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[amber-vanth]

snippet from the royal au

Serqet stormed into the hall, hands balled up into fists in her dress, the bunched up fabric most certainly wrinkling in her grip.

Amen was hot on her heels, his posture also rigid with tension. “And where do you think you’re going?” he demanded.

He was met with a scoff. “Anywhere away from you. If you can’t take the hint by me—oh, you know—walking away from you.”

He rolled his eyes at her snarky remark, still insistent in following as she turned a corner hastily. “We’re not done here, Serqet.”

“I say we are.” She kept marching off, determined to at least put some space between them. (Damn him. Damn this castle. Damn him for knowing this castle.)

“You’re walking on a thin line here,” he called after her with a scowl. His stride sped up and he managed to snatch her wrist, tugging it free from her grasp on her skirt.

“I’ve heard that from you before,” Serqet jeered at him, whirling around and attempting to tug her wrist back with a seething glare. “Unhand me before I make you.”

He paid no mind to her threat—even though he knew damn well that she could and would follow through with it—brows drawn in a furrow with his scowl still twisted on his lips. “I thought we agreed to allow those nobles to-”

“I changed my mind. Simple as that. Those nobles were no good.” she said matter-of-factly, lifting her chin somewhat to make her point.

“And you didn’t think to let me know beforehand?” Amen groaned, using his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose briefly before returning to glower at her. “I’m welcome to you challenging my views whether it’s behind closed doors or not—God, you do it nearly every damn day—but don’t you think we could’ve handled that in a more polite, diplomatic way?”

Serqet tugged at her wrist again, this time freeing it and pulling it back towards her so she could smooth her hands down the material of her dress. “Since when have I ever been politely diplomatic?” she retorted.

“Yes, because asking you to at least put in an effort is like asking pigs to fly,” Amen remarked, a tone of grim exasperation coating his voice.

She scoffed once more. “You know just as well as I do that those pigs for nobles were simply aiming to gather unnecessary sources of income.”

“I think you’ve made it very clear of what your opinion is on them with your little display with the use of that sword,” Amen deadpanned. (Perhaps the queen had drawn a sword on her own subjects—but they needed to know their place. He hated how she was right.)

Serqet’s golden eyes narrowed and she took a step closer. Her gaze bold, challenging. “As your queen, I’m simply doing my duties and aiding your own.”

“As my wife, you are infuriating.”

“I’ve heard that from you before too,” she said, letting a smirk crawl onto her lips, “As my husband, what are you going to do about it?”

His eyes darkened as they flitted from her daring gaze to her lips, his frown still on his own. God, she could get him so worked up at times.

“Fucking hell, sunshine,” he sighed out, closing the distance between them in less than two steps, “You’re insufferable.”

Serqet only met him with a widening smirk as he pushed her up against the wall and angled her head into an angry kiss.

“I’m still mad at you,” she reminded him through their heated exchanges, a hint of fond irritation in her voice. “You know I was right.”

He grumbled, lips descending down on her jawline and neck angrily, paying no mind to whatever marks he might leave behind. “Whatever. Just shut up already.”

“You’d think that-” She hissed when he placed a sharp nip on her collarbone, his calloused hands further wrinkling her dress. “that after marriage, we’d stop doing this in the halls.”

“I would’ve had you on that damn table if all those nobles weren’t there, we both know that.”

Serqet emitted an airy laugh. “If I had known that this is how you’d react whenever I threaten someone with a sword, I would’ve done it much soo-”

Amen pulled her in for another angry kiss.

(Yeah, he hated how she was right.)

[amber-vanth]

star-crossed

“you’re unbelievable, you know that?”

ziya shoots a deadpanning look directed towards vincenzo at his brooding comment, resisting the urge to throw the food packet at him. not that it’ll hit him anyway, due to the clear lack of gravity in the confines of the small ship.

“watch your mouth,” she simply warns the dark-haired man, instead opting to stick her tongue out. childish, really—but that’s what she’s going for. and it works; vincenzo sneers back at her.

it’s obvious that he’s ticked off at the moment. who wouldn’t be? the ship had faced minor damages but it’s enough to affect the gravity stabilizer, thus ruining a lot of their organization and compartments that—well, needed gravity.

vincenzo drags a calloused palm over his face, observing ziya through his fingers. “i mean it.”

ziya merely huffs. “you’re not sunshine and rainbows either.” she then scoffs whilst tossing the packet and letting it float away. she crosses her arms. “if only azarin was here..”

she misses it, obviously—but a hurt look flashes over vincenzo’s facial features as he allows his arm to fall at his side. sure, he’s not being particularly nice right now, but her words are enough to make him grimace.

