Trouble In Paradise?

trouble in paradise?

in which you and your rival co-actor were partnered up for your chemistry on-screen…and now that you’ve realized it, it’s proven to become more of a challenge not to fall for each other. (or : short dialogues shared)

character/s: albedo, ayato, childe, kazuha, scaramouche, xiao

a/n: hehe hi @sohyuki

childe.

getting interviewed about dating rumors,

“is it true that the both of you really aren’t together?”

it takes every fiber in you to not choke or spit out the water in your mouth, as you (shakily) set down the previously offered water bottle with a hasty and composed smile. “again, neither of us are interested in dating each other. we do admit that we have an…amiable relationship as co-actors, but definitely nothing more or less than that.”

yeah right, you can feel your inner voice openly chide as your eyes flit towards childe’s in masked panic. however, all you witness from your co-actor is his irritatingly polite smile, and a seemingly unfazed demeanor despite the intrusive and bothersome question.

“i don’t know, i think we look pretty good together.” he grins in a boyish manner, his slender fingers somehow finding its way to tease a lock of your hair within his grasp. you can feel a blush creep upon your cheeks at the unexpected remark, and you fight the urge to cuss him out in the middle of national television. not when your interviewer was clearly gushing at the sight of you two, and the glint of mischief in his ocean blue eyes almost dare to taunt you in his twisted idea of a challenge.

“it’s a shame,” you seethe through gritted teeth and a forced smile, discreetly unlacing his fingers from your freshly styled bed of hair. “that we’re just friends who aren’t attracted to each other.”

“says who?” you hear him pipe jokingly from beside you, and you swear your head whips back to him faster than lightning, a bewildered look evident in your eyes. “for all we know, i could have been secretly in love with you for the last few months.”

“ha ha, really funny.” you swallow the words as his fingers casually bump against yours, the warm sensation of it rendered as something foreign in your brain. it takes a moment to also register that his face was now inches from yours, a playful smirk on his face as he revels in the sight of your disbelief.

“funny, huh? care to find out whether it’s true, then?”

your tomato-hued face was the one thing childe took pride in, before the director giddily shouted ‘cut!’, and the interview was finally over.

the next day, your names were in bold headlines — and to much of your evident disappointment, even more rumors of the both of you “dating” were scattered all over the gushing press and intrigued audience.

xiao.

photographing for a magazine cover,

“how much longer do you have to touch me?”

“you think i appreciate this any more than you do?” he sneers, amber irises recoiling quickly in disgust at the sight of you. “stop moving and let’s get this over with.”

“that’s great, you two look perfect!” the photographer praises in evident enthusiasm from behind. “could you bring the lady a little closer to your chest?”

a squeak comes out of you when you feel your co-actor obey the order, much to his utter dismay. “you keep writhing. could you tone that down for a fucking second?”

“well in case you haven’t noticed, i’m not exactly the most comfortable with—!” your words catch in your throat when xiao slyly angles his head down to a patch of skin on your neck. you can hear his breath hitch and your pulse quicken at the little gesture, his seething words suddenly coming out clearer than ever against your flushed complexion.

“neither am i. now you’d better shut up, before i make you.”

“that pose is perfect! adjust your expressions — yes, keep it like that for a bit longer!”

it almost hurts to keep your breathing controlled, but it’s all you can do to calm the thrumming of your heart, as your conflicted eyes meet his indecipherable irises boring straight back into yours.

“…fine. dickwad.”

“incessant bitch.”

scaramouche.

bickering after a kissing scene,

“oi, someone get me some mouthwash.” you hear your co-actor grumble in disgust, while hastily wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

“a mint for me.” you scoff in return, only rolling your eyes when he turns to you with a death glare that seemed to harbor a shred of disbelief. “what? you taste like shit.”

“yeah, because i kissed shit.”

your scowl deepens at his words, and it takes the director’s exhausted command to split the sparking tension apart between you two. a part of you felt bad, considering this had already become some sort of “normal” routine ever since he scouted the both of you to play the main roles in a romantic film. but could he blame the both of you for getting pissed off after having to repeat that damned kissing scene for several takes?

“the good news is,” the director inhales a hefty breath. “that’s the last kissing scene you have to do together.”

“well, i wouldn’t intend to kiss her ever again.” scaramouche snorts. “she’s one hell of a shitty kisser.”

“oh like you were any better, dipshit.”

“you really wanna go at it right now?” his eyes flicker over to yours in a fit of darkness.

“what, you’re gonna prove me wrong or something?”

“maybe i will.” he growls in irritation, before violently snatching your wrist and dragging you with him to retreat inside his trailer, as you both quietly bicker amongst yourselves…but nevertheless, strangely don’t seem to be recoiling away from each other at the notion of kissing again.

