#It's like people who make fem!medic not a Mad scientist.

[clit-a-cola]

If your fem!demo isn't a raging alcoholic who ugly cries over her insecurities and loves booze, bombs, and telling scary stories and is really friendly and has a haunted sword she loves killing with like...

why not :(

[lycorsa]

can I plz get some hcs about widowmaker, mercy and sombra with a fem S/O that has the powers to turn invisible and shift through objects? ( kinda like ghost from the antman movie )

Pairings: Mercy x Reader, Sombra x Reader, Widowmaker x Reader

Was this requested: Yep, thank you for the wonderful request.

Notes: Kinda came out sad on Mercy and Sombra's so a slight warning for mentions of Reader death. But hey, I didn't write them dying so 😶👍 I also have no title for this so fun times

Mercy

-She was most likely standoffish when you first met. Powers like yours can just so easily be used for terrible things. Of course, that doesn't mean she isn't friendly with you, she's only professional. 

-But things don't really stay professional because it's her job to make sure your physical being isn't unstable. Damn you, Jack.

-Long conversations in the medical ward put her fears aside and she feels silly for doubting your good intentions. 

-Doesn't mean she appreciates all the times you enter the infirmary unscheduled. A bullet grazed your side or your ears are still ringing from an explosion too close for comfort. 

-"You're quite literally a ghost, how did you manage this?"

-If your body begins to become unstable, it doesn't take Angela long to find out. Between biweekly tests and visits in between, you can't hide the way your hands flicker under the light in the right conditions. 

-She'll scour nearly all plains of knowledge for a way to cure your condition.

-But your case is a rarity, even Lena's can't compare.

-When her search yields nothing, you're there to comfort her though saying it aloud seems more like you're trying to believe it yourself. 

-Neither of you will give up though. Whether you find a way to stabilize yourself or not, you'll continue your work beside Angela and Overwatch.

Sombra

-Likely had some knowledge of you before your first meeting given her reputation. This means she will never stop asking questions about your abilities and where they came from (whether from birth or an experiment). 

-She needs blackmail on everyone, you included. 

-Does rope you in on playing tricks on her fellow Talon members. 

-There's a rookie who's heard ghost stories about the showers being haunted? Yeah, they're gonna get the fright of their life when you pop your head through the wall and scream before disappearing out into the safety of the hallway. 

-She enjoys having you on her missions. If you happen to raise an alarm, she can easily use her translocator to escape while you simply phase through the walls while invisible. 

-Does like to use your abilities for nobody's gain at times. It's so easy to walk into a store and grab what you need while never being seen.

-If you begin to unstabilize, it takes some time before she sees the signs. By then it's a bit too late for anything normal to be done other than leaving you to Moira for a few weeks for experimentation. 

-The mad scientist draws blood, collects bone marrow samples, and just about anything else that involves being poked and prodded. 

-When that yields no success, she'll try some rather controversial experiments. Controversial experiments that Olivia in no way agrees in. Before Moira can turn you into a walking experiment like Gabriel, Olivia steps in.

-That is that. If a world-renowned scientist is unable to find a way to fix it, you're not sure anything else is possible. Oppositely so, Olivia reaches at every resource she has–every high-ranking person she's got dirty information on and they all come back empty. 

-She's experienced loss but it's hard to see her partner in crime flicker away into nothingness day by day. 

-She'll stick with you through it all. 

Widowmaker

-She appreciates your help on missions. You don't make a fuss or complain about nights spent waiting for the perfect short like Sombra. Nor do you become such an angsty pain in the ass like Gabriel.

-You're there to beat the shit out of people, get information from them, and then disappear. 

-She's there to finish the job from a distance.

-Not much of a conversationalist, she expresses herself with actions more than words. You're no exception. 

-French chocolates only found in the smallest shops can be found in your room every so often. 

-Equally so, you repay her in whatever oddities you surround yourself with. 

–If you enjoy cooking or baking, baked goods will suffice. 

–If you're a collector, she keeps a small drawer full of things that remind her of you (she'd never tell you about it though).