“as if they’d make anything better,” he bites out, dark gaze shifting into a glare promptly when ziya returns his look with a hard one.

“will you shut up? i’m pretty positive that azarin wouldn’t be insulting me every two seconds for something i didn’t even do!” ziya snaps. at least they can still walk. this means she can leave the room. and more importantly, leave vincenzo.

he’s quick to move—he can see her posture tense and shift upwards, most likely heading towards the sliding doors that had been malfunctioned and set to staying open. vincenzo blocks her.

ziya glares up at him, and he sees her eyes flash. “what, vin?” she sighs out, exasperated. “what do you want now? i’ve had enough of hearing you talk.”

vincenzo stiffens. it’s a little familiar, he thinks. and it’s unpleasant, the feeling creeping up his fine and he thinks—no, he knows, that she can feel it too. the nickname fights that feeling though; he’s the slightest bit of relieved to hear it from her.

but they’re back in the same situation before they had met azarin, and it’s so frustrating. were they really so dependent on them that they’d fall apart without them? it’s frustrating, gnawing at his bones.

vincenzo grits his teeth and stills his breath. “ziya,” he starts slowly, “i’ll head to the control panel later. then check up on the bioresearch room.”

she raises a brow, seemingly unfazed. “fine,” she says in a curt manner.

vincenzo isn’t one to apologize. they both know that.

he nods, but refuses to move out of the way. it’s a tense silence that hangs in the air, unspoken feelings and words laying thick—perhaps even replacing the lack of gravity.

he wishes that he’s floating, but in a different way.

ziya pushes past him with something incoherent muttered under her breath, and vincenzo finds himself reeling, if but for a moment. oh, how he hates this.

he can picture azarin laughing at their current predicament. no, perhaps they would scold them instead. perhaps they deserve it. it’s confusing, he decides. he doesn’t—he can’t predict what they’d do. because they’re not here.

vincenzo finds himself standing there, alone.

it’d be only a few more days and they’d see them again, if all things went according to plan, of course. he pinches the bridge of his nose with a groan. alas, he’s stuck with ziya.

“fuck,” he groans again, treading to the control panel. lounging around won't do anything at this point. feeling stupid things won’t either.

the stars glitter outside freely, and for once, vincenzo finds himself envious.

[amber-vanth]

make it to the finish line

Mercury raised his brows, somewhat surprised. When his team had brought up that they were urgently going to find and hire a new PR manager, he wasn't all too worried.

He hadn’t even been remotely concerned, considering the fact that this would be his.. fourth PR manager? Fifth? Ah, who knows. Point is, this new hire would certainly be added to the list of who held this position.

PR manager of the infamous racer bad boy Mercury Meyer. He was a hotshot on the track, with a number of records to his name even at his rather young age.

However, his reputation out of the car was admittedly not as hot.

“You're kidding, right? There's no way.”

One of the men of his team coughed awkwardly at the racer's bluntness, gesturing to Mercury with his hand. “Mercury Meyer, as you know.”

The woman before him blinked with shining eyes. She was dressed modestly in a simple blouse and pencil skirt. Her short hair had been combed neatly, and she wore a polite smile on her pink lips.

If she had been fazed by his words, she hid it rather well.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Meyer,” she greeted, holding out a hand expectantly. “My name is Debu Jang. I'll be your new PR manager from now on.”

There was a pretty bracelet decorated on her wrist. Mercury eyed it as he let go and watched her arm fall back down to her side. When their eyes met, he felt the corner of his lips quirk up.

No one had told him his new PR manager would be cute out of all things. He blinked once, then twice. With a smirk, he tilted his head to the side.

“Oh, no, no, the pleasure's allll mine.”

It hadn’t even been two weeks and Debu was losing her mind.

She knew this client would be the most difficult out of all the ones she had taken and supervised over her short time in this position. And to be frank, she was surprised she even managed to score this one.

