#Sawyer shattered

[galacii-gallery]

had a random thought after reading @zu-is-here's continuation of their Studio AU-

The thought was mainly 'What if 'Cross' had to cool down, however someone was passing by and was concerned for 'Dream' after seeing him in that state.

[laursdomain]

laurs⁴⁴⁴ masterlist!

masterlists for multiple characters below!

inbox is open, feel free to request for anyone below or a new person!

banner by me!

© laursdomain 2025 - do not plagiarize, steal, or republish my works without my consent.

⚔︎ fourth wing

xaden riorson garrick tavis bodhi durran liam mairi aaric graycastle dain aetos ridoc gamlyn sawyer henrick

𓆉 pjoverse

percy jackson jason grace leo valdez frank zhang luke castellan travis stoll connor stoll

ʚ ɞ other book boyfriends

aaron warner roman kitt

[doctorharleysawyer]

I now offer my service for nothing but the utmost care for the dearest doctor !! much love!! 🙏 💪💪🔥🔥

(Looked up some reference for the insides of computers and tvs, just for it to turn crappy but thats okay i got the idea down)

He grumbled a bit, muttering something like a begrudging thank you.

[tyra-altavilla]

Rest of animation frames

Enjoy

[personallysunny]

Shattered can probably start fake crying really easily with all the built up emotions he has and manipulates other into doing whatever he wants

He's he eh

[bumblehoneybee]

Imagine The Doctor Frankensteined himself a kid, and Angel finds it out the hard way via tapes and notes, or The Doctor just tells them.

I mean, no human could survive what they have.

How Do You Make A Soul?

Waste not, want not, as they say. I have so many spare parts, so why not use them?

It's. . . hard to think through. Because you know the curve of the letters, know the tone of the voice, but the words confuse you. Waste not, want not, he says. Waste what? Spare parts, but what use would spare parts be if they're coming from the likes of. . . of children?

You set the note aside, unable to read the rest. Instead, you look for something easier to digest amongst the various files, schematics, the equations and formulas.

You find photos.

Each of a different body part.

Each with a little note. A name. A time. A date.

You recognize the birthmark. The one your fath- Dr. Sawyer would scold you for itching at until it bled.

There's too many photos. Too many pieces. There's a scar on one, the one that aches when it rains.

You snap your gaze up, staring into the dark monitor.

You're not sure who stares back, but their collar glimmers in a line when the light above you shifts.

"You were my greatest achievement." The gentle voice lies to you. "Not one piece gone to waste."

Your thoughts shatter, replaced by the sound of so many voices, all screaming at you to wake up.

[slut4megantheestallion]

"Broken strings: A Mother's Desperation"

-Pairings: Yandere! Harley sawyer x Ex- Wife! Reader.

Genre: angst, thriller (minor bittersweet moments.)

Summary: After your son mysteriously disappears, your desperate search leads you to Playtime Co., where you uncover the horrific truth—your ex-husband, Harley Sawyer, was behind it all.

ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🦇་༘࿐

The factory was colder than you expected. Even after all these years of abandonment, the stench of metal, oil, and something rancid clung to the air. Your fingers trembled as they traced the rusted Plsytime Co. Logo on the wall, memories of brightly colored commercials flashing in your mind.

You shouldn't be here. You knew that. But what choice did you have?

Your son was missing.

He had been gone for months, vanished without a trace. No police leads, no ransom notes - just a gaping hole in your chest where your little boy used to be. And deep down, you knew. You knew where he had gone.

Playtime Co.

The flashlight trembled in your hand flickered slightly as you maneuvered through the ruined factory, heart pounding with every creak and groan of the once-bustling toy company Her breath was unsteady, her mind racing. Every inch of this place reeked of something sinister, something that made her stomach churn violently.

Hatred burned deep in your chest, fueling every step. You despised your ex-husband with every fiber in you. One upon a time, you loved him. Your relationship had been good - full of laughter, warmth, and late-night conversations that made you feel safe it was perfect, but then something changed. He became distant obsession with his work, always locked away in his office, muttering above his "studies", he barely had time with his son, even for you. At first, you tried to understand to support his ambitions, but it wasn't long before the distance became unbearable. Arguments erupted between the two of you like a violent storm, and neither of you backed down. Harley had become a stranger to you - a man obsessed with his studies that she couldn’t understand, something so dark and sadistic.

You filed for a divorce. You tried hard to take your son with you. You fought tooth a d nail in the courtroom, desperate to keep your little boy safe. But Harley had won. He had the money, resources, and the manipulative charm to twist the system in his favor. And in the end, you had lost everything, your husband, your son, your sanity.

Now, you were here, hoping praying that the rumors weren't true. That Playtime Co wasn't the graveyard of human experiments she had begun to fear it was.

You ventured deeper into the heart of the facility. You realized the truth was far worse than any nightmare she had ever conjured. You explored deeper in the factory, eyes scanning the abandoned walls, dried blood on the wall, searching for any sign of her son. But she wasn't- alone she felt it. A presence lingering in the shadows, watching her every move. You tightened your grip on the flashlight, shivering despite yourself. Someone was here. Someone who didn't want her to leave.

Then she found it.

A small critter toy, it's fur soft and familiar. Her breath caught in her throat as she approached the small toy. Her breath caught in her throat as she approached, something in her heart screaming at her that this was different. And then, it spoke.

"M-Mommy?"

The voice was small, uncertain, and it shattered you, a voice that you remembered.

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you dropped to your knees, hands trembling as you reached out to touch the tiny, furry creature that still bore the sound of the little boy she had carried in her womb, nursed, and loved more than life itself.

