addi ☆

requests are open. 19 yo. she/her

[adddddiiii]

Masterlist 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Addi's favs = ♡

𓇼 300 SPECIAL

𓇼 Crimson Eclipse ♡ ongoing series

𓇼 Batfam Masterlist ♡

𓇼 The Inheritance Games Masterlist ♡

𓇼 Cardan Greenbriar Masterlist

𓇼 AUs Masterlist

𓇼 SMAU Masterlist

𓇼 Marauders Masterlist

𓇼 Ravi Singh Masterlist

𓇼 Kai Azer Masterlist

𓇼 Miscellaneous Masterlist

𝓐𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓜𝓮:

hi, i'm addi! i love books, comics, and the colour blue. i'm pretty introverted but i yap quite a bit with people i'm comfortable with. i spend a lot of my time in my room, reading or just existing.

requests are open and i'm always available to chat!

AO3: addilikesbooks

anons: 🦜, ❄️, 🐞

[adddddiiii]

hii can you maybe write a jameson x reader set in the beginning of tig where audrey starts to feel a little insecure and jealous of jameson always being with avery and so she talks with either nash or grayson about it and jameson overhears them through a passageway then comforts her?

Passageway

Contents: Jameson Hawthorne x fem!reader

Author's Note: I AM BACK 🕺🕺 and thank you for requesting!

You hated feeling jealous. Especially when you knew it wasn't even Avery's fault.

She hadn't asked to inherit billions of dollars. She hadn't asked to be dropped into the middle of the Hawthorne family. She certainly hadn't asked for Jameson to become fascinated with her.

And yet.

Every time you saw them together, something unpleasant twisted in your chest. It started small: Jameson missing lunch because he'd found another clue, disappearing for hours because Avery had discovered some hidden message, rushing past you in the hallway with that familiar reckless grin and a quick, "Sorry, sweetheart, I'll find you later."

But later rarely came anymore.

The final straw happened three weeks after Avery arrived. You were sitting in one of the countless sitting rooms scattered throughout Hawthorne House, a book open in your lap that you hadn't actually read in twenty minutes.

Across the room, Grayson looked up from his laptop. "You've turned the same page four times."

You glanced down. "...Have I?"

"Yes."

You sighed. "That's embarrassing, sorry."

"What's wrong?"

You immediately shook your head. "Nothing."

Grayson stared. You stared back.

Unfortunately, Grayson Hawthorne was exceptionally good at staring people into submission.

After nearly thirty seconds, you groaned. "Oh, come on."

"What?" His expression remained completely neutral. "I'm listening."

You slumped farther into the couch. "It sounds stupid."

"Most problems do when they're kept inside your head."

For a moment, you considered changing the subject. Instead, you looked down at your hands.

"Do you think Jameson likes Avery?"

The question escaped before you could stop it and silence followed.

When you finally looked up, Grayson was watching you carefully. "In what sense?"

Your stomach twisted. "I don't know."

That was the worst part. All you knew was that every time you turned around, Jameson was with her. Looking for clues, laughing, disappearing into random rooms, all with her. You hated how much it bothered you.

"I know he loves me," you said quietly. The words felt fragile. "But lately..." You swallowed. "It feels like he's more excited to see her than me."

Grayson's expression softened almost imperceptibly. "You've talked to him about this?"

"No."

"Why not?"

You laughed bitterly. "Because I sound insane."

"You don't."

You looked away. Outside the enormous windows, the gardens stretched endlessly beneath the afternoon sun.

"He lights up around her." The words came out barely above a whisper. "And I know it's because of the game. Because she's part of the puzzle and Jameson lives for puzzles."

You rubbed at your eyes.

"But every time I see it, I keep wondering if one day he'll stop looking at me that way altogether."

Grayson was quiet for a long moment, then he closed his laptop. "Jameson has spent his entire life chasing the next mystery."

You nodded.

"That's who he is."

"I know."

"But that's not the same thing as love."

You looked up.

