Emre…x…reader…please……PLEASE
𑣲 emre’s lowkey becoming my new dps main giggles :P
reuniting with emre
gn reader as always. retired overwatch member! reader. MIGHT be a bit ooc so, watch out. angst hidden in fluff teehee. cliffhanger
it was hard finding him after the fall of overwatch, considering the way he suddenly disappeared. in the end, after years of asking and running into cold trails and dead ends, you gave up the search, thinking he must have went way to live a quiet life.
it was him that came to you almost a decade later, quietly waiting outside your door. looking as if he was ready to run away at the last second at your command.
he looked rugged and tired, but still the young guy you trained with back in the barracks. you could only wonder what had happened. but seeing as to how he was the one who initiated contact, you decided not to press on. for trust. and for old time’s sake.
he’s his usual self, joking here and there with playful jabs. it wasn’t hard for you two to reforge your connection. he was one of your closest companions in the team. and you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t more than that.
but there was an underlying sense of sadness under it all. the regret, the years apart, the what ifs. worst of all, he’d disappear and reappear at random intervals.
one minute he’s tripping on the shoes at your doorstep and the next, you wake up to find your half eaten leftovers on the counter with the window unlocked whenever he’d run off.
“can you at least clean up after yourself?” you sigh, gesturing to the kitchen. “you’re mooching off of my food, emmy.” he smiles, hands up in a mock surrender. “i was in a hurry.” “you always are.” you roll your eyes. “hey, i bring you food too.” emre defends himself. “i promise to be neat next time. scout’s honor.” he salutes. “you weren’t a boy scout.” his mouth comes down to a line as he blinks before he grins again, “overwatch agent’s honor then.” “you literally quit.”
in the rare nights that he stayed, emre spends it huddled near your window, eyes switching back from you to the sky. as if he was preparing himself to leave everything behind all again.
once your curiosity finally gets the best of you, little questions of his personal life seep out from your mouth. they’re casual, small inquiries about how his morning went and the usual, ‘how was your sleep last night?’ but you could tell that he was guarded, feeding you half empty answers.
emre just wanted to be close to you, no matter how much he tries to isolates himself from everyone. freja finding him was the catalyst. because if she hadn’t convinced his thick head to find you, he would’ve never been caught sneaking in your window.
and let’s be honest. he’s selfish. he wants to be near you, to find comfort in your arms again. its a wonder how he went so long without seeking you out.
though chernobog might have been the start of his nightmares, but he’s glad its kept him away from you. kept you safe.
“she says she misses you.” he says one day, a bit tipsy from ransacking the beer from your fridge. you immediately know who he was talking about. you smile sadly, “i miss her too. i miss everyone. back in our old…” you couldn’t finish your sentence. he glances at you before averting his gaze, trying not to think too far in the past. back in your old squadron, back in overwatch, back before he still knew himself and his morals. ”come on, i didn’t tell you that so you’d be all sad.” he laughs lightly, but you can hear an underlying sadness in his tone. “frej would rest easy knowing you’re safe—“ you look up at him, trying for an optimistic smile. ”—and retired.” he scoffs before muttering to himself, “guess old age has gotten to some of us.” you laugh despite it all. ”you’re older than me, but alright, old man.”
after that he became more loose, his walls chipping down little by little. he tells himself that it was alright, that you wouldn’t suspect a thing, that he could keep you safe even with all the sneaking. but he’s gotten a little careless.
you were winding down after work on the couch while he paced back and forth in the kitchen, communicator tucked into his ear while he whispered. usually he wouldn’t even dare to use it while he’s in your house.
pretending to watch the tv, you focused and heard the irritated click of his tongue and hushed curses. he sounded annoyed and angry, huffing around, until all of it suddenly stops. the silence was almost deafening, the loss of his voice and movements making you worry.
too concerned to think rationally, you padded your way to the kitchen to see what was wrong.
you break out into a sheepish smile, ready to lighten up the mood by joking about his secret job, maybe even going as far as to return the jab by making fun of his age and being stressed.
“if you’re gonna bitch about your job in my kitchen, at least cook some of that stuff you… em?”
stopping dead into the entrance, emre stands as a stiff as a board from behind the counter. his eyes are dark and wide, staring at the space in front of him.
after sensing your presence, garbled words of finnish leaves his mouth. his voice is modulated, cold, and shallow. so unlike the man you have come to care for.
his dark black eyes rest on you now, and a fear you haven’t felt ever since your first day in the frontlines as an agent come rushing back in, as if you were no more than a nervous recruit who was experiencing battle for the first time.
emre wasn’t here. not in this room. and you didn’t know where to find him.