"Oh, my baby, what has he done to you?" You sobbed, stroking the soft fur. "I'm so sorry, I should've never - I should've fought harder, I should've -"

You couldn't breathe. The room spun around her as reality came crashing down like a tidal wave. Her baby. Her precise little boy. No longer humans.

You weren't sure how long you sat on the ground, rocking your son back and forth, whispering apologies and promises of safety. But it wasn't just him. There were others. So many others. The children, the lost souls, the failed experiments who clung to warmth like abandoned children searching for a mother's love. She welcomed them all, pressing gentle kisses to the synthetic skin, whispering words of comfort to creatures long forgotten by the world.

Even Kissy Missy, a gentle soul who was once a small child turned to a toy in this horrific nightmare of a toy factory. She had treated her like a child of her own, only to realize she too had become nothing more than another twisted creation of this helish factory.

Then, a voice emerged from the shadows - a voice she once loved, now tainted with the venom of betrayal and hatred.

"I was wondering when you'd come back, sweetheart."

Your blood ran cold. You stood up quickly, shielding the small critter behind her. Your pulse pounded in your ears as you turned to face the man you had once called your husband.

Harley had aged, but the spark in his eyes was still the same - calculating, obsessed, dangerous. The moment he laid eyes on you, something in him clicked. His smirk was lazy, confident, as if he had been expecting this reunion all along.

"You came back to us," he murmured, stepping closer.

Your stomach twisted in revulsion as he reached for you, but you recoiled, shielding your son in your arms. "You did this to him," you hissed, voice shaking with rage. "To all of them."

He tilted his head amused. "I saved them."

Your vision blurred with fury. "You stole everything from me!"

Harely exhaled slowly, stepping back as if he could sense the fury teetering on the edge of violence. Then, with a sickening grin, he whispered, "We can still be a family again."

You wasted to scream, tear him apart the way he did to your son, kill him with your bare hands, destroy the monster who had ruined her son's life. But she couldn't - not yet. You have to get out of here. You have to save them. Have to put an end to this nightmare, even if it meant facing the devil himself.

You turned on your heel, holding your son tightly, your heart hammering. You needed a plan. You need to escape this hellhole. And you needed help.

Navigating the factory, you found yourself in what appeared to be a safe heaven - a room filled with toys, yet there were different. They were aware. Sentient. Watching you with wary yet hopeful eyes.

Before any more words could be exchanged, an alarm blared. The factory roared to life, machinery, grinding, shadows shifting. Harley wasn't going to you leave.

You ran, dodging every mechanical arm reaching for you, her son clinging to your chest. The once- broken factory had become a labyrinth of horror, but you refused to give up. Not now.

Then, just as you thought you had a chance, he was there again. Harley, watching from the control room, eyes dark and hungry with obsession.

"You can run, but you can't leave," his voice echoed through the speakers. "You're still mine."

"Like hell I am," you growled, gripping a rusted pipe. You wouldn't go down without a fight.

And so, the battle began. A desperate mother against the monster who had stolen everything from you. If you had to burn Playtime Co to the ground, you would - because nothing mattered more than saving your son and the lost souls who deserved freedom.

Even if it cost your life.

(I hope you like this @oyasumimosura)

[theseinfernalangels]

Fragile — Sawyer Henrick

Synopsis: Mender!Reader comes back from RSC worse off than the rest of your squad. Sawyer is heartbroken and takes care of you.

A/N: I pumped this one out surprisingly fast! I may post my OC reference sheet after this for more context, since there are references to characters you haven’t met yet, such as Reader’s dragon, Cridhe, and Eden (Liam’s girl!). We’ll see how it turns out! I might even do a part two for this hehe.

Includes: blood, injuries, insecurities, and anxiety. Oh, yeah; don’t forget the dragon telepathy, fluff, hurt-comfort, slight angst. Takes place during Iron Flame.

Sawyer knew something was up when you didn’t meet him outside the Gathering Hall. 

It wasn’t like you to be late for…Well, anything, much less seeing him. He certainly wasn’t an anxious person, but it made his fingers twitch with nervousness when he didn’t spot your cautious frame lingering close to the sides of the hall. He waited anyway. He’d always wait for you.

At the ten-minute mark, his thoughts began to race. He could understand if you stayed behind for a word with one of your professors – you were a genius, anyway. Perhaps you could have gone off-track to help another cadet in need of extra notes. That was just in your nature (even though Sawyer and Ridoc had tried to convince you to charge a couple coins for it – you’d be swimming in gold by now). Maybe you were in the infirmary with your friend…Eden, was it? Emily? He could barely remember.

But no. Another fifteen minutes slowly ticked by, and his reasonable side began to veer off a little. Maybe you’d been injured somehow. Maybe the other cadets had finally taken advantage of your anxious, gentle nature and were in the middle of ganging up on you. Maybe they’d finally gotten you – the Marked cadets who weren’t too fond of you for what your parents, Navarrian military legends, had done to them.

He heard Sliseag’s chiding voice resound in the back of his mind. Easy there, Ashling, he soothed. Do not worry too much. She is exactly where she is meant to be.

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. I would beg to differ, he replied, trying to calm his racing heart. If she was in the right place, I wouldn’t be talking to you right now.

The dragon snorted. Really, now? he mused. Look up.

Sawyer had just turned, his palms sweaty, when he saw a figure moving sluggishly in his peripherals. He squinted, then froze, the sight making his blood run cold.

You finally showed up…But you looked awful.

Damaged was the best word to describe it. Your hair was messy, your bangs falling in your face in a way it only looked after an intense flight. One of your eyes was swollen shut, and the rest of your face was battered. Your bottom lip was split and bleeding, the blood oozing out sluggishly and staining your chin crimson. That was only your face; the rest of your body was probably just as bruised and injured.

