The One

You can absolutely blame the KKM weekend one of my closest friends Cass and I had a while back. She gets a fair amount of cred. Future-verse oneshot with some cutesy WolfYuu. I made up a couple details so hopefully there isn't OOCness floating around and it's super sappy/fluffy! Yay! I send all my love to gwendal's wife for helping me (and credit goes to her for the title). Reviews are encouraged please!

Disclaimer: …screw it. Not mine.




Sucking in a deep and nervous breath, Greta pushed open the oak door to Gwendal's old office.

Yuuri seemed to be in a pleasant mood (relief pooled through her bloodstream to slow down her heart thumping against her ribcage) as he hummed an unnamed tune under his breath. Paused over the evening paperwork, his hands set to work in his black hair as he secured the shoulder-length strands away from his cheeks with a rubber band.

An overjoyed look crossed his face as black eyes glanced over to her willowy form pressed with her back to the dark wood office door.

Years in this world had been kind to the aging process of twenty-two-year-old King, his cheeks thinned slightly and several lines around his eyes had appeared, but he insisted when they were pointed out that they were 'from laughter'.

"What's the matter? You look upset or something." Yuuri chuckled, gesturing for her to approach him, and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek as she complied silently with a small, tight smile. "You're not interrupting anything important. I'm considering bed in a few minutes."

"I was hoping to have a moment to talk to you, Yuuri—"

"Papa, Greta! Call me Papa…!"

Her auburn eyes resisted the tiniest urge to roll in protest to the pitiful and high-pitched crack in his tone.

She responded patiently, "Papa— do you remember when…" Greta hesitated a moment, her lips pursing into a single, anxious line and she twisted her fingers behind her back. "…you knew that… Wolfram was the one for you…?"

Yuuri brushed his forehead with the end of his eagle feather quill lightly, genuinely considering the question — truthfully, it had been a wake up call from his so-called 'too-proud' fiancé who had momentarily suppressed that part of his personality. Wolfram dropped the act of off-and-on-cold-shoulder one afternoon, straddling himself in a very assertive manner into Yuuri's lap in the middle of a briefing with Yosak, and claimed what was 'rightfully his'.

At the time, Yuuri's somewhat stunned body began reacting positively to Wolfram's cling onto him and to the warm mouth mashed against his painfully as they slipping slowly into a relaxed fit until the idyllic spell wore off. Even over the span of three years being fully recognized as married to Wolfram von Bielefeld (the long awaited kiss had only been phase one), he wasn't always one hundred percent about the romantic feelings concerning his relationship. But since when was life perfect?

It was enough to understand that meaning in his worlds — whichever one he happened to be in at the time — that nothing reassured him more than to greet the sunrise buried with his face in his husband's yellow blond hair and groggily searching for the rest of him.

Wolfram would always be the one to prod those weaker buttons relentlessly until he was satisfied with a reaction, be the one that had brought him to tears in bed the first time and not be afraid to tease him in private — a hot blush touching his own cheeks as he would elbowed him softly in the side and smile giddily as they walked the grounds.

But their precious little girl didn't need to know those details about her parents. . .

Yuuri examined her staring so seriously, and pushed back from the desk chair, asking worriedly, "What is this about, Greta?" Suddenly, his eyes widened in a terrible recognition.

"Oh no… not my baby…"


"It's Papa, I tell you— and since when was it okay for you to grow up and have a boyfriend? You can't have a boyfriend, Greta! Is your lovable and brave Papa not enough for you? Did some handsome and mysterious wanderer from a kingdom far, far away come here to sweep you off your feet?" Yuuri paled immediately, gripping for the edge of his desk with one hand and speaking his dramatic self-ranting now into his other. "My baby can't have BABIES…!"

"Then I have some good news, Papa. It's not exactly a… boy…" The seventeen-year-old princess cringed outwardly, waiting for the impact of her words.

The demon king stopped mumbling to himself about upping security around his daughter's bedroom to gape at her.