"He'd follow a puzzle into a burning building." An imperceptibly small smile tugged at Grayson's mouth. "Actually, he'd probably set the fire himself."

A startled laugh escaped you. "Probably." The smile faded.

"But when things get difficult, when he's hurt, when he's scared, or when he has something he needs to share..." Grayson paused. "Who does he look for?"

And you knew the answer. You, always you.

Before you could respond, a board creaked somewhere behind the wall.

Both of you turned. Nothing, just silence.

Eventually, Grayson stood. "I have a meeting."

"Alright, I'll see you later."

"Talk to him."

You grimaced. "I'd rather fight a bear."

"Unfortunately, Jameson probably qualifies."

With that, he left, and the room fell silent. You sat there for another few minutes before finally deciding to head back to your room.

The moment you stepped into the hallway, someone grabbed your wrist. You nearly screamed. Jameson immediately slapped a hand over your mouth and you let out a small sigh of relief when you recognized him.

"Don't."

Your eyes widened. He removed his hand.

"You almost gave me a heart attack!"

"You should be harder to kidnap."

"Jameson-"

Then you noticed something. The sheepish look on his face, the guilt. Your stomach dropped.

"Oh no."

His wince told you everything.

"Oh no."

"I can explain." He puts his hands up.

"You were listening?"

"In my defense-"

"You were listening."

"There was a passageway."

You stared. He pointed vaguely toward the wall.

"You were spying on us." You narrowed your eyes at him.

"I prefer accidental eavesdropping."

"Jameson."

"Fine. Spying."

You groaned and covered your face. "Please tell me you didn't hear all of it."

Silence. Your heart sank. "You heard all of it."

"Most of it."

You wanted the floor to open and swallow you whole. Jameson gently grabbed your wrists and pulled your hands away from your face.

"Hey."

You refused to meet his eyes.

"Look at me."

"No."

A pause. Then softer:

"Please?"

Reluctantly, you looked up. The teasing expression was gone and so was the mischievous grin. He looked serious, which somehow made everything worse.

"You think I like Avery."

You shook your head vigorously.

"No, I-"

"You do."

You swallowed. "I don't know."

His face fell. Immediately, regret punched you in the stomach.

He stepped closer. "You don't get to do that."

"What?"

"Make yourself miserable without letting me explain."

You blinked and for a moment neither of you spoke.

"Avery is a puzzle."

You looked down. "I know."

"No." His fingers tilted your chin upward. "Listen to me."

Your eyes met his.

"Avery is a puzzle." His voice was firm. "She's a mystery. She's interesting. She's complicated."

You felt your chest tighten.

Then he continued. "But you're my favorite person."

The words hit harder than they should have.

"You."

His thumb brushed your cheek. "Not Avery."

You blinked rapidly. "Jameson-"

"I've been an idiot."

A small laugh escaped you. "That's not exactly new."

"True." His grin appeared briefly before fading again. "I got caught up in everything."

The clues. The inheritance. The games. The mystery. Everything. And somewhere along the way, he'd made you feel forgotten. The realization was written all over his face.

"I'm sorry." The sincerity in his voice nearly broke your heart.

"You really don't like her?"

Jameson snorted. "She's okay."

You smacked his arm. "Jameson."

"What?"

"You know what I mean."

His expression softened. Then he leaned forward until his forehead rested against yours. "There isn't a universe where I'd choose a puzzle over you."

You smiled despite yourself. Jameson's shoulders visibly relaxed, as though he'd been terrified you wouldn't forgive him. Then he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you against his chest.

"Besides." His voice rumbled against your hair. "If I wanted to date Avery, she would've thrown me out a window by now."

You laughed hard enough that the knot in your chest finally disappeared.

[adddddiiii]

We all know Damian is a vegetarian, and we all know he would never force his s/o to stop eating meat or change their diet completely, but, but, if you are taking requests, can you do something with Older Damian and his s/o living together, but they have a soy allergy and how he would adjust to that. I know a lot of meat alternatives and vegetarian/vegan dishes are made with soy products.

Thank you so much!