Go, he heard Sliseag urge. Go to her now. She needs you, Ashling.

He broke out of his trance; he couldn’t run fast enough to get to you, his legs moving on what felt like autopilot. Gods. What did they do to you?

You held up a hand when he neared you. “I’m fine,” you whispered hoarsely. “I…It looks worse than it feels.”

Sliseag made a noise of disapproval in his mind. I doubt that.

Sawyer, in that moment, felt almost scared to touch you, as if putting his fingers anywhere would shatter you like glass.

Finally, he found his voice. “What the hell happened to you?” he murmured, wincing at how sick he sounded. His eyes traced your face; you still looked gorgeous as ever, but just looking at your good eye made his heart wrench.

“We,” you began, faltering as you fell forward a bit. Sawyer caught you with ease, splaying a hand on your back as you leaned into him. “We had RSC. I…I didn’t expect for it to be so…awful.”

You looked down, and Sawyer made a soft sound of protest as he lifted your chin back up to face his. Skies above, he thought. He’d seen you injured before, obviously – there was no avoiding that at Basgiath. But this…

“Oh, darling,” he murmured, ghosting a kiss on your forehead. “I’m so sorry. You…You haven’t been to the infirmary yet?”

You shook your head. “No. I saw a clock and remembered we agreed to meet up. Wanted to see you first.”

Oh, he thought. Damn you, you sweet, sweet girl. Damn you and your loveliness. 

He sighed quietly, glancing at the sky. It was getting close to dusk, which meant that the infirmary was probably winding down for the day. His gaze flitted back down to your trembling form, his heart aching.

“Do you want to go?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound pushy. “I’m sure your friend is still there; she’d be willing–”

His voice trailed off when you vehemently shook your head. “No,” you said softly. “Not now. Can we…Can we just go to yours?”

At that moment, with you looking up at him hopefully, your good eye wide but exhausted, Sawyer would have given you just about anything. 

He nodded, perhaps a little too hard. “Of course, darling. Just hold on to me. I don’t trust your legs right now.”

The pained smile you gave him twists his heart. “I don’t, either.”

It took a little while, but the two of you finally made it to his dorm in relative silence, save for the pained gasps and whimpers that occasionally fell from your swollen lips. The whole time, Sawyer was clenching his teeth. It didn’t matter that RSC was something that happened to everyone – not even his injuries hadn’t looked this rough.

He sat you down gently on his bed. He didn’t want to leave you, not when you looked that beat up, but he pushed that aside to grab the little box of medical supplies you kept in his room for when he was beat up after sparring. If you weren’t huddled beside him looking more fragile than he’d ever seen you, he would have made a joke about it.

You’d already removed your jacket and shirt, leaving your torso bare save for the bindings you always wore. Sawyer relaxed for a moment before he took note of your ribs, black and blue bruising rippling up both sides. Save for that, though, and other bruising and – Gods forbid, handprints – you honestly didn’t look too terrible.

He brushed your bangs away from your face, tilting your chin up so he could assess the damage. “Have you tried mending yourself?”

You sighed, sounding almost disappointed in yourself. “No. I’ve never tried that, but it won’t work, anyway. I tried to mend Anya’s arm after it got dislocated, but it didn’t work. I’m either terrible with my signet, or the injury was too bad, or–”

He cut you off before you could delve deeper into self-doubt. “No,” he assured you, taking a wet rag and wiping the blood on your chin. “They tampered with your water. It’s supposed to dull your signet and cut you off from your dragon to feel more realistic.”

Your lips formed an O in realization. “So that’s why I couldn’t feel Cridhe,” you mumbled, hissing in pain once he actually touched your lip. “I got worried there for a while.”

He nodded, ducking his head lower to check the area around your neck. There was an angry red line around your throat; someone had tried to choke you, he assumed. Bastard.

“I know,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. “When they took me, the serum didn’t wear off for about a day. I thought Sliseag randomly chose to hate me or something.”

The aforementioned scoffed softly. As if, Ashling, he muttered. I didn’t choose you just to leave you behind.

The words warmed Sawyer’s heart long enough that your silence didn’t bother him for the next few minutes while he looked you over.

He only paused when you spoke softly, your voice faint. “I…think I have a concussion,” you mumble. “The light hurts, and I’m dizzy.”

A tight-lipped smile fought its way onto Sawyer’s face. “Trust you to diagnose yourself barely an hour after it happens.”

You don’t respond, prompting Sawyer to lean back up and look into your eyes. Sure enough, your pupils were unfocused and exhausted. Smart girl.

He opened his mouth to make another little quip, only for it to die on his tongue once you leaned into his side.

“Tired?” he prompted you gently. A soft hum from you confirmed his suspicions, and he hesitated for a moment before relenting. He could carry you to Nolan or a healer in the morning, after you slept the night away.

He looked away for a moment, and you had somehow managed to snag a random shirt off his floor and slip it on. His eyes softened, and he reached over to help you out of your pants and under his covers. You looked so…unusually small in his bed, curled in on yourself like a flower without the sun to warm it. He didn’t even bother to change out of his uniform, opting to kick off his boots and leave himself in his undershirt as he settled next to you. You slowly unfurled from your tense position and rested your head on his chest. Pure bliss.

You both lay there in silence for what seemed like hours before Sawyer found his voice again, feeling weirdly sentimental. “I’m gonna go out on a limb and assume you don’t want to talk about it.”

Your silence was an answer enough.

“Thought so,” he murmured. “That’s okay. We don’t have to. Just…I hope you know that I’ll never let that happen to you when the time comes. Whoever it was, they’d have to kill me first to get to you.”

More silence from you. Sawyer thought for a moment that you fell asleep, but his eyes popped back open once he heard your weary voice.

