Inspired by the story "Happiness" by bachiari. It's the fastest fanfic I've ever written, I think. 25 themes, from before Wolfram and Yuuri get married to when they're old and pruny... And in love. Enjoy, and remember to r&r



A tonne of bricks on his shoulders would have felt lighter to Yuuri than the weight of the responsibility Wolfram had put on him to ensure the success of their wedding.


He thought he'd reached his limit when Gunter began fainting every time he saw him, but then Wolfram would smile and suddenly Yuuri's patience would grow.


"Please accept my apology, Yuuri, on behalf of big brother for trying to murder you" the blond whispered during their rehearsal dinner, after a drunk Gwendal had lunged for Yuuri with a spork.


"It's an advantage that you're as adorable as you are" said Yuuri to a sleeping Wolfram curled up by his side, the night before their wedding night.


It was a bright morning, beautiful and clear, the sky in celebration of the big event.


Giant multicoloured umbrellas were dotted everywhere, Wolfram insisting that sudden mushrooms of shade added integrity to their ceremony.


"The usage of the phrase 'love at first sight' is overrated" intoned Murata, their priest, as Yuuri blushed furiously while trying to restrain Wolfram from killing the Sage with his ceremonial sword.


"I didn't know that a slap would bring me an engagement, but I didn't misread the law that says you have to be mine if I marry you" Yuuri vowed, basking in the happiness of the smile Wolfram gave him.


The champagne flowed as freely as the words of congratulations from those who attended, but all Yuuri could concentrate on was the sweetness of Wolfram's breath after their wedding toast.


Their parents, their family, the maids had plotted, and plotted well, because without them quite realising it the royal couple had been locked into their bedchamber, now redecorated in deep, warm colours.


"Don't want to crush you, don't want to hurt you", and Yuuri wasn't surprised that this time Wolfram, not him, was whispering the words.


Their kisses were tender, their embraces were sweet; Wolfram couldn't be pulled from Yuuri, nor Yuuri from Wolfram, until morning dawned.


Both boys were sore yet contented, and dressed unhurriedly to greet the guests on the lawn, where overnight fields of flowers had bloomed.


For the first time in their long, long relationship, it was Yuuri who took the initiative to be a loving partner, and it was Yuuri that grabbed Wolfram's hand as they walked to greet their parents.


Lunchtime was a pleasant affair, taken outdoors in the company of loved ones; no one held any illusions that Wolfram and Yuuri were concentrated on anyone but the other, though.


"The soup is lovely, Yu-" Wolfram couldn't complete the sentence, Yuuri deciding to taste the truth of the fact straight from his Wolf's mouth.


They both had been told that marriage would be testing, and over time they would find flaws in each other that could become unbearable; Yuuri had calmly said that the only flaw he couldn't bear was death, and Wolfram had said what a cute wimp he was.


Years after their marriage, there were still fights and arguments; the latest one involved Wolfram screaming down Yuuri's driving skills as they fought to decide which parent would steer their daughter's wedding carriage.


Living without their little girl anymore, Yuuri found ways to make home life with Wolfram more interesting; his (and Wolfram's) favourite involved one of them donning a kitchen apron, and nothing else.


Wolfram had ordered, pleaded, begged Yuuri not to follow him as he left for the violent skirmish at the border, but both knew that where one went the other would follow.


It was always voluntary; using his body to protect Yuuri was second nature, and Wolfram bore his scars with a grin, because when the doors close and they're alone, Yuuri would kiss away the hurt.


"Even when we're grandparents, looking at your bright yellow hair makes my heart thump crazily, Wolfram"


They've known each other for so long, that when Wolfram suddenly slammed Yuuri into the wall and began kissing him hard, the blond knew without speaking his king would find it pleasing.


Greta was now a grandmother herself, and often sent the grandchildren to meet her "daddy and papa"; Wolfram catered to their every whim, and Yuuri never minded because when he kissed away the yawn on his husband's lips, he knew he came first in the blond's heart.


They were so old, they had fought so much; but even now, decades after they married, Wolfram still couldn't look at Yuuri without feeling so very, very happy.