A collection of one-shots featuring various Pedro Pascal characters. Including: Din Djarin, Javier Peña, Joel Miller, Marcus Acacius, Marcus Pike, Dave York, Javi Gutierrez, Oberyn Martell, Jack "Whiskey" Daniels, and Max Phillips. Most contain expl...
summary: You and Javier were just colleagues and nothing more, that is until frustration and a little liquid courage push you both to cross the line into something more.
rating: Explicit (Unprotected p in v, creampie, praise, (1) spank, he snaps his fingers and idk it unlocked something in me, hints of Soft Javier Peña, resolved sexual tension, co-workers to lovers, a sprinkle of emotions)
word count: 1.3k+
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Things didn't start off on the right foot with Javi, or really the wrong foot either. It was just mutual indifference the moment you were brought in to help take down the Cali Cartel.
You'd both been too focused on the job and getting results, needing to be an efficient team, for there to be any other feelings between you.
Eventually, the mutual indifference turned into mutual fondness and attraction.
You'd seen how he looked at you sometimes, unable to hide the longing and clear desire, and instead of pointing it out, or god forbid, acting on it, you'd turn your attention to something else and ignore the heat that radiated under your skin.
Javi was not as polite in your times of weakness, when your gaze lingered on his body, appreciating how his suits fit on those broad shoulders, or how his ass looked when you saw him in jeans. He'd smirk, those expressive brown eyes telling you he knew and that he liked that you were just as affected by him. You always floundered a little after you got that look, having to really focus and move into safer territory, and he just patiently waited for you to succumb to your feelings.
And it happened on a night when you'd both been unbelievably frustrated that Franklin Jurado had been killed, all the time you'd spent getting him was wasted, and the two of you were holed up late in his office, trying to find some other lead, until he'd sighed heavily and pulled out the bottle of whiskey from his desk.
You'd each had a couple of drinks. He was sitting on the couch, jacket and tie long gone, the first few buttons of his shirt undone, and you were lounging on the floor nearby, some files laid out next to you. You couldn't help staring—the alcohol had slightly affected your inhibitions, and he looked so fucking good that your thoughts moved into dangerous territory, imagining the things you wanted him to do to you.
Your eyes met, and you saw your desires reflected back at you, making you gulp at his eyebrow raising.
"Are you going to eye fuck me all night, or do something about it?" His voice was deeper, raspier, and your core clenched as you gasped. "Because," he continued. "I'm more than willing. You just need to ask."
Your heart was hammering in your chest, panties unbelievably wet.
Maybe it was the whiskey, maybe it was that you'd hit your limit of ignoring your wants, but your chin rose, feeling much braver than you had any right to be.
