#this is like... set before the press conference drabble and interview is like when the baby is maybe 9mos?

[yuwuta]

Wow I have been nonstop thinking about tennis king yuuta and his little baby boy I’m going to kill you (affectionate) - @yuutito

teeheeeeeeeee….. here’s some more, aleks :’) enjoy :))))))

“Everybody thinks he looks like me, but I don’t see it that way. Maybe it’s because every time I look at him, I see my wife and I’m reminded of her […] I’m a little biased so I see her in everything.” 

You find yourself with tears welling in your eyes the more you read into Yuuta’s latest magazine interview. Between his sweet quotes and the pictures of him with your son, it’s taking everything in you not to burst into full-blown tears. 

Your boys look so handsome. You and Yuuta shared your concerns with publicizing your child at such a young age, but you two came to the conclusion that you’d rather have the control in the narrative than to let private family pictures be leaked uncontrollably. As another point of reassurance, Yuuta’s career provided him with just enough lime-light to be a household name without the crazy fame and criticism that came along being a true celebrity. Besides—Yuuta talked enough about you and your son in press conferences and interviews that it was bound to happen sooner rather than later. 

The article wasn’t entirely about you, or your family—or at least, you’re sure it wasn’t intended to be; you knew your husband had a knack for rambling about his loved ones, even where work was concerned. As you continue to read, you find a segment where the author compared Yuuta’s current statements with something similar he’d said about you twelve years ago—at the very start of his professional career: “If I owe this [winning Gold] to anybody, it’s my girlfriend. She’s always believed in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself. I wouldn’t have qualified or even thought to qualify if it weren’t for her.” 

It feels like you and Yuuta were just two kids in love back then. You didn’t think it could be more than that—you didn’t think you could love Yuuta more than you did all those years ago, but somewhere along the way just being in love wasn’t enough to describe it; Yuuta became your partner, someone you loved fundamentally, but also because you couldn’t stand to see yourself without him. And just when you thought you couldn’t love anyone nearly as much as you love him, you turn the page to a picture of your husband and son peeping through the holes of a racket and your heart feels full. 

When you scan the image more closely, you realize that it isn’t just any racket—it’s an old one, one you’d given to Yuuta as a gift probably back in high-school. You had no idea he’d kept it, but you suppose you shouldn’t be all that surprised; Yuuta is nothing if not sentimental. 

“Ah, there she is~” Yuuta’s voice cuts through your thoughts. When you turn, you see him, with your baby boy on his hip, sliding the back porch door closed. 

Both boys approach you with a smile on your face, and you set the magazine aside to sit up in the lounge chair to greet them. Yuuta presses a kiss to your forehead, then your lips before you do the same to your son. Immediately after, he reaches his arms out for you, and Yuuta chuckles, “You wanna be with your mama? Can’t blame you, I missed her, too.” 

He hands the baby off to you, and takes a seat on the other end of the chair, reaching over to coo at his son as you smother his face in kisses. 

“How was the farmer’s market?” you question, letting the baby settle into your lap. 

“Good, he picked out some very bright peppers, and we got some more strawberries, know you’ve been craving them,” Yuuta smiles, reaching over to pat your son’s head, when the closed magazine catches his eye, and he reaches for it, quickly flipping through, “Ah—I guess that interview’s out. He’s grown so much, even though it was only a few months ago.” 

You find the blush on his cheeks beyond endearing. Yuuta always finds room to be bashful no matter how many times he’s waxed poetic about his love for you, or his family—his cheeks always stain pink like the first day you met him. 

“It’s sweet. You’re sweet,” you smile, sparing a hand to run through Yuuta’s hair, charmed by the way he leans into your touch, “I didn’t know you still had that racket.” 

“Of course, I keep everything you give me,” he says, earnestly. He closes the magazine and scoots a little closer, taking advantage of the proximity and of your touch to lay his head on your shoulder, “Did you… read all of it?” 

“Almost, but no, why?” you question, with a light-hearted grin, “Did you say something that would lead the world to believe you’re somehow even more in love with me? Because you might already be past the threshold, dear.” 

Yuuta hums. He reaches to take you son out of your lap and carefully shifts himself to that he’s laying down, his head on your lap, and the baby in his arms, happily giggling and cooing as Yuuta holds him up. He lowers and raises him back and forth a few times, nuzzling their noses together when their faces are close, before sitting him up on his chest.

Then he tilts his head up to look at you, wide, love-filled eyes blinking slowly before he says, “Maybe… depends on if me saying I want more kids is past the threshold or not.” 

