Pedro Pascal One Shots

Whiskey

*A/N: Agent Whiskey x female reader smut. Manners maketh man, so he's going to make sure you're plenty satisfied before the night is over.

Whiskey

The sound of country music filled your ears as you entered a typical Kentucky bar on Friday night, your heeled boots clacking on the wood floors. You went straight to the impressive bar, stretching almost the entire length of the back wall. You leaned onto the bartop, waiting only a moment for a male bartender to lock eyes with you and make his way over.

"What'll it be, doll?" he asked, his eyes drifting down to the cleavage your shirt showed. You would have rolled your eyes if you weren't so exhausted from your week of work and desperate for a good drink.

"I trust that you make a good old fashioned?" you replied. It was a whiskey bar after all, supposedly famous for its drinks with the dark, flavorful liquor.

"I do. Give me just a sec and I'll have that out for you."

You pulled out the leather barstool next to you and took a seat, setting your purse on your lap. You certainly didn't trust having it out of your sight. Not as a beautiful woman alone at a bar. You took in your surroundings, noticing the metal and stone decor contrasting against the dark wood. You saw an older man flirting with a female bartender, knowing she was only flirting back to get a better tip. And next to you was a mustachioed man. You could tell he had a nice build from his fitted white shirt under his leather jacket, and the equally fitted jeans that showed how nice of an ass he had. He also wore a belt with a flashy buckle and a cowboy hat, typical fashion where you were. He seemed to notice you checking him out, and he flashed a smile your way.

"I haven't seen you around before," he realized, taking a sip of his own drink.

"I'm not here by choice. Work," you replied shortly. You hated any man talking to you at a bar. In your experience, it never ended well. Maybe it was just bad luck, but they always ended up being absolute trash. Even if this one was admittedly hot, you weren't expecting great things from him.

"Work usually has me going to the bar, too," the man chuckled. He downed the rest of his own old fashioned while the bartender brought you yours. "Another, please," he said, and the bartender nodded. "And put hers on my tab, will you?" He took a seat as if he hadn't been planning to stay before, but he had changed his mind.

"You know, buying me a drink doesn't mean I'm going to keep talking to you," you said, taking a drink. The alcohol warmed you, and it truly was good.

"So far, you still are."

With that comment, you kept your mouth shut, and so did he for a moment, both of you sipping your drinks when the bartender gave him his.

"I'm just looking for some conversation. I'm not trying to get into your pants. Not every man who is kind to you is."

"In my experience, they are. And if they succeed, they're no fucking good. I mean, honestly, have any of you ever found a clit?"

The man let out a hearty laugh at that. "Unfortunately, many haven't. Luckily for you, I'm not one of them."

"Why is that lucky for me if you're not trying to get into my pants?" you grinned, calling him out..

"Well, darling, I may not be trying, but I never promised it wouldn't happen."

You wanted to just enjoy the free drink and drop him right then and there. The confidence he had was on the verge of becoming cockiness, and you'd heard similar things from plenty of douchebags in the past. But something about him kept you sitting there. You threw back the rest of your drink like a shot and brought the glass back down on the bar loudly enough to get the bartender's attention again.