Overwatch ➸ Reader Insert Oneshots

McCree // Talk is Cheap

Prompt 31. "You are . . . beautiful." "Don't try to sweet talk me, I have a gun to your head."

[Rating: PG13]
[Word count: 1744]
[Summary: McCree turns the tables on you. You want to have a little fun before you accept defeat.]
[Genre: not-quite-smut, fluff]
[Unedited]

Requested by: MsBreWatkins

       You had just wanted a day off, but of course Talon just had sent you off into the middle of nowhere for a mission. You believed that even terrorists deserved to have some semblance of workers' rights, but that belief clearly wasn't shared by your higher-ups at headquarters, who worked you to the bone, rarely letting you take any vacation days. At least the pay was nice, you guessed. 

     In a normal situation, though, you would've quit a long time ago. Of course, this wasn't a normal situation; it was one regarding Talon. Quitting the job would basically be painting a target on your head and asking them to send a bullet through it.

      On the bright side, you'd been told that this mission was supposed to be low-risk. Your job was to meet up with an arms dealer in some obsolete corner of Russia: easy, painless, and with little danger involved. Your associates at Talon assured you that the chances of there being any third party intervention were slim to none.

     Of course, Talon was full of f*cking liars. Precisely for this reason, you had the cool, steel barrel of your pistol pressed to the temple of the "third party intervention" that Talon had claimed you wouldn't run into. "Overwatch?" you questioned.

      "Blackwatch." 

     The man in front of you was on his knees, his hands on top of his head in surrender. A red serape draped over his broad shoulders and a tacky cowboy hat rested atop his head. The spurs on his boots caught the light of the morning sun almost as brightly as the out of place cybernetic arm attached to him. If not for the awkward cowboy aesthetic he was showing off, you might've found him handsome, with his deep brown eyes and carefree smile.

     You sneered down at him anyway. Even if he looked like a glorified cartoon character in his western getup, he was dangerous. Showing weakness was not an option. "And why the hell are you here?"

     He grinned up at you. "Listen, sugar, I think you could guess something that simple. Ain't you part of Talon? As of lately, Overwatch's entire mission statement is bent on draggin' your organization through the mud."

     You scoffed at his heavy accent, tapping the nose of your gun against his skull threateningly. "But how did you know to come here, cowboy?"

     His smile was lazy as he studied you up and down. "Anybody ever tell you that you look mighty pretty?"

     "Don't sweet talk me, I have a gun to your head." Despite shrugging off his comment, you could feel a blush creeping onto your face. It wasn't often that you received any flirtatious compliments. There wasn't much room for fraternization in an organization like Talon, after all.

     Was there room for it in Overwatch, though? Blackwatch specifically? You knew there wasn't a Talon agent alive who would act so sociable in such a tense situation. Perhaps this cowboy was just stupid. 

     Yeah, that must be it. 

     "Alright, let's start with something easier," you said. "What's your name?" If he had a bounty on him, you might drag him back to headquarters instead of killing him directly.

     "Why do you want to know, darlin'? Hopin' you'll get to share my last name with me one day?" He laughed, a low rumble in his chest. "I'm a traditional man, but considering marriage so soon is a bit much, dont'cha think?"