#pedro pascal/oscar isaac | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mydreamysummerstudio · 2 years

Text

new chapters every friday now :)

the fire we started | chapter 2/8 | ch1 here

pairing: pedro pascal / oscar isaac

chapter word count ✎ 2,370

genre: real-person-fiction, angsty angsty ANGST and fluff and some smut eventually

overall summary: in the days following an accidentally public display of affection, oscar and pedro try to pick up the pieces of their quickly unravelling secret. as they try to figure out what they are, it becomes clear to one of them maybe they weren’t hiding it so well after all.

author’s notes: this week was awful and i wanted to share some happy so here’s chapter 2! stay tuned for when i eventually get my invite and can post this to aO3 instead. i hope you like it - we’re getting out of the angst and into the fluffy fun soon! thanks for reading! -mydreamysummerstudio

Oscar sits in the dark of his living room for a long time after hanging up with Pedro.

With his feet propped up on an ottoman, he reaches over the arm of his favorite yellow chair for the glass of whiskey sitting on the end-table beside him. He hasn’t touched it since he first called Pedro, and the melting ice leaves a ring of water on the surface of the wood. He watches as the ring shimmers from the light of the nearby window, Brooklyn traffic lighting up the room with red and yellow blinking lights every few minutes. He can hear the chatter of a pair walking by on the pavement outside. As they pass, the summer air grows quiet again, hanging heavy and thick around Oscar; just him, his racing thoughts, and his heaving chest.

He brings the glass to his lips as he glances at his phone, thumbing the screen where a headline glares at him. In the soft glow of his phone light, his brow furrows as his finger grazes over the words he’s read at least a hundred other times today. Amor Confirmado? Oscar Isaac y Pedro Pascal se ven besando en secreto afuera de Pedro’s Apartmento en Manhattan - “Love Confirmed? Oscar Isaac and Pedro Pascal seen sharing a kiss in secret outside Pedro’s Manhattan Apartment.”

The words sting anew like a knife sliding into his chest, burning him slowly as he drops his phone into his lap. Each time he reads this headline and all the others, the same shameful fire flourishes inside him. And yet each time he reads them, there is a part of him hoping to see if it’s a mistake - it’s about someone else, it isn’t real, it never happened. He takes another sip at his glass and feels the burn in his throat as the whiskey goes down, putting out the fire momentarily and leaving it a smoldering rubble.

How could they be so careless? For the past eight months, he and Pedro had been skirting around defining what it was they were doing, stealing moments in secret with each other after a photoshoot or press tour, visiting each other’s homes late at night over the weekdays when no one could suspect it may be anything other than business.

And yet, at the same time, they knew exactly what they were doing.

From the moment Pedro had grabbed Oscar’s waist that one fateful evening last December, they both knew that whatever happened from that moment on, they could never turn back.

But still, even as the sparks grew and grew and grew, they should have known better than to steal a quick kiss before saying goodbye yesterday. Oscar’s heart skips a beat as he remembers those crucial moments, body reacting viscerally as if it were happening again in real time.

Oscar had spent the night at Pedro’s apartment in Manhattan, just as they’d grown used to doing over the last few months. Especially on the nights the two would fly home from their latest round of press, it was much easier for Oscar to just keep riding home with Pedro in the same taxi instead of ordering a different car to take him back to his and Elvira’s flat in the next neighboring borough, a full 30 minutes away. On this particular night, fingers secretly intertwined underneath the car’s middle armrest, they rode in silence the whole way, often stealing quick sweet glances. Once safely inside Pedro’s entryway, they would hurriedly strip to just their tees and boxers, eager to land on the couch and flip through the tv channels all night, lazily exchanging long kisses and slow, satisfying scratches across their backs.

Early next morning, Oscar was getting dressed in a hurry, saying something about how it was his turn for dinner prep tonight now that he was home from the tour. Pedro insisted on walking him down to the ground level, “Just for a quick goodbye,” he’d begged longingly, watching Oscar fumble with the laces on his sneakers with a little flutter in his chest.

Oscar had agreed with a smile after a little more pestering, saying, “Okay, okay, sí amor.” They walked hand in hand to the elevator, in which they then stood completely apart from each other. But once the doors slid open and they reached the end of the outside hallway leading to the street, temptation welcomed them yet again. Pedro hovered maybe a little too close to Oscar, pinky finger reaching down to graze the inside palm of Oscar’s hand. Oscar leaned right back in ever so slightly, their gazes becoming level. They breathed long and slow, inches apart from one another, drinking in the August heat.