“Sawyer?”

“Yes, darling?”

A beat. Two beats.

“Thank you for this. I didn’t want to be anywhere besides here.”

…You don’t have to thank me, he thinks, a pained smile tugging at his mouth. I’d do anything and more for you, anyway.

[galacii-gallery]

I couldn't stop thinking what if Sawyer! Shattered was in "Dreams" situation and I just had to draw it👀 ( they're so opposites ghrhgjfjt )

Og Comic strip belongs to @zu-is-here

[spr1ngpvrinbwunnie]

Can I ask what you think would happen if pre-doctor Harley Sawyer had an S/O who has been with him for so long to the point of marriage being the next goal, but some kind of accident happens and they lose their memories of him? I was curious to see what you thought he'd react like, shading this "bond" with someone who worked so hard to gain his trust and love only to forget everything they had with him.

And maybe if you're up for it cause it could mix with the scenario, what's he like as a husband of he for some reason got to that point?

He’s already a man who struggles with trust, with connection, with letting himself have something good. And then to have that ripped away?

Yeah. He wouldn't take it well.

💔 Harley Sawyer & an S/O Who Lost Their Memories 💫

Initial Reaction – Shock, Denial, & a Deep, Ugly Fear

Harley isn’t a man who loves easily. If he got to the point of marriage? That means you had to fight, push, and tear down every wall he built around himself. You were different. You got through to him.

And then, just like that, it’s gone. You don’t know him. You don’t remember him.

At first, he thinks he can handle it. He’s logical, right? He can fix this.

But when he looks at you—when he sees the blank stare, the way you flinch when he reaches for you, the way his name means nothing to you anymore—

That’s when it really hits. That bond you both built, the one thing he let himself trust, it’s shattered.

How He Handles It – Badly, But He Won’t Show It

On the surface? He’s calm. Composed. Maybe even a little cold. He won’t let you see how deep the damage goes.

But behind closed doors? It wrecks him.

He stays up at night, replaying memories that you no longer have.

He clenches his fists hard enough to leave marks, fights the urge to force the memories back—because logic tells him he can’t.

He stares at old pictures, whispers your name like it’s a prayer, like saying it enough times will bring you back.

Would he try to make you remember?

Yes. But not by pushing you. Harley is methodical—he’ll watch, wait, test small things. He’ll see if old habits stick.

He’ll leave your favorite coffee on the table, just to see if you reach for it the way you used to.

He won’t tell you who he is to you. But his actions will.

And if you never remember? If he has to live with the fact that you’ll never look at him the same way again?

He’d rather you be safe, even if it means losing you completely.

Would He Stay? Would He Let Go?

Harley Sawyer does not let go easily.

But he’s also a man who knows what it means to lose everything. And if he thinks staying will hurt you more than it’ll hurt him?

He’d leave. He’d walk away before you could reject him—because that’s a pain he doesn’t think he could survive.

Maybe he disappears from your life entirely, watching from a distance, never interfering.

Or maybe, just maybe—he stays in the background. A shadow of what he used to be to you. Someone important, but no longer in the way he once was.

Harley Sawyer as a Husband – If He Ever Got That Far

"Husband" is just a word. What matters is that you’re mine. And I don’t let go."

He’s not a conventional husband. Marriage isn’t something he dreams about—it’s a risk. A vulnerability.

But if he got there? He’d take it seriously. You would be the only person who’s ever gotten that far, and that means something.

Protective as hell. He doesn’t get jealous, but he does get possessive. The kind where he doesn’t need to say anything—just a look is enough.

Acts of service > words of love. You won’t get flowery speeches, but you’ll find a knife at your bedside if he thinks you need protection. He’ll know you’re stressed before you say anything. He’ll have already handled it.

Physicality matters. He’s not one for PDA, but behind closed doors? His touches are grounding. Steady. Not always gentle, but always intentional.

He’s in it for life. Divorce? Not an option. If you get into a fight? He’s not leaving the house until it’s resolved. If something threatens you? It’s already handled before you even know about it.

What If You Started Falling for Him Again?

Would he let it happen?

At first, he wouldn’t believe it.

But if you started looking at him the way you used to? If your body remembered what your mind forgot—if you reached for him in your sleep, if his voice became a comfort again?

He’d try to stay distant. Try to convince himself it’s not real.

But the moment you tell him, even hesitantly, “I think I love you”—

That’s when he breaks.

That’s when he exhales the breath he’s been holding since he lost you.

And that’s when he finally, finally lets himself believe he hasn’t lost you after all.

[onlybeeewrites]

Easy to Blame

Request: Darling....can I request a fic of xaden ....where the reader is her sister and he and other marked ones don't like her due to some reason...but then she's a goddamn badass and yeah make it angsty as hell(I don't know if this makes sense)

Pairings: Xaden Riorson x sister!reader, Marked ones x Reader, sort of Sawyer x fem!Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: IRON FLAME SPOILERS, cannon accurate violence, targeted hated, cursing, life threats, past deaths, misdirected hatred and grief, bad parenting.

A/N: This is where my mind went with this request! Hopefully you all enjoy it ❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~

The weight of the guilt clung to you like a second skin, thick and suffocating. A burden and weight that seems to be placed rather unfairly onto your shoulders. As each and every step through the halls of Basgiath War College was met with narrowed eyes, cold glares, and the ever-present whispers that followed like a specter.

It didn’t matter who you passed in the halls. It didn’t matter when. Didn’t matter who you sat with in class or in the dining hall. The other cadets in your year would see the swirling dark tattoo on your left arm and lift their noses at you. While other marked ones would do the very same thing.

They didn’t trust you.

No one trusted you.