Allergies

Contents: Damian Wayne x reader

Damian is… proud.

Not loudly. Not in a way he’d ever admit. But the way he places the plate in front of you, with care, with intention, tells you everything.

Stir-fried vegetables. Perfectly cooked rice. A neat portion of tofu, seasoned the way he likes it.

He watches you expectantly.

“You may eat,” he says.

You stare at the plate. Then at him. Then back at the plate.

“…Uh.”

Damian narrows his eyes. “What.”

You hesitate, already wincing. “So, this looks amazing. Truly. Five stars.”

"Proceed.”

“Small thing,” you add quickly. “Very small. Tiny. Minor detail.”

He does not like where this is going.

"Speak."

You gesture vaguely at the tofu. “I’m allergic to soy.”

Silence.

Damian blinks.

“…You are what?”

“Soy allergy,” you repeat, sheepish. “Not ‘I feel weird’ allergic. Like. Actual my-throat-will-close-up allergic.”

He looks at the tofu like it has personally betrayed him.

“Why,” he asks slowly, “was this information not disclosed earlier?”

“You never cooked soy for me before!” you say defensively. “This is the first time!”

Another pause. Then Damian calmly picks up your plate, walks to the trash, and disposes the whole thing, along with the plate, with finality.

“Damian-!”

“I will make you something else.”

“You didn't have to throw it out-”

“It has touched soy,” he says flatly. “It is no longer acceptable.”

He’s already opening cabinets, scanning labels, muttering under his breath.

“You know how many vegetarian foods have soy in them?” you ask.

“Yes,” he replies grimly. “I am discovering this.”

You lean against the counter, watching him reorganize the pantry in real time.

“Sorry,” you say softly. “I should’ve mentioned it.”

Damian stops and turns to you.

“You are not at fault,” he says. “I made an assumption. I should've asked you before making something new for you. That was my error.”

He sighs, then adds, more gently, “Thank you for informing me before you ingested it.”

Thirty minutes later, he places a new plate in front of you — lentils, vegetables, rice. Simple. Safe.

He watches again as you take a bite.

“Mm,” you hum. “Still five stars.”

He nods, satisfied.

"From now on,” Damian says, already pulling out his tablet, “I will adjust my recipes.”

You smile. “You don’t have to overhaul everything.”

“I am not overhauling,” he replies. “I am accommodating.”

Then, after a beat: “…Also, I will require a complete list of your allergies.”

You laugh. He almost smiles.

[adddddiiii]

GRAYSON X TAMIL READER TO SAVE MY SOUL PLSPLSPLSDIVA

Grayson Hawthorne x Tamil!reader #4

Author's Note: the wedding (i hope you like this 😝)

Grayson is the first to wake up on the day of the wedding, not because he’s nervous, but because he can’t sleep knowing today actually exists

"Gray? It's 2am."

"Couldn't sleep," he mutters.

He keeps checking if he’s wearing the veshti right and makes subtle adjustments every few minutes

"I don't think I'm doing this righ- Xander, stop taking pictures of this!"

When he sees you for the first time in your silk saree with jasmine flowers pinned up in your hair, he forgets how to breathe for a second (man is down bad)

His brother tease the hell out of him but they're also extremely emotional

"Remember to blink, Gray." Jameson chuckles.

Nash is on the verge of tears.

He’s very serious about greeting your elders correctly. Hands together. Head bowed. No shortcuts

He learns very quickly that nothing runs on time. He stops checking his watch after the second delay

During the chanting, he doesn’t understand the words but he listens anyway. Later he asks you what a few specific lines meant because they “sounded important.”

The kashi yatra throws him off more than he expected. The idea of “leaving” even symbolically makes him tense. He relaxes only when you laugh and pull him back

"You're not going anywhere, handsome." You smile at him. He swears he'll capture that smile in his memory for eternity.