In Pedro’s mind, they were hidden by the apartment building’s tall fencing, the only thing separating them from the sidewalk and the bustle of the city outside. Even with the world waiting just steps away through the building exit, Pedro leaned in closer still, head still swimming drunkenly after having slept cradled in Oscar’s arms the night before. Oscar’s eyes switched rapidly from Pedro’s mouth to the green hedges lining the tops of the brick and metal fences closing them in on either side. He swore he sensed movement on the other side, but Pedro’s pull was so intoxicating, Oscar couldn’t stop himself from reaching down and intertwining their fingers, pulling them together.

Their lips met in the softest, sweetest goodbye kiss - slow and steady, Pedro’s facial hair tickling Oscar’s two-day old stubble. It was over as soon as it had started, but before Oscar had even had a chance to fully pull away, he’d heard the unmistakable sound of cameras shuttering off rapidly just on the other side of the fence.

Oscar, panicking, pushed Pedro off him using his free hand, fingers digging into Pedro’s speckled cotton shirt. Fingers still locked, Pedro was suddenly being dragged by Oscar back down the hallway to the elevator. All Pedro could manage to get out was a, “Were there - did we just?” In a stupid stutter.

“Give them a show? Yeah, we did,” Oscar was frantically pushing the elevator button, but it was too late. As the the doors groaned open for them again, a few men balancing huge cameras on their shoulders were filling the hallway, clamoring over one another and asking for their statements on the moment they’d just shared. Pedro protected Oscar with his arms and chest, making himself larger than Oscar who was now cowering into the corner of the elevator, face scrunching up as a wave of tears began. Pedro managed to block all the reporters out from entering the elevator car, and when the door finally came to a grinding close, he collapsed near Oscar, attempting earnestly to catch his breath.

The roar of the reporters chattering excitedly amongst themselves grew quieter and quieter as the car lifted them up back to Pedro’s floor. The two men stared at each other, eyes wide with the fright evident on their faces; Oscar, still bent into the corner of the car, wiped at the tears streaming down his cheek.

“Now we’ve done it,” he said sadly. Pedro, staring at his feet, didn’t say a thing.

When this started, they had agreed they would stay this way as long as they could, quietly growing fonder and fonder of each other in a way they hadn’t thought possible before. But now, their pact was shattering right before their very eyes, in front of the world, and they were scrambling to pick up the pieces.

That was yesterday, and today, Oscar still feels just as hopeless. Having snapped out of his memory and back to reality in his armchair, he groans and reaches up to grab his forehead, the ice in his whiskey rattling in his other hand.

At that moment, a door to his right opens, the light from the hallway casting a warm triangle over the living room and ending in the corner where he sits. He squints into the brightness and watches as his wife moves into the doorway, messing with her bright blonde hair that is shining from the ceiling light above. She turns behind her to close the door as she starts to descend the carpeted stairs, abruptly leaving the room in cool darkness again. She pads over to where Oscar has been sulking for the past hour, sinking down into the matching armchair across him.

“All done with bedtime,” she says quietly with a smile, adjusting the watch and bracelets on her left wrist. They glimmer slightly in the light bouncing from the window and Oscar’s phone. “They went down without a fight tonight but they did ask for you, both of them. They sent you goodnight kisses.”

Oscar winces. The knife has reappeared and is threatening to slide into his heart again. “I’m sorry. I know I should have put this all aside for a second to be there for them but I…I had to talk to Pedro.” He pauses to glance at her and is surprised to see her calm expression doesn’t change, listening intently. “I promise I’ll be up in the morning, first thing, I’ll be the one to wake them up for camp.”

“It’s okay,” she replies, and nodding, adds, “Yes, thank you, I can get going on coffee while you work on getting those little sleeping dragons up.”

Oscar chuckles and then quickly opens his mouth, air escaping as he tries to form a question. Words fail him and he just stares at her, at the loving, pitiful expression she is returning back, and he shakes his head slightly, lips still parted.

“How are you so okay with all of this?” He finally manages, lifting his hand from the glass and gesturing vaguely into the air. “You know? How have you not lost your complete shit at me once today, and still helped me with everything like it’s all fucking normal?” Oscar’s words are tumbling out faster and faster and his chest heaves a little. “How are you cool as a fucking cucumber after all you’ve heard about me today?”

She’s still smiling, her head nodding ever so slightly along with every word that shakes out of Oscar’s mouth. She picks at her bracelets and is quiet for a moment, then, looking away she says, “I always knew, I think.” She returns to look at him again as she says his name. “Oscar, I just always knew there was something there. Whether you two didn’t want to realize it, or admit it, that was your own thing.”