[secret-engima]

Nox-verse Drabble: the Reporter

(couldn’t resist making this, even though it’s ahead of where my Nox collection is timeline-wise. I know some people find Dino incredibly annoying, but I got attached to him in the game, so I thought- why not?)

....

     Dino waited in the room royal security had picked out for the interview and didn’t fidget. Really. He didn’t constantly readjust his tie, check his watch’s wristband, or glance at his notepad of pre-chosen questions just to make sure he had memorized them.

     Okay maybe he was fidgeting. But really, he didn’t think he could be blamed. The infamously private, public-eye avoiding Second Prince of Lucis had finally agreed to an exclusive interview for the first time since his existence had been revealed in possibly the world’s second most hectic press conference —the most hectic going to the Chancellor of Niflheim’s sudden resignation and vocal support of Emperor Aldercapt’s son Quintus—. News conglomerates all over the world had been clamoring to get an interview —any interview, let alone an exclusive— with the reticent prince since learning of his existence and he’d finally agreed to one interview. With Meteor Publishing. But only on certain conditions.

     One of which being that Dino had to be the reporter. Not any of their Insomnia stationed reporters, not any of their world-traveling rising stars that had successfully and winsomely interviewed a hundred public icons without ruffling so much as a single feather. Not any of the people who actually lived and breathed this job rather than used it as simple income while he tinkered with naturally imbued stones to make jewelry for passing Hunters or tourists who liked a bit of local bling. No. According to his boss —his boss who had personally debriefed him—, Prince Nox had requested him specifically. Dino Ghiranze. The twenty four year old rookie gossip reporter with a jewelry hobby.

     Once Dino had gotten over the minor heart attack of that revelation, he had frantically prepared for his interview with the Second Prince of the kingdom —and tried not to lose his mind from the thought of “why me?” on endless loop in his head—.

     His head snapped up as the door finally opened and Prince Nox slipped in with a single guard on his heels —the prince’s Galahdian Shield, Axis Arra-Amicitia, who had also caused a massive stir when his existence came out—. Dino pasted on his most winning smile as he greeted the eighteen year old, who dipped his head in response and actually deigned to shake his hand. Underneath the part of him running through all the rote pleasantries —it’s an honor to meet you, thank you for agreeing to this interview—, the part of Dino that was a natural at hounding out hidden details was observing the prince.

     And getting increasingly alarmed.

     Of course he knew that the prince had lived outside royal protection until he was about fourteen or fifteen, that a lot of things could have happened in that time before His Majesty’s agents had tracked him down and brought him to the Citadel and safety but… Dino didn’t think he was looking at a kid with an occasionally rough childhood out in the backwoods of Lucis. He’d seen a lot of people pass through Galdin Quay, learned to pick out a lot of tells that put people into neat, gossip-riddled boxes and Dino wasn’t seeing the tells of a backwoods kid shoved into royalty.

     Dino was looking at a soldier. No. Not even that. Dino was looking at a survivor.

     Utterly silent footsteps placed as languidly and carefully as a Gralean ballet dancer, long sleeves in the middle of summer that couldn’t quite hide the tips of scars showing on the backs of his hands and peaking out from under the banged up emerald bracelet on one wrist. Blue eyes had taken in everything about the room even before fully setting foot in it —everything about Dino in a way that made him feel oddly small—, checking for threats, exits, and possible weapons with a speed that meant it was instinctive. The handshake was brisk and loose, ready to jolt away at a moment’s notice, and Dino was more than a little certain that the prince’s Shield was plotting out all the most brutally efficient but painful ways to kill him if Dino proved a threat.

     Well. That was interesting to know. Even more interesting if all the rumors about the former Chancellor being the prince’s uncle were true. But that wasn’t what Dino was here to ask about, and Dino was in no mood to get thrown out —or murdered— for deviating from the approved questions.

     The interview was relatively short but interesting. Once he was settled in the chair —arms loose and relaxed, ready to push himself out of the chair or pull out a weapon at any time—, Prince Nox proved to be friendly in a quiet, reserved sort of way. He even chuckled at a few of Dino’s jokes and ways he phrased the questions. The teenager was not at all like Dino had expected, all soft words and a muted, easy sort of confidence that reminded Dino of a predator at rest rather than skittish and overwhelmed —this wasn’t a teenager afraid of being fussed over and unaccustomed to royalty, this was a survivor who avoided the spotlight because it was easier to stay alive and free that way, but under controlled circumstances wasn’t afraid to talk to people like they were equals—.

    Dino noted the seeming fidgeting habit the prince had of running his forefinger along the skin underneath his battered emerald bracelet —Dino had to resist asking if he’d be interested in a new piece, because while it looked nicely made it had obviously been through a lot of abuse over the years— but didn’t comment. It wasn’t on the approved list and hey, everybody had their habits and calming rituals.