He didn’t trust you.

Xaden Riorson had made sure of that.

Your older brother—the only family you had left—had turned his back on you the moment you arrived at the college when you were old enough. His expression carved from stone, his voice sharp enough to cut. You had known it would be difficult. You had expected anger, the frustration, even the resentment.

But this? This was something worse.

You wasn’t just unwanted. You were avoided. You were the enemy. To everyone.

“Stay the hell out of my way.”

His voice was ice, cutting through the tension between them like a blade. And cut through you like shards.

You had found him in the training yard, surrounded by the Marked Ones in his squad, his second-in-command Garrick, your old friend, leaning against a post while Bodhi, your cousin, didn’t even look at you. While Imogen crossed her arms, regarding her with a mixture of distrust and disdain.

But ever so determined, you lifted your chin. It had been almost two months since you had gotten there. Almost two months and he still refused to even give you two minutes of his time. And yet you refusing to shrink under their scrutiny. “I’m not your enemy, Xaden. I’m your sister. You’d think after six years you’d know that. I’m not here to cause trouble, I’m here to,”

He scoffed. “A little late for that, don’t you think?” Interrupting your sentence

That had hurt. Had it been too late? You could feel your stomach twisted. You had prepared herself for hostility, but hearing it aloud—from him—still hurt. Hurt more than expected. That was your brother.

But in that moment you had never more like a stranger.

Garrick sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Look, it’s not personal—”

“Like hell it isn’t,” Xaden cut in, his jaw clenched. He took a step toward you, his voice lowering to something dangerous. “Because of you, our father is dead. Because of you, our mother walked away from us. Had you just been a little more helpful, things wouldn’t be this fucking difficult,” he said. His voice filled with pure distain, pure hatred and anger.

His words hit like a punch to the ribs.

You had only been fourteen years old, just barely understanding what was even happening when their father was executed for his rebellion along with the other leaders. You had stood there, frozen, tears streaming down her face while Xaden held her hand so tightly it hurt.

But it was your mother who shattered everything.

It had been before the rebellion. Years before. Right after Xaden’s birthday. She had tucked you both in at bed that night. Told you both how much she loved you. Kissed you both so lovingly and softly. And the next morning?

Gone.

No note. No explanation. Just a home that felt empty and wrong.

Xaden had never forgiven her for that. Neither had you.

And now, surrounded by the people who would die for him, who would follow him into battle without hesitation, he made sure they all knew where she stood.

“She can’t be trusted,” he had told them. “Keep your distance.”

And they had listened.

The isolation was suffocating.

It was a permanent weight in you chest that was always threatening your mind constantly.

You were used to whispers, but the silence was worse. The Marked Ones didn’t speak to you unless necessary. They didn’t train with you. If you tried to spar, they found someone else. If you sat down at a table, they left.

Even the others followed their lead.

Even your squad. They put up with you when they had to. But that was it.

Sawyer was the only one who seemed indifferent, watching her with something like curiosity rather than outright hatred. At least she had him. Sawyer was sweet.

But Xaden?

Xaden didn’t look at you at all.

And that was worse than all of it.

It was months past, presentation and threshing was just around the corner—or just over the gauntlet.

The Gauntlet loomed in the distance above them, an unforgiving structure of swinging beams, crumbling platforms, and gaps that seemed impossible to cross.

Failure meant death.

And you weren’t about to fail.

The morning of the run, whispers followed her as she strapped on her training leathers. Echoed whispers surrounded them around the dining hall and through the halls out side.

“She’ll fall.”

“She won’t even make it halfway.”

“She should’ve never been allowed here in the first place.”

“She won’t make it past threshing.”

“Let’s hope not.”

You ignored them.

You had to.

You couldn’t allow those thoughts to take over. You couldn’t let them be right.

All the odds were against you. Abandoned and ignored by your brother. Ignored and shunned by your family from a decision that you truly had no part of. It wasn’t your fault. In the big grand scheme of things, it was not your fault. But that didn’t matter.

Because in their minds, and in Xaden’s, it was your fault. Everything. Was. Your. Fault.

And that guilt? That unfair burden? That would always remain as long as Xaden blamed you for everything.

It had been months now after parapet. Threshing was in a few weeks. Presentation. But first was the Gauntlet.

Xaden stood at the top with Garrick, arms crossed as he surveyed the cadets. If he heard the murmurs, he didn’t acknowledge them. His dark eyes narrowing down the course at his wing as the other sections and squads prepared to do their practice runs before the timed trials.

Practicing for when threshing was finally around. The test for a chance to prove themselves worthy. Worthy enough to make it past presentation, they’d need all these skills. To ride your dragons. If you made it that far, at least.

The course was grueling. Designed to push cadets past their limits. Designed with dragons in mind for each obstacle. Designed to weed out the weak ones.

And so here you were. Standing in the front of the line for your squad, just behind Sawyer. First squad was finishing up ahead of you. The first few competitors barely made it over the first swinging bridge before slipping to their deaths. Others hesitated at the crumbling stones, losing precious time.

Then it was time for your squad. Sawyer went first, his agility unmatched as he maneuvered through the course with a speed no one could match. It was probably because he had done this before.

Sawyer was a repeat, as you had learned. He had gone through all this last year.

Then it was your turn.

Your pulse thundered in your ears, but you shoved the nerves down. You didn’t have the luxury of fear. You couldn’t afford to feel. Not now. Not in front of the rest of your Squad, the

As the signal to begin echoed through the training grounds, you launched yourself forward with unwavering resolve.

The first obstacle, a towering vertical wall, stood as an imposing sentinel. Without hesitation, you sprinted toward it, you steps light and measured. Utilizing your momentum, you leaped, you fingers gripping the edge with practiced precision. With a controlled pull, she swung her leg over and descended smoothly, barely pausing before advancing to the next challenge.

