Transfixed Update - Bridal Reservations

Korra Del Rio stands in her bedroom while a stylist pats powder across her face one last time. The long white dress hugs every curve like it’s been sewn for her and nobody else. A few soft curls fall around her cheeks. The door clicks open and Lola Fae steps in with a camera bag on one shoulder. One glance at Korra and Lola forgets the settings on their own camera. Korra catches the look, smirks, and tries to ignore the small flutter under her ribs because it’s definitely not the same photographer they booked. Lola straightens their shoulders, says the other shooter had a thing, and promises today will still look perfect. Then the shutter starts singing. Click. Click. Click. Frame after frame of Korra’s bare shoulder, painted lips, the little dip of her waist. Each click winds a wire tighter between them. Heat inches up Korra’s thighs, unexpected and a little ridiculous in white satin. Lola notices the slight flush above the neckline and lifts the camera again, catching it. When Lola casually mentions the groom, Korra’s smile shuts off. She steps back so fast the crinoline rustles like it’s offended. Lola lowers the lens and asks what’s wrong. Korra’s answer is a short laugh and two blunt words: she doesn’t want to picture anyone but Lola right now. The next click never happens. Instead Lola sets the camera down on the vanity. Korra crosses the room in a rustle of fabric, grabs Lola by the suspenders, and kisses them hard enough to leave lipstick on both mouths. There’s no wedding march soundtrack—just hurried breath, warm hands sliding under lace, and the soft thud of the camera bag hitting the carpet as clothes come loose. It’s sloppy, urgent, and exactly what they both want.