“but, we have another scene to film in seven minutes—”

“any of you step inside that trailer and i’ll beat your ass up.” he threatens for the last time, a mysterious glint in his eyes as he lazily glances over his shoulder to meet the rest of the production crew’s astonished gazes. “we’ll come out when we’re finished with our business.”

kaedehara kazuha.

walking on the red carpet,

“y/n, over here!”

the flashing of crowded camera lights momentarily blind you with their intense illumination, but you work up a smile for the audience anyway. it’s been thirty minutes since you’ve found yourself posing for the cameras, however now you wanted nothing more than to sit down and tend to the blisters that were beginning to sting at your feet from your heels.

you take a few steps toward the venue, ever so slightly swaying in your stance as you grit your teeth and endure the sudden bursts of pain. if you could just walk a bit quicker to reach the confines of the marbled threshold that awaits…

but the deafening shout of the final group of photographers snap you out from your daze, glancing over your shoulder as they excitedly beckon you over to take the last batch of photos before entering inside.

you shift in your steps…albeit a little too hurriedly, as your feet begin to wobble and you feel yourself about to fall down —

only to be (unwillingly) caught by none other than your unfazed co-actor. his hands slip around your waist to securely straighten your body, and you can’t help but gape in astonishment at the uncharacteristic yet gentlemanly gesture.

“love, you look like an idiot staring at me.”

your eyebrows furrow at the slightly rude comment, annoyed at how his averted eyes never seem to meet yours. “i think i had it under control.” you mutter beneath your breath, forcing a smile for the cameras and gushing photographers, as his thumb lazily traces circles on your waist in a form of reassurance.

“you can bicker all you want later, when we reach the entrance.” he smirks in amusement, before nonchalantly resting his head on your shoulder to pose differently for the pictures, his intrusive breath tickling your ears. “just smile and look pretty, love. like always.”

it’s frustrating to fight the blush that settles on your cheeks as he puts on a facade and eventually guides you inside with that fucking knowing grin.

albedo.

attending a costume fitting,

“stand still.” you hear him mutter in a low breath, as he wraps the measuring tape around the curve of your waist.

you let out a dry scoff. “who let you do this?”

“it’s not that difficult of a task,” albedo replies, peering down at the red number on the white band. “so i offered to help out.”

“well make it quick,” you clear your throat, cocking your head to the side in attempts to hide the flush on your cheeks. “it’s been fifteen minutes. i’m starving.”

“are you?” he hums, never raising his teal irises to meet yours in turn. “or are you just scared?”

you frown at the boy. “why would i be scared?”

albedo tugs lightly on the measuring tape around your body, causing you to tumble forward and closer to his face. your eyes jolt wide open at the close proximity, and the forbidden thumping in your heart grows worse at the clearer sight of him.

“a-albedo?” you blurt out, shifting your eyes somewhere else to avoid his piercing gaze. “what the hell are you doing?” you peek over his shoulder at the wide open door. “what if someone sees us?”

a corner of his lip tugs upward in an attractive manner. “ah, is that why?” followed by a teasing chuckle. “you’re scared i might do something to you.”

“jeez, i’m not afraid—” you bite your tongue hastily in aggression, when he suddenly tilts his head to inch closer towards your lips.

“it’s in your eyes right now,” he remarks in a low voice, noting the way your breath remains caught in your throat. “you’re scared i’ll end up kissing you.”

you swallow thickly in the haze of his pervading cologne, unable to say anything to refute his words. because yeah, maybe he was right. maybe you were scared about the centimeter distance. maybe you were scared that your rival co-actor might press his soft mouth against yours without acting. maybe you were scared about what that would mean in your career and competitive relationship.

bringing your hands down to his, you pry his grasp off the tape around your waist. “well, you got what you needed. i’m leaving.”

as you hurriedly make your way towards the exit of the room, albedo stays behind to fill out the last measurement required on the sheet of paper, before eventually allowing a begrudging sigh to escape from between his pressed lips.

“ah…for a second, i almost wanted to kiss her.”

ayato.

helping with your make-up,

“why does he have to do this again?” you groan in your seat, jutting out a finger at the boy setting down another cosmetic near a station organized by the wide mirror.

“‘cause i know how to do it well.” ayato smiles, but there’s something close to a mischievous intent masked behind blue-grey irises.

you glare over at the director, who ended up shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. “just a few more minutes and it’s over. you’re getting paid to put up with him anyway.”

“god knows i wish i wasn’t,” you scoff, about to bury your face in your hands, before suddenly remembering you were already caked with make-up.

“one last touch,” you hear him hum, watching as he swipes his finger across a light pink tint before reluctantly bringing his hand closer to your face.

you can’t even protest as he brushes the pigment softly against the plush of your lips, the rest of his fingers cupping your cheek in a gentle manner. ayato strokes the shade once, twice, and perhaps once more for an extra measure — before suddenly pausing in his movements.

you wonder what he’s busy gawking at, and then it belatedly hits you — he’s staring at your mouth.

“ahem,” you aggressively clear your throat, snapping him out of his temporary daze.

“ah, it’s done.” ayato instantly comments, and it irks you to see how he doesn’t even seem bothered that you had clearly caught him admiring your lips back there.

“weirdo.” you grumble, pushing yourself off the seat to scrutinize the boy’s finished work in the mirror. “hm, i suppose it’s…not bad.”

your hesitant comment causes his eyes to shift from the cosmetics, towards the sight of your reflection in the mirror.

“well, would you look at that,” he grins cockily, ignoring the way his heart subconsciously races a tad too quickly at the pleasant view of you.

“i finally made you pretty.”