Mercury Meyer was famous whether you were in the business industry or not obviously. He had tons of fans at his beck and call; the racing entertainment industry had seen its audience viewership skyrocket into new numbers ever since he stepped onto the track.

Debu was used to taking lesser known clients. Clients who weren’t on every news coverage nearly every week or so, and certainly not as troublesome as this racer.

She had no idea where he was half of the time and had to learn from others that he was either on the track practicing for an upcoming race or just for the hell of it, partying off in some bar or penthouse, or lounging around at his penthouse.

It didn’t help that he was handsome of all things. He was so handsome, those cameras and interviews and such did no justice to actually seeing this man stand in front of her. (But we won’t talk about that.)

“He’s where??” Debu sighed into the phone, rummaging through her purse to look for some papers she had tucked away.

The lady on the phone—Debu had forgotten her name already—sounded just as tired at her. “He was last seen at Repullo’s Glass. Some kind of high-end bar, I think.”

She didn't want to mess up her simple makeup today, so she resisted rubbing at her eyes with a groan. “Got it, thank you. He’s gonna need to agree to this sponsorship deal whether he likes it or not.”

Debu heard a soft, “Good luck, ma’am,” from the lady before she ended the call and stored her phone into her purse.

Debu didn’t do parties. She could count the amount of parties she had been to in her entire life on the fingers of one hand. They weren’t really her thing. (Sure, she attended formal parties for business matters only, so those don’t count in her book.)

It hadn’t been all too difficult to find the place actually. But it’d be harder to find the blonde in this place. It was practically bustling with people in every corner.

Luckily, it seemed like fate was on her side, because she ran into Mercury right near the actual bar where drinks were being served, and she almost laughed at the surprise that took over his face.

“My, my, princess,” he greeted her, his voice a low purr, “I’ve never had any of my PR managers chase after me into these kinds of places.”

Debu tried to ignore the petname, coughing softly to clear her throat, but the faint blush was obvious on her cheeks. “Well, um. I hope I won’t have to do it again in the future. I’ve- I’ve been trying to contact you over the past few days.”

Mercury raised a brow. “Oh? I had no idea, princess.”

God, how she wanted to wipe the smirk off his face. Was he telling her that all her ignored phone calls and messages didn’t exist? How dare he!

“What?” Debu frowned, “But I’ve been calling and texting your number. You’ve just been ignoring all of them."

Mercury’s smirk only widened. “Don’t frown, pretty. Y’got cute dimples,” he commented cheekily, “And that’s the number my company gave you. I don’t use that one.”

His compliment had her blush increasing and she refused to look him in the eye, focusing on his lips. Oh crap, bad idea. She coughed and looked to the side.

“You didn’t think to give me your real number when we first met? I’m your—"

“PR manager, yeah, yeah.” Mercury waved her off and lifted his hand, palm facing upward.

Debu looked back to him, confused.

“Your phone, pretty. Thought you wanted my number?” He waggled his eyebrows.

“N-not like that!” Debu cried out, flushed. However, she began fishing for her phone out of her bag with a grumble.

She handed him her phone and he dutifully entered his number on her contact list. “Theeere we go. You should be excited, not a lotta girls get my actual number, y’know.”

Debu resisted the urge to roll her eyes but sighed in relief. Okay, so she could actually do her job now. “Thank you, Mr. Meyer.”

“Oh, boo,” he huffed, “Just call me Mercury, princess. I don’t mind; no need to be so formal.”

“I’ll call you whatever I like, Mr. Meyer,” she responded professionally. She didn’t know how much longer she could last with his teasing.

“Ooh, whatever you like, huh?” he chuckled. “Well, you got what you wanted, princess. So if that’s all, I’ll be on m-”

Debu jolted. “Wait! Not so fast, I actually came on behalf of something else,” she informed him.

Mercury pouted but stayed put. She’d be damned if she was just going to let him walk away after wasting so much time trying to reach him.

“Let me buy you a drink then, princess.”

So she told him about the sponsorship deal and what it entailed. (She wasn’t normally a drinker, but perhaps she had a drink or two. Or three.)

“Mm, alright. I’ll agree to it,” Mercury finally answered after she had finished. He tilted his head to the side. “On one condition.”