He almost messes up walking around the fire because he’s watching you instead of his feet

Later, your cousins absolutely mess with him about his spice tolerance or lack thereof. He tries, he fails. But he still finishes his plate

He eats with his hands when everyone else does, even though it’s unfamiliar

Someone tells him he looks like he belongs here. He thinks about that for the rest of the day

That night, when it’s just the two of you, he says, “I’m glad we did it this way,” like there was never another option

[xoxochb]

what doesn’t kill you makes you relate heavily to folklore, evermore, and ttpd

[adddddiiii]

hii

could you please write jameson hawthorne x sh reader?

hii! i recently wrote that here 💗

[adddddiiii]

hiiii<3 I love all your hispanic x Grayson headcanons and was wondering if you could do a Venezuelan one?❤️

Grayson Hawthorne x Venezuelan!reader Headcanons

Author's Note: sorry for the late response!

He learns early that your family doesn’t do small gatherings. When he meets them, he’s momentarily overwhelmed — voices overlapping, laughter everywhere — but you squeeze his hand once and he steadies instantly

Your family takes one look at him and decides he’s “serio, pero bueno.

He’s surprisingly invested in arepas. Not just eating them, understanding them. White corn vs. yellow, fillings, regional preferences. He insists on learning the “correct” way, which makes you laugh every time

Music is where you soften him the most. You play Venezuelan classics late at night, and he sits with you in the dim light, head tipped slightly as if he’s listening to more than just the sound

When you’re homesick, he doesn’t try to fix it. He brings you food that tastes familiar, sits beside you in silence, lets you miss what you miss

[adddddiiii]

happy new year, cuties 💗

[adddddiiii]

Hello! I really love your works. I was wondering if you could maybe to adhd girlfriend x Grayson boyfriend after she’d girlfriend has overstimulated shut down? Possibly over a small argument with the Hawthorne family (doesn’t have to be a big argument)

Just like a really comforting fluffy moment.

Noise

Author's Note: hii! thank you 💗 really sorry for the long wait! i hope this is similar to what you had in mind

Contents: Grayson Hawthorne × ADHD!reader

Warnings: slight angst, comfort

It isn’t even a real argument.

That’s the worst part.

It’s just voices overlapping in the Hawthorne dining room — Jameson talking too fast, Xander laughing too loud, someone correcting you when you misspeak, someone else asking why you’re being so quiet.

Too many sounds. Too many eyes.

You try to keep up. You really do. You nod when you’re supposed to. You smile when the moment calls for it. But something inside you starts to slip, like the room is getting brighter, louder, closer.

And then —

“Hey, you okay?” someone asks.

You don’t answer fast enough. Grayson notices immediately. Your hands are clenched in your lap. Your shoulders are tight. Your gaze isn’t anywhere anymore. He stands.

“Excuse us,” he says calmly.

There’s no room for argument in his voice. No one questions it. Grayson guides you out with a hand at your back, steady and sure, until the noise fades and the door closes behind you.

The quiet hits and so does everything else. You shut down. You sit on the edge of the guest room bed, staring at the carpet. Your brain feels like it’s buzzing and empty at the same time. Words are too heavy to reach for.

Grayson crouches in front of you, not touching you yet.

“Y/n,” he says softly. “You’re safe. No one’s upset.”

You blink once. Twice. Still nothing.

“That was a lot,” he continues. “Too much at once. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Your chest tightens. Tears sting, but they don’t fall. Grayson waits for you. He always waits.

“Can I sit with you?” he asks.

You nod, barely.

He sits beside you on the floor instead of the bed, grounding himself at your level. His presence is solid. Quiet. Unrushed. After a moment, he holds out his hand.

"No talking,” he says gently. “Just this. If you want.”

You place your hand in his. He gives it a small squeeze. Your breathing soon starts to match his without you realizing it.

“I know it’s hard,” Grayson murmurs. “Your mind takes in more than most people notice. But that doesn’t make you fragile or weak, my love. It makes you perceptive.”

A tear slips free.

“I should’ve handled it better,” you whisper.

He turns toward you immediately.

“No,” he says firmly. “You were overwhelmed. It wasn't your fault.”

You finally look at him. His expression is soft, earnest, completely without judgment.