The rotating wheel loomed ahead, a notorious obstacle that had bested many cadets. Timing her approach, you synchronized your movements with the wheel’s rotations. With a swift, calculated jump, you grasped a handle and swung yourself to the other side, landing in a crouch before springing forward without losing momentum.

A series of balance beams awaited, each narrowing mean. You navigated the beams with grace. Your arms subtly adjusting to maintain equilibrium. Your focus was absolute, gaze fixed ahead, blocking out the murmurs of onlookers and the weight of expectations.

Next came the rope climb. Seizing the coarse rope, you ascended hand over hand, you movements fluid and efficient. Reaching the summit, you tapped the marker and descended in controlled slides, your feet touching the ground with barely a sound.

The next challenge, the chimney climb, required both strength and strategy. Positioning yourself between the narrow walls, you used opposing pressure to “walk” upward, your movements steady and controlled.

The final challenge was the huge steep wall. The one to run up, the challenge that simulates climbing up the dragon leg to ride. And just above it was where your brother was.

Taking a deep breath, you backed up. Backing up as far as she possibly could. This was where she proved them all wrong. And then. Suddenly, you bolted forward. Using all the strength she had, she spent it into and bolted up the wall. Your feet pressed against the wall as you pushed yourself up and up and up until your hand reached the lip of the curve.

With all the strength you had left, you pulled yourself over the edge. Your body was pulled over with the last bit of your strength as finally your right leg got pulled over. And a soft click of the stop watch sounded in your ears.

A stunned silence fell over the crowd as you finished hauling yourself over the edge.

Garrick’s voiced cleared before he read your time aloud.

Second place.

Second place.

Only second to Sawyer.

The silence stretched, heavy and stunned, before someone let out a low whistle. And then some hushed mumbling.

You got to your feet before you turned, locking eyes with Xaden. Onyx eyes, locking with onyx eyes. Sweat dripping down your skin.

For the first time since you had arrived, he was looking at you.

Really looking at you.

And for a moment—a single, fleeting moment—you saw something crack in his expression. Something uncertain. Looking like you big brother again. But there was something else.

Something like doubt.

But then he turned away, jaw tightening.

He didn’t congratulate you.

Didn’t acknowledge what you had done.

But he couldn’t ignore it, either.

You weren’t weak.

Just like Xaden, you were a Riorson.

And you were a goddamn force to be reckoned with.

[yey56]

I can imagine Leith Pierre's reaction (crashout) if he ever meets Harley and the reader's child in the married AU. Especially if the child looks like Harley

Jajajjaja, oh this is gooood. Literally mental breakdown.

This is like an indie videogame, is going to have routes and finals.

AU WHAT IF: What if Leith met Y/Ns kid with Sawyer?

Just as with the marriage, the reaction wouldn't be good, like at all.

You didn't made your pregnancy public or known at first, you knew that your colleagues and even Eliot would send you home to rest so you just let your coworkers know once you started showing.

At first it was a joke from Stella after eating lunch, light banter you both shared but eventually, seeing you weren't really following the joke you told her.

Later on the day, Stella congratulated Sawyer as well. You husband was in a meeting at that moment with Eddie and Leith.

Leith had his usual arrogant expression, confidently explaining the new security system of the labs but his smile banished just when he heard about the baby.

He didn't respond, he stayed still. Every voice became blurry to him and he looked at Sawyer.

With his voice barely above a whisper, he congratulated Harley and went to the bathroom.

He looked himself at the mirror and splashed water onto his face 'this is a joke' he thought, you couldn't possibly.... Not with Harley's child.

He tried to convince himself anyway he could but ultimately he had to accept reality. You were having a kid and the father was the men he hated the most at work.

During this month's, your friendship with Pierre had completely shattered, it was already very strained thanks to his reaction to your wedding but now you barely talked.

He didn't have the stomach to face you, he barely talked to you. You could catch him glancing at your belly every now and then with a sad look and his hand twitching. As if he wanted to touch it but couldn't bring himself to so it.

You on the other hand were uncomfortable with Leiths behaviour. He was a funny friend, entertaining and spontaneous. He matched your personality and that how you started being friends but now...

He became passive aggressive when you stated dating Sawyer and borderline aggressive with you and your husband when you got married and now this.

You've already put distance before and maybe it was time to do it now as well.

Once the pregnancy ended and the kid was born, you started accepting visitors, even though Harley suggested you should rest a few more days.

First came the family and friends and later some close coworkers. What neither of you expected was Leith showing up one afternoon.

Harley opened the door, making bigger both his frown and Pierres. He could notice that the man hadn't slept in a while. Purple circles adorning his arrogant but sharp eyes.

"I believe I've already told you to stay away" Sawyer was calm, as always, delaying with the situations with his characteristic clinical coldness.

"I just came to say hello, I have a gift for your kid" The last part was said with the faintest resentment. Pierre showed a small kissy missy toy.

Sawyer took a look at him and let him in. "They are asleep right now" He said refering to you "You can look at the kid but Y/N still doesn't want others to hold it yet" He guided Leith to a small crib on the living room.

The kid had a lot of Sawyer's characteristics such as his skin and his eyes, but the expression it had... The open and curious eyes were just as yours. The baby's mannerisms mimicked you.

Without another word he rested the toy on the crib, took one last look at the baby and finally went home.

Once home, the head of innovation started drinking from his own personal reserve of licors.

That kid would be a constant reminder of you, of Sawyer... Thankfully he didn't have to interact with it daily, he would've turned crazy.

At the end of the day, it was him, his job and his bottle...