Debu nearly sighed. “What is it then?”

He grinned a pretty grin. “You call me Mercury. And you let me take you out just once, yeah?"

If she wasn’t blushing before, she most definitely was now. If she had been drinking a drink, she would’ve probably spat it out. “What?????” she squeaked out, jaw almost dropping.

“What do you say, pretty?” Mercury hummed, still grinning. God, how did he look so perfect? “Make it worth your time, promise.”

While Debu’s love life—well, lack of one—wasn’t entirely sunshine and rainbows right now, she had set herself some rules. Never date a client.

“Th-that’s two conditions,” she pointed out meekly.

“‘m not hearing a no.” Mercury smirked. Damn him.

She must be drunk. Yeah, that must be it. That must be the reason because she didn’t allow herself to dwell any longer on it and said, “Fine.”

You must be wondering what this sponsorship deal is even about.

Debu was actually very familiar with the fashion and brand industry. Most of her clients were involved in that kind of business. And some friends. Diva Aubry being one of them.

Diva was a model she had grown up, being best friends since childhood. She had seen him pursue his dreams despite his father’s disapproval and was doing pretty well in the industry.

Anyway, this sponsorship deal in particular was with Calvin Klein, who had been eyeing Mercury to do some shoots for them. (Debu was positively sure that if Mercury hadn’t been a racer, he would be doing just fine being a permanent model.)

It was honestly perfect; it was a notorious brand, Calvin Klein, that nearly everyone knew of willing to do a partnership with the racing industry of all things—though it was understandable because it was Mercury—and again, the fashion industry was something she was familiar with. There would be benefits on both sides.

All she had to do was play along with this little request of his.

Should be easy enough. Right?

Mercury grinned down at his PR manager. Ah—his date, actually.

“Mr. Mey-”

“It’s Mercury, princess,” he lightly scolded her in jest, pouting, “How many times am I going to have to tell you? You still want that sponsorship deal, right?”

Debu’s eyes widened at the false threat and she corrected herself hastily. “No-!” she stuttered out, “I- I mean, yes. Yes, I still want the sponsorship deal to go smoothly.”

“Relaaax, princess,” he chuckled, letting his eyes study her somewhat casual formal attire for a bit. She was wearing what she normally wore on the job.

“Hmm.. while I do think you’re cute in anything you wear, you remember we’re going on a date, yeah? We should get you changed out of those office clothes.”

He watched eagerly as the pink dusted over her face, and she spluttered incoherent words as she tugged at the sleeves of her blouse. “I- uh, I’m fine! Really, I don’t need to change.”

Mercury shook his head. “No, no, pretty. I said I’m taking you out, which means you’re my date for the day, not my PR manager.” He grinned.

Debu blinked at him several times and began to stammer out more excuses but before she could really protest any further, he grabbed ahold of her hand and tugged her along.

Mercury had dragged her to some store and made her buy an outfit he deemed more suitable for their date. She had insisted on spending her own money but in the end, it was his credit card that had been used.

And now here they were, eating out at some secluded but pretty high-priced restaurant. They ordered off the menu and Mercury took it upon himself to learn more about his new pretty little PR manager.

“Don’t be offended, princess,” he started, resting his chin in his hands with his elbows propped up on the table. “But you don’t strike me as a person who would take this kinda job.”

Debu blinked. “O-oh. Well, I don’t blame you. I can be a little.. timid.”

“S’cute.”

She blushed, ignoring his gaze shyly. “I, uh.. I didn’t think I’d be in this position either. But.. but I’m organized and um... I like taking care of people,” she confessed.

Mercury hummed, genuinely surprised. “Huh. I didn’t really think of it that way.” And then he smirked. “Well, pretty. ‘m sure you’ll take care of me juuust fine.”

The innuendo flew over her head and she merely smiled softly. “That’s my job,” she said sweetly. Oh, how precious, really.

“And you, Mercury?” she inquired, now curious herself. It sounded nice; his name coming from her. At least she had stopped calling him by his last name now. “Why did you decide to become a racer?”

Mercury slumped in his chair and laughed, shrugging halfheartedly. “I honestly dunno, princess. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do most of my life and it just came t'me.”