“You don’t owe my family some performance,” he adds. “You don’t owe anyone that.”

Your shoulders sag as the tension drains. Grayson shifts closer, careful, letting you initiate the rest. When you lean into him, he wraps an arm around you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers softly. “We’ll go back when you’re ready. Or we won’t go back at all.”

You exhale shakily.

“…thank you, Gray.”

"For what?”

“For not being mad.”

Grayson pulls back just enough to look at you.

“I could never be mad at you for needing care and affection,” he says. “Especially when it’s from me.”

He presses a kiss to your temple, light and grounding. The noise stays outside. It always does when Grayson is with you.

[adddddiiii]

jameson hawthorne x sh reader?

Unbroken

Author's Note: apologies for the late response 💗

Contents: Jameson Hawthorne x sh!reader

Warnings: heavy angst, blood, hurt/comfort

Jameson notices the red first.

It’s faint. Just a dark bloom soaking into the cuff of your sleeve, almost easy to miss if he weren’t already watching you too closely. If he weren’t already afraid.

“Hey,” he says, too carefully. “What’s that?”

You freeze. Your hand curls instinctively, pulling your sleeve down further like fabric can erase what’s already there.

“Nothing.”

It’s the way you say it that breaks him. Jameson reaches out before thinking, fingers brushing your wrist. You flinch hard, breath catching like you’ve been struck.

“Don’t,” you whisper.

He stills immediately. “I won’t,” he promises. “I just- please. Let me see.”

Silence stretches between you, thick and suffocating. Then, slowly, like every movement costs you something, you push your sleeve back.

There’s blood. Not pouring. Not fresh enough to be dramatic. Just enough to be real. Enough to say this happened. Enough to say you were alone when it did.

And further beneath it, scars. Some faded. Some newer. Some angry, some pale. A history written into your skin that Jameson was never meant to read like this.

His chest caves in.

“Oh,” he breathes.

You laugh, sharp and broken. “Don’t make that face.”

“What face?”

“The one where you realize I’m not the person you thought I was.” Your eyes are already filling with tears.

Jameson shakes his head and cups your face, his own eyes burning. “No. This is the face I make when someone I love is hurting and I didn’t know.”

That word — love — hits you harder than anything else.

“I tried to stop,” you say quietly. “I swear I did. I just… I get so tired. And it feels like if I don’t put the pain somewhere, it’ll eat me alive.”

Jameson sits down in front of you, slow and deliberate.

“You don’t have to convince me,” he says. “I believe you.”

You stare at the floor. “You shouldn’t.”

"I should,” he says firmly. “Because this isn’t attention. This is survival for you.”

Your throat tightens.

“I hate myself for it,” you whisper. “Every time I see the scars, I feel disgusting. Like I ruined myself.”

Jameson reaches out, stopping just short of touching you.

“Can I?” he asks. This time, you nod.

He takes your wrist gently, like it might shatter in his hands. His thumb brushes near the scars. Not tracing them, not counting them, just there.

“These don’t make you broken, Y/n,” he says, voice shaking despite himself.

Tears slip down your face, hot and silent.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” you sob. “But I don’t know how to exist without it.”

Jameson presses his forehead to your arm, eyes closed.

“Then we figure it out together,” he murmurs. “I’ll sit with you when it gets bad. I’ll distract you, hold you, argue with you if I have to.”

He looks up at you, eyes fierce and soft all at once.

“But I’m not leaving you alone with this again.”

You crumble then, folding into him, shaking. He wraps you up immediately, careful of your arm.

“You’re not disgusting and you shouldn't be ashamed,” he whispers into your hair. “You’re hurting. And you’re loved. I’m not going anywhere.”

And for tonight, that's enough.