-Late night dinners spent in a private dining hall within Talon headquarters where you do nothing but enjoy the sereneness of the silence. 

-She teaches you ballet and I will not be taking arguments. You perform for each other, sometimes visible, sometimes not but over time, she learns to appreciate the way you misstep and she's forced to catch your invisible form. 

-"Careful, dearest, it would be a shame if I could not catch you."

-Widow gets a no-death ending because why not. 

[littlepeachwhispers]

Civilian - Chapter 1: Darkness

Previous Chapter: Prologue Pairing: Negan x Fem!Reader Summary: When you accidentally stumble onto Sanctuary territory, Negan takes you prisoner to ensure your arrival is purely coincidental. When no one from your group shows up, you end up becoming a citizen of the sanctuary and realizing just how dark your new leader truly is. 

Chapter Warnings: isolation

Story Warnings: violence, gore, smut, slow burn, isolation, dark themes

Available on AO3 if you prefer to read there. A/N: I apologize truly for such a long time gap between updates. I’ve been dealing with holiday stuff lately, and I work 12-hour shifts at night. I have quite a bit planned for this fic, but this chapter just really seemed like the reader was rambling a lot to depict her time in the cell. I apologize in advance that it’s a bit boring and there’s not as much of our favorite villain as we all would like. Also, I forgot to mention the fic is inspired by Wye Oak’s song “Civilian.” I listened to it on repeat, it just has an intense apocalypse feel to me.

Chapter 1: Darkness

The darkness wasn’t terrible at first. Spending most of every day in the scalding Virginian sun actually made you feel calmer in the dark, and this cell was no exception - after the impending panic attack had subsided, of course. You could still feel your heart beating steadily, your respirations coming at a quickened pace still yet. But after a few hours, the initial panic was fading. You were safe from walkers here. There was only one exit. You didn’t have to face the dangers of scavenging or being outside unprotected. Your fear was no longer sourced from your solitude; now it came from the thoughts of what would happen after your time here. Would that man, Negan, kill you on the spot? Would he let you leave? You thought again about how lean he was and how easy it would have been for any of his followers to take power from him. Why did they follow the older man so loyally? Were there any more followers you’d yet to see?

Questions built up in your mind that might not ever be answered, and in an attempt to distract yourself, you began to count the seconds - and then minutes - ticking by. Sixty seconds. One minute, two minutes, five, ten, fifteen. You stopped when you got to twenty-three, deciding that counting time was making you anxious all over again. You lost track of how much time you had spent in the cell. It felt like days, but no one had brought you anything so you knew that couldn’t be the case. You slid yourself down into the floor, your cheek resting on the frigid concrete, so that you could peak outside from the small slit of light under the door. You were disappointed as your eyes met with another concrete wall across the corridor. You knew what the place looked like before you had been confined to the cell, so you weren’t sure what you were expecting to see. Feet maybe, but with the amount of locks you were willing to bet were on the door, there was likely no need to guard you so closely. You were definitely alone.

You turned onto your back and attempted to fall asleep several times, but anxiety and worry tormented you, making it impossible to relax. You finally settled your back into the corner, facing the door and waiting. You wondered if anyone from your community would come looking for you. What would Negan and his followers do to them if they did? You vividly remembered the barbed wire glistening in the sunlight, wrapped tightly around his bat. It was ominous, certainly, but maybe just an intimidation tactic. Surely he would question your people before acting.

What worried you most was how you’d landed yourself in a cell over something as insignificant as the location of their community. Negan had said something about information, and that had sparked your curiosity. Maybe this group had a doctor or scientist that had vital knowledge about what had caused the dead to walk. You knew it was only wishful thinking, but a part of you had always held onto the possibility of a cure or antidote. Not having to see anyone else die or rot away to this damned disease? That would be all you could ever hope for. Before the end of the world, you had been a nurse. Wanting to help people had become second nature to you; it was what you were good at. When hell broke loose and you managed to escape the hospital you’d worked in, you holed up in your hometown for quite some time, collecting medical supplies and patching up people who’d been hurt. When your supplies dwindled down and most of your friends had departed to find their own families, you had been forced to leave for somewhere safer, with more supplies and food sources. Stumbling into a couple of kind people had been sheer luck, and you’d been with them ever since. Your role in your community was similar to your job before; you’d put dressings on everyone’s injuries, make sure they were eating okay, give what medicines you could, and monitor people feeling unwell mentally or physically. It’s what your mind kept lingering on: you could be killed or kept here, and that meant the people back home were going without medical care.