Oscar’s mouth goes dry very quickly. He thinks about chugging the rest of his drink, but she starts again before he can pick the glass back up fast enough.

“I have never for a second doubted that what we’ve had, the life we’ve made together, was real,” she says, looking away again as she turns her body toward the window, sinking lower into the armchair. “I know you’re going to keep loving me and our babies through all this as you figure it out.” She takes a big breath. “And I know I’ll still love you through this too and after, no matter how it ends up. But part of me was just…waiting for this to come out. It was undeniable, at least to me.” She steals a glance at Oscar, whose eyes have glossed over, fingers at his lips. “Don’t you-” she tries, “Don’t you remember that Spanish article a few years back, after Pedro made that instagram post?”

“The Univisión one,” Oscar mutters into his hand, remembering that article clearly as if it had been one of the ones shared today, instead of two years ago. The headline flashes behind his eyes. Pedro Pascal ha dicho que Oscar Isaac es el amor de su vida: su amistad esconde muchos secretos. “Pedro Pascal has said that Oscar Isaac is the love of his life: their friendship hides many secrets.”

“I told him not to post that,” he recalls, laughing with a slight shake of his shoulders. “We were giddy at my movie premiere. We were having so much fun. He showed me what he typed and I thought he was kidding. This whole thing, we were supposed to be playing around. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“I remember that night too. You were having fun,” she says, and as Oscar looks up at her he can detect a hint of sadness in her tone this time. “But I don’t think you’ve ever been pretending with him.”

Oscar’s breath stutters - that one hurt; and yet, in the back of his mind, there’s the lingering thought she might be right. The knife reappears yet again with a threatening burn against his chest. He tries to catch his breath and offer something up but before he can do so, Elvira stands.

“I’m going to start heading to bed,” she announces, slipping her shoes back on and taking a few steps towards Oscar. She places a firm hand on his knee as she lowers herself to him. “I…if you need me at all, if I can help somehow, please just ask.” She plants a calculated kiss on his cheek, and he closes his eyes; the knife finally twisting into his chest and bursting into flames. “Please, just tell me, whatever you need. You don’t have to fight through this alone.” And then she stands back up and is walking away, disappearing into the dark room and leaving the air still again.

Oscar, chest on fire and breathing quickly, wipes the tears at the corners of his eyes. He grabs for his phone without looking and tries to search for another contact, squinting at the blurry screen. He clicks a name with a star, “Lucía, Agent.”

The line rings once before she picks up with a quick hi, knowing to pause and let him speak. She already knows what he’s going to say.

It tumbles out, “Lucía. Hi. I- We. We - we made a mess. I need your help…sorting this out,” and that’s all he can say before the smoke rises up in his chest and catches in his throat, unable to breathe.

#my writing #here we go again!#pedro x oscar #oscar x pedro #oscar isaac fic #pedro pascal fic #sweet girlfriends #space sisters #the fire we started #real person fiction #rpf #pedro/oscar #oscar/pedro #pedro pascal/oscar isaac #Oscar Isaac #be nice thank u

16 notes · View notes

liliacamethyst · 6 months

Text

Sneak Peak Part V - Web of Eternal Dawn

“Drop the child, Miguel.” the figure warns.

With an unimpressed raise of his brow, Miguel retorts, “Go home, Miles.”

Gabriel, now more settled, looks up at Miguel with adoring eyes, already halfway back to sleep. But Miles’ persistent voice booms through the little room. "Miguel, step the fuck back from the baby, and let's settle this outside. NOW."

"Kid, this isn't a fight you wanna fight," Miguel warns, gently lowering the now sleeping Gabriel back into his crib.

But just as the situation seems to have reached a tense standoff, the door bursts open, revealing you, fully clad in your spider-suit, ready to fight, fury painted on every feature. Flashbacks of the past, filled with anger, pain, and fear, cloud your vision upon seeing Miguel bending over your son.

"Sunny, I can explain—" Miguel starts, but your reaction is swift. With a well-aimed web, you pin him to the nearby wall, rendering him immobile. Miles, clearly taken aback by your rapid response, stammers, “He... uh... was trying to... take Gabriel again. I saw it?”

Miguel's eyes, though pinned, glitter dangerously. “Cut the crap, kid.”

You had heard enough, and you fired webs at his mouth, silencing him. Standing tall, you demand, “What the hell is going on?”

Your heart hammers against your ribcage, an overpowering nausea threatening to bring you to your knees. Not again, you beg internally, this can't be happening again. The biting sensation of deja vu feels like a punch to the gut.