Debu nodded lightly. “Well, I’m glad you find something to do with your life. And I might not know much about racing, but I saw some clips! You’re pretty good.”

Mercury heard praise from his team, other racers, the media, his fans—you name it—all the time. But for some reason, he liked it even more from her.

Smug, he leaned forward. “Oh? You’ve looked me up? My, my, princess.”

She blushed—so easy to tease—and coughed in an attempt to cover up her flustered self. “Don’t- don’t flatter yourself. I was only curious. I need to know who my client is after all.”

“Riiiiiight.”

She sighed and shook her head, but there was a small smile on her lips. “Also, I was thinking about your conditions. If you’re going to have some, then I should too.”

He straightened his posture and raised a brow. “Oh? You name it then, princess.”

Debu looked him in the eye. “In order for us to get the sponsorship deal with Calvin Klein, you have to be on your best behavior.”

The blonde stuck out his tongue childishly. “Oh, please. I might not be a goody two shoes like you, princess, but I’m not that bad!”

“I’m serious, Mercury,” Debu sighed, and there was something in her eyes that made him simply listen, “I really mean it. You’ll still be able to do whatever you used to do just.. moderately. Okay?”

“Easy peasy, princess.” He winked at her as their food arrived. “I won’t let you down.”

Their relationship actually started improving after that date. And the one after that. And the one after that. And another.

Okay, so what if Mercury kept saying “one more” to make the sponsorship deal work? He immensely enjoyed his PR manager’s time.

Besides, he was sure this was helping her job anyway. She had a better eye on him and could actually discuss some of their other plans and advertisements and whatnot with him.

They were even comfortable enough to spend time together out of work hours. Well, Debu’s work hours.

“Princess, you should totally come and watch my next race!” he suggested to her one day, all giddy and excited. He was munching on the lunch he had brought her to her office, chilling on the sofa there.

She blinked. “Silly, I have to go to your races.”

It was his turn to blink. “Oh. Right.” He winked at her, throwing a fry into his mouth. “Was just makin’ sure, pretty.”

The cheering from the people was loud, but Debu paid no attention to it. She had been directed with some of Mercury’s team to one of the private boxes where she could watch the race happen.

At first, it was hard to keep track of which car was Mercury’s—the vehicles were mere blurs on the track at times—but she could make out his signature red colors amongst the others. It was honestly exhilarating.

And of course, he scored first place. It was no surprise, but Debu still cheered as if he could hear her, watching his triumphant reactions on one of the screens as he departed from his car.

Mercury managed to find the camera with his deep blue gaze and winked at it. It was something he did often after he won races, and it surely made some of those in the audience swoon.

(Perhaps the wink was directed at certain someone though. Debu wasn’t sure, but it was enough to make her blush.)

Debu knew how to handle messy situations. Most of the time. Especially messy situations that involved her clients. That was part of her job.

She tackled her job with a firm mindset, a clear head. But now, this was different. This was drastically different. Her heart was involved.

As Mercury Meyer’s PR manager, she had to keep tabs on things that he was involved in. Yes, he did have a right to privacy. But if there was something about him, she had to be and usually was the first person to know.

There were multiple tabloids and articles all over the media. Something about how Mercury had gotten entangled with some bimbo actress at some club doing some kind of shit and—

Debu’s phone started to ring.

She ripped her eyes away from her laptop screen to look at the buzzing device. She blinked and felt tears clinging onto her lash line with gasp.

The caller ID read: merc 😉 and she maybe felt like throwing up. Just maybe.

She debated whether to answer or not. Against her better judgement, she picked up her phone and answered the call.

Mercury’s voice came out rushed and hurriedly, and she actually felt like throwing up right then and there because why did he sound like that?

“Oh my God, princess, I’m so sorry— I don’t know wha-”

Debu hung up on him.

Fuck. Mercury was actual grateful for being a race car driver for once. Because he was speeding down the streets with a speed that would surely score him a couple of tickets.

But currently, he didn’t really care about that. He was more focused on getting to Debu because she was clearly upset. It didn’t matter if he was speeding on the city streets at 10:39 pm—he was going to see her.

Eventually, he made it to her apartment complex in record time and was knocking at her door.

“Princess, please open the door,” he pleaded, unsure if she could even hear him, “We need to talk. We both know we gotta confront this.”

