you. For a second you thought of running. If Mycroft would be to sent you to rehab, or worse, tell your parents about what you’ve been up to you would rather die. As panic reached your features Greg raised his hand in a supporting and calming gesture, signaling everything was alright. ”Okay, what ever you see fit.” Greg said back to Mycroft in a rush, clearly Mycroft had started threatening the inspector and Greg went to assure your older brother that there would be no need for that. He would let Mycroft deal with all this his way, not stopping him even by stating his own opinion.

Finally ending the call that felt like it had lasted for an hour, Lestrade approached you and took a stand a meter in between the two of you, he looked down for a second, his shadow that was cast upon the daylight reached your knees, then tried to reach your eye contact which you avoided with all cost. He let out a sigh, his hands stuffed in his pockets. ”You okay?” He decided to be gentle and even a bit understanding when he approached you, but you couldn’t actually say you were thankful of it. You really didn’t care what Greg said or thought. You were going to hear a lecture sooner or later anyways so there was no need for him to give you his sympathy if there were any in a sincere way.

”Well this wasn’t my first time if that’s what you’re asking.” You remarked and eyed the wall with narrowed eyes.

”Did your brothers even know about this?” Lestrade dismissed your comment, but you knew it made him think. Of course this would affect him in a distant way. He knew almost your whole family and their secrets and now would be to ad yours to top all your brothers. Most likely not so pleasant but he was just being human and doing his job.

You didn’t say anything for a minute. Your expression softened slightly, turning to sadness, but not leaving the wall you tried to find interesting. The dark wallpaper, almost molded green color, just brought even more negative thoughts to your mind and you couldn’t help but ask, ”What’d he say?”

Lestrade shifted uncomfortably and looked away. You turned to look at him, to question him what could be so bad, but your eyes wondered to the door way, over Greg’s shoulder and you saw a tall, lean figure making it’s way to the door. The sunlight blurred the vision for a good while, until the man was right at the door, his raged expression showing. You could feel your body being forced upwards and your scowl was replaced with panic, sadness and hurt. You wanted to flee from your spot right now, hoping for Mycroft to follow behind your other brother, but knew you would need to settle for Sherlock.

”You have any idea what you have done?” Sherlock fumed, his body swaying as he walked fast next to Lestrade. ”I have other problems to tend to and you decide to do this now?” You flinched at Sherlock’s hard words, your head had started aching just now, or you had just realized it, and your whole composure screamed how vulnerable you were as you lowered your head and brought your shoulders closer to each other.

”I was this close solving an important case when I get a call from Mycroft about your little misbehavior.” Sherlock had never looked so scary and angry, not when it was pointed to you and you couldn’t even do anything to protect yourself. You could barely stand on your own feet. It was overwhelming and even if you had never been in good terms with Sherlock he had never been this aggressive towards you and it only made you distance yourself further from him in a psychical level.

”What if you’d calm down a little?” Lestrade suggested but his eyes never left yours. He had seen your state and knew you were about to break. He could read you well, even if you had heard how much Sherlock looked down on him you knew Greg wasn’t stupid. He at least could sense your fear and unstable status unlike Sherlock.

Sherlock turned his head to the inspector in a sharp swish, glaring at the man and hissed, ”What are you even doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be out there, hurrying your men out of here while I have to clean this mess?” And with that Lestrade decided it was better to just scattle and not start an argument. He nodded towards you and left.

”Why didn’t Mycroft come?” You finally dared to talk back, not sure was it a good idea but did it anyway.

”He’s far too busy for this nonsense.” Sherlock rolled his eyes. ”Something of me giving you a big scare to wake you up.” He muttered.

”Why did you even come?” You whispered mostly to yourself. Your hands were balled in fists and your head hang low. You knew you were close to the breaking point and couldn’t keep yourself together any longer.

”You think he gave me a choice?” Sherlock mocked. ”I know you and Mycroft are best friends, but you do still have some sense in you, at least I hope you do. If he wants something to happen he will make sure it does.”

”You’re Sherlock Holmes, you could’ve found a way around it! You’ve avoided responsibility before so don’t blame me for being here! I’m sure Mycroft is just pissed that he has to deal with all the shit we cause to the family. And all the crap you make him go through.” You muttered the last part and crossed your arms. You didn’t care if you were now acting childish, Sherlock wouldn’t scold you for that unlike Mycroft and you were counting on it.

”I am causing trouble?” Sherlock snapped back.

”Yes, you!” You groaned.

Sherlock chuckled sarcastically and smiled doubtingly. ”I’m not the one with needle marks bruising my skin.”

”Not now.” You corrected. You looked at your brother, both of you glaring at each other like two kids having a stare contest. ”Isn’t this all too familiar to you?” You asked and tried to get him to see the situation how it was and how it all had happened before, but not this way.

”Hey, looks like we aren’t that different after all! We could even get high together some time! You probably know and even make better shit that I have ever dreamed of!” Shock took over Sherlock. You had just hit him under the belt but there was no going back now. You had witnessed Sherlock playing before and you would do the same. You could hurt him there where he hurt others by stating the obvious.

He looked back at you, eyes wide and puzzled by your sudden rage. ”I guess Mycroft sent you so you could see what he had to deal with when you were using. Oh how the tables turn.” You sassed and tried to keep the tears in. You tried to hide the pain with your sass and hurtful comments, but you had been through an awful night and it had started to come down on you. ”I hope Mycroft had come instead of you. If he cares about your wellbeing and comes for you when you need him, why didn’t he come for me?” You sobbed.

You looked down, unable to keep the tears away that now rolled down your cheeks and dropped to the floor. ”You both are so stupid.” You cried out with a soft and silent voice. ”You say Mycroft is my best friend, but what kind of friend sends someone as cruel and inhuman person to comfort the other, huh?” You could hear Sherlock take a step closer to you, but you backed away, he called your name softly. ”No!” You snapped. ”Leave me alone! I don’t ever want to see you or Mycroft! Ever again!” And with that you dashed out, past Sherlock and disappeared to the near woods.