As if reading your panic, Miles lifts his hands in a placating gesture, but your focus narrows solely on your sleeping baby, peacefully oblivious to the tension in the room. Swiftly, you cross the distance to his crib, gently scooping him up, trying your hardest not to stir him. Every instinct screams at you to get away, to protect your child from the unpredictable scene.

You barely register Miles' words of apology or his attempt to follow, reacting instinctively by sending a web in his direction, narrowly missing him and instead encasing Miguel against the wall. With him momentarily restrained, you leave the room.

Miguel, however, almost effortlessly shrugs off the sticky restraints, ripping the webbing from his face. He's pissed, furious even, seething at the situation. Anger boils at the goddamn circumstances, but above all, his ire is directed at this noisy kid. Damn, Miles, can't he just go bother someone else? This isn't his fucking business. It's his mess to fix, his responsibility, and he needs to make things right. Why does Miles have to complicate things even more?

With a tension thick enough to cut, Miguel turns to Miles, "What do you want, kid?"

Miles, glares defiantly, his voice dripping with loathing. "You, gone. Either in some forsaken universe or dead."

Miguel sighs, running a hand down his face, his weariness evident. "Fine, do whatever you wish. Kill me, banish me, torture me. Whatever your little heart desires. Let me first make sure that they are safe. I won't fight you, Miles.”

Miles pauses, disbelief flashing across his face. "You serious?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?" Miguel retorts, his gaze piercing.

Miles takes a deep breath, steadying himself. "You're a monster, Miguel. Maybe not a murderer, but still a monster."

"I know what I am." Miguel admits, his voice breaking ever so slightly and without looking back leaving Miles speechless.

Miguel hesitated at the window, on the precipice of leaving. But something - be it fate, spider-sense, or sheer reckless longing - pulled him back. He silently treaded through the apartment, drawn to a soft melodic voice.

There, in the dim room, you stood. Without your mask, vulnerability framed your features, eyes closed, a cascade of hair down your shoulder.

You swayed gently, singing a lullaby, with little Gabriel secure in your embrace, his breathing even and deep. This sight, so full of love and tenderness, tore through Miguel. It was a clear representation of everything he yearned for, of the life that slipped through his fingers, so vivid he couldn’t look away even if he wanted to.

His heart ached, thinking of the life they could've shared, of waking up to this exact scene every day, of being a part of this little family. The regret was suffocating him in its weight.

You sensed him before you heard him, before you smelled his perfume, warm and woody with a hint of something spicy. He smelled like the shower gel he uses when you both took long showers, the walks you used to take in the woods on Earth 99, discussing plans for the HQ, but you just enjoyed holding his hand. He also smelled like your pillows after he disappeared in the morning, a scent tinged with abandonment. He smelled like a thousand things you couldn’t place, but foremost, he smelled like one thing, and you just hated that thought. Home.

You finally broke the silence, your voice soft and wearied. "What are you doing here, Miguel?"

He swallowed, voice raw. "I needed to see if you were okay."

A sad smile played on your lips. "You're too late for that."

Ahhhh, you guys are amazing! Please share your thoughts, and don't hesitate to suggest how you'd like the story to end – I might just include it! Let's turn this into a group project. I was close to giving up on the story, feeling not good enough. I love writing and creating, but anxiety often gets the best of me. Your kind messages, (which yes, I read and cherish every single one) have helped immensely. I'm so grateful and want to return all the positivity back to you. Wish I could hug each of you! ☀️