To his surprise, the door opened, revealing a distraught Debu. It looked like she had been crying and Mercury felt his chest throb at the sight. “Oh, princess.”

Her stare hardened at the petname and she looked like she was halfway through of considering shutting the door. “What do you want, Mercury?” she demanded pointedly, ignoring her sniffing.

“I swear I didn’t do anything,” he stated firmly, “I saw all the stuff on social media and I swear it’s not me. I would never do that to the sponsorship— to you. I swear it, Debu.”

She looked conflicted, hand still on the door and eyes flickering to stare at him and the floor. Finally, she inhaled sharply.

“Fine. If you are telling the truth.. I’ll— we’ll fix this.”

Someone had framed him.

The tabloids were always hungry for the next big scoop, and someone thought it would be funny to make it about Mercury. And possibly ruin his partnership with Calvin Klein.

When they had learned the truth that night, Debu immediately got to work and was waking everyone on the PR team up to tackle the issue.

Mercury had simply sat aside and watched her work, feeling a mix of relief and worry.

It was worrying obviously; someone had spread malicious rumors of him but he was glad that they were actually fake. Out of all the things they chose to frame, they had to choose him sleeping with another woman.

After it was all over, Debu closed her laptop and hung up with the last person on the phone before sighing heavily. She looked back to Mercury, tired.

“Well, I’ve had some of the team contact those who published some of the articles and posts. We’re going to release a public statement addressing it tomorrow morning.” Her brows furrowed. “And you’re probably gonna have to make a post about it or something as well.”

Mercury didn’t say anything, opting to stare at her.

Debu sighed and looked away, hugging her arms to her chest. “Look, I- I’m sorry that I hung up on you earlier. I was- I was just overwhelmed. Yeah.”

When he still didn’t say anything, she began to ramble.

“I mean, what else was I supposed to think? I was so- I was so upset! I- I thought.. gosh, I don’t even know what I thought. I’m your PR manager and here I am- catching feelings for y-”

Debu gasped and clasped her hands over her mouth.

Mercury’s eyes widened. “Princess?”

She shook her head fiercely and began to talk away. “N-nope! I didn’t- I didn’t say anything! And now that everything is alright for now, y-you should probably go and- and-”

He grabbed her hand before she could get far and tugged her close to him. “I don’t think y’want that, princess,” he said softly, “And neither do I.”

Debu’s lips parted in awe as she stared up at him, “M-Merc?”

“Don’t worry your pretty lil’ head,” he chuckled, but there was genuine fondness in his voice, “You’re the only PR manager I want from now on.”

His smile was enough to sweep her off her feet, but he had done that a long time ago already. “But you gotta be my girlfriend too.”

The press had learned the truth and that someone had framed Mercury—it had went smoothly in the end and with the scandal being proven false, the Calvin Klein partnership was still on the table.

Mercury had released his own statement on the matter too. It was something Debu had been embarrassed to agree to—he had officially announced something amongst the words of “happily taken” and that he wouldn’t be doing such things.

Of course, her identity was concealed and kept private. She was still his PR manager after all.

Though, Mercury would be damned if he couldn’t show off his pretty girl in some way. And he did have to prove that his announcement was truthful—he had a girlfriend. People weren’t gonna buy it if there wasn’t something they could see.

Debu miraculously allowed him to post something of them together at least every now and then. (With her face covered because Debu was used to working behind the scenes, not being shown on them. Mercury respected that obviously. Until they were ready to actually go public, he was happy with the little moments.)

“One more condition, princess.”

Debu couldn’t help but laugh, and the sound of it made his heart swell, knowing he was the cause of it. Mercury grinned as she looped her arms around his neck.

“You’re a temporary Calvin Klein model, Merc,” she giggled playing with his blonde curls absentmindedly, “There aren’t any more conditions to make. You made it to the finish line, didn’t you?”

“My prize then.”

Debu pretended to think. “Mm, okay. What do you want?”

“Just you ‘n your pretty lil’ self.” He began peppering kisses down the side of her jaw, making her giggle and making him smile into her skin. “Whaddya say? I think that’s a prize fit f’me. Better than any sponsorship or trophy.”

Debu’s heart fluttered and she leaned into his touch.

“Your prize is all yours then.”