[adddddiiii]

MY ROOMMATE JUST ASKED ME OUT

WHATDOIDO

i am freaking out pls help

he moved in a few months ago and i find him pretty attractive but i've never seen him as more than a friend, but this morning while we were on our morning jog, he asked if he could take me out on a date and i think he could tell that i was hesitating (i was mostly just freaking out) so he said i could think about it and tell him my decision later. yeah the rest of the jog was prettyyy awkward. i asked a friend of mine and she told me to say yes but im scared like what if we break up?? we'll still have to be roommates and that would be really weird

[adddddiiii]

update: first date next wednesday 😝🕺

[adddddiiii]

Hey

I absolutely love your fics

Can you write one about maybe Grayson proposing to desi reader, maybe on her birthday and invites her close sibling/cousin or friend?

Ishq Only

Author's Note: really sorry for the late reply! i hope this is similar to what you had in mind 💗

Contents: Grayson Hawthorne x desi!fem!reader

The first thing you notice is the smell.

Cardamom. Vanilla. Ghee.

You pause just inside the doorway, keys still in your hand, because that smell doesn’t belong to your apartment. Not normally. It smells like birthdays at your nani’s house, like cousins sneaking extra jalebis, like love that shows up early and stays late.

“Grayson?” you call. No answer.

You take a few steps in, and then you hear it.

Soft laughter. Familiar voices.

Your cousin’s laugh, unmistakable. Your sister murmuring something in your mother tongue. Someone shushing them.

You turn the corner and stop.

The living room is transformed. Fairy lights strung carefully along the walls. Marigolds woven into small glass jars. A low table set with your favorite foods — your favorites, not the generic ones people remember, but the specific ones you only ever mentioned in passing.

And standing in the middle of it all, Grayson Hawthorne.

He’s dressed sharp, as usual. Dark shirt. Sleeves rolled up. Hair slightly messy, like he’s been running his hands through it too much.

He looks… nervous.

Your cousin nudges your sister, whispering, “Told you she’d cry.”

You realize distantly that your eyes are already burning.

“Happy birthday, Y/n,” Grayson says softly.

Your voice comes out unsteady. “What is- what is all this?”

He steps closer, slow, like he doesn’t want to overwhelm you.

“I know birthdays are complicated for you,” he says. “So I wanted this one to feel… safe, familiar. Like home.”

Your throat tightens. “You invited them,” you whisper.

“I asked who you’d want here to make you happiest,” he replies. “You didn’t even hesitate.”

Your cousin grins. “We were threatened into secrecy, by the way.”

Grayson exhales a short laugh, then looks back at you fully.

“There are a lot of things I admire about you,” he says. “Your intelligence. Your resilience. The way you carry your culture with such quiet pride. But what I love most…”

He reaches for your hands.

“…is that you let me into all of it.”

The room feels very still.

“I know where you come from matters to you a lot,” he continues. “So I didn’t want to do this without the people who shaped you.”

Your heart starts pounding. Grayson lowers himself to one knee. There’s a sharp inhale behind you. Someone starts crying immediately. And before you know it, Grayson's opening the ring box.

It’s perfect. Simple. Elegant. Thoughtful.

“Y/n, I don’t want a future that doesn’t include your laughter, your family, your traditions, your fire,” he says, voice steady despite the emotion in his eyes. “I want every birthday. Every festival. Every day.”

He swallows.

"Will you marry me, Y/n?"

You don’t even realize you’re nodding until he’s standing again, until he’s slipping the ring onto your finger, until he’s holding your face like he’s afraid you might disappear.

"Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, Grayson.”

Your cousin whoops. Your sister claps through tears. Someone mutters, “About time.”

Grayson presses his forehead to yours, smiling — soft, relieved, completely undone.

“Happy birthday, my love,” he murmurs. “You’re mine. And I’m yours.”

[adddddiiii]

Do a fic w depressed so w Damian and my life will be yours

More context:- so is in slumps and just tired. Damian or the batboys cmme to our house since we ignored they're texts and they see us laying motionless on the ground

Ik very angsty but I NEED THIS PUHLEAZE (⁠◔⁠‿⁠◔⁠)

As Long As It Takes

Author's Note: so sorry for the extremely late reply! im drowning in exams 😔

Contents: Damian Wayne x depressed!reader, also Jason and Dick as side characters

Warnings: heavy angst + comfort, reader doesn't really want to live

You don’t remember when you slid down to the floor.

