* written in your 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽 .

open to: m/f/nb muse: jillian macrae, 23 y/o half-sister of tally and 1/3 of a media darling trio, socialite and fashion blogger who craves validation in going against the tide created by her family and paving her own way plot: inverse fake dating, where jill and muse have to pretend they’re not together — as per jill’s agreement to fake date a famous family friend. now, attending the same gala as tally, the younger sister’s patience withers from the whole charade

       HIDDEN FROM POTENTIAL SPECTATORS’ VIEW, the pair lounge in a dark room off of the reception area with champagne glasses half-empty. she hates to keep playing this game, to keep such a distance from them and to restrain her jealousy when other people show interest in them; it’s unfair of jillian to feel such a way when she knows that they have to watch her put on a farce all over social media by being flaunted by her supposed lover, however she had reached her limit earlier when a mutual acquaintance came too  C L O S E to the other — all the while her fake beau’s arm had been draped over her shoulders. they sulk in silence, the result of her interference and it does nothing to calm her, the slow clicking of her heels as she crosses the room to join them on the couch being ALL that can fill the void at the moment. her legs cross as she leans against the back of the furniture, glass in one hand while the other cradles her head from her elbow’s perch along the couch’s top; guilt is apparent in her eyes upon taking them in, letting out a sigh with said gaze unwavering as she knows there’s little she can do to make them feel any better. “ i’m sorry, ” jill murmurs, smooth jazz soon infiltrating their secluded space from the ballroom, “ i know i’m being irrational, but i can’t help it. ”

◜  ˖  ˚  · 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐡𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐠 … 𝙠𝙞𝙝𝙮𝙪𝙣.

    the  expression  on  diana’s  face  was  only  able  to  be  defined  by  pure  annoyance,  a  dash  of  anger  and  a  bit  of  bitterness.  waking  up  at  six  a.m.  was  not  her  thing,  even  for  photoshoots  where  her  face  would  be  stamped  across  vogue  and  shipped  to  every  corner  of  the  world,  diana  would  still  be  late.  people  w  a  i  t  e  d  for  her,  not  the  other  way  around.  now  that  she  was  caught  up  in  the  world  of  king  and  in  a  fake  relationship  with  the  group’s  drummer  to  save  their  image  (  and  frankly,  hers  too  )  she  also  had  to  keep  up  with  their  chaotic  schedule,  slightly  fearing  the  wrath  of  their  tour  manager  who  seemed  to  be  the  only  person  who  made  it  blatantly  obvious  she  didn’t  fall  for  diana’s  national  fairy  bullshit.  well,  it’s  not  her  fault  she  was  born  as  the  korean  helen  of  troy  !  it’s  not  like  she  asked  for  godly  genetics  and  the  ability  to  absorb  her  surroundings,  becoming  a  perfect  chameleon  who  could  blend  naturally  with  her  backgrounds.  it  had  been  enough  for  her  to  become  a  full  time  model  by  the  age  of  sixteen,  and  allowed  her  to  recently  be  crowned  miss  universe,  becoming  her  nation’s  pride  (  next  to  king,  naturally  )  .  the  authority  figures  were  rambling  on  about  something  diana  could  care  less  about,  as  she  loudly  sucked  her  iced  blonde  through  the  iconic  green  straw  while  she  eyed  her  recently  manicured  nails.  the  brunette  made  herself  as  comfortable  as  she  could  be  in  her  custom  made  balmain,  that  she  was  certain  cost  more  than  the  amplifier  she  was  sitting  upon.  turning  to  her  significant  other  that  seemed  to  tune  out  what  suki  was  saying  as  well  ,  she  batted  her  lashes  as  plastic-like  as  she  could.  ❝  darling,  ❞   her  voice  was  sickly  sweet,  not  everyone  in  the  room  had  been  aware  of  their  fraudulent  relationship.  ❝  i  really  don’t  know  why  i’m  even  here  since  i  could  be  getting  my  full  ten  hours  of  sleep  right  now  …  would  you  be  an  absolute  delight  and  make  some  shitty  excuse  so  i  can  leave  ?    ❞

“ huh ? ” kihyun asks, absent-minded while studying his drumsticks. the little fuckers were starting to wear out and it was only a matter of time before they broke into pieces at a show. especially given kihyun’s reputation for being... aggressive. now they having some band meeting and suki was going off about future events and giving them a lecture about not fucking it up this time-- blah blah blah. nothing new. shit, in kihyun’s mind it was like nothing that king could possibly do would even put a dent in their reputation. who else could take their place ? absolutely fuckin’ nobody, that’s who. although, he needed to give up his playboy image apparently because suki came up with some scheme to get him to hang out with the fuckin’ queen of london. diana. and sure she’s hot enough but she never shuts up about how rich she is or she’s always non stop complaining. and it looks like nothing’s changed given how she’s complaining right now. “ what, you can’t come up with anything yourself ? can’t you lie and say you have to go have tea with the royal baby? ” kihyun lets out a tiny scoff. “ or maybe i should just tell suki you’ve got explosive diarrhea ? though i reckon’ that’s gonna put a little dent in your pristine image, ain’t it ? it’s probably only for thirty more minutes, don’t lose your mind, princess.  ”