He blinked once. Twice.

"Not a… what?"

Her long, auburn-colored curls shook around her as she insisted, twisting her fingers harder behind her, "Beatrice and I have been friends for a very long time now... and... we want to start dating…" Greta stepped back humbly as Yuuri's dark eyes began to bug out with every further word.

"Friends don't just randomly start dating each other! Are we talking about Beatrice Heathcrife? How long has this been going on!…?"

"Yuuri—" A greater part of him was ashamed by his irrational behavior towards his only child, enough to flinch at the swift bite in her girlish voice as she spoke up, "Last year when you all dropped me off at Calvalcade for several months, I spent a lot of time with her. We had not seen each other for so long and the strain had been terrible. I missed her. I missed her a lot. We knew then that our friendship had changed into something deeper." She brightened, the simple and happy grin on her tanned, feminine face revealing far more than Yuuri could appreciate at that instant. "I think I love her, Papa."

"—Then it is enough for the both of us." Behind Yuuri, Wolfram stood with his blue-uniformed arms crossed and an understanding expression on his face. Yuuri pointed an accusing finger at him in such a familiarly jaded fashion that the blond soldier rolled his eyes.

"YOU knew about this?…!"

"Greta understood it would be more difficult to reason you, wimp, so she came to me first. You are not exactly very sensitive about this subject."

Hurt by the very possibility of it, Yuuri glanced at his daughter who cast her eyes downwards.

"You don't trust me, Greta?"

"It's not about trust. It's about acting maturely. Understandably, the choice to go to you is risky." As his husband glared outright at him from the blunt remark, Wolfram smirked and grabbed Yuuri's arm to hook through his as another more slender figure ran from the corridor to halt somewhere between the doorway. Someone with short, strawberry blonde hair and a checker pink-colored dress.

A sixteen-year-old Beatrice stared at the demon king, waiting and panting and smiling.

Yuuri could see it in her cornflower blue eyes that she was unafraid. Her love made her courageous. She tucked one ankle behind her daintily, (though Yuuri knew better; he seen her plenty of times smeared with mud in the courtyards or flour in the kitchens, laughing gleefully) gathering her skirts into her fists and curtsying low, her hair screening her face from view.

"Are you asking permission to date my daughter, the princess of this kingdom? You realize that this is a risky political move?"

"I do understand the risks and have considered them. But if Your Majesty will permit me the opportunity… I swear my loyalty onto my Princess." A bit cheekily, Beatrice glanced through her cropped bangs up at him. Somewhere to his far side, Greta let out a gasp and turned bright red at the impertinence of it. Yuuri could feel one of those migraines coming on. He sighed, defeated.

" aren't getting married anytime soon, are you?"

The blonde girl squealed loudly, a ringing going off in Yuuri's ears from the invading sound, and she rushed across the room in a pink blur to seize a very surprised Greta around her neck and hug her. Wolfram gazed at a reluctant Yuuri surprised as well but it quickly flushed out into appreciation as he squeezed his arm encouragingly, chiding him, "Oh, just give them the damn blessing!"

When Yuuri finally did (with an honest, warm smile), Wolfram winked noticeably at the giggling pair. "Beatrice, Greta, I think Lasagna can arrange a picnic for you outside today."

Recognizing the disguised signal, one of the girls bowed quickly before yanking the other out of the office, the sharp noises of their flat soled slippers echoing against the stone floor. Wolfram clamped a hand over Yuuri's shoulder as he stepped to follow after them, as if to prevent him from having second thoughts about his decision.

Emerald green eyes darkened over not with anger, but with sadder emotions. "Were you sincere in blessing them, Yuuri?"

"Do you think I am that cold hearted of a bastard?" Yuuri said with the same warm smile, even without it Wolfram knew the answer to be no.