You barely noticed the sound of heavy, slow footsteps, before a voice cried out, “WHEN I GET OUT, I’LL KILL EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU.” Huffing breaths and then a shrill yell kicked you out of your thoughts; a man’s voice a couple cells down, it sounded like.

With that, your calm demeanor disappeared. You felt yourself shiver at the echo of his deep voice against the steel and concrete corridor. He started to punch the door with his fists; flat, hard beats of flesh against the hard surface permeated the air, making you feel queasy. Your sanity was already stretched thin, a tightrope you’d been desperately clinging to balance on since you’d lost your group. Another man began shouting and you realized you were surrounded by prisoners, mad ones judging by the sound of their clamoring. Whoever’s footsteps triggered the men’s outburst began to grow louder. You expected to hear Negan’s dark timbre, but it was Simon’s loud voice that rang out.

“You all had better pipe the fuck down. I’d hate to have to tell Negan there’s an uprising in the holding cells.” At the mention of Negan, the yells quietened into mumbles, and then silence. Simon’s boots grew louder still, and you scooted yourself up, as close to the walls in the corner as you could physically get. Three audible locks clicked before light flooded the cell, burning your vision. You raised your hands up to shade your face, shielding your eyes from the brightness. Simon knelt down in the doorway and addressed you, his voice quickly transformed from crass to serene.

“Okay, Doll. It’s been decided that your group isn’t coming for you, since it’s nightfall already and they would have to be suicidal or just plain stupid to go out in the dark.” Your mouth was dry and your voice scratchy, but you’d managed to speak up, “I told you. I’m not trying to pull anything. I’ve never heard of this community.”

Simon nodded, “I know. But Negan’s got a lot of responsibility to keep the people here safe. And he doesn’t trust easily. None of us do. But he does have a soft spot for women. So I’ve been instructed to take you to the regular living quarters and make you a bit more comfortable. Let you get a few solid hours of sleep. Then he’ll talk with you and decide what happens next in the morning.”

Out of all the scenarios you’d imagined in your head - being beaten to death, thrown out into the darkness to become walker food, kept here until you rotted away - this had not been one of them.

“You’re not going to kill me?” Simon laughed, “No. We might not be conventionally nice people, who is these days? But we aren’t evil either. Come on.”

He held a hand out to you and you hesitated. Should you really trust this man? You once again decided you didn’t have any other option at this point, and being anywhere other than this cell sounded great. If this was a trick or he was leading you to your death, at least you’d know soon. He helped you to stand; your legs shaky from lack of use all day. Once you had your balance, he pulled a pair of silver handcuffs from his belt. “Sorry, kid.” He motioned for you to turn around.

You didn’t put up a fight, and let him handcuff your hands behind your back.

After your hands were secure, you walked alongside him, back out the way you’d come, and up a flight of industrial metal stairs. He led you down another hallway and through a pair of double doors, into what seemed to be an indoor flea market. There were various vendors, selling everything and anything imaginable. As you walked beside him, Simon continued explaining.

“This is our marketplace. Most of our people live on a system of points. Scavenging, going on missions, working, doing favors for Negan, all of that earns points. You can barter belongings, or use your points to buy things. Various foodstuffs, handmade clothes or blankets, weapons, room items, jewelry. It’s endless.”

Simon picked up a black crocheted blanket, a tank top, knitted shorts, a pair of dark jeans, a black tee shirt, and a few small soap bars as he walked you around the huge room. When he reached an end table near the door, a woman in a teal headscarf sat with a few notebooks and pens, holding one of the writing utensils out for him.

“Our form of “paying” for our goods,” he explained. When the woman looked up to see that it was Simon, she scribbled in the book herself and gave him a small smile before the two of you left the pay table.