If he eventually turns Harley into an experiment:

He couldn't bare it how could someone as Sawyer get to be with you being the surgeon as cold and calculating as possible.?

That why he turned him into an experiment, he would be more useful as a resource than as a person, or so he thought.

Now, finding yourself with your husband apparently gone by an accident and with a young kid. You started taking more flexible shifts so you could both work and take care of your child.

You had good savings but you still liked what you did as a psychologist so...

Leith, of course, would take advantage of this unfortunate situation and try to offer help by delivering you take out.

At first you rejected it, Stella and your family were already delivering you food some days you could t cook but eventually, he started doing it and you were so exhausted you couldn't even deny it.

He had tried to rebuild your friendship first. He offered to take care of your kid for a few hours so you could do other things but you still didn't trust him so much.

On the side, you investigated what happened to Harley. If you discovered it, you would take your child to a trusted family member and confront Leith. That would lead to most yandere version o Pierre, in which he would threaten you to turn your child into a toy just as many others, promising to take care of you both. There you knew he was clinically insane.

Or he could try to deny it, gaslight and lie. That wouldn't work on you and this result would make you rage so much, it would to the hour of joy (caused by you again) but this time, you got out of the factory instead of Leith and took care of your child trying to forget the incident.

Maybe 15 years later you would send and anonymous letter to an ex employee to try and investigate what happened with you husband (a.k.a: the doctor). Who knows, maybe Leith is still alive.

-Unedited fic-

I will try to draw about this au a little bit more as well as the one of the main story. Good night people.

[sabrinajenre96]

The Shepherd’s Sweet Chaos"

Derek" McDreamy" Shepherd x reader

After six weeks of complete and utter chaos, you and Derek had just about survived. You were officially cleared to return to your normal routine, which, for you two, meant rediscovering the lost art of intimacy. But it wasn’t going to be easy.

The twins—Sawyer and Harper—had perfected their ability to scream at the most inconvenient times. Every time you and Derek so much as looked at each other longingly, one of them would inevitably burst into tears. The twins had mastered the fine art of cockblocking. It was as if they knew exactly when you and Derek had plans to sneak in a little "mommy and daddy time" and decided that wasn’t going to happen.

So, one evening, after a particularly brutal round of rooting for bottles, you two finally managed to shove the babies into their cribs and found a rare moment of peace. The two of you, finally able to relax in your bedroom, decided it was time for a long-overdue "sexy time" moment.

“Alright,” Derek said, a playful smirk forming on his face as he crawled over to you on the bed, “Are you ready for this, Mrs. Shepherd?”

You chuckled. “Ready, McDreamy. Let’s just—”

Screaming.

Both of you froze.

Sawyer’s voice screamed through the baby monitor like a banshee, followed by Harper’s more subdued but still loud wails.

Derek groaned and flopped onto the bed dramatically. “Are you kidding me? Again?”

You burst out laughing, the sound of your amusement loud enough to match the babies' cries. “Looks like you’re being cockblocked by your own daughters, huh?”

Derek glared playfully at you. “I blame you for this. You gave birth to them.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” you said, still giggling. “They’re totally my fault.”

You both gave up trying to keep the mood alive as the two of you rushed to get up and attend to the twins. Night after night, it was the same exhausting routine—feedings, changings, soothing, and endless groggy moments where neither of you could remember if you’d brushed your teeth or eaten dinner. But at least you had each other’s misery to cling to.

A few weeks later, the madness continued. You and Derek were living in a constant haze of baby bottles and diapers. But today, there was a glimmer of hope. Derek had managed to take a much-needed nap after finally being allowed to sleep for two hours straight (the babies had been in a deep sleep, a rare occurrence). You, too, had taken advantage of the calm and fallen asleep on the couch beside him, completely knocked out.

The babies were both peacefully snoozing in their giant playmat/bassinet, oblivious to the chaos that had consumed the house for the past few weeks.

But then, a knock at the door shattered the peace.

Mama Shepherd and Amelia had arrived—unannounced, as always.

“What do we do?” Amelia whispered, looking at her mother with an eyebrow raised.

“Well, what we don’t do,” Mama Shepherd whispered back, “is knock louder.” She then pulled out the spare key to the house that she had held onto for “emergencies.”

They both crept inside, only to find you and Derek sprawled across the couch, looking like two exhausted, drooling zombies.

Amelia, who couldn’t resist a good laugh, took a few steps closer to you both, smiling mischievously. “I can’t believe you two finally crashed.”

“Shh,” Mama Shepherd said, motioning for her daughter to be quiet as she peered down at the peacefully sleeping twins. “They’re asleep, so we can’t disturb them just yet.”

Amelia, eyes glinting with mischief, turned to her mother and whispered. “Let’s have a little fun, yeah?”

Mama Shepherd raised an eyebrow but said nothing, just gave her a sly smile.

Two hours passed.

During that time, Derek and you remained unconscious, while Amelia and Mama Shepherd decided to have some fun.

Amelia, with her phone in hand, started filming the moment. Derek’s and your positions on the couch were laughably off-kilter—you were practically hanging off the edge of the couch, while Derek was using a cushion as a pillow and drooling slightly.

Amelia whispered to the babies. “Do you think Aunt Amelia can wake them up with her screaming laugh?”

The babies, of course, giggled in response. They had no idea why they were laughing but found Amelia’s energy contagious.

Mama Shepherd, feeling particularly mischievous, picked up one of the twins and began to rock her gently. “Let’s see how long they’ll sleep through all this.”

The house was filled with quiet giggles as Amelia started to make fun of her brother. “You know, he’s just as tired as a newborn. But the difference is, he doesn’t cry when he’s tired.”