@ieatmunson @buggiecrawls @strawberriesareprettycool @lux-thebimbo @hk-4ever @invaderzim13 @hannah-goulll @arivh @alwayslegendarymoon @deputy-videogamer @560ria @myconglomerateromance @mateihavenoidea @alwayslegendarymoon @shibble @pagesfalling @kurooyy @regretfulmoth @crazysandwichlady2p04 @ poet-dae @rev-hellfyr @suya-x-syx @daimiyu @lazy-idate @jenniferdixon05207 @lostprince @amplsblog @eternalsams @cubinhodegelo @ prvttystvr @dabi-hawksbrainrot @noxiousfeline @maeplayscello @everyoneluvsvane @vinskyspuff @snazzajazz @yuuuumii @loreleis-world @fuckub @shugrcrush @fandomsinthegalaxies @vladersira @greatstudentbird @avengersinitiative2012 @therealnekomari @xiangping-28 @tanchosanke @tulipsc @tonystank1011 @la--figue @pingpongfingfong @ash-tronomicall @spardaenjoyer @venuswash3re @sofi786 @ranpuwo @sayonaratoyou @fuckthatfeeling @k7a4 @mxjss @rizahawkeye1380 @sinnamongirl @soosheee @cheezit-luv3rr @ransbatonowo @azurerose010 @azestar12334 @muertethekid @jay-joy @staronus0buttercup @mashiromochi @iseizeyourmom @salty-sister @aryjai @surhii @sinning-fae @gel0517 @hinata7346 @princessfuckyou @danyisawesomedontdenyit @typicalife-101 @arabell13 @thekinghazzastyles @sockears @perfectprofessorloverapricot @mkissad @spiritndrain @melovetitties @ihateuguys @honeycriess @pinkbearddragon @yrlocalsimp @savagemickey03 @beiroviski @vanilla-sweets @autismsupermusicalassassin @itsjstz @wifeofnatasharomanoff @alleo-i @jxsoook @saint-chlorine @novausstuff @canary58143 @amal31 @belle643 @ellahlour @akyino @give-me-cats-or-give-me-death @daemonlover @jiminling @forever1kay @chixkencxrry @nessrin @noelsilly @crispmarshmallow @rfvuhhvbin @johfaam @cenkisabibl @rosseyblog @pixiepaintt @pissboyazzy @couchpotato2006 @youcantseem3 @burningfishkidlamp @hellsingalucard18 @mimooyi @riverflowsanywherebuthere @desmanchaprazeres @dorck26 @seasaltjackal @cupcakeandkisses @lost-in-thevoids @starlightaura @stained-tea-cup @yarri0 @mellowstatesmanhandsempath @rizzie-lovee127 @shirasakai @holymotherfxrkingshirtballs @hiptobesquare13 @iloveplayboicarti @cosmoscoffeee @spaceemeeatt2 @bblouifford @aisyakirmann @xdarkcreaturex @lotustv @fenrysashryver @bri-loves-sunflowers @azrealbanerstark @lostaudfound @ithechipmonk @bby-lupin @mortallyscrumptiousmilkshake @hxlytrin @laennetargaryenskywalker @angi531 @namjooningera @stevenknightmarc @vr00m-vr00m @itsmadamehydra @blep-23 @alastorhazbin @bluevenus19 @bxdbxtxh15 @mrs-ohara09 @strangetrashblog @embersfae @animez96 @thekidscallmebosss @missdragon-1 @navyyoo @harmonics0537 @1206kju @chiharuundead @ahleeyuh @amyg1509 @kiruoris @rvnd0m-th1ngs @vallaufeyson @roses-and-grasses @enalofi @janeety @ash-aragami @peachycreamysmut @saltyllamakidwombat @3zae-zae3 @soupinacan444 @thepassionatereader @lukasdreamland @miracleangel19 @blackqueengold @yosistairl @adv3rs1ty @walkingtravesty97 @girlbloggingisamentalillness @rocketstyx @joined2023lol @whatdudtheysay @thatshouldgoonahat @eileen201804 @nuhteyam @panassbitch @ahoeformyself @abyemayiamay @stevenandmarcslove @froginmygarden @yunamaii @polireader @st0rmyt @delusional505 @enesitamor @groovycass @teamowolverine @blueoorchid @ausara23 @cyberv0dka @danika1994 @rawegggohan @mysteriousmeaning @defiance749 @rinx35 @tamales78 @saucypeanuttt @mitskistannn @shinydragoneagle @rorytrusov @shoyosdoll @sleepycow21 @urdads-gf @okgenic @nim360 @chuckle-nuts @trashybebe @cowabummwerdude @fresa-luna @fjordg @perkip3nguin @randomficlover @skylarlyn823 @prettysbliss @sajova @xxtipherethxx @yeahnotf @pendeja4bts @shoxji @mysingularitybts @moon-alexys00 @szaplsdropthealbum @kibo-ichiro @ace-mothman @shadowdaddysposts @emmytheinsecurepinata @darksunemiku @inafantasyworld10 @kyezofficial @beanstock7 @awesome-animenerd @levermilion @elliellielliesgirl @ thesimpybitch @jasontoddsfavoritechair @athena-portgas @redhoodedtoad @strawnanamilk @bijuu-naginata @chaimantis @ef4iryone @1-800-call-a-milf @idcalol @eddiesb3dstainss @rootintootincowboi@6billionyearsold @xiaolanternn @etherealkistar @mitzukichan18 @quackimilktea @my-goverment-is-a-dictator @bxbyyyjocelyn @teramjna @morilemochi @chompwoman

@vanillacoffeeology @calicoootalks @shine101 @mental-illness-is-my-friend @myhomethesea @janedah0e @st4rrlighttt @imnotyourbcbe @1lyyff @marsbars09 @migueloharaapologist2

1K notes · View notes