     After the interview had concluded, the little hand recorder had been turned off, and they were both standing up to leave, Dino couldn’t resist voicing the one question that had been bothering him for weeks now, “Your Highness,” he started hesitantly. Paused. Adjusted his cufflinks before blurting, “Can I ask ya one more question? Off the record?”

     Prince Nox tilted his head, something almost amused in his gaze, like he already knew what Dino was going to say before he said it —Lucis Caelums weren’t mind readers were they?—, “Go ahead.”

     “Why did ya request me? My boss said I was one of your conditions to the interview. I’m flattered, obviously, but … I’m just a rookie who likes to write gossip pieces. Why pick me to run the interview?”

     For the first time in his presence, Prince Nox’s lips curled upward into a smile, “Easy. You scratched my back, so now I’ve scratched yours.”

     What.

     Sensing the next question Dino was barely holding back —he’d only had permission to ask one after all—, Prince Nox raised one arm and rolled back the sleeve a little, just enough for Dino to finally get a good look at the battered emerald bracelet on the teenager’s wrist. It wasn’t the most complicated piece, elegant but sturdy, like it was designed with Hunters and travelers in mind who were more interested in the natural passive magic boosts certain raw gems gave rather than the bling of them. The thick bronze wires were scratched and dented, and two of the emeralds were chipped, but it was still holding together. More than that, the design was familiar.

     Too familiar.

     No. Way.

     Dino looked up from the bracelet, aware but not caring that he was gaping. Prince Nox was definitely grinning, a small, foxy sort of thing that radiated smug satisfaction, “I don’t know when you’re planning to go full time on the jeweler thing, or if you’re planning that at all, so I can’t exactly give a public endorsement. But I figured people would take you more seriously in your current job if you were known as the reporter who successfully landed an exclusive interview with the enigmatic second prince.”

     Dino felt like he needed to sit down. Maybe with a tall glass of water —or wine, wine would be good—. Instead he sputtered, “That’s-! That’s really one of my-?”

     Prince Nox flicked his sleeve back down with a nod, that smug smile still tugging on his lips, “I got it on a … whim while traveling through the Quay. Back before … all this. It’s been through a lot of nasty situations with me. Helped me pull through a lot of nasty situations too. I figured a reputation boost was the least I could do.” He tilted his head as if considering something, then casually added, “Of course, if you ever do decide to try being a jeweler full-time -which you could, you do good work-, give me a ring, yeah? I’ll give you an endorsement, maybe even a loan if you really need it. Come to your grand opening wherever you choose to open shop … buy a new piece to go with this one.”

     Dino could feel his mind shutting down and going static. Someone took him by the elbow and gently led him away, and Prince Nox was definitely taking amusement in his shock as he waved the hand that wore the bracelet —his bracelet, he sold those personally, when had he met and sold one of his pieces to Prince Nox Lucis Caelum—, but the prince’s tone was genuine as he called after Dino, “Give it some thought!”

     The next thing Dino knew, he was back in his hotel room, staring at the wall and clutching a glass of cheap wine, still trying to process … everything. Then, between one blink and the next, Dino started laughing just a bit hysterically. All those years of dreaming and hoping and not really thinking he could —since he was eighteen, Astrals he’d been Prince Nox’s age when he started dreaming of making his family hobby a job— and-. And a royal endorsement offer just landed in his lap.

     Because somewhere, sometime, in among who knew how many Hunters and drifters and lost souls he’d talked to in Galdin Quay, one of them had been Prince Nox Lucis Caelum. He’d sold one of his emerald pieces —how could he not remember that, good emeralds were so hard to get when you weren’t a big name jeweler— to the unknown eldest son of the king and had done a good enough job on the piece to help said prince out of who knew what scrapes and deadly situations over the years —Dino could guess, he hunted gossip and rumors for a reason, heard the stories of countless refugees that acted just like the prince—. Done a good enough job that the teenager had remembered him and decided to pay back a favor Dino hadn’t even known he’d been owed —hadn’t been owed, because once he sold a piece that was it, he had his money and they had their product, if it helped them out then that was just good craftsmanship—.

     Forgetting all about the article that had started all this —the article that was due in two days—, Dino scrambled for his cellphone. Wait until he called Coctura about this. She would lose her mind.

     And maybe help him pick out a nice spot on the beach to open that jewelry shop he’d always wanted, because there was no way that —once he was certain it was actually real and not some dream or joke— he wasn’t taking this chance by the horns and running with it.