Your curious expression did not go unnoticed by Simon, and he explained as he came to a stop. “A select few of us are exempt from the point system. We still have other rules to follow of course, but a few perks aren’t bad.”

You nodded, mentally questioning what an individual had to do to be an exception to the point system. You weren't entirely sure you wanted to know.

As you and Simon approached the same set of doors you’d entered moments ago, you noticed a woman leaning against the panelling, her arms crossed. Simon motioned her over and she pulled herself away from the wall, making her way over to you. She had her hair twisted into a blonde bun, a obsidian-toned tattoo contrasting the ivory skin on her neck, and a golden hoop nose ring on the left side of her nose.

“This is Laura.” Simon introduced her. You told her your name as well, out of respect, and she nodded.

“Laura’s going to give you the rest of the tour and make sure you get a hot shower and some food.” Food was great, but the thought of hot water was better. You were sure running hot water was a luxury of the past, something that would be a mere story to tell future generations. Remembering what it was like to come home after a long night at work, standing bare under a hot stream of water cascading over you; it made your muscles tremble at the thought.

“That sounds amazing. Hot water.”

Laura chuckled a bit at your reaction. “Oh, trust me it is.”

Simon handed the items he’d bought to Laura, and clapped his hand on your shoulder. “I have to get going, but Laura will take good care of you. See you tomorrow.”

His touch made you flinch. Hours earlier, you’d watched their leader swing his bat around, threatening you. Fellow community members pointed guns and knives of all imaginable varieties at you, they’d shoved you into a cell like you’d murdered a handful of small children, and now he was fucking Mr. Rogers-level friendly. You felt the aforementioned tightrope of sanity you were still balancing on shrinking thinner.

Laura showed you a few more essential areas of the community; the latrines, the showers, the cafeteria, and a few of the living quarters. She’d said that was all she was permitted to show you for now, and when she offered for you to finally go grab a shower, she followed you. Not into the stall, thank God, but she removed your handcuffs and stood right outside, preventing you from escaping or wandering off on your own. As you stood under the near-scalding spray of water, you contemplated everything that had happened so far. These people seemed nice enough; after the threats, the barbed-wire bat, and the cell. They weren’t torturing or raping or slicing you to pieces. You hadn’t seen any vendors selling human body parts for soup. But it was blatantly obvious that they still didn’t trust you. And maybe it was wrong, but that just made you want to investigate this place further. There was bound to be something shady going on, or something of utmost importance that needed protecting. Simon had said it himself; Negan had a huge responsibility to protect the Sanctuary. And you couldn’t help but linger on why.

After you finally left the shower, Laura escorted you to the cafeteria and sat with you as you ate your meal; a leafy green salad and a marinara-smothered pasta that you couldn’t remember the name of. Cellentani? Cavatappi maybe? It didn’t matter now. Pasta was easy to make in large quantities and it had been one of your favorite meals before the end had come; you weren’t going to complain about it. You didn’t know if you were hungry or if the food was just incredible, but it made your mouth water and you didn’t think you could eat another bite once you had finished. Laura tried to make small talk, and you hadn’t been rude, but stuffing your face with pasta made it surprisingly difficult to carry on a conversation.

The place wasn’t nearly as crowded as it had been at the marketplace, and you surmised that it was getting late. Candles and low-energy lamps lit the corridors now, as the sun was absent in all of the large windows. The main area with the stairwells had previously been brightly shining with abundant amounts of sun whenever the men had brought you to your cell. Laura had recuffed you and led you through the dimly-lit halls to one of the living quarter rooms. It held two bunk beds, a full-size bed, and two floor cots. Three of the bunks were taken, and there were two people asleep in the full sized bed. Laura took your cuffs off again, handed you the items from earlier, and pointed to one of the floor cots and the small cubby area near the doorway you were currently standing in.

“Your stuff will be safe here. Try to get some sleep. Who knows what Negan will decide for you tomorrow.” You could tell she wasn’t trying to intimidate you on purpose, she seemed like a blunt, matter-of-fact kind of person. It still bothered you nonetheless.

