Wickedly Yours | Fred Weasley
Florence knows one thing for certain: Fred Weasley is trouble. He drags her into pranks, chaos, and mayhem like it's second nature. But fifth year brings an even bigger kind of trouble-feelings she can't control, and a boy she's convinced could never feel the same.
Content Warning: This story contains mature themes, including explicit sexual content.
There's a dull thud as he hits the floor, and I burst into laughter, leaning over the edge of the couch to grin down at him. "That's what you get for messing with me, you menace."
Fred props himself up on his elbows, a crooked smile tugging at his lips, eyes glinting with mischief.
"Oh, you think this is funny, do you?"
"Very," I say, grinning.
His smirk deepens. "Right. Let's see how funny you find this-"
Before I can even think to move, his hand shoots out, fingers curling around my wrist. One sharp tug later, I yelp as I tumble off the couch-landing squarely on top of him.
We both groan at the impact, but then-then we're laughing. Proper, breathless, can't-get-a-word-out laughing. My head is resting against his chest as his shoulders shake beneath me, his arms still loosely around me from catching me mid-fall.
I try to push myself up, but I'm still laughing too much to make any real effort. "You're impossible," I gasp, my forehead dropping against his shoulder as I try to catch my breath.
"And yet, here you are, literally on top of me," Fred teases, though his voice is softer now, warm and full of amusement.
I finally lift my head, looking down at him, still grinning. "Well, this is your fault, you idiot."
He doesn't argue. He just smiles up at me, eyes bright, like he's perfectly happy to stay like this a little longer.
And suddenly, the laughter fades-not in a bad way, not in an awkward way-just... in a way that leaves us quietly looking at each other, still smiling.
Then-
"Oi-what the bloody hell are you two doing?"
All characters belong to J.K. Rowling, except for the original ones created by me.
