Woody x Reader Oneshots (DISCONTINUED)

Scars of the Past

1/26/20
(Fanart by the lovely Sharky__Samaaa )
Requested by : PurityThePunLover
Notes : Nightmare will be a full replay of reader's past; Takes place right after Toy Story 3.

You had waited for such a long time to find your family, to find your purpose that every toy dreamed of. There were no clues as to why you were made, but whatever the reason, you knew it didn't matter. You didn't even have a clue as to why you became conscious, it just happened, but all that mattered to you was the moment when you would be chosen by a kid.

For years, the only thing you wanted was to be taken from that store. While others like you had been long removed from the shelves by ecstatic, beaming little girls, you always remained. Was it their different dresses? Different faces? Some kind of different, special appeal that you didn't have? Whatever it was that you did or didn't have, whatever it was that made you much less desired than your counterparts, the only result was another guaranteed lifetime on that shelf.

The changing of the shelves became a regular tradition to you. Old toys moved further back into the store, closer towards the inevitable darkness, while brand new toys took their place. You kept being pushed farther down along the shelf as well, and eventually, you had reached the very edge of the wall. One more wave of incoming toys and you would be permanently removed, thrown right out the back door with all the other undesirable toys.

In fact, that day did come. A worker was updating the stock and removed you from the shelf, but he did so just as a peculiar teen walked through the door. He seemed to be of age to be a college kid, you figured. You heard him talking to a cashier, saying how he knew the store's rep of carrying old toys in which many were now valuable. When he looked in your direction as he spoke, you saw his eyes light up. But not with excitement and endearment, instead an emotion you couldn't place.

He bought you and took you home, leaving you in silent curiosity as you wondered why he had bought you at his age. A sibling, or his own kid maybe? Yet once he arrived at home, he took you inside, placed you on a shelf with many other boxed toys, completely unopened, and left you there. You weren't a toy to him, your purpose wasn't to be a toy. You were a collector's item to him, your purpose was to sit through the years as your worth increased.

You had instantly went from one shelf and right to the next. Even more years to be spent alone and motionless on a shelf, only ever able to move your eyes as your head, arms, legs, and torso were still strapped to the back of your box. It was pure agony, spending so many consecutive years stuck in your box with absolutely no means of escape. Freedom was impossible, and was still very much foreign to you. You awoke in a box, and you stayed in that box. There was no second reality, no new world. Your world was your box, just as you figured it would be forever.

But one day, so many years later when the college kid had long become an adult in his thirties, he finally got rid of you. He realized your value was still very minimal, nowhere near the ridiculously high values of your counterparts. Turns out, as he had researched, you had been the very first. A mere test, and when results flopped, new ones had been made with much more desirable traits and accessories. You didn't matter, turns out you never had. And with the rise of other dolls, plastic ones that couldn't break as easily as your porcelain frame, porcelain dolls were pushed further into decline. So he removed you from the shelf, set you on the curb, and left you without a word.

A day passed and a family on a walk came by. Their daughter was ecstatic when she saw you, so the family decided to take you home. They opened your box and carefully handed you and your parasol accessory to the girl, who took you into her warm, comfortingly hands ever so gently. The way she looked at you.... It was unlike anything you had ever seen.