When you changed into the tank top and shorts Simon had given you, stored your few belongings away, and started to try to get comfortable in the floor, you noticed Laura kept standing.

“You aren’t sleeping?” You asked, hushed so as not to wake anyone.

Grinning, she whispered, “I’m on guard duty for another four hours.”

She stepped outside the door, leaning against the wall outside of your room. They truly didn’t trust you not to escape. You didn’t really fault them for that though, because if given the opportunity, you couldn’t truthfully say you wouldn’t at least attempt to leave. Covering yourself up with the blanket Simon had given you, you adjusted onto your stomach and attempted to fall to sleep. Tomorrow morning was a mystery looming over your head like a storm cloud. You could be thrown out, defenseless. You could be kept captive. Hell, Negan could have you shot or stabbed to death by his bandwagon of followers. The worries were endless and daunting. What if someone back home was sick or injured and needed you? Would the group be out looking for you in the dark? They had more sense than that. You’d hoped so, at least. Would they think you left on purpose? Maybe they would be angry with you. Maybe no one would ever come looking for you. The nurse who left them all without any medical support, left them to die. You groaned, pulling your arms up over your head and ears, attempting to drown out the sounds of your own suffocating thoughts. After about fifteen minutes, the exhaustion in your bones finally caught up to you, and although your relentless thoughts never ceased to bombard your mind, you finally dozed off.

“Get up.” Unsure of exactly how much sleep you’d managed to get, you were suddenly being shaken awake. It wasn’t Laura standing above you this time; it was a man you recognized from your encounter early the day before. You couldn’t remember where he’d been standing, but he’d been pointing a weapon at you, that part was vibrant in your mind. You sat up, wiping sleep from your eyes and pushing your still-damp hair out of your face.

“Is something wrong?” It had to be early. Looking beyond him and into the hallway, the lamps were still lit. The sun hadn’t risen yet. “...Negan wants to see you.” The thought of the older man made your stomach drop. This was it. Your entire future - how much longer you lived, if truth be told - dependant on a conversation you were seconds away from having. You stood and dressed in the jeans Simon had gifted you. Pulling your boots on, you left everything else in the cubby area. You stretched the sleep from your muscles before nodding to the man who’d interrupted your dreamless slumber. He cuffed you yet again, and turned to walk down the hallway, you following reluctantly on his heels. He didn’t speak at all, and you couldn’t decide if that was good or bad. The two of you walked up a second flight of stairs and down another corridor. Their distrust of you was good in one respect; with people escorting you everywhere, you couldn’t get lost. A likely possibility when every floor looked the same to you: all concrete and metal. The place reminded you of a prison, and it wasn’t just the cells on the bottom floor. The layout was all very similar. You assumed the building had been a mill or factory of some sort, but you had no clue as to what they would have made here.

Traversing one winding hallway after another, you finally arrived at your destination. The man you followed stood back as he opened a plain-looking door, the light eggshell paint on it chipping off at the edges. There was a long table in the middle of the room, and two lights hanging overhead, dimly lighting the place. Negan sat at the head of the table, in his same leather jacket from yesterday. His inky black hair was slicked back in perfect contrast to the surprisingly bright material of his white shirt. The bat was lying ominously on the table in front of him, and when you looked up to briefly meet his eyes, he was grinning at you.

“Long time, no see.” His voice echoed in the room and you could feel your heartbeats speeding up in your chest. The man who had led you here pushed you further into the room, before stepping in and closing the door behind himself. He approached Negan, holding out a key for what you guessed could only be your handcuffs. Negan palmed the tiny silver key, and the guard turned to leave. The door had quickly closed again, punctuating the fact that you were now utterly alone with the leader of the people who’d turned at least a dozen guns on you yesterday. Alone and at a disadvantage, the cuffs biting into the skin of your wrists as a reminder.

“So your people didn’t show up last night. What are we gonna do with you now?”

Read Chapter 2 here.

A/N: Sorry for the cliffhanger guys. I’ll definitely update sooner than last time. And maybe even get myself on a weekly schedule? Happy Holidays, and remember comments/suggestions always welcome! 

Taglist:  @ohokaybyethen , @miiraal