Just that at some point, standing felt like too much, so you sat. Then sitting felt like too much, so you leaned back. Then leaning back felt like too much, so you just… stopped moving.

The house is quiet in that hollow way. Like it’s holding its breath, waiting for you to do something. Anything.

Your phone is somewhere near your hand. You can see the screen light up faintly.

Dami 💚

You did not respond to my last seventeen messages. 11:25am

Did I do something to upset you? 11:27am

Y/n, please, if you are angry at me, atleast be angry at a nearer distance. 1:43pm

You are worrying me. 3:22pm

Jason

Hey u alive? 3:29pm

Damian's kinda freaking out 3:29pm

Dick

Please text us back 3:33pm

Just a dot or an emoji or anything 3:34pm

You don’t reply. Not because you don’t care, but because even lifting your fingers feels like dragging your body through wet cement.

So you stay there. On the cold floor. Staring at nothing. Breathing only because your body hasn’t figured out how to stop yet.

The knocking starts softly.

You barely register it.

But then it grows louder, urgent.

“Y/n,” Dick calls through the door. “Hey. We know you’re home.”

Another knock, sharper this time.

“You ignored Damian,” Jason adds. “That’s not like you.”

You still don’t move. There’s a pause. Then, a quiet click.

Damn Bruce and his technology.

The door unlocks. Footsteps rush in, then stop abruptly.

“Oh-” Dick breathes. Jason swears under his breath.

And Damian—

Damian sees you on the floor, motionless. Eyes open but empty. Something in his chest breaks.

He drops to his knees beside you so fast it almost looks like he fell.

"Beloved," he says, voice sharp with fear. "Look at me, Y/n".

You don't answer. Your chest slowly rises and falls.

"You are clearly breathing," he says, more to himself than anyone else.

Jason clenches his jaw and turns away. Dick swallows hard and is already texting Alfred about the situation.

Damian leans in closer, his forehead nearly touching yours.

“Look at me,” he says softly now. “You must look at me.”

Your eyes shift, just barely. Enough to see him.

Green eyes. Messy black hair. That familiar scowl that is usually there, replaced by something raw and scared.

“I am here,” he tells you. “The others are here. You are not alone.”

Your lips part but nothing comes out.

Tears spill instead. Silent. Heavy. Like your body finally remembered it’s allowed to feel.

Damian’s breath stutters. He does not wipe them away immediately. He lets them fall — lets you exist without correction. Then he gently, carefully cups your face.

“You are exhausted,” he says. “I can see it. You have been carrying too much for far too long.”

You finally whisper, voice barely there. "I’m tired.”

Damian presses his forehead to yours. “I know,” he says, voice shaking despite his effort to control it. “You do not need to be strong anymore.”

Jason turns back around then, kneeling too. “Hey,” he says gruffly. “You scared the hell outta us, okay?”

Dick smiles weakly through wet eyes. “We’re not mad. Not even a little. You don't have to explain anything right now.”

Damian’s thumb brushes your cheek, grounding, real. “You should rest,” he says firmly. “I will remain with you. As long as it takes.”

Your chest aches.

“…why?” you whisper. “I’m not useful like this.”

That’s when Damian snaps. He pulls you against him, arms tight but careful, like he’s anchoring you to the world.

“Do not ever reduce yourself to utility,” he says fiercely. “Your existence alone is sufficient. Your pain does not make you a burden. It makes you human. It took me many years to learn that and now I will say it to you how many ever times you need to be reminded.”

Your body finally gives in. You sob — ugly, broken, gasping sobs — clutching the front of his shirt like it’s the only thing keeping you here.

Damian does not let go, not for a second.

“I give you my heart,” he murmurs against your hair, voice steady now. “And I would do it again and again if it meant you stayed.”

And you believe him because this man loves you. He told you so many times that he would kill for you, but what he's saying now means more than any of that. Because now he is giving you a reason to live.

[aurora-sadprose]

put down that c.ai thing and read y/n fics like god intended.

