Mass Effect Fanfiction Self Insert Novels & Stories

“Since I was born, I always ended up getting compared to him. Okay, he was a jerk, and I don't know why they liked him. But, when I saw you, I promised that you should be an exception. If Amoux could get anything he wanted, I promise he won't get you. But I don't know what happened to me; I helped him, but there's a part of me that I wanted to tell you about my feelings. I wanted to be honest that I am here, too.” “I thought it was alright for me, but when I saw you with Alpha Brandon. I couldn't stop myself from constantly thinking about you. This is why Anaya was in the picture. She helped me imagine that you're that I made love for, and I could not stop myself anymore. I feel that I'm not

My mother lifted her head with effort, eyes burning with urgency. Her lips formed a single word. CUT. My breath hitched. The Hollow King’s gaze sharpened. “Careful,” he warned quietly. “She still thinks she can write your story.” My copy laughed softly. “She thinks she can save you by breaking you.” I looked at my wrist mark—burning, pulsing, alive. I looked at Dax—half him, half overwritten law—being used as a lever to move me. I looked at Kieran—infected, smiling, the mate bond pulling like a chain into my ribs.

"And then you sacrificed yourself. Reset reality. Gave us this new world. But I can't live in it without you. Not really. Not when I remember." "I don't remember." I'm crying now. "I don't know you. Any of you. But I feel like I should. Like I'm supposed to." "Then trust that feeling." He kisses my hand. "Trust us. Trust yourself." He disappears into the night. And I close up shop. Walk home. Try to process. But I can't sleep. Can't stop thinking about them. About Kai. Damon. Zephyr. About the fourth one who hasn't appeared yet but will. I know he will.

If she hadn’t performed that cursed blood ritual to keep me breathing. From having a simple life with one mate to being bound to another—and a man, for that matter. It felt so absurd, so fundamentally wrong, but it was my harsh reality. My fucking fate. I slowly released my grip on the handle as another sound of muffled moans and groans seeped into the corridor. Swallowing down an angry, suffocating breath, I forced myself to walk away. My hands were balled into tight, trembling fists at my sides, my chest heaving as I fought a losing battle to keep my self-loathing in check.

POV: Micah Thorne "Is this... is this all I am?" Micah felt the coldness before he felt the pain. It was a vacuum, a terrifyingly efficient drain that was pulling every memory, every spark of warmth, and every shred of his identity out through his sternum. He saw his life flashing before his eyes—not as a hero’s journey, but as a series of closed doors and averted gazes. He saw the moment he betrayed the Silverfangs. He saw the look on Blaze’s face when the shadows took him. "You are a beautiful vessel, Micah," the Heir whispered into his mind, its voice a soothing, lethal lullaby. "So much regret. So much potential for the silence. Yield. Let the Archive fold you into the dark."

"It can categorize 'Sacrifice'. But it can't categorize a 'Character Deleting Themselves' to save the Plot." ​She pressed the glowing red end of the flute against the "Patient ID" tattoo on her chest. ​"Nora, no!" Kael screamed. ​[WARNING: PRIMARY ASSET INITIATING SELF-TERMINATION.] [IMPACT: TOTAL FRANCHISE COLLAPSE.] ​The servers around the room began to smoke. The golden fluid in Leo’s vat began to boil. ​"You wouldn't," Vane gasped, his face turning pale. "If you delete yourself, Nora... you don't go to a new chapter. You go to Nothing."

“You know what’s wrong with you? It’s because you like to blame yourself for everything happening around you. You enjoy being the savior and heroine too much and want to save everyone. Well, take this, hybrid, you are not invincible. You get killed! And if you’re dead, what happens to me then? Aren’t you a little selfish for me of saving humanity? I want my mate, not someone willing to risk her life for others.” “You didn’t just say that.” Flooded with adrenaline, I growled at him. My hands formed into fists on my sides, my nose flaring at my mate, who accused me of being selfish. My heart pumped so fast, and my skin started burning. I felt my body vibrate, and my fangs tickled my gums.

I glared. "Grey! Remember he's your father!" mom snapped. "I do. I do remember... but you don't remember that I am your son, or even that I am an individual. You don't know how much it sucks to be me. Ever since Ash went into the coma, I've been nothing but his replacement. I am nothing but Ash's shadow in your eyes. I always get compared to him by every single person, but not by Kavin or Everleigh. That's the same reason why I didn't take anyone but Kavin as my beta and the same reason why I will make Everleigh my mate. Whatever happens." I said.

I fingered myself faster. I bit my lip to keep from moaning. My mind kept playing the same imaginary scene on a loop; The dark room. The faceless surrogate. Albert's weight pressing her as he rammed her into the mattress. But the longer I touched myself, the less faceless she became. I gave that faceless woman my face. I imagined myself to be my step daddy’s surrogate. My hungry wandering legs splayed open, my finger teasing through the opening, repeatedly slobbering up and down, circular and now Deeping it inside.

and his face was frozen in a mask of tragic, self-sacrificing nobility. "What is this?" Rowan hissed, drawing his own blade. "It’s your previous versions," I said, backing toward the pedestal. "The Author is pulling from the 'Trash' folder. They’re the versions of you that actually wanted to kill each other. They’re the tropes you outgrew." The Draft Kieran let out a roar that wasn't a wolf’s cry—it was a sound of pure, unadulterated possessiveness. "MATE," he boomed, the word vibrating the very stones. "MINE."