She continued to make sarcastic remarks, quietly teasing her brother, while you and Derek remained oblivious to the hilarity unfolding around you.

Finally, after two hours, Derek stirred. He rubbed his eyes groggily and looked around. “Where are the babies?”

You groaned. “They’re in their bassinets.”

Derek immediately jumped up in a panic. “Wait—what?! Where are they? Why didn’t you wake us up?”

You smirked, watching him freak out. “Derek, calm down. They’re fine. They’re right there.”

“No, no, no.” Derek started pacing. “We went to sleep and lost two babies. How did that happen?”

You stayed calm, playing along for the drama. “It was your turn, remember?”

“No, no, no,” Derek insisted. “You said you were going to take them for a nap. It was supposed to be my turn! How did we lose our children?”

Amelia, unable to contain herself, snickered and turned her phone camera on. “Oh, I’m totally sending this to our sisters.”

Mama Shepherd was already mocking Derek’s misery, shaking her head fondly. “Oh, sweetie, don’t worry. They’re safe.”

Derek, now feeling completely outnumbered, crossed his arms. “I’m going to take a shower.”

You laughed at him, unable to hold it in anymore. “Sure, go ahead. But don’t think you’re escaping from your responsibilities that easily.”

“Seriously?” Derek grumbled. “I’m getting out of here before I have a nervous breakdown. These women are killing me.”

Amelia, still filming, called after him. “Don’t worry, Derek. We’ll keep the twins safe! You can go cry in the shower.”

And with that, Derek stormed off to the bathroom, a frustrated man defeated by the women in his life, as you followed behind him, laughing all the way.

[mellowwdann]

Harley Sawyer x a forgotten toy? Just think of Shelly from dandy’s world! >:3

-Anon from the beginning

Ok!! First time doing Harley Sawyer so please tell me if there is anything incorrect!! I’m guessing this is platonic, right?

[PLATONIC] DOCTOR HARLEY SAWYER X A FORGOTTEN TOY

◆At first, he didn’t even know you existed. ◆Probably because you ARE the forgotten toy. ◆When you found you, somehow he felt…pity. ◆I mean, it’s not his fault. The only reason why he’s still alive is because Playtime.Co needed him ◆He thought you had autophobia(fear of being forgotten) ◆Somehow it’s like his heart shattered once he realized you did have autophobia. ◆It’s not like your design was terrible or anything. The kids just forgot about you. ◆And that’s how he took you and cared for you.

[emo-gremlin]

what if Harley got emotional in front of his s/o?? Like tears and angst?? Head canons for that?? (FEED ME)

Imma lump these two together since they're basically the same.

The Doctor's emotional outburst! + Reader

💻 Adjusting to his new form was...difficult to say the least. Leith was no help, if anything, it seemed to make it worse.

💻 You tried your best to be a mediator between the two, but today...Leith went too far.

💻 "WELL IF YOU WERE ACTUALLY THINKING LIKE A FUCKING HUMAN BEING AND NOT SOME KIND OF COLD BLOODED REPTILE MAYBE YOU WOULD HAVE STAYED IN THE YOUNG GENUIS PROGRAM AND AWAY FROM YOUR SHIT HEAD FAMILY!"

💻 A scream rang out through the room, several monitors burst, and the lights went out.

💻 "H-how DA-DARE YOU?! I-I DID EVERY T-THING I CO-COULD FO-FOR THAT MAN!" You could hear The Doctor's agony in his voice, almost as if...he was crying.

💻 "You....you ha-have no i-idea what my-My chi-childhood was li-like. Wh-what i-i had to g-go back t-to. To ha-have yo-your dre-dreams taken a-away by the o-only one you t-thought understood y-you..."

💻 What screens were left glowed bright red, forming the shape of an eye. The static on the screens made it seem as if it was dripping with tears.

💻 "Y-you have n-no r-right to speak l-like-"

💻 "I own you, Sawyer. I own the technology you're connected to." Leith wasn't backing down. You heard a door open, a heavy, steel door. "And you are gonna do what you're told, if you know what's best for you."

💻 You heard claws softly tap against the floor. You knew who that was.

💻 "Th-this...Yo-you will p-pay for t-this. I'll m-make sure of it."

💻 You thought about warning him. You thought about jumping in the way of the beast and your boss.

💻 Harley was not a good man. He never said he was. The man was a brilliant scientist, and a cold blooded one at that.

💻 But no one deserves to have their past brought up like this, in front of complete strangers. You didn't know much about his past either, you just knew that it was harder, and harder still after being let go from Ludwig's program.

💻 You decided not to say anything, stepping aside to let Harley's guard beast through.

💻 Harley noticed this, but said nothing.

💻 "Maybe Yarnaby can teach you how to hold your tongue."

💻 The yarn lion pounced on Lieth's back, slamming him to the floor as Dr. White and the other scientists ran out of the room.

💻 Leith's screams echoed as you walked out, a security squad coming in to disable Yarnaby.

💻 "He isn't dead, I presume?" Harley asked as you quietly swept up the shattered remains of multiple screens.

💻 "Nope. But he will be in a wheelchair for a while. So he won't be able to come down here for sometime." You replied, looking up at one of the screens. "Will you be alright?"

💻 Harley stayed silent for a moment. "....Yes. Thank you."

Maybe not as angsty as I originally planned, but I hope you still enjoy.

[help-im-a-gay-fish]

@zu-is-here I contributed! I wasn't planning on posting anything till darkcream week, but leave it to this to inspire me. You can't tell me that if he's British, this wouldn't come up.

Original shattered dream and Sawyer belongs to @galacii

And zudio by @zu-is-here

P.s if anyone doesn't know this meme, it's about how the British accent can twinge when we say bottle of water