[adddddiiii]

MY ROOMMATE JUST ASKED ME OUT

WHATDOIDO

i am freaking out pls help

he moved in a few months ago and i find him pretty attractive but i've never seen him as more than a friend, but this morning while we were on our morning jog, he asked if he could take me out on a date and i think he could tell that i was hesitating (i was mostly just freaking out) so he said i could think about it and tell him my decision later. yeah the rest of the jog was prettyyy awkward. i asked a friend of mine and she told me to say yes but im scared like what if we break up?? we'll still have to be roommates and that would be really weird

[adddddiiii]

Could you write a fanfic where Grayson and Lyra are fighting, Lyra makes a comment about divorcing Grayson, but he reminds her that in their prenuptial agreement she can't get divorced for the first 20 years?. Please.

Twenty Years

Author's Note: thanks for requesting! I hope this is similar to what you had in mind

Contents: Grayson Hawthorne x Lyra Kane

The Hawthorne estate was quiet that night. The kind of quiet that presses in on you. Not peaceful, but poised, like the air right before a storm.

Lyra stood in the living room, still in her heels, half-turned toward the door. The last of the evening’s dinner guests had just left. The glasses still gleamed under the low light. Everything looked perfect.

Except them.

Grayson stood by the fireplace, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up, and his expression was unreadable.

“You didn’t have to embarrass me,” she said finally.

He looked up from the glass in his hand. “I didn’t.”

“You corrected me in front of your board.” Her tone sharpened. “Over numbers that don’t even matter.”

Grayson set the glass down carefully. “They mattered to me.”

Lyra let out a short and sharp laugh. “Of course they did. Everything does, as long as it’s yours.”

For a long moment, he said nothing. His silence was worse than anger. It was calm and surgical, the kind that made her chest ache.

She turned toward him fully, voice breaking just a little. “Sometimes I think we should’ve just-” she exhaled, eyes flicking away, “-divorced before it got this far.”

That word sliced through the quiet.

Grayson’s jaw tightened, but his voice remained level when he finally spoke.

“You can’t,” he said softly.

Lyra blinked. “What?”

He looked at her then and there was something painfully familiar in his eyes — not arrogance, not cruelty, but restraint. Like a man trying too hard to stay composed.

“Our prenuptial agreement,” he reminded her. “You can’t file for divorce within the first twenty years.”

The words landed between them heavily. Not as a threat, just a fact.

Lyra stared at him. “You actually remember that.”

“I remember everything that matters."

The air seemed to shift. The anger drained out of her, replaced by something far more complicated. She turned away, her voice small now. “Twenty years is a long time to stay with someone who drives you mad.”

Grayson’s expression softened. He took a step closer, enough that she could feel the warmth radiating off him.

“Then maybe,” he murmured, “we should spend the next nineteen learning how not to drive each other mad.”

Her lips parted. To argue or to apologize, she wasn’t sure. But it didn't matter. Grayson took her hand in his and looked at her with gentle eyes.

They were going to fix this.

[adddddiiii]

hi! i loved your representations of the different cultures in your gray hawthrown fics! can you do a tibetan x grayson hawthorne please?

Grayson Hawthorne x Tibetan!reader Headcanons

Author's Note: thank you for requesting!

The first time Grayson visits your hometown, he’s completely struck by the stillness. The thin mountain air, the prayer flags fluttering in bright streaks of color, the sound of wind carrying through the valley

You teach him how to spin the mani prayer wheels when you pass them and explain how it’s a quiet act of devotion

Grayson listens in silence as his fingertips brush the carved metal

He’s super respectful. He removes his shoes, bows his head slightly when meeting elders, speaks softly in temples

Your family adores him for his calmness and the way he listens to you so intently

When you teach him Tibetan words, he’s meticulous about pronunciation. He repeats each one until it’s perfect

He’s fascinated by the layered meanings in your traditions, how each small act carries grace and purpose

You tell him that calmness is a form of strength, and he looks at you like he’s hearing himself reflected back