Yuuri summoned wordlessly to the slender form materializing from his study door. By the sporadic patch of firelight near the wall, the checker design of the dress shifted in and out of the scene, dizzily. The strawberry blonde guest curtsied once more as she had earlier that evening.

"You wished to speak privately with me, Your Majesty? How may I be of serve to you?"

The half Mazoku man absently traced his large fingers across the molded porcelain mantle of the fireplace. "You can drop the formalities with me. It's my fault, isn't it?"

"What is, Your Majesty?"

"Inviting you here in the first place."

Bright blue eyes prickled with unshed tears as Yuuri spoke, calmly, "If I hadn't..." Beatrice gripped the cotton fabric at her sides impulsively, thin hands shaking fiercely (Is...? I'm being banished...) "…then Greta wouldn't be as happy as I have seen her. I wish I could so easily capture her beautiful smile when you are around her."

Yuuri chuckled, somewhat entertained by her confused reaction, and handed her a satin napkin for the one or two tears rolling down her freckled cheeks, from her wide eyes.

"What did you think I would do to you? It's not easy for a Father to let his little girl go. You would understand this more than most because of your own Father who I think might handle the news more wisely then I did. I hope you will forgive me for my behavior. In the world I grew up in, they still don't approve of same-sex relationships. It brings hardships to many humans."

Curiously, Beatrice asked, wiping her eyes, "Then the proposal to your husband…?"

"There is so much to say about Wolfram…" Yuuri broke off wistfully to lean on the mantle, staring off into space and smiling broadly as if he knew an amusing secret.

She observed him carefully, simplifying it for him. "You love him?"

"I love him," he admitted, murmuring. The demon king locked eyes with his future daughter-in-law.

When that wedding day would finally come, instead of her womanly face both composed and tear-stained during the ceremonial vows in Shinou's Temple — he would see in place the crying girl with pale blue eyes clutching her skinned knee in the garden outside of the Blood Pledge Castle, her trembling free hand sandwiched between Greta's sympathetic ones.

"Please take care of my Greta."




With half-lidded eyes, Wolfram von Bielefeld let out a sleepy yawn that echoed in the master bedchamber and tucked his arms snugly around his lover stretched out on his back. He glanced at a faint brownish-pink burn mark on his left arm. "You still have it?" he mused.

Yuuri lifted up his arm, examining it, "You nearly set my bed on fire. Remind me to never have sex with you when you're drunk off of your ass ever again." Wolfram pinched Yuuri's side unkindly.

"Then don't try to take advantage of me when I'm helpless."

"Helpless being me tied forcibly to the bedpost…just so you know…" Yuuri informed him, pinching back. The soldier yelped momentarily, a blond eyebrow arched.

"Perhaps you would benefit from falling asleep unfulfilled tonight…?"

" …I don't understand how I'm the Maoh and I still let you boss me around…?"

"You are fortunate that this mattress isn't a dinner table because I take that as a challenge."

Yuuri raised an eyebrow in turn up at him, asking seriously, "Do we really want to defile the tablecloth everyone eats on?"

"They can replace it."

Wolfram threw his head backwards, a pearly strand of yellow blond falling across his forehead. Rising to a sitting position on Yuuri's bare stomach, he leaned down to cup his King's face.

"Now… was letting Greta date so hard to handle?"

Wanting to seem difficult, the other man answered with a decisive nod, "Absolutely."

"I'm fairly certain you'll be weeping like the wimp you truly are on her wedding day." Wolfram smirked haughtily, touching the tip of his index finger lightly to Yuuri's nose as his nude husband below him rubbed and trailed his fingers over the muscles of Wolfram's outer thighs. "At least there is the possibility of our daughter marrying into royalty."

Yuuri rose up an inch or two to press his nose good-naturedly against Wolfram's, closing his eyes as he repeated positively, almost like a mantra for the third time in the past hour, "…she's not getting married until she's fifty or I'm dead." As to be expected of the celebrated 27th Maoh of the Mazoku race, he took the firm pillow beating across the head with dignity.